Tales From Subspace

Tales From Subspace

OPENING     

I started with a phone call.  A pay phone call to a number found in the back of
a new-wave newspaper that advertised Alternative Lifestyles.  [Alternative
Lifestyles.  I had never felt like an alternative anything, but maybe I get
ahead of myself.]  It was not easy to make the call.  My fingers could barely
find the numbers on the keypad in the dim light.  My breath came short and fast. 
Sweat slickened my palms and I was wet.  Moist heat between my legs, throbbing
with my pulse.  Pounding emotions I thought long dead, forcing the very center
of my being to vibrant flaming life.  My skin heated up slowly in the cool air
and my eyes blazed with this ill-concealed inner fire.  Dark passions filling my
body with need.  I wanted pure physical satiation again.  Hands, lips, cock, on
me and in me, once again.  It had been six long years of self-imposed isolation.
I was ready to reach out but did not want true commitment.  The thought of the
traditional world of dating turning my stomach.  I needed what I had been
fantasizing about for so many years.  Taking a deep breath, I dialed the phone.

10 Years ago...

Nobody ever just falls into the life.  It is a long torturous process that for
some of us covers many years.  It is an enigmatic tour through the dark recesses
of your own mind.   A journey not for the timid or shy.  I have always believed
that these cryptic images were always inside me.  I just suppressed or hid them. 
Like most of us.  It did start about ten years ago.  I was an innocent.  Weren't
we all once?    

I was back from Karate class.  Bag slung over my shoulder, sweaty, hot, hair
plastered to my forehead.  I walked into the small house that I shared with my
boyfriend Rob.     He was waiting for me.  My riding crop tapping restlessly
against his knee.  I dropped my things and put my hands behind my neck.  Falling
gracefully to my knees, careful to keep them apart.  Eyes away from his face and
trained to his belt.  My face was burning with embarrassment.

"Come here." He cooed.  I crawled the distance necessary to place myself at his
feet.  The thick cream wool carpeting was harsh on my knees.  I looked straight
ahead at the dark tweed pants that I had bought him for his birthday.  Cut full
in the crotch to accentuate how gifted he was there.  It was tempting to raise
my eyes but I didn't want to see the slow smile of triumph my breaking of the
rules would bring over his handsome face.  I tried to empty my mind of
anticipation.  [What would he want of me this time?] Any number of menial
humiliating tasks awaited me.  Things I would have to do on my knees without
complaint.  He addressed me again.  His voice had changed, becoming huskier,
more breathless.    

"Open my pants."  I did it, undoing the zipper with my teeth.  "Make me hard
with your lips only."  I freed him and took him into my mouth.  Smelling musky
salt.  A unique aroma that was all his own.  My hands snaked around his thighs
to his buttocks.  I kneaded them softly, as I balanced my own movements. 
Swallowing him down until air no longer moved into my lungs.  He wasn't
enormous, by any means, but easily on the high side of normal length.  It was
that Rob dripped sex.  Every look, glance, touch was an assessment of someone
else's erotic potential, mostly mine.  Suddenly, he backed up.  His hands gently
forcing my mouth away. "Go into the bedroom, remove your clothes, lie face down
on the bed.  Wait for me."  I went as quickly as I could.  My hands trembling on
my clothes, until finally I was nude.  I lay face down on the waterbed. 
Feeling the cool percale sheets rubbing against my breasts, hardening the tips.
Making me shiver as I spread myself like a starfish. Arms reaching, legs spread. 
My face lying to the right. Eyes closed, as always when there was any chance of
seeing him while we played.    It wasn't that we never had vanilla sex.  At one
point, that was all we had.  Until we got engaged.  Suddenly that diamond ring
became a band of iron.  Every orifice I owned was his to play with.  Yet so
slowly did he introduce these delicacies that I hardly noticed.   One day he was
holding me down to make love to me.  The next, it seemed, he was breaking a
riding crop on my virgin buttocks and taking me that way.  No one ever knew
except an uncle who brushed against me inadvertently and felt the garters that
Rob made me wear without underwear.  My uncle started to make a joke of it, but
my furious blush made him back away quickly in confusion.  The family could
never know. I insisted upon that.  They still don't and if they do. Well, they
don't say anything.     Rob came in.  I could hear him.  He secured my wrists,
but left my ankles loose, so I could bend my knees.  Just how he liked me,
easily accessible.    
"Open your eyes!"  He commanded and I obeyed.  I looked into his dark eyes,
noting again the intelligence there.  Not truly handsome, his features were
arresting.  His hair cut almost military short.  His smile endearingly crooked. 
When we were in High School together, I thought he was sweet. "Did you enjoy
your class?"  He asked carefully.    

"Yes, Rob."  His hands moved to my spine.  His long supple fingers wandering to
the cleft between my buttocks, which tightened involuntarily.    

"I bought something new today."  He walked away from me then.  I heard the water
in the bathroom running and knew that he was washing whatever it was that he had
bought before using it on me.  He kept the new toy behind his back and opened
the drawer for the lube.  He sat between my legs, Indian style, and ordered. 
"Bend your knees for me."  I complied, feeling my buttocks separating to give
him access.   

Rob really knew Greek.  It had to be one of his favorite things to do.  Not once
during our two-year affair did he ever damage me back there.  I never bled, not
even the first time he took me that way.  A thorough douching softening me,
weakening my resolve, my fear.    

I felt his fingers, wet with lube, opening me.  That was one of the few lasting
gifts that Rob gave me.  The gift of orgasm that originates somewhere other than
my clitoris.  I tried to relax as I felt that first finger, become two, then
three.  Rob taking his time, never in a hurry when he had his favorite orifice
before him.  I felt four fingers slide in and involuntarily clenched against
him.  I had never had four fingers in my ass at one time.  

"Relax, Anne.  You're resisting me and I don't much like it."  I felt him work
the ring of my anus slowly until I relaxed working lube in much deeper than he
had ever done before.  "Breath slowly and evenly.  You're going to love this." 
I felt the tip of the `toy' pushing between two of his fingers.  It felt
slippery slick with K-Y, and I pushed out hard.  Feeling his warm human flesh
replaced with firm unyielding rubber.  The pressure built to a pleasurable
plateau and went beyond into aching unrelenting strain for my body to accept
this impossibly wide dildo.  I groaned, trying to close my lips against the
sound.  "Come on, push out. It's not much bigger than I am around."  He kept
pushing, forcing my anus to stretch around the thing painfully.  I felt tears in
my eyes.   
It seemed to go in forever.  Past any point of comfort, causing a cramping in my
stomach much worse than anything menstrual.  I bore down to expel it, get it out
of me and felt Rob push it home.  The base slightly smaller so it wouldn't slip
out.  He sighed with satisfaction.  Nestling the base carefully between my butt
cheeks and laying my legs flat with a jerk.  I lay immobile, impaled by pain. 
He stroked my back and I felt the electric tingle of his touch along my entire
body, arousing me in spite of the burning dilation behind me.    

"Hurt?"  I nodded, not trusting my voice. "I'm going to take my crop to your
sweet ass.  Then pull that toy from you and give you something warm to replace
it with."  A quick shot of fear went through me.  Fear of more pain.  Knowing it
would hurt but Rob would be so hard and so good afterwards. I wanted him to whip
me.  It was the least that I could do for his pleasure and, as I was
discovering, my own, as well. He stood up from the bed, making waves in the
water.    
Rob hit me then so hard across the buttocks that all air left my lungs in a
surprised whoosh.  I turned my face into the pillow and took it into my teeth,
gagging myself with it so he couldn't hear my pain.    

This time was different for me.  The phallus, the feeling.  The total surrender
of my body to the punishment that I was allowing him to inflict on me.  He was
hitting me harder than he had ever done before and it seemed like for longer
too.  I lost all self-control.  I went totally beyond thought, trying to free my
hands, but unable too.  Yet, never using my voice to tell him to stop, it was
too much.    

I felt the pressure, building in my arms and legs.  The fire on my buttocks,
spreading its warmth all over my body. I gasped with the extent of his power
over me in that one enlightening second and surrendered to it.  Trying to pull
air into starving lungs by raising my head.  I tautened, bucking upwards and
pulling on the bonds.  Sensation sweeping over me and through me.  Churning
against the phallus impaling me and pushing me over the edge of the abyss.  I
came against the bed, beyond thinking.  A low animal growl tearing from my
throat as my body wrenched into heaven.  Rob suddenly forcing his fingers into
my sex as the last of my orgasm clenched around his hand.  His soft reassurances
breaking me open further.    

I came while being beaten.  I was annihilated on a spiritual level.  How could I
have ever orgasm while he was beating me harder than he had ever done in the
past? Something had clicked into place inside my head.  Some deeply buried
connection between Pleasure/Pain was forged inside my head and I inexplicably
started to weep.  Deep quiet sobs as I realized what had been done to me with my
complete cooperation.    I was changed.  Eternally and profoundly different from
all the Vanilla people that I knew.  I was weeping because I knew that the
possibility existed that I could never go back to the way I had been.    

My arms were released and he pulled me up off the bed. Leaning me against the
dresser that had the big mirror behind it.  I looked up and saw my red
tear-stained face reflecting back at me.  When Rob leaned down to slide the
phallus out of me, it resisted removal.  He stroked my buns and told me to push
it from deep within myself.  I was bearing down against it with determined
steady effort until I felt it being drawn out of me.  Leaving me empty until
Rob's cock took its place roughly.  His hands holding my hips steady against his
driving jabs into my canal.  Fucking me hard and fast.  I was so open that it
didn't even feel unduly indelicate to me.  He was stroking my wet clit at the
juncture of my sore thighs.  My backside burning from the beating he had just
given me.  His breath harsh, hot and animal-like against the back of my neck. 
Suddenly, he drove into me hard.   Pinching my clit sharply so I came as well,
to a lesser degree than before but still an orgasm.   

Rob collapsed over my back, his breathing harsh.  Cock still jerking slightly in
reaction to our passion.  His weight against me almost collapsing me to the top
of the dresser.  Gradually he came to himself and slipped his cock from my ass
with a swift pull.  Patting me gently and wiping the tears from my face.  I
closed my eyes and didn't move, hearing the sound of his condom hitting the
garbage can.    

He took my arm and led me into the master bathroom.  I was weak with exhaustion. 
My muscles pulling with hurt and exertion.  I let him lead me into the bathroom
and sit me on the toilet while he started the shower.  He pulled me in. Washing
my hair with rough hands, nice.  Using ivory soap gently between my legs,
slipping one soapy finger into my anus to get the lube out.  He said something.   

"What?" I asked, and then gasped as he pinched one of the marks on my butt.  I
rested my arms on the tile.    

"I didn't tell you to speak, precious."  Oh, God, he wasn't finished yet!  His
hands soaped my breast, tormenting the nipples.  Taking care with every part of
my body, leaving me squeaky clean.  He stepped from the shower, letting me rinse
thoroughly as he dried.  When he took me from the shower he led me to the
kitchen table and made me sit on the edge.  "Don't fuck with me, you know how I
want you."  His voice was cold.  My hands balled into fists as I lay back.  He
pulled my hips to the edge as he brought a ladder-back kitchen chair up between
my spread legs to sit on.  Close but not too close.  I put my ankles into the
notches on the back of chair, hating every minute of this position.  Coldly
reminiscent of a gynecologists office.  The once a year torture that all women
go through.    

Rob opens the outer labia, heedless of my humiliation and dryness.  His
fingernails scraping against the delicate tissue roughly, yet deliberately.  He
spread my knees wider and played with me.  Tracing the parts of me gently. 
Clitoris, urethra, vagina, anus.  Slowly methodical.  Tiny delicious pressure
against the tender parts of me.    

"There are parts of you that I have never explored, Anne."  I answered his
comment respectfully.  "I like watching you orgasm, but only when I tell you
too." Suddenly his hands had a meaning.  I felt a tear well up in my eye.  I was
in trouble.  He put his face against me, starting to eat me with expert flicks
of his tongue against my flesh.     He kissed my crotch tenderly until the
juices started to flow again and I hungered for release.  Rob stood up and slid
his fingers into the willing tunnel.  "You came without my permission.  You ever
come without my express permission again, and I will keep you like this for a
month.  Do you understand me?"    

"Yes, sir."  I whispered absolutely miserable.  He pulled away suddenly when my
breathing deepened and the involuntarily clenching of my sex told him that I was
really enjoying his attentions.     

"Take your legs down.  Go to the bedroom and wait for me on your side."  I did
it.  He came in and tied my arms to the headboard so I couldn't take care of my
hungry orifice myself.  He lay down beside me and went to sleep.    

Pretty prudent of him.  I was tempted to relieve myself and would have done it
if he hadn't tied me.  I'd done it before when I wasn't secured this way. 
Taking some satisfaction in the fact that I was getting off in the same bed as a
man that thought he controlled that kind of thing.    

This was different because I was in such torment.  Pain from my buttocks
throbbing with my pulse cause a chain reaction to move straight through my sex. 
I needed more attention.  Craved it and along with the craving I had questions
running through my head.     

How had Rob known that I would like this kind of sex? How had he known that I
wouldn't balk at the whips, chains and phalluses that he used on me?  How did he
decide to introduce me to this delicacy on the menu of sexuality?     

It came to me suddenly.  He didn't know.  He had studied me, worked at my
resistance.  Figuring out how he could get what he wanted from me.  My eyes
caught sight of my riding crop on the floor.  He had broken it while beating me. 
It's expensive leatherhead hanging from the shaft.    

I almost came just from the sight of it, then closed my eyes and shivered in
fear.  This is part of me now.  The link had been forged between pleasure and
pain.  They were inexorably connected inside my head.  I would never be the same
again.                         
<<<<<>>>>>    

That was only one night of many.  Routine and ritual Role-playing and rape
scenes.  Anything that Rob wanted I gave to him without question.  Nothing he
asked for repulsed or sickened me.  At least, not that I ever let him see.  Some
of the things that he liked baffled me.  Like his fascination with controlling
my bodily functions, but since he liked it I let him do it.  Sex was good with
him.  A head-trip as well as body.  I found myself trying to please him.  I was
punished enough without deliberately courting disaster.     

All good things must come to an ended however.  Rob and I really ended on my
23rd birthday.  He asked me what I wanted and I told him.  I wanted one night on
top.  He was beautifully stunned by my request but he agreed.  It was almost as
though he simply could not believe that such a statement had come from me. 
Since he had mapped out my psyche.  I could have no desire for such a thing.  It
was unthinkable.  Surprise.    I don't know why he agreed, he was obviously
uncomfortable with the whole idea, but he did.  It was a real revelation for me. 
I liked it.  I liked pushing limits.  I liked having to pay attention to what I
was doing, not just being done too.    

It wasn't a real good scene.  Rob was uneasy and couldn't really surrender to
it.  More importantly, Rob couldn't take it.  He balked.  Suddenly, I was the
one that had more self-control.  Higher limits.  I thought less of him for that. 
From that moment on I absolutely coveted punishment.  Rebellion at every turn. 
I never even let him see me cry after that night.  The frustration was driving
him insane because I don't think he could figure out what had happened.  He just
knew that every time he tried to knuckle me under, I stiffened my spine and took
it.  My seed of contempt had become a big old tree.  His lack of discipline had
broken the bond between us, forever.     

He broke up with me, 3 or 4 months later.  I wasn't really sorry.  He lacked
mettle, you know?  I just figured that a chapter in my life had closed and moved
on.  I'd just go back to the way I was before Rob and be okay.     

I am okay but I missed something.  The problem was that I couldn't find it in
the white-bread Republican world that surrounded me.  I went out with a 32 year
old virgin and married an abusive SOB that couldn't figure out why I fought back
when he attempted to do real violence to me.  I rapidly developed backbone.  Not
something that I needed before then.  It has, however, stood me in good stead.     

P.D- post-divorce.  I discovered that I was not the only pervert on the planet. 
They actually wrote books for people like me to read.  Exit to Eden by Anne
Rambling, The Story of O, The Beauty Trilogy by A.N. Roquelaure.  Pat Caliphia,
Laura Antoniou.  The whole gamut of sexual diversity available at the local
bookstore for feverish reading at my home.  Intoxicating.     

It was while reading these books that I felt something that I hadn't felt in a
long time.  Desire.  Considering for the first time that this was why I was not
satisfied with dating Vanilla men.  I was not like that anymore.  I was too hot
for them.  Too diverse.  Too willing to explore the dark side of my sexuality.    

My husband liked missionary style, period.  I just assumed that the older you
got.  The more boring sex became and since I did not want to be boring.  I would
be alone forever.  A martyr before the throne of business, neutered sexless.     

The only problem was that I didn't feel neutered I felt... horny.  I didn't want
a 32-year-old virgin or a wife-beater.  I wanted someone like Rob, or better
yet.  Someone like me.  A focus for all this repressed sexual energy.  I was
only 27 years old.    

Luck was with me.  I found Eric.  A 32-year-old artist. We car-pooled to college
together.  We were both older than the kids who went during the day and
gravitated together.  He was intelligent and funny.  Eric was good to me.     

One weekend Eric's mom went away and he asked me to dinner.  I got over there
and we started to laugh.  Having a riot and drinking wine, discussing the movies
available for viewing.  When, as though it was meant to be, we ended up on the
floor.  Kissing.  We were pulling pieces of our clothes off, but when I reached
for his zipper, he stopped my hand.     

"I have a problem."  I felt my heart sink.  I figured he was impotent, or HIV,
something catastrophic.  I schooled my features to neutrality and waited.  "I
have a real hard time reaching orgasm.  Sometimes I can't at all."  He looked
embarrassed.  "I want you to know that before we go any further."     

"Do you get hard?"  He nodded, and I responded by reaching back down for his
zipper.  Let's see how much of a problem it really is.  Part of me thinking that
a hard man that has a difficult time coming could be a lot of fun.  I gave it a
try.     

Seven hours later I was still trying.  He ate me twice. I was on top, on bottom,
on all fours, on the counter, in the shower.  Standing, sitting, oral, manual. 
I tried every thing that I could think of to get this guy off, and no go.  I
finally made him stop.  Sitting on his mom's marble coffee table with my legs
open, dripping and pumped raw.  I can't even remember how many times I came.  I
like a challenge, but I was so frustrated that I wanted to draw blood.  He
waited on the floor as I frowned at him, playfully mean to assess the situation. 
I wasn't going to give up even if it killed me.     

When I frowned and narrowed my eyes at him.  I saw his cock stir, stiffening. 
No, it couldn't be this simple.  I growled, low in my throat.  More movement.  I
laughed, and ordered him quickly.     

"Come here."  He crawled over.  I widened my legs so he could get between them. 
"Put your hands on my thighs."  He did it, trembling softly. I took his nipples
with my nails, and pinched them.  He looked at my face and was suddenly
embarrassed. I touched his cock.  Letting the little eye wink at me as I
examined it.  "I've worked at this for seven hours."  He swelled.  I knit my
eyebrows together. "It needs to be punished for not giving me what I asked for." 
I felt a flush of heat and was surprised the return of my desire.  I figured
that I was well fucked now.  I lost track of how many times I came beneath him. 
This sudden return was inexplicable.  I thought that I'd be done by now,
finished. I rested my toes on the floor.  I twisted his nipples, making him
moan.  "I like to fuck, Eric.  I like the feel of cock in my sex.  You have a
nice cock that needs a lesson in manners.  Put it inside me, but don't move it."  
He knelt up and guided his cock in.  I started flexing my sex around it with
strong clamping force.  Milking it. Telling him how to move, when to move.  I
pulled him against me, digging my fingers into his shoulders with brutal force
and ordered him to come in me.  Right fucking now.  He did.  Bucking into me and
filling the air with the scent of sex.  Collapsing finally over my sweaty body. 
I ordered him to lay on the floor.  Straddling him.  "Open your eyes."  I said
stroking his hair, quietly pleased by his compliance.  "Why didn't you just tell
me what you really wanted?"  I asked.    

"Because it's kind of weird."  He blushed.  "I've never come the first time with
anyone.  I didn't want you to think that there was something wrong with me."    

"Why would it be weird?  Everybody needs some type of special attention to make
it good for him or her.  You need to be ordered around.  I can take control from
you.  Does that make me weird?"  He shook his head.  "You just can't ask for it.
I figured it out."  I was very surprised that he felt so bad about what he
needed.  He kept talking.  Fear making him shake and softening his words.  I
felt bad for him.     

"I like strong women.  I like to be talked too.  Told what to do." His voice
trembled with what could only be fear.     

"Why are you ashamed of that?  Are you thinking that you aren't entitled to ask
for what you want?  I wanted you to eat me.  Should I have kept quiet?"  Another
slow shake.  "I like you.  You're funny, caring, and talented.  You're good to
me.  What we do together is our own business.  If you need more than talk, you
let me know."  His hands trembled, and I could feel him getting hard again
against my thigh.  "Naughty boy."  I teased, and took his hands to hold them
over his head.  Pinning his shoulders with my elbows.  I bit his neck, and then
licked it.  Whispering.  "I feel you getting hard again. I have it in me to
tease you until just before you come again and leave you in torment.  Should I?" 
He shook his head. "I would love to lay you over my lap, and warm those strong
buns of yours, but I'm pretty sure you'd come against my leg, wouldn't you?"  He
shook his head, protesting he didn't like to be spanked.  "But I would want too,
and you would let me."  His organ jerked making me laugh. "You'll let me do what
ever I want to with you, because I can give you pleasure."  I traveled down his
body, and nudged open his thighs.  Running one hand under his butt.  "Virgin
territory, I'll bet."  He twitched.  "I have you now.  I can tie you up.  Make
you beg. Make you come in my mouth so I can taste you." Fluid leaked from the
tip, and I licked it off.  "Make you eat your juice out of me, slowly.  Any
thing I want."  I leaned up over him and put his cock in me.  Leaning up on my
arms and moving like a man does.  "Oooh, you are so hard, again.  So ready, so
easy."  His breath was short and he looked like he was in pain.  "I feel you,
deep inside me.  Hard and full.  Ready to shoot that big load into my sex before
you eat me to orgasm. I will make you eat me.  Slowly, deeply.  Pulling all the
cum from my deep well with your fingers so I can lick them clean, so you better
cum for me soon honey.  I want your face against me, right now." Eric arched off
the floor and shot into me for what seemed like forever.  Spurt after spurt of
hot fluid.  Jetting into my wet clamping sex.  His face a study in animal rut. 
I came again then I worked him until he was soft.  Laying against his sweaty
body in perfect satisfaction.     

I really enjoyed Eric, and I think he enjoyed me.  Okay, he did.  He said that I
was one of the most sensual people that he had ever met.  He would make love
anywhere, any time. All I had to do was call, tell him I was on my way and he'd
meet me at the door with a smile and a hard-on.  He cooked for me. Painted my
toenails and gave a great massage.  He got transferred to Chicago and we didn't
last long after that. He wanted me to go, but I had just gotten a great job with
room for advancement.  I was happy.  Knowing what I know now. I would have gone. 
I still miss him.     

Finding someone else to play with has not been easy. Well, impossible is a more
accurate word.  I went out with a couple of straight men.  They were less than
adventurous than I and even less amenable to suggestion.  Hell, they wouldn't
even tell me their fantasies so I had nothing to work with even.  I gave up,
totally and I thought, completely.  The convent was starting to look pretty
good.     

It's a human thing really.  Everything on the planet is different.  Emotionally
and psychologically we are all diverse, yet even now most of us are afraid to
say anything about our diversity.  Afraid of what people will think of us.

I went on this way for years.  6 to be exact.  It got so bad that I named my
shower massage.  It became a great joke at work, when they weren't calling me a
Lesbian.  That the reason it was unsafe to cross me was that I had not had sex
in so long.  I was a major Bitch.   

There were advantages in that.  It eventually made them give me an Urban Times. 
The local underground newspaper. That was where I finally came into myself. 
They had ads in the back for people like me, to meet other people like me. Us,
the perverts.  I never answered any of the Ads, but I sure got mileage out of
them.  For someone with an I.Q like mine, anything that inflames the imagination
is appreciated. That and the fact that I could pick out an ad and build a
scenario to match it in my head.  Nice.     

The most embarrassing thing was buying the equipment.  I bought a really nice
whip the other day and the only reason that I got away with it was that it was
so close to Halloween.  I still had to put up with S/M jokes, but I didn't care.     

It became an obsession.  The thoughts whirling through my head with breakneck
speed.     

I found the ad that I answered in the back of the paper. Not an out-call
service.  It read like a support group.  I could do that.  I needed the support. 
I was lonely.  I was so hot that I felt like I was going to explode.  So I did
what any prudent closet case does.     

I screwed up my courage and made myself do what I truly wanted to do.  I called
the number.           

SEEK AND YE SHALL FIND     

Fantasies even good ones don't hold a candle to real flesh.  The problem, as
always, was how to meet like-minded people.  I wanted to meet people who play
the game, but also play by the rules.  I can't afford to end up with injuries
and trying to explain how I got them.  Bruises are a hazard, but so are welts. 
Not always, but sometimes. `The best times.' Came that little voice from inside
my head.  Most people think that it's a question of getting off on pain.  Wrong. 
It's sensation, attention, and limits.  It's the master or mistress focusing
complete and total attention on the most profound way to make you feel.  I may
be submissive, but I'm really the one in total control.  I'm the top.  It was
that way last weekend when I started my new life.  I was in just enough control
to feel again and just desperate enough to be reckless.  I had to have somebody
watching out for me upstairs, because I struck gold.       

THE PHONE CALL     

It was an absolutely miserable night.  Cold, wet.  The phone like ice in my
hands and the numbers hard to see.  The call itself was almost impossible to
make.  I could barely breath.  I felt like someone had kicked me in the chest,
hard.  I'd prepared myself like Rob had taught me.  I was as ready as I would
ever be, so I steeled myself and dialed the phone.  A woman answered.     

"Hello?"     

"I'm calling about your ad in the Urban Times."  I tried to keep my voice steady
and hoped that I succeeded somewhat.     

"Do you have any experience?"  [Does years of living inside the three ring
circus of my own mind, count as experience?]  Probably not, so I recounted what
I did know.     

"About six years ago I had a boyfriend that did this kind of thing." 
Humiliating to speak of this forbidden desire that kept me awake nights.     

"Do you have any costumes?"  [Costumes?]  That was a new one on this naked
kneeling girl.  I spoke the truth.     

"No, I never needed any on my end."  That was accurate enough.  There was a
pause on her end of several seconds and I got the impression that I was on a
speakerphone.  The tone had that weird wind-tunnel effect that those phones
have.     
"I see. Can you describe yourself briefly?"  I did.  I'm average, normal height
and weight.  Brown-hair, hazel-eyes. She seemed pleased by my description and I
heard a male voice in the background speaking.     

"Have her come in."     

"Can you come in on Monday?"  Monday was bad for me.  I had my real life on
Monday.  Separate from this fantasy life.     

"I'm sorry, I work."  Another pause from her end.    

"Oh, you have a job?"  I was kind of puzzled.  [Don't most people have jobs or
some way to make money?]     

"This is not my real life."  [Just a hobby.]  Came the little voice again. 
[God, what a smart-ass.]  They were conferring in the background, but too low
for me to hear.    
"Can you come by tonight?"  Overdrive on my pulse. "We close in about an hour." 
[Close?]  Oh well, time for questions later.  I agreed and got directions that I
repeated back to her.  [Wouldn't do to knock on the wrong door now, would it?] 
It was her last words to me that ran through my head on the way over like a time
loop.  "Be ready for anything."  I debated whether or not to even go.     

My palms were wet and my breath came in short pants. I pulled the shreds of my
dignity together and prayed for some sort of guidance. It came from within me. 
That little voice that I usually ignored.     

`What do you have to lose?'  That was it.  I had nothing to lose.  Nothing but
the empty, boring sterility of my waking world.                          

<<<<<>>>>>     

I made it on the expressway in twenty minutes.  I found a place to park on the
street.  I was kind of surprised to find myself in a residential neighborhood
with an address in my hand.  I found the right house.  A three-story Victorian
in the Indian Village area.  High-walls surrounding the property.  A real nice
house actually.  I sat in my car gripping the steering wheel.  Mouth dry. Panic
circling my lungs.  God, don't let me knock on the wrong door.     

I took a deep breath and got out of my car.  Walking up to the door and knocking
softly.                          



A woman answered it.     

"Yes?"  The voice from the phone, without the echo from the speaker.  I cleared
my throat.     

"I called a little while ago and you asked me to stop by."  She smiled
pleasantly, moving to clear the doorway.     

"Come on in."  I did so.  Noticing the foyer and hallway had been expertly
restored to their turn-of-the-century splendor.  We walked towards a big oaken
door that she opened to reveal a study done in shades of cream and ivory. A real
fireplace graced the room, a leather sofa [ivory] before it.  Cream plaster
walls with hunt prints. Bookshelves with titles that I recognized.  The only
thing that looked out of the ordinary was the umbrella stand with riding crops
in it, instead of umbrellas. [About ten of them]     

"My husband will be here in a moment." [husband?]  I must have looked surprised,
because she said. "It helps to have both of us in the business."  She smiled at
me, motioning me to sit down on the sofa.  "This is how we make our living."
Pride shone through her every word.  She checked the clock on the mantle. 
"He'll be just finishing up."  Very hard not to ask who, or what, he was
finishing up.  I managed it. 

She left me alone with my thoughts, going back out the door that we had entered
to the main hallway.     

I wasn't sure what to do.  How to sit even.  [What would they want?]  I was
nervous.  I rolled my head and shook out my arms.  Doing some deep breathing. 
Saying to myself. "Grace and perfect obedience.  Perfect silence and
flexibility."  I'd just finished when I heard the door opening up behind me.     

I didn't turn.  I looked straight ahead.  Hands on my knees.  Hearing the slow
steady tread before me.  A man's tread.  He came to a stop before me.  I glanced
up to about waist height and noted the black leather pants with studded boots. 
He put out his hand.     

"Hi, I'm Jon."  I looked up into his face as I gripped his warm fingers. 
Standing up from the couch as I did so. Business habit.  [Carnegie Grad, you
know?]     

"I'm Anne."  Firm grip of my hand in his.  He introduced his wife, Traci. 
Inviting me to sit back down on the sofa. I was slightly uncomfortable.  Unsure
of what he wanted of me.  I knew that he was master here, but did not know their
protocols.     

"So how did you hear about us?"  I swallowed down the fear and answered
honestly.     

"Your ad in the paper.  I called from a pay phone."  I had no idea why I
volunteered that little snippet of information to him.     

"Why?"  He asked directly.  Face sincere.  Intelligence in his dark-eyes.  I
noticed that he was 35-40 with just a touch of gray in the dark hair at his
temples.  Coupled with his commanding manner he was formidable.     

"Because I was tired of vanilla, when I'd rather have rocky road."  I wanted to
bite my tongue out, but they laughed.  [Thank you, God.]  She spoke.     

"I've never heard it put quite like that before. I like it."  She sat on the end
of the sofa and curled her legs under her body. 

"You'd better tell her about us, Jon."     

"You know about the code?"  I nodded and the relief must have shown on my face. 
A certain tension leaving me in a rush.  The code was a set of rules.  Rules
designed to set parameters and prevent accidents.  I had hit gold, if they
abided by it when they played.  I kept my cool.     

"I did six years ago.  Has it changed much?"     

"Just a safe-sex clause.  You don't object to condoms, do you?"  Another tension
gone.  I assured him that I believed in them one hundred percent.  No one' is
touching my body without protection.  "Are you a dominant or a submissive?" 
This was the one question that I had been dreading.  This was it.  The moment
when I stated out loud for the first time what I really was.  Who I was.     

It was hard to get the words out around the congealing lump in my throat.  Rob
had never made me say it.  He just took it for granted that I was his.  This man
wanted me to say it out loud.  Express what I was craving.  I had to force
myself to say it and even then it was barely a whisper when it came out of my
trembling lips.     

"Submissive."  I felt hot color crawling up my neck and over my face.  My hands
clenched on my knees.  Eyes down.  I felt his presence as though he had just
suddenly appeared before me.  His voice when he spoke again had changed.  It had
hardened.     

"If you are a submissive, then you are in nowhere near the proper position to be
addressing me."  I didn't even hesitate.  I dropped from the couch unto my knees
on the floor before him.  Hands behind my neck and under my hair. Legs slightly
apart, eyes down.  Thinking that if I did what I had done before and it was
properly respectful that maybe it would be acceptable. He asked me questions.
Rapid fire, trying to pin me to some kind of personal philosophy.     

"Voice trained?"     

"Yes Sir." I said, quickly.     

"Sexual Orientation?"     

"Heterosexual, Sir."  Never ever tried it any other way.  Why mess with what you
like?     

"Have you ever been with a woman?"     

"No Sir." I felt color creeping up my neck.  He waited and I made myself
continue speaking, slowly. "Almost once, but I'm curious sir."    

"Wait there."  I felt them walk away by the changing in the air around me, then
snatches of the conversation they were having over in the other end of the room. 
Never a whole sentence, just snippets.  Words like- Willing, Nice Manners, Not
hard to train this one.  Then I heard her say.    

"Well, we didn't have anything else planned for the rest of the evening now that
Adam's taken the weekend off.  We can ask."  They whispered for a couple of
minutes, and then came back to where I was kneeling on the floor. "We could
really use a good submissive, honey."  Nothing like being in demand.     

I heard them talk about fees, contracts, costumes, and hardware.  I thought I
was going to pass out it got so hard to breath there for a minute.  My heart
hammering in my chest at much faster than it's normal rate.  I was dazzled and
filled with a sudden sense of unreality.  I heard one of them leave and one came
back over to stand in front of me.     

"You can stand up."  Traci, I did it, noting with some surprise that I was much
taller than she was.  "We'd like you to stay for awhile as a trial.  If we like
what we see, we'll include you with our regulars."  I looked at her with
curiosity shining in my eyes.  "We have a fully equipped dungeon.  Whips,
chains, clamps.  I do erotic body piercing. You will have an opportunity to pick
your safe-word, if you agree to stay.  Once you agree to stay, if you ask to
leave it's considered an act of rebellion.  If you use your safe- word to get
out of a non-painful situation.  That too, is considered rebellion.  If you
agree to stay we will consider you our property and use you as such."  I asked
her a question that was important to my answer to them.     

"Have you ever had an accident here where anyone got hurt?  Really hurt?"  She
smiled with a great deal of pride.     

"No, We are more than careful here and have never had an accident with one of
our people.  We are always near and always watching."  I looked her straight in
the eye.     

"Are you secure here?  I cannot afford to have even a whisper of this get out.
It won't ruin me, but it would make my life much more difficult to live."  She
looked at me seriously, as though I had handed her a loaded gun.     

"This is the most discreet establishment in the city. We screen our guests very
carefully here.  If you become one of our regulars here by the time you return
to us.  We will know everything about you that is possible to know."  I believed
her.     

"I agree."  I said it fast, so that I wouldn't balk.     

"Okay, I'll take you someplace to prepare for the festivities."  I blushed.    

"I...umm. Already douched.  Twice, both ways."  She looked curiously interested
in what I said.     

"Were you expecting?"  I shook my head and sheepishly grinned down at her.     

"No, Ma'am.  I'm only human.  I had a date with Mr. Michigan, later in the
night, if you know what I mean.  I was planning on going home alone."  She
laughed.  Understanding full well what I was saying to her.  She walked over to
a cabinet and got a blindfold.     

"You will wear this until we get downstairs."  I nodded. Traci went behind me
and buckled the blindfold carefully around my eyes, moving my hair out of the
way.  "You'll be able to walk until we get there."  That was okay with me.  I
felt myself giving over to the slave way of thinking and knew that it was the
blindfold. Erotic darkness covering my senses with velvet night.     

Nothing weakens your resolve like a blindfold.  It softens you, robs you of
will.  She took my hand and led me slowly out of the study.  I followed her.
"Careful here."  She said, guiding me a bit to the right of the corridor.  She
had me stop, putting my hand on the railing to some steps.  Telling me that
there were thirteen steps to the bottom.  I went down, counting carefully.  I
could smell leather and rubber with the darker smell of basement.  Jon spoke.     

"Bring her over here and strip her down.  I want a good look at the
merchandise."  I quickly felt hands on the laces of my shoes before they were
removed.  Then my pants, pantyhose, shirt, bra and finally, my panties.  I was
naked.   Another layer of vulnerability exposed to sight.  No more false veneer
of civilization.  A hand took my elbow and led me forward.    

"Spread your legs."  Jon commanded me.  I did it. His hand taking my wrist and
deftly securing it with a quick action to chains above me.  Soft wrist cuffs
holding it upwards.  He did my other wrist.  The heat from his body warming the
front of me subtly.  Body heat, very nice, especially in contrast with the
coolness of the room.  Hint of danger as I gave up control of my limbs.  Pulse
bounding.   

I heard him walking around me, slowly. I took the chains in my fists and held on
tightly to their comforting solidity. I cocked my head trying to hear his motion
and felt the sharp sudden sting of a strap against the backs of my thighs,
surprising me, making me gasp at the unexpected delicious pain. It had been too
long.  I was instantly ready.     

"Head up, Anne."     

"Yes, Sir."  I said, around the lack of air in my chest. He put his hands on my
breasts and pinched the nipples lightly to make them hard.  I sealed my lips
shut.  The one thing that I had learned very early on about the game was that
the pleasure was never first.  Tonight was to be no exception.  I felt deft
fingers closing clamps over the tips of my nipples.  Tightening them expertly to
the very threshold of pain.  I fought to keep a groan inside myself.  Sweat
breaking out to form a sheen on my skin.  Hands patted my shoulders and the
added weight of the clamps on my nipples pulled maddeningly.  I heard him step
back to survey his handy-work.  Moving once again close to me to whisper into my
ear.  Hand lightly traveling the curve of my buttock and upper thigh in a
lingering caress.  
"Do you like Greek, little bottom?  I do it very well." I shivered at the
thought and couldn't answer because my mouth was suddenly too dry to speak. 
"Since you hesitate to answer my questions.  I need to find no excuse to punish
you, Anne.  You yourself have provided it."     

"I'm sorry, sir.  I beg forgiveness."     

"Then answer my question."     

"It's been so long that I am frightened."  Truth was a scary thing.  That was
also one of the few places that your virginity actually does grow back and, sad
to say, I had let it. I moved back into comforting ritual.  "If it pleases you,
Sir."     

He removed the blindfold and I looked around me for the first time at the
dungeon.  It must be some unspoken S/M rule that these places are always in the
basement.  I saw a large punishment cross in the corner.  Several recessed
cabinets and large open spaces.  In one corner there was a bar that Traci was
sitting at, sipping a tall glass of what looked like water.  Jon drew my
attention back to him.     

He put his large hands on my waist drawing my gaze back to the planes and angles
of his face.  A roughly handsome face in a rugged sort of way.  He smiled kindly
at me with teeth that looked very white and straight in the indirect lighting.     

"When we break a rule.  That rule is explained."  His voice was matter of fact.
"You, as a slave, have no right to look me, as a Master, in the eye."  I dropped
my gaze quickly from his eyes.  "Correct but futile.  We call this the Rule of
the Eye."   I nodded.  "Why will you be punished?"     

"This slave has broken the Rule of the Eye.  I looked you full in the face.  I
beg your forgiveness and accept without question, your judgment."  I watched his
hands kneading my hips.  Hoping that what I had said was ritualized enough to
please him.  Falling back into this foreign way of thinking more easily than I
had imagined that I would. Much more easily than a small part of me hoped.     

"Very nicely put, Anne."     

"Thank you, sir."  I answered.  Waiting for him to continue with his will.     

"Tell us how your other Master had you act."  I trembled then, burning with
humiliation so intense it was almost like pain.  I took a breath and spoke the
words that Rob had taught me six years and a lifetime ago.     

"I am a submissive.  Forever and always beneath my Master or Mistress.  I am to
be always graceful, willing and accepting of anything that the Master or
Mistress decides.  I will be punished for three reasons; Your pleasure,
Infraction of the rules, or my Education.  I am to show no preferences of any
kind.  I am merely here to serve."  I managed to get it all out without
stumbling over any of it.  They seemed pleased with it.     

"What was your safe-word?"  Jon asked, flicking the clamps lightly in an effort
to distract me from his words. It almost worked too, but I forced myself to
focus on him and him alone.  My body and my need, secondary.     

"Blue, Sir." I gasped out as the gentle motion of the clamps hurt me slightly,
just enough to be almost luxurious. Traci went to a dry erase board in the
corner and wrote the word `Blue' under a legend that read; Language Of A
Quitter.     

I practically winced at the thought.  I wasn't going to say it now, unless I
absolutely had too.  Never, ever.  Not here at least, not tonight on my first
night.     

"I will ask you some questions, Anne, so that our time together is fruitful to
both of us.  There is severe punishment for lying to me and Traci will be taking
notes so that later down the road I can check your answers from tonight."  He
paced in front of me.  I kept my eyes down and forward.  "What repels you?"

"Nothing really.  I have not done very much.  I have no interest in certain foul
bodily secretions.  I have no idea, Sir."  That was honest.  How was I to know
what repelled me unless I actually did it?    

He was studying me.  Touching my arms lightly, my back. Putting his body near
enough to almost touch me, then drawing away.  What was he trying to do?     

"Ever been in a sling before?"  A fisting sling?  My body stiffened with terror.     

"No, Sir.  Never, Sir."  I stammered with fear.    

"This frightens you?"  He showed some real interest at the thought that I might
truly be frightened of something.  My heart trip-hammered.  Surely he could hear
it.    

"It is not my position to deny you, Sir."  Traci said no accidents and I held
unto that thought like I was drowning.    

"Would you have any objections to being pierced?"  That was a trick question.  I
had almost had it done a couple of years ago, just to see if I would like it,
but I chickened out.     

"No, Sir."  I answered quickly.  "Anyplace but my clitoris, Sir.  I wish to risk
no permanent damage to something that I am quite fond of in my own way."  Jon
pressed his body suddenly against my back.  His hand slipping into the moist
apex of my thighs, making me groan as he touched the small knot of feeling that
we had been discussing. Fingers firm.  My sex, wet and starving.     

"Quite the smart-ass, aren't we, Novice?"     

"Yes, Sir."  I had to fight to control my words around the rapid surge of fever
that flowed over me.  It had been so long and he was so hot. 

"Forgive me, Sir."     

"You will come to know many exotic pleasures in my house, Anne.  I am an
explorer of the sensual."  I was beyond wet.  I could feel it on my thighs-
thick, hot, moist.  Smell the scent of arousal on the air like sweet perfume. 
"I will take the time to know you better than you know yourself."  I believed
him.  "Your strengths, your weaknesses.  I am always searching for new ways to
open your soul..." His fingers slid into my sex deftly.  "To my touch."  My legs
grew weak and I held tightly to the chains supporting me.  His fingers feeding
the desire that was growing inside me to unbearable proportions.  I moaned
against my will, softening all over as his fingers slid home.  "I have traveled
the world learning how to torment and treasure.  I know the Fist, The Greek and
the feel of slick tight cunt around my cock.  I can safely take you beyond your
wildest fantasies."  His voice was a mere breath of sound against my ear.     

"Yes, please..." I begged, beyond shame.  Hoping for. What?  Orgasm? 
Acceptance?  I closed my eyes in misery.  My spread legs aching terribly.  My
head rolling into my arm, helplessly.  I felt my heart in my throat.  I ached
with desire.  A throbbing, pulsing heat.  I tried to speak, but bit it off
because I had not been spoken too.  The last of rational thought in my head.     

"Speak, Anne."  He ordered, never ceasing the gentle motion between my legs. 
This was so hard for me.  I had never been very good at revealing secrets. Beat
me, but don't ask me why I want you too.     

"I'm frightened of who I am, sir."  Soft hands on my shoulders.  Traci.  The
tenderness more of a horrifying shock than the brutality.  More painful, inside,
anyways.     

"Why?" Jon asked, his voice sounding almost intrigued by what my reply would be.
"Answer me, and never, ever hesitate."     

"I fear punishment as much as I crave it.  I fear because it has been so long
and I am so hungry."  Total honesty.  Total submission.  Letting light into the
darkness that was inside me.  The darkness that was my sexuality. Savagely
suppressing the conservative voices of shame that told me this...wonderful
feeling would damn me for all time to the eternal pits of Hell. "I fear the loss
of control." The true crux of my problem.  I felt tears then, filling my eyes
and captured by the edge of my lashes. "I am not supposed to enjoy..."     
"You are bound."  Traci said to reassure me.  Attempting to ease the guilt that
flowed through me.  "We are in control."  I whispered the secret that I had kept
to myself so long that to reveal it was more intimate than the act of love
itself.  My voice was low.     

"I orgasm under the strap."  Shame spilling the wetness from my eyes.  Hands
stroking me from both sides.  Jon's low laugh from behind me then his soothing
voice in my ear.     

"It's very difficult for you, almost unbearable.  The guilt.  The shame of it
all.  It burns your soul with searing intensity."  I nodded.  "Yet, even now you
have the power to absolve yourself.  There is nothing wrong with you and nothing
wrong with us."  I took a deep breath to regain control.  His hands leaving my
shuddering body.  "Prepare her for punishment."     

"Yes, Jon."  Traci answered him.  Her hands falling from me as well.  "Go with
it, Annie.  We'll make it good for all of us."  Flush of desire.  Yearning for
this.  Get the pain over with, so the pleasure could follow.  Build my passion
to an unbearable level of heat and need.  Set me free.     

I set myself.  Rational mind shut off.   Dreading the next few minutes.  No
matter how much you crave it or want it.  The whippings, paddles and spankings
hurt, even when it absolves the guilt.  Even when it makes the fire between your
legs burn white hot.  Even when it teaches you about limits, or your own soul. 
The bite of leather against flesh will eventually break you.     

Traci stood in front of me with the blindfold in her hands.     

"You will not see which one of us is instructing you tonight.  Do you
understand?"  Her tone was matter-of-fact.     

"Yes, ma'am."  I affirmed, keeping my eyes forward.  The soft leather buckled
over my eyes and Jon asked me.     

"Why will you be punished?"  His tone was hard.  The question direct.  I
answered.     

"I, a lowly novice, dared to look you in the eyes. Boldly and without humility." 
I felt my arms lowered to the height of my waist.  Hands on my shoulders pushing
me to my knees.  I automatically kept my legs open while kneeling. When I was
set very solidly on my knees with no pull on my shoulders.  Someone took the
bulk of my hair and laid it over my shoulder, smoothing it carefully.  I
remained still, with my head forward.     

The blindfold is an amazing device.  It's surprisingly calming, yet every other
sense you possess comes completely awake.  I felt air on the hair of my skin as
subtle shifts of pressure.  My ears almost preternatural in their acuity.     

It still took me by surprise.  The first hard stroke across my buttocks.  I
gasped, clutching at the chains with desperate fingers.  The strap fell again
and again.     

I sealed my lips shut and tried to maintain what was left of my dignity in
extremis.  Whoever it was swinging the strap was a real expert.  The blows were
evenly spaced, deliciously hard.  Rapidly painful as the blood rushed to my
skin, sensitizing it.  I called on reserves of self-control I didn't know I
possessed.  My safe word a litany in my mind; `blue, blue, blue.'  Yet still I
remained silent.     

Silent even after the tears started to form in my eyes and wet the underside of
the blindfold.  Quiet even after I felt myself breaking open inside.  My head
back, body tensing with agonized passion.  Orgasm threatening me with sudden
violent release.  My own breath harsh in my ears.  Thigh muscles set like stone
and trembling with strain.  I never even realized the moment that they had
stopped.  I struggled against the pain.  Fought not to cum on my knees.  My skin
slick with sweat.  Hair damp and inarticulate animal moans coming from deep in
my chest.     

"Easy now."  Came a tender voice and gentle hands on the back of my neck.  "Good
girl."  I collapsed, unable to support my weight even on my knees.  Pulling
great lungfuls of air into starved tissues.  Feeling weak all over, soft.     

The hands freed my wrists.  Letting my arms fall limply to my knees.  I felt a
collar being slipped around my neck. I pulled away and hands steadied my face. 
Low voices telling me to be still, calm.  Just a collar.  Wide, but not too
tight.  A chain snapped to it.  The gentle tug to the right told me which
direction they wanted me to go in.  I remained on my knees, trying to keep up
with normal steps.  Feeling carpet under my knees.  I ran into a low bench and
waited to be led.     

"Climb up, lay on your back."  Perfect obedience in my every gesture.  I strove
to be graceful around the weakness in my limbs.  The air perfumed with the scent
of sex from the warm fluids on my thighs.  Need, a raw animal wanting, burning
through me.   

They stretched my arms over my head and secured them. My ankles, as well.     

"Why will you be punished?"  I couldn't remember a reason other than the last
reason that I had given.  My heart stopped and a spasm jerked my body.  "One
crime, one punishment." He said.     

"For my education, Sir, or your pleasure."  Someone knelt between my legs and
hands touched my sex.  Opening the hot, wet folds.  Exploring the opening just a
little roughly, deliciously.  Where was the pain?  This wasn't pain.  Long
fingers entering me gently, deftly.     

I heard the soft sound of cellophane and the hard snap of rubber.  A soft moan
escaped my lips.  Two fingers, then three.  Testing the width of my opening, my
resilience. Other fingers lifting the hard kernel of my clitoris and pinching it
mildly, tantalizing it, making it grow hard with demand.    

A body moved between my legs.  An organ rubbing up my cleft with the pull of dry
rubber slowing it down, making me moan through closed lips.  Resting briefly at
the gate of my vagina. Hands rested at the sides of my face.     

The cock started to slide home, into my tight well. Breaking through the
resistance of six years of celibacy with a thick wet scraping.  Resting inside
me with all the time in the world to fuck me.  The ache of dilated flesh
convulsing my cavern as it tried to expel the invading member.     

The stiff cock started to move in an age-old rhythm. Rocking my sex.  Deeply in,
almost out.  Barely brushing the gate of my womb as the hard rhythmic thrusts
roughly worked me to climax.    

My senses blazed.  The inferno inside me coming quickly to critical mass.  Hard
hands took my breasts, changing my focus from my sex to my breasts.  Releasing
the clamps so the blood flowed into the deprived tips.  Agony pushing me closer
to the pinnacle.  I heard Jon's voice near my ear, low. Floating from behind me. 
Confusing my senses.     
"Traci fucks pretty good, doesn't she?"  Overdrive.  It wasn't him pumping me. 
It was her.  The Mistress expertly rocking my clitoris against my pubis in that
endless, relentless rhythm that my body knew so well.     

"Yes, Sir."  I gritted out between clenched teeth. `Don't cum.  Not now.'  I
told myself, rolling my head upon the bench under me.  Fighting to restrain the
inevitable tide that would take me over the edge and into the abyss.     

"Go ahead, orgasm.  Traci is."  I needed no more encouragement to let myself go. 
Abandoning any attempt at self-control, I arched against the bonds holding me.
Widening my legs as far as I could get them in the bondage to deepen her access
to me.  She pushed deeper and harder.     

The orgasm swept over me and annihilated me.  Rocking the very foundations of my
existence until my breath froze in my lungs.  Heart beating as though trying to
escape my chest.     

I cried out with it, moaning.  Body twitching with sharp, violent jerks.  Hands
on my flesh, but whose?  Hers or his?   I couldn't tell and truly didn't care. 
Still she did not stop.  Driving me higher to a new plane of sensual
gratification.   I cried out, shrilly.  The litany in my mind becoming tumult-
`No, don't stop this exquisite torment.  I yield to you.  I yield to you."    

"I yield to you."  I whispered.  "I am yours."  I whispered as the next series
of convulsions shook me.  I went beyond thought into animal instinct.  The point
where only one thing has any meaning.  Sex, pleasure, the pain of touch.    

Another orgasm swept me.  Bigger, louder, more shattering to my body.  Too much! 
They had to stop.  I could take no more of this unbearable pleasure.  I tried to
free myself with uncontrollably frantic movements, but was unable too.     

I felt a cock by my lips and took it hard into my throat.  Arching my head back
to take all of it.  Deeper into my shuddering mouth.  Any distraction welcome to
my fevered mind.  Forced to concentrate on what I was doing to his warm human
flesh.  The pleasure became more manageable, all-encompassing.  Almost fantasy
to me.  Romance in chains.  The organ pulled from my vagina, leaving it
clenching on emptiness.  I longed to have my hands free.  `Closer, master.
Deeper.  Cum in me, please.'  I could feel the tension in him.  Taste salt-thick
fluid leaking from the tip of his organ like honey on my tongue. `Give it to me,
your slave. Favor me by this simple service to you.' My thoughts a menage of
ritual submissive surrender.     

I felt him push harder and my hands were freed from their restraint.  By
touching him I knew he faced Traci above me.  Fucking my face without choking
me.  I clutched his thighs as he quickened his pace.  Shallowing slightly so he
could cum away from my mouth.  Thinking that he wasn't going to let me taste his
release.  I laughed and held fast.  I was not some silly high school girl afraid
to taste of a man. Much less the essence of the Master.     

My grip pushed him over the edge.  He went absolutely rigid except for the sharp
uncoordinated motion of his hips. He groaned and hot fluid rolled over my
tongue.  I swallowed and went to the very root of his organ.  Feeling the
twitches and spurts against the back of my tongue.  Tears rolling from my eyes
as I took him into me as far as I could.  Devouring his release as though his
essence was the sum total of his power over me.  I became the one in control,
because I had allowed him to have me.     

I sighed when he left me, hands falling to the bench limply.  Hearing him
breathing above me in a rapidly normalizing cadence.  Someone was removing the
blindfold from my damp eyes.  Wiping them with gentle fingers, touching my
gently swollen lips lightly.  Ashamed of this surfeit of emotion, I turned away.     

"I know why you cry."  Jon's velvet voice in my ear. "You weep for your
innocence.  Weep that you can no longer be content with what you consider
`normal.'  You've gone too far for that."  Maybe I had gone too far.  Forging
the pain/pleasure link in bands of iron.  "When you can consider yourself to be
a caring, normal person.  Someone who merely needs a harder touch in love-play
than someone else.  It won't be so hard for you to seek out what you need,
Anne." Would it really?  Could I learn acceptance of myself?  I wasn't sure I
could, but I wanted too.  Desperately.     

Laying on the bench, broken open and drained.  I felt closer to normal than I
had in many years.  Grateful to the people who had taken me where my body so
wretchedly wanted to go.  I felt them undoing my ankles and hands helping me to
sit.     

"Go with Traci.  She'll take you someplace to shower and then we will need to
talk."   

"Yes, sir."     

"Call me Jon."  I nodded at him, speaking slowly.     

"Yes, sir."  Then Traci led me out of the dungeon and back up the stairs.

CLEAN UP     

What they had done to me was over.  Letting me up from my knees, out of the
dungeon.  I followed willingly as they led me towards a white bathroom with a
shower.  Traci smiling as I reached the plain white door telling me to clean up
if I wanted.  I nodded, silently thinking about the scene between us.  Thoughts
flowing like quicksilver in my mind.  It was oddly kinky, that she, not him,
brought me to orgasm practically passing out from pleasure.  The fact that I
found it kinky, kinky to me. My head was like a three ring circus at times. 
Perversity is in the eye of the beholder, is it not?  I knew that I was not gay. 
I liked men too much to be a lesbian, but she had reached some unknown part of
my response system.  I was not sure what to do about it, but try to think it
through.  A difficult prospect.  At least to my reasoning. The rationale for
picking one sex over the other to `play' with, are not as clear as they used to
be.  It's no longer as hard to cross over that gender line.  I had never done
it, not even now.  I did not truly think.  Does having a woman fuck you like a
man; mean you've slept with her?  Had sex with her?  Even my questions were
unclear, or were they just a justification for having enjoyed having her take me
to climax?  The thought of putting my hand on her breasts, seemed, well, obscene
to me.  `You'd do it if they ordered you, wouldn't you?'  That was the crux of
the entire question, when I was in slave mode, and into it.  Yes, I would, just
to please them.  It would be part of the whole S/M deal.  Part of my agreement. 
My code of conduct.  As long as they were protected by latex, and I wanted the
action to continue.  Yes, I would, willingly. So now what did that make me?     

Nothing replaced a man, though.  I can't even tell anyone what indefinable
quality it is that makes me like them.  They are arrogant, bossy, mostly
irritating, but utterly fascinating.  There is nothing else like one, at least
for me.     

I love the feel of big hands.  Hot, hard organs inside my slick sex.  The taste
of the delicate pre-come droplets that leak from the cleft, after you start a
really long session of hot oral sex.  I love the way they grab my hair before
they climax, holding my head into that concealing curly hair.  The smell of
secret sex that you only get from burying your head under their scrotum to lick
their furry cracks.  Big legs, and hairy buns.  Skin both rough, and smooth.  I
love men.     

Women always seemed like equals.  Even when a woman is on top with a man,
there's the potential for annihilating violence, contained by lust and desire. 
A woman has power over a man.  That's the difference.  I had power over Jon,
because of my willingness, my hot sucking mouth.  Power because I was able to
take that rough rock-solid organ into my throat and coax the release from within
it, drinking the warm juices with unfeigned relish.  Traci just made me come.
Good head trip though, and I did like her.  She reminded me of me.  Good
imagination and a hot body.     

I stepped quickly into steaming hot water, leaning my face against the clean
white tile.  Cleansing from my body the scents and sweat of sex.  It was
wonderful.  Ivory soap, and astringent shampoo.  Good everyday smells that
brought comfort.  My mind slowed to lazy, warm circles.  It was all the same
thought; had I gone too far?  How far was too far, and would I know it when I
got there?     

The spray was stinging, warm, and almost painful.  Aches melting from my various
limbs slowly in the mist.  I washed myself slowly, carefully between my legs. 
Letting the thoughts clear my head as dirt cleared from my body.  I stepped out
of the glass door of the shower to find that Traci was waiting for me, with a
towel.  A soft terry cloth robe, held loosely in her hands.  She was grinning at
me, and I hid my hotly blushing face partially behind the towel.  She laughed in
delight at the visible crinkle around my eyes.  I was grinning too.     

"Well, you recovered quickly."  I shrugged, negligently. "We've never had anyone
here handle as much of a mind-fuck as you did tonight.  Nice job."  I wasn't
sure what to say. This was technically my first time in a situation like this.
Were we on, or off?  "You can just talk in here.  It's safe." She said, and I
marveled at her perception.  She seemed to know what I was thinking, and it had
to be from observation. I wasn't saying much.  Okay, nothing.  "Come out, and
talk when you're ready."  I was relieved to have a bit of privacy.     
"Thanks, Traci."  She turned back to me, assessing me carefully, eyes filled
with intelligence and open interest.     

"Did you like it?"  Licking her lips, slowly.  As if she couldn't wait to taste
me.  Her eyes glowing with remembered passion.  I had never had a woman look at
me like this in my life.  She looked at me like a man does...  Shrewdly
assessing the erotic potential of my deep valleys and firm mountains.  It was
disconcerting and surprisingly arousing.     

"I loved it."  I was telling the truth.  I was sure sincerity shone through
every part of my body.  I meant it. I felt good.  Calm, relaxed.  A certain
indefinable tension gone from deep within me, the way I always felt after a
really good fuck.  Ready to eat, drink, and think about what I had done.  I put
the cream-colored robe on.  It was soft. A comforting heaviness that only good
terrycloth has.  The armor of the civilized...  A veneer that changed the very
way I walked.  I know I stood taller in it. 

GENTLE LOVE

Going out the way Traci had.  I saw a room with low comfortable pillows and
bright colorful Afghans.  A low plain wood table near the floor had wine, and
cheese, set upon it. The harem-like profusion of multi-colored pillows was
wonderfully luxuriant.  Every shape, every texture and style. It looked like a
harem.  Walls vibrating with a dark vibrant maroon hue.  Moldings of natural
woods, carved in delicately twining vine-work.  The leaves no bigger than my
thumb.  The kind of turn-of-the-century craftsmanship that you only ever see in
these renovated mansions in the heart of the city. Built before pre-fabrication
became the normal way of building.  The carvings were uniquely appropriate to
the room.     

I saw Jon lounging against a small pile of fat pillows, smiling at me as though
pleased.  I smiled back.     

"Wine?"  He asked, and I whispered yes, that would be lovely.  "Sit, get
comfortable."  I did.  Warm, damp from the shower.  The glass of Zinfandel, he
handed me, cool against my fingers.  I sipped the wine, declining the cheese.
Feeling one thing.  This was heaven.  For the first time, in a very long time. 
I felt I had a aspiration, beyond work. Here I could be myself and whom I was
inside.  I had no expectations to meet.  I was free to be as I truly am.     

Jon was studying me carefully, as I looked at the detailing of the room.  I was
content, simply happy.  Like I had no other prospects, beyond being content. 
Did I understand why I felt this way?  No, but today the feeling was enough.     

"How do you feel?" He asked me suddenly.  His sharp eyes searching mine. 
Strange to look the master in the face.     

"I feel great."  Traci laughed in amusement at my reply.  Her pale-eyes
delighted.     
"She means it, Jon."  Her hands together in a small tent.  "She's not ashamed,
or sickened.  She's bone-deep, truly satisfied."  I was a little puzzled, wasn't
I supposed to be?  I thought that was the point.  He asked me another question,
patting the low pillows next to him for in an inviting gesture for me to draw
closer.

"How did you feel when you cried?" were his words, as I moved next to him.  His
big hands opening the tie on the robe, exposing my clean body to his eyes.  His
hands moving as I watched them to slowly stroke my damp breast softly. "When I
told you that it was a woman inside you, not me." My breath caught in my throat. 
"What did you feel?"  It was suddenly hard to form coherent thoughts, to put
into words the shattering of my personal preconceptions.  His tone was
commanding, and I didn't dare refuse to answer.  Over the rapidly rising level
of lust in my heart, I spoke.     

"I felt as if you had broken open my soul and peered into the darkness that I
keep hidden from the light." Brutally honest, and horribly revealing.  Panic
circled my throat.  `Tie me, Fuck me, but don't know me.  Please don't open my
spirit to view.  Please.'  I thought these things, but did not speak them.  His
fingers gently tantalizing my flesh, and soothing the rise of hair on my skin. 
"I loved, and hated, you both."  This surprised him.  His eyes reaching my face
again, as his attention was captured by the elegance of what I was saying.  How
I was expressing myself.     

"Why?"  He truly wanted to know.  Traci was behind the table, moving the edibles
to another place along the wall. Carefully out of the way of whatever purpose
Jon had in mind.     

"Because you took some of my darkness, into yourself.  I had no will and no
thoughts beyond pleasing you were, everything else was gone. All that remained
was pulse, flesh, and bone."  I looked down at his hands, moving in lazy circles
towards the apex of my now open thighs.  "It was like you knew me better than I
knew myself."  I was practically panting with exertion.  He patted the table,
and in my visible, shuddering weakness I climbed upon it.  Seeing his robe
parting before his stiffening cock, rapidly growing rigid, once more.  Jon knelt
up between my open legs, taking a condom from his robe's pocket.  I watched him
open it, and roll it gently over his own organ.  I was floating in the lazy
warmth of the room...  Pulse quickening...  Skin tingling.  His hot eyes meeting
mine as he rubbed the excess lube into my fresh-scrubbed opening.     

I was stunned to stillness.  Arms limp at my sides. This was not rough, or mean. 
His fingers were careful, even soft.  Not hurting me, as he spread me open. 
Exposing me to his gaze.     

I was suddenly confused.  Trip-hammer pulse beating in my breast, my skin
heating under his hands.  Traci a distant memory, fading from my thoughts. 
Panic in my eyes, as he smiled gently.  He carefully slid his thick organ into
me, stretching me until I groaned with rapture.     

"I do know you."  He said, as he moved leisurely in and out of my moistening
cleft.  "A true slave can forget their humanity, and be merely the flesh.  All
thought suspended." He ran butterfly soft fingers over the tips of my breasts
until I shivered.  I had no idea what he was doing, or why, but it was taking me
to a new plateau for agonizing abandon. "Even in tears, your spirit never broke. 
In the very center of your being is a core of ice that no one has ever touched,
have they?"  I shook my head, looking away, and closing my eyes.  This was more
humiliating than anything they could even contemplate doing to me in the
dungeon. "Look at me." He commanded and I did.  "Traci and I have interviewed
many people in this house.  Very few can give us the honesty that you have given
us."  His deliberate thrusts were making me wet again.  His unhurried hands on
my clean skin driving me almost crazy; his lazy voice an undercurrent to the
perfect fit of his penis inside me.  "Most Submissives like the pain or the
humiliation, but not the subtlety of a good mind trip." He picked up the pace. 
His hard fingers joining his cock, at the gate of my womanhood.  Pinching the
clitoris, making it throb with voluptuous sensuality.  Working me softly, so
delicately, that my mind filled with white-hot yearning.  "I want to try
something different with you." Hard to breathe at the absolute erasure of
thought at his words. "I want the scene to start the night before...  The week
before...  We want to prepare you, open you.  Lay the foundation layer by
layer."  His big hands rested on my thighs as he pumped into me furiously.  His
face starting to darken with the approach of his climax.  I watched him in
breathless, eager anticipation, trying to feel it with him. The power of
intimacy.  Wondering at the metamorphosis of ecstasy that changed a man in
control to a ravening beast. It was endlessly fascinating.     

I writhed beneath him, helping him to cum.  The strong internal muscles of my
vagina squeezing his thick organ mercilessly.  His hands becoming hard and
urgent.  His thighs hitting my pubis at just the right spot.  I was not
surprised to feel our movements pushing me beyond the very edge of restraint. 
He was making me orgasm with unadorned vanilla words and gentle fingers.  The
master using me as a real woman and not some abject pet or thoughtless slave.     

That was when he leaned over, and really kissed me. Sliding his tongue into my
open mouth plumbing my very depths.  Twining his tongue around mine sweetly,
like a lover.  I felt myself rupture in my soul.  My hands hesitantly rising
from my sides, finding his back.  Clutching hard at his buttocks with reckless
abandon.  Running my sweaty hands desperately up his searing flesh, holding on
for my sanity.  Gratification like this had been unheard of for me for many
years.  Soft hands in my hair, and slick indulgence in my deep cavern.  I bucked
beneath him, like a mare under a stallion.  Opening my legs wrapping them around
his waist to give him more access.  `Deeper, Master. Faster.' Moans coming from
deep inside me, in mindless profusion.  I whispered his name over and over.  A
litany to remind myself of where I was, and what was really going on. That was
when his velvet lips again silenced my words, my very ideas.  His hands cradling
my face to bury it against his hard chest.     

"Come on, Baby.  Let it go."  He whispered into my hair. "I want to feel it.  I
want your climax, Baby.  Come for me. Come for me, now."  I couldn't stop it. 
It flowed from somewhere so deeply buried in my psyche.  It practically
shattered me.  When I let myself go, I came in his arms as an equal.  Back
arched, heart stopped, a scream of raw animal ecstasy tearing itself from my
throat.  Vagina quivering around him, and clenching him tightly, mindlessly. 
Feeling the bold shuddering pinnacle of his own pleasure by the strong hot jerks
of his cock against my sex.  He clutched me against him hard, and pushed a
couple of times deeply into me.  Pulsing against that elusive little ridge of
clitoral tissue buried deeply inside a woman, making me react to him once again. 
He whispered against my hair.  Patient easy words meant to soothe me.  Quiet my
racing heart, and still the tremors inside my soul.  `What had I done?' A sob
caught in my chest, almost sound, but not quite.  He touched my throat, as I
turned my face away from him.  More truly tormented by this simple act of
normality than by any elaborate bondage fantasy they could do to me.  His tone
was bittersweet, and sad, as he spoke into my ear.  His breath making me shiver.
"It's not all pain.  Making love, to one, or the other of us, will be expected
of you, tender one." Tears again, running silently down my eyes to be kissed
away.  "You can take the agony and the orders.  It is the tenderness that moves
and scares you, touches you in places that you thought long buried."  He was
right, and terror moved inside me. `Don't be right!  Leave my heart alone!' It
hurt to have him this close.  Knowing that my hands had pulled him near.  My
lips had whispered his name.  His instrument had taken my vanilla virginity. 
"You want to be here with us.  You need to know if this life is what you want,
or only a dark fantasy for you.  Answer me, Anne."     

"Yes."  I whispered painfully.  I wanted, no, needed to know.  I opened my
tear-filled suffering eyes into his loving trusting ones.  Nodding slowly. 
"Yes, Jon.  I need to know." New calmness coming over me.  He grabbed the base
of the condom, and pulled his softening flesh from mine.  Still laying over me
protectively as he tossed the rubber neatly into a small trash basket.  I took a
deep breath suddenly shy.  I had no idea what to do now.  I looked around the
room.  Traci was gone.  "Where?"  I started to ask, but he just laughed. 
Pulling me off the table, and holding me against his hairy chest tightly on a
nest of soft warm pillows.  Pulling an afghan over the top of us.  Tucking me
in.     

"I can handle this on my own, dear."  I shook my head. "Not what you expected?" 
I shook my head again.  "I find that the ones who come to us out of a certain
internal desperation."  I stiffened, offended, to move away, but he stopped me. 
Arms tightening their hold.  "Not that kind of desperation, but someone treated
to a pleasurable taste of the strap.  The barest amount of bondage or servitude. 
Often think that in order to enjoy the Life, they have to give up the sweet
gentle tenderness of vanilla sex."  This astounded me.  Although why I had ever
thought of my sexuality as a sacrifice, was a concept beyond me.  The thing was
that I had accepted the loss of `normal' lovemaking as a matter of course.  I
spoke up, interested in this idea.  This intriguingly foreign concept.     
"You make love to everyone who comes here?"  I asked my voice low.  Curious to
what he would say to me, because everything that he was saying had the ring of
truth to it. Logical progression.     

"Had you been a lesbian.  You would be in Traci's arms right now, but yes.  I
make love to all applicants gently at least once in the first week here.  Your
willingness to partake of this `delicacy' has given me some valuable insight
into your mind.  This is very hard for you, isn't it?" I nodded.  He hugged me
tighter until I relaxed against him. Almost enjoying the simple closeness he was
giving me.  How long since I had just been held, and not pushed away after an
empty act of sex?  The hurried oral sex in a car, the quickie?  I allowed myself
to bask in his presence near me, touching some empty place in my heart, that I
knew he was filling.  He continued speaking.  The simple elegance of his mind,
flowing into mine.  "Pain is always easier to bear, but not all is pain.  When I
give you to a guest here, this may be the service that they require of you.  A
simple act of love."     

"What is love?"  I asked suddenly, angrily.  The mercurial thoughts flowing like
water out of me.  "How can you tell?  Is it you coming inside me?  Is it the
simple human act of touching another person and feeling the essence of that
person?  Is it not judging another person when they wake in the morning?" I
sighed.  "I have never had love. This simple act of love that you describe is
beyond me. Laying in your arms, right now is so profoundly kinky to me. I barely
know how to act."  He laughed a little sadly.     
"Love is what you make of it.  It is weak and strong. Firm and soft.  I love
Traci and cannot imagine not rising to her every day.  We think alike, and enjoy
the same things. We don't deny each other's sensuality or desire for others.  I
love some of the slaves I've trained, and let other masters, or mistresses,
have.  I love you."  I shook my head, and laid it against his chest in mild
disbelief. A long sigh escaping me.  "You don't understand?"  Not really.  Well,
maybe I did on some lower level.  "I love every person who ends up here.  The
outsiders searching for acceptance."     

"Is that what I am?"  I said it so haughtily, that Jon laughed out loud.  I did
too.  It was true.  All my life I had felt like the kid on the outside of a
birthday party, looking at all the other `normal' kids having fun.  Wondering
what set me apart from them.  What made them normal?"  "I understand, and you're
right."  I sighed.  "For all my life. I've tested the limits of acceptable
behavior.  Just so far, and no more.  Hiding, terrified."  He nodded in complete
understanding.  "There is steel inside me.  Forged by holding back from every
aspect of my life.  Never giving up control. Unable to let go."  I played with
the tangled hairs in the center of his chest. "Tonight felt good.  I cannot
guarantee to be perfection, or good all the time."  I took a deep breath.  "The
thing is. I like you both.  I would like to do this with you.  If you'll have me
here.  I never expected what I got here, and I enjoyed the surprises."     

There was an easy silence between us now.  I could hear the slow steady beat of
his heart under my ear.  Feel his pulse under my fingers.  Alive, warm, feeling.     
"You've seen a contract?"  He asked, as he rubbed my back under the robe.  My
mouth went dry at the sudden business-like hardness in his voice.     

"Yes, One form of it."  My voice was small.  It was a safeguard, a surety
against accidents.  An agreement with a checklist attached to it that had limits
and preferences, for the dominant to play with.  So far, no more.  I felt an
undefined tension melt from my shoulders.  Another layer exposed by a firm set
of rules.     

"I'll give you a copy to memorize, and you will be tested on it.  The rules we
operate under here are very strict.  We train slaves, and find them a place with
a master to love them."  His voice was very matter of fact, and precise.     

"Like a dating, matchmaking kind of thing?" He roared outright at this, hugging
me closer to him.  As if I was some kind of rare treasure that he had found on
the street in a lucky twist of fate.    

"For three months, as our schedule and yours allows.  We will train you in our
ways of pleasure.  It will be difficult, and uncomfortable.  Be prepared for
that, and always remember it.  It is what we do, and who we are.  Be very clear
on that part of it.  This kind of `normal' love is a rare occurrence for us."  I
nodded.  "At the end of that time, we will either find you a master or mistress
to subsidize your visits here, or send you on your way to someplace where you
can get what you need.  Do you understand?"  Slower nod this time, as fear again
shook me. "Read the contract this week, learn what you can from it. Think about
it seriously.  I am hard, and demanding, but I turn out artists.  Traci is the
same way.  Our people are in demand in the Inner Circles, and I have seen some
of my people live the life full-time after my teaching, but it will not be
easy."  Inner Circle?  Full-time?  Dazzling possibilities.     

"Nothing worthwhile ever is."  I said, simply.  I meant it.  He patted me
absently.  "I cannot go on, just thinking about what I might be missing. 
Everything you've said has had the ring of truth to it.  I will do what you
suggest, and think about it carefully, Jon.  I do not think I'll change my mind. 
I have always had these feelings, and I will go absolutely crazy if I have to
deal with one more amateur, or unsafe situation, in order to have the kind of
mind-blowing orgasm I had when you told me it was Traci in me tonight." He
chuckled in my ear, and leaned up to grab the glass of wine on the floor by the
table.  He offered it to me, and I sipped it.  "What you have described to me
sounds good.  I would like to have the opportunity."     

"There are some rules that you'll have to follow this week, and come back next
weekend to start."  I sighed in gratitude.  My head bobbing in assent.  "Your
orgasm is mine, no private stimulation.  No outside contacts, and no talking
about our existence here.  Can you agree to that?" He sounded very serious about
this, and it was easy to agree.  Who would I tell?  My mom?  That's a pleasant
thought.  She'd have me at Maumee Valley Psychiatric before I had the words out. 
No, I could be silent, easily so.     
"Yes, I think so.  The no private stimulation will be the hardest part, but I
won't disappoint you."  He smiled good-naturedly, eyebrows together in a playful
little frown over his dark-eyes.     

"I know you have your own toys, so to speak.  All beginners do.  Bring them here
to avoid temptation.  You will have a locker and a bath servant assigned to you
on Friday night.  He will be in charge of you when you are here.  He will bathe
you, cleanse you internally, and generally prepare you for any activities that
we have planned for the night." His tone was matter of fact.  Business-like. 
"You will be the lowest of the low here.  Every single person will have access
to you.  They will be able to use your body, your hot little mouth, or your
hungry tight ass, if they want too. You will have no choice in the matter.  If
you resist them, or try to use your safe-word to avoid satisfying them.  You
will be forced.  Can you truly accept that, Anne?" I did not know how to explain
what his words had done to me.  The sudden tightening in my sex.  The first wave
of eager anticipation flowing wetly unto my thighs, so I took his hand to lead
it down to the burgeoning slickness.  He found it, fondled it.  Smiled in
pleased amusement at it. Putting his drenched fingers in my mouth so I could
taste my own smoky arousal.  I practically swooned.     

"No more for you tonight, little one.  I want you eager, and ready for me next
week.  Like you are now.  Traci will want a taste of you next time, and you will
need to accept the fact that your own heterosexuality has no meaning here.
Slaves cannot choose."  I accepted that.  Part of the job. "I think you'll do
pretty well here, and at the end of the training time I will find you a master
to torment, and love you, as you need to be."  His words gave me a frisson of
anticipation.  Something to look forward too.  I wanted to belong somewhere,
have people accept me for what I was.  I was tired of hiding my true nature all
the time.  I wanted out of the darkness that I was trapped in.  His words would
have shocked the straight, repressed people I dealt with every day, but to me
they were like someone had main-lined a powerful aphrodisiac, pumping the blood
straight down to the apex of my thighs.  How could I spend a week like this
without? Well, taking care of it myself?  Sweet torment, but then he knew that,
didn't he?    

I lay quietly in his arms, talking softly for the rest of evening.  Acquiescing
to the fact that he was going to hold me until he tired of it, and that part of
me liked the gentle male attention for a change.  I continually surprise myself
in the most shocking ways.     

That night when I finally went to my home.  I slept truly well for the first
time in at least a year. Dreamlessly, easily.  I had with me a packet of papers
to look at, and attempt to memorize.  Traci grinning knowingly at me, when Jon
led me to the door to say good night.  There was no malice in her face, and the
kind light in her eyes told me that what had occurred was a normal and accepted
thing with them.  Extraordinary people.  I liked them, a lot more than was good
for me probably.  Considering my new position.     

I drove home slowly; listening absently to an erotic book on tape I had just
bought that week.  Tonight it was not going to be a problem, Tomorrow, well
maybe.  By Friday? Torture.     

I slid into my big, soft bed, after another quick shower.  Sated, abraded and
very satisfied.  I fell asleep quickly, and did not dream.                                    

REALITY DRONE    

I awakened the next day anticipating the weekend to come.  They had taken my
name and number, made an appointment for me at a local doctor for the next week,
which was associated with them somehow.  I didn't want to think about that too
much.  Too big a mind-blower.  I wouldn't want to be tortured by someone that
knew as much about the human body as a doctor.  They had given me a copy of the
contract to sign, and I felt a shiver of anticipation.  Half dread, half-lust. 
My life was already changing.  Taking on a new erotic luster.     

I knew I needed to explore this side of myself, and I considered myself pretty
lucky to have found Jon and Traci so easily.  Many were not as lucky.  They
spent their lives denying the reality of their lusts.  Denying themselves and
suffering needlessly.  I didn't feel like I wanted to do that.  I would rather
face myself straight on than attempt an end-run around my psyche.  You can never
escape yourself anyways.  You are there in the mirror everyday.     

I signed the contract that night, using big bold strokes from my favorite pen. 
The flamboyant letters jumping out of the pages at me.  I started filling my
journal with the flashes of lusty heat I was feeling in ever-increasing
increments.  It felt good.                 

It felt real good.    

To say that work sucked that week would have been putting it mildly.  It is very
hard to concentrate on facts, and figures, when you're thinking about your
sexual fate.  I did think about it, almost every minute.  I played by Jon's
rules but I regretted it.  Yes, again, almost every minute. Usually just about
the time my thoughts would wander for the fortieth time in as many minutes, when
I wondered if I would need a spatula to stand up from my chair.  Something to
break the suction with.  Every maddening, tormented second, I regretted being a
`good girl.'    

All I thought of was sex.  Not the regular kind, no that would be too easy to
dismiss.  The kind of sex that I liked was what I thought about.  Every man I
saw was a fantasy. Every woman a sex object.  Questions floated in lazy erotic
rhythm through my fevered thoughts.  How do these nameless strangers taste? 
What kind of orgasms do they have?  Do they moan, or cry out?  Could I make them
come?  Dangerous thoughts, not so easily dismissed from the rapidly increasing
pulse of desire that was moving them to the front of my mind.     

I was wet and horny, all week long.  I filled my journal with these wandering
thoughts.  Fantasies that haunted my imagination all day long at the very edge
of cognizant thought.  My world became an erotic playground.     

There was this one particular little number that wandered quietly into my brain
that I had to repeatedly push away.  It's quite a trip.                      

OPEN DESIRES: FANTASY    

We had been talking about sex for days as we drove together on the open road. 
The hows, why's, and when's.  The unusual, and the common.  On the Net, and in
the home. Innocent conversation, or so I thought.  Erotic wordplay. Maddening,
especially for me.  For five years I had gone without by choice.  It had been
offered to me and refused, on several occasions.  The wrong time, or someone I
had no interest in, or someone that wanted more of me than I wanted to give. 
They wanted to control or break me.  Things I would not allow.  Nothing
personal.     

I could feel it building inside me to almost unbearable proportions.   A time
bomb, and, then, he said something so uncommon, I could barely respond.  It took
the breath from my lungs and sent my pulse into heated overload.     

"You know I go home, and take care of this myself."  I knew what he was talking
about, and, God, what a waste.  I felt the intoxicating pulse of danger flowing
through my veins.  "No one will see us out here."  He said, voice low, raw with
lust.  It was true and tempting.  I wanted it, too.    

Looking out the window and assessing the risk over the rush of adrenaline in my
body.  I could suddenly smell him. Hot, willing, male animal.  A savage scent.     

Five years of living with women.  Surrounded by them and their delicate
sensibilities.  Missing the scent, touch and feel of male.  Strong hands and
hard thighs.  I was instantly aroused, lust blossoming between my thighs in
imperative wetness.  Darkness around us.  No buildings.  No people. Feeling the
temptation of Sex without Strings.  Release without Regret.  Flesh alone
speaking to me.    

I looked at him, puzzled by my inexplicable hunger for him.  Why him?  He who
had angered me beyond reason.  Enraged me past all thought before he even knew
me.  Why would he tempt me?  How could he be the cause of all this...  heat?  
Suddenly, I didn't care.  I crossed the line from civilized to bestial.  My eyes
narrowing with determination.     

"Let's go in back."  Asking for what I wanted for the first time in a long time. 
"I want to give some head." I know my voice had that edge to it.  The `let's do
it now, before I lose my nerve', edge.  We did.  Quickly climbing back into
darkness and faceless anonymity.  I practically raped him.  Feeling sexual power
flowing through me.  I wanted my hands on his flesh and more I wanted his cock
in my mouth.  Letting him kiss me and touch my face. His lips hard, sweet. 
Breathing in the smell of cologne, tobacco and skin.  Running my teeth down his
neck sensing his eagerness.  Savoring the salt of flesh against my tongue.  Too
long for me.  It's been too long.  I want fast and hard.  Needed to take the
edge off before I could slow down. He let me, saying nothing, not protesting my
speed.  Not protesting the driving urgency that was energizing my hands, my
body.  I was the one holding back so I wouldn't mark him with my lips, my nails. 
It was an effort of pure will. 

His hands cupping me through my clothes, creating a burning need.  Hands finding
my breasts through my shirt and under my shirt.  I know I moaned, a low animal
noise of want, escaping my clenched teeth.  I murmured I wouldn't mark him.
Promise, no one will know, but us.  I wanted to bite the buttons from his shirt
and bare his skin.  Fighting for control through a haze of red-hot craving.  I
started pulling his belt free with quick efficient movements of my fingers. 
Opening his pants and ignoring the sensible voice in my head that whispered he
was dangerous. Hazardous because of his willingness to play.  His enthusiastic
arousal of the beast inside me.  Making me hot and wet.  Willing to revel in the
feel and taste of the flesh.  I pulled him out with hands that shook and found
him hard.  Ready.  Musky clean tang of his body filling my head. Droplets
leaking from the tip of his cock, begging to be tasted tantalized.  Dewy
moisture that flowed over my tongue as I closed eager lips over his organ taking
as much of him as I could into my throat, practically coming as he filled me. 
Gripping his thighs, his lean hips, with my hands. Teasing him with my lips. 
Flicking my tongue and creating a deep pulling suction as I descended on him
fully.  Hearing him moan my name above me as I searched for his rhythm.  His
hands finding my hair as he tensed.  I could do this, I remembered this.  The
feel of cock in my throat and the pulling moisture I felt between my legs.  My
mouth inflaming him.  His thighs flexing under my hands.  Holding my head and
gently guiding it for full effect.  Long minutes of willing passion building to
zenith.     

He was going to come.  I could feel him hardening and filling more of my mouth. 
I took him deeper, faster.  My own orgasm building between my legs.  Part power,
part need.  His fingers flexing against my scalp.  `Come for me.'  I thought. `I
want it.' All this anticipation moving through my head, until I had no thoughts
but the release.  Following instinct to its climax.      I felt soft jerks in my
mouth and followed it down. Burying him deep in my throat as he swelled inside
me. Filling my mouth with the salt and sour of his essence.  I swallowed his
gift.  Teasing all of it from him, licking it softly.  Orgasmic on my knees
before him.  Trying to catch my breath, as it swept me.  My fingers digging
helplessly into his thighs.  Immobilized for several long moments.  Spent, head
resting against his knees.  Uncaring of anything but the pleasure sweeping my
body.  Wishing for more time and more room.    

I came back to myself slowly, helping him cover himself. Tucking, zipping,
buckling.  Fighting the urge to do it again and this time, letting his fingers
find my wet flesh. Almost losing control and giving into it.  My shaking fingers
stroking him through the dense, rough wool of his pants. Maddening.     

I felt a small burning ridge on the inside of my upper lip; it sent a shiver of
desire through me as my tongue stroked it.  The taste of him still on my tongue. 
Desire forming a knot inside me.  My body soft and mind whirling, as we drove
off into the blackness of the road.  Talking softly as if nothing had happened. 
No change in the everyday scheme of things.  

Not love, lust.  Pure release and no small amount of danger.  Out in the open,
and away from the everyday garbage that ruled our lives.  No future and no past. 
Would I do it again?  Yes, I would, for one simple reason.  I want too.                         

GIRL'S NIGHT OUT    

Very hard to get rid of that one.  Subtle, pleasant.  A little vanilla.  Implied
bondage.  I thought about that particular tidbit quite a lot.  What else could I
do?  I was playing by the rules, because I didn't want to blow it.  I was
looking forward to an experience well beyond the everyday scope of my existence. 
The boring, mundane, 9-to-5 drill I went through five/fifty-two/twelve.  I'm
still not sure how I did it.  It was Thursday, the day I regularly went out with
some of the girls from work that reality hit.  I had been a little bitchy that
day.  I'm thirty-two, and hitting my peak if you know what I mean.  I wasn't
even getting the mild relief I gave to myself.  Janie, my secretary, was
practically drooling on this Yuppie banker type across the bar.  At a Yuppie
bar, in a Yuppie neighborhood.  Three executive women sipping white wine, and
making jokes about the lack of love in our lives.  Work, work and more work.    

The thing was.  This guy was nothing special, and I was so frigging horny. I
would have laid him on the bar in a second flat. My whole week had been that
way.  I had more sexual energy at my disposal than the Milky Way has stars.  I
spent all week dripping, drenched, and thoroughly saturated.  My world having an
erotic undertone with every passing fantasy I constructed in my brain.  My very
out-look had changed.  
Not so just everyone would notice, but some of them did. The eyes of some of the
men at work followed me in a puzzled sort of way.  Liking, and repelled, by what
they sensed in me.  I put on underwear that showed off my body.  Make-up that
accented my hot-eyes.  I attracted more attention than I ever had in my life. 
The thing was, I had promised not to do anything about it.     

What surprised me most was how I was looking at other women now.  I had always
been a solid Kinsey three. Fantasizing about men, and women equally.  I had just
never really wanted the hassles of crossing the gender line.  I was to middle of
the road.  I just always chose men as sex partners.  It was the easier, socially
acceptable, cowards way out.  It was also a personally preferred choice. Men are
hard.  Harder than we are.  Hard organs, hard hands in your hair.  Rough palms
on your breasts.  Thick fingers in your sex or your ass.  It's feeling helpless
under their strength.  Hairy chests, legs, and openings.  Being mastered
physically, and not through the delicate intricacies of a head-trip.  This new
point of view frightened, and excited me.  All at the same time.  Lending an air
of carnality to everything that I did.  Every word I uttered. Every gesture.  I
was thinking about this one concept so hard, that I missed Janie's question.     

"Jesus, Annie.  You've been on Mars all fucking week. Are you PMS?"  I shook my
head, no.  "How often do you fantasize?"  They appeared eager for my response.    
"All the time."  Smiling sweetly.  They laughed, drawing attention to our little
group.  "A good orgasm, releases a lot of... tension."  They really howled at
that.     
"You are more like a man, than any of us." Janie said, with a giggle.  They all
nodded in agreement.  I asked her to explain herself.  I was puzzled.  She
replied.  "You don't think like we do.  You enjoy watching us, and you enjoy our
company.  However, a lot of what we, as women do, puzzles you." True, but I
remained quiet, listening intently.  "You take less shit than most of the guys
we work for, yet seem to be more of a woman than they could handle."  Lydia
twittered, adding jokingly.     

"You scare the hell out of them, Annie!"  We all laughed, even me.  I was
thinking about it, though.  We had laughter, friendship.  Yet I was as much of
an outsider here as anywhere else.  It was disconcerting.  We quipped, blew off
a couple of the bolder men daring to approach our little Bitch group.  We had
the same kind of generic good time that we always had.  About as satisfying as a
meal at Denny's on Christmas Eve.  I went home that night to my sterile little
world, and thought about what they had said for most of the night.  I could see
what they were saying about me, but why would they suddenly say it now?  What
was different about me?  Why would I scare anyone?

LAST DAY    

Friday- At last.  When I had gotten home last night the message machine had been
flashing, but I hadn't listened to it until today.  It was Traci's voice. `Six
o'clock Sharp.' That was a mean thing to do to me.  Not real good for my staff
either.  I kept everyone so busy that they almost hated me by the end of the
day.  I wanted time to fly.  Bob, my boss, came over to my area surveying my
little industrious group for several long moments.  He observed me, and the way
I was working, saying loudly.     

"This company hires more psychiatric patients, all women, than anyplace else
that I've worked."  I looked up over my glasses at him, coldly, bitchily.  "You
ladies, are out of your minds to work like this on a Friday."  My staff didn't
say anything, but I'm sure they agreed.  I had to respond, just this once to his
male-related, macho bullshit.  
"Bob, have you ever once thought, that maybe working within this bunch of
sub-moronic, medieval cretins day-after-day, simply takes a mentally healthy
woman and drives her batshit after a couple of years?"  The others around me
howled and passed the exchange down the line. Bob was visibly stumped, unable to
muster a suitable reply.  He tried to chuckle, but it had that sickly sound that
some men make when they barely get a joke and it pisses them off.  I knew his
look and it was; "I owe you one."  All that meant was that I would have to watch
my back.  That was okay.  I'm a fucking barracuda at work.  It's part of my
charm.     

The day drew nearer to its close and I felt my pulse slowly going up in
anticipation.  At 4:46 PM I wanted to rip my hair out by the roots.  This was
agony.  Being boss when I wanted to be...  [Upside down and taking orders?] 
God, I hated that little voice in my head.  I know everyone has one, but I
always seemed to be arguing with mine.  Telling it, that it was right, but to
please shut-up.  [I want-what-I-want-and-thank-you-so-much-fuck-off-now.]  That
kind of thing.     

I had told everyone that asked about my plans that I was going out of town for
two days and could not be reached. Implying death to anyone that bothered me on
my much-needed retreat from the world-at-large.  I felt my attitude starting to
change the later it got and I went over my preparations in my head one more
time. All my `toys' were in duffel bag in the car.  I had followed the `rules'
for the week.  I had memorized the rule packet; Jon had given me, in my copious
spare time.  I had filled out all the paperwork, they had included.  Most of it
fairly mundane.  I had been `good.'     

I didn't like the fact that I would have to go there straight from work.  Dirty
clothes and work-stained body. Unfortunately, if I wanted to be there by six
sharp, (I did.) I would have no choice against rush-hour traffic in the city.     

5:00 PM- I noticed the time with a shock and trying to walk sedately to my car
was deliberately agonizing.  The sanctuary of my car no real help for my
situation. I drove fairly fast for me.  Especially in the parking lot-like
conditions, but I made it with five whole minutes to spare.  I wanted
desperately to be there on time, shivering at the thought of punishment for
tardiness.  Taking my bag from the backseat, I went to the door.  Standing in
front of it for the last three minutes, then at 6:00 PM sharp.  I found myself
ringing the bell.  Someone I did not know answered it.    

 THE HANDLER     

"I'm here to see Jon and Traci."  I stammered quickly, going beet-red.  Not
meeting the cold green eyes that looked down from above me.  Thick, shaggy
dark-hair. I hoped to God, I had the right house.     

"Come in."  He ordered and I did so immediately. Standing in the foyer with my
bag.  The broad wooden door was pushed shut behind me and a big hand closed on
the back of my neck.  I fell to my knees quickly, bowing my head.  "When that
door closes from now on, you're `property,' and property is never on its feet
without special permission."     

"Good thing I'm not the Avon lady."  I quipped over my shoulder sarcastically,
hearing a soft chuckle behind me.     

"That's five for insubordination."  I bit my lip. `Shit.' I thought.  "Any other
amusing comments?"  He said in a low purposeful voice.     

"No. Sir."  I said through tightly clenched teeth. Unsure of his title.  Who was
this guy?     

"I am your Handler and you can address me as such."     

"Yes, Handler."  Handler?  Horses had handlers but wait, I had read about them
in that packet and Jon had said something about assigning someone to me to groom
me last week at our little vanilla playtime.  Someone to bathe me and such.  It
couldn't be him, could it?  Not this gorgeous specimen of male flesh.  Tall,
broad.  Big.  I damn near fainted at the sudden lack of air in my lungs.     

"Follow me.  They are waiting for you in the study.  I don't have to remind you
to do it on your knees, do I?"     

"No, Handler."  I said and put the duffel bag handle between my teeth, trying
desperately to keep up with him. Down the long, dark hallway.  The marble tile
harsh under my hands and knees.  So much for my panty hose. At least, I knew
where I was going.  I had been to the study last weekend.  It was the other
rooms of the house, which the mere thought of, turned my body into drenching
quivering submission.    

The Handler stood in front of the door and knocked softly.  I heard Jon say.                      
"Bring her in."                          

<<<<<>>>>>    

The door opened before me and I followed Adam into the study.  Same soft carpet
that I had felt before.  Traci, dressed in a blue leather mini-dress, sitting on
the sofa in relaxation.  Jon standing by the fireplace in soft black leather
pants that were molded to his body like he wore them a lot.  Soft white billowy
shirt open at the throat.  They were smiling as though anticipating my arrival.
They probably had, but not as much as I did.  The low buzz of sexual tension in
my body went up a notch.  Traci stood and came to stand before us.  Looking down
at me coldly. I felt my heart triple its rate in my chest.  She was so much more
frightening than Jon was.  Colder, more calculating.  She was just more.  I kept
my eyes down looking at very expensive thigh high boots of black patent encasing
her strong calves.  I kissed the boot quickly, just because it was close enough
to do so without falling on my face. Nothing outlandish, just a quick peck on
the toe to show my respect.     

"Did you bring back the things I gave you last week?"  I dropped the duffel bag
from my teeth to the floor to answer her, quickly.  Urgently speaking in a low
and hopefully respectful voice.     

"Yes, Mistress."  I opened the duffel bag taking out the folder that I had put
everything into.  Putting it into my mouth before gently giving it to her.     

"Did you memorize the page of rules?"  I saw her pick up the folder, hearing it
being opened over my head.

"Yes, mistress."  She asked me to kneel up and hold my head straight to recite
the rules.  I did it letter perfect, I thought.  Keeping my eyes below the level
of their chest. They read while I did this.  My voice clear in the quiet room. 
Traci held the list of options that they had given me. Her eyes narrowing and
she drew a sharp intake of breath. When she spoke, her voice was clinically
hard.     

"You marked several items, No, on this list.  I will go over them one-by-one,
asking your reasons.  If they are valid they may be considered.  However the
wishes of those above you will come first."  She looked down at the list before
her.  I answered her respectfully.  "Age play?"  Was the first item on the
alphabetical list.     

"I have no interest in being with, or being considered, a child.  I am a
consenting adult and feel any activity that uses me as a child is perverted." 
Jon chuckled, repeating the word, perverted, under his breath.  I tried not to
laugh at the amusement in his tone.  It was kind of funny.     

"Daddy/girl?"  That was the only thing on the list that actually made me queasy. 
Yuck.     

"If you had met my daddy, Mistress.  You wouldn't have to ask."  I quipped
lightly feeling a rough hand on the back of my neck.  Forcing my head to the
floor harshly.  Adam's flinty voice over my head.     

"That's five more, Annie, for disrespect.  Keep it up." The Handler sounded
pissed and I groveled quickly.  Not wanting to spend the rest of the night on
any one of the big punishment crosses I saw in the basement last weekend.     

"Forgive me, Mistress.  I meant no disrespect to you, Mistress."  She read the
last of the items.  Public Sex. (What would the guys at the office say?) 
Shaving. (I like the hair between my legs.  It's an old friend.)  Tickling. (Too
much like vanilla sex for me, thank you very much.)  I heard her speaking to Jon
in a low voice. 

"Your discussion list will be handled as it comes up. Any items that you do not
recognize will be explained to you. The house doctor has been contacted, and
Adam will take you on Thursday night."  She paused and composed her words
carefully for full effect.  "For this next month, you will consider yourself the
property of Jon." I felt an unknown tension fall from my shoulders with relief. 
A feeling of dread that I had not even known I felt leave me quickly.  I lay my
head against the carpet for a moment.  [Thank you, Traci.]  I thought.  "All
initial training and tasks will be assigned by him and for his pleasure.  Do you
understand?"

"Yes, Mistress.  Thank you, Mistress."  She laughed softly.  As though my relief
had been a tangible thing in the air.  She ordered Adam to clean me up and get
me out of the work-stained clothes that I was in.  Her voice filled with a mild
disgust that a slave would dare be in her presence in clothing.  I again picked
up the duffel bag with my teeth. 

"I'll have her in the training class in an hour, Traci." Adam turned abruptly
and I kept up with difficulty.  Staying to his left side at heel.  Standard
`Pet' behavior.  I would have no higher reason until I earned it.  I tried to
let my thoughts go blank, but I could not.  What the hell was the training
class?  I kept looking for calmness.  Trying to leave the smart-ass work
attitude outside.  It was going to be difficult.          

THE BATH CHAMBER     

On the way up the stairs as I began to tire.  I felt my body starting to heat
up.  Slowly warming to above normal temperature as my imagination took me into
`training class.' My head seemed to reach a new efficiency for dealing with
thoughts of sex.  I was just getting into it when Adam abruptly stopped and
opened the door to a bath chamber. This was not a bathroom.  Bathrooms are
typically small and cramped.  Mostly cold tile.  This room was palatial.
Gold-shot black wallpaper and black marble tile. 

Soft black carpet on the floor.  Indirect lighting.  Straight across from the
door was a sunken tub with air jets bubbling cheerfully.  Tropical plants
hanging over it.  To the left, was a thick marble column with handles at
shoulder height. Whips and paddles made of rubber hanging on the wall next to
it.  Almost behind the door was a black toilet and bidet.  Hidden behind a low
wall of glass block.  Spigots on the wall and a shower.  Two black vinyl massage
tables.  A black marble block in the very center with a basket on it.  The
outside walls covered with the inevitable bank of cupboards and everywhere there
were piles of thick, fluffy, black towels.  The temperature was warm and
welcoming.     

"Come inside and go to the block.  Remove your clothes and place them neatly in
the basket with all your personal items."  It was an order not a question, so I
just did it. Taking my journal out of my duffel bag to lay it in the basket. 
"What is that book?," came Adam's cold voice.     

"It is my journal, Handler."  I said.  "I write in it every night, Handler.  It
goes everywhere with me."  It was the truth.  It did come everywhere with me. 
Everywhere important anyways.  Like here for instance. I felt crimson color
creeping up my neck slowly.  I never stopped taking off my clothes, however. 
Even if disrobing in front of a stranger was new to me.  I just did it.  He'd
seen it before I was sure.  I didn't know if bringing my journal in was a good
idea, but I couldn't leave it at home there was too much in it.  I also did not
want it in the bag with the toys.  Dumping it in bleach with the gadgets,
wouldn't have done it any good either.  Just a small breach of slave etiquette. 
I heard the soft ringing of a phone.  Adam answered it, as I finished taking off
my work clothes, noticing that my pantyhose were ruined.  I'd never wear them
here again.  He didn't look at me, but I stood stock-still before the basket
afraid to move.     

"Right away, Jon."  He said as he hung up, and he walked towards me taking the
journal from the top of the basket then walking out the door. It felt like
someone had punched me in the stomach.  I didn't move, but I freaked.  My own
private soul had just walked out the door and I had allowed it, foolishly
bringing enough psychological dynamite with me to blow my character wide open to
view.  Thoughts, feelings, fears and fantasies. All my personal philosophy was
in those hand-written pages, I struggled to remain composed.  Suddenly, I just
let it go.     

"Oh well, what the Hell."  Better to have all the cards on the table.  I
expected to be revealed, but not quite as much as the journal would expose me to
scrutiny.  It was all a head game, right?  That's what I thought until Adam came
back.    

"5 More, Why?"  I sighed, realizing quickly that the room was bugged, or under
surveillance.  Probably the big mirror behind the column.  Part of training
class?     
"For speaking without being spoken too and profanity, Handler."  He nodded in
assent.  Fifteen already and I hadn't even been here thirty minutes.  I was
trying so hard too.     

"What have you learned from this?"  `Heavy duty, now he wanted me to think.  Was
this allowed?'  I answered respectfully, voice quaking a little with fear.     

"I am never alone, Handler.  My every action is witnessed and judged for whether
or not it pleases my master."  That seemed to be the correct clarification.  I
was kind of surprised that it fell so easily from my tongue. Voice training had
been another lifetime ago, but Rob was very particular about how I said what I
did say.  The slave mentality taking over my thoughts, easily mutating me to
servitude.  I wanted to make them happy, when they were happy.  They would in
turn satisfy the fire burning through my own body.  That was the object, and it
was a reward and punishment sort of deal.  I understood that. I was awfully glad
that I had memorized the rules, before I got here.  It made it easier to
recognize when I broke one.  `Face it, it made it easier to formulate glib
explanations for my fuck-ups.'     

Adam stood before me, as I stood by the pedestal-like block.  Moving closer to
me with deliberate intensity.  An intense look on his handsome face.  He bent me
at the waist and I opened my thighs quickly.  Never ever close your legs, or
your mouth.  Always ready for access.  I heard him doing something when he moved
behind me.  I didn't turn to him though.  I merely waited.  Wondering what was
coming, but not too much.  I had earned the strap, and that was what I expected
from him.   

When his organ slipped into me it was a complete surprise.  I was pushed further
over to feel the cold marble under my breasts.  My belly pressed downwards.  He
put his hands on the small of my back, heavy and cruel.  His big body
restricting mine against the hard unyielding surface.  He did not care about my
comfort.  Adam merely clutched my hips, crudely, and rammed his organ into me,
seeking only his own release.  He was practically raping me.  Ignoring the gasps
and cries that his sudden assault tore from me.  That I was getting some small
pleasure from his body in mine was just enough to shame me into not struggling
against him.     

My thoughts were a litany.  `Accept, accept, accept,' but it was so hard!  I
clenched my hands into tight fists, gritting my teeth against the use being of
made of me.  So hard to do that though, because at the first deep thrust, the
inferno inside me came to vibrant, vivid life.  One small touch between my legs
would have boiled the orgasms over me in a excess of untimely discharge.  There
was nothing else for me to do.  Grabbing tightly to the edge of the block and
holding myself up close to the coolness was all I could do. I knew somehow that
my own release was not the purpose of what he was doing.  Some instinct told me
that if I came at this moment I would be denied release for the rest of the
weekend.  This purposeless brutality was merely discharge for him, so he could
touch me without wanting me.  I heard him speaking, as he leaned over my back. 

"Tighten those cunt muscles for me, slave.  I want it tighter than this. 
Squeeze me harder.  I want it so tight it hurts."  His big hand cradled the back
of my neck as I clenched with the deeper muscles between my legs.  Exerting
myself desperately.  New sensation traveling through the damp fullness of my wet
cleft.   Taut fingers in my hair, pulling it painfully.  A low snarl from my
Handler.  "You cum, bitch, and I'll see you don't for the rest of the month.
Your night hasn't started yet." I clenched the strong muscles in my thighs and
gritted my teeth for control.  Pulling the moist air into my lungs in short
bursts.  My back arching to give him access, praying that he finished quickly. 
Hoping to stem the pleasure trying to wash over me.  `I was so close!'     

Adam seemed to take forever but finally I felt his thick organ jerking
rhythmically inside me as he boiled over.  His weight pressing into my back. 
His wet lips on the back of my neck where it meets my shoulders, making me
shiver.  Big hands on my arms holding me down as he went soft within me.  I had
done it.  Holding it back and keeping myself focused on Jon, and his designs for
me tonight.     

"Stay there."  He said and moved away.  Taking care of his organ and cleaning
himself.  I heard the condom come off with a thick rubber sound.  I could see
him in the periphery of my sight.  Doing something.  "Don't move."  I hadn't
moved, why would he say that?  I heard a whistle through the air and the cruel
snap of flexible leather bit into the underside of my buttocks.  The
instantaneous pain took my breath away and I wanted to put my hands over my
buttocks to protect them.  The soft whistle coming again and forcing me to
concentrate.  `Catch a hold of the lip of the marble.  Pull yourself taut. 
Fight the urge to run, to flee.'  Instinct trying to supplant will, as pain
became my world.  I realized with some remaining thought processes that Adam was
good with the strap.  I could feel the welts forming on my unmarked flesh, but
knew I did not bleed.  Blood was rushing to the offended area in a vain effort
by my body to put out the fire there, but none of it leaked out of me. That took
some skill and no small amount of practice.  If it hadn't of hurt as bad as it
did. I might have appreciated it more. As it was the beating came so quickly and
so surely. All I could concentrate on was the flow of pain from my backside into
my dripping sex.  Deliciously swift, inescapable blows with none of the finesse
that I was used too.  Unmerciful, unrelenting blasts of undiluted agony.
Punishment.  This was not pleasure, it was educational.  This torment had one
purpose, to teach me not to do whatever it was that I had done.  `I would try,
please stop.'     

By five strokes of the thick leather strap, I was raw. At ten, I could feel the
air on my swollen flesh bruising me. By fifteen, I was unable to stop the moans
from escaping my clenched teeth.  Tears flowing with reckless abandon from my
eyes.  Rob had never, ever, beaten me this raw.  Even the night he broke the
riding crop before he took me.  I managed to remain where I was, but I don't
know how I did it.  I was a suffering, miserable wreck by the end of my ordeal. 
Sobbing unto my arms on the marble.  Gasping for air and trying to control my
shuddering body.     

"On your knees."  I quickly dropped down and turned to him.  Burying my face
against his shoes.  Silently begging him for mercy.  The strap touched my cheek
caressingly.  I took it in my hands and kissed it.  Remembering that I was
supposed to thank him for taking the time to correct me.

"Thank you for your correction, Handler."  I sobbed into his boots, trying to
pull myself together and not orgasm all over the floor.  He laughed, a low
sound, as if he knew what I was fighting.  A gentle hand in my hair petting me. 
I had done something right.  I just didn't know what.  

"Over to the side, on your knees.  Time to clean you up for class."  I shivered
daintily with foreboding. As with every other gesture of dismay, it was
pointless. He took care of everything that I thought disgusting, or personal,
first.  Humiliation making me burn with blistering emotion.  The small nozzles
he carefully inserted in my secret openings, maddened me with lust.  I felt like
a slave, as he purged my bowels, not once, but twice, for Jon to make use of. 
The warm water filling me and cleansing me. Softening me in a different way than
the lash had.  Opening me more fully as the narrow nether passage was cleared
for penetration.  It frightened me even as it excited me.  The cursory
examination of my body and its new bruises was a study in quiet compliance.  I
had to remain still as he massaged the welts, oiled them for viewing.  He bathed
me and washed my hair.  Drying it then putting it into a fat pony tail that hung
well down my back.  Brushing my teeth carefully and placing Vaseline on them
lightly, so my lips wouldn't stick to them.  When he finally thought I was ready
for use.  Adam had me kneel before him and he placed a softly padded blindfold
over my eyes.  I could see nothing but the darkness inside me.  I was
effectively isolated, alone.  He kissed me tenderly.  His tongue playing with
mine for several seconds. His fingers cupping my bruised buttocks, pinching the
welts. Bringing my passion to the surface again.  He spoke, sweetly low in my
ear, as he buckled a collar around my neck loosely.    

"I'll tell him how good you were, sweet.  How tight and compliant.  How slick
and hot."  My hungry cavern tightened as he spoke, teasingly into my ready ear. 
His lips finding my neck and nibbling there delicately until I shivered with
heat.  His big hand cupping my sex softly.  I melted against him, knowing the
only reason I was still dry in his hands was that I had been douched.  "I'll see
you after the trainer's little romp, and I'll warm those buns of yours with deep
hard thrusts of my organ, Annie." `Why wait?  I need you now.'  "I get to use
you whenever Jon doesn't have any thing else for you to do and I intend to take
full advantage of your presence." Moisture flowed over his fingers as his words
galvanized the appetite unreleased for the whole long week. I let a small sound
of longing escape me.  `Please.' My whole attitude begged of him.     

As the knot tightened to almost gratification.  Adam released me.  Taking me by
the leash and down to the training hall.

AMATEUR NIGHT IN THE TRAINING HALL     

He let me walk and I was grateful.  My knees, unused to such abuse, had begun to
feel like raw meat.   I followed him closely through the hallway and did
silently whatever he told me to do.  When the door opened I heard Jon speaking
out loud.  Explaining the link between pleasure and pain.  I heard another voice
asking a question.  Low laughter, and Jon saying slowly.     

"Good question, but it has no real answer.  I like what I like and the hell with
anyone who tries to make me feel like a freak.  Deviance is only what one person
perceives it to be.  I will not feel that way because of the kind of sex I
like."  There was applause, at least four or five others.  I leaned desperately
close to Adam, clutching his arm. Remembering to late the rules about not
speaking without being spoken too, but I could make a request couldn't I?  I had
to make this one.  I would die without the granting of this request.     

"Gag me, Adam."  I whispered. "Please, for God's sake, gag me."  I felt him
start with surprise.  "I'm here and it's working on me.  Please don't let me
disgrace myself here, not now." He said nothing, but led me into the room. Jon
telling the others that the demonstration subject was here.  I was almost in a
panic.  Hot blood pumping with fury through my limbs.  I struggled for
composure.  Sweat breaking out all over my body as I fought the urge to flee
this room, and all the faceless people in it.  I could not see them and could
only guess what they saw when they looked at me.  My burnished naked flesh.  My
new welts.  The blindfold.  The visible fluids on my thighs from desire.  I
tightened at the picture my imagination gave me, almost had me needing nothing
else to orgasm where I stood.  Breathing in short hot bursts as if I had been
running.  I heard Adam talking to Jon.    

"On your knees, Anne."  Jon said simply.  Grateful for his presence.  My master
of the deep voice.  I kissed his boots, groveling.  The perfect picture of
suffering for the watching students.  I would try to be perfection.  He tilted
my face up and ran the tip of his index finger over my lips. He said one word at
the silent supplication of my body. `Please, master.'  "Alright."  `Thank you,
Master.'  My whole body said and I kissed his calves in gratitude.  He tilted my
face upwards and I felt the roll of hard rubber going through my teeth,
silencing me.  The buckle being tightened behind my head.  "This is a novice. 
New to training.  She has agreed to enter a three month, part-time, training
program."     

"Is she Bi?"  Came a curious voice from the background. A young male by the
sound.  Nervous laughter from the others.     

"According to her file, No.  That sort of personal preference has very little to
do with the training of a new slave.  Her heterosexuality is a moot point.  She
has to be taught to focus on pleasing me.  Her master.  My wishes must always be
first.  If I want her to eat a woman, she eats her until I tell her to stop." 
The crowd liked that.  "Until such a time as she thinks that way, she is subject
to punishment.  Like this."  He stood me up and turned me around.  Low gasps
from the crowd.  I must have some good marks.  "After everyone has had a chance
to examine the slave and feel her compliance to command.  We will demonstrate
the various types of whips and paddles.  Any questions?"  There was one.

"She's gagged, what about her safe-word?" That was a woman, older with a voice
like melted honey.  Probably a divorcee getting into it for the money it could
bring in.    

"Annie, did I gag you?"  I shook my head vigorously. "Did you request to be
gagged?"  I nodded the same way.  "Are you feeling blue?"  NO!  My hair moving
in my vehemence, practically whipping me.  "Are you ready to play?"  YES!!! He
touched the opening to my vagina the wetness seeming to get bigger.  Syrupy
thick.  "She's wet.  Periodically, during our play.  I'll ask her how she feels. 
Blue is her safe word and I can incorporate it into meaningless sentences to
enhance the torment."  His hand left me in that self-same, sweet torment he was
trying to explain how to do to the others.  "Adam, Please."  I was suddenly
lifted and put on my back.  My arms and legs spread on a hard surface, like a
starfish and secured with heavy leather restraints at least three inches wide.
These were quickly buckled and the sound of the D-rings being snapped to the
table hooks was clearly audible to me.  So audible that I barely heard Jon's
words over the pounding of my heart thundering in my ears.  Words softly spoken
to the class about the roots of desire and expected responses.  I relaxed into
the bondage and felt big hands on the sides of my face.  Adam's hands, I could
smell him.  I went beyond thought, beyond the room.  Into the secret place
inside me that was the true base of my desire.  I surrendered. "See how the
restraint enhances the submission.  She has given up whatever mental struggle
caused her to ask for the gag and eased her into the physical sensations she is
expecting me to inflict on her.  Her mind is free.  She is no longer expected to
control herself.  I have taken that away from her."  That was it exactly.  The
pure, undiluted essence of what I was feeling.  I was beyond my own control and
into his.  Jon knew what I wanted and gave it to me.  I felt the most profound
surge of love that I had ever felt for anyone in my life for him.  My master.     

He called the students up to the front of the room with him.  Asking for a one
to volunteer for something.  Adam's hands tightened on my face.  Covering my
ears to muffle the sounds around me.  His thumbs stroking my cheeks absently.     

I felt hesitant hands on me.  Squeezing my breasts then lightly pinching the
nipples until the tips hardened into little knots of pleasure.  Moving slowly
down my quivering ribcage to rest on my belly and the gentle sloping curve above
my pubis.  My hips twitched and the low laughter reached my ears even through
Adam's hands.  A hot blush creeping up my neck, prettily, I hoped.  Lower the
hands moved, more confidently this time.  Just skirting the hot moist hungry
triangle at the apex of my thighs.  I moaned, a low miserable sound.  

One touch of those fingers would send me over the edge.   More hands touched me
all over.  My legs, my arms.  Lifting my breasts again to roughly squeeze them.
Little pinches on the insides of my thighs.  My opening strained, clenched. 
Forcing the wetness out to run between my legs to pool on the table beneath me.   

A hand moved to my opening.  Separating the lips gently, widening the folds. 
Other hands pushing my legs apart as far as the bonds would allow.  I arched my
back off the table in spasm.  Feeling the fingers sliding up the pubic lips, as
they were pulled tautly open.  Massaging them.  Making me frantic with pulsing,
throbbing heat.  I struggled against the table. Make me come, or for heaven's
sake, let me go!  The tiny bud of my clitoris, impossibly full and fluttering
visibly between my thighs.  The quick fingers pulling on it to make it swell
even larger and more obvious. Adam's voice broke through the fog covering my
senses.    

"Jon says it's alright.  Come when they make you."  I growled around the gag
ferally.  All thoughts of dignity gone between those words and the fingers being
pushed into me slowly.  Expanding the blood-filled tissues.  Other hands cupping
my thighs and teasing the welts under them.  Two fingers in me now pushing in as
far as they could.  Knuckles grazing the pearl of longing in delightful bursts. 
Long fingers, thick fingers.  Now three, rotating in ever increasing agility. 
The motion of it like a organ.  I felt someone else brush against my clitoris
with the gentlest of contact.  A butterfly-feeling pressing upon it, barely felt
through the thick fluids covering it.  Fast light movements.  Tighter and
tighter, my passion wound in me.  My senses whirled and I was entangled in the
crude sensation between my legs.  My heart palpitating in my chest, wildly
caught in the sensations overcoming me.  I barely felt the slick fingers become
four.  Going into me just a little roughly, yet so deliciously.  Working me to
climax. I was as tightly wound as a good bowstring, orgasmic tautness making my
body rigid as I neared my peak.  The ebb and flow from these hesitant fingers
maddening me, driving me so slowly to the crest.  I wanted to scream in
frustration and when I did finally scream aloud, the blessed gag muffled the
sound to nothing.     

I came then.  A weeks worth of unrequited passion spilling over the hand inside
me and all the hands on me. The memories of the whipping fueling the fire.  The
almost remembered feeling of Adam's thick organ driving into me from behind. 
The complete surrender of my will by the bonds.  The gag and the blindfold.  The
faceless strangers in me and on me.  Shook my drenched cleft and my heated body
in a surfeit of clutching, twitching, straining passion.  The stretch of my body
against the bonds when I came was felt throughout my whole being.  Wrenching
every nuance of feeling from my hot little opening.  The hand squeezed tightly
in the merciless clench of my vagina.  My uterus spasming as well in fast, firm,
powerful little jerks.     

I came down slowly and was just starting to catch my breath.  To come back into
myself, when I realized the motion was continuing.  Pushing me towards yet
another higher orgasmic plateau.  These fingers were coarser, just a bit cruder. 
The tender little clitoris starting to ache under the merciless assault of
bigger, harder fingers.  Rolling it and pinching it indelicately.     

"That's Jon on your clit and he says that once is enough for right now, little
one."  Adam explaining to me in a calm clear voice that I must not come again. I
must wait and fight against it.  I sobbed miserably as Jon worked my tiny
button. Feeding it to frenzy once again, not letting me even catch my breath
from the last time.  My now empty vagina, clenching on emptiness.  I battled to
contain the rising rush of orgasm.  My muscles tighter than when I came the last
time.  My head trying to roll helplessly on the table, yet held still by Adams
firm fingers.  Breath almost suspended, a bare whistle between my lips and the
gag.  I tried to move my hips away from the thoughtless insistent fingers and
couldn't.  I was just making it worse.  Just when I knew that I was truly lost. 
Just before I was going to be unable to contain it.  When it was going to get
out of my control and the frantic feeling of being trapped on that table
threatened to overwhelm me.  The fingers withdrew, pinching my wet labial lips
closed once again. I was weeping with relief.   My throat working around the gag
to supply air to starved tissues.  Swallowing around the lump in my throat. 
Misery and triumph at war within my soul.  I had done what he wanted but it had
been so difficult!  My body craving the pleasure, but wanting to please.  The
hands left my face and I heard low laughter.     

"Are you feeling blue yet?"  No! Because then I would be left like this.  Left
with this burgeoning knot of unreleased feeling boiling inside me, or worse yet. 
Having to deal with it myself.  The dry release that felt like nothing compared
to this.  This complete and utter subjugation to another's will.  I would not
stop now.  I was at the point where I felt truly free from the daily reality
that ruled my every waking minute.  This was my ultimate fantasy.  I would not
be the one to stop it.  I shook my head, sobbing behind the gag.  I had the
undivided attention of all the people in this room.  They had touched me, felt
me orgasm.  Talked about what to do to me next.  Played me like an expensive
piano until I had exploded against their passions.  Caressed my loins and my
breasts.  I had no wish for them to stop now. I loved everything they were doing
to me.  They were me.  I felt... alive.   "That's the big lesson, right there." 
Jon's voice was soothing and his hand stroked me with genuine affection. "The
slave must feel that they have no choice and all choices." Something trailed
over my stomach, slowly.  I blossomed with a new and different heat.  I knew the
strap, craved it, wanted it.  I wanted the hard ritualized whipping that I was
used too.  Just hard enough to climax too, but not hard enough to be punishment. 
My body knew the difference and responded with this new humiliating fire.     

The thin leather bands tracing over me in a delicate teasing pattern.  `Don't
stop there, Master.' I thought wickedly.  The little voice inside me becoming
caught up in the heat of the moment. 

"There are many ways to punish, or torment, your slave."  A quick whistle
through the air and the gratifyingly luscious stroke of thick unsparing leather
against the soft unmarked curve on the inside of my thigh. I pulled against the
bindings, feeling again the solid thump of the lash on the other tender thigh. 
Quick flash of rapidly dissipating pain.  Wonderfully perfect.  A multi-tailed
cat, if I didn't miss my guess.  One with enough heft to it to sting the way it
was supposed too.  "Note the responses of the slave as they become visible. 
Deepening respirations, and the quaint little hitches of the torso.  It could
indicate either tears, or passion.  It's up to you to determine which.  Adam,
please."  The blindfold was coming off!  I was losing the safe darkness I was
abandoned in. They would be able to see my eyes.  My damp, suffering, eager
eyes.  "Taking the time to vary the environment also creates its own sensations. 
What was once in solitude is now revealed for all to see.  Look her over
carefully." The light was almost painfully bright and it raised small tears on
its own.  When I blinked, they rolled from the corners of my eyes to rest in the
hair at my temples. Seeing what was above me for the first time was an
experience all its own.  The room was filled with subdued brilliance.  The track
lighting set in the corners away from the center of the room.  One broad beam
slanted across my body to light it to perfection.   By raising my head I could
see the people standing outside the periphery of the light and almost see the
dark wooden paneling that graced the walls. The table I rested on was at waist
height for Jon.  I could see him next to me, leaning over.  I looked, as much as
I was able too through the light.  He smiled down, in amused tolerance.  His
eyebrows meeting over his eyes in mock severity.  Several others leaned over me
and I met their eyes blandly, coldly.  They were merely window dressing.  Hands
that Jon was using on me.  Distraction from his true purpose. He wanted to see
how much I would take before strangers. These uninitiated strangers.  I knew
that he wanted some deep intellectual/physical reaction from me.  I wanted to go
with the flow.  If he had looked at my diary, he would know that crowds captured
my imagination on some lower level, but that one-on-one was much more difficult
for me to bear.  I heard the crack of the whip and waited for the feel of it on
my body.  My eyes clenching shut, tensing for the pain that never came.  Jon
laughed and I heard one of the students ask.     

"Are they any other safe ways to induce sensation without risking the kinds of
injury the whip causes?"  I saw this one asking his question and didn't want to
hear Jon's reply.  Of course there were many ways.  Just as painful, but they
left no marks.  I much preferred to be whipped, if I had a choice.  Thank you,
very much.  It's over quicker.     

"Here try these, carefully."  I heard the tinkle of chain and saw him handing
small steel clamps over me to the young male.  The good ones with the tension
screws set in the tops so they don't do any real tissue damage, not like the
kind from Radio Shack. 

"They work best when they are tightened after application.  They serve a
different purpose than the whip."  They did too.  Restricting blood flow to
whatever area they were applied too.  They didn't even hurt until you took them
off.  "Go on, those were designed for the nipples."  He handed others around the
room and I didn't even want to know where they were supposed to go.  I was still
hot and ready for some action.  Not this slow maddening head-trip.  Where he
explained ever-single thing that he did to me.  If he wanted to work me why
didn't he just get on with it?  This was taking so long.  The boy's hands were
shaking when he touched me with uncertainty.  Adam stood next to him, gazing
over his shoulder.     

"Here, like this."  He took a hold of my nipple and twisted it painfully,
smiling at the quick painful jerk of my torso.  Clamping the little steel
torture device on the sensitive, pulsating tip.  "The twist gets the blood
coming to the area and when you clamp it, well, let's just say that it has a
much harder time, getting there."  The boy did the other one, but much more
slowly.  Harder pinch though. Tighter set on the clamp too.  Adam loosened it. 
"Not too tight, now.  Some blood must flow, or the area goes numb. They have to
be able to feel it." One of the others asked how you could tell if they were
tight enough, and Adam gave a solid wrench on the chain connecting my breasts to
each other.  Arching me off the table and bringing quick tears of pain to my
eyes.  "Tight enough.  They didn't come off."  I could hear the smile in his
voice.  "Do the ones between her legs, the same way."  I felt the clasp of tight
little steel teeth against the soft wet folds of my labia.  Pinching me just
firmly enough to be uncomfortable, not enough to bruise. They all gave little
tugs on the trinket's chains and played with slick wetness seeping out of me in
unfulfilled desire. Putting more little adornments on my earlobes and a quickly
applied something in my belly button.  Maddening me and distracting me. "They
are used as reminders that her body is not her own.  By binding the cleft closed
and inaccessible.  We are reminding her of my ownership."  Jon was speaking to
the amateurs softly.  His voice cold and clinically arousing. "We can go into
the other room now, and finish our discussion.  Traci has something in mind for
her and I promised to leave her in here, slightly heated, to await her."  The
students laughed nervously, then I heard them leave.  All of them, even Adam. 
It wouldn't be too long. Nobody responsible ever left a slave truly alone and
bound up.     

I relaxed, waiting for the arrival of the mistress. Trying to ignore the
irritating pull of the clamps, attached to my flesh.                          

AS A WOMAN/ AS A MAN     

It seemed to take forever for Traci to come in, but I knew that it was only a
few moments.  I spent those precious quiet seconds trying to ignore the medieval
pull of the clamps on my body.  Striving not to wiggle the clips loose from my
skin by moving violently.  I chewed on the soft rubber gag in my teeth for
comfort.  Glancing around the room slowly.  Perusing the light brown walls and
the decidedly masculine atmosphere.  I heard the door open.  The sounds making
me turn to that direction. It was Traci.  She was dressed for sex.  A black
leather corset with black garter belt.  Her breasts connected by a fine black
chain through the rings in her nipples.  Thigh high black boots with fishnets. 
Black leather panties over the top.  A short quirt swinging from her belt.  In
her hands she was carrying a fairly large wooden box.  She completely ignored
me.  Walking towards my feet before putting the box down.     

She came over to my left and opened a drawer in the table I was on.  Putting two
ornate glass jars next to me.  I was intrigued enough to almost forget the pull
of the clamps. She checked my arms to make sure they were tight enough, then my
legs.  Giving a little twist to the screws on my breast clips to tighten them
past the point of pain.  She unclipped the whip from her belt and looked down at
my curious face.     

"Jon believes in a certain amount of latitudes with new slaves.  I do not." 
There was absolute conviction in her manner.  "I expect complete obedience
without hesitation.  I understand that you have no desire to pleasure a woman,
but that has no bearing on what I want from you."  I nodded in understanding. 
"If you falter, vacillate, or disappoint me in any way.  I will punish you in
ways that only another woman knows."  My eyes widened in fear. "Do you
understand me?"  Her speech was precisely menacing.  I nodded.  My imagination
understood her only too well.  I would do what she wanted of me, whatever she
wanted of me.  I would do it immediately and without question.  She smiled at my
fear, noticing the rapidly developing sheen of sweat on my skin. Putting her
hands at the damp flesh at the apex of my thighs, then laughing when I twitched
in reaction.  Patting me gently, she walked down to the end of the table.  There
was a sharp click and a wedge of the wood between my legs disappeared.  She
stepped up between my thighs to open my sex wide with her thumbs.  Peering down
at my dripping attributes in delight.  Her fingers entering me to probe gently. 
Watching me blush with abject humiliation. The little chains pulling wide and
holding fast to the folds. She pressed my clitoris, rolled it between her thumb
and forefinger.  Teasing me with nimble dexterity.   "Nice large features, and
generous openings.  Very high quality.  I have to try this little toy I bought
out on you." She leaned down and I heard her open the box.  Pulling out a very
long butterfly clip with a small peg on the lower end. She pinched a portion of
my clitoris up from the rest of the kernel, and clamped it.  The embrace of the
little vise achingly strong and miserable.  She moved the vise and rocked it. 
Laughing at the convulsive movements of my vagina.  The quivering of my thighs
from the strain.  The small peg on the end jammed under the heart of my
clitoris, pushing it firmly, achingly.  She took a belt out of the box and slid
it under the small of my back.  Buckling it onto me with quick sure pulls. Two
smaller belts hanging free.  She took my left arm, released it from the table,
and then hooked it to the belt with big brass marine snaps.  Doing the same
thing to the right. She stroked the inside of my damp thighs and looked at my
face.  Speaking softly to me.  Eyes menacing.

"I can beat you to orgasm, do you believe that?"  I nodded, at her.  Trying to
make sure the nod was very obvious.  `I do believe it, Mistress." I thought.  "I
will do that one of these days to you.  Spread you and take a strap to that
pulsing little kernel of heat between your legs until the violence of your
orgasm rocks the very foundations of your soul."  Her dulcet, flowing words were
close to doing it already.  Her words and the throbbing pulsation's of pain from
the `toys.'  "I enjoy creating profound sensations and I use many things to do
this.  Unguents, clamps, penetrators and piercings.  I want the orgasm to be
secondary to whatever I decide to do to you.  I will talk to you about piercing
at a future date, but tonight I will introduce you to my style. Nothing I do is
overtly painful, so the gag may stay on. Your safe-word is meaningless to me. 
The most agonizing thing I have ever induced without a whip in my hand was a
cramp.  Do you understand?" I nodded, chewing on the gag in apprehension.   

"If you obey me with complete compliance it will go better for you.  I merely
want to map your body.  Study your responses."   She looked down at my trembling
carcass, and smiled.  "Then I will begin preparing you for me."  I shivered.     

Traci touched the little butterfly on me and tightened it a little bit more. 
Reaching over me for one of the glass jars, the green one.  She opened it
carefully so I could smell the fresh scent of wintergreen and menthol.  She took
a small amount of the cream and smoothed it over my breasts. Close to the
clamps.  It was hot and cold, all at once.  She rubbed it in.  Leaning over me
to blow on it so I shuddered on the table, moaning.  Her hands unhurried. 
Teasing me and tightening the clamps again another little turn on my pulsing
nipples.  Although her hands stayed above my waist I felt her touch all the way
to my sex.     

She went between my legs and took out a phallus of hard black rubber.  Wiping
her hands on a trick towel, before reaching for the other jar.  Her eyes glossy
as she dipped the smooth item in the thick gelatinous goo.  The smell of spice
strong in my nostrils.  She opened one of the pairs of clamps on my labia,
spreading the lips to slip the phallus into me with sure even pressure.  Pushing
it well into my sex.  Stopping to touch the clamp on my clitoris.  My vagina
clutched at the phallus, grateful to be filled again.  She watched me
expectantly.  I wondered why.  Only for a moment.  The item inside me began to
itch very softly against the interior walls.  She rocked it, in and out.  Up and
down.  Scratching the itch, and inflaming it. `I couldn't take this!'  It felt
as though a thousand ants had invaded my moist sex and were trying to drive me
insane.  I struggled vainly against the bondage and heard her speaking to me
from a long distance.     

"The more you struggle. The worse it will be.  I have no intention of removing
it until after you pleasure me.  Accept it."  I tightened in subdued cupidity
and tried to lay still. It was going to be impossible, but I could not force it
out with the strong convulsive movements of my muscles.  She buckled it into
place with the extra straps and replaced the clamps on my lips sealing me shut
tightly.  Untying my legs, she made me stand.  Taking a small ball from the box
before her.  She threw it.  "Fetch that for me on your knees."  I did it,
quickly.  More urgent because of my condition.  The movement irritating the
flames deep inside me.  She sat on a chair and waited for me to bring the ball
to her with my hands.  She threw it again, when I did.  Then again after that,
and again.  I lost count after ten.  Doing what she wanted in urgent haste and
debasement.  Hoping to please her enough to take the driving orgasmic irritation
from inside me.  "Do not orgasm, or I will leave it in all night."  She said,
amused.  I hung my head, ashamed that I had been so obviously aroused.  "Come
here and turn around." I did it.  Bending over so she could see my pale buttocks
and keeping my legs well apart.  "Back up closer to me.  I need some leverage to
push this in."  She had another phallus in her hands and I almost bolted from
her.  `Not more of the itching stuff, please.'  It was one of those thin then
wide then thin ones.  The kind that stretches your ass impossibly large then
closes around it.  My hands, bound to my waist, were no good to me.  I felt the
small end being pushed relentlessly into my ass and rested my face on the floor
in resignation.  The lube on the thing felt like nothing but KY or some such. 
No matter really, it was getting uncomfortably too large to go inside me.  I
knew that it was not going to make it all the way in.  Too big, and to
insistently huge to fit in my tight little ass. I was wrong.  Traci simply
wrapped her legs around mine, and pushed hard.  Whispering over my back to me. 
"It only hurts for a moment." This was that moment, and I almost climaxed at the
stretching ache of the thing being set well into me.  Spearing me, filling me.
Buckled into place to be held even against the push of the muscles of my anus. 
She stroked my back.  Pulling on my hair so I would stand up.  "Come with me."     

She walked towards the door with normal stride.  I, in my misery, struggled to
keep up with her.  Unable to close my legs or walk with any kind of grace for
fear of dislodging the clamps on me or the toys in me.     

It seemed that we walked the corridors for a long distance, coming finally to a
door.  I followed her inside and found myself in a Victorian bedroom. 

"Come here." Traci said, as she sat on the edge of the bed, sliding the leather
panties down her legs to the floor.  For the first time in my life I was faced
with the pleasure organs of someone of my own sex.    


I went to her and she released my hands.  Leaving the cuffs on.  "Bring your
head down here so I can take off the gag." I did as she bid me too.  Working my
sore jaw up and down for a moment.  She pulled on the chain holding my breasts. 
Jerking me closer so she could twist her hands in my hair and kiss me.  Her
mouth sweetly pliant on mine.     
I was beautifully stunned at the feel of her soft lips on my lips.  Her tongue
slipping into my mouth to taste mine. She leaned back.   I did not expect what
she did next.  It was a totally agonizing surprise as she wrenched the chains
from my nipples with a sharp snapping jerk.  I yelped in pain. The blood rushed
back in a flood of heated agony making me fall forward unto the bed to rest on
my arms, moaning with pain.  Her hands' caressing the burning tips.  Kissing
them and suckling them.  Flood of moisture in my wet opening, lessening the
itch.  `Could that be it?'  It flashed into my brain.  `The hotter I get the
less it will irritate me?'     

"Put your hands on my sex, slave.  Feel me." She ordered.  I moved to her right
and touched the soft inner part of her thigh slowly moving my hand upwards.  In
a sweet caress that men had been using on me since the first man. She was wet
and docile.  The softly damp margins of her cleft were warm and full of heat.  I
had never known that another woman could be so velvety, so fine.  Slipping a
long finger into her satin sheath.  I watched her face darken with passion and
her breaths deepen to pants.  I put my thumb on her tiny button and Traci
moaned.  She quickly moved up the bed to rested against the pillows.  "Put your
face between my legs, slave, then eat me until I orgasm."  She commanded, her
tone was ritually hard.  I wanted to hesitate, but did not want to suffer all
night.  I did it, promptly.  I kept my legs apart.   Laying face down near her
thighs.  Resting on my elbows, widening her with my thumbs.  She was all fire
and water.  Hot and moist.  The scents of pure need reaching my nostrils, gently
intoxicating.  "Do it now."  I dipped my face into the saturated flesh and
hesitantly tasted the salty smoky fluids of another woman for the first time in
my life.  Losing myself in the submission.  I let myself go wild on her. 
Nibbling, nuzzling, probing with my tongue the opening I found there.  Licking
the drenched clitoris that hardened to granite under my inexpert ministrations. 
I bit it gently, feeling her grab my head.  Making me laugh against her swelling
flesh.  I was relentless in my goal.  The rush of pleasure flowing from her to
me.  Tightening the phallus' impaling me. Sweat forming on my skin so I was
slick.  The hunger between my legs growing to unbearable proportions.  Cosmic,
galactically huge.    
I knew she neared climax when she grabbed my hair and pulled my face up tightly
to the hard kernel of heat at the apex of her thighs.  I sucked it like a dick,
creating a deep pulling flick with my tongue on the underside.   She overflowed. 
Bucking her hips, body tensing under me.  I hung on to her hips, fighting not to
orgasm on my own. Letting her release run over me in a flood.  She pushed at my
head.  Crying out for me to stop, that it was enough.  I pulled my face away,
reluctantly.  Wiping my cheeks on the spread beneath her.  When I looked up at
her, I knew what she was feeling.  I had felt the same way many times before. 
Traci lay like a starfish, open, soft, spent, for several long moments. Trying
to still the trip-hammer beating of her heart. Control the shifting spasms in
her sex.  Oh yes, I had been there myself.     

"Lay on your back, and spread your knees."  I did so, waiting for her.  My legs
starting to ache from need.  The itch almost gone, but still felt deep within
me.  She caught my eyes and twisted her fingers in one of the chains closing me. 
A quick pull and the clamps slipped off with a little biting drag.  She took the
folds and rubbed the circulation back into the spots gently.  I felt like a
spring being tightened past the breaking point.  I was inexorably being wound
tighter towards gratification.  She did it again and I made a small sound of
surrender.     

"Please, Mistress."  I begged her, shamelessly.  She shushed me.  Unbuckling the
belt and removing the butterfly. I tensed as the blood flowed back twice as fast
into my clitoris.  Swelling it to unbearable levels of fire. She leaned over me
and I licked the nipple that rose above me. Just a small liberty in desperate
arousal.  `Please.' Taking another magic jar from the nightstand she pushed her
whole fist into it.  The thickly moist fluid covered her hand with a glaze.  I
watched in curiosity.  Traci turned to back to me, leaning over me.     

"I will make you climax and before we are through here tonight.  You will know
how to please a woman, as well as a man."  She slid the phallus from my sheath
and when the air hit the labia the fire ignited.  Scorching me.  The desire
forming a palpable corona around me as the aphrodisiac-like itching became an
inferno.  Taking the oily hand, she pushed two fingers into me.  I sighed, as
the fire near those two small digits died.  The dissipation a keening undertone
to the other places inside me.  Searing overindulgence.  Going straight to my
clitoris, soaring need feeding the wetness in my vagina.  Traci went to work on
me.  Pushing, probing.  Rubbing the damp moist envelope of demanding privation. 
Her careful fingers brushing the little nubbin of heat as she worked me. She
touched my hips with her other hand, holding them still. Making me realize that
I was moving in urgent haste.  The stroking of her fingers roughened.  She bent
her head down so I could feel the warmth of her breath on my hairy opening. 
Taking the last set of clamps in her teeth. She pulled them off to toss them
away with a flick of her head.  Her mouth closing on the hard knot of pleasure
building between my legs.  Sucking it the same way I had.    


I exploded under her.  My hands forming claws and holding her head against me. 
Legs shaking with stress as her arm worked me with fierce, tumultuous thrusts.
Driving me to frenzy.  The quick little flicks of her tongue and the suction
pulling every bit of orgasm from my shaking body.  I arched up and froze in
mid-air.  Awash with feeling.  Throaty cries leaving me gasping.  A sudden deep
thrust from Traci's strong right hand and she was still.  Licking the satisfied
little lump gently, causing my limp legs to jerk in pangs of afterglow.     

She stroked my sweaty stomach.  Her hand just resting at the gate of my
womanhood.  Her eyes alight with satisfaction and profound gratification.     

"Still think women are to soft and easily manipulated?" She'd been in my diary.
I answered her, breathlessly.     

"No mistress, I was wrong."  She wiped her hands on a towel and started to
unbuckle the belt at my waist.  It fell loose and I let her slide it from
underneath me.  She made a motion for me to roll over.  When I did, she pulled
the larger phallus from my anus with gentle force.  The powerful muscles
clasping against the removal.  When it was out, and I was empty.  She came back
up to my head.  Watching me, carefully.     

"You think like a man does.  Even when you are with me, you do not think as I
do.  Your goal is the orgasm, the profoundness of the sensation.  I am merely an
instrument to you." I nodded at the truth in her words. "I want you to wait for
me." She went away for a moment to another cabinet.  When she came back to the
bed, what she had in her hands galvanized me in lustful fear.  She had a
double-headed phallus.  "Stand up."     

I followed her orders willingly, unsure what she was going to do to me.  I was
quiescent as she approached me. Putting another belt on me, but lower.  Slipping
the large life-like organ into me to secure it inside me.  I started to heat up
again.  She lay back on the bed, looking up at me. Opening her legs and playing
with herself.   Her fingers sliding deeply into her sex.     

"Now, you are a man and have a woman willing to fuck you on the bed before you." 
I put my hand on the jutting organ between my legs.  Her little speech exciting
me and capturing my imagination.  My hand stroking the stiff toy, harshly. Once
when I was in High School.  I had this erotic dream where I made love to one of
my female classmates.  I freaked. Going two weeks with no sleep, no food. 
Filled with angst. I had been a homophobic mess.  I had fantasized about another
woman.  NO!  Finally when I had been unable to stand it anymore.  I had gone to
my school counselor.  A nice man named Bill.  He listened to me and finally
asked me; had I been a man or a woman in the dream.  I had to think about it,
but I had been a man.  On top, aggressively screwing this girl.  I had been a
man.  Bill had said that it was a normal part of adolescence to have dreams like
that.  My subconscious was merely wondering what it would be like to be the
other sex. It didn't mean that I was gay, just curious about what it would be
like to be male.  Now, I wasn't a curious teenager anymore.  I had voluntarily
entered service to Traci, Jon, and now Adam.  I was being asked to play a role
for Traci and my failure to do so, would result in a bought of severe
punishment.  I was feeling a little to good for that.  I wanted the pleasure to
continue.  I stood there and wondered how I should approach this.  Traci was
using her hands to good purpose.  I could see how wet she was from here.  `I
could do this.' The very moment I thought this I slipped easily into the
masculine role she wanted from me.  I became every man that I had ever been
with.  Not the boys trying to get laid, but the men who wanted to satisfy
themselves and leave a satiated women on the bed thinking about the next time. 

I moved towards her purposefully. Knowing that my eyes had gotten harder with
lust.  She moved back up on the bed a little fearfully.  I smiled playfully at
her.  Advancing over her with the organ sticking from the apex of my thighs. 
She touched her breasts, arching her back enticingly.  I ran my hands down the
furrow created between them, stroking the soft skin.  Feeling her heat.  Playing
with her breasts.  Her abdomen, rolling her hips as I lay between her legs.  My
fingers moving with firm even pressure on the satiny smoothness.  Hearing her
moan softly in a pleading way for me to fill her.  I lay gently on top of her,
cupping her cheeks and kissing her deeply.  My tongue moving with hers and my
hands traveling over her neck.  I felt her legs opening wider and went up on my
arms.  Leaning my head down to kiss her softly.  Touching her tiny eyes and
small features.  Watching the glaze cover her face with that animal in ecstasy
look I loved to see on the face of someone in my bed.     

"Put me in you, honey."  Her fingers found the organ and she slid it into her
tight little well.  I pushed home hearing her gasp at the size of it.  I pumped
her, my hips easily finding the rhythm.  My legs tight together and the feel of
the thing bouncing against my own clitoris very exciting in its own right.  I
could come this way very easily.  Her legs wrapped around my waist.  When she
did so I sat up bringing her hips with me.  Still humping her, but able to get
to her clitoris with my hand.  I pulled the labia wide, just a little roughly. 
Manipulating the wet knob with an agile flicking motion of my fingers.  The
organ grinding into her hot sex.  I could feel pleasure sweeping me as well.  I
leaned back over her quickly, clutching at her and rolling my hips in an
ever-increasing tempo.     

She was all small noises and grasping hands.  Hard kisses and sweeping passion. 
I could feel her pulse going up in the soft spot on her neck.  Her damp hair
flowing over my face.  I rotated us both, putting her on top.  She didn't miss a
stroke.  Rising above me to pound down unto my hips.  I touched the junction of
her thighs and she stiffened into climax.  Cresting on top of me and driving
herself beyond it.  Head back, hands on my stomach, shoulders shaking.  I rubbed
her cleft to draw out every tremor she could give me.  My left hand on her hip
to steady her. Smiling at the fact that I could do this to another woman.  She
collapsed on top of me and I felt my own passion hit a low-level buzz.  Almost
pleasure, but more like symmetry. I was satisfied by her climax, her response.  
She rested and crawled over my body to lay on the bed to catch her breath.     
"Did I please you, Mistress?"   I asked and she pulled me near to embrace me. 
Smiling into my hair, practically purring with contentment.     

"Please me?  As if you couldn't tell you did." I chuckled, pulling her closer. 
We lay like that for several long moments as her body quieted.  I listened to
her breathing return to normal.  "Is there something you want to do now?  We
have a few minutes of free time before I have to give you back to Jon."  I
looked at her.  Curiosity warring with uncertainty.  "I want to see what another
woman looks like without having to worry about satisfying her.  I want to see
the mechanics.  Can I look at you, Mistress?  I'll pleasure you after, but can I
just look?"  She immediately propped some pillows behind her back and opened her
legs.  She was so understanding of my curiosity I wanted to weep.  Moving down
to open her was a strange experience. I found myself identifying the parts that
I remembered from anatomy class in High School.  Clitoris, Urethra, Vagina,
Perineum, Anus.  Soft secret parts that were hidden in tissue so velvety yet
tough.  I gazed down in wonder.     

"Haven't you ever looked at yourself?"  She asked of me. I shook my head,
answering her truthfully.   

"No, never seen myself.  Didn't seem to be relevant. Mistress."  I added as an
afterthought.  "Are these the average?"  I found several little holes for
piercings and, surprisingly enough, found myself playing with them.     

"No, I have larger openings, there are some interesting little games that
require that."  I looked up at her in surprise.  `What kind of games were
those?'  She touched my hair, and sat up.  "That's enough for now.  Jon will
give you back to me sometime soon.  I have to clean you up for him now.  Your
night is far from over.  Adam has something planned for you." I already knew
that, been warned.  I stood up slowly.  My body tiring even as my mind did not.     

How many orgasms can one woman have in one day?  It looked like I was about to
find out.                          

COFFEE KLATCH     

I had showered again.  Feeling a little revitalized by the mundane activity.  I
was now very hungry for food and I was surprised that the next place she took me
to was a small kitchen.  A simple supper awaiting me of salad and a sandwich.  I
was beyond grateful for this courtesy.  She must have realized that I had come
immediately from work without having time to eat.     

"Traci, thank you so much.  I wasn't sure how I was going to be able to
concentrate on the next ordeal without some food.  My stomach growling at the
wrong moment would ruin the mood."  She laughed at the relief in my tone.  The
quips falling easily from my tongue.     

"How did you know that you could speak in here?" I shrugged and dug in. 
Speaking softly through the food.     

"It just seemed logical.  The bathrooms are clear, except for the bath chamber
and you did not make me kneel or eat from a dish on the floor, so I figured we
were in a cool room."  She nodded at my logic.  Sitting next to me.     

"Jon's pretty impressed by you."  I grinned impishly. Chewing carefully. "He's
half in love with your diary. Almost couldn't put it down."  She smiled, asking
another question that had me blushing softly.  "You liked being a man in my
bed?" I told her about High School and slipping into the `role.' "Is that how
you do everything?  By slipping into a role?"  She appeared truly interested, so
I told her the truth.     

"I try to put myself into a place were I can feel, but not become emotionally
involved."  I ate a piece of buttered bread with obvious enjoyment.  "Emotion is
an almost useless endeavor as far as I can see.  When you allow that part of
your spirit to rule your life it just seems to clutter up everything.  I don't
like disarray, so I avoid it."  She appeared surprised by my answer, so I
elaborated.  "I slept with one of my friends one time.  It was wonderful and we
enjoyed it immensely.  It was so much better than with a lover, because we both
needed it and wanted it to be good because we would be seeing each other
afterwards.  I was able to keep my perspective, but he couldn't.  He changed and
I didn't appreciate it.  He lost sight of what was truly important."  She cocked
her head.     

"What was important?"  Traci was curious about what I would say.  The interest
shining in her eyes.     

"The physical was important, not the emotional flotsam that guides almost
everyone in the world.  I was into the release.  He wanted the depth.  We were
all but diametrically opposed on ever opinion that we had."     

"How do you feel about Love?"  How was I to answer, she obviously loved Jon, but
who in this world did I love?  Was there anybody?  Janie?  Mary?  My closest
friends?  I `loved' Adam, for his cruelty and his beauty.  Was that really love?
I shrugged again.     

"I don't have any.  In the last five years, since my divorce.  I have loved no
one.  I was afraid to end up in another abusive relationship, so I avoided
lovers."     
"Your husband beat you?"  I nodded grinning, knowing what she was going to say. 
"Why do you do this?  How can you stand it?"  She stiffened in misunderstanding. 
"How can you stand us?"     

"Blue."  She looked surprised. "That's it, right there. I read this book one
time that talked about the differences between literal and ritualized violence. 
I like to be subjected to pain.  I get off on it, but when I tell a lover that I
want it.  They make me feel like a freak, or some kind of deviant.  In the
`normal' world. I have to marry someone that beats me bloody to get what I can
get here safely.  The service you do here is vital.  This is the difference
between rape and making discordant music between two consenting adults.  A
rapist doesn't get you off, he treats you like a toilet."  She almost smiled at
the analogy.     

"Don't you miss emotion?"  I almost shuddered in distaste.  Why would I want to
feel someone hurting me, or making me do the dishes, or making me feel like an
idiot? It just made me sad.     

"The last real emotion that I felt was anger and that was just before I broke my
ex-husbands nose and told him to get out.  I'm encased in ice and I'm almost
afraid of what would happen if I thawed.  I like you.  I liked watching you
orgasm under me.  I enjoy sucking cock and screwing.  I enjoyed making love with
Jon and having him hold me, but that was a rare occurrence.  I don't know why I
suddenly couldn't stand the aloneness any more.  Why I had to reach out for
something more than the sterile little world I lived in, but I had too.  I did
it and I agreed to three months.  I'm a very cold, clinical woman.  It's what
makes me a success in the world of business, but it's also what makes me such a
miserable failure as a human being."  She shook her head sadly.  "Don't be sad. 
I'm basically a good person.  I have some people in my life that I do care for. 
All women and I think I'm a good friend.  I'm dependable, loyal.  I can keep a
secret.  I'm good to my family.  I read voraciously.  I'm quick on my feet and I
spend a lot of my time laughing." I finished up, wiping my hands on the napkin
set out for me. "I just wanted more and came here to look for it."  I drank the
water provided for me in quick gulps.  I followed her lead when she stood back
up.  Going down the hallway behind her.                          

TOOLS OF THE TRADE: HARD LESSONS     

"Pick one."  Jon said, slowly. His eyes watching me closely.  Sitting in a blue
velvet wingback chair.  His legs were crossed and his hands draped over the
carved armrests loosely.  "Pick the one you would like me to use on you, if I
allow it."  He motioned for me to stand up.  I was as graceful as my rubbery
legs would allow.  Striving for some kind of dignity in this new place.  The
punishment room.     

It was as all the other rooms in this house.  Warm enough to be naked in yet
opulent enough to catch your eye. This place was blue.  The carpets, the
flowered wallpapered walls and the dark plush leather furniture.  It had a
Victorian feel to it.  Lace curtains on the walls.  A low functional bench in
the heart of the room.  Subtly frightening in its covert elegance.     

I went to the cabinet that Adam had opened and looked inside.  There was every
kind of whip, crop, quirt and paddle, in the neatly ordered recesses.  It was
astonishingly awesome.  I could practically feel my fingers twitch in
apprehensive anticipation.  Something to use on me, well let's see.  I
immediately disregarded the crops and quirts.  They are only good on one spot
and I couldn't take any more welts on the inside of my thighs.  They were sore
enough, in all the right places, just as they were.  The paddles were more a
connoisseur type of thing and I was not one of them.  If someone was going to
warm my buns I prefer they do it over the knee, using their big hard hands.  I
had no idea how to use the bullwhip, so I passed them over as well.  It was the
multi-tailed cats that I looked at.  They were true works of Art.  All black,
but the variety of shapes, hefts and lengths, was astonishing.  Every single
shape that I could think of was in that cupboard.  I reached for one and turned
around to Jon smiling shyly.     

"Can I try it on the pole, Master?  It will help with my decision."  He nodded,
amused at my eagerness.  I reached for one that I knew would be perfect. 
Twenty-inch tails of half- inch by quarter-inch black leather.  Weighted at the
head end.  I held it in my hand, running the tails through my suddenly shaking
fingers.  Swinging it over the floor to check the sweep of the cordings.  Nice,
easily the finest piece of its kind that I had ever held.  Neatly sewn, with no
rough edges so it could be used for penetration.     
I kept my eyes on the sway of the straps and wandered leisurely towards the
marble pole in an erotic fog.  My eyes blazing with concentration and forbidden
passion.  I let it build lazily inside me.  Sighting my swing on the thick dark
column.  I took a deep breath and let my passions explode from me in sudden
violence.  My arm swinging effortlessly. The heavy sound a persuasively powerful
reverberation up my arm, well into my shoulder.  It landed with a solid snapping
crack.  Nice even heft and fluid motion.  Not too stiff, but not too much slack
either.  It would sting like a son-of-a-bitch, but not leave real deep marks.  I
swung it again and liked the feel of it.  I liked it a lot.  I came back to
where I had been before and quickly made my decision.  I turned back to Jon
falling gracefully to my knees.  My entire demeanor respectful.  My hands
suddenly quaking with frank intimidation.  I held it out to him.  Jon took it
from my hands.     
"Is this what you've chosen?"  I licked my suddenly dry lips.  Hoping to
generate some moisture in my mouth so my tongue would move unimpeded against my
teeth.  I nodded and spoke.     

"Yes, Master."  I said easily.  His face whimsically inquisitive as he asked me;
`Why?'  I blushed with mortification.  Surely he already knew, why?  Did he have
to hear me say it?  He was waiting for my response.  "It is heavy enough to hurt
without leaving welts."  I felt my voice go soft.  Painful to be so exposed
before both of them.  "So you can beat me longer, Master."  He reached over to
touch my breasts, lightly.  Making them swell with craving under his hands. 
Heaving with the search for air.     

"I could leave welts on you with this, Anne." I listened to his gentle,
confident voice.  Cowering near his boots with fear.  I answered in a pitifully
small voice.     

"If you so wish it, Master."   He pulled his hands away from me.  I almost
moaned.     

"Why did you pass up the other things?  The quirts, the crops?"  Don't make me
explain that.  Not in front of Adam. It would bring to light too much of me,
make me too naked.  To visibly exposed.  "Explain to me, now."  He did want me
too.     

"The quirts and crops are for the insides of the thighs, and across the
buttocks.  I am sore already on those places, and wished to avoid punishment to
them.  The paddles, never feel as good as the Master, or Mistress', hand.  The
bullwhips have the potential to do emergency room level damage.  They terrify
me, Master."  I twisted my hands together in desperation.   Miserably aware that
I was showing my true soul openly with my words and it made me very
uncomfortable.  "I have no wish to be hurt so severely it will transcend the
pleasure I get from the lash.  I do not want to ruin the experience."  I fell
into a distressed uneasy silence.  Waiting for his response to my words.     

"Pick out a quirt, a crop, a paddle, and a bullwhip." No!  My heart cried out
inside me, but went I do it slowly. Procrastinating in wretched foreboding. 
Looking at the selection in the cabinet.  I had no idea what to look for in
those things.  I had never really had them used on me.  They had always been
picked out by Rob.  I went pale and stood before the doors in alarm.  Teardrops
forming on my lashes.  I did not know what to do.  My uncertainty a palpable
feeling in the air.  I did not look at either of my tormentors, but I gulped
thickly around the knot of terror in my throat to grab the first things my
fingers fell on. Turning to rest my forehead on the floor before Jon in mute
obedience to his command.  Hands above my head, offering him the instruments of
suffering he would use to torture me.  His hands removing the items from my
nerveless fingers.  "So hard for you to obey me, willingly.  You put-off
whatever you find distasteful.  Anything that terrifies you, or excites you,
beyond what you consider acceptable.  You did not take the same care in choosing
these things as you did the other.  You will be corrected for that."  I
whimpered, keeping my head near the floor.  Crouching near the soft black gloss
of his boots.  I felt his toe press on the back of my neck, forcing my head to
the carpet.  "I want instant obedience without hesitation.  You are not giving
it to me willingly and quite obviously need a lesson in it.  Adam put her on the
bench.  Legs up."  I did not resist Adam's taking me to the bench, nor him tying
my legs almost straight up from my hips.  Did not protest the wide belt he
buckled at my waist holding me tight to the bench.  I kept my eyes at the level
of his belt or below.  Feeling handles at my hips that I clutched for support.    

Ignoring the sympathetic noises he was making as he tied me.  I was not afraid
really.  I had been tied before.  All part of the head trip right?  Jon bent
over me and laid the things on a table beside me.  His eyes were hard.     

"There is nothing on this earth that will make me angrier at you, Anne.  Than
any show of open reluctance. Procrastination is a form of rebellion and I cannot
allow you, or any other slave I deal with, to consider it respectful or proper."
Across the room I saw Adam taking off his shirt.  The well-muscled chest with
its thatch of dark curly hair revealed for viewing as he lay the garment over a
dark blue velvet chair.  Adam touched the inside of my thighs.  My legs growing
rapidly uncomfortable as they hung over me.  "You will learn what it means to
rebel and it is a hard lesson."  Grief flooded me, as I realized I was in a lot
of trouble.  "I will expect to only have to treat you this way once, Anne." He
stood up and turned to Adam.  Voice flinty, imperturbable.  "Beat her until she
says her safe-word."  I went cold.  "If she makes it a least fifteen minutes,
make her come and put her in your bed.  Anything less, clean her up and send her
home."   Fifteen minutes?  I bit my tongue to keep from begging.  "Pay
particular attention to the insides of her thighs.  I want to see some welts in
the morning."  I tried to still the hammering in my chest.  Tried to catch some
easy breaths, because I was hyperventilating badly.  Beat me until I said my
safe-word? Send me home?  I had been that bad?     

Rebellion will not be tolerated, that was in the rules for me to see.  It was
something I knew by heart and not scrambling to do as he bid was considered
rebellion?  I saw Adam swinging the door closed behind Jon and realized that we
were alone.  He turned back to me, smiling.     

"I knew that you would get the beating.  You had to blow it on your first day
here.  Balky little Prima Donna.  I don't know which I'll like more.  If you
make it, or if you fail, so I can go back to being on my knees."  That explained
a lot about his hostile attitude.  He was jealous of my lowly status.  I kept my
mouth shut prudently.  "Close your eyes, bitch.  Prepare yourself to speak in
less than five minutes." I stiffened and growled.  It sounded like words and the
words were `fuck you.'  He laughed, picking up the small quirt and tapping his
leather-clad leg suggestively.  "Same to you." I clenched my jaw and closed my
eyes as he swung the little quirt at the soft inner part of my thigh.  I jumped
at the sudden agony.  It had no effect; Adam just continued his work
methodically.  Ignoring the little signs of discomfort and the inevitable tears
of remorse.  Ignoring even the louder cries that he tore from my burning lungs. 
All the things that I had done in the past to stop the pain, tempt a master to
give in and pleasure me.  Checking the burgeoning moisture between my open
thighs whenever he changed to the whip, or the paddle, or the cat.     

He stood over me, after I did not know how long. Stroking the fiery redness and
pinching the pulsing welts. My face crimson, my legs quivering with submissive
softness. Eyes hot and head aching with unshed tears.  Head rolling helplessly
on the bench.  My hands holding the bars by my waist so hard my knuckles were
bloodless white with strain.    
It was a litany in my head, over and over.  A chorus inside me.  `I would never,
ever, do what ever I had done to anger Jon again, promise.  Just, please, don't
make me say my safe-word.  Anything but that.'  Adam made sure that I was
watching him and very deliberately picked up the second-to-last thing he had to
use on my insulted, wounded, excited body.  He picked up the Bullwhip.  I moaned
out loud with terror.                        

I was in Hell.  Adam was the devil and he followed Jon's instructions to the
letter.  Ignoring anything I did that was not what he was instructed to respond
too.  Giving me bare seconds to catch my breath, before starting in again on
some new horrible punishment. He very deliberately swung the whip.  It hit the
already sore flesh of my inner thigh, making me call out.  Arching into the
tight bonds.  Every single stroke he laid on me with it, made me cry, groan,
moan, or beg him to stop.  `Please, stop.' I would not use my safe-word.  Not
now, not ever, if I could help it.  He kept going until I was so sore that the
lightest touch of his fingers would cause me pain.  The slightest brush, much
less continuing blows of the hard braided leather.  He stopped suddenly, and
looked down at me.     

"You will say it.  I have no desire to be in your place and Jon told me to make
you say it."  I shook my head and swallowed a sob.  He looked down at me for a
long moment, and then walked away.  Coming back with a bamboo cane.  "Say it."
My chin quivered, but I shook my head.  "Last chance."  He said, a bead of sweat
falling from his forehead to land on my stomach.     

"No, Handler.  I will not.  I have been rebellious, defiant.  Unwilling to
please any but myself, but I will not say it."  That was going to be impossible
and he knew it.    
"Okay, brace yourself."  I felt liquid fire across my buttocks.  The whistling
scream of bamboo slashing the air, before the cutting impact on my shrinking
skin. I lasted exactly four strokes without fighting the bonds for release
actively.  Ten before screaming out in extremis. Broken by his determination. 
His voracious tenacity.     

"BLUE!  BLUE!"  Adam immediately stopped his movement in midswing.  I collapsed
in on myself, shattered and sobbing. So very sorry I would be leaving here.  I
had failed utterly. Pulling deep shuddering breaths into my lungs to weep them
out brokenheartedly.  The sudden quiet stillness of the room painful.  Adam
threw the cane, across the room and knelt over me.  I turned my face into my
shoulder, not looking at him. Not wanting to see his triumph at my expense.  The
warm room was quiet but for the noises I was making.  I was absolutely
miserable. 

Instead of releasing my body in order to send me home. He knelt between my
spread thighs and dipped his tongue inside my opening.  Stunning me.  His mouth
bathing my wet stormy cleft.  Plunging deeply inside the moist folds and pushing
his nose against my clitoris until a wave of tremors shook me.  Assaulting my
senses with sudden heat.  Unexpected impetuous need flowing over me.  Need made
all the more bitingly tender by the soreness of my inner thighs.  His soft dark
hair harsh upon my skin.  The rapid flow of scorching inflammation over my body
inexplicably arousing.  I clutched his head in desperately shaking hands. 
Feeling it curl around my wet fingers as craving gripped the core of my body.  A
pinnacle of voluptuous sensuality, like nothing I had ever known before, had
been reached.  Its culmination rolled over me.  Stretched my taxed body to its
limits and tore a deep-throated cry from my throat.  Unable to move.  His thick
hair brushing painfully against the sore spots on my legs. His large hands
holding my sweaty hips to the bench with an even relentless efficiency.  Neither
my hands, nor my desperate movements, could dislodge him from my trembling
grotto.  Panic made me try futilely to do so, but it was hopeless.  I felt my
overflowing climax exclusively in the deep valley between my legs.  Body taut,
breath held rigidly behind clenched, aching teeth.  Fingers in spasm.  My heart
trying to beat its way from my chest.  Experiencing for the very first time. 
The annihilating drama of Le Petit Morte. The Little Death, in my supreme
affliction.  Pain rolling through me and over me.  Pushing me farther than I had
ever been before in pleasure.  I couldn't take it.  `It's too much!'  I fainted,
falling into blessed, merciful darkness.     

The sudden limpness of my body must have alerted Adam to the fact that something
was wrong with the person beneath him.  I couldn't see for a couple of moments
and my face was white.  Feeling a queer whirling in my head.  It was a momentary
thing, but very strange for me.  I had never ever in my life done anything even
remotely like it.     

"Annie?"  I felt hands on my face touching me and knew that my arms moved weakly
to feel them.  "Are you okay?"  I clutched at his shoulders, wrapping my arms
around him. Realizing that in the few seconds that I had been woozy, my legs had
been quick-released.  

There was some comfort in that and in the strong arms wrapped around my weak
body.  I started breathing again.  Heart-pounding.  "Are you okay?" Adam asked
again, insistently.     

"Yes, Handler."  I said as I took a deep breath.  "Thank you for taking the time
to correct me."  He hugged me in relief and I could hear him chuckle deep in his
chest.  His big hand cradling my head against the thatch of thick dark hair on
his sweaty chest.  I closed my eyes and rested against him for a few luscious
moments.  When Adam moved away to stand up, he swung me into his well-muscled
arms.  I tried to protest, but he silenced me with a small assertive noise.    
 "You're not going to start arguing with me now, are you?"  His voice was warm. 
I shook my head and kept my arms around his neck.     

"No, Handler."  I lay quietly in his arms, wondering at the fact that he did not
strain under my weight.  Carrying me as easily as one would a child.   I did not
know where we were going, but did not ask.  I was amazingly calm.  I had made it
through one of the worst ordeals that I had ever encountered.  I had not broken
until after the allotted fifteen minutes.  There was some twisted pride in that
fact. `How had I done it?  Why had I done it?'  There was an interesting
question.  Why?  One of the most fascinating questions I could ask about myself. 
I was a responsible businessperson.  I did not feel like a freak or anything. I
just felt alive and tingly.  Awash with sensuality.  Was the only reason I was
here because for so long I had been dead inside, and now I felt alive?     

How, was easy.  I had picked up a paper, dialed a number and met the most
stimulating people that I had met in a long time.  Was it that I simply refused
to be held prisoner by the morality of other people?  Was that it? Was it an act
of ultimate rebellion?  A safe outlet for the darker side of me that tormented
me so completely?     

I was too tired and too sore, to think about these things for very long.  They
were questions of personal philosophy that I would have to ponder over an
evening when I had some solitude.  Time enough for that later.     

Adam came to a door on the third floor and opened it.  A bedroom done in deepest
forest green, but it looked lived in. There were books on the shelves and the
spread was ruffled.  A desk had paperwork and files on it.  A computer, scanner,
printer arrangement beside it on a lower stand.  A closet in the corner,
partially open, had suits in it. Nice suits of silk wool blend that shone with
the fine quality of the fabric.  How intriguing.  He lay me on the bed and
secured my hands above me by one single bond.  I looked like I was praying, but
I was comfortable.  He tucked the spread around me and went over to the closet. 
I watched him taking off his clothes with interest.  I had never seen him naked. 
Just partially revealed by the open fly of his pants and if what that revealed
was any indication.  I was in for a treat.     

"Close your eyes, and rest, Anne.  You'll see enough of me tomorrow."  He smiled
when he said it.  The pillow crunched under my head, as I rested on my side.  I
felt him crawl into bed next to me.  His big warm body against mine.  A creeping
lassitude stole over me. Created by his warmth, and the softness of the bed.  I
sighed, and let it flow over me.  He started speaking quietly into my ear. 
Asking me a question so unusual I came almost completely awake.                 

"Do you hate me?"                         

NIGHT TALK     

"Do you hate me?"  Adam asked again in his velvet soft voice.  I had been
half-asleep, comfortably bound by the wrists to the headboard.  Lazily relaxed
in the after-midnight gloom.  I could barely keep my eyes open.  His question
surprised me.  He pressed tight against my back, one hand spread against my
stomach.  Fingers unfolded, radiating heat.  I snuggled my buttocks backwards to
rest on his manhood.  Nice to cuddle for a change.     

"Did you want me too?"  I could feel his organ stirring, stiffening near the
back of my thighs.     

"No, but I wondered."  His fingers pressed against the raised marks on my skin. 
Waking them so they pulsed faintly. "Why don't you?"  Mild tone, and innocently
curious.     

"Let's see."  I quipped. "You're gorgeous, sensuous, hung like a pony, and you
have a good solid swing in your strap.  A strap, I might add, that you like to
use on my cowering slave body." He laughed, and pressed nearer.  "Why should I
hate you, Adam?  You were doing what you were told to do.  The same as I was.  I
would have to hate Jon, and I cannot hate him."     

"Do I scare you?"  His timbre was hoarse, raw sounding. As if these questions
had been bothering him for most of the night, but he did not know how to express
them.  They were to intimate.    

"You're supposed to scare me.  That's the point.  I said `blue and you stopped. 
How scared can I really be?"  Adam's hands roamed over me, as if checking to see
the extent of the damage he had done to me.  Lazy pressure, calming.     

"You are not like some of the people that we've had here."  He sounded almost
amazed.  Why?     

"How do you mean?  I'm older?"  That low smoky laugh from deep in his chest
again.    

"You smiled in the middle of a scene.  Do you know how rare that is?  You spend
all of your time wide-awake, and not caught up in some romantic fantasy of love
in chains."  I liked the way he put that even if he wasn't speaking about me.     

"If I didn't enjoy this.  Why would I be here?  This isn't like going to a
movie, and thinking that Brad Pitt looks a little off-color.  I can't really
walk away when I'm tied to the table."  I was a little puzzled.  What else would
bring someone here?     

"Some people come, because they feel they deserve nothing better than
punishment.  They feel it more every time they climax.  You don't, do you?"  I
shuddered with sadness.     

"How terrible for them."  I meant that in the deepest sense.  "I look on the
strap, most of the time, as a reward. It's the same even when its meant as
punishment or I cry.  If  I really fuck..  OOPS.  Screw-up.  I get sent away,
and I won't be punished so wonderfully anymore."  I tried to put my thoughts
together in a coherent way, so they would be easy to understand.  "Literal
violence is a terrible, soul-killing thing.  I had that."  A small sympathetic
noise came from him.  I pushed that memory away.  "Maybe at one time I did too,
but it's not that way now."     

"How is it now?"  He sounded like he really wanted to know, resting his cheek on
mine.  The feel of masculine beard, and male smells, floating over me in
indolent circles.     

"Now, it's just sensation.  I had a boyfriend that did this kind of thing. 
Never far enough or long enough.  Some kind of one orgasm rule with him.  I had
been so straight, and when he left me I never thought that I would miss it as
much as I did."  I could feel my eyebrows knit together in a little frown.  "It
was frustrating to go on a normal date, and try to ask for this?  You ever try
to explain this to a Catholic?"  He laughed outright at that picture, and I knew
he understood.  "I'm scary enough to most men, because of the brain in my head, 
without a WHIP in my hand.  Rob, for whatever reason, saw this inside me, and
brought it to the light.  I just cannot go back.  Frankly, I don't really want
too."  Adam's hand moved to the backs of my thighs, and explored the deep valley
between them.  My voice fell to a whisper.  "I can hide it, or enjoy it.  I
don't want to feel like an outlaw because I like this."  I moaned under the
pressure of his palm on the inside of my leg.     

"There's no reason too, as long as you can find other players."  I bent my knee
to give him access, and felt two long thick fingers move into me from behind.  I
tried to remain still. "Hmm." He murmured, and his organ pressed upwards on my
back.  "I did promise you something exotic tonight, didn't I?"  Yes, he had. 
How kind of him to remember.  I gave him a ritualized answer to his words.     

"Yes, Handler.  If it is your wish to continue.  I will gratefully submit to
your attentions."  He moved up, and back so I could roll over onto my stomach. 
My bound hands together before me.  I relaxed on my arms, and waited with my
knees bent.  He fondled my back, silently.  Reaching over me to the nightstand. 
I knew basically what he was reaching for, so I did not watch.    

"Have you ever done this before?"  He asked, as a thick semi-solid mass started
to melt between my butt cheeks.  His fingers following the moist path.     

"Not in a long time handler, but the mistress opened me there earlier with a
phallus."  I felt a small twinge of embarrassed fear.  Adam was much larger than
that toy.  His fingers felt larger than the phallus had.     

"You like it though, don't you?"  His voice was lower, and more demanding.  I
felt his thumbs in me, and the slippery lubricant being worked deep by his
fingers.  I groaned, as sympathetic wetness seeped from my vagina to run down my
thighs.  His fingers sure, and delicate, and gentle.     

"Yes, Adam... Handler.  I do."  I could feel the tension growing in my jaw, as
he rose behind me.  One of his hands open on my lower back, and the other
guiding his penis to the tight opening of my anus.  I tried to remember how to
do this.  Feeling the pressure he was exerting to unseal my flesh becoming
overtly uncomfortable.  The organ being angled down, and into me, even as I
tensed.     

"You make your own pain here, Anne.  You are resisting me."  `I've forgotten!' 
My mind screamed.  "Open yourself to me.  I really have no desire to rape you
right now."  I bore down, and felt the tight little ring expanding around his
hot hard meat.  The hand on my back was joined by another.  Both sliding over to
the sides of my waist to grip my hips.  "Here it comes, Annie."  He whispered
the customary warning.  "It only hurts for a moment."  Then Adam entered me
smoothly.  Stretching me impossibly wide to accommodate his organ with the
familiar burning ache that accompanied any anal penetration.  He was in, and I
felt the incredibly strong muscles back there trying in vain to expel him. 
Making him groan with pleasure.  Holding unto me hard with his hands.  He
started to move in me then, pumping me.  Soft in, quicker out, the rhythm that
told me he knew what he was doing.  That this was familiar territory for him.  I
wouldn't be injured, but I would be opened.  He started to speak, and I realized
suddenly that the words were as important to him as the actions.  The cries, and
groans, part of the intoxication for him.  I let myself go, as his voice primed
the orgasm threatening to flow over me.  "This is one of the most intimate ways
to examine a slave.  They create their own pain.  This requires absolute
compliance, and absolute resilience."  I believed him.  "Does it hurt good yet?" 
He asked, and I shook my head, around the tightly clenched teeth in my mouth. 
He grabbed my breasts with his hands, and kneaded them.  Leaning his weight on
my back until my legs quivered.     

"I don't know how much more I can take."  I ground out, and the words worked on
him, he moved rougher, and meaner.     

"You can't take it?"  I shook my head.  "If you really can't stand it, do not
want me in you, then use those tight little muscles to keep me out.  Your
weakness is why I prefer men for this really.  They can take more, and harder."
I gripped the bars of the headboard.  Pulling close, taunting him over my
shoulder with a playful little growl.  I pushed back hard towards him, and felt
every last inch of him slide into me painfully, deliciously.   Filling me to
bursting.  He laughed, a low menacing sound.  "Hold still.  You want to be cored
like a man?"  I nodded, and kept my eyes closed.  "You think you can take it?" 
I nodded, and groaned loudly.  My hands curled tightly to the bed for support. 
He took a hold of my knees, and lay me flat on the bed.  Legs wide for access,
his body following mine down.  "You want to be fucked in the ass, little novice? 
You got it."  His excitement came through his every word, and the quivering
touch of his thighs on mine.  The fact that he was so excited knocked my own
excitement up a notch.  Fever pitch, and poignantly degrading to have to beg to
be fucked harder.  My perineum was pulled taut, and the little muscles grew hard
because my legs were flat against the bed.  I grumbled deep in my throat from
the discomfort.  He spoke into my ear, and his tone meant business. "Do not cry
out.  I don't want to hear it.  You asked for this.  Now, all I want from you is
your orgasm."  I let a tear roll from my moist eyes, down my cheek.  He ground
into me, as every part of my nether regions tightened with the friction.  He was
practically grunting with the force he was having to use to get back inside me,
when he pulled the flesh out of the opening.  My legs shook with spasm,
convulsive movements of tired aching muscles. Muscles struggling towards climax
one last time.  His flesh inside me burned with a fiery gentle pain.  My breath
shortened.  My clitoris pulsed in tempo to my fast, panting breaths.  I was
going to come, and in my depleted state it was going to be agony.  Adam started
to speak to me, hands moving on every part of me he could reach from behind.
Clutching at me, pulling me near.  Fingers rough.     

"You're ass is so tight, and you're so close to coming. I can feel it."  He was
absolutely right, and he knew it. Talking dirty to me, rough like he would talk
to another man. "You're tighter than a man.  I feel your need in my organ." Adam
shoved his hand under my hips.  Urging my body to crest under his prodding. 
Fingers handling my clit, and I rose up against his weight a mere inch to give
him access to the suffering knot of desire at the top of my cleft.  "It hurts, I
know it does, and you're so good for taking it this way." Sweet caress on the
back of my hair.  The unexpected tenderness shot adrenaline into my sex. 
"You're going to come with it.  Boil over, and flow with it.  I'm going to watch
you come, and it's going to be soon." He pumped faster, and the excruciating
pleasure reached a new peak for me.  I groaned, and cried out with it.  His
finger taking my clitoris and pinching it gently, until I exploded.  Lifting up
to my knees, and giving him free access. Eyes closed, head back.  Mindlessly
making incoherent animal noises.  Feeling him in me.  Achingly, impossibly hard.
Filling me, and leaving me empty.  He was so hot, so cruel and full.  I put my
head between my arms, and silenced the bestial scream of joy-filled torment that
his spasmodic thrusting climax tore from my hoarse throat, by biting the
bedspread until my jaws ached.  That wasn't what Adam wanted.  He twisted his
hands in my hair.  Pulling my head up high so he could hear my agony. Forcing
his penis harder into me.  Drilling me with his organ.  Churning against me
until every last bit of his orgasm, was released into the condom he wore to ream
me.  Slowly Adam collapsed on top of me, pressing me into his bed.  His
breathing a harsh rasp in my ear.  Long fingers tightly grasping my damp skin. 
The abrupt hard jerks of his organ slowing to twitches in my now loose anus.  He
whispered against me.     

"Jesus Christ, Girl.  Jesus Christ."  I didn't really understand what he meant
by that, but before I went to sleep cuddled next to him in his bed.  I realized
something.  I felt just about the same way.        

MORNING LIGHT    

I woke to sunlight slanting across my eyelids and the unfamiliar feel of another
body against mine.  For one horrifying second I thought that I had gone to a
bar.  Gotten drunk and made a ghastly mistake.  The truth came to me after a
moment.  `Thank God, I was only in a house of S/M.  Although why that thought
should comfort me, I had no idea.  I don't really do mornings.  I much prefer
the sweet velvet darkness, closer to the dusk than any type of sunlight.  It's
well, too bright during the day.  The night seems to hide a plethora of sins
that are too easily seen during open daylight.  I did know one thing about this
fine morning and that was that my bladder was full.  I had to use the ladies in
the worst way.  I was also bound to the bed and didn't dare to release myself. 
I tried to keep myself distracted by going over work in my head, but that was no
good. 
Work really had no place here and I couldn't concentrate because of the
discomfort.  All I kept seeing was Bob, trying to divine what I had meant on
Friday.  That irritated me.   Why was it that a complete idiot like Bob, had
managed to get the job as department head.  When I, more qualified, had been
passed up?  He must have gotten the big boss laid or something.  I really
dislike the Bastard.  Arrogant, ignorant and a business backstabber with a ton
of friends. Enough of that subject.    

I felt Adam stir and prayed that I had not been the one to wake him.  I wished
that I could get up, wash my teeth, but that was for him to decide.  I tried to
be still.  It was very hard.  My arms were sore from the bindings and my legs
ached from the beating they had gotten.  Other than these minor aches and pains,
not really much more than a usual morning, I did feel pretty good.  I stretched
and felt Adam putting his hand on my hip to still me.     

"Lay still."  He commanded.  I did try to obey, but I couldn't stop a certain
amount of random actions to deal with the expanded state of my urinary tract. 
He pulled me hard against him and I almost lost control because he had his hand
on my abdomen.  I drew a sharp breath between my teeth as I fought my body for
control.  He woke up enough to realize that I was in a truly natural, delicate
state.  He sat up and I awaited his judgment.  "That bad, huh?"     

"Sorry, Adam."  I grinned sheepishly.  He undid the binding and sat me up. 
Pointing me in the direction of his private bathroom.  I followed it, relieving
myself quickly, gratefully.  Resisting the urge to use his mouthwash, because my
mouth felt like glue, just taking a quick sip of water from the faucet.     

He went in after me, closing the door.  I waited on my knees by the bed.  One of
the rules was:  It is disrespectful to be in the Master/Mistress's bed, unless
you are tied to it, or he/she is in it.  Adam came out several moments later.
Sitting naked on the edge of the bed before me.     

"Put your hands on my thighs."  Compliance.  His organ getting stiff before my
downcast eyes.  "Lick my balls and suck on my penis until I cum in your mouth." 
I bent my head and did as he asked of me.  Letting him hold my head as he shot
his release deeply into my throat so I could swallow it all.  Cleaning him up
with my tongue afterwards.  What a lovely way to start the day.     
I fought a low level arousal, but knew that I would not get to orgasm until
after dark.  Another rule was that the daylight hours were for training in tasks
and skills.  No form of sexual release was allowed during the daytime for me.     

Adam sent me down the hallway three doors to Jon and Traci's room.  I was
afraid, but remembered to go in on my knees.  Bully for me.         

MORNING MEALS     

"Come in, Anne."  That was Jon, answering my tentative knock.  Waiting in much
the same pose that Adam had been in. I approached him quickly and kissed his
bare feet in obeisance.  I felt his hands in my hair, smoothing it quietly. 
"Stand up and show me the insides of your thighs." I immediately spread my legs
before him as far as I could. It was not enough for him and he ordered me to
assume a more revealing pose.  "Put one of your legs on the edge of the bed
beside me." I did so immediately.  Suitably desperate to please him.  I couldn't
take another beating like last nights.  He looked at the dark purple welts and
appeared satisfied that I had been duly chastened.  "Did you learn anything?"  A
question.     

"Yes, Master."  I started slowly.  "I learned that I could take more than I
thought I could."  He nodded in understanding.  That must have been what I was
supposed to learn, because he did not press me for more.     

"Come then, let's start the day."  He had me kneel before him and provide the
same service to him that I had for Adam.  His fingers harder than Adam's as he
gripped my hair. Holding me up against him until my body screamed for air and
tears fell from my eyes in slow crystalline trails.  "Good girl, catch your
breath and go do Traci." Traci too?  I didn't hesitate, even though my pulse
went up quite a bit more than it had been.  I was just having a hard time
figuring out why I was so reluctant to be with her.  `Only when you have to
think about it.  You do it willingly enough when you have too.'  There was that
voice again.  I knelt next to her on the other side of the bed.  My face looking
down at her smooth thighs and gently dimpled knees.  I took a deep breath and
waited.  Traci surprised me with her actions.     

She touched my face first, as she readied herself for service.  Wiping the
remnants of moisture she found there with a tenderness I did not expect.  She
spread her legs around me on the edge of the bed.  I swallowed convulsively and
struggled to control my emotions.  It wasn't that I did not like Traci, just not
that way.  I closed my eyes and did it.  Rendered unwilling ministrations to her
heated little mouth until she quivered with subdued release against my face. 
Hands in my mussed-hair and tangling within it.  I gave her a couple of other
little attentions that I knew I liked during oral sex.  A finger inside her wet
cleft and deeply burying my tongue well into her as I was doing her.     

In my heterosexual uncertainty, I did what I knew was more than she wanted so as
not to stint her.  I liked her enough to want her to fully enjoy my presence. 
She had a slave, and I, a Master.  My ambivalence was not really any of her
concern.  It was Jon's.  He would notice, even as I hoped he would not.    


I kept my head down near her feet when I was finished. Hoping to hide my true
feelings from her.  She touched my bent head and spoke sadly.    


"It's too bad you don't really like to do that, Anne. You have a natural talent
for it."  I gasped, sharply at her perception.  Speaking out of turn.  Looking
up at her face.     
"I beg forgiveness for any perceived reluctance on my part, Mistress.  It is the
sad truth that our society has conditioned most of us to feel that same sex
union is perverted or deviant.  I want to please you, Mistress.  I will work
very hard on my attitude.  Your perception of my prejudice is accurate.  I beg
your forgiveness if I have not satisfied you or offended you in any way."  I
hung my head in shame and clutched at her feet.  `Was I really so easily read,
as that?  Was I to have no secrets here?'     

"When one is raised like that, Anne.  The problem will disappear with time and
determined effort."  She bent down and took my arms.  "It is however something
that we will have to diligently apply ourselves too."  I whimpered at the
coldness in her tone.  I held my breath and waited.  Dreading what she was going
to say, knowing what it was.  "Why will you be punished?"     

"For speaking out of turn, without being spoken too. Looking the Mistress in the
face, and most harshly, for my uncontrollable bigotry against making love to a
woman." She appeared satisfied at my answer.  Jon spoke to me.     

"Over her knee and after the punishment, you can try again to satisfy her."  One
of the hardest things I had ever done was lay myself over her lap and put my
hands on the ivory satin coverlet on the bed before me.  Closing my eyes. She
was doing something to her hands that I could only feel over my back.  Was she
getting a paddle?  Where was Jon? `Oh, please.  I'm so sore already.'  I knew
that I would not get any mercy even if I asked for it.  I had made too large a
mistake.     

When her left hand touched my neck, I knew what she had been doing.  She had
been putting on leather gloves to protect her soft hands.  Jon spoke coldly,
over my back.     

"Give her ten for each offense.  Five more each, if she tries to get away, or
covers herself.  If you get tired, let me know and I'll get you a paddle." 
Traci responded to his words positively.  Speaking to me quietly, in rigid
control of her tone.     

"If you come against the bed, or on my lap.  I will know and the punishment will
be doubled."  I didn't think I could take sixty, but my mouth was so dry I knew
I couldn't speak. I knew that I had to and my voice cracked when I did.     

"Yes, Mistress."  I said, swallowing convulsively around a new-formed lump in my
throat.  She started suddenly.  The first hard blows almost brought me right off
the bed with the heaving pain of it.  I curled my fingers into the bedspread to
keep from throwing my hands over my backside to protect it from the torturous
beating.  I bit my lip and started to cry softly into the bedspread.  Silently
sorry, not to have disappointed, but that I was being beaten for it.  `I did not
deserve this.  I couldn't help it!'     

It was maybe halfway through it when something happened inside my head.  Beyond
the fire blooming between my legs and the wetness seeping unto the naked lap of
Traci as she punished me.  My body responding as it always did to pain with
passion.  `I had been wrong not to be with her completely.' The thought stunned
me, profoundly. `You're also wrong to feel you do not deserve to be punished for
your lapse.'  I had displeased and the voice I heard in my heart was the voice
of the slave I was willingly becoming.     

I had let my passions be ruled by an out-dated, restricting platitude that had
no place in the life I was leading now.  What a fool I had been!  I had
determined that it was okay to be with a man, but not okay to be with a woman. 
`Why the hell not?'  I wasn't married to anyone, so if I was going to run my
life by normal morality.  I was technically some kind of sinner against the will
of God, Right?  Destined for the fiery burning torments of Hell.  If that was
the case, I may as well go for some good reason.    

Not because I sat on a fence for months, afraid to enjoy anything new to me.  If
this was how I was going to act.  I had no place here with these sexual
adventurers.  I was filled with remorse.  I deserved the punishment cross.  I
was getting off so easily I cried with real pain. Spirit pain this time.  She
finished the punishment and I felt myself becoming the man/woman that had been
in her bed yesterday.  Wondering if I should give a name to this new facet of my
personality. Maybe Alex.  That was nicely androgynous.  I went to my knees, eyes
ablaze with desire for the taste of her.  The feel of her.  Trying to control
the tears that flowed from me so readily.  I took a hold of her knees and opened
them with animal abandon.  Putting my tear-stained face at the apex of her
thighs.   I proceeded to drive her out of her mind with my tongue.  Hungrily,
greedily.  I was eating her sex with an abandon that surprised me with its
intensity.  She bucked frantically and ground her hips against me. Vainly trying
to push my face from her clit, away from her drenched quivering opening.  Not a
chance.  I was on her for the long haul. 

Using every trick that had ever been used on me in my life.  Circles, flicks,
sucking, biting nibbles.  I made her crazy with sex.  I heard Jon coming quietly
to kneel behind her supporting her shoulders.  His hands catching hers to still
them.  Murmuring into her ear, telling her to enjoy herself. She, groaning in
reaction, fighting my tongue for command of her soul, getting tenser and tenser
under me.  I put my arms around her thighs and held on for the ride.  Working
her harder than I had worked any man with my mouth in my life.  I put all that I
had into this simple act of oral intimacy. Vowing that I would make her climax
as no one in her life had ever made her climax.  It would be soon too.  I could
sense it.  When Traci came.  It was thunderous, shattering.  Her orgasm rocked
her almost pushing me over the edge of passion. The tiny mouth convulsing under
mine in earth-shaking completion.  Jon's hands holding her closely when she
collapsed back unto the bed.  A wet, trembling mess really. Her temblor visible
all over her still quaking body.  I pulled back, suddenly concerned.  Had I
injured her? I looked up at Jon.  My eyes wide.  I mouthed without sound.     

`Did I hurt her?'  He smiled, shaking his head.  I grinned and dropped my eyes. 
Hoping he would forgive that small slip of my slave-like demeanor.  I kept my
face down, until he asked me formally.     

"What have you learned?"  I had to work for a moment to be able to phrase it the
right way.  The thoughts barely coherent.  I managed it with difficulty.    

"I've learned that I cannot afford to run my life by out-dated platitudes and
bias rules of society.  I am a pleasure slave, Master."  I stiffened with pride
at that. "What pleases you pleases me, as well."  I paused, addressing Traci
respectfully.  "Thank you for taking the time to correct me, Mistress.  I hope
my service pleased you."  I felt hands on my head and looked up slightly.  Not
enough to get into trouble, however, just about breast level.     

"You were adequately skilled."  She sounded slightly amused, but her voice still
quavered.  I took some small pride in that.  "Go on back to Adam for your
breakfast." I nodded and scurried away on my knees.  Finding the door and
heading back to Adam's room.     

I had managed to conquer one prejudice, but what about all the others?  My list
had several other things on it. What about those?  I didn't want to think about
those.  I knocked on Adam's door and waited for him to invite me in.  His voice
called for me softly and I went in on all fours gingerly.  My knees almost raw
from the carpet.     
"You've been punished?"  His voice was filled with a disappointment that
wrenched at my soul.  Hurting me terribly.  Worse than any physical blows could.     
"Yes, Handler, for bigotry."  He stood before me and I put my head on the floor
by his feet.  He was waiting.  I knew that I had to keep explaining.  "I was not
unwilling, Handler, but my reluctance to be with a woman was obvious to my
Mistress.  She corrected me and I was granted the opportunity to make up for my
transgression."  He chuckled. 

"I heard that part of it."  I kept my face down to hide the smile.  She had been
pretty loud.  "Well, enough, as long as it does not happen again.  Terry is
nowhere near as forgiving as Traci and he'll be here this weekend.  You balk on
him and he'll be on you until he draws blood." I shivered, and kept my head
down.  Cowering at his feet the perfect picture of abject humility.  "Come on
then.  Time for breakfast."  I followed him out and wondered what he meant. `Who
the hell was Terry?'  I shivered with fear and put it out of mind.  I was too
caught up in right now to think about later.                          

BREAKFAST     

The kitchen was a safe room and I could walk in there unless specifically
ordered not too.  It was a relief to be upright again and I stretched some of my
kinked muscles.  It was also one of the places where I could ask questions about
things.  I intended to make full use of it.  I looked around at the modern
efficiency in the white tile and older accents.  Nicely blended from the
old-fashioned to the new.  A big butcher-block table in the center of the room. 
White ceramic tile floor.  Stainless steel sink.     

"Do you cook?"  Adam asked me and I laughed at how typically male that sounded. 
He grinned.  "Is that a yes, or a no?" I said `Yes,' and he pointed to the
refrigerator, seating himself at the table.  "Make enough for four, slave."     

"Yes, Handler."  I opened the door and found a plethora of food.  They had fresh
vegetables, eggs and quick-to-make croissants.  I applied myself to the
preparing of food and watched Adam with the corner of my eye.  He was
magnificent.     

"You can ask questions, if you want."  He said and I kept going with breakfast. 
Finding spices over the stove. Including Saffron, amazing.  "If you do not ask
anything of me.  You will be the first in history."  I smiled, turning quickly
red.     

"Any question that I've had so far has been answered in time.  Why ask for
answers that will be provided, or become clear in that same span?"  He leaned
over the block and rested his face on his right hand.    

"Surely there is something you do not understand?"  His eyes bored right into
mine and they saw more than I wanted them to.  I was sure.  I had questions, but
they were not about what I had been through.  I could understand those things. 
All became clear by some method, or the other, either during or after the ordeal
itself.  I wanted to know the practical details, so I started in.     

"How did the scope of this become so big?  He grinned and started talking about
the networking involved.  It was fascinating.  Almost a corporate structure. 
They had every type of personnel that they would ever need hooked into their
business.  Lawyers, Doctors (Like the one I was going to go too.) Plumbers,
workers of all kinds.  Craftsmen.  They did as they wanted to the slaves, once a
month, providing service when it was necessary.  "Even the Doctor?"  He laughed
at the shock that was easily heard in my voice.     

"Doctors have desires too and I for one would rather have him come here for
something outlandish than to prey upon someone unwilling.  His wife is grateful
that he comes here. She knows we're safe.  I pleasured her the last time she was
here."  I asked if he was a slave and he responded openly. "I want to be a
Master, but no-one ever starts out on top. You have to know how far to go. 
Slave, then Handler, then Master.  You, my dear, are at the bottom of the food
chain." That wasn't how I felt about it so I said something that startled him.     

"Not really.  My cooperation is vital and I can stop the action with a word." 
He looked surprised.  "You knew that I had my eyes open.  Did you think that
even in pain-filled extremis, I would forget that I could stop my torment?"  He
shrugged slightly.  "I like pain."  A slow smile spread across his handsome
face.  I found four plates and silverware.  Laying them out.   

"How did you feel when you realized that pain made you orgasm?"  How profoundly
embarrassing.  That was the most personal of questions.  I flushed crimson.     
"I felt ashamed that my body had betrayed me in such a way.  Rob was whipping me
in the most intimate way and I climaxed.  Hell, I damn near set the bed on
fire."  I set his plate before him, a sprig of parsley on the side, neatly.
Presentation is everything.  "It was easily the first overwhelming experience in
my life.  I was stunned, shocked horrified. I became convinced that I was
mentally ill, sought counseling.  The works." He looked surprised.  "Rob was
very practical about it and that, at least, helped.  We were to be married and I
was everything that he desired.  Why would I want to be cured when it would mean
I would lose his Love?" The sneer in my words clearly audible.  He asked me what
had happened, after he swallowed a mouthful of food.  I answered with the truth. 
"I topped him one night and he couldn't take it.  He balked and I lost respect
for him.  I was better than he was, more graceful, more committed."  I laughed
and ate some of the eggs.  "I could take more pain, enjoy it more.  I positively
courted punishment, because nothing he did could affect me any more.  I had
tested his mettle and found it lacking.  We broke up not to long after."  We
were interrupted by the appearance of Jon and Traci in the kitchen.  I smiled
and set their plates before them courteously.     

They tasted the fare and complimented me on it.  I knew then that I would be
cooking on the weekends now, at least for breakfast.  They all appeared to be
satisfied.  Sipping coffee that I had made at the end of the meal.  The
conversation light and brisk.  Quick retorts, airy laughter. Nice to be
somewhere my sense of humor was appreciated for a change.  Jon watching me
closely, as he had been all weekend.     

"We have a full day planned and need to get a move on. Clean up and meet us in
the study."  He said, Traci standing up from the table.  I had put the dishes in
the dishwasher, as we were finished with them.  One of my personal habits, so
there was no mess in the Kitchen.  I watched them walk out the door and waited
for Adam to tell me what to do.  I did not have to wait for very long.       

THE STUDY     

Adam cleaned me up after breakfast as thoroughly as he had done before.  
Brushing and braiding my hair carefully. Letting me care for my teeth and skin. 
At the

end of the neatening process. Adam had me stand while he put leather cuffs on my
wrists and ankles.  A soft leather collar around my neck.  Just for the look as
it didn't have any hooks or eyes.     

When he was finished he led me to Jon's Study and left me on my knees just
inside the door.  The study was a very modern place.  I could see the computer
screen and the keyboard.  Pale blue carpet and masculine looking pinstripe
wallpaper.  Two large file cabinets and several long locking cabinets of
pale-whitewashed oak. I waited patiently, noting the enormous beveled mirror
behind the desk.  The comfortable leather chairs of white to the sides of the
desk.  It looked like an interview room, that's what it was.    
I knew when I looked up at Jon that I wasn't dealing with `Jon' anymore.  I was
dealing with the Master.  I greeted him as such by laying my face on his feet
and kissing the toe of his finely polished boots.  Another day of lessons. 
Quick frisson of fear.     

"Come here, stand up."  He said, backing to the clear space in front of his
desk.  Waiting for me to do as I was told to do.  "Put your hands up over your
head so I can fasten them above you."  When I raised them up.  Jon fastened them
quickly, until I felt the strain in my shoulders, as they were pulled taut very
high above my head.  "Hips forward, legs spread." He clipped my ankles as well. 
I was held immobile.  I kept my eyes straight ahead and caught sight of myself
in the mirror before me.  The longhaired slave hanging behind his oaken desk.     

I was more than amazed by what I saw.  I saw a slave hanging there.  Bruised,
welted, obedient.  Waiting calmly for instruction.  He spoke when he saw where
my gaze was.     

"Keep looking at yourself and answer my questions." His tone brooked no refusal.
"I read your diary.  How do you feel about that?"  I spoke quietly about how
frightened I was of his knowledge of me.  Explaining, carefully respectful, that
some fantasies are not meant to be reality.  Anymore than some people are meant
to be dominant, or submissive.  It was a matter of degree and my Diary was
really out there.  "Your diary is very detailed and concise.  You've been
thinking of bondage for many years, yet waited until now to seek it out. Why?"
He came up behind me and put his hands on my waist lightly.  I felt his breath
on my neck, hot.  There was desire in my heart but my freshly cleansed body was
dry.  I spoke slowly.  Finding the paradox of dryness and desire intoxicating. 
If he kept touching me.  I wouldn't be parched for very long.     

"I did not want anyone to think less of me, Master.  I desired what was not
considered normal and yearned to lose myself in this life.  My diary contains my
thoughts as well. I was looking over a precipice that I was very afraid to go
over."  He laughed at the imagery, and seemed to understand what I was saying. 
He started speaking again.     

"There are many levels of sensation.  Infinite types, and variations.  You learn
very quickly, but you retain many of the prejudices that go with modern society
and we must rid you forcibly of those."  He grabbed some clamps from the desk
before him and put them unto my nipples snugly.  Taking two more and fixing them
even tighter to the dry folds of flesh between my legs.  The chains an
irritating reminder of my lowly position.  "We are especially vigorous on your
first weekend here.  The safe-word ordeal last night was a test. One you did
remarkably well on.  I was very proud of you."  I was melting at the tenderness
of his tone.  "I wish to find the levels of discomfort that you function best
at.  Be they deeper, or constant, pain.  Where is the place you suffer most
enjoyably?  Finding this place is the challenge.  You seem to have many facets
and to be very versatile.  This may, or may not, be good for you." He pulled on
the chains gently. "I will give you to many others and let you watch other
slaves take the punishments to be inflicted on you." What a dazzling idea.  I
could see that watching what was to come could be devastating.  "I do not have
time for specialty work and prefer to merely observe the reactions created by
the specialists.  I leave the doing to the true experts and it networks favors I
can call on."  Adam had explained some of this.  Masters that like to do one
particular activity would come and do you.  They either paid Jon, or simply had
the use of the slave. It was like the doctor.  They traded services.  "I would
however like to have Traci do some body piercing on you.  Are you agreeable to
this?"  I explained that he could do it anywhere but my clitoris or my tongue.
The tongue was too visible and the clitoris was much too dangerous.  He nodded
and explained that tonight I was going to have to watch "Terry" play with Adam,
and then it would be my turn.  I was going to be introduced to the other members
of the group.  All present tonight would be able to make use of me.  Neat O.   


There would be several other Masters, Mistresses and slaves in attendance. 
Saturday was a social day at this place.  The regular night for spectacle.  What
it really meant was that it was a party.  I was part of the show.     

I asked what would happened if I ran into any of these people in real life.  Jon
laughed and told me to do whatever they told me to do, or bear the consequences
the next weekend.  `Great,' and then he said that nobody would ever ask me to
get naked during a business lunch, but they might ask to meet me afterwards for
some `slap and tickle.'  Jesus, this guy killed me and I couldn't even laugh at
his words.  I knew that he could see the amusement shining in my eyes. That
seemed to make him happy.  He went behind his desk and sat down.  Making notes
on the computer with quick urgent fingers.  I was trying to wait patiently, but
fidgeted because of the growing discomfort in my arms.  When he asked me if I
was uncomfortable I answered ritualistically.  So he would know that the answer
was yes.     

"As long as it pleases you, Master."  He laughed, as he came over to me and
lowered my arms, just a bit.     

"Bearing up well tonight will please me more.  This is like nothing you have
ever seen.  You will have to help Adam prepare you, and you, him." That was part
of the task ahead, he explained.  I would have to learn to take care of other
slaves and my Owners as well.  I had plenty to learn and little time to learn it
in.     

He buzzed for Adam and by the time the Handler appeared, my shoulders were on
fire.  Jon let them down completely.  I had barely the strength to let them fall
from the ceiling to my sides. I followed Adam on my knees.  When we arrived at
the bath chamber, I let him massage the ache out of my arms.  He left the clamps
on me for the longest time.  Removing them only when he went to put me in the
bath.                          

THE LIBRARY     

They put me in the library for the better part of the day.  The library was like
nothing that I had ever seen before.  Shelf after shelf of books on Erotica and
social science.  Remarkably enough, plenty of the books I had already read.  I
recognized authors from my childhood and my college years.  Several Authors that
I had read in my search for autoerotic literature.  Pat Califia, Laura Antoniou,
Sara Adamson and Anne Rice, in her various guises.  The S/M Classics, including
the Devil himself.  The Marquis De Sade, and his counterpart, Sacher-Masoch,
AKA. Venus in Furs.  I picked up a reference manual that I hadn't seen before
and settled in to read.  Fascinating stuff that set my pulse to pounding and
raised my blood pressure.  I looked over at the desk across the way and noticed
my journal sitting there.  I put down the book that I was reading and went to
it.  It was laying in shaft of golden light.  The dusty blue cover almost
glowing.  I sat down at the desk and opened it to where I left off.  My mind
starting to wander.  There was a heavy gold pen next to the book and I picked it
up to twirl it around in my fingers.  I let my mind wander for a moment, and
then I started to write.

FANTASY: THE PLAYER     

"Do you trust me?"  He asked her, half-hidden in shadows.  All she could really
see of him was his eyes. Cold, blue, like ice on the water.    

"No."  She said as she looked at him.  "I trust no man in this world, but they
said you could help me."    

"Who said?"  He asked as she looked down at her hands. Away from him, and not
meeting his eyes.    

"Lee at the leather shop.  Can I smoke?"  He nodded. Her hands trembled as she
opened her cigarette case.  Pulling one out, then putting it between her lips. 
She took a deep drag on it as she was lighting it.  Smoke curling around her
head in the soft light.  "I wasn't always like this." He leaned back further in
his leather chair, stretching out his legs.  His long blonde hair hanging over
his eyes.     

"What are you like?"  He asked and his voice flowed caressingly over her like
warm butter.     

"I don't take a lot of shit."  She said, as her eyes flashed fire.  She laughed
shortly, as he asked how this fantasy had started for her.  "It started with a
man.  One night he doesn't want me to move when he's fucking me, then suddenly
he's breaking a riding crop on my ass."     

"You liked it."  He said simply, smiling at her. Inexplicable tears welled in
her eyes and she stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray before her.  Her
movements sharp, and impatient.  He went to his knees in front of her and put
his large hands on her open thighs.  She tensed with sudden fear.  Eyes going
wide as they met his.  Heat started coming from her legs and a deep muscle
trembling.  "You liked it and you're ashamed of it." Gently his hands kneaded
her thighs. "Why should you feel guilty for the kind of sex you like?"     

"It's not normal."  Her breath was short, fast.  Her voice tortured.                  
"You're very strong, but you can't control this."  His hands moved up her
thighs.  Her legs tried to jerk closer together.  His hands moving under the
brightly colored skirt that she wore.  Her skin was like an inferno.  Fevered
heat flowing from the soft pliant flesh under his fingers.  Easing up to the
apex of her womanhood, just skirting the pleasure place at the woman's core of
her.  "What kind of fantasies do you have?"  He asked, as he turned his eyes to
her lap. Concentrating on what he was doing to her body for a few precious
seconds.  "Tell me.  I won't tell anybody else." Running one of his digits up
the side of her cotton panties to rub the outside of her damp opening.  Her eyes
had started to glaze over, her breathing grew ragged.     

"I'm blindfolded and spread on a cold surface."  He brushed against her wet
opening, touching it with the lightest of strokes.  "He touches me, opening
every part of my body."  She took a deep shuddering breath and forced herself to
continue around the rising knot of need inside her.  Her words coming faster,
more urgently, as though a floodgate had been opened inside her. "He uses every
device that he has available to him.  Beating me on the inside of my thighs, on
my legs."  He understood her driving imperative words.  He touched her lips
silencing her, pulling his hands away from her hungry orifice.     

"That's a start, my dearest."  He was now ready to take her.  "I want to give
you what you need and in my service you will know complete satisfaction.  The
standard rules apply here, as everywhere."  She knew the rules.  "You decide and
when you have.  Go to that door.  Knock and wait on your knees for me to come
for you.  I'll take you to the dungeon." He left her then.  Going out the oaken
door, leaving her in physical torment.  Awash with aching blinding deprivation.
Her body, so long cold.  Burning with excitement.  Fervent passion.  She did
what she wanted to do and knocked on the door.     
He opened it, cupping her face from above her.  This truly sensual novice that
had wandered into his care.  He ran his hands over her face and turned from her. 
She followed him to his dungeon.  The room itself was painted black and was
meant to frighten.  That was its purpose.  It's reason for being.  His `toys'
hung openly on the walls.  The whips, paddles and bondage gear that were his
passion and his hobby.  His life. Exploration of the extreme.     

"Take your clothing off for me."  She answered him respectfully, keeping her
eyes down.  Her hotly blushing face expressionless.  The light shirt then
flowered skirt, falling to the floor.  She looked around discreetly as she
removed her underwear.  Pulse pounding with trepidation and arousal.  Noticing
the leather covered bench in the center of the room.  The myriad beams and hooks
strategically placed for easy usage.  The canvas sling in the corner and all the
toys hanging around the room.  She kept her arms at her sides and her eyes down. 
"Climb up on the table and spread your legs."  Immediately she did it.  Her feet
hanging off the end and her heavy breasts falling to the sides of her torso.  He
leaned over and took some thick leather cuffs. Tying her to the table,
immobilized, helpless.  Taking a leather gag and sealing her lips.  Bending her
knees and tying them flat to the edges.     

She burned with lust.  Her skin so hot and moist, his hands practically stuck to
her muscles.  Muscles that flexed helplessly against the bonds.  Fear shadowing
her eyes for a brief moment.   She did not trust him, but she would.  Maybe
after the fourth or fifth orgasm.  When her body was so sore and tired that it
responded by reflex alone.     
He studied her coldly.  Not smiling, deciding the best way to explore her.  He
weighed her breasts with his hands. Palming them and pinching the nipples until
she groaned.  No little toys, just his flesh abusing hers.  Watching her head
roll helplessly on the black leather.  Lovely.     

Running his hands down her arms to the soft shaved flesh of her armpits making
her shiver.  Over her ribcage softly, then the gently rounded curve of her
belly.  Her hips struggling to remain still.  Lightly moving to her dripping
cleft and leaning over the end of the table to look down at her sex.  He opened
her folds, massaging the inside of her vagina with slow deliberate movements. 
Her breath caught in her throat as he rolled the hard kernel of feeling with
maddening slowness.  The thick moisture coating his fingers. Not enough for what
he wanted to do to her, so he lubed up his hand to the wrist.  Massaging her
slick opening with three of his fingers.  Watching her face change color and
expression, as he worked inside her tight flesh.    

She felt him going into her so softly he could barely be felt.  Just a sweet low
pressure that filled her deliciously. Easing the tension from every other part
of her body and concentrating it into her loins.  Her respirations deepened and
flowed softly from her lungs.  `Yes,' She thought.  `Do me, just like this, then
beat me for my pleasure.  Hurt me when I dare to release this passion against
your hands.'  Her eyes closed in helpless response to his ministrations.     

He saw and was pleased, adding the fourth finger to her opening.  Hearing a low
animal moan and feeling her legs start to shake with reaction.  He leaned up
over her to watch her.  Pushing his thumb into his palm, so his hand was
smaller.  Massaging her stomach and the inside of her thighs. She tensed
momentarily, but relaxed when he made low sibilant sounds to ease her fear. 
Feeling her melt around his hand until it slid home, forming a fist that reached
all the way to her uterus.  Her hips rose from the table with tension and he
simply stayed within her.  He whispered as he leaned over her.     

"I'm all the way in you.  My whole hand.  Can you feel me?"  She nodded,
shuddering when he rocked his fist by the barest fraction.  She pulled on the
cuffs holding her arms, and moaned.  He looked at her red suffering face. 
"Don't come, or let go of any bodily functions on my nice leather table.  I can
feel the pressure on your insides.  Suffer with it.  Hold it, feel it grow more
uncomfortable.  I want to rub your insides raw with this arm, then fuck the shit
out of you until you scream out loud enough to be heard upstairs." She arched
against the table when he started driving his arm inside her with sharp
piston-like motions.  Motions that felt large to her, impossibly big.  Yet was
in actuality only the depth of a millimeter or two. She fought against the
orgasm, flowing over her.  Fought to control her passion and her pain.  She went
rigid, almost pulse less.  He ceased moving and she felt him pull from her
gently.  She groaned, her whole attitude pleading with him to continue.  `Don't
stop.' She rolled her hips and tried to pull free.     

"Useless, my tender one."  He wiped his hands on a towel and took a large headed
riding crop from the wall behind him. "I want you too orgasm.  I'm going to beat
your clitoris with this crop until you do."  She shook her head, vigorously.  He
laughed at the shock blooming in her eyes. "Like you have a choice?"  He swung
the whip softly, using light swings that were both rhythmic and accurately
placed. Talking to her as her hips went unbending and fixed in the air.  Her
breath suspended.  Face blood red and rolling helplessly.  "You want to come and
you deserve the pain.  The agony of the fist and the whip."  He continued to tap
her clitoris with deeper, damper strokes.  Her juices wetting the head of the
instrument of torture, making it sound soaked. Wetter and crueler, than dry
leather.  "That's it, baby. Come for me.  Hips in the air.  Face flushed, body
pounding with excitement."  She whimpered and he continued, deftly stroking her
passion higher to another level with his words and his hard punishing strokes. 
"When you come, I stop hitting your little love button and fuck you.  I promise
to give you more pleasure with my organ, or my tongue, than you can bear.  Just
let it go for me and I'll show you." He could see it working on her and went
faster, upping the pace of his strokes.  She was about to orgasm.  He could see
it creeping over her body with a practiced eye.  `Here it comes.'  He thought
and he was right.  She boiled over before him.  She bucked, eyes closed.  Teeth
clenching the gag between her hardened jaw as she attained her release.  He
threw the whip away quickly and rubbed her slick cleft. Hearing the muffled cry
of pleasure from behind the gag. Pushing his fingers into her as she writhed in
her bonds. Drawing every bit of her orgasm from her until she was a limp
twitching wreck on the bench before him.  Unable to catch her breath around the
tears running freely from her eyes.     

He was oblivious to them, as he freed his organ from his pants.  Climbing on top
of her to get himself off.  Pushing seven inches of painfully hard organ into
her tender quivering opening.  She screamed behind the gag, as her raw cleft
rebelled against his intrusion.  Trying to free her hands, and thighs.  Shaking
her head, no. He took her face in his hands and opened the gag. Pumping his
organ into her.  Feeling his need rising to flood her.  Taking her lips in his
and kissing her deeply.  Her tongue moving to twine with his in little open
circles.  The moans coming from her in gasps of pain.  Wonderful to his ears. 
Her flesh tightening around his as he expertly stroked the tender places deep
inside her.  The head of his dick rubbing the g-spot at the top of her vagina
with practiced precision.     

"You are so good, honey.  Even in pain you did as I wanted and now I want
something else from you.  Come again and I'll let you rest.  One more for your
Master and I'll oil your sore little honey-mouth.  Gently ease your aches and
pains." She shook her head, voice weak and trembling.     

"I don't think I can."  She whimpered against his throat.  Her voice desperate
to please him, but not able too. He stroked her hair and leaned up on his
forearms.  Hand moving to touch her clitoris.     

"I'll help you do it.  I want you too.  I need you too. I want to come with you. 
Fill your sweet sex with my man juice and watch it run from your cleft in a
steady stream." She let his words intoxicate her senses.  Flow over her
thoughtlessly driven flesh.  His thick organ a burning punishment that
tantalized, moving her inexorably to the brink of completion.  "You'll come for
me, baby.  Come on. It's okay too do it.  I want you too.  Need you too."  Soft
words, and hard flesh.  She let it go and while the release was less than the
last one.  It moved her and him, to total completion.  His organ jerking inside
her.  His body going rigid in ecstasy.  His sweaty flesh rubbing against hers.
His breath harsh in her ears and his moist kisses rough on her soft throat.  His
hands clasping her firmly to his body.     

The hard twitches of his organ becoming slower and more random.  She could feel
his penis moving weakly inside her and opened her eyes into his.  He smiled down
at her and spoke softly.  His words heavy with meaning.  "You're a player now
and I'm your Master." She nodded at him.  Eyes wide and softly wet with tears. 
"You'll come to love this life and I in turn, will love you."  She turned her
face into her arm.  "There's time for you to believe me and time for us to learn
the cycles of your flesh."  She turned to his voice. Emotions in turmoil.  "You
are mine."  She spoke, voice heavy with truthful innocence.  She smiled.                        

"Yes, I am."                          

I liked that one; at least my body did anyways.   I didn't bother to close the
book, but I did lay the pen in the middle of it carefully.  I sat in the library
with a silly grin on my face until Adam came in.  I went immediately to my
knees.    

"What were you doing?"  He asked and I answered carefully.     

"Writing in my journal, Handler."  He went to the desk and sat where I had been
sitting.  Reading the last few pages.  He smiled and shook his head.  His
fingers moving over the heavy page softly.     

"Surrounded by all this erotic potential and you still think of variations on a
theme?"  I shrugged negligently. `What could I possibly say?'  The mind never
truly stops working.  "We've only got a couple of hours before everyone arrives. 
I have to get ready for tonight's activities."  I looked up in curiosity.  He
laughed, shaking his head.  "Your head just does not stop does it?"     

"No, Handler.  I'm gifted that way."  He chuckled. Motioning for me to follow
him.  I did and we spent the next couple of hours getting ready for the big
event of the night.           

THE PARTY     

Nothing like being a naked burnished slave to raise your pulse rate.  Put into a
nice tight collar and wrist cuffs.  A leash to lead you and a master to watch
your behavior.  A handler to make sure that every part of you was so clean it
squeaked.  More attention than a normal person gets in a month.  Awesome.     

The fact that I had performed these same services for Adam didn't seem like
anything more than a simple courtesy. He had cleaned me and I, him.  Afterwards
I had buckled him into the training harness, polishing his body with oil.
Setting his half-flaccid organ into the pliable leather pouch that he handed me
with soft, careful hands.     

Not speaking but feeling a trembling in my limbs that was almost excitement. 
Almost fear.  I should have known that he would see it.  Trained in powers of
observation like he was.     

"You're frightened, aren't you?"  He asked me.  Looking down at my shaking hands
as they fumbled with the buckle at his ankle for the fourth or fifth time.     

"Yes, Handler."  My mouth was dry and my palms were damp.  "I've never been with
a crowd before, or seen anybody else..." My eyebrows knit together over my
forehead. Adam touched my face.  Looking down at me.   

"It's always hard for the intelligent ones.  The wide awake ones like you."  I
asked if it had been hard for him. He was obviously intelligent and he smiled. 
"Yes, but I deserved it.  I had an excess of passion that cost me my wife plus a
great job.  Most of my life went down the drain. I'd been thinking of this, but
I still tried to live in `normal' life.  It was a mistake, but it was mine to
make." He stood, and then straightened some of the buckles.  "You want to keep
this part of you a secret, unfortunately, secrets that have to be kept are
generally things that people are ashamed of.  I'm stigmatized, but I'm having so
much fun I don't really care."  I smiled. "You like the agony and the
humiliation.  You come when you are used harshly and just the thought of it,
makes you drenched."  I blushed at the veracity in his words.  He pulled me to
my feet, smoothing my hair.  Touching me soothingly.  "Acceptance of yourself is
the hardest thing that you will learn here.  It was the hardest thing that I
learned here.  I have my real-life and I also have this intoxicating fantasy. 
Lucky me."  He said with a devilish twinkle in his eyes that made me smile.     

"Are you ever frightened?"  He laughed, kissing me.  His big hands hard against
the small of my back.  Pressing me tightly against his body.     

"Of course, I am."  He grinned.  I breathed deeply of the male smell coming from
his warm skin.  "I'm titillated by every aspect of this.  I love to punish you. 
I, also, love to be punished by others.  You think that there is something wrong
with what you want and what you need to feel good." His hands cupped the soft
flesh of my buttocks, kneading it lightly.  "If there is something wrong with
you, then there is also something wrong with me.  Let's not worry about it,
right now.  By the end of this night.  We'll both be so sore, so well fucked; it
won't matter if we are ashamed or simply unconscious.  We just have to do what
we're told to do. That's all we have to do."  I nodded and let him lead me from
the room with the little leather leash.                               

The party was going when we went downstairs at precisely seven o'clock.  The
crowd pleasant and hot looking.  There was enough leather in this room to redo
the whole house full of furniture. All of it black and all of it covering hot
skin.  Enfolding willing limbs and sensuous attributes.  Top or bottom, the
pulse of this room could be felt in the air.    

Men and women with slaves kneeling at their feet.  Belts studded with silver and
brass.  Collars, cuffs.  Whips and crops.  Flexible leather paddles.  I almost
came on the spot where I knelt at the sight of so much S/M gear in one room. I
managed to contain myself, just barely.  I attracted some attention simply
because I was a neoteric face.  Someone that the regular players did not know
intimately.  They assessed my erotic potential the way they would assess anyone
fresh.  A new player in this game.  These people were like anybody else. 
Excited by a novice.  A virgin, if you will.     

Adam led me over to Jon, who was standing by the fireplace with Traci and
another man.  I kept my eyes down and my head close to the floor.  Traci saw us
coming and unhooked a leash from her own belt.  Snapping it unto Adam's collar. 
He went gracefully to his knees, kissing her boots. She touched his hair softly,
still speaking to the man above us.  We were ignored.  I was almost grateful.  I
had no desire to draw any attention in this crowd.  The only attention I could
entice would be negative. There were so many people here, so many slaves.  The
place practically hummed with suppressed sexuality.  A vibratory undertone that
buzzed the very air I was breathing. I huddled closer to Jon's leg in useless
fear.  My eyes wide, heart trying to beat its way out of my breast.  The carpet
softly abrasive against my skin.     

Jon touched my hair making me lean closer against his left leg.  Sure that he
could feel my pulse through the roots of my hair.  Absolutely certain that
everyone could see the damp tangle of hair at the apex of my thighs.  I tried
not to look about me, but it was impossible.  There was too much to see.  Jon
spoke down to me then, his voice low.     
"Eyes on me, Anne."  I kissed his shoes and laid my face against the soft
leather of his pants.  Focusing all my senses on him alone.  Terrified of
displeasing him, especially in this crowd.  A word from him would have me bitted
and fitted.  Running to please someone I barely knew. My hands curled against
his ankle in mute supplication.  I kept my face on the floor.  Listening to his
voice flow over me like warm water from a spigot.  I did want to see what was
going on around me, yet curbing my curiosity was very difficult.  "Anne, Look up
at my friend, Terry."  I raised my eyes, and my head.  Keeping my hands flat on
the floor, and my gaze below the level of his belt.  Jon put his hand under my
chin, raising my face all the way up.  "He wants to see your eyes, slave."  I
elevated them to the face before me.  A wise face.  Time had etched lines of
subtle tracery around the corners of his eyes.  The mouth was firm and the lips
slightly thin.  His hair was light brown, very short.  Steel-rimmed glasses,
slightly smoked, covered his eyes.  Obscuring the color so I could not see them
clearly.  His body was solid looking, not soft.  His legs were thick but well
set on the rug. His balance was good.  He wore a suit of heather tweed with
elbow patches.  Rolex watch and a large diamond pinkie ring.  The impeccable
accouterments of money and power.  I met his eyes and saw him reach out to touch
my cheek.  His hand moved slowly and I knew that my eyes had widened to twice
their normal size.  I was all innocent expression and softly trembling limbs. 
The picture of enslaved uncertainty.     

I watched his hands approaching my face.  His fingers encased in thin gray
gloves that seemed to be very finely made.  I felt the softest brush from those
limber digits across my cheek.  His softly accented British voice floating into
my ears.     

"Well, Jonathan.  What a treasure you've found.  She's lovely."  Cupping my
chin, he pulled me upright with the deftest of touches.  One long finger moving
across my collarbone.  I remembered the proper position and kept my legs open. 
My hands on my thighs.  Remaining as still as a millpond after sunset.  He spoke
as though I was not even there, as I expected him too.  "Nice breasts on this
one.  I see the mark of the cane on the inside of her thighs already."  Wry
amusement colored his tone.  Jon spoke again, proudly. Taking a handful of my
hair.     

"She passed the Safe-word test by a least five minutes, Terry.  Without
bleeding, or screaming, more than one would expect her too.  Very willing, yet
compliant."  The man never removed his hand from my shoulder, but he took his
gaze off of me to meet Jon's.  I was grateful.     

"However did you find her?"  Terry asked, causing Jon to laugh.  Explaining that
I had practically fallen into his lap.  Drawn by one of the discreet ads that he
placed in the local Nouveau paper.  "I have never tried advertising.  I much
prefer to acquire stock from reputable trainers such as you, Jonathan."  I could
hear a note of disdain in his voice. "This modern age has so little finesse."
His attention fell back to me.  I shivered.  "When you want me to introduce this
little flower to the full passion of the cane, do call me.  I love a novice that
does not bleed."  The fingers remaining on me were pulled away, leaving an open
space on my body.    

I felt as if all the air had been pulled from my lungs. I was empty, void.  All
of this was meaningless unless the hand of the Master touched my flesh.  I took
deep breaths in reaction.  Trying to regain my composure, my peace of mind. I
didn't think that I would be able to when suddenly I noticed Traci taking Adam
away from us.  Leading him from the room on all fours.  Terry following behind,
watching the smooth play of muscle as Adam crawled in front of him. `Where were
they going?' I didn't dare ask.  I tried to be patient but it was very
difficult.  Other people kept wandering over to handle my body.  Touching my
hair and my breasts.  Jon seemed to want me to be perpetually titillated by what
I saw, yet merely on the fringe of the action.  An observer and that was all
right by me.  I was so overwhelmed by what I was seeing that it was hard to
absorb.  Others kept wandering off only to return to us.  Jon, with one of his
hands on me possessively at all times, was talking shop over my head.  His deep
laugh floated down to me in a comforting wave and I licked the tip of his boots
in spontaneous reaction.  Feeling warm wetness reaching the tops of my thighs. 
I was so hot for sex.  I felt like I was going to explode.  `Where was Traci? 
What was expected of me?'     

"Anne, stand up and follow me.  Your knees are too raw to go down the stairs to
the playroom."  I obeyed him. Surprised anew to realize ho close we were in
height.  The contrast between how much he scared me and how related we were
physically was astounding to me.   The sprinkling of salt and pepper in his
hair.  The fire that lit his eyes when I did something particularly gracefully. 
I did like him and that was the best thing that could have happened to me. Being
topped by someone I respected.                     

THE PUNISHMENT CROSS     

I followed him willingly down the stairs to the same room that we had been in
last weekend.  Not pulling to hard on the leash.  Good posture, easy motions. 
Proud carriage with my eyes down.  We entered the playroom and what I saw
stunned me so profoundly, I stopped dead in my tracks.  I just could not believe
my eyes.  Jon gave a short hard jerk on my lead to draw my attention to his
needs.  His face flooding with anger.  I was appalled that I had let my
attention be distracted from him. He spoke, harshly.     

"No whip for you tonight, slave.  You'll have to earn it."  I felt tears in my
eyes. There was no softening in his gaze. "Now, pay attention to me, Anne.  I
will draw your attention to what I want you to see.  Do you understand?"     

"Yes, Master.  This slave begs forgiveness for her curiosity."  He seemed
satisfied when I fell to my knees next to him.  We walked over to a chair near
the front of the crowd.  Surprisingly empty, or maybe they knew that it was
Jon's chair.  Either way he had a place to sit to see the show.  Jon made full
use of it.  Putting his hand on the back of my neck under the heavy shaft of my
braided hair.  Cupping it gently to feel the fever of my skin.     

"Take a good look at Adam, Anne.  You'll be where he is one day."  I wasn't
really looking forward to that, but Adam was suffering so perfect.  His face was
blazing scarlet.  His jaw clenched to iron hardness.  Adam's breath exploded
from his chest in short bursts of sharp acrid pain.  Tears leaking down his face
in a soft torrent.  The muscles of his thighs were like tight cords with
exertion.  Beautiful.  Terry had mounted him on the Punishment Cross with a
black phallus peeking between his spread thighs.  The training harness strained
across his chest.  Clamps decorated his body wherever there was loose skin. 
Reddened marks from the whip decorated his torso like the fine lines of lead in
a stained-glass window.  His face was flushed and his jaw was clenched.  His
well-defined organ strained against the thin leather pouch that my two shaking
hands had encased it in.  Picture perfect.  More dampness seeped from my cleft
in unrestrained jealousy.  I moaned in sympathy.     

The Punishment Cross was not designed for any other purpose but to make the
person on it uncomfortable.  That was it and that was all.  It was as tall as a
man, shaped like an X, with four-inch beams.  It had quick-release leather bands
and slots for hooks to widen the legs, or just to give added support to the
body.  Supremely humiliating.  Others milled around the room.  Stopping and
watching or giving little suggestions to the man tormenting Adam on the
punishment cross.  I did as I had been told to do.  I merely watched with
longing what Adam was suffering.  Wishing it was me.  My gaze as avid as any
Shriner watching a stripper at a weekend convention. I was enthralled.  Jon
continued touching my neck with a steady palm. I knew that I was boiling with
heat and need. A nuclear reaction taking place in my body.  Bringing me into
harmony with the sexual attitudes of the people around me.     

"Would you like that to be you?"  I felt my breath catch in my throat.  My head
was nodding before the words were even formed in my dry throat.    

"Yes, Master."  My voice was low.  A low sound grating around the lump in my
throat.  My eyes becoming bright with suppressed emotion.   Honesty had a
tendency to do that to me.  It seemed that I only felt profound sensations, or
experienced deeply held emotions, when they were forced from my breast with a
strap or an orgasm.  There was no happy medium with me.  It was all or nothing.     

"Kneel up and present."  I hurried to do it.  Turning my back to him and placing
myself on all fours.  Legs wide, eyes tightly shut.  My hands clasped together
on the floor with my head resting on them.  I quivered violently in front of Jon
with fear and desire.  The subtle mixing of emotions turning me on even more
than I had been this whole weekend.  "Very good, slave." He put the toe of his
boot into the wet nest of hair between my legs, forcing a low submissive sound
from my lips.  I felt the flesh growing fuller and hotter under the rough
ministrations of his boot.  "I see the wetness on your thighs.  Your body is
more than willing to betray me, isn't it?"     

"Only if it should please you, Master."  He laughed at the deep-throated misery
in my tone.     

"Keep watching the spectacle, Anne."  He practically whispered at me.  A low
hiss of sound floating hotly into my ears. "I will have you up there soon, but
you will have to be very good to deserve it." I vowed to be good, but it was so
hard to remember all the rules and regulations that were necessary to this life.
I wanted so much more.   I wanted to be perfect.  That was the essence of how I
was now reacting.  This feeling flowed through my aroused body, but I was so new
to this behavior I faltered.  I failed at my attempt and knew that I needed
instruction.  It wouldn't really hit me until later that this was slave
thinking.  The willingness to humiliate myself to garner favor from the man who
was my Master.  Truth be told. I would be shocked to realize that this was
exactly how I was supposed to be feeling.  That every reaction was readily
recognized as a phase of training.  I was what they considered above `normal'
for this stage of my development. My natural responses were more finely tuned
than many who had been in their kind of training program.     

"My boot needs to be cleaned."  I turned around and licked my salty juices from
the highly polished tip.  Letting him pull me up afterwards to pet me.  My
breasts, my throat. The soft skin on my back.  I groaned with need and he let me
go.  Drawing my attention back to Adam and the intense man tormenting him. I saw
the man shake out a bullwhip, cracking it expertly over Adams head.  Adam pulled
against the cross, but said nothing.  The man ran the whip softly over his chest
and over the leather bag holding his organ.  Adam almost lost it. I could see
the shudders of his body as he fought to control the spasms threatening to spill
over him.  Terry growled at him, voice low.     

"Do you have any idea what I'll do to you if you come before I'm finished with
you, boy?"  His face was hard.  The whip handle resting under Adam's chin,
forcing his eyes up to the Master's cold countenance.     

"Yes, Master."  His voice was frantic.  "Please."  He begged, his whole body
with him.  "I can't take anymore, Master."  There was gentleness then as Traci
spoke into his ear.  Leaning into his hot skin, stroking it slowly. Soothing his
tears with soft hands.  I wished it was me, wanted it to be me.  I heard low
moans coming from my throat in commiseration with Adam's torment.    


"You will take it though, won't you?"  Adam's nodded, unable to speak. 
Swallowing sobs, deep in his chest.  The way men do when they really don't want
to cry but simply cannot help it.  His tears flowing freely now in pain-filled
liberation. 

"You are a slave.  I am your Mistress.  Your suffering pleases me.  It is
pleasing for your Mistress to see and she loves you for it."  More deep sobs, as
the sentiment moved the core deep inside of him that I was sure no one ever saw
in real life.  `Much like me.'  I thought suddenly in surprise.    

The man shook out the whip, backing up.  Adam tensed in the bondage.  His neck
arched.  I saw the man wind up his arm.  Flicking the soft skin under a clamp
pinching into Adam's flesh.  When the whip hit it, it flipped off.  I almost
orgasmed where I was kneeling from imagining what that felt like to him.     
The stinging bite of the whip and the rush of flow to the blood starved tissues. 
I reeled with him.  The hair on the back of my neck coming to immediate shivery
attention.  The sound was a steady rise and fall of resounding vibration.  A
sharp cadence in the heated air.  There was not one person unaffected by the
display before us.  It was intoxicating.  The proficient artistry of both men
before us. The sharp writhing of Adam.  The artful prowess of the whip in the
hands of Terry.  The self-evident desire of the people watching.  Increased
pressure from Jon's fingers on my skin told me that he wanted something.  I
looked up and made some small sound that drew his full attention to my plight on
the floor. I didn't look in his eyes, but I did let him know that I was more
than willing to service his needs.  I couldn't care less about the eyes of the
others in the room, or the watchful intermittent gaze of the man with Adam.  The
crowd before us was non-existent to me.  I was so focused on the heat between my
legs and the pounding of my heart.  There was no one else near me that I really
truly cared about.     

"Take care of me."  Jon ordered and I eagerly moved to do as I was bid.  Turning
quickly to settle my hands on the his thighs.  Seeing his organ tauten under his
leather pants. "Open them."  I did so.  Hands urgently pulling the tab on the
zipper.  Reaching into the pants and easing his penis from the confining folds
of leather. He took the fat tail of hair from over my shoulder and opened the
end.  The long mass flowing over my back as he pulled the braid free.  Smoothing
it in a wave, around my red face.  It was concealing and appreciated.  Looking
down at the stiff organ before me I knew what he wanted from me.  What's more,
he wanted it now in this crowd of strangers.  Jon wanted everybody here to
observe my willingness, my compliance to his command. I put those thoughts out
of my head, and concentrated on my task.  A pleasurably frustrating endeavor as
I became immediately hot for him as I contemplated sucking his organ.  Taking
the tip of his penis into my lips and moistening it with my tongue.  I went down
to the very root in one smooth motion.  Pushing him into my mouth for the last
delicious inch.  Feeling him tense under me and sigh with voluptuous abandon.  I
went into action.  Motions that would lead to his completion with determined
effort and now easy oral skill.  Tasting his flesh in my mouth in a sweet burst
of salt and heat.  I was taking my time with him.  Teasing the underside of his
organ with quick cat-like licking motions of my tongue. Stroking the big vein
underneath lovingly.  Nipping gently at the head until I tasted the beginning of
his orgasm in slow drops melting in my urgently sucking mouth.  I let his body
rule mine.  The delicate signals that told me what he was feeling, better than
any words ever could.     

Jon took a firm hold of the hair at my damp temples, gripping me quickly to
guide me for the last few moments. Up and down against his organ.  Feeling it
swell to orgasmic proportions in my tightening throat.  Near to the time when
his balls pulled closer to his body in preparation for release.  When the smell
of male animal flowed over my senses in heady perfume and I became caught up in
the tension of the moment.  Struggling to control the burgeoning rush of urgency
in my own body.  I wanted to let it go.  Let it flow over me in a rush of
passion, but knew that I couldn't.  I had to learn to control it.  Jon drew my
attention from my own torment with subtle movements of his hips.  They jerked in
readiness and suddenly arched a bare inch from the chair he was in with abrupt
discharge.  His penis impossibly hard. Cum shooting into my throat with each
spasm.  His groans music to my suffering ears.  Hands inflexibly rooted on my
head as he pulled me nearer to the dark curls at the top of his thighs.  His
orgasm seeming to be endlessly punishing to my starved core.     

I kept moving on him, feeling the gradual lessening of the tempo.  The soft
jerks of his organ that told me he had no more to give me at this time.  The
twitching of his body as it remembered the feel of something he particularly
liked me to do with my mouth.  He released my hair gradually and guided my face
up to his.     

"Look at me."  He ordered and my eyes were wide when they met his.  I leaned
over his lap, his damp penis bumping into my waist.  Jon pulling my face up to
his to kiss my lips softly.  Moving his left hand down my body, rubbing my
breasts slowly.  Traveling down my waist and brushing, just barely, against the
moisture between my legs.  "You want me." He stated, bluntly.     

"Only if it pleases you, Master."  I breathed against his mouth, half-moaning
with surging passion.     

"Back in your place."  I went back to his left and waited in expectant wetness,
once again.                         

AFTER THE CROSS     

"Look at him suffering.  Hard as stone. Desire like a flame burning inside him." 
Jon's voice was low in my ear, and when I did look at Adam.  Jon was so very
right about his condition it took my breath away.  Adam did look miserable as my
kind, yet gentle, Master pointed out to me.  Making me watch the complete
culmination of the scenario between Terry, Traci and Adam.  The edge, now off of
his passion. (I took care of that.) I watched the brutal whipping in awe at the
amount of punishment that Adam could take.  It was amazing.  Here was someone
who would not balk at the barest taste of bondage that I had given Rob.  Adam
would have laughed at my lack of ingenuity, my naivety.   I wanted to fuck him
at that moment more than I had ever wanted to fuck anyone in my entire life. I
burned with it.  Panted with lust at what I was seeing them do to Adam's willing
flesh.  The worst thing about this situation was that I was going to have to
wait to touch him. I was not the one in control.  It was exciting me.  Driving
my sex-drive to astonishing proportions.     

It was only when Terry was visibly exhausted that he released Adam's arms.  His
compact body covered with sweat. His suit coat laying across an ottoman in the
center of the room neatly. I could just bet that not a thing was ever out of
place in this man's life if he could help it, and woe to anything that
disordered his existence.  Terry was a perfectionist.  It was visible in the way
he swung the lash, and in the way he stroked the heated flesh afterwards.  He
had welted Adam expertly.  Exhausting him and taking every once of resistance
from his sore body.  When Adam's arms were slack, he fell to his knees with the
weight of his body. Gravity pulled him that way.  Down to the floor.  His head
hanging with debilitating lassitude between the trembling shafts of his arms. 
His organ gloriously hard and straining against the thin leather covering it in
spite of the torment its owner had been through.     

Terry took a couple of minutes to compose himself, and catch his breath. 
Running a comb through his short hair, and studying the man before him.  It was
then that he settled his cold eyes on me.  I shivered in fear.  Terry looked
narrowly at Jon, and Jon said,     

"Do what you will."  I stiffened, forcing myself to calmness.  It was difficult
because I had no desire whatsoever to be in Adam's place.  I would be just as
happy to avoid that part of this long night if I could possibly help it.  I
didn't think that I would have any choice in the matter at this point, however. 
I was trapped. I saw Traci move towards Adam and Terry move towards me.  The
small man coming to stand before me with cool interest blooming in his eyes.  He
reached for me, suddenly, his right hand tangling in my hair.  The lean fingers
clenching it close to the scalp and pulling me painfully to my feet.  I had no
will to resist those insistent digits, and followed them up.  My head twisted to
the right side.  The pain making me gasp.     

This was not the playful agony that a skillful lover inflicts on you before
making you come in his arms.  This was real pain.  The kind of pain that a
dominant inflicts on a slave loaned to him to torment.  The most surprising
thing to me was that I was not objecting, strenuously, to this blatant abuse.  I
was letting him move me to whatever purpose he had for me.     

Terry was practically dragging me to the center of the room, where Traci had
Adam standing at attention.  The collar, harness and cock-sheath gone.  His
thick organ encased in a condom, glistening in the lamps with lube.  His
breathing ragged as if he had been running.  Traci leaning close to his ear and
whispering into it with a low sibilant voice.  The words galvanizing him.  I
looked into his green-eyes and froze solid.  The only thought running through my
head was.  "They've broken him.  His mind in gone."  His eyes were inhuman,
ferociously animalistic.  Almost glowing in the soft light.  Terry spoke then,
near my left ear.  His gloved left hand cupping my breasts to display them for
Adam's hungry feral gaze.     

"Take her.  Right now on the floor."  Adam was almost drooling.  I felt my body
tightening in preparation for his assault.  "It's the only release you're going
to get tonight." That was all the encouragement Adam needed.   One moment he was
ten feet from me and the next Terry had pushed me quickly forward into his
grasping arms.     
Adam was boiling hot as my fingers gripped his flesh. The skin on his body like
an inferno.  His blazing eyes focused on one thing and that one thing was
getting his organ inside me to fuck me.  Nothing would stop him.  He was beyond
turning back.  I felt him pushing me down to the carpet and knew that I was no
match for him.  Resistance was useless.  The watching crowd of people panting in
sympathetic harmony with Adam. They either wanted to be him or me.  At this
point I don't think they cared which it was.  The scent of sex was in the air so
heavily, so pervasively, it was hard to draw breath around it. I felt his weight
on me.  Heavily subduing me, forcing me to submit to his will.  Adam's powerful
thighs spreading mine roughly, his organ searching for entrance into my slick
opening.  I struggled against him to slow him down.  Trying to let him know with
my body that I was willing, and it was going to be okay.  I put my hands on his
arms, clutching at him.  Catching his fevered excitement.  Murmuring gently into
his face.  My words meaningless.  Feeling his organ slide into my sex with a
rough thrust of his hips.  A low growl coming from his lips when he was in.  His
eyes closing tightly as he ground his body against mine with strong pounding
shoves.  Piercing me.  Pinning me to the floor with his mindless lust.  It was
electrifying.  My body warming to the activity quickly.  The hard screwing
arousing me acutely. I wanted him in me.  I put my hands on his arms and with a
quick twist of his wrists he had my hands held tightly above my head.  His face
buried in my shoulder.  I felt him in me.  Fucking me fiercely.  I heard myself
whispering his name. Half-plea, half-entreaty.  `Adam.  Adam.  Adam, The low
noise I was making must have penetrated his erotic fog, because I felt a little
nibbling bite against my neck and realized that Adam was with me somewhere.  It
was no longer a mindless ravening beast using my body for release. It was Adam
in me.  My Handler.     

He pushed downwards.  Grinding his hips against my pubis, organ stiffening.  The
beginning of an orgasm rolling over me inexorably.  Unstoppable and copiously
moist.  My body pinned to the floor and arms held above my head.  The swelling
of his penis driving me past the point of no return.  I cried out with desire,
screamed into the air. Helpless in the grip of his fingers.  I tried to free my
own hands to clutch at his buttocks and pull his flesh into mine. Closer to me,
a part of me.  He held me down, not letting me go.  Bruising my wrists with the
rough grip of his fingers.  Biting at my neck, my shoulders.  Sweat slicking his
body, and stinging my eyes.    

When he came it was an explosion of violent dimensions. Huge, enormous.  His
sweating face above me twisted with it. The jaw clenched, and lips drawn back
from his white teeth. Body arched into a bow. His turgid organ jerking roughly
against the walls of my sex.  Punishingly delicious. Shatteringly erotic.  I
erupted again beneath him unable to contain myself once again.  It was too much!    

The watching people an undertone of lustful spice to the perfect recipe of
dominance and submission we were acting out.  My hungry release vibrating
against his organ.  Feeling my sex leaking steaming fluids beneath me.  The
rhythmic ritual pumping of his hard organ inside me.   I followed him up to the
heights of orgasm.  A sweeping primordial release of heat and need flushing my
skin. Burning me with its intense fire.  I let him lead me to ecstasy, and damn
the consequences.  I wanted right now, and I had him right now.  I did not feel
any remorse or shame or embarrassment.  I simply felt with him.     

When Adam collapsed on top of me.  His body slumped, and his breathing a harsh
staccato in my ears.  Fingers relaxing their grip on my wrists so that I could
run my hands down his body, and whisper against his wet hair.     

"It's alright.  Alright now."  Meaningless really coming from me.  He needed it
from Traci.  His mistress should be comforting him.  I heard a low voice from
above us.     
"I don't remember telling you to orgasm, bitch."  I looked up sharply into the
blue-eyes of Terry.  Angry eyes. I shuddered, feeling Adam moving from on top of
my quivering body.  "I guess it's your turn now."  I rolled up unto trembling
hands and knees.  Shaking hard enough to rattle my bones loose.  Scurrying to
Jon, and gripping his leg in miserable supplication.  `Just a small
transgression.'  Tears slowly making a trail down my face.  I hadn't even
thought about it.  I had just done it.  I heard an astonishing sound from beside
me.  Adam was speaking out of turn.     

"I'll take her punishment."  Terry laughed, and pushed him away.  Leaning over
me to take a handful of my hair.     

"How touchingly useless, Adam.  I am almost appalled by your lack of manners. 
As if you could help her now."  He pulled me up, and over to the cross.  I hung
my head.  "Why will you be punished?"     

"Coming without permission, Sir."  I said slowly.  He nodded, and called for Jon
to help him secure me.  I was limp.  Allowing them to place me on the device and
tightly bind me to it.  The thing was surprisingly comfortable. There was no
strain in my shoulders.  My wrists were not pinched in any way.  I even relaxed
as I was bound.  The creeping lassitude that always came over me when I was in
bondage once again stole over me.  I surrendered to it.     

Seeing Terry and Jon talking with low voices several feet away.  Jon shaking his
head.  Terry gesturing with one hand.  Terry said something emphatically, and
Jon nodded in agreement.  One thing was obvious.  The decision was made.

I went home on early Sunday afternoon after hanging for most of the night on the
Punishment Cross.  I didn't really consider it much of a punishment considering
the severity of my offense.  [Ah, slave thinking again.  It was cropping up in
the strangest places, like my car.]  I had orgasmed twice without express
permission and didn't even have a bruise to show for it.  Not that I didn't have
enough leftovers on my body from the weekend. The only thing about it was that I
knew by Friday they would have faded to obscurity.    


I did not understand why Terry had simply tied me to the cross, put his gloved
fingers purposefully on my body and left me there.  Hanging in the midst of the
party with Adam kneeling in exhaustion at my feet.  There had been no pain after
that.  Just the random explorations of the others around us.  The gloved fingers
in me and on me.  The insistent prodding at my resilient flesh a torture all its
own.  Whoops, time to kill that train of thought.  I had a whole week to go
before I could come anywhere near another orgasm and even then I might have
blown for the next couple of weekends.  That was the worst part about
disobedience. The price you had to pay.   I stopped thinking about it because I
was home with the thick file folder that Jon had handed me as I was leaving. 
Like I didn't have enough to do.  Well, my apartment was glad to see me. 
Everything the same, well kept.  The computer flashing at me with messages. The
sunlight slanted through the slats on the windows with soft brilliance. 
Flashing off the tables.     

I loved my apartment.  It was detailed my way.  Pure white walls and pale cream
furniture.  The over-stuffed kind that enclosed your body when you sat on it. 
Bright-colored throws over the backs of just about everything I owned.  It was
comfortably adequate.     

I threw my now empty bag into the closet and shut the door on it.  Strange not
to have my "toys."  They had been with me longer than most of my boyfriends. 
The odds and ends that I used on myself to create the proper masturbatory mood.
[Hey, it was almost better than the shower massage.  Think about it.  I had a
feeling that I was going to be disconnecting that fucking thing soon, so the
temptation wouldn't overwhelm me with its convenience.]     

I took a deep breath and dropped my journal on the kitchen table.  It was white
oak with tall backed chairs.  I went to make myself a whole pot of Jamaican Blue
Mountain coffee.  As it was brewing, I opened my journal and unclipped the pen
that Jon had left in there.  The heavy gold pen that I had used at his desk in
the Library.  I tried to write about what I felt and found it surprisingly
difficult.  Mostly what I felt was confusion.  The conversations of the weekend
a jumble of truth that rang like bells in the back of my mind.  How?  Why? 
When?  The questions were endless really.  The product of an active mind and
even more tireless sex drive.  Was this now part of my reality or simply some
moral dilemma that I had to work out someplace other than my mind?  That was the
crux of the problem right there.  Not the morality really.  I had always felt
that as long as I did not damage anybody else with my antics I could do what I
wanted too with my body.  It was the head-trip part of it.  I had passed from
the realm of fantasy into the physical manifestation of my dreams.  That was
heavy.  I was sharing parts of myself that I had never shared before. Hell, I
had sex with a married man.  [What would Sister say?]   The funny thing was that
I knew the truth and couldn't bring myself to admit it.  I just kept shaking my
head, denying it.  The coffee was done and I poured a cup of the fragrant
liquid.  The heady steam warm against my face.  I sat back down at the table,
facing the window and my pen just started to move of its own accord.  I crafted
nothing just let my thoughts drift.                          


<<<<<>>>>>     

I remembered being a child of twelve.  Reading voraciously in my room to escape
from the constant bickering of my parents.  Wondering, in my childish way, how
they had ever ended up a couple.  What dysfunction had pulled these two together
from all the other people they could have chosen?  At that age I didn't really
care.  All I wanted was to talk on the phone with my girlfriends and eat Pizza. 
It was about that point in my life that I discovered boys.  Only in the capacity
that they bugged me of course, but there was something more about them.  They
made me feel funny.  Warm all over, almost hot.  The way they smelled and
walked.  The inexplicable things they did to attract my attention.  The wild
thoughts that flared into my head when I thought about them.  I also discovered
romance novels.  The hot ones of course.   

They had descriptions of that secret thing that tantalized and excited me about
the boys I went to school with.  These books detailed the act of sex.  The
mechanics. Not only that but the way they did it!  Bound and captive. Beaten and
raped by the man she will love further on in the book.  Tied up and kidnapped to
the Harem of a desert sheik for lessons in forbidden pleasures.  Exotic
locations and flowery passages.  It was always the parts about coercion that I
enjoyed.  The darker passages that inflamed me. Making the wetness flow from my
virgin body easily and driving my fingers into my own tight flesh.    

I hid these books from my bible-thumping father in a surfeit of shameful
embarrassment.  Nobody could know what I thought about.  What I truly longed
for.  I learned very early to hide what I did not think others would understand.  
It was then that I started writing it down.  The fantasies that moved me
profoundly.  The ones that kept me awake at night.  The confidential mysteries
that fueled the fires of my lust making me burn with desire.  I shared them with
one person back then and had her turn on me in repugnance.  Avoiding me
studiously because of my confidences.  I had been abandoned, subjected to the
ridicule of my peers.  Never, ever, again.  Once was enough.  I, at no time
since, have exposed myself to that kind of derision again.  I carried the secret
of my sexuality inside me closely.  A solitary fire that warmed only me, denied
and waning from disuse.  My burden until Rob brought it to the surface one night
with a simple supremely erotic phrase.   

"If you move while I'm fucking you.  I'll beat your ass with a riding crop." 
His hard velvet voice freezing me to the bed.  I didn't dare move except to come
and, boy, did I ever.  Over and over.  The entire bed was the wet spot.  Ahh,
bittersweet memories.  Rob had no idea that he was creating the kind of monster
that he was.  I changed.  I was still changing.  My body awash with erotic
desires.  Perusing the books that he kept in a big drawer under the nightstand.
I found a copy of something so arousing, so decadent, my sex damn near exploded
without being touched.  I sat in his big bed and read The Story of O, in one
sitting.  I didn't even get up to pee.  Hell, I was barely breathing.  What a
rush.    

This story was so different from anything that I had ever read before in my life
that it stunned me.  It contained passages of incredible beauty and unthinkable
sadism.  A well-blended mix of desire and degradation.  It also gave me plenty
of fresh ideas and a category to look for in the bookstores.  Simple logic told
me that they had to have more of this kind of book somewhere.  Better yet, it
told me that I was not the only person on the planet thinking of this kind of
sex.  (Moral Minority included.)  I was part of a vast underground network and
most of us were afraid to say anything about it for fear of being thought
deviant.  Right. I did find that amusing.  It's no wonder that most of the
people in the United States had relationship problems.  All of us are afraid to
say what we want out of dread that we won't fit the American mold.  Duty, honor
and fairness. Tough Americans.  

Wrong, lonely Americans.  I knew plenty of people that got their sex on the
Internet.  Dutiful wage whores to the places they work for with no exterior
life.  That's all they have and even if they are lucky enough to have someone to
go home too.  They don't really talk to them.  They treat them like an
appliance.  Nice country, huh?  I've been an appliance, it stinks.  The funny
thing about the convenience drill is that you can see yourself as the item.    

My problem was the only appliance that I could really compare myself too was a
Frigidaire.  I was cool, durable and I had a nice freezer section for when I got
pissed off.  No more of that for me, thank God.  Which brings us to the deviant
part.  Let's say that only two percent of the population of the U.S., is into
D/S, S/M or B/D, whatever you want to call it.  Let's say that further more
these people congregate into big cities because it's easier to `shop' for others
of our kind here.  We have support groups and parties.  We mingle and swap
stories.  We just exist the same way that everybody else does.   The thing is
that I have never met a pervert at one of these things.  A real one.  Most of
the people that I have met are normal the better part of their lives.  We work,
eat, have get-togethers, have kids that have to be kept out of the `toy box.' 
We have normal lives.  It's the narrow-minded judgments of a few cowards that
keep us separated from the mainstream, not by fair means, no; they separate us
by a wall of silence.  Who could I tell?  Who in the mainstream of my world
would understand that I, as strong as I am, want to be turned inside out when I
hit the bedroom?  Who will understand that I don't want one of these new
sensitive men but a high-handed male savage that knows what he wants?  They
would think that I was some kind of traitor against the women's movement, when
in reality I am one of its finest examples.  I crawled out of the muck of an
abusive relationship without whining about it. I have earned the right to enjoy
the kind of sex that I enjoy and the Hell with anyone that tells me I need
`help.'   Those people irritate me too.  I have on good authority that if you
are injured while taking part in an S/M related activity the medical
establishment can have you put away for psychiatric evaluation as a danger to
yourself.  Hello? That's a nice way to keep people from seeking medical care if,
God forbid, they are injured while playing.  It's probably a good thing that Jon
has that Doctor on the staff.   I feel anger at this.  This being made to feel
like there is something wrong with me.  That my preferences make me some kind of
a freak.  I don't hurt anybody else and I'm very considerate of my co-workers. 
What about what I want? Can't I have a good quality relationship with all my
personal specifications or do I have to sell my soul to the normal world to be
considered decent? Why should I have to do that? What makes normal the right way
to be?  What is normal?    

There it is, that endless restlessness again.  I feel it coming over me in a
flooding surge of logical progression.  I need what I need and the Hell with
anybody that thinks I'm a freak.  Screw that!  Screw them!                         

<<<<<>>>>>    

I put down the pen for a moment, realizing that the page was full and I had been
sermonizing myself.  I didn't need to be convinced, but I felt a deep soul
sadness that I had to hide my true nature from most of the world.  Sitting in my
kitchen, drinking coffee.  Trying to decide what parts of my life were truly
important at this point.  Feeling the pull of my well-fucked body against my
clothes.  The whirling flow of thoughts in my head.  I felt more alive at this
point than I had for a long time.  I was finally awake.  I pulled the file
folder that Jon had given me over to the center of the table as I contemplated
my life and opened it.  It was a full list of instructions with the usual
details.
 Anne,
for this week I want you too

1- Write everyday in your journal- Dazzle me

2- read three books about S/M, B/D or D/S.  Your choice

3- Keep Wednesday evening clear for Adam

4- Doctor on Thursday at 2000 hours.

Remember the rules

Jon

I sat staring at the list and felt my heart hammering in my chest.  He wanted me
to do these things but I didn't see how I would be able too.  It was too much! 
Adam during the week?  Why?  I took a deep breath and prioritized.  `Okay, break
it down into little chunks, Annie.'  The same way that I handled multi-plex
problems at work.  It was Sunday afternoon, almost evening.  I would dazzle him
alright.  I'd start now and work through it one day at a time.   Start with the
place it all began.  The Urban Times.  Looking for any thing that would fire my
imagination

THE NEW BOY: FANTASY   

I love the smell of new leather.  Clean, hard, unyielding.  I held the
multi-tailed whip loosely in my hand. Sitting in the corner that was the
furthest from the door. Waiting impatiently.  Jason, my regular bottom, knew
that I hated waiting as well, so I was sure that he did it on purpose.  He'd
said earlier when we were still in street clothes that he was bringing a friend
for me.  I laughed, and said.     

"Someone that you want to screw."  I was rewarded by the dark flush of color
from his chest up.  "Does he know this? Is he open to this?"     

"Dan got real excited when I told him."     

"Bring him in.  I'll talk to him."  That had been earlier and now I was waiting
irritably.  Then the door opened.  Two men in suits walked in.  "Jason!"  I
yelled and he immediately fell to his knees as I stood up.  He crawled over and
immediately started kissing my feet.  "Look at me."  He did.  "You have clothes
on.  I expect this kind of disrespect from him, but you... you know better." 
His demeanor crumbled.  "Get them off now.  Both of you."  Jason kissed the
inside of my thigh and I ruffled his hair.  "Go on, Jason."  He stood and
started to undress.  Dan hesitated, drawing my full attention his way.  I walked
slowly towards him and he struggled not to back away.  I got very close.  Noting
that he was tall, muscular and tan.  I put one hand on his chest, over his heart
to feel the frantic hammering under my palm.  Ah, terror.  One of the most
potent aphrodisiacs known to man.  "I'm to be called Mistress when you are in my
presence." My hand slid down his stomach to below his waist feeling the swelling
firmness under my fingers.  Nice.  "What a lovely way to greet me."  His face
colored and he looked like he was trying to speak.  I shook my head.  "Unh, uh,
only when I ask you a direct question.  You agreed to be here for one night and
I agreed to train you properly.  At this stage of our relationship, Dan.  You
have no choice and no voice.  You have two options right now.  Get your clothes
off voluntarily or I get two handlers from down the hall to do it for you, by
force."  My gaze was hard and cruel on purpose.  He could have no moment of
indecision.  He needed my firmness.  "Do you understand?"    

"Yes, Mistress."  He sounded miserable.  Wonderfully torn, but he started
removing his clothes.  Jason was already naked and waiting for me.  Finally Dan
was finished removing his garments.  I looked at Jason.    

"Bind him to the hook.  I want to get a good look at him."  I walked away,
leaving Jason to do it.  I could hear him talking to Dan as he bound him.  His
voice was low and reassuring.  Soothing his nerves.  Submissive to submissive.
The way slaves always did, even though you told them not too. I didn't stop him. 
"It's okay.  You know the safe-word.  It'll be good for us.  Just reach your
arms up and be quiet."  I heard the buckles closing and waited calmly. 

"He's ready, Mistress."  I patted my left thigh, bringing Jason immediately to
heel.  I clipped the whip to my belt.  Dan shivered before me, helpless in his
bonds.   

"I'm going to ask you some questions.  If you're honest with me we'll have a
much better time together."  He nodded. "Do you like sex with women?    

"Yes, Mistress."  I put my hands on his buttocks and opened them, studying his
face.   

"You prepare yourself as Jason told you too?"  Shame clouded his eyes but he
nodded again.   

"Yes, Mistress."    

"Look at me, slave.  Dan did.  "You know that I am going to have him take you?" 
He nodded, wetting his lips nervously.  "Answer me."  I barked.    

"Yes, Mistress, but I..." He cut himself off as though afraid to speak his
fears.  Silly boy, that was half the fun.  

"Go on, it is alright.  I do not punish for honesty, only dishonesty."    

"I'm afraid."  That admission cost him, dearly.  The softly whispered words that
tore his heart to shreds inside his breast.    

"Fear is the memory of choices.  You have none."  Tears formed in his eyes and
his strong chin quivered.  "Jason will try not to hurt you more than you can
bear.  He's not allowed too."  I stepped away from the front of him and motioned
Jason forward.  "Jason, take him in your mouth.  Work him." I petted him gently
on the flank.  "Do what you are told to do and you'll be fine."  I looked down
at Jason.  His soft mouth closing gently over Dan's thick organ.  Dan's body
going rigid.  "Keep him hard while I punish him, Jason.  You know what will
happen if you fail me, don't you?"  

"Yes, Mistress."  He said quickly, and then went back to his task.  I unhooked a
paddle from my belt, planning in my head how much to give him.  Just enough to
take the edge off that civilized veneer and heat him up.  I swung the paddle
with a good deal of force.  This was a nice one.  Wide enough to sting but not
break the skin. Jason wrapped his arms around Dan's calves to hold him still.
Nothing could stop the low groans that came from him however. Half-pain/
half-pleasure.  I hit him hard two more times to tenderize his flesh for further
attention then I lightened up and kept going.  Watching tears roll silently down
his dark cheeks.  His face hard, body stiff.  Jason grabbed my leg and I
stopped.    

"Enough, Jason."  Dan groaned and Jason pulled away. His eyes squeezing shut as
he tried to remember the feel of that expert mouth sucking his dick.  "Open your
eyes, slave."  He did and struggled to control the flow from his eyes. "Jason,
get the jar and the protection."  He did so promptly.  "Put our new toy on the
bed, please."    

"Yes, Mistress."  I kissed the tear-streaked face before me, tenderly.  Stroking
his hot skin.  Teasing him.   

"Very good, Dan."  He shivered.  "Jason is going to release you and you are
going to go lay face down on the bed. I don't need to tell you to do it on your
knees, do I?"   

"No, Mistress."  He answered brokenly, around the lump in his throat.  I went to
the bed and waited.  Opening the leather flap covering my sex.  Knowing that I
was damp and ready.  I lay back on the pillows and watched Jason doing as I
asked of him.  Patting his friend calmingly and whispering softly to him as he
let him down.  I watched Dan, noting the weak legs and heavy sheen of
perspiration.  He fell to his knees when he was released and came to the foot of
the bed.  I opened my legs.    

"Come up between them."  Dan crawled up on the bed. "Kiss me."  He brought his
body over mine and I cupped his cheeks, kissing him deeply, feeling him
softening in my hands at the tenderness.  `God, he was sweet.  Eager to please
me.' His lips were like watered silk.  Skin, hot, like the flame of a candle. I
pulled myself away from his face.  My eyes warm as they burned into his.  My
fingers tracing his jaw lightly.  "Put your face between my legs and pleasure me
with your tongue."  He lay flat between my legs and I chuckled. "No, slave. 
Keep those nice tight buns up in the air where Jason can get to them easily. 
You'll be taking me and he'll be taking you in the ass."  He shivered, trying to
hide his fear.  "Do what he says and it won't hurt more than any woman's cherry
being popped.  Fight and injure yourself." His fingers trembled when they opened
the folds of my sex.  I motioned Jason up on the bed, pulling Dan's arms around
my hips as he went to work.  I rubbed his back, feeling his tongue doing magical
things to my clitoris.  Nice technique. I was betting that it was the benefit of
lots of practice.  I looked Jason in the eye.  "I have also had enough from you,
Jason.  You get on the ball or I will have you playing games for the Master all
night."  He started kissing my feet desperately.  He hated playing games in the
basement.  "I'll beat the insubordination out of you after you're finished with
the task that I've set for you.  Now, get to it."  He went to immediate work. 
Dan whimpering in my lap at the first touch of Jason's fingers at his asshole. 
"Not a sound from you or I'll gag you."  I watched Jason working the lube into
the tightly puckered opening with firm insistent pressure.  He leaned up over
Dan's back and rolled a condom over his prick. "One stroke, no stopping."  He
nodded.  His organ was eight inches of solid gold, as far as I was concerned,
well-trained to cum on command.  Perfection.   

Jason put the head of his organ against the opening and slid home smoothly.  His
face softening with pleasure, so I knew he was in.  Dan groaning in agony in my
lap.  I slid under him, taking his face in my hands.  Voice low.    

"It will ache for a moment while your body adjusts. Surrender to it.  He'll be
still because he is so large."   

"It's too much.  It hurts."  I put my hand on his organ, my other pulling a
condom from the nightstand.  He was still hard when I rolled it over him.  Not a
small man in his own right.    

"You can bear it for me, can't you?"  I took his penis and guided it into my wet
cleft.  He started to pant with exertion.  Torn between the pain and the
pleasure.  This guy was a natural.  His teeth grinding against one another as
the paradox of agony and ecstasy rolled through his body.  He started making
small animal pleading noises, low in his throat.  I put my hands on his hips and
slid him into me as far as he could go.  Wrapping my legs around his thighs to
keep him open.  Motioning for Jason to pump him.   Jason cored him hard.  The
thrusts pushing Dan into my dripping sex.  Rubbing my body just the right way to
cum. The friction against my clitoris and the thought of Dan getting it for the
first time on top of me, sending me over the edge.  Jason took a hold of my
fingers, hard.  Holding me to reality as my body shuddered under Dan's.  The
spasms lessening with the end of my release.  I grabbed a handful of Dan's soft
hair in my fist. Seeing the dark purple flush of orgasm coming over his face. I
was tempted to make him wait, but not wanting to deny myself the pleasure of
feeling his organ jerking in my sex. I whispered against his mouth.    

"Come in me, slave.  Come in your Mistress."  Nodding up to Jason to orgasm as
well.  They both stepped up the urgency of their movements.  Discordant
synchronism to their efforts.  They came together.  Making those endearing male
noises that they all make as they wrench towards orgasm.  I lay back and held
unto Dan as he wrung every last bit of it from his muscular body to fall on me
limply.  Catching his breath. Pressing me into the mattress with his weight.   

 For a time all was still.  Quiet but for the rapid breathing from the three
post-orgasmic bodies.  Almost impossible to tell where one flesh stopped and
another started.  I heard Dan whispering against my neck, his voice hoarse with
excess emotion., satiation and exhaustion.    

"I didn't know."  He said, over and over against my damp skin.  I laughed and
pulled them both up into my arms. Stroking them.  My boys.  


"Now, you do."                    

WAGE WHORE

Work had a new luster.  Bob had no power to ruffle me, much to his irritation. 
What the Hell could he do to me? Fire me?  Right, I'd love to make 80% of my
wage to sit at home and write for a year and a half.  My workload seemed to be a
breeze and handled fairly easily.  It was almost a treat to be there I felt so
good. Relaxed and very satisfied.  The delicate pull of my muscles and my
various bruises almost a delight.  An undertone to the buzz of sexual energy
that floated around me in, what I thought was, an invisible cloud.  [It wasn't.] 
Janie noticed it.  At about 3:30 PM the curiosity got the better of her and she
came over to me.  My usually messy desk was clean.  She grinned when she sat on
the edge of my desk.    

"You had a good weekend."  I shrugged, grinning back at her. "In fact, you had
the best weekend that you've had in a long time, maybe years."  Her face was
alight with the radiance of knowledge.  She knew what I had done, just not the
details.   

"Jesus, Janie.  Why do you say that?"    

"Don't be dense.  You got laid.  Want to tell me about it?"  I shook my head.  I
somehow didn't think that she would understand.  I could just see her face if I
looked her in the eye and said; ` You're right.  I was tied up and beaten all
weekend.' I knew she wouldn't understand.  Not at all.  I had no one to tell. 
The thing was that I didn't know if that was good or bad.  I let Janie stew. 
She was sure that I would eventually tell her all, so I let her think it. 
Trying to come up with some suitably vanilla lie about my weekend. Already I was
insulating my life in a cloak of deception. What would it do to me in the long
run.  Something to think about.                         

THIS IS MY LIFE

At six p.m. sharp, my doorbell rang.  I answered it, but I didn't want too.  He
looked different in jeans, more luscious.  If that was possible.  His hair hung
free to his shoulders in shaggy waves.  The exact same shade as his sweater. 
Dark chocolate.  Nice.   

"Come here."  He ordered as he came into the room.  I looked up at him boldly. 
This was my place.  My world.  Not theirs.  I didn't even care that I would
probably pay for this little act of rebellion this weekend.  I still did it.    

"Why are you here, Adam?"  He was surprised at my tone, but he hid it well.  His
eyes smiling down into mine.   

"Because Jon said that I could take you out to dinner." I relaxed a bit.  "He
also said that we could do what we wanted to do."  We, not just him.  I eased
up.     

"This is my world.  Nobody ever told me that I would have to share beyond the
weekend."  I sounded angry and a little bit petulant.  Not a good combination. 
He went over to my kitchen and sat in one of my chairs.    

"You're angry at me."    

"Like to beat the hell out of you."  I said frostily. He grinned broadly.    

"I will, of course, place myself at your tender mercies."  His voice lowered
seductively and he looked up at me through his lashes.  I couldn't help it.  I
laughed.  "Not mad, anymore?"    

"No." I sat down across from him.  "Dinner, Huh?"  He nodded, leaning back in
the chair.  "Okay.  I'll pick the place and welcome to my world."  I went to
change from my work clothes into jeans.    

It was a good night.  Not to cold.  A full heavy moon in a clear nighttime sky. 
Werewolf weather.  My kind of weather.  I took him to the Oyster Bar in the
district.  It was a nice place, cozy.  The fact that I ate there almost every
week, made it home territory.  The owner knew me.  A Creole from New Orleans,
black as night, named Alain. Dinner was as usual, fabulous.  Conversation,
stilted until Adam asked.    

"You don't really like men much, do you?"  He appeared really interested in the
answer, looking at me with the same intensity with which he studied me during a
scene.    
"They're good for some things."  I quipped back and realized that sex was not
what he meant.  "I wish that all men could be female for just one day.  See what
it's like."    

"What is it like?"  He seemed genuinely interested so I told him.    

"It's a waking paradox."  He didn't get that at all, so I explained.  "If I get
angry, I'm PMS.  If I'm assertive, I'm a bitch.  If I'm nice, I'm weak.  That's
the paradox." He was smiling, now he understood.  "Now, you get it.  If you're
assertive, you have leadership potential.  Angry, someone pissed you off.  Gee,
what a nice guy you are.  It's not just work either."  Adam had snagged the
check when it came, before I could even put out my hand for it. Automatically. 
I leaned back in the chair and finished my wine.  "I was top of my class, Mensa
in High school.  I was hired a level below a man with no degree and less sense. 
I married a man who beat me because he could do it.  I was physically weaker
than he was.  So he took advantage of that."   

"How long did you stay?"    

"About eight months."   

"I'm sorry."  He said and I asked him why he was sorry. "Because emotional scars
are the hardest to heal."  True enough.  "If you could do whatever you wanted to
him, to cleanse his memory, what would you do?"  My eyes hardened as they met
his.  A pure gleam of sadism lighting their depths and darkening them.    

"Top him."  He chuckled at that.  "But that would make me as bad as he was."  I
sighed.  "Maybe I'll just stay the way I am for awhile."    

"Happy?"  He said, smiling.    

"Satisfied with my life.  Nice balance between the weekends and work.  It's been
a long time since I've opened my self to any kind of new experience."

"Well, honey.  You've gone all out this time."  I laughed out loud.  "There's a
nice leather store in this town.  Feel like shopping?"  I narrowed my eyes at
him.    

"Shopping for what?"  He laid some bills on the check and grinned up at me.    
"Jon told me to take you shopping.  His money and get you some costumes."  His
teeth peeked out at me and he cocked his head.  "It'll be fun.  Jon's money." 
Baiting me.    
"Ahh, the way to a woman's heart."  I shot back at him, but we did leave the
restaurant and we did go shopping.                         

    

"So you answered an ad in the Times?"  He asked me with a laugh.  Although why
that little tidbit cracked him up. I'll never know.  "And you were gone for the
weekend, so they had nothing better to do but me."  He whistled in appreciation.     
"That took a lot of guts."    

"Not guts, Terror."  He waited for me to continue.  "I felt like if I didn't do
something... I was going to explode. I'd spent six years with just myself.  All
I could think about was sex.  I fantasized about every man I came in contact
with.  It was driving me crazy.  I was at a point in my life where I was truly
dangerous to myself."  He nodded as though he understood.    

"I got that way after my divorce."  He remarked absently looking into the store
windows at the avante garde goods displayed in the windows. "I lucked into Jon
and Traci."    

"How did you meet them?"  I inquired, very curious now. He told me.                         

ADAM'S STORY    

"I was 28 and newly divorced.  My wife had found my magazines and labeled me
some kind of sick bastard.  She kicked me out.  No desire to play the game or
even understand why I was the way I was."  There was a bench on the corner so we
sat on that while he talked.  "So there I was trying to get back into the
singles scene when I came across an ad for a party at Talon.  A B/D party.  Come
one, come all."    

"Urban Times?"  I teased him laughing at the look in his eyes.    

"Yes, You naughty girl. So I went."  His face softened as he remembered the
desperation.  The undeniable need that forced him to seek out what he needed. 
"I was dazzled, just walking through the door.  I had never in my life seen
anyplace with so much raw sexual energy.  This place was a wet dream.  I got
hard walking in the door, and stayed that way all night long."  I could just
imagine that and laughed.     

"On you, that's like putting up a billboard on the boulevard."  He blushed
hotly, very nicely in my book. 

"Anyways...  I did attract a certain amount of attention, then Traci approached
me"   

"They go to those things?"  That kind of surprised me.    

"Sometimes to look for raw talent.  She was real.  In this room full of fantasy. 
She shone like the sun."  I could see that.  "She kept me with her by asking
questions and really listening to the answers I gave her.  She asked about my
life, my childhood.  Before I knew it the party was over and I was following her
home."  He stood up as though uncomfortable with the intimacy of the memories. 
"I've been with them ever since.  I'm contracted for two more years. That was my
missing weekend.  I was deciding what to do."   

"And?"  His eyes met mine.  Intense.  Serious.  

"And.. I get to live my fantasies.  I also get to abuse lovely slaves such as
you on a regular basis."  He took my hand.  "Even when they become disgruntled
with my interfering in their daily life."  I squeezed his warm fingers with a
smile. I squeezed his warm fingers with a smile.    We were near the leather
store and we went inside.  He sighed, and spoke again.  He spoke calmly.  "It
started before then though."  His face going into the past.  

GOLDEN BOY    

I was 10 years old, when I discovered why God had given me a penis. 15 years
old, when I first put it into a woman. 29 years old, when I first put it into a
man, and 32 years old when I entered the world of Sado-masochism as more than a
dream.  Busy life.  In between I married, graduated college and divorced in that
order.  Sado-masochism was the reason I lost my wife, Phoebe.  It was also the
reason that I didn't care.  In order to truly understand my life I have to start
back when I was ten.  It was then that I got my first erection.  I was reading a
forbidden book on men in prison during a family vacation.  A novel filled with
the rough imaginings of a fairly popular author, writing under a pseudonym.  No
matter, my Dad confiscated the book after thumbing through it and finding that
"God-damn, Gay-shit" in it.  Not the kind of thing that he wanted in the hands
of his impressionable ten-year-old son.  Too late, Dad. It had been committed to
memory already.  The most vivid parts were both the rape scenes.  The one that
landed the hero in prison, and the one that taught him how it felt to be raped. 
Porn with a message.  It was a toss-up which one made my penis harder when I
read it.  It didn't really matter the effect was the same.  I had my first
orgasm in the men's toilet at the local Christian family campground.  Didn't get
caught either.     

I got a lot of mileage out of both of those fantasies. It always amazed me that
sometime during those active teenage years, my parents didn't find a smiling
dehydrated husk in my bed one fine school morning.  They never did though.  I
learned slowly that not all of my friends were as sexually precocious as I was,
but I figured that being ahead of this game was not necessarily a bad thing.  It
encouraged me to develop above average reading skills, which astonished my
teachers, and made me something of a golden boy in the classroom.     

I started spending most of my free time in the Library, public, and reading
books that I had found in the card catalogue that fired my imagination.  When I
wasn't playing on the football team.  I was Captain.  Hey, it's not all about
screwing cheerleaders, but it is incentive.  The captain has to plan the plays
in his head, and I could do that, so Captain.  I liked the Library better.  I
read all kinds of books. On-Pirates, Cops, Human Sacrifice, Torture, medical
texts. Anything that I could find.  I wandered around the subject catalogue
until I could cross-reference in my sleep any subject they had in there.  I was
cruising the women's section and discovered a book on orgasms for women, and got
the best advice about the opposite sex that I ever got anywhere. A satisfied
woman comes back for more.  That was even a concept that we were learning about
in school.  Supply and demand.  Very logical. I wanted women, and they wanted
the same pleasure that I wanted.  I decided to study the mechanics as hard as I
could so I would know how, if I ever did get laid, I could pleasure a girl. 
I'll say this about them.  They have weird plumbing. They bleed once a month for
God's sake.  A very odd, but nice, set-up in my book.  I learned more about the
female body than I knew about my own.  Sniggering to myself in the classroom
when the cute little cartoon sperm, slid into that smiling egg in the health and
hygiene films.  The science texts were much more accurate, and much less puerile
than those films.     

When I turned fifteen, or a bit after, my father had me cleaning out the garage. 
I found a box of old books, and went through them before throwing them away.  In
it I found the Joy of Sex I and II.  I hid the books, and took them upstairs
with me to hide them where I could easily read them. I pored over them.  I know
I wasn't the only kid in that era to read those forbidden books, but I know that
I was the only one I knew to commit sections to memory.  I felt that I was ready
to get rid of my virginity, but didn't have any idea about how to lose it.  At
fifteen, I was tall with gangly arms and legs. Seriously academic, and a Jock to
boot.  I was just too... whatever to have girls from school floating around me,
and the ones that did.  Well, I had more experience then they did. 

It was then that I met Gina in the Library.  Older, she was twenty, with thick
dark hair and a big chest.  Just a bit mysterious with her flowery skirts, and
denim hat.  Eyes as black as ink and fathomless.  We both seemed to be spending
Saturday night at the Library at any rate, so we started to talk to each other. 
We became friends.  She was one of those magically gentle people that listen
with their whole bodies when others talk to them.  She seemed to hear every
nuance of what I said, and not to judge my opinions, beyond a gentle laugh every
once in a while.  I told her things that I didn't dare tell my parents about
myself, until one night we ended up talking about... you know what.  She folded
her hands serenely and listened to my breathless thoughts to their completion
and then took my hand.  Her dark hair falling into her face, obscuring it.    

"Come on."  She led me out to her car, a shitty green Nova, and drove me to her
place.                          

<<<<<>>>>>    

She had her own apartment, which I thought was too cool. Filled with books on
history and art.  No T.V.  She left me sitting on the half broken couch to go
into the kitchen and get some drinks.  Coming back with two cans of Coke.  She
sat facing me from one end of the couch, her eyes studying me with an intense
almost amused tolerance.  She curled her legs up between us, and said.     

"Now, tell me again what you want from a woman."  I stammered a bit, and she
listened patiently.  Telling me that women like to be talked too and not treated
like a side of beef.  She sipped the coke, and seemed to come to some kind of a
decision.  She slid closer to me, so that I could smell the salt of her skin. 
Silky, smoky.  The breath of her body from less than a foot from me.  My glands
went into over-drive and I got immediately hard.  Embarrassingly hard.     

"I should go."  She smiled and took one of my hands, putting it on her breast. 
Hyper-drive.  My penis became a painful mass of feeling between my legs, and my
pulse raced like I had run a mile.

"I would like you to stay."  She said into my ear, not letting me choose really
just taking me into her room. Sitting me on the bed, and turning off the lights,
so the room was enclosed in a womb of darkness.  "What time do you have to be
home?"  She asked, and I told her midnight.  My voice quavering and breathless. 
I heard her moving around in the dark, and waited with my hands between my legs,
trying to control the pulsing heat that grew with every second.  I lost it
though.  My penis was definitely doing my thinking for me.  Somewhere between
the bedroom and the living room.  The little genius had crept up my neck, into
my head and taken over my brain.  The only question I had really, because my
penis was doing a fine job so far, was if I should take off my clothes.  I heard
her walking over to me, and did not resist when she stood me up and started to
take my clothes from me slowly.  The pullover sweater, the jeans, socks, shoes,
and underwear.  All under the cover of this warm velvet darkness. Sitting me
back down on the edge of the bed, and going to her knees before me.     

"You're not scared, are you?"  Her voice like hot caramel in the night.     

"No."  My voice sounded breathlessly young to me, but I was not scared.  I was
too excited to be scared.  Gina leaned over my lap.  Her hair trailing over my
thighs.  She took my organ into her wet, warm mouth, going to the very root, and
I exploded.  Jetting a heavy stream of fluid into her throat in about a second
flat.  My hands curled into fists at my sides as I fell back unto the bed,
gasping with reaction. Gina didn't stop though.  She lay down beside me and
explored me with her hands as I caught my breath.  Gently teasing me until I
felt ready to participate in the action.     

"I'm sorry..." She shushed me, telling me that she had done it on purpose so I
could relax, and that I could touch her if I wanted too.  All the wonderful
things that I had heard in my fevered imagination for the last five years.  I
let myself go, and put my fingers into the magic place that I had studied for so
long.  Feeling the hardness coming back up between my legs, as her drenched sex
opened and enfolded my fingers in their silky sheathing.  She moaned when I went
into her, putting her hand over mine and guiding me to her pleasure spots. 
Whispering the names, and places that I touched in a softly breathless voice. 
Telling me that was good, and not so hard, and deeper.  In breathless whispered
instruction.  I touched her breast with my other hand, teasing the tips slowly. 
Laying my whole hand over the pliant orb and squeezing it lightly.  Her whole
body melted under my touch, and I felt the power of sex flowing through my body. 
I touched her skin in my innocence, feeling the texture of the different places. 
Face, neck, shoulders, legs, and stomach. Always returning to that secretly damp
and musky orifice that captured me surely.  Finding that hard little button of
feeling after each foray away, to memorize the place with my fingertips.  Gina
yielded to me, holding nothing back, no emotion, or sound.  Everything I did to
her elicited some honest natural response from good to okay.  Kissing me deeply
when I became engrossed, and tasting of sex and semen and Coke.  Luscious.
Open-mouthed, tongues twining.  Perfect.     

When I finally whispered that I wanted to be inside her. She rolled the condom
over my organ, and used her delicate gentle fingers to guide me into her deep
well.     

She sighed when I was all the way into her sex.  The barest breath of sound in
the air.  Putting her hands on my hips to teach me the rhythm.  The same
dampened cavern that had so welcomed my nervous fingers, accepted completely, my
unrelenting manhood.  There is no way really to describe the feel of her under
me.  The soft ridged tunnel, caressing the length of my virgin sex for the first
time.  The muscles of her cleft, holding me.  Enfolding me completely, reluctant
to let me go. The tight rubber casing, maddening me, a friction all it's own.  I
moved jerkily, unsurely.  Gina always bringing me back to the even easy motion
that is instinctive really.  When she came under me, her whole body shuddering.
The little mouth below, clenching with insistent force on my organ.  Calling my
name as she arched under my body.  I realized that she was enjoying this as much
as I was.  Her little fingers clutched at my back, insistently.  Urging me to
orgasm within her.  I spilled over, as caught up in the moment as she was.
Collapsing on her body as the last of my passion wrenched into her sex. 
Thinking about nothing but how much I had enjoyed myself.     

As I finished the most incredible experience of my life. I thought perhaps, that
I had found something that I could be really good at, if I worked at it.  Gina
moved first.  Going to the bathroom and getting a wet towel, then cleaning me up
with it.  Disposing of the protection, and curling herself against my chest. 
Her head on my shoulder.  This made me a bit uncomfortable, but she simply
laughed and said that this was the part women really liked.  Not to cuddle
afterwards made them feel cheap.  Used.  I felt the glow of Making Love fading
and asked her finally, why she had done it.  She hugged me closer before
explaining.     

"Because you have the potential to be a very decent human being, and I knew that
I could give you a good start. I had a good start.   I owed another one to the
cosmic good. I chose you."  Hard to argue with that.  It was a good start. "I
wanted you to have a nice memory, not something sleazy, or embarrassing.  You
deserve better."  It sounded like a nice sentiment, so I enjoyed it in the
spirit to which it was intended.  I also enjoyed the feel of her in my arms. 
Nice and warm against the length of my body.  Gina was an encyclopedia of sexual
knowledge.  Birth control, and different techniques.  She let me experiment on
her willing body whenever we had the free time to do it, for one magic summer. 
I learned quite a bit from her, before she had to go back to school.  The halls
of college, calling her back finally.  I cried the night she left, out of grief
and loss.  My heart having gone to her during the endless nights we lay
together.  She said something to me before she was gone that I still remember to
this day.     

"Adam, just remember to look at more than the package when choosing someone to
love.  The one, who doesn't make herself visible, may be the one who is truly
creative.  The one truly free."  She left, and I never saw her again.  I often
wondered if she ever thought about me again, after she left, or was I just a boy
she broke in.   No, not fair really.  Just some residual bitterness speaking.     

As I got older I realize that she did me a favor by making the break as clean
and as final as she did.  I mourned and got over her with very little pain. 
Gina shone in my memory as the first person in my life to give me a gift,
without ever expecting me to give anything back.  A truly generous person.  I
was very lucky.                        

<<<<<>>>>>     

I came to the easy realization during High School that I was very good-looking. 
Thick dark-hair, just a bit too long. Cold green-eyes that were piercing when I
was angry.  Tall, broad-shouldered.  Articulate.  I scared the shit out of damn
near everybody that didn't know me.  Just because of the way I looked.  The
people that did know me, and knew me for the pussycat that I was, laughed at
those in terror of me.  Hell, I laughed too.  I had it pretty good in High
School, except for being teased unmercifully for my fascination with those girls
that everybody knew as wallflowers.  I was very popular at school.  I seemed to
come to the conclusion early that I was someplace magical.  A situation that I
would never have again.  That at no other time in my life would I get to deal
with as many people as I did on a daily basis as I did in high school.  I
treasured the time I had there.  Enjoying the people that I met, and talked too. 
Enjoyed the Football games and the homecoming dances.  I didn't lose my heart,
though, until senior year.  That was the year that I met, Phoebe.                          

<<<<<>>>>>     

Phoebe was a girl from the cheerleader squad.  Quiet and serious.  A tiny woman
with large dark eyes that looked almost puppy-ish.  She never raised them to
talk to me, but I knew what they looked like.  They were liquid pools of night
shining from her perfectly heart-shaped face.  I fell for her so hard I could
barely think straight around her.  I became a stammering mess, when she looked
at me.  Barely able to speak.  All I could do was gaze at her.  I followed her
around for almost a month before she said that she would go out with me.  Two
months before she let me kiss her for the first time, and three before she burst
into tears when I touched her breast because I didn't `respect her.' Took me all
night to calm her down, and I had to promise a hundred times to never try
anything like that ever again, before she would agree to keep seeing me.     

I promised, but I also tried everything I could think of to get into her pants,
all to no avail.  She wanted to be a virgin on her wedding night, and by all
that was holy, she was going to do it.  Will of steel, on that point.  In my
adolescent insistence, I figured I could bring her around, so I waited.  Doing
the school thing.  Part-time job, games, dances.  Escorting her to these things,
and giving her my high school class ring so she would be my girl.  It was like
that all year, and all summer.  After Graduation, I started College locally,
because my parents couldn't afford to send me away to anyplace else.  They near
bankrupted themselves to give me the four years that I would need to make a good
start in life, as it was.  Always, Phoebe was around me.  The thought of her
inflaming me.  Her quiet voice, and downcast eyes.  The silly things she said,
and the small little dreams that she had for her life.  I thought her perfect. 
Demure, innocent, sweet. I wanted her, and she wanted marriage.  I gave in to
her and proposed to her in my 19th year. We planned to get married in the
summer.                    

THE BACHELOR PARTY     

My college buddies were a great bunch of guys.  The wild crowd, not me so much. 
I didn't like the feeling of giving up control so I was more subdued as far a
partying goes.  All that meant was that I was the one that usually drove them to
their debauches.  I did my fair share, but I was always faithful to Phoebe.   A
point of interest that drove my best friend, Jay, absolutely crazy.   That is
until the bachelor party.  These guys wanted me to have one last fling before
the old `Ball and Chain' gig, so they got me a professional.  Not only that, but
the hotel room to go with it.  I was having so much fun, that when they put me
into the room, tied up because I had said `No,' so many times in a row.  I had
resigned myself to my fate.  No thoughts beyond feeding the fire that had been
burning unrelieved for the past four years.  The little guy, thinking for me
again.  I almost looked forward to it.  Just a quick fling before matrimony to
take the edge off my lust.     

I didn't expect what walked into the room.  A Dominatrix carrying a long leather
whip.  I felt my eyes go wide and my pulse go up.  That's not all that came up
as I looked at her. She was the exact opposite physical type from Phoebe. Tall,
and lean.  Pale blonde hair, and icy blue-eyes.  Long fingernails and strong
lean legs that went up about a mile. She tapped the end of the whip against her
calf and said with a smile.
"Hello, novice."  The black vinyl corset barely covering the tips of her
breasts.  Honey pink tips peaking from underneath the darkness.  I started to
speak, and she shook her head.  "No, don't.  Not until I tell you too, and only
when I ask you a question."  I felt my dominant maleness trying to leak out of
me, in protest to being bound, helpless, and she gagged me.  Leaving me lying
there while she set up her stuff. Laying it out on the nightstand in a little
row.  Lubricant, some bead-things, and condoms.  She laid out a pair of shorts,
and a shirt.  My clothes, I noticed, before she took a pair of scissors to what
I was wearing, leaving me naked on the bed.  I struggled.  "If I leave, I'll
leave you tied up and naked for the maid to find in the morning.  I don't think
that's what you want, so just be quiet and hard and good for me.  Okay?"  I
nodded.  She put her hand on my organ, and it hardened to granite under her
fingers.  "Roll over."  When I hesitated, she flipped me on her own, putting her
knee into the small of my back as she re-secured my wrists together.  "I don't
like to repeat myself, Adam."  She tied me to the bed, not letting me loose at
all.  Moving down and criss-crossing the ties on my legs.  When she released me
I flipped back, but my legs had been tied so I was spread-eagle.  Her eyes shone
with amusement, and she tightened everything down so I was spread-eagle with my
hands resting in the small of my back.  She took the gag off.     

"I don't like this, let me up now."  She slapped me, hard.  Not enough to leave
a mark, but enough to jar my senses.  I was stunned, but my cock wasn't, it
leaked with desire.     

"Don't lie to me.  I don't like it.  You would be softer than this."  Her
fingers found my sex. "If you didn't like it, so be quiet if you don't have
anything intelligent to say."  I shut up.  "Your friends told me to get you off,
but not damage you for your wedding night, so relax."  She took a deep breath to
control herself, and backed away so she could look me over.  Running her hands,
and her nails, over my chest, my waist, my legs.  The whip lying on the coverlet
between my thighs.  She focused her entire attention on me, never faltering in
her intensity.  Pressing, pinching, and exploring.  She met my eyes with a
question and ran her hand up between my buttocks to the unexplored region behind
me.  Tiny pressure on the opening that clenched to prevent invasion.  "Ever had
a man, college boy?"  I shook my head, speechless, but not softening.  Her
finger slid into me, and I twitched with the effort of trying to expel her.  It
only let her go deeper into my anus.  All the way to the knuckle, her limber
digit pressing upwards on the gland inside me.  I groaned, and rolled my head. 
She fucked me with that one finger, slowly.  Never rough or hard.  Just easy in,
out. Watching my face change colors with the effort of not crying out.  Another
finger joined the one inside me, stretching me. Her free hand taking a hold of
my penis, and squeezing it in the exact cadence of her thrusting hand.  I felt
myself approaching orgasm, and couldn't believe that I was going to come like
this.  Orgasm with her one hand in my ass, and her other milking my dick.  I
closed my eyes to let it come, and she pulled away.  Leaving me gasping with the
pain of being interrupted.   I rolled my head, and felt the whip strike the top
of my thighs.  I yelped.  "Roll over."  She ordered.  I hesitated. "I can beat
your legs, or your ass.  I can tell you from experience that the ass hurts less,
now do what I'm telling you to do."  I did it, slowly.  Reluctantly, almost not
doing it.  "You are so ready to come, that if I leave you right now in this
torment.  You will suffer all night.  I don't get off, you don't."  I lay on my
stomach.  My penis aching between my legs, and so sensitive to touch that the
bedspread felt like sandpaper rubbing against it.     

She put her hand on my ass, and kneaded it gently. Rubbing the hard flesh until
it felt almost as sensitive as my cock.  I learned later that it was to get the
blood flowing to the area before the whipping so it would hurt more with less
effort.     

"I have ten little beads here, and I am going to put them into you."  I shook my
head, no.  "Oh yes, because it will make you cum like you have never in your
life cum before, and you want me too."  I suddenly felt helpless, and powerless. 
"Relax into it.  Just feel."  She opened my buttocks and slipped the first
slippery bead into me. Murmuring softly, and slipping all ten of the beads into
my ass, until I felt stuffed with them.  Telling me to keep them inside me.  She
left me lying there for no more than a minute, before taking her whip, and
hitting me with it ten times. One stroke for every bead.  By the tenth blow I
felt tears in my eyes.  I tried to swallow them and be silent.  Brave, you know? 
She still knew, and watched with the fascination of a cat that has caught a
bird.  Telling me to roll over.  She stroked me gently, while she rolled a
condom unto my still hard penis. Slipping out of the g-string that she was
wearing to straddle me facing backwards. I have never been harder in my life,
and I swelled to unbearable proportions when she slid her tight hot cunt unto my
cock with a sound of deep enjoyment.  The beads filling my anus with a sensation
such as I had never known before.  She rode my organ and leaned down.  Taking
the ring from the beads in her hand, she pulled one out.  I groaned, as the
sensation of that bead sliding from my ass awakened the soreness of my buttocks,
and the need in my cock.  Trying to pull my arms free, my legs straining.  I
felt my whole body tightening by degrees.  The feeling getting deeper and more
profound with the exit of each one of those slick hard beads being drawn from me
by her hands.     

"One more, baby.  Let it come now.  Come on."  She ordered as she jerked the
last one from me, and came on top of me.  Her head back, shoulders shaking. 
Fingers grabbing at my thighs as she kept working me until I too detonated under
her.  My jaw, like iron to keep from screaming with pleasure. Head rolling
helplessly back arched from the bed.  Wave after wave of the most intensely
satisfying release that I had ever had.  Overflowing me.     

She stay on top of me, until I was completely spent, and then stood up, shakily,
to go to the bathroom.  She came back with a towel.  Taking the condom off, and
wiping me. Including my backside, wiping off the lubricant she had put on the
beads.  Releasing my legs from their confinement. Letting my arms loose last so
that I lay on the bed, free. Looking up at her.  She went to the dresser and
handed me a package from the guys.  My wedding present.  She watched me open it. 
The box filled with toys.  Including another set of those magic beads.  Some
bondage magazines from Sweden, and a nice set of handcuffs.     

"Are you pissed?"  She asked finally, in the heavy silence.  I sighed as I
looked up at her.    

"No."  I said, shaking my head.  "Puzzled, intrigued, horrified."  She laughed.    
"Well, as long as you're not pissed."  I laughed too, and put everything back
into the box, to ask her questions.  She was fascinating.  Being from where I
was I had never in my life talked to a professional hooker before.  She laughed
harder.  "God, no.  I do this for fun.  Your friend, Jay, knows my husband. 
This is just for you.  Your wedding present."     

"You're not going to tell anybody that I liked this, are you?"  She looked a
little sad, when I said it.  She smiled, somberly.  Kissing me, softly on the
lips.  Breath sweet.     

"Honey, what people do in the privacy of their own bedrooms is a gift from God,
not anything to be ashamed of. He invented sex, why not enjoy it?"  She left me
with that thought.  Sitting in the hotel bed, with a red, satisfied ass.  I took
a shower, and lay back down to sleep.  Thinking about the intensity of my
reaction to the whole thing.  By the time I had fallen asleep.  I had convinced
myself that it was only the natural reaction of my body to four years of
celibacy, not because I got off on bondage.                 

NEW MEAT

Nothing like being assessed for erotic potential by someone you haven't even
been introduced too, to set your nerves on edge.  That was just how the kid
behind the counter was looking at me too.  New meat.  He knew Adam and had every
part that could be pierced, pierced.  Lip, Tongue, Eyebrow, Nose, ears. 
Interesting look but what would my secretary say?    

"Hey, Tim."    

"Hey, Adam."  He looked up from his books at him.  "New friend of yours?"
"Jon's."    

"Hot-looking."  That was enough for me.  I was a patron, not a sex toy for sale.    
"She is not deaf, nor mute.  She is more than Hot- looking.  She is an inferno." 
My face was set like stone. The kid grinned as though he had gotten just the
response that he wanted.  Adam spoke.   

"She is Anne.  Friend of Jon and Traci's, in training." The kid inclined his
head at me.  I saw his tongue peek out from the corner of his lip as though
tasting me.    

"Sorry, babe.  I'm Tim, owner of the fine establishment that you find yourself
in."  He reached under the counter and took out a box.  "Jon's order is ready."    

"We have some shopping to do."  The clerk leered at me and grinned at Adam.  
"Have fun, bud."  He reached below the counter for the phone.  He turned away as
he dialed.    

"That was a mistake."  Adam smiled as he shook his head at me.   

"Why?  He's a kid." Adam almost lost it at that, he laughed so hard.    

"That kid, opened this store to feed his own fantasy's. He will have you bitted
and fitted.  Running games for him in the dungeon on Saturday.  Mark my words. 
He's one of the best tops in the business."  I looked back at the clerk and
heard him say.    

"Thanks, Jon.  My pleasure.  I know how important etiquette is to you.  I'll be
there on Saturday."  I groaned, swearing under my breath.  Adam shook his head
like `I told you so.'  I smiled, no use thinking about it now.  Repent at
leisure, I always say. I let Adam outfit me the way he wanted too.  Enjoying him
picking out leather corsets, gadgetry and underwear.  A belt with wrist
restraints built into it.  What looked like a leather chastity belt.  Clamps,
clips, and bits for gagging me. I wanted to leave because I was getting so
turned on by the stuff around me.  I was getting so hot in this place where
every device looked scary to me.  Good scary, like a big roller-coaster ride. 
Tim was throwing other things into the box that had the solid sound of metal. 
Writing happily in his book whenever he added something else.  I met Adam's
eyes.    

"The first gerbil that hits that box.  I'm leaving." Adam laughed so hard his
eyes watered.  Like he couldn't believe that I had said that in this place, now
of all times. I laughed too; it felt good for a change.  We had a good time,
spending Jon's money.  Better than I had expected or was good for me.  I'm sure.  
I was kind of surprised that I had as good at the time as I did.  Doing
something as vanilla as shopping with a man. How's that for normal pleasures?    

God help me.  I was so far around the bend I couldn't even see it anymore, but
why was I having so much fun?                   

THURSDAY NIGHT DOCTOR'S APPOINMENT   


I got home at my regular time, pleading ill health to keep me away from the
girl's and was surprised to find myself thinking about Adam.  What an enigma he
was.  How did someone as obviously intelligent as he was, end up where he was
at?  [Ask yourself.]  I have been, little bitch voice. It was merely something
that I was contemplating.  Using my time to good advantage.  I wanted to know
more about him.  He fascinated me in a way that was probably not healthy for
either one of us.  Mostly me.   

I reread my journal.  It was mostly the everyday bullshit that drove me up a
wall.  I thought that it was odd the mundane regularity of it.  It had very
little to do with sex.  It was very ordinary.  Not much in it to dazzle Jon.
Just some rumination about my life.   
I felt lost again.  Like the glow from the weekend had faded and left me. I
wanted tomorrow to come quickly.  Very impatient for it to start.  I felt like I
wanted to burn out on sex.  Get so overloaded on it that I stopped thinking
about it.  It wasn't even that I had a hard time putting it out of my mind. It
was that the intricacy of my thoughts would catch me at the most inopportune
times.  Making me wet, driving me crazy. Forcing a gasp from my lips.   

It was like that now.  Perusing the paper and finding an ad for the bondage show
at a local nightclub on Saturday. It was an inspiring little tidbit, so I put it
in my journal. 
Something to dazzle Jon with for the weekend.  Ignoring the phone when it rang,
putting all thought out of my head but for this one thought.  I wanted to do the
show.  Not just watch, but my master was not Jon.  He was more like a ruler of
my body.  He doesn't terrify me.  Not the way that Adam does.  That one thought
made me shiver with fear.    When I thought of Jon, I thought of Traci.  When I
thought of Adam.  I thought of rough sex and heart-pounding fear of his beauty
and his cruelty.  His body under the whip and inside mine.  Gratifying
brutality. It meant big trouble and I was in it.  Lost in it.                         

THE SHOW    

"You ready?"  She nodded, watching the crowd.  She touched his arm.   "You go
first, work the crowd a little.  Have Eric and Paul, drag me out to you."  Adam
smiled and went to speak to the two men she had mentioned.  Big, blonde,
body-builder types.  They looked like the kind who wrestled the big trucks. 
Adam shook out his nine-tailed whip as he spoke to them.  They grinned at her. 
Eric winking, slyly.  The lights falling to a somber brilliance.  Purple and
forest green. Eric and Paul flanked her.  "Let me get away once." The two
nodded, watching the half-dressed bondage cherubs put the sturdy frame center
stage with a flourish.  Adam grinned over at her, as the boys took a firm hold
of her arms.  Striding confidently to the stage, Adam started working the crowd,
swinging his whip.  He motioned at a young woman below the stage, dressed
completely in leather drag.  Flicking the whip in her direction, so she shrank
back into the arms of the man who had brought her.  Shaking her head up at him. 
Adam laughed, motioning to the men in the wings.  His voice clearly heard over
the music.    

"Bring her here."  His eyes were hard and malicious intent glowed from within
them.  He motioned for his `victim' to be brought from the wings.  Two tall,
handsome males dragged the bitch between them.  She writhed sensuously,
fighting, it appeared for her freedom.  She broke free, and ran to Adam. 
Kneeling at his feet, and holding desperately to his calf for mercy.  Her
attitude pleading, kissing his boots.  Adam reached down, and grabbed her by the
hair. Twisting her face up to his, she met his eyes.  Adam pushed her away. 
Angrily shaking out the whip and motioning for the men to catch her again.  This
time they took her and secured her quickly to the frame facing the crowd.  The
crowd growing hotter, and hotter, by the moment.  Adam shook out the whip,
cracking it expertly.  The noise barely audible above the music.  Anne's arms
secured at shoulder height.  She pulled on the bonds experimentally.  Feeling
Eric's hands on her skin in a quick forbidden caress that told her what he
wanted to do to her better than any words.  Adam came over, standing before her,
running the tails of the whip over her breasts making her shiver.  Her breath
getting short.  He nudged her legs further apart, arranged her hair to his
liking, then ran his hands over her unmarked flesh in a deliberate show of her
attributes to the audience.  The eyes of the crowd following the slow path of
his fingers, even as she tried to edge away. He cupped her chin and she spit in
his face.  Her eyes shooting fire.  Adam laughed, rubbing his wet cheek against
hers.  Whispering in her ear, making her shiver.    

"They want rough tonight?"  He asked and she nodded her head in a small motion
unseen by the crowd.  


"Adam, I..." He nuzzled her face.  "It will be so hard to wait until we get
home."  Adam's excitement went up a notch and he kissed her deeply.  Exactly the
effect she had counted on.  He pulled on the chain linking her nipples together
with a playful tug.  His hands soft.    

"But you will wait, won't you?  For me?" She nodded desperately.  "Count to 20,
darling." Anne pulled on the bonds hearing the people in the room becoming
aroused by the way they were breathing.  Drawing on their sexual energy, letting
it flow from her hot flesh as Adam laid the whip to her willing flesh.  The
scourge stoking her fire to unbearable fury.    

The people wanted more and Adam would happily give it to them.  Adam did put on
a good show.  His movements bold and full.  Passion pumping his actions,
darkening his eyes.  The whip, sharp-sounding over the music a sensual harmonic
discordance.  Anne merely soft, pliant flesh, bent to his will.   


Adam welted her with the last ten blows of the lash. Artistic deliberation and
infinite skill were displayed and appreciated, in those final strokes of the
flogging.  Anne bit her lips in concentration and rolled her head helplessly.
Sending pain and pleasure, away from her, out into the crowd, driving them to
near frenzy.  Her hands balled helplessly and sweat formed a glistening sheen on
her pale skin.    

Pushing them to near orgasmic delirium.  The pain itself meaning almost nothing
to her.  The end justified the means, and her "end", was the increased endorphin
level that had her near swooning from pleasure.  Pulling against the chains
holding her until her muscles were knots, in helpless delirium.   


Adam could feel her pain/pleasure.  She threw back her head with a soft cry and
sagged into her bonds. Paul and Eric quickly released her, so she would not
injure her shoulders as she hung from the chains.  The crowd cheered.  Trying to
recapture the energy she had taken from them.  She sank to the floor weakly. 
Head hanging between the shafts of her arms.  She crawled, without shame, to
Adam's feet, laying her face against his boots.  Using his legs to pull herself
up his thigh in total and complete, submission.  Heat and heat, from her.  The
welts visible against her soft flesh.     

Adam reached down for her and she smiled up at him.  The lights went dark.  When
they came back up the stage was empty.   The crowd went wild.  Cheering and
stomping their feet.  Nothing they could do tonight would top that display.                      
<<<<<>>>>> 

I had finished the tale when Adam knocked on my door.  I took a deep breath and
answered it.  I was not looking forward to this, but at least he was going with
me.  I suddenly couldn't stand the thought of going through this alone.

"Are you ready?"  He asked, when I came out.

"I guess."  He took my hand, and led me to his car.  I wondered if he could feel
my fear through the digits.

The drive didn't take anywhere near long enough, and I was suddenly glad that I
had taken tomorrow off.

REAL TIME

She handed me the clipboard and sat down behind the counter. I looked over my
form and started to fill it out. It was mostly regular medical stuff with some
sexual questions like. " Have you ever had anal stimulation, Have you ever had
urethra dilation," Stuff like that. I hesitated at some of the questions then
wondered if Jon had asked for these questions to be asked.

Adam waited patiently as I did this and when I was done he took the clipboard
back to the receptionist.

We waited for some time and after twenty minutes or so we were called back. A
large handsome male took us back down a hall.

"Adam, if you will step in here please." Adam stepped into a room off to the
right. I tried to look in but it seemed dark and I couldn't make out what was
inside.

"What he's not?"  I didn't really want him to watch, but I didn't want to be
alone with a strange man either, no matter how 'Medical' he was.

"Don't worry, Anne, he will be able to observe." He started to walk down the
hall and I looked at the closed door. The man stopped and looked back at me.  I
gritted my teeth and followed him. He opened another door and led me into a
small exam room. It was the normal stuff nothing new or exciting. The table was
padded with the small foot stirrups and there was a screen to undress behind.

"Anne, this will be a preliminary exam to make sure that you are healthy enough
to meet the physical needs of your master. Now please, go behind the screen,
disrobe, and place on a gown."  I did as the nurse said and soon the regular
stuff was taking place. Height, weight, B/P Things that any normal physical
would cover. Nothing was different until the man wanted to take my temp.   "Now,
Anne, if you would please mount the table and lay on your belly I will get your
temperature." I sighed as I got on the table and I was hoping that I wouldn't
die of humiliation that I was about to get my temp taken in my bottom, like a
two year old.

The man snapped on some latex gloves and came up beside me. I watched as I laid
there with my hands gripping the top edge of the table as he uncovered my bottom
and brought his gloved hands to my cheeks.

"Just relax, I can't separate you when you're all clenched up." I forced my
cheek muscles to relax and he separated them exposing my anus. I felt his gloved
finger touch me and with a little pressure go in quickly, twist, and then pull
out.

I felt the thermometer being pushed in and I bit back a little sound. The man
held my cheeks apart as the glass rod stuck out of me. It must of taken five
minutes before he pulled it out and I let out my breath.

"Ok Anne, the doctor will be in shortly. You can sit up now." He started to set
up covered trays, and I made every effort to not watch, at all.

When he came in, I saw that the doctor was a younger man with pale hair and a
very well built body.  He was polite as he explained that he was one of three
doctors in the clinic, but he was the only one who took patients after hours
like this. He said that he wasn't really going to require me to speak, after his
initial history, and if I liked I could be gagged.  My eyes about came out of my
head. 

"Thank you, Sir."  I managed to squeak out.  He then did the same stuff as any
doctor would do, including checking my glands, and I started to relax.

The doctor felt my abdomen and then lowered my gown to do a breast exam. He
asked me if I had any pain anywhere, any internal female problems- regular
periods etc.  When he finished his history, and the prelims.  He asked the nurse
to place my feet in the stirrups.

The nurse pulled the stirrups from the end of the table, pushing me flat to the
exam table.   I started to feel nervous as the male nurse helped me into the
stirrups, putting socks on my feet.   He made sure my bottom was at the edge.

"Okay, let them fall open for me. " He made me separate my legs out wide. I
watched as he reached up and grabbed the metal bar, fixing it into position. He
then directed the light so that it shone down onto my open private parts. The
other arm was pulled down at the same angle. I flushed with embarrassment, as I
knew that my privates were now going to be observed by a stranger.

"Anne, you need to be very still for us now." The nurse said, as he made sure
the arm was right were he wanted it. The doctor then rolled between my legs.

"I'm just going to examine your external organs." I felt his gloved hand as he
separated the top of my vaginal lips to reveal my clitoris.  He parted me and
then took a finger and touched my small nub. I closed my eyes at this, and then
felt more pressure as he slipped his fingers down; opening the slippery folds
and air hit my pee hole.  He separated me more, and then worked down farther to
open my vagina. I stared at the ceiling, as I knew that he was showing the nurse
my most intimate parts.  My face filled with red-hot blood.

He took his time running his fingers up and down my exterior lips, then he felt
the interior ones. I knew that he was making sure that he got a glimpse of every
piece of my sex.

My knees wanted to close so bad to cover what was left of my modesty.  Modesty
that was out in the open for anyone to see. I gripped the edge of the table so
hard, my knuckles turned white.

"Ok. The internal exam now." Is all the doctor said as he slid two
rubber-covered fingers into me. He then pushed them in and out a few times and
twisted them. I moaned as my sex was being palpated, opened. His other hand came
up and started to press my abdomen.  His fingers felt to this side and that,
then back again, insistently.

He took his hand away from my abdomen and pushed his fingers in and out of me a
few more times stretching my vagina down as he did.  My face flushed with even
more humiliation and I thought I was going to scream out to stop, just as his
fingers were removed. I could feel how wet I was and just when I thought I
couldn't blush anymore I did.  My heart pounded and raced as I felt my juices
drip from my wide opening.

"The speculum now..."  I felt the thongs slowly move up into me and then loud
clicks separated me to show my insides to the men between my legs. I was
breathing with little gasps as the doctor moved the speculum into me smoothly. I
then heard metal against metal, as the regular scrapings were taken from my
cervix, rougher than I was used too, cramping me.  "Easy, just the Pap..." The
speculum was then left for a minute, and I heard some instruments clinking.  I
felt cold liquid inside my vagina.  When I looked down between my legs, I saw
the doctor holding a kidney shaped bowl and several sets of forceps holding
wettened pads of gauze bandage.   The nurse moved to my side, and pushed my head
back, stroking my cheek. 

"Just cleaning you out a little."  The gauze was rough, and the liquid was cold. 
The sound was the worst, metallic clanking.  The feel of him prodding the
tissues inside me deeply, was disturbing. I made a little moan and the doctor
stopped.  He closed the thongs and slowly pulled the speculum from me.

"Now the rectal exam..." I felt his finger at my well-exposed anus. I felt him
twist his finger at my opening and then very slowly press inward to enter me. I
moaned again as the doctor had just the tip of his finger in me and he felt the
muscle that surrounded my opening. He then inserted more of his finger.  I
tightened my muscles on his finger and he told me to relax.  His finger then
made it's way so deeply into me that I felt his hand at my bottom. He searched
deep inside me and I made as little noise as possible. My knuckles now white
from my hold on the table.   "Bear down for me please..."  I grunted and his
finger went deeper. He then withdrew it and pushed it back in a few times and I
could hear clicks of the lube on me. I made a little sound as a second finger
was introduced into me and searched inside. He then pulled his fingers out and
walked a few steps away to the counter. I let out a long held breath.

I looked between my legs to see him writing in a file.  As the doctor and nurse
talked I laid there spread open with the stirrups still in place. The nurse
nodded then slipped on some gloves and came up between my legs.

"Just a minute and I'll clean you up." He said. The doctor told him a few more
things and then left the room. The male nurse stepped between my legs again and
placed a box on my belly. He took a cloth from the box and brought it down to
me. I felt his fingers part my lips and he wiped from the top slowly down to my
anus. He did this three times getting a new wet cloth each time. He then told me
I could sit up for a few minutes.  He released my legs, and straightened them
out.  He stopped for a moment, giving me a glass of water, then the nurse walked
out the side door. I started to get a little scared as I sat there alone in this
sterile little room. Still nothing bad had happened, just the usual, just slower
than I was used too.  I tried to take some deep breaths. 

The nurse came back some time later and gently led me through the side door, to
another room. My clothes had been taken in before me and I was told to get
dressed. 

Adam came in just as I was fully clothed, and we walked back out to the
reception area.   I followed slightly behind him, signing the release forms so
Jon could get the report.  Doc shook Adam's hand, and gave me the quick once
over.  He smiled, and I was very careful not to catch his eyes.  They talked
about the trade.  His services for my use at some future date.  I was intrigued.

It hadn't been too bad, but I wondered the entire time we were driving back to
my place, just what was Doc's personal perversion?  Part of me really wanted to
know, and part of me just didn't.  Someone that knew as much about the human
body as a doctor, probably knew every painful nook and cranny.  I didn't even
ask Adam about it as he took me home.  I bit my tongue the whole way back.

WEEKEND WARRIOR    

I found myself at Jon's fifteen minutes early and waited on the doorstep for a
few minutes.  Finally knocking about five minutes early.  I felt like the cherry
on top of a sundae standing out there.  Adam answered the door and I fell to my
knees once he closed it behind him.    

"Hello, Anne."    

"Good evening, Adam."  I said, simply because I had been addressed. He led me
back towards the study where Jon and Traci were waiting.  Curled up on the
couch.  I handed Jon my journal as I went to kneel before him.    

"Did you write in it everyday?"  I said I had.  "Were you good this week?"    
"I did as you asked of me, Master."  He smiled. Holding the volume in his hands.    
"Terry has asked for your company tonight.  Adam will prepare you.  Do you
agree?"    

"Yes, Master."  Jon waved us out of the room and we went down to the bath
chamber to prepare me for Terry.                         
    

I followed him into the bath chamber.  Standing before the marble pedestal
again.   

"Clothes off, Anne."  He ordered and I immediately complied with him.  Laying
them in the basket that he had placed for that purpose.  Adam came up behind me,
and I shivered, expecting him to lean me over and fuck me like he did the last
time.  His fingers touched my back.  His voice a mere caress on my frame.  "I'm
not allowed to touch you now."  That almost made his touch better, forbidden
fruit.  "I'll get you tonight after you've been fucked so sore that the thought
of another cock in your pussy makes your bones ache.  A torture all it's own." 
He moved back abruptly.  I rocked on my legs, grabbing the pillar before me for
support.  Panting.  "I will give you a piece of free advice, Anne.  Don't
orgasm, until they tell you too.  Jon was not happy with your performance on
Sunday. No self-control."  Shudders shook me as tears welled in my eyes.  His
words sinking into me harshly.  Jon would be working on that.  Reality check. 
No matter how much I fantasized about love in chains, or how close I felt to
Jon.  This was a business for them and I was a specifically trained commodity. 
I thought about it until Adam came over to me with a basket of supplies.  "Up on
the block, Anne.  You're about to become bare-shaven."  I did as he asked, but I
was surprised.  "Don't even protest."  He hissed.  "Do what they want of you,
when they want it of you, this weekend."  I nodded.  "Terry wants a virgin and
it's up too me to prepare you for him.  Your list says- fur.  Jon says- none. 
No age-play, so you're going to do it."    

"Role-playing?"   I whispered, Adam laughed.  Stirring cold wax with a little
paddle in a jar.  He spread it in a line over the top of my sex.   Letting it
harden before he ripped it off with a quick pull.  I yelped at the sudden
unexpected pain.    

"You'll love this, make you wetter than hell, Annie. Just let me work."  He was
right.  It was a masochistic trip of enormous proportions.  The smear of cold
wax, then the quick pull.  Sharp, delicious affliction and I knew that I had to
remain still.  It was over much too quickly.  Adam patting my leg as he put the
supplies away.  He led me to the bath.    

"What do they really want?"  I asked quickly, before my courage faded
completely.   

"They want everything on your list to be a `yes.'"  I was puzzled.  "You can no
longer have preferences.  You must do what you are told, when you are told to do
it.  How you are told.  That's what they want."  He washed my hair and brushed
conditioner through it gently.  "There's a leather-dyke that comes here every
once in awhile.  Mean as a snake. She'll let you cum after she's made you ache
in places that you didn't even know you had.  One hint of protest with her and
she'll make you wish that you liked vanilla sex."  He braided my hair into two
fat braids on my head.  "Best orgasm that I ever had in my life.  Hope I never
have another."  My mind whirled into over-drive.  Setting itself into a loop. 
It hit me suddenly.  I either needed to get serious, or get out of it.  I took a
deep breath and closed my eyes. Sudden pain in my jaw as my teeth ground
together.   "Anne?"  Adam asked gently.    

"I'm alright.  I just realized that this is not a game, really."  Now, I needed
to decide whether or not to stay. Adam spoke, his voice was low.    

"No, but it's the only way for us to safely play in this arena, Anne.  You are
not out of your mind and neither am I." He was right.  I could let go here
because I was supported here in a way that the outside world would never support
our kind of outlaw sexual adventurers.    

So I let him care for me.  Letting his big hands rub an abrasive cream deeply
into my dry sex.  It didn't moisten it; it felt like it tightened it up.  Odd
sensation.  Very odd.   The thing was.  I was no longer afraid of myself.  I
felt lucky to be here.  I could be playing this game someplace unsafe.  I could
become a statistic, but not here. It just seemed bizarre to be in a business
setting and not a private relationship somewhere.  I started to laugh, startling
Adam.  It came from deep inside me rolling over me helplessly.  I would rather
be here than anywhere else.  If eventually I did have to pay for it.  That would
be alright too.  At least this way I won't have to sacrifice my daily life. 
Adam put his finger over my lips to silence me as he dressed me in a schoolgirls
uniform. Even if it wasn't a game that didn't mean that I couldn't have fun.  I
just had to readjust my thinking. Learn the pecking order.  I could do that. 
Pick another focus.    

Maybe the orgasm wasn't the big thing.  I saw Adam grin at me and realized that
I had spoken aloud.  I grinned back and whispered.    

"I still won't do gerbils."  He did crack up then. Handing me a sheaf of papers
from the shelf.    

"You are very naughty, do you know that?"   

"Yes, that's why you like me.  I don't care if I can't orgasm all weekend or all
month.  I deserve it for disobedience.  I need to learn everything that I can to
get along here."  I composed my thoughts.  "I will learn whatever skills they
set me.  I will submit to whomever they put me with.  I will allow Doc to do
whatever he needs to do to get off on my body under his, even though the very
thought scares the be-Jesus out of me.  I will obey you.  Those are my choices."
I stood up straighter before him.  "I like it here and I want to stay here with
all of you.  I can feel here and not have you think of me as some kind of
freak." He smiled then, genuine, warm.  Kissing me deeply.  Hot delicious open-
mouthed.  My lips captured against his, as a moth against a flame.  I didn't
want him to stop.    

"Come on then.  Read the paper and come with me."  We started walking.  "The
place you're going too is Terry's room, although he has access to the others. 
He rents this one, like I do the loft."  I let him talk.  Lots of background.    

Terry liked women, but preferred virgins.  Very hard to find in this day and
age.  He also had no desire to play with a child, so he dressed up Jon's slaves
as young people and played with them.  Better than prison time.  Adam touched my
hair and left me sitting on a bench before a plain door on the third floor.  I
rested there quietly.  Waiting for Terry.  Thinking about this whole deal as I
read the papers. I could do this.   It was going to be fun, too.  I slowly let
the raw power of the scenario invade my mind.  I felt myself becoming the young
girl from the pages in my hands.  Anticipating Terry's touch on my quivering
body.  Frisson of delightful fear.     I am the Schoolgirl and I am in big
trouble.                         

THE HEADMASTER    

Well, it was the first `No' on my list.  Age play.  I was too tall for 12, but
maybe 15.  I felt tight and terrified.  The cream that Adam had rubbed into me
felt like it was pulling my sex into a new shape.  I'd love to know what it was
made with. [Maybe not.]  I had schoolbooks in my hand and the basic scenario in
my head.  Long braids over my shoulders.  White cotton everything.  Shirt,
socks, panties, bra.  Skirt of plaid in dark colors and black leather shoes
buffed almost patent.   I felt young sitting on the bench on the third floor.
Before one of the `Specialty' rooms.  The Teacher's Study.    

Adam told me that this was Terry's personal room.  He rented it and he decorated
it.  He also told me that Terry used the other rooms on occasion.  That was part
of the deal.  I was to call Terry, Mr. Jensen, but I had no idea if that was his
real name or not.  I had no real idea what he wanted.  The door opened.    

"Come in, Miss Hawthorne."  That was my name in his crisp British accent.  I
stood quickly.    

"Yes, Sir."  He closed the door behind me as I went to stand before the desk.  I
noticed that he was dressed in a dark gray suit with a red tie.  The room we
were in was like the movie set of a principal's office in an exclusive boy's
school.  Huge dark- wood desk, green blotter, pen set and a small lamp.  The
right edge had some type of smooth wooden sculpture at the back edge.  A red
leather chair was set before it but I knew better than to sit down.  Bookshelves
covered an entire wall.  I looked down at his desk when he sat down.  Noticing
that he had a report with a large red `F' on it before him. I hung my head.   

"This is very disappointing."  I kept my head down.  "In all my years as
Headmaster here.  I have never seen work as ill-prepared as this."  

"I'm sorry, Sir."   

"I'm afraid that I'm sorry just isn't going to be good enough this time.  We've
had this discussion before, Anne." He was very stern and serious.    

"Yes sir."  I answered the very picture of contrition, but still dry as a bone. 
The fear pounding in my chest should have had me dripping in nothing flat.   

"Well, I'm afraid that we will have to deal very seriously with this matter.  I
will be calling your father too collect you."  He was reaching for the phone on
his desk.    
"Oh no, sir.  Please..." I pleaded, desperately.  "Not my father, sir.  I'll do
my work from now on..."    

"I'm afraid that I cannot believe that, Anne.  You've shown a decided lack of
responsibility so far.  I feel that I have no recourse."  I sat heavily in the
chair, covering my face with my hands, books in my lap.   

"If I get expelled again.  My father will kill me."  I kept my face buried.  A
couple of tears magically forming on my lashes, because if Terry thought my
performance was lacking, well...  "Daddy" was Jon and I didn't want that to
happen.  "Please, Mr. Jensen.  Don't send me away from here." I let my braids
fall forward over my face.  He was moving now.  Coming around behind me.  I
could smell his cologne.  Light and airy.  His hand fell on my shoulder, firmly.   

"What would you be willing to do too stay here, Miss Hawthorne?"  I looked up at
him through the tears and whispered.  


"Anything, sir.  Please."  I didn't see any change in his expression.  His eyes
were still coldly, clinical.  Icy blue.  His fingers flexing, once on my
shoulder.    

"There is some sincerity in your plea."  His eyes bored into mine.  "Some
corporal punishment and maybe a personal attention for myself."  I let my eyes
go wide in innocent shock.   

"Personal attention, Sir?"  He smiled as he stood over me.  One finger going to
the bit of exposed collar bone at the throat of my white shirt.  Delicate enough
to make me shiver with fear.  His eye went hot.   

"You know what I want, Miss Hawthorne."  I felt palms start to sweat.  I dropped
my eyes.   


"But Sir, I've never..."  


"All the better..." The hand withdrew. 

"I can still call your father."  I shook my head, no.  "Then please stand."  He
went to the door and locked it as I stood.  "Now, remove your panties."   I felt
my lips start to tremble, but knew that disobedience would not be tolerated.  So
I lifted the plaid skirt and slid the white cotton underwear from my newly bare
pubis.  The silken folds still dry.  I prayed to God that I slicked up quickly. 
If he fucked me dry.  I'd be sore for a week.  Terry was no small hanging man. 
"Good posture, child.  Hold the skirt up nicely.  Eyes front."  I let my chin
start to quiver.  "Naughty girl, you did agree to anything that I wished, didn't
you?"  I nodded.   

"I just... didn't think..." I stammered in a pretty good parody of the nervous
young virgin that I was portraying.    

"I will admit to taking advantage of your untenable situation, my dear.  You
want to stay and I want to deflower you."  He circled me checking my body over. 
"It has been some time since I have had any sport or anyone in as desperate a
predicament as you."  He ran his fingers lightly over my ribs until I quivered. 
Tears threatening. "So, put your hands flat on my desk.  I feel the need to
examine the well to which I will soon dip."  I bent slowly at the waist to place
my hands on his desk.  Letting him nudge my legs apart.  His spread hand on my
lower back tracing the line of my hip to my buttock through the rough fabric,
squeezing.  "You are so afraid of me, without reason.  I like virgins, Anne."
One finger moved to my sex.  He had to force it past the dryness.  "What a
lovely honey-pink your young flower is.  Dry with fear, which will only make it
harder for me to break.  Try pretending that I'm the young gym teacher. Maybe
that will wetten your little pussy."  I gasped at his crudity, quaking.    

"Sir, please.  Just get it over with.  This is... embarrassing."  A cane came
across my buttocks with sharp force.  Moving me forward.    

"I do not like impertinence."  His finger circled my puckered nether opening,
which tightened involuntarily. "There are other ways for me to take you, bear
that in mind."   

"Yes, Sir.  I'm sorry, sir."  I spoke quickly.  No need to fake tears now. 
"You paper was ten pages, so ten little strokes with my cane.  If you are very
good for me.  No moving or screaming.  I'll pop your proper cherry.  If you
resist, I use the less accessible opening.  Do you understand?"  I nodded,
energetically.     

"Yes, sir."  I heard the whistle and felt the fire spreading over my skin. 
Cutting blows that I knew would bruise, but by Jon's rule, couldn't break the
skin.  I wanted to move.  Wanted to scream, but didn't, by some superhuman act
of self-control.  I let the flow from my eyes fall unchecked for all ten blows
of the cane.  Sobbing quietly when he was finished.    

"Say thank you."    

"Thank you, Mr. Jensen."  He chuckled when I whimpered softly with misery.  He
stood me up straight and moved me to the short couch.  Sitting me down on the
leather, making sure my skirt was bunched up above my waist.  Terry stood over
me and opened his pants.  Letting his organ stand by itself from the hole in the
dark wool.  He rolled a dry condom over the thick organ.    

"Open your legs."  I did and he touched my dry flower. "I have no desire to make
you bleed because of your fear. Take my penis into your mouth and wet it."  I
shook my head, causing him to grab my braids with his fists.  "If I fuck you
dry.  You won't walk for a week, so open your mouth."  I felt him pull me up
hard.  His cock pushing roughly at my lips until I opened them.   

Terry pushed his dick as far into my throat as it would go.  I was so hot I felt
that I as going to come right there, but I was bone-dry.  `How could I still be
dry?' It hit me abruptly and I knew the game then.  I started to wet that condom
with as much saliva as I could produce.    

Whatever Adam had rubbed into me had dried me up for awhile.  The only lube that
I was going to get would be what I put on that rubber before he fucked me.  I
got it good and damp.  As much as I could before he pulled away from me. 
Letting him lay me back with my head on the arm of the couch and my arms above
me.  He spit into his fingers and rubbed the outer folds with the small wetness. 
Not near enough.  Coming up above me he rested the head of his penis against me
and thrust it in about an inch.  It moved with a thick scraping feel into my
cavern.  It hurt for the first time in a long time, having a cock go into me.  I
didn't like the way it felt, not at all.    

I arched up, trying to push him off me.  The parched tunnel clenching against
his invasion.   My clit swelled with pleasure, but I felt like I was being torn
in two by his organ.  He murmured against my hair, but I couldn't make it out. 
It was too low.  I pushed harder and felt him take my hands into his left fist. 
Covering my mouth with his other hand.  I screamed freely then and it was
comfortably muffled.    

"You rich little bitches are all alike.  Come here and expect to be treated like
goddesses.  Well, this is what you really deserve."  His face had changed and
his penis had enlarged.  Tearing forcefully into me.  Rough as rape.  My grotto
rent by his body.  "You deserve to be underneath me." I nodded, hoping that he
would hurry.     

Terry caught my chin.  His fingers tight enough to get my full attention.  He
leaned on me heavily and fucked me raw.  Ignoring my tears, my pleas and my
struggling.  Making no attempt to make it good for me.  Not even seeing me,
using me for some fantasy release that only he was enjoying.  I moaned and
cried, begging him to let me up, I'd be good.  All to no avail, he was
relentless is his use of me.    

When he finally came, bucking against my clit.  I sobbed with pain.  Exhausted,
yet grateful, when the last of his spasms shook him and he pulled out of me with
a brisk jerk. His shoulders stiffly erect.  Leaving me in a pile on the couch as
he cleaned up.  He came back to stand over me and order.   

"On your feet, Anne."  I stood up shakily. "I've got some oil to make you less
sore."  He started walking towards another door.  "Follow me."  I did and he led
me to a bedroom. This room was done in the same masculine tones as the other,
but this was his room.  The bed was your standard bondage four-poster. Two
fluffy pillows in the middle of it. "Up in the middle, face down, hips on the
pillows."  I went stiffly and did as he asked of me.  Sore in places that had
long ago ceased to ache after sex.  I half watched him undo his tie.  He removed
his jacket, and then rolled up his sleeves.  Taking a big jar from the shelf
before coming to the bed.  I twitched nervously.  "Relax.  This will feel good. 
Just some nice cooling oil in your sore little flower."  He tied me down and put
a silk hanky between my lips, rolling the skirt to my waist.  "Just so you don't
embarrass yourself, by crying out as the pleasure comes over you.  Then, if you
like, we can talk."  I nodded my head. The first touch of the cool oil against
the lightly abraded flesh felt like heaven.  His fingers gentle, kind almost.  I
moaned into the silk hanky, a small sound of complete and total relaxation. 
Easing into the feel of the bondage and the slickness of his fingers.  Loosening
up because I could do nothing else.   

This was heaven.  Terry had the fingers of a pianist, molding, stroking the
edges.  Pushing into the crevices. Pressing the G-spot deep inside me.  The room
warm and my body relaxed.   

"It takes a good girl to allow tears to flow when being taken that way.  Your
little sex is red and swollen.  No blood just abraded tissues.   You'll be sore
in class for a day or so."  He kept stroking me, avoiding my clit.  "I've tied
you down to make it easy for to enjoy my attendance." He kept talking in a low
voice.  "Sweet, bare.  Tight.  You have to know the ways of pleasure, because
you will be back into my bed whenever I want you."  I shook my head, no.  He
laughed.  "Oh yes, I have you now. I can still call your father."  I hung my
head.  "I mentioned that I worked at a boy's school?"  I nodded, feeling the
warmth spread with the path of his fingers to my ass.  "I have a desire to open
that little butt of yours."  I shook my head.  "You have no choice, child, but
not, I think, today."  Another prod.  "Are you blue?" I shook my head and he
went back to playing with my sex.  His fingers covered with a rubber glove. 
"Wider legs and hold it that way."  I put my body into the position that he
wanted.  "You have to pee now, don't you?" I nodded and freaked when he laughed. 
"I wouldn't."  I shook my head vigorously.  No, I won't.  It would be much
easier if he would stop putting all that pressure on me up there with his
probing fingers.  I rested, trying to get some of my strength back. Breathing
deeply in acquiescence.  Submitting myself to his attentions.  Deep gentle
strokes from his hand.  Feeling the welcome wetness starting to flow, getting
slippery.  Lovely.  "Nice depth."  He was talking to himself, not even thinking
of me beyond the fact that I was willing flesh welcoming his ministrations. 
Then the unexpected happened.  My vagina swallowed his hand, without pain or
pressure, or any resistance. My flesh merely accepted his.  I held still in
surprise.  My legs tightened into rigid blocks.  I was awake now.  The pressure
was incredible.  Terry laughed, deep, richly resonant in the room.  I heard a
knock on the door.    

"Come in, Jon."  Terry's other hand was resting on the small of my back.  "Look
what I have here."  I heard him walk over to sit on the edge of the bed.   

"I wondered if she could do that."   

"Pretty easy, but unplanned.  She's a little too full for this."  Terry rocked
his hand and I clamped down on the threatening flood.  "I'd rather not have the
mess, but you may decide.  There are other rooms here."  Jon told him to hold on
for a minute and left the room.   

When he came back he slid something under my hips and pulled the pillows out. 
Wrapping towels around my legs at the knees.    

"Nice welts, Terry."  Big hands on the marks.  "What do you want to do?" 
Considerate of Jon to ask me what I wanted, but I knew he wouldn't. He let me
stay there and pant with lust.   

"Let's fuck the piss out of her.  Make her lose complete control."  I rolled my
head trying to convey that I had no desire to make a mess like that in front of
anybody.  It would be too humiliating, but they were paying no attention to me
beyond pulling the silk hanky from my lips so I could use my safe word if I
wanted too.  "There are some other toys in the cabinet over there.  Help
yourself.  Nice selection of canes."    

"I wanted to let her retain some dignity, but you can make her do whatever you
want her too.  She's been a bit too sure of herself so far, so let's see if we
can make it go away." Another low laugh from Terry who rocked his hand. "She'll
do it if she comes, won't she?"    

"Yes."  It was all very practical sounding.  "I know it's not what you planned,
but it could be interesting."    

"Nice paradox.  Pleasure or punishment."  He slid in front of me and took my
face in his hands.  "You are going to allow Terry to fuck the piss out of you,
or I won't let you come for a month."  I whimpered, but said nothing beyond.  


"Yes, Master."  I didn't know if I could do it.  Some things are too deeply
ingrained to be overcome.  I was torn. Not soiling yourself was so intrinsic to
every person over three years old.   

Terry had no such qualms.  He started using his hand with a vigorous motion that
put more pressure on my insides than I could really stand.  Jon sliding down to
play with my clitoris.  Well away from the line of fire.   

"You're going to do it, Anne. Because I tell you too. You crave the orgasm more
than any other person that I have ever had here before."  His words were working
on me. Setting my mind on fire.  Galvanizing the lust in my head to the fire in
my sex.  I wanted too, but it was so hard.  "Come on, baby.  Let it go.  It's
what we want.  Then Adam will come and take you to the basement.  Wash you and
dress you for the whip."  The whip, that sounded nice.  "Only if you do it. Lose
yourself to it.  No whip if you don't."  I tried then, but only managed to force
a drop from my body.  I couldn't. 

"Got a penny, Jon."  Terry said, I had heard that term before but never as a
good thing.  He put his hand under the front of my stomach, pushing from the
front and from deep inside me.  Jon pushing on my love-button.  I struggled
against it.  The rising wash of feeling from my abdomen.  So different from the
other pleasures that I had felt in my lifetime.  A burning ache from the top of
my pubis to the depths of my bowels.  Erotic urgency straining my self-control. 
I was losing it and it panicked me.   

Then Jon, pinched my clit with insistent rhythmic vigor. I clamped myself down
tightly, but couldn't stop the burning flow from within me as I pushed
insistently against Terry's hand, forcing it out of my vagina the way it had
come into it.  Warm moisture flowing into the towels as I came and came and
came.  Head up, jaw like iron.  Low growls from in me, barely heard.  I
collapsed into the mess, not caring about it.  Horrified by my actions, however
involuntary.  

They left me lying there.  Spent with passion and humiliation.  Sobbing into the
pillows.  Trying to figure out what lesson I had been supposed to learn from
this, but to tired too.  To miserable.    

Adam came in with a laundry basket.  He took the towels from beneath me.  Making
me kneel on the floor as he cleaned up.    

"Come on, Anne.  It's alright.  You did alright."  I swallowed convulsively,
around the lump in my throat.  I felt ashamed and irritated and hurt.  It had
shown Jon something about my personality though.  The significance of my actions
did not go past him without being noted.  He saw quite clearly that I didn't
take humiliation well.  I didn't take it well, at all.  I struggled to pull
myself back together with tears choking me.  Letting Adam take me back to the
bath chamber to clean me up.  Once again.

AFTER THE HEADMASTER    

I was pretty freaked, no doubt about it.  When Adam closed the door of the bath
chamber behind us.  It was only his hands pulling me against his chest that kept
my legs from collapsing under me.  His big hand in my hair, pulling me tightly
into the circle of his arms, and holding me near. Cold, I was ice-cold and
couldn't stop the violent shudders as sobs threatened to flow from me.   

"It's okay, Anne.  It's over."  His voice throaty and sincere against my head,
and I felt as though a band of steel had been released from around my chest, and
tears flowed from my eyes like a waterfall of excess emotional baggage.  I
melted into him, clutching his back and sobbing deeply. Whatever efforts of will
holding me up and quiescent, gone now as I let him hold me.  I lost it.  Feeling
every frustration and humiliating moment of what I had just let them do to me.
Half angry, because it had been non-painful and I had no choice but to let it
happen.  "Are you hurt?"  I shook my head, feeling my sinuses squeak in my head,
not someone that cries real good.   

"No, Adam.  I just..."  I couldn't even put it into words.  I just felt like I
had been broken open, and someone had rearranged the inside of my psyche.    

"Okay."  He said firmly.  "Stop."  He backed me over to the marble pedestal.
"Drop the emotion for a minute.  Think."  I took a couple of deep breaths,
sniffing. "Did you like being with Terry."  I felt the wet sodden lump of my
brain starting to move again.    

"Yes, Adam." I answered honestly, no use lying here really.  I had liked it, all
but the end really.  He stepped back from me, but keeping me on the ends of his
hands.     

"Okay, then.  I have been where you are.  Pushed beyond a personal limit.  Let
it go.  You did not lose your control Terry took it from you with force."  I
understood that.  I could see what he was saying.  "Now, listen."  I did not
dropping my eyes from his.  "You were great in there. Graceful, tactful,
compliant.  Perfect.  You did not let any preference show any preference until
you were well away from the master and Terry.  You did the right thing."  I felt
almost normal.  "You earned the whip, Anne."  That did make me feel better.  My
eyes were still sticky from tears, but I could take a deep breath with no
effort.  "They will make you do everything at least once, just to find out how
it makes you feel.  After awhile even the things you are unsure about will seem
natural, comforting even."  Okay, I felt normal now.  I could follow what he was
saying.    

It was a matter of surrendering myself totally to the desires of another person,
and letting their desires flood my senses until they were met and we became one
entity.  I tried but it was difficult.   

"Can you do that, Annie?"  Adam asked me suddenly, his eyes close to mine.  The
warm sweetness of his breath filling my nose.   

"I did do that, Adam."  I snapped suddenly, spirit coming back into my words. 
My eyes flashing, quickly.  He smiled down at me as I shook my head.  He led me
too the shower.  "It not that, Adam.  It was that a limit that I had set had
been obliterated without my consent.  Nobody said I would have to do that..."  I
shivered with disgust.  I couldn't help myself, it just happened.  A delicate
shiver that I couldn't really explain other than that it was just, icky.  That
sounded infantile, even as it was true.  The very thought of it on my skin.  He
put me into the warm water, and I felt it sluicing off my epidermis.   It came
to me suddenly.  Jon had hurt my feelings.  I didn't think he meant too, but
that was the end result of what he had done.  I had always thought, that S/M,
B/D, whatever was a mutually erotic activity.  A head-trip agreed to between all
parties.  I had not even been treated as human. Less than a pet even.  I had
been an orifice, then he had left me lying there in that confusion.  Left me
alone as though I had done something, contemptible and wrong.  Like I was dirty
for allowing them to use me like that.   I was getting angry, and I could feel
my pulse going up, and the flush starting all over my skin.  The impotent fever
of hatred and malevolence.  Not good for me, really.  I had some sense of the
contract I had signed, and my own honorable reaction to having given my word
about this place and my role here.  Had I sold my soul?  Had I given my body
unwisely? These were the thoughts that were floating around my head, in a
whirling twist of conscious thought.  No longer merely flesh ruling my purpose. 
Intellect filling in the pieces.   

The water washing my skin clean was warm, but there was nothing warm in my eyes.  
Adam drying me off carefully, watching the delicate play of emotion on my face
as he usually did.  I didn't care at that point that my eyes were filled with
the fires of antipathy.  He led me too the pedestal, putting a thick collar
around my neck and he left me kneeling towards the hard marble.  I heard the
door behind me.    

"That will be all, Adam.  Thank you."  Jon's voice, and I tensed on my knees. 
He was directly behind me.  "Turn around, Anne."  I did it immediately as
gracefully as I could.  His voice was stern, hard.  I tried to check the anger
flashing from my eyes, by keeping them lowered.  I was not sure what had upset
me more.  Jon or myself for having been so disconcerted by what had happened.
Maybe I had misinterpreted everything.  I could be wrong for how I feel in my
confusion?  I could be mistaken that he had left me the way he had in disgust.
This could be some new delicate head-trip to see how much I trusted his
judgment. Could this be merely a test?  To see how I would react when something
unexpected was thrown my way?  Layers and layers of possibilities.  Just a bad
head-trip?  A little S/M Faux pas?  Jesus, I had no idea, and the ceaseless
questions were driving me into a state of confusion that I had never felt
before.   Better to just stay angry, but I was losing it quickly.  He started to
speak, his voice low.  Almost sibilant.     

"It was the look of you there on Terry's bed.  His hand buried inside you.  That
virginal little skirt bunched up at your waist.  Your hair in pigtails."  I
could see what he what saying in my mind, and felt it affecting me.  He pulled
me against his chest, and his hands stroked my back.  Slow delicious circle. 
"Ahh, my little novice.  So much to learn."     

"Why, Master?  Why did you leave me there alone?"  I burst out, and I felt him
flinch.  "Did I not please you? What was my crime?"  I wanted to wound,
thoughtlessly.  Spear his heart as surely as he had wounded mine.  Tighter he
held me, the requisite tenderness that they all dished out when they felt you
needed it, and I knew this even as I responded to it.  Wanted it.  "You hurt my
feelings."  My voice sounded weak and tired and bitter to my own ears, what must
it sound like to his?  A whiny ungrateful bitch, and I was being just that too. 
Shame on me.   

"Every one has preferences.  Yours seemed to be so easy to commute.  So quick to
turn, when there was something you truly wanted to experience.  You lay with
Terry, and dazzled him.  I did not think that you would find it so very
unpleasant that it would truly wound you."  His voice did not sound timid, but
his words were as close to an apology that someone in my position was likely to
get.  I almost felt bad about my actions, my reactions.  "It wasn't as bad as
you thought it would be, was it?"  I felt myself going red with embarrassed
humiliation.     

"No, Master."  I whispered but it scared me to admit it to him.  If I admitted
to my pleasure would they force me do the other things that I had said no to on
my list?  It caused a shiver of fear, but I couldn't even remember what they
were really.  Words on a piece of paper that seemed suddenly to have very little
to do with the actual flesh involved.     

"There is a reason for every action I take with you, Anne.  Never forget that." 
I wouldn't forget, ever, but deep in my heart I knew that I would.  Emotion was
what he was trying invoke.  It was what he wanted from me, but that seemed to be
the one thing that I had real trouble giving to anyone.  He took a leash from
off of his belt, and clipped it to the standard collar that Adam had put around
my neck.  The only thing that I wore.  "Come, Terry has some nice new toys he
wants to play with in the basement.  We'll talk later about Tim coming
tomorrow."  He chuckled in sudden good humor.  "You'll realize the folly of that
quick enough."  I followed him down the corridor, my spirit calmer.  Not
thinking about the future but knowing that the walk was easy. I wasn't sure that
I wanted to be delivered back into the hands of Terry again though.  That wasn't
really my problem at this time, though was it?                          

DUNGEON MASTER   


The dungeon was always a little scary.  I could feel my knees weaken with every
step that we took closer to the door. I was almost too mind-weary to want to
play anymore.  I wanted to lay down and go to sleep, but they weren't finished
with me yet.  I knew that until they were, I wouldn't be allowed to rest.    


Jon opened the door, and pushed me in on my knees.  I fell gracefully.  Eyes on
the floor and the sets of boots suddenly in front of me.  Adam's, I recognized,
and Traci's. Jon's beside me.  The heavy black ones next to me, must be Terry's. 
The crisp leather, perfectly shined.     

"Put her up on the horse.  Let's play."  I felt myself freeze in position on the
floor.  Moving only when I felt the tug on the leash they had attached to me. 
They took me over to a piece of equipment that I had never seen before.  It
looked like a leather covered road barricade.  I was pretty sure that it had
started out as something like that too.  Where it widened near the floor, it had
two quick clip restraints, and the top was covered with leather.  The other end
had a couple of clips for wrist restraints.  Jon gave the leash to Adam, and he
took me to the thing.  Laying me face down over it.     

"Stay."  He commanded, and picked up two leather legs cuffs, and two wrist
cuffs.  Traci came to the other side and put the left side on, while Adam did
the right.  Adam knelt down in front of me, and smiled just a little.  He picked
up a gag from the floor and pushed it through my teeth to buckle it behind my
head.  Getting very close to me to whisper. "Here anger would stand you in good
stead.  You have puzzled them."  His eyes darkened, as he whispered.     

"Would you like to join her, boy?"  Came Terry's voice. Adam said, `No' right
away, so I wondered what was coming. "Very nice marking.  Some of my better
work."  Jon appeared to agree with him.  Hands trailed over my skin making me
shudder delicately, but not from cold.  It was the position. My legs were wide,
and open.  My sex must be highly visible from almost every angle of the room.  I
could almost see it in my head.     

"She's bone dry though."  Came Jon's low voice.  "Traci, if you would."  I heard
her beside me, and tried to turn my head.  Sharp smack from a belt and someone
holding my wrists in front of me.  "You don't need to see that."  Damn.     
She leaned up over me from behind.  Heat radiating from her body.  Hands
stroking lightly, fingers feather-light. She spread my buttocks with her hands,
and dipped between them.  Eating me softly from upside down.  Licking the very
bottom of my sex as though she was moving on my clitoris.     

I flinched involuntarily.  My wrists jerked.  Jon held tighter to them and
leaned down to speak to me.  The voice of the master.     

"You remember when you told me, you orgasm under the strap?"  I nodded, quickly. 
"Terry's never seen that, and when I told him about it he wanted to observe."  
I tightened, and felt Traci's fingers entering me.  Pushing at the little spot
in the heart of my sex, making me unbearably hot.  Ready.  I felt my breath grow
short, and deep.  Almost, almost.  "That's enough." Jon said, so she stopped,
and I moaned.  My vagina clenching on the emptiness.  Mind trying to recreate
the feeling that was denied it suddenly.  Trying to close my legs as the
air-cooled the moist heated flesh.     

"May I?"  Terry asked.  Jon's answer was to grip my wrists tighter to the top of
the horse.  Here it comes, I thought, bracing my body for impact.  It was quick. 
The blow was hard and sharp.  The skin trying to recoil away from it.  The next
the same, and the next.  Some kind of flat slapper was my guess.  Bright penny-
copper pain as the skin became tender.     

"Let it come, Anne."  This was the head-trip.  All I had to do was let it come. 
Lose myself in the dark romance of his words and my body.  Let the flow over
take my common sense until I no longer felt like a businessperson or a human
being.  Let me become the orgasm.  I didn't know if I could.     

The humiliation from the bedroom, making me feel silly. Like I was some kind of
freak.  What was I doing here?  Tied up like some kind of animal.  Open to view. 
Prepped for some kind of game that had me as the prize.   I moaned around the
gag.  Feeling the blows thicken.  The little slapper nipping at the wet cleft. 
I cried out, muffled by the gag in my teeth.     

"No, no."  but knew that it couldn't be heard, and that anyone who did hear it,
would not believe it.  I was having an attack of reality and did not know if I
could fight it. The only noise that could be heard was my desperate cry, and the
sound of the toy as it impacted with my flesh.  "Help me!"   Jon leaned down and
started to talk.  Talk in a low voice, like Rob used to do to me.     

"You think that reality has anything at all to do with what we are doing to
you?"  I gasped, because he knew what I had been feeling.  "I want no reality
from you.  I want your skin, your heat, and your need.  You think that you are
special in this desire of yours?"  I shook my head, tears starting to flow as
the blows became agony, and torment, drove all thoughts except those he was
giving to me from my head.  "I am fantasy, and reality.  I am the closet in
which you are mere fancy, and I, the dream-master of your nightmares." Terry
started with something else.  Wider and less damaging, because I had to be
bright red back there.   Every biting blast distinct and unparalleled in the
pain that it caused me.  "You can hide from the world, but you cannot hide from
yourself.  You want to be taken over.  Driven to madness. Used and taken and
cherished by the only person you truly care about besides yourself."  I wanted
to ask who, but knew that he already knew the answer.  There was only one other
person that I cared about in this room.  One other being on the planet.  God,
don't...  I shook my head.  Don't say it. I'll die, right here on this thing in
this room.  If we mix up reality and fantasy like this I won't be able to
separate it in real-life.  Don't...    

 My body convulsed and I shook my head quickly.  Muscle forming knots.  Eyes
closed.  Jaw hard.  Sweat making me slick and wet and hot.  I almost steamed. I
pull against the bonds and felt Jon holding them tightly to the leather.    

Terry hit me harder and faster,  pushing my body to the limits of endurance. 
Every muscle straining against the reaction, however voluntary, of my body to
this trip I was on.  I would not be able to hold back.  I knew that I wouldn't. 
It was too vital, and close and intimate.  Too surely what I wanted, and did I
need to fight?  Jon had not given me express permission, so I did not know if I
could actually do it.  He was silent and gratitude flowed over me.  He pulled my
arms closer to him, and stroked my back with his fingers.     

I broke.  My orgasm sweeping me with a sudden burst of rainbow light that
flashed before my eyes with strobe-like brilliance.  Deeper than the first
pinnacle of the night. Higher than the last time I had been beaten.  More
emotion involved.  The secret that had not been spoken.  Yes. I was starting to
fall in love with someone in this room, but God help me if I would ever admit
it.    

It was this secret, and hidden shame that pushed me up over the top, and forced
me to evaluate my body, my orgasm and my very flesh.  The intense outcry from my
soul, muffled into the gag that I wore.  Jon holding me as still as his two
strong hands could, until I collapsed back unto the leather beneath me.  Gasping
for air.  Shuddering limply.  The blows continuing until I had stopped, and all
that was left was the quick jerks as the whip fell.  I opened my eyes, and saw
Terry standing behind the horse to the right.  Whip hanging from his fingers,
and Traci on her knees before him, using her talented mouth on his organ.  I
heard Jon in front of me, speaking to Adam.     

"Take her with you, and do what you will."  They released me, and I fell to my
knees on the floor.  "Set her up for tomorrow."  I was watching Jon, walk away
then come behind Traci.  He freed his hard sex from his leather pants to fuck
her from behind while she sucked on Terry.  Her arms wrapped around Terry's
thighs, supporting him.  Jon's left hand tangling in her hair.  Engrossed.  We
left dungeon, to go back upstairs. 

NIGHT TALK II

The walk was quiet to Adam's room, and I felt his eyes on me heavily.  Taking me
in with some new kind of fathomless speculation.  It was eerie.     

When he closed the door on his room, he took the collar from me.  The length of
it falling from his fingers to the floor as he faced me.  I felt fear. 
Quicksilver, mercurial. Running through my limbs and circling my heart.  He took
the cuffs from my limbs, and stood back up.  Very close, but not touching me.     

His hands reached for me, so quickly, that I backed away from them.  Turning
back to the door with a reckless unknown emotion roiling through me.  I had my
hand on the doorknob, and the portal half opened when he was suddenly behind me.
His body hard against mine.  Pushing me to the door and slamming it closed with
our weight.     

"Don't..."  I whispered and the word itself was torment to my ears.  The
pleading lost sound of that simple command weakly falling from my lips in
supplication. "I can't..."     

"Shhh...  Hush, I won't hurt you."  I forced myself to silence, my hands spread
against the wood before me.  Eyes burning with unshed tears.     

`No, not this.  Never this.  Not emotion, not feelings that had nothing to do
with my body.  Let me die in peace, and alone, and quietly painless.  Let my
heart alone!' Thoughts like wildfire.  Dire warnings of an enormous crack in the
armor.  My spirit was screaming silently.  No audible noise except for the harsh
sound of my breath as I fought for control.     

I was not used to having my feelings so close to the surface.  I didn't want
love, or feelings, or even nice. Was there nothing that I wanted in this world? 
I was so confused!  The truth was that I did not know what I wanted.  The flesh
seemed like the only thing I listened too now.  The only part of me not
concealed by some thin veneer of steel and ice.     I felt Adam's hands on my
skin.  His fingers on my shoulder.  Breath warm against my neck, and so damn
gentle, I almost broke from the poignant brush of him against my soul.     

"Don't..."  But that whispered plea had even less conviction than the first.     

"Don't speak."  He said, softly.  He brushed the hair from my shoulder, and
turned me in his arms.  I kept my eyes down, not wanting to look at him.  Not
wanting him to see what I was feeling.  His strong hands closed on my arms.  His
left sliding up the upper arm, and over the shoulder to rest under my chin.  A
caress that reminded me of my grandfather's hands as he sought my eyes to
discover some secret that I had hidden.  Some shame that he would find reflected
in the depths of my gaze.  The fingers went to raise my eyes.   I resisted him,
closing them to hide them.     

He was insistent, seeking answers to questions that Jon had raised.  Things that
he had missed in his observations that he couldn't believe had gotten past him. 
Things too raw and open for me to want to reveal.  He would not stop looking and
I knew that I only put off the inevitable, but if I gave him what he sought. 
Adam would own me in a way that I feared more than any other.  For if I loved
him and he did not love me.  Well,  then I would be lost.  If his love belonged
to another, I would die.  The third player in a play that would totally destroy
whatever was left of my spirit when the curtain fell.  I would cease to exist.     

"Open your eyes."  I heard his command over the pounding in my heart, and
squeezed them shut tightly.  "Open them!" I did, trying for neutrality. 
Blankness, but it was impossible.  I pushed at him, tears flowing down my
cheeks.     

"Don't.. I told you not too.  Why did you..."  Pulled tightly to his chest, and
held still by a strength that I knew would be futile to fight.  I could not.  I
would not...  He put his lips on mine.  The breath of his cologne running over
me.  Tongue slipping into my mouth so softly that I could barely feel it, until
it twined with mine. Being lifted and turned until I was dizzy with motion and
laid down on the bed.  His body over mine, and hands reaching for protection
while never once did his lips leave mine.    


He was covered and in my body before I could take three deep breaths around the
lump in my throat.  Before more than six tears had run down my face at the
insistent motion of his body in mine. Adam's face traveled down my neck, and I
leaned into it.  Using my hands to good purpose.  Pulling him closer into me. 
His next words blown softly against my ear.  Sibilant, sweet.  Filling an empty
part of my spirit that I did not realize was empty.     

"I care for you too."  So easy for men to say those words when they were inside
you, and working their organs to orgasm.  I longed for it, and wanted it, but
did not trust it.  They never understood it.   How you love the top, but were
not in love with them.  They always made it personal.  I resigned myself to the
misunderstanding.  I leaned into his ear and whispered back.  Voice low.  Sudden
wry humor in my tone, as I surrendered to the inevitable.     

"Tell me again, show me how you cum."  He started to laugh. Breaking his rhythm
for a moment as he fought to stop it from spilling into his lovemaking, but
unable too.  He shook with it, and pulled me closer.  Looking down into my eyes. 
Eyes that shone with a sudden shy humor.  "Jesus, Annie.  How the hell did I end
up with you?"  I smiled slowly.  Dragging his body deeper between my thighs.
Putting my hands into the long hair that hung over his shoulders, smoothing it. 
Feeling it curl around my fingers. Trapping them in silken bonds.     

"Just lucky, I guess."  I murmured, reluctant to surrender to the intimacy of
the moment.     

"Why didn't you want me to know?"  That was an easy one to think, but not to
say.  How to tell him of it?  I looked away.  "I read your journal, are you
afraid I'll hurt you? Not emotionally, but physically?"  I shook my head no, it
was the emotional pain I did not want.  My reluctance to speak was obvious to
him, but the motivation behind it was not.  It was an educated guess on his
part, what came out of his mouth next. 

"You couldn't see how I felt about you.  You didn't know either."  True enough,
blindness for how other people feel was not necessarily an asset here where
observations were so important.  Maybe I hadn't wanted to see. I had to think
though about my own inspiration.  I needed to think it through.  It would be
difficult, but how to decide what to do with it.  I wanted to be `normal.'  What
was normal?  That was the real issue.  I could lay under Adam, take his body
into mine, but I did not know if there was enough real emotion left inside me to
let him have what I felt he deserved.  "What are you thinking?" He asked,
gently.  Watching the play of feeling over my face.  His body once again moving
with mine.  `God, he had a nicely formed penis.  Perfectly placed to rub the
right spots.'     

"That's it's been so long since I've had anything to do with anybody beyond a
quick fuck.  I really don't know what to do with this whole situation."  He
looked surprised.     

"How long has it been since you have had..."  He was going to say the L- word. 
I could feel it. "A lover?"  I shrugged.  Had I ever really?  Someone to really
laugh with, or talk with, or play with?    

"Never, really.  I don't have the gift of inspiring great love in anybody.  I
just am... the way that I am."  I didn't really want to talk about the stunted,
malformed nature of my emotional health.  I didn't feel comfortable with it, or
calm enough with his sex slipping into mine so deliciously.  This was too close
for me.  I felt more relaxed with some distance.  I always thought that I would
be better off with an arranged marriage.  Someone that would want to make-love
once a day, but leave me alone for the rest of my life.  "I have never had
anybody to laugh with.  Anybody to share anything real with.  I was lying to
myself about the way that I looked at you, because I didn't really want to know
that you had someone else in your life, or even had another life somewhere else
that I could not be a part of." That was true enough, and although I might
regret it tomorrow.  I wanted to get it off my chest before the sun crawled over
the horizon.  "It was easier to love you from somewhere over on the other side
of the room, enjoying your beauty, than to let you know and ridicule me, or own
me completely.  Love was more power than I wanted to give anybody.  Especially
someone in a position to use it to some psychological advantage."  He looked
stunned.    

"This love that we share won't have anything to do with here.  We are both owned
here.  I am barely one step above you."  He was dead earnest. "I wouldn't want
to use it against you."  Lord, he meant it.  "Love doesn't mean that we have to
give up ourselves.  I wouldn't want too."     

"I wouldn't have to give this up?"  He laughed.  Putting one hand on my breast
kneading it.  Eyes darkening.     

"Why would I want you too?  I met you here.  I get to torment you here.  I can
have you any way I want too, and see you during the week if we wish too." 
Playing with my arm, and my shoulder with mild pressure.  I felt an enormous
weight lifting from me.     
"What about next weekend, and Tim?"  He laughed and rolled me over on top of
him.  Making me ride his hard organ as he played with my clitoris.  Putting my
hands firmly on my own thighs.  His eyes, danced.  Teeth showing in a grin.     

"Tim, has asked that you be opened so he doesn't hurt you when he takes you from
behind.  Also that you be well-marked so he doesn't have to work up to much of a
sweat to make you raw."  He got harder as he thought about it.  I felt a bit
breathless myself as he described it.  He pinched my sex, roughly. "I get to
open you tonight before you go to sleep, and I was told to make you sleep beside
me in torment."  He rubbed the tips of my breasts. "I'm the only one who can
come right now."  His eyes darkened with laughter, as I moaned in
disappointment.  Working to make him orgasm quickly so my blood wouldn't boil
over.  "Like I won't make you sleep in torment."  I leaned over him, laying my
legs flat.  Pumping him with my hips.  Clamping down on his sex with vise-like
intensity.  Catching his wrists in my hands, and growling into his ear.  Leaning
into him, and murmuring. 

"I wish I had that strap-on that Traci made me use on her.  You wouldn't be
quite so sure of yourself if you were tied face-down beneath me on this bed,
Adam."  His breath quickened.  "I would grease you good, and grind you the way
you did it to me.  I would soften that pristine skin on your ass first with a
nice long beating.  You think that you are above me?  You want to be me so bad,
you can almost taste it."  He reversed us quickly.  Putting my body under his,
and working efficiently to culmination as my words ran through his mind.  I kept
up the pressure of my sex on his organ and used my nails on his back.  He was
very close. 

"Maybe Jon will let me use you as you have used me.  I have been on top before. 
I got the mean streak.  I could do it."  That was all it took.  He boiled over
into me.     

Body jerking in response to my commentary.  Face scarlet with passion.  Pumping
every last droplet from his body then slipping out of me, well before he went
flaccid.  Collapsing on my torso, heavily.  Out of breath.  He leaned up over
me, and brushed the hair from my face. Putting it behind my ears and smiling
softly at me before he rose to go into the bathroom.  He came out with a belt of
leather, and made me stand up to buckle it around me.  He put one hand between
my shoulder blades.  Pushing me so I was laying facedown, half off the bed.  His
hands opened me from behind, slipping a phallus into my anus with a smooth even
pressure.  Clipping it into the harness so it would remain.  I almost came right
on the spot.     

"Try to push it out." He ordered, I did, and regretted the sudden rush of heat
to my sex as I did it.  I gasped.  He put me up into his bed, and secured my
hands to the headboard so I wouldn't be tempted to relieve my own torment. 
Turning out the lights, and snuggling up against my back.  As the darkness
settled around us.  I heard him whisper before his eyes closed in sleep.  "I do
love you, you know."  I closed my eyes with passion, and moaned against closed
lips.  I would sleep in torment now.                         

<<<<<>>>>>    


The only good thing about my restless night was that it inspired something with
which to dazzle Jon.  God, help me.                          

THE MASTER'S HOUSE: FANTASY     

I arrived at my Master's house in a state of confusion as to why I was there and
what quirk of fate had brought my destiny to this point.  Why was I here with my
eyes covered and my hands tied before me?  A short but fierce struggle some time
ago had relieved me of my clothing, then I was led up a spiral staircase with
butter soft carpeting.  So soft that my knees would be unharmed by my crawling
on it.  Strangely enough, I felt no real terror, only a calm acceptance.  I knew
the drill.  I'd done it before, just never like this.  Never this... abruptly. 
No unnecessary force was used on me, even to remove my clothes.  They commanded,
I refused, so they held me down and cut them off of me.  The Handlers, all three
of them, did it matter-of- factly, in the least amount of time.  I never really
had time to fear much and I knew in my heart that I was reasonably safe.     

The strangest thing I felt was a tingly excitement. Here I had no control.  I
was not in command.  The loss of control and responsibility would have panicked
anyone else in my position, but not me.  I'd been trained for this.  All that I
felt was a fluttering in my heart and the hair between my legs becoming damp
with anticipation.  The handlers stopped and I heard the massive doors swinging
open and a gentle breeze against my ear.  I turned my head in the direction of
the breath of air and felt a hand in my hair.  Pulling my face forward.     

You know better than that.  Felix said that you were well behaved.  I have yet
to see it.  Rebellious at every turn.  Disobedient, Insolent."  Anger in his
tone, scaring me.     

"I wasn't prepared!"  I pleaded and felt another hand on the back of my neck,
forcing my face down to the carpet.  A savage voice rose above me.     

"Silence!  You will speak only when spoken too!  Do you understand?"  I nodded. 
A hard strap across my shoulders and an even harder voice over my head
punctuated the point.  "Do you understand?"     

"Yes, I understand."  I cupped my hands around his calf and laid my face against
his foot.  Not trying to raise his ire anymore than it already was.     

"That's better.  No lasting harm will come to you if you do what you are told." 
I backed away and kept my head down. "We'd better bind her."  I felt them taking
my wrists and tying them together with fur-lined handcuffs.  The handler behind
my head slipping a blindfold over my eyes.  I tried vainly to pull away and was
quickly secured.  Lips sealed. Strength waning from my arms.  I stiffened as I
heard a new voice, dark and demanding.     

"Is there a problem here?"  The footsteps came nearer to me on the carpet,
circling me like a shark.  The hard hands released me and I huddled into myself. 
I felt fear then.  Tremors that shook my arms and legs. A small cry came from me
as I heard the footsteps stop.  He was standing in front of me.  I could feel
him.  Smell that powerful male animal smell.  I know he knelt before me because
I caught a quick breath of his cologne in my nose. Suddenly I felt a soft hand
against my face.

I jerked away, bringing my hands to my face to take off the blindfold.  He
stopped me, his hands holding mine gently. A short laugh came from him, as he
patted me.     

"No, no, little novice.  You're alright.  No one will hurt you, now."  I am a
novice, I wanted to scream.  Why are they being so needlessly brutal too me?  I
don't understand, but all that came out was a plea for mercy.     

"Please, please don't..." That did it, something shattered inside me and I was
broken open.  My fingers curled around his forearms and I let him move me.  The
first friendly touch that I had felt in this place was not anything I wanted to
lose at this point.     

"You men may go now.  I will deal with you later."  I heard the doors close,
softly.  "Stand up, child."  I did and let him lead me sideways.  I felt a bed
against my knee and hesitated.  "They were not supposed to frighten you.  Come
on, lay down."  I did it, not wanting to make him as angry as I had made the
rest of them.  He took my bound hands and secured them over my head to a short
leash.  I curled away from him into myself in abject misery, hearing him near
the bed, removing his clothes.  Sound of zippers and buttons.  The soft fall of
fabric. The Master sat on the bed and started loosening my limbs.  Insistently
turning me back over.  His fingers roving over my arms and legs.  Slowly I was
being opened to this faceless strangers gaze.  One long finger exploring the
apex of my thighs and the secret valley hidden there.  I trembled as his hand
moved lower, just skirting the clitoris, the vagina.  Resting between my open
legs at the small nether opening.  A small pressure made me cry out.  Sweat
breaking out all over my skin.  Fighting with myself not to struggle. No
movement from him, just the sound of my harsh breathing in the still air.  "Has
anyone been here before?"  He meant my ass and I shook my head vigorously.     

"No, Master."  Terrible to be asked to speak after coming back from the
detachment that I carefully cultivated for myself in my own mind.  A chant going
over and over in my head to accept and not struggle.  Fear like a knot inside
me. He withdrew and left the bed.  Telling me to be still.  For some moments he
was gone, leaving me alone with my fear.  When he came back, he lay over me. 
His knees keeping my legs apart.  He guided his dick into my womanhood and
buried it deeply within.  Moving in and out.  Deeply plunging to the gate of my
womb.  Bruising my deep well with his body, thoughtlessly.   I could feel the
effects of my helplessness on my core. My release starting to build as it always
did when I was over-powered and helpless.  I fought it in shame not wanting to
cum in the arms of a nameless, faceless stranger.  I knew that he would be
watching me.  Assessing my responses to his touch.  Could he see my struggle? 
His voice captured my attention.  The words that were so important and that
sometimes meant everything.  "Felix, told me that you would not resist my
possession of you, little novice."  He increased his pace, making me gasp and
bite my lips.  "The blindfold would terrify you. The whip would soften you and
the sex would keep you under restraint.  You are mine.  Every opening, every
crevice.  You will do whatever I tell you.  You will cum in my arms without
knowing my name or seeing my face.  Knowing only the feel of my flesh spearing
yours.  My hands on your skin and you will do it right now."  I was too well
trained not to obey the insistent command in his tone.  I came beneath him. 
Quaking in reaction. Breath frozen in my chest.  Making low noises.  "There we
go, good girl."  He whispered.  In several more thrusts he came inside me. 
Pulsing against my womb, moving spasmodically.  Finally collapsing on top of me.     

He pulled out of me as the last of his orgasm left him. Cupping my breasts. 
Moving so his chest was against my back. His now flaccid organ resting between
my thighs.  I entertained a small hope that he would remove my blindfold so I
could see him and wept quietly when I realized that he would not.  He whispered
into my hair, making me shiver.     

"You show submission well.  If you bear punishment as well. Everything will be
okay with us.  Rest now with my consent.  Tomorrow is soon enough for other
activities."  My mind was a confusing whirl of formless thoughts.  Maddening.  I
took deep calming breaths, struggling for control of my emotions.  My hands
resting against my face as if in prayer.  I accepted my helplessness and lack of
control.  The Master, my Master, had a big house full of handlers trained to
subdue me.  I had no other option. "Rest, little novice.  You'll need your
sleep."  I sighed and fell into a deep exhausted sleep.  That was how I met my
Master.  

<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>                        

Jon liked it when he read it.  Hot off the press, so to speak.  My pen still
warm from my fingers.  My mouth working his organ to climax, as he read.  
Perfect timing, we both finished our tasks at the same time.  His reading, and
my oral ministrations.  Excellent.   I still didn't get to come though.  Damn.                    

TIM

I was bound quite nicely and left in the guest bedroom. Gagged, blindfolded, and
fitted with phalluses in both clean squeaky orifices.  Adam had taken particular
care with my hair, and put the cuffs on my wrists and ankles as though he was
eager to watch what Tim was going to do to me.   The day had been a study in
complaisant acceptance.  The morning breakfast ritual had been torment in
itself.  The fast hard whipping with my favorite multi-tailed cat, delicious. 
Jon's face as he watched me sitting at his feet was a study in enigmatic
contemplation.  His hands hard and firm on my body, as he made me kneel and
present.  Straddle and hold.  A plethora of revealing positions that I was
expected to execute perfectly by the time I completed the initial training.     

"It's too bad that Adam is not yet a full-time Master."  He spoke, softly, and I
looked puzzled for a moment.     

"Have I displeased you, Master?"  I asked, concerned. Worried that I had somehow
disappointed him, and he wanted to be rid of me.  My eyes earnest.    

"No, but some tasks can be better taught with some deeper attachment for the
people involved."  I was momentarily confused.  "Since the two of you care for
each other.  The Training could be deepened."  I looked up, and narrowed my
eyes, slightly.     
"Wouldn't that be using my emotions to secure the boundaries of his choice? 
Such an emotional attachment could prove to be an obstacle, and not an asset." 
He leaned back and looked me over slowly.     

"Okay, not the ritual answers, right now.  Just you. Why don't you want me to
give you to Adam?"  I laughed, standing up in his study.  Pacing slowly before
him.  I surprised him.     

"I'm already his, whenever you tell him to take me.  I enjoy myself in your
service.  I have had a better time in the last month, than I have had in the
last six years.  I can't guarantee that anything Adam and I share is deeper than
lust really.  Can you?"  He shook his head.     

"No, but you know that you are lying, and that I can see it in your eyes.  Why
do you bother?  Is it fear, finally that I see in you?"  I shivered.  Suddenly
cold in the room's warmth.  He saw way too much, but it was only what I let out
wasn't it?  Visible?     

"I... fear, Jon.  Yes, and I won't know what to do with it until I face it.  I
need time to find out what I really want, don't I deserve that?"  He nodded in
agreement with me, that he understood.     

"You wandered in here a month ago, Anne.  You let us do to you, what the rest of
the world considers the height of indecent behavior.  Yet never once did you do
anything less than your graceful best for us.  You faced your worst fears
without hesitation.  You took more on your first weekend than anybody I have
ever had here."  His words were having a softening effect on me.  "You found
love in the cracks of this place, and that is very rare.  You don't look down on
Adam for the way he is.  You treat him as though he had something valuable to
give to you.  Something good to show you."  He traced the edge of my jaw with a
delicate touch. "I may have other things to teach you, but the hardest lessons
have already been learned by you."  I could almost see what he was saying.  It
had a profound effect on me.  I had always felt the way that I did now, but
suddenly I was somewhere it was appreciated.  "You have some other things to
become proficient in.  You need some basic manners, and to curb that profound
curiosity of yours."  I flushed, embarrassed.  "You need to learn honesty."  I
stiffened. "Not with me, but with yourself.  Let whatever has wounded you in the
past go."  He touched my lips, velvet moisture wetting them.  "That is going to
be the hardest thing that you have to do.  You know that, right?"  I nodded, and
sighed.  "But until you do, and until you can. I am perfectly willing to
continue your service.  You and Adam can have your normal little forays on
Wednesdays, or during the week."  He smiled down at me.  "You will come to love
the duality, much as I do."  I grinned, looking down.  "I would love to get
inside that head of yours, Anne, but I think that it's going to take a lot of
time, and no small amount of luck."  I said, nothing.     

He rang the bell for Adam to get me ready for Tim, and I let myself enjoy it. 
Stealing forbidden caresses that earned me five blows from the heavy leather
strap Adam preferred.  Who was it that said, Love hurts?  I wonder if they
enjoyed S/M as much as I did?                         

<<<<<>>>>>     

The stuff was really tight on me, and I tried to ease the growing strain by
shifting in the bare millimeter the bonds allowed me.  It was not possible to
get comfortable, and I found myself hoping that he would hurry.  Nice outfit on
me though, what I had seen of it anyways. I had on a wide leather belt with
rings and snaps.  My wrists snapped together behind me, and spike-heeled boots
encasing my legs to the thigh.  Laced up, and buffed to a velvet-like sheen.  My
head held high by a collar with soft lining on the underside.     

I heard the door open.  Heavy footsteps coming to stand before me.  The
blindfold being undone gently, quickly.  I looked at my temporary master from
lowered eyes, and saw that he was rigged out in full S/M punk drag.  He looked
very young to me with his leather painted and covered with bright chrome studs. 
His cock peeking through a hole in his jeans, and his buttocks as well.  His
hair shellacked into tall spikes.  His body pierced through his nose, eyebrows,
both nipples and his tongue.  He didn't speak, just pushed me back unto the bed
with a hard shove.  Giving one hard yank on my hips to get them to the edge of
the bed.  Looking down at me in amusement.     

"Are you sorry you were rude to me?"  I nodded, emphatically.  Eyes wide. 
"Nope, I don't believe you."  Tim leaned down and slipped the phallus from my
sex, and drove his face into the apex of my thighs without ceremony.  I gasped
against the gag with the unexpected violent shock of it.  No words, just his
tongue with its magic silver stud, working against my clitoris with expert
skill.  I tried to close my legs, to escape from the rapid assault on my sex,
and he grabbed a hold of my thighs in a grip like iron, holding me still. I
could feel tension, roaring through me at his raw talented expertise.  Licking
my quickly dampening flesh with deft little flicks of his tongue.  Strong nips
of his white teeth.  My legs spasming with it.  Arching, aching.  Trying to pull
my wrists from underneath me to stop him, and unable too.  Reaching climax.  An
orgasm that I had no will to fight, no time either.  One second I was
struggling, and the next soaring with pleasure from somewhere over my body.
Bucking under his fast tongue, gasping for air.   

He wiped his face dry on the inside of my thigh, and looked down at me,
contemplating me as my pulse raced to reach normal.  He took my jaw in his left
hand, and put his right into my cleft.  Slow strokes with his curled index
finger.  Up, then down.  Up, then down.  Maddening.  His eyes boring into mine
as he never stopped his slow deliberate actions on my wet nether mouth.  I felt
myself flushing, and he deftly flipped me over unto my face.  My toes barely
touching the floor.  His hand catching my wrists, and lifting them until I
moaned from pain.  Head buried into the coverlet to ease the ache growing in my
shoulders.     

"Nice body, slave.  Good firm ass, too.  I like it that way."  Tim touched the
marks on my buttocks.  "Nice marks. Jon sure knows how to train here.  He said
that I could do what I wanted too with you, and I wanted to bring six friends
for a good old-fashioned gang rape, but he said I could only bring four."  He
leaned over my left side, and caught a look at my pale face.  "Yep, just what I
thought.  You got a brain in there somewhere, don't you honey?"  He couldn't
expect a reply, so I didn't make the effort.  Fast hard smack from his hand on
my sore ass.  "Answer me!"  I tried, but the only noise that was escaping the
gag was a low groan.  He laughed. "Now I'm going to let my friends come in, and
I want those pretty thighs spread or I will spread them for you, do you
understand?"  I nodded, emphatically.     

He opened the door and his friends came in.  Looked pretty ordinary to me,
hardly worth a second glance on the street.  Very vanilla.  Yuppies on a
slumming weekend.  They looked like a Coors commercial.  One tall and
dark-haired. One shorter, but blonder.  Very generic, actually.  The only one
who looked nervous had to be the youngest of the group.  Tim wandered back to me
as they stood in the door, and whispered.   "Virgin."  His voice was low and
pleased.  Tim motioned them over.  The boy was looking at me in the grip of some
terror.  His hair still the sweet blonde of the very young. Jesus, was he even
old enough to be here?  Jon would have checked him out, but Lord, what a baby. 
He was blushing scarlet, as he felt my eyes on him.   

"I want a blow job, Tim."  Said the taller one.  His hair perfectly cut in the
Bloomfield mode.   

"Christ,  I bring you to exotic sex heaven and you guys want Vanilla?"  Some
look passed between them, all but the boy.  Something else was going on here,
but I wasn't sure what.  "Come on, Jay.  She's waiting for you.  Can't move
unless you tell her too.  Can't speak with the gag, to say no.  Sure shot, son. 
Put the condom on and go for it."     

"Tim, I can't."  He sounded scared.  Tim unclipped my wrists and I left them
where they were.  He rolled me over unto my back, and I looked straight up at
the ceiling.  "Sure you can.  She wants you too.  She's ready for it, likes it." 
He parted my pubic lips and showed the slick moisture to the boy.  Hungry eyes
on my sex.  "Put the condom on man, and go for it.  I'll fuck you, if you want
me too, to get you off."  The boy gasped.     

"Okay, but just her, man.  None of that other.  I'm not into that."  His voice
quavered with fear and desire.     

"You got it, bud, but only until my tolerance runs out. You got obligations to
fulfill for this."  His voice was deep and sure.  Honey smooth.  I felt the bed
give under the boy's weight, and the sharp crisp tearing of cellophane.  Heard
his breath moving in his teeth as he moved over me. "Just relax, man.  A
guaranteed score.  We all joined the club this way."  Organ at the gate of my
sex, prodding hesitantly, and then sliding in forever.  God, above, this kid was
hung like a pony.  Thickly rubbing against the G-spot deep inside me.     

"What's that ridge up there?"  The boy asked suddenly, not slowing, just
curious.  The men chuckled, telling him every crude fact about the G-man before
they were finished.  I moved my hips into the boy's thrusts, and heard Tim order
the others to hold me still on the bed.     

"Take the gag off and have her suck you off.  It's cool."  He was pretty
cavalier with Jon's property, was my thought.  Hands opened the gag, and a cock
was placed against my lips.  I took it, gently.  Letting my lips close around
it.  Another well-hung individual.  Almost too well hung to breath, actually. 
The other one playing with my nipples, just a little roughly.  Pinching them and
weighing the flesh. Exploring the new toy in front of him.  I turned into the
cock, letting the hand on my head guide my face as the boy fucked me.  Almost
too big, and coarse, was he.  Going very deep, considering his size.  Time
enough to learn the nuances of penetration on normally formed women later, now
all I had to do was relax into the almost painful thrusts of his body into mine. 
Every orifice opened for their use.     

He didn't last very long before he was bucking against me with ecstasy.  Eyes
closed,  face pink.  Making little moans above me.  His full weight settling
against me as he was rapidly falling from the crest of his orgasm.  Organ
twitching slowly, but never going soft.  Little kisses against my ear, dear
child.  The other cock left my mouth in mid-stroke.     

"Hey, what is this?"  He asked, surprised.  Rapid movement around me.  It was
all very quick, but the boy was secured on top of me.    

"This is initiation..."  Tim said, as he struggled to hold one of the boy's
strong young limbs still for restraints.  The boy started to protest, but was
quickly gagged.  I felt profound surprise, did Jon know what was going on in
here?  The boy was struggling on top of me. Trying to pull free.  My eyes were
wide.  "Put your arms over your head, Anne, so they can be secured please."  I
did it, immediately, not willing to press my luck with this crowd. Quick-clipped
to the headboard.  Trying to remind my self that I was perfectly safe.  The
other one chuckled.     

"Nice operation, Tim.  This boy needed to be brought down a bit."  They laughed. 
"Can I warm him up first?"  Tim said okay, and brought out a thick paddle.  The
boy shook his head as though in fear.  

"Relax, and enjoy the ride.  Just a bit of pain before the fucking starts. 
Little slave sandwich here."  They all laughed, as though pleased with
themselves.  They started paddling him with hard even blows from the wooden
implement.  His organ, rock-solid inside me and getting firmer.  His body wasn't
unhappy, no matter what his head was telling him.  The vigorous beating coming
inescapably fast as the two watching made running commentary on the state of the
virgin orbs before them.  The three of them trading off to torment the unmarked
buttocks of the boy. The youth started to fight in earnest.  Sobbing over me.  I
could only take so much, so I leaned into his ear and started to whisper to him,
voice low.     

"Stop it.  They are enjoying your struggles.  Let them do what they want, and
get it over with."  Common sense.   

"Nice sentiment, bitch."  Came Tim's voice from over me. I swallowed heavily,
but let him turn his attention to me for a moment.  "You have no idea what's
going on, anymore than he does."  He sounded angry, and he took a fistful of my
hair. He was smiling in happiness.  Evil glee.  I knew that I could take more
than this boy, so I thought what the hell.  "Sorry, you were rude to me?"     

"Not at all."  My voice was firm, and easily heard in the small room.  "Do what
you are going to do to him, and let him show you that he can take it.  He agreed
to it, did he not?  So as long as you don't really hurt him, he can't object. 
No safe-word, as long as it doesn't do real damage." The bastard smiled.  The
tall one getting ready to fuck the boy as he was inside me.  I wasn't angry with
them, just tired of the boy sobbing with abject misery on my chest.  Bright red
with humiliation.  His eyes shining into mine, wide with profound disbelief.     

Tim moved very close to my face.  Smiling slowly. Searching my eyes as they met
his.  Not quite sure whether he should believe the slave before him had actually
challenged his authority.     

"Believe it."  I snarled, and knew that I had puzzled him with my quick
about-face.     

"Open challenge, how interesting."  I felt the pressure from above and the boy
groaned.  Tim moved away, and the boy fell onto me.  Impaled by the man behind
him, who made some small sound of pure pleasure.     

"God, he's so tight."  His jaw getting hard as he pushed into the unopened
portal before him.  I closed my eyes, and laid my cheek against the tortured
blonde head next to mine. Murmuring into his hair, as the man fucked him
cruelly.     

"It'll feel so good, when he's in all the way."  I clenched the strong muscles
in my cleft around his organ. Milking him.  "Fuck me, and forget him."  The boys
hips pressed against me for the long seconds that came between the first thrust
and the surcease of pain.  Warm tears falling against my neck.  I felt my own
eyes filling in mute sympathy with his struggle, then I felt him surrender into
it.  He submitted completely.  Most of his body, gone soft and pliant except for
the part still buried in my sex.  That got harder.     

His organ expanding to enormous proportions.  He rocked it into me.  I almost
thought that it was going to exit my ears on the down stroke.  I gasped with the
pleasure.  Acute, sharp, and lusciously filling.  My womb being pushed with
tempestuous violence by his rigid flesh.  I could feel orgasm coming to me, and
fought it off deftly thinking of other things.  Sun, moon, stars, Adam, nope,
that wasn't going to work.   I battled quietly, not want to make my own
punishment worse for myself, by coming without being told to.  The men using me,
both came simultaneously.  The weight of two men collapsing on me heavily,
almost driving the breath from my lungs.  Tim taking the gag from the boy, so he
could drag air into his starving tissues.  Gasping with reaction.  He fell off
me, as they released his arms and legs, spent.  Laying limply on the side of the
bed.  Hurting but satisfied.  Battered by the lustful response of his body to
the feel of male flesh inside him.  His eyes closed with tears drying on his
cheeks slowly.     

I, too was released, then made to straddle Tim on the bed.  The smaller man
taking the phallus from my anus and moving to enter me from behind.  He put the
head of his cock against the tight ring and started to push.  He was big, and I
panted with exertion.  Trying to open so he could get into me without too much
pain.  I didn't think that I would be able to, and felt myself start to tense
up.  I spoke, with alarm starting to creep into my voice. 

"Slow.... please..."  Panic lighting my eyes as I tried to relax enough to let
him into me.  Tim caught my face with his hands, lips against my cheek.  Soft
words a whisper against my skin, so low they were inaudible.  A murmur of
comforting syllables.  The man behind me slid home, and his hands pulled me
back, and up.  Kneading my shoulders.  Their cocks almost touching through the
thin membrane that separated my openings.  My throat still making small croaking
groans from the effort of opening my anus for his tumescence.    Tim ran one
hand down my chest, face watching mine.

"Figured it out yet?"  Tim quipped.  Making me look into his eyes as the
enormous organ filled my anus, fuller than it had ever been before.  I tightened
with pleasure and Tim lifted me enough to get his cock further into me.  I
smiled in delight, as it hit me.  "Big Cock Club. I find another like me and we
throw a little party for them so they feel like they are special.  Little pain,
bit of humiliation."  He cupped my breasts with his hands, kneading them.  "You
challenged me for him, not cool, but almost understandable.  We get to fuck you
silly, and punish you if we like."  My face blossomed with the intensity of his
words. "I think we will like that."  His low voice, full of direly afflicting
promise, driving me wild above him.  I wasn't going to be able to stop it from
overflowing my body, the orgasm.  I would surge over.  "Beg me to let you come,
because if you don't, and you do.  I'll tell Jon, and you won't, for a month." 
He had the upper hand back, and he knew it.  I let tears roll over my lashes. 
He chuckled, pressing my nipples in time to the thrusts.  First one, then the
other.  "No mercy here, slave."  No, of course not.     

"Please, Master..."  My voice trailed off, this was so difficult.  Had to fuck
and think at the same time.  "I can't..., but I won't... please..."  Yearning
for it, and trying to speak.  Trying desperately to figure out what he wanted
from me.  I tried the last thing I could think of to make him happy.  "I am so
sorry, master." Real regret tinting the color of my words.  "I will never make
the same mistake that I made on Wednesday, and I will never challenge you if I
can help it again."  My words were interspersed with the heat that was moving
me.  The dark-haired tall one kneeling next to me, ready to play again.  Coming
to support my shoulders with strong hands.  I leaned into him, gratefully.     

"You will still be punished, but I'm sure you know that."  I nodded, throbbing
with urgent carnality.  My eyes closing as Tim pulled me closer to his chest. 
The man behind me, grinding vigorously into my ass.   His hands holding my hips
up to his crotch.  His motion reaching crescendo.  "Alright then, Anne.  This
once, I will forgive you, but beware you do not anger me again foolishly."     

"Never, Master.  God, Thank you, Master."  It was going to be a relief to let
go.  Flow over with a surfeit of ecstatic spasms.  There were hands everywhere. 
My neck, my back, my hips.  All of them, were touching me when I orgasmed. 
Nearly ritual for all of them to share in my gratification.  When it came, I
went weak with it.  Body convulsing as I felt the one behind push deep, and Tim
pulsating in my damp sex.  His spiked hair buried between my breasts.  Poking
the silky flesh sharply.  The dark man, masturbating with his free hand.  His
juices bubbling over his fingers, caught, then he rubbed them on my face.  I
licked his fingers, losing myself in the moment.  Feeling flesh surrounding me,
and in me, and around me.  Smelling the tangy odor of sex perfuming the air near
me like incense.     

I looked up and saw Adam standing in the corner, smiling at me in my stickiness. 
When had he come into the room?  I didn't know, but I was glad he was here with
me now. My heart swelling when I looked at him.     

Tim drew me down to his lips, licking the semen from my cheeks with cat-like
enjoyment.  He savored it, kissing me with the taste of man still on is tongue. 
Luscious.     

The others, resting on the edges of the bed, as he tasted my mouth. Grabbing my
ass, as his organ slipped out of my wet sex, spent for the moment.  God, his
tongue was sweet.     

I came back to myself, as Adam joined us in the bed without his clothes.  Going
gracefully to his knees, and waiting for one of the young Master's to fuck him
from behind.  We were side-by-side on the dark green coverlet.  I leaned over
Tim, and whispered in his ear.     

"If I show up at the store, and call you a son-of-a-bitch, what will happen next
time?"  He laughed, low in his throat.  Hugging me against his musky, damp skin
in unadorned happiness.  It was at that one moment that I realized I had a place
here that only I could fill. I was somehow intrinsic to these people, as willing
player's in this arena often are.    I was part of the erotic spice of Jon and
Traci's place.  I was lucky to be here and not have to hide myself all the time. 
Partial freedom is better than none at all.

VACATION

You know the moment that I thought that my life had gotten just about as weird
as it could get.  I was wrong.  I had been with Jon and Traci for this one
whole, wonderful month when I realized that I had not only fallen for Adam, but
I was hopelessly gone for Adam as a top.  I practically lived for his attention. 
Traci said that this was normal, and she felt the same way about Jon as a top,
but how was I to know this was right?  I didn't have any experience with that
side of things.  I had no clue.  Like I had been involved with real life on any
level recently, right?  Besides that I was pretty sure Adam, leaned towards the
gay side of life.  Not a lot of hope for a woman there.  He lived with a man,
for God's sake.  I wished I could talk about it with someone, anyone.  Adam was
who I usually talked to but I didn't think he should be the to talk too.  I felt
really alone.

The worst part was that I didn't really have anyone objective to talk too, just
the regulars at the house.  The Headmaster [Terry] said that I was having
problems surrendering to everything.  I still wanted too much control.  Of
course, he said this to me while I was tied on a triple-tree with not one, not
two, but three phalluses inserted into various openings, waiting for a lovely
beating from the whip I had chosen oh, so, long ago it seemed.  Yeah, I had
problems surrendering alright.  What planet is this guy from?
I had spent most of this past weekend on my knees.  Waiting for the orgasm, that
never came, when Jon took my into his study.

ANNE: CONVERSATIONS

"Anne, we have to talk."  I hated it when he said it that way, seriously.  A
ponderous note in his voice.  [What had I done now?]  Sitting my naked body on
the cream leather chair before his desk.  I waited, patiently, knowing that he
would say what he had too say in his own good time.  He looked me in the eye,
not a good sign. 

"Anne,  Adam has asked for you on a permanent basis.  He wants to make all
decisions regarding your training."  I was instantly wet, and hot.  [Get the
spatula, boys, I need to stand up.  I am going to need something to break the
suction with.]  I waited, because he was not finished with me yet.  "Adam has
been with us for close to two years now, and we have become very attached to
him.  He's a good trainer, a good man."  I didn't argue, I agreed. He's not been
doing this very long, but we feel that his natural affinity for the work, makes
him ready for the challenge of a highly valuable piece of stock such as you."  I
loved it when he talked stocks.  He waited.  I felt my eyes go wide, as I
realized...

"You want my opinion, Sir?" I asked carefully, he nodded. "I care for Adam, you
all know this.  I've done things for him that I wouldn't do for anybody else. 
I'm sorry, sir, but you included.  He owns a piece of me, the piece I bring
here, already.  What's the big leap?  He's been making the decisions for the
past week, I just wasn't supposed to notice."  I grinned, going red in sheepish
embarrassment.

"Different styles, huh?"  Jon smiled back at me, so I knew that it was okay.  I
nodded, big difference.  Adam was much harder on me, because he wasn't afraid of
insulting my delicate sensibilities.  He craved sex as much as I did.  We
understood each other.  What I considered taboo, he considered a challenge to
make me do for him.  It was a head game we played.  We played it so well that
some of the other couples were envious.

"Can I just talk for a minute, Jon?"  I spat out quickly.  He nodded, surprised.
"Look, do you remember the scared girl that walked through your door on a
desperate whim a few weeks ago?"  He smiled gently.

"I was afraid to admit that I even had a dark side, much less that I enjoyed it. 
Heaven help me, I'm perverted!" He laughed, outright. "What would happen to me,
if anybody found out?  What would I do?"  He was still chuckling.  "Well, the
hell with those people.  I'm having fun!  I have never in my life felt like I
belonged to any group of people the way that I belong to you people.  I am one
of you.  I have been thinking of trying top.  I may, one day, feel strong enough
to call the shots.  I don't know, but I do know that Adam loves me, and I love
him.  We get along well together.  He scares the hell out of me, but I know that
he would never, ever hurt me intentionally.  Really hurt me.  I'm happy with
things the way they are, but if you want me to progress I will bow to your
greater experience.  I still get to see you guys, Right?" Another nod.  "Still
here, right?" Again that slow nod.  "As long as all of us are having fun, we're
fine."

"I wanted to talk it over with you, and ask if you had any objections."  I shook
my head.  The much longer hair, swinging gently behind me.  I'd been forbidden
to cut it, by Adam.  The brush of silk against my spine, making me shiver. 
"Next weekend, we can start."  He smiled, flash of perfect white teeth.  "Adam,
wants to take you home, and talk with you."  I felt my mouth go dry.  The last
time that Adam had taken me home, we got really kinky.  Vanilla Sex, kinky. 
That had almost bothered me more than when I was shrouded in the rituals of our
scenarios.  "See you on Friday, Anne."

I dropped down to my knees, because he was going to leave the room, and that how
they did things here.  I waited for Adam to come get me.  He'd been watching, so
I knew that he would be pleased with me.  I had been succinct and accurate, and
I had willingly given myself over into his care.                    

What more could a master ask for?

ADAM

The first time that anybody had ever given me a gift, as big as the one Anne had
given me today, I was sixteen.  My Father had given me the keys to the new car
for a date.  Not my mom's car.  The one I usually drove, but the GTO.  The
hotrod, which he loved.  I was so scared to put it into gear that I sat in the
driveway for fifteen minutes.  I drove like my grandmother all night too, made
my girlfriend nuts.

This was a bigger deal.  Anne had put her exotic little psyche into my hands,
and I could hardly breathe.  I had asked for her on a whim, not really expecting
Jon to give her to me.  She was the best piece to walk through those doors in a
couple of years.  Okay, since me.  She was right about one thing though.  I knew
her.  Inside and out.  Every twisted little nook and cranny of her mind and body
was my domain.  She balked out of habit, but got into it when forced to.  Lovely
little tears and all.

Hot woman, very hot, and such a little bitch at work too.  I wouldn't fuck with
her, and she had done some word-processing for me when I was in a bind.  Great
personal assistant.  Now that was a cool thought.  Hire her for myself, and keep
her naked under her business suits in the office.  Chill that.  I still had to
decide what to do with her tonight.  She'd been without any release all weekend,
but she'd gotten everybody else off a couple of hundred times.  She'd be hot for
it alright, and it was my decision whether she could have it.  Cool.
Jon came into where I was sitting, and looked over my shoulder.  His big hands
on my neck, deliciously cool. His voice floating over me.

"You heard?"

"Yes." I answered an edge of excitement floating through my voice.

"She'll be expecting you to cut her some slack for your emotional attachment." 
I laughed, what an easily changed misconception.  Anne wouldn't like me if I
eased up on her.  She'd think I was going soft.  Not a chance.  Not with her.

"Well, I'll clear that misconception up quickly."  I would too, and I would be
having a wonderful time doing it.  "I'm going to take her to my house,  Jay
should be there, and he's been asking about her."  Jon chuckled, shaking his
head.

"Go to it.  See you next weekend."  I bid him good night, and went to collect my
slave.

ANNE- ADAM"S PLACE

He came in and got me, making me dress in a tight black dress of knit. No
panties on, just those stockings that are a garter without a garter belt.  I
could feel my thighs brushing each other as I walked to his car.  I was a bit
nervous, when I realized that we were not going to my place, we were going to
his.  His and Jay's place.  The man he lived with.  I'd only met him, Jay, once. 
The guy was a walking wet dream.  Tall, built, hung.  They were best buddies,
but not like the kind that I had ever heard about.  They took care of each
other, when the playing field was empty.  I never had a best buddy that would
ball me when I was without.  Must be nice.  This must be some form of male
bonding that I was unfamiliar with.  I couldn't imagine some of the homophobic
cretins that I worked with doing something decent like relieving each other's
sexual tension, but what the hell.

The house was beautiful, but then I knew it would be.  There were two cars in
the driveway.  A gold Lexus, and a black Mercedes convertible.  There was more
money in the driveway then my life was worth all around. Jon said I would get
spoiled.  Good Submissives are hard to find.  If I don't play then no one does.

This was my vacation, and I had given it to him as a present.  It was his first
time having one of us on a full time basis, but I was pretty sure that it wasn't
Jay's.  He was really happy to see me.  Pulling me into the kitchen, and making
me get on my knees to give him a blowjob.

He really needed one too, came in about ten minutes.  I enjoyed doing it for
him, because he seemed to be a genuinely nice guy.

Adam had disappeared while I had been busy, but since I was going to be part of
the household this week, I had better get used to being alone with Jay.  I
didn't meet his eyes, but it was very difficult, because he had such pretty
eyes.  He was smiling at me with relief, and that was something.  

I was always surprised when others were glad to see me, when I was in slave
mode.  It was a real rush.  Jay was a genuinely decent human being, but still. 
His sincere affection was welcome to me. 

"Well, let's see.  I have big plans for you tonight, sweet."  He leaned into the
fridge for a big bottle of water.  "I get to treat you just like one of the
guys, and you'll find it a fascinating experience too."  I could feel my breath
starting to get short.  He smiled.  "Danielle is coming over, and I think you
will really like her."  Danielle?  Somebody new.

I merely waited there on my knees.  Glad that his floor wasn't too hard for me. 
He sipped his water, watching me and I heard Adam say from the other room.

"All set in here, Jay."  Jay smiled and snapped his fingers.  Expecting me to
follow him, and I did.

He took me into a room of startling whiteness.  It was tile, and had big drain
in the floor.  Set up like a Turkish toilet.  This room had to have cost a small
fortune.  The hoses hanging on the wall alone, could have scared a complete
novice.  Showerheads, and nozzles of a startling stainless steel.  A small
rolling table, stainless, and a cabinet of the same.  I wanted to see what was
in the drawers. 

The thing that really caught your eye was a hydraulic chair in the very center. 
Set with stirrups, and a cutout in the center for your personal business to be
displayed for the world to see.  I wondered what was going to happen.  I had
never seen a set-up like this before.  It was intimidating.

"I see you have noticed the birthing chair.  Its imported, but then all the
really interesting things are.  I like it because it allows free access, and
full restraint."  Jay put his water on a shelf that ran the perimeter of the
room.  "Take off your clothes, and get into it."  I swallowed hard, and slipped
off the dress I was wearing.

When I was naked, I moved cautiously to the chair, and got into it.  It was
covered with a white vinyl, and had the feel of being waterproof.  I felt sweat
break out on my palms. 

"Feet in the stirrups, Anne."  I did it.  Adam coming over to secure them with
thick Velcro fasteners lined with some soft plastic foam.  He tied my wrists as
well.  Patting me gently.  Jay picked up a remote control, and pressed a button
when Adam was done with me.  My legs started to spread, and the chair to tilt
backwards.  It was an unusual sensation.  Jay came over and ran his hand up my
leg, just brushing the downy curls by my rapidly arousing sex.  He nodded at
Adam, who walked away to another room.  I could hear water running.

"I like boys.  That's no secret to you, and Danielle likes girls.  Adam, when he
told me we would have you for the week, told me you liked being treated like a
man."  I was paying complete attention to him.  "What I like about boys, is
something that you have too, isn't it?"

"Yes, Master."  I said, knowing that he meant my nether regions.

"Since that is the case.  I have made arrangements to make good use of your
similarity."  He walked away slightly. 

"We are going to administer a series of enemas, progressively larger.  I want
you to be completely empty and ready to play." He wasn't asking me, so I said
nothing.  He leaned over to my ear, and said simply.

"If you are a good girl.  I will promise you one of the biggest and best orgasms
of your entire life."  I felt myself go wet.  It was immediate.  Instantly
drenched.  I heard Adam coming back into the room.  Jay stood up, and rolled a
table next to me.  I saw KY, and some nozzles in graduating sizes from small to
jumbo.  Stainless steel to hard rubber to long tubes.

I was setting myself.  I don't like enemas, not the feeling, but the emptying. 
It was degrading.  Adam hung the bag from a convenient hook in the ceiling, and
Jay sat down between my legs on a stool.

He pulled on some gloves.  I heard the snap of them.  He started humming this
little tune under his breath.  It was a happy sound.  I felt myself grin.  I did
manage to suppress it finally.  Adam saw it though.  His brows knit over his
eyes in a little playful frown.

When the chair tilted another couple of degrees and I knew that he could see my
wetness.  I felt a blush start to move up my neck.  A blindfold would make this
much easier, but it was not to be.  Jay never had me in one.  He liked to see my
eyes.   I could feel his fingers on my anus, and it puckered tightly shut
against the invasion.  Jay was persistent, and slowly, as he rotated it.  It
slipped in.  The small one.  Every millimeter felt as it inched its way into me,
and settled near my colon.  It did feel good, and I made a small sound of
surrender.  He undid the flow meter, and I could feel the warmth starting to
move up my bowel.

"Relax."  He said, and Adam came to my side, rubbing my abdomen.  The massage
felt really good.  Not to rough, very gentle.  His strong fingers kneading my
stomach, the pressure of the water seeming to dissipate as he rubbed.  It didn't
seem to take very long for the water to stop coming in, and the small nozzle to
be withdrawn from me.  I felt warm and full.  Jay slipped something else into
me, in place of  the little nozzle. A plug, I assumed so the solution couldn't
come out until he was ready for it to come out.  I could feel the pressure
building to an almost uncomfortable level, but Jay merely watched the growing
sheen of sweat on my face.  The small movements of discomfort.  He stood up
finally, and went into the small room to wash his hands.

"Hold it in for just a minute."  He was resetting the chair, more upright, and
turning on water from one of the showerheads hanging on the sidewall. 

"Jay never stays for this part of it, but I don't mind.  You okay?"  He asked
conversationally.

"Yes, Adam.  I am fine." He smiled.

"Now, when I take the plug out, just let it come, don't force it.  This was just
one quart.  The next is two, then three then as much of a four as you can take." 
I felt my eyes widen.  He laughed.  "It's not too bad, it's just filling.  I
won't let you get sick or anything.  The progressive way of this will let you
take more anyways."  He stood to the side of me, and took the showerhead to run
it over my pubis.  The water was warm, and I felt the urgency reach almost
unbearable proportions.  He took the plug from me, and I could feel it starting
to rush from me.  Warm soapy water, and feces.  It didn't burn.  It felt almost
good. Slippery.  "Jay had me use Lanolin, and non-alkaline soap."  He played
with the showerhead, and the little pulses of water, tickled my clitoris gently. 
I tensed.  Feeling more flowing from me.  It didn't take too long.  My
intestines cramping slightly, pleasurably.  I sighed.

Adam rinsed the remains down the drain, and Jay came back into the room when he
was finished.  Adam went to mix the second one.  I sighed.

"Feeling empty?"  He asked, and smiled when I nodded, answering him.  The room
was very warm.  I was technically powerless, and I wasn't being hurt.  All in
all, this wasn't too bad. 

"Good, I can't promise the whole weekend will be like this, but Adam said you
needed something really erotic, totally sensual.  He said a couple of weekends
ago you had kind of a bad scene.  Is that true?"

"It's not my place to question my masters, Sir."  The formality of my statement,
and the brittleness of my voice must have given him his answer, because he
stopped questioning me.

"I understand, Anne.  You aren't there now, and I promise to make this one of
the most unusual, and exotically pleasing events a submissive could ever
experience.  You just hit pay dirt.  Slave heaven, and I also promise, that not
one drop of urine will be spilled tonight."  I smiled up at him.  Adam came back
out with a bigger bag, and Jay sat back down.  Slipping his finger into me, and
quipping as he withdrew it.  "Clean to here."  He reached over and took one of
the long tubes.   Holding out his fingers for Adam to squeeze some KY unto them. 
Adam screwed the tube to the bag, and Jay rubbed the KY down the whole length of
it.  "Wide open, and back now, please."  He told Adam, and I felt the chair
starting to move.  Jay was letting the air out of the hose.  More slippery goo
rubbed around my anus, and as my legs widened I could feel the flesh stretching
taut.  My knees coming back towards my chest.  "That's good."  The chair
stopped. 

"This is a nozzle, and an exceptionally long one.  We bought all these little
toys for you, Anne.  This feels a little funny going in, and when the balloons
are inflated, but since some of it rests in the very beginning of the large
intestines, once its past that point you don't feel anything but the pressure. 
Just relax now, and let it happen."  I could smell my lubrication.  I must be
just drenched. 

He put the end of the tube against my ass and pushed slowly.  It slipped in
easily.  I moaned with it.  Adam came up to my head, and put his hands on my
face.  I closed my eyes.  It felt like it was going in forever.  It seemed to
snag, and Jay pulled back.  Trying a different angle.  That one worked, and it
went all the way in.  He held it in place, and I heard a small sound.  The
balloons were being filled.  The feeling was very strange.  Slowly getting
bigger inside me.  First one then the other.  When that was done.  I heard the
click of the flow meter, and felt it start to wash into me.  The two-quart bag
slowly shrinking as it emptied.  The pressure was starting to become incredible. 
Adam moved down again, and rubbed my stomach.  It helped, but I could feel some
slight cramps.  Sweat started to form on my legs.

Jay left us alone again suddenly, and Adam slipped into his place.  Getting the
warm water ready again.  Starting to chatter to me.

"He had this room built when he realized he liked a clean playground, but he
didn't like cleaning up the mess from it.  It has seventeen water hoses, and a
complete sewer set-up in the floor.  The small cabinet has different nozzles,
and different kinds of medical tools for Danielle to use when she comes over. 
She likes an elaborate set-up. "  He undid the valves on the balloons, and I
could feel the air rushing from them. "She's a trip, but in a good way.  Really
motherly."  The chair started to move again, and I realized I was almost
completely forward. 

"Let this one out the same way.  Don't ever force it."   I did what he told me
to do, feeling emptier when it was over.  Softer even than a good beating.  The
water flowing over my cunt, sending little shivers through me.  Jay came back
in, when the last of the enema was gone from me, and Adam had washed the remains
away.

"So, feel okay?"

"Yes, Master."  I told him, feeling my pulse starting to race.  He took the
controls and laid me back down.  Opening the door on the cabinet, and taking out
a wide nozzle of sparkling clean stainless steel.  He smiled.

"This one?"  He grabbed another, graduating wideness.  "This one? or shall I
surprise you?"  I didn't answer. " I didn't really want an answer, but since we
have two more to go.  I guess I get to use both of them."  I shivered.  Adam
came back with another bag.  This one larger still.  He made my legs more
relaxed, and sat down again.  Opening a jar of some kind this time.  Slicker
lube.  Something to make this monster toy go in easily.  He was going to use the
straight thick one. 

"Just like getting fucked, Anne.  Fucked in the ass.  Wide enough that there's
no way short of a rape that I could hurt you with it, and I am going to put it
in so slowly, that you will feel every delicious inch of it."  My cunt dripped. 
He leaned over and ran his tongue up the middle of my wet slit.  Biting my
clitoris softly until I cried out with the sensation.  Laughing as he stopped,
leaving me right at the edge of gratification.  He dipped the thing in the jar,
and put it against the ring of my ass, pushing so slowly that there was not a
bit of pain involved.  Just the slow widening of the sphincter.  A slow screw. 
He twisted it around, moving the phallus into me, until it was fully inside, and
the slightly narrower base was set well into me.  "Open the valve Adam, I want
to fuck her with this as it's going in."  I trembled.  Hearing the click of the
ratchet, and feeling the flow start. 

The first quart went in easily, painlessly.  The second quart started to swell
my rectum and lower body.  I could see it.  The beginning of the third started
cramping me.  I groaned, not wanting to complain, but it was starting to hurt. 
The clamp closed.  Adam let one of my legs loose, and he worked it towards my
stomach, pumping it.  Refastening it, then doing the same to the other.  Jay
rubbed my stomach, feeling the swelling there.
"Baby tummy."  He said happily.  "She might not be able to take a four quart,
maybe just two threes.  What do you think?"  Jay asked.  Adam, who was feeling
my stomach, nodded. 

"That's the plan then." He said and un-clamped the tube, so the rest could rush
into me. It didn't hurt as much now.  The movements had expanded my body
somewhat.  I was still swollen looking in the abdomen.  He moved the
phallus-shaped nozzle.  Touching my sex, pushing a finger into it, then two. 
Slow movements.  It seemed as though no time had passed when I heard the clamp
click closed again.  I had the three-quart in my body.  The soap was working
into all the little nooks and crannies, making me empty.  This simple biological
function was out of my hands now.  All I could do was enjoy it.  The thought was
curiously lightening.  I was suddenly, like Jell-O.  Jay looked at Adam, and
smiled.  Letting him take his place for the emptying.

"This next one is going to be just some cold water, so the soap gets washed out,
then some warm oil to re-lubricate your rectum.  The oil feels great, especially
after the cold water.  You might get some cramping with it, but Jay didn't want
you to forget that any joy you get is dependent on us." I nodded, feeling the
first tiny vestige of fear.  Adam, while he washed me, kept talking.  Using one
of his hands on my clitoris.  "The pain won't last too long, Anne.  Just like
some bad menstrual cramps, can you do that?  Fifteen minutes of suffering for
me, gracefully?"

"Yes, Adam." I said, and felt the juice running into the crack of my ass.  He
smiled, and waited for Jay to return.  He did, and Adam left us to fill the last
bag.  Jay had a blindfold in his hand. 

"I want to see your pain, but I don't want to see your eyes as you suffer for
me.  This small discomfort is simply for my pleasure, Anne.  Nothing more.  I
like causing pain that does not show.  Agony without damage.  I wish to put this
on you, and gag you so your cries cannot be heard.  Can I do that?"

"Yes, Master."  I said, voice small.  He leaned over and kissed me.  Stroking my
hair, as he finished.  Putting the blindfold around my head, and taking a small
ball gag from his pocket.  I hope he realized that the gag alone was a supreme
act of trust.  It's small weight, meaning that I trusted him enough to not push
me past my tolerance.  To be responsible enough to watch for signs of real pain.

I was laid back again, and I could hear the bag being moved into position.  I
heard the nozzle being screwed on, the click as the air was let out.  The clink
of the tip brushing the edge of the jar.  Felt his fingers opening me.  Two then
three holding the ring of my anus open, and slipping the nozzle in quickly.  I
realized as he did it, that he had held me open, because the metal was cold.  I
clenched around it.

The water was chilly, no doubt.  The cramps started almost immediately, just
slightly.  I could feel every bit of it traveling up my body.  It was fiercely
persistent.  Moving quickly and smoothly.  Someone rubbed my belly smoothly. 
Jay speaking urgently.

"Half in, Honey.  Need all of it to get the soap out, then you can come."  I
froze waiting for it to finish.  Letting the delicate pain, build slowly.  Let
it take me to the next plateau.  The next level, and I wasn't disappointed.  My
body started to respond.  Warming in the chair.  The sharp pain, becoming
welcome.  An old friend. 

The flow eventually stopped, but the pressure was incredible.  I twisted in my
bonds.  Hearing them talk about me.  Talk about what they were doing to me.  The
base methodology.  I groaned around the gag, feeling the fluid run from the
corner of my mouth.

"Let's leave this one in for five minutes.  It's not going anywhere."  He leaned
down to my privates again.  Rubbing his hand down the inside of my leg.  Looking
up at me.  "Let me have the small head, warm, delicate pulses."  He ordered.  I
heard someone walking away.  He left something hanging over my leg, and I
figured it was the showerhead.  "Come when it hits you, honey."  He said, and
opened the folds of my cunt.  Training the spray on the bulge of my pubis. 
Directly on my clitoris.  I twitched.  It was warm, and hard.  It was almost too
much.  I gasped aloud.  My teeth clenching with it.  Body arching futilely.

"It's too much."  I thought, and my desperate struggles must have let them know
that because Jay told me simply, that I wouldn't get to evacuate until I came. 
I moaned.  The pressure inside me building.  Adam moving down and helping Jay do
something to my body below.  I couldn't move.  Tension nailed me to the chair. 
The intense stimulation making me try to move, and close my legs, but it was
impossible.  My legs started to shake, and my thighs to twitch.  I saw them move
away from me, to the side, the chair starting to tilt up, and felt my orgasm
sweeping me.  I exploded with it.  My body forcing it from me with the vigor of
my extremity.  I screamed with it.

Not caring that they saw me losing control so completely.  I had done what I was
told to do, and this was my reward.  My legs immediately started to cramp, but I
kept coming again, and yet again.  The chilly fluid rinsing the lower part of my
legs.   I strained against the bonds, shaking in sensual indulgence and
gratifying pain. Mumbling under my breath as the tremors shook me. 

Finally I was able to draw a deep breath into my lungs, and get some control
over my legs.  They were shaky but they worked again.  My fingers gripping arms,
and smelling their bodies near me.  I inhaled, deeply.


Head hanging, eyes half-closed. I heard Jay speak.

"What a treasure she is, Adam." 

"Give her the oil on the grooming table, and let her rest.  Maybe a massage so
she doesn't cramp again in the legs, and put the knee supports in for later. 
Danielle will be here in an hour.  You thirsty?"  I nodded, using every ounce of
will to remain calm.  "Let her have some water, Adam."  I am going to go clean
up."  Adam led me into the hallway and down to the grooming area.  I let him.

REST AND REWARDS

"Here, Anne."  He said putting my hands on the smooth surface.

"Climb up, and lay on your left side."  I did it, wearily.  "Wait there for me,
and don't move."

"Yes, Adam."  I said, but I didn't think that I could move anyways.  He came
back, and opened my buttocks carefully.  Slipping another nozzle into me.  He
squeezed the oil into my ass, and I felt its warmth spreading up inside me
slowly. 

"Just hold that for a few minutes, and then I'll give you a shower."  I sighed
with ecstasy.  This was sex slave heaven.  I felt great.  The oil easing the
last of the cramps, and slowly working its way to pleasure again.  Wonderful.

When he took me to the bathroom, I wobbled.  I was sleepy. I drank the water he
gave me, and laid back down on the table.  As he was massaging me, I slipped
into sleep.

ADAM

I went back out to Jay, leaving her sleeping on the grooming table.  Looking
back wistfully, wishing that I could sleep next to her.  The sexual tension I
was feeling was tighter than a knot inside me.  I wanted her, and right now. 
However, waiting, and especially now that it was so painful, made the craving
sharper and more poignant.  Jay was sitting on the couch, and sipping from a
glass of a really nice chardonnay that he had opened earlier.  The bottle was on
the table, where I could see the bright California label.  I sat down across
from him.  Waiting for him to speak.

"That woman is incredible."  I grinned at him.  I knew what he meant.  I had
never met anybody like her either.  Anne seemed to spend most of her life
searching for profound sensation, and when it worked out for her, she was happy
as hell.  Even when it didn't work out for her, she said she learned something
from it.  That was something extraordinary.  I enjoyed her company, even when we
weren't playing.  Wish I had realized what I had when she first crawled through
Jon's door.   

"She's in love with you."

"I know that."  I did too.  She enjoyed looking at me.  Respected me, because I
could take it.  The same amount that she could.  I had spent my time on my
knees, the same way that she had.  It was exciting to her.  Whenever I did
something to her hot body, she wondered if I had done the same thing, and
enjoyed it as much as she did.  It put an edge on her pleasure.  "She's not
expecting anything though, she thinks I am Gay." I grinned at that.  I was
probably the only true bi-sexual that I knew.  I didn't feel that the sex of a
person was a good reason to decide whether or not you should love them.  I loved
Jay, and I loved her too.  She was like a female counterpart of myself.  It was
fun to be with her. 

I adjusted the erection that I still had.  Thinking about her had made it
bigger.  That was okay, because eventually I would get to relieve it.  Danielle
was coming, and she would make the show worth the watching.  She was excellent.

I was remembering my life before all this, after the divorce, when it had just
been Jay and myself in this house.  I hadn't even been really upset.  I didn't
miss Phoebe all that much.  We had been used to each other, but it wasn't any
deeply felt or even a very real emotion.  I wanted her to be happy, but whether
she was or not, didn't have any real bearing on my own happiness.  I was fine,
and happy, with Jay.

I had things to do and people to see.  People that enjoyed my company and wanted
to be with me.  I became a living breathing human being and I learned so much. 
I learned that I could have fun in almost any setting.  A coffee shop.  A bar. 
I could have fun anywhere, and I did too.  My whole attitude changed.

I was happy.  I had Jay's undivided attention, and he had some truly interesting
ideas.  He had a really good imagination, and I completely benefited from being
the most recent recipient of his lusts.

It was he that took me to the bondage show at Nocturne.  The one where I met
Traci.  He had told me to stay close to him.  My submissive status was quite
obvious, and I was kind of offended.

"You don't own me, Jay."

"Look, you don't want to be free meat in here, so just do what I tell you to
do."  The club was packed, and from the variety of the equipment being brought
in.  I could think he maybe had a point.  This place was a humanity potluck. 
Tall, short, thin, fat.  In leather.  In satin.  In ripped Levis with custom
studwork.   Tuxedos.  Carrying whips, and walking with the thin bamboo canes,
that cut so sharply into flesh.  It had the dark friendly elegance of a
neighborhood pub.  Everybody knew everybody else. 

It was as I was talking to an adorable little transvestite, contemplating
running my hands up under that tight leather skirt and fucking the shit out of
her, that I spotted the elegant woman watching me from across the room.  That
had been Traci, assessing me for erotic potential or violence.  Whatever her
look was, it immediately sent the blood pumping into my dick.  She wandered
over, and when Jay got done introducing us.  If she had asked me to bark like a
dog, I would have done it.  Her look was full of sexual promise, and the lady
herself had never disappointed me.  I tried to do as she did.  She was my
example.

I wasn't disappointed a few moments later when the doorbell rang.  Danielle
stood there, with one of her friends, and she carried a small satchel.  She was
smiling.

DANIELLE AND THE MASKED MAN

I woke Anne up and took her back into the playroom.  Putting her back in the
chair.  Tying her into it securely, after letting her use the restroom.  She
wasn't real comfortable with bodily fluids.  I wasn't either, much neater just
to play with the flesh.  Terry likes making people lose control on every level. 
I had the sneaking suspicion that Anne would just as soon never have to play
with Terry again; she was just too polite to say anything.  I got the impression
that she didn't like him much. 

She went easily into the chair, not questioning anything.  I patted her leg
after she was in it.  Leaving her in it as I went to get the others.

They were waiting outside the door.  Danielle's friend putting a black and red
mask on.  Danielle herself was dressed in a black leather number that completely
accented her enormous bosom.  She wore the same expression of happy complaisance
that she always wore.  Her Green-eyes sparkling.  It was about eight o'clock at
night.  Her long Dark hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and her buddy had
introduced himself as Mark.  He was big, with long black hair.  Tied back into a
ponytail, and he said that he liked to watch fisting, and didn't speak until he
got to fuck.  Safe sex was the best kind, and he wanted to know if he could
splash Anne as he came.  I said sure, but not on the face, and he reached over
to squeeze Danielle's breasts saying he was a boob man anyways.  The mask was
beautiful, artistic even.  It would inspire fear, and his silence would inspire
more.  It was going to be a good show. 

Ground rules laid, we headed in.

Anne looked beautiful in the chair.  Head and body supported, hair flowing down
the back.  She had the most gorgeous hair.  Her legs were in a resting position. 
Knees only slightly bent, and half-tilted.  Arms secured over her head, so her
breasts thrust forward.  Jay and I carried in chairs.  These were for us, so we
could watch.  I hadn't seen the last one fisted in that chair, because well, it
had been me.  Danielle was very good.  Small hands, not that it mattered there,
but still it was great.

Anne kept her eyes towards the ceiling, but she wanted to look I could tell by
the tension in her shoulders.  The way her hands clenched into fists.  She
looked  ready to bolt, but she couldn't.  Couldn't move actually. 

Danielle went over to her, and looked down.  Trying to catch her eyes.  Eyes
that Anne kept shifting from her face.  Danielle chuckled.

"Well trained, I see."  She quipped, dryly.  "I am Danielle.  You may call me
Mistress, because as far as I am concerned you are an orifice.  One particular
orifice that I am going to put a fist into.  Adam has said that to see me put my
hand inside you will give him great pleasure, so I said I would do it." 
Danielle touched Anne's breast, and continued speaking.  Anne twitched, and some
minor concern floated across her features.  "Of course the last person that I
did my particular specialty on was Adam, so he knows exactly what I am going to
do to you, intimately.  Now, he says that I can do it to you.  Can I?"

"Yes, Mistress."  Anne answered, and Danielle moved away.  Her questioning was
done, and she had what she needed.  As far as she was concerned Anne had just
become a lower body only.  I knew that, and the simple dismissal of her higher
functioning capability would make Anne crazy.  I sat down in the chair at the
edge of the room and waited.  Danielle would watch me for clues, and I would
watch Anne.
I did see Anne catch sight of the man in the mask, and saw her lick her lips. 
She knew that it wasn't Jay, her eyes touched on him, and on me briefly.  Who
was he?  Her face said, and she wouldn't get any response.  Mark would never
tell her, and even if he was uncovered someday, she would be too polite to say
anything to him.

Danielle took the controls, and tilted the chair back to fisting position. 
Putting rubber gloves on after checking her fingernails for rough spots that
could snag either gloves or tissues.  She seemed satisfied, and opened her bag
between her feet.

It had several things in it, but the only thing she pulled out was a can of
Crisco.  The hard stuff that you could melt for deep fry.  She scooped some out
and lowered the chair slightly.  Mark went to Anne's head, and held her face
still with his hands.  At the first touch of the Crisco, Anne shivered.

Danielle smeared the goop around her anus, and along the outside of her
buttocks.  Making the flesh white, and slippery looking.  She reached back down,
and took a small glob, and made a ball out of it, this she pushed into the anus
itself.  Anne moaned.  Mark soothed her.  Fingers rubbing her skin, as he
watched avidly.

Danielle never looked up from her task.  Taking the Crisco, and forcing it
deeper and deeper with gentle pressure.  One finger working slowly, and
deliberately.  I felt myself tighten.  I well remembered the gradual insistence
of her fingers in your body.  Anne quivered, head trying to roll, but unable
too, because of Mark. Danielle stopped reaching into the can, and waited for
just a moment, loosening up her hands.  Rubbing Crisco all over her gloves.  Her
face going still and serene.  Almost meditating.  She slowly reached up and put
one finger into Anne, slowing working it in and out.  Jay reached over and
touched my  cock.  It jerked, leaking into my drawers.

With infinite patience that one finger worked in and out, seeking openings for
expansion.  Feeling the walls and working the flesh.  Manipulating the tissue,
stretching it slowly.  So it would be receptive to more give.

When Danielle went to two fingers Anne jerked, but didn't make a sound.  The
rectal ring just putting up a token resistance to this new invasion.  I saw Mark
take something out of his pocket, and knew that it was a popper.  They were for
the final stage.  It caused a split second of complete slackness that could
sometimes be the difference between the full fist or a no go. 

"Adam, come here and let her legs down some.  Just a couple of inches, she's too
taut for my taste."  I moved quickly, adjusting the chair.  "Perfect."  She
said, and slipped three fingers into Anne.  "Nice, very nice.  Firm, but not
tense.  Good depth, and resilience."  She spoke about Anne as though she wasn't
there, and I could see Anne blush with humiliation. 

"You're a good girl, Anne.  I like good girls.  I make good girls come when I
finish with them."  She didn't look up from what she was doing, but I could see
how her words affected Anne.  Anne flushed scarlet, and tried to slow her
breathing.  Danielle never stopped what she was doing.  Not telling Anne to
relax for her, just doing what she had too.  Just what she needed to get the job
done. 

Danielle slipped her pinkie in, and rested all four of her fingers at the very
gate of Anne's anus.  I could see the ring convulsing.  Twitching uselessly
against the invasion.  It was here, the final stage.  Could Anne take it?  I
stepped behind Danielle to watch.  Danielle looked up at Mark, and started to
move her fingers again.  Around, and out.  In and back to top again.  Slowly
cupping her hand around her thumb.  She nodded at Mark, who broke the popper in
his hand.  I saw Anne look up at him, and at the hand coming to cover her mouth
and nose.  Her eyes went wide, and she went to speak.  Mark covered her mouth
just as she inhaled.

It took about five seconds, and she went completely limp.  Danielle pushed
carefully, and Anne's body swallowed her hand.  Danielle had sweat on her face,
and on her arms, but she didn't move that hand.  She left it inside Anne, so she
could recover from the popper.

Anne started to gasp suddenly, as the drug left her system.  Her face startled. 
She turned her head in Mark's fists, and he dropped the spent popper to the
floor.  I could see her struggle not to fight so I leaned over her, and said.

"It's in, no more poppers, it's in."  She went still.  Face filling with
surprise, as though wondering why it didn't hurt.  Why did it feel so good. 
"Its okay to like it, Anne.  I did."  Danielle was going to see how much Anne
could take, and she rubbed extra Crisco up the gloves.  Long gloves of rubber. 
Fisting gloves.

"Okay, baby doll.  Its you and me now."  Danielle put her hand on Anne's lower
abdomen, and pushed a millimeter further into her.  I saw the wrist sink in,
over the bones.  Danielle backed off, and pushed in again, further this time. 
Her forearm starting to be swallowed.  Mark motioned for me to go to the head,
and I did.  He went down, and opened his pants.  Lifting the short skirt that
Dee wore, and rolling a condom on.  He forced himself roughly into her ass,
making her gasp.

"Your a good girl, Anne."  I said to her face, and saw her jaw working slowly. 
Teeth grinding.  Eyes wide, and full of fearful patience.  "When its painful
say- blue, and I will stop it." She nodded, her breathing was shallow and harsh. 

"Only when it's more than you can bear though.  Danielle likes to go to the
elbow."  I saw her eyes go wide.  I soothed her.  "Take it for me.""  I watched
the man in the mask fucking Danielle, and Danielle fisting Anne, almost to the
elbow.  Jay watching from the chair with his organ in his fist.  The room
getting warmer by subtle degrees.  Danielle looked up at me, and I moved down to
her.  She nodded down at Anne's body, and I could see that she was in all the
way to the edge of the gloves.  More than I took.  I looked up at Anne, and saw
her eyes were closed, and her body was still except for the rapid rush of air
from between her teeth.  Her jaw was like iron.

"You can do the next one, eh?"  Danielle asked me, smiling.  I felt myself go
hot all over.  Maybe I could.  "You know how to go in reverse right?"  She asked
me, and I knew she meant that to get it out, Anne would have to be distracted. 
The best way to distract Anne was to make her come.  She did it so well.

I put my hands on the junction of Anne's thighs and started to work her clitoris
gently.  Her already tight muscles, bunched up tighter.  Mark pulled out of
Danielle, and peeled off his condom.  Still hard, getting another one from his
pocket.  He kept this one in his hand, ready for later.
Every little bit that Danielle pulled out Anne moaned, making no effort to
disguise her cries.  The clitoris in my fingers was swelling.  The arm was
slowly coming out, and by the time only the hand remained inside Anne. She was
twitching with orgasm, almost there, but the discomfort wasn't letting her go
easy.  I opened up the folds, and put one finger under the clit, and used my
thumb to pull on the small-engorged flesh, just a little roughly.  She screamed,
fighting it.  I knew that the sensation of the hand within her was almost more
than she could take, and she was simply doing it for me.

It was at that moment that I knew she was mine.  I could do almost what I willed
with her.   When she came, and the hand slipped from her, she went completely
and totally limp.  Danielle slipping the gloves from her hands, and arms. 
Standing up to go with Jay into the other room for some refreshment.  Smiling
back at me. 

I watched Anne's chest rise and fall with her breaths, and was amazed at the way
she had reacted.  She was calming slowly by degrees.  Her limbs, relaxing
against the stirrups, and thighs no longer quivering with strain.  I didn't
speak to her, and Mark wasn't going too.  He nodded at me, and started to undo
the restraints that held her in the chair.  His large hands quick, and nimble. 
Surprising for one so big.  I did the same for the other side.  When she was
free.  He lifted her into his arms, seemingly effortlessly.  Putting her on the
floor, and placing his hands on her shoulders, pushing her to her knees.

ANNE

He didn't seem to strain as he lifted me from the chair, and that was
frightening in itself.  The mask made it more so.  I didn't look up, as he
pushed me to my knees.  I kept my eyes, at the level of his thighs.  I could
feel the warmth from his legs in front of me.  I was almost panting.  My heart
tripping in my chest from terror.

I felt vulnerable.  He knew me, and I didn't know him. It was frightening. I
heard Adam moving around behind me, and saw the collar coming in front of my
face to be buckled around my throat.  The fur soft against my chin. It brought
my chin up, but I kept my eyes lowered.
A leash was clipped to the large D-ring in the front, and a tug let me know to
follow him, smartly.  I did it.  My head down, and my arms working quickly. 

He had me go to the living room, where Jay and Danielle were sharing some joke. 
I could hear them laughing. I knew Adam followed behind us, because I recognized
his footsteps.  It was almost comforting.

The man in the mask sat down in one of the over stuffed leather chairs, and put
his foot on my leash.  Tugging the other end, and pulling my face down to the
floor, by his shoe.  I kissed it, and left my lips there.  Spreading my legs,
and getting into the correct posture.  Back low, and hips high.  The woman
spoke.

"She's nice-mannered, for a pet."  I almost bristled.  Pets weren't allowed to
have any higher reasoning.  They ate off the floor, and slept in a drafty
laundry room.  I was no pet.  Nobody contradicted her however.   I certainly
wasn't about too.  "Not marked enough.  All that pristine skin, is obscene."  I
felt the leash being moved, dropped next to me.  I didn't move.

"We can of course, mark her however you feel would be appropriate, Danielle." 
Jay, always ready to oblige a friend.  "We have canes, whips and paddles.  What
would you like?"  I felt the man next to me, move slightly, as she spoke.
"I think ten with a cane, should mark her nicely, then maybe that nice strap. 
The hefty one."  I shivered.  "I do so love, British tan."  They all chuckled at
her throaty joke.  I didn't, but then I was the one about to get marked.  The
fact, that I could feel the wetness forming on my thighs from the mere thought
of that cane biting into me, did nothing to quench my fear.  No matter how much
I loved the strap or the whip.  It hurt as it happened.  No amount of desire
could lessen the pain.   I just liked it.  I liked that I could take it.  No
matter how much I feared it. 

There was a quick tug on my leash, and I followed it.  Hurrying across the thick
cream carpeting.  Wondering where we were going.  We stopped in front of a
sawhorse, and I knew what was going to happen.  I was pulled to my feet, and
laid face down over the horse, almost straddling it.  The wrist cuffs were
hooked to the wood, and my feet were hooked to the legs.    Adam took a hold of
my hands from in front.  His body inches from mine.  A male hand from behind
pushed a handkerchief into my mouth.  Nothing went over it, so I could spit it
out if I wanted to.  No violation there, but it made my safe-word so much
farther away than it was.  The hand rubbed my neck, almost harshly.
He stepped back.  I heard the first soft whoosh of the cane slicing through the
air, and then fire across my thighs.  I jerked, and bit down.  The tears were
instantaneous. Adam leaning on my wrists to keep my hands still.  The blows were
quick and cruel.  The ten seeming to fall with unerring accuracy, and brutal
sameness.  I felt it acutely when they stopped.  My breaths hard, and heart
pounding. 

It seemed like there was no respite, between the cane, and the strap.  It
started as though he had held both of them in his hand.  Maybe he had.  These
blows were not softer, but bigger.  More even, because the strap was wider.   
It licked the soft part of my thighs, and the back of my calves. 

I was weakening all over.  It wasn't going to stop.  They would make me raw, and
then use me for their own relief.  I had not been talked to, or touched without
pain, since I was taken out of the chair.  I had passed from active participant,
into the abject.  I did not exist.  They talked of color, and consistency.  The
way the redness looked on me, and the quality of the welts. The only real
contact that I had was Adam's hands holding my wrists still.  Not that I could
have gotten away anyways.   

I wasn't sure if I liked being this much of an object.  It was different.  I had
been the focus, and to a certain extent I still was, but not quite.  Adam and
his friends had turned me into meat.   A different trip.  I tried to relax into
it, but I couldn't.  The man in the mask was making it impossible. 

He frightened me, because I could not identify him.  He was a stranger.  Adam
released my arms when they were finished strapping me.  Hands flipping me over
effortlessly, until I was on my back. 

Mark put his hands under my knees, and forced them back against my chest.  The
Mistress putting a condom on his organ, as his eyes studied me.  I did nothing
so foolish as look directly at him.  I concentrated on being calm, and cool.

When he slid deeply into me.  I moaned behind closed lips, and buried my face in
my arm to muffle the sound.  Not that any sound I made would have made a
difference.

The others watching us, speaking slowly about other things to do to me, and to
have me do for them.    I wouldn't let myself cum, and knew that the man in the
mask was going to soon, by the way his cock tightened inside me.  His breathing
harsh and full of heat.  His hands pushing into my arms in short grasps as he
neared.  That this was a straight fuck was surprising to me.  After Danielle,
and the chair I was wondering why this was so normal.

"Let her catch up."  Danielle said, from where she was sitting in the leather
chair.  "We can use those big beads, and maybe get her worked up again with a
wrap around whipping."  The Man in the mask, nodded, and pulled out abruptly.

They turned me over a footstool, and made me wait with my eye closed.  It would
have been so easy to open my eyes, but I didn't.  I felt the hard push of the
toy as they tried to work it into my wet slit.  They were almost too big, even
though they were soft rubber.  I was open though, from the fisting and the
fucking.  They got one in my pussy, and held it in place, while they played idly
with my body.  I was getting very tired from all they had done to me, and longed
to be bound so tightly I could relax, maybe sleep but I also wanted to see who
the scary man in the mask was.

I did realize that they would probably not let me see his face.  I could be
walking past this man on the street and wouldn't know who he was.  I would never
know his name.  He was anonymous, and that sent a funny little thrill through
me.  He was not as cruel as some, but maybe that I did not know him made it feel
crueler.

I did as they expected me too, with as much grace as I could get together, and
waited for the night to end.  I fell asleep and woke to morning, lying at the
foot of the masters bed where I belonged.  The soft blanket wrapped around my
naked flesh, hearing the gentle sounds of the men breathing in the kingsize bed
above me.

ADAM

The rest of the week passed in a flash of pleasurable lassitude.  She was left
at home to wait for our return.  Allowed to do anything but swim.. I didn't want
her to drown while we were away.  She had dinner waiting for us when we got
home.  Salads, and wine opened, breathing on the counter.  She never drank any
of it before hand.  She knelt quietly by my feet, or Jay's feet.  Letting us
feed her.  Touch her, place the food on her tongue.  Give her sips of wine or
water.  She seemed happy.  Me and Jay passing her back and forth for the night. 
Her exhausted on her pallet at the foot of the bed, when we finally stopped. 
That had been Jay's idea.  He had read it somewhere, and had always wanted to do
it for a slave, if he got one.   Anne never protested it.

The week ended too fast, and Jay and I promised to discuss asking her to move in
with us.  She would be a perfect addition to our household if she could be
persuaded to join us.

BACK TO JON AND TRACI'S

It was at the crystalline moment when I walked back up to Jon and Traci's door
that I realized the most perfect peace that I had ever known.  Contented and
serene.  I knew that I was filling a place in the world that only I could fill.
I was intoxicated by the way my life was being lived.  Lucky to not have to hide
myself all the time.  Feeling safe and loved and, God help me, appropriate here. 
I turned my head to watch Adam next to me, and felt devotion for him. Something
that I had never known before.  Simple human feelings, born of pain, and filled
with hope.   

I had screwed up my courage and dialed a phone, and found joy.  I might not have
it forever, but I had it now.     

Now, was all that mattered.  I reached out for Adam's hand, letting his fingers
capture my soul. I knew that I had come home. 

I had finally realized one thing more.  I was different, not deviant.  I was
more normal than most of the people around me, and I was lucky.  Lucky to find a
safe haven for my desires.   I couldn't go home again, or backwards, but in the
whispered fantasies, and dark corners of my imagination.  A little bit of light
had started to shine. 

One day I would totally accept my own sexuality, until then I would enjoy
myself, and this life as best I could.  Using my limitations as boundaries that
I had to fight against.  I had found the humanity within myself, and could
project it unto others.  I saw everyone as equal.    

I smiled at Adam, slowly.  For I suddenly understood what I had been looking for
in all the seedy bars, and dangerous encounters.  I had been looking for myself,
and the ability to accept myself.  To see that I was a decent person, no matter
what kind of sex I got off on.  I wasn't alone.  I could now draw a deep breath
again.  I felt better about my life.  Great about it, in fact.

If one lost dreamer can learn to love him or herself, without condition or
judgment.  What more are we capable of?   What more can I dream?  What can I
accomplish?

I may never know, but I bet I'll have a good time trying to find out.                 

<<<<<>>>>>



S.R. Andrus



10/4/98

91928 words

DARK EDEN

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