Submission in Seattle

WARNING!  THIS IS A WORK OF EROTIC BDSM FICTION.   

IT IS ADULT ORIENTED MATERIAL OF A SEXUAL NATURE.   

DELETE NOW IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO VIEW THIS TYPE OF MATERIAL.

COPYRIGHT 1998:  This story is copyrighted by the author, MB. 

AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION TO:
"SUBMISSION IN SEATTLE"

Most erotic stories with an SM theme are set in distant times or
places so that the reader can more easily enjoy descriptions of
intense sexual behavior that would be unacceptable in his or her own
society.  "Submission in Seattle" adds a small dash of fantasy to a
very real part of modern American society, the BDSM subculture.  I
hope that you will find this reality-based story even more erotic than
one which is totally based on fantasy.  I have been told by some that
the story is too "cerebral" for most people to be able to enjoy it as
erotica.  However, others have said that it is the most erotic BDSM
story they have ever read.

The popularity of BDSM has exploded in recent years, spurred on by the
rapid growth of the internet.  The creed of the modern BDSM culture is
"Safe, Sane and Consensual".  One might assume that erotic fiction
which respects this boundary would be less arousing than the usual
punishment/rape/enslavement SM tales that are found on the internet or
in the erotica section of your local bookstore.  "Submission in
Seattle" may surprise you.

To millions of television and film viewers, the standard symbol of
BDSM is the stereotypical leather-clad professional Dominatrix.  In
American society, female domination of males is the most visible and
politically correct form of BDSM relationship.  For those couples who
choose to practice male domination of the female, there is no such
reassuring symbol for them to follow.  The majority of these couples
exercise their rights as consenting adults in private, in isolation
and with a justifiable fear of persecution.

As the BDSM community matures, subgroups which enjoy certain facets of
BDSM play are beginning to coalesce.  One group that is now asserting
its right to exist is the maledom-femsub community.  This novel is for
them and those who are curious. 

Our main character, Howard Cole, is a professional male dominant for
women.  As everyone in the BDSM community knows, this is highly
unusual.  The simple rule of supply and demand in sexual commerce
prevents men from making a living in this manner.  However, a small
number of dominant heterosexual men have established themselves as
professionals.  Typically just one or two in a large city that might
support scores of female pro-Dommes.  If you are in need of their
services, seek them out in the darker regions of the internet.  You
won't be disappointed.

M.B.  1998

SUBMISSION IN SEATTLE

CHAPTER ONE

Innocence is everywhere, but the honest enjoyment of perversion is
rare.  

On a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon, platoons of harried women in
expensive cars shuttled their well dressed children along the streets
of an upper class neighborhood near Seattle, Washington.  Each house
concealed its unique story behind a screen of tall evergreen trees and
fashionable forest landscaping.  One home on a particular suburban
lane had its own special energy.  This energy was provided by the
women who passed beyond the heavy black door into the residence of
Howard Cole.

There was nothing outwardly unusual about the one story contemporary
home.  Three  young children from nearby families played noisily
within fifty feet of the conservative gray painted exterior.  The
pleasant open space between the large houses was shaded from the late
afternoon summer sun by a canopy of eighty foot Douglas Firs.
Predictably, one of the children launched a piercing, repetitive
scream in response to some injustice perpetrated by a sibling.

The occupants of the gray house, as if in another world, were
blissfully unaware of the commotion outside.  Insulated in the
soundproof basement of his large home, Howard Cole stepped back to
appraise his work.  As a talented photographer, he appreciated the
finer points of composition, color and lighting.  He stroked his short
beard for a moment, then adjusted the rolled up sleeves of his open
necked black silk dress shirt.  He stretched his solid, six foot frame
to loosen up his shoulders and straightened his round metal framed
glasses.  

The warm, spacious, high ceilinged room resembled a photographer's
studio.  It had been, until he discovered a more compelling hobby.
Unusual electronic music played from a sophisticated sound system,
creating an air of mystery and erotic ritual.

Around the edges of the hardwood floor, in semi-darkness, oddly shaped
pieces of furniture rested under black sheets.  In the center of the
room a massage table with a well padded, brown leather top rested in a
pool of light.  It was quite heavily constructed, with brass fittings
where its thick wooden beams joined together.

Cole didn't appreciate the room as much as he did the girl.  Kristina
was one of his latest favorites; a true masochist who dreamed of being
a slave girl.  This was her fourth visit to the intimate basement
dungeon.  He had yet to find one girl to steal his heart forever, but
he enjoyed them all for their individual qualities and varied physical
attributes. The one trait they all had in common was the need for
submission.  To Cole, it was a priceless treasure and extremely
beautiful.  

Every submissive girl he met captured his attention, at least for a
while.  Kristina was a gifted young software designer who happened to
work part time as a nude dancer.  He could see it in her dancer's legs
and perfect little ass.  She was exhibited quite nicely at the moment,
he thought.  He had a talent for posing the girls in the most
flattering and erotic positions.  A result, he was sure, of his
photographic experience.
                                                        ***
Kristina noticed his admiring gaze, then wiggled her well curved
bottom to let him know she was ready.  She displayed her slender nude
body and fragile youth while seductively bent over the top of the
waist high table.  The overhead spot lights illuminated her perfectly,
and she knew it.  She grinned as she thought, "Krissy, you've been
wanting this for weeks.  Trust Master Cole, he knows what you need."  

She felt the tension in her arms from the soft leather cuffs that
pulled her wrists toward the far end of the table.  Another pair of
restraints held her ankles to the sturdy, polished table legs, making
her struggle a bit to touch the floor with her toes.  It was another
one of Cole's subtle touches that reminded Kristina of her delicious
vulnerability.  "Looks like I'm going to get my money's worth
tonight," she predicted silently to herself.

She listened receptively as Cole spoke in a low, hypnotic tone that
penetrated deeply into her mind, "Krissy, it's time for me to enjoy
you now.  If you need to stop, you know how to communicate that to me.
However, if you stop, that will be all for today, and you will go home
knowing you didn't satisfy me.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master Cole," she said in a dreamy voice.  She looked up at him
and saw a handsome forty one year old man with short dark hair.  His
precisely trimmed dark beard and mustache somehow made him look
sophisticated and sinister at the same time.  The piercing gray eyes
were almost hypnotic.  When she was in this delightfully submissive
and sensual state, his attractiveness was very compelling.  She wanted
nothing more than to be close to him and give herself to him in every
possible way.  She closed her eyes for a minute to concentrate on the
hypnotic music and she felt herself slipping into the trance-like
state that she so treasured.  The stresses of her high pressure life
fell away bit by bit.

Kristina stretched her muscles sensuously as Cole placed his hands on
her well formed back and began to massage away her tension.  His
knowing fingers traced the firm muscles that were hidden beneath her
tan skin.  The bright halogen studio light made the barely visible
fuzz of tiny blonde hairs sparkle and caused a languid warmth to
penetrate her body.  When her muscles were nicely relaxed she felt him
shift his touch to the provocative curves of her ass.  The first few
swats of his heavy right hand were delicate, as if to judge the range
and check the sensitivity of her flesh.  Kristina pushed her bottom
out a little farther to signal her need.

As Cole gradually stepped up the spanking she could feel the stinging
impact of his big hands driving her against the table.  Her face was
forced closer to the padded tabletop and she inhaled the sweet aroma
of tanned leather that added to her arousal.  

"Do you like this, Krissy?" 

"Yes, Master Cole, may I please have it harder?"  She tossed her head
to spread out her glorious, shoulder length blonde hair, which she
knew he liked.

He smiled, "Of course you can. Your pretty bottom is getting very red,
little girl, and you know that turns me on."

"I know, I know," she whimpered and she continued to take the force of
his hands on her bottom cheeks.  She could tell that the intensity was
carefully measured, being increased in precise intervals that must
have taken him years to perfect.  

Slowly, a growing sexual tingle made itself felt in her clitoris.
"It's starting," she thought with an audible groan.  Kristina was no
stranger to the SM scene.  She loved pain play, when it was done
right, but she also loved to submit.  I have plenty of friends who'll
give me a good spanking, she thought, but why is Howard Cole the only
one I can submit to?   I usually play because I enjoy it, but with him
I seem to do it because he enjoys it!

A more intense wave of arousal interrupted her thoughts, reminding her
of the helpless position she had gotten herself into.  She was
restrained with her legs apart and she knew that he must have a
perfect view of her cunt.  He had ignored it completely and it was
driving her crazy waiting for the first touch.

The wonderful sensation of bare skin striking bare skin helped form an
almost spiritual connection between them.  Cole's strong hands were
ideal spanking instruments and each solid blow landed with a loud
crack.  Krissy swore that she could hear the sharp sounds echoing off
the walls.  He changed hands frequently, using the off hand to stroke
smoothly up and down her back to enhance the emotional bond.

"Oooh, mmmm, ouch," Krissy whispered.  The pain suddenly became more
intense, and she had a brief moment of fear as she realized that he
was striking the backs of her long, lean thighs.
                                                    ***
Cole could feel himself perspiring lightly after several minutes of
hard spanking.  When her breathing became heavier and the blood was
circulating furiously in her inflamed asscheeks, Cole dragged his
fingernails lightly across her hot red skin. Kristina's sharp intake
of breath indicated that she was properly warmed up.  

He noticed how her small hips widened from the pressure of the table
edge and the soft outer curves of her breasts swelled where they were
pressed against the leather.  Cole leaned back a little to look
carefully between her parted legs, where her pouting nether lips were
outlined in a most enchanting way by a well groomed thatch of fine
blonde hair.  Knowing that he could penetrate her later if he wished,
he began to grow erect, but stopped himself so he could concentrate on
the scene. 

Moving quietly around to the head of the table, he bent down to speak
with her in a soft voice.  "Open your mouth, Krissy. You'll need this
rubber bit."  To protect her teeth and tongue, Cole placed a rubber
bar in her mouth like a horse's bit that buckled behind her head.  To
demonstrate his complete control, he reached down to gently open her
sex with his fingers and softly stroke her sensitive inner labia.
                                                        *** 
Kristina's muscles contracted involuntarily with the surprising new
stimulation.  She was embarrassed by her sudden straining against her
bonds and moaned as she felt an overwhelming sense of submission and
inevitability.  Her heart beat faster and the excitement grew within
her.  She could feel the first trickle of wetness between her legs.

She watched as Cole picked up a long, straight rattan cane and showed
it to her.  It was a quarter inch thick and one end had been covered
with thin black leather to form a handle.  As she studied it, her
breathing became difficult and irregular.

Holding the cane reverently, Cole walked around behind her into an
area reflected by a large wall mirror.  Kristina could see the full
reflection of her helpless form strapped to the heavy table and she
realized that she would be able to see exactly what was happening to
her lovely bottom.  Her own wide eyed expression in the mirror
reminded her of the way a deer looks when caught in the headlights of
an oncoming vehicle.
                                                      ***
Cole noticed it too.  Slowly drawing his arm back for a full stroke,
he aimed the cane directly at the center of her perfect ass and drove
it with full force into her taut gluteal globes.  The skin was deeply
indented for a hundredth of a second.  A heartbeat later Kristina's
head jerked, causing her hair to fly up and descend in a pretty golden
shower that sparkled as it caught the light.  It was as if she had
been struck by lightning and her eyes widened at the astonishing
impact.  She grunted around the rubber bit, which had just saved her
tongue from a serious injury.  

Looking carefully at his watch, Cole said calmly, "I like to allow
about thirty seconds between strokes so that you can fully appreciate
the pain."
                                                        ***
Kristina heard the music change from an erotic electronic piece to a
Gregorian chant.  Then she heard the hiss of the cane through the air.
It struck before she could even tighten her buttocks in anticipation.
The pain was extreme, and Kristina didn't know if she could continue
to take it at this intensity.  She contemplated ending the scene, but
knew that if she did she would regret it later when she was longing to
be in his bed.  "Continue to breathe," she told herself, "concentrate
and you can take this for him."

Five minutes and ten loud strokes into the ritual, Kristina's ass was
a perfect example of the double track signature of the cane.  Each
raised red welt was placed parallel to the others.  Kristina, her skin
flushed and damp with sweat, moaned and pulled hard at the leather
cuffs. She forced herself to breathe very rapidly, almost panting with
the pain.  It seemed to help, somehow. The fire in her hindquarters
slowly penetrated into her brain and fulfilled the mysterious need
that only Cole understood.  She knew that she had now reached that
familiar plateau that was like the moment when an orgasm becomes
inevitable.  The scene would now continue to its conclusion.  There
was no other option.

There was a brief pause and she was afraid he might stop.  Then she
looked at Cole in the mirror and listened to him speak.  Her vision
was slightly blurry with sweat or arousal, she couldn't tell which. 

"I want to hurt you some more, Krissy.  You've only had ten strokes so
far.  I'd like you to take twenty five.  The last girl I used this big
cane on was barely conscious after 20 strokes, but I think you can do
better."

Kristina was both exhilarated and frightened, but continued to look at
her own reflection in the mirror as if she were observing a dream.
She watched in fascination,  as the heavy rattan cane cut into her
outraged bottom.  She tried to scream into the rubber bit as he
continued to dispense the severe blows, "Oh God... No, oooh, YES!" Her
endorphins began to flow and the pain was slowly transformed into
pleasure.

It took six more of the slashing strokes before she was truly flying
high on a trip induced by a cocktail of fantasy, emotions and natural
biochemicals released by her bruised flesh.  The powerful strokes
slowly continued as she moaned and thrashed against the table.  She
was not struggling to free herself.  She was writhing in ecstasy.

As on previous visits, she was allowed to spend the night.  Her
submission was absolute.  This time, after satisfying his perverted
sexual urges, she was forced to sleep on the floor next to his bed.
She loved every minute of it and was happy to hand him a slim envelope
as she left the next morning.

Kristina knew that she was just one woman among many in the unusual
life of Howard Cole, but she didn't mind.  Her world felt complete.
She was deliciously satisfied and quite proud at having taken twenty
five strokes of the terrible cane.  She left his house smiling,
feeling the sexy soreness in her buttocks and vagina.  With any luck,
she thought, she would be reminded of her caning for two or three days
as she sat in her boring office cubicle.   Her breasts bounced a bit
as she got behind the wheel and her sore nipples peaked, reminding her
of other pleasures. 

She drove along the conservative Sunday morning streets, observing the
ordinary people living their ordinary lives.  "If they only knew..."
she speculated.  She grinned at the thought of the secret she carried
inside and wondered how long it would be until she needed to contact
him again.
                                                      ***
As he watched her go, Cole felt strangely alone.  He was pleased that
Krissy believed she had taken the full twenty five strokes, when he
had actually stopped at nineteen.  The little psychological games were
all part of the service.  It had taken him years of trial and error to
learn how to weave a woman's fantasy into a practical reality.  He
played the role well, very well, but he knew there must be more.

CHAPTER TWO


Howard Cole placed his glass of Willamette valley pinot noir on the
desk next to the computer and looked around the expensively furnished
home office to clear his mind.  As was his nightly custom, he powered
up his computer to check his email.  He grinned slightly as he
recalled his session with Krissy the previous week.  He thought
briefly about how much more interesting his life had become in the
years since he had discovered organized BDSM and later, the internet.


"Life certainly has its surprises," he said before taking a sip from
the one glass of wine he allowed himself.

While he waited for the computer to complete the logon and download
procedure, he recalled the unlikely chain of events that led to his
unusual lifestyle.

From his elegant home in a heavily forested suburb of Seattle, Cole
reached out into the shadowy world of those who searched for
satisfaction via the internet.  His occupation as a patent broker
allowed him ample time to pursue his true love, the sexual domination
of women.  

He enjoyed being his own boss and was usually able to set his own
hours.  His clients were major universities and small research
companies that needed to sell their patented ideas to various
industries.  They usually met with him at his office in Bellevue where
he shared a receptionist and secretarial staff with four other
businessmen.  None of them had the slightest understanding of his
unusual sexual tastes.  

Most of the businessmen in his circle of friends brought their wives
or girlfriends to business related functions.  Cole usually showed up
alone, which caused some speculation that he might be gay.  In
reality, he simply did not want to mix his sex life with his work, for
obvious reasons.  

He remembered that on the rare occasions when he brought a woman
friend, his colleagues and their wives would spend the next few days
trying to figure out what gave the woman such a mysterious air of
sexuality.  Ill equipped to understand sexual submissiveness, they
usually decided it was something mundane, like her clothing or
perfume. 

He had no idea what a strange direction his life would take when he
graduated from a Southern California law school in his late twenties
with a profound distrust of the adversarial legal system.  During his
final year of school, he interned at a law firm specializing in
criminal defense and other trial work.  The things he saw there
convinced him that he could never participate in the courtroom games
that his classmates loved.  That was also when his wife announced that
he wasn't the kind of man she wanted to be married to and demanded a
divorce.  Shortly thereafter, he discovered a talent for patent law
and never looked back.  According to his estimate, he could retire at
age fifty and live very nicely for the rest of his life.

When the monitor finally displayed the list of incoming email, he
snapped back from his self analysis and quickly focused on the
messages. 

Ah, three responses tonight, he noted.  They were replies to the
personal ads that he had placed systematically on various websites and
newsgroups.  Each of his ads was slightly different, but they all
contained basically the same message.

Cole described himself in the ads as a professional dominant for women
only.  Although the ads didn't mention it, his fee was negotiable.  It
would usually depend on what the customer could afford.  He didn't
need the money, but it helped establish a very important boundary.  It
also created an atmosphere that allowed for some intensely hot play
sessions.  

When he first considered this idea, he was told by his friends from
the Seattle SM scene that there was no such thing as a professional
male dominant, unless you wanted to dominate men, of course.  It was a
simple case of supply and demand in the sex industry.  The
conventional wisdom also said that most, if not all, submissive women
were looking for a long term relationship.  After some research and
several experiments in advertising, he discovered that there was a
small, but significant market for his services.  Not enough to make a
living, which he didn't need anyway, but enough to keep him busy with
interesting new women.  

Once he had worked out the system, there was a slow, but steady stream
of women who answered his internet ads.  Most of them lived too far
away, didn't have the money to travel or were just too frightened to
meet with a stranger for such an intimate and dangerous activity.
Cole gently discouraged many others who did not meet his personal
standards for physical appearance or intelligence.   About two or
three times a year, he would arrange to meet with a new correspondent
who seemed to be a good potential customer.  In the back of his mind
was always the possibility that he might meet a woman who could become
his permanent partner.

He discovered that many submissive women didn't feel like they could
really give up control to a man who was going to be a major part of
their lives.  A professional dominant, on the other hand, could do his
job and vanish.  The woman could carry on safely with her normal life,
keeping only the treasured memories of her submissive sexual
experience.

Many of the women he met were in situations that prevented them from
seeking the kind of relationship they truly desired.  Perhaps they
were married and unable to leave.  Perhaps their career or public
image was at risk.  Others wished to safely learn about their
submissive feelings.  It seemed that each woman had her own unique
reason for seeking his services.

He dropped out of the Seattle SM scene when he realized that he wasn't
finding what he needed there.  By avoiding public gatherings of the SM
community, it was also less likely that his secret life would become
known to his vanilla friends and colleagues.

He would still occasionally meet his kinky friends at Beyond the Edge
Cafe, the unofficial meeting place of the leather community.  Only a
few of his most trusted scene friends knew of his second occupation
and they would occasionally send him a woman who needed his services. 

A meeting of the local SM club had to be something special for him to
attend these days.  He might go if a nationally known figure was
speaking.  Laura Antoniou had been at the last one and Cole had
enjoyed it greatly.  He sat in the back and waved politely at old
friends who recognized him.  After the meeting, instead of joining the
milling crowd of people eager to meet potential play partners, he
waited only long enough for Laura to autograph a set of her books for
him.  Then he quietly disappeared from the room.   

Now, staring intently at the computer monitor, he quickly read and
eliminated all three of the responses.  Not my type, he sighed.  He
sent each of them a polite reply telling them that he was currently
unavailable.  Then he answered a two day old email from a previous
customer who wanted to schedule another session.  Their first two
sessions had been in her home, but this time she was interested in
being "kidnapped" and taken away to be ravished by Cole.

He quickly typed an email message:

"Dear Victoria, 

I would be pleased to provide you with a kidnapping scene on Sunday
the 18th.  The usual rules will apply, except that this time I will
not specify a fee.  After you have had a few days to think about the
experience, simply send me whatever amount you feel is appropriate.

I will need the full details of your schedule that day.  Make certain
that you are available until at least 10 PM."

Cole sent the message and shut down the computer.

He thought about the particular fondness he had for Victoria.  It
wasn't just the fact that she had a very sexy, mature body.  Under her
too perfect exterior and snobbish attitude was a little girl who
needed to be dominated.  He also had a great deal of respect for her.
Victoria wasn't a thrill seeking young SM player like Kristina.  She
was the mature female of the species, experienced and formidable.  

Too bad her obsession with her looks and her society lifestyle were so
annoying, he thought.  Still, she had responded very nicely during
their sessions and he felt like there was potential for more good
play.  Unlike some of his customers, she didn't seem to mind marks and
bruises, as long as they could be covered by her clothing.  In fact,
she had indicated that she would like it a lot rougher if possible.
Cole grinned at the thought.
                                                      ***
At that moment, in the elegant ladies' room of a historic hotel in
downtown Seattle, Victoria Windham-Jenkins checked her make up for the
fourth time.  She was forty two years old, but looked like she was
thirty.  "A young thirty," she said to herself as she reshaped the
outline of her slightly too bright lipstick.   It made her feel better
after her exchange of insults with a snobbish couple in the grand
dining room a few minutes earlier.

She was aware that both her mood and her behavior had been gradually
deteriorating in recent weeks.  I'm getting to be such a bitch, she
thought, it reminds me of that weird movie I watched last week. What
was that Navajo word for life-out-of-balance?  Koyanisqat-something?

She tried to remember exactly how long it had been since her last
session with Howard Cole.  Was it four months ago or five, she
wondered?   Her secretary had jokingly pointed out one of Cole's
internet ads last year and Victoria had since experienced two
successful sessions with the professional dominant.

Victoria's wealthy husband had died a decade before, leaving her with
a company that controlled two hundred thousand acres of prime timber
land and two world class paper mills.  There was more money than she
could possibly spend.  She still missed the old bastard, though.  He
was so deliciously rough and he always seemed to know when she needed
it.  She constantly tested him and she could still remember how his
big hand would bruise her bare bottom when she pushed him too far.
Actually, she thought, I could use a little bit of that right now.

Although she was technically the Chairman of the Board, her presence
was rarely required at company headquarters.  A veritable army of
managers and accountants took care of things quite nicely without her.
When she was not attending society functions she spent her time in the
gym and at various health spas being wrapped in odd substances
guaranteed to preserve one's youthful skin tone.  As yet, she had
avoided the plastic surgeon.  It was a matter of pride, which she had
in abundance.  

She paid a small fortune to keep a hairdresser on call at all times to
maintain her elaborate bleached blonde hairstyle.  She copied it from
Farrah Fawcett almost twenty years ago, but she thought of it as her
trademark and would never consider changing it.  Looking in the mirror
one last time, she admired her bright green eyes, then patted her hair
and smoothed the low cut velvet gown around her womanly curves.

As she left the ladies' room, she cheered herself with the thought
that men were always in plentiful supply.  They would compete among
themselves to see who could serve her most sincerely.  She remembered
a recent art gallery opening, where she had counted four attractive
men of various ages who swarmed around her offering flutes of
champagne, crab cocktails and radishes that were carved into perfect
little flowers.

To intimidate the other women that night, she had worn a tight red
evening dress that displayed her large breasts and narrow waist.  That
sexy Italian artist told me I looked like Marilyn Monroe, she recalled
with a smug little smile.  She remembered how she took the lucky
fellow home with her that night and discarded him the next morning as
if he were an empty wine bottle.

Her memories ended as she returned to the party and surveyed the
crowd.  Tonight she had her eye on a handsome young doctor.  She
watched him show a mouth full of perfect white teeth when he grinned
at a joke.  "He'll do nicely," she thought while moving in for the
kill and trying unsuccessfully to suppress a shark-like grin.  The
result was never in doubt. They left the party early and her chauffeur
drove them both to her place.  The poor doctor was used and sent home
by midnight.  

Afterwards lying alone in her gigantic bed, she thought of her late
husband, Eric, and wished that he was there to give her what she
really needed.  Fast and easy sex was better than nothing, she
figured, but she could still feel a tension within her that would be
impossible to describe to anyone else.  She reflected briefly on her
arrangement with Howard Cole and thought, I guess I do have something
to look forward to, if I can just hold out till next week.

When Victoria awoke the next Sunday morning, she remembered that she
had given the housekeeper the day off.  She was alone in her very
large house.  It had twenty three rooms, an outdoor swimming pool that
was of little use in Seattle, and a smaller house for the servants.
Cole hadn't told her when she would be kidnapped, but since he had
asked her where she would go and when, she expected it to happen when
she left the house to have lunch at her favorite Sunday restaurant.
She told her driver to take the day off, so she would be free to go
out alone.

After a very light breakfast, she got into the shower and started to
shave.  She always shaved her labia and left just a little triangle of
hair above. After shaving, she spent several minutes stroking herself
and thinking about what might happen to her later that day.  She was
reasonably certain that Cole had understood her requests for rougher
play.  Just as she was on the verge of coming, she stopped the erotic
self stimulation in order to leave herself with a nice edge.  "Oooh,
gotta stop now," she said to herself.

Having a hair stylist on call, she normally did not wash her own hair.
Unfortunately, the stylist was not available today and she resigned
herself to being without her perfect hairstyle until tomorrow.  It's
going to get messed up anyway, she hoped.  Reaching for the shampoo,
she proceeded to wash her long blonde hair.  It pleased her to see
that she remembered how.

With her eyes tightly closed, she put her head under the shower stream
and rinsed out the floral scented shampoo.  Without warning, a strong
arm reached past the frilly shower curtain and wrapped around her
waist.  She was lifted completely out of the tub and a black cloth bag
was placed over her head before she could identify the intruder.  She
hoped it was Cole, but she wasn't expecting him for a few more hours.
With her heart pounding, she said meekly, "Howard, is that you?"

The intruder was in the process of pulling her arms behind her back
and snapping a pair of handcuffs on her wrists.  A muffled voice said
simply, "Shut up, Bitch!"  It didn't sound at all like Howard.  She
was completely terror-stricken.

Still damp from the shower, naked, handcuffed and shivering with fear,
she was forced to walk through the house to the garage.  The intruder
lifted her into a vehicle that seemed to be a van of some sort and
pushed her down onto the carpeted floor.  He strapped her down firmly
to the floor with several wide nylon straps that felt like rough seat
belts, then covered her with a thick, soft quilt.  She was unable to
move or see, but she heard someone get into the driver's seat.  Then
the garage door opened and the van drove out.

When her panic had subsided a bit, she called out to the driver, "Who
are you, where are you taking me?"  He ignored her completely.

Oh God, I've really been kidnapped! she thought in panic.  Her
corporate security department had warned her that this was a
possibility and now it had happened.  She felt very frightened, but at
least it was warm beneath the quilt, which was apparently filled with
goose down. Maybe they'll just keep me for a few days until the ransom
is paid.  I certainly have enough money for that, she mused.

The pressure of the tight straps and the gentle rocking movement of
the vehicle gradually calmed her and created a warm submissive
feeling. Somehow the feeling combined with her fear and produced a
subtle erotic aura.  Blinded by the cloth bag and completely immobile,
there wasn't much to do but relax.  

After a long time, the van seemed to drive into another garage and she
heard the electric rumbling as the door closed.  The unseen driver
opened the side door of the van and released the straps.  With upward
pressure on her cuffed wrists behind her back, he forced her to walk
into a house and down a flight of stairs.  She thought she was in a
basement, but it was quite warm and the floor felt like smooth
varnished wood.  There was a slight smell of perfume, or was it
incense?

Still without a word, the man pushed her face down onto a firm bed and
removed the cloth bag from her head.  Before she could turn to look at
him, he placed a padded leather blindfold over her eyes that was held
in place with a strong elastic band.  She was surprised when he took a
minute to comb out her damp hair and dry it with a towel.  The touch
of the comb felt very intimate.  Damn, I'm getting turned on, she
realized.

Then the handcuffs were removed and leather bindings of some sort were
firmly attached around each wrist.  He pulled her across the smooth
floor and attached her wrists to something in front of her.  A moment
later, her arms were pulled straight up above her head. She was able
to keep the strain off her wrists by holding a leather strap that
crossed the palm of each hand.  

She didn't know what to expect next.  The kidnapper still hadn't
spoken more than three words, so she had no clue as to why she had
been forced into this humiliating position.  Except for the leather
restraints on her wrists, she was totally naked and exposed to
anything the kidnapper wished to do.  She could feel that her large
breasts were nicely displayed by her raised arms.  She was very proud
to have such attractive breasts at her age.  As her ankles were
fastened to the floor about two feet apart, she struggled between fear
and arousal.  When she thought about how her shaved cunt was now
exposed, she knew that arousal was going to win.

The man removed her blindfold.  He stood behind her so she still
couldn't identify him, but she could tell that she was in a darkened
room with a single spotlight shining down on her.  Nearly blinded by
the sudden light, she could just make out the shape of a video camera
on a tripod with a red light blinking.  Perhaps the kidnapper was
making a tape to send with a ransom note?  Who would be looking at
that tape?  The thought made her hold in her stomach and thrust out
her chest to show off her lush figure.

The blindfold was suddenly replaced, but not before she had looked
down at her nude body and noticed how her firm breasts were thrust
forward and her nipples were as hard as little rocks.  The feeling of
debasement was strong and it stimulated an increasing wetness between
her legs. 
                                                       ***
The kidnapper decided to enjoy himself a bit and started slowly
caressing her.  No kisses, he didn't want her to feel his beard.
Seeing her without her usually perfect hairstyle made her seem more
than naked.  The strong spotlight emphasized the fashionable paleness
of her skin.  Her milky white breasts were made to be offered in this
position, he thought.  He made sure to pinch and twist the erect pink
nipples, then squeezed each breast hard several times.  He lifted and
dropped each one repeatedly to appreciate their resilience and weight.


Reaching down between her legs, he started to lightly stroke her
slightly damp cunt.  Hmmm, freshly shaved, he noticed.  After a few
minutes, he found her clitoris, which was as hard as her nipples.  She
jerked when he touched it, betraying its extreme sensitivity.  The
ankle restraints made it impossible for her to bring her legs
together, granting him free access to her erotic center.  

After several minutes of light touching and teasing, his semi-willing
victim was nearly ready to scream from frustration.  Removing his hand
from between her legs, he stepped back and picked up a four foot
single tailed whip that his years of practice allowed him to control
perfectly.  To make sure that it was properly flexible he cracked it
in the air a few feet behind Victoria's back.  The sound was like a
small caliber gunshot.  He enjoyed seeing her jump and fight against
her bonds.   
                                                        ***
The threatening snaps of the whip frightened Victoria and she began to
make sexy whimpering noises as she realized that she did not have the
slightest control over what was going to happen next.

With a series of gentle overhand strokes, the braided nylon cracker on
the end of the whip started to kiss her pale skin.  Just a light snap
on her shoulder blade, then a stronger one on her left ass cheek.  The
impacts burned like fire for thirty seconds, then left a hot glow
behind.  Very light strokes alternated with moderate ones for several
minutes, leaving distinct red welts on her upper back, buttocks and
thighs.  

There was a slow, regular rhythm to her punishment that added to her
arousal and her desire to surrender herself to her captor.   Every ten
to fifteen strokes, the whip would crack near her helpless body with a
loud report, re-igniting her fear.  A few strokes began to creep
around her generous hips leaving more raised red stripes there.
She could feel every one of the burning welts, although she had lost
count after fifty lashes.
                                                       ***
The thrill of dominating the normally haughty woman was making him
hard and his rapid heartbeat was almost audible.  "I feel so alive
when I do this," he thought.  There was an almost painful pressure as
his cock tried to find a path for expansion. He would have to remove
his jeans soon if this continued and he decided to pause for a moment
to regain control.   To regain his composure, he concentrated on his
technical skills and carefully used a backstroke to place several
lashes between her open thighs, setting fire to her already overheated
labia.

He walked around her, admiring her body and noticing how vulnerable
she looked, blindfolded and hanging there within easy reach.  I love
the way this position emphasizes her hipbones and the way her breasts
stand out and beg for attention, he thought.  He sensed that it was
time for another hard stroke, this one needed to strike an unmarked
area of white skin just below her well shaped right bottom cheek.
                                                       ***
By this time, Victoria was sure it was Cole.  He was playing her like
a musical instrument.  Nobody else understood her responses well
enough to do that to her.  Gasping between lashes, she cried out,
"God, you're good Howard.  I'm so horny I could die!"

Pulling the blindfold off, he smiled and said, "You are such a slut,
Vicky."

"I am not a slut!"

"Yes you are.  Look how wet you get when you're tied and whipped.  I'm
not stopping until you admit it. Admit that you're a horny little
tramp who needs to be dominated."  

He adjusted the overhead rope to pull her wrists higher, forcing her
up onto her toes.  The harsh restraints stretched her voluptuous frame
to its limits.

She turned her head to get a glimpse of Cole standing behind her.  The
handsome face with its sinister beard and the studious glasses
reminded her of how hot she was for the man.  The pressure of her arms
against the side of her head told her that her damp hair was nearly
dry and must look horrible.  It was bad enough being put on display in
such a lewd manner, but she shuddered with humiliation at the thought
of being seen without her usual perfect hairstyle.  

Cole didn't mind a bit.  He thought that her nicely stretched body
looked quite delicious, especially when forcibly stripped of its
artificial decoration.  He moved around in front of her and carefully
aimed the thin whip at her right breast. 

"No!  Please... not my tits!"

 She moaned and watched fearfully as the tip burned a red line into
the inner curve of her sexy cleavage.  She tried to shake her chest
from side to side to spoil his aim, but he slowly covered her thrust
out bosom with one stinging welt after another.  The delightful
jiggling of her breasts only spurred him on.  He saved her engorged,
sensitive nipples for last.

She was biting her lip to keep from saying the one humiliating thing
that would make him stop, when she realized that he was taking aim at
her highly aroused left nipple.  She was a strong willed woman, but
her eyes opened wide when the whip lashed her helpless teat.  Almost
instantly, before the pain could arrive at her brain, he had done the
same to her other nipple.  Throwing her head back she let out a long
scream that echoed off the walls of the large room.  Hanging there
whimpering as the pain in her breasts slowly diminished, she said,
"You're right, Howard, I am a slut.  I need to be fucked so bad I
can't stand it another second."

"So, you're a horny little slut, are you?  You'll have to beg me to
fuck you.  Do you want it that bad, Little Vicki Slut?"  He slid three
fingers inside her while using his other hand to lightly brush her
abused nipples.

Victoria sucked in a huge breath as she felt her vaginal muscles relax
and invite the invading fingers deeper.  A large quantity of her slick
fluid flowed onto Cole's hand.  She was terribly embarrassed by her
obvious need, but it didn't stop her from begging.

"Yes, please sir, I really need it now!  Fuck me, please fuck me!"
Victoria had never felt so degraded and debased.
                                                        ***
Cole lowered her until he could unfasten her wrist and ankle
restraints from their attachment points.  Then with the leather cuffs
still on, he led her to a low bed in the corner.  "Get on your knees
slut, you're going to be fucked like an animal.  Get your head down
all the way.  Arch your back.  Stick that cunt out for me."  He
reached beneath her with one hand to roughly fondle her large breasts,
which were hanging straight down in a tantalizing way.  His other hand
slapped her welted ass and stroked her cunt to bring her arousal to a
peak.  He quickly removed his clothing and touched his aching cock,
which confirmed his extreme horniness.

Cole slipped a thin textured condom onto his thick organ and knelt
behind her.  The view of her hips and cunt was intoxicating.  He
slipped easily into her wet opening and began long slow thrusts that
gradually increased in speed and power.  He always used a condom with
his paying customers, partly to protect himself and partly to help
delay his own orgasm.   He was glad for the reduced sensation this
time, since he had become highly aroused by dominating the proud
Victoria.
                                                       ***
Being fucked from behind was Victoria's favorite position, but she
never allowed her lovers to take her that way.  She thought it was
demeaning and didn't want them to see her like that.  Being ruthlessly
whipped, then fucked doggy style by someone who really knew how to use
her was something from her hottest and most secret fantasy.  Her skin
was still burning from nearly a hundred thin welts, when the pounding
of Cole's cock pushed her over the edge.  She came in a long series of
violent internal spasms and a guttural scream that sounded as if she
were dying.
                                                       ***
Cole was breathing heavily, not from the physical exertion, but from
the intense concentration.  He was just a bit disappointed when she
collapsed forward onto her face.  "Humph!" he muttered.  "You're not
getting off that easily Miss Vicky."

She seemed completely incapacitated as he rolled her over onto her
back.  He quickly fastened the wrist cuffs to the head of the bed and
used soft ropes to pull her ankle cuffs to each side, leaving her cunt
gaping and ready for his attention. When she opened her eyes he saw
her look at his face, then at his hard cock.  He felt the wave of
total lust that she projected.  It was obvious.  Even though their
relationship was strictly limited, at that moment she wanted him
inside her more than any man she had ever known. 

"Please, please, I need more!" she begged, while trying to thrust her
wanting pussy toward him.

Warming up on a nearby chair was an electric massager with a large
flat head heated to several degrees above body temperature.  Grasping
the cylindrical handle, Cole turned it on and began to slide the warm,
flat, vibrating surface up and down the slippery length of her shaved
vulva.  He varied the pressure in time with the movement of her hips
creating a symphony of sexual stimulation.

Straining against her soft bonds and panting like she had just run a
marathon, Victoria had two or three more earth shattering orgasms
before Cole decided to give her his own cock again.  He released her
legs, then held them up together while he knelt and pushed himself
fully into her warm depths.  Her legs folded conveniently over his
shoulder.  The extra tightness caused by holding her legs together
helped offset the effect of the condom and the soaking wet cunt.
Seeing her hands still restrained above her head reminded him that he
was in complete control.  

He looked down at her breasts, which had flattened considerably in
this position, but now jiggled dramatically with his thrusting.  "Nice
tits, my little slut, you should see how they bounce when I fuck you
like this," he said in a humiliating tone.  Victoria tried to respond
verbally, but could only manage a series of gasps and grunts.

The physical and emotional stimulation soon had him on the verge of
coming and he slapped her welted ass with his hand just as he started
to spurt.  Even though Victoria was exhausted, Cole's loud groan of
pleasure and strenuous thrusting forced her to come once more.

Nearly an hour later, when they had both recovered enough to talk, he
inspected her for any cuts or bleeding.  She was covered with thin
welts about four inches long.  Fortunately, none of the welts had
broken the skin and they were all in areas that would heal nicely.
"You'd better stay away from the health spa for a while.  There's no
way you're going to explain this," he said.  "You won't be showing any
cleavage either," he noted, while looking at her striped breasts.

"I know, but it was worth it.  I feel so relaxed, so balanced, it's
almost like being high.  I can survive the rat race for another few
months now.  Thanks, Howard... really."

She grinned and pulled him into a lover's hug.   "Don't you worry
about me, I'll heal up OK."

He showed her that the video camera had been a fake.  It was all part
of the performance.  She took some time attempting to make her hair
look better, then asked for a scarf to cover it.  He drove her home
and handed her the garage door opener that he had used to gain
entrance to her house.  When she asked how he got it, he simply
grinned and said, "A pro-Dom can't tell all his secrets."  

Victoria turned to watch him drive away.  In many ways she wanted him
for her own, but she knew that it was best to keep their relationship
just as it was.  Turning to go inside, she started to think of her
next social obligation, a party that she was hosting in a week.  Her
newfound state of relaxation allowed her to contemplate her duties
without the tension that had been present the day before.

A few days later Cole received a letter from Victoria addressed in her
excellent handwriting.  Inside he found a personal check for two
thousand dollars and a one word note that said "Thanks."

CHAPTER THREE

Several months later, in an apartment close to downtown, a woman with
gloriously curly, long brown hair hunched over a glowing laptop
computer.  It was, appropriately, resting on her lap as she reclined
against a pile of pillows on her queen sized bed.  Her name was Monica
Peterson and she was trading email with a man whose personal ad she
discovered on the internet the previous month. So far, she knew him
only as Howard.  

She brushed her hair back from her pretty face and frowned in
concentration.  As she thought about the best way to convey a very
private thought to her new correspondent, she recalled some of their
previous conversations.

He described himself as a professional dominant for women, a pro-dom.
When they first made contact, he asked her to explain in great detail
what she was looking for and why she wanted it.  It was not easy for
her to discuss such private thoughts, but it was a very enlightening
exchange.  

They traded email almost daily for six weeks and talked on the
telephone several times.  His deep, sexy voice on the phone made her
tingle inside.  At first, Monica was reluctant to believe that he was
genuine, but gradually she became convinced and started making plans
to meet and perhaps sample his services.

Early in their correspondence she revealed considerable information
about herself to avoid any misunderstandings about what she was
looking for.  He patiently answered her numerous questions about
dominance and submission, then asked more questions about her past.

In one of their first phone conversations, she asked how he would make
her submit.  He patiently explained, "I have no interest in making
anyone submit.  Not by seduction, threats or trickery."

"If someone wants to be my submissive," he told her, "they must submit
willingly, even eagerly."  He had vowed never to waste his time on
someone who was not sure what they wanted.  She learned that one of
his greatest fears was to have a partner appear to submit, then change
her mind and accuse him of forcing her.

Monica worked as an account executive in a well known Seattle-based
marketing firm.  She believed that the pressures of her job were
partly responsible for her intense desire to submit sexually, but the
roots of her sexuality extended back beyond her dimmest memories.
Perhaps it was even determined by her genes.  

As she and Cole were getting to know each other, she conscientiously
answered his questions regarding her childhood and her first memories
of wanting to submit.  "When I was seven," she told him, "I remember
hoping that my cousin would tie me up.  He was about ten years old and
had no interest in me at the time.  I was very disappointed." 

At age nine in Boise, Idaho, she would wrap herself in long coils of
rope and pretend that she was a woman being held prisoner by various
villains.  She wasn't exactly sure what the villains would get out of
it.  Apparently, tying up women was part of their job, or at least it
seemed that way on television.

Then there were the Nancy Drew books.  She discovered them when she
was eleven.  The scenes where Nancy was captured and tied up held her
attention like nothing else she had read before.  In one book, Nancy
was spanked with a hairbrush by a nefarious thief.  In the privacy of
her gingham and lace bedecked bedroom, Monica found out what turned
her on. 

The next step in her sexual development occurred when she found her
father's pornography hidden in a dresser drawer among the socks.
There were several bondage magazines and some SM oriented paperbacks.
Her favorite was the Story of O.  It provided her with endless hours
of erotic fantasy.  Even more important, it proved that there must be
others like her.  She knew that someone had to be buying these books
or the publishers wouldn't print them. The dog eared copy that she had
stolen from her father was still kept reverently with her important
papers in a safe deposit box.

When she went to college in Chicago to obtain her business degree, the
college men that she had expected to be so sophisticated were
completely clueless.  Sex was a big disappointment.  Lots of groping
and awkwardness.  It was so hard to tell a man what she wanted,
especially when so many of them expected her to take charge.  Couldn't
they see that she wanted them to be in control?

She thought she was close to meeting her secret need when she dated an
attractive older student named Robert Hamilton.  He was drop dead
handsome and came from a wealthy family.  Several of her classmates
had dated him and many others were interested.  She was surprised when
he expressed an interest in her, since he was only seen with the best
looking women and she did not consider herself to be very attractive.


He certainly acted more dominant than her previous dates, telling her
what to wear and when to show up at his place.  "Be at my place at
eight o'clock, wearing a short skirt and the white sweater that I
like," he instructed her.  At first, he seemed to understand when she
hinted that she wanted him to tie her hands or give her a real
spanking.  Unfortunately, he insisted that they stick to his script,
which invariably required her to satisfy him orally.  "Yeah baby, suck
it hard, that's right!"  His good looks and wealth had conditioned him
to expect easy service from women, always on his terms.  

They dated three times before she was ready to admit to herself that
he had no interest in spanking or bondage.  "He's just a stuck up
jerk," she finally told her girlfriends.  Giving blow jobs could be
fun for her, but only in the context of submission.  He was also
uninterested in helping her climax, so the sheer sexual frustration
was becoming a problem.

During her college years, masturbation remained her favorite sexual
activity.  She built up a nice collection of erotica that she kept in
a locked footlocker in her tiny student apartment.  It consisted
mostly of soft core SM novels that she found at the mall bookstores.
The first few times she purchased one of the dirty books, she was sure
that everyone was watching and wondering what kind of pervert she was.


The English discipline stories were particularly hot.  Reading about a
young woman being tied over a bench of some sort and caned beyond the
limits of endurance always made her sopping wet.  It could be quite
embarrassing if she was reading in the bookstore, standing in the
aisle where the clerk couldn't see her and wondering if the wetness
was showing on her jeans.  She soon learned to buy the books quickly
and take them home for a thorough road test.  

The pirate stories were another reliable trigger. Using her favorite
books and a small vibrator, she could vividly imagine herself being
the helpless slave of a strong, handsome pirate.  Of course she was
not a very good slave, so she was ruthlessly punished quite often.
Her most frequent fantasy involved being tied to the mast and flogged
on her back and ass.  Then the sexy bearded pirate would take her to
his cabin, tie her spread-eagled to the bed and rape her with lots of
pinching and slapping of her sensitive parts.  Of course her own hands
would stand in for Captain Blood, the Scourge of the Caribbean.

She had hoped that the move to Seattle would give her a better chance
of finding a compatible partner with whom to share her secret.
Unfortunately for Monica, none of the men she liked had been willing
to provide the kind of domination that she craved so deeply.  What she
really wanted was a chance to give herself completely to a dominant
man, a master.  She wanted a man who would ask her to take pain for
him, then use her for his own pleasure.  

In her email messages, she briefly outlined for Cole two previous
relationships that ended when her partners decided they couldn't live
with her kinky tendencies.  Modern American men had been conditioned
to think in ways that precluded good male dominant sexual play.  The
constant repetition of media messages against domestic violence made
any thinking man recoil at the thought of hitting a woman.  She did
notice however that there were more and more roles created for
sexually dominant women.  The image of the leather clad Dominatrix was
getting to be a clich‚ in films and television sitcoms.  It made her
feel even more alone.

Her dating experience in Seattle did prove that she was attracted to
older men.  Men seemed to become much more sophisticated about sex
after a decade or two of practice.  She also wondered if perhaps the
older men weren't quite as well indoctrinated with political
correctness as the younger ones.

Monica discovered the kinky side of the internet about two years ago
and decided to experiment with personal ads a bit later. She had some
brief flings when she chose partners simply for the fact that they
could play the dominant role, at least long enough to sleep with her a
few times.  When she realized that what they wanted was vanilla sex,
or to have her dominate them, the spell was broken.  Each time she
came out of the semi-hypnotic state that she called her submissive
headspace, she felt disgusted that she had allowed such gross men to
touch her.

She suddenly realized that she had been staring at her computer for
several minutes, while she analyzed the events that brought her to the
present situation.   It was time for action, she thought as she added
the final sentences to her email message.  

"You know I love to be spanked and dominated.  It's so frustrating to
have a guy give me a few pats on the butt and then ask politely for
sex!  If I have to pay a pro-dom to get what I want, then so be it.
Let's meet somewhere and talk about this face to face.  What do you
say?   Sincerely, Monica."

Working industriously at his home computer, Cole was interrupted by a
pleasant chime that announced the arrival of an email message.  When
he reached the end of a paragraph in his report, he switched to the
email program.  The message was sent by:
subgirl@seattlenet.com.

As he prepared to open the message, he remembered her description from
her second email.  She was five feet eight inches tall and one hundred
forty pounds with long brown hair that was naturally curly.  Her
friends described her face as having a touch of Julia Roberts, perhaps
because of her dark brown eyes and sexy mouth.  She seemed to be
rather sensitive about her weight and had described herself as being
slightly pudgy.  One of her messages led him to believe that there had
been some emotional damage done by her mother who was a diet fanatic.


Although some dominants required their on-line submissives to provide
their exact sizes and measurements, Cole hadn't asked for a more
detailed physical description.  For one thing, she was not yet his
submissive and he felt it would not be polite.  He also felt that most
women tended to greatly over or underestimate their attractiveness.
Since Monica lived in his own city, it should be easy for them to meet
and he preferred to see for himself.

He already knew a lot about Monica and it sounded like they would be
an amazingly good match.  There was just a chance, he thought, that
she might become his long term partner.  He pushed the feeling aside
to avoid becoming too eager.

Reading tonight's email he found that she was finally ready to meet
and possibly negotiate for his professional services.  About time, he
thought, I've never put this much time and energy into a potential
customer before.  There is something special about this one.

He wanted to find out if Monica was serious, so he quickly typed his
response. He described what he required of the women who wished to
submit to him.  The list of rules was easy to remember, as it was
short and he had typed it many times before.   

The first rule was that Monica must continue with her daily life,
including work, family and friends.  If her dominant/submissive
relationship with Cole began to interfere with her other
responsibilities, it would have to end.

The second rule was that he was not available for a complete
relationship.  Only her desire to submit could be fulfilled through
this liaison.  

The third rule was that when they were together, her submission must
be complete and without question.  He assured her that their
activities would include plenty of spanking, bondage and other forms
of SM play which she would be expected to endure.

The fourth rule was that some amount of money, to be negotiated, would
change hands to establish that he was a professional.

These rules had worked with many women who Cole had previously
dominated in the context of a  professional agreement.  He was
confident that this was the best arrangement for both parties.

Cole closed the message with a request that they meet for the first
time next Saturday at one of his favorite upscale restaurants in
Seattle.  He knew that this would be the test.  He guessed that about
half his prospects would back out at this point or simply fail to show
up at the appointed time.  His alternate plan was to have an excellent
dinner alone and see a play at a nearby theater.  In his dealings with
submissive women, he had learned the hard way to have a back-up plan.

When Monica received the message, there was no thought of rejecting
the offer.  She was exceedingly curious about Cole and badly wanted a
chance to meet him in person.  She didn't know much more about him
than his physical description and how he felt about dominant and
submissive sexuality.  The pro-dom role that he had chosen for himself
did not lend itself to a complete two way exchange of information.  If
he proved to be reasonably attractive and seemed to be honest about
his abilities, she was fully prepared to enter into a professional
arrangement.

The next evening, Cole found another email reply from Monica.  She
agreed to meet him Saturday evening at Cutter's restaurant on the
waterfront.   He typed out a few details that she would need.  The
reservations were at 6PM under her name, Anderson.  She didn't know
his last name yet and he wanted to keep it that way for now.  She knew
that he was a legal professional and that he lived East of Seattle in
a nice neighborhood. He described himself as being about six feet
tall, short dark hair, average build, with a well trimmed beard and
mustache.  He would be wearing roundish metal framed glasses and a
black sport coat.  She also knew his correct age of forty one years.

He reminded her that he had not yet agreed to accept her as his
submissive and vice versa, so there would be no play at the table.
Cole laughed when he reread that, since he could imagine punishing her
later for being a naughty girl and playing at the dinner table.

After a hectic Saturday afternoon dealing with a distraught client
whose patent had just proven to be invalid, Cole went home to clean up
and dress for dinner.  As promised, he wore a black sport coat that
would be appropriate for the restaurant.  His car was still in the
repair shop, so he had to drive the minivan that he normally used to
carry clients and their staff to important meetings.  He proceeded
downtown, traveling against the evening traffic in the sleek black
Voyager.  Not exactly your typical bachelor's vehicle, but the nearly
opaque windows and large carpeted floor space had come in handy on
certain memorable occasions. He parked in a lot beneath the restaurant
just off Pike street and walked around to the front door at five
minutes before six.

Monica was already there, watching the entryway from her seat in the
bar, so that she could sneak out quietly if the man who asked for the
Anderson reservation turned out to be something other than what she
expected.  She felt a familiar tingle inside her nether parts when she
heard a handsome man, looking thirty fivish, ask for "Anderson, party
of two?"   He was pretty much as he had described himself, except he
had neglected to mention that his frequent workouts made him trimmer
and more muscular than the average forty one year old.  He seemed to
walk and move with unusual ease, as if possessing great internal
energy.  The beard and mustache were trimmed in a way that made him
appear intelligent, but slightly dangerous.

After Cole was seated at a table near the window, Monica approached
the desk and asked to be seated at the Anderson table.  Cole saw
someone walking behind the hostess, but did not immediately think that
this was the woman he was waiting for.   He was expecting someone a
little on the heavy side, but that did not describe the woman
approaching him in a slinky black cocktail dress with a high neck and
long sleeves.

This woman was built like the playboy playmates that he fantasized
about as a boy.  The thin black dress was made of a knit material that
clung to her body as if it had been painted on.  The dress revealed
the precise shape of her breasts, which was perfect and yet not quite
perfect, so it was hard to tell if she was wearing a bra.  Surely she
must be a plaything of one of those rich executives that he knew so
well.  Her lush figure caused Cole to start drifting into an analysis
of how society had come to demand that women must look emaciated in
order to be attractive.  It took him a moment to realize that the
woman had stopped at his table.  Then she smiled and spoke directly to
him.

"Hi, I'm Monica.  May I sit down?"

A mild feeling of embarrassment washed over him and Cole felt like he
was thinking in slow motion as he looked up from her nicely rounded
hips, past her narrow waist and perfect breasts.  Then he noticed the
brown eyes and slightly wide mouth.  He was momentarily stunned.
Slowly, a smile of understanding crept across his face.

"Of course, I'm Howard.  Thanks for being so prompt. I like that."

He collected his wits as Monica sat across from him at the small table
that was set for two.   He had to remind himself not to stare at her
body in the black dress.  He made up his mind to look either at her
face or out through the long bank of windows where the lights of early
evening were sparkling on Puget Sound.  

They made small talk with the pleasant waiter, who took their orders
and entered them into a small hand held computer that used a wireless
connection to the kitchen.  When they were alone with glasses of an
excellent Chardonnay, they began to talk.

"So... what's it like being a professional dominant?" she asked, a bit
breathlessly.

"It's hard to describe.  It can be very intense, totally absorbing and
sometimes very rewarding.  I think it's probably the most exciting
thing I've ever done," he replied calmly while looking into the dark
pools of her eyes.  "Although I think semi-professional would be more
accurate.  I wouldn't want to try making a living at it."  

"That's too bad," Monica said  "it's such a hot fantasy."  She
wondered if her body language was projecting the flirtatiousness that
her friends often pointed out, even when she was not trying to flirt.
At least this time it was intentional, she thought.

They could both feel the chemistry already.  It was a bit like air and
gasoline being mixed, waiting for a spark to set off the mixture.

The service was excellent, as usual.  As they ate their dinner of
perfectly grilled salmon and pasta with a mild cream sauce, Cole
explained in rather serious tones what he expected from a submissive
and what he had learned from his past partners.  His comments
alternated with Monica's candid description of her previous
experiences and what she was looking for.  Their conversation seemed
to flow naturally, as if they had known each other forever.

"I have to admit I'm a bit surprised at how attractive you are," he
told her. "From the comments in your email I didn't expect such
beauty."

"Really?  You think I'm attractive?"

"Extremely.  Why, don't you think so?"

"It's a long story Howard.  One of those emotional baggage from
childhood things."

"Hmmm, someone told you that you were ugly, I'd guess.  Was it your
mother or your father?"

"My mother.  Let's talk about something else. Why do you think I'm
attractive?  Is it because I'm subby?"

Cole gradually became more certain of his opinion that this was one of
the most naturally submissive women that he had ever met.  She was
highly intelligent too.  He didn't think he had ever known anyone else
who had completed Calculus 4 in college.  He sensed that this was a
woman he could fall in love with.  That was not quite what he had
planned, but he was compelled to continue. Their conversation went on
until they suddenly realized that they had been talking for well over
two hours and agreed to adjourn to the bar and free the table for
other diners.

Monica's mind was racing.  She thought that she might have finally
found what she was looking for, but damn it, the man was a
professional and not available.  It was almost more than she could
handle.  She was glad for the brief break in the conversation.

After receiving their drinks in the bar and engaging in safe small
talk for a while, they agreed to trade looks at each other's driver's
licenses.  He instructed her to write down his full name and address,
which should be given to a friend to hold in case she failed to return
at an agreed time.  Since he had not offered to tell her very much
about his life, it gave her some assurance that he was being honest
and was not hiding anything sinister.  Then, Cole turned the topic to
their future relationship.

"Monica, we've done a lot of communicating the last few weeks and I
have to admit that I'm very attracted to you.  We seem to be
developing a relationship that is quite different from what I
originally expected.  Before we proceed any further I'd like to ask if
we can eliminate two of my rules.  They don't seem appropriate
anymore."

"OK, I'm listening." 

"First the one about me not being available for a complete
relationship.  Would you still be interested if there was no limit?"
he said with a smile and then held his breath.

"Howard, you must be reading my mind. I'm very interested," she said
quietly as she dug her fingernails into her palms beneath the table to
help steady her voice.

"There's one other thing."

"What is it Howard?"

"Well, I explained that I usually charge my submissives a fee to help
maintain the relationship within the proper boundaries."

"That's no problem, I can pay!" she exclaimed quietly to avoid the
eavesdroppers in the bar.

"What I'm trying to say is that I don't want our relationship to be
like that.  There won't be any fee.  This is just for us.  To explore
each other and see what happens."

Monica dropped her eyes for just a moment and said, "I'd like that
very much."

"Then ask me to accept you as my submissive." he said in a suddenly
very deep voice.

Her breath caught in her chest and she had to wait a few long seconds
before she could speak. "Sir, will you accept me as your submissive?"

"Yes, Monica.  Thank you for giving me such a precious gift. From this
moment forward, as long as we both agree, I am your Dominant and you
are my submissive. You may call me Master if you wish, but do not
consider yourself a slave.  You are a free woman who is choosing to
submit to a man who you believe is worthy of that gift."

"Tonight you'll go home and think about this.  I want you to have a
chance to back out.  If you still wish to be mine, come to my house
next weekend.  Make sure you don't have any other plans.  Send me an
email on Monday if you're still committed and I'll give you your
instructions.  We'll start slowly.  I think you're something special
and I don't want either of us to mess this up."

They discussed a few more details including an agreement that they
would both have tests for AIDs and all other STDs on Monday.   As far
as they knew, they were both free of any disagreeable maladies.  Cole
had a vasectomy many years ago, which they appreciated now since
Monica was not on the pill and they both disliked condoms.

After taking the elevator down to where they both had parked, they
forced themselves to part with a polite hug and kiss.  Then Cole
watched silently as Monica drove off into the night at the wheel of a
pretty blue Mazda Miata.  He took several deep breaths to calm himself
before climbing into his own vehicle.

Arriving at her fashionable apartment twenty minutes later, Monica ran
for the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way.  She threw herself
onto the bed and began masturbating furiously.  "I've never been so
horny in my life!" she shouted into a pillow.  There is something
about Howard that really pushes my submissive buttons, she thought.
Maybe it was that sexy beard or the hint of gray in his hair.  Perhaps
his large hands, which seemed so powerful.  

He wasn't at all like the men she met from the internet or those
posturing assholes who answered her personal ad in the kinky section
of the alternative newspaper last year.  She received over a hundred
responses from a single ad.  She must have dated a dozen guys before
she got totally disgusted and gave up.  Howard was different.  He said
he was some kind of legal professional, although he wouldn't be more
specific. 

It had been roughly eight months since she last had sex with someone
other than herself.  Prior to meeting Howard, the only good thing
about her social life was that she had plenty of time to haunt the
internet and hang out with her girlfriend Jennifer who had similar
interests.  There were countless mailing lists, chat rooms and web
sites that discussed Dominance and Submission.  She had learned enough
about D/S to know that it was what she wanted and that she hadn't yet
experienced it.  SM was interesting and she did love a good spanking,
but it did not satisfy her urge to serve and submit.  

She felt envious of the women on the internet who wrote stories and
poetry about their submission.  Was it finally her turn, she wondered?
After several intense orgasms fueled by fantasies of her new master,
Monica fell into a deep sleep, drooling slightly from the corner of
her Julia Roberts mouth.

CHAPTER FOUR

On Sunday morning Cole awoke at seven AM as usual and looked out the
window through the tall fir trees that screened his house from the
neighbors.  Since the Autumn monsoon was absent today, he decided to
indulge in one of his favorite Sunday morning activities.  Dressing in
a black sweat suit, he drove to the nearest Starbuck's for a large
Cafe Mocha.  He passed the mirrored glass building where he rented a
small office.  Then, appreciating the light Sunday morning traffic, he
crossed the floating bridge over Lake Washington and continued up
Interstate Five to Green Lake.  Finishing his coffee drink as he
arrived, he parked and started to jog under a light gray sky around
the 2 mile asphalt path that encircled the lake.   While he idly
watched the female joggers, he considered his situation.

It had been twelve years since his divorce, which was painful, even
though it made perfect sense. His wife had been correct, they were not
at all right for each other.  Constantly fighting for control was no
way to live.  It had taken him two years to get back on his feet
emotionally and financially.  Then there was a time of disappointing
vanilla dating.  He couldn't count the number of times that women had
lost interest when they found out that his favorite form of sex play
was something they considered perverted.  His discovery of the
organized SM scene began an important period of experimentation and
personal growth.

Seattle had an active pansexual leather community.  Kinky
organizations would form and dissolve regularly.  They all had the
same motto: "Safe, Sane and Consensual."  To Cole, the concept of SM
as a form of healthy play came as a revelation.

The large pan-sexual play parties at the mansion had been an amazing
experience and a great place to learn.  His new friends told him that
he was something called a Top, the label applied to the active partner
in SM play.  It turned out that he had a real aptitude for topping and
he learned a lot from the Leatherdykes who were happy to teach him
their highly ethical brand of consensual and almost spiritual SM.
Even the professional FemDoms, who were so influential in the scene,
seemed to accept him.  He eventually decided that although SM play was
great fun and highly stimulating in its own way, it wasn't quite what
he was looking for.

By the time he was ready to move on, he knew that he was more Dom than
Top.  It was great fun to spank or whip a willing play partner, but it
was even more intense when she submitted to whatever he wished. 

He liked the term "playmate".  It seemed a little more joyful and a
bit less formal than "play partner".  He played because he enjoyed it,
not because he was driven by some inner demon.  Taking the dominant
role in sex turned him on at the deepest levels.  Apparently, he was
just wired that way.  On the few occasions that he had tried to be
sexually submissive, it had been a complete waste of time.  A good
massage would have felt better.

 He developed friendships with other dominant men and learned what he
could from them.  Many of the maledoms used names like Master Joe or
Sir Harry.  Cole never gave himself a title, although he had his subby
playmates call him Master if it turned them on and enhanced their
feeling of submission.  

He knew right away that he found some maledoms repulsive.  They were
the ones who talked badly about their female partners and seemed to
have little concern for their well being.  He called them ego-Doms.
Some of them were fans of the GOR novels by John Norman, which
portrayed a planet where most women were bought and sold as slaves.
To be fair, however, he had met couples who seemed to have constructed
comfortable D/S relationships based on "Gorean" principles.  The
amazing variety of kinky relationships was a never ending source of
fascination for him.

Around this time, Cole stopped using the initials SM to describe what
he did.  A new term was coined on the internet: BDSM.   It was an
artificial acronym that incorporated Bondage and Discipline, Dominance
and Submission, Sadism and Masochism.  It was a flexible term for a
flexible lifestyle.  Since he engaged in all the included activities,
it seemed the perfect label.

He had always been curious about the influences that caused a person
to enjoy BDSM, so it was often his favorite topic of conversation.  He
never was able to figure out why he had turned out this way himself.
He had no history of abuse or neglect.  His earliest memories of
sexual fantasies around age ten were a desire to tie up the little
brown haired girl down the street.  He wasn't exactly sure what he'd
do with her then, but he'd seen women tied up on TV a few times and
knew that it was terribly exciting.

For the last three years, since turning away from the local scene and
advertising on the internet, he had enjoyed more erotic female
companionship than he had ever dreamed possible.  He respected every
woman he played with and he learned something from each of them. He
was still in touch with several of his old playmates and had parted on
good terms with those he no longer saw.  Oddly enough, he considered
himself a feminist and on occasion had used his influence to help
women advance in his profession.

The only thing that Cole lacked was a permanent partner of his own.
The house seemed so empty at times during the long Northwest winters.
He wondered if Monica would be the one.  

As he jogged through some fallen leaves he noticed that the women
joggers didn't seem as attractive today.  None of them had her
smoldering sexuality that was a product of her intelligence and her
submissiveness.  OK, maybe her delectable body had something to do
with it too, he thought with a wide grin.

On Monday, Monica sent an email stating that she wanted very much to
proceed with their relationship.  She signed the email, "Your
submissive, Monica."  He sent back an email that included the
following terse instructions.

"Arrive at my house at exactly seven thirty Friday evening.  You will
be punished for tardiness.  Be prepared to spend the night.  What you
wear is not important.  Eat before you come.  You can expect to be
used sexually if I find your behavior acceptable.  Bring the results
of your STD tests.  You are not permitted to have an orgasm until we
meet."

That week was a long one for Howard Cole.  His clients were
particularly demanding.  He checked the local weather website and
found out that there was indeed a full moon.  Instead of setting his
own hours, he was forced to work evenings.  At least he was able to do
much of his work at home.  Unfortunately he didn't have time to
prepare his basement dungeon as he usually did for a new playmate.
Perhaps, he thought, this would be a good time to do something
different.  The dungeon could wait for a future session.

On Friday, Monica was able to leave work an hour early and skipped her
usual workout at the gym.  Her friend Jennifer Lee had been envious
when Monica gave her Cole's address and phone number as a precaution.
Monica promised to call the next day with a full report. The two women
met on-line almost a year ago in a Compuserve forum dedicated to
Dominance and Submission.  Upon finding out that they lived in the
same city, the two quickly became close friends with a hint of sexual
interest between them.  

Jennifer, a slightly built woman of mixed Chinese and French-Canadian
ancestry was a stunning beauty. Her exotic facial features with almond
shaped hazel eyes and a high forehead were the type that made everyone
look twice.  Her sensuous waist length silky black hair drew more
attention from men than she wanted.  Unfortunately, her history with
men was abysmal, which was why she could usually be found in the
company of women.  She insisted that Monica share all the juicy
details of her rendezvous with Cole, so that she could enjoy them
vicariously.

Monica obeyed Cole's instructions forbidding an orgasm and by now it
was almost impossible for her not to masturbate.  Her clitoris was in
a constant state of tingling arousal and she was slightly wet with
anticipation.  She bounced around her apartment in a mixture of
excitement, fear and just plain lust.  She bathed and shaved, then
tried on several outfits.   With each new outfit she stared in the
mirror and told herself that she was fat and ugly.  Her mother and her
first boyfriend had told her that a thousand times and now it was too
late to believe differently.  Perhaps her new master wouldn't care, if
she was sufficiently submissive and obedient, she thought.

Since Master Cole said that her clothing was not important, she did
not want to overdress.  She settled on a pair of moderately tight
jeans and a tight white top with no bra.  She didn't really need one.
A pair of high heels made her ever so slightly large legs look
elegantly slender.

As she drove to the home of her new master, she was already getting
slightly wet and was glad she had worn panties, even if they were just
a little pair of lacy white things.   She was a bit nervous, but she
was comforted by the fact that they had agreed to use a safeword.  All
she had to do was say "safeword" and he had promised to bring their
play to an immediate halt.  She was more concerned that he would be
too afraid of hurting her, like some of her useless boyfriends, she
thought contemptuously.

Approaching Cole's house, she noted the impressive neighborhood, then
found her new master's home on a narrow private road.  It was a large
single story residence.  She studied it carefully in the fading
daylight.  Perhaps two thousand square feet, if there wasn't a
basement and it was probably built within the last ten years, she
estimated.  It wasn't the biggest one in the area, but it was nicely
screened by large trees and seemed quite secluded.   The landscaping
had a distinct Japanese influence, with several large boulders placed
artistically in beds of raked gravel.  She parked in front of the
three car garage and went to the door.

Cole answered her knock with his heart pounding.  There stood not only
the sexiest play partner he had ever had, but someone who just might
be the mythical perfect partner.  He hoped he wouldn't make any stupid
mistakes.  Fortunately, being around Monica made him feel very
dominant and confident.  Was it just a coincidence that she was 10
minutes late?

She saw that he was wearing black jeans and a white long sleeved
casual shirt.  Giving in to a strong urge to cast her eyes downward,
she noticed that he also appeared to be wearing expensive leather
loafers.

"You're late," he growled.   "Come in and follow me."  He resisted his
impulse to give her a hug and led her toward his study, where he had
just turned off the computer a few minutes earlier.  

Monica scanned the interior of the house for any clues about her
master.   A dining room contained an expensive looking table, but only
four chairs.  The kitchen had several gleaming pieces of copper and
stainless cookware hanging on the wall.  As she followed him down the
hall to the study, she noticed several professional looking framed
photographs of outdoor scenes.   In one, she recognized a waterfall
that was near Mt. Rainier.  Since her master had mentioned his
photography hobby, she made a mental note to ask him later if the
photos were his.

They entered the large study and stopped just inside the door.  "We
have a little bit of business to attend to before we can begin." Cole
announced, "Did you bring the results of your tests?"

"Yes Sir, here they are.  I guess I'm pretty healthy."

Cole handed her his paperwork which stated clearly that he was STD
free.  She looked at it carefully and handed it back, saying "Thank
you Sir."

He noticed that she was wearing just the right amount of perfume.  He
couldn't quite come up with the name.  It was something to ask her
about later.

"Stand right over there and be silent unless I ask you to speak," Cole
said, pointing to the center of the room.  A light piano concerto
played softly from expensive speakers concealed in the polished oak
bookcases and soft light spilled from two lamps in the corners.

Monica's heart was pounding and she concentrated on the features of
the room for a moment to calm herself.  She saw that his computer was
one of the latest models. Probably a late Pentium class, she guessed,
nice big monitor, ergonomic keyboard, CD-ROM drive, expensive printer.
The furniture reminded her of the expensive walnut and teak pieces
that her company's CEO had in his private office.  There was a fax
machine or copier on a credenza behind the desk.  The stereo was
apparently hidden, she noted.  As she looked down at her feet and
noticed the fine texture of the light gray carpet, her heart was again
beating normally.

Cole pulled up a comfortable chair.  He placed it in front of her
about six feet away and sat down, which brought her attention back to
him.  He waited a few moments to see if she would remain silent as
instructed. Monica was looking approximately at his feet, which he
hoped was a sign of submission.  She was wearing a short bomber-style
jacket over her white top, so the next thing he said was "Thank you
for coming, Little One.  Take off your jacket and place it over the
chair behind you"

Monica complied and returned to her position in the middle of the
room.  Cole was fascinated by her instinctive submission.  Perhaps she
had more experience at this game than she had admitted. 

"Put your hands behind your head."

Cole's line of sight was drawn inexorably to Monica's breasts and he
studied them intently.  "Put your arms down," he said, then "Put them
back behind your head"

He noticed that her breasts did not sag like they should for a 26 year
old woman with this kind of figure.

"What is your bra size Monica?"

She felt a delicious wave of humiliation sweep over her and struggled
to get out her answer.  "I'm a 36 C, Master."

"Do you have breast implants, Little One?"

"No Master!" she exclaimed.

"Take off your top and we'll see about that.  Place it on the chair by
your jacket."

Monica pulled off her white top by grasping it from the bottom and
pulling it over her head.  After placing it on the chair she resumed
her position in front of Cole with her hands at her sides.

Cole stepped forward to examine her breasts and brushed some of her
beautiful long brown hair out of the way.  With her arms down, they
did sag slightly.  The nipples were medium size and quite hard
already.  They were a beautiful pair, perhaps the prettiest breasts he
had ever seen.  The word perky came to mind, but he didn't know if
perky could apply to breasts this size.  Perhaps he should mail the
question to the Playboy Advisor, he thought while suppressing a grin.
He very delicately brushed her nipples with his fingertips and they
grew even harder. 

"Put your hands behind your head again," he ordered, in his dominant
voice which Monica found both charming and irresistible.

He began to squeeze and fondle the perfect globes while he inspected
them for any surgical scars.  After a minute or two Monica felt
lightheaded from the stimulation and became slightly unsteady.  The
delicious feeling of humiliation wasn't helping.

"You pass the test Little One.  Those are the most beautiful breasts
I've ever seen.  Put your arms down now and take a deep breath.  Can't
have you passing out now, can we?"

"No, Master."

Cole sat down again and tried to take a few deep breaths himself.
Could a potential partner be too perfect?  He was feeling slightly
overwhelmed.

After a short time he ordered, "Take off your jeans now and place them
on the chair."

Monica complied and resumed her position, now clad in lacy white
panties and black high heels.  On her own initiative, she put her
hands behind her head to thrust out her breasts in the manner that her
new Master seemed to like.

Although Cole was a card-carrying breast man, the view of Monica's
perfectly rounded hips and flat stomach almost caused his heart to
stop.  She had a tattoo over her right hipbone that he moved forward
to examine.  It appeared to be a small naked woman that might be
described as a winged nymph.  It was exquisite, perhaps the work of a
famous tattoo artist.  I'll have to ask her about it later, he
thought.  Cole moved back to his chair and just looked at her for a
few minutes, drinking in the intoxicating sight.

His inspection of her body gave the solution to another mystery.
Although she didn't carry an ounce of what he would consider excess
weight, she was slightly large boned and firmly muscled beneath her
curves.  Her reported weight of one hundred forty pounds was probably
accurate, but most people would guess it to be about twenty pounds
less.  He was delighted that she didn't resemble the starving fashion
models, but he could understand how she might be worried that she
didn't measure up to society's standards.

"Do you lift weights often, Little One?"

"Yes, Master.  Three or four times a week."

"I see.  Take off your panties and drop them on the floor."

Monica quickly tossed her panties on the floor behind her, revealing
her perfectly shaved pubis.  Then she replaced her hands behind her
head and parted her legs slightly.

How did she know that I love a shaved cunt? Cole thought, as he
struggled to breath normally.  Fortunately, Monica was looking at the
floor and was not aware of his difficulty.

"When did you start shaving your cunt, Little One?  I don't recall
ordering you to do that."

"I've always done that sir.  If you don't like it, I can stop shaving,
but it would feel very strange for me."

He knew his voice was shaky as he said, "That won't be necessary.
Continue to keep yourself smooth.  It pleases me."  He noticed that
she had a light tan without lines.  In Seattle that meant about one
session on the tanning bed each week.  

Pausing to collect himself, Cole managed to give his next order
calmly, in a deep voice that a radio announcer would envy.  "I said
that you would be punished if you were late.  We'll have to take care
of that before we can begin your training.  Kneel on that stool over
there, then bend forward and place your palms flat on the floor."
His command voice was working well now, he was relieved to see.

Monica thought that she would faint from the excitement.  None of her
previous men had treated her this way.  It was as if her greatest
fantasy was being made into reality and she hoped it wouldn't end too
soon.  She wondered if her Master would notice the slight trickle of
lubrication starting to drip down the inside of her left thigh.  Was
she allowed to be aroused or would she be punished for it?

Monica moved to a padded footstool about a foot high and two feet
across.  After kneeling with her knees apart and with her feet
dangling off the back of the stool, she bent forward at the waist to
place her palms on the floor.  Her perfect ass was presented in a most
lewd and vulnerable manner.  Her breathing was rapid and her skin
flushed.

Cole tried hard to ignore his growing erection as he approached her
from behind.  "You'll be spanked on your bare bottom until I feel
you've been punished properly for being late."  He didn't know if he
had the strength to administer a good spanking since most of his blood
supply seemed to be heading straight for his cock.

Sneaking a look at her deliciously dangling breasts, he wanted to
reach down and caress their sexy outer curves, but he pressed down
gently on the small of her back and began to spank her.  In this
position, her hips and buttocks formed a classic symbol of feminine
beauty.  She was offering it to him as a gift. 

The stinging slaps were gentle at first, then harder.  Red handprints
began to show up on her lightly tanned skin.  Monica reacted only with
a slight intake of breath at each blow.   Her firm ass muscles soaked
up the spanking easily and Cole realized that he was hurting his hand
as much as he was hurting her.

Stepping over to the closet, he removed a thin wooden paddle that
would nicely cover one cheek at a time.  Measuring his stroke
carefully, he struck the lower curve of her left buttock, then the
right.  Her body jerked slightly with each impact, but she held her
position perfectly.  He tuned his senses into Monica and felt that
familiar joining that occurred to him during intense play sessions.  

Monica felt it too.  She imagined that she was the one spanking a
pretty kneeling woman who thrust her ass out to receive each blow.
Although the woman was Monica herself, she was perceived as much more
beautiful, almost ethereal.  The heat from her punishment gradually
spread through her body.  She felt like she would explode from the
strange sensation that was half deep submission and half physical
lust.

They both lost track of how many minutes went by or how many blows
were struck.  At some point, without conscious effort, their breathing
became synchronized.  When Monica started having trouble maintaining
her position, Cole forced himself to come back from the strange space
that he had entered with her.  Regaining his senses, he noticed a
heavy flow of slippery fluid on Monica's muscular inner thighs where
the tendons stood out with the strain of holding her position.  He
hadn't even touched her cunt yet and already she was dripping, he
thought.  

Standing up straight, Cole told her to rise and stand before him.  He
gathered her to him with one hand firmly gripping the hair at the back
of her head.  Looking into her eyes he spoke carefully.  "I'm very
impressed with you so far Little One. I've punished you enough for
being late.  As a test, I'm going to give you a choice about what we
do next.  You will not be punished for choosing either way."

"We can either begin your training or you can offer your new Master
the pleasure of using that pretty cunt.  Which option do you choose?"

She took a step back as Cole released his grip on her body and hair.
Kneeling before him with her hands behind her head and her eyes locked
onto his shoes she said,  "Master, I'd be honored if you would use my
cunt for your pleasure."  Then she thought to herself, Oh please, oh
please, oh please, I need it soooo bad!

He breathed a silent sigh of relief.  Unless he could get his hormones
under control, this relationship was going to involve more sex than
domination.  Maybe that was not a bad thing, he thought as he escorted
Monica to his bedroom down the hall.

She looked around Cole's bedroom with great interest.  The fog of lust
had dissipated just enough that she could remember her girlfriend's
theory that you could learn a lot about a man if you saw his bedroom.
She noticed a king size bed with a padded frame around the edge.  The
handsomely built oak headboard contained some closed cupboards and
several metal fittings that looked suspiciously like bondage points.
Glancing up at the ceiling, she suppressed a smile when she noticed
the large eyescrews embedded in the ceiling at various places.  She
tried not to appear too curious, in case her Master objected.

"Lie on the bed, face up, in the center," he ordered.  Taking two
pieces of soft rope, he carefully tied each wrist to the headboard
with non-tightening knots.  He then wrapped lengths of rope several
times around each ankle to distribute the pressure without causing
discomfort.   He did not fasten the free ends to anything just yet.

"Be quiet now and just enjoy, Little One. I certainly intend to enjoy
you," Cole said as he stood up to undress.

She took advantage of the opportunity to study his nude, muscular form
in the dim light.   She knew exactly what she wanted and it was
terribly hard to wait.

With her arms securely fastened about three feet apart to the
headboard, Monica could only lie there and allow her Master to explore
her body, which would reveal to him her most private sexual responses.
She tried not to writhe her hips as Master kissed her flat stomach
around her navel and hip bones.  With a great effort she was able to
hold nearly still while he gave her breasts the most professional
stimulation she had ever experienced.  When he finally removed his
mouth and hands from her glowing teats she would have sworn that they
were steaming from the inner heat.

Monica was afraid she might faint from extreme sexual desire and she
was sure that she would die if he touched her rock hard nipples again,
but still she kept nearly silent. Only when Master began tying her
ankles to the headboard did she start to make a strange repetitive
moaning sound as she imagined what might come next.

When her legs were pulled all the way back and spread as wide as
possible, her Master placed a pillow under her head so that she had a
direct view of her own cunt.  The strain of the unusual position was
not as bad as she would have imagined, but the sight of her own erect
nipples and gaping cuntlips was a visual stimulus that only increased
her sexual tension.  Her hood of her clitoris appeared to be much
larger than normal and she wondered if it could possibly return to its
regular size.

Cole wondered if she was going to hyperventilate as he eased himself
down on the bed and applied his tongue to her swollen clit.  He
disliked going down on women who weren't shaved, but the sight of a
sweet shaved cunt on a restrained woman brought out the cunnilingist
in him.  Dominant or not, he had been taught long ago that a gentleman
always makes sure the lady comes first and old habits are hard to
break.  He made himself stop periodically to prevent her from coming
too soon.

He expected a woman with her pelvic structure to be rather large
inside, so he was somewhat surprised to find that she was very tight.
He used his tongue and fingers for a long time to make sure she was as
well lubricated as possible.  

Eventually, Monica had the first of many orgasms.  She felt that she
was being forced to come.  It would have been impossible for her to
resist.  She closed her eyes so that she couldn't see Master doing
that shameful thing to her private place.  Most of her boyfriends had
not been willing to do that because they thought it was dirty or
disgusting.  It seemed that Master was doing it simply because he
enjoyed it.  What better way to control his little slut than by
forcing her to come in a most unladylike manner, with her legs spread
wide and unable to move.  She felt so humiliated, so slutty, that
there was no longer any point trying to pretend that she was anything
more than a simple whore, a sex object to be used for her Master's
pleasure.  Each climax was stronger than the last.

Cole kept his right hand on her left buttock, cupping it nicely and
feeling the heat from her paddling while he attended to her with his
tongue.  After several minutes, his lust caught up with him and he
could stand it no longer.  Rising up on his hands and knees, he thrust
his unusually thick, aching cock into her well lubricated sheath.
With her legs so far back, he had to thrust nearly straight down. Even
with the heavy natural lubrication, she was devastatingly tight.
Instead of just a tight ring of muscle inside the entrance of the
vagina, Monica was tight all the way to her cervix.  He knew that he
would explode any second.  Would she be disappointed that he hadn't
lasted longer?   Then he remembered that she had just experienced more
orgasms than he could count and decided it was his turn.  Besides, he
was the Master, wasn't he?

Placing both hands on her chest to support his weight, he pinched her
nipples viciously.  After a dozen vigorous thrusts, every muscle in
his body tried to contract at once and he shot his hot load deep into
Monica's lovely body.  Some time later, when he was able to see and
move again, he used the last of his strength to untie the ropes and
gather her in his arms.  She had already fallen asleep and he joined
her within seconds.  

CHAPTER FIVE

Sometime during the night, Monica awakened from a heavy, dreamless
sleep to make a trip to the adjoining bathroom.  "Did all that really
happen?" she asked herself.  She felt a pleasant soreness in various
areas of her body.  It was proof that her memories were real and she
displayed a huge satisfied smile as she walked quietly through the
bedroom.  Climbing back into the large bed, she snuggled up against
her new master and returned to her deep sleep feeling warm, safe and
complete.

Hours later, Cole gradually regained consciousness as bright sunlight
poured through the large window, rendering sleep impossible.   Before
he opened his eyes, the small portion of his brain that was working at
this hour tried to analyze several things that seemed unusual.  For
one thing, he was curled up on his right side spoon fashion with a
naked woman.  He immediately remembered Monica and opened one eye.
The sight of her delightful dark brown curls confirmed his guess.
Most women would pay big money for a perm like that, he thought, but
Monica claimed it was her natural look.

Closing his eye again, he considered going back to sleep, but he
realized that he could barely feel his right arm.  Apparently it was
under Monica and had been there a long time.  He tried to reach up and
feel her breast, but the hand was too numb.  Not being able to feel a
breast was serious!   Feeling somewhat alarmed, he opened both eyes
and began the process of extricating his arm from beneath his soft and
warm new lover.  It wouldn't do to wake her yet, so he maneuvered very
carefully.  Eventually the arm came free and he was rewarded with a
painful tingling sensation.  

Sitting on the edge of the bed cradling his right arm, Cole realized
what else was wrong this morning. Looking out the window, he saw
through the trees a large expanse of blue sky.   Whoever was in charge
of the weather had obviously forgotten that this was Seattle in
November.   No problem, just a surprise.  Is it simply El Nino or is
it a good omen? he wondered.

As he waited for his arm to recover, he thought about how his
relationship with Monica was developing.  Was she his slave? Lover?
Playpartner?   Maybe it didn't matter right now.   He decided that the
best thing to do was to just allow the relationship to develop
naturally, without applying a label.  His stomach reminded him that
breakfast was more important right now anyway, so he pulled on a
T-shirt and jeans before going down the hall to the kitchen.

Monica awoke suddenly to the smell of coffee and a slight hint of
onions frying.  "Where am I?" she wondered, "and why do I feel so
good?"   Then she remembered. Her dream of finding someone to be her
dominant sex partner was apparently being fulfilled.  Stretching
luxuriously in the comfortable bed, she wondered if Cole had found her
acceptable, since he wasn't here right now.  Was he making breakfast
for himself? 

Visions of last night's events flashed through her mind.  She gently
caressed her buttocks to check for any damage.   There was a slight
tenderness that she found stimulating, but nothing disturbed the
smooth surface of the skin.  She grinned widely as she realized that
this was certainly the most exciting thing that had ever happened to
this little subby girl from Idaho.  She was proud of herself for
finding a safe partner who could give her what she needed.  She now
trusted Howard completely.  There would be no question in her mind
when he asked for her obedience.  She longed to give it to him as a
gift.

Going into the bathroom, she performed her morning necessities
including a quick shower.  She twisted her long hair into a pretty
ponytail and looked around for something to wear.  In the closet, His
closet, she found a pair of men's dark blue flannel pajamas.  She put
them on and they felt oddly appropriate.   With a slight feeling of
apprehension, she walked toward the kitchen to see what kind of mood
her master was in.

Cole turned away from the stove, where he had just finished preparing
a frying pan of cottage potatoes with onions and various spices.  He
noticed Monica standing in the doorway wearing a pair of his flannel
pajamas.  She looked like a model from a slick lingerie catalog,
demonstrating the latest cozy fashions for winter sleepwear.

"Master?  Is it OK if I wear this?"  she said as she assumed a
seductive pose in the kitchen doorway.

He allowed himself to stare at her and a broad grin stretched itself
across his face.  She was devastating, even at this hour.  It was nine
o'clock on Saturday morning.  They had played so intensely the night
before that they were asleep before ten PM.   Nothing like ten hours
of sleep to put one in a good mood, he thought.  Did Monica look this
good every morning?

"Of course you can wear it, Little One.  What a good choice!  You're
beautiful this morning."

He placed the steaming potatoes on the table next to a bowl containing
hot eggs scrambled with a hint of mustard.  Stepping forward, he
offered her a wineglass filled with excellent orange juice.  "Will you
join me for breakfast my dear?"

She accepted with a smile and sparkling eyes.  Over breakfast they
discussed the latest issues that had developed in their relationship.
Love was obviously starting to blossom.   Unfortunately, an intense
D/S relationship prevented many activities and conversations that were
important to the healthy growth of a relationship.  Cole understood it
a little better than she did, but as he explained his thoughts, she
quickly realized that they had to make some new rules.

With two logical minds hard at work, it only took an hour to lay the
groundwork for their mutual agreement.  Their first point was to keep
the rules flexible. They decided that they would not maintain their
master/slave roles all the time, only when they were both in the mood.
Serious play sessions could be planned in advance, but due to their
hot chemistry, spontaneous play would be inevitable and they agreed to
enjoy it whenever it happened.  They would also schedule non-kinky
activities just like vanilla couples did.   She enjoyed watching
foreign art films, so he agreed to go along.  He enjoyed shooting,
which she reluctantly agreed to try.

Monica made it a point to tell him that their paddle play had been
nowhere near her limit.  Next time, she wanted to play harder, if it
pleased her master. 

Cole brought up the fact that they were not using condoms and needed
to be very careful if they had any sexual contact with others.

Monica was thinking farther ahead.  "Howard, did I tell you what a big
turn-on it is for me to be the partner of a pro-dom?"

"Yes, I think you mentioned it," he said, wondering where this was
leading.

"Well, I'd like you to keep doing it."

He was obviously surprised, "You would?  Wouldn't you be jealous?"

"Maybe, but I bet we can work something out," she said with a husky,
lustful voice.  "You know how the erotic SM stories often have a woman
who helps the dominant male?  I've always thought that would be a fun
role to play.  Does that sound like something you'd be willing to
consider?"

"Hmmm, you mean the girl who gives the beautiful captive victim a bath
and dresses her in a sexy silk gown?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean!" her eyes were wide, " I think
that's so hot!  What do you think?"

"Well, if I had an assistant, she'd have to be submissive and
extremely beautiful.  I'd want her to have dark brown eyes and a great
body.  Do you know anyone like that?"

Their conversation dissolved in swirl of laughter and hugs.  Once
again they had found something they had in common.

To celebrate their success, they moved to the bedroom intent on simple
vanilla lovemaking.  To their surprise, their chemistry was too strong
and they each fell into their dominant and submissive roles
automatically.  Cole wrestled her into position for a nice sexy
spanking, pulling down the flannel pajamas.  He noticed that her
bottom was completely unmarked, which seemed a little strange after
last nights paddling.  Attempting to rectify the situation, he
proceeded to give her a good hand spanking.  

Monica started her sexy pre-orgasmic breathing after only a minute of
delicious hand impacts on her soft, yet firm, ass.  When they could
stand the building sexual tension no longer, they paused a few seconds
to strip, then leaped back onto the bed. 

She found herself on her back, looking up at Cole, kneeling between
her legs and sporting a huge erection.  He quickly slid both his arms
under her knees and brought his hands up to her wrists.  Then,
gripping her wrists and pinioning her hands next to her shoulders, he
held her legs open with his arms.  He looked down on her pretty shaved
cunt and allowed his demanding cock to pause at her greedy orifice.
Her eyes widened as he began to penetrate her sensitive vaginal
passage.

He forced himself to take his time.  She was very tight, so he paused
halfway in and bent down to kiss and nibble her breasts for a minute.
Slowly filling her with his manhood, he barraged her with sexual
commands.  "Serve your Master now slut."  "Shove your cunt forward for
me, my little sex toy."  

When her lubrication was just right, he started thrusting faster.
"Tell me what you need to come now, you little strumpet."

"Just keep fucking me like that Master!"

She came quickly and violently, with strong pelvic thrusts and it was
all he could do to hold her down.  When she was finished he said,
"Hold still for me now Little One".  With her wrists still locked in
his grip and her legs held wide open, she held still obediently while
he took his pleasure.  She looked up at him with a feeling of
satisfaction.  Not because of her own intense orgasm, but because she
had given her master pleasure.

When they were able to speak rationally, they decided that they would
each attend to their own business and meet again that night for a
movie downtown.  They were both feeling sated at the moment and agreed
that their next play session would be in a week.  Cole explained to
her that he used the basement photo studio as a dungeon.  

"You have a basement?  Can I scream down there?" she asked.

"Of course, my little pain slut, the neighbors will never hear a
thing."

"Oh God, I can hardly wait.  I love to scream, but I'm always afraid
that someone might hear me."

He wouldn't show it to her now as he wanted it to be a surprise when
she returned later for a heavy play session.  They were so excited, it
was hard for them to part.  With a quick hug and kiss, she drove off
in the direction of her home near downtown.

CHAPTER SIX

It took Monica about forty minutes to drive across the bridge and
return to her place on Capitol Hill.  Her apartment was one of three
that had been created by subdividing a lovely old home.  The rent was
steep, but the location close to downtown saved her nearly two hours
commuting time each day compared to her previous apartment in Auburn.

After placing a load of clothing in the washing machine, she went on
to give the place a thorough cleaning.  She actually liked
housecleaning.  It gave her time to think.  Mostly she thought about
Cole.  She couldn't decide if she should think of him as Howard or
Master.  She did know that she was starting to fall in love.  Her
study of D/S relationships had warned her that strong emotions were
the rule between D/S couples.  I'm not going to make any hasty
decisions, she promised herself.  

She played back the previous evening in her mind to see if there were
any danger signs.  If Cole had intended to hurt her, he would have
done it by now, she concluded.  Breakfast this morning had been a big
surprise.  She couldn't remember any of her previous lovers or
boyfriends making breakfast for her.  This guy just might have the
makings of a good husband.  That thought produced a big smile.  For
some reason, she always felt better dating a man who was potential
husband material.  It kept her from feeling that she was wasting her
time.

When she had been in his study, she had noticed some diplomas and
various certificates on the wall.  Apparently Howard was an attorney.
She had never really liked lawyers.  Perhaps it required a big ego to
work in the courtroom.  Her only lawyer friend had always referred to
her colleagues as "asshole attorneys", but Howard was unlike any
attorney she had ever met. 

Later that night, they met downtown to see a French film with
subtitles.  Monica alternately cried and squeezed his hand with a grip
that would have done credit to a gorilla.  Afterwards, they found a
quiet restaurant where they had coffee and dessert.   They decided
that she would arrive at his house next Saturday at five PM for a much
anticipated play session.

Their horniness gradually built up to a fever pitch during the week.
Cole told her to masturbate as much as she wanted, since he didn't
think it would detract from her enjoyment of their play.  On Saturday,
Monica went shopping with her friend Jennifer at a local lingerie
store.  She wanted to find just the right item to please her master.

Cole spent much of Saturday afternoon preparing the basement dungeon.
He wanted to provide her with a more intense scene tonight.  Heavier
impact play on her sexy ass and something to excite those amazing
tits, he thought. He was getting pretty excited just thinking about
it.  Time to take a deep breath and cool off, he told himself.

First, he vacuumed the hardwood floor, since the cleaning woman was
not allowed in the basement.  The next priority was to arrange the
play furniture to permit the type of play he had in mind.  He
preferred not to move his partner during a scene, so he tried to use
one piece of equipment that would allow for multiple positions.  He
decided to use a small spanking horse that only supported the hips and
a wooden bar that would hang from the ceiling. 

The heavily padded top of the horse was only about four inches wide
and twenty inches long. It was solidly supported by a pair of four by
four posts set in a heavy platform.  There were attachment points in
the base for securing wrists and ankles. The ankles could be widely
separated and there was an eyebolt in the base a few inches in front
of the horse for attaching a waist belt to enforce a bending position.

The height of the horse was not adjustable.  When someone was bending
over it, they could be penetrated from behind by someone who was the
correct height.  Since Cole had built it himself, he made certain that
the height corresponded to his own.

From the corner of the room, he selected a thick, five foot wooden
dowel rod with multiple attachment points. Using a pair of black
adjustable nylon cargo straps, he attached it to two points on the
ceiling.  Then he pushed the spanking horse into the center of the
room under the suspended bar.

After a final cleanup of the dungeon, he left the house to run some
errands.  He stopped by his favorite trendy market for groceries and
returned home to relax for the rest of the afternoon.  His thoughts
naturally turned to Monica.  Their relationship was certainly unusual.
I've never heard of a couple who meshed together so quickly and
easily, he thought.  No doubt there would be problems of some sort
ahead, but he had a distinctly optimistic feeling that they would be
able to work out every difficulty that came up.  

He knew from his observations in the Seattle SM scene that kinky
couples did not have a very long half-life.  About six months, he
estimated.  Like highly radioactive elements, they seemed to dissipate
their energy rapidly.  Except for a few stable couples, people in the
scene moved from partner to partner trying to find some elusive
qualities that they felt they needed to be happy.  

One of the biggest reasons for breakups was the custom of playing with
others.  At play parties and in private, people would often try to
play with as many others as possible.  This allowed them to sample the
erotic wares of many people.  Being human and vulnerable to
temptation, many a bottom left their Top in search of a better SM
experience.  Tops left their bottoms to pair off with a sexier looking
new partner or one who could take more pain.  Sometimes a bottom would
suddenly get tired of bottoming and become a Top, usually just in time
to hook up with a bottom they found attractive.  

Another problem he was aware of occurred when someone selected their
long term partner simply because they were sexually compatible.  After
they had lived together for a while, the ordinary differences would
become apparent and the couple would dissolve.  Some couples tried to
avoid this by not living together.  Being single and having a kinky
lover was quite popular in the scene.  Cole thought this might be a
possibility for him and Monica, but somehow it didn't feel very
satisfying.

In late afternoon, he started to think about dinner.  They had
neglected to make plans.  Would she eat before she came over?  Just
then, the phone rang.  It was Monica.  "Hi Howard, I was wondering if
I could cook dinner for you tonight at your house?"

"Of course, Monica.  Should I pick up anything at the store?"

"Nope, I've got it covered.  See you at seven?"

"Sounds great, I'll see you then.  By the way, the dungeon is ready,"
he said to press her buttons a little.

"Oh Howard, I'm going to be really ready.  Is it OK if I'm in role
while I cook dinner?"

"Sure it is Little One, just don't spill any hot liquid on yourself,
that would be non-consensual," he said with a grin.

"I'll be very careful Master."

After hanging up the phone, he reflected on the coincidence that she
had called just as he was thinking about her.  They certainly seemed
to be on the same wavelength.  He busied himself with some routine
work in his office, then shortly before he expected Monica, he
showered and dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt.

Monica arrived right on time.  She was wearing a long coat that was
appropriate for the damp, cool weather outside.  After placing her
grocery bag on the kitchen counter, she turned to Cole and said
"Master, will this be all right to wear while I fix dinner?"

She removed the coat to reveal only a sexy red bra and panties.  She
was already stepping out of her white running shoes.  He raised one
eyebrow and said, "How could I object to such a beautiful Chef?  I'll
just watch from the bar stool over there so I can tell you where to
find things in the kitchen."  

They approached each other in the center of the kitchen and after a
slight hesitation, gave each other a long hug.  This certainly feels
right, they both thought. He sat at the small breakfast bar so that he
could watch her every move.  She proceeded to fix a quick, healthy
dinner while he watched the nicely toned muscles in her legs as she
danced around the kitchen.

Just before she was ready to serve the meal at the dining table, he
ordered her to remove her bra.  The sight of her full, pouting breasts
hanging delicately over the table while they ate was most pleasing.

The menu consisted of shrimp cocktails, a Thai chicken salad and a
bottle of Washington State Semillon-Blanc.  Cole explained that he
would have only one glass.  "I don't like to drink and play," he said.
It was hard to keep his eyes off her breasts.  The nipples were
getting hard again and he knew she was thinking about what he might do
to her shortly.  The fact that she was wearing only a pair of bright
red panties seemed out of place, yet deliciously appropriate.

Once again, Monica started breathing heavily.  She had a hard time
raising her eyes to look at her master.  Displaying her breasts at the
table for her master's pleasure had elicited that delicious feeling of
embarrassment and loss of control.  She was barely able to finish her
meal as she felt his eyes devouring her body.  

When they were both finished, Cole announced what they would do next.
"That was an excellent dinner, Little One.  I'm very pleased.  Before
I show you the dungeon, I'd like to relax for a while.  Come with me
into the other room." 

She followed into a comfortably furnished room with a sofa, television
and several well filled bookshelves.  He had her sit on the thick
carpet beside a large overstuffed leather chair and handed her a soft
pink blanket with satin trim that reminded her of her childhood.  She
wrapped herself in the blanket and put her head against his knee while
he picked up the Seattle Times and began to read.  She noticed a
slight odor of sweet tobacco in the room.  Perhaps Master occasionally
smoked a pipe?

Monica felt an unusual sense of security, a feeling of things being
right.  Sitting at her master's knee while he read the newspaper
seemed like the most natural thing in the world.   She allowed her
thoughts to drift and images of her childhood came into her mind.  Her
father had been away on business during much of her childhood, she
recalled.  She remembered a long forgotten scene that included herself
at age twelve, waiting patiently for her father to return, then being
told that he had been delayed indefinitely.  In a flash of
understanding, she realized that Cole was providing a strong male
presence that she had been missing.  She wrapped her arms around his
leg and held on, simply enjoying the feeling of being safe and
protected.

Twenty minutes later, she asked for permission to use the bathroom and
her master said "Of course.  Please put on a little more of that
perfume, if you have it with you.  What's the name of it?"

"It's called Anais-Anais, Master"  She pronounced it correctly, "Ahna
Eeess, Ahna Eeess".

"I see.  It's very nice," he said in a pleasantly seductive tone.

She returned smelling quite delightful and resumed her position on the
floor.  After another ten minutes of reading, Cole said "Well, I think
I'm about ready for a visit to the dungeon.  How about you Little
One?"

"Yes sir, I'm very ready."

"Good.  Come with me and bring the blanket.  It looks nice on you."

She followed as he opened the door to the basement and they descended
the carpeted stairs together.  She kept the blanket wrapped around her
like a large towel leaving her shoulders bare.  Underneath she had
only her sexy red panties and her Anais-Anais.  Her body shivered
slightly with anticipation, though the air was quite warm.

She was surprised at how large the room was.  It seemed to take up the
entire area under the house except for a small bedroom and bathroom
just at the bottom of the stairs.  The ceiling was easily nine feet
high.  It was also unusually warm for a basement.  The main room had
an attractive hardwood floor which was the only thing that kept her
from thinking of it as completely cozy.  She looked around to see how
much dust was on the smooth, polished floor only to find it perfectly
clean.  Something else to ask him about, she thought.  Perhaps he had
a housekeeper.

There were speakers mounted on the walls in each corner of the room.
He had touched a switch somewhere as they entered and now some
mysterious and sensuous music was playing.  She couldn't identify it,
but wondered if this is what her on-line friends had referred to as
dungeon music.  There was a slight smell of incense or perfume,
perhaps scented candles.

Except for a spill of light from the stairway, the main room which he
called the dungeon was dimly lit by one small lamp in a corner.  He
had Monica sit on a straight wooden chair just inside the room while
he buckled on the soft black leather wrist and ankle cuffs. When he
turned out the stairway light, there was just enough light for him to
guide Monica to the center of the room and they stepped up onto the
platform supporting the spanking horse.

Cole positioned her with her hips against the rounded top of the horse
and her feet outside the bases of the two upright supports.  The
suspended wooden bar was just before her at waist level.  He fastened
the ankle cuffs to the recessed hooks in the platform which held her
legs widely, but comfortably splayed.  Then he asked her to hold her
hands out near the bar so that he could attach the wrist cuffs to
eyescrews that were set into the bar, about four feet apart.

"Hold them still, Little One.  Be a good slave for me."

As she held her arms out, it became apparent that the pink blanket was
wrapped securely enough to stay up by itself.  When her wrist cuffs
were attached to the bar she had just enough freedom of movement to
grasp the bar with her hands.  It helped to support some of her weight
as she bent part way over the horse.

Cole bent to kiss her neck and pretty bare shoulders.  The gentle
stimulation made her quiver with anticipation.  He smelled her perfume
again and felt his cock harden slightly.  Reaching around to where the
pink blanket was tucked in on her right side, he loosened it, then
pulled it free with a dramatic flourish.  The red panties were still
there, but the color was subdued in the dim light.  

Quickly retrieving an inch wide leather belt, he buckled it loosely
around her waist and pressed her forward over the padded pedestal.
Then he attached one end of a short cargo strap to a metal ring at the
center of the belt and the other end to the platform directly below.

"This is going to pull you down now, don't fight it Little One."

Pulling on the free end of the strap removed the slack along with
Monica's freedom to straighten up.  She was now bent over the horse in
a classic punishment position except that her wrists were attached to
the hanging bar.

He walked over to the wall and turned the control for the two overhead
spotlights.  She was suddenly bathed in warm light that created
dramatic shadows around her body.  Her ribs were sharply defined and
her upper back now showed the muscles that resulted from her hard work
in the gym.  Her well shaped hips, nicely arched back and widely
spread legs invited him to use her.

Monica was thrilled at the vulnerable position her master had
orchestrated.  Her bottom was displayed nicely for spanking and she
thought there was a distinct possibility that she could be penetrated
from behind if master was the right height.  The bar allowed her to
support her torso reasonably well, so she felt like she could hold
this position for a while, especially if her master asked it of her.
The submissive part of her personality was being fulfilled in a manner
that she had dreamed of since adolescence.  Giving up control to
someone she trusted was the ultimate aphrodisiac and the need within
her was increasing with each passing minute.

What Cole noticed most was the way that her sensitive breasts dangled
beneath her like perfectly ripe fruit waiting to be exploited.  Her
chest muscles were nicely stretched by the extended position of her
arms along the bar and it did mischievous things to the sexy shape of
her slightly tanned tits.

Kneeling on the platform beside her, he reached up to fondle her
chest.  He began to delicately trace the curves and brush against her
nipples.

"Hold still for me, little slut girl." he said.  Her back became
slightly more rigid as she fought the desire to wiggle away from his
hands.

"I love your tits.  I could do this all night.  You wouldn't mind
would you?"

"No Master.  Please do it as long as you like."  She did love it, but
her bottom and sex were tingling with the anticipation of more
attention.

His hands gradually began to grasp her more roughly, twisting and
squeezing her delicate flesh.  Reaching into his pocket, he took out
two wooden clothespins and deftly placed them onto her sensitive
nipples.

Monica's eyes opened wider.  "Those have really strong springs!" she
thought as the stinging changed to a warm glow in her breasts.

"Oooh, Master, those are very tight!"

"Yes I know, Little One.  I enjoy hurting you and I enjoy seeing you
in this position. You look very beautiful. It's time to move on,
though.  Are you ready to take some real pain for me?"

"Yes Sir, I'll accept anything you want to do to me."  She hoped that
would include a serious spanking, since their previous session had
only given her a taste of what she wanted.

Cole moved around behind and gazed down at her flawless hips and her
ass with its well developed muscles beneath a thin layer of sexy
padding.  She'll be able to take a lot of punishment, he thought.  The
lacy red panties now stood out brightly in the spotlights and he
started stroking the satin material.  He pressed his still clothed
groin against her ass and reached around to run his hands along her
ribs and abdomen.  Some of her beautiful brown hair was hanging down
below, so he gathered it up and placed it reverently on her back where
it reached over half way to her waist.

Monica felt herself slipping into the same strange mental state that
she experienced the last time they played.  She desperately wanted to
make herself available to her master in any way possible, but he had
chosen this vulnerable position for her and there were no decisions to
make.  Her ass, tits and cunt were firmly positioned for her master to
ravish at will.

She felt her master begin stroking her already eager pussy through the
satin panties and the familiar feeling of swelling sexual desire in
her private parts grew stronger.  He cupped her vulva and gently
squeezed repeatedly.  Suddenly, he slid the panties down her thighs,
then ripped them away, leaving her totally exposed and defenseless.
He knelt down and blew a stream of cool air onto her hot cunt.  

"Please Master, fuck me now!" She desperately wanted him to touch her
again, but he stood up and took a step back.

The spanking of her naked buttocks began slowly.  Cole alternated
light and moderate slaps with gentle fingernail scratches and kisses.
The intensity built up slowly for over 10 minutes. He had learned the
night before that a hand spanking had a very limited effect on her, so
he stepped over to a low table and selected a leather strap from the
pile of kinky toys.

The strap was eighteen inches long and almost two inches wide with a
six inch wooden handle. His first stroke went straight across both
buttocks just above the lower crease.  His aim proved to be excellent
and she inhaled sharply with the shock of this new stimulation.  A two
inch wide red rectangle appeared on her delicate skin.

"Breathe, Little One.  I'll give you some time between strokes.  I
don't want you safewording before I've had my fun,"  he said with a
lecherous grin.

Cole proceeded to strap her adorably rounded bottom with gradually
increasing vigor.  Both cheeks became a bright cherry red as he
carefully distributed the strokes over the entire surface.  Monica was
breathing hard and making little short moaning sounds in a way that he
found very appealing.   He stopped the strapping for a few minutes to
gently probe her smooth, nicely displayed cunt.  He was not at all
surprised to find that she was very wet.  A minute of labia pinching
and clit rubbing was all it took to drive her into a pre-orgasmic
thrusting.  With her hips held firmly down against the padded top, she
could barely move and she had to accept whatever he wanted to do.

"Please Master, can I come now?" she begged.

In a calm, comforting voice he said "I'll bet you'd like to Little
One, but not right now.  Your Master will decide when you can come."
He teased her clitoris just enough to keep her on the verge of coming
for another few minutes, then removed his hand from her sensitive
button and resumed the strapping.  

She was panting now and she felt as if her body below the waist was
burning and pulsating in time with her heartbeat.  She longed for her
master's touch on her clit and the feel of his hard cock inside her.
Applied slowly and at regular intervals, each lash of the heavy strap
propelled her into a higher state of arousal.  The timing of the
strokes was perfect and she had a mental image of herself as a girl on
a swing, with the height of her travel increasing each time her helper
gave her another push.

After a total of about twenty strokes, faint purple lines began to
appear where heavy strokes had overlapped.  He decided that this was
enough.  His own sexual arousal could not be ignored much longer.

"You've taken twenty good strokes of the strap, Little One.  I'm very
proud of you.  I have something else in mind now.  Cole moved around
in front and seized the free ends of the black cargo straps supporting
the bar.  Pulling on the two straps carefully, he hoisted the bar
toward the ceiling.  Her arms were pulled upward and slightly
backwards, lifting her torso until the waist belt allowed no further
movement.  Her upper body was now in a position somewhat akin to a
swan dive, but her lower body was still firmly pressed against the
small spanking horse.

The change in position caused a tingle of pain in her nipples, where
the forgotten clothespins were still firmly clamped.  "Oh God" she
gasped.  Her nipples seemed to have a direct connection to her clit
and the burning sensation of the clothespins was duplicated there.
This was her first experience with serious breast play and she found
it highly stimulating.  She could tell that she was no longer thinking
clearly and her vision seemed to be fogged by her desperate need for
an orgasm to relieve the burning tension in her body.

The spotlights now illuminated her torso as if it were a Greek statue
made of fine marble.  Her muscles stood out all along her shoulders
and abdomen.   Best of all, thought Cole, her breasts were thrust out
in a most provocative manner.  If it weren't for the clothespins, she
would be a fine copy of a hood ornament he had once seen on an antique
luxury car.

He removed his jeans and shorts while he gazed at the beautiful piece
of living erotic art fixed helplessly in the spotlights.

"I'm going to hurt you again, Little One.  You know how I enjoy that."
he said in his soft seductive voice.  She was so aroused that she
couldn't reply for a moment until her mind cleared slightly.

"I need it Master.  Just let me come soon, please?"

Ignoring her plea, he said, "Here, Little One, we'd better take these
clothespins off.  This will hurt for a minute."  He reached up and
swiftly removed both clothespins from her nipples which had now been
firmly compressed for almost 30 minutes.

As the blood rushed back into the abused nipples, twin bursts of pain
flared and were again relayed to her clitoris.  She closed her eyes
and opened her mouth to scream.  Cole placed his hand firmly over her
mouth to save his eardrums and succeeded in reducing the volume
considerably. He waited about thirty seconds for the pain to become
more tolerable, then he began delicately licking the now
hypersensitive nipples.

The intense stimulation was more than Monica could take.  Only the
leather restraints kept her from pulling away.  Her overloaded brain
tried to channel the input into an orgasm, but her master would not
provide the proper touch that would allow her to climax.  All she
could do was accept what he wanted to do to her.  As her foggy brain
realized this, she sank into the deepest state of submission that she
had yet experienced.  Instead of pulling away, she now thrust her
breasts forward for her master's pleasure.  She looked down at him and
realized that he was getting great pleasure from this too.  A feeling
of great clarity and satisfaction settled over her.  In a sudden
insight, she realized that this was the role she was born to play.

When he tired of the gentle touching and licking, he gradually got
rougher, pulling, twisting and squeezing her delicate breasts.  He
loved the soft texture of the skin and the way they returned to their
pretty, curved shapes when he released them.  Her distended nipples
were places where strong inputs could be sent directly to her brain.
It gave him an arousing feeling of power and control.

"I want you to accept one more thing, Little One.  Have you ever had
your tits whipped?"

"No Master.  Would it please you?"

"It would please me very much, my little sex toy."  Then he picked up
a small whip with tresses about a foot long.  It was made of inner
tube rubber cut into about fifty one-eighth inch strips.

Standing back for a good aim, he began to whip her helplessly hanging
breasts.  Not too hard, he thought.  Not too soft either.  There,
that's just right.   He could make each breast bounce in a most
lascivious manner while leaving just the right shade of little pink
stripes.  Monica found the peculiar combination of sting and thud most
intriguing and she couldn't resist pushing her chest out for more.  It
didn't hurt nearly as much as the clothespins, she thought.  She was
more concerned with the burning tingle in her cunt that was crying out
for immediate penetration.

Cole amused himself with the whip for a few minutes until her tits
glowed with delicious red heat.  Then he dragged his fingernails over
the hot, sensitive skin.  Monica responded with a gasp.  "Time to
reward this horny little slut with an orgasm," he said.  

He moved around behind her and began to rub her pussy with his right
hand while holding his now rampant cock in his left to judge its
firmness.  It was so hard, he was momentarily afraid that it might
break.  With her legs held apart by the cuffs and the waist belt
forcing her to bend over the horse, Monica's impatient vagina was at
exactly the right height for him to fuck her from behind.  He
congratulated himself on positioning her with the perfect pelvic tilt
for vigorous thrusting.

First he allowed the head of his cock to slide up and down her wet
cunt until she was begging for penetration.  Part of him was also
begging for release.  It was a very large and hard part.  It took all
his willpower to keep from entering her immediately.  He paused for
one more instant to appreciate her amazing physical beauty.  He noted
that her well flogged tits were still thrust forward and her arms
pulled up and back as if she were a piece of erotic performance art.

"Please, Master.  I need it now!"

"You are such a greedy slut!  Well, if you just can't wait."  He slid
into her with a mighty thrust and immediately had to begin his mental
exercises to delay his orgasm.  His timing was being overwhelmed by
the sheer erotic energy that he was absorbing from Monica.  

The energy that he had so carefully put into her was taking them both
to a critical point.  To delay his orgasm just a little longer he
tried to think about anything that would divert his attention.  His
mind turned to a scientific analysis of this overwhelming burst of
sexual energy whose output seemed so much greater than the input.  The
term "breeder reactor" flashed into his mind and he started to laugh
at the various comic implications.

That's when Monica screamed as the tension that had built up within
her body was released in a frighteningly intense orgasm.  She strained
against her bonds and her vaginal muscles contracted like a fist
around his cock.  Cole accepted the inevitable. He reached around to
cruelly grasp her tortured breasts, took a huge breath and enjoyed the
feeling of overwhelming pleasure as his hot fluid was pumped into the
helpless woman.  His legs strained involuntarily to force his shaft
deeper into her body.  Just as his orgasm was fading, Monica began her
second climax and her internal muscles began gripping his still
sensitive cock in a rhythmic pattern that seemed to suck more semen
straight from his balls, reintensifying his orgasm and preventing him
from moving a muscle.

CHAPTER SEVEN

After releasing Monica and helping her over to a low futon bed in the
dungeon, Cole joined her and covered them both with a large quilt.
Sleep came instantly and he fell into a near coma.  Waking refreshed
the next morning, they elected to go out for Sunday brunch at a
restaurant in nearby Kirkland.  Sitting at a table with the remains of
a delightful meal before them, they started to seriously discuss their
relationship.

"Things are developing a lot faster than I expected," he admitted.
"I've never been in a relationship like this one before.  What do you
think of it?"

"I agree it's been fast, but I'm not complaining.  I feel like I've
been waiting a long time for this."  She reached her hand across the
small table to touch him.  "I suppose my girlfriends would tease me
for being involved with a lawyer, though."

"Oh, yes.  I forgot to tell you about that.  Glad to see you figured
it out.  Do you mind?  Some people think we're a lower form of life."

With a relaxed chuckle she said, "Howard, I don't think you're
anyone's idea of an average lawyer.  Did they teach you how to be
sexually dominant in law school?  I've never met anyone who
understands it as well as you."

"I'm flattered that you think so, but I don't think anyone really
understands it completely.  It's a very complex subject."  As he
spoke, he scanned the dining area and noticed the nicely dressed,
almost prim and proper clientele.  What would they think if they knew
what he and Monica were discussing?

He decided to bring up something that might be a touchy subject.
"Monica, how are you feeling about our age difference?"

"To tell the truth, Howard, I don't think about it at all when we're
together.  It just seems very natural."

"I feel the same way, but I'm a little worried about what other people
will think.  I've seen men my age suddenly appear with a sweet young
thing on their arm.  Everyone immediately assumes that it's just a
young bimbo that he's acquired to help him through his mid-life
crisis.  It wouldn't be fair to expose you to that kind of pressure."

"Hey sweetie, didn't I tell you that I've been dating guys older than
me?  I know exactly what you're talking about and it doesn't bother me
a bit.  Who cares what other people think?  Eventually they'll see
that we're happy together and good for each other.  The ones who can't
see past that first impression aren't worth worrying about."

She decided to move on to a different subject.  "Howard, our play this
weekend has helped me learn some things about myself.  Do you want to
hear about it?"

"Of course Little One... I mean Monica," he grinned.

"Well, Master Howard," she said with a touch of friendly sarcasm,
"I've been thinking about whether I'm a sub or a bottom.  That was
always a big topic of discussion in my on-line groups.  At this point,
I'd have to say I'm both.  Just thinking about SM play makes me feel
subby and the more submissive I get, the more I crave the spanking,
the clothespins or whatever."  While she spoke, she played
absentmindedly with a strand of her adorable brown curls that framed
her face.

"That certainly makes sense to me," he responded.  "It took me a while
to find out that I was a dominant who liked psychological play as well
as a sadistic devil who liked to spank pretty women"  He noticed how
her eyes sparkled as he spoke.  "Maybe I just like making them give up
control."

When she thought about giving up control, Monica's eyes lost their
focus for a moment and she visualized what had happened to her last
night.  With an effort, she snapped herself back to the conversation.
"Yes, I wonder if it all comes down to control?"

"It's as good a theory as any.  If I can change the subject slightly,
how do you think our relationship will effect you at work?  I wouldn't
want you slipping into subspace at work like you did just now."

"You noticed that?  Hopefully it won't happen at work.   I'm actually
pretty dominant when I have to be.  You should see what a bitch I can
be sometimes!"  She said it convincingly, but was glad he hadn't
noticed her stiffening nipples.  It was going to take some time to
avoid slipping into those erotic daydreams.

"I can imagine you wearing spike heels and black leather, swinging a
long bullwhip around the office."

Giving her best Betty Page smile, she said, "that's me, Mistress
Monica."

"I hope you aren't Mistress Monica with me.  I tried having a
relationship with a Femdom and it didn't work out."

"You?  With a dominant woman?  Do you mean a professional, uh...
Pro-Domme?"

"Oh yes, Nikki is a pro all right, a good one.  Her working name is
"Mistress Valeria".  The reason it didn't work out was that we were
both dominant.  She's a great person and fun to be with, but we had no
sexual chemistry.  Put two dominants together and what you get is a
vanilla relationship.  We thought it was quite funny at the time."  

"Oh, too bad.  I was imagining you being beaten and verbally abused by
some bossy bitch in a Dominatrix costume," she teased.  

"I'm afraid it wouldn't do anything for me, but if you're interested I
could contact her and see if she'd like to play with us sometimes.
She likes sexy little subby girls like you."  He watched as Monica
looked thoughtful for a minute.  "You once mentioned that you were a
little bisexual, right?"

"Yes, maybe more than a little.  But I don't know if I want to be
dominant or submissive with another woman.  Maybe just vanilla."

"Sounds like another fun avenue for us to explore.  I'm certainly
willing to participate if you're interested."

She looked down and said shyly, "I'm interested, just nervous.  Will
you help?  Maybe you could surprise me sometime."

"I'll keep it in mind," he said casually.  It sounded like the sort of
scene that would be spoiled if he talked about it too much.   "Why
don't you tell me how you got that beautiful tattoo?  I'll bet it was
expensive."

She laughed, "You won't believe it!  My college roommate and I decided
that we wanted to get tattoos, but we didn't have much money.  So, we
found out about a friend of a friend who would do us for forty dollars
each.  This guy was supposed to be an art student with a lot of
talent, so we decided to take a chance.

When we went to his place, you could barely see through the haze of
marijuana smoke.  We almost backed out when he insisted that he needed
to have a few drinks in order to do his best work.  I was really
scared, but I love the final result.  Later we found out that these
were his first tattoos.  I can't believe how lucky I was."

Cole's eyes went wide, "His first tattoos?  Yours looks like it was
done by a real professional.  Damn, you were really lucky!"

When Monica stopped laughing, she asked, "Howard, how come it smells
like pipe tobacco in your office?  I've never seen you smoking
anything."

"Oh, that," he said, waving his hand, "I like the smell of some pipe
tobaccos, so I use the stuff to give my office a nice masculine scent.
I'd never smoke the stuff!"  He made an unpleasant face.

"OK, how about those photographs in your house, did you take those?"

"Sure did.  Those are from my landscape period,  before I discovered
the joys of  photographing naked perverts doing naughty things," he
grinned.  "I haven't photographed a mountain in years."

They sat there in their own world as the mundane people of Sunday
morning Seattle moved around them, somehow kept apart from them as if
by an invisible barrier.  They held hands across the fine linen
tablecloth and looked into each other's eyes like any ordinary pair of
lovers.

CHAPTER EIGHT

For the next few months, their relationship grew steadily closer.  The
fact that it was impractical to see each other during the week had
both good and bad effects.  On the good side, they both built up
tremendous amounts of sexual energy, which they channeled into amazing
weekend performances.  They spent enough pleasurable, quality time
together that they began discussing the possibility of marriage. The
bad side was that the limited time they had together was a barrier to
the further development of their relationship.  

They both felt that they had found their life partner, but it was
going to take some adjustments to make things work out.  The first
order of business was for Monica to move into Cole's house.  They
agreed that it would be best to live together as a further test of
their compatibility.  Unfortunately, with Monica working downtown,
that would create the need for a very unpleasant commute.  Until she
could find other employment, they would have to continue their current
arrangement.

Sitting in a small theater one evening, they waited for a foreign film
to start.  Monica told Cole about her current work situation.

"Things have been deteriorating at work lately, Howard.  The board
hired a new general manager about two months ago and things are
getting a lot more stressful.  Mr. Weber thinks that terrorizing the
employees is the best way to generate maximum productivity.  You know
things are getting bad when there's a sudden increase in the number of
Dilbert cartoons being passed around," she said wryly.

Reaching out to hold his hand, she continued, "I don't know why he's
on my case so much.  My three clients are the happiest customers we
have."

Cole replied mischievously, "I think I'm your most satisfied
customer."

"You know what I mean," she responded with mock indignation.  "My
favorite client is a medium sized software company in Redmond.  I have
a hunch that they might be interested in having me work as their
employee rather than going through the agency.  I'm going to ask
around next week and see how they feel about the idea.  It would be an
easy commute from your house, lover," she said softly, close to his
ear.

Monica met with the personal director of the software company that
week.  She was responsible for the highly successful marketing
campaign that had launched their new voice-activated medical software.
It turned out that they were definitely interested in her services and
she entered into a gradual negotiating process with the company
management. 

In the meantime, Cole and Monica enjoyed each other whenever they
could.  He began to introduce her to his friends, one or two at a
time.  Mostly, he introduced her to his kinky friends.  He thought
that they would be more accepting of their unusual relationship than
his vanilla friends, since they themselves often had unusual lifestyle
arrangements.  

As she absorbed the never ending stream of scene gossip, Monica was
amazed at what interesting lives the scene people led.  It was better
than any soap opera she had ever watched.  She was always happy to
listen when one of Cole's old friends filled him in on the latest
developments.  By avoiding scene events, he fell behind on the current
status of many people and their relationships, so he always asked his
friends for an update

One weekend, he introduced Monica to his friend Ron, a very dominant
gentleman with whom he had shared many secrets over the last few
years.  Ron had even been something of a mentor to Cole, explaining
the mysterious art of psychological D/S play.

Ron had one belief that Cole found rather discouraging.  He felt that
it was unfeasible for a couple to have a strong D/S relationship
within the confines of a healthy marriage.  It was impossible, he
said, for the spouses to effectively share the responsibilities of
running the family while the dominant partner was controlling the
submissive partner.  This seemed reasonable to Cole, but he was pretty
certain that he and Monica could find a sensible compromise.

Ron didn't have much going on in his life outside his play
relationship.  With no job or marriage to maintain, he had plenty of
time to think up the most fiendish, but safe, torments for his deeply
submissive partner.  To Cole, he represented both the dark side and
light side of BDSM.  He was a classic example of someone who became so
wrapped up in their D/S play that they allowed their other interests
and responsibilities to languish.  There was a definite chance that
people could become addicted to that dominant or submissive headspace
that they craved.

On the other hand, Ron was always an advocate of carefully negotiated,
mutually rewarding and above all safe, kinky play.  People often
referred newcomers to him, because they knew that the newbies would be
in good hands and get good information to start them off.

When Cole had first entered the Seattle scene, he was initially
impressed with the general atmosphere of healthy openness and
acceptance.  People who had openly admitted that they were kinky
somehow seemed emotionally healthier than the average person who
feared to admit that they fantasized about something unusual.  After a
few years of contact with the same group of people, he began to
realize that the scene folk were just as messed up as everyone else,
maybe more so.  It took a long time, but he eventually learned the
hard way that scene people were not to be trusted any more than
non-scene people.

A popular topic of conversation was how many of the submissives had a
history of abuse.  Many of the female subs had been abused in
childhood and many of the male submissives had been abused in earlier
relationships.  Not all of them, by any means, so that no theory ever
seemed to apply to everyone.  It made for some great email wars on the
internet along with the perennial favorite, 24/7 relationships and
TPE.

TPE, the abbreviation for Total Power Exchange, was used for couples
who agreed that the dominant partner would have total control of the
submissive partner at all times.  24/7 referred to a related concept
where a couple would stay in dominant and submissive roles twenty four
hours a day, seven days a week.  There were always some couples who
claimed that they lived such a lifestyle and there were always novices
who eagerly asked questions about how they could find that sort of
bliss for themselves.

Many D/S couples put a great deal of thought into their arrangements.
It was popular to have a written contract between the two partners
describing, sometimes in great detail, which rights and
responsibilities each partner would have.  The contracts were legally
worthless at best, but it made a great topic for endless discussion.

In reality, the number of couples who were able maintain a
relationship of this type was extremely small.  Almost invariably, the
requirements of maintaining one's job and family prevented them from
achieving their goal for more than a short time.  The more intense the
D/S, the quicker it burned itself out.  Cole and Monica talked about
this on several occasions.

Monica seemed to crave submission more than Cole needed to dominate.
Perhaps it was just his greater age and maturity helping him to
moderate his inner urges.  They rejected the idea of attempting a 24/7
lifestyle relationship.  There was just too much going on in their
lives to think that such a venture could be successful.  They both had
demanding careers and of course they were trying to build a strong
healthy relationship that would hopefully lead to a successful
marriage.  Simply indulging their kinky desires whenever they both
felt like it seemed like the most practical approach.

Because of their age difference, Cole felt a responsibility to allow
her to live her life with as much freedom as possible.  He made sure
that she had time to visit her friends and to stay in touch with her
family in Idaho.  Unfortunately, her family was not pleased with her
selection of a man so much older.  Most of the time they had little to
say to each other.

Monica usually had her weeknights free, so she always managed to see
her friend Jennifer at least once a week.  They would meet at a bar
downtown or relax and chatter endlessly in each other's apartments
until midnight or so, when they remembered that they both had to work
the next morning.  Jennifer was a secretary in one of the giant office
towers downtown.  She frequently complained that she was hired for her
exotic looks rather than her abilities, which were considerable.  

The two women were at least a little bit in love with each other.
Perhaps because of her own poor body image, Monica was attracted to
Jennifer by her very thin body.  Occasionally they would tease each
other with a little kiss or a hint of future lovemaking, but they also
discussed their mutual need to submit to a strong, caring man.

Jennifer had grown up a bit confused about her goals.  Her father's
Chinese relatives expected her to marry a nice Chinese boy and have
many babies.  Her mother's French relatives who had migrated from
Quebec several decades ago, felt that she should follow her heart.
She believed that she had received a double dose of submissiveness
from her parents.  Her father was influenced by the old fashioned male
dominant Chinese culture that his own parents had practiced.  Her
mother must have been naturally submissive, because she seemed to
thrive in that culture and always deferred to her father.

Two years older than Monica, at twenty eight, Jennifer still hadn't
had a satisfying relationship with a man.  The Chinese-American men
she had dated were shocked when she hinted that she might like to be
put over their knee and spanked.  It was very embarrassing.  The white
guys she went out with wanted to treat her like a little princess and
wouldn't even think of getting rough in the bedroom.  It was very
frustrating.

Her envy of Monica was strong, but her delight at seeing her friend
find happiness was even stronger.  She could hardly wait for their
weekly dates to hear the latest details of the rapidly developing
romance.  Finally, she was invited to meet Howard.  The three of them
arranged to meet for dinner one Saturday night at his house.  

Jennifer arrived at seven o'clock and found them cooking dinner
together in a most domestic fashion.  They did not seem to be in role
at all, she thought with some disappointment.  She did find Cole
attractive, perhaps conditioned by Chinese culture to accept older
men.  Perhaps it was just the fact the she knew he was dominant
sexually.  He was actually quite fit and handsome, if you liked the
beard and mustache.  She noticed that he had a hint of gray in his
dark beard and she could see the love in his eyes when he looked at
Monica.

Cole was impressed with Jennifer.   She seemed very intelligent, but
he could see why she might have been hired for her looks.  Her face
was a very exotic combination of European and Asian qualities.  Her
large exotic eyes and sexy jawline combined with her silky black hair
to create an eye-catching, delicate beauty.  The only thing that
spoiled the effect for him was her lack of womanly curves.  She wore a
loose fitting sweater and baggy jeans that did nothing to enhance her
small figure.

After an excellent dinner and a few glasses of wine, she worked up her
courage and asked politely if she could see the dungeon.  Cole and
Monica looked at each other with slightly raised eyebrows.  "Do you
think she's ready for that?" he asked.

Monica looked closely at her friend and asked, "Jenny, are you sure?
You'll have to promise not to tell anyone else."

"I promise.  Please, I'd really like to see it.  It's something I've
been thinking about for a long time."

They led her down the stairs and allowed her to explore the dungeon as
long as she wanted.  She asked several questions about the specialized
play furniture, which Cole answered as honestly as possible.  She
seemed to know what the bondage gear and various striking instruments
were for.  When she had seen enough, she simply said, "OK, thanks, it
looks really great."

They went back upstairs and chatted for the rest of the evening.
After Jennifer had gone, they both noted that her behavior was a bit
strange.  

As they straightened up the kitchen, Cole said, "She was certainly
feeling some kinky urges downstairs.  Did you notice her sniffing the
leather play furniture?

"I didn't see that, but I could sure feel some erotic energy when she
bent herself over that spanking bench.  I guess we're really lucky to
have each other.  There must be a lot of people out there who don't
have anyone to share their kinky secrets with."

That night, they held each other a little longer than usual before
drifting off to sleep.

CHAPTER NINE

The rainy winter weather prevented them from sharing an activity that
they both loved, hiking.  The best they could do were some long walks
on urban trails within the city.  They made plans to go on longer
hikes in the Cascades when summer arrived.  

The weekend play sessions mellowed somewhat.  They were getting to
know each other's responses and knew how to turn each other on with an
easy comfort.  If they had been out late, they would typically come
home to snuggle in the big bed and enjoy nice warm lovemaking.  Not
that they were vanilla or anything!  Cole still loved slapping her
tits and ass before he held her down for a nice slow ravishing.
Monica still liked to have him get rough and dominant before she was
ready for penetration.

As they had agreed earlier, they spent several Friday evenings
watching foreign films and arty films by American directors.  Monica
watched the entertainment media carefully to see when the most
promising films would be released.  Her knowledge of non-mainstream
films was astonishing.  She managed to enjoy films that put Cole to
sleep.  Sometimes only the good photography kept him awake.  He could
appreciate good cinematography, even if the plot was incomprehensible.
None of it really mattered, since he was with Monica and he was in
love.

The other part of their early agreement was that he would teach her to
shoot.  Specifically, handguns.  This was not quite as easy as going
to the movies.  Monica had absorbed a fear of guns from the general
culture that she was immersed in during her school years as well as
the sophisticated urban environment that she entered after graduating
from college.  Fortunately, she had read some feminist literature that
urged women to buy guns and learn to use them skillfully for their own
empowerment.  

Another thing that encouraged her was the fact that guns were
everywhere when she was growing up in Idaho and she associated them
with masculinity.  Seeing Cole handling a firearm like he respected it
and knew how to use it, made her wet and subby.

On a cold and misty Saturday morning at the outdoor pistol range, he
taught her to use a .38 caliber revolver.  She turned out to be pretty
good at it, although there was still a voice inside her head that made
her feel guilty for learning.  Cole was a good shot with the .38, but
he preferred a .45 semi-automatic.  She was stunned to see him produce
a flurry of rather large holes in the small vital areas of the
cardboard silhouette targets.

After the lesson, when they were sitting in a warm restaurant, he
explained that he often carried a pistol when he went into areas that
he considered risky.   

"I've had a permit for years.  It's nothing unusual these days," he
said.  "Any adult citizen can get a concealed weapon permit if they're
willing to go through the process.  I had to have my fingerprints
taken and wait for a background check, of course.  They look for any
history of mental illness or criminal activity.  It takes a couple of
months."

Monica seemed a bit surprised.  "I didn't know it worked that way.  I
thought you had to be someone special, like a politician or
something."

"When I lived in L.A., only the lawyers and the rich people were given
permits.  I like this system much better," he said.

Leaving the restaurant, they returned to the house for an afternoon of
unusually intense lovemaking.

One weekend, they agreed to schedule a serious play session in the
dungeon.  Monica prepared herself by shaving every hair from her
svelte body below the neck.  Cole prepared by putting up the leather
sling in one corner of the dungeon.  The sling was suspended from the
ceiling at waist height and was designed to allow someone to lie face
up on it with their weight comfortably supported.  Except for their
arms and legs, that is.  The limbs were typically raised and spread,
then fastened with leather cuffs to the four chains that suspended the
sling.

In the bedroom, he slowly undressed her and kissed every square inch
of her smooth skin.  He put the comfortable leather cuffs on her
wrists and ankles.  After a period of rough kissing and fondling, he
led her down the stairs to the dungeon and helped her onto the sling.
When he raised her legs to fasten them to the support chains, she was
quite surprised to see how her ass and cunt were hanging just off the
edge of the leather platform.  She had never quite felt such a feeling
of exposure and vulnerability.  Her wrists were soon attached above
her head.

He knelt down between her spread and upraised legs and began to
lightly kiss the area around her clitoris.  Then, he started pushing
gently on the sling to make it swing backwards and forward just a few
inches.  He placed his lips in position at the farthest point of
travel and waited for her moistening cunt to come to him for more
little kisses and nibbles.

Reaching for a soft blindfold with an elastic band, he kissed her
mouth softly for a few moments before placing it around her head,
cutting off her vision.   She detected a slight hint of her own
natural scent on his lips.  She could not see him look at his watch.

"Do you trust me, little subby girl?"

"You know I do darling... I mean Master." she said in a dreamy voice.

"That's good, Little One, because we're going to move a step forward
tonight.  You must trust me now.  There's nothing to worry about.  I
have good reason to think that you're going to enjoy this and I know
that I will.  I expect you to remain calm and accept whatever happens.
Will you do that for me?"

"I'm fine Master, go ahead.  You know I love surprises."

"I think I have a good one for you this time.  I'm going to go
upstairs for just a minute to get your surprise.  Don't run away."

He quickly went upstairs and found his old friend Nikki, AKA: Mistress
Valeria, waiting outside in her car.  Seeing him wave from the front
door, she hurried in and gave him a big hug.  Following their plan,
they went quietly downstairs to where Monica was waiting in the sling
with her legs held apart and her cunt wide open for all to see.

Blindfolded, Monica had no way of knowing who had entered the room
with her master.  She tensed briefly, until she smelled a woman's
perfume.  Then she heard a sexy female voice that was both seductive
and dominant.

"Hell-o, aren't you the sexy little slut.  Do you always hang around
with your cunt available to everyone?   Call me Mistress Valeria,
accent on the second syllable.  Your master has given you to me for
the next hour or so."

"Mistress Valeria!  I've heard my master speak of you. Your perfume is
very unusual.  What is it?"

"Patchouli and Poison.  Be quiet now, I want to put you through some
tests.  If you speak without being told to do so, you will be
punished."

Still blindfolded, Monica drifted into a relaxed state that she knew
would help her endure any kind of SM play that the good Mistress
Valeria might wish to inflict upon her.  She trusted her master to
have things under control and in fact she could hear him moving
nearby.

Mistress Valeria placed her small toy bag on the table next to the
various instruments of pain and pleasure that were already present.
She quickly surveyed the tools that were available to torment the
beautiful slave Monica and from the depths of her bag selected a
Wartenburg Pinwheel.  Attached to a six inch stainless steel handle,
the wheel was about an inch in diameter and had sharp spikes along its
rim.  It was originally designed to help Neurologists locate areas of
skin that were numb due to nerve damage.  It was also a favorite toy
of the SM crowd.

Valeria approached Monica's well displayed, defenseless form and stood
beside her.  "I want you to hold completely still, you little hussy.
This test will continue until I'm satisfied that you are submitting to
my wishes.  You are not allowed to speak. You are not allowed to
come."

She placed the small spiked wheel gently against the inside of
Monica's right wrist and gradually moved it down the arm, passing the
inside of the elbow and making a strong impression on the sensitive,
perfectly shaved armpit.  Monica moaned involuntarily and her muscles
quivered with her effort to hold still.  There were faint marks where
the spikes had pressed into her skin.

She heard her master speak now.  "I love it when she tries to hold
still."  From the tone of his voice, she could tell that he was very
much into his dominant role now.

"She's a beauty, Master Cole," she heard her sexy smelling tormentor
say.

The intense sensation of the wheel gradually moved up and down her
body from wrist to ankle and side to side.  Only her head, nipples and
genitals were spared.  Her captive position on the sling made it
impossible for her to hide any part of her body from the demanding
woman who was completely in charge.  All she could do was twitch and
moan.  The suspended position was quite comfortable and the sexy
torture seemed to go on forever.  She felt herself slipping away from
reality and into a state of erotic torpor.

After a long time, Valeria noticed that Monica's cunt was getting
nicely lubricated.  "You're wet, wench."   The comment woke Monica
from her trance and generated a rush of embarrassment that caused her
to blush in some very unladylike places.  Her entire body seemed like
it had been sensitized by the wheel and she realized with some alarm
that the feeling of anything touching her skin would now be amplified.

"She does respond nicely", Valeria said, looking over at Cole who
simply grinned.

Setting the spiked wheel aside, Valeria put on a pair of latex gloves
and turned her attention to Monica's naked cunt.  Spreading the
already open outer lips, she gathered some of the slippery fluid and
carefully spread it to all the sensitive areas.  Then she began a long
massage of Monica's inner and outer labia, carefully avoiding the
clitoris.

Monica's little moans soon turned to grunts and pelvic thrusts.  "Hold
still, you nasty little slut.  I'll tell you when you can come."
Monica obeyed the order as long as she could, then the stimulation was
too much for her and she started wriggling frantically to bring her
clit into contact with the teasing hands.

"Aren't we the little wiggle worm.  You'll get six cane strokes on
your pretty ass for disobedience.  Don't say I didn't warn you."

Monica was more distressed by the fact that the astoundingly talented
hands were removed from her cunt.  However the burning lines that
appeared one at a time on her unprotected and lewdly stretched
buttocks quickly made her want to obey.

"Let's try this again.  Hold still this time!"

The hands returned to her slippery cunt lips, sliding up and down,
pinching and stretching.  Monica was nearly catatonic from the long
period of unrelieved sexual stimulation.

After a terribly long time she heard, "I think I've had enough of that
little amusement and I doubt if you can take much more.  Have you been
depriving her of sex, Master Cole?"  

Valeria moved forward and carefully removed the blindfold, leaving
Monica blinking in the soft light of the dungeon.  She looked up to
see who had taken such complete control of her and saw a handsome
woman with long, raven black hair and a skimpy leather outfit that
displayed an alluring figure.

"Hello, Mistress Valeria," she said softly.  "Please don't stop."

"Don't worry, I'm not done with you yet.  Just relax for a minute
while I put on a condom.  Have you ever been fucked by a woman?"

"I don't think so," she said uncertainly, not quite understanding the
meaning.  Was Valeria a man?  It didn't seem possible.

"Well, you're about to be fucked.  Now, where did I leave my cock?"
she said absent mindedly as she turned to the toy table.

Monica watched in fascination as Mistress Valeria removed her leather
outfit revealing a perfectly normal female body.  No penis visible
anywhere.  Her pubic hair was nicely shaved too, Monica noticed.

Valeria reached into her black toy bag and pulled out a large strap-on
dildo that was a perfect replica of an erect penis.  Even the texture
and flexibility of the pink plastic was correct.  Using the leather
straps, she fastened it around her body so that the artificial cock
was positioned perfectly.  Then she ripped open a small foil packet
and quickly rolled a condom down the shaft.  What Monica could not see
was that there was a small extension on the rear of the dildo which
would provide Valeria with intense clitoral stimulation.

Lying helplessly in the sling, Monica was feeling very submissive as
she anticipated the feeling of the plastic cock fucking her overheated
sex.  Having a beautiful woman take charge of her was very
stimulating, but she felt like she was really doing it for her beloved
master.  She looked over at Cole and wondered if he was proud of her
for demonstrating her obedience.

Monica looked at Mistress Valeria approaching between her spread and
upraised legs.  Even without her exotic leather outfit, the woman was
still very sexy.  She admired the long black hair and pretty breasts.


Valeria used her hands to move the latex clad cock up and down
Monica's swollen, red labia.  When she felt that Monica was about
ready to burst, she slid the cock carefully into the well lubricated
passage.  Gently stroking in and out, Valeria was being stimulated
herself, by the action of the dildo against her own center.  Her
helpless victim, however, was still deprived of clitoral stimulation.
"I'm glad I didn't use any lube," she said in Cole's direction,  "your
little slut is really wet.  She's quite a treasure, you know."

"I know she is," Cole said as he moved closer to stand near Monica.
He reached out to touch her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples
in the way that he knew she liked.  "I'm very proud of you, Little
One.  Allowing your master to give your body to another is an
important step in your submission."

Cole could sense that Monica's mind was far away in a pre-orgasmic
fog.  Judging by the hardness of Valeria's nipples, she too would soon
give in to the repetitive clitoral stimulation that was provided by
the ingenious dildo.  He moved behind Valeria and gently reached
around to cup her breasts, which he had always admired.  While Valeria
was working herself towards a climax by fucking his little slave girl,
he provided a bit of extra stimulation.  His goal was to make them
both come at the same time.  He remembered that she liked a slow
pulling of her nipples and he gradually worked them into stiff peaks
of pleasure.  She responded by pushing her chest out to encourage his
efforts.  In a way, he was serving her, but he was also controlling
her.  A bit confusing, but lots of fun, he thought.

Valeria was the first to come.  As she began to quiver and shake, Cole
moved to Monica's side and reached down to stroke her neglected clit.
Within seconds. Monica was wracked by her own massive convulsions of
ecstasy.  They each let out a loud scream of pleasure that seemed to
encourage the other to greater heights.  He absorbed the intense
sexual energy from the two passionate women.  He could feel it in his
own body, but knew he'd have a chance to satisfy himself later.  He
hoped it would be soon.  Very soon.

When their energy was spent, he helped his dominant friend to a pile
of pillows on the floor and covered her quickly with a blanket.  Then
he moved to release Monica, who seemed to be comatose.

Within a few minutes, they both recovered and started chatting about
their experience.  Their conversation quickly turned to the fact that
Cole hadn't come yet and the three of them tossed out ideas for
providing him with satisfaction.  They decided that Valeria, who Cole
had started to call Nikki, would recline on a soft pad with her knees
spread wide so that Monica could be taught the art of cunnilingus as
practiced by the famous Mistress Valeria.  Cole would kneel behind
Monica and fuck her while she worked.

Monica learned fast.  Whenever Nikki/Valeria felt that she was doing
something incorrectly, she would wave a hand in Cole's direction and
he would stop his doggy style thrusting until Monica was doing it
right.  This was great fun for a while, until he said in a strangled
voice, "Dammit Nikki, I can't hold back any longer!"  

She quickly responded, "Fuck it man! Go ahead and come!  Shoot a big
load into your pretty little come receptacle."

He certainly did.  His vision blacked out from the intense pleasure of
coming inside the tight slippery tunnel that his lover offered him.
Then he was the one who collapsed on the floor while the women
continued their lesson.  Shortly, when he appeared to be asleep, they
both looked at him, then smiled at each other knowingly.

Nikki, left an hour later after lots of hugs and kisses all around.
Monica turned to him and wrapped her arms around him tightly.

"She's really special.  Is she the one you had a relationship with?"

"Yes, that's her.  One of a kind.  Do you want to play with her again
sometime?  I'd say she enjoyed herself enough to be interested in a
rematch."

Monica hesitated, "I'm not sure right now.  I just adore her as a
person, but I don't think that submitting to a woman is what I need.
I was really doing it for you, you know."

"I thought so.  Well, it's not important.  Since we both like her,
we'll see more of her socially, I'm sure."

CHAPTER TEN

The level of trust they had in each other set the tone for their
relationship, which became warmer and deeper as the months passed
quickly.  Their sexual activities always involved very hot, but
loving, dominant/submissive play.  Monica derived a great deal of
satisfaction from simply serving him.  Sometimes it was in small ways,
like bringing him his coffee and sitting at his feet for a while.  At
other times, they would engage in semi-formal training where Cole
would show her how to dry him after he stepped out of the shower or
how to pose herself in the sexiest positions for his visual enjoyment.
Above all, they were deeply in love.

It was not a complete fantasy world, however.  They each had important
responsibilities that demanded a great deal of their time.  Their
dominant/submissive relationship fulfilled some basic inner needs, but
it also provided a form of escape from the daily stress of life in the
business world.  Monica was becoming an expert at changing roles when
she left work.  It was becoming quite natural to be forceful and
assertive by day, submissive and loving by night.  She felt a sense of
balance in her life that had never existed before.

Cole became a bit wrapped up in major contract negotiations involving
a new method of programming traffic computers to regulate the flow of
traffic on city streets.  His fee would be substantial if he could
arrange the kind of terms that he was hoping for.

When the contract was signed he estimated that his planned retirement
date had been moved up by at least a year.  Monica had also finished a
major marketing project and they felt like they needed to take a
little time off.  Sitting in the living room with glasses of
Johannesburg Riesling, they discussed travel possibilities that could
be arranged on short notice.  

Considering the limited time that was available, they decided to
vacation someplace within a day's drive.  

"Have you ever been to Victoria?" he asked.  "It's only about three
hours away by ferry.  We'll need to check the ferry schedules."

"I've heard a lot about it, but haven't been there myself," Monica
replied.  "In fact, I've never been on any of the ferries.  I'd love
to go there!"

The Canadian city of Victoria was isolated from the mainland on
Vancouver Island and was only accessible by air or by ferry.  A fleet
of passenger and auto ferries plied the waters of Puget Sound to
provide the vital transportation links.  They made reservations for
three nights at a quiet hotel in Downtown Victoria. 

On Thursday, Cole removed the center seat from the minivan to provide
a large empty space inside the vehicle.  In the wee hours of Friday
morning, they loaded their bags and drove North to Anacortes.

At 7:30 AM they parked in the waiting line at the ferry terminal.
They watched from dockside as the sturdy ship maneuvered for docking.
The huge hydraulic ramp was deployed from the dock to match up with
the great door in the stern.  The smell of salt water and the cries of
the seagulls blended with the manmade odors of machinery and the
sounds of automotive engines.  Monica counted seventy cars and trucks
racing up the ramp from the vehicle deck and stopping to wait again at
the U.S. customs terminal.

When they were allowed to drive onto the ferry, Cole was pleased that
the minivan had been allocated a parking place in one of the darker
corners of the vehicle deck.  They would have over three hours to kill
while the ferry made its way through the narrow channels of the San
Juan Islands before arriving at the Canadian port of Sidney.

As soon as people parked their cars, they all went upstairs to the
passenger decks for coffee and sightseeing.  Cole and Monica waited
until the deck was deserted, then moved into the rear of the minivan.
A pile of blankets and pads covered most of the floor.  They undressed
quickly, then got under a soft down comforter. The rocking motion of
the ship indicated that they were underway and Cole pulled a set of
their favorite leather wrist cuffs from under a nearby pillow.

He used the wrist restraints and some spring clips to attach Monica's
hands to the base of the bench seat at the rear of the minivan's cargo
compartment.  Protected by the nearly black windows, he spent the next
half hour seeing how close he could get Monica to coming without
actually letting her climax.  His favorite technique was to simply
lick her clitoris until she started to wiggle her hips.  Then he would
stop for a while and kiss his way up her perfect tummy to her
delightfully protruding nipples.  The throbbing of the ship's engines
easily covered her happy noises.

When he felt like he was nearing his own limit, he unfastened her
restraints from the base of the seat and they moved up onto the seat
itself.  Cole sat down first, then ordered Monica to service him
orally.  Kneeling on the floor between his knees, she demonstrated a
natural, but not fully developed, talent for fellatio.  He had to stop
in just a few minutes, as he could feel his orgasm already starting to
develop.

"You're getting too good at that, my little slut girl.  Come up here
with me now, I have plans for you"

"Let's hurry Master, I need you inside me now!"

"Kneel on the seat with one knee on either side of me.  That's right.
Lower yourself onto my cock... God that feels good!"

Feeling his manhood engulfed in her soft warmth was an exquisite
sensation.  Before he could lose himself in this sensual bliss, he
reminded her to clip her leather wrist cuffs to the hooks that he had
installed along the ceiling where normal people would hang clothing.

This position placed her delectable breasts right at Cole's mouth
level and provided Monica with leverage to raise and lower herself on
his ironhard phallus.  When she rested all her weight on him, the seat
cushions were compressed and the throbbing vibration of the ferry was
transmitted deep into her body.  She also found that she could rub her
overheated clit on Cole in a most satisfying way.

"Oh Master, that feels so good!  I can feel the vibration way up
inside me!"

"You may come whenever you want, my dear."  He took great delight in
fondling and punishing her breasts for as long as possible.  With her
arms extended to the corners of the minivan's roof line, her breasts
were displayed in just the manner he liked.  He pinched the sensitive
nipples and slapped her firm globes to watch them jiggle.   

The moderate pain in her mammary erogenous zones soon combined with
the vibrations in her womanly core to launch the first of several
massive orgasms.  "I'm coming Master!" she cried out.

Cole was thankful that the sounds of her guttural screams and grunts
were absorbed by the noisy environment on the ferry.  He held out as
long as he could, but when he discovered that the springy seat cushion
would allow him to thrust and withdraw to suit his own inner rhythm,
it was all over.  His uncontrollable muscular exertions lifted and
dropped Monica repeatedly, forcing her to climax again.

When they were able to speak again, they laughed together at the
steamed up windows, then noticed that it was growing cold inside their
private play chamber.  Cleaning up and dressing in warm clothes, they
left the minivan and went upstairs to join the other passengers.

They huddled close together at the rail as they watched the forested
islands slip by, so close they could almost reach out and touch them.
The clean, chill breeze soon drove them back inside for coffee and a
warmer observation point inside the main cabin.  Several passengers
remained at the rail to watch for killer whales.  Shortly before noon,
they arrived at Sidney, on Vancouver Island.  

Driving off the ferry, they waited in line for the Canadian Customs
agents to ask the usual questions of all the drivers.   The cuffs and
other toys were hidden from view, since they had been warned by
friends that kinky toys were sometimes confiscated at the border.

Cole had been very careful to leave his handgun at home.  The Canadian
government didn't even trust its own citizens with guns and they were
certain to come down hard on any barbaric American who might dare to
defy their laws.  He noted the familiar sign he had seen before at the
customs station which read "NO OFFENSIVE WEAPONS".  He had once asked
a customs agent what might constitute a defensive weapon, but the only
anwer he got was an hour long search of his vehicle.  This time the
only surprise was the fact that pepper spray was banned in Canada and
Monica was relieved when she remembered that she had left hers in
another purse.  Apparently self defense was not supposed to be an
option for Canadians.

They made the half hour drive into Victoria and checked into their
hotel around one in the afternoon.  Although the English style shops
and buildings were interesting, the usual cloudy weather made Victoria
somewhat dreary looking.  Monica announced, "Aren't the English
supposed to be famous for their tea?  I could sure use some right
now."

"Funny you should mention that," Cole said, "I was just going to
suggest that we have high tea." Walking a few blocks to a busy,
crowded tea shop, they ordered the shop's version of high tea, which
included a large plate of tiny tuna and cucumber sandwiches as well as
various biscuits with jam.  The tea itself was served at the perfect
piping hot temperature and was brewed to the ideal intensity.

Feeling fortified and wearing their favorite walking shoes, they set
out on foot to explore downtown Victoria.  Monica was thrilled at the
English atmosphere as they passed numerous shops selling souvenirs and
imports from Mother England.  That evening, they dined at a restaurant
which replicated old English culture from the Shakespearean era.  In
the courtyard out front, there was a set of antique wooden stocks that
reminded them of their kinky friends back home.  

In their hotel that evening, they realized that loud sexy noises would
not be appropriate, so they snuggled in the comfortable bed for a
while, then happily engaged in quietly dominant and silently
submissive sex.  They fell asleep in each other's arms and didn't
awaken until late the next morning.

They spent Saturday exploring the area by car, visiting a fort, a
lighthouse and the famous British Columbia Museum next to the
Parliament Building.  Something about Victoria was making them
terrible horny, because they returned to their hotel room and fucked
like bunnies whenever they could.  

They returned home on Monday, sore from too much sex.   In order to be
ready for work on Tuesday, Monica needed to return to her own
apartment that night.  "I sure wish I could stay here tonight,
Howard," she whined seductively.

"I wish you could too.  We're going to have to do something about that
soon."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It was a lazy, rainy Sunday afternoon in Seattle.  The weather was
typical for April, cool rain instead of cold rain.  Cole and Monica
had played heavily the night before and it felt good to just sit
around the house and talk.  Their conversation turned to Cole's
experiences in the scene and his previous play partners.  Monica
believed that she could get to know him better by finding out more
about his past.  She delicately maneuvered him into discussing how he
came to have so many kinky friends.

"Tell me about the women you've played with Howard, were they all
gorgeous?"

"Not all of them, by any means.  You don't need to be beautiful to be
submissive.  People in the scene come in all shapes and sizes." he
paused for a thoughtful moment,  "Maybe it would be easier to show
you."

Cole got up from the sofa where they were chatting and went into his
office for a moment.  He took what appeared to be a large professional
sized photo album from a locked cabinet and brought it back to the
living room. 

"I didn't know you had that," she exclaimed.  As they looked through
the photo album, Monica asked just the right questions to draw out the
story of his kinky explorations.  She watched his eyes intently and
listened to him explain how it all started.

"When I first understood that I was turned on by SM, it was still
considered a form of mental illness." he began.  "Then, when I found
the Seattle SM scene, I guess I went through all the usual stages."

Cole's first club meeting was a revelation.  Realizing that there
really were other people in his city who had the same forbidden
desires was a major discovery.  The fact that they felt good about it
was stunning.  

"I was very impressed with the constant emphasis on safety and
personal responsibility, since it matched my own philosophy.  I went
to a few monthly meetings before I felt comfortable enough to start
talking with other people and discussing my own preferences."

"My primary kinky interest at the time was photography.  I had always
enjoyed looking at well produced bondage magazines and videos."  He
was also an excellent semi-professional photographer and had recently
moved into a custom built house with a basement photo studio.

"My first attempt at sharing my kink with others was an offer to take
high quality pictures of anyone who wished to pose for SM photos.  I
didn't really expect any responses, but it made me feel like I was
participating in the social activities of the club."

To his surprise a woman came up to him after the meeting and wanted to
discuss her interest in being photographed in various bondage
positions.  Her name was Donna and she was a classic California blonde
with large firm breasts on a tall, skinny frame and very long,
straight blonde hair.  Donna had discovered the scene a few months
before Cole.  She was a single mother, around thirty, and was looking
for chances to explore the secrets that she had kept inside herself.

They agreed to a time for the first photo session and she politely
refused his offer to have her bring a friend to act as chaperone.
Using the soft portrait lights, they arranged various bondage poses.
She was attached to the ceiling, spread-eagled on the floor and tied
to a chair in classic bondage magazine style.  When he printed the
photos, the results were surprising.  They both agreed that their
favorite shot was a simple pose that showed Donna kneeling with her
wrists bound by a bright red satin scarf.  It wasn't just the fact
that her blonde hair and tanned breasts were so sexy.  The one vital
element was the appearance of submission.

The other poses turned out well too and Donna was happy to share them
with others at the club meetings.  She and Cole became good friends.
They attended some private play parties together and tried to find
what they were looking for in each other.  It didn't take long for
them to realize that they weren't sufficiently compatible to create a
serious relationship, but he would always remember her fondly as his
first playmate.  It took more than a shared interest in bondage to
make a viable couple.

As a result of those first photographs, other scene people approached
him to photograph them engaged in their particular types of fetish
activity.  Although he personally preferred female submissive themes,
he learned to create attractive photos of many types of kinky scenes.
The photo studies of tattoos and piercings were particularly artistic.


Shooting the Femdoms with their submissive male partners was more
difficult, but turned out well after a little practice.  His favorite
sessions involved maledom/femsub couples, who would sometimes engage
in hot play while he looked on through the viewfinder waiting for just
the right second to capture the energy and erotic joy of the moment.
Cole would often leave them alone for a while when he was done
shooting.  He enjoyed seeing them come up the stairs later with big
satisfied smiles.  

As Monica leafed through the large portfolio, she pointed to one
picture and asked, "Who's this woman with the long hair?  Is she one
of the pro-Dommes?"

"Yes, that's Mistress Kitty.  Very nice woman on the surface.
Unfortunately she likes to collect men.  She has a perfectly good
submissive husband, but the poor bastard has to live with the fact
that his wife prefers the company of her various lovers and slaves.

There is something about becoming a pro-Domme that has a bad effect on
many of the women who do it.  I suppose it has something to do with
being worshipped by too many men who are willing to pay for the
privilege."

"I can see how that might bring out the dark side of someone's
personality," Monica said.

Cole went on to explain that he created an extensive collection of
bondage and fetish photography.  When he photographed his scene
friends, the agreement was that he would retain one or two nice prints
of the session.  The negatives and all the remaining prints were given
to the person or couple who posed.  It seemed like a mutually
rewarding arrangement and it helped Cole meet a large number of people
who shared at least some of his feelings about sexuality.

He looked over her shoulder as she continued to scan the kinky images.
The people in the photos were not all beautiful.  Some were thin, some
fat.  Some were very attractive, although he knew that his artistic
skills were partly responsible.  He told her a little about each of
the people and the circumstances surrounding their photo session.
Monica could see that some of the couples were having a very intense
erotic experience.   She was impressed with the quality of the photos,
but a little jealous when she realized that all these people had
shared her master's life before she appeared.  

"Master, how do I compare to all these women in the pictures?  Am I
attractive enough for you?"

"Don't worry, Little One.  You're the most beautiful woman I've ever
seen."

"Thank you Master," the subby tone in her voice was obvious.

"I've thought about photographing you like that and I'm sure you're
very photogenic, but there's something that keeps me from doing it.
It's taken me a while to figure it out.  I think that I took many of
those pictures so that I could have something to hold onto after those
people were gone.  It's different with you.  I know that you'll always
be here for me to pose any way I want, to tie up, to fuck, to spank,
to snuggle with.  Rather than reach for a photo, I just reach for you.
See what I mean?"

"Yes Master."  Her irregular breathing signaled her arousal.

 "I hear that, Little One. Looking at these pictures makes me horny
too. Do you want to go into the dungeon?"

With scented candles and good music to create the proper atmosphere in
the dungeon, Cole announced that he would be giving Monica a lesson on
proper felatio technique.  He had noticed that she was a bit
inexperienced and that was not acceptable.  They used the low futon
bed that was covered with a black linen sheet.  

Lying nude on his back, he instructed her to begin softly stroking his
half erect organ with her fingertips.  He guided her to the most
sensitive spots and told her how she would be punished if she gripped
him too hard or allowed her teeth to touch him while she was giving
him pleasure.  

When he was almost fully erect, he told her to take his penis entirely
into her mouth and apply as much suction as she could.  This
immediately made him completely hard and he had to turn his thoughts
elsewhere for a moment to prevent himself from becoming too aroused.

She performed the licking and kissing tasks perfectly, running her
tongue along the underside and gently kissing the head.  He showed her
how to grab his balls with just the right amount of force to pull the
skin tighter on the penis and enhance the sensations.  She only hurt
him a little in her enthusiasm to perform well.

When he reached the limit of his willpower, he announced, "You have
done reasonably well, Little One.  I'd say you've moved up to Felatrix
Second Class.  You only let your teeth touch me twice and you pulled
too hard on your Master's balls once.  Bring me the cane so that you
can receive three strokes.  You will kneel on the bed with your ass
up."

She seemed to prance across the wood floor with the cane held before
her in both hands.  After presenting the instrument to her master, she
knelt on the edge of the low bed and bent forward so that her head was
touching the mattress.  Her ass was offered up in the perfect position
to receive a caning.  

"Arch your back more.  Let your nipples touch the bed as lightly as
possible."

Standing to her left, Cole sliced her buttocks three times with the
rattan cane and listened to her inhale sharply and moan sweetly with
each stroke.  "Hold that position," he ordered.

Moving directly behind her, he trapped her ankles between his knees
and reached down to finger her cunt.  He was not surprised when his
fingers felt like they were sucked into the wet opening.  

Damn, she's tight, he thought.  He did not understand how she could be
so tight and so wet at the same time.  Most women loosened up when
they were wet and aroused, but not Monica.  He used his hand to guide
his virile organ into her and began the slow in and out movement that
would bring him to orgasm.  He could tell that she was going to climax
before he did, but when he was feeling this dominant, he didn't care
about anything except using her for his own pleasure.  Of course, that
was just the way Monica liked it.

To increase his own arousal, he reached around to pinch her hard
nipples, which had the unintended result of putting her over the
orgasmic edge.  He had to hold onto her hips desperately with both
hands to keep his overheated weapon from being dislodged.  When her
wild pelvic motions partially subsided, he was able to remove his
right hand from her hip and brought it down with great force on her
ass.  "Stop moving slut!  I'm going to come in you and I want you to
hold still for me.  Give me your hands"

"Yes, Master."

Keeping her head down, she placed her hands together behind her back
and he grabbed her wrists as if they were reins.  With a flurry of
quick thrusts, he allowed the hot sensation in his cock to spread
farther into his balls and then throughout his body.  When he came, he
felt like the end of his erupting phallus was disintegrating in a
fireball of lust.  

Lying in bed together later, Monica brought up something that she had
been thinking about for some time.  "Howard, do you know what I miss?"

"What's that, my dear?"

"Your pro-dom career.  It was one of the things that I found most
attractive about you and you haven't seen any customers since we got
together."

"We've been pretty busy with each other," Cole said, "but maybe it's
time to get back in business.  I haven't posted any ads in months, but
I'm still getting email from women who are interested.  Apparently,
they're hearing about me from previous customers.  I've been telling
them about you and they don't seem to mind that I have a partner now.
In fact, they seem to prefer it that way."   

Monica sat up and started massaging his back.  "Master, do you think I
could be your assistant, like we talked about a few months ago?"

Face down on the bed, Cole answered, "I'd love it and I think our
customers would too.   Oooh, rub that area some more."

After a minute of contemplation, Cole said, "I did have a request from
someone new recently, but I've been putting her off.  She's very
interesting, let me tell you about her."

CHAPTER TWELVE

Striding through the Seattle-Tacoma airport in her blue aircrew
uniform, Captain Amanda Sumner moved through the crowd like Moses
parting the waters.  Seeing the serious look on the tall pilot's face,
people moved out of her way without question.  They assumed that she
was probably on her way to command one of the long range 747-400's
waiting at one of the many gates for a flight across the Pacific.  In
actuality, she was an instructor pilot, who simply hitched a ride to
Sea-Tac in the jumpseat of a regular flight from Minneapolis.  There
wasn't a pilot in the air who wouldn't offer a professional courtesy
ride to the attractive and impressive Captain Sumner.  Indeed, many of
them had been her students at one time or another.

Her aristocratic features were nicely framed by her auburn hair that
she kept at slightly less than shoulder length.  When she was working,
she often pinned it up to look more professional, but then her
delicate neck was revealed which at least partly defeated her purpose.
Her six foot frame moved with an unusual grace and beneath her uniform
was an attractively lean figure which on several occasions had caused
her to be mistaken for various woman athletes.

A small suitcase trailed behind her on a collapsible cart as she made
her way to the rental car desk.  The clerk at the rental counter
responded like a well trained soldier as she snapped out her orders.
"I need a mid sized car with a full tank and I need it now, if you
please."  She tossed her car rental card onto the counter and waited
silently while the clerk conversed with his computer.

"Why don't you wait right here, ma'am?" the clerk said.  "I'll have
the car brought up to the door so you don't have to wait for the
shuttle bus."

Her car appeared at the door within five minutes and she was soon
immersed in the Saturday afternoon madness of Seattle traffic.  She
drove North on Interstate 5 and turned right at Southcenter to follow
I-405 along the Eastern shore of Lake Washington.  Her driving
demonstrated an uncanny precision as she instinctively calculated the
safest position in the traffic stream.

She took the Parkway to an upscale neighborhood of large houses nearly
hidden in a forest of evergreens.   Finding the one she was looking
for, she pulled into the private driveway and parked her rental car
near the front door.  Retreiving her suitcase from the backseat, she
carried it to the front door and rang the bell.  The door was
instantly opened halfway by a stunningly beautiful woman with long
curly brown hair who looked like she spent half her life maintaining
her hairstyle.  The woman peered around the door to examine the
visitor.

"Hi, I'm here to see Master Cole."

As they made eye contact, the woman said warmly, "Hi, you must be
Amanda.  Please come in and follow me."

Amanda followed her in and immediately noticed that the woman was
wearing a most unusual dress.  Her breasts were completely exposed in
the style of ancient Minoan women and her skirt was divided up the
back all the way to the waist.  Amanda's nearly photographic memory
immediately made the connection as she remembered the dress from "The
Story of O".  The women of Roissy had worn dresses like that to make
themselves available to the men at all times.  If Amanda was right,
the dress would also be slit to the waist in front.

This has got to be the famous Monica, she thought, as they made their
way to one of the bedrooms.  When they entered the spacious guest
room, Monica turned around and Amanda could see that the dress was
indeed slit up the front to reveal her smooth pubis.  On Monica the
dress wasn't the least bit tacky, she looked like she had been born to
wear it.

"Welcome to our home, my name is Monica and I'm to help prepare you
for your appointment later today."

"Nice to finally meet you.  Love the dress," she said shyly as some of
her professional demeanor slipped away.  "Master Cole was lucky to
find you.  And I'm lucky that he's still available.  You have no idea
how much this means to me."

"I think I might have some idea," Monica said with a sly grin in her
voice.  "Let's get started.  You have about two hours before your
appointment and we need to get you all cleaned up and relaxed.  Put
your clothes over there and I'll take care of them."

While Monica filled the large tub, Amanda undressed, already feeling
slightly submissive.  She allowed Monica to take her by the hand and
guide her to the large triangular tub which was almost filled with hot
water and heaps of bubbles.  She entered the water slowly and was told
to sit with her back to the room.  She was handed a razor and told to
shave herself in whatever manner she preferred.  Monica pulled up a
small stool, sat down behind her and started massaging her shoulders.


After several minutes, while Amanda was shaving her legs, Monica
turned a knob which started gentle jets of hot water pulsing and
shifting under the surface.  Amanda left her pubic hair untouched.
The short auburn patch was soft and inviting, more a decoration than a
hindrance to access.

"Master Cole hates the smell of cigarette smoke and you have a little
in your hair.  Lean your head back and I'll wash it for you."

Amanda was becoming more and more relaxed as she let Monica take
charge.  When the bath was over, Amanda was told to stand still while
Monica toweled her dry.  A small hair dryer was used to dry her
straight auburn hair while Monica used a comb to curl a little shape
into it. 

Monica complimented her as she worked, "Your hair is such a pretty
color, I love that light auburn.  It's very striking with your blue
eyes."

When they were finished, Monica told her to lay face down on the bed
and buckled a pair of leather cuffs on her wrists.  They were locked
behind her back with a small padlock.  Monica took a moment to study
Amanda's figure.  Although she had an athletic physique, Amanda had
very pretty hips which were slightly narrow and well formed breasts
that were just a bit small for her tall body.  Her stomach was lean
and hard from untold hours of exercise and her long, athletic legs
didn't have an ounce of extra weight.  With her height, she could have
been a fashion model, but her facial features, while pleasant,  were
not classically beautiful.  Monica noticed distinct areas of paleness
from a conservative swimsuit, which she found rather charming.

Covering her with a sheet and blanket, Monica told her warmly, "You
have an hour to rest now.  You can sleep if you like, I'll wake you at
the right time."

Lying on her left side, warm, naked and with her hands locked behind
her, Amanda felt quite safe and secure.  She drifted off into a light
sleep marked by short dreams from her past.  

Amanda Sumner spent her childhood as a military brat with one younger
brother.  Both of her parents were Air Force officers and her life was
in constant turmoil.   They never stayed in one place for more than
three years and on one occasion, they moved twice in a single ten
month period.  Many of the normal experiences of childhood were
missed.  Amanda had to grow up largely on her own, taking
responsibility not just for herself, but for her parent's reputation.
She knew that her parent's chances for promotion depended to some
degree on their ability to keep their children from causing trouble on
the base.  Unfortunately, this did not always offset her headstrong
nature.

The family still loved to talk about the three years that they had
been stationed at an airbase in Southern England.  Amanda's parents
took advantage of the opportunity to send their somewhat rebellious
daughter to an English private school for girls.

They had hoped that the strict discipline would help their daughter
mature faster and in a way it did.  She still dreamed of the day when
she had been given the option of being reported to her parents or
receiving a spanking.  What could have been merely an embarrassing
memory turned into a serious relationship with a much older man.
Contradicting the stereotype of the abusive male teacher, he turned
out to be a warm and caring friend.  She was almost eighteen when she
graduated with the equivalent of a high school diploma.  Her parents
sent her back to the states alone to attend college.  In many
respects, Amanda was forced to assume adult responsibilities before
she had a chance to enjoy being a child.  

When she graduated with a Bachelor's degree in Aeronautical
Engineering, she applied to the Air Force and was accepted for pilot
training.  When she left the Air Force six years later, she was one of
the top rated pilots of C141 Starlifters.  She loved flying the
massive military transports and would have continued, but she was
starting to realize that she needed something that was not going to be
available to her there.

Something in her genes or in her childhood development caused her to
crave sexual domination by a man.  At age thirty three, her current
job as an instructor pilot was only making that need worse.  Riding
herd on a class of egotistical student pilots required her to maintain
a dominant attitude full time.  If any of her students smelled the
slightest hint that she was submissive, it would cause serious
problems.  She was particularly wary with the foreign pilots, who had
little respect for women in general and deeply resented being under
the control of a woman instructor.

Fortunately, as a civilian she had considerable freedom to explore on
her own time.  Taking to the internet, she discovered an online forum
for people interested in dominance and submission.  It didn't take
long for her to understand that her need to submit was tied in with
her desire to be a little girl again.  It seemed to be a fairly common
combination of fetishes.  She had no trouble meeting eligible men
on-line, but after meeting with and sometimes trying to submit to an
endless series of potential partners, she had not found anyone who met
her high standards.

Three months ago, she heard about Cole from a friend who told her of a
man who was a professional dominant for women only.  She quickly
contacted him by email.  He explained that he had recently found his
submissive soulmate and was not available at the moment.  When she
received an email indicating that he was now available with his
beloved Monica acting as his assistant, Amanda was extremely excited.
She hoped that his professional services might help fill a very large
emptiness in her life, at least for a little while.  

She had done enough checking to feel safe and finally meeting Monica
had allowed her to fully relax and enter the submissive mental state
that she so deeply desired.  Their play session had been planned well
in advance and she trusted Master Cole to carry it out safely.

Amanda awoke to a hand gently shaking her shoulder and Monica's soft
voice calling her name.  Monica was now wearing a businesslike outfit
of dark slacks and a beige blouse.  Amanda waited a moment while
Monica unlocked the wrist cuffs, then rose from the bed and stood
perfectly still as directed while Monica dressed her.  The outfit
consisted of a short plaid skirt over plain white cotton panties and a
simple white shirt.  In short, a schoolgirl's uniform.  Amanda took
the pair of white knee socks she was offered and pulled them up over
her long, smoothly muscled calves.

The leather cuffs were replaced and fastened behind her back again.
Still without shoes, she was led down the hall into an office, where
Howard Cole sat behind a large desk.  Monica made the formal
introduction as she handed him a folded piece of white paper.

"Headmaster Cole, this is Amanda Sumner, the girl who has been causing
all the trouble.  Here is a note from her teacher, Mrs. Krebbins,
describing her offenses."

Amanda stood before the desk and took note of Cole's sinister look,
which was created by the well sculpted dark beard and mustache.  He
was wearing a dark suit and looking directly into her eyes.  The
effect was exactly what she imagined it would be like.  She looked at
the floor and trembled as he read the note.

"Well, well.  It looks like you've really done it this time, Amanda.
Mrs. K says you've been smoking in the girls lavatory again, is that
true?"

"Yes, Sir, but I only did it a few times!"

"And... she says that you were caught cheating on the biology test
this morning.  Is this true also?"

"I'm sorry sir, I can't afford a bad grade this term."

"As you well know, you've been punished for both of these offenses
before, so your punishment today will have to be most severe.  Are you
prepared to submit yourself for punishment?"

"Yes, Headmaster, I'll take whatever you think I deserve.  Just don't
tell my parents, please."  She was beginning to shiver with
anticipation.

"You will follow my assistant to the punishment room immediately.
Please prepare her to receive the most severe chastisement, Miss
Martinet."

Amanda meekly followed "Miss Martinet" down the stairs and into the
dungeon.  On its hardwood floors were several well used pieces of
sports equipment and it now resembled a small school gymnasium.  They
passed a pair of uneven bars used by gymnasts and walked up to a
vaulting horse with a smooth, uninterrupted leather top.  It appeared
to be quite real and very old.

She was told to stop with her hips pressing up against one end of the
vaulting horse and Monica unfastened the padlock that held her cuffs
together.  Amanda's freedom lasted only a few seconds, as the cuffs
were swiftly attached to rings in the far legs of the horse.  This
forced her to bend along the length of the horse, which had, oddly
enough, been set at the precise height for her to accomplish this with
her toes still in contact with the floor.

Amanda did not offer the slightest resistance.  The compelling nature
of her fantasy forced her to go through the steps as if she were a
marionette.  She moved her hips to allow Monica to slide the white
cotton panties down her legs and obediently lifted one foot at a time
so that they could be removed entirely.

She imagined what she must look like, in her school uniform, with her
bottom covered only by her skirt which could be raised at any moment.
A thrill shot through her body that made it hard to breathe for a
moment.  It seemed that she was back in her girlhood, magically
reliving an intense moment from her past.  She was determined to savor
every second of it.

Another pair of the ubiquitous leather cuffs was placed on her ankles
and they were swiftly attached to the legs of the horse, forcing her
feet well apart.  Her little plaid skirt rode up in the back, exposing
most of her long, athletic thighs.  Beneath the white knee socks, her
calves were stretched into a delightfully curvy shape by the extension
of her feet to reach the floor.

Lying over the fragrant leather platform, Amanda could feel herself
becoming aroused as her fantasy became reality.  It was like being in
an erotic dream.  She heard the Headmaster, Mr. Cole walk up to her
holding the bent handle of a traditional English school cane.  He
spoke to her in a very stern tone.

"Amanda, you've been warned about this sort of behavior before.
You've been punished several times by Mrs. Krebbins and once by
myself.  Yet you persist in ignoring your responsibilities.  We don't
allow that here, you know."

"I know that you're an old bastard who likes hurting helpless girls!
You should be ashamed of yourself," she cried out while struggling
against the invincible leather cuffs.

"Now you've done it, you little tramp," he said angrily, "I'm going to
teach you a lesson you'll never forget, but first we need to keep that
naughty little bottom from wiggling around too much."

The Headmaster picked up a long leather belt with a sturdy buckle and
wrapped it completely around Amanda and the vaulting horse.
Positioning it at her waist, he pulled it tight and secured the
buckle.   Amanda's potential for movement was now limited to making
futile head motions.  Her body was held rigidly in a perfect position
for severe punishment.

She could feel the cool air on her pantyless hindquarters as her plaid
schoolgirl's skirt was slowly raised and laid gently on her back.  The
Headmaster stood to her left and placed the rattan cane across her
pale rounded bottom to measure the distance.  The tan lines from her
swimsuit helped him align the cane for optimum impact. He selected a
spot just above the moist slit of her womanhood where the plump bottom
flesh could absorb the hardest stroke.  The bending position stretched
her legs and buttocks, which would increase the effects of her
punishment.

Amanda took a deep breath and tried not to grin.  I haven't been this
turned on in years, she thought.  The only warning she received was
the whoosh of the cane through the air as it exploded on the lower
curve of her ass.  The pain was intense, but a bit less than she had
remembered.  She almost cried out in happiness, but the next stroke
had already been delivered and it traced a line of fire across her
posterior, slightly higher than the first stroke.  She sucked in a
large breath and let it out with a groan.

The next dozen strokes drew perfectly parallel lines across her white
buttocks and each line was made up of a set of twin red welts.  The
pain was beginning to make itself felt as a warm tingling in her
exposed cunt, which was barely covered by her downy soft pubic hair.
She wondered if the Headmaster could see the wetness between her
forcibly parted legs.

"Is that the best you can do, old goat?" she yelled over her shoulder.

"I'd say that sounds like a challenge, you insolent little trollop!
Let me get something that might create a little more respect," he said
angrily.  "Don't go away," he added in an oddly pleasant tone.

He returned in a moment bearing a straight cane that was nearly four
feet long.  It was made of a white material that looked like plastic.
Amanda was not impressed.

The Headmaster took his position to the left of her striped bottom and
said in a friendly voice, "Let's try this pretty white cane, shall we?
Perhaps you'll learn to address me in a more appropriate manner."

She tried to look behind her to see him swing the unusual white cane,
but her range of movement was insufficient.  She heard a rather quiet
rush of air, much less dramatic than the rattan cane.  Suddenly, both
hemispheres of her proud bottom felt like they had burst from within
and blown themselves to pieces in a white hot blast.  She was unable
to suppress a shrill scream that tore itself from her throat.

"Ah,  I see that got your attention.  Let me tell you what's going to
happen next, Amanda."

He moved around so that he could speak directly to her face and placed
a firm hand on her back.  She could feel the warmth through the white
fabric of the simple shirt.  Her eyes were still wide with shock and
she felt a bit stunned.  She thought vaguely of trying to free herself
but had no strength to attempt an escape.  

He was almost whispering now, "Amanda, I'm going to cane you like a
naughty, rebellious schoolgirl until you agree to submit completely.
I will not stop until you say that you'll do anything I ask of you.
When that moment comes, I will no longer consider you a schoolgirl.
You'll be a mature, submissive woman and I expect you to prove it.  I
plan to ask you to engage in a sexual act that will require great
trust and total submission from you."

She watched him stand up and return to his post at the end of the
vaulting horse.  The next stroke of the terrible white cane landed
high on the upper curves of her abused bottom.  The pain was
excruciating, but she was not about to submit to the Headmaster's evil
demands.  She screamed louder with each blow.  After each one he
asked, "Are you ready to submit?"

After ten of the agonizing slashes, her will was broken and she began
a quiet sobbing.  The Headmaster dropped the big cane and came around
to speak with her again.

"Are you ready to submit, Amanda?"

"Yes sir, I submit," she whimpered wetly.

"I expect you to do whatever I say.  You must trust me completely."

"I do sir," she nodded her acceptance and waited patiently while
Monica and Cole unfastened her from the vaulting horse.  Her badly
bruised bottom limited the positions that she could assume, but it
wouldn't matter for what was coming next.  They supported part of her
weight as they helped her to one corner of the room where a leather
sling was suspended from the ceiling by four heavy chains.

Following instructions, Amanda leaned back onto the sling and allowed
it to support her weight.  Her legs were raised so that the ankle
cuffs could be attached to the vertical chains above her hips.   She
saw that her legs were held almost straight up, but spread far apart.
Then they fastened her wrist cuffs to the other chains above her
shoulders, so that her arms lay comfortably beside her head on the
leather sling.

The shock of her dramatic punishment was starting to wear off and
Amanda now felt an endorphin rush more powerful than any she had
experienced before.  This must be what morphine feels like, she
thought.  She was starting to feel relaxed and broke into a big smile.

Monica was the first to make contact with her, slowly stroking
Amanda's breasts until her nipples stood at attention.  Cole sat on a
chair between her legs.  He had latex gloves on both hands.  Amanda
could feel that the sling had positioned her with her bottom hanging
completely off the lower end.  If not for the restraints holding her
legs upright, she would have fallen off instantly.  She was grateful,
at least, for the fact that her damaged buttocks were not touching
anything at all.

Amanda tried to imagine how her exposed genitals must look in this
position.  Her most sensitive and erogenous parts were just hanging
there, suspended for Cole's attention and she remembered that her anus
too, was available for him to use in any way he pleased.  She was
fully prepared to endure anything that he asked of her.  Her promise
of complete submission had been sincere.

As Cole began to slowly stroke her outer lips, he spoke softly to her,
"Amanda, you have a very beautiful cunt.  You don't look like a
schoolgirl to me.  You are a mature woman who happens to be
submissive.  I'm going to prove to you that you can submit totally.  I
want you to follow my instructions as closely as possible.  You may
wish to have an orgasm or perhaps several.  It would please me very
much if you did."

As he spoke he was applying a water based lubricant to his latex clad
fingers and allowing them to warm up.  Using both hands, he began a
sensuous massage of her inner and outer labia that caused the blood to
flow into the area, creating a warm, swelling sensation.  Monica
contributed to the sensual symphony by providing a breast massage that
was more erotic than anything that Amanda's pretty breasts had ever
felt before.

Amanda gave herself up to the warm, insistent touch of her two
playmates.  She could feel the affection and concern that they both
had for her.  After about ten minutes of the arousing massage, she
began to flex her legs, which caused a slight rocking motion of the
sling.  It let Cole know that she was ready to be penetrated.

"Do you want my fingers inside you Amanda?  I'd like to hear you ask
for it when you're ready.  You may address me as Master Cole now."

"Please, Master Cole, I'm ready to feel something inside me.  Please
put whatever you want in me."

He carefully slipped two fingers of his left hand inside her relaxed
and well lubricated vagina.  As Amanda increased her writhing motion,
he massaged her g-spot for a time, then began stroking her clitoris
with the fingers of his gloved and lubricated right hand.  

Monica was now running her warm hands softly over Amanda's entire
torso, so she could feel the muscle contractions that signaled the
approach of the first orgasm.  She traded glances with Cole, who
nodded for her to continue.

Amanda took notice as Monica suddenly switched from a soft stroking to
hard nipple pinching and fingernail dragging across her sensitive
breasts.  The additional stimulation forced Amanda over the apex of
lust and into a full, heartfelt climax.  She could feel the delightful
sensation of her own vaginal muscles contracting on Cole's fingers as
she came.  Before her orgasm had completely dissipated,  Cole began
moving his fingers again with an instruction, "Relax for me now
Amanda.  See how nicely filled you are?  I want to see how much more
you can take for me."

She felt her vagina being stretched wider.  Since she had already had
an orgasm and there was abundant lubrication, she felt no discomfort.
There was only a feeling of greater stretching and fullness.  Another
orgasm would be approaching soon, she knew.  She pushed her hips
slightly forward to offer herself more fully to Cole.

Monica stopped touching Amanda's breasts and belly, but soon
reappeared beneath her bottom, reaching up to delicately tease
Amanda's anus with a gloved and lubricated finger.  Monica reminded
her to relax, as a slippery finger stimulated the sensitive lining
just within her lower opening.

The brief distraction allowed Cole to slip more of his hand into
Amanda's gaping vagina.  He used his free right hand to pour
additional lubricant onto the latex covered left hand that he was
slowly working into Amanda's body.  He had all five fingers inside and
was holding his hand in a pointed fashion with the thumb held in
against the palm.

He asked Amanda to start breathing deeply as she tried to relax.  "I
want to fill you even more Amanda, you're not done yet.  Relax and
accept.  Open yourself for me."

Amanda was beginning to experience significant pain as her womanhood
was slowly, but forcibly stretched.  Lost in her own dreamy world, she
had been looking up at the ceiling and was not really sure how much of
Cole's hand was inside her.  The only important thing to her at this
moment was to relax and allow him to fill her as full as he desired. 

There was a small change in the quality of the internal pressure and
she was unexpectedly launched into a series of almost continuous
orgasms that blocked out all sights and sounds around her.  Her only
contact with reality was the hand that was invading her love passage
and demanding her complete surrender.

She was a large framed woman and was built well for fisting.  The
orgasms allowed Cole to gradually achieve full penetration of his
gloved hand.  Monica now held Amanda's head up so that she could see
what was happening between her legs.  The astonishing sight of Cole's
wrist disappearing into her stretched cunt caused her to feel an
emotional bond with him that was more intense than any sexual
experience she could remember.

He slowly began to twist and gently flex his fist inside her body
while saying, "One more orgasm for me please, Amanda.  Submit and give
me what I want."  His right hand reached up to stroke her still
sensitive clitoris.   The delicate touch was just enough to touch off
the largest orgasm yet.  Amanda screamed and made strange animal-like
grunting noises that echoed off the walls of the large room.  Her
internal muscles squeezed Cole's imprisoned left hand unmercifully and
he winced in pain.

Cole knew when to give his playmates a rest.  Amanda fell into a
relaxed state of total satisfaction that allowed Cole to slowly
withdraw his aching hand.  With Monica's help, he extricated Amanda
from the sling and placed her on the bed in the opposite corner.
Amanda made happy snoring noises as they covered her.  Cole gave her a
kiss on the forehead and Monica kissed her on the cheek.

Holding each other in bed, they laughingly realized that they were too
tired to make love.  Pro-domming was a lot of work!  They took
advantage of the opportunity to talk.  They discussed their scene with
Amanda for a while, then the topic turned to their own relationship.

"Just lying here with you makes me feel subby," Monica breathed in his
ear.  "Is there anything I can do for you?"

While fondling her breasts, Cole brought up a subject that he had been
thinking about for some time.  "Monica, there is something that would
make me a very happy dominant.  I'd like to exhibit you publicly as my
slave."

"If it would please you Master," she said warmly, feeling a thrill
travel through her body and lodge teasingly close to her clitoris.
The sudden awareness of her own genitals reminded her that the thought
of being displayed as a slave was a substantial trigger for her erotic
feelings.  "But what if someone recognizes me?"

"It would have to be at a play party, of course.  I don't believe in
startling the vanilla people.  It seems non-consensual to me," he
said.

"Oh, I see.  As submissive as I'm feeling now, that sounds pretty hot.
What kind of play party did you have in mind?

"Let me tell you about my friend Michael," he said.

"Michael and his wife dina are a very interesting couple.  I'd say
they come closer to a full time master/slave relationship than anyone
else I've met.  They don't attend many scene functions anymore, but
they do have regular play parties at their place."

Cole went on to explain that the parties were limited to
Maledom/femsub couples, which had earned Michael the animosity of the
pan-sexual community.  At one time, Cole would have been reluctant to
attend for fear of antagonizing his scene friends, but that was no
longer a concern.  He decided to get in touch with Michael and see if
he could arrange an invitation to the next party.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Cole was able to contact Michael easily by email.  Michael told him
that the next party was planned in three weeks and about five to seven
couples were expected to show up.  Cole and Monica would be welcome.
The two men discussed some ideas and agreed to cooperate on Monica's
first party scene.

The party rules were a bit more strict than the ones Cole was familiar
with.  Limiting the participants to people with a certain sexual
preference was a new experience for him.  People were not allowed to
arrive late and a high degree of social courtesy was expected.
Typically, the men would remain fully dressed, while the women would
be displayed in various stages of nudity.

At the most recent party, they were told, the men ate dinner at a
large table, while the women, or slave girls as they called
themselves, sat on the floor next to their masters and were fed by
hand.  Monica thought this was really hot and hoped she would be able
to experience it someday.  

As the date of the party approached, Monica agonized over what to
wear.  The maledom party sounded like a great opportunity to prance
around more or less naked in front of an appreciative audience.
Although she sometimes pretended to think that her body was not
attractive, she took a great delight in showing it off.  When she
couldn't make up her mind, Cole finally told her that she would wear a
black corset that just barely hid her nipples, plus high heels and
deep red panties.  

He packed a small suitcase with numerous kinky toys that might be
useful at the party.  Like most Maledoms, he subconsciously followed
the Boy Scout motto of "always prepared", so the bag was very heavy.

On party night, Monica took hours to get ready.  Cole simply dressed
in black slacks and sport coat with an open white shirt.  They finally
left when Cole said they had to go, since latecomers would not be
admitted.  He drove through the downtown tangle of freeways, crossing
various bodies of water and out to the suburb where Michael and dina
lived.

The parked some distance from the large house and walked along a damp
driveway through a stand of tall fir trees.  The rain had stopped and
the damp cold air was brisk with the scent of evergreen forest.
Monica was glad she had put a long coat over her corset.  When they
knocked at the door, it was opened by a very slim woman.  It was dina,
dressed in a lacy black costume that looked totally appropriate for a
slave girl.  Up close she appeared to be about thirty and had very
intelligent eyes.   A man who was certainly Michael appeared behind
dina and Monica responded politely as Cole made introductions.

Michael was wearing black jeans and a black leather vest over a white
shirt.  To Monica's relief, he was obviously a very friendly fellow,
not the stern ego-dom type that she couldn't stand.  After putting
down his heavy suitcase full of toys, Cole took her by the hand and
led her farther into the house.  As they went into the living room,
she saw that several couples were already there.  

Monica's corset made her small waist look even smaller and her medium
sized breasts appeared larger.  She bathed in the stares of both the
men and the women as Cole displayed her as his private property.

Monica's immediate desire was simply to be as beautiful and submissive
as possible in order to make her master proud of her and to make the
other masters jealous of him.  She followed Cole submissively as
Michael introduced him to some of the couples he didn't already know.
They sat in the living room and chatted with another couple for a
while.  Actually, the men did most of the talking, as the women were
deeply into their subby roles.  

Monica was primarily soaking up the supportive atmosphere, which made
her feel particularly good about her submissive needs.   Three of the
other men made a special point to compliment Cole on how beautiful his
slave girl was, making sure, of course that Monica could hear.  In
spite of their masterful attitudes, they knew that the party was as
much for the women as it was for them.

Cole noticed that the energy at this party was much stronger than what
he had experienced at pan sexual parties.  He had a sudden flash of
understanding about the same sex parties that were often held by the
gay and lesbian SM groups.  Those people are always ahead of the
curve, he thought approvingly.

When Cole was ready, he guided Monica over to one corner of the living
room where there was a tall metal cage.   It was just large enough for
one person to stand within.  He placed her inside and fastened the
door with a lock that was hanging there for that purpose.  Monica was
held in a rigid, upright position with very little freedom of
movement.  

"Pull your elbows back," he ordered.  Cole slid a padded rod through
the bars, guiding in between her back and her arms, trapping them
behind her in a manner that thrust her breasts forward.  The feeling
of being held captive while on display triggered a wave of submissive
sensation that washed over her body and left her trembling with closed
eyes.  The feeling was not particularly sexual, but it was felt at the
deepest level of her soul.

Cole moved around the room, socializing and sampling various snacks.
Each of the other men and two of the sexy slavegirls complimented him
on how beautiful his slave looked in the cage.  He avoided paying any
attention to Monica for several minutes, to see if she could maintain
her subby headspace alone.

He wanted to get a better feel for the play customs of this group
before he started his planned scene with Monica.  He released her from
the cage and led her to the basement play area.  She was in such a
deep level of submission that she had to be guided down the stairs one
step at a time.

In the spacious play area, a tall, heavyset master was ordering his
blonde slavegirl to assume different positions that exposed and
displayed her charming assets.  Cole sat in a comfortable overstuffed
chair and told Monica to sit at his feet.  Bending down was not easy
in her stiff corset, so she carefully knelt, then lowered her bottom
sideways to make contact with the floor.

They watched the couple performing for about fifteen minutes or so.
The tall woman was naked except for a red leather collar and numerous
piercings.  Her large breasts were decorated with heavy gauge gold
rings through her nipples and more gold rings hung from her labia.
Her master struck her lightly with a riding crop to correct her
position.  Monica noticed how quickly the woman responded, as if she
were concentrating completely on fulfilling her master's slightest
whim.  She could also tell that the woman took great pride in both her
appearance and her obedience.

When the play area was clear, Cole ordered Monica into the center of
the room.  With his help, she removed the corset, then her panties and
shoes.  She noticed that several more people had gathered in the large
playroom.  He told her to lie down under a pulley which was mounted to
an overhead beam.  He carefully attached his superbly crafted
suspension cuffs to her wrists and a similar pair to her ankles.  A
three foot metal spreader bar was fastened between her captive ankles
and a steel cable from the overhead pulley was clipped to an eyebolt
in the center of the bar.

Monica felt another wave of submission wash over her naked body and
she wondered if she was blushing.  Two of the men were pointing at her
tattoo and shaved pussy while whispering intently to each other.  From
his toy bag, Cole produced a mass of pink plastic clothespins which
were connected to each other with a strong cord.  

"Are you ready for the clothespins, Little One?"

"Yes, Master."

He slowly pinched small folds of her skin and attached the little inch
long clothespins to her body.  One string of fifteen was attached in a
line from her right armpit, around her firm right breast and down
along her stomach.  An identical string of clothespins was attached in
the same fashion along her left side.  She noticed that the springs
were quite strong and cruelly bit into her sensitive flesh.

Cole moved his hand in a cranking motion while looking at Michael, who
was standing next to a hand cranked winch mounted on the wall.
Slowly, Monica's legs were lifted off the floor until her back almost
lost contact with the carpet.  Cole then clipped the wrist cuffs to
the bar, leaving her in a completely exposed and vulnerable position.
She heard the winch being cranked again as her body was completely
lifted and suspended face up by her wrists and ankles.

She was only lifted about two feet off the floor, but she still felt a
distinct loss of control as her body swayed and slowly spun around.
There were now a dozen people in the room, watching her, seeing her
private parts prominently displayed and appreciating the exquisite
pain of the clothespins.  They could also hear her start sighing in
little panting breaths as her feeling of intense submission began to
trigger her sexual arousal.

Kneeling between her widespread knees, Cole began to lightly stroke
and tickle her already aroused cunt.  Her outer lips were each
repeatedly pinched and the inner ones were pulled out slightly to
reveal their swollen state.  Her humiliation seemed almost too intense
and she nearly panicked before her master calmed her by running his
loving hand along one perfect thigh.

Just as she was beginning to feel the moisture drip between her
shamefully open cunt lips, he reached into his bag and displayed some
more spring loaded clips of various sizes and colors in his large
right hand.  He held his hand out to some of the other slavegirls who
had been watching from their places on the floor.  After lightning
fast negotiations with their masters, three slavegirls approached and
each took two of the clips.  

A healthy looking short haired brunette, who was wearing only a
leather bra, approached Monica's breasts with two large metal
carpenter's clamps that were at least four inches long.  Fortunately,
the metal jaws were plastic coated, because they bit into Monica's
nipples with nearly unbearable force.

Then the tall blonde approached and put two oversized wooden
clothespins on Monica's inner labia, eliciting a groan of pain, but
also of acceptance.  She was followed by a petite redhead who put two
more of the large wooden devices on Monica's outer labia.  Everyone
withdrew for a moment to see how she would react to the sensual
torment, except for Cole who stayed to whisper in her ear.

"I'm very proud of you Little One.  Everyone can see what a delightful
slave you are."

"Thank you, Master.  I'm doing it for you."   She smiled, but her eyes
were slightly unfocused.

"I know you are subby girl, now I have more surprises for you."

Monica caught her breath for a moment while Cole whispered something
to Michael. She hung in her leather restraints, with her legs spread
wide and scores of small areas of pain and pressure distributed across
the surface of her curvaceous torso.  One of the men was admiring the
well developed musculature of her thighs and calves, while another
seemed to be most impressed with her long wavy brown hair which was
hanging down almost to the floor.  

Looking between her own raised legs, Monica saw dina approaching on
her hands and knees.  She stopped with her face inches from Monica's
cunt, which was throbbing from the strong clamps on her labia.  Monica
looked right into dina's sparkling, mischievous eyes and felt an
immediate bond with the slender slave girl.  She also felt a thrill of
forbidden perversion, since dina had a definite feline air about her
that lent a hint of bestiality to the proceedings.

Dina reached up with both of her small, delicate hands and deftly
removed the first two clamps from Monica's outer labia.  Monica closed
her eyes and moaned gently at the sudden wash of sensation through her
pelvic area.  Dina pulled on the clamps attached to Monica's inner
lips and spread them apart, revealing the pink inner surfaces as well
as a telltale quantity of slippery moisture.

Releasing the clips, dina leaned forward and started applying her
small darting cat-like tongue to Monica's pink, pulsating labia.
Monica began trembling and gasping from the expert stimulation.  The
two other slave girls who had helped with the clamps moved in with
thin rigid rods and began tapping lightly at the clamps on her nipples
and the twin lines of clothespins that ran along her torso.  Each time
they tapped, a small jolt of pain added to Monica's rapidly increasing
load of erotic energy.  

After a few minutes, Cole put his hands on the large spring clamps
that were crushing her nipples.  Simultaneously, he released the
pressure and pulled them both away.  For the first time, Monica
screamed.  She also began thrusting her hips toward dina's busy mouth
as far as her limited freedom would allow.  The two slave girls
dropped their sticks and each began to suck one of Monica's outraged
nipples, which drove her into a frenzy of groaning, thrashing and
heavy panting.

Cole looked down at the pretty slave girl between Monica's legs and
said simply, "dina, it's time."

Dina moved her lapping tongue directly onto Monica's swollen,
throbbing clitoris.  After a few seconds, Cole picked up the strings
that connected the two rows of clothespins and motioned for the two
helpers to move aside. Michael chose that moment to begin methodically
striking dina's small buttocks with a short single tailed whip, which
left a thin red welt with each stroke.

Monica could sense dina's pain traveling from her tight little bottom
cheeks through her lithe body and onto the tip of her tongue, where it
was converted to intense pleasure and transferred to Monica's burning
clitoris.  She began to feel the convulsive contractions of her
muscles that signaled the irresistible arrival of her orgasm.

Just as Monica reached a devastating climax, Cole pulled hard on the
two strings, which neatly ripped the rows of clothespins from Monica's
body like opening a zipper.  The sudden addition of more pain,
combined with the fact that dina had thrust two fingers into Monica's
dripping vagina, forced her to the highest possible level of orgasmic
flight.  She came and came and came.

When Monica awoke, she was no longer in bondage.  Someone had wrapped
her in a blanket and placed her on a sofa in the playroom.  Her head
was in someone's lap.  Of course, it was her beloved master, Howard
Cole.  When he saw that her eyes were open, he encouraged her to sit
up and drink some cold fruit juice, which she gulped down eagerly.
When he was satisfied that she was all right, he asked dina to come
over and sit with her while he went upstairs to socialize with the
rest of the group.

Monica and dina made an immediate connection.  Since they both already
knew each other's biggest secret, they felt like they had nothing to
hide.  When Cole returned an hour later to tell Monica it was time to
go home, it was almost impossible to separate them.  He had to remind
her that it was now 2 AM and they had a rather difficult drive home
through Seattle.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

By summertime, Monica's negotiations with the software company had
resulted in an excellent contract.  In addition to a substantial
salary and lots of creative autonomy, she would have some control of
her hours and be able to do part of her work at home.  She gave her
old employer a month's notice, since the new job wouldn't be ready
until then and she announced that she would take her accumulated two
weeks of vacation immediately.  Her loathsome boss was in no position
to protest, since she was the only one who could train her
replacement.  

Cole and Monica agreed that when she left her job downtown, she would
move in with him to further test their compatibility.  If they could
live together happily for six months or so, they believed that
marriage should be the next step.

They decided to use part of her vacation for hiking.  Cole cancelled
some of his appointments and rearranged others to make time.  It was a
three hour drive along curvy mountain roads to the small resort town
of Leavenworth.   They decided to take her car, since the weather was
perfect for riding with the top down.  Monica drove the little sports
car like a professional, drifting it around curves and passing slower
traffic at just the right moment.  She refused to tell Cole where she
learned to drive that way.

They arrived shortly after noon and looked around the unusual town
before checking in at the luxurious bed and breakfast.  Most of the
buildings in Leavenworth had been modified and decorated to make the
town look like a traditional Bavarian village.  Even the supermarket
and the fast food outlets joined in the Bavarian theme.  Playing
tourist, they wandered through dozens of small shops offering imported
German products and local crafts.

Each day they would see how hard they could push themselves on the
steep hiking trails that led to waterfalls or alpine lakes.  Being
younger, Monica could hike faster, but Cole, with decades of hiking
experience, could go just as far when allowed to set his own pace.
The weather was spectacular and the usual insects seemed to have gone
elsewhere, so they enjoyed themselves immensely.  

Each evening, they would make the short drive back into town and eat
at one of the excellent German or Austrian restaurants.  Neither of
them had ever eaten so much wienerschnitzel and strudel.  One night
they tried a restaurant that was styled in the Bavarian beer hall
tradition and sampled the sauerbraten with sauerkraut and excellent
German beer. Fortunately, their daily exertions in the surrounding
mountains made up for the delicious, but heavy meals.

On the last hiking day, Cole told her that they would play.  "I've
selected a trail that should be nearly deserted, so we'll be able to
enjoy ourselves," he said as they left the bed and breakfast.

Arriving at the trailhead after a 15 minute drive, they noticed only
one other car in the small parking area.  Cole began to give her
orders.  "Leave your bra in the car, subby girl."

With Cole carrying a daypack, they walked up the pleasant trail,
enjoying the ideal hiking conditions.  "I want you to stay a few steps
behind me.  Listen carefully and obey all my commands."

After a few minutes he said, "I want to see your breasts now.  Raise
your T-shirt and keep it up as we hike.  If you let it fall, you'll be
punished."

The idea of exposing herself in public to fulfill the orders of her
master was extremely hot.  As they hiked, she fell deeper into the
familiar submissive headspace.  "I'm the beautiful slavegirl,
following my master on the trail to some distant land," she thought to
herself.  An elaborate fantasy took shape in her mind as they hiked.
In her fantasy, her body was perfect, something that she normally
couldn't perceive.

Cole loved to watch her full breasts bounce as she hiked.  Their
firmness and perfect rounded shapes were still fascinating to him.  He
had to be careful not to trip when he looked back at her.  Playing
like this made him feel extremely dominant and since his playmate was
his beloved Monica, he was getting very horny too.

"You still have the finest pair of tits I've ever seen, Little One."

"Thank you, Master.  Perhaps you'd like to use them later?"

"Yes, I can think of several good uses right now.  I just hope I can
hold out till we reach the meadow."

Of course, the T-shirt fell down on several occasions.  He decided
that the punishment must fit the crime, so he picked a thick handful
of foot long grass that grew in huge clumps by the trail.  Forcing her
to thrust her tits forward, he flogged them vigorously with the
stinging strands of grass.  This was great fun for him, but Monica
complained that her breasts were now itching. 

"I bet they are, you disobedient slut.  Just make sure you keep that
shirt up," he ordered.  As they continued the hike, she held her shirt
up with great diligence.

Just before they reached the scenic meadow at the end of the trail,
another hiker appeared coming toward them.  Cole told her to hold her
shirt up until the last second.  She finally covered herself, but they
were sure that the man had gotten a good look.

Laying out a blanket in the sunny meadow, they ate a delicious lunch
prepared by a bakery in town.  Then they lay on the blanket for a
while, soaking up the sun and listening to the sensuous sounds of the
surrounding forest.   

Before they started back, he told her, "I'm going to flog you again.
Partly because I enjoy it and partly because it would  be a shame to
waste such a secluded setting."  Since the meadow was deserted, he
simply ordered her to remove her clothes and lie face up on the
blanket with her arms and legs spread.

With a fresh whip made from a bundle of long bunch grass, he proceeded
to flog the front of her body from her breasts to her thighs.  Of
course he gave special attention to her tits and cunt.  The harsh
strands of grass left little red lines on her beautiful skin.  She
gave herself up to his ministrations as if it were the most natural
thing in the world.  He stopped when the urge to penetrate her became
too strong.  They coupled there in the meadow under a perfectly blue
sky with the wind whistling softly through the trees.  The rugged face
of Mt. Stuart looked down on them serenely as if to give its approval
of the act.

After Monica's orgasm, he moved up to straddle her chest and produced
a pocket size tube of slippery lubricant.  He placed a small amount in
the valley between her perfect globes and laid his still painfully
hard cock in between.  Grabbing her wrists, he roughly moved her arms
so that her elbows were touching in front of her face and her hands
were folded back near the top of her head.  Then he proceeded to
slowly fuck her beautiful tits.  

Her breasts were still pink and very sensitive from the flogging with
the irritating strands of grass.  Using his strong hands on the outer
surfaces, he pressed them together to form a tight tunnel for his
overheated phallus.  He stroked himself in this manner for some time.
With his hands, he could feel his hardness moving through the
delightfully soft flesh and found the sensation quite erotic. It would
have been easy to come, but his dominant state of mind allowed him to
control his own orgasm quite effectively.  

Monica could feel every tiny ridge of his aroused organ as it slid
along the irritated skin of her hypersensitive breasts.  This only
increased her arousal and she held her elbows tightly together to give
her master the best possible use of her body.  "Use me Master!" she
cried out.

When Cole was about ready to come, he shifted his grip on her abused
tits and grabbed each of her nipples with great force between thumb
and forefinger.  Pulling them brutally together increased the friction
on his shaft to the point that his orgasm was triggered by the next
few desperate strokes.  The extreme stimulation and emotional
connection to her climaxing partner caused Monica to come in great
spasms that threatened to buck Cole off into the grassy meadow.  

They hiked most of the way back to the car in a dazed state before
they had recovered mentally and physically from their erotic
exertions.  That night, they were too exhausted to do anything but
sleep in close, loving contact with each other under the big down
comforter that protected them from the cool mountain air.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The lovely summer weather continued in Seattle after they had returned
home.  They were both excited about the prospect of living together
and they decided that Monica should start moving some of her things
into the house.  Removing both rear seats from his minivan converted
it into a passable moving van.  Over a period of days, they used it to
transport various items of furniture that would no longer be needed in
her apartment.

As the end of her downtown job came closer, they began to make plans
"Since Friday is my last day, I'll have to clean out my office,"
Monica said.  "Do you think you could come down after work and help me
with some boxes and stuff?  There are a couple of big potted plants
that won't fit in my car."

She asked him to meet her at her car at 7 PM.  He could help her carry
things down in the elevator and his larger vehicle would easily carry
anything that wouldn't fit in her Miata.  After loading up, they would
drive both cars back to her Capitol Hill neighborhood, where a trendy
new restaurant had recently opened.  It was reputed to have the best
exotic Asian food in the city.  They made reservations for 8:30.

They both grew more excited as they counted down the days.  Having a
great new job and living in a wonderful house with her dominant
soulmate sounded like heaven to Monica.  Her only worry was that
something would happen to end what seemed like a wonderful dream.

Cole thought that having her with him every day and snuggling together
every night would be the perfect life.  Neither thought much about the
kinky sexuality they both shared.  They took it for granted that this
was a basic part of their lives.  Their concerns at this point were
exactly the same as those of any vanilla couple in the same situation.

The final day at her old job was a Friday.  She went through her files
and discarded large quantities of old papers.  Several documents and
books were given to her replacement, who had the new responsibilities
added onto his existing job.  There was the usual little office party
with a supermarket cake that tasted like cardboard and shortening.
Everyone signed a going away card and a few people said they envied
her for being able to leave.  At 5 PM, she started a major effort to
pack her personal items into several cardboard boxes.

Cole called her from his office at 6:15 and told her that he was on
his way.  He would look for her Miata in the garage and meet her there
at seven.  As he drove into downtown Seattle, he noticed that the area
around the tall office towers seemed to be nearly deserted on this
Friday evening.  No doubt the office workers couldn't wait to leave
and start their weekends, he thought.  It was a beautiful, warm early
August evening that he hoped heralded an equally nice weekend.

He drove into the seven floor parking structure and pulled a ticket
from the machine that demanded his attention with an obnoxious buzz.
The yellow crossbar lifted and he proceeded up the ramp with his eyes
scanning the parked cars.  The garage was well lit as a security
measure, so he had no doubt that he would easily spot Monica's car.
Cruising slowly, he drove quietly up to the second floor, then the
third.  He noticed that the parked cars became less numerous as he
went higher.  The fourth floor had only a few cars.  Still no sign of
the little Miata.

The fifth floor was also nearly deserted.  As he neared the area where
the only cars were parked, he suddenly noticed something in the
traffic lane that would require him to slow down and maneuver around
it.  The object appeared to be a cardboard box of the type that was
used for storing documents.  A common sight around any office
building. The top had fallen off and some of the papers were strewn
across the dirty concrete.  Perhaps someone had placed it on top of
their car and driven off?  The vehicle nearest the box was a large
sport utility wagon with no sign of a driver.

Moving slowly up to the fallen box, he could now see past the large
vehicle and noticed the rear of Monica's little sports car parked with
its nose against the wall.  Something inside him suddenly sounded an
alarm and he stared intently between the cars looking for movement.
There, on the driver's side of the sports car, a man stood between the
two vehicles.  He was looking down at something with his back to Cole.
The minivan rolled forward just a little more and it was possible to
see that someone else was down between the vehicles against the
concrete wall.

Fighting for calmness against an adrenaline surge, Cole allowed his
van to roll back several feet before putting it in Park and stepping
out with the keys in his hand.  He pressed the lock button on the
remote and moved forward to confront the unknown man.  Walking up
quietly, he could see that the person on the floor was Monica.  She
was terrified. The man had completely ignored Cole's approach and was
talking to her.  There was no way to make out what he was saying, but
the tone was obviously threatening.

Cole stopped several feet away from the parked cars.  He realized that
he needed to get the man away from Monica and out from between the
vehicles.

"Hello!" no response.   "Hey Buddy, whatcha doing back there?" he
shouted, in a non-hostile voice.

Finally the man turned around and looked at Cole.  He saw a bearded
guy dressed in an expensive suit and wearing little round yuppie
glasses who did not seem to be a threat.  But, "he could call the
police and spoil my fun", the man thought.  He turned away from the
cowering woman and stepped out to meet the meddling stranger.

Cole saw that the man was in his twenties and powerfully built.
Stepping back slowly, he drew the man farther away from Monica.
"That's close enough," he barked in his command voice.  "The fun's
over.  Get lost before I call the cops."

Although he was under the influence of various street drugs, the man
realized that he may have misjudged the wimpy guy in the suit.  This
would call for stronger measures, he calculated.  Reaching into his
pocket, he pulled out a folding combat knife with a five inch blade
and displayed it to frighten his intended victim.

Cole's vision centered on the knife and he knew he had to act quickly.
Before he could consider his options, his hours of practice came into
play and his pistol appeared in his hand as if by magic.  He took
another step backward to maintain a safe distance from the knife
wielding thug.  He knew that a man with a knife could deal him a fatal
wound if he was allowed to come within roughly twenty feet.  The
assailant could cover that distance in the time it took the brain to
make a decision and send the proper instructions to the trigger
finger.  He was prepared to fire if necessary.  Monica was safely on
the cement floor between two parked cars and the rest of the parking
level was deserted.

His voice was calm and coldly rational, "If you come within twenty
feet, I'll have to kill you.  Why don't you leave now while you still
can?"

The man hesitated for a moment, then took one step forward.  He
blinked and shifted his eyes from side to side as if trying to clear
his vision.  Cole noticed that the man was too well dressed to be a
homeless vagrant.  Fresh haircut, clean blue jeans, white running
shoes and a T-shirt with a baseball team logo.  Perhaps someone who
works in the mailroom of a company in the area, Cole speculated.  

In a macho, hostile tone, the man said, "You won't shoot me, sissyboy.
You wouldn't dare."

Cole replied quietly and precisely, "Do you want to bet on that?  At
this range I can put a forty five slug through each of your eyes
before you can blink.  Just think of all the nice recreational drugs
you'll miss out on.  You can't do drugs when you're dead."  

Cole watched every detail with hyper-alertness.  He saw the knife
being shifted in the large, meaty hand and the film of sweat on the
man's face.   His vision narrowed to a tunnel focused on the
assailant, his hearing excluded all unimportant sounds and time seemed
to slow down.

Something must have penetrated into the man's brain and changed his
plans.  The sissyboy's bearded face seemed to have taken on a
distinctly devilish appearance.  The would-be killer's attitude
changed from one of hostility to fear.  He backed away for several
steps, then turned and ran for the stairway.

Cole returned his pistol to its holster inside his waistband and
rushed over to Monica.  She was already standing up and reaching out
for him.  "Thank you," she said before bursting into tears.  His
senses were now returning to normal and the sudden reorientation was a
most peculiar sensation.  He forced himself to calm down and think
about what he should do next.

He comforted Monica for a minute while keeping watch for the possible
return of the thug.  There was no way of knowing if he might have some
friends to act as reinforcements.  

He made a quick survey to see if Monica had been injured. The jacket
of her expensive gray business suit was missing.  Her white blouse had
been ripped completely open and there was a long tear in the front of
her skirt.  He breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of serious
injuries.

He checked to make sure that her car was locked and led her over to
the minivan.  After she was safely inside, he picked up the fallen box
and papers, which he placed on the floor behind the driver's seat.  He
briefly considered calling the police, but the assailant would be long
gone by now and it seemed more important to get Monica home where she
could recover emotionally.  Continuing to keep a tight rein on his own
emotions, he drove quickly and precisely home.

Safely at home, Monica got undressed and checked to see if she was
injured.  The only casualty was a skinned knee, which he offered to
bandage after she showered.  She stepped into the shower while Cole
fixed her a strong Irish coffee in the kitchen.  

Relaxing in bed later, she was able to recount the events that
happened before Cole arrived at the scene.  The man had entered the
elevator where she was struggling a bit with a heavy box of papers.
She thought he was drunk or high.  When she refused his offer of help,
he followed her to her car, then grabbed her purse and pushed her down
on the floor of the parking structure.  Unsatisfied with the contents
of her purse, he proceeded to threaten her with various types of harm
including rape.  As the endless minutes wore on, it became apparent
that rape had become his primary desire.  The thought that Cole would
arrive soon and that he would probably be armed helped keep her from
collapsing completely

"Why couldn't the building management provide a little security?" she
asked.  "They installed video cameras last year, but I guess they
aren't being monitored.  I guess the appearance of security is what
really counts.  As long as we feel safe, that's the important thing,"
she said bitterly.

"Welcome to the nineties, Monica.  Feelings come first.  Look who we
elected president," he said with a raised eyebrow.

Then she told him the one thing that bothered her the most.  "I don't
know if I should tell you this, but when I realized that I couldn't
escape, I started to feel submissive.  I guess it's my natural state
or something.  Even though I was trying to remember those self defense
classes, some part of my mind kept telling me to let him do whatever
he wanted.   I was ready to give in and let him rape me without a
fight...  I might even have enjoyed it," she sobbed.

"Don't worry about it Little One, it sounds pretty normal to me.
You've had a big emotional shock and you probably aren't thinking too
clearly right now.  Let's talk about this some other time."

Her tears flowed freely, as her words spilled out rapidly, "You don't
understand Howard, When he started ripping my clothes, I got turned
on.  I couldn't control it.  What if it happens again?  I'm such a
slut I can't even take care of myself."  

"Here, finish your drink, you earned it.  I think you were very brave
and I'm proud of you for holding him off until I showed up.  We'll go
back and get your car tomorrow.  If you want, we can call the police
then.   Maybe those security cameras recorded something and they can
catch the guy."

When her mug was empty, he tucked her into the large bed and got in
beside her.  Monica was asleep in minutes, but he stayed awake most of
the night, replaying the events in his head over and over.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

They drove downtown again the next day, recovered her car and some
more boxes from her office, then drove to the police department's
downtown precinct.  Saturday afternoons didn't seem like a busy time
for the Seattle police and the large building seemed half empty.  They
spent two hours filling out forms and waiting on hard plastic chairs
before they were given any advice.  The obviously overworked detective
didn't feel that there was much point in taking any further steps.
Hundreds of men would match the description that Cole and Monica had
given.  The detective called the building security office and it
turned out that the security cameras were inoperative that week, so
there would be no pictures of the assailant.  

Returning to the house in her own car, Monica put the remains of her
ruined suit in the trash and decided to get on with her life.  Moving
the last of her possessions into the house she now shared with Cole
helped to occupy her thoughts.

She was a little paranoid for the next few days, but by the time she
reported for work at her new job, she appeared, at least on the
surface, to have recovered completely.  The job turned out to be
everything she hoped for.   The concentration that was required to
bring herself up to speed helped her put the frightening episode
almost entirely behind her.  

Aside from an heightened interest in security and a sudden increase in
trips to the gun club, the only lasting effect was an inability to
feel submissive.  Even when she and Cole would engage in their sexy
D/S games, the lovely feeling that she had once craved was absent.  It
was as if she wanted to deny the existence of that part of her
personality.  

Figuring that nature would take its course, Cole simply waited.  He
believed that someone as naturally submissive as Monica would have to
return to her normal personality eventually and he was a patient man.
He was also very much in love and knew that he would accept whatever
form of sexuality she happened to display.  

Even without the spark of dominance and submission, their sex life was
still an active one.  They both had healthy libidos and living
together gave them plenty of opportunities to enjoy each other.   Cole
allowed her to take the initiative and determine when they would run
for the big bed and dive under the covers together.  He rather enjoyed
the chance to explore this new area of her sexuality.  She was
comforted by the knowledge that he still loved her even when she was
unable be submissive.

Snuggling in bed on the first rainy night of the Northwest Autumn, he
felt her warm, dry skin and inhaled her healthy, slightly perfumed
scent.  He decided to ask her how she was feeling about her
submissiveness. Holding her spoon fashion with his right arm wrapping
around beneath her narrow waist he asked quietly, "Have you had any
kinky feelings lately?"

"It's hard to describe, lover.  I can tell that my subby feelings are
still there, but when they try to surface, I just push them back down
and wait for them to go away," her voice contained a subtle tension
that revealed the magnitude of the problem.

He snuggled closer, cupping her breast tighter. "That's sad.  Does it
bother you very much?

"Yeah... it does, but I don't know what to do about it.  Maybe it will
take a long time.  I'd love to be my old subby self again.  I'm just
too scared of it.  I can't seem to relax and let it come back."

"According to the Master's Handbook, I'm supposed to give you a good
spanking, then fuck you in the ass, but -- being the wimpy Master that
I am -- I'm willing to wait as long as it takes."  They both chuckled
at the thought, knowing that he would never attempt to force her into
submission.

"I suppose you could see a therapist, but I can't imagine what they
would say when you tell them you want your submissiveness back," he
smiled.  "Maybe you should start all over like you were just
discovering the scene for the first time."

"Hmmm... I think you're onto something there," she said as she reached
back to grab his cock beneath the covers.

As he enjoyed her gentle stimulation he thought out loud.  "Maybe it's
time for us to attend some scene events.  One of their primary
functions is to make kinky people feel better about their sexuality.
Sounds like just the sort of thing you could use right now."

She rolled over and began to engage in one of her favorite activities.
Taking her lover's manly organ into her mouth, she licked, kissed and
sucked in all the ways that she knew would drive him completely crazy.


"Slow down, my little felatrix.  I'm still thinking about scene
events.  Why don't we go to a meeting of our local kinky group this
Thursday?  The announcement on the net said they were having a caning
demonstration.  Hey, that's enough!"

Monica pushed him down on the bed and mounted his rock hard shaft.  He
normally did not like positions that cast him in the submissive role,
but seeing her delicate bouncing breasts so close to his face overcame
his reluctance.  They both had a very adequate climax and went to
sleep feeling satisfied.  During the night they slid their bodies
together several times for more semi-conscious cuddling and closeness.

On Thursday, they both arrived home around five thirty and ate a quick
dinner.  By the time they made the drive into downtown Seattle, the
traffic was light.  Cole watched her for signs of nervousness, but she
seemed calm.  He had explained to her that the meetings were designed
to be strictly informative and non-threatening.  

She was still a bit worried that she might meet someone she knew from
work.  He explained to her that there was no need to worry.  If you
met someone you knew, they had as least as much to worry about as you
did.  They were not going to cause you any trouble because you could
do the same to them.  He told her that this was a variation on the old
cold war strategy of mutually assured destruction and it was a
foolproof safety system.  

Many people avoided the meetings because they were afraid that they
would find themselves in a room full of dangerous perverts.  Although
Monica had heard several benign descriptions of the meetings, she was
still a bit worried.  She was also nervous because the meeting site in
the Capitol Hill district was the closest she had gotten to the place
where she was attacked in over a month.  They finally found a place to
park in a residential area about four blocks from the meeting hall.
Monica stayed close to Cole as they walked along the dark wet street.

The group met in a building that contained several public meeting
halls which could be rented for a small fee.  In a nearby room,
another group appeared to be holding a church related conference.
Monica grinned as she wondered if they knew what kind of perverts were
gathering next door.

The room looked like it had once been a classroom.  There were about
fifty plastic chairs in neat rows and some well worn folding tables at
the front.  Just inside the door a pleasant looking redhead in a tight
black dress collected a few dollars from each person and handed out a
small newsletter containing event announcements, articles and personal
ads.  Everyone was given a stick-on nametag and people wrote whatever
name they preferred to use with a blue marking pen.

They sat down in the back row and she tried not to stare at the twenty
or thirty people who were already there.  Like Cole and Monica, most
of them looked like they had just come from work.  There were a number
of men in suits and sportcoats, some with pagers or cell phones on
their belts.  There were a few sexy women that drew most of Monica's
attention. She wondered if they were pro-Dommes.

The room gradually filled with exceedingly normal looking people,
about half male, half female.  Monica studied them carefully, while
trying not to be too obvious.  Less than ten percent showed any overt
signs of kinkiness.  She noticed several leather jackets and a few
people who obviously had a piercing fetish.  Monica had never before
seen someone with a piercing through the bridge of their nose.  She
asked herself, "Wouldn't those little silver balls be visually
distracting?"

Before she had time to inspect everyone in the group, a friendly
fellow stood at the front of the room and called the meeting to order.
It was obvious that he was enjoying himself, leading the group, and he
began to read a series of announcements.  

"There will be a meeting of the kinky writer's group at Mistress
Selena's house at seven PM next Tuesday."  

"The women's welcoming committee meets every Wednesday at The Edge
Cafe.  All women who are interested in learning more about the scene
are welcome.  See Joan if you have any questions.  Stand up so we can
see you Joan."  One of the more attractive women, with very long black
hair stood in the front row and waved at the group.  Monica noticed
that she had a nice body and was wearing little earrings that looked
like floggers.

"Please notice Joan's column in this month's newsletter about
negotiating a scene.  Extra copies of the newsletter may be purchased
for three dollars if you need another one for a friend."

When the club president was finished with the announcements, the next
item of business was an opportunity for everyone to give an
introduction.  Each person who wanted to participate was allowed to
stand up, give their name and say a few words about their kinky
preferences or experiences.  The technique had been copied from a
successful group in Chicago and it was intended to make the members
feel better about their particular fetish or sexual preference.

A harmless looking fellow in a rumpled sport coat stood up first, "Hi,
my name is John, I've been in the scene six months and I'm a bottom."

"Hello everyone, I'm Mistress Kitty, I'm a Top and I've been a member
of this organization since it was first founded two years ago and I
guess you all know me pretty well by now."

"Hi, I'm Mark and this is my wife Sandy.  This is our second meeting
and we're just exploring.  We think she's a Top and I'm a bottom."

"My name is Leslie, I like to be spanked."

"Hi, my name is Frank, I'm an obsessive-compulsive cunnilingist."

The introductions went around the room in this fashion until a man in
this twenties stood up and said, "Hi, My name is Joe and I'm an
alcoholic."  The room burst into laughter as they all suddenly
recognized the parallel with AA meetings.   Cole was not really
surprised, since the similarities had been obvious to him for a long
time.  People who struggled with the fact that their form of sexuality
was not accepted by society needed a support group.

When it was their turn to introduce themselves, Cole politely passed
and let the next person speak.  The meeting had been going for nearly
an hour when the announcements and introductions were finally
finished.  A presentation on caning was the scheduled highlight of the
meeting.  Some of the chairs were pushed back to make more room at the
front and a quilt was placed on one of the long folding tables. The
speaker was a fellow named Conrad who resembled a slightly disheveled
elf, with a long beard and a flowing lavender satin shirt.  His
enthusiasm for SM play was highly infectious.  As he discussed the
various aspects of playing with canes, the audience loosened up
further and joked easily with him.  

When all of the technical and ethical topics had been exhausted, a
pre-chosen volunteer came forward.  She was a shapely woman in her
thirties who was well known as a "heavy bottom".  That is, she played
the bottom role and liked to be hit hard.  Clad in bra and thong, she
climbed onto the now padded tabletop and assumed a face down posture
to present her nicely curved buttocks as a target for the cane.

Conrad continued to talk as he began gently caning the woman with
light tapping strokes.  Most of the audience stared intently at the
unfolding tableau, wondering how far the caning would go.   Many of
them had never seen anything of this type before and their eyes
betrayed the intense thoughts that were flashing through their aroused
minds.  The warm up lasted for more than twenty minutes.

The cane gradually tapped harder, until there was a pause, then the
cane was raised higher and decended with a loud swish of air to land
with an audible impact on the already pink bottom of the sexy
volunteer.  She let out a happy sounding "Ahhhh", much to the relief
of those who thought briefly that something had gone wrong.

Monica started to grin as she realized that the volunteer was enjoying
herself just like she had on several occasions.  

Cole had seen it all before.  In fact, he had played with the woman
himself.  He knew she could take a lot more.  Not wanting to seem
bored, he casually looked around the room to see how many faces he
could recognize.  Sitting in the very back of the room, where she had
escaped Monica's notice, was her friend Jennifer.  She didn't realize
that he was looking at her.  He studied her face for several minutes
as she watched the caning and he observed the telltale vague stare
that indicated she was in some kind of submissive headspace.  Before
anyone could notice that he wasn't watching the presentation, he
turned around again to see how things were developing on the table.

By this time the caning had progressed to very hard strokes with a
suitably long interval in between.  Conrad was still lecturing happily
about the different kind of strokes and the audience was unable to
look away.  Cole was starting to be impressed.  The strokes were
slightly harder than what he was usually willing to do to his own
playmates.  The volunteer however, was in endorphin heaven.  She was
moaning in a very sexy manner with each stroke, then breathing in
short puffs when each impulse of pain arrived at the pleasure centers
of her brain.  Cole vowed that he would play harder with her if they
ever connected again.

Eventually, the demonstration ended, and the group stood up to leave
or chat with each other.  Cole caught Monica's attention and pointed
at Jennifer.   Monica was just about ready to call out to Jennifer
when he shook his head slightly to signal that this was not a good
idea.  Perhaps she did not want her name called out in front of all
these people.  Instead, they hurried out and caught up with her as she
went down the corridor to the main doors.

"Hey beautiful!" Monica called out.

Jennifer turned and her eyes widened when she realized that she had
been spotted by her best friend.  "Hi guys.  I didn't know you two
were in there," she lied.

Monica responded warmly, "We didn't see you either.  It's still early,
let's go to that place with the great chocolate desserts and chat for
a while.  You know, Dilettante Chocolates, It's just down the street."


Jennifer could hardly refuse, and they all walked several blocks to a
small restaurant that was famous for it's chocolate decadence cake and
mocha drinks.  When they had ordered, Monica politely questioned
Jennifer about her attendance at the meeting while Cole looked around
at the other diners and out the window at the damp Seattle night.
"So, Jenny, is this the first meeting you've been to?" she asked.

"No, I've been to four or five," she said as she looked down at the
table.  "I didn't want to tell anyone."

"You naughty girl!  You know you can tell me anything."

 "Sorry I didn't mention it.  So, this was your first meeting, right?
What did you think of it?"

"It was a good experience for me.  I liked seeing so many other people
around me who are just as perverted as I am.  You sorta feel better
about yourself.  But I got the feeling that a lot of them are looking
for partners."

"Yeah, I guess that's why I'm there.  You've found a great guy for
yourself and it reminds me what I'm missing.  I'm pretty tired of
being single, but you know what problems I've had with men.  They just
don't seem to understand what I need.  I was hoping that I could find
someone in the club, but so far no luck."

Monica looked thoughtful for a moment, then started to speak slowly,
"Jenny, maybe you could play with us.  Ever since I got attacked last
month, something has been missing from our chemistry.  I guess I just
can't submit right now.  In fact, I've been feeling pretty dominant."

"Play with you two?  Do you think you'd both be willing to dominate
me?  That sounds pretty hot," she dropped her eyes again, "but I don't
think I'd be a very good player."

They both looked over at Cole, who had been quietly observing the
conversation.  "I think we could work something out," he said without
sounding very enthusiastic.  He was not strongly attracted to Jennifer
because of her lack of womanly curves or perhaps it was just the way
she dressed to hide her small body.  Still, it might still be fun to
engage in psychological play.  He knew that Monica found her
attractive and he was willing to go along.

"Jenny, you have email, don't you?" he asked.

"Sure, doesn't everyone?"

"Well, why don't you write up your favorite kinky fantasy and send it
to Monica?  We'll go over it and see what we can translate into
reality for you."

Her beautiful eyes widened and she spoke rapidly, "That sounds really
great.  I hope it works OK.  I'll send you my idea in the next few
days.  This is getting really exciting already. I'm so naughty!"  Her
small mouth widened into a big grin as she looked back and forth
between her two friends.

"One more thing," he said.  "If we play sexually, which is what you
seem to be needing, you must have some tests first.  I can tell you
the best place to go for that, but it will still take almost a week to
get all the results back."

"I can do that.  Let me write down the information."  She pulled a pen
and small notebook from her purse.  The clinic address and phone
number were recorded quickly in her small, precise printing.

The two women chatted as they walked Jennifer back to her car, which
was not far from theirs.  They discussed how happy Monica was in her
new relationship and job.  They also discussed the problem she was
having accepting her own natural submissiveness since the attack.
Arriving at the car, the two women hugged there on the sidewalk, then
Jennifer came over to Cole and offered him a hug too.  He happily
accepted and gave her a friendly pat on her small bottom to propel her
toward the car.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

For the next few days, Cole and Monica engaged in animated
conversations about the local SM scene and about their upcoming date
with Jennifer.  Monica commented on how scene people treated each
other versus the way they dealt with outsiders.  Among themselves, the
scene folks easily discussed the most intimate and secretive things.
When around someone whose preferences are not known or who is known to
be sexually conservative, they maintain a strict silence about their
kinky activities.  This could lead to a feeling of having a dual
personality, but for most people, it was the best alternative.  

In her small apartment on the 14th floor of a fashionable downtown
residence building, Jennifer thought hard about what she wanted to get
from her adventure with Cole and Monica.  She knew that she trusted
Monica completely and the thought of submitting to her sexy girlfriend
was very exciting.  She had been envious of Monica since they first
met, initially because of Monica's curvy body and later because of her
relationship with Cole.   There was also an element of competition.
She wanted to show that she could be as submissive as the women whose
stories she had read on the internet and in the numerous erotic books
that waited under her bed like old playmates.

She knew that her friends would never hurt her.  The most daunting
prospect was the thought of being naked in front of them and being
forced to engage in what would surely be shameful sexual acts.  At
least she hoped so.  She was very shy about her body, especially
around beautiful women like Monica.  Just the thought of being
forcibly exposed made her wet; she just wasn't sure if she could go
through with it.  

She was also hoping that she could experience what it meant to serve
someone as a slave.  Many of her favorite fantasies involved serving a
man who owned her completely.  It wasn't the sort of thing you could
admit to anyone unless they shared a similar fantasy.

The email that Monica received from Jennifer proved to contain a
fantasy that she and Cole both loved.  Jennifer wanted to be hired and
trained as a sex slave for a wealthy businessman.  She suggested using
the name of a handsome Japanese investment banker that she had a bit
of a crush on.  Since she didn't really have time in her life to be a
genuine slave, the first 24 hours of "captivity" would do nicely.
Obviously, some serious training should take place on her first night.


It took two more weeks to iron out the details, but eventually
everything was settled.  Jennifer would have two safewords, one to
stop whatever activity was taking place at the time and another to
stop the play altogether.  Since she wanted the feeling of giving up
control completely, no acts of sexual dominance were prohibited by
their agreement.  The only hard limits were that Jennifer had to be
able to go to work Monday morning and she did not want any permanent
marks.

She would be picked up outside her building at Noon next Saturday and
would stay overnight until Noon on Sunday.  All she needed to bring
was a bag with some extra clothing.

As they had promised each other, Cole and Monica discussed their
sexual activities in advance.  He was a bit surprised when she
encouraged him to plan for sex with Jennifer.  His sex life with
Monica was completely satisfying and he did not feel the need for
another partner.  However, Monica now knew him well enough to know
that his libido would be stimulated by dominating a willing woman.
She wanted to be certain that her best girlfriend would have the
erotic time of her life.

Since he did not have a long standing familiarity with Jennifer's
kinky needs, he wanted to be ready to do whatever seemed appropriate
in the heat of play.  He started giving Monica daily lessons with the
cane and flogger in case it seemed more appropriate for her to deal
out the needed punishments.  

Standing in the dungeon next to a table of kinky toys, he held out a
whip with many short tresses.  "This of course, is a flogger, not to
be confused with a cat o'nine tails. The flogger has soft flat tresses
that can create a range of sensations without doing serious damage.  A
cat is a much nastier whip, with braided tresses that hit a lot
harder."

"A flogger can be cut from many different types of material.  Leather
is most popular, but you'll also see rubber, plastic and rope, among
other things.   This one is made of thin suede.  A very special woman
in the scene made it for me a few years ago.  It's much too light to
use on backs or butts.  It was designed for breasts.  Here, let me
demonstrate."

She pulled up her T-shirt and held still while he gave her pretty
breasts several strokes.  The light slapping sensation was quite
delightful.  He handed her the flogger and showed her how to practice
on pillows.  For the next half hour, Monica wandered around the house,
stalking pillows to attack with the little flogger.

When she mastered it, he gave her a longer, heavier one which was made
from thin smooth cowhide.  

"You must be careful not to let the ends of the flogger wrap around
your partner's body.  When the tips wrap around, they strike with a
lot more force and it's in a place they aren't expecting.  It's the
mark of an amateur top and something to be avoided."

The heavier flogger made a more satisfying thump when she whacked the
naughty pillows, but it still had a large safety margin when used on a
playmate.  He also showed her how to use one of his lighter rattan
canes.  She discovered that the flexible nature of the shaft made it
difficult to hit a target precisely.  After practicing a few times,
she decided that she would only use this cane lightly, if at all.
Cole brought out one of his black carbon fiber canes, which was
slightly lighter than rattan, but almost perfectly rigid.  Monica then
felt much more confident about her accuracy.  

When they were finished practicing with the impact instruments, they
sat down together to work on their plans.  Cole began, "Since Jennifer
hasn't engaged in hard SM play before, I don't think we'll have to use
any heavier instruments.  My general theory of SM play is that you
should play within your partner's limits so that they will always want
to come back for more.  Now here's something I want you to start
practicing with."

He showed her a rectangular box about six inches long.  When opened,
it revealed a straight razor suitable for professional shaving.

As the day drew closer, they were both becoming more excited.  Cole
prepared the dungeon for the training of Jennifer.   They were very
confident that the SM part of the plan would work well, but the D/S
play would be more difficult.  Their plan was for Monica to be the
first to dominate Jennifer.  As Jennifer became more comfortable with
her submissive role, she would find herself under the control of Cole,
in his role as "Trainer".  There was no guarantee that it would work,
of course.  They simply planned and hoped for the best.  They had
explained to Jennifer their feeling that BDSM play was really a game.
It had to be fun for all parties involved or there was no point in
doing it.

On Saturday morning, Cole inspected his car, which was parked in the
garage next to the black minivan.  It was a large silver Mercedes
sedan that he had purchased as a collector's car.  It was thirty years
old and in perfect condition.  The rear windows were shielded by gray
curtains and the seats were covered in soft gray leather.  He placed a
few important items in a storage compartment on the back of the
driver's seat, then went into the house to change into his costume.

Cole dressed in an old fashioned black suit that might have been worn
by a chauffeur earlier in the century.  A classic chauffeur's hat and
a pair of dark aviator sunglasses completed the look. He inspected
himself in front of the mirror and allowed his face to assume an
expression of disinterest.  The beard and sunglasses made him look
quite unapproachable.

Monica put on her sexiest black cocktail dress.  This one was short
and had a low neckline, which provided a perfect setting for a long
pearl necklace.  She spent a great deal of time in front of the
mirror, making sure that her makeup was just right and putting her
long brown hair up into a rather severe bun which perched haughtily on
the back of her head.

Pausing for a delicate kiss and a swat on her lovely behind, they went
to the car.  Cole was now in his chauffeur role and held open the
heavy rear door for her.   She entered the cavernous passenger
compartment and sat on the glove soft leather of the rear seat.
Getting behind the wheel, he started the old German engine, which
turned over with barely a sound.  On the trip to Jennifer's apartment
building, they didn't speak except for Monica's comment about the
amazing quiet inside the old car.  No conversation was needed, as
their plans had been made and finalized during the preceding week.

It was a cool autumn day with light cloud cover and just enough hazy
sunlight to be slightly uncomfortable without sunglasses.  The traffic
was heavy and got heavier as they came closer to the downtown
apartment building where Jennifer lived.

As they approached the building, Monica used her cell phone to call
Jennifer and tell her to come downstairs.  They pulled up to the curb
and waited about thirty seconds before she appeared at the front door
and walked out to the car.  In her hand was a small overnight bag.
Cole leapt from the car and held open the rear door without
acknowledging her in any way.  The dark sunglasses he was wearing
prevented her from making eye contact as he took the bag from her hand
and waved her into the car where Monica was waiting on the left side
of the bench seat.

Jennifer was wearing a simple green dress with white buttons,  black
stockings and black shoes with low heels.  Her waist length black hair
was tied back to form a long ponytail.  As she sat down on the right
side, she brought her hair around over her right shoulder.  Monica
asked, "Are you Jennifer Lee?"

"Yes."

"I am Monica, the Assistant Trainer, you will address me as Ma'am."

"Yes, Ma'am."  Her exotic, almond shaped, hazel eyes were cast
downward.

"Do not attempt to speak to the chauffeur, he is forbidden to
respond."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"What are you wearing under that dress?"

"Just a bra and panties, Monica.  And these stockings."  Her slight
Asian accent was a bit stronger than normal.  As Jennifer looked
around the interior of the car, she noticed the curtains that created
almost complete privacy in the large rear seat area.  Then she looked
in the mirror to see that the chauffeur was looking back at her.  Or
was he?  The dark sunglasses and old fashioned hat made it hard to
tell.  From the shape of the beard, she knew it was Howard Cole, but
this cold, mechanical fellow in the uniform did not seem like the
Howard she knew.  She decided to simply think of him as "the
chauffeur".

Monica held out what looked like a legal document on a clipboard and
offered Jennifer a pen.  "This is your contract.  You'll find it to be
exactly as we agreed.  One hundred thousand dollars for one year of
service to Mister Toriuchi.  You must sign it before we can proceed.
If you wish to change your mind, we'll take you back to your apartment
now."

"Here, I'll sign it," she said, reaching for the clipboard and pen.

When she handed back the signed contract, Monica spoke in a
businesslike tone, "Your training begins immediately.  You will be
addressed simply as "slave" and refusal to obey any and all
instructions will be punished, as stated in the contract."

"I understand."  Jennifer looked ahead as the silent automobile was
entering the freeway, but instead of heading North, which was the
shortest way to Cole and Monica's, the chauffeur was going South.

"You haven't been addressing me properly, slave.  That's your first
mistake.  We'll see about your punishment in a moment.  Remove your
dress."

Jennifer felt a thrill of fear and pleasure course through her slender
body.  It seemed impossible to take her eyes off the floor, but she
forced her hands to begin unfastening the buttons on the front of the
green dress.  Starting at the top, she slowly worked her way down.

"When I give you an order, I expect you to obey immediately!"

The sharp tone startled Jennifer into rapid action.  She quickly
finished with the buttons, which left the dress open almost to her
knees.  Monica had never seen her friend undressed before and decided
to prolong the show for a while.  She and Cole had planned to take an
hour driving to the house.

"Stop. Leave your dress on for a moment.  Open it a little so that I
can get a look at you."

Monica loved the perfect light brown skin that was set off nicely by
the white satin bra and panties.  She saw that Jennifer's breasts
beneath the bra were small, as expected, and her ribs were sharply
defined.  For the next several minutes, Monica ordered Jennifer to
slowly undress, gradually revealing more of her body.  When the dress
was safely in Monica's hands, she paused for a minute to study the
little slave-girl-in-training.  The prominent hipbones and concave
stomach seemed appropriate for a fashion model.   Jennifer had, in
fact, considered a modeling career, but she was only five feet two
inches tall and did not have the height preferred in the fashion
industry.

Jennifer briefly raised her eyes and saw the chauffeur looking at her
in the mirror.  Even with the sunglasses she was sure he was looking
and the sudden embarrassment caused her hands to move quickly to cover
herself.  Monica reacted instantly.  

"Put those hands down!  Slide forward to the edge of the seat.  Put
your hands behind your back.  Now!"

With practiced skill that she had learned from Cole, Monica slipped a
pair of chrome police handcuffs onto Jennifer's tiny wrists, then
shoved her against the seat back.  "That's your second mistake, slave
girl.  You're not doing very well so far.  I don't think we can delay
your discipline any longer.  Hold absolutely still.  You are not
permitted to make any noise whatsoever.  Disobedience will be punished
severely."

Monica removed a small pocketknife from a compartment on the seatback
and turned to the handcuffed Jennifer.  She opened the folding knife
and reached for the top of the left shoulder strap of Jennifer's lace
trimmed white satin bra.  The sharp blade of the little knife slid
easily through the strap, which was then allowed to drop and hang
limply over Jennifer's breast.  After a short pause for Monica to
savor the moment, the right strap met the same fate.

After gently stroking Jennifer's skin between her breasts, Monica used
the knife to cut slowly through the fabric between the cups, then
roughly pulled the ruined bra away and dropped it on the floor.  She
was rather surprised to see that Jennifer was not flat chested.  There
was a pair of small, pretty, and sensitive looking breasts with
relatively large brown nipples set perfectly within small areolas.
Jennifer looked down at her exposed breasts and saw her nipples
growing larger in spite of the warm air inside the car.  Then she
looked up to again see the chauffeur watching in the mirror with that
strange detached expression.  She whimpered and bent forward to hide
her nudity, which triggered Monica into action.

Grabbing Jennifer's hair, she pulled the smaller woman back into an
upright position.  "That's it.  If you can't obey, you'll pay the
price."  Monica pulled a silver chain from the storage compartment.
On each end of the foot long chain was a small metal clip.  She held
Jennifer's head back with her right hand and used her left hand to
attach one of the clips to each of Jennifer's hard nipples.
Jennifer's chest rose and fell rapidly with her frightened breathing,
but she did her best to hold still.  The tight, mildly painful
sensation of the nipple clips was quite erotic and it gradually calmed
her into a more submissive state.

Monica released Jennifer's silky black hair and slipped a soft padded
blindfold over her head.

"That's a good little slave girl, calm down now.  Everything is going
to be OK.  You have a very beautiful body."

"Mr. Toriuchi will be very pleased if we can get you properly trained.
Let's leave those little white panties on for now.  They make you look
more naked," she said with a greedy smile.

As the old Mercedes drifted smoothly along with the traffic flow,
other drivers studied the unusual vehicle carefully.  One or two
managed to catch a glimpse through the front windows, noticing the
professional looking chauffeur, then the two people in the rear seat
who appeared to be engaged in very interesting activities.  Cole
maneuvered gently to keep anyone from seeing too much.

For the remainder of the scheduled hour, Cole drove the car carefully
around the Seattle area, gradually working his way closer to home.
Monica enjoyed herself thoroughly, touching and stroking Jennifer's
delicate skin and occasionally tugging lightly on the chain attached
to the sensitive nipples.  She found that pulling back on Jennifer's
hair caused her body to arch into a particularly inviting position.
With her right hand holding the beautiful long black hair, Monica's
left hand was free to roam and it gradually found it's way to
Jennifer's satin covered crotch.  Gently stroking up and down, Monica
felt the wetness slowly penetrate through the white panties while
Jennifer whimpered and moaned with arousal.

With Jennifer's head pulled back, her throat was exposed in a most
inviting manner.   Monica leaned over to kiss it, then licked up and
down from chin to collarbone.  By the time they reached the house,
both women were breathing hard and trembling with the hot lust that
had ripened within their bodies

Cole parked in the garage and waited for the door to close behind
them.  Then he stepped out and opened the rear door on Monica's side.
They helped the blindfolded and handcuffed Jennifer into the house and
deposited her on the living room carpet in front of the fireplace.
She was still wearing her white panties and the nipple clips.  Cole
flipped the wall switch that activated the realistic gas fireplace and
stood back to look at the delectable submissive woman who sat
awkwardly on the luxuriously soft carpet.

Jennifer felt the heat from the fire take away the chill from her body
and heard the two trainers moving about the room.  She did not know
what was going to happen next, but the submissive thrill that had
started inside her during the trip was still there.  Her nipples were
throbbing from the pressure of the clips, but she was nowhere near
using her safeword.  She had felt more pain than this during her self
explorations.  

She was delighted with the way the session was working out so far.
There was enough trust to allow her to submit, but there were also
enough unfamiliar elements to make the scenario believable. She could
actually feel herself submitting and the thought of serving the
mythical Mr. Toriuchi was a compelling goal.  This was proof, if she
needed it, that her basic nature was submissive.  

Seeing her friend Monica in the sexy dress and being dominated by her
had been one of the biggest sexual turn-ons that she could remember.
And Cole made a very authentic kinky chauffeur.  His behavior was
chilling, almost menacing.  She felt like he was capable of anything,
which was a highly arousing thought.  Her envy of Cole and Monica's
relationship threatened to flare up, but her attention was drawn to
the sound of someone walking toward her.

The unseen person stepped behind her and removed the blindfold.  It
was Cole and he had changed into a casual outfit of white dungarees
and a black T-shirt.  He was no longer playing the part of the
Chauffeur, but still had that menacing air.

"Good afternoon, little slave.  I am the Trainer and you will address
me as Sir, is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"My job is to prepare you to serve Mr. Toriuchi.  As you recall, your
contract states that my approval is required before you can be
considered fit for duty in the Master's household.  I expect you to
obey all my instructions without hesitation.  Your first instruction
is never to speak unless you are spoken to.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Your friend Monica had a very important job today.  She was supposed
to make you obey all the usual rules on the ride here.  Unfortunately,
you broke some of the rules.  You did not address her as Ma'am, you
tried to cover yourself and you failed to hold still when ordered to
do so.  It was Monica's job to punish you immediately for all of those
violations.  Unfortunately, she was overcome with lust and spent her
time fondling you instead of punishing you.  For that reason, Monica
is going to be punished.  You will watch and you will be totally
silent.  Your punishment will occur when I'm ready.  Don't make it any
worse."

He signaled for Monica to come forward.  She was completely naked
except for a pair of black heels and a pair of large golden earrings.
Her hard nipples betrayed her arousal.  In both hands, she carried a
wide leather strap with a short wooden handle.  Kneeling gracefully
before Cole, she offered it to him with her eyes averted.  He took it
in his right hand and caressed the soft heavy leather with his left.
Monica draped her curvaceous body over the back of the leather sofa
with her hands on the seat.  Her pleasingly rounded hips seemed large
compared to Jennifer's tiny form and her ass was nicely presented for
punishment.

He looked over his shoulder to see Jennifer watching with eyes wide.
The first stroke rang out with a loud crack.  Monica took the
punishment stoically, with only a little grunt or moan with each
stroke.  After the fifth stroke, Jennifer was obviously in emotional
distress, her small chest heaving.  On the eight stroke, she burst
out, "Please, Sir, don't punish her any more. It was all my fault."

Cole looked her way and said, "I told you to keep quiet, little slave.
Your punishment will be increased to reflect your disobedience."

He stopped strapping Monica after two more strokes.  Unknown to
Jennifer, this was very mild play by Monica's standards.

Cole told Monica to sit on the sofa and watch.  Then he turned to face
Jennifer who was cowering in her white panties and handcuffs.  Her
eyes were watching him with obvious apprehension.  Stepping behind
her, he reached under her hair and placed his strong right hand on the
back of her neck.  He squeezed just enough for her to feel the power,
no more force than one might use for a massage.  The nutmeg and
cinnamon smell of her cologne was suddenly very noticeable.

Jennifer calmed down and relaxed in response to the controlling hand
on her neck.  "You are a very beautiful little slave girl, but you are
so disobedient," he said calmly.

"Yes, Sir," she said quietly as she trembled slightly before him.  He
was quite frightening in this role, but somehow she also felt
strangely safe and secure.  His hand on her neck was both controlling
and reassuring.

"I want you to admit that you've been a naughty little slave girl and
tell me that you'll accept your punishment."

"I've been very naughty, Sir.  I'll accept whatever punishment you
think is appropriate."  She trembled in a most charming manner.

"Good.  I'm going to remove those handcuffs, then I want you to assume
a kneeling position."  He moved easily behind her again and unlocked
the handcuffs, then stood back to give her room to move.

Jennifer knelt with the tops of her feet flat on the carpet and her
hands on her hips.  Her shoulders slouched forward revealing the fact
that she was self conscious about her breasts, which were still
adorned with the nipple clips and silver chain.  She was shivering
slightly in spite of the warmth from the nearby fireplace.

Cole spoke to her in his deep, forceful voice.  "Get your toes under
your feet, then sit on your heels.  That's right.  Now place your
hands on your thighs with your palms up.  Straighten your back.  Eyes
down."

With her back straight, her small breasts were proudly displayed.  Her
hips also had a more nicely rounded shape than Cole had expected.  He
used both hands to stroke her silky black hair and shape it into a
ponytail that draped down her back all the way to her waist.  Then he
massaged her shoulders for a few minutes to help establish a bond with
his delicate new playmate.

When she seemed more relaxed, he announced, "It's time for your
punishment now.  Hold still for me."  

He reached around and quickly removed both nipple clips.  Before she
could react, he grabbed her arms just above the elbows and held them
tightly behind her back.  Kneeling behind her, he couldn't see her
face, but he heard the sharp intake of breath, then an agonized scream
as the pain exploded in her suddenly released nipples.  She struggled
to tear her arms free so that she could cup her abused breasts with
her hands, but Cole held her in a vice-like grip. Monica, who was
watching from the sofa, was able to see Jennifer's tightly shut eyes
and wide open mouth.  

It took a few minutes for Jennifer to stop wailing and trying to pull
free.  Her extremely hard nipples were still throbbing painfully in
time with her rapid pulse.  

"If you can keep your hands at your sides, I'll let you go now, little
slave."

"OK, sir, I'm ready now."

She stayed there, kneeling on the carpet, looking down at her abused
flesh and savoring the submissive rush that washed over her.  In her
current state of mind, Cole could have done anything to her and she
sincerely hoped that he would.   

"The next phase of your punishment is also a test.  All you have to do
is hold still while I touch you.  Come over here and sit on my lap."

Cole moved to the sofa where Monica was sitting and sat down with a
few feet between them.  Then he motioned Jennifer to sit on his lap
facing him with her knees straddling his legs.  Her lovely little
breasts were directly in front of his face.  He could feel the warmth
emanating from between her legs, but he resisted the urge to touch her
there.  He ordered Jennifer to clasp her hands together behind her
back and hold as still as possible.

Delicately, using only the tips of his fingers, he slowly stroked
Jennifer's swollen and sensitive nipples.  The sudden sensation caused
her to jerk herself back.

"Monica, would you mind holding our little slave for me?  She isn't
very well trained yet, I'm afraid."

Monica rose and stood behind the little Eurasian woman, then she
seized Jennifer's arms and held them in a wristlock behind her head.
The restraint was as rigid as the strictest bondage.  Jennifer could
hardly move a millimeter.  She was barely able to look down and see
Cole's hands moving towards her breasts.  Whatever happened next was
inevitable and Jennifer felt a thrill of fear that seemed to be
centered deep in her womanhood.

Cole proceeded to stroke, pinch and suck her now super-responsive
nipples.  He enjoyed seeing her pretty little breasts bounce and
jiggle.  They looked like small ripe pears, waiting to be eaten.  All
Jennifer could do was tremble and gasp.  After a few minutes of this
pleasant sport, he put one hand down between her legs to check her
arousal status and found that her panties were soaked.

"My dear Assistant Trainer, please take our little slave into the
bedroom and give her a good flogging, then get her some dry panties.
We'll have a little break before we introduce her to domestic service
training."

Monica helped Jennifer into the bedroom and pushed her down onto the
bed.  Picking up the light suede flogger, she proceeded to lash her
submissive little friend over most of her body.  She took great
delight in ordering Jennifer to display her dainty round breasts to
the stinging leather instrument.  

When she had thoroughly covered Jennifer with the sensuous strokes,
she allowed her to use the bathroom for a few moments and drink some
cold water.  With fresh panties, a pink pair this time, she seemed
refreshed and ready to proceed.  She wanted to say something to Monica
that would convey how grateful she was for the chance to experience
this kind of submission, but she was afraid of spoiling the convincing
illusion that Monica was now her superior.

Once more in the living room, Jennifer was taught the proper way to
carry a tray and serve coffee or tea to her Master and his associates.
They started first with an empty tray and Cole coached her on the art
of moving gracefully.  It was different when you were naked, she
found.  

Next, she carried an old coffee mug on the tray and was told not to
let it slip off, even if someone touched her in a way that would
normally be offensive.  Unfortunately, the first time that Monica
pinched her sexy little bottom, Jennifer was startled into dropping
the tray, which landed on the carpet with a thud.  

Cole ordered her to bend over the back of the sofa with her hands on
the leather seat cushion, just as Monica had earlier.  With her nicely
feminine pink panties still on, she received three medium strokes of
the heavy leather strap.  The pain was intense, probably the worst she
had ever experienced, but she was able to hold her position.  She kept
her eyes closed for a moment after the last stroke and waited for the
fire in her buttocks to cool.  Then they continued her training.

The difficulty of the task was gradually increased.  More cups were
added to the tray. Monica took great delight in running her hand up
the inside of Jennifer's thigh when she least expected it.  She was
punished again, four strokes this time, for letting two of the cups
hit the floor.  

After more practice, water was poured into the cups and she learned
how to pour more liquid from a pot in a very elegant manner.  Jennifer
felt a great pride at being able to perform for her two trainers.
Twice more, she earned strokes of the punishment strap before Cole
declared that her household servant training was over for the day.

Jennifer was taken into the bedroom again.  This time she was
thoroughly bound with soft white rope in a hog tie position.  With her
wrists and ankles firmly attached to each other behind her back, she
was left on the soft bed to relax and think.  She struggled a bit
against the ropes, but it only intensified her feelings of sensual
restraint.  It was actually quite relaxing to lie there with nothing
to do, no decisions to make.  She did not sleep, but she fell into a
dreamy state where she imagined herself serving a harsh master who
wielded a nasty leather strap.  

It was now early evening and Monica fixed a quick dinner.  When she
and Cole were finished, they went to free Jennifer.  With an amazing
lack of stiffness from her bondage ordeal, she walked into the kitchen
expecting to sit at the table and eat.  Much to her surprise, Cole
produced a pet bowl filled with a sweet dry cereal and another filled
with milk.  Placing both bowls on the kitchen floor, he explained that
she was to eat and drink without using her hands.

He was impressed with her enthusiasm.  He had expected to restrain her
hands, but there was no need.  She ate her cereal and milk like a good
little pet.  Her pink panties and black hair made a nice color
combination with the pink and black pattern in the vinyl floor.  When
she was finished, he told her that they would be going to the dungeon.


"This will not to be a training session," he announced.  "It is a test
of your ability to allow yourself to be used sexually.  You must allow
yourself to be handled, hurt or used in any manner.  If you fail to
submit in any way, it will be noted on the evaluation that we are
preparing for Mr. Toriuchi.

In the dungeon, Jennifer was struck by the warmth and cozy feel of the
large room.  She recognized the smell of scented candles from her
previous visit.  She was ordered to sit on one end of the leather
massage table while various leather cuffs and straps were prepared.
Lying on her back, she waited calmly while her wrists were attached to
the far end of the table with leather cuffs and lengths of chain.

Cole picked up her legs and held them while Monica applied soft
leather ankle cuffs which were rapidly drawn apart and up toward the
ceiling with black nylon straps.  Jennifer watched as her legs were
spread wide, leaving only the soft pink panties to protect her most
private parts from public view.  Then a leather strap went around her
waist and she found herself firmly strapped down to the table.   Her
bottom was positioned right at the very end of the table so that she
hung over the edge slightly.  It did not seem like a coincidence.

Cole approached her with a pair of scissors and she hoped that he was
not as dangerous as he looked at that moment.  Moving slowly, he
slipped the scissors under the side panel of her panties and gradually
cut through the thin fabric.  One more cut and he was able to pull the
panties away, leaving her exposed to his lecherous gaze.

Jennifer's eyes widened in fear and anticipation as she looked at his
face between her widely separated knees.  She felt herself trembling
as an inner voice urged her to give up her body to the dominant man
who controlled her and was now in a position to do anything he wished.

"Nice bush," he said.  "Too bad it will have to go.  Mr. Toriuchi
likes all his slaves to be clean shaven."  He pulled on her pubic hair
just hard enough to hurt, then used it like handles to pull apart her
labia and inspect her pink inner flesh.

 "Monica, bring the shaving equipment.  I'd like you to take care of
this, please."

Jennifer could only lie there and experience the intense sensations.
First Monica placed a hot wet towel on Jennifer's pubic area.  After a
minute, it was almost too hot to stand.  Jennifer was breathing
rapidly in short gasps by the time the towel was removed and scented
shaving cream was applied to her body with a soft brush.  The heat had
not only softened the hair, it had also sensitized her genital area so
that every tiny touch caused a wave of erotic sensation to flow from
the site.

Cole stood beside Jennifer and slowly ran his hands over her torso as
if she were a beloved pet.  She found it very calming, which was
fortunate, considering what was next.

Monica produced a large shiny straight razor that would have
frightened a strong man and proceeded to carefully remove every last
one of Jennifer's pubic hairs, even a few that sprouted near her
little brown anus.  Each tiny scrape of the razor felt like it was
going straight to the pleasure centers of her brain.  The dual
sensations of fear and sexual arousal caused Jennifer to begin panting
and she stared straight up at the ceiling.  It took all of her
willpower to hold still, but it was essential to avoid a nasty cut.
She focused on the comforting feeling of being owned that was produced
by Cole's talented hands gently stroking her breasts and stomach.

When Monica was finished, she announced, "That's it Sir, she's
completely bare now."  

Cole explained to Jennifer what would happen next.  "You did very well
little slave, we're going to test your sexual responses now.  I'll be
noting everything for the final report that I'm preparing for Mr.
Toriuchi.  Just relax and let yourself react in the most natural
possible manner."

He instructed Monica to perform cunnilingus on Jennifer's now
completely exposed cunt.  Monica brought a chair up to the end of the
table so she could sit with her face in the perfect position between
Jennifer's helplessly spread legs that were still firmly attached to
the ceiling.  Cole specified that all stimulation was to be external,
nothing inside the vagina without his approval.

Cole made notes on a clipboard and occasionally checked Jennifer's
feet to see if her circulation was adequate.  It was hard to ignore
how pretty her shaved cunt looked, but he played the role of the
detached observer perfectly.

Jennifer felt a strangely erotic sensation, as if she had been reduced
to a simple sex object and was no longer a free woman who was
responsible for her own feelings and actions.  At the same time, she
felt her inhibitions slipping away.  Since she had given up control to
someone else, she was now free to fully experience sexual stimulation
and arousal.

After a few minutes of sensual explorations, Monica's talented tongue
found Jennifer's clitoris and began to stroke it ever so gently.   She
stopped after a short time and used her fingers to massage and pinch
Jennifer's plump outer labia.  Returning to the hard clit, Monica
again used the gentle little licks that brought her victim close to
coming.

Cole noticed Jennifer's fast breathing and dilated pupils.  "Stop!" he
ordered.  "Use the towel now Monica."

Monica suddenly placed a very cold wet towel on Jennifer's overheated
cunt.  A sudden scream of shock and disappointment tore through the
room, then died away, as Jennifer's orgasm died before it could
blossom.  Cole made some more notes on his clipboard then instructed
Monica to begin again.

The insistent tongue started with the inner labia and very, very
slowly worked its way back to Jennifer's unfairly treated clit.
Monica was having a great time tormenting her girlfriend.  Having
Jennifer's pretty cunt all to herself was like a dream come true, but
her own orgasm was going to build soon and she wasn't sure how much
longer she could continue.

Cole stroked Jennifer's chest and gently pulled and pinched her
nipples, which brought a nice reaction from the aroused woman.  He
made sure that she was looking his way before writing some more notes.
He spoke as if to himself, "Grade three nipple response, very nice."

After about ten minutes, she was again building up to an orgasm.  Cole
let her get just a little bit closer than the last time before
ordering Monica to apply the cold towel and bring the process to an
icy halt.  Jennifer screamed again, this time more in frustration than
shock.

The entire process was repeated a third time and Jennifer was begging
for release.  She was totally into her role as the
slavegirl-in-training.  "Please Sir, I have to come!"  she cried.

Cole answered in a firm voice, "You insolent slut!  You've been doing
well until now.  Remember, you weren't supposed to speak.  You'll have
to be punished before we can proceed."

He picked up a light rattan cane, then pulled Jennifer's shapely
little hips another inch farther down, so that her ass was hanging
completely off the padded table.  "You'll receive six strokes for
disobedience.  Don't let it happen again."  The first stroke across
her stretched buttocks burned like a hot poker applied to her sensual
light brown skin.  As he applied each stroke with equal force, she
felt the pain spread through her entire pelvic area, then it slowly
faded to a warm comforting sensation.  She was a bit surprised to see
that the warmth was rekindling her arousal.

Cole noticed the increased wetness forming on her beautiful cuntlips.
With her legs held so far open, there was no way she could hide it.
"Now that we've taken care of that little business, you'll be happy to
know that your next test involves penetration by a man."

Jennifer immediately started breathing more deeply as she imagined
what it would feel like.  Monica had told her that Howard was large,
but she remembered that she had been given no promise of sex.  Perhaps
this would be another one of their frustrating tricks to test her
responses.

Cole removed his pants and ordered, "get me hard, Monica"  He tried
not to think of her as his lover and friend, but as a slave and
Assistant Trainer.  It did not take long to create a large erection.
Monica's oral talents were considerable and her extreme state of
arousal lent an added urgency to her efforts.

Jennifer was able to watch the process by turning her head and she was
certainly impressed.  The Trainer's organ was of average length, but
considerably thicker than any of the men she had been with before.
She wondered if it would hurt.  The thought made her shiver and
lubricate even more.  Her cunt seemed to be throbbing in anticipation.

Monica tore open a foil packet and slid a condom onto her lover's
manhood.  Her own cunt was dripping freely now as she thought about
what Jennifer was obviously feeling.  Sharing this kind of erotic game
with a third person was proving to be very exciting and Monica hoped
it would go on a long time.

Cole stood at the end of the table between Jennifer's widely separated
legs.  He allowed his stiff latex clad cock to lightly brush her
labia, then slowly forced it into her tight passage.  It was hard to
tell if her natural lubrication would be enough.  She was extremely
tight and Cole suspected that she hadn't had sex in a very long time.
Eventually, he did reach full penetration and started stroking slowly
in and out.  Her swollen cunt lips seemed to grip his cock at the
farthest point of withdrawal and pull it back inside.  He was careful
not to make contact with her clit.  He didn't want her coming just
yet.  His own orgasm was not far off, so after a minute or two of
enjoying the tight pressure, he withdrew from her greedy little cunt
mouth.

Jennifer cried out at the unfairness of it all.  Cole ordered Monica
to stand between Jennifer's legs and bend forward so he could enter
her from behind.  Stripping off the condom, he plunged into Monica's
well lubricated pussy.  The stimulation of his naked cock was so good
as he thrust in and out with his muscular hips that he knew he could
only last a short time.  Monica was bending forward with her mouth
close to Jennifer's breasts, so she began to lick and suck the already
highly aroused nipples that were so conveniently presented to her.
Cole reached around to squeeze Monica's lovely tits, which combined
with her already high level of arousal to trigger her climax causing
her to breath in short, hard puffs and thrust her ass back against
him.  She was not even aware that she was biting and sucking
Jennifer's left breast.

As Jennifer moaned in agonizing frustration, Cole felt himself spurt
hot jism deep into his beloved Monica.  He groaned and strained
against her for what seemed like an eternity.  As the overwhelming
sensation faded, he collapsed forward and pinned Monica down with his
hard cock still inside her.  For a moment, they ignored Jennifer while
they recovered from their intense orgasms.  

Slowly straightening up, they moved away and sank to the floor in each
other's arms.  Lying on a black quilt and a pile of pillows, they held
each other for a long time before they were ready to deal with
Jennifer again.  It had been one of the hottest sexual experiences of
their entire relationship.

After a time, they released Jennifer from bondage on the table and
reminded her that she was still a slave-in-training until Noon
tomorrow.  "Perhaps if you're a really good slave, we'll let you come
in the morning," Monica teased.

Although it was only nine o'clock, they decided to head for the master
bedroom and make an early night of it.  They were all completely
naked, except that Cole still wore his black T-shirt.  Before
stumbling into bed, Cole and Monica put another set of wrist and ankle
cuffs on Jennifer and ordered her to lie on the floor at the foot of
their bed.  They connected the two ankle cuffs to each other, then
fastened the two wrist cuffs to a length of chain that was attached
solidly to the lower corner of the elaborate modern bed frame.

Jennifer was left bound and naked on the carpeted floor, feeling
somewhat sorry for herself.  They covered her with a thick soft
blanket and climbed into the big bed.  The snuggling went on for some
time, interspersed with giggling and wrestling.  At one point Monica
said, "Maybe we should call her Kitten.  She's such a cute little
pet."

Cole responded, "Kitten it is.  Maybe the mysterious Mr. Toriuchi will
let us keep her. In the morning, lets make her come.  If she's good,
that is."

Jennifer experienced an odd sensation.  Instead of being angry or
frustrated, she felt as if she belonged.  It was pleasantly warm under
the blanket and she drifted off to sleep feeling like someone truly
cared for her and understood her need to serve.  It was impossible to
masturbate effectively without the use of her hands, so she decided to
simply go to sleep.  The possibility of an orgasm in the morning kept
her aroused and she dreamed repeatedly of being taken by an assortment
of strong, dominant men.

Cole awakened first and got out of bed right away to head for the
bathroom and see to his morning preparations.  A hot shower worked
wonders.  When he was fully dressed, he woke Monica and waited until
he was sure she was fully awake before he went off to fix breakfast.

Monica waited a minute to collect her thoughts, then got out of bed
and went directly to the sleeping Jennifer.  "Wake up Kitten.  You
sexy little slave girl.  You still belong to us for another four
hours.  Get up and come into the shower with me."

Monica unfastened the restraints and Jennifer reached up for a hug.
They held each other for a minute, then Monica pulled her into the
bathroom.  Both women got into the large shower stall and Monica
adjusted the water to a nice steaming temperature.  She ordered
Jennifer to perform the servant's task of washing the Mistress.
Jennifer loved soaping and fondling Monica's breasts the most.  They
seemed so large and sexy compared to her own.  When Monica was clean,
she did the same for Jennifer, ordering her to assume various
humiliating positions and not allowing her to move when her sensitive
parts were pinched and spanked.  

They were both terribly horny by the time they went into the kitchen
where Cole had prepared perfect blueberry pancakes.  Monica was
wearing a red velvet robe and Jennifer was allowed only a pair of
skimpy black panties to hide her shaved pubis.  Everyone noticed that
Jennifer's nipples were hard in spite of the warm air in the house. 

Jennifer was ordered to sit at the table and her hands were restrained
behind the chair.  Cole and Monica took turns feeding her from their
plates as if she were their special pet.  Occasionally, when the urge
struck, they would stroke her hair or breasts.

After a satisfying breakfast, Monica and Cole retired to the living
room while Jennifer silently took care of the breakfast dishes.  She
didn't mind a bit.  In fact, she relished the chance to serve in a
useful way instead of simply soaking up erotic energy from her
dominant playmates.  When she was finished, she joined them in the
living room, sitting down on the floor like a well mannered puppy.

Cole told Jennifer to kneel on the floor in front of him and he
massaged the back of her neck rather forcefully with his right hand
and reached around with his left to caress her breasts.  This had the
effect of intensifying her submissive feelings and in a few minutes,
she was ready to do whatever he asked of her.  From the corner of his
eye, he noticed that Monica had slipped her hand inside her robe and
was apparently stroking herself surreptitiously.

"Time to take our little pet into the dungeon. I think I know what she
needs," he said with a knowing smile.  This was not a moment too soon
for either of the women who were both feeling almost irritable from
their intense sexual need.

Cole placed a narrow leather collar on Jennifer's small sensuous neck,
then attached a leather leash and led her down to the dungeon with
Monica following.  He turned on the spotlights that illuminated the
center part of the room and guided Jennifer under the lights.
Unsnapping the leash from her collar, he moved back to look at her and
plan his next move.

"Place your hands on the back of your neck, keep your chin up and your
eyes down," he ordered.  He studied her form, taking in the beautiful
long hair and the delicate jawline which was nicely set off by the
black collar.  The strong lights accented her exotic features and
petite, but nicely rounded figure.  Monica moved against him and he
could hear that she was already breathing a bit harder than she should
be as she also studied their sexy friend.  

Jennifer felt like she was in a dream.  She hadn't spoken a word since
the night before.  The delicious torment of being stimulated, then
forbidden to climax left her in an almost impenetrable mental haze.
All her submissive fantasies seemed to lead up to this moment.
Standing before her dominant friends in a collar and black panties
seemed the most natural thing in the world.  Her posture invited them
to use her in any way that they wished.

"Monica, go kneel in front of our little pet and pull down her panties
very slowly."

Jennifer shivered when she heard the order.  She was already looking
down, past her own swollen nipples.  She saw Monica take her assigned
station before her and reach up to stroke the lovely dark skin above
the black panties.  Jennifer struggled to keep her hands on her neck
as she felt the delicate fingers hook into the waistband and start the
panties inexorably on their way down.   She closed her eyes as the
panties descended past her bare pubis and small, shapely bottom.  

Cole noticed that both women had their mouths open and their eyes
closed.  He simply waited and enjoyed the show as Monica slid the
panties down ever so slowly.  When the panties reached the floor.
Monica said, "step out of them Kitten."  Then she placed a soft kiss
just above Jennifer's throbbing clitoris.

He spoke in a deep, official sounding voice, "OK ladies, it's time for
our little slave-girl-in-training to undergo the final test.  We need
to determine how many orgasms she is capable of having.  She needs to
be blindfolded please, Monica.  Then bring her over to the sling."

Jennifer could see the black leather sling attached to the ceiling in
one corner of the room.  The thought of being suspended there
helplessly while she was used made the slick moisture gather on her
delicate cuntlips which had been tingling insistently for hours.  When
the padded black leather blindfold was held in place by its elastic
band, she was no longer sure who was touching her.  Someone helped her
onto the leather sling and lifted her legs so that leather cuffs could
be placed around her ankles to keep her legs inalterably raised and
spread as widely as possible.

Cole placed a pair of leather cuffs on her wrists, then tenderly
maneuvered her arms behind her back beneath the sling.  When the cuffs
were clipped together and attached to the underside of the sling for
support, Jennifer had lost all freedom of movement.  Her shaved
pudenda was displayed in an obscenely open fashion.  Anyone could see
that her damp, quivering vagina was begging for penetration and
release.  

At a nearby table, Monica was preparing the instruments of torture, or
perhaps pleasure.  Her own latex gloved hands were trembling slightly
with arousal, but she completed her task swiftly.  She brought a chair
up to the sling, sat down and kissed Jennifer's cunt as if to say
hello.  Then taking a small quantity of jelly-like lubricant, she
delicately began a circular massage of Jennifer's tight brown anus.  

Cole massaged Jennifer's breasts and stroked her firm belly with his
fingertips as he watched the intimate proceedings below.  Jennifer was
trembling and jerking slightly from the stimulation.  If she had been
capable of  rational thought at this point, she would have felt a
lubricated finger enter her virgin ass to prepare it for further
invasion.  

After taking a long time with the lubrication, Monica guided a thin
white vibrator with a small T-handle slowly into Jennifer's bottom
hole.  A wire led to a battery box on the floor.  Then she stood up
and strapped on a double dildo that she had recently purchased.  The
two identical pink cocks were made of realistically stiff silicone.
With one thick plastic cock lodged inside her and her hands shaking
from the wanton lust, it was all she could do to unroll a condom on
the artificial phallus that now protruded from her crotch at a
realistic masculine angle.  Monica felt her vaginal muscles beginning
to squeeze the dildo in a rhythmic pattern.  She had to take a deep
breath and calm herself before turning her attention to Jennifer.

Squatting before the helpless victim, Monica began to lick and nibble
at Jennifer's extremely sensitive labia.  There was no shortage of
natural lubrication.  In fact, it was starting to flow everywhere.
Cole moved to avoid a potential safety hazard by placing a thick towel
on the hardwood floor below the sling.

Within a few minutes the normally shy and reserved Jennifer was
screaming to be fucked.  So much for her slave training, Cole thought
with a big grin.  He noticed that Monica was not making contact with
Jennifer's clitoris and Jennifer was desperately trying to thrust her
hips forward to find the stimulation she craved.  Eventually, Monica
gave in and thrust the big dildo slowly into Jennifer's wide open
cunt.  Reaching out with her foot, Monica pressed the switch that
activated the anal vibrator.

Jennifer started coming immediately, with loud grunts and fierce
muscular contractions that involved her entire body.  Cole tried to
count the orgasms, but it was a hopeless cause.  Monica was able to
keep thrusting the dildo into her little friend as she came herself in
a long series of satisfying climaxes.  When she could no longer stand
up on her own, she reached up to grasp the two chains that supported
the end of the sling and hung there, totally spent.  Without the
vigorous thrusting of the thick dildo, Jennifer's amazing convulsive
performance started to diminish.

At that moment, Cole slipped a large bullet shaped vibrator from his
pocket, switched it on and applied it directly to Jennifer's swollen,
but until now ignored, clitoris.   Gasping for breath, she started
climaxing again, almost shaking Monica loose from where she was
hanging onto the chains.  The double dildo she shared with Jennifer
held her up by her cunt.  Now Monica was on the receiving end of the
powerful phallic thrusts and she was forced into another orgasm
herself.

Eventually, they managed to separate themselves and Cole unfastened
Jennifer while Monica lay face down on the floor, barely breathing.
He lifted Jennifer's light body and carried her over to the futon bed
where he covered her with a blanket.  He managed to slide a pillow
under Monica's head and cover her with a quilt before slipping out of
the room.  

It was over two hours before the women staggered upstairs, wrapped in
robes, to find Cole typing intently at his computer.  He looked up
grinning from ear to ear, "Scene's over ladies.  Everyone's back in
normal headspace I hope.  Any ill effects?"

They were obviously in good condition, because they proceeded to hug
and kiss him without mercy.  "Howard!  How do you manage to do that to
us?" Monica exclaimed. 

"I don't think I'll need sex for a month," observed Jennifer.  Then
she added with a shy smile, "Can we do this again?"

"Sure, Kitten," Cole said.   "You're our little pet now.  I'm sure we
can arrange something when everyone is in the mood again."

The two women went off to the living room to chat about their
experience and what they wanted to do next time.  Jennifer admitted
her feeling of envy that Monica had found the perfect dominant man for
herself.  She knew that she would never be that lucky.  At noon, they
all got into the Mercedes and took Jennifer home.  She stood on the
sidewalk for a long time, waving as they disappeared into the heart of
Seattle.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Their play date with Jennifer had several effects on Cole and Monica.
The first was an increase in libido, which kept them extremely active
in the bedroom.  The second was a realization that dominance and
submission was truly the key to their sexuality.  Monica's inability
to feel submissive was rapidly becoming a crisis.  Something vitally
important was missing from her life.  She envied Jennifer's ability to
submit and experience the erotic depths that Monica could only
remember now from her past.

Cole could feel her deep distress and was somewhat disturbed himself,
since the play with Jennifer had reminded him of his need for sexual
dominance.  His love for Monica, however, was not in question.  They
had bonded with each other in a way that was more important than their
sexual preferences.

As Fall turned into Winter, they fell into a routine of leaving for
work at the same time and coming home to each other every evening.
With access to a large kitchen, Monica developed her natural cooking
skills and prepared healthy gourmet dinners on nights when they
weren't going out to foreign films and unusual restaurants.  She
joined the same athletic club where Cole worked out and continued to
maintain her devastating figure.

Monica continued her friendship with Jennifer, who would occasionally
join them for dinner at home or in the city.  Unfortunately, Monica
began to feel a bit threatened by Jennifer, who had reminded Cole of
how much he desired dominant sexual play.  No further play dates were
scheduled, but the idea was left open for possible future discussion.

They continued to discuss ways to help Monica regain her
submissiveness.  In early December, they found out about an SM play
party that was going to be held on New Year's Eve.  This was to be a
pan-sexual event and about one hundred and fifty tickets were
available.  Monica had never been to a pan-sexual play party and was
immediately curious.  Her reassuring experience at the meeting of the
local SM club made her feel better about attending kinky public
events.  They decided that exposure to a group of happy, playful
sadomasochists certainly couldn't hurt Monica's chances for recovery.

A few days after hearing about the party, Cole had a long lunch with a
dominant friend who was currently without a partner.   They met in an
Italian restaurant that was an old favorite for them both.  Jason
Lederman was a 32 year old CPA who had been active in the Seattle
scene since the time that Cole was heavily involved.  He was medium
height with a slender build and long prematurely gray hair that women
loved.  At play parties, he needed only to wear his sexy black leather
outfit and he would be deluged with play offers from numerous women
and several men. 

Jason explained that he was tired of the musical partner game that was
standard in the scene.  He estimated that he had averaged one serious
partner every six months for the past five years. He was ready to
settle down with one woman and was even ready to consider marriage.
Unfortunately, after playing with some of Seattle's most desirable
kinky women, his tastes had become somewhat jaded.  

With the aid of a nice bottle of Chianti and plates of excellent
Tagliatelle alla Bolognese, they analyzed Jason's past partners and
constructed an imaginary woman who would fill his needs.  As they went
along, Jason wrote down the list of characteristics on a paper napkin.


She needed to be reasonably intelligent and physically attractive.  In
fact, she had to be drop dead gorgeous.  Hair color was not important.
He liked petite women with long hair and a nice tan or a naturally
dark complexion.  Most of all, she had to be sexually submissive.  It
would be nice if she were already in the scene, but Jason was sure he
had checked out every eligible woman in the Seattle scene as well as
in Portland and Vancouver, BC.  

Holding up his wineglass and looking through the ruby liquid, Cole
decided that Jennifer might be just the person that Jason was looking
for.

"Jason, I think I might be able to help, but it's going to cost you."

"Tell me what it's going to cost me first.  I know better than to
trust a lawyer," Jason said, grinning broadly.

"Here's the deal.  I'll introduce you to someone who meets the
description that you have written on that napkin.  If you hit it off
and stay together for a month, then you buy us both front row tickets
to a Sonic's game and all the beer we can drink.  How does that
sound?"

"You gotta deal, shyster.  When do I meet Miss Perfect?"

"Not so fast, bean counter.  You need to get to know her a little
first.  Why don't I give her your email address and you can see if
you're compatible first?  If you decide to meet each other, Monica and
I will act as chaperones so that Miss Perfect will feel safe."

They shook hands to seal their agreement and they both went back to
work.  Cole wasn't able to accomplish anything useful after drinking
three glasses of wine, so he went home an hour early to relax and wait
for Monica.  He was quite pleased with himself.  As much as they both
liked Jennifer, she needed more time and attention than they were able
to give.  He wanted more time to devote to his relationship with
Monica.  If Jennifer and Jason's relationship flourished, they would
make an excellent pair of kinky couple-friends to go out with or stay
in with.

When Monica arrived at home, carrying two large bags of groceries, he
explained his plan for Jason and Jennifer.  She thought it sounded
promising enough to contact Jennifer, so they wrote her an email which
included Cole's glowing description of Jason and his dominant talents.
They sent it to Jennifer and logged off to pursue their usual evening
activities, dinner and sex.

Monica went to the kitchen and prepared an elaborate Mexican dinner
that filled the house with the wonderful spicy smells of cumin and
cilantro.  Later, in bed, Monica struggled to let her submissiveness
return, but again she failed.  Instead of having sex, they lay
together in bed and snuggled quietly until she fell asleep.  Cole
played with her beautiful brown hair and ran his hand along her warm
curves until sleep overcame him too.

Jennifer and Jason warmed up to each other immediately.  They traded
D/S fantasy stories and talked about their ideal relationship in a
veritable flood of email.  Within a week they knew they had to meet.
Monica was getting frequent updates from Jennifer and Cole was kept
informed by Jason.  It was Monica's idea for the two potential lovers
to meet for the first time at the New Year's Eve party.  Fortunately,
Jason had purchased a pair of tickets when they first went on sale, so
he had an extra one for Jennifer.

Cole and Monica concocted a plan to present Jennifer to her new friend
in the most dramatic way.  Jennifer would attend the party as their
submissive.  At the height of the party, she would be handed over to
Jason who would no doubt be in his most dominant headspace.  They
decided to keep a few small details from Jennifer to heighten the
dramatic effect.

Hearing of the plan from Monica, Jennifer responded, "Oh, man.  That's
so hot!  You got the idea from that fantasy I told you about last
year, didn't you?"

"Mmm... maybe," Monica grinned slyly, "You'll do it then?"

"You knew I would, Monica.  How could I resist?" she asked
emphatically.

On New Year's Eve, Cole and Monica picked up Jennifer at her place and
drove through the dark Seattle streets to the site of the party.  Cole
was dressed in a black tuxedo with black tie that he traditionally
wore on New Year's Eve.  Somehow, it seemed quite appropriate at play
parties.  Monica was wearing a black leather jacket over a black
corset, black stockings and four inch black heels.  Cole's silver
police handcuffs dangled at her waist.  She was sending an obvious
message that she was dominant, at least tonight.

Jennifer was wearing a long black trench coat which concealed the fact
that beneath it, she was wearing only her sexiest lingerie, a leather
collar and a pair of bright red pumps with three inch heels.

The party was held in a building that was owned by a Swinger's club
and rented to an SM group for large play parties.  Entering the
reception area, they showed their tickets and signed a waiver which
indicated their understanding of the safety rules.  A woman wearing a
red sash was introduced as one of the dungeon monitors who made sure
that all participants obeyed the rules.  Just inside the inner door,
Cole snapped a leash onto Jennifer's collar and led her into the party
area with Monica following.  They had chosen to arrive after nine
o'clock, so the building was already crowded with people in various
stages of undress.  Some were already playing and some were talking
intently with each other, apparently negotiating a scene to come.  It
was usually easy to tell who was the Top and who was the bottom by how
they dressed, but in some cases there was no way to tell.

There were three large rooms with various types of nightclub decor.
One room had pool tables that had been covered with plywood sheets to
create bondage tables and another room offered an open dance floor
that was used for free standing bondage furniture or suspension from
the high ceiling.

Since Cole had been to several parties here before, he showed them
around, guiding the collared and leashed Jennifer in a dominant
manner.  She wasn't saying much, just looking around curiously and
Cole could tell she was already in a mild subspace.  

Monica felt slightly ill at ease seeing Cole in control of Jennifer.
However, she knew it had been her own choice to decline his offer to
play as a couple and attend dressed as a dominant.  Several people
waved at him and came over to introduce themselves to the two women
who were unknown to most of the kinky folk.  Jennifer, who had been
forbidden to speak, was introduced simply as "Number Fourteen".  

Monica was amazed at how many people seemed to know Howard.  Some of
the women spoke fondly of times past when he had played with them.
The former playmates, who were generally quite attractive, seemed just
a bit intimidated by the two ladies who accompanied him tonight. 

Observing the crowd, Monica realized that she and Jennifer were
attracting a lot of attention.  People were sizing them up, wondering
what sort of performance they might be planning and trying to decide
if it would be worth changing their plans to watch it.  She was also
aware of a special kind of social energy that seemed to pervade the
group.  It was a feeling of acceptance and approval of each person's
unique sexuality.  Here, in this place, they could be themselves and
enjoy their sexual fantasies that were not acceptable in society as a
whole.  She felt herself relax and join with the group as she reached
out to hold Cole's arm.

Speaking up over the sound of some odd electronic music, he explained
some scenes that were already in full swing.  On a plywood sheet atop
a pool table, a naked, dark haired woman was bound in a spread eagle
position.  Her Top was a muscular shirtless man clad in work boots and
blue jeans, wearing a welder's leather cap and dark protective
goggles.  In his hand was a device that Cole described as a Violet
Wand, which produced a dramatic purple light inside a six inch glass
tube that was bent in a right angle like an arc welding gun.  The man
moved the bright buzzing rod close to his partner's body.  From the
end of the glass tube a bright electrical discharge jumped the short
gap to the woman's left hip bone.  She reacted with a happy writhing
and moaning and her Top proceeded to apply the delicious torment to
various areas of her attractive body, gradually working his way closer
to her genitals.

Cole explained the principles.  "The Violet Wand produces only
harmless static electricity.  It's completely safe as long as you keep
it moving to avoid overheating a single spot on the skin.  It was
invented originally as a magic cure-all device for sale by medical
charlatans.  Some people love it as an SM toy.  It creates a mildly
painful tingling sensation."

Looking around the room, Cole pointed out several men and a few women
who seemed to be acting simply as voyeurs.  They usually weren't
dressed as provocatively as the players and most had no partner.  

Monica asked,  "Why are they allowed to attend a play party if they
don't intend to play?" 

"That's easy", he said.  "Many, if not most, of the players here
tonight are exhibitionists.  In order for them to have a good time,
someone has to be watching.  Since the players are often busy with
their own scenes, there could be a problem finding someone to watch.
Therefore, it's helpful to have some people who are dedicated
watchers." 

It was a perfect symbiosis and she appreciated the elegance of the
solution immediately.

As they moved from room to room, Monica found the number and variety
of kinky scenes fascinating.  There was a naked man on his knees, tied
to a wrought iron stair railing, being flogged by his mistress who was
dressed in a dramatic red leather jumpsuit.  In another area, a group
of women were carving elaborate designs into each other's skin under
reasonably sterile surgical conditions.

Next she noticed another bound man in a woodland camouflage uniform
who was blindfolded with what looked like a green military scarf.  He
had his very large cock hanging out through the open fly of his pants.
His male Top had tied him with his back to a structural support post
and placed a clear plastic cylinder with a thin rubber end cap around
his erect organ.  The Top was industriously pumping out the air from
the cylinder with a small hand pump, which was causing the bound man's
shaft to expand into the vacuum.  The victim was obviously in some
emotional distress.  He had been told that his penis would explode if
the vacuum was made too strong.  Monica could not hear what they were
saying, but it appeared to be an interrogation scene.

After several minutes of pumping and verbal threats, the Top suddenly
punctured the rubber disk in the end of the tube, which produced a
loud bang and a shock to the suffering bottom's quivering shaft.
Monica was startled by his blood curdling scream, but was relieved to
see that his beautiful long cock was undamaged.  The crowd that had
gathered around the scene broke into applause and the Top untied his
happy bottom.

Moving into another room they watched for a while as an attractive
blonde woman was strapped to what looked like an electric chair.  Her
male partner hooked evil looking electrical devices to her breasts and
genitals as if she were going to be executed.  Again Cole had to
explain that the devices were quite safe.  The voltage and frequency
of the electrical impulses had been carefully selected for safety.
The degree of stimulation could be varied from a mild buzz to a
moderately painful shock.  At the moment of her mock execution, the
woman appeared to have an intense orgasm which suitably impressed the
spectators.

Amidst the dramatic scenes, Monica noticed a heterosexual couple that
seemed a bit familiar.  They didn't quite fit in with the other SM
players, she thought.  Instead of trying to impress the other
partygoers, they appeared to be completely wrapped up in each other.
The dominant male was dressed in black leather and the very slim woman
was wearing what could only be called a slave girl costume.   Although
they were not engaged in any flamboyant activities at the moment,
there was something special about the way they acted with each other.
It was visible in their body language.

Monica moved closer to the couple until she suddenly realized that she
had seen them before.  Their names were Michael and dina.  They were
the couple who had hosted the only other play party that Monica had
ever attended.  Her curiosity satisfied for the moment, she turned
around to find Cole and Jennifer in the crowd.

Monica followed as Cole led the leashed Jennifer into the room with
the large dance floor.  It strongly resembled a seventies disco, with
a rotating mirrored ball, mirrors along one wall and a booth for a
disk jockey.  The ceilings must have been over twelve feet high,
Monica guessed.

Cole had picked out a spot where he wanted to stage the planned scene
where Jennifer and Jason were to see each other for the first time.
Unfortunately that end of the large room had been completely occupied
by a large, bulky fellow who had rigged an elaborate system of
climbing ropes to suspend his charming red haired girlfriend.  Cole
did not know the man personally, but had been told that he was an
ego-dom from Portland who tended to monopolize the play space and
alienate the other players.

They waited while the man whipped his slightly built partner into a
screaming frenzy, then released her with lots of hugs and giggling.
When the ropes had been moved, Cole slid a large, sturdy table into
one corner of the room and asked Monica and Jennifer to wait there
while he went to talk to some friends.  The plan was for Jennifer to
be sold as a slave to the highest bidder.  Cole gave several of his
friends chocolate coins covered in gold foil, but made sure to reserve
enough for Jason to outbid all the other buyers.  Jennifer was the
only one who did not know that the bidding was rigged.

He met Jason in another room and gave him a brown suede bag filled
with the shiny chocolate coins.  Jason, who had never actually seen
Jennifer, was wearing his full leathers, including boots and a small
whip hanging from his belt.   His leather jacket was unzipped to show
off his flat stomach and his muscular chest covered with an even layer
of sexy gray hair.  He waited while Cole returned to the room where
the women were waiting.  

Under Cole's direction, Jennifer pulled her arms inside the trench
coat and held them out to allow Monica to place small leather cuffs on
her tiny wrists.  Both women climbed up onto the table and Monica
reached up for a thin cord that went through an eye bolt in a beam
along the high ceiling.  On the end of the cord was a small snap link,
which she used to secure the wrist cuffs together.  Then she buttoned
the trench coat, skipping one button at waist level to leave an
opening for Jennifer's hands.

Standing on the table with Monica behind her, Jennifer was in a truly
altered state of mind.  The thought of being sold to the highest
bidder was making her feel incredibly submissive and terribly horny.
She was already getting wet and she was glad her black high cut
panties would not show a wet spot.  There seemed to be a real
possibility that she might faint or that she might have an orgasm in
front of the crowd that was now starting to gather in the large room.
The cord attached to her leather wrist cuffs prevented her from
lowering her hands below waist level.  She appreciated that now, since
it prevented her from giving in to a strong urge to touch herself.
The sleeves of the trench coat hung limp at her sides, making the
garment resemble a gray cape.

Jennifer noticed Cole return from his mysterious errand, making his
way through a crowd of curious onlookers that now numbered at least
forty people.  There were only one or two familiar faces that she
recognized from meetings of the BDSM club.  The rest were total
strangers and she would soon be exposed before them.  She had agreed
to be sold to the highest bidder in an auction for a local AIDs
charity, but she still did not understand how Cole could be certain
that the successful buyer would be her email friend, Jason.  

She wished now that she had asked Cole and Monica for more specific
details.  Unfortunately, there was no way she could back out now
without great loss of face.  Even if she could find a graceful way to
escape, her submissive mind set at this moment would not permit it.

Cole stood in front of the table and faced the crowd.  "Ladies,
Gentlemen and Others, as you may have heard, we are conducting a slave
auction tonight.  Payment will only be accepted in the form of gold
coins, so those of you who are not carrying any gold this evening will
not be allowed to bid."

He motioned toward the two women on the table,  "May I present my
lovely assistant Mistress Monica?"  Monica simply nodded her head in a
serious manner and began running her hands along Jennifer's shiny
black hair.  This displayed the beautiful hair to the crowd while
simultaneously having a calming effect on the nervous Jennifer.

"And of course, our lovely offering, who is known simply as Number
Fourteen.  Since her capture three months ago, she has been partially
trained by experts in the field.  She will not be permitted to speak
during the auction.  Whoever buys her will have a very lovely slave
for as long as they wish to keep her."  

A few people standing in the rear chanted briefly, "Fourteen,
Fourteen, Fourteen."

"Who would like to start the bidding?"

A mild mannered gentleman with a large belly and gray beard shouted,
"I bid one gold coin!", he held up one of the gilded chocolate coins.

"Thank you, Tom," said Cole, pointing his finger at Jennifer.  Monica
saw the hand signal from Cole and unfastened the lowest button on
Jennifer's black trench coat.  

In the front row of the crowd, muscular woman with a crew cut,
wearing a tuxedo held up her hand and announced, "I bid two gold
coins!"  Monica unfastened the next button.

The three remaining buttons surrendered one by one as the bids climbed
higher.  Then a slim woman with waist length black hair, wearing a
mesh body suit called out, "I'll bid six gold coins if we can see what
she looks like under that coat."

Jennifer closed her eyes and shivered in anticipation for a few
seconds before Monica finally pulled away the long coat with a
matador's flourish.  Cole had moved over to the wall, where he held in
his hand the heavy cord that led up to the eyebolt in the ceiling.
Pulling on the cord caused Jennifer's hands to be hoisted up above her
head, nicely displaying her petite body clad only in red shoes, black
bra and panties.  Below her deeply defined ribs, on her concave, light
brown stomach, in black letters three inches tall, was the inscription
"14".

The crowd seemed nearly out of control as some applauded, some
whistled and others began fondling themselves or their partners.
Jennifer opened her eyes and searched the crowd desperately for anyone
who met the description of Jason.  Things did not seem to be going
quite the way she had imagined.  They are taking this a bit too
seriously, she thought.  The rough animal energy of the crowd added to
her own nervous exhilaration.

When the bid reached eight gold coins, Monica started snipping
Jennifer's bra straps with a large pair of scissors.  At ten, the bra
was pulled away to reveal her delicate little breasts with nipples
already hard from the almost unbearable excitement.

The crowd quieted a bit as a man stepped forward.  He simply looked at
Jennifer and said nothing.  She realized that the handsome face, long
silver hair and black leather outfit could only belong to Jason.  She
found him so attractive that she immediately felt a strong heat inside
her slender body.  There was a rush of weakness and she had to let the
wrists cuffs take part of her weight for a moment.  

Monica chose that instant to begin planting several firm slaps on
Jennifer's shapely buttocks, which were almost completely exposed by
her high cut panties.  The sharp cracks of hard palm meeting firm ass
startled the crowd and they were briefly quiet.

Cole looked over the crowd and said, "I think it would be worth eleven
gold coins just to see what Number Fourteen looks like without those
sexy black panties, don't you?"

Jennifer stared directly at Jason and stood up as straight as she
could while thrusting out her breasts and cocking her hips at a sexy
angle.  She was worried by his lack of bidding and thought that
perhaps something had gone wrong.  If the bidding went no higher, she
would go to the last bidder, who was the muscular woman with short
hair.  Jennifer felt a rush of hope when she noticed that the woman
had unwrapped one of her gold coins and was eating the chocolate.  She
must not be a serious bidder after all.  In fact, the coins weren't
even real!  Howard must have arranged this whole thing, she thought.

Jason looked at Cole and said in an actor's stage voice, "I have
fifteen gold coins.  Expose the wench completely and I'll consider
raising the bid to fifteen."  The audience was totally silent.

Monica put her hands on Jennifer's hips from behind and slipped her
fingers inside the waistband of the black panties.  She slowly slid
them down about two inches over Jennifer's rounded hips, then suddenly
jerked them down all the way to Jennifer's ankles, revealing her
nicely regrown pubic triangle.

The crowd erupted in shouts and whistles, then calmed down after a
minute to allow Jason to speak.  "I bid fifteen gold coins!"

Since Cole had handed out the coins, he knew that nobody could outbid
Jason and he shouted, "Sold, for fifteen gold coins, to the gentleman
in leather.  Please step forward and claim your property, Sir."

Monica unfastened Jennifer's wrists and helped her off the table where
Jason took her in his arms.  He pulled her head back by gripping her
long black hair so that she was looking up at him and kissed her on
the lips.  Some form of non-verbal communication passed between them
and they walked together out of the room to find some privacy.

Handfuls of gold coins were tossed in the air and the crowd dissolved
in a chocolate eating frenzy, leaving Cole and Monica sitting on
chairs together at the edge of the nearly empty room.  Cole was
obviously quite happy about how things had worked out, but Monica
seemed lost in serious thought.  Seeing Jennifer and several other
party guests enjoying their submissiveness reminded her that there was
an aching gap in her life.  Dressing up as a dominant had been fun,
but she knew that her real joy and fulfillment came from submission.

She looked up after a few minutes to see a familiar couple enter the
large room.  It was Michael and dina.  They laid out their kinky toys
next to a cage of vertical steel bars that was just big enough for one
person to stand in.  Monica was certain that it was the same cage she
had been locked into at the earlier party.  The memory of her intense
submission caused a strange feeling to develop within her.  

Monica could see that the petite woman, dina, was dressed in a skimpy
slave costume. It was apparently supposed to look like rags, but was
actually put together with rather expensive red, black and gold silk
scarves.  Monica could hear the woman addressing her partner as
"Master".

Something about the couple caused Monica to stay and watch when Cole
excused himself to find the refreshments.  She moved a bit closer to
them and observed the play.  Michael placed his subby partner in the
cage and began poking her with various implements.  The cage was
pressed so tightly against her that she couldn't move, especially
after her master slid padded rods through the bars to immobilize her
limbs.  He pulled away the costume, leaving her naked and revealing a
tattoo across the top of her buttocks that read "SLAVE".  The slave
girl could be heard saying "Please, Master!" and "I promise to be good
Master!"

Michael tortured and teased dina for a long time, which was not at all
unusual at a BDSM play party.  What Monica noticed however, was the
loving energy that passed between the couple.  She could tell that he
would never hurt his little slavegirl.  Well, Monica thought with a
happy grin, not unless she needed it.

As Monica continued to watch, she started smiling and a feeling of
elation crept over her along with a sudden attack of goose bumps when
the hair on her arms and neck tried to stand up.  She realized what
was happening just as Cole returned and sat down next to her.

"You look like you just saw a ghost.  Here, have one of Margaret's
truffles."  He handed her a round topped lump of chocolate about an
inch and a half in diameter.

She bit through the thick chocolate coating into the rich bittersweet
center that tasted distinctly of Grand Marnier.  The delicious
intensity of the taste was a surprise and she felt like she was being
rewarded for the decision she had just made.

"Master, I need to tell you something," she said in a low, sexy voice.

Cole's attention was immediate.  He knew what that voice meant.
"What's on your mind, dear heart?"

She held his arm with a strong grip, "I think I'm subby again, Sir.
In fact I'm sure of it.  When can we go home?"

"Well, I just checked on Jason and Jennifer.  He's taking her home
tonight," he paused,  "Let's leave right now."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Monica clung to Cole's arm as they drove home.  Once in the bedroom,
they undressed quickly, leaving their party clothes in heaps on the
carpeted floor.  They slid under the warm covers and held each other
for a while to replace the winter chill with sensual body heat.  Cole
was planting delicate kisses down her lovely spine, when she decided
it was time to speak up.

"Master, I know what I need now."

"I think I do too, Little One.  Are you thinking the same thing I am?"

"Yes, Sir.  I desperately need to be spanked and fucked in the ass."
Simply saying the words gave her a powerful erotic thrill.

"That's almost exactly what I had in mind.  There's just one other
thing you need -- an enema."

"Master, I've never had one of those before," she whined in a little
girl voice.

He responded in his deep, dominant tone, "Well, you've never been
fucked in the ass before, have you?  There's a first time for
everything.  Come with me into the bathroom."

Cole placed a thick towel on the floor of the bathtub.  Monica was now
naked and he ordered her to kneel on the towel, then bend over with
her bottom held high.  She held that position for what seemed like
hours while he pulled various items from the cabinets and assembled an
enema apparatus.  Looking over toward the sink, she watched as he
added a bit of mild soap to enhance the cleansing effect.

She was trembling and breathing in fast, shallow little breaths as he
approached her with the swollen red rubber bag.  She seemed to be
frozen in the undignified position, on all fours with her ass in the
air for her Master to control.   

"Spread those gorgeous legs for me, slut girl.  You know you need
this."

He placed a small dollop of cool lubricant gel on the pretty rosebud
of her anus and slowly worked it in with one finger.  When her opening
had relaxed enough to easily admit the finger, her reached for the
white enema nozzle on the end of the long rubber tube.  The nozzle
slid smoothly inside her to the full extent of its four inch length.
He held the bag above her beautiful hips and released the valve on the
rubber tube.

Monica groaned as she experienced the strange sensation of being
filled with warm water.  After she had taken a bit over a quart of
liquid, he shut the valve and slowly removed the nozzle.

"Hold your water now, Little One.  Let me know if you have a problem."

She held her position for another five minutes, clenching her bottom
cheeks frantically before the urge to expel the water became
unbearable.  "Master, I have to go NOW!"  He allowed her to sit on the
toilet, but she was quite humiliated when he simply stood there and
watched.  For a moment she wasn't sure if she would be able to release
the mounting pressure, but eventually nature took its course with a
loud, embarrassing noise.

She was even more humiliated when he ordered her back into the bathtub
for a second enema.  This time, while she crouched on all fours with
her belly full of warm water, he fondled her breasts and clit until
she begged for his permission to leap onto the toilet.

Leaving her to sit there for a minute, he turned on the shower and
stepped into the tub.  She joined him soon and he supervised her
soaping and rinsing until he was satisfied that she was as clean as a
princess.  Then he ordered her to kneel and wash his hardening
phallus.  After a thorough rinse, she tested her ability to take him
deep into her throat, thinking all the while of the special place that
the rigid organ would be invading soon.

Monica stepped out of the tub first to towel her thoroughly dampened
long hair and twist it into a compact shape that would not interfere
with her duties.  When her master stepped out of the shower to join
her, she had his large towel ready.

Moving to the large bed, she was placed face down while he secured her
wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed frame using ropes
with soft leather cuffs for safety.  By the time he finished stroking
her smoothly shaved genitals, she was pulling hard at the bonds that
held her captive.  He massaged her back and the large muscles in her
buttocks for several minutes, then returned to her quivering nether
lips and inserted two fingers inside her slippery wet vagina.  When he
sensed her orgasm building, he withdrew the tantalizing fingers and
began to spank her firmly muscled buttocks.

It certainly wasn't the hardest spanking he'd ever given her, but it
might have been the most sensual.  He spanked in a slow rhythm, making
sure to cover her every square inch of spankable surface.  There was
just enough light in the room for him to watch the progress of the
light red blush across her soft, warm skin.

She could have taken a lot more, but he decided it was time to move
on.  Straddling her glowing hips, he reached forward to massage her
back.  His erect organ slid back and forth in the crevice of her
perfect ass and seemed to soak up the heat from the spanking.  He
wanted her to be relaxed, so he pressed his fingers into the strong
muscles above her shoulder blades and worked out the tension.  As he
ran his fingers along the muscles he could feel a slight crackling
sensation that told him she had been lifting weights.

When she was completely limp and pliable, he turned his attention to
her sensitive anal bud.

Using a large quantity of the jelly-like lubricant, he gradually
worked first one finger, then two into her tight rear orifice.  The
spanking and massage had paid off nicely.  Her sphincter was relaxing
easily and Monica was feeling more submissive than she could ever
remember.  Giving up control of her most private and delicate opening
created a tangible aura of submission of such great depth that she
knew she would do anything for her beloved master.

"Relax now, Little One,"  he said as he stroked his rampant manhood
with more of the slippery gel.

"It will probably hurt some at first, but I want you to relax and keep
breathing.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master.  I'm so desperate to please you now.  I'm ready for you
to take my virginity," she pleaded.  "I feel guilty for receiving so
much pleasure without giving!"

Positioning himself between her widespread legs, he placed his well
lubricated shaft at her inexperienced entrance.  Pushing gently, he
felt the head of his cock slip rather easily past her sphincter.  "How
are you doing Little One?"

"I'm fine, Master.  It hurts, but it feels good too.  I can't describe
it.  Please use me, Master!"

With that, he began thrusting slowly inside the clean, lubricated
passage.  He knew that some women enjoyed having their G-spot
stimulated through the rectum, so he made sure the large head of his
organ pressed firmly against the likely pleasure area.  As he felt the
warmth and pressure inside her, he could also feel the special
emotional satisfaction that he got from dominating a worthy partner.

The strong muscles in Monica's arms and legs began to contract
involuntarily as she strained against the leather cuffs.  Cole could
feel an orgasm building up in his tight testicles.  The slight burning
sensation was working its way up the urethra inside his rock hard
cock.  He wanted to hold back a little longer, but Monica suddenly
started screaming and bucking as her own orgasm began.  The
contractions of her sphincter seemed to suck his organ deeper into her
body just as the pre-orgasmic sensation reached the end of his shaft.

Cole's world exploded in a blinding flash of light and uncontrollable
thrusting of his hips.  The relentless stimulation combined with his
dominant mind set caused the orgasm to go on forever.

When he opened his eyes, he was still on top of his beloved Monica and
they were still joined by his slowly softening penis.  He slid out of
her and reached for the towel.  Monica seemed to be sleeping, so he
released her from the restraints and rolled her into a side by side
cuddling position.  He gently stroked her smooth skin and rearranged
the beautiful profusion of wavy brown hair.  He noted that she was
breathing deeply before he fell asleep beside her.

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