That was the beginning of what I think of as my “dirty bondage years”. I was so depressed and down on myself that I wanted pain and humiliation to pay for messing things up with John. Looking back I realize that I was rationalizing a way to enjoy bondage without guilt. I was a pretty screwed up girl in those days.

Mary tortured me all evening.

She whipped my breasts until they were horribly sore. Even though I started out wanting the pain, I soon changed my mind. Mary didn’t care. She worked my poor boobs over with a variety of whips until she was soaked with sweat and I was screaming in real pain. She stopped whipping me only long enough to put a very large and efficient gag in my mouth. I still screamed but it sounded like a tiny kitten mewing.

Mary is a sadist, even after all these years we are still friends, but a few hours into that first evening I hated her. She gave absolutely no consideration to my pain, paid no attention to my pleadings. She just whipped me and whipped me until all thought of sex was out of my mind. Somehow she knew when I passed over that line from enjoyment to real pain and fear, then she brought me back.

She worked up a good sweat and took off her clothes piece by piece until she was only in her panties. Her breasts jiggled and flopped around as she plied the whip but I didn’t care. I hung in my bonds praying for the evening to be over. After two solid hours she stopped. I hoped she was going to release me, but she was only taking a break. She vanished for a moment then returned carrying a glass of water. She looked at my body as she sipped.

“You’ve got a good start on a nice set of stripes,” she told me. “Nothing permanent, but I don’t think you’ll be parading around the pool in a bikini for a few days.”

I begged her to release me and she understood my mumbles even through that awful gag.

“We aren’t finished,” she said. “Not by a long shot. Since this session is free I get to set the rules, and I’m in a bitchy mood.”

She stepped close and pinched my nipple. “Its nice to have a real slave for a change,” she said. “Instead of some pathetic businessman who is only play acting.” She bit my nipple hard. Her teeth were sharp. I was soon shrieking in my gag.

“I’ll give you a drink,” she said. “But only if you make no sound when I remove your gag.

I nodded frantically.

“I mean it,” she warned. “One peep out of you and I’ll put a spike gag in your mouth and whip you till the sun comes up.” She held up the most horrid gag I’ve ever seen. It was a thick rubber gag with short metal spikes. The points were dull, not sharp enough to cause damage to someone’s mouth but they would have hurt horribly. I nodded obediently.

The water tasted wonderful. I drank the entire glass and she gave me another.

“You’re using up a lot of energy,” she told me. “And I don’t want you getting sick from dehydration.”

She replaced my gag and went to work on my nipples with pincers, her fingernails and her teeth. My breasts seemed to be the center of all pain in the universe. The whipping had been mild compared to this. My nipples were white hot points of pain.

Mary talked while she tormented me. She told me of a woman slave whose nipples had been pierced with red hot needles and fish hooks. (Remember, this was a long time ago, before body piercing came into fashion). I had never imagined such a thing and the idea horrified me. Mary talked of how the woman’s master had paid Mary to torture the woman in front of an audience at a bondage party with special emphasis on the slave’s breasts. Mary had attached electrodes to the slaves nipples and jolted her with electricity in increasing voltage until the woman had fainted.

“How about you? Would you like a few zaps of electricity through your nipples?” she taunted me.

I shook my head wildly.

Mary smiled knowingly. “Someday you’ll beg me to do it.”

Even as I shook my head again I knew she was right. I saw myself on a cross in front of people, jerking uncontrollably as electricity poured through my body. I imagined their cocks hardening and pussies getting damp as they watched my agony.

In an instant my pain was sexual again. My pussy tingled and became very wet.

Mary laughed with delight when she saw that look in my eyes.

“We’re having fun now!” she shouted.

Mary kept me on the rack until ten o’clock. Then she strapped me to an x cross. She kept me on the cross for over four hours. If I had to pee, she held a hospital bedpan between my legs. She took it away and returned with a damp wash cloth and washed my pussy. I had no qualms- about peeing in front of her. I no longer had any right to privacy, I was a slave.

Between physical tortures Mary rested in a large over stuffed chair. She removed my gag and questioned me. It was like a third degree interrogation. She made me open my soul and tell her every dark little secret.

“What is the nastiest thing you have ever imagined?” she asked. I hesitated, until she picked up the whip.

“Being tied up with my mother,” I blurted out.

“Oooh. Naughty,” she cooed. “You want to be tied to your mom?”

“No, not that,” I said. “I mean being tied up beside her and both of us forced to have sex with other people.”

“Ah ha, no incest with Mom then?”

“God no!” I gasped.

She smiled wryly. “All right, tell me your fantasy.”

“Well, it’s a warm summer morning on the farm,” I said. “I have been tying myself up on the lawn while Mom watched. I’m wearing shorts and a tee shirt and Mom is wearing a blouse and skirt. We’re sitting under the shade trees when a troop of boy scouts comes along. They are on a cross country hike and they are walking along the creek that runs through our property. They stop and ask for a drink of water. While they are relaxing the scoutmaster sees my ropes on the grass and asks what they are for. Mom tells them that I was tying myself up.

“Knots are important to boy scouts, they have to earn merit badges in knots and rope work so they want to know what kinds of knots I use. I put on a little demonstration and tied myself in front of them. They are unimpressed when I untie myself and a big discussion gets under way about whether any girl could escape after being tied by a scout who had earned his knot tying badge.

“Mom suggests that they tie me up and find out once and for all. She tells them about my contests with Bobby. They all want to be the one to tie me and a big argument starts as to who should do it. Mom suggests that each boy take a turn. She proposes the same rules that Bobby and I had. Each boy has ten minutes to tie me and I have twenty minutes to get loose.

“The scouts draw straws to see who goes first. The first boy ties me in a hog tie. He does a pretty good job and it takes quite an effort but I manage to get loose in under twenty minutes.

“Each boy scout takes a turn tying me and the scout master critiques each effort. They crowd around me as each knot is discussed. I listen to a lot of talk about sheep shanks and half hitches and so forth but I don’t mind. Sometimes I get free but a few boys are good at knot tying and I can’t get loose and have to admit defeat.

“Naturally I am turned on by the bondage. My nipples are hard and poking through my shirt. Mom seems to be getting excited too because she suggests a modification to the contest. She tells the scouts that I am getting loose too easily and that they don’t have enough motivation so she suggests that every time I can’t get loose on time they would get to remove an article of my clothing. The boys like that idea but the scout master points out that I’m not wearing much and I would be naked after three failed escapes.(He was counting my shirt, shorts and panties. Shoes and socks don’t count).

“ ‘That’s all right’ Mom tells him. ‘So if you manage to get my daughter naked then you can start undressing me.’ ”

“ ‘What happens after we get you both naked?” one of the boys asked..

“ ‘Then you can tie me up too and do anything you want to us.’ ”

“Well, the boy scouts were motivated after that. They started over and really applied themselves to tying me up. And I was motivated not to escape. Oh, I struggled and huffed and puffed, but the last thing I wanted was to keep my clothes on.

“The next scout to tie me up really applied himself. He tied me into one of the strictest and sexiest hog ties I’d ever experienced. I loved it and getting loose was impossible. They untied me and I stood submissively while he pulled my shirt over my head. The boys all admired my breasts. Their hands were all over me, squeezing and pinching my breasts. The scout master had to order the boys to get back to the contest.

“My shorts came off when I failed to get loose from the second boy and my panties after the third. There were bulges in the pants of every boy scout when contestant number three untied my legs and slid my panties off. Since my legs were free, I opened my knees and just lay there. The boys went silent as they stared at my pussy. Once again the scout master had to remind them  that they were involved in a contest.

“I failed to get free from number four so Mom stood up and allowed him to unbutton her blouse. Number five did a good job and I genuinely could not have escaped him even if I’d wanted to. He was a naughty little boy with red hair and freckles. We expected him to take off mom’s bra but he lifted her skirt and ordered her to hold it up while he took her panties off.  Mom giggled and stepped out of them, then keeping her skirt up she turned slowly so everyone could look at her pussy.

“I could have gotten loose from the tie that boy scout number six did, but I pretended that I couldn’t so he got to take off Mom’s bra. The boys are getting bolder and he squeezed Mom’s breasts. When she didn’t object, the others wanted a turn. The scout master allowed each one to play with Mom’s breasts for a minute then we resumed the contest.

“I didn’t like the looks of number seven so I really tried to get loose, Unfortunately he was good and I couldn’t untie myself, so he was the one to remove Mom’s skirt.

“When Mom was naked, the boys tied her up. She giggled as they tied her into a strict hog tie.

“The scouts discussed what they should do to us. Some wanted to fuck us, others wanted to make us suck their cocks. Mom and I lay in our bonds and tried not to laugh as the boys sat in a circle trying to decide. The scout master finally called for a show of hands and the majority voted to screw us.

“The boys cut some pegs from tree limbs and hammered then into the lawn, then tied us on our back with our arms and legs apart. Then they drew straws again to see who got to go first.

“Mom and I lay side by side on the soft grass while twenty teen aged boys and their scout master took turns fucking us. The boys were sweet and caring and very randy. As soon as one got off of me or Mom he would run over and get in the other line.

“It was noon when the boys finally ran out of steam (and I swear each one must have taken three or four turns) they wandered down to the creek and washed up. They left us tied to the pegs.

“The scout master decided to camp by the stream that night and ordered the boys to pitch their tents. Mom and I craned our heads to watch twenty naked boys setting up tents and starting fires and such.

“They cooked lunch and brought us some. They offered to untie us so we could eat but Mom nobly told them that a deal was a deal and they had every right to keep us tied, so they tied us kneeling to a couple of small trees and fed us.

“After lunch Mom turned to me and said: ‘I hope they don’t realize that being on our knees puts us in perfect position to suck their cocks’.”

“ ‘Don’t put ideas in their heads,’ I told her. ‘Or we’ll spend all afternoon with their cocks in our mouths’.”

“Unfortunately we spoke too loudly and the boys heard us. There was a mad rush and suddenly twenty hard cocks were at our faces. There was so much jostling and shoving that the scoutmaster had to step in and tell the boys to line up and take turns. Within twenty minutes Mom’s face and chest were spattered with cum. So was mine.

“After the boys had spurted into our mouths, and several took seconds, they were tired and wandered away. Some went swimming in the creek, a couple took naps, while others explored our farm. A few went into the barn, and Mom gave me a knowing look.

“ ‘I bet I know what’s going to happen to us if they discover your rack in the loft,’ she said’.”

“Sure enough, they discovered it and called the other scouts in to see it. They were inside for quite a while, then trooped out and asked us what it was for.

“ ‘We use it to torture ourselves,’ I told them. ‘When we don’t have any visitors’.”

“They wanted to see it work so they untied us and marched us into the barn. Mom got to go first and the scouts watched in fascination as she tied herself to the device. She had them remove the sickle blade, explaining that with them there she didn’t have to worry about cutting herself loose.

“The boys gasped when Mom pushed the weight off the plank. Their cocks all sprung erect when her body jerked taut on the plank. Mom came instantly and screamed with delight. She told me later that having the boys watch was a double turn on for her.

“When Mom and the plank stopped bouncing around the scouts crowded round her. She turned her head and captured the nearest cock in her mouth. She sucked the first boy into spurting in just a few minutes and his place was quickly taken by another. I thought that I was going to have to wait until Mom sucked every one of them before I got a turn on the rack. I cleared my voice a few times and finally had to damn near shout to get their attention.

“ ‘Why don’t you give my mother a rest?’ I suggested, ‘And let me get on the rack’.”

“They scrambled to untie Mom and led her to a pile of straw, where she plopped down tiredly. ‘I’m all right,’ she laughed. ‘My daughter just wants some attention and a chance to be tortured while you watch’.” Mom always seems to know what I’m thinking.

           “The scouts hauled the weight up and I asked them to add some more metal. I wanted it to be heavier. I climbed onto the rack, put my pussy rope in place, tied my ankles to the end and slipped my wrists through the noose. The weight was the heaviest I’d ever used and it snapped my body so hard that I was certain that I’d dislocated both shoulders. The pain was terrific and the sexy thrill was incredible! I had two or three fantastic orgasms while the weight bounced on the end of the rope. The only problem was that the weight was so heavy that it didn’t bounce very long. It settled to rest too quickly.

“When I finally stopped screaming and opened my eyes several scouts were masturbating wildly, and they spurted on my face and body. I enjoyed that and was lying dreamily when one of the scouts asked about my pussy rope and the second weight.

“My hands were numb and I couldn’t manage to push the weight off so I asked them to do it for me. I came again when the rope snapped tight between my pussy lips and that set off another round of masturbation by the scouts.

“Mom and I took turns on the rack all afternoon.

“In the evening they tied us between the pegs and fucked us. In the rare moments that neither of us had a boy scout on top of our body, Mom marveled at the stamina of teen aged boys.

“‘Maybe you should hire a few as farm hands,’ I suggested.

“ ‘Trouble is, they’d never get any work done,” she said. ‘They would spend all their time tying me up’.”

“ ‘Worth every penny you paid them’,” I told her.

“After dark the scouts sat around the fire singing songs and telling ghost stories until midnight. From time to time a boy would walk over to us and put his cock into Mom’s mouth or mine, or slide it into a pussy.

“In the morning the scouts fed us breakfast then tied us bent over the rail of a wooden fence. They tied our legs wide apart and lined up to screw us. After each had fucked us (once again sone took more than one turn) they untied us from the fence and took us back to the shade tree. They tied us into terrific hog ties. Every scout participated. One tied our wrists, another our ankles, and so on. Even when we were completely tied, they added rope until we were practically cocooned in rope. Then they broke camp, cleaned up the area and marched away.

 “We were so completely tied up that I wondered if we would ever got loose. It took me several hours to free myself. Mom isn’t very good at untying herself so she waited patiently in her bonds until I was able to free us both.” 

Mary was sprawled in the chair when I finished talking. Her panties were off and she was playing with her pussy.

“That was an interesting fantasy,” she said. “You have a wicked imagination. As perverse as I am, I never imagined sex with my mother. Is your Mom into bondage?”

I nodded.

“Tell me,” Mary demanded.

I told her about my home made bondage devices and how I’d discovered my mother tying herself to them. I recounted how Mom and I had tied our selves to t

he gateposts on hot summer nights, how Mom had released me from the loft hoist and never commented on finding me hanging by my wrists naked.

“Does she like to be whipped?” Mary asked.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “She’s never mentioned it.”

“I think I’d like to meet your mother,” Mary mused.

I had a sudden vision of Mom beside me on a cross, her body covered with pink whip marks. To my shame, my pussy tingled at the idea.

Ch 9

Mary tortured me until two in the morning. The torments didn’t vary much. She alternated between whipping me and biting my nipples. Toward the end she let me cum.

I was screaming in pain as her fingernails pinched my nipples when without warning she touched my pussy. I felt her palm against my crotch. It was warm and felt wonderful and suddenly her fingers slipped inside me. I came in an instant!

Mary can be very cruel and she kept the pain going in my nipple while her other hand invaded my pussy. When I started to wind down after the orgasm she didn’t stop. She kept her fingers inside me, wiggling them around and pressed her thumb against my clitoris. The sweet orgasm turned to pain as she tormented  my ultra sensitive pussy.

I nearly fainted and came to my senses when I felt Mary untying my ankles. She lifted my legs up and apart and tied them to the same hooks that my wrists were secured to. I had never felt so open and vulnerable.

Mary strapped a dildo on and stood in front of me. The thing was enormous. She stepped close and slid it inside me. I came instantly. Mary leaned against my body, pressing her breasts against mine and fucked me. She pinched my breasts again, which were so tender that every touch was agony. And she talked to me.

“You like this you little slut, don’t you?” she hissed.

“Yes mistress,” I gasped.

“What could make it better for you?” she asked.

I didn’t understand. I looked at her blankly.

“What is the one thing that could increase your delight at being fucked on a cross?” Mary asked me tauntingly.

“I, I don’t know.”

“Oh, but I do,” she said.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Having your mother watch you,” Mary said wickedly.

“Oh my God!” I gasped.

“But that’s not all,” Mary said. “Some day I’ll force your mother to fuck you.”

I stared at her in astonishment. “She would never do that,” I said. “She isn’t dominant.”

“I will enslave her,” Mary said. “I’ll drive out to that farm and kidnap her. I’ll strip her naked, tie her up and drive back with her in the trunk of my car.

“When I get here I’ll strap her arms tightly behind her back and lock her into a dildo harness. Then I’ll clamp electrical contacts to her nipples and yours. I’ll force her against you and when the clamps on your breasts touch you’ll both get a jolt of electricity. Then I’ll make her put the dildo up your pussy. I’ll buckle a strap around your waists so she can’t pull away, then I’ll whip her until she fucks you silly.

That did it!

I came so hard that I fainted.

CH 10

After my first session with Mary I was a wreck. I went home exhausted but couldn’t sleep. I was confused and distressed that she had inflicted real pain and had ignored my pleas for mercy, yet I was excited and somehow glad that she hadn’t listened. I didn’t really like the pain (at least that’s what I tried to tell myself) but I was a terrible person and deserved pain, and being such a low and worthless creature, I wasn’t deserving of mercy either.

 I needed to talk to someone so I called Jill.

Jill was disappointed that I had fallen back into bondage. She talked to me like I was an alcoholic or a junky, and in a way, I was. I was hooked on bondage.

Jill had lots of experience counseling people and she talked to me for hours. I wanted her help, but couldn’t stop my pussy from tingling when she asked me for the details of my evening with Mary, in fact, I was playing with myself as we talked.

Looking back, I realize that I didn’t really want help, or to get out of my addiction, I just needed a talk down from my emotional roller coaster. I made agreement noises into the phone and promised to try my best, but I had no intention of going straight.

As she had promised, Denise gave me a bondage session free of charge. I spent several hours tied up in the dungeon out back of the shop.

Denise told me to arrive at one o’clock in the afternoon. She made me strip in the store, locked manacles on my wrists and ankles and led me to the dungeon. She chained me standing between two poles and played with my breasts until I was ready to collapse. She pinched and bit my nipples, slapped and punched by boobs until they were purple with bruises, but she wouldn’t touch my pussy. The abuse of my poor breasts was painful and very exciting, and being the slut that I was (and still am) I was wild with passion.

From time to time a customer would interrupt my torture. Each time the door chime rang Denise would shove a gag in my mouth and go wait on the customer. The first time that happened she returned with two wicked nipple clamps with weights hanging from them. The next time a customer came in she put the clamps on my nipples and walked out. It’s a good thing she gagged me, because those clamps were horribly painful and I would have screamed to rattle the windows. When she returned, she tugged on the clamps lightly and I thought I would faint from the pain. Then she flicked a crop between the weights making them (and my poor boobs) bounce. She took pity on me and removed the clamps, and as soon as they were off I wanted them back on. She saw the look on my face and made me beg for them. She put them back on and I nearly had an orgasm. She laughed with wicked delight at me as I groaned with pain and pleasure. She took them off but told me she’d put them back any time a customer came in. I grew to hate and love that damn door chime.

 Sometimes she was gone for a long time. The first couple of times I was impatient for her to return, but then I remembered that I was a lowly slave and had to be patient. I slipped into my old trance like state while I waited. And it was nice that I really was secured with no hope of releasing myself. Once or twice I was so deep into my dream state that Denise had to slap me back into the real world.

Like Mary, Denise really worked me over. She didn’t let up when I was shrieking with pain and she ignored my pleadings for mercy.

I assumed this was the way that they always treated their clients, later I found out about role playing and safe words and all that. Professional doms have to play to their customers’ wishes and no matter how cruel they pretend to be, if they want return business they must ease up when the customer has had enough.

I was different. Mary and Denise saw that I was truly a masochist, and that excited them. I wasn’t a paying customer and they didn’t really expect me to come back so they decided to play out their own sick, horrible, sadistic (and wonderful) personal fantasies on me while they had the chance.

Denise beat my breasts until they were in terrible shape. They were bruised and covered with angry red welts. She stood in front of me with a thin supple whip and cracked it over and over like a lion tamer. The whip snapped within inches of my skin and I was shrieking in genuine fear. I struggled in my bonds and screamed under my gag. Denise spun the whip horizontally like a helicopter blade.  She spun it so fast that it was a blur. She moved it closer to my breasts until I could feel its breeze. She looked into my eyes, looked into my soul and raised an eyebrow knowingly. I sobbed in defeat and shame and disgusted with my self, I leaned forward and thrust my breasts into that whirling whip. The orgasm was terrific!

When I woke I was till hanging by my wrists. My hands were numb and my shoulders ached. Denise gave me a drink, then set to work torturing my pussy. I learned that nipple clamps work just as well on pussy lips.

Mary and Denise recruited me into their world. They offered me a job.

I was hired to be a professional submissive.

There aren’t many women in the world who are willing to place themselves at the mercy of a stranger, especially a self proclaimed sadistic stranger. Mary and Denise promised to protect me if I would let people torment me. I deserved to suffer after screwing things up with John. I was a horrible tramp and the more people who tortured me the better. (Rationalizing? You bet. I was still fighting with myself and couldn’t admit that I liked torture. I had to have an excuse). I didn’t have to think about it very long, I agreed.

.

Denise arranged my first session. To protect me she was present the entire time, but wouldn’t intervene in any way unless I was in real danger. As it turned out, I never was, although there were times when I was scared.

To capitalize on my youth Denise had me dress up like a school girl in a short skirt, knee socks, penny loafers and a white blouse. I wore cotton panties and an ordinary bra. Luckily my hair was long enough to braid into pigtails. I even carried a couple of textbooks.

I was too broke to buy gas so I took the bus. I was nervous and felt a little silly in that outfit, but the looks I got from men excited me so I relaxed and let them peek up my skirt while I pretended to do my homework.

When I arrived at the store and was introduced to the man. I actually curtseyed and lifted my skirt. We chatted for a few moments, then he took me to the back. He started by tying my hands behind my back and putting me over his lap. He raised my skirt and spanked me. It felt wonderful!

After my first spanking, he took my panties off and stuffed them in my mouth. That was the first time I experienced a panty gag, and I was very startled. I tried to spit them out but he secured them with a leather strap then punished me for being rebellious by spanking my pussy.

Denise looked in from time to time but didn’t see anything that worried her so she left me to him. I expected  to be bound to all the torture equipment but he never used any of it. Instead he tied me in different positions with rope and spanked me, used his belt on my butt and legs, and pinched and slapped my breasts.

The man was very strong and picked me up easily. He moved me around like a child and placed me in all sorts of positions. He used the old armchair almost exclusively and most of the time I was lying across his lap. Sometimes he bent me over the arms or back of the chair, especially when he was turning the backs of my legs bright red with his belt.

Then he tied me over the back of the chair with my legs apart. I thought that he was going to spank my pussy, and he did, but he also fucked me.

I was horrified when I felt his cock slide inside me. Denise had assured me that no intercourse would take place. I screamed into my gag and really fought to get loose. It was no use, he had me tied too tightly to escape.

Denise came back when she heard my scream but didn’t seem too surprised when she saw what he was doing. I glared at her furiously and tried to shout through the gag. She watched calmly, then spoke to him.

“Fuck the little slut till she can’t walk,” she said. “She’s only a slave.”

That did it! I came!

I thought I’d experienced or imagined just about every form of submission, but I never dreamed that verbal humiliation would excite me. Her words sent me into one of the most terrific orgasms I’d ever had.

The man came too. I felt his cock swell inside me then he was spurting. I screamed and he groaned and pumped a few more times, then staggered away. Denise sensed the effect her words had on me, she picked up his belt and began whipping my ass furiously while berating me. She told me what a tramp I was. She called me every name in the book, demanded to know why I was such a slut, how could a nice girl from a decent family do the disgusting things I did, what would my friends think if they could see me now? What would my mother say?

Between the belt and her abuse I was cumming about every thirty seconds. I was squealing in my gag and bouncing up and down on the chair. I tried to talk through my gag. She was right! I was a slut, a cheap little tramp, a whore and a sex slave! Every word was like electricity through my pussy, but when she mentioned my mother the image of Mom watching that man fuck me sent me through the roof. I orgasmed and fainted.

When I woke Denise untied me and I curled up in the chair and fell asleep. I slept until closing time and she drove me home. It was a good thing because I was a mess and in no condition to ride the bus. At my apartment she handed me a large sum of money.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Your share of the fee,” she answered. “We don’t do this for free you know.”

I honestly had not thought about money when I agreed to the session. I was disturbed and didn’t want the money.

“I don’t want that,” I told her. “I’m not a whore.”

She grabbed my breast and pinched my nipple hard. “Yes, you are a whore,” she said fiercely. “You were born one. I can tell when I see that expression on your face.”

“What expression?” I gasped.

“The one you have right now,” she said, pinching my nipple harder. “Only a whore likes this.”

I writhed in delight. I couldn’t help myself. The pain felt wonderful.

“Why are you being so cruel?” I asked.

“Hell, I’m paid to be cruel,” she laughed. “And you’re paid to take it. We’re naturals.”

“But I don’t do it for money,” I said.

“I know,” she said, her fierceness evaporating. She released my nipple and rubbed it gently. She smiled understandingly. “I’d do it for free if I could afford to. And since you didn’t enter into this looking for money, in my book that doesn’t really make you a whore.”

“Just a slut,” I said bitterly.

“Actually, I think you’re one hell of a naturally sensual woman,” she said. “And a natural submissive. You enjoyed what happened to you today didn’t you?”

I blushed and nodded.

“Then why not accept the gifts that will come your way?”

“Am I a prostitute now?” I asked.

“Nope, you weren’t expecting to be paid,“ she said. “And if it makes you fell better, donate the money to charity or use it to pay someone to dominate you in your spare time.”

“Pay you?” I asked sarcastically.

“No, I won’t take your money,” she answered. “Neither will Mary.”

“Why not?”

“Because we like you,” she said. “If you truly feel the need to be dominated just say so. We’ll do it for you for free.”

“Why would you do that?” I asked.

“Because you’re our friend.”

She kissed me, tucked the money into my bra and drove away.

CH 11

I was in a real quandary. Despite what Denise said, I knew enough about the law to know that what I had done constituted prostitution under the law. I had never considered taking money for bondage, and all of my discussions with Denise and Mary had led me to believe that there wasn’t sex during their sessions. I was very naive. I had trouble falling asleep that night. I wanted to talk this out with someone, but calling Mom was out of the question, so was Jill. Jill was a cop, I didn’t think that she would be very sympathetic to learn that I had just joined the ranks of Denver’s hookers.

I finally fell asleep but had some very troubling dreams. I dreamt that my secret was out and I had been exposed to everyone. I was horribly ashamed about the money. Having it known that I was a bondage slave was nothing in comparison. I awoke in the middle of the night whimpering in shame.

I lay awake for a while then fell asleep again and dreamed again. This dream was nicer.

I dreamt that I was a street walking prostitute, only I was a slave prostitute. I had a sleazy pimp who wore a white zoot suit complete with a wide brimmed hat. He led me out onto the street in handcuffs and collar. I wore the same skimpy clothes that I’d worn the night that John took me to jail. My pimp handcuffed me to light pole on a busy corner and offered me to every passing man. He tugged my tank top down to expose my breasts and lifted my skirt to show my pussy. He made me kneel and suck men’s cocks as free samples, but I wasn’t permitted to make them cum, only whet their interest. When a customer decided to buy me, my pimp uncuffed me from the pole and handed me over. The customer would lead me down a dirty alley and torture me.

Sometimes they hung me by my wrists from a fire escape and whipped  my breasts and pussy with their belts, then they’d spread my legs and screw me. Other times they bent me over a trash barrel and tormented my poor ass before fucking me. Dozens of people watched my humiliation from tenement windows. When a customer finished with me, my pimp would take me back out to the street and chain me to the pole again.                            

I woke up with my fingers in my pussy. I got out of bed and washed my face. The dream seemed very real and I was very mixed up. I was ashamed that I dreamt of being a whore, but the bondage and torture were very erotic. I went back to sleep and more dreams came.

Now I was chained to a bed in a cheap motel. The door and windows were open and my pimp stood in the doorway inviting passers by to screw me. Men walked in, looked at my naked body and paid him money.

Man after man crawled atop me and thrust their cocks into me. I sobbed in shame and tugged at my bonds but couldn’t escape. The men didn’t leave after they screwed me, they hung around and watched the next man. Then John walked in wearing his police uniform. He said nothing, he just watched.. He was joined by his young partner Gary, and other police officers. Jill arrived too. She looked at me with total disgust and I tried to hide my face, but couldn’t. Then the police arrested me. They led me naked past crowds of people and threw me in the back of a police car. I was driven to the police station and chained to the desk in the holding room. The officers crowded around and watched as Jill fucked with her night stick, and after I’d exposed my inner soul by having a screaming orgasm, they took turns with me.

The next morning I was an emotional disaster. I was exhausted and decided to skip class. I moped around the apartment until lunch time, then gave in and called Jill. It was her day off and she agreed to meet me for coffee. I dressed very conservatively, trying to reassure myself that I was still a decent girl.

Jill and I chatted for a while, then I told her about my dreams but didn’t mention that I’d already taken money for bondage, just made it sound like I’d had a dream about being it. Jill wasn’t too concerned. She told me that prostitution fantasies weren’t uncommon in decent women. (She still thought I was a decent woman). She slid into her counseling role and gave me a little course in female sex fantasies (as if I didn’t have enough already). She talked about ordinary women who have rape fantasies, domination fantasies, exhibition and infidelity fantasies, and so on. I sat quietly and listened. She knew that I’d been tied by Mary but was distressed when I told her about the session with Denise.

I listened and pretended to want help. Actually all I wanted was companionship. Jill looked at me in disappointment when I told her that I had decided that I was what I was, and it was foolish to try to pretend any differently. I was hooked on bondage and that was that. I told her that I hoped she would still be my friend, but I was going to continue to live that life.

Jill tried to explain about low self esteem and why some women became masochists rather than be alone, all the things I’d already heard in college psych classes. I told her that I wasn’t submissive in order to please some man, I was doing it to please myself. I began to relate in detail some of my experiences. I tidied them up a little, and left out all references to my mother, but I told Jill about hot nights on the farm when I tied myself to the gate post, or hung by my wrists from the loft crane. Jill was squirming in her chair as I told the stories an impish mood came over me. I became more graphic and went into great detail when I told her about my home made torture rack. She almost spilled her coffee when I told her how many orgasms I could give myself just by pushing a weight off the hay loft.

The power position between us shifted. Now I was in charge and Jill no longer lectured me, instead I was making her nervous and uncertain. I watched her closely and talked dirtier. Her nipples were erect under her shirt and I just knew that her pussy was wet. I realized that I actually had power over Jill, even if it was only momentary. I came close to suggesting that we go to my apartment and tie her up. Luckily I didn’t.

I changed the subject, to Jill’s relief, and we talked about ordinary things. As soon as she could, Jill left. I watched as she practically ran to her car.

I felt a little bad for making her so nervous, but laughed inside to think how excited she’d been. I came to the conclusion that down deep just about any woman wanted to be enslaved at one time or another in her life. After all these years I still haven’t met one who won’t admit to having been tied up, or who wanted to be tied.

I went into the ladies room and took off my bra and sensible panties and put them in my purse. Then, while getting into my car I made sure that my knees came apart and a passing gentleman got a good look at my pussy.

I decide to continue working for Denise and Mary and let them rent me out for torture. And if accepting money made me a whore, then so be it. I’d be a whore.

It occurred to me that if I was now officially a prostitute I might get arrested for real. The idea was appealing. I might be able to take off my clothes in the police station again, and if I got real lucky, maybe I’d spend another night in chains.

I went home and tied myself to my bed.

CH 12             

Being a professional submissive was not what I’d expected. I’d imagined myself lounging in a slave cell wearing a harem girl costume and chains, languidly waiting to be tortured. In reality I worked by appointments that were set by Denise or Mary. And I didn’t get enough work to make a living at it. I had to keep my part time job. And it wasn’t all fun. Some of the sessions were dull and tawdry, a few were silly and some ludicrous.

Mary arranged a session where we went to a man’s house. It was an ordinary house in an ordinary Denver neighborhood. It wasn’t a mansion like in the bondage novels, and he didn’t answer the door in a tuxedo. He took us to the basement, which had a large wooden table with leather straps, a few ropes hanging from the ceiling, and lots of household junk in cardboard boxes. The family Christmas tree was stuck in a corner.

He didn’t even torture me, Mary did. She wore a dominatrix outfit, black leather mini skirt, black panties a vest and spike heels. I wore a conservative dress.

He watched as Mary stripped me, then tied me to the table and tortured me. She whipped my breasts and belly for a while, all the time chiding me about what a slut I was, then the turned me over and whipped my butt. The customer never participated in my torture, he just watched. Mary put on a nice show for him bending and letting him pool up her skirt and peek at her boobs. She kept a close eye on her watch, (he had paid for two hours) and when the time was nearly up she released me from the table, tied my hands behind me and forced me to kneel and suck his cock. He didn’t even undress, he just unzipped his pants and took out his cock. It wasn’t very large. He spurted onto my face, then he handed Mary the money. I got dressed and we walked out. The man barely spoke the entire session.

“Did you have fun?” Mary asked as we were getting into her car.

“Not really,” I replied. “It was pretty boring.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought,” she said. “But I’m feeling horny. Want to go back to my place for a private bondage session?”

“Only if you promise to whip me for real,” I said. “And start by tying me up here in the car.”

She dug behind the seat and came up with a bunch of leather straps. She buckled them around my ankles knees, thighs and waist. She buckled my arms behind me and worked straps around my stomach and upper body. I was much more excited than I’d been with the customer. I  happened to glance toward the house. Our client was watching from a window and he was masturbating.

“I guess he’s more of a man than I thought,” I giggled. “His dick is hard again.”

Mary glanced toward him. “Well, let’s give him a show.”

She tore open my blouse and yanked my bra off. She pinched my nipples and the man masturbated faster. Mary bent over and bit my nipple and I came for real! When I opened my eyes he had disappeared.

“He’d better wash that window before his wife gets home,” Mary said as we drove away.

Some sessions were worse than that. I acquired a regular customer who dressed up in a silly monk’s robe and hood and whipped me with the lightest whip I’d ever seen. He didn’t even hit me hard, he just brushed the whip across my back. At first I bit my lip to keep from laughing but I soon grew so bored that I taunted him to try to make him whip me harder. It didn’t work. He stopped the session and scolded me for talking. He assured me that I was safe and he was never going to really hurt me. I tried to tell him that I wanted to be hurt, but he didn’t want to listen. He gagged me and went back to stroking my body with the little whip. At the end he blind folded me and masturbated. He didn’t even spurt onto me. The only way I knew he came was from his breathing. I felt like giving his money back. Unfortunately I was sold to him on a weekly basis.

Other clients were into silly play acting. They talked in stilted theatrical voices as if they were reading a script from a bad porn movie. Their idea of bondage was just as tepid.

Another client would tie me in a nice hogtie, then sit and talk. And he didn’t talk about sex either. I realized that he was just lonely and felt very sorry for him. I tried to keep the conversation on sex and slavery but rarely could I get him fired up. Most of the time he untied me after the session and sent me on my way. He didn’t even undress.

Not all sessions were dull. One gentleman in particular really knew how to torture a slave girl. (He still knows how. I still see him).

We met at Denise’s dungeon. She rented a small house and converted it to a torture chamber. Apparently she reached an arrangement with the landlord, she got a discount rate and he got tortured for free.

My customer, whom I shall refer to as MAC (his initials). Rented me and the dungeon. We clicked at once and he seemed to know exactly what to do. He stripped me naked, took off his clothes, then tied me into an excruciatingly delightful hogtie. He tied me so tightly that I quickly lost sensation in my hands and feet. While I lay on the floor he whipped every inch of my body (except my face) with a slender and very painful whip. I was covered with tiny pink stripes in minutes and had my first of several orgasms.

MAC let me catch my breath, then grabbed my ankles and spun me around on the floor. It sounds silly but I loved it. I was completely in his control. He pushed me across the floor, rolled me over and over, spun me around using his foot and while I was laughing hysterically, flipped me onto my face and thrust his cock into me.

 Instant orgasm!

He fucked me until he came, them he took a break. He didn’t offer to untie me and I was content to stay bound. When he was rested he switched my position so that I was hanging by my wrists. Then he broke out another whip. A lovely, cruel flogger with heavy leather strands. He soon had me shrieking and dancing around trying to escape that monstrous whip. I like pain, but everyone has their limits, and that whip drove me quickly to mine. I begged him to stop.

MAC is a strong and determined man. He put a gag in my mouth, hoisted me higher until my feet were off the floor and resumed whipping me. I cried and pleaded and whimpered and he didn’t care. It was one of the most painful and delicious whippings I’ve ever endured. I came several times, and after almost thirty years I remember it.

When he noticed I’d slipped over the line from pain to pleasure, he dropped the whip and yanked my legs apart. He slid his fingers inside my pussy and wiggled them around until I came. Only he didn’t stop. One of the truest forms of torture is to manipulate a woman’s pussy, especially her clitoris, after she’s had an orgasm. Everything becomes so sensitive that touch becomes painful. And MAC knows that, he’s a sadistic bastard that still does it to me.

He paid for two hours. When they were up he asked if I wanted to leave. I shook my head emphatically no. I mumbled in my gag so he took it out.

“Your time is up,” I said. “Now we’re on my time, and you can have me for as long as you want.”

We had a truly delightful afternoon, the first of thousands together.

MAC is married, has children and grandchildren, and though I am no longer a  slave for hire, we still get together at least once a month. Even after I got married my husband never knew that I was being tortured by another man, neither did MAC’s wife. He is still my cruelest master, my most wicked lover, and my dearest friend.

CH 13

Mary arranged another session for me. Like Denise she rented a small house for business purposes. I arrived early and she showed me around. The house was a little bungalow in an old neighborhood. Most of the houses on the block were rentals and were just this side of shabby. Mary’s house looked like all the rest except for having an oversized garage. A previous owner built it to store a large boat. Mary used the garage for her dungeon. The garage had open rafters like our barn back home and it made me feel homesick.

Mary had painted the walls black and lined them with whips and chains and all sorts of bondage paraphernalia. There were a couple of jail cells complete with bars, a large kennel type cage, a real rack made of heavy wooden planks (my pussy throbbed at the sight of that), crosses, stocks, and a closet filled with over sized women’s clothing for cross dressers.

(She had to explain cross dressing to me and how some men pay to be ‘forced’ into wearing women’s clothes. I found the idea repulsive. I prefer men to be dominant and don’t enjoy seeing them in submissive roles. Over the years I’ve watched men submit to dominatrixes but I’ve never enjoyed it. I enjoy being submissive and like other women who are, but I just don’t like wimpy men, even ones who are acting out roles).

 In addition to the equipment Mary had decorated the place by hanging a lot of plastic skulls and silly Halloween junk in an effort to make the place more dungeon like. I thought it was a bit silly.

The interior of the house was not much better. The living room was passable with a couch and chairs, and the kitchen was ghastly. It was clean and tidy but the cabinets were old, the counter top was battered and the linoleum worn through. Surprisingly, the bedrooms and the bath were quite nice, which made sense because they were only used for sex, Mary didn’t sleep with her clients but she occasionally leased it to real hookers or she rented it to clients who wanted to use it for trysts.  She also hosted bondage parties from time to time.

For my first session she locked me in one of the cells and dimmed the lights.

The client was into humiliation and Mary had coached me as to how to act. When he arrived Mary led him to me. She flicked on a light that illuminated my cell and ordered me to take off my clothes. I begged her not to make me, but she was adamant. Sobbing in shame I slowly undressed.  When I was naked I shrank back and tried to cover my breasts and pussy. Mary barked at me to stand still with my hands at my sides. I kept my eyes on the floor while the client examined me.

Mary gave him the key to the cell and left. She went into the house and watched television.

The man brought me out of the cell. He ordered me to stand with my hands clasped behind my head. I pretended to be embarrassed as he touched my body. He squeezed my breasts, explored my pussy, even had me bend over while he inserted a finger up my ass. I kept up my act of pretended shame. After groping me, he grabbed my arm and walked me to the center of the room. He flipped a switch on the wall that turned on several spotlights. I was flooded with light. He walked around me examining me while making comments about my body. I writhed and whimpered as if I were dying of mortification and tried to hide my pussy. Each time I did he cracked a riding crop across my butt. He made me display myself. I had to spread my legs, bend over, arch my back, squat, kneel, lay on my back with my legs in the air. I spread my ass and opened my pussy lips. I furtively touched my clit and got the riding crop across my butt for it.

 He dragged a chair out and commanded me to sit with my legs over the arms. He made me clasp my hands behind my neck and shake my breasts. All the time he kept demanding that I admit that I was a slut and that I secretly enjoyed what he was making me do. I sobbingly denied it and pleaded with him to let me cover myself. This only brought more smacks from the riding crop.

Now I enjoyed that session and the longer it went the harder it was to pretend that I didn’t. I loved what he was doing to me only wished that I was performing in front of an audience. The only downside was that he never tied me up.

As the session progressed I pretended to reluctantly admit that I was a slut. He ‘broke down’ my resistance and I confessed to more and more. He marched me to a shelf filled with dildos and ordered me to select several. I carried them back to the center of the room and knelt with my knees apart. I teased my pussy with one while in a small voice I confessed that I had wicked secret thoughts. I admitted that I went out with no panties and played with my pussy in my car and in public places like restaurants and movie theaters. I told him that I was a secretary and kept an enormous dildo in my desk that when no one was watching I opened my legs and shoved it up my pussy.

 As I created more and more wicked and outrageous confessions I put the dildo up my pussy and masturbated for real. I was very excited. I got so hot that I put a second one in my ass. I toppled backwards, spread my knees and slammed that dildo in and out of my pussy until I was ready to cum. I arched my back until my weight was on my toes and shoulders. I was thrusting my pussy up into the air in rhythm with my dildo when something warm struck my face. I opened my eyes and was delighted to see the client standing over me masturbating. He pumped his cock and spurted cum for several minutes. I watched the drops of semen arching down in the bright light, saw them land on my chest, felt them hit my face, and I came like an earthquake! I arched my back higher until my weight was on the top of my head, and I wasn’t acting!

When I opened my eyes he was gone. I didn’t know what to do, so I lay there for a while, idly rubbing his cum into my skin. I didn’t know if he was coming back or not so I decided to be patient.

Mary walked in and turned on the lights.

“Nice job. Kiddo,” she said. “He really likes you.”

“Are we done already?” I asked.

“It’s been two and a half hours,” she told me. “He only asked for two. I peeked in and saw that you were both enjoying yourselves so I let the time run over.”

“Two and a half hours?” I stretched contentedly.  “I thought we’d just started.”

The dildo was still in my pussy. Mary laughed. “Would you like to borrow that for a while?”

“I think I’ll keep it,” I replied.” Just deduct it from my check.”

“Go take a shower,” she laughed. “I’ll clean up in here. I have to leave soon.”

“Do you have another appointment?” I asked.

“Nope, PTA meeting tonight. Get going.”

I showered and dressed, but before I put my panties on I slide the dildo up my pussy again, then used my undies to hold it in. Mary was waiting in the kitchen. I lifted my skirt and showed her my panties. Her eyebrows rose in question.

“I didn’t think you wore panties,“ she commented.

“I usually don’t,” I said. “But I’m wearing your dildo home.”

“Keep it with my best wishes,” she laughed. She reached over, pulled the waistband of my panties open and dropped my share of the money in.

CH 14

I had done about a dozen sessions when Mary asked if I’d be willing to go to client’s house on my own. She told me that the client and his wife wanted a servant girl for the evening. She knew them quite well and vouched for my safety, but understood if I wasn’t prepared to simply take her word for it. I asked what they wanted from me and she replied that I would be a ‘French maid’, complete to skimpy costume and high heels, and that I would be trained to be a maid but probably get a lot of punishment if I didn’t learn quickly. I thought it over and agreed to go.

Several days before the session Mary took me to a costume shop and had me fitted for my maid’s outfit. The client was paying for it and apparently paying quite well. The seamstress was expecting us and completed the dress ready the same day as my fitting. We also selected a pair of ridiculously high heeled patent leather shoes. The heels were so high that I had to practice walking in them. I wore them around my apartment every evening.

Mary drove me to the session. She arrived at my apartment and helped me get into costume.

The maid’s dress was silvery gray with white lace trim. The skirt was very short and under it I wore a stiff ruffled petticoat which pushed the skirt out like a ballet tutu. The ensemble included a lace cap and apron, black thigh high stockings and white lacy panties. Mary brought extra panties, a dozen in all. She explained that panties were going to play a large role in the session and were likely to be torn off of me several times. I would need extras. I put on one pair, Mary folded another and tucked them into the breast pocket of my dress so that they just peeked out and put the remainder in the apron pocket. She also added several pair of stockings.

I looked at myself in the mirror and had to admit that I looked and felt very sexy. Mary took several pictures. Mary was dressed in an expensive and elegant dress. She looked nothing at all like a dominatrix.

I put my raincoat on over the costume and Mary drove me to the client’s house. I whistled when we arrived. It was literally a mansion. We were admitted by a tall elegant gentleman wearing a dark blue suit. I expected a butler but he turned out to be the client. He took us into a parlor and introduced us to his wife. Her name will be Lady L, he is Lord L. (Oh they weren’t English, but they possessed a degree of grace and elegance that was almost aristocratic).

Lady L was about forty at the time. She was tall and slender, almost lanky. Her face was thin and hatchet like. She had a beaky nose and large predatory eyes. Mary introduced me as the new temporary maid. Lady L suggested that I remove my coat. They looked me over, then both nodded in approval. Lady L asked to see my panties so I lifted my skirt. They looked at me for several minutes, then she made a twirling motion with her hand. I turned slowly in place. I enjoyed being looked at.

“I think that you will do,” Lady L told me. “Come with me and I’ll show you your duties.”

She took me to the kitchen and had me brew a pot of tea. “All of the regular staff are on vacation,“ she said. “So I am afraid the burden of service will fall upon you alone.”

“Yes ma am,” I said.

“You understand that we require strict adherence to high standards of conduct,” she warned me. “And corporal punishment is used to correct infractions.”

“Yes ma am.”

“For example, if you spill things or are untidy you will be spanked on the spot,” she said.

I immediately spilled some of the tea. “Oh dear,“ I gasped.

“Heavens!” she said. “That is precisely what I meant. Now I must spank you. Lean over the table and rest your elbows on it.”

“Yes ma am.” I bent over the table. She didn’t have to lift my skirt, that stiff petticoat pushed it up so that my butt was exposed. Lady L touche my bottom gently, she slipped her fingers between my legs and caressed my pussy. I opened my legs obligingly.

“I hope that you aren’t one of those naughty girls who get excited easily,” she said. “I don’t want you walking around with damp underwear.”

Too late for that. My panties were getting wetter by the second.

“I’ll do my best ma am,” I said. “But I must confess that sometimes I am a naughty girl.”

“We will just have to correct that,” she said firmly. “Beginning now.”

She slipped my panties down and spanked me. She must get a lot of practice because her hand was hard and stung like the dickens. She gave me about twenty smacks and my butt was soon burning. So was my pussy.

She pulled my panties up. “See to it that you keep your underwear on at all times,” she told me. “I don’t mind looking at pussies but my husband is a busy man and I don’t wish to have him distracted.”

“Yes ma am.”

She returned to the parlor and I finished making tea. I took it out on a silver tray and served them. I bustled around pouring tea and placing cookies out. I bent over a lot and saw to it that every one got a good look up my skirt and down my cleavage. Then I retreated to the wall and stood quietly.

Mary chatted with Lord and Lady L  for a while, then having finished her tea she left. I tidied up the tea things then Lady L Instructed me as to how I should comport myself. I was shown how to walk in a prissy mincing style, to stand with my chest out, my hands at my sides and my palms down, to bend with my feet together. I felt like Bettie Boop. When I was able to walk and stand to her satisfaction, Lady L told me to dust the furniture. She told me to start in the formal dining room.

The room was large and furnished with a massive medieval looking table. It was ten feet long, five feet wide and built of heavy dark wood. The top was several inches thick and adorned with massive bronze fittings, including heavy rings. I didn’t have to be told that the table was an antique and undoubtedly very expensive. I didn’t know what purpose the rings may have served originally but I giggled when it occurred to me that they would be handy for tying down slaves. As it turned out, I was right.

 I was puttering around with a feather duster when Lord L entered the room. I made sure he got a good look at my panties. He called me over and told me that he preferred that maids be naked under their skirts. He knelt and took my panties off. He tucked them in his pocket, patted my ass, and wandered away.

Moments later Lady L came in and immediately saw that I wasn’t wearing panties. She scolded me for disobeying and gave me another spanking, then ordered me to put on my panties. Lord L had taken them with him so I took a pair from my apron.

She left and he returned. He was outraged that I was wearing panties. He marched me to a chair and dragged me over his lap. He tore my panties to shreds and gave me a sound paddling. Twenty minutes later Lady L noticed that I was naked under my skirt and guess what happened.

For the entire evening I was spanked for wearing panties, and for not wearing panties. My butt was red and very sore and my pussy tingled.

At about pair number six of my reserve panties Lady L discovered that sure enough, my pussy was wet. She was outraged and concluded that simple spankings weren’t getting through to me. She made me lie across her lap face up and spread my legs, then she spanked my pussy. Lord L came into the room and she told him that spanking my butt didn’t seem to be enough. They discussed the matter while she slapped my pussy and they decided that all spankings would be between my legs. That was fine with me.

I’m afraid I wasn’t a very good servant. Aside from being unable to get it right about wearing panties I made other mistakes. I spilled water on the kitchen floor, I bumped into Lord L’s chair, I knocked over a stack of magazines, and did many other clumsy and unacceptable things. They had to spank me many, many times.

           I was so bad that Lord L opened a cabinet and called me over. I stood rubbing my butt as he showed the cabinet’s contents. It was filled with riding crops, paddles and whips. He warned that they would have no choice but to use them on me if I didn’t improve. I hung my head and promised to be good, but unfortunately as I turned to go I almost knocked over a lamp. Sighing with exasperation Lord L removed a wooden paddle and told me to bend over.

Lord and Lady L tried their best to teach me to be a good and proper servant, but no matter how hard they tried I continued to make mistakes. They used every paddle in the cabinet on my very tender butt, to no avail. As the evening went on they were forced to use riding crops and eventually whips on me. I didn’t complain, they were only looking out for my best interests.

When Lord L came to the conclusion that not even riding crops were getting through to me he had no choice but to use a whip.

They took me to an enormous bedroom. Lady L buckled leather cuffs to my wrists while Lord L lowered a chandelier from the ceiling. He unhooked the chandelier and set it aside, then clipped my cuffs to the hook and raised me until I was a tip toe.

Then he whipped me.

Lady L sat regally in a chair and watched as her husband methodically tore my dress to shred with the whip. He was quite adept with the whip, and I was nearly naked before the whip touched my skin. But when it did I felt it!

I was soon shrieking in pain, and I was not play acting. That whip hurt! (But it was sexy too).

After a few dozen strokes he stopped and Lady L rose and removed the wreckage of my dress. She released me from my bonds and ordered me to go into the bathroom and clean up.

I washed my face, touched up my makeup, and went out. The bedroom was empty. I rummaged through my dress and found the spare panties and stockings. I put new ones on and went out. I had to serve the rest of my shift nearly naked.

Lord L asked me to bring him a drink and clumsy me, I dropped some ice cubes on the floor. That earned me another whipping, this time from Lady L, and believe me, she was just as good with a whip as her husband. She had me dancing in pain.

My doltish inability to serve Lord and Lady L forced them to punish me well into the night. At one in the morning they gave up and went to bed. I was given a pillow and blankets and permitted to sleep on the floor beside their bed. And I got to watch as they made love.

Unfortunately being the silly slut I was, I grew so excited that I played with myself and they caught me. To keep me from doing such a wicked thing, they tied me tightly, covered me with the blankets and turned out the lights.

The next morning Lord L woke and untied me. Lady L was still asleep. He told me to clean up in a guest bathroom, then make myself breakfast in the kitchen. I looked around for my clothing but my panties had disappeared during the night. All I could find were my shoes and cap.

After eating I returned to their bedroom and knocked softly on the door. Lady L called me  in and told me that I was to bring her a pot of coffee, then attend to Lord L in his shower.

Lord L was waiting when I brought the coffee. He directed me to start the shower then remove my cap and shoes and put on a shower cap. He entered the shower stall, which was huge, and ordered me to wash him. Well, as I soaped his body, I couldn’t resist touching his rather large cock and it became hard instantly. He was very patient and generous and permitted me to stroke, then suck his cock until he spurted into my mouth.

After Lord L had completed his toilette he dressed and instructed me to draw a bath for Lady L. As with him, I attended to her needs as she soaked in the tub. I washed her body and it seemed that my hands had a mind of their own. They inevitably strayed to her breasts and pussy and in no time at all I was fingering her into a wonderful orgasm. Lady L grew so passionate that she splashed a lot of water out of the tub. Afterwards I toweled her body then cleaned up the mess.

I found a mop and while mopping the floor a wicked urge came over me and I couldn’t resist fucking my self with the mop handle. I lay back on the cool marble floor and slid the handle inside my pussy. I made so much noise that Lady L heard and came in. I started to get up but she commanded me not to move. She called Lord L in and they stood and looked at me. Lord L sighed resignedly and told me that I might as well finish what I was doing so I fucked my self to a sweet orgasm as they watched. Of course, this earned me another whipping. This time they took turns.

After my whipping Lady L told me to make the bed and tidy the bedroom, then wait. She returned and told me that Mary had arrived to take me home. She looked me over and decided that I shouldn’t leave completely naked. She opened her dressing gown and told me to kneel at her feet.

“You may remove my panties and wear them home,” she said.

 I gasped in amazement. What an honor for me!

I slid her underwear down and she stepped out of them.

“Fetch me another pair from my dresser,” she commanded. “And a pair of stockings.”

I crawled on my hands and knees to the dresser, opened a drawer and found her lingerie. I selected a pair of panties and held them for her to see. She nodded and I crawled back. I started to put them on her, when on an impulse I kissed her tummy.

“What in the world?” she asked.

“Forgive me ma am,” I said. “But I couldn’t resist.”

She looked at me sternly, then her expression softened. “Oh, very well,” she said. “Come over here.”

She sat in a chair, opened her gown and spread her legs. I crawled between them and kissed her pussy. This was the first time in my life that I actually put my mouth on another woman’s pussy and I loved it. The only thing missing was I wasn’t tied up. I thrust my tongue as deep into Lady L as I could. I licked and kissed and nibbled her until she came.

When she collapsed in orgasm I sat on my knees and waited until her breathing returned to normal.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t do a better job ma am,” I said. “But I’ve never done that before.”

She smiled at me and touched my hair gently.

“Don’t worry my child,” she said. “I’ll see to your training when you come back. I’ll make sure that you get lots of practice.”

“Thank you ma am.”

“You may put my panties on,” she said. “The fresh pair on me, the others on yourself.”

I slipped her panties up her legs then she surprised me by holding her old ones for me to step into. She checked to see that they fit properly by running her fingers over every inch of the material, especial the crotch. I was pink faced and breathing hard when she finished. Then she put the stockings on me and told me to find my shoes.

I felt very sexy wearing her panties. When I got home I carefully packed them away. I still have them. Once a year I put them on. When I press them to my face I can almost taste Lady L’s pussy again.     

Mary was waiting when we came out of the bedroom. She helped me into my rain coat and took me home.

“They want you back in a few weeks,” she told me.

“Well, they’ll have to pay for another maid’s dress,” I told her. “The one I came in is ruined.”

“Not to worry,” she said. “The seamstress was told to make several in your size.”

I told her about my night on the drive home. Mary was surprised when I told her how Lady L had disciplined me.

“That’s a change for her,” Mary said. “Usually she’s submissive.”

“What?”

“I’ve seen her crawling on her hands and knees and sucking cocks while her husband watches,” Mary said. “That’s how I got to know them. He brings her to my parties and lets everyone treat her like dirt. She loves it.”

I stared at Mary in utter astonishment. The idea of aristocratic Lady L in slavery was unbelievable!

“But she’s such a grand lady,” I marveled. “And to think, just half an hour ago I was on my knees between her legs.”

“I imagine her pussy tastes like any other,” Mary chuckled.

“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “It’s the first one I’ve ever eaten.”

Mary looked at me in surprise. I smiled and leaned back against the seat.

                                                                                                CH 15

                I attended my first bondage party as Denise’s slave. The party was held at the garage dungeon on a Sunday afternoon. I arrived at the house and Denise undressed me. Mary was there and had one of her regular male clients on a leash.  Mary’s little man was naked except for a slave collar. He was pudgy and had no body hair and his penis was small. Denise allowed him to follow us into a bedroom and watch while she undressed me. He squatted on the floor and panted like a dog. I didn’t mind being watched, but I’d have preferred a real man.

                Denise buckled me into a slave collar and leather wrist and ankle cuffs, then she put a partial slave hood over my head. The hood covered my head and face but left my mouth uncovered and I could see out of small eye holes. I had a pretty good idea why my mouth was exposed.

                Denise locked my wrists behind my back then played around with me. She squeezed and pinched my breasts and rubbed my pussy until my knees were weak.

                Mary’s slave, whom I shall call ‘doggy boy’, got very excited. His little cock was hard and he  played with it while he watched. Denise made him stop and handcuffed his hands behind his back. She pushed me onto the bed and spread my legs. She snapped her fingers at ‘doggie boy’ and motioned him closer. He rested his chin on the bed a few inches from my pussy while Denise finger fucked me. She was in character and brought me close to orgasm but cruelly wouldn’t let me come. I was whimpering in frustration. (The ‘doggy slave was whimpering too, the little creep). Denise stopped tormenting me when Mary called from the kitchen that she could use some help.

                Denise attached nipple clamps to my breasts, snapped a chain to my collar and led me to the kitchen. ‘Doggy boy’ followed on his hands and knees.

Mary was setting up refreshments. Denise unlocked my wrists and told me to help, she pitched in too. I carried trays of goodies to the garage.

                Setting up the buffet in the nude was exciting. I’d helped mom with parties before, but never as a slave. The only problem was that ‘doggie boy’ followed me everywhere. He didn’t have to help, he just stared at me and panted like a dog. Mary and Denise bustled around like ordinary hostesses before a party, except most hostesses don’t dress to the max in dominatrix outfits.

                Denise wore a scarlet micro skirt and matching vest. The vest did nothing to conceal her breasts and  her skirt was so short that her black silk panties were visible. She wore brilliant red knee boots complete with spurs.

Mary wore a silver bustier over a black leather skirt. The skirt was split up the front. It could be closed with snaps but she’d left them open so that her pussy was exposed, Her pubic hair was so red that I wondered if she’d touched it up.

They both looked fantastic.

                The dungeon was arranged with tables and chairs and a buffet along a wall. An X cross stood in the center of the room, just where the lights focused. My pussy tingled as I remembered my moments under those lights. I wondered what I was going to experience that afternoon.  When they were satisfied that everything was ready they locked me in one of the jail cells and put ‘doggie boy’ in another. I wasn’t terribly thrilled about just sitting loose in a cell.

“Do I have to just sit here?” I complained. “Can’t I be tied up or something?” 

 Denise pressed me against the bars so that my breasts protruded through. She spread my  arms and legs wide and locked them tightly to the bars. Much better. Then she toyed with my pussy until I was ready to cum.

In the next cell ‘doggy boy’s’ pecker was hard. He panted and whimpered until Denise tied him the same way. She even deigned to play with his cock for a few minutes.

The first guests arrived. A man walked in leading a woman . She was dressed like a Spanish lady in a red and black lace dress. Her skirt was made of layers of ruffles and trailed behind her. She even wore a high comb covered with a mantilla. Her hands were bound in front with a red rope and she followed her master demurely, with lowered eyes. The costume was very erotic because her skirt was completely open in the front exposing her very hairy pussy. The man was dressed like an Argentine gaucho, with a wide hat and flowing trousers tucked into boots and held up by a sash. He was bare chested and carried a whip.

He motioned the woman to a chair and walked to me. As he approached he opened the front of his trousers and pulled out a very hard cock. He thrust his cock between the bars and rubbed it against my belly. He couldn’t screw me in that position, but he sure got me hot in a hurry! He rubbed his cock against my skin for a few minutes the stepped back and toyed with my breasts.

 In his cage ‘doggie boy’ whimpered hopefully. The gaucho looked at him in disdain and smacked the handle of his whip onto ‘doggie’s’ cock. The pathetic little worm yelped in delight and began humping against the bars. The gaucho ignored him and walked away.

More guests arrived until about twenty people were present. Some wore costumes, other were in regular clothes. Most of the submissives were nude or partially so, and so were some of the dominants. Most doms were men, but several women showed with subs in tow.

One female dom had the look of a professional and her sub was a man. She led him in naked in chains. His cock was rock hard and she made him offer it to every one. Some people touched his cock but most of the male dominants ignored it or at best whacked it their whips. One master ordered his slave, a mousy little woman in chains to masturbate the male. She brought him close to coming, then stopped when ordered. The poor male groaned in frustration. Everyone laughed at him.

Another dominant woman was fascinating. She was a sweet looking lady about forty years old. She looked like a school teacher. She carried a wooden ruler, wore granny glasses low on her nose, her hair in a bun, and a severe gray business suit with some interesting modifications. She was naked under her jacket and showed a lot of impressive cleavage when she moved, and her skirt was so short that the tops of her stockings were visible. Later in the evening I got a look up her skirt and found that she wasn’t wearing panties.

Her sub was a woman in her fifties. She wore a school girl outfit with a tiny plaid skirt, ruffled panties, bobby socks, penny loafers and an enormous white bra that exposed an impressive cleavage, bigger than her mistress’s boobs. The get up would have looked ridiculous on most women her age, but somehow she carried it off. She looked very sexy.

 It turned out that the dom really was a school teacher, so was her sub. They worked in the same school and had been in the bondage scene for twenty years. Both were married but neither woman’s husband knew of their secret lives.

Their arrival caused a stir among the other guests. Everyone focused on the ‘school girl’s’ breasts and the men couldn’t keep their hands off them. She giggled and tried to stand still as several hands roamed over her boobs and under her skirt. Her dom permitted this for a few moments then shooed the men away. She promised they would all get their turn later. The school girl stuck out her lower lip and pouted. Her dom  ordered her to lift her skirt and bend forward. The schoolgirl grinned and wiggled her bottom while her dom gave her a dozen smacks with the ruler.

I guess I had expected the affair to be run more like a show, with every one putting on an act in turn, but it really was just a party. Slaves and masters mingled, chatted, ate and drank. Many of the submissives wore cuffs or chains but ‘doggy boy’ and I were the only ones who were restrained. From time to time someone would wander over to my cell and play with my breasts and pussy. Some slaves took liberties with my body. That was ok with me. I was so excited that I didn’t care who was touching me.

Mary came by with a plate of refreshments and fed me. She also fed ‘doggy boy’ and played with his cock. She knew just how to excite him until he was an inch from coming. Each time he got close she would stop. The poor little twerp would whimper and yelp and hump the bars frantically. He attracted so much attention that everyone grew quiet and watched. Mary glanced around and laughed.

“Would anyone like to see more?” she asked. They applauded.

She untied ‘doggy’ and led him to the center of the room. She strapped him to the X cross. He was so excited that he was trembling. Mary played with his cock, then whipped him. She whipped the little guy over every inch of his body, even his face (although she didn’t hit him very hard there).

He loved every stroke. His expression was ecstatic. He jerked and groaned and yelped at each blow, and his cock was as hard as a rock.

Mary stepped back and offered her whip to another woman. This was the other professional dominatrix. Her name was Georgia.

Georgia stood in from of ‘doggy’ and cracked the whip. She was very good and demonstrated mastery of the whip that would have put a  lion tamer to shame. She snapped that whip over her head, in circles, in figure eights and she cracked it so hard on the floor that it marked the wood. She cracked that whip so fast and loud that it sounding like a machine gun. Little ‘doggy boy’ watched entranced, his eyes never left the whip.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was so beautiful, so cruel and so skilled with her whip! It was wasted on ‘doggy. I should be on that cross, not him!

Never slowing the whip, Georgia moved closer to him. His face was pale but a look of pure lust was on his face. The whip got closer and closer. Then she slashed it across his chest. Two blows so fast that bright red welts appeared instantly, and ‘doggy boy’ came!

His cum spurted out and struck her leg. She ignored it and hit him again, this time slowly and deliberately. At each stroke his body jerked and more cum spurted out. He never made a sound and never took his eyes from her.   

When his cock was empty she tossed the whip to the floor and walked to her table. She walked like a queen. Her head was high, her carriage was regal and her eyes sparkled. She wasn’t even breathing hard. The room was silent and everyone stared in awe. At her table she placed her foot on a chair and motioned her personal slave to lick the cum off her leg. He lunged forward eager to obey.

Georgia sipped her drink and smiled at the crowd. “Who’s next?”

They burst into applause.

Mary released ‘doggy’ and made him lick his semen from the floor, then she clipped a leash to his collar and had him crawl after her as she moved around the room. He was completely contented and the other guests petted him like a puppy.

I was jealous. I wanted to be petted. I wanted to be whipped into an orgasm while they watched. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried.

Another guest decided to display his slave. He led a woman to the floor. She wore a dress that buttoned own the front. He unbuttoned the dress and tossed it aside. Under it she wore white lace panties, garter belt and bra. She was an ordinary looking woman, not pretty, not plain.  So was he, and it was obvious that they were husband and wife. They were the kind of people you wouldn’t look at twice if you passed them in a grocery store. He lowered a rope from the ceiling and strung her up by her wrists, then he whipped her half to death.

I thought Georgia had done a job on ‘doggy boy’, but that man whipped his wife so hard that she was covered with raised welts within minutes. Some of the welts even had thin lines of blood seeping from  them. And she didn’t take her whipping quietly. She screamed her lungs out.

That poor woman writhed and twisted in her bonds. She screamed and jerked and tried to avoid the whip. She tugged herself upward, then dropped back. Her feet were off the floor and she flopped at the end of the rope like a fish on a line. She struggled so frantically that puffs of dust wafted down from the rafters. I began to wonder if she was at the party voluntarily. I was incredibly excited, but as I watched her genuine agony I wondered what would happen to Mary and Denise if the woman went to the police. 

I caught Mary’s eye and she came over.

“I don’t think that she is enjoying this,” I whispered. “Shouldn’t you stop it?”

Mary looked at me incredulously.

“I could take her place,” I offered.

Mary just rolled her eyes and walked away.

The man whipped his woman until she hung limply in her bonds. Her chest was heaving and her breasts bounced as she gasped for breath. He lowered her to the floor but she didn’t try to stand. She just collapsed slowly until she lay at his feet. He released her bonds and she slowly stood up. She smiled at the applause and turned back and forth, proudly displaying her welts. She kissed her husband on the cheek and walked to their table.

Across the room Mary looked at me and winked.

A couple at the next table spoke to her. I couldn’t hear the conversation but both men seemed to reach some sort of agreement. The women changed seats, then the freshly whipped woman got on her knees and disappeared under table. The other woman did the same. Both men leaned back in their chairs. I was jealous again.

I watched a lot of people get tortured that night. It was a learning experience. I thought I was tough but I discovered that I was a virgin when it came to slavery. I watched people endure horrific torture that honestly frightened me.

Oh, I did get whipped that night. Several times in fact and they were all good whippings. I realized a fantasy when Denise took me out of my cell and paraded me in front of every one. Then she hung me by my wrists and asked for a volunteer from the audience. A gentleman stepped forward and selected a big flogger. Denise told him that I wanted it rough. He looked at me questioningly and I nodded.

He didn’t even warm me up, he just went at my body like a mule driver. I was squealing by the third blow and screaming by the tenth. It was lovely! My legs weren’t tied so I kicked and thrashed around and tried to keep them open. I wanted every one to see my pussy.

My tormentor (whose name I cannot recall after all these years) spun my body and whipped me as I rotated. After a few dozen from him, he handed the whip over to another man, and another. All in all I was whipped by every dominant male and female that evening. I came several times during the first whipping and discovered something about myself.

I like being dominated by men, and men are stronger and hit harder, but women are meaner and more insidious and they know just exactly where to place a whip. I had more orgasms under women than men.

After  my first whipping I was released and Denise took me to her table. Things were getting a bit wilder and instead of one person at a time being tortured, several things were going on. I saw that the school teacher had tied her sub to a post and was working her breasts over with a ruler.

The ‘school girl’ was visibly ecstatic and her smile grew with each blow. The ‘teacher’ progressed from a wooden ruler to a wooden yardstick, then to a metal one. Even with the noise in the room I could hear every smack as that yardstick hit her slave’s breasts. Several people watched intently.

The party was now an orgy. Slaves were being spanked or whipped, one man had bent his slave over a table and was fucking her from behind, and ‘doggy boy’ was on his knees sucking a man’s cock. Yuck!

In a corner of the dungeon several people were gathered around an OB/GYN table. A woman was strapped to the table and alternately screaming in pain and shrieking with laughter. I couldn’t see what they were doing to her but whatever it was, I wished they were doing it to me.

The gaucho joined us at the table and he and Denise got into a long conversation. I wondered where his Spanish Lady was until I saw her getting a spanking on the lap of another man. The lucky thing!

I got up and wandered around the room. I watched all sorts of erotic torments being inflicted on people and was about to offer myself to a man who’d just given a girl a terrific whipping when another  piercing scream came from the woman on the OB/GYN table. I went to the table and saw that the woman was being tormented with electricity.

Wires were clipped to her nipples and pussy lips. A wire was attached to a metal rod in her rectum and others were clipped to her toes and fingers. The wires ran to a control box that looked like a model train transformer. A man was turning dials on the box and that made the woman scream or giggle. From her reactions, the lower voltage was quite pleasant. She moaned and purred with pleasure, but when  the power went up her purring changed to yelps, then to shrieks, then to window rattling screams.  She also reacted differently when the electricity was applied to different parts of her body. Obviously the wires on her pussy brought  the strongest screams. At full power she screamed insanely and thrashed on the table like a mad woman.

Denise appeared beside me and told me the woman was a serious masochist and a danger freak. She even had a death fetish.  She took risks and had allowed people to torture her so severely that she had been hospitalized. Her favorite torture was electrical and she had an fantasy about being executed in an electric chair.

My jaw dropped when Denise told me that. I looked at her in astonishment. Denise shrugged and told me not to be too surprised or judgmental. I started to say something until I remembered I’d had fantasies of being sacrificed and burnt at the stake when I was in high school. I nodded.

“How well do you know her?” I asked.

“Quite well,” Denise answered. “She comes to me for sessions from time to time, but I won’t do all the things she asks for.”

“Like what?”

“Like that,” Denise said, pointed at the woman. “I have electric torture devices, but she wants them turned up so high that she really could be electrocuted. I won’t run that risk.”

“Does she have a master?” I asked.

“She has in the past, but they always break up. Luckily for her, she hasn’t met anyone who is crazy enough to do the things that she wants done to her. If she ever does hook up with someone like that she may end up dead.”

“I’ve had fantasies about being cooked at a stake,” I said. “And being a sacrificial victim, but I was more interested in the bondage, not really dying.”

“I understand that,” Denise said. “But Donna takes it to the extreme.”

“Her name is Donna?” I asked, nodding toward the woman.

“Yes,” Denise answered. “She wants to be put on trial naked for some crime, then condemned to the electric chair. She fantasizes that she’s led through a prison in the nude to the execution chamber, then strapped to the chair in front of a crowd of witnesses. The chair is especially designed for women, and it forces her legs wide apart. The prison guards secure her to the chair and insert a huge penis shaped electrode in her pussy. When they turn on the current she wants to thrash wildly, like she is now, in front of the witnesses. The executioner turns the electricity on and off, prolonging her death. As the current is increased she jerks in the chair until its rocking on the floor. When they give her the final jolt smoke comes off her breasts and tiny flames ignite on her nipples, then she has a huge orgasm and dies.”

“How do you know all this?” I gasped.

“Donna loves to talk about her fantasies,” Denise said. “I’ve listened to them for years.”

“Wow,” I asked. “She’s pretty weird!”

(Weird fantasies. . . but sexy.)

I didn’t want to be executed but I did want to strapped to that table. My pussy was throbbing so much I could have sworn it was buzzing.

                                                                CH 16

As I stood watching, a man’s hand clapped on my shoulder and turned me around. I found myself looking into the eyes of the gaucho. His hand pressed me to my knees where I was at eye level with his cock. I opened my mouth for him.

I enjoyed sucking that man’s cock because other people were watching. But I also wanted to see  what they were doing to the woman on the table. I sucked that cock the best I could so he could come quickly and I could get back to watching  the electrical torture. Unfortunately as soon as the gaucho came another cock was shoved in my face. I obediently took the second cock in my mouth, but was surprised to see a woman kneel beside the man’s leg. She was a strikingly beautiful woman who could have been an actress or a model. She looked at me without expression and I wondered why he was wasting time on me when he had her, until I realized that it was to humiliate her.

She was naked and her arms were tightly bound behind her back. She looked into my eyes and when he got close to coming she edged nearer to me. When he came he withdrew from my mouth and spurted in my face. I liked that but was surprised when his slave pressed herself against me and began licking my face. I held still as she cleaned all his cum off me with her tongue. She managed to slip her tongue between my lips once or twice and I finally saw a twinkle in her eyes when she finished and licked her own lips.

I started to get up but her master ordered me to lay back and spread my legs. I almost refused because I still wanted to see the electrical torture, but I was a slave and had to obey.

I lay back and opened my knees. The man took his slave by the hair and pushed her face into my crotch. She kissed my pussy, then set to work with her tongue. And she knew what she was doing.

A crowd formed around us which I found exciting. Even ‘doggy boy’ showed up, still crawling. He wormed his way past people’s legs and squatted  next me. His little cock was hard and pointing at my  face. He whimpered and edged closer but I shoved him away. That brought a burst of laughter from the crowd.

One of the masters told me to play with ‘doggie’s cock, but I refused. The master knelt and took both my hands in his. Someone handed him a set of handcuffs and he clipped them into the rings of my wrist cuffs. Then he forced my arms over my head and onto the floor. He placed his foot on the handcuffs and I couldn’t move.

Someone ordered ‘doggy’ to crouch over my chest and put his cock in my mouth. I hated the idea but I was a slave and had no choice. I sucked that pathetic little weenie.

And I got even more excited! Being on my back with my wrists imprisoned took my passion to a higher notch and being forced to do something so humiliating in front of people sent it higher still. Degradation was thrilling. (Of course, the fact that my pussy was being eaten by a beautiful woman may have helped). I sucked little ‘doggy’ as if I were in love with him. 

The crowd cheered when ‘doggy’ came all over my face, and I came a moment later from the actions of that wonderful tongue in my pussy.  Someone grabbed ‘doggy’ by the scruff of his neck and dragged him off me. The woman’s face disappeared from my crotch and I felt the weight of a man on my body. A cock thrust inside me and I came like a volcano.

I lay on the floor in pure delight as I was fucked in front of people. I was dimly aware of the beautiful slave lying beside me while someone fucked her too.

I lost count of the men who screwed me. Eventually I was alone on the floor. The beautiful woman was gone and the OB/GYN table was empty. I staggered to my feet and walked to a table. I drank a glass of water and another of wine. I slouched in the chair and felt utterly happy.

Denise plopped down beside me.

“Having a nice time?” she asked.

I managed to nod.

“Its a good thing these chairs are washable,” she commented.

I looked at her curiously until I saw that she was looking at my crotch. My pussy was pink and swollen and covered with cum. More was oozing out.

“I you sit here too long you’ll be stuck to the seat,” Denise said..

 I laughed helplessly. I noticed that my nipple clamps were missing, so was my hood.

The party was out of control. Someone tied two females side by side to kneeling posts and made them suck men’s cocks. Another slave was added, and a third, until a whole row of slaves knelt on the floor, including two male slaves, whose cocks were very hard. Dominant males wandered over and stuck their cocks into the kneeling slaves’ mouths.

“That’s interesting,” Denise commented.

“What is?” I asked.

“See the male sub at the end of the line, the one with the curly hair?”

“Yes.”

“He just gave a blow job to a master.”

“So?’

“He’s straight. I’ve never seen him submit to a man before.”

“No kidding? Who is his mistress?”

“The short woman in blue,” Denise said. “The one talking to those men at the table over there. She’s his wife.”

The woman in blue was looking toward her slave husband. She seemed mildly surprised to see cum on his face. She said something to one of the men at her table, who stood up and walked to her husband. The man opened his trousers and took out his cock. He moved close to the male slave, who obediently took it between his lips.

The slaves’ wife laughed in disbelief and applauded. She watched her husband suck the cock until it spurted in his mouth. When her husband looked toward her she raised her glass toward him mockingly, then  returned to her conversation. Her husband hung his head in embarrassment.

“My, my,” Denise said.

The plain woman who had been so brutally whipped was at it again. She was hanging by her wrists while a man whipped her. She was getting another brutal whipping, and like the first time, she was screeching and fighting her bonds. Denise followed my look.

“She is animated, isn’t she,” Denise commented. “She likes everyone to watch when she’s punished. She loves to thrash around.”

“I’m impressed,” I admitted.

“Wait until they get around to whipping her pussy,” Denise said. “She really puts on a show then.”

“That’s not her husband whipping her,” I commented.

“No, he took someone’s slave to a bedroom.”

A piercing scream came from across the dungeon. The crowd around the ‘schoolgirl’ laughed.

“They’re still working on Dorothy’s boobs,” Denise said.

“There’s a lot to work on,” I commented.

“Uh huh, they certainly are huge,” Denise agreed. “I like tormenting them.”

“You’ve had sessions with her?” I asked. “You’ve tortured those boobs?”

“Yep, and you want to know something?” Denise said. “She has orgasms from them.”

“No kidding?”

“Hurt her boobs enough and she’ll come like an atomic bomb,” Denise said.  “I wish I could come that way.”

I looked at the ‘schoolgirl’. Someone was twisting her breasts using pliers. The look on her face was pure ecstasy.

“Do you know everyone’s secrets?” I asked.

“Pretty much,” she said. “Submissives will tell you everything when they’re in character. They like to talk about their dreams.”

“I guess you’re right,” I said. “I did.”

Denise nodded toward the ‘schoolgirl’.  “Her greatest fantasy is to have somebody put giant fishhooks through her nipples, then hang her from the ceiling with them,”

I cringed at the thought, then felt a wave of heat flash through my pussy. A violent shudder rippled through my body.

Denise looked at me curiously.

“Just imagining what that would be like,” I explained. “It sounds horrid.”

“Sure it does,” she scoffed. “I can see that you’re terrified.”

I looked away embarrassed. Denise laughed.

“Don’t try to kid me Mary. I can tell by the look in your eyes that  you’d love to hang by your tits. Right?” 

“My God no!”

She leaned close. “Are you sure about that? Are you sure that you wouldn’t like to have hooks stabbed through your nipples?”

“I’d love it,” I whispered.

Denise laughed. She pinched my nipple and pulled me to my feet. She walked me to a spot near Dorothy and told me to kneel. I obeyed and watched eagerly as she took a set of wicked looking nipple clamps from s shelf. She tied cord to them and tossed the cords over the rafter above my head.

She put the clamps on my nipples and she wasn’t gentle about it. I bit my lip and managed to suppress a squeal when the first one bit into me, but  I wasn’t able to keep from shrieking when the second one got me. Heads turned and people watched as Denise tugged the cords and forced me to my feet. She kept pulling until I was on my toes and gasping in pain. Then she locked my wrists behind my back and walked away. What a pal!

                                                                                CH 17

The party started to wind down at midnight and the guests began to leave. Dorothy and her school teacher were the last to go. I was still a tip toe under the rafter. I watched as Dorothy was released and sat with her mistress, Mary and Denise at a table.

I couldn’t hear their conversation but they were looking at me. I saw Dorothy nod and get to her feet. Denise locked her wrists behind her and led her to me. She attached clamps to Dorothy’s nipples, pressed her against me and hauled her up onto her toes. She tied a rope around our waists and snubbed it tightly. Dorothy’s body felt warm and soft.

“Dorothy, this is Mary,” Denise said. “Mary is fascinated by your boobs and interested in your story.”

“Hi Mary,” Dorothy said kindly. “So you like boobs?”

I was embarrassed. “Not usually,” I said. “But yours are magnificent.”

“Thank you. I take it you’re gay?”

“No, not really,” I told her. “I’ve been having sex with ladies but that’s because I’m a slave. I normally like men.”

“Then we’re in the same boat,” she said. “I never had sex with a woman either until I discovered my submissive side.”

We were tied so closely that I had to lean away to see her face. She looked exhausted but happy. She smiled at me.

 Dorothy’s breasts were so big, soft and floppy that they lifted easily into the air.

 Denise, Mary, and the teacher (whose name was Vivian) sat at the table and visited for an hour while Dorothy and I danced on our toes.

“How big are your breasts?” I asked.

“Fifty four inches,” she said.  “One inch for each year of my life.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m fifty four years old,” she laughed.  “And my tits are still growing.”

“They are?”

“Between having a tit loving husband, and this kind of thing, they stretch a little more each year.”

“Does your husband torture them?” I asked.

“No, never. He just isn’t into bondage,” she said. “He has no idea that I do this.”

“How do you keep it from him?”

“He travels a lot so I can have fun while he’s away. If I have marks after a session I avoid letting him see me naked, and we make love in the dark. I’ve convinced him that I like getting screwed with the lights out.”

“And he never sees your marks?” I asked.

“Sometimes he does, but I’ve trained him over the years to believe that my bras leave marks on my skin. He doesn’t even question it anymore.” 

“How did you get into the scene?”

“There are several bad things about having huge tits,” she said. “Back aches, people stare at them, and they get in the way. They knock things over.”

“What are the good things about having huge tits?: I asked.”

“People stare at them and they make great targets for a whip.”

“Wow.”

“Vivian and I teach at the same school. We were in the office one day, helping with the paperwork. Its hard for me to see under my boobs and I kept bumping into things. I knocked over the same stack of papers three times and Vivian warned me that if I did it again she was going to spank me. She was kidding, but the next time it happened she picked up a ruler and told me to hold out my hand. I did and she rapped my palm lightly, then jokingly smacked my boobs. When that ruler hit my nipples a bolt of pure excitement went through me like electricity. I jumped like I’d been shot.”

“Wow.”

“Vivian saw the look in my eyes and knew instantly. Neither of us said a word. She raised the ruler, I stuck my boobs out, and she smacked them again. I almost had an orgasm.”

“Denise told me you can come from pain in your breasts,” I said.

“Yes, I can,” she said. “I just wish I’d found that out earlier. I’d have had people torturing them a lot sooner if I’d known. I wasted a lot of years.”

“Did you come that first day?”

“No, I came close but we were interrupted.”

“What happened?”

“Another teacher came in and we went back to work. We were both embarrassed and didn’t look at each other the rest of the day. As we were leaving that afternoon Vivian suggested we get a cup of coffee. We went to a cafe and talked about what had happened.

“Vivian  had a lesbian roommate in college who was submissive, and she talked Vivian into tying her up. Vivian discovered that she enjoyed dominating the girl. They had a relationship, but after college went their separate ways. Vivian became a teacher, got married, had kids and lived a normal life, but smacking my breasts with that ruler turned her on. It brought back the memories of her college days. She asked me to let her dominate me.”

“What did you say?”

“I said no. I’d never had any lesbian or masochistic fantasies. Besides, I love my husband and would never hurt him. Unfortunately the incident triggered something in me I didn’t know existed. I got hot every time I thought about it. I was confused and stewed over it for days. I had trouble getting to sleep, and when I did manage to sleep I dreamt about being tortured.”

“I know about dreams,” I told her. “You wouldn’t believe some of the raunchy ones I have.”

“You’re too young to be having such dreams,” she smiled. “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty one,” I said. “And I’ve been tying my self up since I was sixteen.”

“Ah, an early bloomer,” she said.

“Yes, an early bloomer with an over active imagination,” I said. “I have lots of wicked dreams.”

“Someday we’ll have to compare them,” she giggled.

“I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours,”.

“Deal.”

Dorothy continued her story:

“The bondage dreams were driving me crazy so I worked up the nerve to ask my husband if he would like to tie me up. We had never done anything like that and he politely declined. He said he wasn’t the kind on man who would abuse a woman. He was surprised that I brought up the subject so I never mentioned it again.”

“Too bad,” I said.

“The dreams didn’t stop,” she continued. “So I went to Vivian and agreed to submit to her one time only.”

“Only once?” I asked.

“I thought perhaps if I did it once I might get it out of my system and be able to get back to normal,” she said.

“But it didn’t work that way, right?”

“No,” she said. “I told Vivian I’d let her do anything she wanted to me. She invited me to her house on a Saturday. Her husband was away fishing.

“I was a nervous wreck when I got there. Vivian took me to the cellar and ordered me to undress. I discovered that I liked taking orders from her, it excited me. I took off my clothes and she tied me to a post.

“A big turn on?” I asked.

“Incredible! I went weak in the knees as soon as I felt that rope tighten on my wrists. Vivian tied my wrists and ankles, and wrapped ropes around my breasts until they were as tight as balloons, then she told me to try to get loose. I struggled but it was impossible. All I could do was wiggle around and manage to get my boobs bouncing. Vivian liked that and ordered me to keep them moving. It was painful but I liked it too.”

“I’d love to see that,” I said.

She smiled and went on. “Finally Vivian got down to business and tortured me. She squeezed my boobs, pinched my nipples, dug her fingernails in as deep as she could. The pain was terrific but turned me on. She slapped my breasts with her hands, then used a ruler and a yardstick. That’s when I experienced my first bondage orgasm.”

“Did you have orgasms before that?” I asked.

“Oh yes. My husband is a terrific lover,” she said. “And we are wonderfully compatible, at least in normal sex.”

“Its too bad he won’t tie you up,” I said.

“You don’t know how many times my heart has ached to have him do the things that Vivian does to me.”

“Tell me more about your first time with her,” I suggested.

“When I came the first time she let me rest for a few minutes, then used a whip on me. I thought I was in heaven! I had more orgasms and she never even touched my pussy.”

“There was no sex between you?”

“Not the first time,” she said. “I didn’t become a lesbian until our third or fourth meeting.”

“What happened?”

“Vivian tied me to her bed and whipped me. She whipped my boobs of course, but also the insides of my thighs, my belly, even my pussy.”

“Mmmmmm!”

“I’ll say! I had an orgasm,” Dorothy said. “Then Vivian climbed onto the bed and lowered her pussy onto my face.”

“Did you like it?”

“It was odd,” she said. “I’d never done that before, but I knew it was coming sooner or later. I didn’t dislike eating Vivian’s pussy, it was just a new experience. Later I grew to love at. I still do.”

“Do you love eating all pussies,” I giggled. “Or just your mistresses?”

“All pussies,” she laughed. “But especially hers.”

“Did your mistress eat your pussy?” I asked.

“Not that time, but she did a few weeks later. She got me very excited, then made me beg for it. In our entire relationship we’ve never just made love. I’ve always been in bondage and I refuse to eat her pussy until she whips me into submission, and she won’t eat mine until I beg. Its our little game.”

“Are you turned on my submission too?” I asked. “I sure am.”

“Yes,” Dorothy replied. “I love to have my tits abused, but I get excited about bondage and even just verbal dominance.”

“Cool.”

“Sometimes Vivian calls me at home and orders me to take off my clothes and play with my pussy and do other sexy things,” Dorothy said. “I get really hot doing that.”

“Do you really do the things she says,” I asked. “Or just pretend?”

“I do them,” she said firmly. “To the last detail.”

“Getting back to eating pussies,” I said. “What about other women?”

“Sure,” Dorothy said. “She’s given me to other doms and I’ve had to eat other slave pussies.”

“Have you been given to men?” I asked.

“Never,” she said firmly. “I’ve been spanked and tortured by men, but I won’t let them fuck me. It may be a small point, but  no matter how many times I’ve betrayed my husband with Vivian, I’ve never done so with a man.”

“Forgive me, but you seemed to enjoy the attention that men were giving you earlier,” I observed.

“Its true, to my shame,” she said.

“Have you ever sucked a man’s cock?”

“Yes.”

“Well, isn’t that the same as screwing?”

“I admit that I’m a hypocrite,” Dorothy said. “But maybe the only way I can retain a tiny bit of self respect is to keep my pussy for my husband only.”

We were quiet for a while. I felt bad that I had pressed her. She spoke.

“The first time I sucked a cock as a slave I honestly had to be forced to do it.”

“What happened?”

“It was many years ago. Vivian swapped me for another woman’s slave. The other dom tied me on my knees and was working my breasts over when her boyfriend showed up. He wasn’t supposed to be part of the arrangement but the dom ordered me to suck his cock. I refused so they whipped me hard. Two people whipped my tits at the same time. Vivian was in another room and thought my screams were just ordinary screams. Part of me was determined not to betray my husband and part of me enjoyed the pain, so I refused for a long time. It went on so long that I went beyond the point of erotic pain. I was afraid that they were going to injure me, perhaps scar me permanently, so I gave in.”

“You poor thing,” I said.

“Not really,” she said wryly. “Despite the pain and degradation, as soon as that man’s cock went into my mouth I was turned on. I gave him the blow job of his life. I swallowed his cum and begged for more. The dom and her boyfriend were so impressed that they offered to buy me from Vivian.”

“Wow.”

“So I suck cocks now, but I resist as long as I can,” Dorothy said proudly. “If a man wants me to suck him off, he’s going to have to work at making me do it.”

(That sort of logic makes sense only to another sex slave. It made perfect sense to me.)

“How long have you and Vivian been together?”

“I was thirty five when we started, Vivian was twenty six. That was almost twenty years ago.”  She smiled and shook her head. “You wouldn’t believe the lengths we’ve gone to keep it secret. No one outside the scene has ever guessed that I’m Vivian’s slave. We never allowed a hint of it into our work or family lives. Vivian has had a child since we started. She whipped me when she was pregnant.”

“Do they make leather maternity outfits for doms?” I giggled.

 “You aren’t the first person to ask that,” she chuckled. “Actually the weirdest part of being dominated by a pregnant woman is the fact that its hard to breathe when she’s sitting on your face.”

“”Now that is kinky,” I said. “I could listen to your stories all night.”

“I have a lot of them,” she said. “Vivian and I have shared a lot of experiences over the years.”

“Have you ever gotten burnt out?”

“Oh sure. We’ve both reached the point where we needed a break. That usually lasts a few weeks, then we’re right back at it. After all these years, I’m still hooked.”

“Speaking of being hooked,” I said. “I heard that you have a fantasy involving hooks.”

“Ooooh yes!” she sighed. “I want to have my tits pierced with big fish hooks, like the ones they use in deep sea fishing. Then I want to be lifted into the air by the hooks.”

“That would probably tear your breasts off,” I said.

“I know, but since when does a fantasy have to be logical?”

“That’s true.” I said. I thought for a moment. “Would you mind if I intruded into your fantasy?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, it just came to me that instead of these clamps, they could put hooks through our nipples, run the cords over that beam so we would be connected by our tits.”

“And make them so tight that we’d have to stand on our toes?” she added.

“Just like we are now.”

“Or, they could pierce us with the same hooks,” she whispered. “A hook down through my right nipple then up through your left one, the same on the other side.”

“Yes, then they could hoist us into the air,” I gasped.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then let it out in a long shuddering sigh.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “That was nice.”

“Did you just have an orgasm” I asked amazed.

“A sweet little teensy tiny one,” she giggled. “Thanks to you.”

“I’m impressed!” I told her. “I’ve never seen anyone come just from listening to a fantasy.”

“Want to see me come again?” she asked mischievously. “Watch this.”

She raised higher on her toes, then dropped a few millimeters. The cords on her nipple clamps snapped taught, her breasts jerked upward and an expression of pure ecstasy came across her features. She let out another long shuddering sigh, then opened her eyes and smiled brightly. “See?”

“Ok. I have to try it,” I said. I lifted my self up, dropped down, and white hot lightening seared my nipples. It was wonderful!

Dorothy waited until my breathing was fairly normal. “I have another fantasy, “she said. “I saw pictures in a magazine of a woman who had earrings in her nipples.”

“Do you mean real pierced ear type rings? Not the screw on type?”

“Exactly. She pierced her nipples and inserted large rings through them. I’d give anything to be able to do that.”

 “”It would be an easy way to control a slave,” I mused. “Just attach chains to the rings and she’d have to follow you.” My pussy tingled.

“God, it would be wonderful!”

“Yes, but you couldn’t conceal them from your husband,” I pointed out.

“I know,” she said sadly.

“Unless you can take them out like real ear rings,” I said. “I wonder if the holes would grow shut.”

“They would have to be large holes,” she said. “Larger than regular ear ring holes. My husband would find them.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get to wear nipple rings,” Dorothy sighed, “Or be hung by my nipples.”

“I like to be hung by my wrists,” I confided. “I’ve done it to myself lots of times in our barn back home. I never thought about hanging by my breasts.”

“You do it to yourself?” Dorothy asked. “How do you get loose?”

“Usually by myself,” I said. “I’m pretty good about tying and untying myself, but a few times I’ve overdone it and my mother had to release me.”

“Very interesting,” Dorothy said.

“I like to hang myself  from the crane on our barn,” I said. “I accidentally locked the crane open and couldn’t get loose. I spent the night hanging there. My mom found me the next morning.”

 “You were naked?” Dorothy asked.

“Stark naked.”

“Amazing! Your mother caught you?” she asked. “What did she do?”

“Nothing,” I replied. “She’s known about my bondage since I was in high school, and anyway she’s into it herself.”

Dorothy’s jaw dropped.

 I told her about my home made torture devices and how I caught Mom using them..

“You aren’t making this up, are you?” Dorothy asked skeptically. “I mean, you and your mother really tie yourselves up? You actually discuss bondage and torture with her?”

“Cross my heart,” I said. “We talk, but she doesn’t know about all this.” I indicated the dungeon. “I don’t think she’d be happy to hear that I’m a slave for hire.”

“You never know,” Dorothy said. “Your mother sounds like a liberated woman.”

“I don’t think she’s that liberated,” I said.

“We’ve never talked about it, but I’ve wondered if my daughter has ever been tied up,” Dorothy mused.

“How would you feel if you found out she has?”

“It would be ok with me if she likes it.”

“How would you feel if you saw her being whipped by a room full of men?” I asked, “Or tied on her knees sucking cocks?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Want to hear something terrible?” I asked.

“What?”

“I fantasize about my mom and I being tortured together.”

“Sex with your mother?”

“No, no,” I said quickly. “Side by side, or like you and I are right now.”

“But submitting sexually to other people, right?”

“That’s right.”

“How about side by side on your knees?” she asked, “Like those people tonight. You want to watch your mother suck men’s cocks?”

“Absolutely. I want to see men come in her face,” I said. “And have her see them come in mine.”

“That’s pretty kinky.”

“Perhaps you and Vivian could come out to the farm for a visit,” I said. “You could meet my Mom, and we could hang you outside the barn.”

“By my boobs?”

“By your wrists,” I said. “But. . .hmm,” a picture appeared in my mind.

“What?” Dorothy asked.

I took a deep breath. “I just had a vision of  you, me, and my mother hanging by our breasts beside our barn. We were high in the air and our bodies were turning slowly in the breeze.”

Dorothy stared at me for a moment, then her eyes closed slowly. She rose on her toes, held there for a moment, then let out a long shuddering sigh.

“Would that hay crane support the weight of all three of us?”

“Certainly.”

“I’d love to visit your farm,” Dorothy said. “And I’d really like to meet your mother.”

They removed our nipple clamps and took us down. Dorothy gave me a big warm hug and a deep tongue kiss, then she and Vivian left.

 I took a long shower and crawled in bed in the house. Mary had to go home to her family but Denise didn’t feel like driving so she got in bed with me and we slept in each other’s arms.

I dreamt about a lawn party on our farm where Mom, Dorothy and I were strung up by hooks while guests strolled around and looked up at us.  Other female slaves were hung from tree limbs and telephone poles, but we were hanging from the crane. The breeze set our bodies turning gently in the sunlight.

The dream changed and we were taken down. Vivian led us into the barn where an electric chair sat in the center of the floor. The barn was full of spectators. Donna was led in and walked proudly to the chair. She sat down eagerly and impaled her pussy on the huge electrode. Men strapped her in and someone threw the switch. She convulsed and thrashed insanely until she orgasmed and died. The rest of us got in line to wait our turn.

I woke up with my hand in my pussy.

                                                                                                CH 18

                I was fascinated by Donna, the woman who liked electrical torture. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Her love of pain was way ahead of mine and I began to have some disturbing fantasies of my own. It wasn’t the thought of electrical torture that bothered me, far from it, but her death fantasy did. I began to have horrible, yet erotic thoughts of dying. I didn’t have a death wish, but Donna’s fantasies were the ultimate manifestation of bondage and submission. To submit to that ultimate form of torture seemed incredibly exciting. I began to wonder what it would be like.

I rationalized my fantasy by pretending that I’d been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had only a short time to live. Rather than die slowly in a hospital I would arrange to have someone torture me to death while others watched. I masturbated many times as I ran through different scenarios of my own death.

I imagined that I was a captive of the Maya. I was kept in a ceremonial house in the center of a huge plaza. Every day high ranking men of the city came and fucked me. As each man spurted cum into me he whispered a message to the gods in my ear. When I died I would deliver the messages.

 On the day of my sacrifice I was ritually bathed then led outside. I was naked but an elaborate feather headdress was placed on my head. Then I was bound to a rectangular wooden frame. The frame was wide enough that my legs and arms were spread open. I was lifted onto the shoulders of four muscular priests and carried through the city. Other priests sang and chanted prayers to the gods as I was carried along the great processional way to the base of a pyramid. Crowds of people watched silently as I was paraded past.

The priests carried me up the steps of the pyramid. At the top my frame was lifted upward while the priests continued their chanting. Each lift was higher and the priests grew more excited until they were practically throwing me into the air. My body bounced in the frame. I screamed in terror and excitement.

The chanting stopped and I was removed from the frame. I was bound to a stone altar with my legs apart. The chief priest raised his arms to the sky and shouted an invocation, then he tore off his loin cloth and exposed a huge and very erect penis. He stepped forward and thrust inside me. I screamed in ecstasy when he came inside me. The watching crowd roared their approval.

I screamed and writhed in continuous orgasm while seven priests fucked me. I was a quivering mass of orgasmic flesh by the time the last message to the gods had been deposited in my sopping wet pussy. The high priest raised an obsidian knife and looked into my eyes. I smiled and thrust my breasts upward as he plunged the knife into my heart.

Another terrible scenario that I thought up involved being tried for witchcraft in old Salem. I saw myself in the dock of a courtroom filled with dour old puritans. My accusers said that my body carried devil’s marks, the sign of a witch. I was forced to strip naked and display myself. I tried to explain that the marks were common moles and freckles, but the jury did not care. I was found guilty and sentenced to be flogged, branded and drowned in the dunking chair.

I was led out of the court room naked to the center of town. My wrists were locked over my head beneath the gallows and everyone gathered round to watch my punishment. I was flogged with a hundred strokes of a cat o nine tails. I had several orgasms during my flogging and the city fathers pointed out that this was further proof of my depravity.

After my hundredth stroke, I was taken down and chained to a wagon wheel that was suspended off the ground by a pole. A brazier was brought close and a dozen irons put in the fire. The crowd prayed while we waited for the irons to get hot. They knelt when the torturer pronounced the first iron hot enough. My pussy throbbed with excitement and I watched him draw out the red hot iron and approach. He touched it to my belly and I screamed to heaven.

For hours they branded my body. They touched the irons to all parts of me but saved the best for last. I had already had several orgasms, but when the iron touched my nipple I went insane with passion. I fainted.

They threw bucket of cold water over me and I awoke to hear the preacher indignantly telling his flock that I had fainted from another wicked and unnatural pleasure. They murmured in pious disapproval but that didn’t top them from branding my other nipple. That resulted in another terrific orgasm for me. I thanked them sweetly but that only convinced them of how sinful my depravity was. I was afraid they might not brand my pussy, but after a lengthy prayer, the governor of the colony himself stepped forward and performed his duty.  Best orgasm yet!

When the fire in the brazier had gone out, they took me to the river and bound me to the dunking chair. It was a typical dunking chair, a wooden chair secured to the end of a long pole balanced on a pivot. However, because I was such a wicked woman, they had added a special refinement. A wooden shaft, like a large penis stood upright in the seat.

I was forced into the seat (and the wooden penis was forced inside me) and strapped in. The torturer took his time and tied me very, very tightly. I giggled in delight as the ropes tightened on my skin. This brought some more lengthy prayers and a sermon about my sinfulness. I didn’t mind because it gave me more time to enjoy my bondage.

Finally they got around to business and I was swung out over the water. Another prayer, then I was dunked. The water was cold and felt good on my brands. They held me under until I thought I was going to drown, then lifted me out. The people applauded as I sat limply like a wet rat. My hair clung to my face so I shook it away. They interpreted this as defiance and under I went. They dunked me twenty or thirty times. I lost count and have to admit that I didn’t find it very erotic. If it hadn’t been for that wooden penis up my pussy I wouldn’t have had a single orgasm. Luckily, each time I dropped into the water the penis jammed a little deeper inside me. That was nice, and I discovered that wriggling around on the seat produced some delicious sensations in my pussy. I was engaged in making myself come when they hauled me out of the water. The sight of my body writhing in ecstasy infuriated the puritans and they dropped me under water until I drowned.

I borrowed another of my death fantasies from Donna.

I imagined that I was to be executed in the electric chair. I was guilty of something pretty serious because it was decided that my death was to be televised around the country.

I was led naked into the execution chamber, which was a large auditorium because of the need for additional room for the cameras. Every seat in the auditorium was filled with official witnesses and reporters. The electric chair sat on a stage and illuminated with brilliant lights. An extra feature had been added. The electrode between my legs was larger than usual and it was designed to thrust up and down.

I placed my pussy over the electrode and sat down. My first orgasm hit before it was fully seated. The guards strapped me into the chair, and like Donna, my legs were secured apart. Electric cables were attached to my nipples by  heavy alligator clips. The guards tested the motor that moved the electrode in and out of my pussy. They only let it run for a few slow thrusts, but they were delightful and orgasm number two shot up through my belly. Then they ran a low current through my nipples. I thanked them sweetly. 

I found myself looking into the lenses of dozens of television cameras. I could even see myself on a monitor.

The warden stepped forward and read out my sentence, then he asked if I had any last words. I politely asked if he could prolong my death as much as possible. He said he’d see what he could do, then they gagged me.

They turned on the electricity and the first jolt flamed through my pussy.

The warden was a man of his word. He drew my execution out for quite a time. The first few dozen bursts of electricity were high enough to get my attention, but not enough to kill me. The electrode moved slowly up and down in my pussy, like the most wonderful dildo in the world. Its speed was regulated by the voltage I was getting. I was enjoying my execution immensely when they ramped the voltage up a few notches. My body stiffened and white hot electricity seemed to explode inside me. I watched myself on the monitor. My body was convulsing and the electrode was pumping in and out of my pussy. They increased the voltage and the electrode moved faster. I was coming about every thirty seconds when I saw the warden signal the executioner to turn it up even more.

The electrode sped up until it was a blur in my pussy. My body was convulsing, my head was jerking from side to side and I was screaming through my gag. Pressure, electricity, and ecstasy built up in my pussy until every thing went black and I died.

I was sinking into a dangerous frame of mind.

                I shook off those ideas, but it wasn’t easy. I was frightened. I decided I needed a break from Denver and the S and M scene so I went home to mom.

                It was wonderful to be home. The farm looked so nice and comforting. Mom wasn’t home when I got in. I dumped my bag in my room and peeked into hers. I was delighted to see that she still had ropes tied to her bed. I couldn’t help myself, I looked through the drawers in her dresser. My pussy got very wet when I found several more coils of rope, some vibrators and a thin leather pussy strap.

                I took out the strap and examined it. It was home made, obviously well used, and secured to the waist belt by a tiny padlock. I put it back and went to my room.

I unpacked, undressed, walked to the barn naked, and tied myself to my torture machine. I pushed the weight off the loft and almost cried with happiness as the familiar rope snubbed tight on my wrists. I don’t know if it was the familiar surroundings or getting away from the strange people in Denver, but I felt so contented.

                I heard Mom’s car arrive and smiled as I pictured her looking through the house for me. I knew eventually she’d come to the barn. I timed her search and smiled when I heard her footsteps on the ladder.

                She shook her head when she saw me on the rack.

                “So, you couldn’t wait long enough to give your mother a hug?” she joked. “You’re not home ten minutes and you’ve already tied yourself up.”

                “That’s about the gist of it,” I said stretching contentedly. “Besides, I wanted to make sure the equipment is still working.”

                “Oh, it works,” she said.

                “So I see. How many days a week do you come up here?” I asked.

                “Every day,” she laughed. “I’ve gotten as bad as you.”

                “Probably not that bad,” I said. That didn’t come out as lightly as I’d intended.

                She sensed my mood, mothers always do. “What do you mean?”

                I hadn’t intended to tell her what I’d been doing, but it just spilled out. I told her about John and the things I’d done at the mall. I told her about my night at the police station and breaking up with John.

Mom wasn’t upset, in fact she wanted to hear more. I was astonished when she nodded understandingly when I told her about walking around dressed like a hooker, then getting ‘arrested’. She nodded understandingly when I told her about undressing in the holding cell. Something in her eyes made me suspicious.

“Mom, have you done something like that?” I asked.

“Sure, I walk around out little down in skimpy clothes all the time,” she said wryly.

“Come on, “I said. “Out with it.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ve never been taken to jail but I have gone out in public wearing very little.”

“Wow.”

“Before you were born, your dad and I went to Atlantic City on vacation. I’d always wanted to see the ocean and your father wanted to go deep sea fishing. We had a great time, saw lots of shows, walked the boardwalk, and did all the typical tourist things. There were lots of prostitutes who wore some very revealing outfits, and strip clubs showing  posters of their entertainers. Between performances the strippers lounge around on the walk to attract customers. They didn’t wear much either. I wondered what it would be like to go out in public dressed like that.

“Your father signed us up to go on a fishing charter but I changed my mind and stayed at the hotel. After he left I shortened one of my skirts and cut a slit up the side.  I put on a white blouse, hose and heels and went out.”

“What about underwear?” I asked.

“Of course I wore underwear,” she said indignantly, then she shrugged. “At least part of the time.”

“Mom, that is so great!” I gasped. “Did you make much money?”

“Oh, aren’t you cute.” she laughed. “No, I didn’t.”

“Ok, go on.”

“I walked along the board walk and felt very sexy, and a little frightened,” she continued. “I got a lot of stares from men and a lot of whistles.”

“I’m not surprised,” I said.

“Atlantic City is full of cheap souvenir shops, tattoo parlors, bars and the like,” mom said. “I saw a store advertising lingerie and went in. The lingerie was cheap sexy clothing, see through blouses and crotchless panties, that sort of thing.”

“Do you still have the crotchless panties?” I asked. “Can I borrow them?”

“None of your business,” she said. “But I did buy a very naughty blouse. It’s almost transparent.”

“Do you still have it?” I asked seriously.

She nodded. “I took off my brassiere and changed into the transparent blouse in the dressing room.  I left my old one at the store.”

I lay on my rack and marveled. We never really know our parents. I’d never have dreamt that my mom was capable of that!  

“I strolled around all afternoon,” Mom told me. “I loved the attention I got, but I was worried that a policeman might think I was a real hooker and stop me.”

“Don’t knock it Mom,” I said. “You haven’t lived until you’ve been strip searched by  a handsome cop.”

“Well, I wasn’t looking for that to happen, not in those days.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I ate lunch in an outdoor café,” she said, then blushed. “And I sat so that men could look up my skirt.”

“Oh, my God!” I said in delight. “How many men tried to pick you up?”

“Quite a few,” she said. “There were a lot of sailors in town and they seemed to swarm around me. I even let a couple of them buy me a drink.”

“Really?”

“They were a bold pair,” she said. “They just plopped down at my table and ordered a round of drinks. They didn’t even ask my permission to sit down.”

“Were they cute?”

“Very cute,” she said. “And they looked great in their white uniforms.”

“Did you have sex with them?”

“Of course not,” she said. “But I giggled and pretended to be a dumb little twit. We had several drinks and I admit I liked the attention, but when they started taking liberties I decided it was time to go back to the hotel.”

“What sort of liberties?”

“It started with a few pats on my bottom,” she said. “And I let them get away with it, but when one of them slid his hand up my skirt I decided it was time to go.”

“How far up your skirt?”

“All the way,” she blushed. “So I got up and left.”

“Spoilsport,” I said.

“I walked back to the hotel but ducked into a public restroom and put my bra on,” Mom said. “Even so, I attracted a lot of stares when I walked through the lobby.”

“Mom, that is so cool,” I said admiringly.

“It just goes to show that you’re not the only girl in this family to prance around dressed like a hooker,” she said. “Now what happened when they took you to the police station?’

I told her everything except the part about Jill fucking me with her night stick.

                Mom’s face was bright pink when I finished. She kissed me on the cheek and told me to stay on the rack as long as I liked, then she went to the house.

                                                                                                CH 19

                That evening I gave Mom a gift. I’d brought her a matching set of cuffs, slave collar and ball gag, all in red leather. I’d also brought a set of nipple clamps.

She was delighted with the leather gear but looked askance at the nipple clamps.

“I love the cuffs,” she said. “But I’m not so sure about these things.”

She put the clamps aside and started to put on the cuffs. She was fully dressed, but I insisted that she take her clothes off.  She went to her room and came back wearing a lacy panty and bra set. I allowed her to try on the cuffs.

Mom’s eyes were sparkling by the time she had everything on. I clipped a hobble chain between her ankles and locked her wrists behind her back. She tried to walk in the hobble and looked very sexy mincing around the room. She shrieked and giggled when she almost toppled over. I hooked my finger in a ring on her collar and led her outside She balked and protested until I held up the nipple clamps. After that she followed me meekly onto the front porch. I pointed to the porch swing and she managed to hop to it and sit down. She curled her legs under her, wriggled around until she was comfortable, and we talked.

I told her about meeting Denise and Mary, and how they came to be dominatrixes. I told her that I’d had sessions with them and that they’d introduced me to other people who tied me up. I let her think that it was a bondage club and didn’t tell her that I was paid to be a slave. Again she surprised me and wasn’t upset. I think she sensed a lot more than I was telling her but she just suggested that I take precautions against pregnancy and disease and avoid torture that might permanently scar my body.

                Her remark about scars made me think of Dorothy and her fantasy to wear rings in her nipples, so I told Mom about her. Mom was intrigued with the idea and wondered aloud where a woman could go to get her nipples pierced.

                “Are you thinking of getting rings installed in your nipples?” I asked.

                “I don’t know,” she mused. “But it is an interesting concept.”

                “Dorothy can’t do it because her husband wouldn’t like it,” I said. “But there’s nothing stopping you from getting rings.”

                “They would probably show through my clothing,” she said. “People would see them.”

                “Is that a problem?” I asked.

                “Possibly not in Denver,” she said wryly. “But around here it would be.”

                “Yep, you would shock the locals,” I said. “On the other hand, you just might start a fad.”

                “Oh, sure,” she said. “I could see all the women in town walking around with rings in their nipples.”

                “You never know,” I said. “Anyway, Dorothy wants more than to just wear rings. She has other ideas as well.”

“Like what?”

“She fantasizes about being hung by her nipples.”

                “Actually hung off the ground?” Mom asked astonished. “That’s impossible! No woman could do that.”

                “Fantasies don’t have to be logical,” I said. “And besides, Dorothy’s fantasy gets even wilder.”

                “Oh?”

                “She wants to be hung by hooks through her breasts.”

                Mom’s mouth gaped wide. “She wants to be hung on meat hooks, like in a butcher shop? My God, it makes me squeamish just to think about it.”

                “It makes me all tingly,” I said.

                Mom gave me that ‘don’t even do there’ look.

                “I think you’d get along with Dorothy,” I said. “I suggested that she might come here for a visit. I told her we could hang her up in the barn.”

                “We are not hanging anybody from hooks,” Mom said tartly. “I don’t care if they like it or not.”

                “Of course not,” I said primly. “I told her that she would have to be content to hang by her wrists.”

                “That’s better,” Mom said.

                “Dorothy wants to know if our hay crane could support the weight of three women,” I continued.

                “Why three women?” Mom asked.

                “Well, it occurred to me that we might hang all three of us,” I said.

                “All three of us?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

                “I thought it might be fun to have Dorothy, me, and you hanging at the same time.”

“All of us naked?” Mom asked.

“Of course.”

“By our wrists,” she persisted. “No hooks.”

“No hooks, Mom.”

                Mom’s expression grew thoughtful. “Who’s going to hang us?” she asked softly. “And how would we get down?”

                “Who cares?”

                That night I woke up hungry and tiptoed down to the kitchen, as I passed Mom’s room I peeked in and saw that she was still wearing her cuffs. She had tied her bed ropes to them, her legs and arms were wide apart. She was sound asleep. One clamp was on her nipple, the other had fallen off. I kissed her and covered her with a blanket.

                I spent my entire visit tied up and talking to Mom.

                She was interested in my stories of torture. She seemed fascinated to learn that women are more cruel than men. I told her that when I was in the mood for sex I’d rather be dominated by a man, but when I wanted serious pain I would go to a lady. She wasn’t upset that I’d had sex with women but was glad to hear that I still preferred men. She wondered aloud what it would be like to be whipped.

“You should start off slow,” I advised. “Have someone spank you first.”

“For your information young lady, I have been spanked,” she said.

“Really? By who?”

“By your father,” she said. “He spanked me several times.”

“Wow, that is so great! Did he tie you up too?”

                “Of course. There are very few married women who haven’t been tied to a bed,” she told me.

“Did Dad ever whip you?”

“No, we never got to that,” she said.

I stayed home that entire visit. I didn’t see any of my friends and only went to town once. We drove to town to buy groceries. We went to the farm co-op store and I wandered around while Mom shopped. I went to the hardware department and was looking over the selection of ropes when she walked up. She shook her head and smiled.

“Nice ropes,” she said. “But we have all we need.”

“How about some fish hooks?” I asked innocently. “They have a nice selection.”

She looked them over. “Not big enough. You may have to special order what you want.”

A man was nearby and overheard us.

“What are you ladies looking to catch if these hooks aren’t big enough?” he said. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Cat fish,” Mom said with a straight face. “We’ve found some a new kind of bait to put on the hooks.”

“Oh.”

“Cat fish?” I whispered as we walked away. “Or did you mean pussy fish?”

Mom just giggled.

 I tied myself up almost every waking moment. I think I was trying to return to the time when my bondage was more innocent, as if I was trying to tie myself to my past.

When I tied myself up I really did it. I used the most stringent knots and never put myself in a position that I could get out of. I ignored all my escape devices and when I was ready to be released Mom had to do it. I slept tied to my bed or in a hog tie, and once spent the night tied to my rack.

I tied myself so tightly that I had rope marks that didn’t fade for days. Mom fussed that I might damage my circulation.

I did a lot of thinking while I was bound. I was still confused about my Denver lifestyle. On one hand I loved the bondage and torture, but on the other I didn’t like many of the people who used me and I was ashamed of taking money for it.

Mom saw that I was struggling with something, and I think she had a good idea what it was. She offered to help but didn’t press me. She allowed me to tie myself in the most extreme positions I’d ever tried. (I had no idea that bondage could be therapeutic). She even gave in to my pleadings and helped me hang upside down from the loft. She let me hang as long as I wanted then surprised me when she wanted to take my place.

“You want to hang from the crane?” I asked.

“Why not?” she asked as she took off her clothes. “I’ve thought about it for a long time, but I can’t do it alone.”

“Ok,” I shrugged.

 I’d hung naked, but Mom kept her panties on.

 I tied her wrists behind her back, then she sat on the ground while I looped the rope around her ankles. She sighed with pleasure when I hoisted her off the ground.

 “How high?” I asked.

“All the way to the top.”

I kept an eye on Mom as she hung from the loft crane. I didn’t want her to be injured and I’ve discovered that you can get ill by hanging too long upside down. Mom seemed to be ok so I left her alone for about an hour, Then I decided to have a bit of fun.

I lowered Mom until her head was three feet off the ground.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “I’m not ready to come down yet.”

I didn’t answer, I just attached a long rope to her wrists then walked the rope to a tree and tossed it over a high limb. Mom twisted around trying to see what I was doing.

I tugged on the rope and Mom was pulled toward the tree. I pulled until her body was high off the ground, then released the rope. Mom’s body swung away in a long arc. She shrieked in delight. I let her swing a few times, then pulled her to the limb and let her go again. Her shrieks subsided to continuous giggles.

After keeping Mom swinging for a while, I climbed the tree and tossed the rope over a higher limb. I waited until Mom’s body was at the bottom of the arc, then holding tight to the rope, I jumped out of the tree. Her body swung much higher but I didn’t get the timing right and jerked Mom very hard, and I hurt my ankle when I hit the ground. I let go of the rope and Mom began spinning. She shrieked in genuine fear as she flew through the air. I was afraid she might hit the barn. I hobbled as quickly as I could on my sore ankle and tried to catch the rope. It slipped off the limb and trailed after Mom. It flew past her when she reached the top of her swing and it cracked like a whip.

Mom screamed again, long and loud, but it was a pleasure scream.

I waited until Mom stopped swinging, then lowered her to the ground. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing very hard. I untied her and helped her to her feet. She patted her cheeks and tried to compose herself.  She wouldn’t look at me.

“Its ok if you had an orgasm,” I told her.

She blushed deeply and walked unsteadily toward the house. I watched through the screen door as she went inside. She paused in the hallway, took a long deep breath, then took off her panties and ran up the stairs. I waited outside for a while, then went to my room. Mom’s door was closed. 

When it was time to leave I urged Mom to visit me in Denver.

“Maybe I will,” she said. “You could introduce me to your friends. I’d like to meet Denise and Mary.”

“Want me to set up a session with them?” I joked.

“We’ll see.”

                                                                                                                CH 23

                My diversions with Lord and Lady L were pleasant and erotic, but they occurred infrequently. Most of the time I lived an ordinary life of school and work. My sexual needs were fulfilled by Bob and usually sufficed, until the need for serious torture became too compelling, then I’d go to Denise or Mary.

Then I rediscovered MAC.

                I ran in to him at a movie theater. He was with his family so I pretended not to know him. He saw me, smiled, and winked conspiratorially. The next day I got a call from Mary. MAC had called her at the store and asked for me. She gave me his number.

                I called MAC and told him that I chose not to rent myself out as a slave anymore. He was disappointed but understood. We talked for a long time, and I found it pleasant to talk to a man freely about my fetish. He invited me to meet him for lunch ‘just as friends’ and I accepted.

                MAC and I talked about everything and anything and oddly, sex and bondage didn’t come up. We hit it off and recognized one another as kindred spirits. Mom later said that he and I were from the same tribe. We met for lunch several times. He was always a gentleman, but let me know that he wanted me. I told him a hundred times that I wouldn’t let him torture me for money. He always came back at me smiling and unrepentant and told me that he intended to keep on asking.

                I had to admit that I liked the attention he gave me and it was refreshing to talk about bondage openly. MAC was (and still is) devoted to his wife, but she has never been in the scene. He made it clear that he would never leave her or hurt her, but he  had needs in that part of his life that she was unable to fill.

He laid suit to me. He sent flowers and gave me small but thoughtful gifts. He called to chat and we met for lunch regularly. I decided that I was going to submit to him, but chose to play hard to get as long as I could. He knew this and enjoyed the game. I held out for weeks, but finally told him that he could have me.

We met at Mary’s dungeon.

I told MAC that he could do anything he wanted to me, except pay me. I was his slave for the day. He gave me a hug so warm and comforting that I cried.

MAC stripped me naked and tied my hands behind my back. He played with my pussy for half an hour, never letting me cum. I was trembling like a bowl of jello and begging for release, but he seemed to know exactly how close he could bring me to coming., then stop. Talk about torture! I finally sank to the floor and wouldn’t get up. That brought a terrific whipping. MAC is a warm and caring man, but he is still a master and when I don’t obey him I get punished.  I writhed and whimpered on the floor as he whipped me with a thin wicked whip, then finally struggled to my feet. He wasn’t finished punishing me so I had to stick my breasts forward and count the blows while he whipped them. My boobs hurt like fire and I had a delicious orgasm.

 He led me around the dungeon on a leash , hung me by my wrists, whipped every inch of my body, spanked me, made me crawl on all fours. I had to sit up and beg like a dog, roll on my back, whimper and whine and bark. And I had a dozen orgasms. When the session was over and we were exhausted, MAC held me on his lap. We sat for a long time, saying nothing.

MAC and I became true lovers. Our lovemaking was bondage and torture, but it suited us perfectly. No romantic trysts for us. Our getaways were to a dungeon, our caresses were the sting of his whip. He loved me the way he needed and I wanted. He became my closest male friend and still is to this day.

I didn’t tell MAC about Bob for a while, but when I did he wasn’t jealous or angry. He understood that Bob was my sex toy when he was unavailable. He even felt sorry for Bob that he had only a physical relationship with me. MAC listened to me, talked to me and understood me, and if he hadn’t been married I would have moved Heaven and Earth to become his wife. At first I was jealous of MAC’s wife, but quickly outgrew that. He and I have something wonderful and I am too grateful for what we have to ruin it over jealousy.

I told Jill about MAC and she was predictably dismayed that I was involved with a married man. But she saw that I was determined and over the years she has accepted MAC’s place in my life. I’ve introduced them and they get along just fine. When they are together at a dinner or party at my place they behave very properly and pretend that he isn’t my master and she doesn’t know that he is. I tease Jill that she ought to be tied and tortured by a man, and offer to arrange it with MAC. She always declines, but once or twice I’ve caught her looking at him in a calculating way.

MAC and I have the most intense bondage sessions possible. In the beginning I felt the way to prove my love was through some extreme act of submission. I told him that he was free to do anything to me he wants. I even offered to let him brand me, which he gallantly declined.  I almost got a tattoo stating that I was his personal slave. Mary, Denise and Jill all hit the roof when I told them, and luckily they convinced me not to do it. Fortunately I learned that proof of love is not in a single act, but consists of years of intimacy and trust. Our relationship burns long and steadily every day. It glows red when he chains me, and explodes to white hot when his whip cracks against my body. Since nineteen seventy nine that warmth has never cooled.

Like Lord and Lady L, MAC and I have traveled occasionally. He’s taken me to Las Vegas and to Mexico and to a wonderful tiny cabin in the mountains of southern Colorado. We’ve had the most wonderful times together, in chains and out.

Mary, Denise and Jill, and other people are good friends, but MAC is the love of my life. I am ashamed to confess that I love him more and feel closer to him than I did to my husband.

MAC has never been judgmental or jealous of my other relationships. He knew that I went to Lord and Lady L and attended bondage parties with Denise and Mary, and has never complained.

He was fascinated to hear my stories about self bondage on the farm and about my mother’s activities. He’s met Mom many times (she just thinks he’s a close friend, she doesn’t know he’s my master) and has always treated her like a lady. He’s never let on that he knows about her own bondage, although I caught him look at her appraisingly once. I quietly asked what he was thinking.

“I’m thinking what your mother looks like naked and bound,” he whispered.

“She looks damn sexy,” I told him. “I’ve seen her.”

“Do you think she’d be interested in a nice whipping?”

“She might,” I replied. “I’ll ask her if you like, but I thought I was your main slave girl.”

“You’re my only slave girl.” he said, giving my hand a quick squeeze. I could have cried with happiness.

I later asked MAC about his remark. He told me from the time he had become master he had not taken another slave. I believed him then, and I believe him now. But I sometimes wish that I could arrange for him to torture Mom. I love them both and know that they would have a wonderful time together. She would be the only woman I would not be jealous about.

                                                                                CH 24

I graduated from college and Mom surprised me by taking me on a trip to Italy and Greece. I didn’t think she could have afforded it, but it turned out that she had been making some very good money leasing water rights from the farm. The trip was wonderful and we had the greatest time. I loved every minute. The trip included a three day cruise in the Aegean Sea. I’d never been aboard a large ship and I was fascinated by it. I tried to explore every inch of the vessel and wandered in to some areas that were off limits to passengers. I was politely shooed away when that happened, but I did manage to find my way in to the crews quarters. I was surprised at the tiny windowless cabins that the crew lived in, but for some reason that triggered another erotic slavery fantasy. I told Mom about it.

“What do you think they do to stowaways?” I asked her later.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Why?’

“I saw where the sailors live,” I said. “The conditions aren’t very luxurious. The captain ought to provide more perks for the sailors.”

“Such as?”

“It occurred to me that if they caught a female stowaway they ought to put her in chains and give her to the crewmen.”

“Oh God,” she laughed. “I should have known sex was involved.”

“Just think Mom, We could stow away, get caught, then spend the rest of the cruise chained up and being screwed by all those cute Greek sailors.”

“Why limit it to one cruise?” she laughed. “Why not make your captivity longer? Say a year or two.”

“Ok,” I said. “Here’s the scenario. We get caught and stripped naked.”

“Why would they strip us?” Mom asked.

“To search for contraband,” I said. “Then they put us in chains and take us to the captain on the bridge.”

“Walking us naked all the way through the ship, right?”

“Right. Then the captain puts us on trial, right them and there and sentences us to five years sexual servitude.”

“Five years is a long time,” Mom observed smiling.

“We can handle it,” I said. “Anyway, they lead us away and take us to the brig way down in the bottom of the ship. The brig has a big cell with two beds and they chain us to the beds, Then the crew are permitted to come fuck us when they are off duty.”

“Not bad,” Mom said.

“Then when we aren’t being screwed by sailors that take us out of the cell in chains and make us mop the decks. And when we don’t do a proper job they tie us to the mast and whip us while the whole crew and all the passengers watch.”

“You really need help,” Mom laughed.

Back in Denver I found a nice job with good pay. I could have afforded a nicer apartment, but decided to stay where I was, I didn’t want to give up my trysts with Bob.

Denise relayed another business proposition to me. I told her I wasn’t interested but she persisted.

“Wait until you hear about it,” she said.

“What is it?’

“It sort of a modeling job,” she said.

I shook my head. I had already been offered a number of modeling opportunities, but knew better. I didn’t want pictures of me naked and in bondage to appear in some magazine and come back to haunt me years later.

“Its not photography,” she persisted. “You’d be a subject for an engineering project.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“We’ve been contacted by this man who builds restraint devices,” she said. “That pillory over there, for example.”

I looked at the thing she was talking about. The store sold pillories, X crosses, even racks. I’ve been strapped to them in the back room. I’d never given a thought about who made them.

“So?’

“The guy is a retired engineer and mechanic and he’s got this idea that he wants to design and market high quality devices,” she said. “Only he wants to make them out of metal instead of wood. He needs a girl to build them around.”

“Oh?” That sounded interesting.

“I thought about you because you can tolerate bondage for longer than anyone I know.”

“Tolerate it? Hell, I love it,” I said. “The longer the better.”

“Stop bragging,” she laughed. “Anyway, the guy will pay you by the hour to come to his workshop and let him fit you into his creations. He swears that no sex will be involved.”

“What’s the fun in that?” I asked.

“Look, here’s his phone number, if you’re interested give him a call,” she said.

I was intrigued and called the engineer. He sounded nice on the phone and I agreed to meet with him.

I drove to a house in south Denver. It was actually in a very posh suburb called Cherry Hills Village. Everyone who lived there was a millionaire. I mean that literally.

The engineer’s name was Dale. He was in his sixties and had retired from a large airline. He was quite nice and courteous. He invited me in and we had coffee in his study. He told me that he was divorced and lived alone, and was in the bondage scene. I was quick to tell him that I would not participate in sexual bondage with him. He assured me that he understood that from Denise.

“I need your services as a study for my projects,” he told me. “You will be used to see if various restraining devices are workable and if adjustable machines perform correctly. It will involve being locked into theses things for long periods of time while I make adjustments or even mill new parts.”

I rather liked the idea of prolonged bondage.

“Am I to be naked?” I asked.

“Only if you choose,” he said. “I’ll be honest with you. I like to look at naked girls, but its not a requirement, and I won’t insist if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“We’ll see,” I shrugged.

“Let me show you my workshop,” he suggested.

I was impressed by his shop. It was in a large outbuilding and appeared to have every tool ever made. I saw a table saw, drill presses, welders, cut off saws and thousands of hand tools for metal and woodworking. The shop was meticulously organized and neat as a pin. He showed me his current project.

It was a metal pillory designed for women. It had a metal stock with head and hand holes, a long wide frame to support the slave’s body and adjustable bars that her ankles would be locked to. A metal dildo rose from a saddle atop the bar. A power cord was attached to a box at the base of the machine. A worm gear lay in a channel in the base and operated different mechanisms. The machine was a rough prototype, but the edges were curved and softened and the high degree of craftsmanship was apparent.

My pussy started to tingle the moment I saw the thing.

“How does it work?” I asked.

“The subject straddles the support frame then bends forward and places her neck and wrists in the holes,” Dale said. He touched a button and the upper half of the stock rose several inches. “Its spring loaded. Push the release button and it opens. Push down and the lock automatically engages and the subject is immobilized.” He pressed the stock down and it locked with a loud click. 

My breathing rate went up a little.

“May I make a suggestion?” I asked.

“Certainly.”

“You’re designing this for women aren’t you? Calling them ‘subjects’ sounds so impersonal. Why not refer to them as slaves?”

He smiled broadly. “Good idea.”

“Well, I know I’d rather be called a slave,” I said coyly. “Not a subject.”

“I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

“When can I start?” I asked.

“How about right now?’

As soon as I saw the pillory. I couldn’t wait to be locked into it.

Dale showed me a wash room off the shop. It was simply a sink and toilet, but the room was large and served as a dressing room for me. I changed to shorts and a tee shirt, hung my things on pegs and went out.

I stepped close to the pillory. “What do you want me to do?”

“I’m working on the leg restraints,” he said. “I want them to be adjustable in length for short or tall women and, , ,”

“Slaves,” I corrected him. “Not ‘subjects’, not ‘women’, slaves. The people placed in this will be slaves.”

“Do  forgive me,” he laughed. “Yes, I want the leg bars to fit slaves with long legs and short legs. And I want to be able  to change the angle of the slaves’ legs, up or down.”

“Can the slave be placed on her back?” I asked.

“Certainly,” he said.

“Nice.”

“Why don’t you get on,” he said. “Face down.”

I sat on the frame. The metal was cool against my thighs. I wiggled a second then leaned forward. I extended my hands through the holes and Dale guided my head into the larger opening. I lowered my chest onto the frame. Dale pushed it down until it rested against my neck and I felt the cool metal clamp smoothly over my neck and wrists. I couldn’t hold back a gasp of pleasure.

“Everything all right?” he asked. “Its not pinching you?”

“I’m fine.”

He pressed it the last quarter inch and the lock clicked. I almost came.

I wriggled around testing the thing. I was completely immobilized from my shoulders up. Dale gave me a moment.

“Ready now?” he asked.

“Yes.”

I lay immobilized in the pillory for two hours the first day. I felt snug and secure and sexy. Dale worked on the leg restraints and buckled my ankles in and out of them many times. His touch on my legs was impersonal and he took no liberties. (By the end of the day I was hoping he would.)

Ultimately the legs bars would be equipped with metal clamps, like manacles, but for testing purposes he used leather cuffs. They felt great, but I couldn’t wait to feel the cool metal on my ankles. The support frame was eight inches wide and even though my ankles were locked, my crotch was still open. I never felt so helpless or feminine. At the end of the session dale told me he was going to test the motor.  He was working on the back and forth mechanism.

I was lying with my legs bent at a comfortable angle. Dale pushed a button and I felt the machine vibrate faintly. My ankles were pulled slowly forward until they were almost at my crotch. My knees were forced apart and I felt like a frog. Very sexy.

“Feel ok?” Dale asked.

“I sure do,” I said. “Is it as far as it goes?”

“No, but I didn’t want to over bend your knees,” he said. “Or jam your body against the stock.”

“Lets see how much I can take,” I suggested.

He ran the motor again, in short increments. My knees bent more and my shoulders were pushed against the stock. It hurt my shoulders, but it was a sexy hurt. I imagined being slammed against the stock by the thrusts of a strong man fucking me in that position. I wondered if the dampness in my crotch showed through my shorts.

Then Dale reversed the motor and my legs were straightened out. Dale pulled my legs so far down that my chin was pressed tight against the other side of the stock. My body was straight and taut. Just perfect for a good whipping.

When he released me I tried to act as if everything was normal. We chatted for a few minutes then I casually walked to the dressing room. Once I closed the door I yanked my panties down and masturbated. I bit my lip to be as quiet as possible, then  washed my face, got dressed and walked out.

Masturbating in Dale’s bathroom merely took the edge of my arousal. I hadn’t gone a block from his house when I had my hands in my panties. I played with myself all the way to my apartment. When I got home I called Bob and invited him to drop by, then tied myself to my bed.

Bob showed up fairly quickly and screwed the living daylights out of me. He saw how excited I was and did a manly job of it. He outdid himself and screwed me several times. He asked what had gotten in to me, and I lied and told him that I’d been thinking about him all afternoon. That fed his ego, and his cock popped up again and he rolled on top of me. All in all it was a very erotic day.

MAC called me that evening and I told him about my new job. He was delighted to hear about the device and chuckled when I told him how hot I’d gotten. I was quick to tell him that I hadn’t had sex with Dale and didn’t mention Bob either. We talked a long time, and he described what he would do if he had me locked in a pillory. I played with my pussy while we talked and had another orgasm. I think it must have been my seventh or eighth of the day.

My next visit to Dale’s shop was just as erotic as the first. He asked me to come on a Saturday and spend a long time. That was fine with me.

Again I wore shorts and a tee shirt. My pussy went moist the minute I arrived and I had a tiny orgasm as soon as the stock clicked over my neck. I tried to talk to Dale, but he barely answered. He concentrated so deeply on his work that he seemed to forget that I was a live girl. He worked intently for hours, then walked away without a word. I lay in the pillory for a long time wondering where he’d gone. He finally returned.

“Where have you been?” I asked politely.

“Huh?” he grunted. “What was that?”

“I asked where you went,” I told him.

“I took a break for lunch,” he answered. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” I replied. “Only I could use a potty break, and maybe some lunch myself.”

He walked around to the front and looked at me in puzzlement, then the light came on.

“Good heavens!” he said. “What was I thinking?”

I was shaking with laughter as he rushed to release me. He apologized over and over and almost followed me into the bath room. I was giggling when I shut the door in his face.

He was not in the shop when I came out. I walked to the house and he waved me in to the kitchen. He was hurriedly making a couple of sandwiches.

“I’ve been treated as a lowly slave before,” I teased him. “But nobody ever tried to starve me to death.”

The poor dear was red as a beet.

“You take as long as you want,” he said. “And help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’ll get back to work.”

“Ok.”

I poured myself a glass of milk and relaxed and ate my sandwiches, then I tidied up the kitchen and went out to the shop.

Dale was tinkering away on the pillory.

“You just sit and relax,” he said. “I can do this without you for a while.”

“Not a chance,” I said, walking to the machine. “Lock me in.”

I spent all afternoon happily locked in Dale’s pillory. He was working on the gears that spread the slave’s legs. He finally got them working and tried them out.

“Ok,” he said. “Get ready.”

I heard the motor hum, then felt my legs being opened. Nice, nice, nice! The bars moved slowly but powerfully until my legs were further apart then they’d ever been in my life. I squeaked when my orgasm hit. Dale stopped the machine and asked if I was being hurt.

“Not as much as I’d like,” I whispered. “Keep going.”

He opened my legs another inch or two.

“How does that feel?” Dale asked. “Any discomfort?”

“Its ok,” I told him.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

“Sexy,” I told him. “I feel vulnerable.”

“Is that good?” he asked puzzled.

“It is for a slave.”

“Really? Hmm.”

Dale was a combination mad scientist, sex pervert and absent minded professor. He hadn’t given any thought to the effect his machine would have on the women who would be in it. I was going to have to help him a bit.

He spent a couple of hours putting the machine (and me) into different positions. He spread my legs apart, closed them, raised them up and down, bent my knees in varying degrees and almost twisted me into a pretzel. I was helpless to resist and I loved it.

I spent long periods in those odd positions while Dale paused to make detailed notes. He had a large notebook and wrote down everything. I guess it was the engineer in him. I didn’t mind because I enjoyed every moment in restraint and I often slipped into my daydream trance. I’d already decided that I wanted one of Dale’s machines and hoped he would make one for me, with a few modifications.

I thought we were finished but he lowered my legs below the frame and went through more experiments. I enjoyed these because they were excellent positions for spanking and whipping as well as fucking. When he finally unlocked me I was hot as hell.

“I believe we can knock off for today,” he said. “I’m very pleased with the progress we’ve made.”

“Are you sure we’re finished?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You forgot to test the machine with me on my back,” I said teasingly. “I can’t imagine how you forgot to run those tests.”

“I think you’re right,” he grinned. “Up you go.”

He locked me face up. I was when he strapped my ankles to the bars. And after the machine had opened and closed my legs a few dozen times I was on fire. I was on the verge of asking him to tear my clothes off when he shut down the motor.

“That is more than enough for one night,” he said.

I glanced out the window. It was dark.

“How long have we been here?” I asked.

“Thirteen hours.”

“My, my.”

“I hope I haven’t kept you from anything,” he said.

“Believe me, there is nothing I’d rather be doing.”

He bowed graciously.

I couldn’t wait to get into the dressing room and take my panties off.

When I got home it was too late to call Bob, MAC was unavailable and I knew that both Mary and Denise had appointments. I needed to talk to someone so I called Mom.

She was fascinated by Dale’s invention. I told her all the things it could do, and told her that I had one or two suggestions to make. She was concerned about Dale and what I might be letting myself in for, but I assured her that he hadn’t touched me sexually.

“That isn’t what concerns me,” she said. “I just think you out to be seeing men you own age, not someone old enough to be your father.”

“I’m not seeing him that way,” I said. “I’m just helping him build his machine.”

“It sounds like you are pretty vulnerable in that workshop,” she said.

“Incredibly vulnerable,” I said. “And its quite a turn on. Like our rack in the barn, only better.”

“There’s no telling what he might do to you.”

“I can only hope Mother.”

I tied myself to bed and went to sleep. I had a very erotic dream about the machine. It was in the loft of our barn and had some additional features. I woke in the middle of the night and made drawings and notes for Dale’s machine. When I finished I went back to bed and slept all morning.

The next time I went to Dale’s shop I showed him my sketches. He was very surprised, but looked them over and nodded in approval..

“These are great,” he said. “But how did you ever think these things up?”

“I’m an inventor myself,” I said. “I made a bondage machine when I was in high school.”

“You did?” He was astonished.

“Men aren’t the only ones to have perverse ideas,” I told him. “Girls get them too.”

He listened intently while I told him about my rack in the barn, and my other methods of self bondage. He frowned when I explained that I used a knife to cut ropes when I wanted to free myself. His precise engineering mind didn’t like such a wasteful method. He nodded when I told how I used weights to lock myself in the rack, but he was squirming a bit when I told him about using a weight to tighten my pussy rope.

“When did you build this thing?” he asked.

“About seven years ago.”

“What became of it?”

“Nothing, Its still in the barn at home.”

“Didn’t your parents find it?”

“My mother did, my father is dead,” I explained.

“What was your mother’s reaction?” he asked.

“She didn’t quite know what to think at first, but she accepted it.”

“She did?”

“Yes, and now she’s quite happy with it.”

“She is?”

“My mother ties herself to my rack all the time,” I said.

Dale’s mouth opened but no sound came out. He stared at me for ten minutes. Finally he started breathing again. “Incredible!”

“My mother is incredible,” I laughed. “And I would like to give her one of your machines.”

Dale nodded absently, then recovered his composure.

“Certainly, I’ll be happy to make one for her.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll have her come here so you can fit the machine to her body.”

He nodded. I don’t think he trusted himself to speak.

                                                                                                CH 25

Dale incorporated every one of my suggestions into the pillory. The first was a simple chin rest below the head opening.

“Why is this necessary?” he asked.

“It helps when the slave performs fellatio on her master,” I told him. “Or masters.”

“Of course. I see.”

We moved to my next suggestion. Dale didn’t need to be told what it was for.

I’d sketched a rounded box that sat between the slave’s legs. A dildo and butt plug extended from the box and entered the slave’s body. The box had a motor with cams and the dildos would fuck the woman at various speeds, depths and rhythms.

Dale improved my sketch by cutting a groove in the support frame and attaching a rod to the bottom of the box. The rod fit in the groove and the box could slide forward and backward to accommodate different sized women.

Dale understood at a glance the electrical torture devices I suggested. They were simple alligator clips for nipples and pussy lips and metal dildos all connected to a power source. He was surprised that I’d added them though.

“Why would you want these things?” he asked. “They could be very painful.”

“That’s the idea,” I told him. “After all, this is a torture device, isn’t it?”

“Actually I designed it simply for restraint,” he said. “I didn’t really consider torturing women with it.”

“Well I want to be tortured in it,” I told him. “So will a lot of women.”

“Ah, I see,” he said faintly. “Well, I suppose I could add these features, But I’ll have to install an amperage regulator. Other wise it could be very dangerous.”

“Danger is part of the allure of slavery,” I told him. “Slaves are thrill seekers, just like people who ride roller coasters.”

“This is a little more dangerous than that,” he said. “A slave might be electrocuted.

“Let me tell you about a woman whose deepest fantasy is to be executed in an electric chair.” I told him about Donna and her electrocution fantasy.

Dale was no fool, he was a sophisticated and worldly man, but his kinky interests ran to simple bondage. He wasn’t a sadist. I opened his eyes to the real world of S and M. He was sweating  when I finished.

 “My God!” he gasped. “I never dreamed that someone would find their own death a source of eroticism!”

“You’d be surprised at the weird things people find erotic,” I told him. “I’ve imagined what it would be like to sit in an electric chair.”

“You don’t honestly want to die, do you?”

“Of course not,” I said. “But that fantasy takes submission and exhibitionism to the most extreme level possible. I don’t want to die, but the idea of submitting to that ultimate orgasm is powerfully erotic.”

He looked at the pillory a long time, then shrugged.

“It will be very easy to add an electrical device,” he said. “I’m just not sure how wise it would be.”

“Can you design it to stop at a certain level, for safety?” I asked.

“Easily.”

“Go ahead and make it,” I said. “Then you can test it on me and we’ll decide how high the settings should go.”

He swallowed nervously, then nodded.

“And just to be certain,” I said impishly. “I think we should run an extensive set of tests, very extensive.”

“I need a drink,” Dale said.

Poor Dale really hadn’t understood that women actually exist who enjoy pain. He had been into bondage and male dominance all his life, but had never been with a true masochist. I felt older than him in some ways and managed to shock him several times. My vow to keep sex out of our relation ship went right out the window. I decided I was going to teach him how to properly dominate a woman.

“The next device is another pain generator,” I explained to him. “It drips hot oil onto the slave’s body.”

“Why hot oil,” he asked.

“Its more controllable that candle wax.”

“And I suppose you like hot candle wax?” he said.

“Absolutely.”

“All right,” he said as if nothing could surprise him again. “Lets see what we have.”

“Its a simple tank with an electric heater,” I told him. “It is suspended over the slave and a valve controls the flow. It can be adjusted to drip oil on any part of my body.”

“How hot do you want the oil to be?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I suppose we’ll have to run tests to find out.”

‘Ok what’s next?”

“An automated flogger.”  

“Great idea!” he said brightly. “How does it work?”

“I got the idea from a John Willy book,” I told him.

“Ah yes,” he said. “The part where a pretty girl is strapped to a stationary bicycle. She has to keep pedaling to create an electric current. If she stops an automatic motor comes on and spins a wheel full of thin switches against her bottom.”

“Oh, you’ve seen it,” I said.

“I have all of John Willy’s books in my library,” he said. “So you want to be subjected to that?”

“Yep. But I have some modifications,” I said. “First, the flogger simply runs when its switched on, there is no pedaling by the slave. Second, the flogger can be adjusted to spin horizontally to get my bottom and the backs of my legs, and it can be turned to spin vertically to whip my pussy and back and breasts.”

“And the wheel should be able to accommodate different whips and switches, right?”

“And it should have different speed setting, for harder whippings,” I said.

“No problem. Are there any more changes you’d like?

“One very important one. The whole machine should be made so that a woman can lock herself into it, control the torture devices, then release herself when she’s ready.”

“Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of the machine?” he asked.

“No, you could have two types,” I said. “One for masters and slaves and one for self bondage.”

“Easy enough,” he said. “In fact I can design one machine that can be set for both modes. A simple lock out control would work.”

“Terrific.”

“Now, did you really build a torture device in your barn?” he asked.

“Sure did. Cross my heart.”

“Ok,” he said. “Your stories have given me another idea for our machine.”

“What’s that?”

“Its a secret,” he said. “I’ll show you next time.” 

                                                                                                CH 26

Dale must have worked day and night, because when I next went to the workshop most of the modifications had been done. And he had added a couple of his own.

The chin rest was in place. Dale had sculpted it out of metal and padded it with hard rubber. It snapped into holes below the head opening. I couldn’t wait to rest my chin on it and have someone’s cock in my mouth.

He’d placed the dildo box in a track on the frame. He showed me how it traveled back and forth atop a worm gear. I was surprised to see that one side of the box was curved and covered in thick rubber.

“What is that for?” I asked touching the curved surface

“The box can be pressed very tightly into the slave’s crotch,” he replied. “Tight enough to push her against the stock. I thought it might add some stimulation.”

“I’ll say.”  I was stimulated just looking at it.

He lifted the dildo box out of its track and put another in its place. They looked identical. I raised my eyebrows in question.

“This is your electrical dildo,” he explained. He showed me a power cord coming out of that box. “The probe is made of conductive metal and is connected to a transformer on the base of the pillory.”

He knelt and plugged the cord into another box. He indicated a row of alligator clips that were hooked to a small  wooden bar. He pulled one of them and a cord unreeled silently from the transformer.

“Electrical cables can be attached to sensitive parts of the slave’s body from here.”

The sensitive parts of my body were already aching to feel those clips. My pussy was throbbing and my nipples were hard. I gingerly touched the dildo and felt a faint tingling at the tip of my finger. Dale turned a knob and the tingling increased until it was mildly painful. Very nice.

“I still have some work to do, but I think the automated flogger will function,” he said. He showed me a tall stand on a roller base. An electric motor was mounted on the base and connected to a wheel at the top. The wheel was adorned with several wicked looking fiber glass switches. I rolled one between my fingers. It was no more than an eighth of an inch thick. My pussy tingled at the thought of those switches snapping against my bottom.

“As per your specifications, it can be adjusted for horizontal or vertical positions,” Dale said. “And the speed is variable.”

A L shaped bar extended beneath the wheel. It seemed to be in the path of the switches

“What is this for?” I asked.

“Its in John Willy’s book,” he said. “It retards the motion of the switch for a moment, then the switch slides off the bar and impacts the slave with more force.”

“Oh God!” My pussy was getting wetter by the minute.

“This is my own idea,” Dale said, rolling another tall stand in view. It was a telescoping pole six feet high. A tee shaped bar was atop the pole and a row of light pulleys hung from the tee. Weights on thin steel cables hung beneath the pulleys. The cables disappeared into a metal box at the base of the stand and a single cable emerged and was threaded through a separate pulley at the highest part of the tee bar. I knew instantly what it was for, but not how it worked.

“I got the idea from your home made rack,” Dale told me.

“It looks very interesting,” I said. “When do I get to try it out?”

He motioned me toward the dressing room.

It was time to take off the kid gloves. I stripped naked in the dressing room, touched up my hair and makeup, then opened the door and walked out.

Dale didn’t bat an eye. He watched me as I walked to the machine. “Its about time you were naked,” he said.

“Yes master.”

He placed a thin belt around my waist. It buckled in the back and had a hook in the front. He showed me a small box attached to the stock. It held a couple of buttons and a timer.

“Push the top button then place yourself in the stock,” he said. “It will close and lock ten seconds later,”

“Ok.”

“The timer will open the stock. It can be set for up to an hour.”

“That’s not long enough,” I said. “I would want to be able to lock myself in for hours and hours.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Oh yes.”

“All right,” he shrugged. “I can get a longer timer.”

“What’s the bottom button for?” I asked.

“It bypasses the timer,” he said. “I you press the top button, then the lower one. You will be locked in until someone else releases you.”

“Wonderful.”

“Up you go,” he said.

I climbed onto the support frame. The metal was cool against my skin. I pushed the top button, then the lower one and put my head and hands into the holes. I was trembling with excitement. A few seconds passed then the stock lowered onto my neck and locked in place. I had a sweet tiny orgasm when I heard that solid click. I couldn’t suppress a loud gasp.

“Are you all right?” Dale asked.

“I just had an orgasm,” I explained.

“Why? You’ve been in the machine before.”

“This time its for real,” I said.

“Ah yes. Quite true.”

He locked my ankles in the manacles. They felt odd until I realized that they were metal and not the leather test straps I’d gotten used to. The metal was cool and unyielding. Sexier than leather.

He put his hand in my crotch and squeezed my pussy. Orgasm number two hit. I sighed with pleasure as his strong fingers explored and manipulated my pussy. After nearly driving me wild, Dale’s hand slipped under my belly and pressed upward. I raised my pelvis off the frame. I heard a faint click, then his hand disappeared. I heard the hum of a motor and felt a pressure in my pussy. It was light and thin at first, but grew stronger.

The hum stopped and I felt Dale buckling a strap around my body. He tugged it tight and my breasts were pressed against the frame. He added two more straps and I couldn’t move.

“Can you move at all?” he asked.

I strained against my bonds. Nothing gave. There was no slack. The only parts of my body I could move were my fingers and toes. The temperature between my legs went higher.

“I can’t move,” I told him. “Nothing at all.”

“Splendid.” He patted my butt.

The humming resumed.

Suddenly the pressure between my pussy lips went from mild to fantastic! I felt the same sensation that I loved when the weight dropped off the barn loft and tightened the rope in my crotch. That brought about orgasm number three.

I’d barely caught my breath when the cable in my pussy went slack, then tightened again. And again! I was gasping for breath when it tightened twice in quick succession. Dale brought out a full length mirror and positioned it so I could see what was going on.

Dale’s pussy rope machine raised the weights and let them fall. A bar studded with pegs turned slowly at the base of the device and each peg tripped a release which made the weights fall. The pegs were arranged so the weights fell at random. Dale designed the thing so that a weight dropped about every eight to ten seconds, but the random pattern made some fall in quick succession, others after a long interval. After I’d gotten a good look he took the mirror away. There was no way for me to anticipate when the rope was going to tighten in my pussy. I was a babbling idiot within half an hour.

Dale has a engineer’s methodical style of thinking. He compiles data then makes calculations. After he released me from the pillory, and I was able to speak coherently, we discussed my orgasms. He made some computations and estimated the number of my orgasms at approximately seventy five. My internal orgasm counter went into melt down early in the experiment so I lost count, but upon calm reflection I think he was low by a factor of three.

We went in the house and Dale loaned me a thick warm robe. He cooked a barbecue dinner while I curled up on a chaise lounge. After we ate I fell asleep. I woke in a strange bed in the middle of the night. It took me a moment to collect my thoughts, then I realized Dale must have carried me to a guest bedroom. I went back to sleep.

The next morning Dale asked me to spend the day in the pillory. I was giggling in anticipation before he finished asking.  After breakfast he locked me in place and puttered around making more adjustments. I spent hours in the stocks, happy as a clam.

 While I lay immobilized I slipped into one of my daydream trances. In my daydream Dale decided to manufacture and sell the pillories.

He opened a huge factory. Hundreds of  workmen built the machines on an assembly line. The place was a hive of activity. Men shaped and welded the frames, while others built the motors and attachments. As the pillories moved along other workmen attached the restraining cuffs and electrical fittings. When the pillories reached the end of the assembly line they were put through quality control testing, using live female slaves.

The test slaves were hung by their wrists to overhead hooks that traveled in a large circle. Their feet were several inches off the floor and their bodies jerked and swayed with the movement of the conveyor. The circle was synchronized with the assembly line. As each machine arrived, so did a slave. The woman was taken down and locked into the pillory. She was locked into the stocks, then subjected to a battery of tortures. Each test took an hour. The slaves were spanked, whipped, and had dildos inserted in the pussies and asses. Electrical dildos were tested, as were the nipple and labia clamps. Finally the inspectors inserted their cocks into the slaves’ pussies or mouths while they completed their paper work.

When the inspectors were satisfied the women were released, hung up beneath the overhead conveyor and the cycle repeated. 

The conveyor carried each woman through a wash room where workmen sprayed her body with warm water, then soap, then a final rinse, like a car wash. Other workmen toweled each slave dry. By the time she was dry the cycle brought her back to the starting point and she was locked into another pillory. Each slave worked an eight hour shift.

The company sold some pillories with a live slave attached. A different conveyor brought women who were locked into the machines, then sent along to the shipping department. 

Every day hundreds of women lined up at the employment office.

Dale released me for lunch. I wasn’t hungry and ate quickly, I couldn’t wait to get back in the pillory. After lunch I ran back to the shop. Dale laughed when he came in a few minutes later and found me in the machine.

I slipped back into my daydream. 

Dale inaugurated an advertising campaign and took to the road on a marketing tour. He hired a crew and took me along  as a demonstration slave. He leased a truck and a bus and off we went. We set up displays at trade shows and county fairs. Dale wore a sort of carnival barker’s costume used a megaphone to attract the customers.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Allow me to introduce you to the eighth wonder of the modern world. A device so perfectly designed to confine and restrain a slave that you will never see its like anywhere but right here!”  Blah, blah, blah, , , , and so on.

The pillory sat center stage covered with a red velvet cloth. Dale whisked the cover off and the audience applauded.

“To demonstrate the many ways a woman can be restrained in this marvelous device,  my lovely assistant will bring forth one of my personal slaves.”

The curtains parted and his lovely assistant led me on stage. We stepped through the curtains into a brilliant spotlight. I wore a red floor length cape. The assistant wore a Las Vegas type showgirl costume with plumes in her hair, a leather bustier, sequined panties, mesh hose and high heels.

The assistant was my Mom.

She led me by a leash to center stage. I stood motionless, my chin high, my gaze fixed above the heads of the audience. Mom unclipped my cape and whirled it off my body. I was naked and my hands were cuffed behind my back. Mom paraded me back and forth across the stage, then led me to Dale where I knelt at his feet. She reached between her breasts and with a flourish brought out a shiny golden key. She unlocked my wrists, unclipped my leash, then clapped her hands imperiously. I rose and climbed into the pillory. Mom locked my ankles in the metal cuffs, then pushed the button. The stock lowered itself onto my neck and locked.

“I will now demonstrate that no matter how hard she is tortured, this lovely slave cannot escape the iron grip of my pillory!” Dale boomed. Mom marched across the stage carrying a whip on a cushion. She bowed as Dale took the whip. Dale cracked the whip several times, then stepped back, paused, and brought it across my butt. I screamed and fought to get loose but it was to no avail. I could only lie helpless as the whip turned my bottom bright red.

 Mom brought the attachments out one by one and Dale demonstrated them on my poor helpless body.

They started with the dropping weight pussy rope. The audience applauded when I went into a series of orgasms.

Dale kept his spiel going. “Now that you have seen how the pussy rope weights work, we will demonstrate another piece of equipment. My assistant is bringing out our next device.”

Mom minced across the stage pushing the mechanical whip, a broad show girl smile on her face.

I moaned and gasped and whimpered and screamed while Dale demonstrated each and every attachment on my poor body. I wasn’t acting. The pain was real (and delicious.)

Then we came to the grand finale’.

“I am now going to demonstrate the ultimate form of torture!” Dale announced. “The pain that will be inflicted upon this girl is so horrific that her screams could be heard for blocks, therefore I will request that my assistant gag her.”

Mom held up a huge penis gag and strutted across the front of the stage.

“The gag that you are seeing was specially made for this demonstration,” Dale said theatrically. “It is larger than ordinary gags,” Mom opened her mouth and tried to put it between her teeth. With a theatrical shake of her head she showed that it was too big.

“Nevertheless, the slave you see before you must wear such a gag or else you ladies and gentlemen might suffer hearing loss from her screams.”

Mom walked to my head and lifted my chin with a finger. I opened my mouth and she tried to put the gag in. It was too big and I groaned in pain as she struggled to force it between my lips. With exaggerated efforts Mom pushed and pushed and finally got the gag in my mouth. I squealed in pain while she buckled it in place.

Dale’s voice dropped dramatically. “Now ladies and gentlemen, my assistant will place clamps on the slave’s breasts.”

Mom knelt and pulled an alligator clamp from the electrical transformer. She stood and held for the crowd to see.

“As you can see, these are not ordinary nipple clamps,” Dale said in hushed tones. “They are equipped with the sharpest teeth and strongest springs ever made. Simply wearing these clamps is more torture than most women can endure.”

Mom placed her hand on her breast, paused demurely, then pulled her bustier down exposing her breasts. She looked upward, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The spotlight narrowed and focused on her beast. There was dead silence as she gingerly placed the teeth of the clamp over her nipple. She gasped, shrank back and dropped the clamp. That brought gasps and murmurs of sympathy from the women in the audience.

She picked up the clamp and tried to put it on her other nipple. She grimaced, then screamed and quickly took the clamp off.  She moaned, fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands.

“My assistant is herself a slave,” Dale told the crowd. “And has spent many long hours enduring horrible tortures in the pillory. But as you can see, even this brave lady cannot endure the pain of this terrible clamp. Please give her a round of applause.”

Mom bowed deeply as the audience cheered.

When the ovation died down Mom picked up the clamp and held it close to her breast. “I can try again,” she offered nobly.

“No, thank you my brave, brave assistant,” Dale said. He turned to the audience. “The clamps are painful in the extreme, but they serve an even more terrible purpose,  for they will carry hundreds of volts of electricity onto the nipples of this wretched girl!”

This brought more gasps from the audience. It even produced a few muffled screams.

 Dale looked at Mom. “Proceed.”

 Now the spotlight focused on my breast. Mom held the clamp up, opened the teeth, and put it on my nipple. She stepped back and bowed to the audience while I screamed my lungs out behind the gag. Then she marched regally around to my other side and attached a second clamp to my other nipple. The audience applauded while I thrashed insanely.

Dale waited until my screams had subsided to frantic whimpers.

“As I told you, the clamps are pure torture by themselves,” Dale told the audience. “But prepare yourselves for what comes next!”

He turned on the electricity. The audience watched in fascinated horror as I tensed, then groaned, then screamed as Dale increased the voltage. They went wild when I fainted.

 Mom produced smelling salts from her bra and waved them under my nose. When I was conscious she brought out the metal dildo probe, dropped its carrier in the slot and turned the pillory so my ass was toward the audience, then she slid the probe into my pussy.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” Dale whispered,  “If you thought you’d seen the ultimate form of feminine torture, you were mistaken. Watch now as I send a current of electricity, not only through the slave’s nipples, but into her pussy as well!”

A woman in the audience fainted. Her husband, his eyes fixed on me, didn’t notice his wife’s body at his feet.

“The control mechanism allows the torturer to send electricity to any part of the slave’s body,” Dale said. “One nipple, both nipples, her pussy or rectum, all at once, or in a random pattern. I will demonstrate using low voltage.”

I got a small jolt in my nipples, then my pussy. I squeaked and tensed my muscles. Dale set the control for random. My body jerked and bounced in its restraints. The audience applauded.

“Now for the serious voltage!” Dale trumpeted. “I must warn you that this is very dangerous and could possibly result in the slave’s death. As you may know, in the Moslem world the punishment for women guilty of infidelity is death. I have received inquiries from the governments of several Middle Eastern countries who are considering using my device to punish such wicked women, even to execute them.”

The audience was silent.

“In the event that this should result in the death of our slave,” Dale said. “My assistant has courageously volunteered to take her place and complete the demonstration.”

 Mom raised her face with an expression of noble sacrifice. Then with a graceful sweep of her arm directed the spotlight onto my body. Dale held the control box up.

“And now I will send hundreds of volts of electricity into the pussy of this helpless slave girl!”

He turned on the electricity. The universe exploded in my pussy. I had the orgasm of orgasms, and blacked out.

Two burly stage hands removed my limp body from the pillory.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes our demonstration,” Dale told the audience. “On in past occasions I called for volunteers from the audience to come on stage and try out our wonderful machine.”

Most of the women in the audience surged forward. Dale held up his hand.

“Unfortunately, due to several incidents where things went completely out of control, the authorities have forced me to curtail the practice. However, my assistant will stand at the stairs on the right of the stage handing out order forms. If any of you wish to test the machine in private back stage, please tell her.”

A line formed instantly.

 Later when we were loading up to leave Mom was complaining to Dale. “Why can’t Mary be your stage assistant?” she said. “I’d like to be the demonstration slave once in a while.”

I slowly roused from my daydream. “What in the world were you thinking?” Dale asked. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

“I’ve thought up a new way to use your invention,” I told him. “Have you ever thought about going in to show business?”

Author’s Note:  An error was made in submitting the updates for this story. These chapters should have preceded part seven.

                                                                                                CH 20

                Back in Denver I went to college and to my normal job, and avoided the bondage scene for a while. I told Mary and Denise that I was cutting back on my activities. They didn’t seem surprised. For women who made their living being cruel, they were very understanding.

                I limited my bondage to tying myself alone in my apartment. I got into some serious hog ties and once tied myself so tightly that I couldn’t get loose. When I realized that I couldn’t free myself, I became frightened, but had a delicious orgasm. I wore myself out trying to get loose and had several more orgasms, but by evening I was so exhausted that I couldn’t move. My hands were numb and my shoulders and legs were in agony. I had to shout for help.

My neighbor heard and called the building manager. They opened my door with a pass key and were horrified when they saw me tied up. I had been so frightened that I burst into tears when they came in. I told them that I’d been surprised and tied up by a burglar. Because I was naked they thought I’d been sexually assaulted and wanted to call the police. I assured them that I hadn’t been raped and was naked because the burglar caught me in my shower. I told them my boyfriend was a police officer and I’d handle the report through him. My neighbor was very solicitous but something in the manager’s expression told me he didn’t believe my story. I found out later that he had already been snooping in my apartment and discovered my bondage equipment.

The manager’s name was Bob. I ran in to him in the parking lot a few days later and thanked him for rescuing me. He grinned sardonically and told me he’d be happy to help anytime I needed it. I knew he hadn’t been fooled by my story. I wasn’t embarrassed that he’d seen me bound, in fact it turned me on. I began to flirt with him.

Bob was older but nice looking. He and his wife were live in managers. He took care of the property and she worked at an outside job. I’d heard gossip about him and a few of the women in the complex. He was tall and muscular and have black wavy hair just tinted with gray. He was screwing several of the tenants and had a slightly condescending attitude. He smiled as if he was reading my inner thoughts so I decided to seduce him.

A few days later I called the manager’s officer. I said that I needed help with something in the apartment. Then I undressed and tied myself to my bed.

I became very excited while I waited. I jumped at every tiny noise and seemed to take for ever for Bob to get there. Finally he was standing in the doorway looking at my naked body.

“Another burglar?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered. “But he left before finishing the job.”

Bob was already removing his clothes. When he was naked he crawled on top of me and slammed his cock inside me. He mad no pretense at foreplay, he just fucked me like I was a piece of meat. It was exactly what I wanted. I came almost instantly.

Bob screwed me for a couple of hours that first afternoon, and many, many times over the next couple of years. We had a nice sexual relationship, but there was almost no emotional bond between us. He acted as if it was his right to fuck me and any other woman he wanted. Oddly, I was content with the arrangement.

I didn’t love Bob, in fact, I barely liked him, but I liked being fucked by him because he was good in bed and he didn’t screw me for money. Bob didn’t know I was a slave for pay, he just thought I was just an ordinary little college coed with kinky tastes.

I should have been guilty about his wife, but I wasn’t. I wondered if she knew about his affairs, but honestly didn’t care if she did. She never gave any indication that she knew about me.

We arranged a signal for me to let him know that I was tied up and he’d come by the apartment. Sometimes I had to wait while he attended to other matters. That was usually ok because I enjoyed my bondage and the longer I waited the hotter I became. I also liked it because I could tie myself in very tight inescapable positions, knowing that he would arrive sooner or later and release me. Even knowing that he was screwing another woman was exciting in a perverted way. It made me feel humble and submissive knowing I had to wait my turn.

I encouraged Bob to talk dirty to me while he fucked me, and tell me about his other women. He possessed a degree of ethics and wouldn’t tell me their names, he but did go into the details of screwing them.  He told me that another of  the tenants was into bondage and like me tied herself up before he arrived. I was intrigued and wondered who she was, but Bob wouldn’t tell me. I wondered about her. Was she young or old? Married or single? Pretty or plain? How many times had we passed in the hallway? I’d have given any thing to know who she was.

Bob didn’t mind screwing me while I was bound but he wasn’t into s and m and never tied me up, I had to tie myself. He definitely wasn’t a slave master. He wouldn’t torture me, not even to spank me. He was a good lover. He had lots of stamina and could fuck for hours without rest, and he prided himself on making sure I always had an orgasm. But he wasn’t imaginative and I would have easily grown tired of him. I just used him because I could tie myself into inescapable positions and knew he would release me. He was not master material and would have been shocked if he knew the things I allowed other people to do to me. I never told him about my secret life, I didn’t want to frighten him away.

                Sex with Bob was all right but we had no emotional relationship. I tried dating regular boys from college but they seemed so young and naive. They were decent young men and I felt dirty because of my secret perversions. I went to bed with one or two but wasn’t comfortable making love in the ordinary fashion. I didn’t need a lover, I needed a master.

The only person I could talk to was Jill.

She and I got together, talked, went shopping and to movies. Jill got me through that period and helped me keep my sanity.

                I stayed away from the scene for almost six months but I couldn’t break my addiction to torture. I enjoyed my affair with Bob, but I needed more than simple bondage.

I went back to the store.

                I looked in the window and saw Mary talking to Denise. I hesitated. I wanted to see them but didn’t want my arrival to be seen as a surrender. I was confused and walked away. I passed a bakery and on inspiration went in and bought a dozen doughnuts. I took the doughnuts to Mary’s store.

                “Hello,” I said breezily as I walked in. “You two look hungry.”

                They greeted me warmly and gave me a big hug each, then they tore into the doughnuts. I had to laugh when I watched those two wicked, cruel, heartless, domineering black leather bitches arguing over who got the jelly filled.

                “Why don’t you fight for it?” I laughed.

                “She always grabs the best ones,” Denise pretended to pout. “I never get the jelly doughnuts.”

                “Liar, liar, panties on fire,” said Mary.

                “One more word,” I warned. “And I’ll make you leg wrestle for it.”

                “We’ve wrestled before,” Mary said. “I won.”

“Oh, you did not!” Denise gasped indignantly.

I grabbed the last jelly doughnut, broke it in two and gave half to each.

“There, now eat the doughnut and tell me about wrestling.”

“We went in to a strip club years ago,” Mary said. “It was amateur mud wrestling night, so we entered the contest.”

“In your dominatrix outfits?” I asked.

“No, we were in street clothes,” Denise said. “We were driving back from a trip to New Mexico and we stopped to eat in Pueblo. When we came out of the restaurant we saw a strip club across the street, and went in.”

“Who were you dominating in New Mexico?” I asked.

“Nobody,” Mary said. “We went to Taos for sight seeing and shopping.”

“Yeah, sometimes we do real every day things,” Denise said sarcastically.

“We’re just ordinary mothers and housewives,” Mary said primly, toying with the spikes on her leather bra.

“You didn’t take any whips along?” I asked. “No spike heels or handcuffs?”

“Well, there may have been a few whips in the trunk,” Mary said. “Just in case.”

“I see,” I laughed. “But tell me about wrestling.”

“We were sitting in the club having a drink and watching the girls dance,” Mary said.

“And fending off a couple of guys who tried to pick us up,” Denise interjected. “They thought we were hookers.”

“I wonder why,” I said. “A pair of big boob broads like you sitting in a strip joint?”

“Yeah, I suppose they might get that idea,” Denise admitted. “But we weren’t hooking.”

“The wrestling,” I insisted. “Tell me about it.”

“They announced a mud wrestling contest, and invited ladies in the audience to participate,” Denise said.

“Were you the only takers?” I asked.

“Heavens no,” she said. “The place was full of women. A bunch of them volunteered.”

“A lot of them were girls in the Army stationed at Fort Carson,” Mary said. “They drove down to Pueblo so they could party far enough off base that they wouldn’t get in trouble. And some were local girls and housewives.”

“Go on,” I said.

“They set up three inflatable kiddy swimming pools, filled them with mud and paired the girls off,” Mary said. “The girls started out in panties and tee shirts, wrestled around and tore each other’s clothes off. The winner went on to another bout.”

“We watched for a while,” Denise said, “Then decided to get in.”

“They took us back stage to the dressing room, gave us tee shirts and some cheap breakaway panties then took us on stage,” Mary said.

“Did you wrestle each other?”

“Not the first round,” Mary said. “We were paired against other girls.”

“They introduced all the contestants,” Denise said. “I told them that I was a lady doctor and Mary said that she was my nurse. The audience loved it.”

“Go on.”

“We won each round,” Denise told me. “After each bout the mud was hosed off our bodies by the emcee.”

“So the men could see us naked,” Mary explained.   

“I figured that,” I said. “Keep going.”

“Anyway, we made it to the final bout and wrestled each other,” Denise said. “It was fun.”

“Did you make love on stage?” I asked.

“No, but I won fifty dollars prize money,” Mary said. “Denise got thirty.”

“I won first place,” Denise corrected her. “And I spent it all getting my hair done the next day. That mud destroyed my perm.”

I spent the afternoon with them. We talked about anything except bondage. I sensed that both were respecting my decision to cut back on my activities. Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Has anyone inquired about my services?” I asked.

“Yes,” Mary answered. “Several clients have, including Lady L.”

“Did they say what they wanted?”

“The usual, an innocent girl to torture,” she said.

“Well, I could use some torture right about now,” I said.

“Oh? We thought you were out of the scene.”

“Not really,” I said ruefully. “I tried but it’s not working.”

“Bondage is worse than drug addiction,” Denise said.

“I tired to make do with a mild form of bondage,” I said. “I’ve got a lover but I have to tie myself up, and I’m afraid to ask him to whip me.”

They nodded understandingly.

“Uh, is there any chance one of you might be willing to whip me half to death?” I asked hesitantly.

They exchanged a look. “I think we might manage,” Mary said.

“I can pay your regular fee,” I said.

“No way,” Denise said. “You don’t pay us.”

“And you get a double tonight,” Mary said. “Two whip bitches instead of one.”

My pussy flashed white hot!

“Here?” I asked.

“No, lets go to my dungeon,” Mary said. “You two head over there and I’ll close up. I’ll meet you.”

“I have to call my husband and let him know I wont be home,” Denise said. “Then we can go in my car.”

“Can I ride naked?” I asked.

Mary took me to the back of the store and made me strip, then buckled leather straps around my arms, legs and body. Denise drove her car to the back door and opened the trunk. I hopped through the alley and they dumped me in. It felt so good to be in real bondage and my heart was racing in anticipation. I almost came when they slammed the trunk lid.

I loved the ride in Denise’s trunk. I pretended that I was a kidnap victim who was going to be raped.

When we arrived at Mary’s dungeon Denise strung me up by my wrists and whipped me. I told her not to waste time on warm up, but to get right to a big whip. She took a heavy flogger off the wall and went to town on me. I came within seconds.

My dear, wonderful, understanding friends, Mary and Denise tortured me until I thought I was in heaven. They whipped me, put horrible clamps on my nipples and pussy lips, poured hot candle wax on my breasts, then whipped it off and put more on. They screwed me with strap on dildos from front and back simultaneously. Denise broke in a new bull whip by snapping clamps off my nipples with it. I fainted twice but they revived me and kept going.

That evening was one of the most intense and  thrilling torture sessions I’ve ever had.

They tortured me for hours. When they finished I hung in my bonds limp as a rag.

“What time is it?” I heard Mary ask Denise.

“It must be around midnight,” Denise answered. She looked at her watch. “Uh oh.”

“What?’

“Its three o’clock in the morning.”

“Oops. My husband isn’t going to be happy.”

“Neither will mine.”

They came over to me. “We have to go home now,” Denise told me.

“One of us will be back sometime tomorrow to check on you,” Mary said. “But we’re going to leave you hanging here until then.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

It turned out that Denise stayed in the bungalow and kept an eye on me. She released me at nine in the morning. I was a mass of bruises, welts and burns, but I was completely happy. Denise put me in the bath tub for a long soak, then drove me home. After she left I couldn’t sleep so I made a pot of tea, curled up on the couch and relived every moment of my torture.

I didn’t want Bob to see my bruises and welts. I told him that I’d fallen down a flight of stairs at school and was in no condition for having sex. He saw me hobbling across the parking lot and believed my story. It took three weeks for my body to heal.

I gave up on my resolve to stay away from the scene. I called Mary and we all met for a drink.

“Do you have any business for me?” I asked Mary

“Lady L wants to indulge her panty fetish with you.”

“More maid costumes?” I asked.

“Who knows?” she shrugged. “Just expect to go through a lot of panties.”

“Now that you mention it, they do seem to like panties,” I said. “The last time they were more concerned with my panties than tying me up or spanking me.”

“Lady L has a definite panty fetish,” Mary said. “For her own and other women’s. She likes to show hers off and play with other ladies’ panties.”

“She uses girls as live dolls that she can dress and undress,” Denise said. “Especially below the skirt.”

“It ought to be easy to find hookers willing to do that,” I said. “Why does she need me?”

“She and her husband want someone who is in the scene,” Denise said. “And they like you personally. ”

“Lady L also likes to reverse roles sometimes,” Mary said. “She likes to be submissive once in a while but she likes to have another sub with her, one she can trust.”

“Oh?”

“She likes to be humiliated while her husband watches,” Denise said. “She likes to be put on display.”

“Does she like to be whipped?” I asked.

“She prefers spankings,” Denise said. “Especially to have her panties pulled down and bent over someone’s lap.”

“I never would have imagined,” I said. “She seems so frosty.”

“Still waters,” Mary said. “She gets into moods where she can’t get enough submission and humiliation. The more she is degraded the better she likes it.”

“I can identify with that,” I said.

“Wait till you see her flashing people in public,” Denise told me.

“You’re kidding!”

Mary shook her head slowly. “I’ve made her do it.”

“Tell me about it,” I said

“Her husband arranged a session with me,” Mary said. “I went to their apartment and he gave me the keys to their car and told me to make her show her panties to as many people as possible. He paid for six hours.”

“Interesting,” I commented.

“I drove the car,” Mary said. “I made her sit with her skirt up to her waist while I took her all over the city.”

“What was she wearing?” I interrupted.”

“An orange dress,” Mary said. “Low neckline and a short skirt. It was very expensive and she wore nice jewelry and shoes. She looked elegant.”

“Did she have on underwear?” I asked.”

“At first,” Mary said. “I made her take off her bra, but let her keep her panties.”

“Lady L isn’t very interested in her breasts,” Denise said. “She is strictly a pussy woman.”

“That’s right,” Mary said. “But I made her remove her bra as part of her humiliation, and I made her play with her nipples so they would be hard and show through her dress.”

“That’s terrific,” I said. My nipples were hard.

“I would sit through red lights so people in the crosswalks could look in the car,” Mary continued. “I went through a dozen drive through hamburger stands and made her turn toward the kids at the windows with her legs open, or bend forward so they could look down her top.

“We parked downtown and I ordered her to keep her legs apart each time she opened the door. I went through a roll of dimes for parking meters. We would wait until a man approached, then she had to drop her purse on the sidewalk and squat with her legs apart to pick it up.”

“That is so fantastic!” I marveled.

“I went one better,” Mary said. “We went to a bank and I had her buy several rolls of coins. She dropped them in the lobby and squatted to pick them up. Back in the car I opened a roll of coins and poured them in her purse. The next time she dropped her purse the coins spilled out and it took her a long time to pick them up. Several gentlemen knelt and helped. She dropped her purse all over Denver that afternoon.”

“And what is so cool,” Denise added. “Is that she is so dignified that no one would ever expect her to be showing her panties on purpose.”

“That’s tight,” Mary said. “But she was hot as hell. She would tell me when her panties were damp and ask permission to change them.”

“In the car?” I asked.

“Nope, I’d stop and she would get out and change her panties in public. She brought several pairs,” Mary said. “I just make sure that there were no children in sight.”

“What else did she do?”

“We went to cafes and she sat with her legs apart. The same thing on park benches and at a bus stop. We got on the bus and rode for an hour and she kept her knees apart the whole time.”

“I’ve done that on busses,” I confessed.

“Me too,” Denise giggled.

“Who hasn’t?” Mary said. “Anyway, we rode the bus for miles along Broadway. Then back to where we started. I made her stand beside the car and take her panties off, and wouldn’t let her put another pair on.”

“Very interesting,” I said.

Mary nodded. “I made her play with her pussy while we drove around. I stopped in a few parking lots and made her get out of the car, raise her skirt and put her fingers up her pussy.”

“And she did that?” I asked astonished.

“Are you kidding? She practically flew out of the car every time. She came several times doing that.”

“Wow.”

“Don’t forget the best part,” laughed Denise.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“We went in the Greyhound bus station,” Mary said. “I made sure that no children were present, then ordered ‘Lady L’ to stand in the middle of the waiting room, lift her skirt and turn in a complete circle.”

“My God!” I gasped. “Did she?”

“She sure did,” Mary said. “When she lifted her skirt the room went silent. I walked out the door. Lady L turned in a slow circle, then dropped her skirt and followed me.”

“Incredible!”

“When we got to the car she leaned against the fender, lifted her skirt and played with her pussy while I unlocked the car. A dozen people watched. She had an orgasm then and there and I had to yell at her to get in the car. She had another orgasm before we were out of the lot and she still masturbated all the way home.”

“I never would have thought she was capable of doing something like that,” I said.

“Its rebellion,” Denise said.

“What is she rebelling against?”

“A lifetime of straight laced proper behavior.”

“Lady L is from a very wealthy and prominent family,” Mary told me. “Her grandfather was a senator and her great grandfather was state governor. She was reminded of her social position and class duties every day of her life.”

“A poor little rich girl, eh?”

“Precisely,” Denise said.

“I don’t think that everything she does is simply rebellion,” Mary said. “I believe that she truly is an exhibitionist.”

“No question about that,” Denise said. “And she’s also a masochist and part time lesbian too.”

Mary shrugged in agreement. “Actually I’ve had three sessions like that with her,” she said. “We’ve been to malls, parks, truck stops and a baseball game. I’m running out of ideas where to take her.”

“A baseball game?”

“A little league game,” Mary said. “I ‘forced’ her to sit in the bleachers with her legs apart. We were behind the dugout. The players got an eyeful.”

“Little league players are young boys,” I said.

“These players were about seventeen and eighteen,” Mary said. “They were old enough to look up her skirt.”

“Why does she need you to be along?” I asked. “If she wants to display herself in public she can just go out and do it.”

“True,” Mary said. “But I think she needs someone to ‘compel’ her to show off. I don’t think she’s secure enough to go out alone. Her husband indulges her every whim. Sometimes he takes her out but she likes to go with other people too.”

“She ought to get a job as a stripper,” I said.

“She would if she could get away with it,” Mary said.

“Maybe you should take her to a strip club on amateur night,” I suggested. “She could get up on stage.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Mary said.

“So she wants another session with me?” I asked.

                                                                                CH 21

I agreed to another session with Lord and Lady L. They wanted me to participate in a particularly perverse engagement. It was incredibly disgusting and right down my alley.

I was to play their daughter.

Denise told me to dress like a teen aged girl and to wear no makeup. I wore my school girl costume, a short plaid skirt, bobby socks and a blouse.

Lady L greeted me warmly when I arrived and took me to her bedroom. She asked to see my panties. I lifted my skirt and she looked at them for several minutes, then she touched my pussy. She caressed me through the cotton panties and soon had them wet and me squirming. She told me to open my legs, then slipped her hand in my panties. She brought me close to coming then stopped.

“Your outfit is charming,” she said. “But its a little too theatrical for tonight. I have other clothes for you.” She motioned me to follow her in to a large dressing room. She held out a lovely blue dress. It was a girl’s dress.

“Please take off your clothes,” she said to me.

I started unbuttoning my blouse but she stopped me. “I’ll do it,” she said.

I stood as Lady L took undressed me. When I was naked she played with my breasts and pussy for a while, then visibly controlling herself, she stepped back. She took several pair of silk panties from a drawer and held them up deciding which pair I should wear. She took her time and had me try them all on.  She finally decided on a lacy pair in pink. She knelt and held a beautiful pair of white pumps for me to step in to. She slipped the dress over my head and combed my hair. I felt like a doll as she fussed around getting me just right.

I looked at myself in a full length mirror. I turned slowly as I lifted my skirt. The panties were lovely.

“How does everything feel?” Lady L asked.

“Wonderful,” I told her. “My panties feel deliciously tight.”

“Are they too tight?” she frowned. “Uncomfortable?”

I guided her hand to my pussy. “What do you think?”

She caressed the silk between my legs.

“They feel all right,” she said huskily.

“They sure do,” I agreed, “But if you keep doing that they are going to be very damp soon.” She took her hand away.

“May I see your panties?” I asked shyly. She raised her skirt and showed me a pair of white lace ones, so delicate that they were almost transparent. I patted her pussy.

Lady L put her arms around me and pressed her breasts against mine. She kissed me a long sweet time.

“Our guests will be arriving soon,” she told me. “They are gentlemen from out of state and do business with my husband. You will be introduced as my daughter. I’d like you to pretend to be sullen and disobedient, and eventually I will lose patience and be forced to discipline you in front of the guests.”

“In what fashion?” I asked.

“What ever strikes me,” she said. “I don’t want us to be locked into a strict scenario. I want to be spontaneous.”  

“Should I resist, or submit meekly?”

“You can play it by ear,” she said. “But eventually I want you to end up naked.”

“Hmm, You could strip me and tie me up,” I suggested. “Then put me over your lap and spank me.”

“Not bad,” she agreed.

“Are the guests going to participate?” I asked.

“I may permit them to spank you,” she said.

“And fuck me too?”

“Would you agree to that?”

“If you want me to,” I said coyly. “I’ll do anything you want.”

She kissed me. “Who knows what the evening will bring?”

When the guests arrived Lady L greeted them and told them that her husband was delayed at his office. She introduced me then ushered them into the living room. I sat in a chair facing them as she poured drinks. I slouched and opened my legs slightly.

“Sit up straight Mary,” Lady L said to me. I rolled my eyes and sat up slightly. I waited until she was looking the other way then opened my knees for a second, giving the guests a quick peek up my skirt. They looked astonished. Lady L noticed the expression on their faces and gave me a withering look.

“Don’t I get something to drink?” I asked petulantly. She handed me glass of soda.

 “I meant something real,” I said.

“I know what you meant dear,” she said sweetly. “But you’re too young for alcohol. You will just have to settle for a soft drink.”

“Oh God,” I muttered. 

She chatted brightly with the gentlemen, while I acted bored and said nothing. I discovered that it was easy to behave childishly. I kept my eyes on the floor and ignored efforts to include me in the conversation. I squirmed around in my chair, crossed and uncrossed my legs and managed to flash the guests several times. I grew more blatant and finally Lady L caught me sitting with my legs open.

“Mary, close your legs and sit like a proper young lady!” she gasped.

I gave her that eye rolling, exasperated to death, ‘how stupid you are Mom’ look that every teen girl masters, and opened my legs wider.

“I told you to close your legs!” she said angrily, then paused. “Are you wearing my panties?” she demanded.

“Maybe,” I said. “So what if I am?”

“Let me see them,” she commanded.

“Make up your mind, Mother,” I said. “First you tell me to close my legs, now you want me to show everybody my panties?”

“Let me see them!” she repeated.

“Anything you say, Mother.”

I stood and lifted my skirt. The guests stared wide eyed.

“Those are my panties,” Lady L gasped angrily. “I’ve told you a hundred times to stop going into my lingerie drawers.”

“Why do you care, Mother?” I asked sarcastically. “You don’t wear panties most of the time anyway.”

“That’s enough of that kind of talk,” she said. “Come here.”

I walked to her, letting my skirt drop. She grasped my wrist and pulled me onto her lap. She raised my skirt and began spanking me.

Lady L really spanked me, there was no pretense, but I’d been spanked much harder. I lay across her lap and took the spanking calmly. I looked at the guests and raised my eyebrows mockingly.

“Mother, if you’re going to punish me in front of these gentlemen, at least try to make it a real spanking,” I said. “This is quite boring.”

She gasped indignantly and spanked me harder. That was better.

My butt was bright red and stinging from her hand, and my pussy was tingling. I wasn’t acting when I began to squirm around on her lap.

“Mmmm, that’s better,” I crooned.

“Don’t pretend you like this,” Lady L said, spanking me harder.

“What ever you say, Mother,” I said, winking at the guests. I reached back and slipped my panties down.

“What are you doing?” Lady L gasped. “What will our guests think?” She tried to tug my panties up.

“I’ll bet these gentlemen have seen girls spanked before,” I said, trying to push them down. We struggled over my panties. I had to keep from giggling.

I rolled off her lap and fell to the floor. I jumped to my feet and took of my panties.

“Here, take your damn panties!” I said. I had my back to the guests. I mouthed ‘fight me” to Lady L and threw them in her face. She didn’t miss a beat. She jumped up and slapped me.

I slapped her back, then shoved her back onto the couch. She grabbed my shoulders and threw me to the floor. I landed on my back with my legs apart. She fell atop me and we pretended to fight. Lady L kept her legs apart and the guests got a good look at her panties and my pussy. We rolled around slapping and squealing and tearing at each others’ clothes until we were nearly naked. 

I enjoyed our fight. It was fun rolling around and we were very excited. At one point I managed to sit on Lady L’s stomach and hold her shoulders down. She kept her legs apart as she huffed and gasped and struggled under me. She rolled me off and got atop me. I permitted her to turn me on my stomach. She began spanking me again.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lord L roared from the doorway.

We stopped fighting.

I got to my feet. “Hi Daddy,” I said meekly. I was stark naked. Lady L’s dress was in tatters and her bra hung loosely from one shoulder. We were pink faced and breathing hard.

Lady L tried to pat her hair in place. She took a deep breath and faced her husband.

“Your daughter has been behaving abominably,” she said.

“All I did was borrow a pair of Mother’s panties,” I said defensively.

“You know she has forbidden you to wear her panties,” he said sternly.

“I know Father, but she never wears them,” I said. “She’s only wearing panties tonight because we have guests.” 

“She’s hardly wearing anything now,” he said.

Lady L blushed and tried to put her bra on.

“Don’t bother,” Lord L told her. “Mary is naked and you might as well be. Your dress is in rags, take it off.”

“Yes dear,” she said meekly. She took off everything but her panties. She looked at her husband pleadingly.

“Go on,” he commanded.

She took her panties off, then took a deep breath and bravely faced her guests.

“I cannot imagine what you gentlemen must think,” Lord L said. “Unfortunately, despite all my efforts, this sort of thing happens all too often in this house.”

They quickly told him that it was nothing at all, and they were enjoying a lovely evening.

“You are very gracious,” he told them. “Never the less, I must ask you to excuse us for a moment while I attend to disciplining my wife and daughter.”  

He motioned us toward the bedroom. Lady L and I followed him meekly.

In the bedroom he told his wife to lie on the bed. She obeyed and he quickly tied her arms and legs to the corners of the bed. Then he ordered me to get atop her.

“Face to pussy,” he said.

I thrilled as I felt the ropes tighten on my wrists and ankles. I’d never been tied to a woman in that position. I felt Lady L’s tongue against my pussy before he finished tying us.

“Enjoy yourselves,” he told us. “I’ll bring our guests in later.”

I barely heard him. I had my tongue deep in his wife’s pussy.

That was the night that I finally admitted to myself that I wanted to have sex with my own mother. As I kissed Lady L between her legs, I desperately wished it was my own mother’s pussy.

I had a very sweet orgasm while tied to Lady L, but it was nothing like the one that roared through my soul when Lord L brought his guests in and invited them to watch us.

“Look at this, gentlemen,” he said. “It is a sad state of affairs when a man must tie his wife and daughter together to keep peace in the house.”

They made understanding noises.

“Every other form of discipline has failed,” he continued. “I’ve tried spanking and whipping them, but they will insist on quarreling. The only way to keep them quiet is to keep their mouths occupied.”

“Do they enjoy this sort of thing?’ one of the guests asked.

“Oh no,” Lord L answered. “They aren’t lesbians, but its the only form of punishment that seems to work.”

I raised my head and looked at them.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Lord L said to me. “Put you tongue back in your mother’s pussy and keep it there.”

That did it! Those words sent me into the most violent, wonderful orgasm of my life! Lady L came too.

“Uh, how long will you keep them tied together?” one of the guests asked when the bed stopped shaking.

“All night,” Lord L said. “They can meditate on the proper way to conduct themselves in front of guests.”

“We were not offended,” the guest said. “Please don’t be too harsh on your family on our account.”

“You are very kind,” Lord L said. “But I am resolved that they shall spend at least eight hours tied together. Would you mind if we brought our drinks in here? That way I can keep an eye on them while we talk.”

They didn’t object at all.

The men sat in the bedroom and chatted while Lady L and I suffered our just punishment. (And suffered through several more orgasms).

Lord L was a man of his word. The old dear kept us tied all night, even after the guests departed.

                                                                                CH 22

Lady L and I played that scenario for many years. We refined it over time and our act was quite convincing. They went so far as to take me to a photo studio where we posed for a family portrait. They put the photo on display when they invited guests over for one of our performances.

Depending on their mood, they had me take part in other scenarios. Sometimes I was simply a sex slave and enjoyed an evening of bondage and spanking. There were times when Lady L summoned me to be her maid and I prissed around like Betty Boop. I showed off my panties, exposed my boobs, was remiss in my duties and had to be disciplined. Most of the time Lady L was quite stern and controlling, but on rare occasions she joined me as a submissive.

Lord L hosted poker parties. When Lady L was in a submissive mood she and I played the roles of serving girls. The first time I participated she met me at the door wearing panties and bra, stockings, a garter belt and heels. She dressed me the same way.

When the guests arrived she met them at the door and showed them to the card room. They usually patted her bottom along the way. We served them drinks and snacks. We rubbed against them as we filled their drinks or wiped off the table. We giggled like twits when they squeezed our boobs and patted our behinds. I was mildly shocked when one of the card players unzipped his trousers and brought out a very erect cock. Lady L tittered and asked if he would like her to suck it. He nodded and she crawled under the table. Lord L calmly watched for a moment, then returned his attention to his cards.

“You might as well get under the table and help,” he told me.

I found it fantastically exciting to be under that table. All the men had undone their trousers and every cock was hard. Lady L and I crawled from man to man. I marveled at how Lady L could go from a dignified high society lady to a cock sucking slut. It was a real turn for me to watch her expression when a man spurted cum in her face.

It wasn’t unusual for a guest to take a break from the game and take one of us to a bedroom. Sometimes we were fucked in the same bed and sometimes the poker game was put on hold while all the guests screwed us. Lord L watched calmly as his wife screwed two, sometimes three men at once.

For me the poker nights were ok. The sex was good, but there wasn’t much bondage. I did it to help Lady L live out her fantasies.

Lord and Lady L were very generous to me and took me on trips where I pretended to be their daughter. We went to resorts in the Caribbean and Mexico. We put on our act at parties and one time on a yacht in Puerto Vallarta our cat fight set off an orgy among two dozen guests. Things got so wild so quickly that Lady L and I didn’t get tied together. A man pulled her off me and threw her over his shoulder. He took her into the main cabin and dropped her on the bed. I landed beside her and in an instant we were being screwed side by side.

Everyone tried to crowd into the cabin to watch. Soon all the women were naked and people were fucking all over the boat.

They were intrigued to have a mother and daughter in bed together. All the men (and a few women) took turns with us. Lady L and I got the screwing of our lives that night.

Things settled down after a couple of hours. Everyone collapsed in exhaustion. Lady L and I lay in a very sticky bed. She was staring at the ceiling rubbing cum into her skin  I decided to put on our mother/daughter lesbian act. I got between her legs and began licking her pussy. She lay back and enjoyed that for a while, then told me to get on top and in sixty nine position. We made so much noise that the other guests came in. This time there was total silence as they watched awestruck. A man suggested that all the women should get in bed with us, and several did. Soon the master cabin was a mass of female bodies. It was very erotic and the only downside was that it was an ordinary orgy with no bondage at all

.

In hotels we always wandered on to the balcony naked or arranged to have the maids discover us in the shower together or tied to a bed. Lord L tipped generously and convinced the maids to go about cleaning the room and not pay any attention to his wife and daughter tied with our faces in each other’s pussies. 

We also shocked people on the beach or by the pool by rubbing sun tan lotion on each other. Lady L and I would start out innocently enough, but then she would slip her hand inside my bra or panties, and we would become more and more daring until our bras came off. Sometimes I’d lay on my stomach and Lady L would slide my bikini panties down to rub lotion on my bottom. I’d get excited and start moving my hips. Eventually we’d make a show of going up to our rooms with the obvious intention of having sex. Lord L would sit nearby and later he’d repeat the comments people made about us.

We particularly liked resorts with nude beaches. Lady L and I would stroll along the beach naked and chat with people we met. I absolutely loved walking around naked and had my picture taken many times by other tourists. Lady L liked it too but she wore dark sunglasses and carried a big hat, and put it on when some one photographed her. She wanted to protect her identity and if her face was unrecognizable she would pose outrageously for any stranger with a camera. One Canadian gentleman shot a dozen rolls of film while we posed in pure pornography.

Once on a walk I talked her into letting me tie her up in the jungle. We went a few yards off the beach and I tied her to a palm tree with the strings from her bikini, then I tied myself to another tree. We stayed there for an hour and she was so excited that as soon as I untied us we made love then and there. I got in the habit of carrying rope on our walks. It was fun seeing people’s reactions when they saw the rope in my hand. I’d tie us to trees and we would listen to people strolling past. We always hoped someone would discover us and do wicked things to our bodies.

Another time in Costa Rica we were by the pool doing our suntan lotion act in the nude and got so carried away that hotel security officers made us stop. They told us that nudity was permitted on the beach, but not on the hotel grounds. They asked us to put on our bathing suits.

Lady L rose to her feet with massive dignity and defiantly tossed our bikinis away, then told me to come to the room. We walked through the crowd hand in hand. The security chief followed us. Lady L left the door open and as he stood outside she took me in her arms and kissed me. We rubbed our breasts together, then I knelt and kissed her pussy while she slammed the door in his face.