Rich Girls' Hobbies

                              by

                              TG

Codes: F/m; nc, mc, BDSM, CBT, torture, extreme, violent.

Synopsis: A short novella that follows a Femdom when she        discovers a potential sub and brings him under her control.        It's a character study of what she enjoys in the scene, and        her power to control her world and manipulate others.

         

  

                           Chapter 1

                   Who is Who and What is What

     Sondra and Marta were rich girls.  Not Paris Hilton rich, but rich enough that the 3 would stop and chat when they ran into each other.  Their father had been a real estate developer who rose in his profession, until at the end of his career, he specialized in high risers in downtown urban centers.  At the time of his death, he left the girls several buildings scattered throughout 4 cities on the east coast.  That provided the girls each a very healthy 6 figure annual income, plus profits to invest to compensate for the depreciations of the buildings.  They ran the management company that oversaw the operation of the buildings.  Since the day to day operations where handled by building managers, they had considerable time on their hands. Currently they resided in Atlanta, mainly because of the weather. 

    As young girls they had grown up in New York.  Turning 18 they threw themselves into the club scene, first Marta, then Sondra.  They explored everything the city had to offer, from salsa down at South of the Boarder, to the chic up at Studio 54, to the wilder clubs around the meat packing district.  Which is where they discovered Hellfire.          

    First they were titillated by what they saw, to curiously asking the Femdoms about what they were doing, to offers to try a slave for themselves.  Which lead to a trip to the Pleasure Chest and some leather outfits of their own, replete with Cat'o 9 tails and quirts.  Which lead to crowds of subs flocking around them the moment they walked down the stairs at Hellfire.  Which lead to their first problem: finding a good sub. Someone good looking, who wasn't a moron when he opened his mouth, who won't wimp out once the girls got warmed up, who didn't spend the whole night trying to top from the bottom.  In turn this lead to something else: trolling the clubs to see what they could find.  Eventually, they did turn up some subs that were entertaining when they stood at the bar, or went for coffee after everything closed, as well as when they were strung up. The best was a tough ass when he was straight, and he functioned as a good body guard outside and inside the clubs.  He had exceptional hand speed, and was deadly with a knife on NY streets late at night.  He was a multipurpose sub.

    Their experience in the scene always seem to lead to both something they liked and a problem.  It was always a mixed bag which pushed them to something new.  The whips were fun, but they wanted to try out new things, but there were equipment problems.  Their usual haunt, Hellfire, didn't have what they wanted.  They wanted to try needles on their subs, but they couldn't find any place good to tie the guys down in the back rooms, and the red chair in the front room was in a cramped alcove.  And there were the crowds that flocked around them.  Besides, the walls looked so grimy.  And there was a perpetual line at the rest room. And the bathroom was filthy.  Hellfire had definite problems.

    So they emptied out a room at their place, had a sub carpenter build them some equipment and slap some sound proofing on the walls.  Then they brought some subs up, and got to concentrate on what they were doing.  This was better.  They loved watching the torment of their slaves, and now they could play with their slaves without a crowd pushing at their elbows.

    But other things were going on.  They were getting sick of the cold in the winter, fighting through traffic in the city to get anywhere, the possibility of muggings.  Getting to places like Nightmoves, Hellfire, the Vault, all required walking dark, empty city streets, if only when they were going home and needed to find a cab.  Eventually they moved to Atlanta, a city where their management company held some buildings.

    Their father had started in Atlanta.  At first he did small projects, and as his reputation grew, so did the size of the projects.  Usually he just received payment for these, but as he got more money, he began to reinvest his money in the properties he was developing.  When the project involved several building, like a local industrial park or apartment complex, he would often retain ownership of one of the buildings in lieu of payment. The net result was that the company still had several small, scattered buildings which had been retain from when their father was still working on small projects. When the girls got to Atlanta, they took over the management of the scattered properties.

    Scouting out their holdings, they found some things that peaked their interest.  There was small factory just a short hop outside Atlanta which had gone vacant and hadn't had a taker in 5 months.  The girls hadn't reconstructed their S/M lifestyle in their new home yet, and they thought this building might solve several problems. 

    Their old place in NYC had one problem: they had to share their dungeon.  They had to take turns with the rack. They decided to share their new building, Sondra taking the upper floor, and Marta the ground floor.  A little office was set up for work, and each girl set up her own space for S/M.  Besides, sometimes what they did with subs felt sexy and they preferred some privacy for those times.  They furnished their new Dungeon though contacts in New York.  They also had apartments set up for each so they could relax in comfort when they were there. They were now set up to get back into the scene in their new home.

    Once the referbished factory was ready, they became impatient with the lack of subs.  Unlike NY where there were several clubs and new faces would turn up every week, Atlanta's scene was smaller.  They started scouring the Alt.Com ads for guys in the area.  This took more time than people would think.  Weeding out lies from what was true took time.  Web cams helped find the 50 year old who posted pictures of themselves when they young.  Then they had to check out personality, limits, etc.  They even posted ads themselves on Alt., and that really filled up their mailboxes.  It was entertaining to go through their replies, but they were getting annoyed with empty dungeons with nobody to fill them.  Although they eventually got their subs, who were just passable, they had to go through a few month drought which pushed them into something new.  Also,the mediocre nature of their subs left them on the look out for something better.

    Since they had taken over the management of the local holding of their management company, the girls had to handle several of the day to day operations.  There weren't that many building, so that wasn't that bad. 

    One day Marta had to go down and start eviction proceedings for a musician who couldn't get much work.  He was old, and was pleading with Marta to give him an extension.  Bored, Marta thought to herself, "I wish you were younger.  I could think of some ways to pay off the rent."  And an idea was born. 

    Marta went home to tell Sondra how she wished her tenant (ex-tenant) was a cute little piece of eye candy instead of an old man.  She said she wanted to hold the apartment open until she got an applicant that she liked.  Since the apartments were usually held for years, vacancies only came up occasionally, and it was no big deal to hold one place empty out of all the ones they had occupied.  It was only a drop in the bucket.  She eventually rented it out to a cute street entertainer who had no talent.  Marta started to wait until the kid would go broke. 

   The girls loved this.  They started casting themselves in the role of tigresses on the prowl hunting prey.  It all tickled their vanity, and made for hours of laughing between the two them.  Marta held the next vacancy open looking for the next likely candidate.  

    And then something happened which changed everything.  Marta got a single mother tenant who missed a couple of months rent in a row.  When Marta went to see the mother and son about the delinquent rent, a mean streak just took over Marta.  She had never done anything like this before, but she had never been presented the opportunity before.  When she had the chance, Marta grabbed it with a viciousness that she had never shown before.  Faced with a vulnerable women, Marta's subs would have been surprised by how mean and cruel she was.

    It wasn't that she didn't have a sub.  Although she was looking for something better, she had a sub.  It wasn't that she believed in the image of a tigress on the hunt.  That was just a fantasy they used to  joke around with each other.  It may have something deep inside her, and her enjoyment of S/M spoke of a depth of meanness that had been there all along.

    For the first time Marta had a good target for a potential new sub.  The mother was selfish and a bad mother.  She cared more about herself than the kid.  She was a high school drop out and unsophisticated and naive.  And she was alone in the world and scared of eviction and in trouble.  And Marta stuck.  She pushed the mother for the kid to avoid eviction. The mother was so selfish, she would have given Marta the son plus the grandmother to get herself off the hook.  Marta dragged the young kid kicking and screaming to the factory for a day of S/M fun and game.  Since the young kid wasn't a voluntary sub, he kicked and scream throughout the torture.

       Like the parents you hear about in the news who are willing to sell their kids for drug money, the mother let Marta take the kid so she could stay in the apartment and kept her mouth shut.  So far, Marta had been back once to drag the kid kicking and screaming out to her car, and then back to the factory. The mother demanded money to keep her mouth shut the second time, but Marta wasn't worried about blackmail since the mother was also guilty of child abuse. In fact the mother treated it more like making an illicit sale to make herself some money, like selling drugs, only here it wasn't drugs she was selling.  Actually, the mother was happy when she found out that she could sell the kid for money, like a pimp running underage girls.  Marta believed the mother would be happy to just accept money for her to use the kid.

       Sondra was sure her sister Marta would go back to the mother a third time next month for the kid.  The only thing Marta was afraid of was that the kid would blab at school. She wondered if Marta would eventually just try to buy the kid outright from the mother so she wouldn't have to worry about the kid going to school anymore to shoot his mouth off about being abused.  (This is a story in itself.   See the note at the end of this story.)

    For Marta, the kid was a rush voluntary subs never gave her.  This was real fear in a sub.  The two sisters ate it up (Sondra vicariously). They loved the feeling of power and control their new sub gave them.  There was a sadistic streak in them that just enjoyed hurting people.  And a kid did this in spades.  After that, they became serious over Marta little hobby of getting subs by extortion.  Marta let the next apartment out to a cute young street hustler, and started to look for things to blackmail him.  But after the street hustler, Marta started renting their few vacant apartments only to single mothers who looked like losers or druggies.

    Sondra was fascinated by the image of dragging a kicking and screaming unwilling victim into the factory, and torturing him beyond anything she had previously done with subs.  The freedom to do whatever she wanted without worrying about losing a sub it has taken so long to find excited Sondra.  Good subs were hard to find.  Sondra had always been careful not to scare off the good subs she had by going way over their limits.  She never would have jeopardized her New York body guard by hurting him more than he could take: he was too valuable in his role as sub/bodyguard. A few times in the clubs she had taken some jerk she ran into in the back rooms and beaten him until his screams got the bouncers to come back and break things up.  But they were jerks and didn't matter.  In the clubs there were unspoken rules about how far you would go with a sub.  Now Sondra was getting an image of making a slave go way over his limits, and it excited her.  The more she thought it, the wilder and crueler her imagination became and the more she wanted to do it.  The truth was that Sondra and Marta had moved from consensual S/M to non-consensual S/M. 

    When a factory who leased on of their building in the same park as theirs went bust, Sondra told Marta she wanted to sell the property.  She took the money and picked up several small houses scattered around on isolated roads. She wanted isolated houses so she could do what Marta did with her young boy, without any witnesses. She had pictures in her mind of dragging a kicking and screaming young sub across a lawn, and throwing him into her car to deliver him into a cage in the factory, where he would cower in fear of her.  Then she had images of dragging him to a table and the fear and pain on his face.  She imaged needles, razor blades, branding irons, Tens units.  She used the same strategy that Marta used in renting out the apartments.  Sondra looked for loser mothers who were likely to fall behind on their rent.  And she was curious if Marta had noticed if any of their tenants were good looking men who were loners or had no family.  She was also considering grabbing some young man as an unwilling slave for use in non-consensual S/M.  She was sure she could get Ruffies from one of her old fiends in New York.

    Although this idea of finding a loser mother who could be extorted into giving them their child was an extremely slow process and fundamentally hit or miss, it became their obsession.  They used their Atlanta voluntary subs whenever they had an urge to satisfy their sadism, but they wanted the rush of forcing an unwilling sub onto their torture table.  They started to use the term slave instead of sub.  Unable to contain her impatience, Sondra  force her voluntary sub way over his limits one night, only to have him run away never to come back. 

    Simply because leads were slow to develop, they were forced to become patient.  Any fisherman who bypassed common small fish in search of a trophy catch would understand them.  They didn't want the small and common kinds of excitement; they were searching for the big trills.

    In their way of thinking everything they did in S/M before this had been prelude, and this was the big time.  Hunting and catching a victim against his will.  They favored the idea of using young kids because they didn't want to have to struggle with the size and strength of an adult male.  They wanted a small slave  they could manhandle more easily since they anticipated their slaves fighting back as they were tied down.

    And then the stroke of luck which had found Marta when she got her young boy found Sondra.  A single mother who rented one of their nearby houses got cancer.  It was a small house Sondra had picked up for a song.  She was a waitress just scraping by, with a no show husband and estranged parents who had gotten angry at her for getting pregnant at 15.  The girl had inherited her parents temper, and seemed ready to fight anybody. It was easy to understand why she was divorced.   Sondra didn't think she could force the mother as Marta had use extortion to get her kid.  This mother was too combative. Besides, the boy was 16, and good sized.  She couldn't manhandle him like Marta had her small kid.  But Sondra thought she could leverage the lack of job and sickness to get her what she wanted. 

    It wasn't going to be outright treats of eviction like Marta had used.  It was going to be manipulation that Sondra used.  And she would catch her unwilling victim.  She would use money to force her toy into cuffs.

    When Sondra went to collect the rent from the mother, she watched for her chance.  She knew the mother's situation gave her leverage but she wasn't sure how she was going to use it.  The mother said she had been too sick to work, and had lost her medical coverage when she couldn't pay the premiums.  Her job fired her for taking too much time off.  Finally she paid out of pocket for the medical visit that diagnosed the cancer.  Sondra remembered the management company had a group plan that covered all their employees, from building managers to janitors.  She could write the mother up as having started working for her the beginning of the month, and she would be covered.  That was a useful card to hold.  Finally the mother didn't have the rent payment.  Another card to hold.  Sondra was working her way to having a full hand.  The boy was in the room listening to Sondra talk to the mother and Sondra noticed how scared the boy looked.  Either of being thrown out on the street because his mother couldn't pay the rent or losing his mother to cancer or both.  Now here was something Sondra was use to: using a man's fear to make him do what she wanted.  She knew how she was going to play her hand.  The mother was too much of fighter to do what Marta had done, but Sondra could use the boy's fear. 

    Sondra knew that what she was going to do was going to be a hard trick for her to pull off.  She WANTED to force an unwilling slave into the heavy stuff, the needles and razors, cigarettes and pliers.  She had fantasies of doing it.  She pictured a slave tied down with electrodes taped to him, and the knob on the Tens Unit turned up to high, and sliding a probe down his cock.

    But she also knew that she had to take it easy.  She had just lost a voluntary sub by going too far.  This kid wasn't as good as Marta's kid.  Marta's was a small kid who could be manhandled onto the table.  She couldn't manhandle this 16 year old kid onto a table.  There would be a point at which this kid would break and run for the door.  Marta didn't have to worry about that with her young kid.  She could just grab the kid by the hair and pull him back to the table.  Sondra couldn't do that with a 16 y.o.  Sondra would have to take this easier and slower. But she was determined to get this boy as a slave.  To force him into the heavy stuff. 

    She was going to have an internal struggle.  She was dying to have a slave like Marta had who she could hurt as much as she wanted, but her slave wasn't as helpless.  She had to take it easy with him.  On the other hand, she had an uncontrollable urge to get to the good stuff. What happened with this kid depended on keeping this internal struggle of her's under control.  She had to control herself and go slow. 

    Sondra pulled herself out of her thoughts and back to the women who was sitting across from her in the rented house.  With the thought of taking things slow and not rushing, Sondra told the women she would be back next week and they would talk then about the unpaid rent.  That eliminated any need for Sondra to take drastic action today.

    But she was still driven by impatience to get the boy.  There and then she decided to start drawing the boy in.  As she got up to leave she called to the boy, "Tommy........" and motioned to the door with her head, intending the boy to follow her outside. 

    Nobody seemed to think this was strange.  The mother was sick and easily fatigued.  She was emotionally exhausted after having had a talk with a landlord who could have thrown her out on the street.  She was too absorbed in her own condition to think of any one else.  The only thing that was going through her mind was a need to lay down and rest, and she paid no attention to the boy.  The boy thought it was a natural thing for everybody in the world to want to talk about his mother, since she was the only thing he could think of.  He just went outside, assuming Sondra wanted to talk about his mother.         

                           Chapter 2

               Saturday Afternoon - Setting a Trap

    Driven by a little impatient impulse, a lack of specific foreplanning, and inexperience, Sondra began in somewhat crude, and heavy handed way.  Actually, it was the novelty and unfamiliarity of the situation that made Sondra feel a little rudderless, and her reaction to that was to bull ahead forcefully.  Whenever Sondra didn't have complete control over a situation, her first reaction was to get bull headed and demand what she wanted.  As things turned out, once she started she focused on the moment to moment details of what she was doing instead of the big picture of being in a novel situation.  As things unfolded minute by minute she realized, "Oh, I've done this hundreds of times with store clerks, employees, subs: every week!  Threaten, imply, cajole, manipulate.  What started off novel for Sondra soon became familiar, and the heavy handedness of the start soon dropped back to her usual sophistication in manipulating people.

    "Your mother is in a bad spot, Tom.  She lost her job, and there's no money coming in.  She won't be able to pay the rent.  Eviction will force you and her onto welfare, and that will provide you the crappy housing welfare offers.  Those shitty conditions will probably make your mother's cancer worse.  Without money, she won't be able to afford the healthy food necessary to maintain her health and fight the cancer.  Welfare provides so little you literally can only buy the cheap food which is nothing but empty calories without nutrition. Every week you hear news stories about how lousy Welfare is.  But worse, without money, your mother won't be able to maintain her health insurance.  Medicare treatment is so bad and slow in coming there's a real chance she could die."

    "That's the short list.  I'd say with the shitty things Welfare and Medicare doles out there's a good chance she could be dead in less then a year.  Then you're an orphan and are going to get the shitty treatment the state provides.  Can you study at an orphanage?  Where would you go to school?  How could you afford college?  Cutting to the chase, your education is going to suck, and chances of college are crappy."

    "And while we're covering future prospects, no 16 year old is going to be able to get a job that pays enough to make up for your mother's salary.  You couldn't afford a room in a dump for only the money a 16 year old can make. You're in a tough ass place with choices that range from bad to worse."

    "I'm going to offer you a trade, but it's a tough ass trade you aren't going to like.  It's going to be blood for the life of your mother.   As an analogy, think of it like you getting a job, today, as a sparring partner for a professional boxer.  You go to work, get punched around, and come home black and blue.  The sparring partner never wins.  A sparring partner's job is to get beat up and the professional boxer always wins.  That's why the trainer pays him money: to let himself get beat up.  On the other hand, you come home to the place you and your mother have gotten use to and feel comfortable in, and you come home to a mother who's still alive. In my honest opinion, if you accept this, you are a brave and tough man who's going to save his mother's life."

    "I'll admit this is going be a bad deal between a brave man and a mean lady."

    "Here's my part of the deal.  I'll carry your mother's medical premiums without her paying anything.  I'll skip collecting the rent.  Your mother will still have to apply for welfare, but I'll slip her some money under the table so you can continue to live as you have in the past.  When you go to work, an extra $50 per day gets put in the envelope for your mother.  You do a good job at work, there will be a tip.  Things like a T.V.  That isn't going to be often, and I'll decide when." 

    "Your part of the deal is going to be like the job as a sparring partner, but better and worse.  Sparring partners can get permanent damage, like Parkinson's by 40.   You won't have to deal with anything permanent: nothing that happens will permanently hurt you.  It will be more like falling off a bike, scraps and cuts that hurt but are healed and forgotten in 2 weeks." 

    "That's the "better than a sparring partner" part.  The "worse than a sparring partner" part is that sometimes this will hurt worse than a straight punch to the stomach.   And once the bell rings you have to go the whole round, and can't throw in the towel when you decide.  I ring the bell for when the round begins and ends.  Don't think 3 minute round, think going to work at McDonalds for the day. And last I write the rule book and I am the referee.  If you think a punch is below the belt, I decide not you.  I decide what is a fair punch.  And what I think is fair is not what you think is fair.  You're going to thing everything is unfair.  In short, at this job I call all the shot." 

    "So that's the deal,  Your mother gets sick, loses her job, and can die.  You save the day like a shinny knight in amour, and the two of you are even a little bit better off.  You do this by being a tough, brave guy who's willing to go rounds with a mean, bad lady.  Understand, a sparring partner always loses. Your job means getting beat up." 

    "It's 2 days a week, 2-3 hours a clip, my call when, with occasional mandatory overtime." 

    "You think about this.  Here's my card.  You call me Friday at 6:00 and let me know what you think.  I want you to remember what I said about a trade of blood for your mother's life, sparring partners, falling off a bike, your mother's health, and the money I'm offering.  And you remember that I gave your mother till next Saturday to come up with the rent.   This is between you and me.  You don't talk about this with your mother."

                                Chapter 3

                   Friday Night - Orientation Class

      Sondra got the call Friday night she expected.

    "Good.  I thought you would.  Your back is against the wall, and you don't really have a choice.  Tonight we're going to have a special little orientation session.  I'm going to fill you in on some details, and you can make a final decision on whether or not you want the job after you hear the details." 

    "Normally, I'll want you here at 7pm on Saturdays and 2pm on Sundays.  I will be a little flexible on hours if you have something special like a school prom but not flexible for trivial things like a school football game.  Occasionally, like tonight's orientation session, I may demand mandatory overtime.  Attendance is compulsory."

    "I'm going to pick you up at the end of your driveway at 7:00.  After today I'll call the cab company and set up a standing appointment to pick you up on Saturday and Sunday.  I may take you home or have a cab take you home."

    "Tomorrow, I'll see you mother and tell her to forget the rent. We'll have a little talk about money."

    "Make sure you're outside on time.  Make sure you've had something to eat first, and I want you showered and cleaned up.  Not just today, but every time you come here."

    She hung up the phone without waiting for a reply, and was out in front of his driveway by about 7:05.    She let him into the passengers side.  With an uncharacteristically playful tone for him she said, "I want to see you with that seat belt snugged down on you."  Then her tone changed.

   "We aren't chatty friends and I'm not interested in small conversation.  This is a business arrangement.  A very important arrangement.  I think your mother's life is on the line.  Without a salary, without a place to live, without health insurance, she would have to depend on welfare and Medicaid.  If you trust in their generosity or competence just let me know and we'll cancel our deal.  My guess is that if she depends on welfare and Medicaid, she'll be dead soon."

     "I think taking this deal will save your mother's life.  I don't think you have much choice.  Your back is against the wall.  You're faced with being thrown out in the street, your mother dying, and you becoming a orphan.  But sincerely, if you agree to this deal after our talk tonight, I really will think you are a brave boy who is saving his mother's life.  I respect you for that."

    "But make no mistake, this is no story of a knight in shinning armour who saves the day.  There's not going to be any parades in your honor. Get rid of any adolescent fantasies about some young kid who lands a dream job.  You'll envy the kids who work at McDonald's who spend 8 hours in front a French Fry basket.  But those jobs don't pay the money you need.  You need  money equal to your mother's salary PLUS the free medical coverage I'll give her PLUS the money to cover the expenses of her cancer.  You're going to pay for this job with blood, sweat and tears.  Now, think of the shit the kids at McDonalds go thought to make a single dollar and how much shit they would have to go through to make the kind of money you need."

   "I want to be plain for you.  You're going to save your mother's live, but this is going to be terrible for you.  You're going to pay a terrible price to keep your mother alive.  That why I say your a brave man if you agree to this."

    They drove the rest of the way in silence.  Sondra wanted the boy to mull over what she had said.  Her whole speech was manipulative.  She stoked the fear of his mother dying.  She stroked his ego by calling him a brave man if he accepted.  She evoked the image of a hero braving a tough challenge to save his mother.  It was all designed to push him to accept.  Lastly, it was designed to reduce his shock when he found out what she really wanted him to do.  She didn't want the price he had to pay to be a bolt out of the blue.  He already knew he would have to pay a terrible price for this.  He just didn't know the details yet.  When he did, Sondra wanted him to have the image of the hero saving his mother to be fresh in his mind.

    When they arrived at the factory, Sondra stood by the car pointing things out on the 2nd. floor.  This mundane waste of time was intended to calm him down by engaging in an activity anyone would do with a stranger to the place.  "I have an apartment in the front.  There is an office I use in the back.  But we're going to the middle.  It's left over from the old factory which was here before I bought the place.  I had it converted to my use.  My sister Marta has the whole bottom floor.  You're going to run into Marta sooner or later."

    Sondra pause and let the silence drag on.  "Come on my little man, let's see how brave you are," she teased.  Her real intent in saying that was to goad him into acting bravely.  She walked slowly, casually,...non threatening...... to the middle stairs and up.  She opened the door and turned on the lights.

    It was a large space with several small rooms against the walls.  Doors lead to the apartment in the front and office in the back.  The middle was a 20'x30' open space.  Sondra had a  rack, a rather sophisticated rack, off center in the room, but it was concealed.

    The rack had several features, most of which let her attach things to it or set up things around it.  But tonight she had attached a single, narrow plywood sheet to the uprights of the rack.  From top to bottom the panel had lines of keyhole cutouts running horizontally across it, set a foot apart.  The cutouts were set 4" from each other.  They consisted of 3/4" hole with a 3/8" slot extending 4" down from the hole.  They were big keyholes.

    To use the plywood panel, she had a pail full of eye bolts.  Each eye bolt had a nut, a 1/2" washer and another nut at the end which held the washer in place.  Sondra would stick the washer through the 3/4" hole and let the bolt slide down the slot.  The washer would keep the bolt from pulling out.  It was a quick way for her to put eye bolts anywhere she wanted on the panel.  It worked so well she had an identical setup on a table that allowed her to quickly shift eye bolts around the table for use as she needed.  Tonight she had two bolts on the panel near the top.

    Not wanting to scare the boy, Sondra had pushed some rolling room dividers in front of the rack, flush to the panel.  Looking at it tonight, one saw only 4 room dividers with an odd panel standing between them in the middle of the room.  A chair was placed near the middle of the room.

    In a playful, teasing tone Sondra said, "Come in."  As she walked toward the panel she said, "This a test.  We're going to see if you're up for this.  We're going to have a little talk, and at the end of our talk you are going to decide whether you want to do this or not.  If yes, I take care of your mother.  If no, you and your mother are on your own.  It's a test of how brave and strong you are."

    "Come here.", Sondra nodded toward the vertical panel.  She picked up 2 cuffs which were lying on the floor, each with "C" clips attached, and herded him back to the panel.  "Afraid?", she asked.  She had teased his manhood so much, she was sure he would answer with bravado.  "No", he said resentfully.  She put the cuffs on him and clipped them to the eye bolts overhead on the panel, all very gently. "We're going to talk.  I'm going to sit, and you're going to stand here like this.  And then we'll decide what we're going to do."  Her whole intent here was to introduce this to him gently, so she wouldn't scar him too much.

    She went to the chair, leaned back in it, legs crossed and extended.  Her tone was playful and teasing, all intended to manipulating him.  She wanted to gently introduced him to the S/M, but encourage him to accept at the same time.  "I'm not a nice person.  I like to hurt people.  You wouldn't like me."  Pause. "Of course, we're not here to talk about me.  We're here to talk about your mother and what you're willing to do to save her."  A longer pause.

   "I would like to hurt you.  I can think of lots of ways I want to hurt you.  This job to save your mother means you come here twice a week and you get banged around by me."  All this was said while she sat back in a chair in no position to immediately do what she threatened.

    "Think of some war movie."  With comic movements, she exaggerated what she said.  "The hero gets shot in the arm or leg, but he bravely reaches down to grab his unconscious sweetheart.  Limping from his injured leg he heroically pulls his sweetheart to safety.  Only, this is going to be the real thing."  She finished with a bright little smile.

    Her tone changed to a serious one.  "I do mean you are going to be hurt. You're going to be cut and hit, and be black and blue and bruised.  You're going to hate it.  This isn't movie heroics.  This is real heroics.  It will be dirty and hard and terrible for you.  When you're here it will be terrible for you.  When you walk up those stairs to come in here, you're going to be sick to your stomach with fear.  But when you go home, your mother will be alive and well."

    Her voice and appearance became neutral, factual.  Her demeanor was intended to convey the idea that discussing SM arrangement was a normal, average thing people did routinely every day of the week.  For some people, that was true.  Just your average settling details for the coming week.  "You come here twice a week.  Usually a little over an hour, sometimes more, sometimes less.  Don't take an hour as a guarantee.  Sometimes I'll want 2 hours, rarely, I might want more.  On the good side, I give breaks and will give you something to drink.  I will decide what is done, and you will have no say in it.  When I decide to do something, you will have to do it whether you like it or not.  Frankly, you are not going to like it, but you'll have to do it anyway.  When I want to do something, you're job is to grin and bear it.  You will think what I do is mean and cruel, and quite frankly, it will be mean and cruel.  I am a mean and cruel person and I'm going to be mean and cruel to you.  It's not fair and it's not right, but there is nobody else in the world who will give you money to save your mother.  Life isn't fair, but at least there is something you can do to save your mother.  Like I said, if you think welfare and Medicare will save your mother, go to them and don't take the job."

       Teenagers hear thousands of speeches from adults and they tend to tune them out and think to themselves, "Come on, hurry up.  Let get done with this, and move on."  Frankly, Sondra hoped her monotone delivery would provoke that reaction in spite of some of the content about him being hurt. But the next thing she said she animated because she wanted to engage him in terms he understood. 

    "If you think this sounds like blackmail, you're right   It is blackmail.  We keep your mother alive and in turn I hurt you twice a week.  Once in a while, more.  If you tell the cops, they can't make me write checks for your mother. If they throw someone in jail, they don't take their homes away.  I can still do what I want with my property, and that will be evict your mother.  I can be in jail AND filing eviction papers on your mother.  Call the cops and your mother will still end up on welfare and Medicare.   In short, I've made this a little secret between you and me, and the only way you can make me write the checks your mother needs is to let me hurt you." 

    "I said nothing done will be permanent.  Everything will transitory, like a scrape if you fall off a bike.  It will hurt, but it will heal and in two weeks you'll forget it.  Nothing will be done to your face or arms where other people can see it.  No one at school will look at you and wonder what's going on.  I will never say anything to anyone.  In short, what happens here will stay here and no one will ever find out to embarrass you.  It will be our secret."

    "The one exception is my sister.  She is just like me and likes to do the same stuff.  She knows I do this and I know she does it.  If she came in here now, it wouldn't surprise her at all.  She's seen me do this to other men and I've seen her doing it men.  If you're embarrassed by my sister seeing you, get over it.  It's just one of the tough things about this job that you're going to have to take.  My sister will be in here sometimes and she will see you, and you'll just have to live with the embarrassment of her seeing you tied up." 

    "I've done this many times before and I know what I'm doing.  I don't take chances with dangerous things.  Basically, I stick to the skin: cuts, scraps, bruises, small black and blues.  I aim for things that will heal in a week.  Sometimes it takes a little more, sometimes a little less.  I avoid anything that causes a scar.  If an accident did happen, I would take you to a doctor."

    "You're healthy right now.  When this ends, you're going to be in the same shape as you are now.  Only between then and now, you're going to be sore a lot."

    "Understand, although everything will be transitory, like a scrap, it's going to hurt.  If I stick a needle in you, it will hurt a lot, but it will heal in 2 days."

    "Be clear.  You come here twice a week and I'm going to hurt you.  I'm going to think of all kinds of different ways to hurt you, and then do them one after the other.  That's the way I have fun.  I like hurting people.  It's going to hurt a lot, but it will always heal fine.  I decide how much I want to hurt you and how long I want to hurt you.  You have no say in it.  You have to let me hurt you as much as I want and a long as I want.  If you want me to stop, tough luck.  I will start you off easy, but don't expect a cake walk.  My easy and your easy are two different things.  When you disobey me, you will be punished and it will be painful. In return for all this, I give your mother the help she needs. Or rather, you earn the help your mother needs by what you do here. That's going to be worth thousands upon thousands of dollars."

    "The brutal truth is that you are going to trade your pain for your mother's life."

    "This is what real courage is about.  Real solders are really afraid of being hurt, but they do their job anyway.  Real solders get hurt, but they keep on going.  The different between them and you is that they get arms blown off and get killed, and you get black and blue marks.  On the other hand, they don't get hurt every time they go out.  You're going to be hurt every week, week after week.  They go months and months without getting hurt.  I do think that what you will be doing is brave and deserves respect."  As she said this, she had gotten up, walked over to him and released him.  She motioned toward the floor and said, "Relax and think about it."

    She walked over to a small office refrigerator, got out some orange juice, and made herself a screwdriver.  She made a weak one for him, too.  It wasn't weak for him because she was prudish.  She knew he was inexperienced, and a regular screwdriver would leave him loopy.  He could only handle something weak.  She intended to do this again during his first few weeks, and whenever she had something brutal planned for him.  It would help dull his senses to what was going on, and work as a mild anesthetic.  She returned and gave it to him, and then resumed her seat.  She wanted to do something nice and comforting for him, to lull his suspicions of how dangerous she was.  She did this constantly: scaring him and then calming him down, being mean and being nice. 

    "Meeting me was really bad luck for you because I'm a sadist who exploited your mother's sickness.  Good for your mother, though, because I'm willing to give her the money she needs so I can do it.  One of the few good things you can say about meeting me is that I'm not a stickler about the rules about kids drinking.  Enjoy your screwdriver.  I made it weak for you."

    "So, what do you think?"

    "Yeah, but I want a different day than Saturday so I can go out with my friends."

    "No changes.  My rules, take it or leave it.  Well?"

    "WELLLL!"

    "Hmmm."

    "Not, 'Humm'.  Yes or no."

    "yes."

    "Good.  I'm going to be happy.  Your mothers going to be happy. She'll get everything she needs.  You're not going to be happy, at least for a couple of hours a week, but you get to keep your mother.  I assume that's the most important thing to you.  Quit, and the money to your mother stops immediately, and she has to get herself a new home and insurance company."

    "Here, let me refill that for you.  Sit back and relax.  I want to go over the rules to make them clear."

    She took his glass and refilled it, even though if was only half empty.  What she wanted was a pretext to stand over him while he was on the floor.  When she returned he was leaning against the panel.  "Well, that's a fitting place for him to be", she thought to herself.  She stood a few feet in front of him.

    "I want you clean when you come here.  Shower and wash your hair before you come.  Clean clothes. Nails too."

    "Never be late.  For your sake.  You won't believe what I'll do to you if you're late.  I swear to God I'll beat you with a stick until you're on the floor."

    Sondra walked over to a desk against the wall, and took out a set of numchucks that were in a draw.  She flipped them front to back, back to front, hand to hand, in a little routine she had learned.  It had taken her 3 months to learn to do this without hitting herself.  This trick had cost her hundreds of black and blue marks to learn.  Tonight her routine showed the results of months of practice. The ending move was a sweet little smile.

    Again, a series of being nice, then being mean.

    "By the way, you get a free pass if the cab is late.  But hope it never happens.  I'll call and ask the cab company what happened.  Even if they were late, you know they'll cover their ass and claim they were on time.  If ever you are standing outside and they don't come, you get to a phone and call me. And then I'll call them to find out what's happening.   Because the cabs can be a little late, you get 10 minutes grace on the arrival time.  But if ever it's your fault your late, you come with a bunch of band aids in your pocket because late means beaten.  No show means on the street with your mother.  I will not listen to excuses.  Late means beaten unless I'm on the phone with the cab company and they tell me they're late."

    "There is only one other rule.  You do everything I tell you to do, no matter what it is or whether you like it or not.  You do everything or anything you're told."  She leaned over, bending at the waist and putting her hands on her knees, to bring her face down closer to him.  Looking him in the eye, she said in a staccato cadence, "Because every session here I'm going to tell you to do things you don't want to do or don't like, not once, but many times,  aaannnddd YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO DO THEM, LIKKKE   ITTT  OR NOTTT.  Scenes are going to be filled with things you don't like and your job is to do them.   When you don't like something, your job is to GRIN AND BEAR IT.  When you don't like something, you are going to SUFFERRRRR  THROUGHHHH IT ANYWAYYYY,  and DO IT!"

    "Because, Tommy, that is the secret of scenes.  Scenes are, from beginning to end, MAKING YOU DO  what you don't want to.  One thing after another in a scene will be making you do what you don't want to do.  And your JOB IS TO DO IT ANYWAY, NO MATTERRR WHATTTT IT ISSSS."

    "Your only consolation with be that it will be over in an hour or whatever, so if you brave it out everything will finally end.  And that in a week or so everything will heal and be fine, and it is all temporary.  And, of course, by being brave you are saving your mother's life.  So there is one very good reason, the only important reason, to do it.  So when all this is going on, you remember that you are saving your mother's life, and this is what you have to do to do it."

    She returned to her chair. "Frankly, I expect you to screw up, especially in the beginning.  I expect you to disobey.  And you will be punished until you do things right.  In the beginning I expect to punish you a lot until you do everything you're told.  I expect a learning curve here.  Eventually, you will learn that it is easier to do something when you are asked, rather than be punished PLUS doing it in the end.  You will learn the equation Disobedience = doing it + punishment; whereas Obedience = only doing it.  You will figure out that it is always easier to obey and harder to disobey, and you still have to do everything anyway!"

    "I know sure as God made little green apples that you are going to have to learn this the hard way, and, Tommy, I'm going to enjoy it a lot more than you."

    "If I've scared you, that's good.  Because this is going to take real courage.  Courage the way adults know it.  Kids play soldier, pretending to get shot and grabbing their chests and falling down.  Adults know courage is really being hurt and really being scared and keep going at it anyway.  And you have the consolation of knowing that whatever happens you'll get over it and be fine in the end.  And so will your mother."

    She motioned for him to get up and follow her.  He followed her to her car.  On the way back, she was quiet, not wanting to scar him anymore, and she put some music to break the tension and soothe him down.

    When they got to his place, she broke the silence. "Saturday, 1:45 in front of your drive way.  If you're not in front of the driveway at 1:45 be inside the house packing your bags."  She signaled the end of the meeting with the click of his door lock being released.

 

                                 Chapter 4

                          Saturday - Fun and Games 

    Sondra chuckled to herself thinking of Tommy.  This was turning out to be fun.  He was so easy to manipulate.  She had pumped up his ego, "Oh, you're going to be such a hero, saving your mother."  Then she had gently introduced him into the scene so that the real thing wouldn't be such a shock to him.  "Oh, it's going to be so hard."  Then she stroked his ego, "You're such a brave boy, I really respect you."  Then she pushed his mind further into the world of pain that was to come, "It's really going to hurt.  This is what real courage is about.  Real pain that really hurts."  Back and forth she had gone, pumping his ego and then getting him ready for the real thing.

    She giggled to herself because she felt she had succeeded.  In the beginning she worried that she would push too hard, but now she knew she had done it right.  She got him!  She got him!  She was so happy with herself.  It ended with a real picture of what was going to happen, so he would be mentally prepared for it.  "I'm going to think of many different ways to hurt you, and for a hour I'm going to hurt you one way after another.  And you are going to have to take it and suffer through it."  Paraphrasing what happened.

    But she had avoided giving his mind something specific to focus on.  She didn't want to give him mental images of whips, pliers, razor blades, etc. If he focused on something specific like a razor blade his imagination would run wild with images of him being cut and bleeding time after time, with him screaming and suffering.  It would freak him out. She had made one specific reference to needles because she felt forced to prepare his mind for the torture to come.  She felt she had to prepare him.  But she was scared it would scar him too much.  That needle reference was a gamble that made her nervous.  She had to prepare him mentally; she was afraid of scaring him too much.  It really didn't depend on her.  It depended on him.  If he was a coward, he'd cut and run.  If he was a brave kid, he would stay and be pulled further into her plot.  She had tried to blunt mental images of being cut, whipped, burned, etc. that might be forming in his mind by repeatedly stressing everything would be transitory and mild; just healing in a week. No big deal, just a scrap on the knee.    If things went right, he was thinking, "This is going to be bad. (scared), but if I'm brave (bravado) (real courage?) it isn't going to be that bad (reassuring rationalization - just a scrap on the knee).  Nice contradiction: it's going to be bad, it's not going to be bad.  It's going to hurt a lot, it's only a scrap that isn't important.  Actually that was true.  It was a reality he needed to come to grips with.  She was going to hurt him a lot, sticking pins him, whatever, and she wanted to hurt him a lot.  And it was going to heal fast and leave no permanent damage. That was the physical side, the physical injuries would be inconsequential.  What she didn't cover, but which was a monster in the room which wasn't being talked about, was the emotional damage and real agony of being tortured.  That was fun to her and Tommy would just have to surrender to being used as her toy. And that was fun for her too, forcing him into this against his will.  It made her feel powerful to be in control of another human being.         And it satisfied her desire to hurt someone.  Treatening him with the death of his mother, scaring him with images of being on the street homeless, highligthing the inadequacy of Welfare and Medicade, predicting a future in an orphanage and having a lousing future was something she enjoyed doing to him.  Knowing she was blackmailing him and forcing him to do what she wanted satisfied her before she even began the torture.

    Another thing she didn't talk about - to herself - was what happened when the mother died or was cured.  That lead back to the whole consensual - non consensual question which wasn't completely resolved yet.  She decided "One step at a time."  The question was one she would face later.

    Earlier that day, Saturday, she had gone to his house, and talked to his mother with Tommy in the room.  Tommy had a scared look on his face , but his mother attributed it to being afraid of what the "landlord" would say about the rent.  When she told the mother of the money she would give her, she looked at Tommy and smiled.  She meant it as a conspiratorial smile of one conspirator to another. She implied, "See, I did my part of our deal.  Now it's time for you to do your part."

    "I feel bad for you.  Why don't we just skip the rent for now.  Have you gone to Unemployment yet?  You have to.  Go to Welfare if you have to.  There are Food Stamps, things like that.  You have to practical.  You have to eat.  It's not your fault you got sick.  This is what Unemployment is for.  You go and let me know what happened.  Maybe I can come up with a little something to tide you over.  I'll stop by tomorrow and see what I can do."

   "Maybe I can come up with something for Tommy to do for an hour or two.  A little part-time job for him to make a little extra money.  He could bring home a few dollars to help out. Sweeping out rooms or something down at my office.  It's a big building, my sister has the downstairs.  The outside could use a cleaning.  I'll find something for him to do for an hour or two.  I have some free time tonight.  I'll come by and pick him up later.  I'll make sure he's back in a hour or so."  She smiled at he mother sympathetically.

    When she left, she motioned to him and called, Tommy.............".  He went outside with her.    Near her car she said, "That's the rent.  Tomorrow, I'll slip her something to make up for the salary she's not getting anymore.  When she gets Unemployment or Welfare, I'll make up the different between that and her salary. When the premium for the health insurance come due, I'll tell your mother to forget it.  That's my part of the deal."

   "Tell your mother I changed my mind.  I was afraid of running late.  I'll sent a cab at 15 to 7.  Be outside like I said."

    Then her tone changed to a friendly one.  She said, sympathetically, "Don't worry, nothing serious tonight.  It's going to be a cake walk.  And it will start a flow of fifties to your mother.  Mostly just talk tonight."

    Sondra waited in the factory.  Nothing had been changed in the room from the first time, except the addition of a second chair across from the first.  Everything else was the same as last night.  He wouldn't be frightened by images of whips, racks, etc.  It would be reassuringly familiar.  Just the panel where he was tied, but not really hurt.  Just talked to.   While she waited, she amused herself with thoughts of how well things were going.  She felt happy and playful; her whole mood was playful.   She didn't feel like hurting him that night, she only wanted to playfully tease him.  It was a useful coincidence.  She wanted to break him in slowly so he wouldn't be overwhelmed. 

     There was the knock on the door!  "Hee, Hee", she giggled to herself.  "Gradually........Slowly........"  She reminded herself as she walked to the door.

     She opened the door.  "There's my brave little man!"  She causally walked back to the center of the room, talking to him over her shoulder in a politely solicitous tone, "Does your mother feel better about the rent?  Not so worried?"  She nodded her head toward the second chair and said, "Sit down. Get comfortable."  She reclined back in her chair, wanting to appear non threatening.  Everything was manipulative.  She was having fun leading him around by the nose so easily.

   "Your mother?...........Better?"

   "Yeah."

   "And how you doing?"

   "O.K."

   He was awkward.  He didn't know what to say.  He didn't know what to expect.  He didn't know how to act.

   "Don't worry, nobody is going to eat you," she laughed.

   "Oh, I forgot!"  She jumped up and went over to make up some screwdrivers.  She made his slightly stronger this time, wanting the alcohol to do it's thing with his nerves.

    She returned, holding his glass out to him, but as he reached for it, she playfully pulled her arm behind her.  "Ohhh, you aren't going to act all funny and get drunk on me, are you?", she said in mocked fright.

   His sense of maturity affronted, he puffed up and emphatically said, "No!"  Defensive, he felt he had just successfully defended his manhood.  Feeling more in control by successfully meeting this challenge, he relaxed a little.

   She smiled, playfully gave him the glass, and sat down.

   Then she further calmed down the situation by picking up a conversation that didn't involve S&M.

   "I don't want your mother to worry.  Tell your mother you swept up this room and a couple of the rooms on the sides.  Say that tomorrow you're suppose to come back and finish the other rooms, and then you're going to start on the office in the back.  Tell her it was OK, you only had to sweep."

   "Sound good to you?"

   "Humm."  

   Playfully, with a teasing smile she said, "Ready for our little talk?"  She darted her eyes towards the panel, and nodded her head toward it, and coyly darted her tongue out with a smile.  "You know the drill.", she said. Jauntily, she got up, stopping at his chair to grab his drink, and followed him to the wall, putting his drink down near his feet. All playful, she put his hands in the cuffs, and then returned to her chair, sitting down.  It was all safe, like last night, when they just talked.

   "You know, crises happen and you meet all sorts of people.  There's a fire in your house," she flitted her arm to the right, "and the neighbor from down the block, who you have never talked to before, runs in the door to help you.  There's a flood, and somebody you never met before rows up to your house with your dog in his boat. And youuuu................got.................ME!  You need money for your mother, and I've got the money."

   She got up, and with slightly coy and exaggerated walk, approached him, with her head tilted down, but eyes raised to look at him and a slight smile on her face.  When she got to him, she looked down and began to twirl her finger around his buttons, collar, shoulder.  Demurely, "And I have all these wicked little appetites about what I like to do."  In a little girl voice she quietly said, "And I really do like to hurt people."  Then she tilted her head and looked at him with a smile.  Then she looked down again. 

   She reached down, picked up his drink, and held it to his lips for him to drink.  She went to her chair, had a drink from her glass, and returned. She wanted his fear to recede a little, and giving him a break in the action did that.  Now she resumed the action, and the action was about to change.  The cat was about to play with the mouse. She played with his shirt and collar again.  Looking in his eyes the whole time, playfully, she said, "You are here to play my games.  You are here to do as you are told."  She pinched his chest (not too tightly), and slowly twisted her hand around.  "You ARE going to be hurt...........time.............after time............after time."  She released his chest, and just looked at him.  Now her tone became serious.  "Your job is to do whatever I want, and when it hurts.........YOU ARE TO SUFFER THROUGH IT."   "When I hurt you your job is to LET ME DO IT and AND GRIN AND BEAR IT.  When I hurt you, you are to stand there and just moan and suffer UNTIL I AM DONE.   And this will happen time after time.  That is the price you are going to have to pay."

   "This is a high stakes game with your mother's life on the line.  You can console yourself thinking you are doing it for her sake.  The only consolation I'll offer you is the knowledge that nothing will be serious, everything will be transitory, and everything will heal fine.  But you will have to play my game, and my game is hurting people."

   She nodded her head upward towards the cuffs.  "See your hands.  You can't do anything to stop me from hurting you.  You just have to stand here and take it.  That's your job.  Come here.  Be tied up.  Stand there while I hurt you.  And you are going to do it time after time.  Remember what I told you about a sparring partner.  Imagine a boxer, a good boxer, a contender for the title.  He needs to practice.  So they hire a sparring partner, and he gets in the ring with the contender, and the contender practices on him.  And the sparring partner holds back from effectively fighting back and lets the contender hit him.  He is a human punching bag FOR MONEY. And that is how the sparring partner earns a living and pays his bills.  And it is how you are going to earn your money.  And that is the job you are doing to help your mother."

    She grabbed his chest and pinched hard, without stopping, and said, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"  He didn't answer.  There was no answer he wanted to make.  He didn't want to say, "Yes".  He was afraid to say, "No."  Still pinching him, she jerked her hand to the side, then painted a questioning expression on her face.  And jerked him again.  "YES," he said.  She let him go and turned away.  Then turned again to face him.

   "You can quit.  The sparring partner can quit his job.  But how will he pay his bills then?  Get a different job?  Can you get a different job?"

   "You can quit.  I'll never have anything to do with your family again and you never have to see me again.   Don't come tomorrow.  You'll never see me again."

   "So are you up for this or do you want to punk out?  What's really important to you?  You come tomorrow if you want to keep our deal going.  Don't come if you want the deal to end."

   She turned, went to her chair and sipped her drink.  Then she returned to him.  "That pinch hurt, didn't it?  Is it going to be all better in 2 days?" "That's the way it's going to work.  It hurt.  Tough shit.  It will get better.  And a week from now, 'SO WHAT?'"

   "I have 2 other subs, I've had them for a while and I'm bored and I want something new to do.  I'm telling you this because they're fine.  No limps, no scars, nothing wrong with them.  Everything works like that pinch."  "Of course," she said with a grin, "it hurts when it's happening."  "I told you, I was a mean and bad lady, and I meant it."

   She turned, went to the chair again, sipped the drink again, and returned. "One more thing.  I told you if you ever disobey me, and you will disobey me, I will punish you.  Disobey and you will be punished."  She reached under his armpit, and with all 5 fingers grabbed the front fold of skin under his armpit again.  Looking him in the eye, she squeezed as hard as she could.  "Do you understand?"  Without waiting for a reply, she let him go.

   Back to the chair for another sip and then she returned.  Without saying anything, she unbuckled him from the cuffs. "Enough.  We're done here.  Wait outside for the cab to come.  2 o'clock tomorrow.  Cab at 1:45.  When you come, the door will be open.  Go directly to the cuffs and wait for me."  She turned and went through the door that lead to the apartment in the front.

   She was happy with herself.  She knew she had won.  She had him.  If he had struggled, tried to kick at her, cursed her, it would be different.  But he stood meekly while she hurt him, and stood passively while she played with him.  Although she intended to pace herself introducing him to he painful stuff, she was sure she had a new toy for torture.  Sondra had won.  She controlled another human being who she could do with as she wanted. 

   Sondra thought to herself, "Jesus, that was fast.  Two sessions, a little talking and I got him.  I have to tell Marta about this.  Sondra toyed with the idea of bringing Marta up to see him when he was here.  Usually, the subs are too ashamed of the humiliation of another person seeing them.  She had a feeling she could get away with it, judging my how meek he was when she hurt him.  Maybe he was a natural submissive?  If he was a masochist, she could up the intensity of the pain.  He wasn't a wimp, but he might be a masochist.  If he was wimp he would have cried by now.  This boy might prove very interesting.  She decided she would ask Marta to come up tomorrow. but make her final decision as she watched how the boy acted.  If Sondra left the door to the factory open, Marta was to come in.  If Sondra closed the door to the factory, it was too soon and Marta should stay out.

    The more she though of how he acted, the more she thought he might be a natural.  And the better it sounded to have Marta stop by.  They could play good cop, bad cop.  Marta could praise him, Sondra could stay the disciplinarian until she broke him into her routines and tested his tolerances. If he was a natural, she would change how she treated him.  She would praise him and nurture his submissive side.  He might be better than just a new novelty to break the routine of "same old, same old."  Instead of it being bad luck for Tommy to have run into Sondra, it might have been good luck he met her.  They might have been a "well met" pair, lucky to have met each other.

    On the one hand, if he was a natural submissive, she was happy to get a good one.  She knew how hard they were to find.  And it was a boost to her ego to think she had gotten another man who willing fell on his knees to kiss her feet.  On the other hand, she wanted to force someone into this.  For it to be non consensual.  If he was a natural she would miss the fun of forcing him to do something he didn't want to do.  Her sense of power over others wouldn't be boosted.  If this guy was a submissive this whole thing wasn't going to turn out how she planned.  She would be happy to get a submissive.  She would be disappointed she didn't get a slave.

    Which ever way it worked out, tomorrow seemed more interesting than she first thought.  She felt she would be able to answer the question of whether or not he was a natural submissive.  She really was looking forward to tomorrow.  And Tommy didn't know it yet, but he just bought himself a reprieve for a lot of tough stuff.  A segment of tomorrow would be devoted to talking.  Again!  Less time for "Ouch!" and "OOhhh."

                               Chapter 5

                        Sunday - A Mystery Solved

    Sondra was in the apartment when she heard to door to the factory open and close.  She went in, leaving the door half opened.  She would watch how he acted and then decide what to do.  If he acted good for it, she would leave the door as it was and Marta would come in.  If he didn't seem ready for it, she would go back and close the door before Marta came upstairs.  She had told Marta about the boy this morning: how fast she had gotten him and that she wondered if he was a natural.  She asked Marta to give him a few pats on the head to nurture him along.  And........of course........she wanted to show off her new plaything.

    Tommy was standing in front of the panel.  Nothing had been changed from last night  Without going toward him, she headed  for the refrigerator.  She said, "Change of plans."  Nodding her head toward the second chair, she said.  "Get comfortable."  She made some drinks, and went and handed him one.

    "I'm not into getting kids looped.  Kids are crude, they only do extremes.  They're only into getting sloshed, and passing out.  Being passed out on the floor is their idea of fun.  Adults are more sophisticated.  They have the self control to be sophisticated.  They understand drinks are there to enhance what happens. While a kid would have passed out and be dead to the world, adults will still be up and partying and enjoying the fun of what's going.  There's no kid running this house.  I'll be monitoring how much you drink.  A little high and that's it for you.  You're cut off.  Well, really, it's too much trouble for me to monitor you.  It's simpler just to have some rules.  1 if you're here a short time, 2 if you here a long time, then it cokes for you."

    She went to her seat and sat down.

    "You know people have got all sorts of tastes.  Some guys like blonds, some people brunettes.  Some tall, some small and petite.  Those are large groups of people.   Some people become more specific.  A few have a thing for a smaller group of women.  A few are into strippers, and a few top models.  The percentages of guys go down the more specific the group.  And the more specific the group, the fewer women in it.  A big category like blonds will have a large percentage of guys into that.  A small group like models will have only a few guys into that.  Which is all pretty good because, using the old expression, it means there is a lid for every pot.  I like it.  To me it means that no matter how small a group of women there are, there are always a group of men into them.  They match up and everyone has a partner for the dance.  Of course the problem is that they have to find each other."

    "Only a few people are into S&M.  Most people aren't.  Most guys aren't into being submissive, only a few are.  But those few make the women Doms into S&M happy because they are a match and they can do their dance together."

   "I don't know what you are yet.  I'm beginning to wonder if you're naturally into being a submissive.  You may not even know yourself yet what you are. I'd like it if you were a sub.  It would make our relationship better and easier.  I'd appreciate you more and like you more if you were.  I'm going to have to watch you more until I decide."

   "If you are a sub, than instead of it being bad luck that you ran into me, it would be lucky for me and lucky for you that we ran into each other.  There is a old English expression, "Well Met", meaning that fortuitously, a well matched pair of people happened to come together.  A happy accident.  It may be that we are well met.  It would mean that you are into the S&M sessions too.  If not, I would enjoy the sessions and you would hate them.  If yes, then you would enjoy them too.  I would like that better: if you got some entertainment out it too."

   "That doesn't mean we agree on things.  There's plenty of room for domination and S&M.  All that I have to do is raise the S&M a notch over your tolerances and you'd find the S&M damn hard, and I'd have to dominate you to get you to do it.  So if you are into it, there a simple way to make sure be both have our fun with it."

      "I don't want you to tell me if you are.  You don't have to tell me.  If you not into this, you'll curse me at the end of sessions.  If you are into it, you'll thank me at the end of a sessions."

   "Take your shirt off."  She nodded her head toward the panel.

   She stood before him, talking as she put his arms in the cuffs. 

   "You are a natural submissive.  You knew this was for torture, and your eyes didn't glare at me with hatred, if you were brave, when I asked to go for the cuffs.   You didn't cringe in fear, like a trapped rat looking for a way to escape, if you were a coward. You simply obeyed.  That's good.  I like you better.  This is going to be more fun for both of us.  Me more than you.  And me more often the you.  I'm suppose to have fun all the time.  Some of time you are supposed to be decidedly unhappy."

    "We are well met, and it was not an unlucky day you met me."

    "I don't know yet if you're a masochist or only a submissive.  I prefer submissive, not masochist.  The difference is one screams when the other smiles.  I'll find out easily."

   She went and got a sip from her drink sitting on her chair.  It was a technique she constantly used to break up a conversation.  She could just as easily have placed her drink on the floor near to him as she had done with his drink last night. 

    "Obedience is the first rule and only rule.  You will always obey me no matter what I tell you, regardless of what you feel about it.  It is good you have obeyed me so far.  But you are going to disobey me and I will punish you for it."  She did nothing as she said this but stood and look in his eyes with a knowing express on her face.

    "You will disobey me not out of impudence, but because what I ask you to do will be too hard for you to accomplish or it is too scary for you.  I will think you can do something and you will think you can't.  And I will punish you and you will try it a second time, and third time and forth time until you succeed.  I will punish you worse and worse each time and you will try harder and harder each time until I make you do what I told you to."

    "The lesson will always be the same: obedience is easier than disobedience.  It always hurts more to disobey than obey."

    "This is an object lesson."  She reached up and grabbed the fold of skin under his armpit, as she had done last night, and again squeezed as hard as she could, this time pulling down and twisting her hand.  She let her nails cut into his skin.  She only let go when her arm gave out in fatigue.

    "I will always punish you.  I will always come up with a punishment that is more painful than what you refused to do.  I will make the punishment worse and worse until I force you to do what I want you to do."

    She felt a presence behind her and turned to see Marta standing there.  She tried to mouth to her, "Be easy!" and hoped Marta got it.  She stepped aside to let Marta take her place, and sat down.

    "My sister tells me you may be a natural."  "That's a good little boy," she joked, pinching his cheek and laughing.  "That will make her happy."

    "So modest, with your pants on.  Now, how can anyone tell if you have a cute little tussy?"  She stood at his side, and tapped his feet with her foot.  "Skooch out!"  She tilted her head to the side and said, "Not great, but it will do.  Sis, haven't you learned anything I tried to teach you?  How can you whoop on an ass all right and proper if you leave the pants on?  Can't even see if it gets all red and rosy."

    She walked to the front and started tapping on his ankles with her foot.  "Don't be a slouch!  Stand up straight!  Let's have some good posture here!"

    "You know, I have a split personality.  I come up here and see my sister, and she just makes me laugh.  I get all playful around her.  I may come up here sometime and ask her if I can play with you.  Could be fun.  I warn you, though, you have to have a good sense of humor.  Sometimes the guys don't get it and they don't think it's funny, while I laugh my head off at them." 

    "But when I'm not around my sister, my personality changes and I get all serious.  I get right down to business fast, and that's serious business.  No  nonsense, just serious stuff. I may ask my sister to send you down to me for awhile.  As kids we always use to share our clothes  and toys."

    "If you're a natural, we may end up liking each other."  Theatrically, she added with a smile, "Upstairs that is, not downstairs."  She playfully swatted him on the rear.  "Catch you around some time."

     Sondra , "So, what do you think?"

     "He looks presentable.  Good size.  But young.  Keep things just as scenes.  You haven't really done anything with him yet, right?   Humm.  So you don't know if he's a wimp  or a stand up guy yet.  Good luck, then."

    "I'll wait for you downstairs.  Let's go out and get something to eat.  Hurry up; I'm getting hungry.  Keep your chin up, kid."  She headed out by the apartment.

    "You made a good first impression on her.  If she wrote you off as a waste of time, she wouldn't have spent much time with you. Instead, you got a rise out of her. Most of the time when you see her it will be just like today,  She'll just be stopping by to say something to me and will leave.  Today, she really came up here because she was curious about what I'm up to."

    "Incidentally, she and I never double team.  We run solo operations.  In fact, she's got her own set up downstairs.  She joked around about it, but we seldom trade.  BUT.....BUT we usually take a short trail run with each others subs.  So she and I get know what the other is talking about when we talk about subs.  So if I were you, I'd expect to see her once, and have a heart to heart with her, so she can get to know you.   Then we two will gossip with each other,  You know, girl talk.  Ahhhh, my guess would be she'll be curious about how you handle pressure.  She's has a "Lets get down to basics" attitude.  Expect her to get curious about you sooner or later.  When that happens, I'll send you downstairs to her.  One day, expect me to tell to report downstairs instead of up here, and the two of you can have a "get acquainted' meeting."

    Sondra went to sip her drink again, meaning she wanted to change topics. "You've had a pretty easy time of it so far.  I've gotten more exercise than you have, wagging my jaw up and down.  Consider this your gentle introduction to the scene."  She sat down and just stared at him for awhile with an unhappy expression.

    She got up and walked over to him, grabbed his cock through his pants, and squeezed hard, rolling her finger back and forth.  "I haven't had much fun for a while.  You be here on time Saturday.  Up here.  I'm going to get rid of these room dividers so were can play a little.  You tell your mother you're going downstairs to clean up Marta's back rooms."  She untied him.

    "Grab a coke from the 'frig, and then wait outside for the cab.  Never take any of the ice teas or hard stuff in there. If you want, there are some potato chips in the draw under the under the frig."

    She turned around and left the room.

   

                           Chapter 6

                      Saturday - Show Time

   The room dividers were rolled to the side and the rack which supported the wall panel could be seen.  The table she used was also visible.  Her whips, crops, etc., had always been stored in a storage cabinet left over from the factory. and they couldn't be seen, except for a crop and 4' solid fiber glass whip she had left out under the ring she used for whipping.  There was a simple runner attached to the top of the uprights of the rack, which extended 6' into the room.  with a ring bolt at the end.  A rope hung down from the bolt, and was tied off on the rack.  A ring was swaged on the end of the rope.

    She was sitting in the chair before the rack with a drink.  A screwdriver was left by frig, a little stronger than the last, for the same reason.  To numb the kid up, as much as one drink could do that.  She'd settle for just making him a little stupider.   It's was still "Introduction" time.  He got there a little early.

    She nodded toward the drink, and then the rack.  "Look around.  You may want to finish that before you're done", nodding again to the drink.  She wanted his imagination to run wild now, which is why she left out the whip and crop.  "Be scared.", she thought.

    He took some time looking at the rack.  Probably never seen one before.  Quizzically looking at eye bolts, glancing left, right: he looked like he was trying to figure out what it did. 

    "Do you know what that's for?"  Just a shake of his head.

   "I tie people up in there, so they can't escape."  He turned to look at her with a surprised look.  "Do you know what the whips are for?"  Just a nod of the head.  "Aren't you glad you finished that drink?"  No answer.

   "Take your clothes off.  You can leave your socks on.  I don't care about that."  No movement, his eyes just widened.

   She thought to herself, "That's not "Fuck you!" resistance.  He's just scared, shocked and confused."  She got up from the chair, casually walked over to him, and calmly looked in his eyes for a few moments, and then slapped him in the face so hard his head snapped to the side.  Just slack-jawed surprise on his face.  She just calmly looked in his eyes a few moments more, then calmly leaned her face a foot from his, and shouted, "NOW!"  Averting his eyes, he started to strip.  "Hang you clothes on the rack."

    She walked to the chair for a sip of her drink, a strategic decision.  Then she went over to the crop and cuffs, and picked up the crop.  She knew she wasn't facing him, and wanted it that way. She waited until he was done.  "Come here."  Pointing to the cuffs with the crop, she said, "Put those on one hand."  She did the other cuff.  She  nodded with her head toward the overhead ring, and when he raised his arms up, she clipped the cuffs to the ring.

    She wasn't interested in beating him too much.  She wanted him to obey when he was scared.  She planned on scaring him but making him do as told. Taking control.  And, enjoying the fear in his eyes.

    He wasn't very afraid.  Her guess was that he just didn't know what was going on, and when he had been tied up before nothing much happened.  "Turn around."  He looked surprised, but obeyed.  She wanted real fear so she raised the crop and really sliced into his ass.  Years of martial arts and workouts had produced a good athlete.  Lots of "white", "fast twitch" muscle in her arm. No one would say to her, "You throw that like a girl."  Anne Bowman on an SM video had nothing on her.  Pectoral and deltoid muscles drove the shoulder and upper arm around, forearm rotated on elbow, wrist rotated on forearm.  Each point of rotation coordinated and built upon the speed above it.  And at the end of this rotation was the crop. If Sondra joined a women's softball team, she would be one of their sluggers and their pitcher.

    "Christ!  Shit!  Mother fucker!" 

    "Well, he doesn't sound like a wimp." she thought.

    He started hopping around, drawing one leg up to hop on one foot.  Time to work on that later.  If she rained blows on him, he would just jump around trying to avoid them.  She wanted him to learn to take pain and then be ready for another blow.  She let him hop it out.

    "Back to were you were!" 

    Another "Waaishs" as the crop cut through the air.

    "Jeeze!"  This time he just clenched all his muscles and tried to endure the pain."

   She was impressed.  "That's a baseline behavior that's useful!"

   She waited until he relaxed his muscles, and then she sliced the crop through the air.

   "Jeeze!  Come on, Lady!  Enough already!"  He hopped to his side where he could see her.

   This is what she waited for.  She could have struck him from where she was, but she walked around and came to a stop in front of him.  "Get Back!" she growled in an angry voice, and she backhanded him with the crop across the chest.

    He got an angry look! Then seems to think better of it and returned to his position.  She liked that.  She didn't like spineless guys. She stood in place until he had returned to the right place, and then she went behind him.  Before doing anything else, she said, "You call me Mistress, not Lady."

   Again the crop.  Again he just clenched his muscles, and arched his back without moving, trying to control his pain.  She liked that.   It was so much better than hopping around.

   She was very pleased with everything.  She was glad he got angry.  She didn't like wimps, and wouldn't have a sub who was.  She liked the guys who were macho outside, and only submissive behind closed doors.  When guys hop around, you have to wait for them to get back into position or walk around following them.  And the ones that hop around are usually complaining that the SM is too painful, over their limits.  She would have to praise him for it and encourage it.  And she could save time in training him not to hop around.  And best, he got the idea of being hit and standing there to be hit again.  That was what she had intended to teach him.  In one session got he the lesson.  He was a good sub.  A lot came naturally.  "I bet Marta's going to want to try him soon!  Right now she'd rate him as good."   

     There was just one other thing she wanted to do, and now it felt like more of a task than something she wanted to do.  She had planned on using the fiber glass whip to teach him he was going to be hurt and he had to stand there and take it.  But he already learned it!  And she wanted to teach him that scenes would be one thing after another, so she had picked out a nipple clamp before the scene began. She picked something light because she didn't want to overwhelm him.  She was afraid that if it was too heavy in the beginning, he'd cut and run.

   They'd already done what she had planned to teach him with the fiber glass whip.  She'd have to ad lib something else.  She put down the crop and picked up the whip.

    "Turn around."

     With each word, she poked him in the nipples with the whip, "You don't tell me when it is "Enough", I decide what is enough."  Then she hit him on the shoulders, only using a flick of the elbow and wrist, with every word, "Do you understand?"

    "Turn to the left.  Whatever I decide to do," (She hit his cock with the whip - not to hard.) "it is your job to stand there and take it." (She hit it again - again not to hard.) "Do you understand?" (And a third time - not to hard.)"

    She went to a cart by the wall, and got the nipple clamp she had put there. She went back to stand in front of him.  "WHATEVER I decide to do!" She put the French clip on his nipple, and while looking him the eye, she jerked it right back off him.  Then she reached up, unclipped the cuffs, and unbuckled one of the cuffs.

    "Get dressed"   She went to the frig, got a coke, gave it to him, and returned to her seat.

    "You did well, Tom.  I'm surprised by how good you did.  You were obedient and you're not a wimp.  I'm pleased with you.  I will never strike you in the face again, but if you ever get me angry like that again you will wish that is all I do."

    "You can wait in here or outside for the cab, whatever you prefer." 

  

                            Chapter 7

                 Sunday - Another Day at School

   Sondra was a happy lady.  She felt she had stumbled on to a natural without having to troll the SM clubs or sift through ALT. personals.  Coercion was always real risky, what with torturing someone who didn't want to be tortured who could break under the pain and run to the police.  She was curious about it, or rather, "How the shit can I do this again?" 

   She was getting an idea.  She had talked to the mother again, and the mother was a bitch, complaining about her ex-employer, the no show father, arguments with family, and all the trouble Tommy was giving her.  Trouble Tommy was giving her!  Always arguing with her.  Always being difficult.  Getting into fights at school.  Not the kid Sondra knew!  Before this all began he had been nice to her when she came by to get the rent.  Now, she knew he wanted to help his mother.  Sondra was beginning to think, "Take a kid who naturally nice, throw him in with a bitch for a mother, and you got a kid who's use to women who are bitches. This kid may never have been up close and personal with nice women.  Just use to bitches.  When he took a hit, and just stood there waiting for the next hit, she picture him at home with the mother being a bitch one day, and waking up the next day with mother being a bitch again, day after day. This kid was use to women who acted bitchy all the time.

    From now on when Sondra rented out apartments, she was going to look for single mothers who were bitches.

    She told Marta about her theory, and Marta was thoughtful, which meant she didn't dismiss it out of hand.  And she told her sister about how fast the kid was coming.  "You're kidding, I don't believe it!  Really?"  The "Really?" had a touch of envy which tickled Sondra vanity.  She was getting an idea that would kill two birds with one stone.  

    The kid was only use to bitches.  Sondra wanted to be nice to him, not because of sympathy, but to bind him to her when it came to tough stuff.  And......she liked him!  She liked having a new sub.  This was all fresh and interesting.  Time for non consensual later.  Right now she wanted to entertain herself with this unexpected development of a natural sub.

    When the kid got there, Sondra had two chairs out.  Sondra was use to sitting with a sub, joking with him, acting like equals.  When she had hung out at SM clubs in New York, she had a cliche of friends as well as Marta that would meet week after week in the different clubs.  When the clubs closed for the night the whole group would troop out to a diner or coffee shop to get something to eat before going home.  Sitting around cups of coffee, it didn't matter who held whips and who wore collars, but who was funny and fun to talk to.  The people who had good senses of humor and the ones who were fun to talk to dominated the after hours get togethers,   Sondra had found herself at 5am sitting in a booth with a bunch of people, subs and doms, all joking around and laughing with each other.  What she was doing with Tommy was something she had done a 100 times before at diners and coffee shops on 9th.Ave. watching the sun rise in New York City. 

    "You get the drinks.  You only get two fingers at the bottom.  My dainty little fingers, not Shrek's fingers.  I get a little more than a quarter of the glass."

    "You like video games?  I gotta Wii that I just use for boxing to keep my reflexes fast.  Works just peachy and it's got other built in games.   I was thinking you may deserve a tip.  You tell your mother it was an old one I had and I don't use it any more and I gave it to you when we were cleaning out a room up here and trying to make some space for new things."

    "Next Saturday I want you to go to my sister downstairs instead of here.  Use the door at the back.  She's got her playroom set up in the back.  When she's done, I'll drive you home."

    He had a scared look on his face.  "Don't worry, you'll do OK.  She's like me: nothing permanent.  We both like long term relations, and we want our subs coming back week after week, looking all bright eyed and bushy tailed, and not like Quasimodo.  If you look good the first day you walk in the door, I want you looking good a year from now, not looking like the Hunch Back Of Notre Dame.  Whatever we do during a scene, you can rest assured she and I are vested in having good looking subs weeks after week.  So whatever she does, you can know it's going to look fine in two weeks."

    "But I warn you, she's kind of a no nonsense kind of girl.  She likes to get down to the bottom line in a hurry.  The Wii is a reward for spending some time with her."

    His eyes were a little wide in apprehension.  She guessed he wanted to give her back the Wii.  She laughed, "Don't worry, kid.  You've already been through some scenes, and you're still alive and kicking, right?  She couldn't get a job at Guantanamo. They'd think she was too much of a lightweight.  We give villains a bad name, what with worrying about the health of our subs."

    "Hummmm................but don't quote me as saying anything about the happiness of our subs, .........at least for a few hours of the week." 

    "So what did you think of her," Sondra asked him about Marta. He smiled, as if he was thinking of a different person than the one that had just made him look afraid.  "She was funny.  I liked her.  She seemed nice."

    "Yeah, she is." said Sondra, thinking to herself, "Funny with me, that is.  She's not going to be so funny with you."  She decided then to met him when he came Saturday and bring him in to meet Marta, to lessen his apprehension. Let it be an easy start. 

    She wanted Marta to have a go at him because she was impatient to get to the good stuff.  So far it was just talk and baby steps.  She had taken a gradual approach with him.  Marta could jump to the next level without baby steps, and Sondra wouldn't have to sit though too many more tame scenes.  Maybe just one more after Marta to calm him down.

   She still wanted to calm him down more, so she continued the conversation.  "So what do you think so far............."  A little more chat to make him comfortable with her as a person, and she was ready to transition the scene.  To make the break she went to get the video game, taping the paddles on so it would be easy to carry.  She put it near the door for him to grab on the way out.  She hoped he'd play with it during the week and like it.  It would make up for Marta.  Besides, when he was laid up in bed recovering next week, it would give him something else to do to while the time away.

    She had taken her time getting the video game to allow plenty of time to elapse between chatty, "I'm not in a Scene," Sondra and "God Help you, I'm in a Scene" Sondra.

    When she got back she sat in her seat, nodded toward the cuffs and rope and ring used for whipping and said, "Clothes.  Cuffs.  You know what to do."  She talked all the time he changed, and while she finished cuffing him and clipping him to the ring."

   "You know, I'm real good at making transitions.  I know how to separate the straight me who has a job and talks to the neighbors during the week, and the me who plays games on the weekend.  You should learn how to make that transition.  There is the straight Tom who goes to school and plays football during the week, and my good little slave Tommy on the weekend.  You have to learn that difference.  There are two parts of you: the straight you for the outside world, and my obedient little toy behind closed door."

   To transition the conversation, she paused to get up and go to the cuffs while he finished undressing and putting his clothes on the rack.  While she finished cuffing him, she finished the conversation.  After she finished cuffing him, she just stared into his face as she talked.

    "Before I only suspected.  Now I'm certain that you are a natural submissive.  You have no trouble getting into fights at school, but here you are submissive.  You want to belong to a mistress.  You want to be my slave.  Little things gave you away.  This isn't blackmail anymore.  This isn't making a noble sacrifice to help your mother,  You want to be here.  You want to be my slave.   You would be here if nothing was being done about your mother because you want to be here."

    "That's good.  I like you.  I'm going to make you my slave," she said in mock triumph.

    "I'm going to continue the deal with your mother, not because I'm buying myself your services, but because I want to keep my toy handy where I can get my hands on him.  I don't want you going away to an orphanage where I can't play with you."

    When she said the last things, she reached up to grab his nipple with her fingertips, and with the sweetest smile she began to squeeze.  She increased the pressure until he started to breathe in short, audible gasps, and to squirm around.  Then she rolled her finger tips over a little bit until the nails began to cut into his skin.  It got too much for him, and he pulled away with an, "Awhhh."

    In an irritated tone she shouted, "Stay Still!"  She started again, beginning with the finger tips, but quickly rolled the nails down so they would begin cutting flesh.  She saw him struggle to control the pain, but she knew he would fail.  Again he pulled away.

    "This is why I have a rack and a table.  To tie you down so you can't escape when I want to hurt you."

    She picked up the fiber glass whip from where she has left it last night.  It was much worse than the crop: denser, heavier, more rigid, thinner.  A solid swing with it could cut the skin, especially the tip.  Walking behind him, she raised it and brought it down, but holding back the speed so it would only leave a thin red line.  "When I tell you to do something, you do it."  Again, she brought the whip down, leaving a twin next to the first red line.

    Returning to the front, she pinched the nipple again, this time rolling his nipple up and down, back and forth between her finger tips, while he grimaced and tried to withstand the pain.  "When I want to hurt you, your job is to stand there and let me." 

    Reaching up to the other nipple  she started squeezing.  She switched over to the nails faster, and increased the pressure until he broke again.  She got the whip, went to the back, emphatically saying, "Stay Still!"  This time it was 3 fast slashed with the whip.  She guessed the rapidity of strikes would go along with slightly more force to the strikes, but she didn't wait to see if there was any blood. 

    She squeezed a nipple again.  He grimace, sucked in his breathe in, slowly rolled his shoulders up and down a little, bobbed his torso up and down a little, as the pain increased, but he didn't pull back.    

   Deliberately, she let go before he would break. 

   "Good Boy."  This really wasn't much of a test because she made sure the pain wasn't too much.  Later it would be, and his chances of remaining so stoic were definitely dim.  Right now her interest wasn't in seeing a slave dance around; she wanted to teach a lesson.

   She reached down and grabbed his balls, surprising him and scaring him.  His eye looked really scared.  She started to squeeze.  He squeezed his knees together, clenched his butt cheeks in, tightened his abdominals, and made a low gurgling sound.  He didn't realize it, but she was carefully monitoring his face to judge how much pain he was in, and adjusting what she did to moderate how much he was hurt.  "No matter what I do, your job is to take it!"  She let go as she finished the sentence.  She picked it the whip again, and walked to the back again.

    "Because if you don't obey me..........," she said.

    "YOU.....,"

    "WILL....,"

    "GET.....,"

    "PUNISHED!"

    With each of the last four words, she sliced his ass with the whip, each blow strong enough to leave drops of blood.

    Then she walked to the front again, and looked him in the face, with a sweet little smile on her face.

    "Good Boy." 

    She hadn't been watching the clock, but, all told, she guessed the scene took less than 30 minutes.  But she guessed it had more impact than all the other scenes combined.

    She reached up and released him.

    While he was putting on his shirt, she called over to him, "What kind of soda do you like.  Next time I go shopping, maybe I can pick up a six pack."  Then she called out over her shoulder as she was leaving,  "Cabs coming.  Listen for it.  Grab a soda if you're thirsty.  Don't forget the Wii."

    Later that night, she laughed to Marta, "This kid doesn't know if he's coming or going.  I got him going up and down like a yo yo."

                           Chapter 8

                 Saturday - Making New Friends

     She waited outside the back door for the cab to come.  "Hi Kid, I didn't want you stumbling around out here in the dark and getting hurt." Not really.  She didn't want the kid to be too scared.  She wanted him to see a familiar face, and calm him down a little.  And aahh, the part about not wanting him to get hurt was so ironic she treated it as joke, but she didn't know if he'd get it.

    "Look, Marta can be funny and she can be serious.  Everything works like it does with me upstairs, nothing serious even happens.  It can be a little tough at times, but it always works out fine in the end.  Nobody ever gets really hurt......a little uncomfortable ,,,, maybe,,,,,but not really hurt.  I'll drive you home later, so you don't have to hang out here in the back waiting for a cab to come."  Another lie, she intended to figuratively hold his hand after the scene.  And... This scene had a purpose.  She wanted to articulate some points to make sure he got it.

    "You've been a pretty brave kid so far.  If it seems tough at any time, a little bravery will get you through anything.  And remember, she can be serious, but she's not Hannibal Lector."

    She knocked on the door, open it without waiting for an answer, and went in.  "Hey, Sis, this is the kid from last week.  The one you met upstairs.  Why don't the two of you get acquainted."   She slapped the kid on the shoulder, and said, "See you later."  And out she went. 

    "You look scared shitless." 

    "You want a cup of coffee?"  She pointed to a little bar in the corner with a coffee machine on it.

    He looked at the place when he went to the bar.  It was different from upstairs.  Bigger.  Not as many rooms on the sides.  Nothing as big as the rack upstairs, but more smaller things.  This side had the bar with a couch and some chairs.  There was a TV. She had that same table with the holes in that Sondra had.  It looked identical.  One of those ropes with a ring in it hanging down from the ceiling.  He noticed a block and tackle also attached to the ceiling. There were some boards and 2x4 stacked by the wall like Sondra had. Not all the lights were on.

    When he finished making the coffee she pointed to the chair opposite her.

    "Did you wonder if Sondra just wanted to play games with you and made up a story of a big, bad bogey man just to scar you?"

     Well, now he didn't know what to think.  He hadn't thought of that before.

    "Maybe she wanted to test you by seeing if you were brave enough to come down here after all."  She had a smile like she did when he first met her.  The only thing he knew was that all the Dom women he had met so far liked to play head games and joke around with you.  Which was scary enough considering these women walked around with whips and like to hit you. Nothing like a women with a whip and an overactive sense of humor.

    "Or maybe it's true and she just wanted to warn you."  She said that with a smile that didn't involve her eyes.

    Then she smiled a real smile and said, "The only way to find out is to try it."

    "Sondra said she didn't think you were a wimp."

    "She said you might be into the scene.  What do you think of the scene, Tommy.  Do you like it?"  He didn't want to answer.

    "Do you want to stay here now with all this stuff", she nodded toward the room, "or do you want to leave."

    "Stay."

    "Does any of this stuff scar you?", again she nodded toward the rest of the room.  He nodded, "Yes."

    "But you'd still rather stay even if some of it's scary?"  Again, he nodded, "Yes."

   "Well, that answers that question."

   "Do you like Sondra?  She can be interesting."

   "Yes."

   "Do you want to work for her?"

   "Yes."

   She looked at the floor for a while, off to the right.  Then back toward him.

   "She said you and your mother fight a lot.  That you two don't along so well.  Is that true?" 

    "Yes."

    "You're talkative, aren't you.  We've got to break you of that."

    "She said you're good at some of this stuff." 

    "Come here." 

    She got up and lead him toward one wall with metal shelving units against it.  One of those panels, with keyhole cutouts, that Sondra had was attached the front of one of the units.  There were cuffs attached to it like Sondra's.

    "Take your shirt off."  He did.  Then she put him in the cuffs.  There was a bottle of rubbing alcohol there and a roll of paper towels and she used it to rub the alcohol on his chest.  He started to get real scared then.  He knew that what Sondra had told him about her was true.  There was a tray on the shelve to his left with a cloth over it.  Marta pulled the cloth back.  From his angle he saw a row of needles and pins on the front part of the tray.  He was so scared his stomach was twisting and he started breathing fast.

    She took one of the needles and held it parallel to his skin at the edge of his left nipple.  Watching his eyes and not what she was doing she slowly pushed the needle into his nipple.

    It hurt.  He could see what was going on as she pushed the needle into his nipple.  The needle would start to push the skin up from underneath, and when it looked like it was about to break up through the skin, she would use her hand to push the needle tip back down, while she push the other end further across underneath his nipple.  When it got near the other edge of the nipple, she had to push the end she was holding down to make sure the tip would come out right on the edge of the nipple.  The needle started to push his skin outward. You could see the needle pushing up underneath the skin to come out by how much it distended the skin.  It hurt worst then while the needle was stretching the skin trying to break out then when the needle was moving across underneath the skin.  When he thought it was just about to break through the skin, the skin stretched even more  It hurt so much.  And then in a rush the needle seemed to jump out of the skin.  The skin jerked back  from the tip and seem to pucker up in a little ball about a 1/4" back from the needle tip. He had been breathing in real short puffs, but when it broke through the skin he gasped in a sharp breathe of air.  He realized his eyes hurt from squinting so hard.

   She pulled the needle out, but that wasn't bad at all. But then she started to push it through a 2nd. time.  It looked like she was trying go get the needle to go in the same whole twice, and slide underneath the skin through the same whole made the first time.  But she was a little off. It must have been tearing through a new hole a little off the side to the first one.

    The skin there was already sore and tender from the first needle.  Now the second needle felt worse because the first needle had made everything feel tender. When the tip was about to burst out of the skin on the other side, it hurt the worst.  When the needle was on the verge of breaking through the skin again a second time and hurting the worst, he couldn't take it anymore.  He pulled his chest to the side, pulling away from the needle.

    She yelled at him, "Stay Still!"  And she put the needle on the same spot and started to push it through a 3rd time.  Half way through she shouted, "STAY STILL!" in warning.  The 3rd time felt worse than the 2nd time.  He was breathing in fast, short little gasps.  When she got to the edge again, she shouted louder at him right in his ear, "STAY STILL!"  AND IT WAS WORSE And she kept pushing at it and pushing at it harder, harder,   harder    , And then, ohh, it broke through again.  and he was breathing in deep, short gasps  and now his stomach was goinginandout withhisbreathing.  And she took it out and she put it back a 4th time on the same spot and she shouted in his ear  "DON'T MOVE KEEP STILL" and it hurtsomuch and shepushed itin a 4th time andshe pushitthrough    more    anditwent    more    and it was going more and he was breath so fast and it hurt so much and he pulled his chest to the side  and   started     to    breathe     slower    and            his   eyes     hurt   from  squinting..........and he could     just breathe deep and slow for awhile   and she wasn't  there and he  could just relax and breathe.

    And then she was there again    but she held the coffee cup to his up to him    and she said "you look thirsty" and it was cold and he drank it.

    And he saw there were eye bolts with washers on the end and stirps of velcro on the shelve next to him and she put a bolt in the hole above his bicep and one below it and tighten the velcro around his arm.   And then she put an eye bolt in a hole above his shoulder near to his neck and another bolt under his arm pit, and then she tightened the velcro on a diagonal between them.  And she did the same to his other bicep and shoulder.  She ran another strip of velcro  from the bolt under his right arm pit to the eye bolt under his left arm pit, and then she tighten the velcro across his chest.  She ran another velcro strip just below his ribs.  Than a third strip across his waist.  Last she put a bolt under his balls and one next to top of his hip on the right and tightened down a velcro strip between them

     She pinched his right nipple between her finger tips and said, "Pay attention to me." He realized with all the straps on him he couldn't move much at all, his hips a little, his arms a little and his legs.  "PAY ATTENTION TO ME!"  She put a needle at a 45 degree angle to the tip of the nipple, pushed down a little so the tip just caught under the skin a little bit and then quickly pulled the needle up.  The little bit of skin that the needle had caught went up with the needle but the skin hooked on the tip of the needle only held a moment, and then the skin ripped opened and the needle pulled clear of the skin.  His nipple pulled back down to it's normal position.

    She had just snapped his nipple out by catching the tip of the needle in the skin and pulling.  It didn't hurt much but he glared at her.  "Good, that's better." She held the needle parallel to the skin, and little off the middle of the nipple.  She didn't do anything for a moment, just looked at him in the face. Without watching what she was doing, she made a quick, hard vicious jab with the needle so it went clear through the nipple and came out the other side.

   "Awwh." he gasped, breathing hard.

   She just looked at him.

   And then she jabbed it again, going clear through the nipple and back out with a fast, vicious jab.

   "Augh." His eyes were squinted, mouth pulled back into a tight, little "O", his breathe in short, little puffs.

   And then she just looked at him again, doing nothing. And then quickly, 1,2,3,4.........she started jabbing the needle hard through his nipple time after time in the same spot.  Jab, Jab, Jab, Jab, Jab.........  Hard, mean jabs.

   "Oh, Owh, No, Stop, STOP, AWH, OHHH, HEEA, STOP, STOP, PLEASE STOP, OH PLEASE STOP STOP

   And then she finally stopped.  He was breathing in the cadence of someone sobbing, but he wasn't sobbing.  The cadence was just the same.  "Ohh, Ohh, Ohh" was the sound. 

   She didn't know how many time she jabbed him.  Enough to get him over his limit and keep him there was a while.  She got some alcohol and rubbed it into his nipples to prevent infection.  When she did the right side, which was the worst, he gasped and moan, especially when she kneaded the skin with her fingers to work some of the alcohol inside the wound.  The pain occupied all his attention.  But when she did the left side, it wasn't so bad.  It just stung a lot.

    "Fuck." He said.  She never minded that.  It was understandable.  It hurt. But when she tried to work some of the alcohol inside the wound again, he said, "You son of a bitch!".  Startled, Marta looked up and he was staring at her! She straightened up and stared in his eyes in a direct challenge.  He seemed to think better of it, and drifted his eye over to vaguely stare at something off to her left.  He still had an angry look on his face.  Wordlessly, she went back to putting on the alcohol. 

    It was good he thought better of it.  He was tied up and in a BAD position to make her angry.

    When she was done, she unzipped his pants and jerked them down as best she could.  The velcro strap across his hip held one side up, but she got the other side down to the bottom of his hip. It was enough for her to get at his cock.  She added one of the large straps across his legs from the top of the left thigh to the top of the right thigh.  It would be enough to keep his hip movements down to a manageable amount.

    She grabbed his cock with her left hand and got one of the needles.  It was a bad angle with her standing up.  It would be a comfortable position for her hand if she angled the needle at a diagonal to the shaft.  She aimed to transverse the crown from the front of the ridge to come out above the base of the ridge on the back.  She had forgotten the alcohol.  She put down the needle.  Put the alcohol on.  Grabbed the cock and started all over again. She was concentrating on what she was doing and she didn't pay attention to him. 

    He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that just grew to like a physically cold and tingling feeling of his balls being out and expose to danger.  He wanted to push his ass back so it would pull his balls out of danger, but his ass was already pressed against the wall.   Then she grabbed his cock again.  It felt like there was ice in the air and icicles were going to stab his cock.  His stomach was pulled up in a knot.  He was breathing fast. Then she put the needle to his cock.  Frantic, he tried to jerk his hips to the side or up and down to pull his cock away from her, but the straps kept him from moving much and he could only wiggle a little.  The base of cock moved a little but she was holding the top steady in her hand no matter how much he tried to move.

    When she put the needle to his cock, he started saying, "Please, Lady, Don't.  Come on!  Please Don't!  No, Don't, Please! No!............"

    She didn't want a brutal jab.  She wanted a firm, steady push.  Actually, she knew he couldn't handle much of this.  She knew anything at the tip of the penis would send him through the roof.  She believed the middle of the cock tip was next most sensitive.  She thought the crown, the rim the circled the cock, was least sensitive.  She wasn't going to go slow and tease it through like she had on the nipple.  That time she intended it to be as painful as possible.  The jabs the second time were also intended to build pain up as fast and hard as possible.  For this, she thought a fast, steady push would get it over fast, and cause the least pain.  But she wanted the whole thing to drag out for some time. She wanted a moderate pain - for the cock - that lasted a while. Starting on the far left, she intended to move from left to right pushing the needle through the rim of tip, time after time.

    She concentrate on what she was doing.  The first push of the needle into his cock seemed a good speed. She was satisfied with it, and kept that tempo up as she moved along.  She made one hole through the cock with the needle, would shift over a little, make another hole,.......  She continued around the rim until she got a little over the side.  The holes started spouting big drops of blood the moment the needle came out, and the droplets kept on swelling bigger and bigger until they would run down the side of his cock.  It was a deep red blood, thick.

   For the first 4 or so she pushed the needle into his cock he was shouting, "No, Please No, Don't,  aaawwhh." Around 8 or 9 he was crying, "No!, Don't! Stop! AAAWWWHHH."  The "Please" had disappeared.  Around 12 or so the words disappeared and it was just the "AWH, OHH, HEEE."

   When she put the alcohol on his cock, she felt sympathy for him and was afraid of the pain it would cause if she tried to knead the alcohol deep into the wounds. The failure to get the alcohol deep into the wound didn't bother her sense of responsibility to do a good job because she felt the wounds bled so much it must have flushed out any germs.

    She made doing what she was doing the priority, and finished that before letting him down.  She used one of the big gauze pads and unfolded it.  And then she laid several more on top of that so a single layer of the gauze finally built up to a thick pad of gauze.  With the big pads she could take a couple of turns around the penis with the gauze.  She didn't tape it off, simply, because she didn't want to push down on it.  Wound there bled fast, and stopped fast.  But if you disturbed the wound, it would immediately start to produce large drops of blood again.  Everything on the penis happened fast.  It hurt fast, bled fast, stopped fast, could be disturbed fast, and finally heal fast.  Tomorrow you could press on that area and have trouble seeing where the holes were.

    Before she untied him, she got him a screwdriver and gave him a drink.  She pulled up his pants, making sure the gauze on his cock was in place.  She pushed over one of the old wooden chairs, then she untied him.

    He was too tired to be resentful of her; he was just grateful to rest and tiredly accepted anything that was done for him.  She got his shirt, and held his undershirt up so he just had to raise his arm to get it on.  At the end, she stroked his forehead once before finishing.

    In something like a fall, a fight, a car accident, the body could slam against objects, injuring underlying organs like kidneys,etc.  Muscles would be bruised, tendons strained, ligaments pulled, deep lacerations, skin abraded.  Stuff that would take time to heal.  This only involved the skin with no underlying damage.  Whips would bruise muscles, but that didn't apply here. 

    His reaction to the pain of CBT was more metabolic.  Respiration raced, muscles clenched, the nervous system pumped out hormones like adrenaline, cellular glucose was depleted, metabolic waste accumulated.  All this had to drain from the blood supply and cellular glucose had to be recouped, ADTP had to be reconstituted.  In short, rest a little.

    It was exhausting, but because there was no underlying real damage, recovery was fast.  Depending on how long the torture went on, it would take some time to pump sugar levels back up to normal levels in the muscles causing a person to feel tired for a while.

    She texted Sondra that she was done.  When Sondra came she let Sondra be alone with the sub.

     "I like what you did.  That was pretty good," Sondra said to him. She liked seeing a subs crumpled on the floor from pain after a scene.  It made her feel powerful and in control.  It meant she had been free to hurt time as much as she wanted.  She felt like a Queen who owned and controlled her serfs and could do what she wanted with them. She could dance them around like puppets on a string, and she was in control of their fates.  It excited her.

    "That was too much.  I can't take that," he said to her.

    "It was a lot,  It was harder than usual.  Marta told me 3 times over your limits, each one for a while.  That's exhausting and hard to take.  I don't blame you ."

    "But I have to tell you, I like getting intense too.  I like needles as much as Marta does.  One, two peaks spread over the scene is more my style.  This was 3 in a row.  That's tough.  Once in a while I'll go for a really intense scene, but not often.  And she held you over your limits a long time.  I prefer pain not quite as bad as this, but done slow so you hurt for a longer time.  Mine will be intense like this, but not as bad."

    "If you're going to be with me, you're going to have to take hard stuff like this.  I like my scenes hot.  I like to breathe hard in them, and that means I have you breathing harder.  But like I said, not this bad.  This was harder than usual."

    "So, understand, I like my scenes intense too, just like Marta hurt you today.  You're going to have to take some of this much pain with me too.  You got that clear?"

    "She got up, leaned forward, and in an exaggerated  style, patted him on the head like a puppy."   "YOU....DID.....VERY.....GOOD.....I'msoproudofyouuuu."

    "You're a good little slave.  You rest.  You tell me when you're ready to go. And I promise I won't beatchaup anymore tonight."

    It was, in fact, hard to be angry at Sondra because she always made people laugh in the end.  On the other hand, there were so many "DAMN SERIOUS"  slaves who couldn't "LIGHTEN UP!" she found few slaves that suited her.  It was hard to find a slave who would laugh with her after she had just finished beating the crap out of him.  It is hard to find good match ups in the scene.

     The problem with Sondra was that she was a sadist with a good hearted -a light hearted- streak in her that tended to tell jokes while people bled and jumped up and down on one foot in pain.  She had a serious problem with a proper appreciation for time and place, thinking a torture session was the right time for joking around.   And people found it hard to appreciate her humor when they were having trouble breathing.

    Later that night Marta would laughingly tell her, "The kid's got guts!  He almost told me to go fuck myself, and he backed down just in the nick of time before I hauled off and belted him."

    "I took him over his limits big time.  Most guys would have been shouting "Let me out of this place!  They would have run out the room without their shirt, and the last we would have seen of them was them running down the road with their pants around their knees."

    "You're going to be able to set the limits with him.  I don't think he got the idea in his head that there can be limits on us.  Everything he said was personal about him: he couldn't take this; that was too much for him.  I think he thinks we do anything we want, and some of it he can handle and some he's not strong enough for.  I don't think he's got the idea that scenes can be limited to so much and no more, and that there are things we're allowed to do and things we're not suppose to do.  No idea that scenes can have rules that people follow."

    "You know some of this is that he's just naive.  He didn't mention safe words and he didn't want to clear up what he was up for at the start of the scene.  Some time or other he's going to learn about safe words and limits."

    "But my guess is that he's one of these guys without limits.  Most of them have got a screw missing, and you talk to them for a minute and you realize something's wrong with them.  But this one, I think he's a gutsy kid and he's a sub, and when you put the two of them together this is what you get.  I think it's what you told me about him being a tough ass at school.  And he's a sub.  I think a guy who's tough when he's straight and a sub here with us who's going to be a guy without limits."

    "He's a keeper.  Now, what I wish you'd do is get somebody who isn't a baby, who's a little eye candy who you could use to decorate your rack, and I could have something pretty to look at when I come up to visit.  Or else, let's you and me go out and kidnap ourselfs some better looking slaves!"

    "Oh, he was obedient.  I got tough, told him to hold still, and he really tried hard.  You were right about that.  You're going to be able to push his limits up.  Give him some time and you can do anything you want to him."

                               Chapter 9

                         Sunday - Getting Real

    When he came in, he automatically headed toward the frig, and got the screwdriver.  Sondra had made one as part of her routine.  He automatically went to the seat opposite her and sat across from her, where she sat sipping her drink.  Habits were developing.

    "How do you feel."

    "Sore."

    "I'll watch it.........................this time," she said coyly with a smile.  Then she became serious.

    "I set the limits on how far things go.   Marta sets the limits on how far she goes. You don't decide.  We do."

    "There's a euphemism that people use to describe us.  We're call "strict and demanding."  The "strict" means were into the heavy stuff.  The "demanding" means 1, what we demand, we get; and 2, we demand that we set all the rules.  You hear someone say that about a mistress and you know she's heavy duty."

    "I'll be honest with you.  A lot of guys set limits on what they will and will not do, and limits on how intense things get.  They won't participate in scenes unless the Doms agree to abide by their limits.  That's not me.  It's not Marta. If you have things you won't do, go find yourself another Mistress."

    "Do you understand me?"

    "Yes."

    "OK.  Now that I told you about all the hard and fast rules, let me tell you about all the exceptions and variances."

    "There's a point at which anyone would break, no matter how strong he is.  I avoid that point.  If you were the strongest man on earth, there would be a point beyond which I will not go.   Same for Marta."

    "But I'll tell you, your idea of what's acceptable and my idea of what's OK are going to be different.  I will always think you can do more than you do."

    "If you ever tell me, "No, Stop, Don't Do That." I will ignore it and do it anyway, just like last night with Marta."

    "What you can do is the next time we met, you can tell me about it. I will think about it. I may do it.  I may not do it.  I will decide.  Sometime I may decide to back off, most times I won't."

    "Ultimately, your only choice is just not show up again."

    "So much for the hard part.  Now for the fun part.  Marta thought you were a tough ass kid.  You impressed her.    Told you we gossip!"

    She looked him in the eye and pronounced to him, "You're into the scene.  You want a Mistress, and you want to be in scenes.  I"ll tell you, you're a lucky guy.  There are 1000 subs for every Dom.  Subs are a dime a dozen.  We pick and choose.  I don't give a damn about dumping any of them.  A hundred more will take his place.  Your chances of finding a Dom that would have you are one in a million.  You don't know it, but you are one lucky kid.  You just stumbled onto two good looking women.  Guys would kill to have what you have.   UMMMMMMMMM, which is a pretty good reason for you to get down on your hands and knees and kiss my feet."

    "Lucky for you, I'm not into that.  You don't have to kiss my feet.  You don't have to call me "Your Highness." ........................."You just have to scream a lot for me," she said with a mock playful smile.

    "See, I make it pretty easy for you," she said brightly, like a cute little girl.

    Then she got serious. "I want to talk a little.  What did you think of last night."

    "It was tough."

    "No.  I want to know what you thought of last night.  You don't talk much.  You're going to have to break that habit.  When I want you to talk, you're going to have to learn to open your mouth, and tell me more than two words."

    "It hurt too much.  I wanted her to stop, and I asked her to stop, and she just ignored me and just kept on hurting me.  And then she grabbed me down there"

    "Cock.  Say cock."

    "She grabbed my cock and really hurt me too much.  It was too much."

    "The reason I'm talking to you is that I am concerned about how you feel.  This conversation is the proof that I am concerned."

    "But in this case I'm here to tell you that you must learn to take that.  I am concerned if things are too tough for you, but in this case you must do it anyway and let us decide how much we want to hurt.  Marta was doing things I asked her to.  I asked her to find out some things about you, and in her own inimitable way, she found out what I asked her to.  I told her, 'I want to find out how much pain her can take.  Take a needle to his cock until he's screaming his brians out.'"

    "And that means I will do the same things she did sometime.  The only difference between her and me is that we have different personal styles."

    "You want a Mistress?  You want to be in the scene?  You want me or my sister to look at you, you have to do this."

    "You don't want to do this?  It's too much for you?  I promise you, you can go and find a Mistress who will listen to you and do what you want.  Probably have to pay her...........She can listen to your limits.  Not me or my sister.  We make the decisions."

    "Now I'll give you a little solace.  I would watch your nipples today because I know you're inexperienced and young and sore.  I am taking things slow with you, step by step.  I have these talks with you because I want to make it easy on you by explaining things to you and showing you that you are cared for."

    "But the scene is about pain and Doms and Subs.  That's why you're into it.  That's why I'm into it.  If you hadn't met me, you would have stumbled around until you eventually bumped into a Dom and said, "Hey, this is what I like."  You would have found out on your own that you wanted to be a slave and have a Mistress.  In your case, it just happened to be me and Marta, and you got into it before you learned how it works.  I'm going to tell you."

    "There are subs who insist upon limits and there are subs who don't.  There are Mistresses who respect limits, and Mistresses who don't. People have to sort themselves out and get with people they belong with."

    "This place is a place for subs without limits."

    "You think about last night.  That's the way it works here.  We decide what happens.  You must go along with it.  Your nipples hurt?  Tomorrow they'll feel fine."

    "This place is a place for subs without limits.  You can choose the kind of mistress you want.  You have to trust that we want 1, the real deal in SM, and 2, we watch out for our subs."

    "I'm done for the day.  I'm not angry.  I'm as satisfied as if we had a scene. As far as I'm concerned I've proven who's in charge, and made it clear that I can do anything I want.  And that you know your place with a Mistress."

    "I'll drive you home.  You can ask me anything you want about scenes and how they work.  That's it, lets go."

     

   

                            Chapter 10

       Saturday - Making Her Point and Closing the Deal

 

    He turned up on Saturday, warnings of "no limits" not withstanding, as she knew he would.  There was only one chair out and she was in it.  He picked up his drink, as per routine.  Not knowing what to do, he stood in front of her anticipating a talk.  She said, "Finish your drink," and sat silent while he did.

    There were 4 cuffs out with ropes attached to them, but tonight they were over by the rack.  The ropes from 2 of the cuffs threaded through eye bolts at the top of the rack uprights, and the ropes on the other 2 cuffs threaded through eye bolts on the bottom of the rack uprights.  The free ends of the ropes lay unattached on the floor.  There were 2 whips on the floor.  One was a heavy one.  The other had a stick at one end, and the leather section was attached to that.  He got that sinking feeling in his stomach again.

    "Take your clothes off.  Put the cuffs on facing me."

    He still felt embarrassed but he stripped and put 3 of the cuffs on.  When he finished, she got up and she did the 4th., then went across and pulled up the rope on his left hand, tying off the rope on a cleat on the rack.  She had tightened it so his left hand was about as high as his ear.  She went back and picked up the whip with the stick.

    "If this hurts too much for you, you can defend yourself: block it, dodge it, whatever."

    Mechanically, the stick multiplied the length of her arm.  It increased the length of a fulcrum.  The end of that fulcrum would move faster than the tip of her arm when she swung it.  The whip was at the end of that fulcrum.  It would move faster than if it was at the end of her arm.  It was in effect a Mistress's equivalent of a modern day spear thrower.  It multiplied the force beyond what she could achieve with her arm alone.  That whip whistled through the air and stuck with one hell of an impact.

    Starring down, she slipped her hand through the wrist strap.  He watched her intently, dreading what was to follow.  In a ploy to deceive, she flicked the whip forward in an underhand movement, as if she was trying to get a feel for the whip.  She has no need to do that.  The whip snaked up and forward toward his face.  Instinctively, he turned away and protected his face with his right hand.  "Sorry," she said as if it was a careless mistake. 

    She stood looking him and he at her.  Suddenly, she snaked the whip underhand toward his crouch.  Startled by the suddenness of the move, he turned his hip away and pulled up one leg without thinking to protect his balls and cock.  She had choreograph his first two move in an unfamiliar situation to be defensive moves.  The stage was set.

    As fast as she could she fired off a rain of strikes unpredictably targeting back, chest, ass, crotch, legs.  That whip hurt and she swung it fast.  Any thoughts he had picked in the last few weeks about standing still and taking it fled his mind.  He tried to twist and turn and use his legs or arm to protect himself as best he could.  If his left arm wasn't tied, he would have run away.

    She stopped and laughed.  "You dance pretty good, kid.  I guess you figured out that this hurt less if I hit your back than if I hit your chest."

    Again she started a flurry of blows aimed at chest, back, hips, cock, ass. Again she let him dodge and weave to protect himself.

   She stopped.  "This is no good.  You're too good dancing around for me to get your chest.  This has got to stop."  She walked over and grabbed the free end of the rope attached to his right hand.  She pulled on it, then jerked on it until his arms were pulled tight between the two uprights.

    She walked back to her position and said,"That's better.  Now you can't block me with your arm or twist away."  His legs were still free, however, and he could still try to protect his balls and ass as best he could with his free legs.  She knew that if she stopped the swing of the whip early, the whip would uncurl and wrap around his back.  If she stopped the whip later, it would carry through further on it's arch and cut across his chest. 

    Doing each strike singly, and putting her weight into each blow, she said, "Now I can hit your back (WHACK), or your chest (WHACK), when I want (back, WHACK), where I want (chest, WHACK)."  Then she got him 6 times as hard as she could, back, chest, back, chest.  And she stopped.

    She stood and looked at him.  "That's good.  Now you're being a good little boy and letting me hit your back and chest when I want."  With a causal underhand, she flicked the whip toward his balls.  He twisted to protect himself.  "But what am I going to do about your balls?  You keep on twisting and turning so I can't hit them when I want.  She took several hard swings at his ass and balls, and he twisted and pulled up a leg to protect his cock and balls.

    "See, I can't hit them.  You keep twisting away.  Lets make this a little more difficult for you so I can at least have a chance of getting them once in a while."  She walked over and drew his left leg over toward the post, and tied it off.  That left him with one leg under him, and the other pulled to the side and a little off the ground.  "Now, that's better.  You've got half your legs to use and I've got half a chance of getting you once in a while."

    She aimed only toward his cock.  If he kept his weight on his right leg, she'd get his cock.  If he lifted his leg to cover his cock, he'd be hanging with all his weight on his arms.  That's what he choose to do whenever she swung at his balls.

    "Now that's no good.  You're just keeping your leg up there all the time and I'm never going to get a chance of getting you. Let's make this a little fairer so I can get your balls once in a while."  She pulled and jerked on the rope on his right leg until both his legs were spread between the uprights.  Now he was tied spread eagle.

    Walking back to her position she picked up the whip again.  "Now that's better.  I should use this position all the time so I have at least a chance of getting you where I want."  She sent off a series of strikes, first swings that wrapped around his ass, and then underhands which curled the whip upward toward his balls.

    It was a contest.  Sometimes he lost his balance because of the awkwardness of trying to move with his legs spread apart.  Then it took him a moment to regain his balance.  Thrown into the mix was the question of who had the faster reflexes, him or her.  It was a game with 3 die, her speed, his speed, and him keeping his balance.  Out of 9 shots, she got his balls 3 times, and got his inner thigh 6.

    "Humm.  I'm still missing a lot." she said.  "Let me try something a little more accurate."  She raised her arm a little, and held the whip shaft at 90 degrees.  Then she rolled her arm downward and forward.  The whip swayed at little toward her, and then into a circles going up in the air and down toward his cock.  She could put more power and speed into that then her underhand swings at him.  Since the whip traveled in a single plane, he had plenty of time to guess where it would hit, so he was able to shift his cock out of the line of travel.  But her extra power meant the whip sliced across his pelvis much more painfully. He was saving his cock and balls a lot but his thighs and pelvis were paying the price.  She did that 8 times and missed every time.

    "See, this is kind of fair.  You get to win most of time, but at least I get you some of time."

    "Of course, you know, if I get really frustrated at you winning so much, I can always cheat."  She swung the whip in a fast, hard sideways swing that slashed horizontally across his hips catching both his cock as it dangled down and his balls underneath.  Six times she swung sideways from her right, and backhand from her left.  Six times the leather of whip bit into his cock and balls. His only chance to escape was if his cock happened to swing upward when the whip came across.  And he was in too much pain to coordinate anything very well.  Odds were on her side."

     She put the whip down and stood in front of him.  Then with a look of exaggerated mock surprise, she said, "Ohhhh, I forgot!.  There's another way do this."  She picked up the whip again, and swung her arm in a circle over her head.  When her arm neared the front she straightened her arm and brought it down pointing toward his chest.  During the descent her wrist had been tilted upward, but when her arm came to a stop, she snapped her wrist downward while at the same time pulling her arm backwards.  That downward snap of her wrist while pulling the arm backwards at the same time causes the tip of the whip to "POP" as it is jerked backward.  The fast circular swing and the quick downward movement made it happen so fast no one could anticipate where the whip would strike............except the person who aimed it.  The tip of the whip shot toward the top of his cock, and when it got there, the tip sliced downward cutting into his cock.  There was a "POP", and cock was bruised and bleeding."

    "That's better," she said, "I almost forgot I could do it that way."

     She put the whip down again, got the short 6' bullwhip, and walked around behind him.  Leaning up, she whispered in this ear, "I always get to hurt you any way, any where, as much as I want, and you never get to say "No" or "Stop" or "I don't want to."   You stand here and let me hurt you as much as I want, and when I'm done you say, "Thank you".  The only reason you are here is because I need a toy to play with.   And if I ever think you are no fun, you get replaced.  And if I send you downstairs for my sister to make into a pin cushion you say "Thank you." 

    She stepped back and, once for every spot, wrapped the bullwhip across his chest from the right and then left, across his back from left and right, around his hips from left and right so the tip whipped around his hips to cut his cock, left and right across his ass, and underhand between his legs, and finished with four diagonals across his back, left, right, left, right.

    She walked up to him again and whispered in his ear.  "I am the Mistress, and you do what I tell you."  And then she was done.

    And when she was done, Tommy would have sold his soul to stay with her. And she would have deserved it.  Compared to her peers who were lucky to hit a leg when they aimed for an ass, this sadist was an athlete who could flick clothes pins off a laundry line one by one with her whip, after she had tie dyed his soul her favorite colors and hung it out to dry.  This women was dominant because she was superior, and she controlled her slaves because she controlled everything around her.

    The man was now her slave forever, until she decided to throw him away.

                       11  Epilog - Prelude

    After the kid was gone, Sondra sat in the apartment alone.  She was unhappy.  She had gotten something really good here.  Like her body guard/sub Ramon, in New York, she had gotten herself another good sub.  Good subs were hard to find.  Marta had never gotten a really good one in New York.  She had 2 good ones, but not a really good one. Sondra's other two subs were good, but not in Ramon's class.  Now Sondra had another good one.  And in a little time she'd be able to push his limits up to anything she wanted: plier, Tens, whatever.  But he was like Ramon, and that was the problem.  He was consensual.  And she knew that she would always watch what she did with him.  Something inside her would always keep her from going too far with him.  She was never going to be able to do the worst to him, not because of anything external, but because of how she felt inside about her good subs.  When she had thought there were unspoken rules about what could and could not be done in scenes, she was wrong.  There weren't unspoken rules, there were internal rules she felt. 

    When her sister Marta had first dragged her young boy kicking and screaming into the factory, it had unleashed a torrent of fantasies in her mind of forcing a non-consensual slave into her dungeon and doing the worst she could think of with him.  She couldn't do that with Tommy, her own internal set of rules prevented that.  She would always hold back that last important bit of hurting him the worst she could.

    She still wanted what Marta had with the little boy, a non consensual slave that she could torture any way and as much as she wanted.  Someone she won't hold back on.  Someone she could go all the way with, not how she held back with a good consensual sub.  She wanted a non consensual slave to torture any way she wanted without regard for consequence.

    She didn't want a boy like Marta had.  There was always the fear that a young boy would talk at school, and teachers, scholl nurses or social workers would find out about it.  Some nurse or doctor or teacher would notice something, cuts, bruises, burn marks, something.  She wanted a slave who no one would check up on.  Someone she could torture without fear of anyone finding out.  And someone who wasn't a wimp.  She hated it when they blubbered.  Someone who could stand there and take like Tommy did.  Some guy with guts, a guy with balls!

    Everything she had ever done in S/M had something she enjoyed, and a problem with it.  Now she had started on the path for non consensual S/M, and she had a problem with the sub she just got.  Marta had a problem with people finding out about the boy.  Both of them needed  slaves that no one would check up on so they could do whatever they wanted. 

    Sondra decided that tomorrow she would ask Marta again about any single tenant she knew who might be loners or have no family.  Maybe ask Marta to go out of her way to find out. Maybe hit the straight bars looking for someone who was alone in the world, with no family or friends.

   And she wanted to give Ramon a call and see if he could fly down from New York for the weekend or so.  She wanted to build a cage in the factory, and she didn't want anyone local to know about it.  She wanted some outsider she could trust to build it.  And she would ask him to check around and see if he could find some Ruffies to bring down with him.  Maybe it would be good to see if she could arrange with him to come down for a day or two in the future to help her handle what she had in mind.  It would be useful to have him here with her when she tried to fill up that cage.  And if things went wrong he could cover her tracks.  He was her New York knife fighter who could cut a throat before other men could move an 1".

       Actually, he was faster then that: she had seen him in action that night two muggers tried to get her and Marta near the end of 14th. ST, in NYC.  The two muggers came at her and Marta, but Ramon got the first mugger before he could move at all.  He got the mugger in the middle of saying, "Give me........" She didn't even see the strike, Ramon moved so fast.  She just remembered Ramon twisting a little toward the second mugger, and then it was over, both muggers on the ground.

       She still marveled at how fast Ramon was.  And that he recognized what was going to happen before it happened.  She remembered her and Marta walking down 14th.St., with Ramon walking behind them.  Suddenly Ramon started walking faster and getting in front of her and Marta, with his hands in his pocket. Like it was last night, she remember him suddenly pulling ahead of them with his shoulders hunched over and his head looking down.  And then he was in front of them with his hands in his pocket looking down toward his feet while he walked.  She remembered at the time that she thought Ramon was suddenly acting very strange, and she stared at him wondering what he was doing, sudden walking in front of them.  And then the two guys came out from between the cars, to come at the three of them.  Then Ramon's arms flashed out toward the muggers, and then it was over.  And then Ramon just stood there over the muggers with his hands back in his pockets again and he said to them, "Go!" And then he lead them to the subway instead of looking for a cab.  And they never talked about it again.  She just kissed him on the cheek the next day for saving them from the muggers.  And she remembered Ramon always had his little knife with him, a little, small one.

       Years later while she was trying to surprise a sub she realized why Ramon had passed them with his shoulders hunched over and looking down.  He wanted the muggers to think they had an easy target so he could surprise them and catch them off guard.  She realized he had set a trap for the muggers instead of them setting a trap for him.  They had stepped out in front of a man who wasn't paying attention to where he was going and they were going to surprise him.  Instead his hand flashed out of his pocket faster than you could see.  The moment he saw the two men not doing any thing between the cars he knew what was going to happen and what to do.  And she also realized what a dangerous man Ramon was when he would just stand there with a calm expression on his face and his hands in his pockets.  He could strike before anyone could move.  And that he could palm his little knife in his hand without anyone seeing anything sticking out.  Or flick that little blade open while his hand was still in his pocket. If this was the old West, she would picture him as a gun fighter.  Fast, so fast. And calm and cold.  When other people got angry, he got abnormally calm and cold.  Expressionless.  She had learned that the calmer and quieter he was, the more dangerous he was.  That night was an important night between her and Ramon.

    She had only seen him in fist fight once.  One time in Nightmoves, an S&M club, a big fat bouncer who just looked fat instead strong, who must have 250, 300 lbs. came up behind Ramon, and without saying anything, threw his arms around Ramon, and fell forward trying to pin Ramon underneath him.  Without saying a word!  The two of them hadn't said a word all night!  As they were falling she could see Ramon twisting out to the side, and for a moment they were side by side, and by the time they landed on the floor Ramon was on top of the bouncer's back and punching  him in the face, with the bouncer laying on his stomach and Ramon sitting up with his legs around the bouncer's sides.  Ramon was more like a cat when they were falling.  The bouncer couldn't get up and Ramon just sat on him slugging him in the face.  When they pulled the two of them apart Ramon looked fine and this big fat bouncer had his shirt half ripped off and his face all bloody.  And Ramon was just an average sized guy ==muscled== but average height.  But, God, was he fast.  And they didn't get thrown out!  When the manager came over everybody - EVERYBODY - said, "The guy was just standing there and the bouncer came up and jumped him from behind." And they let them all stay! And the bouncer went back to the front, ripped shirt and all.  Only in New York. No matter what happened Sondra felt safe with Ramon.

       If one of those gangs of teenagers that go around mugging people surrounded her, she thought she'd be safe.  He'd kill half of them before they could take one step.  Several times she had thought, "He not a man.  It's like having a coiled up rattlesnake next to you.  Just a coil of speed with a knife blade for teeth, ready to explode outward."  Actually, Sondra knew she was being unfair to him.  He was a fun, easy guy to talk to - whom Mother Nature had endowed with incredible reflexes, who grew up on some very mean streets filled with knives and guns and people who were willing to use them.  Ramon would have made a fortune if he had gone into professional sports.  Instead, he was kind of without real purpose, and had drifted into construction.  She would have given him a job in her company if he'd have taken it.  He just wanted to do his own thing. 

    She wanted Ramon down here with her in Atlanta to help her catch a non-consensual slave.  She trusted him with her life. Inside a club or on the street, with him there, she was safe.  She remembered whenever there was a problem at one of the club, he would get to her side and just stand there next to her.  He just stood next to her without moving, but she knew he was like a coiled snake ready to strike.  And she remember a couple of times when the arguments between people got really bad, he cut in and took over.  Ramon would protect her no matter what happened.  She wanted Ramon down here with her in Atlanta for this.  

   Ramon would in fact come down to Georgia for 3 weekends in a row to build Sondra's cages, not one but four.  Two for each of the girls.  He built them in the small rooms that were against the walls, left over from when the building was a factory.  He also strung 1/2 inch cable from these rooms to the opposite side of building, 1' below the ceiling.  Several weeks after that Sondra would call him to help with her "special" project.  Surprisingly, he talked Marta out of using the boy.

    Sondra, Marta and Ramon would all figure prominently in the next story.  And Ramon did, in fact, find some Ruffies to bring down to Sondra.  He said he got them from some Teamster on his job.  In fact, he said he could get anything they wanted from this Teamster.

                       .........................

    This story is dedicated to the people who lived the scene in NYC when it came out from the shadows and went public.  Anyone dropping in at places like Hellfire or Nightmoves would have found Sondra and Marta, or their sisters, sitting at the bar, or in the back rooms working over Tommy.   Or if you stopped at some West side eatery very early in the morning you might have seen a group of people sitting around a table in the back laughing and joking with each other.  Ramon, of course, could be found in any borough of NY.  Just one guy in the crowd, but who you can spot because his eyes always move across the faces of people around him.  Just briefly.

    And Jess, or Ray, or John, or Annie,  or any one from TES, if you happen to read this story, I hope all is going well with you.  Tom.   Especially you, Jessica.  I hope you recognize the characters in this story, and that they make you smile.