I remember my first trip to Daniel Thorn’s beach mansion well; he was an extremely rich man, wealthy to the point there’s no point talking about it. I went for a party, and loved every minute. I had a great time during that weekend, and made ever so many new friends (it’s amazing how reminiscing on the past can make you feel younger, isn’t it?).

This was only the first of many times I spent with the Thorns, both at his island retreat off the coast of France and the place in the Hunt Country, I think I fell a little in love with the man, he’s such an easy natural dominant, much like my own Owner. In fact my Owner is now about the age Thorn was when I first met him, and when I think about it, the similarities are eerie. That first day, when he put me through my paces in his private playroom, Thorn was amazing; I know I’m a nymphomaniac, highly oversexed and easily aroused, but I really did lose track of how many times I orgasmed: he’s just an amazing top. I wish I’d known him in his twenties, (no I don’t, I couldn’t keep up with him in his prime I’m sure, I doubt anyone could). Unlike many dominants, he refuses to allow most slaves or subs however you like, I’m not big on the semantic side of S\M, to call him Master, he only owns his wife, everyone else calls him Sir. Even when he and his wife punished me for my misbehavior, I loved every second, and when his cook Greta wanted to do terrible things to me, I agreed just to please him (and my Owner too, but yes I wanted to please Thorn and at that point I’d known him less than a day). He was always a good master, firm but fair, hard only when he had reason to be, I remember when he sent Xo home, bound like a package as a message to the other slaves…

I enjoyed my game with Lizibeth, we played it many times, Thorn indulging it (he had to give the order for us to play). Over time, months and years as my Master and I got to know the young lady better, I slowly but firmly helped her come to terms with her sexuality. Among others, I met Xo here, and she and her Master became extremely good friends of ours. Steven, ah well what can I say about Steven? I enjoyed him very much, we’ve drifted apart, but for a few years I helped him mature; my husband even gave him pointers in rope bondage, yes he was a lovely boy, I should look him up again.

On a more serious note, after reading them in my journal, I’ve included the thoughts in it after thinking about it carefully. I have to reiterate I knew what I was doing when I got a hysterectomy, my Master and I discussed it thoroughly, carefully and even after I made up my mind, He made me wait and think about it more for 3 months. I’ve never really regretted what I did for Him, I’m happy and I am at peace with the fact I will never have a child of my flesh, we never adopted but that’s fine (and no I’m not protesting too much, I assure you). Now, on to what you want to read, enough of my thoughts hmm?

THE CONTINUED EROTIC ADVENTURES OF SLAVE KALA: BEACH MANSION-PART 1: INTRODUCTIONS

Totally unclothed, I knelt shivering on the deck of the huge yacht. Myself and the driver, the captain, appeared to be the only people aboard but the ship was big; as far as I knew, there could be a dozen other people somewhere. At first I had knelt with my bottom resting on my heels, a comfortable position most people liked the look of; but the captain whose name didn’t appear to be forthcoming had curtly snapped his fingers and ordered me to ‘kneel up’. So now I knelt, hands at my sides, head lowered to look at the deck, as we plowed onward through the calm waters.

I was being lent for a long weekend to an old business friend of my Owner’s; he was throwing some kind of celebration cum business dinner\party\announcement ceremony at one of his island estates. Apparently he was borrowing a whole bunch of slaves for entertainment, I’d never met the man but David knew him well. My Lord had explained everything to me clearly, I knew basically what was expected of me, the man borrowing me, Daniel Thorn, knew my few limits, the only thing expected of me was to submit and obey. My God the maker of my decisions had made it clear, everyone I would come in contact with from the moment the limo driver met me at the airport, was known to Thorn, screened, cleared and knew exactly what to do with me.

The limo driver had a sign reading KALA; he’d taken my luggage jovially, apparently recognizing me by sight (must have had a picture) and opened the door for me as a driver should. I sat in the back for only a minute; once the limo was out into traffic, the screen dividing the back from the front seat had come down and the driver, no longer obsequious, had gently ordered me to undress and crawl into the front seat with him. When I joined him obediently, he had me take down his pants and give him a B.J. telling me I was to swallow when he came, which I of course did, knowing I was utterly safe because my Master had told me I would be; knowing the man couldn’t have an STD because my safety had been assured. After I’d blown him, he briskly directed me in pulling his pants and undies back up, telling me to adjust him until he was comfortable. Then he’d informed me I was to go back into the back and dress again in my jeans and shirt, but leave my own underwear in the backseat when we reached our destination; at that point I had no idea where we were going. I’d simply said goodbye and boarded the plane for France, knowing I was going to be looked after when I debarked, I didn’t even know what was in my luggage, my Owner had packed for me.

The limo pulled up to a dock, the driver retrieved my luggage and opened the door for me as a proper driver should; no one could know I was, until I was passed along, his to command. He led me to a yacht and handed me off to the captain, who was waiting on deck with a mug of coffee in his hand. From their exchange I gathered they were both good friends, my captain owned this and other yachts and my driver owned the limo company, both knew Thorn well, but I never did get either of their names. The captain put me in the wheelhouse with him and started out, we were perhaps a half hour out of the harbor when, without looking at me, he’d ordered me to strip. When I was nude, he’d fiddled with switches and dials, and I think put the yacht on autopilot, before he turned and looked me over. Telling me to follow, he’d taken me below, we passed several large suites, open doors showing me all the modern conveniences, including plush beds; but he took me to a small cramped ill lit room, smelly, it had little to recommend it, except the hammock. It was the first time I’d ever been fucked in a hammock, I loved it… but then I suffer from nymphomania (literally). The way the hammock rocked and swayed while he roughly took me without a word drove me wild.

When he’d finished he handed me an envelope with my name on it and told me to come on deck as soon as I was ready, told me to use the bathroom in the nearest suite. The envelope contained a short, cheerful letter from my Lord and Master, the absolutely perfect God-thing David; He informed me I’d stay on the island for 3-4 days and I was simply to do exactly as I was told. My preliminary instructions, being transmitted through David by his friend Thorn, were that once on the island I was to remain kneeling, no matter what orders I received from the servants, until I was specifically told otherwise by Thorn himself. Also I was not to speak or make a sound (fortunately I’m voice trained); the servants I was to obey implicitly, they too being cleared by Thorn and knowing what to do with me. David made sure I knew they were allowed to fuck me as they almost certainly would. He also warned me that Thorn had told Him several of his servants had a penchant for attempting to trick slaves into disobeying, as they were allowed to administer punishments if they caught me at it. Apparently Thorn had told my Master this and left it completely up to him whether to warn me or not, I have such a nice Master.

I shivered although the middle of summer, the open ocean was full of cold wind, but I was careful to voice no complaint, I was not allowed to speak; the captain however seemed to expect my shivering and he came over with a big thick coat draping it around me.

“Pull it around yourself, there’s a good girl,” he told me nicely, I looked up at him gratefully. Showering him with thanks from my deep green eyes.

From then I knelt on deck for almost three hours, before we reached our destination; I couldn’t get a good look at it, kneeling on the open deck. The captain docked and ran out the same ramp I’d boarded,

“Off you go, I have other pickups to make, go to the end of the dock where the sand begins, then wait for someone to come for you,” he paused as I let the jacket slide to the floor. “Don’t worry about your luggage.”

I nodded, giving him a smile as I crawled nude past him on my hands and knees. I looked back once catching him watching my ass sway, he just raised a brow unconcerned, and I continued crawling.

The sand was warm from the sun, no one was around, the yacht was the only ship in sight and the boathouse at the end of the dock was silent. Remaining on my knees, I sat with my ass on my heels, hands folded in my lap, looking around; I didn’t think anyone would object. Unfortunately I couldn’t see far, the beach stretched curving out of sight in both directions, ahead of me it rose gently, eventually becoming verdant grass, banking up in a little hill, obscuring my view. An hour passed as I knelt there like a good girl, I didn’t worry. Arc lights were on a tall pole by the boathouse, the black globe on top of the pole I was sure had to be a security camera, they knew I was here; besides they had to have heard the yacht come and go; I was being tested. Finally I heard whistling, I waited as the whistling grew closer; from over the rise a figure appeared.

She was an inch taller than I was at 5’3, slim but athletically built, creamy skin had just a hint of a tan, red brown hair curled around her ears. She was in a classic French maid outfit, black tight blouse with a short skirt and dark hose, white apron complemented by a little frilly white thing not a hat almost like a lace tiara atop her head. I’m bright I say it without hubris, from the way the outfit was worn just a little from use and repeated washing and from the way she moved in it so unselfconsciously natural, I just knew it was the uniform she regularly wore on duty, not some little play device used solely for sexual purposes; (I saw soon enough all the servants were in old style outfits like this, the males all looked like butlers out of old English movies).

She came up to me smiling warmly; she looked younger than me 22-3.

“Kala?” It wasn’t really a question, she wanted a response.

I looked at her, nodded meekly.

“I’m Lizibeth, I’ll be in charge of you while you’re here, and if you have any questions you come to me okay?”

Again I nodded.

“Do you have any questions?”

I shook my head; clearly she was a baiter.

“Quiet type are you, that’s okay,” She looked around, “luggage?”

I looked up at her and shrugged, it had been left on the ship, but I wasn’t to worry about it.

“I see, well come along.”

She turned and strode back the way she came quickly. I scrambled to follow her on my hands and knees, falling quickly behind; she stopped and waited at the top of the rise.

“Good girl,” she praised me snidely.

At the top of the rise a flagstone path started, snaking through the grass, a quarter mile away loomed a forest, the path led into it. As soon as I reached her side she started down the wide path, I followed on all fours and she slowed her pace dramatically, allowing me to easily follow beside her. We went into the woods, the temperature dropped about ten degrees in the shade of the trees, but it was still comfortably warm. I saw this wasn’t the forest proper, but only a thick screen of trees, we soon passed into a wide expanse of carefully trimmed lawn at least a hundred acres. At the center of this, several hundred yards away, stood a large rambling mansion, 3 stories with two five storey wings leading off it, the mansion appeared even bigger because of the large outbuildings surrounding it.

Lizibeth led me down the path; my knees were starting to hurt. We approached the wide marble front steps, flanked by statues of roaring lions, but she continued following the path around to the back, I kept up on all fours. In the back I could see more outbuildings, one clearly a barn, a corral full of horses beside it. She led me to a patio, several sets of white iron furniture scattered across it, a barbecue in one corner, it looked out on an Olympic sized swimming pool, and she pointed it out.

“He has another one inside; he never uses the outside one,” she snorted, looking at me companionably; I could tell she was trying to draw a response.

I kept my head down looking at the path. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her shrug, leading me up a couple of steps onto the patio, over to a marble bench; through several closed french doors I could see a busy kitchen bustling with servants and naked slaves, some but not most of the slaves knelt like me.

Beside the bench was a large mirror, leaning against the stone railing of the patio; it clearly wasn’t usually there. On the bench were 26 identical objects, I wasn’t sure what they were until Lizibeth indicated them.

“One for each letter, the ink is semi-permanent; your owner has been told what solution to use to take it off when you get home,” she paused smirking, “and if you get strip searched at the airport on the way home, the fast talking is up to you. Now how do you spell your name exactly?”

I looked at the stamps for a moment, up at her as she stood waiting for an answer to her question. I picked up the K stamp ink pad and all, setting it a little in front of the others, followed it with the single A stamp the L and then took the A stamp and moved it around until it was on the other side of the L.

She chuckled, apparently enjoying our little game, “clever.” I gave her a docile smile. She sat on the edge of the bench, made a twirling motion with one finger, “well, turn and present.”

I turned on my hands and knees, proffering her my bum. She pressed stamps one by one into my right buttock, making two words one above the other in three-inch high letters, finishing with another stamp, simply a thick black line.

“Well, take a look,” she said, picking up the mirror and holding it for me.

I looked over my shoulder; my name was underlined in two lines across my cheek.

SLAVE

KALA

She put the mirror back down, “like it?”

I nodded; I loved being owned. Once my Master had considered actually branding me, he’d decided against it, my hysterectomy scar was more than enough of a physical sign of my submission for his taste.

She stood, “come on, time to put you to work.”

The last part tossed over her shoulder as I followed, she didn’t lead me into the mansion, but over to the barn a few hundred yards away. We entered the wide-open barn doors side by side (me crawling on all fours). I could see at the far end of the barn another set of open doors, several young men in rough work clothes were doing things with horses (I don’t know, I’m not big on farm life); she led me to what I guess was a horse stall. No horse in it, but a wheelbarrow sat there waiting, a short handled shovel in it.

Lizibeth reached into the wheelbarrow and pulled out a pair of gloves, tossing them to me. “You’ll empty each stall of manure, whenever the barrow’s full wheel it out the back, you’ll see the pile where it goes; when each stall is empty get fresh hay from the loft above, you’ll see the ladder, and spread it on the floor. I’ll check on your progress around noon, one o clock,” she shrugged. As if the difference between my doing 2 or 3 hours of labor was unimportant, I knew alone I’d be at it all day, the barn had at least fifty stalls down each side and I am not exaggerating. “Any questions?”

I shook my head, pulling on the gloves. I am a slave; I shuddered as I thought this, part fear part love of my helplessness.

“Good, I’ll bring lunch for you.” With that she left.

I set to work; in some ways I’m a bit of a lady. I’m my Master’s Pain Slut, his Fuck Whore, his Toy in whatever way he cares to use me, and of course, I clean our house so it’s spotless. I am certainly not above physical labor, even getting dirty, but I prefer to be neat and clean myself, fastidious. 

I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose as I knelt amid the (fortunately dry) manure of the stall, it was undignified, and I couldn’t help but get really dirty as I shoveled what are they called horse apples? and bits of dirty hay. I finished emptying the first stall, the wheelbarrow was half full. Obediently like the well trained, well-behaved willing submissive I was (I should mention David had made it clear Thorn wasn’t interested in games of defiance and punishment this weekend, David told me if I went I was to be perfectly behaved or I’d be sent back and it would reflect badly on him) I remained on my knees. It was hard work pushing the wheelbarrow that way but I did it, I pushed it into the second stall, common sense told me to fill the wheelbarrow, empty it, then lay fresh hay in whatever stalls I had cleaned by then (before of course starting all over again).

After about forty minutes I’d finally cleaned 2 stalls, and the wheelbarrow was piled high. On my knees, I strained to lift the wooden handles of the ‘barrow. My Owner, a powerful well-conditioned man, has me perform a simple but through exercise routine, it’s not obvious unless you look me over closely but I am not weak. I moved the ‘barrow.

Slowly I made it out the back of the barn, where half a dozen men were still doing things to the horses, brushing them and stuff; they glanced at me and kept working. I had to stop the wheelbarrow (losing my momentum) and look around, but I quickly spotted the manure pile a hundred yards away across the grass. Slowly, muscles trembling I made my way to it, finally tipping the wheelbarrow over to spill its contents at the edge of the pile. My arms spasmed slightly, on my knees, I hadn’t the leverage, I couldn’t keep this up for long, I’m not nearly that well conditioned. Sighing; on my knees, I righted the barrow.

“Kala.”

I turned, I hadn’t heard him approach. A young man, sandy haired, his work clothes wafted the smell of horse to me, it wasn’t unpleasant.

“That would be a hell of a lot easier if you stood up,” he told me with a gentle smile; as if it was something I couldn’t figure out for myself.

I sighed deeply and nodded my agreement; he didn’t seem inclined to say anything else. I started pushing the wheelbarrow back to the barn, but after a moment he followed me.

“Wait.”

I stopped and looked at him.

“Did someone tell you to do that while on your knees?”

I shook my head.

“Stand up then.”

I hesitated; clearly the kid didn’t know the specifics of my instructions, but I did; again I shook my head.

“You’re not allowed to stand up?” 

I nodded. he seemed at a loss. I smiled at him, shrugged, went back to pushing. He followed me into the barn. I stopped near the ladder leading to the loft; ignoring him I prepared to climb. I wouldn’t technically be standing to do it.

I was on the fourth rung when he spoke, it was a decisive voice, ringing with a tone of command; it surprised me how confident he sounded once he made up his mind.

“Stop, come down here.”

I obeyed, looking up at him.

“Not supposed to talk either, are you?”

I shook my head in agreement.

“Hay…yes, wait here.”

He went up the ladder quickly. A long moment passed as I waited obediently; anyone on the island was allowed to have me do anything. A thump drew my attention, a square hay bale had fallen in front of the doors a few yards from where I knelt. It was followed by a second, rustling as it hit the first, and it slid partially off to perch at an angle. Moments later the young man came quickly down the ladder and walked over to the hay bales; he had gloves on now. He picked them both up with ease (seconds later I found out they each weighed about 25 pounds) and carried them over to me. He pulled out a pocketknife and cut the strings off the first bale, taking them and folding them into a little circle.

“Well, go ahead,” he told me, smiling.

I smiled a thank-you at him and grabbed an armful of loose hay. It scratched lightly at my breasts, prickling as I gathered as much as I could, perhaps a quarter of the bale. He watched as I shuffled on my knees into the first stall and started to spread the hay out. It took another couple of trips and the entire first bale to coat the floor of the stall in a covering of fresh hay; he knew what he was doing when he fetched two bales. By the time I finished covering the first stall, he had cut loose the second bale for me; he watched silently as I started laying down fresh hay in the second stall; it too took about 4 trips, shuffling with armfuls of hay on my knees.

On the last trip he followed me into the stall. As I busied myself spreading out the hay to cover the floor, he slid the door closed. Finished with the hay, I turned, looked up at him; he pulled a wallet out of his back pocket.

His fingers fumbled slightly as he spoke with a suddenly hoarse voice, he didn’t look at me. “I’ve never really gotten the attraction of this master slave thing; but if being ordered around is what makes you happy…”

He tried and failed to make the trailing off sound light; he had fumbled out a condom, finally looking at me as he put his wallet away. I smiled at him encouragingly and he moved toward me, seeming nervous like he was waiting for me to object. Condom in his hand, he licked his lips as he looked down at me; I gave just the tiniest nod to show him he was fine.

“Take,” he swallowed, tried again, “Take my pants down” the tiniest pause, “slave.”

I reached up and undid his jeans, slowly lowering the zipper; gently I gripped his jeans in both hands, pulled the garment down around his ankles. his pole made a tent of his gray briefs; slowly I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his underwear, looking up at him. He nodded a little quickly and I slid them down too. He was rock hard, about average 6 inches, circumcised; he had only a little hair around his balls which hung low, full.

He didn’t say anything as I took him gently in one hand, I opened my mouth and slowly wrapped my lips around his engorged head, and he sucked in a breath. I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t tell him he didn’t need the condom, perhaps he’d use it anyway. He stood there as I suckled his cock gently, moaning a bit when I did something he really liked. Slowly sliding my mouth all the way down his cock, back up to gently suck just his head, licking at the underside of it; it wasn’t long before he was pulsing in my mouth on the verge of exploding. I wondered if I was supposed to suck him off, we didn’t need the plastic apparently.

Suddenly he made me stop, pulling back; stuttering out, “enough, take it.”

I took the condom from him quickly opening it; I rolled it onto his penis for him.

“Turn,” he ordered.

I did and he squatted behind me, I felt him take me by the back of the neck; gently he squeezed, pushed until I bent over, going to my hands and knees. Behind me, he pushed more, pressing my face forward until I was in the fresh hay. I’m a nympho, I was wet, more than ready for him by now, the dark hair around my snatch a little moist, my lips wet and parted. I could smell the hay as he pushed my face down more firmly; he rose up behind me and guided himself into me from behind. I was voice trained, I fought a moan as he impaled me, managing to remain utterly silent (I’m such a good girl; praise me) and he fucked me quickly, cumming in under thirty seconds, exploding into the condom.

He was young, the little foreplay had almost undone him, at 28 I was mature enough to forgive him (but dammit he finished before I could cum). He didn’t seem to consider my own orgasm (the one I didn’t have {no I forgive him really}). After he came, he leaned against my back for a moment, before pulling out and sprawling onto his seat. I knelt there, waiting.

“Kala?”

I turned, sitting up and facing him, I gave him a smile; I’m a slave, my own enjoyment must be subordinate.

He smiled back. “Alright slave, there’s a wastebasket by the front doors, take the condom, gently please,” he said it with a laugh in his voice, nervousness gone when I hadn’t objected, “you can wash your hands out back, there’s a pump.”

I nodded my understanding and, shuffling forward, I reached out, gently taking his now flaccid member, carefully working the condom off. He started pulling up his pants as I grabbed the wrapper and shuffled toward the door. It took some doing to get the stall door open, my vagina was throbbing with anticipation, I knew wasn’t going to be satisfied soon; he was on his feet by the time I slid the door open. I found the wastebasket beside the door as he’d said, then I crawled all the way out to the back, he was standing ready by a pump. As I crawled towards him he started pumping and cold clear water began to flow.

“Alright Kala, let me know when you’re clean enough.”

I nodded at him as I thrust my hands into the stream, it wouldn’t do to become sopping wet, as I’d get muddy in the stalls. I just washed my hands, before bringing them down between my thighs; he watched me with a smile as I mopped my mound (sting of pleasure). Wolf whistles and catcalls came from the other men around the horses. I looked over at them, they were watching.

“Pretty little thing isn’t she Jeremy?” one called.

“Get your own, Dave,” my new friend Jeremy called back.

“Easy enough,” another man said, “there’s twenty or so up at the house already, and I think fifty total coming.”

“Don’t worry, Jeremy,” another teased, “we’ll let you and your new girlfriend have some private time together, we can finish your quota of the horses.”

“Thanks.” The twenty-something called back laconically, not at all intimidated by the teasing of his friends, “I do have something to do up at the house.”

“What, you’re cheating on her already?”

Jeremy laughed, winking at me; I smiled. It didn’t matter if he found another girl and fucked her right in front of me, he didn’t mean that much to me. I was done washing myself; he realized this and stopped pumping.

“Back inside Kala, before they tease us to death.”

Grinning at the friendly byplay, and enjoying the teasing whistles as I departed, I crawled on my hands and knees back into the barn. I caught sight of the wheelbarrow, waiting for me, and gave just the tiniest sigh as I crawled toward it, picking up my gloves.

“Determined aren’t you?” Jeremy asked.

I hadn’t realized he’d followed me again; he should wear a bell. I nodded dejectedly, pulling on the gloves. He watched as I moved the wheelbarrow in front of the next dirty stall and picked up the shovel.

“No,” he said.

I looked at him questioningly.

“Put it down, you’re not doing that.”

I put the shovel down.

“Who’s in charge of you?” he sighed realizing, “never mind, just kneel there and wait, don’t do anything,” he paused, “that’s an order slave.”

I nodded at him. He strode away quickly, heading for the back of the mansion. I knelt quietly for about fifteen minutes, the wet portions of my skin slowly drying. I was dirty, smelly, covered in things I knew weren’t but determinedly insisted in my mind were flakes of dirt. I am very fastidious about my personal hygiene and behavior; I’d do anything for a proper shower right now.

Lizibeth came in; she looked chagrinned. “I hope you know I never meant for you to do more than a couple of stalls, I was about to come back when that handler found me.”

I assumed she meant Jeremy was a horse handler of some kind. I looked at her and shrugged.

“Come on,” she ordered.

On my hands and knees, I followed her to the back of the house. She led me further along the pathway to another patio, this one built of wood. A plate sat on a little table and the plate held a pair of sandwiches, cold roast with lettuce.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

I’d had breakfast, like dinner before it on the plane.  Although it was only eleven, I was ravenous and I nodded.

She picked up the plate. “Would you like this?” she asked sweetly; her tone should have warned me.

Again I nodded, looking at the plate and not at her.

“Ask.”

I looked at her, dumbstruck; she knew I couldn’t speak.

“You’re not going to ask?” she asked archly.

I shrugged, confused.

“If you ask for it, I promise I’ll give it to you,” she was teasing me; she waited a moment. “You aren’t hungry enough to speak to me, eh? Alright then I guess you’re not hungry enough to have these.”

She set the plate back down on the table, looking at me. Indignation rose up in me, mingled with a little shame at my treatment, then I forced it away. I was a slave and she had every right to be cruel to me if it pleased her, some people liked to humiliate slaves…and I was here for the pleasure of others. I knew I’d be fed eventually, and if I had to miss a meal or two first, well it couldn’t hurt; but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of being able to say I’d been disobedient, if she wanted to whip me she didn’t need an excuse.

She spoke softly, a little huskily, “it’s not too late, if you’re hungry just ask for the sandwiches, I swear you’ll get them, it’s not a trick.”

No it wasn’t, she’d let me eat, then punish me for misbehaving; I shook my head.

“Alright then,” she spoke briskly.

She went over to the wall where a hose lay, dribbling water, she picked it up.

“Can’t take you into the house like that.”

She pointed the hose at me, taking a few steps closer, “get ready,” she warned.

I braced myself as a gentle spray of ice cold water jetted from the hose, soaking me. I shivered and washed myself as she soaked me down, getting all the little bits of ‘dirt’ off me. She watched intently, apparently hoping the icy water would provoke a sound from me, (I bless my Master’s training). I was quickly soaking wet, but at least cleaner, I just wished I had soap. She didn’t wet my head so my shoulder length midnight black hair remained dry; she turned off the hose.

“Okay, heel, slave,” she spoke briskly, at least temporarily not bothering to try to make me misbehave.

I didn’t know if I’d really made her angry by refusing to ‘lose’, perhaps our game was over, or perhaps she was merely thinking about her next move. On my hands and knees I followed her (she kept her pace slow for me, absentmindedly, I could tell she led slaves around a lot) she led me around to the front of the house, now she led me up the front steps and through the front door.

The main hall was spacious, marble floor, large rooms opening off it to either side, straight ahead a marble staircase had wrought iron banisters. A slave stood in front of this facing the main doors, apparently waiting with her hands clasped behind her and head lowered. She was short about my height 5’4 maybe a hundred fifteen pounds, tiny breasts with tiny light pink nipples and almost no aureoles, she too had raven hair but her pussy was shaved clean. At her feet were 2 small steaming buckets 2 sets of dishwashing gloves and 2 toothbrushes. Lizibeth led me to her, I could see the buckets were full of some frothy steaming liquid; the other slave looked up, bringing her hands to her sides.

“Alright, we’re giving out jobs in small sections so people don’t get overwhelmed and just give up,” she paused making sure she had both our attention, “you two get the fun of cleaning the wrought iron banisters; split the job however you like, but I suggest you take a side each. There’s only twenty steps to the next floor, and don’t worry, others will be doing the stairs from there; make damn sure you use the gloves, that cleaner will burn your hands, but I expect the banister spotless when I get back in an hour. If it’s not, you get a whipping. Any questions?”

I shook my head, eyeing the toothbrushes.

“No Ma’am.” The Asian slave replied in a soft seductive voice.

“Back in an hour then,” Lizibeth said, “Remember, spotless.”

She left through a door. The other slave looked at me.

“Hi, what’s your name?” she said brightly in the same husky voice.

I smiled at her and presented my ass. I heard her chuckle as I turned back to face her.

“Can’t talk, hey, Kala? That’s alright, I think we’ve got a lot of work to do, I’m.”

She turned around, stamped on her ass: SLAVE XO

I resisted the urge to giggle, I had to be silent not just not talk.

She turned back to face me, “well, which side do you want?”

I shrugged, it didn’t matter.

“How about you take the left side, and I’ll do the right, how about for fun we switch sides halfway up?”

I shrugged and nodded.

“Okay then, red toothbrush or blue one? and don’t just shrug and nod.”

I smiled and picked up the red toothbrush, she laughed.

We donned gloves and took our buckets to opposite sides of the stairs, which could be mounted by at least a dozen people abreast. I soon became absorbed in cleaning, ignoring the ache in my knees as I knelt on the marble (Xo sat on her ass, much more comfortable). I cleaned, using the brush to scrape the iron spotless, it was easy, tiny bits of dirt and rust disappeared with a single stroke of the brush, the cleanser was powerful; but it was time consuming and we knew we’d be punished if we weren’t done in an hour. We didn’t switch sides halfway up, too absorbed in our work. Both of us completely ignored, and were ignored by, the half dozen livered servants and the dozens of naked inked slaves who passed us repeatedly, hurrying about on their own errands.

Xo reached the top step about four steps ahead of me. I continued working, she sat down and watched me for a moment. After a bit (I moved up a step) she spoke.

“Well I’m done…I’ll help you finish if you like,” her tone made it clear she didn’t really want to.

I glanced at the grandfather clock beside the front doors, we still had ten minutes. I looked at her and shook my head; she immediately took off her gloves and leaned back, relaxing. I finished my side of the stairs with two minutes to spare, the floor at the top was thickly carpeted; I luxuriated as I knelt beside Xo, and she smiled at me.

“Too bad you can’t talk, we can’t have a real conversation, although I’m sure they’ll lift that restriction soon enough. I’m from Canada, I guess you’re from the States?”

I shook my head; I’m from Calgary although I couldn’t tell her that.

“Oh, well I’m from Calgary,” she said brightly. “My Master lent me to Thorn for the weekend, they do some business together and a couple of times, well shouldn’t kiss and tell. Hey, are you a lesbian, or bi?”

I hesitated, I fuck whoever my Master tells me too, I don’t mind women, I just don’t choose them. I couldn’t explain that though; I nodded.

She laughed, “I should have asked just one, but in any case you’re beautiful, if anyone wants a threesome this weekend, I hope it’s you and me.”

I smiled at her, she was friendly enough.

“Hey, do you ever get to Calgary? My Master would love to fuck you.”

I grinned at her, she laughed. “We’ll discuss it later, okay?”

I nodded. Lizibeth appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

“All done?” she called up.

“Yes Ma’am.” Xo replied submissively.

Lizibeth had my plate of cold roast sandwiches, now wrapped in plastic. She started inspecting the railing I had cleaned, stooping to look at the top and bottom base of several individual railings as well as glancing at the handrail itself. She only checked three or four at the bottom, before nodding, climbing swiftly to the top beside us and checking the top two. She nodded in satisfaction and murmured, “good,” and she looked at me, “hungry now?”

I nodded.

She held out the plate, “I asked Mr. Thorn, he backs me, you don’t get anything to eat until you eat these, and you don’t get these until I choose to give them to you. Ask and you can have them.”

She smiled, waiting, I looked at her blandly; eventually I’d get to speak, I was sure, even if not they wouldn’t starve me to death; I can be stubborn.

“Okay,” she shrugged, set the plate down next to me as if she thought I’d be foolish enough to take before she gave me. She went and checked the other railing.

She came back, shaking her head. She glanced at me hopefully, “the right side is not acceptable, who did it?”

Xo, bless her, was a good slave. “I did, Ma’am.”

“25 lashes with the #3 strap, you know where that is, you were shown last night.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Xo replied obediently with a slight shudder.

“Run your lazy ass there and fetch it for me, now!”

Xo leaped to her feet and took off up the next flight of stairs.

Lizibeth looked at me, “you did well Kala.” I smiled, I enjoy praise. She pointed at a door down the hall a little way. “That’s a closet for the cleaning staff, empty the buckets into its sink, then fill the sink with cold water from the tap and let the brushes and gloves soak. Leave the door open when you’re done.”

I nodded, taking two trips on my knees to do as she ordered. By the time I returned, a breathless Xo had come back with a thin long leather strap. It had no handle but one end had a loop for the wielder’s wrist.

Lizibeth took this, slipping the loop over her wrist. Calmly she spoke, “turn around, hands on your knees, you lazy bitch.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Xo answered meekly doing as she was told, presenting her back.

Lizibeth glanced at me, smiling. She turned back to Xo, raising her weapon; she gave Xo exactly 25 stripes down her back, very hard ones. By the fifth Xo was gasping, by ten she was outright crying. When Lizibeth finished, she folded the strap a couple of times, Xo continued to sob.

Gently she spoke. “Good girl, straighten up now.”

Crying, Xo did, tears streaming down her face as she tuned to face Lizibeth; every lash had welted and drawn a thin line of blood, she’d be marked for at least a couple of days.

Lizibeth brought up the folded strap, “open.”

Xo did and Lizibeth tenderly placed the strap in her mouth, Xo gripped it in her teeth.

“The cleaning supplies are in that open door, you’re going to clean the banister again, and you just keep the strap right there in case I need it a second time.”

Xo nodded.

“If you think you’re finished before I get back, I suggest you look it over carefully.”

Xo nodded, sniffling a little.

Lizibeth picked up my plate. “Kala come.”

CHAPTER 2

She took me down the hall to a different set of stairs then up to the third floor and through a couple of large rooms, out into another hall, before taking me into a large tiled bathroom. She set my plate down on the long marble countertop housing a pair of sinks.

“Run yourself a bath, as hot as you can stand it.”

God yes. I crawled towards the marble bathtub; egg shaped, it was easily large enough for a frenetic five person orgy involving wrestling.  I hesitated when I got there, it would take work to get into the tub, I’d have to climb.

“Go ahead,” Lizibeth encouraged gently, “I swear to god you won’t be punished for climbing into the tub.”

I glanced at her, and believed her, that wasn’t our game. On my knees, the tub came up to my neck, from her words it was implicitly understood I’d do this the hard way. I braced my hands on the stone edge as Lizibeth watched, remaining on one knee I brought my other leg up, throwing it over the edge, my other leg came up too, it had to to manage it. I was straddling the edge of the tub, it pressed into my pudenda and a jolt of pleasure shot through me, I was horny as sin. With effort I kept quiet, she’d punish me for making a sound. With my knees gripping the tub, I slid forward (delicious pleasurable pain) until I could reach the knobs (I wish I was being knobbed). I dropped in the convenient plug and turned on the cold full blast; I followed this with the hot, turning down the cold and testing until it was too hot for me to put a finger in it, then turning the cold back up just a bit. The tub was huge; it would take at least twenty minutes to fill.

“If you can, sit in it.”

I hesitated, then slipped off the edge of the tub and knelt in the water, it reddened my skin but I could stand it.

She chuckled, “too smart for me aren’t you?” I smiled and meekly nodded.

Grinning, Lizibeth stripped, not stark, just down to her hose panties and bra, the last two were old, plain white and not for fun. She came and sat on the edge of the marble tub as the steam swirled around us; there was plenty of room for her.

“Scooch back just a little bit,” she murmured.

I did, and her hand came to rest gently on the back of my neck.

“Good,” she breathed.

She stroked my hair and neck gently as I knelt there, running a hand down my back occasionally; we waited for the tub to fill. Finally the water came up to my breasts and Lizibeth stopped petting me.

“Lean forward and turn it off.”

I obeyed, knelt back up and glanced at her over my shoulder. She smiled at me and picked up a bar of soap. She dipped her hand into the water, came up with a dripping bar of soap, and she began to work up lather. She held the soap in her other hand as she began gently to caress my back with her other empty sudsy hand. I faced back around as she began to bathe me, she soaped my back first, using a scoop to pour water over my back, she soaped my back several times, pouring it off with water.

“I’m going to wet your hair now,” she told me.

As she warned, she used the scoop to pour water over my head, but it didn’t startle me because she’d warned me; she was being very gentle with me, soft, friendly. She went back to the soap and, bringing the bar under the water, she rubbed it gently across my rear-end.

“Lean forward, dear,” she asked softly.

I did as she wanted until my face hovered just over the water. The soap gently caressed the crack of my ass, tracing it up and down as her other hand gently wiped at the suds the bar left, cleaning me thoroughly.

“It’s okay,” she said softly.

Slowly, very slowly, she spread my cheeks just a bit apart; I remained still cooperative, my hands folded in my lap beneath the water. Clearly she was bathing me, I wasn’t to help. The soap slid just the tiniest bit up my nether slit, soaping the sides, stopping at my anus and lightly soaping it. She was careful to wash the suds out of my ass thoroughly before pulling the bar away and swishing it around in the water.

“Kneel up,” she said smoothly.

I did and she slid forward on her seat a little.

“Back a bit more,” she asked.

I slid back, but I felt my toes curl as I reached the slope of the tub, I couldn’t go back much further without discomfort. She lathered her hands again and brought her bare hands around to lather my front, she started at my belly, stroking in circles, upwards across my chest. I suppressed a murmur as she brushed soapy hands across my nipples.

“You have beautiful tits,” she whispered into my ear as she soaped around my dark red aureoles.

My little brown nipples quivered, rock hard. She used the scoop again, then lathered and repeated, again starting at the belly, this time when she reached my breasts she lingered on the nipples, tweaked them just a little bit (I really had to suppress a moan). She was being so soft, loveable; I’d love what she was doing if I just didn’t have to remain silent. I didn’t know if she was teasing me, trying to make me disobey my standing orders, or was trying to be nice, bathing me like this. In any case it was lovely, except I had to concentrate to be a good girl and not squirm or moan.

She soaped my legs after that, and lightly over my vaginal mound but only very lightly, making no attempt to arouse me, which was nice of her. Finally she finished with the soap, putting the bar back in its little holder; she picked up a bottle of shampoo.

“Wild thistle, it has a little scent. He likes it.”

I nodded, not quite sure but I thought she might be asking my opinion. In any case she took the scoop and wetted my hair again, soaking it thoroughly, before squeezing out a generous amount of shampoo on her palm. I turned to face away again as she rubbed her palms together, working up a lather. Gently her hands fell on my head, she rubbed strong sensitive fingers working the shampoo deeply into my scalp. She worked the shampoo through my hair, spending several long minutes at it before leaning back and dipping her hands in the water to clear the lather off them.

“Let’s sit for a minute and let that work,” she said.

I nodded; she began whistling just lightly, so soft I almost couldn’t hear it as she gently stroked my back with a soft palm. It was the same tune she’d been whistling when she came for me on the beach, but nothing I recognized. A minute passed.

“Okay, rinse.”

Obediently I leant forward, dipping my head beneath the water. Her hands ran softly through my hair, gently taking the shampoo off. I knelt back up.

“Scoop,” she warned.

She poured a stream of water slowly over my head, her other hand running through my hair some more. She put the scoop down; she began wringing out my hair for me.

Finished she stopped and slowly stood up. “Okay, pull the plug and get out honey.”

I did, climbing out was as painful (pleasurable) as getting in, I wanted a fucking (I’ve mentioned I literally suffer from nymphomania right?).

I knelt on the little mat beside the marble tub; she had picked up a thick towel and she knelt beside me and wrapped me in it. We smiled at each other, me with my hands submissively folded in my lap, as I allowed her to do as she wished, towel me vigorously dry.

“There,” she said, standing up, leaving the now wet towel around my shoulders. “Dry yourself a little more if you want.”

I got under my armpits, the undersides of my ass, between my breasts and legs. She opened a medicine cabinet and pulled out a hairbrush and I wondered what I did to deserve a dose of the brush. I felt my buttocks tighten in indignation as I couldn’t think of a reason I should be punished, then I felt like a fool as she seated herself on the edge of the tub behind me. She began brushing my hair; slowly I relaxed, slowly I felt my cheeks loosen as I let her gentleness wash over me. She brushed for a minute.

“Kala.”

I shifted a little to show I’d heard her.

“Mr. Thorn would like your vagina clean shaven, will you do that?”

She stopped brushing, I nodded quickly, my Owner had told me it was possible and I was to agree if it came up. She brushed me a bit more, then stood. She went back to the medicine cabinet, pulled out a safety razor and some shaving cream.

“I’ll do it, unless you’d prefer to do it yourself?” she looked at me.

I would prefer to do it myself, I nodded; I didn’t think she’d hurt me, but there was just something about shaving my pubis…

“You do want to do it?”

I nodded again.

“I’ll leave if you want me to, but,” she paused, “but I’d like to stay.”

That didn’t bother me, I was here to please, and I nodded. She gave me the razor and cream, and sat on the toilet. I spread the towel out. Kneeling on it; I spread my legs apart and opened the cream. I used three fingers to scoop up some of the cream and began to spread it over my vaginal mound, I quivered as a thrill shot through me, I’d have to be careful, I was just a randy little chipmunk. Slowly I spread more cream, covering my black springy hair in a light coating, then I used the razor carefully, cutting in long smooth strokes as Lizibeth watched, wiping it clean on an edge of the towel. It didn’t take long, soon my bare lips freshly nude, felt the cool air and quivered; I used the towel to gently carefully wipe off the last of the shaving cream. I pressed too hard in the wrong spot and stiffened as a wave of pleasure shot through me. I put the towel down.

“Are you alright Kala?” she sounded concerned.

I looked up at her and nodded.

“Alright, come here, beautiful.”

I shuffled forward to kneel before her. She stood, in hose and underwear, and reached again into the medicine cabinet. She pulled out a glass bottle of some amber liquid. She took off the cap; it had a little plastic stop on the end I could see as she sat down. She turned it over and just a little liquid dribbled out onto three of her fingers. A strong smell of oranges just barely masked by roses came from the bottle; she put the bottle on the counter.

“He likes this,” she told me.

Gently she brushed my hair back with her unscented hand, taking my ear gently, then dabbed a scented finger once against the back of my ear, repeating for the other ear. She pressed her fingers gently against the back of my neck, then slid a single scented finger between the well of my breasts. She leaned forward reaching around, and gently stroked her fingers against the small of my back, just above where it dipped to my ass crack. She sat back a little, then swiped her scented fingers down first one then the other inner thigh of my spread legs, tracing the line where thigh met vaginal mound, she smiled lightly as she did this.

“There,” she breathed.

She looked at me for a moment with big liquid eyes. She leaned in slowly, stopping with her face near mine.

She whispered, “you can tell me no.”

I was here to serve, I don’t prefer women, but they don’t bother me either. I held still, she leaned in close, like the young Jeremy she was ready to be rebuffed, for her different reasons. When she kissed me I kissed her back, running my tongue over her closed lips, she opened and I slipped my tongue just a little in, meeting hers, but she moaned and pulled back.

“We shouldn’t, he’s expecting.”

She cut off abruptly and took my wrist. I offered no resistance as she brought my hand toward her pudenda, covered in thick brown hair. She brought my hand against her soft white panties, releasing my wrist.

“Do it fast, hard,” she ordered.

I slipped my hand into the side of her panties, she gasped as my fingers found her outer lips, she was already wet like me but I didn’t think she was a nymphomaniac (grin). I slid three fingers up into her, finding her little node, she gasped and grasped my wrist again, pressing me more firmly against her. Her eyes closed, legs spreading as she leaned back against the toilet seat. I caressed her hard, she squealed and bucked.

“Yes, fast, fast we have to go.”

I rocked her with my fingers, feverishly working her little stub, she moaned, again, again then I felt her vagina contract, I worked her harder as she moaned and shuddered. She came, shivering, wetness oozed around my fingers…it took her a minute to recover herself.

She grinned, softly, “I don’t suppose you’d like to ask for your sandwich now?”

I grinned back and shook my head, she giggled, happy. She had me wash my hand in the toilet bowl as she dressed; I dried it on the towel I’d been using.

“We have to go now, he’s waiting.”

I just assumed she meant Daniel Thorn.

She paused, “Thank you,” she offered it tentatively, like I might take offense.

I smiled at her, nodding. She led me out down the hall, through another room into a hall, then up a flight of stairs. I knew we were now in one of the wings; she led me down a hall (still silent on my hands and knees) then up to the fifth floor. We went halfway down a hall before she stopped at a plain oak door.

She opened this and we came into a little office of some sort, no one was there. She led me across the room, (thin gray carpet, hurt my knees) to a pair of double doors. She knocked sharply, waited three seconds then opened the door, apparently not expecting an answer. She held the door open for me to crawl through. I kept my head down as I crawled, just noting little unimportant things out of the corner of my eyes; here the carpet was tan very thick, luxuriously comfortable on my poor knees, I’d been kneeling for almost five hours now.

She led me to the middle of the room (I was heeling her like a trained hound) and stopped. “Sir.”

On all fours, I looked up; no one had actually told me to look only at the floor. The office was big, a sort of L but more C shaped desk sat in front of floor to ceiling windows covering the middle part of the back wall. The desk had a phone, a few stacks of papers, a PC monitor (the tower had to be under the desk) and an open laptop. The monitor was side on to us, the laptop was directly facing us, neither of the screens could be seen from my vantage. Daniel Thorn, a well built man in his late 50s with thick steel gray hair, sat behind the desk in a black three piece suit, red tie, he looked like he was in the middle of a business meeting, and in fact he was.

“No Jim, just one of my maids…we’re done anyway aren’t we?”

A voice came from the speakers of his computer (which he sat facing, ignoring his laptop) “Yeah, I think that about covers it, Daniel.”

“Alright, see you next week, LA.”

“Right Daniel, see you.”

Thorn hit a few buttons on his computer, then he swiveled his chair to face us; for some reason I lowered my head.

“Ah, there you are Lizibeth.”

She immediately dropped into a deep and well-practiced curtsy. “Yes sir.” She straightened, “this is Kala.”

I could feel him looking at me; I raised my head to meet his gaze.

Still looking at me, “how has she been?”

“Perfectly behaved sir, no nonsense; I have no complaints.”

He sighed, “I have so much to do, is everything in hand?”

“Yes sir, we have all today and most of tomorrow.”

“I know, I know,” he replied, “Is everyone here yet?”

“No sir, but they’re en route; everyone will be here before your guests. And everything will be ready to greet your company.”

He was looking at her now. "Good Lizibeth. Now did you clean those stables like I told you to?”

“Yes sir,” she replied unperturbed.

“Did you learn not to speak out of turn like that?”

“Yes sir.”

I tensed.

“Did you tell a slave to do it?”

Undaunted, “yes sir.”

He sighed, “You really do deserve a spanking, you know.”

She curtsied again, “no sir.” Firmly.

“Yes yes, not in your job description, but you do deserve some type of punishment. Perhaps I should dock your pay, or make you work your next couple of days off?”

A lilted warning, “no sir.”

“Or I’d start having unfortunate accidents with my laundry huh?”

“No sir, of course not sir.”

He chuckled, “Alright Lizibeth, leave her.”

She curtsied again, “yes Mr. Thorn.”

I remained kneeling as she turned and left the room, closing the door softly after herself. He went back to his computer, seemingly ignoring me; after a few minutes I sat back, kneeling with my bottom resting back on my heels. I folded my hands in my lap primly and kept my head lowered; he didn’t say anything, working on his computer, occasionally sipping from a cup of coffee.

he ignored me for over an hour, I wasn’t sure after the first ten minutes whether he was simply testing my patience, really needed to get something done; or just possibly had truly gotten so absorbed in his work he had forgotten me, he ignored me so completely. I was wet between my legs, and it wasn’t from my bath, I kept still, kept my knees tightly together, hoping I wouldn’t secrete enough to start staining his carpet; if this kept up I’d dehydrate from desire (grin). However he finally showed himself completely aware of my presence, if not of his cup. I watched as he raised it again to his lips, he sipped, tilting his head back further and further, a puzzled expression came over his face as he peered into the cup, then cleared. He put the cup down and hit a few buttons on first his computer then the laptop keyboards.

“Kala?” he looked at me.

I sat up straighter, showing my attentiveness, nodded meekly.

“Show me your ass.”

I swiveled on my knees, bending over I placed my palms flat on the thick carpet, arching my back as I raised my seat up.

A long moment passed before he spoke again, “good. Coffee Kala.”

His tone was almost indifferent, but it rang naturally with a tone of command I’d heard only when my Owner was exasperated or really into something he was directing me in. I sat back up and turned to face him, the coffee cup now sat on the edge of the desk, he was typing at the laptop again, not looking at me. I crawled closer to the table and took the cup, wondering how much I’d have to wander before I found my way to the kitchen.

Halfway across the carpeted floor (shuffling on my knees) his throat clearing made me freeze, “hmm-hmmmm!”

I looked over my shoulder at him. He looked at me and gently stabbed the air twice with one finger, in a cartoon the point would be accompanied by a piano sound effect. I followed his point, over against the wall a side table sported a cappuccino machine and related paraphernalia; I shook my head at my own foolishness. He went back to typing as I shuffled toward the table. I had to stretch to reach the carafe, it took careful work to fill the cup, but I managed. As I stretched on my knees to put the carafe back I wondered what he took in it, I’d have to take it to him black, and the carafe clinked into its seat.

“Two cream, three sugars,” he said casually clearly, without looking at me almost as if he spoke to himself; I wasn’t important enough to address.

I prepared his coffee, then slowly, careful not to spill on his gorgeous knee saving carpet (he talked to subs before installing it I found out later), brought it to him. I shuffled around the side of his desk, kneeling beside his chair, looking up as I placed the cup beside him.

“Thank you slave, don’t look at my screen,” he spoke casually.

Abashed, immediately I dropped my gaze to the floor, he chuckled.

“It’s okay, good girl. Take off my shoes and socks and rub my feet.”

I had to crawl beneath the desk to reach his feet, being careful not to dislodge wires from the varied computer equipment. he wore expensive Italian leather loafers, they slid off easily and I slowly, gently, being as unobtrusive as possible, worked off his navy blue socks. He ignored me, working, he took a sip of coffee and spoke to the air.

“Good.”

His feet were wrinkled slightly with age, but pedicured nails clipped short, buffed and shining gave off a slight scent like aftershave, as if someone had rubbed cologne of some sort into his feet.

I took one gently in my hands, began rubbing his soles, kneading gently but firmly with my fingers as I’d been trained to do.

A minute passed, he spoke again, “Yessss, harder slave.”

Again that undeniable, easy tone of command. I pressed more firmly, kneading and he murmured a little sound of pleasure. I continued massaging for a few minutes, then switched to the other foot, again provoking a little sound of pleasure. He let me keep at it for about 45 minutes. Obediently, submissively I continued massaging his feet, switching from one to the other every 5 minutes or so as he worked (or watched porn for all I know).

Finally I heard the click as he closed the laptop; I stopped massaging when he pushed the chair back from the desk a little.

“Enough Kala, come kneel before me.”

I crawled out from under the desk, kneeling before him. I kept my gaze lowered, hands palm flat on my thighs; pride made me keep my back rigidly straight.

He spoke gently yet firmly, his voice held authority no slave could resist, “look at me.”

I looked up, meeting his gaze, he smiled.

“I have time for you now,” he said, looking me over. His gaze dropped to my crotch; after a second I parted my legs to show him my naked snatch, he smiled more and nodded at me, “I deserve a little break.”

I agreed wholeheartedly, he’d been working hard (and I assumed it meant he was going to fuck me {yes I’m incorrigible once I get wet enough}) I gave him my best dimpled smile.

He stood, moving the chair back out of the way. “Stand up, interlace your fingers behind your neck.”

My knees screamed with relief as I stood up, finally I could stand. I dropped my gaze again as I brought my palms against my neck, interlacing my fingers, my hair was dry, silky from the shampoo.

“Come with me.”

He led the way, I following obediently, a small almost unnoticeable door sat flush against one wall, blending into the wall as if part of it. He opened this and I followed him in, I couldn’t resist looking around. Half the room was parquet floor, inlaid in a light/dark wood checkered pattern the other half more deep carpet, but this red. Three walls were dark varnished wood, black; the east wall was floor to ceiling windows, red damask drapes were pulled back. In the middle of the west wall was a large stone fireplace, a dark mantle above it; a loveseat kitty corner to this, half on the parquet floor. A huge four-poster bed, big enough for ten people, dominated the center of the room, it had four steps to mount, blue drapes and canopy with a matching bedspread. Various BDSM devices littered the room, a St. Andrews cross, a wheel, a whipping X, a wooden pony; cages some so small a contortionist would dislocate bones trying to fit in them. Rope dangled from eyehooks in the ceiling, as well as a couple of manacles (both leather and steel); open cabinets and shelves held various toys.

“Come now, gracefully.”

He closed the door and led me near the middle of the room, onto the carpet, he gently pressed on my hip until I turned facing away from the bed ten feet behind me, back the way we came.

“Hands at your sides, feel free to look around but not behind you.”

He left me, going behind me, as I looked more. Paintings of erotic nudes hung on some of the walls; the couch wasn’t the only furniture, a small round table with a pair of chairs sat near the windows; a wine bottle cooled in an ice bucket, a single long stemmed tall glass beside it. Deep comfortable armchairs and a coffee table formed a conversation area near the fireplace opposite the loveseat.

I was a good girl, well trained, hands at my sides; I didn’t have to work hard not to glance over my shoulder. Instead I concentrated on the nudes, large oil paintings of various women in bondage; they were well done and highly erotic.

He was back in five minutes, I hadn’t heard him but he’d changed into a red silk robe, belted closed. He looked powerful and commanding in it, he had a pair of metal nipple clamps in his hands, long and serrated, they’d bite deep and hurt.

His voice was gentle, firm. It sent a shiver through me; he didn’t command, just told me what he wanted, “give me your armpits Kala.”

I lifted my arms just a little above my head, crossing my wrists, I straightened my back, sweeping my elbows back and sucking in a deep breath exposing my pits as much as I was able (they were as clean shaven as my pussy). He took one clamp and pressed it into my exposed armpit, spreading the jaws wide he gathered up folds of my sensitive flesh. Slowly gently he eased the jaws closed, pausing instantly when I gritted my teeth, fighting not to make a sound (I knew I still wasn’t allowed to make noise) he waited just a moment, before easing the jaws fully closed, it wasn’t nearly as painful as it could have been; he wanted me to be obedient, unlike Lizibeth the game player. I knew immediately the slightest disobedience on my part wouldn’t be tolerated, he didn’t want to play at punishing a defiant slave, I was to do exactly what was asked of me; I knew all this without him saying it directly. He clamped my other armpit similarly, gently; I didn’t twitch or make a sound, despite the steady pain of the clamps (voice training is hard, but I learned well).

“Good girl, arms down.”

I put my arms down, starting just a little as my arms brushing against the ends of the clamps changed the pain radiating from them for just a moment, before the steady sensation of agony returned; he smiled.

Without a word he disappeared behind me again, I remained standing as he’d left me, his living toy. He was back in seconds with a thing of leather straps and buckles; he held it for me to see as he began arranging it for ease of donning. It was actually two sets of leather I could see eventually tied together into one big piece. He dropped the smaller set of straps to the floor.

“The Strap Corset,” he told me, I smiled my surrender to his will and he smiled back gently. “It’s easier if you help me, I’ll show you how.”

Again not a direct order, he just assumed obedience, and I of course gave it, his tone made me want to give it, need to give it. The strap corset really wasn’t much, just a few lengths of leather carefully designed to do its job yet leave as much flesh exposed as possible. Straps draped over my shoulder, two thin strips of leather followed either side of my spine, and these had a few strips of leather criss-crossing connecting the strips going down my back every 6-8 inches, providing strength. Leather straps curved from these, buckling in front, as tight as you wanted, there were only four of them, each 2 inches wide, but they were measured (and adjustable) to accomplish their aim. The first buckled beneath my breasts as I held the corset in place on my shoulders; he only tightened it so it was firmly in place. The second went over my second ribs the third just above my navel (also over my bottommost ribs) and the last went just under the curve of my lightly muscled belly. Two half cups of stiff leather cradled my boobs, the inside of the cups were covered in little rills and bumps, digging deliciously into my tits; coming up just under my nipples, they lifted and thrust my tits forward. Now the corset would stay without my help, he began tightening the straps, pulling the first two and then the fourth very tight, making me suck in my breath. He went back to the third one, preparing to tighten it, but he paused holding the strap.

He looked at me, slowly raised his arm, cocking his fist back; he didn’t ask for permission, but he made absolutely sure I knew exactly what he was about to do, and gave me plenty of time to retreat or yell no. I felt my belly tense, I met his eyes, holding myself still, hands defenselessly at my sides. His fist plowed into my stomach, the light coating of musculature over it not protecting me much, my breath whooshed out; I started to double, but with an effort held myself upright. He jerked the strap quickly very very tight, restricting the contraction and expansion of my rib cage as I breathed. He buckled it in place, then methodically went about tightening the other three, as he did he looked at me questioningly, with an effort I mustered a reassuring smile, and he chuckled.

“Very good girl,” he praised me.

With the last strap pulled very taut, I could take only shallow breaths; the other set of straps hooked into the first. Thin leather strips curled round my thighs, another curved beneath my derrière lifting and supporting it. He tweaked my bottom with two fingers as he attached the last strap, which separated my cheeks gently, resting firmly against my anal hole. The strap thinned as it curved up in front of me, separating into two tiny thin leather lines which hooked both into the strips around my thighs pulling them tauter and into the strap just beneath my belly (eyelets were sewn into the straps where appropriate).

I felt supported by the corset, almost like it was holding me up, cradling me protectively; yet almost all of my body was still exposed. He took one nipple in his fingers, tweaking it lightly until it hardened lifting it and smoothing it so it sat just over the stiff leather of the half-cup supporting my breast, slowly, a look of intense concentration on his face. He did this to my other nipple too; continuing until he was satisfied.

“A drink,” he murmured to me.

I thought for a second he meant for me to fetch it for him, but he moved before I could, so I stood still. I watched as with steady grace, he drifted over to the little side table, the wine was already open, and he poured a golden stream into the tall glass, filling it all the way to the brim. Slowly easily, not spilling a drop apparently with no effort, he brought this to me, holding it out. My fingers trembled as I took it, I was afraid I’d spill. Slowly without spilling I managed to raise it to my lips. I sipped, bringing the level in the glass down enough so I didn’t have to fear soaking his carpet.

“Drain it,” he encouraged.

I did, the cool heady liquid sliding down my throat to curl in my empty belly in a fiery lump, it had a high alcohol content. he looked at me narrowly for a long moment, then pressed two fingers firmly against the side of my neck, taking my pulse.

“You haven’t eaten today?”

I shook my head.

He nodded, “put the glass back.”

I moved to obey, walking over to the table, my feet felt oddly disconnected from the floor. The straps moved pulling against me not painfully, but I felt the friction; I could only take small sips of air, already I felt light headed. I put the glass down and turned, he was just recrossing the room having retrieved a new toy, a long black piece of leather; I went to meet him, standing before him in the same position as before.

It wasn’t one piece of leather, but two he proffered one. I could see the eyelets gleaming in the light as I took the first half of the monoglove.

“You’ve worn these before.”

It was a statement, but I looked at him and nodded as I pulled it on; he helped, smoothing the leather over my skin. It closed tightly over my arm up to the shoulder; he stroked his hand up and down my arm, carefully smoothing out any wrinkles, pulling it up, tighter. He was patient about it careful, I was grateful, any bunching would chafe and itch, possibly becoming painful, and he was so considerate. Only when he was satisfied did he assist me in donning the other glove, again taking the time to tighten and smooth the dark soft leather properly.

He urged my arms behind my back, (the clamps in my armpits pulled painfully) doing up the lace dangling from the other glove eyelet by eyelet, pulling it tighter, sealing my arms together with the backs of my hands touching. My palms faced outward, probably the crueler of the two possibilities, but I didn’t mind. With my arms forced back like this, my breasts were thrust further forward, more prominent. My nipples were hard little nubbins, my breasts tingled in their cups as the rills dug into the sensitive skin.

Smiling he disappeared again, back moments later with a pair of high-heeled boots. Made of black leather, they had 7-inch heels, zippers up the side.

“These should fit you, I have other pairs.”

He set them down before me; I stepped into first one, then the other. He knelt to do up the zippers, they went up about three inches over my knees, dark leather sealing itself tightly against my legs, hugging me comfortingly; again he took care to smooth the leather so it wouldn’t bunch. With the 7 inch heels I was standing on my toes, my feet arched painfully, and the pain would only grow worse I knew, fortunately the toe of each boot was heavily padded, but still…

He stood up, smiling at me. “Good Kala,” he praised, I smiled almost involuntarily; he seemed to sense it and chuckled. “Fit well, don’t they?”

Helplessly, I nodded. His hand dipped into one of the voluminous pockets of the robe, he pulled out 5 thick white plastic sticks; each as big around as a thumb 9 inches long, they ended in sharp points. He brought them up towards my face, I refused to flinch.

“Hold these for me would you, you can moisten the tips.”

I opened my mouth and he slipped the plastic sticks in, sliding them just an inch or two, until I could clamp them between my lips. He chuckled, circling behind me as I licked the points with my tongue, suckling them for him. I could feel the silk of his robe as he pressed himself behind me, he lifted my shoulder length hair in his hands, leaning down to brush his face against it, and he inhaled.

“Mmmm, Lizibeth likes you,” he said, “Helping you make a good impression.”

He moved back just a little, and began piling my hair up, bunching it into a thick mass, pulling it tight. He took the sticks one by one gently from my mouth, pushing them firmly into my hair, pinning it in place up off my neck; rising up in a bun at the back of my head, much like old portraits of Chinese women. He circled back in front of me again; reaching into his other pocket; he pulled out another set of leather straps. He shook this out and it fell neatly into place ready for use, a thing of straps and buckles again, some metal.

“Chin up, head straight.”

I complied instantly, trying to show my submission with my obedience. The strap mask slipped over my head easily, and he began tightening it in place. Straps went over my hair at the back, buckling in place and holding my hair in place, straps went over my ears to buckle in back, one circled my forehead, another pair above and below my eyes, circling around my head to the back; these also supported vertical straps on either side of my eyes, framing them. Two more circled my face above and below my lips. He grinned at me as I opened my mouth and lightly tongued the strap pressing against my bottom lip until my lip was freed and the strap settled to rest where it should be.

“Nicely done Kala,” he praised tightening those straps at the back too, before reaching around and pinching my inked cheek as I smiled.

Two straps went alongside my nose over my head to buckle at the back; these supported a small piece of metal which dug painfully into the underside of my nose as he tightened the straps, forcing me to lean my head back as far as I could, exposing my throat, and he snugged it further so the metal continued to bite into my nose anyway (I knew he was a sadist). He loosened those straps and I lowered my head, but whatever he had done, the metal stayed tight, I could lower my head a little, but the bit would continue to plague me whether I tilted my head back or not. He showed me what it was for, smiling into my face he reached back, pulled at the mask somewhere specific, the bit cut into my nose and I lifted my head, the pressure abated, then returned as he pulled again before releasing it so I could lower my head to look at him.

“Lovely strap mask, isn’t it?”

I nodded agreement. He continued, a thick strap went under my chin, it didn’t force my mouth closed but I realized it could if he chose to arrange it so. Then he played with the straps some more at the back, the straps beside my nose slid closer together and my nostrils shut tight. I could now only breathe through my mouth, if he gagged me I’d suffocate. Some of the straps sported gimlets and snaps, so further things could be attached to it. He grinned as he attached straps and buckles to the corset I was wearing, my head was partially immobilized, I could tilt my head a little up or down, and a tiny bit from one side or the other, but I’d have to lean back or forward or turn, to look at anything clearly. Breathing lightly through my mouth, I watched him look me over, I had felt better when I wasn’t walking, but now the lightheadedness returned, partially due to excitement, I was loving this. It was the kind of bondage most slaves (yes me too) love, I could walk and move around as I wished, subject only to the control of my dominant yet at the same time; physically I was helpless, I couldn’t move much in the restraints or easily. He took a few steps backward.

“Lovely, very pretty Kala, you look good in this.”

I smiled at the compliment.

“And so well behaved too,” he extolled my virtues, making me grin. “Turn in a circle for me, slowly.”

I began to comply, turning in place for him.

“Yes slowly,” he ordered softly, “graceful Kala, back straight, chin up, legs together.”

I hastened to comply as I turned, wanting only to please him, my will melting to his desire. I came back around and he made a stirring motion with his finger, not meeting my eyes as he looked me up and down. I continued to turn for him as he murmured, “beautiful, beautiful, yes, that’s lovely.”

I revolved twice before he halted me facing away from him.

“Stop a moment, lovely, go to your knees.”

I did.

“Back straight Kala, lovely.”

I obeyed hastily; my head swam as I struggled to get enough air. The room darkened and sound faded; but as I knelt there I recovered, obviously I wasn’t going to be able to exert myself much (I’m in love).

“Stand and face me,” he commanded.

I did, but it was a hard struggle, getting to my feet bound as I was, I only realized how much the boots hurt my feet, especially my toes, when the pain returned after having faded a bit. He approached, his hand reached out gently resting on my hip as he met my eyes, I couldn’t really drop my gaze, head constrained by the mask.

“That’s just lovely, slave, I’m enjoying this immensely. Shall we see what other pretty adornments we can find for my pretty little toy?”

I knew I was the toy, I grinned and gave the tiny nod the mask allowed me, and he smiled and disappeared behind me again. My naked thighs were slick with my need, I oozed between my legs my need growing by the second, I had to be had, before I ejaculated at his simple touch. He left me to stand there for a good five minutes, and like a good slave I stood quietly, unmoving except to shift my weight just a little from one foot to the other. Finally he returned and his pockets were bulging.

Hands empty, he gripped my chin, intently he spoke; “I’m going to put you in a double bind Kala, do you know what that is? Speak, only to say yes or no.”

I wasn’t sure but I didn’t think I knew what he meant.

Voice wavery from hours of carefully keeping silent, I answered quietly. “No.”

He grinned, releasing my chin, softly he told me, “it’s a psychology term, I’m going to tell you to do two things, but to do one you will have failed to do the other, so whichever one you choose you will be disobedient; but I promise I’ll only punish you a little bit. You may speak if you wish to protest that’s not fair, but you won’t enjoy the result if you do.”

He waited, I kept silent.

“Smart girl,” he breathed, then briskly, “it isn’t fair, I agree; now here’s your double bind, first of all you may not orgasm unless you ask my permission, you may speak freely as soon as I take you, but I am not going to fuck you Kala, until you specifically ask me to.”

He was right, it wasn’t fair. I almost whined my frustration, but wisely made myself remain silent (with great effort).

He smiled at me, “now for your other adornments.”

Some of them I knew well, others I was wholly unfamiliar with. Soft plastic clamps went over my nipples, they didn’t hurt nearly as much as the serrated metal jaws gripping the undersides of my arms; little weighted discs hooked onto the ends of the clamps, pulling my taut nipples out, distending them downward. A metal tube with a black disk on the end he placed into my belly button, the other end of the tube had buttons and knobs, he manipulated this and I felt my belly button griped by a circular clamp. More manipulation and my button hole spread as little plastic pips exuded from the black disk, the disk pulled and I felt my belly button rise, stretching, shooting a painful thrill up and down the cleft of my arse. The tube detached, leaving a round black disc firmly cemented where my belly button used to be, I wasn’t quite sure how it was coming out later.

He dropped the tube back into his pocket, then reached up and gently removed the little gold studs in my only piercings, these too went into his pocket. He came out with a new pair of earrings for me; these each had a little metal armature, ending in a tiny plastic knob. It fitted with slow careful adjustments in tiny increments to avoid hurting me (I stood obediently stock still) into the canal of my ears, gently brushing, stimulating my inner ear lobes, sending shivers through me with the slightest movement.

Two stiff squares of leather sporting snap buttons, attached to my mask, beside my eyes; they didn’t blindfold me, merely blinkered me like a horse. I could now only see a tunnel straight ahead; I had no peripheral vision, to look at anything I had to face it. He knelt down and I discovered the toes of my boots had a catch; they flipped up exposing my toes. He found leather straps inside, using them to spread my big toes, lifting them up and strapping them into the air to affect my balance, making it so much harder to walk, then he closed the boots back up.

A long thick rubber butt plug with a widely flared edge slipped into a little catch on the leather strap separating my cheeks, I felt the cheeks of my face flame as he spread apart my nether cheeks to expose my starfish, and I ripped out a loud ringing fart. He ignored it, slowly setting the flared edge of the large plug against my hole. He pushed firmly, I fought hard, relaxing my cheeks for him; slowly, gently but firmly he forced the flared end up my alimentary canal, insuring there would be no further breaking of wind. I stood still as he pushed it a little more firmly, sending ripples of sensation up me, settling the strap again firmly in place so it held my cheeks separate, the plug filling me with a known, comfortable sensation. Although it was thicker than I’m used too, I’d had bigger once or twice.

The last was just a work of evil, made of metal, its two armatures clipped onto the leather curling around my thighs, ending in several plastic rings, I discovered these were adjustable. Producing a speculum from his pocket, he spread my vagina open, sliding it deeper to spread my inner lips, spreading away the flesh protecting my little pleasure node, folding the skin back to expose it. He swung the armatures in place on gimbals, slowly easing the rings over the little stamen that gave me such intense enjoyment; he made no comment at the fact that I was sopping wet, my entire body trembling slightly, I couldn’t control it at all, I was barely aware of it, I couldn’t even think. He eased the plastic rings firmly over my little node; wildly I fought a moan, not wanting to be disobedient. Cruelly he adjusted the rings, closing them lightly over my stamen. With every little movement of my body the rings shifted, sliding up and down my little node; they were lightly ridged to make it even worse (he’s not a sadist he’s a demon from hell).

He stepped back, enjoying his work. Hands on his hips, he pursed his lips as he surveyed me; I stood, sweating and trembling quietly. He looked me in the eye, I closed my eyes, a weird little noise came, it took me a moment to realize it issued from my lips, with an effort I stopped it, I don’t think he ever heard it.

“Well Kala, how do you feel?”

I opened my eyes, gave him a pleading expression.

He answered gently, “I told you dear, you have to ask.”

We looked at each other a moment, then he shrugged and walked around behind me. He let me stand there a minute or two before reappearing; he had a riding crop in his hand. A foot long stiff rubber rod ending in a thick leather triangle, it would probably hurt but not leave a bad mark for more than a few hours.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said softly, he waited a moment, “walk for me Kala.”

I lurched into motion, moving toward him. Pleasure shot through me from several sources, most noticeably the plastic rings, pain only made it more intense. He backed up, flicking me hard in the tummy. “Turn left slave.”

I obeyed; he flicked me on the ass, hard. “Walk.”

I did, and he walked me around the room, flicking me with the crop at intervals as he directed me around in a loose square, so he didn’t have to move more than a step or two. It became harder to think, my betrayer of a vaginal mound began running a steady stream of liquid down my leg, he looked a moment (I think to see if it was pee) then ignored it except to flick my lower back hard and tell me to walk faster.

I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t see him, every welting blow of the crop came as a surprise, never in the same place. The world darkened, contracting to just the next step; I couldn’t get enough air. The whining noise was back and I couldn’t stop it, it was well audible now, I was being bad, I had no control, I fought, but knew any moment now I’d beg him for relief.

Another flick of the crop, “walk straight Kala.”

I’d instinctively turned, but now he was directing me toward the loveseat. He passed me, turning to sit on it.

He crooked a finger, “come.”

I approached, whining, out of control, barely coherent, I was going to throw myself into his lap and beg him to do anything as long as I could cum.

He laid the crop down beside him. “Stop, kneel.”

I slid to my knees right before him, shuddering, arching my neck, pleading at him with my eyes, piteous, helpless, his.

He looked down at me, smiling, quietly, “that’s right, pump your hips, work yourself Kala.”

It was only then I realized I was, I’d been fucking myself with the plastic rings, while fighting not to cum. I arched, leaning back, spreading my thighs wide, showing him my body was his, but he wanted more than that, he wanted me to be a Bad Girl. I was still whining, loudly now, that in itself disobedience. He came off the seat, kneeling before me, he took me in his strong arms, and he kissed me, forcing his tongue into my mouth. I fought him, turning my head whining, I licked the side of his neck, pressing against him, I didn’t know what I was doing anymore.

He was 58, 30 years older than me, but I only weighed about 97 pounds fully dressed and wet down, he picked me up with ease and carried me over to the huge bed. He mounted the steps and laid me down on the bedspread, he undid his robe (he was nude beneath) and lay down beside me, cradling my head in the crook of one arm as he stretched me out, stroking me, my breasts, my belly, my thighs.

I whined, he smiled and gently removed the armatures, tossing aside the hateful pleasurable rings (I made my Master buy one later, it was special order only). He stroked my snatch, spreading my lips apart and stroking me roughly, I bucked, fighting not to ejaculate all over him.

“Break Kala, just break,” he ordered me gently, softly, to disobey; I obeyed him.

“Fuckmepleasefuckmepleasepleasepleasegodpleasesir…”

I was begging still when he straddled me and smoothly entered.

“Come,” he said as he thrust.

I shuddered, writhing as I came hard, bucking as I spewed streams of ejaculate again and again and again, it oozed all over our legs, the bed, his robe. He rode me smoothly, gently, rocking himself, driving himself in me. I lay still for only a moment before it built again all in one quick rush, and I came again, jacking all over him. He groaned as my vaginal muscles squeezed him tightly, he told me later I was making all kinds of soft, sexy fuck noises, begging and begging for more.

I wasn’t aware of anything but the feel of the heat and friction between my legs. After I came the second time, he slowed dramatically, fighting control, but he managed it and continued to fuck me. He rode me for a while, hands on my shoulders, it wasn’t long before again the pressure built, pain mingling with pleasure…(yes I came a third time, and then a fourth. Finally utterly exhausted I was moaning gently continuously when I came the fifth time). At length he let himself cum with me, spewing into me hard, spending in me, jets of ropy semen rushing up into me, before he slowly eased himself atop me, panting.

We lay together, panting for a moment, I could barely breathe, couldn’t think. After a while he eased himself beside me, rolled to his back, working himself out of his silk robe; naked he lay beside me, he smiled down at me gently as he cradled my head in his arms.

“Thank you sir.” I whispered weakly.

He grinned, “you’re welcome, but now since you’ve misbehaved you naughty girl, I’ll have to think up a way to punish you.”

He knew exactly how he intended to punish me, but I had been bad. “Yes sir, please, please I want to be punished sir.”

“Oh you will be,” he promised solemnly grinning, and I was…but I spent that night in his bed, and although I cried when…well that’s a tale for another time…

(Dimpled smile {I know Kala’s a very naughty girl, spank me :})

THE CONTINUED EROTIC ADVENTURES OF SLAVE KALA:

BEACH MANSION-  PART 2: THE PARTY   

       We spent that night in his bed, not the bed he usually slept in when he was at his island retreat, but the humongous playroom bed big enough for ten; just the Thorns and I.

His wife, 7 years his younger at 51, still had a tight firm body, helped a little with just a couple small surgeries (butt and breasts, and possibly her eyebrows of all things). I fell asleep cradled by the pair of them, Elsie’s firm breasts with the wide soft nipples pressing warmly, two points of heat against my back. Her vulva gently cradling my ass, breathing moist warmth, as I cuddled into Mr. Thorn’s chest, my head resting on his shoulder (that’s how I woke up too).

For his amusement, Daniel decided I’d spend the night in the monoglove, uncaring of how sore I’d be in the morning, so it was I woke, cradled in their embrace, arms numb and insentient against my back. They were sleeping, so I remained as still and quiet as possible, time passed, a quarter hour, I saw light seeping in from the edges of the drawn curtains over the wall length floor to ceiling windows in the east wall; the dawn came. Mr. Thorn opened his eyes, I smiled at him, he smiled back.

A whisper, “awake are you?”

“Yes sir,” I breathed back to him.

He shifted slowly, rolling to his back, trying not to wake his wife; he lowered the blue silk bedspread around his hips. The beginning of summer, it was warm enough to sleep naked without bedsheets at all (we all slept in the nude) I remained still, I couldn’t possibly move around without waking his wife. He leaned in and kissed me lightly, I wanted him to give me tongue but he didn’t.

“How do your arms feel?”

“They’re numb sir, they’ll hurt when the glove comes off.”

We whispered, but Elsie murmured sleepily, “I’m awake.”

“Hello my love.” Thorn greeted her in a normal volume, leaning over me, crushing me against the bed.

He kissed her, deeply passionately; her hands gently clenched on my belly as he did. They parted, and I rolled onto my back. Elsie sat up, leaning against the headboard, letting the sheets fall around her waist, Thorn too sat up but, being bound, I couldn’t. There was no clock in the room, but Daniel glanced at the bright crack lining the curtains, he opened his mouth.

Three sharp raps sounded on the same door I’d come through twice before, it led to his office; there was a short pause, but the knocker didn’t expect an invitation. The door opened and Lizibeth in her servant livery reminiscent of a French maid outfit, came in holding a tray. Two naked slaves followed her in, one was my new acquaintance Xo, the other I had met only briefly yesterday, and I knew like Xo her ass had a temporary ink tattoo: SLAVE MARTHA. Both of them also held trays.

Lizibeth led the way to the bed, “breakfast sir.” Practiced curtsy made awkward by the armful.

“Excellent Lizibeth.”

Lizibeth had to lean far over the bed (wide enough for ten) to set the little tray with its legs, down across Mr. Thorn’s lap; I could see he had a bulging omelet, and a cup of coffee. Xo rounded the other side of the bed and brought Elsie her breakfast, two eggs sunny-side up three strips of bacon and hash browns. Martha crawled onto the bed to bring what was evidently supposed to be mine, but she stopped unsure, when she noticed I was stuck on my back with my arms bound behind me. Lizibeth looked at Thorn, who smiled at her and nodded.

She spoke crisply, knowing what was to be done, used to command, “Martha help Kala sit up, then feed her.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Martha set my tray down on the huge bed, crawling forward. She first slid the covers down past my hips, she took me under the arms I pushing with my legs. We managed to get me sitting up against the headboard like the Thorns, who flanked me with feet between us and still plenty of space on the bed.

Xo stood on one side of the bed, near Elsie, head lowered; she had her hands clasped behind her back, silently waiting for further instructions; I knew she was on probation. Martha drew my coverings back up to my navel, smoothing them so they lay flat, then she retrieved my tray, heaped with food, I figured it was Lizibeth’s doing, part taunt, part thank you.

I had three eggs, over easy as I liked them (I found out later she called my Owner and asked), three strips of bacon and three pieces of sausage, a pile of hash-browns and two pieces of toast cut in half and slathered with raspberry jam, again which I liked.

Mr. Thorn swallowed as he looked my tray over, “you don’t have to eat it all slave.”

We shared a smile, he was teasing me. I’d been punished for asking for food.

“I’ll eat it sir, but…coffee?”

He took a sip of his own coffee, “hmmm, I don’t usually give slaves coffee.”

“Please sir, I need coffee,” submissive, non defiant.

“You do, do you?”

“Yes sir, I’m a caffeine freak.”

He thought for a moment, eating, he shrugged.

“Fetch a cup of coffee.” Elsie told Xo, who immediately left.

Martha kneeling beside me began feeding me, small bites slipping from the fork solicitously, submissively into my mouth. I could tell she delighted, like me, in serving the will of another; I ate ravenously. Thorn and Lizibeth chatted, inconsequential little things about the party to be held tonight, the paid liveried servant didn’t seem the least bothered that her employer was nude; only a blanket covering him. I could tell this was regular, extra slaves littering the property or not. Xo took a long time to return, I had been fed half my plate when she finally did, bearing a steaming cup of coffee, Lizibeth looked at her hard with a little frown. Xo climbed up on the bed and started to gently feed me coffee.

“That took at least twice as long as it should have.”

Everyone looked at Lizibeth, Xo apprehensive.

Mr. Thorn spoke, “is this the one you’ve mentioned before, Lizibeth?”

She curtsied, “yes sir. She’s lazy, very lazy, she works slow and sloppy, she doesn’t have to do anything at home.”

He frowned; his wife spoke firmly, “Xo.”

Xo looked at her as trembling fingers gently offered me more coffee, I slurped, hoping to ease tension but I was ignored.

“What took you so long?”

“I went to the kitchen and came right back, mistress.”

“You’ve been warned haven’t you, lectured, punished?”

Xo whispered, “Yes.”

Mr. Thorn took up, “and even when you’re performing in front of the man who brought you here, you can’t manage to be quick or efficient. Do you want to go home, is that why you’re behaving this way?”

“No sir,” Xo whimpered, “I want to stay, my master told me to behave, I’m - I’m trying.”

“You’re not trying hard enough, this party is important to me.”

“I’ll do better sir, please, let me stay.”

Martha and I were still, quiet, Xo looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

His wife caught the naked slave’s attention again. “It was explained to you yesterday, wasn’t it, the third, or fourth,” she looked at Lizibeth who nodded firmly, “the fourth time you were punished, how important improving your behavior was.” Elsie sighed, looked at her husband.

Everyone looked at him, it was clear he was mulling, about to render a decision.

“Please, I’ll do better, let me stay?” Xo begged.

Thorn shook his head, “not good enough this time, Lizibeth told me that was your response after the last caning; no, you’re going home, your master can punish you I haven’t the time this weekend.”

Xo gave a strangled sob. Thorn continued calmly relentlessly, “I’m going to have you bound with neat red ribbon, into a nice little package. I’ll write a note explaining to your master, and we’ll ship you off to him.”

“Please.”

He spoke sharply, “no! You’re going home Xo, you can explain and excuse to your master.” He calmed quickly, explaining in a fatherly manner, as if to a child, “the party tonight is important to me, and I don’t want anything to mar it. I’m sending you in the first chopper picking up guests, your master will be expecting you. Now,” he pointed, “go lock yourself into that cage, crouch and press your lips to its floor.”

The cage he pointed at was about 6-feet high and 3 feet to a side. Sobbing softly, looking miserable, Xo handed my coffee to Martha and crept off to the cage. Mr. Thorn looked to his wife, she nodded, rose wearing nothing but her collar and brand. She approached the crouching Xo and took up a black silk cloth hanging nearby; she settled this over the cage, leaving Xo to sob in darkness.

For a moment all was silent as Martha fed me more food and coffee.

Lizibeth broke the silence, “well sir, anything changed today?”

He threw back the sheet and rose before his clothed servant as he spoke, “no Lizibeth, you know what to do, I think breakfast is over, free Kala and let her perform her morning toilet, then put her to work. Robe.”

As if she did it every day (maybe she did, his wife didn’t take it amiss) Lizibeth plucked up the red silk robe he’d worn yesterday from the floor. She moved behind him and slipped it on, moved back in front; making no attempt to look at his penis, but none to avoid looking at it either, the hired servant tied the sash of his robe.

Meanwhile Martha was freeing me of the monoglove, and tingling sensations rushed up and down my arms, Xo’s punishments made me think of the two nearly back to back, I’d received yesterday.

CHAPTER 3

We were stretched out side by side on the big bed, he gently stroked my breasts and belly, occasionally tugging gently on the clamps around my nipples and belly button, making me tremble; we rested silently for several minutes. He reached up to tap on the armature of the earring pressing a plastic ball gently against my inner ear canal, the sensation making me shiver.

A gentle question, “so, time for your punishment?”

I sighed, but I’d earned it, even though he’d forced me to earn it, “yes sir.”

“Such a good girl you are,” he grinned at me, “I’ve already told you, your punishment is going to be gentle, and it will have two parts. First, I’m just going to give you a little spanking, nothing much I think a couple dozen strokes with the belt will be enough. Second though, well you’re such a refined little thing, I’m sure this will have a big emotional impact; the second half of your punishment is, I’m placing just one single constraint upon your regained right to speak.”

I felt a flutter in my belly that had nothing to do with the weird little black disk clamp tugging on my button. I nodded weakly the tiny centimeter the strap mask allowed, “Yes sir?”

“Good Kala,” he whispered, and then louder, “you may speak freely Kala, except you may not, in any way, request food.”

It was early afternoon now, I was starving, and I’d only a light airplane meal before dawn.

“Another double bind sir?” I asked tremulously, showing my surrender to his will in my voice, with the little arching of my body.

He grinned, and chucked me under the chin, “quick girl.”

I grinned back at him.

“So, ready for your spanking?”

I nodded, “yes sir.”

“Come on,” he helped me sit up, to climb off the bed.

He bent and plucked up the evil little plastic pleasure rings on their metal armatures lying on the floor, I shuddered as he grinned at me.

I begged, “Not that again?”

“Kala, Kala, it’s alright, you are perfectly free to orgasm as many times as you wish.”

It was a blessing, the rings drove me wild.

I smiled, grateful, “thank you sir.”

He grinned and knelt before me, I spread my legs, bracing them wide apart before he could ask me to. I stood on the tips of my toes, the leather knee high boots with 7-inch heels making my feet arc painfully back on themselves. Little loops of leather inside bound my big toes up against the tip, affecting my balance terribly, a few minutes standing and my feet would ache again. He attached the rings to the leather straps curling around my thighs, fitting the rings back in place over my stamen, tightening them again so every little movement made the plastic rings grip and rub me, sending delicious shudders of uncontrollable pleasure through me. I’d just cum again and again and again…I felt moisture between my legs.

As he led me across the thick piled red carpet, I felt all the little bondage toys again pulling at me. The strap corset constricting my breathing was making me dizzy as I moved, physical exertion was beyond me while I wore it; at the same time it seemed to cradle me protectively, holding me up. The strap mask held my head firmly in place, allowing me to move it only a very little, blinders attached to it restricted my vision to a tunnel so I could see only what I faced. I felt the little metal bit pressed against the underside of my nose, my nostrils pinched closed with leather straps so I could only breathe through my mouth.

Weighted clamps pulled on my nipples, more serrated clamps bit painfully at the sensitive flesh of my armpits, and a weird little disk clamp tugged at my belly button. Earrings pressed into my inner ears, causing weird sensations as I moved and they brushed against my inner ear, the monoglove held my arms tight against my back, and a large thick rubber plug filled my anus.

The butt-plug aided the rings in doing their job and the other toys didn’t help either. As I moved, I felt the plastic rings rubbing against me; a horny little nympho, I felt myself responding despite recent repeated orgasms, I couldn’t hold out long, soon I’d cum, jerking, ejaculating right into the air.

He led me (glorious friction from the rings as I walked) to one of the ropes dangling from a hook in the ceiling, maneuvering me so I stood with my back to it, behind me I also couldn’t see him. I felt him fumbling with my bound hands, the glove holding them backs touching palms outward; he tied the rope around my wrists, firmly wrapping it around the glove. His hand came up, gripped me gently but firmly by the back of the neck.

Gentle pressure, “bend over Kala.”

I bent over, ass thrusting out, breasts dangling in their little half cups, arms raised high over my back.

He moved silently across the thick carpet, I didn’t even realize he moved until (deducing it later) I heard a sound, the rope raised as he tugged on its other end and I was forced to lift my arms, up up. I bent over even further.

The pressure stopped, my arms lifted painfully behind me, the position made more awkward by the monoglove. Soft sound of naked feet against the thick red carpet.

He chuckled and pinched my fanny, “beautiful, beautiful.” Murmured while he stroked the temporary ink tattoos proclaiming me: SLAVE KALA.

Head hanging, in the blinders, I could see nothing but the carpet, he stood beside me but I couldn’t even see his feet. He tugged on the straps of my mask, first the straps closing my nostrils slid apart, allowing me to breathe better.

He inquired gently, “There, that’s a bit better isn’t it?”

“Yes sir.” I murmured, I would have called him master, but he preferred sir.

More tugging on my strap mask, the metal bit dug into my nostrils forcing me to raise my head, the bit stayed there making me keep my head up. I was now looking straight ahead, at cabinets against the wall full of various BDSM implements. The angle of my head would become painful after a while.

I saw him, naked and fit for his age, pass me, I watched his tight firm buttocks as he went to a cabinet and selected a flogger. A dozen leather cords with thick knots, it would hurt but not mark me for too long, no more than a few hours, and there was his party tomorrow.

The door opened (it was only one of several but I found out later the others were a bathroom and well…perhaps another time {I know, cheap literary tricks; I so deserve punishment}) and his head jerked up at the sound, he looked angry, but then he smiled.

“Elsie my love!” he looked to me, “Kala, meet my wife.”

At his little urging gesture, I turned in place, tippy-toeing until I’d spun bent over, 180 degrees with my head forced up. I was gazing straight ahead as I did this. Now I could see her, smiling as she crossed the room. Her ginger-blonde hair contrasted with the diaphanous blue dress but she still looked good in it.

She smiled at me as she spoke, “so you’re Kala, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Yes Ma’am.” I said submissively.

“Oh call me Elsie, I’m as much a slave as you are.”

The statement finally drew my eyes to the thing glinting in the light, on her neck a collar of some silvery material, I saw faint marking on it (later I read it, it said Elsie Thorn property of Daniel Thorn); it had no visible lock, no way to take it off.

“Speaking of,” he paused with an ostentatious leer in his voice, “now that you’re here…”

She laughed, made a shooing motion, “oh get off, have you been enjoying her?”

“Oh very much,” Daniel Thorn replied calmly, “strip.”

The last was clearly a command he expected obeyed.

She grinned, “Oh-hmmmm.”

Gave me a mock conspiratorial look. Then she stripped, dropping the dress to pool around her feet, she removed her silk undergarments, tossing them aside with the lightness of wealth; she stood naked.

“What do you think, Kala?” Mr. Thorn asked me, and his wife obediently posed for my inspection.

In her 50s, she had a flat firm stomach, not as well developed as mine but…no fat hung off her hips or thighs, she was lean and well toned. High firmish breasts, her pussy was as shaved as mine, but he liked it that way. Her eyes radiated warmth and intelligence; a firm nose just a little upturned complemented her jaw line and high cheekbones.

I wasn’t into women really; I answered truthfully, “She’s beautiful sir.”

“She is isn’t she,” Thorn said somewhat musingly, “show her your brand, dear.”

Submissively she turned, showing me her backside, firm and tight. The right cheek was scored, not with an ink mark like I had, not even with a tattoo; she bore an old brand, seared into her flesh with hot metal she proudly proclaimed: ELSIE THORN. It was a wonderful, permanent sign of her love for him.

I felt tears sting my eyes, my Master had decided my hysterectomy scar was more than enough of a permanent marking for him; but suddenly, irrationally I wanted desperately to be branded, hot metal searing irrevocably a symbol of my love for my Master into my soft flesh. I shifted a little in my restraints, and felt myself cum in a quiet little rush.

“It’s stunning.” I choked out.

They both smiled at me, noting my quiet orgasm.

“So glad you approve, slave,” he sounded genuine.

Elsie turned around again, her snatch inches from my face, her lips were parted just slightly showing me the pink of her innermost self. I got the sense she was smiling down at me though the blinders kept me from looking at anything that wasn’t right in front of my face.

Thorn spoke, “let’s do something slightly different.”

He led Elsie away a few steps, so I could see them both clearly, Daniel smiled at me and handed Elsie the flogger. He whispered into her ear for over a minute, as, helpless in my restraints I could only stand there and watch her smile at me.

He spoke louder for my benefit, “so just flog her until I tell you to stop.”

Elsie replied submissively, “As you command, my lord.”

He stood there smiling at me gently; helpless I met his gaze as Elsie moved out of my sight, behind me. I felt her stroke my bottom, tracing the 3 inch high ink words on my right cheek with the tip of the flogger, the strap the butt-pug attached to also separated my cheeks gently, the better for spanking.

I felt her fingers find the strap where the plug attached, her fingers drummed lightly, expertly. Shivers ran up my anus, the muscles contracting hard around the anal-plug in response; I had no control over it. I moaned as I felt a gust of wetness splatter across my thighs, (I’m so very easily aroused).

Both Thorns chuckled, and she drummed harder a moment, when I wiggled she slapped my left cheek with her hand.

Gently she commanded, “Be still.”

I replied helplessly, “yes Elsie.”

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Yes Elsie.”

The flogger slapped hard against my cheek, a flare of pain, I gloried in it. Another sharp slap, knotted cords digging into my cheeks, I smiled at the watching Thorn, murmured a wordless noise at the pain. She continued flogging me, hard enough to bruise as her husband, naked, approached me.

He stood before me, with the blinders and my head stuck in one position I could see nothing but his groin as he stood right before me. His penis wasn’t particularly large, 4 inches at rest uncircumcised, but large balls dangled below full and ready for more. He took himself in his hand, stroking once or twice, pulling back his foreskin, thrusting his head in my direction.

Murmured request, “open.”

I obeyed instantly, opening my mouth wide, feeling the straps pull against my face, as he guided his member into my mouth. I felt the pleasure growing between my legs, the flogger and my lack of easy balance making me squirm, the squirming making the rings dig into me; I would cum yet again very soon.

As his wife flogged me, I suckled Thorn’s dick, sucking hard and strong. He hardened quickly in response; the dark hairs of his crotch tickled my face as he thrust himself deeper inside the warm moist cavern of my maw. I swayed back and forth in place, sucking and licking as he pressed himself harder against me, his hand found the enstrapped queue of my hair, gripping firmly he moved opposite me complementing my movements as I sucked him off. He was fully engorged now, groaning softly as pleasure took him over, and his wife continued whipping my ass. I sucked harder, licking at the underside of his dick, finally he pressed himself hard against my face and began spending his semen into me. I swallowed hot ropy cords of him, taking it down my throat as he moaned in pleasure, and in response I too came, ejaculating my own female moistness (yes I ejaculate, I’m a horny little slut).

Elsie stopped flogging me, dropping the whip to the floor she came to her husband, I heard them kissing as his dick wilted in my mouth, emptied. I sucked just a little and a last few strands of cum ejected into me in response, I swallowed. He rested for a moment, before pulling out of me; Elsie took him gently in her hand, wiping his tip against my lips. I licked it, then kissed it; finally he stepped back.

Satisfied, “good, I think that’s enough punishment, don’t you slave?”

It was an effort to bend my head back enough to look up at him.

Softly I replied, “Yes sir.”

Elsie spoke; tender, “feet together.”

I complied as he moved behind me, I felt his hands competent on the rope as he freed me, and both of them (Elsie in front of me) helped me to stand straight. I towered over his wife who was a few inches taller than I at 5’6 but I stood in 7-inch heels and my feet ached.

Behind me, Thorn wrapped me in a gentle embrace, his wife, clearly informed, smiling at me reassuringly. One of his strong arms wrapped around my glove bound elbows behind my back, the other curved gently around my waist. He knelt me. I did not kneel at his command, he knelt me. His naked foot coming up, pressing gently into the backs of my knees, my legs folded at his pressure, I would have fallen hard against the thick carpet (fortunately he hadn’t bound me at a rope dangling over the parquet half of the room) but the pair of them supported me, eased me slowly to kneel as they stood over me. The pair crouched and lowered me helpless, over onto my side. I shifted a little until I was comfortable, then lay still.

Working together, they quickly but gently removed all my restraints, the weighted clamps on my tits, the serrated ones under my arms, Thorn had to retrieve the tube for the disk clamp from the pocket of his robe; it attached to the disk and he then retracted it, making it let go of my belly button. While he did this, Elsie removed the rings around my stamen and took off the earrings. They removed the strap mask, freed my black hair from the pins; slowly, gently, they extracted the plug, freed me from the corset making it so difficult to breathe (immediately I found it easier to think and my senses seemed to sharpen {back to normal I assume}). Finally they took off the monoglove and the boots; I was free.

Thorn spoke, “well, go clean up, Kala, then you can find Lizibeth and have her put you to work, I suggest you get your next punishment over with when you find her, you must be starving.”

I looked up at Thorn, miserably, hating having to be a Bad Girl. I spoke, “yes sir.”

They directed me to the playroom’s main (it had two) bathroom. It was huge, three separate shower stalls, two bathtubs, and a huge third one sunk into the middle of the floor, as well as three hand basins along one wall and a pair of toilets facing each other (you can imagine). Inside, waiting, the bag my Owner the perfect God whom I gladly worship, had packed for me…

It wasn’t hard to find Lizibeth, I found my way downstairs and the first servant I asked told me exactly where she was, I approached her subserviently.

She saw me and smiled radiantly. “Kala!”

I answered, addressing her as Xo had on the stairs, “hello Ma’am.”

She smiled, “no, no you call me by my name.”

“Yes Lizibeth.” I replied meekly.

“Allowed to speak now, I see, or did you decide you wanted a spanking?”

She was toying with me.

“I’m allowed, Lizibeth, I’m also starving,” I hesitated, took a breath then the plunge, “may I please have my sandwiches now?”

She sighed, “Oh well, so much for that, and I talked to him too,” she looked at me, “of course you can, my dear, they’ve been put in the fridge, go wait out on the deck where I hosed you down and I’ll bring them to you.”

I smiled at her, grateful, she planned to allow me to eat before punishing me, “yes Lizibeth.”

I didn’t have to wait on the deck long; she was out in a few minutes with my plastic wrapped plate from this morning, also a shiny red apple wet from just being washed and a glass of what looked like ginger ale. She set these on the table I was standing beside, not sure if slaves were allowed to sit without permission.

“Why don’t you sit down?” she asked as she set the food on the table.

I responded, appropriately meek, “yes, Lizibeth, thank you.”

She sat across from me and watched as I ate, the glass was ginger ale.

As I ate I asked, “Lizibeth, may I ask a question?”

She smiled, amused, “you just did, slave, but that’s what I’m here for, go ahead.”

“Why do I have to be bad before you’ll whip me, I know you want to?”

“Mr. Thorn has both paid servants and slaves, the servants of course he doesn’t sleep with, but allowing them to have sex with willing slaves is such a great job perk and taking the privilege away such an excellent way to punish servants. Because of that, there can be a fine dividing line between the two, one of the many ways he distinguishes that line is by a decree; us servants aren’t allowed to punish the slaves unless we catch them misbehaving, play is reserved for Thorn alone. We don’t get any fun unless we catch you disobedient.”

I nodded thoughtfully at the explanation, clearly Thorn made exceptions to reward his servants; witness the double bind that was going to have me whipped for a second time. I ate everything, finishing with the apple, the core I set on the plate; I sat and waited for my punishment. I’d misbehaved, as she’d desired, now she would please herself by torturing me in any way she wished.

She stood, “alright, let’s take these into the kitchen and then I’ll put you to work, party’s not till tomorrow but we still have plenty to do.”

I rose too, puzzled, “Lizibeth, aren’t you going to punish me now?”

She frowned, “punish you Kala? Whatever for?”

Was she playing with me, or did she not know? Thorn of course trusted me to in reality be a properly behaved good girl, here of her own free will and ready to do what she knew was wanted of her.

That meant one thing, the truth, “I’m allowed to speak now, but I’ve - Lizibeth didn’t he tell you he was going to order me not to request food?”

Dawning comprehension spread across her face, “you can speak but not to request the sandwiches you weren’t going to get until you asked for them,” she laughed, looked at me, “Kala, did you just misbehave?”

I nodded. She grinned at me, and I grinned back, I couldn’t help even knowing punishment was coming.

“Was this your idea, or Mr. Thorn’s?”

“Mr. Thorn’s.” I replied.

“I’ll have to thank him, put the plate down and follow me; we’ll go see your friend.”

I didn’t know quite what she meant, I’d met the slave Xo and seen her whipped for incompetence, Jeremy, one of the horse handlers at the stable, had helped me out and we’d made love; but as I hadn’t been allowed to speak to either at the time…well you could call them friends.

I followed her as she led me down the flagstone path which snaked throughout the hundred acres of lawn surrounding the mansion in turn surrounded by forest. The path led off to several outbuildings, and off into the woods as well, and I knew one path led back to the beach.

She led me to a small one-storey shack. The door wasn’t locked, she opened it and went in, and I followed. It was one big room, a table full of bondage equipment against one wall, a whipping X smooth polished mahogany with straps for the wrists and ankles against the same wall, hooks in the ceiling and other such conveniences for punishment. 2 slaves I hadn’t met yet knelt up against one wall, bellies and faces firmly against the rough wood with their hands clasped behind their heads. Each had a 3-inch high (6 inches total) ink tattoo on their right ass-cheek, one was SLAVE SONDRA the other SLAVE KAREN.

In the middle of the room, crying red-faced, tears streaming down her cheeks, stood Xo, her body shuddered as she sobbed. Her ankles were shackled side-by-side in rigid anklets, like rigid cuffs but bigger; they held her feet immobile. A short metal pipe about a foot long jutted at an angle from the middle of these, I could see it was detachable. This ended in a pair of rigid cuffs locking her wrists held out before her, from the cuffs another foot long pipe jutted ending in a collar locked around her throat. The restraint kept her bent over, ass thrust out for spanking. As she faced away from the door, I could see she’d been caned, her ass and upper thighs were a deep shade of red, I was sure she’d bruise, but only for a few days.

Lizibeth looked at the kneeling pair, snapped her fingers. They rose and approached her, keeping their hands locked behind their heads.

“She’s still crying?”

Karen answered, “Yes mistress. She hasn’t stopped.”

“You’d think she’d never been caned before.”

Xo cried, “Never!”

Lizibeth snapped at her, “Shut up, another word and you get double what you just received.”

Xo cried, but didn’t speak.

Lizibeth looked back to the other two, “what about you two, have you both learned your lessons?”

They chorused, “Yes mistress!”

“Get out of here, you know where to go.”

Again, “yes mistress.”

They left, leaving us alone with the crying Xo. Lizibeth gestured with a jerk of her head that I should follow her, I did and we walked around to face Xo, who looked up at us. With an effort she strangled her crying into sniffles and sobs; she looked at me then bowed her head.

Lizibeth took her under the chin, forcing her to keep looking up, “you’re lazy and sloppy.”

“I can’t help it, I’m trying,” sniffles.

“You’re not trying, what do you think you’re here for, you lazy slob?”

She sobbed out, “I’m doing my best, I don’t have to do anything like this at home, I’m a kitty!”

“Well, we’re not interested in coddling you this weekend; I thought it was explained to you, but apparently not. A chopper is headed to the mainland in a few hours, you’ll remain here until then, but I’m sending you home.”

She gasped in shock, “no please, please I want to stay, I’ll do better I promise.”

“I keep hearing that line from you, kitty,” she infused the word with contempt, “I’m no longer interested, you’re going home.”

Xo looked at me, wild eyed, “please, my master; my master wants me to learn to do housework. All I ever want is to make him happy I promise I, I came here ready to be put to work…please, Kala, help me.”

Lizibeth sniffed, “do you think she can help you, slave, there’s nothing she can do.”

I spoke up tentatively, “Lizibeth?”

She looked at me, wary, “yes slave.”

“May, maybe you could give her one more chance?”

“Why?”

“Well, she did promise to improve, and in my opinion I think she really does want to behave, she just needs a chance. You heard her, she’s not used to being anything but petted and cosseted, but she’s trying, I think she just needs closer supervision.”

Lizibeth considered, “perhaps. I’ll give her one more chance.”

Quickly she freed Xo, Xo straightened.

“Kneel.”

Xo submissively sank to her knees.

Lizibeth put a finger under Xo’s chin, forcing her to look up, “I know the guard shack in the northeast quadrant petitioned for a gang bang when they found out a hundred slaves were being brought for the weekend. You’ve been here with your master several times, you can find the shack?”

“Yes ma’am.” Xo whimpered; clearly defeated.

“Present yourself to them, I’ll find you later.”

She sucked in a deep breath, “yes ma’am.”

Xo rose and left, casting a glance over her shoulder. Alone now, Lizibeth shot the bolt on the door, insuring our privacy.

She strapped me to the whipping X jerking the plastic straps tight; she brought a blindfold and bound my eyes. Seconds passed, I heard cloth rustling but it was only when she pressed herself against me that I realized she’d stripped naked. She kissed my shoulder, the side of my neck, her breasts flat against my back, she bumped me with her hips; I stood in the restraints, silent, helpless. She pressed her lips to my neck, sucking gently. She moved back and from behind her hand found my vulva.

“I’m told you’re a real live nymphomaniac.”

“Yes Lizibeth.” I answered.

She laughed, a smoky sound, her fingers spread my nether lips wide, I was wet already I could feel a throbbing deep within me.

“You may not cum until I give you permission,” she ordered.

I answered helplessly, “Yes Lizibeth.”

She stroked me, long rough strokes, continuing until I writhed in humiliation against the X. I begged for permission to cum, but she didn’t reply; just kept playing with my vagina. I thrashed, jerked against the straps moaning, bucking my hips, continuing to beg. Long minutes passed, being unable to see made it worse, made me more aware of the sensations she sent racing, jolting through me; she continued rubbing my clit, stroking stroking. Her thumb found the end of my clitoris and she began tapping it gently as she stroked, running her thumb up and down in counterpoint to the strokes of two of her other fingers.

Completely humiliated, I begged unabashedly unladylike for permission to cum, again and again I begged her, phrasing it as many different ways as I could think of. Writhing and twisting in the restraints that held me securely helpless for her enjoyment, I broke to her, begging promising anything no matter the humiliation involved; finally when I collapsed against the wood exhausted and silent, just moaning silently as I ground my hips against the X, I heard it.

“You may come, slave.”

Immediately I squirted all over her hand, crying with relief as waves of orgasm rolled through me. Exhausted I hung in the straps, resting my face in the little V of the X, I could smell wood polish mixed with the sweat of slaves; she tugged at my hair gently, I raised my head. The fingers of her other hand came up and I could smell my own ejaculate on them.

She spoke softly, “lick it.”

I obeyed, opening my mouth, suckling on her fingers. Finally she took her hand away, unwrapping the cloth covering my eyes; slowly she released me from the X.

“Kala.”

I turned to look at her. Naked and tremulous, she stood looking at me with big, liquid eyes. Several years younger than me, she wasn’t, I knew, as comfortable with her sexuality as some, she kept expecting to be rejected; (I found out later she wasn’t bi, and unfortunately had been rejected several times, before she learned not to approach unattainable women).

“I,” she stopped dead, swallowed hard, looking ashamed.

Slowly I knelt for her, encouraged her softly, “yes Lizibeth?”

“You’ll tie me to the X and then, then I want you to eat me out.”

She gulped convulsively, not looking at me, tears shone in the corners of her eyes. Anyone evil enough to encourage her then refuse her at this point…well it would be a real blow to her. Of course even though I wasn’t really into women I was here for others’ pleasure and enjoyment, not my own; and I’d come to like her very much.

I answered softly submissively, “Yes Lizibeth.”

“And, and you’re not to tease me like I just teased you, okay?”

“As you wish Lizibeth, I’m here to serve you.” I reassured her.

Eyes closed, she shuddered and just stood there. Slowly I rose; I took her by the arm and led her over to the X.

“You’ll release me when I tell you to.”

It sounded more a request than a command, I was sure she hadn’t been on the receiving end of restraints before.

I soothed, “of course Lizibeth, you can trust me.”

She shuddered and nodded, but let me place her back against the X. I bound her wrists, then her ankles; she looked at me as I retrieved the blindfold from the floor.

“Hey, no,” she started.

But I placed a finger to her lips, “shhh, just relax.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, I blindfolded her, then knelt before her wide spread thighs. Slowly I nosed my face into the deep brown thatch of hair protecting her shy vaginal slit. I found her outer lips slowly I spread them wide with both hands, she shuddered and made a little noise. Slowly, delicately I licked her inner lips, spreading them apart with my tongue, she sobbed as I slid my organ deep inside her vulva, red and warm smelling slightly of some perfume.

I licked slowly, strongly, finding her cute little clit I stroked it with my tongue, at the same time spreading her lips wide apart with my fingers. She started and moaned I could feel her moistness flowing about my tongue, lubricating her and aiding in my task.

Slowly, deliberately I ate her clit, sucking and stroking, sliding one hand around to her ass I gripped her cheek hard and forced her to pop her hips, making her moan. She started making all sorts of sexy little please fuck me sounds. Giving no quarter I expertly brought her to the brink of orgasm, and held her there, trembling. She started whining and twisting as I slowly carefully gave little jolts of pleasure to keep her squirming on, but not over the brink of orgasm. She started begging like me, asking me to make her cum. I was a slave, I had to obey (mischievous grin); when she asked, I finished it, bringing her to orgasm.

I knelt back before her with my bottom on my heels, looking up at her. I watched her calm, allowed her to enjoy the post orgasm feeling; she was sweating lightly, muscles jumping gently as she recovered from the exertions I’d put her through. Finally she became more aware of herself; I saw her hanging head rise.

Questioningly, “Kala?”

“I’m right here Lizibeth,” I assured her from the floor.

“Release me, please.”

I rose to obey…

I was put to work for the rest of the day, which I enjoyed, casually being used like I really was nothing more than an owned thing, given mundane tasks to perform which once completed, simply led to my receiving another task. I did many things, I won’t list them but suffice it to say I labored.

As I worked, I talked with servants and slaves, and I found out a few things. There were about fifty servants here not counting certain specialty support staff (like security and the chefs and their assistants hired for the event), although this island retreat of Thorn’s only had a usual staff of ten; of which Lizibeth had been one since she’d got the job three years ago. A hundred slaves (down to 93 by that night, as Thorn dismissed the unacceptable) had been brought, many of them borrowed from friends of Thorn’s for the event tonight. About 30 guests were arriving, the most principal investors in some company Thorn had started, he planned to fete them as a reward (and to impress the shit out of them I’m sure).

I already knew, each of these guests would be ‘safe’ and would have permission to do as they pleased with the slaves. I learned he had seven chefs working in the kitchen, only two part of his normal staff (he had many properties, some were living places with full support staff) each a five star specialist in a different style of cooking. As I and the other slaves worked to make the place ready (and oh yes the servants too, Thorn wanted everything perfect, the island had been a hive of activity for a week) two of the male servants, as they were perfectly allowed to, took me aside (one into an empty room, another simply pushed me against the wall ignoring the other 3 slaves present {only after he’d looked us all over and chosen me}) and fucked me. Both times bringing me to orgasm, which I enjoyed. Of course other slaves were used this way too, in fact I saw Thorn himself take a tall blond French slave away. When the kitchen sent sandwiches out to the workers in the stables, I volunteered to be one of the slaves to bear the trays. Jeremy and I chatted for a while, after I’d introduced myself properly, but I didn’t offer and he was too busy to have time to fuck me; we just talked and got to know each other a little better as he wolfed down food, he was only 18!

I returned to work with the other slaves. Once I thought I’d done something wrong when, working outside in the garden one of the security people approached me, paramilitary uniform and festooned with weapons.

He looked at my tattooed ass; looked at me as he brought a plastic cuff out of his pocket, “turn around Kala.”

I did and he brought my hands behind my back, slipping the plastic band around my wrists and pulling it painfully tight, cuffing me.

I asked quietly, meekly, “have I done something wrong sir?”

His reply was a gruff, “you’re coming with me.”

I was nervous, none of the other slaves seemed to care, and the gardener overseeing us had looked over, nodded to the security guard and went back to directing slaves. The man, large powerfully built, in his mid-30s around my husband’s age, quietly led me away; I didn’t struggle. He took me off toward the woods, ignoring the path, walking across the grass; I looked around, less and less people were in sight the closer we got to the woods.

I tried again, meekly, “please sir,”

He cut me off, “be quiet slave, you’re fine.”

His grip on my arm tightened and I had little choice but to walk. He took me into the trees, we walked a little way and came to a clearing, he’d obviously chosen the spot. A large tree had fallen decades ago, the trunk lying across this little shaded meadow in the woods; he led me over to it.

Terse, “kneel, bend across it.”

I laid myself across the trunk, ass stuck up into the air. He fucked me like that, he was rough but as he spent himself in my vagina his hand found my clit, rubbed vigorously until I too came. Finished he pulled out and knelt behind me, hands resting on my upthrust hips, then he moved. I heard a soft snick and looked back; he had a large knife in his hand.

Before I could react he severed the plastic cuffs holding my wrists, he shifted over to sit beside me, and I knelt beside him facing him. He had me pull up his pants, then he pulled me into his lap; we sat there quietly for a few minutes as he fondled my breasts and idly stroked my belly, finally he dropped his hands.

Whispered into my ear, “my break’s almost over, back to work, slave.”

“Yes sir,” I replied; I got to my feet and returned to the garden.

And that night Elsie and Daniel Thorn chose me to spend the night with, and I slept in the monoglove…

CHAPTER 4

I started working with the other slaves, trying not to think about Xo being sent away, later I’d get her contact information. Work quite frenetic as the final finishing touches were made in preparation for arriving guests, the first of whom could arrive early any time now, was nonetheless uneventful; until I finished my lunch in a corner of the kitchen.

The large stout German chef, Greta, one of Thorn’s regulars, approached me. She looked like she was right out of a 50s movie, she had little and guttural English, but she managed to make herself understood (all of her assistants were bilingual).

“Come.”

I got up and followed her; she took me into a storage room, locking it behind us.

She looked at me, “slave is down.”

I knelt. It wasn’t what she wanted.

She jabbed a finger at the floor, “no, down, down.”

I offered, “I’m sorry ma’am.”

I tried lying on my back, that seemed to be it. She hiked up her ankle length skirt, pulled off her panties; clearly she wanted me to eat her pussy. Stuffing her panties into her pocket, she stood over my face. I lay still; slowly, knees popping, (she was in her 40s and let’s face it, heavy didn’t describe it) she squatted above me.

Gruff order, “open.”

I misunderstood, raising my head toward her descended hairy pussy I opened, bringing my tongue up toward her lips. Her thighs tensed, she gave a little sigh of relief as a stream of urine jetted from her, hitting me in the forehead. She shifted a bit, directing the stream toward my open mouth. Ugh! Disgusting! I can’t describe my shock and horror, my Owner the Master of my will, would never do such a thing to me without at least discussing it with me first.

I shouted my shock and disgust, pressing my hands into her flabby food-increased ass, I wiggled out from beneath her. With a yell she sprawled forward on all fours, pissing on the floor, (she got it all over my face and in my poor raven tresses dammit). With an angry bellow she scrambled to her feet, murder in her eyes she approached me as I too stood. She launched a heavy open palm slap at my face; easily falling into the training my Master had forced me to take, I raised a single stiff arm, deflecting the blow, but if she made me hit back…

I shouted into her face, “no! Stop!”

She stopped immediately, stepped back, looking discomforted.

She pointed a thick finger at me, insisted, “You slave.”

“Yes but you can’t do that do me without asking first, you, you took me by surprise, I’m sorry.”

I was sorry, as refined as my sensibilities are, Master had explained His wants to me; I was here to be used. If she’d made it clear, given me time to accept it… and I would never have made her think I was going to submit, then send her sprawling like that; it was just surprise, I was really sorry. She didn’t understand all I said to her I could see that.

She took a moment to compose herself, then glared at me dangerously, “stay.”

She walked haughtily passed me; I heard the door lock from the other side. They left me there for over an hour, there was piss in my hair piss on the floor. I was ashamed and humiliated; I curled up in a corner and had a cry. I resolved to be good if given another chance, it didn’t matter that she wanted to use me as her toilet, if that pleased her I’d do it, because pleasing Thorn would please my Master.

Eventually the door was opened, Lizibeth stood there, and I got slowly to my feet. She looked me over, glanced around the room; she had a pair of handcuffs in her hand.

She sighed, “oh Kala.”

I began to blubber, “I’m sorry.”

She cut me off, “would you like to return to your Master? We can take you immediately if you wish.”

“No,” I whined, “not unless I’m being sent away.”

“You can stay, at least to discuss it with Mr. Thorn.”

She held up the cuffs questioningly, I nodded. She beckoned and I came to her, she cuffed my hands behind my back.

“Can, can I wash my hair?” I begged.

Stern, “not right now no.”

She led me handcuffed, toward my meeting, I felt humiliated, reeking piss in my hair, slaves looked at us as we passed.

As we walked she whispered quietly, “Greta is important to him, if you want to leave he’ll expedite it, and you’ll have a quick happy journey; but if you want to stay, you’re going to have to do what she wanted you to.”

I nodded quickly, “okay, that’s fine she just caught me un-.”

She cut me off in mid-word, gently, “save it for Mr. Thorn.”

We came into the office through which the playroom was reached; Xo lay on the carpet, hands bound against her sides. Wrapped head to foot, red ribbon ended in a bow just above her ass, a gag was in her mouth and tears leaked from her eyes. The words BAD SLAVE had been inked in her left ass cheek, and I could see an envelope pinned to the bow, marked with a name I presumed to be her master. Everyone ignored her. Lizibeth led me before the desk, behind which Thorn gravely sat, an angry Greta standing beside the desk.

Clear dismissal, “thank you Lizibeth.”

She curtsied, murmured sir, and left me standing there handcuffed, facing them.

“Since you’re standing here,” Thorn spoke softly, “you want to stay.”

I nodded, “yes sir, please, I’ll do what she wants, I, I was just caught by surprise. I thought she wanted something else.”

“To be clear, you are willing to let Greta here, piss in your mouth?”

I nodded miserably, “yes sir.”

“You don’t have to, you know, I’ll send you home if you want.”

I whispered, “Please, I’d like to stay.”

Very carefully I didn’t look at Xo.

“And you’ll swallow when she pees?”

I shuddered, closed my eyes opened them, I felt gorge roiling in my belly, “please sir, please, don’t make me do that.”

“I’m not making you, Kala, but you can’t stay unless you do this. If I ask, personally for you to do this, for me, to help me keep a very important chef happy for me on the eve of a party,”

I cut him off, “I’ll do it sir, I’ll, I’ll do it, I want only to please you.”

He nodded and spoke to Greta in rapid fire German for several minutes, she listened intently, occasionally speaking back, and finally she turned to me.

“Greta will take you back to the kitchen now,” he told me.

“Yes sir, thank you sir.” I replied. I curtsied as best I might.

In the kitchen she placed a high stool in the middle of the frantically active floor, dozens of people whirled and eddied around us as she sat down and pulled me across her lap. I surrendered completely, head down, piss sodden shoulder length hair around my face, waiting ass upturned across her knees; she began spanking me. Hard meaty whaps across my upturned waiting cheeks, each one stung and the pain built steadily. I began to cry; but what was worse; cruelly she used her broken English in a loud voice, punctuating each blow.

“Bad slave! Naughty Kala! Disobedient! Bad bad bad slave.”

Etcetera.

The spanking continued, and it hurt, but my tears were mostly for the fact I’d been bad, which she announced to the room. Yes what she wanted, and was going to get, was disgusting, but I was here to serve. I waited patiently for the spanking to end (patiently yes, also sobbing and crying, squirming until she braced me still with her free hand).

Finally she finished and urged me off her knees, we went back into the storeroom, and I lay down again, a little more work with my hands cuffed behind my back. She made me lie in the little pool of urine on the floor, it soaked into my hair some more. She squatted over me and from her little grin I just knew she’d found something to drink. Obediently, submissively, with nothing but surrender in my heart, I opened my mouth wide for her.

Again she sighed, a thick stream, dark yellow smelling strongly of carrot jetted from her, it arced neatly into my mouth. I had to swallow quickly as it filled my mouth. She pissed and I drank, and I managed not to vomit, I felt tears of shame sting my eyes as I made her happy by being her toilet. Finished she gave a little grunt as she rose, without a word but glaring at me angrily before she unlocked the door and left. Lizibeth waiting right outside, undid the handcuffs and took me to a bathroom...

Lizibeth helped me put the incident behind me, she bathed me as she had the day I arrived, and perhaps thinking I liked women, she solicitously joined me in the tub and used her mouth to bring me repeatedly to orgasm. Thorn also asked me later if I was okay, as did Jeremy and several other slaves and servants.

I was allowed to relax in the hours leading up to the party, Lizibeth and other servants in charge, briefed each slave individually on exactly what they were to do, so I knew exactly what was expected once the guests arrived. I lazed around and watched the table being set up in the great hall, the centerpieces was fantastic, amid the silver and flowers lining the huge table, capable of seating a hundred down each side (only thirty place settings though, grouped around one end of the table). A Rope Master turned a quartet of willing naked slaves into the centerpieces.

One was made to look like a suckling pig, bound on her belly wrists tied to her ankles (her feet sported little white caps) a shiny red ball gag in her mouth. Hair pulled back and tied to keep her head up, she had glazed candies piled over her. Another, made to kneel back straight and head up, had her wrists bound to her knees, ankles to thighs with her ass back on her heels. A complicated and visually pleasing corset of varicolored ropes wound around her body, holding her helpless until the dinner was over.

The last pair had it worse, in the center of the table they bent over, asses pressed together. Each had their arms bound behind their backs in a monoglove made of black cord, the ankle of each bound to the opposite ankle of the other, and all four knees bound in one tight circle of rope. Rope around their hair tied their raven black and bright blond tresses together forcing each to look straight ahead, each was gagged with a rope locking their jaws closed. Harnesses bound their breasts tightly so the blood filled them, and I knew what that would do; but that wasn’t the worst, each was told they had to hold off on orgasm as long as they could, for after the party they’d be punished for each time they’d cum. He separated them as much as the ropes allowed, taking a heavily oiled double ended dildo, he slid it up the first girl’s anus slowly, then positioning it, he gently eased the second girl onto it, until all you could see was the realistic sack where the two penises met. Then he bound their vaginas open using nothing but ropes around their waists and thighs, knots digging painfully into their neither lips to open them wide. He used those ropes as a base to form a cradle, much as my Master sometimes does with me, and within those cradles, each received a small flesh colored vibrator (these were switched on shortly before the guests were seated, after the girls had been in place on the table for over 4 hours).

The party itself I had little interest in, the guests mingled and talked, and we slaves circulated serving wine and delicacies; there were 27 men and 3 female guests. Eventually dinner was served, and I was assigned to do nothing but stand discreetly behind a small wiry Asian man in his 60s, making sure his wine was full and he was otherwise taken care of. They ate, and talked and Thorn rose several times to make short speeches greeted with applause, apparently they’d decided to hold the dinner talk in French as everyone there spoke it (except maybe me {I know, bad Canadian}) none of the other slaves seemed particularly interested either, finally dinner ended, the guests happy.

They drifted about with after dinner drinks, and I along with the other slaves, followed making sure all the guests were taken care of. The Japanese man brought me out on a balcony and presented me like a gift to his 30 year old son, who hadn’t been at dinner but came up from their moored yacht for the after party festivities. The gentleman took one look at me and made it plain what he wanted, as I’d been instructed I took him to one of more than a score of fully equipped playrooms dotting the house (yes Thorn used the retreat for ahem, interesting parties). He tied me up and whipped the hell out of me, before fucking me several times. Of course I orgasmed a few times as I’m just a horny little nympho, but he didn’t do anything special.

Finally he released me and sent me downstairs with orders to seek out a red head with huge breasts, a small dark haired Asian and a blond with soft white skin and a big ass; making it plain I didn’t have to return with them. I had to enlist Lizibeth’s help, but we found what he wanted and sent them to him in his playroom. Next another slave approached me, and pointing out a guest who’d spotting me across the room, told me to go to him.

I presented myself to him with a wide smile and my best imitation (clothesless) of Lizibeth’s curtsy.

I murmured, “You wanted me my lord.”

He smiled, appraising me with hawk-like eyes; he looked (and sounded) exactly like he’d answered a casting call for Texas oil baron, “that’s right pretty little lady, is there somewhere we can go?”

“If my lord will follow me?”

I led the way to a different playroom, but paused as it was clearly occupied; I led him to a different one, having been made to memorize the routes to get to each of them. This was empty, he put me on all fours on the middle of the bed, hobbling my wrists and knees with rope and more rope hobbled my ankles. He took a crop to my ass, welting the hell out of me, before stripping and kneeling behind me with a tube of lubricant. He spread my cheeks and I couldn’t help but fart as he pressed the nozzle against the starred hole of my anus.

“Excuse me.” I murmured, hanging my head.

He guffawed and slapped the cheek bearing my name with a hard palm, “that’s alright kid, you just relax now.”

“Yes my lord.” I replied meekly as he lubed my anal hole.

When he’d lubed his penis, which was indeed as large as he stated when he compared it to Texas flatland; he decided he was ready, and he fucked me, very roughly up the asshole. Done, he used the bathroom, leaving me bound, and then left the playroom without bothering to untie me.

Fortunately Lizibeth soon appeared; releasing me, she ‘helped’ (read busy hands) in the bathroom, and I returned to the party. I blew two more men in corners, and stood behind a guy with my finger stuck up his butt while he fucked a girl up the ass and made out with a third. I tied up a man and teased him while another slave whipped his back, and I helped a woman torture a helpless slave with hot wax, before eating her pussy while she watched.

Again I stood in the main room; the party was thin now, many of the guests up in private rooms with a slave or three, it was nearing midnight. A slave I’d met briefly, Sondra, came and told me Thorn wanted me. Heart racing, wondering if I’d done something wrong, I let her lead me off to a small room away from the main party. Thorn sat with another man, alone except for Lizibeth.

“Leave us Sondra.” Thorn grunted.

Sondra left before Thorn spoke again.

Smiling he introduced me, “Kala, this is Douglas, Douglas Thorpe.”

I curtsied, “hello sir.”

“Let’s be informal Kala.” Lizibeth told me, “a free willed woman who can make up her own mind.”

“Okay.” I replied, looking at Thorn questioningly.

“Would you like to sit down Kala?” Thorpe asked.

“I’d rather kneel, since I’m naked.”

They wanted an outspoken woman instead of a meek slave, that’s what they’d get.

Thorn ordered, “Lizibeth fetch Kala some clothes.”

“I’m more than happy naked.” I replied mildly before she could move.

Thorpe spoke, “alright, but we’d like to speak to you frankly.”

I sank to my knees between them (they sat in facing leather armchairs).

I prompted, “Yes?”

“Kala, Thorpe here brought his son along, we’d like to talk to you about him. Now to be clear, it’s perfectly fine if you don’t want to have anything to do with it, you don’t even have to hear us out, you can just go back to the other guests and I won’t take it amiss; or you can listen and refuse, no one will hold it against you.”

“I’m listening Mr. Thorn, Mr. Thorpe.” I promised.

I sought Lizibeth’s eyes, she smiled and nodded, I got the feeling she knew what was up.

Mr. Thorpe spoke haltingly, “my son, he’s out on my yacht, I didn’t think it was such a good idea to bring him to the party once I was absolutely sure exactly what kind of entertainment was happening tonight.”

He paused, I encouraged, “yes sir?”

“You see, he just turned 18 three days ago.” Thorpe paused, took a deep breath, I waited. “I was thinking I’d give him another, lateish, birthday present.”

“Oh, well that’s no problem, you want me to go out to your yacht?”

“It’s a little more complicated. You see, er, a few weeks ago, we, he and I had a talk, he um, well he admitted he’s a virgin.”

I breathed, “Oh.”

“Also, I’m not absolutely certain just how much experience he has, but I’m almost entirely certain he’s more than casually interested in bondage.”

I spoke quietly, “I see.”

There was a moment of silence while I thought in my head about what they were getting around to asking me to do; a little thrill went through me; but it could be a bit of work.

Thorn spoke gently, “you see Kala, we’ve been discussing it for the last hour or so and I’ve recommended you to Mr. Thorpe.”

I answered, “Yes sir.”

“What I’d like you to do Kala, if you’re willing, is sort of um, show him the ropes so to speak.”

“Of course, I understand, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.” Thorpe said, “um, you realize he might be, I mean I haven’t told him I’m sending someone, it will be a complete surprise to him. He might be a little shy, you might have to try a bit, seduce him, you know.”

“I see, yes, I think I can manage though.”

“It might be best if you didn’t explicitly tell him I’d outright informed you he was a virgin.”

I grinned, “Yes I can see how that might upset him.”

Thorpe chuckled, “yes well I wouldn’t have but I wanted you to understand the full situation. You will be gentle with him, won’t you?”

“Of course sir.”

Thorn spoke, “best of course, if you went clothed, Elsie has put out clothes for you, we’ve arranged everything up to the yacht, once you’re onboard, well it’s up to you.”

“I understand sir.”

“I won’t come back to the yacht until you return,” Thorpe said, “take your time, do anything with him he wants that you’re willing to oblige.”

“Yes sir, I think I can take it from here.”

Thorpe spoke gruffly, “thank you Kala. I really appreciate this.”

I replied simply, “you’re welcome.”

I gave him a dazzling smile as I rose smoothly, confidently planning my next moves, following Lizibeth from the room.

She took me to the playroom. Elsie was not in evidence. We went to the bathroom and Lizibeth and I talked as I bathed, she wanted to bath me again but I asked her not to. I cleaned myself thoroughly using three kinds of soaps and shampooing with two different shampoos. I let her help me dry myself thoroughly, then from the bag my Master had packed I looked and fortunately found my traveling make-up case. Artfully I applied just a little makeup, just enough to highlight my natural features. I let Lizibeth place some scent on me as she had the day before, I felt all jittery, the enormity of what I was doing finally dawning upon me; not only would I be the boy’s first, but if he wanted, I was going to introduce him to S&M, I just hoped he didn’t want a dominant, it would be a tough stretch for me.

Clothing was laid out on the playroom’s huge bed (this was Thorn’s private playroom and none of the guests were brought here). Midnight blue silk underwear, in my size, lacy and sheer, it would drive any man wild. A black evening gown, a V showed much but still concealed a lot of my back (hiding welts) another V scooped low between my breasts, but still appropriate for any formal occasion, it was slit high on both thighs leaving my legs free. Dark pantyhose, and prada high-heeled shoes (only 2 inches those, not bondage standard, ha-ha). Elsie had also lent me some jewelry, a small gold pendant of some eastern motif depended from a thin gold chain, it looked exquisitely beautiful, sparkling with a few diamond chips, a pair of large diamond earrings as well.

I dressed slowly, Lizibeth helping solemnly; almost we made a ritual of it. She led me from the house. Stopping in the kitchen she took me a bottle of champagne; I tucked it under my arm. We followed the path that led towards the beach, but at the base of the rise that blocked view of the harbor I stopped.

“There’s a boat waiting to take me to the yacht?”

“Yes, Jeremy’s waiting to row you out.”

I was surprised, “Jeremy?”

Lizibeth smiled indulgently, “don’t worry, he’s not jealous. All he knows is you’re going to go have sex with someone on the boat.”

“I see, can, can I walk the rest of the way alone?”

She looked momentarily disconcerted, then she rallied, touched my arm, “of course Kala, I’ll see you later, maybe in the morning?”

I nodded, “goodnight.”

She left me and I waited until she was back in the woods before climbing the rise. I went to the edge of the dock, a dark figure stood beside one of more than a score of little boats. Dozens of yachts were anchored out on the harbor. Jeremy came to me where the dock met sand, under an arc light on a tall pole.

He smiled tentatively, “Kala? Are we still going?”

I smiled at him, “yes but I just want to think for a few minutes, can you wait?”

He shrugged, “as long as you want Kala.”

“Thank you.” I said to him.

I walked off onto the sand, holding my bottle of champagne. I stood on the sand, listening to the sounds of laughter coming faintly from the mansion, looking out on the harbor, upon which every yacht was dark from what I could see. I stood in the dark for a long time. I stood on the windswept beach and thought about what I was about to do, a single irrevocable act, which would deeply permanently affect someone’s life, especially if it went badly.

Read the rest of slave kala at:http://www.a1adultebooks.com/2491.htm

THE CONTINUED EROTIC ADVENTURES OF SLAVE KALA: BEACH MANSION - PART 3: TAKIN’ A CHERRY

CHAPTER 5

I’d stood in the dark for a long time, limed in moonlight, letting the wind play over my black hair as I looked out on the darkened yachts. Alone on the dark, cool windswept beach, smelling the ocean air, my thoughts and I until I’d come to my decision. Finally I’d returned to the docks and meekly presented myself to Jeremy, who’d rowed me out to the appropriate yacht, a huge 300-foot long 3 story high monster. There’d been a little difficulty in climbing the rope ladder, burdened as I was in my black dress spilt high up both thighs, two inch prada heels; I’d have managed, but the bottle of champagne made all the difference. Fortunately Jeremy’s hand, firm on my buttocks but nothing but respectful, even helpful, gave me the sense of security I needed to make the climb.

Now I wandered through the halls, champagne in hand, seeking out my prey (ha). Lizibeth had imparted several pieces of information to me in the bathroom, one being a very general layout of the yacht and where I could expect to find certain things including Steven’s bedroom. The boat was silent and dark, halls dimly lit by recessed strip lighting, most lights off, I presumed to save power, but on the second floor I finally found it. I heard him long before I saw it, what sounded like an intense FPS video game was in progress; he had the sound very loud alone on the yacht. The door to his suite was open, and I saw the flickering blue light from the TV spilling out onto the hall; over the noise of gunshots explosions and screams, he couldn’t hear me approach.

I stood in the doorway and looked him over; he sat with his back to the door on the couch of the suite’s main room. The yacht was huge and he was ensconced in one of its several fully equipped living suites, several large rooms including ensuite kitchen and bathroom; the living room large and spacious had a 40-inch flat screen television mounted high on one wall. He played some kind of video game using a wireless controller, sitting on the couch looking up at the screen, the scattered remnants of a pizza, a half full 2 liter bottle of coke and a large bag of pretzels scattered on the coffee table before him.

He was big, perhaps 6 feet or a little under, long and lanky but I could tell he worked out at least a little, he had some muscles on his arms, no body builder but I bet he didn’t get pushed around either. His mop of dark brown hair was engagingly untidy, sticking up over his ears with a cute little cowlick in the back, he wore dark black dress pants that looked old and worn, and a black t-shirt with Metallica emblazoned in silvery letters across the shoulders; he was busy killing uniformed WW2 Russian soldiers.

Sneaking up on him was not a good way to introduce myself; I quietly tiptoed back a little way up the hall. Turning back toward the door, I clopped loudly down it, my heels making clicking noises as I avoided the carpet and walked directly on the fiberglass floor.

I called out to make sure he heard me, “hello?”

Instantly the noises stopped and the flickering light became steady.

“Hi, anyone down here?”

He appeared in the doorway, looking confused.

Half wary half angry, “hey! Who, who are you? Where did you come from?”

He was frowning; I gave a confident smile as I approached.

Brightly, “Hi, I’m Kala.” I held out my hand.

He looked me over nonplussed as I walked up to him, but instinctively he shook my hand.

Muttered, “I’m Steven,” louder, “this is my father’s yacht.”

I decided to start with girlish, I could always become more mature if that seemed the way to go, “oh I know, he thought you might like some company being out here all by yourself, he thought you might be bored, so I’ve come to entertain you.”

He frowned, looking me up and down glancing at the bottle of champagne; he flexed his arms seeming to swell as he stood straighter. He looked like he was considering grabbing me and frogmarching me up the stairs and off the boat.

But at the same time his cheeks heated and he looked very childlike, he tried to speak assertively but the end came out plaintive, asking for reassurance, “no way, he, he didn’t send me a call girl, did he?”

It was my fault, I’d phrased it very badly, what else was he supposed to think, there were only a few conclusions he could come to after all. Still I felt my own cheeks flush at the offhand (and benefit of the doubt) unintentional insult; I felt my ass tighten in response to the feelings of humiliation and anger he inspired.

I kept my voice level, “do you think there are any prostitutes on the island?”

He blushed redder, ducking his head, “I, well I.”

“Do I look like a prostitute, Steven?”

“Um, no, no I guess not, I just thought I mean um…”

He trailed off, and I relented.

Very gently, softly I offered, “I’ll forget it if you apologize.”

Promptly, “I’m sorry,” a brief pause and he went on, “you just, I mean I didn’t expect anyone out here, he knows I don’t need a nursemaid, I’m fine out here by myself.”

I gave him a bright smile, dropping back into girlish, “I’m not here to nursemaid you Steven, I assure you. I just heard you weren’t coming to the party, and I thought you’d be bored out here all by yourself, so I volunteered to come spend some time with you.”

The strict truth wasn’t necessary, as long as I stuck to most of it.

“Oh, um, are, are you a friend of my father’s?”

We were still standing in the doorway. “No, but I’m a good friend of your father’s host tonight. Shall we go sit down?”

He looked even more embarrassed as he realized we were standing in a hallway, the only two people on the entire boat; “oh, sure.”

He led the way to the couch; he looked up at the TV screen, “um, just a stupid little video game, here.”

Quickly he grabbed up a remote control, in seconds the TV screen was off and the lights came on, revealing the tastefully appointed but teenage messy room. He flopped onto the couch, clearly nervous, and I sat down on the far end not crowding him.

I set the bottle on the table, “I brought some champagne, you know the party tonight is a celebration of Mr. Thorn’s new company, your father’s one of the investors, they’re celebrating.”

“Yeah I know, Dad said I probably wouldn’t want to be there ‘cause” he dropped his gaze, “well ‘cause of the” he coughed “the entertainment planned afterward. Dad didn’t specify but that’s why I assumed, I mean, um.”

“It’s alright,” I told him, “I forgive you, really.”

He nodded; he wasn’t looking at me. I tapped one finger against the green glass of the champagne bottle.

Gently, “would you like some champagne?”

He was very nervous, being alone with a (yes I’m proud) beautiful older woman, “ughh, I don’t” – hoarsely - “I don’t really like alcohol.”

Bright, girlish, “oh just a little bit, everyone’s celebrating. Can you find a couple of glasses?”

Muttered. “I guess.”

He rose and disappeared through a door I could see led to the kitchen (galley?) returning moments later with a pair of champagne glasses and a corkscrew.

I enthused, “oh good, I didn’t even think about how to open it, I’m either overtired or you’re just smarter than I am.”

It couldn’t hurt to flatter, a lot. He smiled nervously; fumbling a little he managed to set the glasses down and eventually managed to open the bottle, which earned him a smile from me.

I took it from him gently, murmured, “Let me.”

I poured two glasses. Slowly he sat back down. I took up the glasses proffering him one, hesitantly he took it.

I raised my glass, offered, “To friendship.”

He didn’t raise his, “friendship?”

“Yes,” I smiled, “you would like to be friends, wouldn’t you Steven?”

“Uh, sure. Friendship,” he raised his glass, took a big gulp.

I sipped mine set my glass down. I took up the bottle and deftly refilled his before he could protest; he’d drained it halfway. Quickly I picked up my glass again; it wouldn’t do to get him drunk, but a little looser wouldn’t hurt.

“Another toast, to always having a reason to celebrate and friends to celebrate with.”

Gently I clinked my glass to his, I took another little sip and he drained his glass. I filled it again, though only halfway; he hadn’t noticed I was sitting much nearer.

He picked up the glass, a little calmer now but he wasn’t looking at me, “so uh, can I ask what exactly is uh, going on over there?”

I smiled, sipped my champagne as I thought how best to proceed, I think less girlish was the right way to go.

“I, and other girls who volunteered to come tonight, are what some refer to as lifestyle slave girls; our Masters and Owners sent us to Thorn for the weekend when he asked friends of his to help him entertain his guests tonight.”

I watched as he thought this over.

Hesitantly he ventured, “you mean your Master sent you as a uh, ummm, are you being paid for this?”

I shook my head, disgusted but then I couldn’t really blame him (I mean I could but he wasn’t trying to be insulting).

“Steven, do you have any idea how insulting I find it to be asked if I’m a prostitute?”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

“Truth is I was brought out here to have sex with guests, but I’m not a hooker.”

“So you just came to have sex with strangers?”

“That’s right, fact is I literally have a medical condition called nymphomania, but that’s beside the point Steven, I’m a slave, it’s a non-legal definition, but it basically means I’ll do anything my Master wants of me. Thorn’s a good friend, and my Master wants me to please him by entertaining his guests tonight.”

“So what is this, your break?”

I shook my head, “no, I told you; your father told Thorn you were here all alone, and I volunteered to come out and keep you company. If you’d rather I left you alone Steven, I’ll go,” softly, “just ask, I won’t take offense…if you don’t want me.”

The last was an offer, he could take it, refuse it or pretend to not catch it and delay the final decision on his part.

He pretended he didn’t catch it (or perhaps he really didn’t, 18 nervous and confused…), “what, what’s this nymphomania you mentioned, I never thought there was a real medical condition called that.”

I smiled, lots of people thought that, “basically it means I’m really horny all the time, I really like sex, in fact I need it regularly or my desire literally increases to the point it becomes a physical pain. I’m easily aroused, I orgasm quickly repeatedly, am I making you uncomfortable?”

He was staring at me with an odd expression.

He shook his head, “no, it’s just that, well that sounds almost like any man’s wildest fantasy.”

I smiled, “my Master likes it.”

He nodded, and sipped at his champagne, as he’d been doing while we talked, his glass was almost empty.

I nodded at it, “would you like some more?”

He looked at his glass appraisingly, slowly nodded. I moved toward him on the couch, subserviently I filled his glass halfway again, setting the bottle down. Then I took his glass, setting it too on the table beside my own. Slowly I leaned in, pressing myself against his chest as I brought my lips close to his. He sat very still so I went the rest of the way for him, pressing my lips against his closed mouth in a gentle kiss. For a moment he didn’t respond, but then keeping his hands at his sides, he kissed me back, very gently; after a moment he broke the kiss.

He leaned back, grabbing his glass and using it as a barrier. Smoothly as if it wasn’t awkward I rose.

I praised, “That was nice.”

I picked up my own glass, and headed for a shelf beneath the TV full of movies, he watched me. I looked over the movies, most of them were action flicks, and I could see the shelves (6 of them from the floor to chest height) were deep enough for a double row of movies on each shelf.

“I don’t suppose you’ve ever tried S and M?” I asked with my back to him.

Using my fingers I pulled up a few movies in the top shelf, more action movies behind it.

It took him a moment to answer, a long pause before his strangled, “no.”

I knelt, still facing away from him, concentrating on the movies. The porn was on the last shelf, behind science fiction and some classic movies, he had 3 or 4 vanilla porn DVD’s the rest however, were burned BDSM oriented stuff from the internet.

“But you’d like too,” I spoke softly, but loud enough for him to hear.

I stood and turned around, a couple of the movies in my hand. I showed him so he saw I’d noted the BDSM covers he’d printed out and slid into the case fronts (not subtle is he). He blushed, drinking from his glass to avoid my eyes. I turned again and put the movies back.

I returned to the couch, sitting right beside him, I forced him to meet my gaze.

He tried to deflect me, “how old are you, Kala you said your name was, right?”

I answered calmly, “I’m twenty-eight Steven, ten years older than you are, you’re eighteen right?”

He nodded and murmured a wordless noise as if I’d said something profound, “How do you spell your name?”

He’d said it just to have something to say, I smiled and gently spelled it out for him, he nodded again, at a loss; he looked around as if he’d find inspiration in the room. I leaned in again, placing a hand on his thigh as I kissed him, pressing my chest into him as I gently probed at his closed mouth with my tongue. After a moment he opened and I smoothly slipped my tongue inside him, I slid my hand up, gently cupping his crotch. He started violently, pulling away, pushing at my shoulder.

“Hey, what,” he stopped embarrassed as I calmly sat back.

He stood backing away.

“It’s okay Steven, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

He gulped his drink down, looked at the bottle.

“I can’t stop you, but I really don’t think you should have any more, trust me you really don’t want to.”

He looked at me a moment, than placed his glass slowly on the edge of the table.

I asked it very tenderly, “have you had sex Steven?” he stared at me as if I’d asked him if he masturbated to pictures of his sister. “It’s okay, I didn’t give my virginity to my Master until I was 19, very few people actually lose it much before 18 no matter what they say. It’s alright if you haven’t before, I know how, and can be very gentle.”

He breathed, “My father told you, he sent you here for this, specifically this.”

(Damn) I could tell he knew, he wasn’t guessing or assuming, so there was no use lying.

“He asked if I’d come out here and offer to give you a very memorable first time, if you want to.”

His face slowly grew stormy he spoke very softly, “how could he, I trusted him, I thought he understood it was in confidence. Where, where is he, I’m going to go find him.”

Steven started for the door, tears I saw, in his eyes.

I rose quickly to intercept him, “Steven wait.”

He pushed me violently, I stumbled in my two inch heels, fell with a little cry, I was taken completely by surprise.

“Kala, I’m sorry,” Steven stooped down to help me up. “Are you okay, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to knock you down, I,” he trailed off, tears were still in his eyes.

“It’s alright Steven, I’m okay, just stay here and talk to me for a moment, okay.”

“I can’t believe he told you that, he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.”

Steven let me lead him back to the couch; I sat him down, sitting beside him and holding his hand.

“It’s okay Steven, he just wanted to do something nice for you, you couldn’t really expect him to ask someone to come out here and take your virginity without telling them that’s what they were getting into, can you? Be reasonable.”

He looked away, red-faced, but the tears had stopped, “I guess you’re right, it’s just… I can’t say it.”

“You’re embarrassed, it’s alright, I understand, but don’t be Steven. I told you, no matter what you hear, most boys don’t lose it much before eighteen, trust me you’re the norm. Look, you have nothing to be embarrassed about okay, not being a virgin, and certainly not that I know it. You know I’m not going to talk about anything we do tonight with anyone, not even your father, right?”

After a moment he nodded.

“Steven,” I said gently, “Steven look at me.”

Slowly he looked at me, he wiped at his face, smearing his tears, but he was calm.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, especially after tonight if you want to, because, well look Steven you’re a cute kid, no please don’t take that wrong. You have an older, experienced woman here, and if you want it, I’ll make damn sure you have nothing to be embarrassed about in the bedroom after tonight.”

He tried a smile, “your last name is Robinson?”

I genuinely laughed, “Have you even seen that movie?”

He pointed, “All three versions on one DVD. And you should have said beautiful older woman.”

I chuckled, a smoky intentionally seductive sound, “why you’re just a little sweet talker aren’t you Steven. Thank you.”

“I mean it, you’re stunning,” his voice was husky.

I smiled, patted his hand. “Thank you Steven, I always enjoy a good compliment.”

He was at a loss again, nervous, he pulled his hand out of mine, shifted on the seat; he didn’t know what to do next.

“Look Steven, let me be perfectly clear, I’ve already told you I’m a slave, I came out here to have sex with you if you want to. I’ll do just about anything within reason you want me to do. No pressure though, if you like we can just sit here and talk, or we can watch a movie if you like, or maybe play a game, do you have scrabble, chess?”

He made a strangled sound.

Gently I offered, “Do you want me to go?”

His head whipped around so fast it was almost comical, “no stay, please stay Kala.”

I nodded, “whatever you want Steven. Would you like to think about it for a while? Maybe we can just talk and you can take some time to decide what you’d like to do; I’m here to please you Steven.”

“You,” he hesitated, “you’re really a lifestyle slave girl, like you read about?”

“I don’t know what you’ve read Steven,” I answered gently, “I live with a man I love, who is my Master and Husband, every day every hour, I am willingly His to do with as He pleases. For my Master Himself I have no limits of any kind, He could hang me and I wouldn’t resist. And for anyone else my limits are very few, pretty much anything that won’t harm me, or permanently mark me, I’ll put up with. Tell me what you want Steven, I promise I won’t take offense, and I won’t laugh; at worst and very unlikely I’ll tell you I’m not willing to do something.”

“I don’t want to do anything that would really hurt you, I don’t want to harm you, I, I’m sorry I’m not very good at this.”

“You have no experience, it’s okay, we’ll change that. I’m willing to spend the night as your slave Steven, if you like. Just tell me what to do.”

“I can tie you up?”

I nodded, “yes Steven, but” I hesitated, “but I think it would be best if you let me fuck you first, the first time without any restraints. Trust me, I can make your first time so much better if I’m free.”

“But you’ll do it as my slave? You’ll let me order you around, tell you what to do, spank you?”

“Yes Steven, of course.”

“And later I can tie you? I want to tie you.”

I nodded, “yes you can tie me up Steven, but before you do we have to talk a little bit, make some things very clear okay.”

He nodded quickly, “I know the rules.”

I arched my brow, archly asked, “Oh, what are the rules?”

“While you’re my slave I’m responsible for your safety, I won’t do anything to harm you, to place your life in danger or that will scar you.” The next words rolled off him as if he practiced them, and had them memorized, “do you have a safe word Kala?”

I smiled, “no, I have no limits for my Master, and for others we discuss it first, just like we’re doing now; do you know what to do if I speak a safe word?”

He hesitated, I realized that wasn’t quite what he’d expected me to say, I cursed myself but I figured he couldn’t have too much of an attachment to some ritualized question and response formula, as he’d never actually done this before. Most like he’d memorized something off a web site.

He spoke by rote again though answering me, “if you use the safe word, I stop what I’m doing immediately and untie you, and I’ll ask if you’re alright, if there’s something I can do to help you.”

“Hmmm, well that’s close enough, some dominants like to give their submissive a safe word, others like the slave to choose.”

I stopped and waited, he hesitated. “Whatever you think’s best Kala.”

He wasn’t quoting anymore, very good.

“Is there a word you’d like it to be, otherwise I’ll think something up.”

He shrugged, “you pick.”

“Okay, how about cucumber?”

“You want cucumber to be your safe word?”

I smiled, shrugged, “why not?”

“Okay, cucumber is your safe word Kala,” he tried to sound briskly controlled.

I nodded.

He took a deep breath, “you’re my slave now right Kala?”

“Yes, for the rest of the night, all day tomorrow if you want, I’m staying until Monday.”

He nodded, “I can call you slave now, tell you what to do?”

“I’m yours Steven, call me anything you want, and I’ll address you in whatever manner you wish.”

He got a strange grin on his face; spoke quickly. “Exalted, call me exalted.”

I smiled, that had been quick, that I knew he was attached to (I wondered how many years he’d been wanting someone to call him exalted).

I lowered my eyes, “yes exalted, may your slave humbly remind you what she said about your first time?”

“I remember,” tiny pause, “slave.”

I grinned at him approvingly, he flushed and smiled.

Then his smile faded, heatedly, “oh shit!”

“What’s wrong exalted?”

He looked at me, rose, turned away, “forget it, you, shit! You might as well go back to the house.”

(Okay, this was bad).

I probed gently, “tell me what’s wrong Steven, maybe I can help.”

He groaned out, “I don’t have any condoms here; I have a whole box at home, but not on the ship!”

I smiled, “you don’t need them.”

He looked at me, “I don’t want to insult you Kala, but sure I do.”

“Why, you can’t possibly have an STD, and I promise you can’t impregnate me; and if you insist I will go back to the house,” I paused and he looked puzzled, “and I’ll come back with a piece of paper stating I passed an STD test 4 days ago.” (I was sure Thorn had it somewhere, he’d hang onto something like that at least until all his guests left happy).

Steven smiled, “that’s nice but even if you had a hysterectomy.”

I interrupted, unexpectedly harsh, “I do actually, my Master has 2 children by his high school sweetheart, and he didn’t want any more.”

He looked surprised, “you do, oh, well, still, isn’t it a good idea to always use a condom?”

I nodded, “yes Steven 99 percent of the time it certainly is, one of the few exceptions would probably be when a woman without a womb is taking a teenager’s cherry.”

He blushed looking down, and I resolved to soften, he hadn’t meant to insult me (and I didn’t want children, and if I did my Master and I could adopt couldn’t we).

Submissively I urged, “Command me exalted.”

He hesitated for just a moment.

He recovered, “I’ll command you when I chose to slave.”

“Yes exalted, your slave apologizes for her presumption, she humbly begs to be punished.” I bowed my head, waiting.

A pause, “not quite so formal Kala, it’s nice but,” he swallowed, “I’m trusting you to help me do this so I don’t make you think I’m a total idiot.”

I smiled, “don’t worry Steven, I won’t think that, I’ll help you don’t worry.”

For a moment he looked at me sitting on the couch, I looked up at him standing a few feet away.

Finally I asked, “Would you like me to undress exalted?”

He shivered, then held up a hand, “no, wait, we’re going to go slowly, okay.”

“Of course exalted, you’re in charge here.”

“I’m,” hesitation, “I want to show you something Kala, and I want your honest opinion.”

I nodded, “yes exalted.”

“Stand and follow me slave,” he grinned, “heel.”

I smiled at him, rising I clasped my hands behind my back and approached him with lowered eyes. He snapped his fingers; turning led me deeper into the suite. His bedroom was also messy, a smaller TV beneath it a rack of movies, another shelf held books; his bed was unmade.

He led me over to it, “ughhh, I forgot um.”

He began fussing with his unmade bed, sheets twisted all over the place, even the bottom sheet pulled out so the bare mattress was exposed. I couldn’t help but smile as he struggled to untangle the mess.

Gently, “exalted.”

He straightened to look at me, holding a tangle of sheets. I cocked my head, looking at him with a raised brow.

He got it, dropped the tangle, he pointed, imperious, “make the bed slave.”

“Yes exalted.”

I made the bed, it took about 2 minutes, it would have taken him all night (no not ‘cause he’s a man, just a teenager). I finally smoothed the sheets flat, I’d made hospital corners, the bed looked ready and inviting. He’d stood and watched; he nodded when I turned to him.

“Good, now there’s a chest under the bed, pull it out.”

I nodded, crouching I looked; beneath the bed was a trunk bright blue, it had a keyhole centered in the side facing me. I pulled this out, Steven had rustled up a ring of keys from a nightstand drawer, he selected an old fashioned skeleton key, and he tossed this to me.

“Open it slave.”

“Yes exalted.”

The lock clicked loudly, I opened the trunk.

Steven hovered over me anxiously, “I have more at home, this is just what I keep here, what, what do you think?”

It held various very standard easily obtainable pieces of bondage equipment, store-bought off shelves; handcuffs, leather whips, wooden rods, rope, blindfolds etc. I could see, tucked inside a band in the top of the trunk, which faced the user with the trunk open, various pieces of original packaging, use and care instructions for pieces of equipment, stuff that came with it in store. The trunk was neatly packed, everything in place, easy to find, organized and ready to go; it did have that to recommend it, anyone could pick this up, take it somewhere, and have themselves a nice time.

“It’s very nice exalted, I’m sure you’ll make improvements when you have more experience and know what you really like and what you’re good at.”

“You think there’s stuff I should get rid of? Or things I don’t have that I should?”

I smiled up at him, “Steven, Steven I can’t possibly answer that, you need to know more about your sexual likes and dislikes, and then you can answer that.”

He nodded, thoughtfully, “of course you’re right slave.”

“Thank you exalted.” No irony.

Husky, he cleared his throat and spoke, “stand up.”

I stood, facing him. He moved closer slowly, I could see a large bulge in his pants; he was happy I was here to see him. He reached out; taking the little necklace Elsie had lent me in his hand cupping it gently he raised it away from my breasts, looking at it. I stood quietly as he slowly lifted it up over my head; he tossed it aside, his hand reached out for my ear. Again I stood quietly as he fondled the little diamond earrings Elsie had also lent me; he didn’t try to take them off.

Instead he held out his hand, “give me your earrings Kala.”

“Yes exalted.”

I removed them one at a time, placing them gently in his palm. He tossed them toward where the necklace had fallen, looking me in the eye as he did so. I held his gaze, not bothering to watch them fly across the room; everything could be found later (he was very good for no experience).

He reached out and stroked my cheek, cupping it; I smiled and rubbed my cheek against his palm. He smiled back and brought his hand up, running it through my silky hair; he tugged gently with a little grin. I made a little murmur of submission, holding his gaze.

“Your dress and shoes, slowly slave.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. Feeling absolutely feminine and very sexy, I took off my high heeled shoes slowly one at a time; smiling at him seductively as I did it. The dress as it was designed to, slipped off easily. I slid it off my shoulders and let it fall in a pool around my feet; he caught his breath, taking me in hungrily with his eyes. In only my lacy midnight blue silk underwear, I stepped out of the dress, and stood for his inspection.

He complimented me, “magnificent.”

“Thank you exalted.”

“Take” he had to swallow, “take off the underwear.”

“Yes exalted.”

I removed the sheer lacy bra first, tossing it onto the dress, before hooking my thumbs into the band of the panties, bending as I drew it down; I lifted a leg letting my hair fall around my face as I looked down. Slipping one foot free of the frilly panties, I lowered my leg back to the floor, before lifting the other leg and slipping the panties off past my foot; I stood with them negligently in hand, hair hiding my face I threw the panties to the pile. Tossing my hair back, I looked at him smiling as I positioned myself seductively for his gaze.

Choked out, “turn.”

I turned slowly in place, letting him look at me; he made a noise when my backside was presented to him.

He came to his feet, approaching me, “what is this, is this real?”

His hand reached out, caressing the ink that proclaimed in black block letters, 2 underlined rows: SLAVE

           KALA

I looked over my shoulder at him, “this is a temporary ink tattoo, Thorn had all the slaves marked for the weekend, my Owner will remove it when I go home.”

He smiled, gently rubbing his hand over the inked cheek, “so the guests know what to call you?”

“The guests can call me whatever they like exalted, but it helps keep track.”

“It’s lovely, I love it,” he looked me in the eye, “you really are beautiful Kala, and I’m not just saying that.”

I smiled at him, “thank you exalted.”

He traced a few of the fading welts the guests had left on me, gently rubbed one of the more prominent ones that would last a day or three.

Without being told, I turned, moving closer; I tilted my head up towards him, whispered, “May your slave have a kiss?”

He looked nonplused for a moment, but then he kissed me. He was unskilled, but naturally gentle, I opened his mouth with my tongue and his darted out quickly entwining with mine as I gently helped him french me. His hands slid around my back crushing me to him, it was a while before the kiss broke, we had to breathe after all. His eyes shone with excitement, I could feel his dick pressed against my thigh pulsing gently.

He released me stepped back, warned, “don’t move.”

I inclined my head meekly.

Heavily he sat down on the bed, looked at me, “kneel slave, remove my socks.”

Gracefully I knelt before him, taking his foot gently in my hand. He let me raise it and I began carefully working his sock off. I worked it past his foot, looking a moment at his nails, he didn’t get pedicures like Thorn, I could see a little dirt under his nails nothing horrible just what you’d expect of the average man, I wondered idly if I was going to suck his toes tonight (I live to please, grin). I put the first foot gently on the floor, and began working off his other sock, letting the bunched up pair fall to the floor, I knelt before him gazing up at him submissively, waiting.

Hoarsely, “my shirt.”

I had to kneel up between his legs, spread on the floor. Taking the hem of his shirt I lifted it up revealing his firm belly, (he had a slight six-pack) his lightly hairy chest, he lifted his arms, helping me work the shirt off over his head; I tossed it aside.

I knelt up between his thighs, my rock hard nipples lightly brushed the crotch of his jeans, and slowly I rested my hands on his thighs. He looked at me, he looked at me more, drinking in the sight of my face maybe, but I don’t think he knew what to do next. After a minute or two I reached for the zipper of his jeans; he said nothing as I pulled the zipper down, undid the snap. Slowly, gently I worked his jeans off tossing them on the floor, his hard cock tented his black boxers. I grazed the tent gently with the palm of my hand.

He sucked in a breath, “you, you know what to do Kala.”

It was a command, I was ordered to take his cherry from him (and I live to obey don’t I?). Smiling I dipped my hand into his boxers, found his hard cock, closing my hand gently around it. He closed his eyes and made a little sound, my other hand worked at his boxers, lowering them around his knees, exposing him. He was huge, larger than my Husband, 10 inches rock hard, uncircumcised, a huge triangular head purple now, his musky smell surrounded us.

I looked at his cock, smiling as I imagined it shoved up my by now dripping snatch, (I’m just a horny little slut, I know I know).

I looked up at him, “you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about Steven, you know you’re much bigger than the average man?”

He nodded, wryly, “I’ve been in locker rooms, slave.”

I stroked his hard penis with my hand, firmly running my closed palm up and down the shaft, feeling veins pulse. He moaned; I lowered my head, took his tip gently in my mouth. I grasped the base of his cock as I slid him down my throat slowly, he was bucking inside my warm moist cavern, and he didn’t have long.

He moaned, “I can’t, I can’t.”

I released him, kneeling up between his thighs, watching his throbbing cock bob gently in midair. He made a strangled sound, looking at me, but with no stimulation of any kind he managed to keep from orgasming. I looked at the wetness oozing down the sides of his hard member; slowly I slid his boxers off him.

“Fuck me Kala.”

I looked up at him startled, “yes exalted.”

I climbed up onto him, pushing him down on the bed as I straddled his hips, he pushed himself back on the bed until his feet rested on the very edge, and he reached up taking my waist in his hands. I took him in hand, lifting myself up I leisurely fed him into me, slowly inch-by-inch, halfway in (5 inches) he threw his head back groaning, and I knew I’d been too slow. I felt him pulse, shooting into me, spasming hot jets of cum up my slit, pouring into my uterus again and again, he was whining eyes closed tight head whipping from side to side. I felt him softening inside me.

He muttered, “shit shit shit damn, no.”

“It’s okay,” I soothed, “its okay, relax.”

“No,” he moaned, “oh no, I can’t, can’t believe.”

He was trying to shift me off of him, his face red with shame; he refused to look at me.

“It’s alright,” I soothed, tone becoming firmer, “no, calm down.”

I refused to get off him, lying myself flat against his chest wrapping my arms around his neck as I hooked my ankles together behind his knees; hanging on like a leech.

“It’s fine, my fault I’m sorry,” I said, “just relax, lie here like this, just like this, it’ll be fine Steven, trust me.”

“Kala.”

“It’s fine Steven, trust me, you’ll like, this it’s almost like magic.”

We lay there for a minute quietly; at my gentle request he brought his hands down to my ass-cheeks, cupping them lightly; slowly I eased myself down until my pudenda was firmly against the bone of his hips, taking him completely inside me as I’d meant to from the first. I had to cajole a couple times as he grew restless, but he lay for me, and after 5-10 minutes I felt his soft member growing hard inside my wet pussy (oh how I wanted to orgasm, you have no idea).

“Do you feel that Steven,” I contracted the big muscles in my vagina, the few ones I had any real control over, and he moaned, “you’re hardening, I’m not doing it, you are.”

“Yes,” he moaned.

We lay for another minute; his cock was hard inside me now, slowly I knelt up straddling him, hands on his chest. He grasped my cheeks more firmly as I tossed my head, getting my shoulder length raven hair out of the way. I rocked gently, feeling his turgidness 10 inches deep inside me. I half expected to feel a crick in my neck (in fact I did but I’m mostly sure it was mental).

His eyes were open now, he brought one hand up cupping a breast, I couldn’t help but moan when his finger found my firm little nipple and squeezed really, really hard.

“Oh yes.” I urged, rocking my hips.

He squeezed harder, pinching and I rolled my hips, rocked them, riding his 10 inches; I was hot wet. I quickened my pace as he arched beneath me moaning slightly, his hand fell away down to my hip and I rode harder, faster. He was rock inside me, and I worked myself using him roughly for my pleasure (bad slave, whip me). I squirted then cumming around him, he groaned loudly as my muscles spasmed around his cock but he didn’t cum yet; I could tell he was trying to last as long as he could. I came groaning, but instead of pausing to catch my breath I merely slowed the pace of my thrusts, resting even as I continued to rock back and forth slowly. Gentle friction making him grin and arch and roll beneath me, tossing his head from side to side eyes tight shut, he didn’t see me smiling down at him.

Gently I grazed his chest with my nails, thrusting deep, grinding myself into his hips. He arched and I felt him pulsing inside me, close to orgasm, but he fought it, trying to impress me. I let him fight, rocking thrusting squeezing his dick with my hot vulva, grinding myself against him, twisting as I rode him. I could feel the waves of pleasure washing over me, taking me over again.

“Yes Steven, yes.” I moaned to him.

Rocking thrusting and he arched to meet my thrusts, fucking me like a man. Thrust for thrust we had each other, and the pleasure built in me, he was moaning in time with my groans, which matched our rocking thrusts. One of his hands found the small of my back, pressing firmly the other found my nipples squeezing first one then the other; I had my head thrown back as I rode him, moaning uncontrollably. Again I felt myself spasming, spending my ejaculate all over, he was quivering inside me as I started to cum.

I urged gently, “now Steven, cum now.”

I moaned gutturally, he groaned too and came spending into me again, hot staccato bursts of semen shooting hard into me. We both moaned as we came together, me contracting around his rock hard member, squeezing him, milking the last bursts of semen out of him. I collapsed across his chest, and lay for a moment cradled in his arms. He was softening inside me again, and I pumped my hips squeezing gently, extracting a single small burst of fluid with a moan from him as he emptied himself.

Quietly we lay together for awhile, I listened to the beating of his heart as it slowed back to the powerful healthy rhythm of a fit man at rest, my own was still pitter-pattering a little too fast, but I felt myself recovering nicely (I needed to work on my cardio more).

I raised my head, kissed him lightly, pulled back to look him in the eye, “you made me come twice exalted.”

He grinned, “you did say you’re a horny little slut didn’t you slave?”

I giggled, “no exalted, but that was the underlying meaning of some of what I said.”

“You’re my horny little nympho,” he said firmly grinning.

I’m in some ways a bit of a lady, I hate rudeness, dirtiness, I embarrass easy, but this didn’t cause any embarrassment; I was proud to serve for his enjoyment.

I confessed, “Yes exalted, I’m your horny little nympho.”

“I’m going to call you my nympho-slut.”

I felt my face redden, but I acquiesced humbly, “yes exalted.”

“Does that embarrass you Kala?” he was smiling.

“Just a little, I’ve never been called a horny little nympho in quite such a baldly sexual way before master, I mean exalted.”

He grinned, “You can switch it up with master occasionally for variety if you like nympho, and I won’t call you that if you really don’t like it.”

I spoke softly, in surrender, “call me anything you like exalted, I’m yours to use.”

He smiled.

“Teach me to make out.”

It was a command.

Grinning I kissed him on the lips, running my tongue into his eagerly open mouth, his hands found my ass, kneading firmly.

I pulled back, “try one hand on my ass, master, the other cupping the back of my head.”

He did as I instructed and I kissed him again.

“Yes.” I said, “Just like that. Girls like having their ass squeezed, but you seem too eager if you use both hands, and we like having our hair stroked.”

He nodded, stroked my silky hair, “like this?”

I smiled, “yes exalted.”

We kissed some more.

I whispered into his ear, “Try slapping my ass lightly, not too hard, gentle, subtle is better for making out. Even pain sluts, which I freely admit I am, like gentle love making to get hot and bothered.”

He grinned and slapped my arse lightly.

“Yes master, good.”

I kissed him again, frenching him as he kneaded and occasionally gave my cheek a little slap while stroking my hair. I writhed against him, running my hands down his ribs, over his chest. He was stirring against my belly, I kissed the side of his neck and he fastened his mouth on mine as I stroked his mop of hair. He began sucking strongly on the artery in the side of my neck like he was a vampire.

I murmured, “Stop exalted.”

He stopped, pulled back quizzically.

“If you keep that up you’ll give me a hicky, master, which is fine if you want to mark me like that go ahead, but if I’m teaching you I have to say most girls don’t generally want to be given hickys.”

His face reddened, hands clenching my ass spasmodically.

“If you feel like giving me a hicky, Steven go ahead, but I can show you how to do it better.”

A horse whisper, “show me.”

“Kiss gently,” I instructed, “suckle just lightly, not very much just a little.”

He did as I bade him.

“Good,” I praised, “lick with your tongue, running it up and down the artery in my neck.”

He obeyed and I felt my blood heat.

“Yes Steven, good. Now kiss the hollow of my throat, nip just lightly with your teeth but don’t break the skin.”

I lifted my chin bearing my throat for him, and his lips closed gently over the little hollow, he sucked just a bit moistening my flesh, raising goosebumps, then I felt his teeth brush very lightly against the skin, carefully.

I was surprised when a moan came from me, “oh yes Steven, that feels nice, do that more and squeeze my ass hard.”

He obeyed and I felt moistness gush out my bare vaginal lips, I stuttered out a sound of pleasure, even as inexperienced as he was he knew the sound, and chuckled against the side of my neck. “You are a horny slut aren’t you Kala?”

I felt embarrassed, but I couldn’t possibly lie about what he made me feel, that wouldn’t be fair to him. “Yes exalted, I want to be fucked again…please?”

He laughed, “Are you just saying that?”

He was hard against my belly again, covered in my fluids.

“No Steven I want it again, I told you I’m a nympho.”

Before I knew what was happening, he rolled me to my back, crushing me against the bed beneath him. His hands found my wrists, taking my hands up above my head quickly he pinned them with one of his own.

His knee spread my thighs apart, “struggle slut, I want you to wrestle.”

I was surprised, but I obeyed, writhing beneath him I tried to free my hands. My Owner has me work out, it’s discreet, but I’m lightly muscled in arms belly legs, I am not a wilting little wall flower; but Steven was a full-grown male and he clearly worked out also. He held me down pinned beneath him even as I bucked and fought earnestly to free myself, knowing that was what he wanted. He chuckled as he held me pinned and fastened his lips on my neck, kissing just lightly.

I bucked and moaned, “Yes, Steven I’m helpless, I can’t escape.”

I reared and writhed even as I admitted this, and heard him chuckle against my neck. He held my wrists above my head with one hand with the other he forced my thighs further apart and entered me in one quick thrust.

“Fight me Kala, make it rape.”

For so young, he had a well developed instinct for role-play, I bucked fought writhed, he held me down and fucked me, raping me.

I played along obediently, “no, damn you, stop you fuck, you asshole, get out of me you fucker, you god damn fuck.”

I continued ordering him to stop, reviling him, threatening him as he smoothly ‘raped’ me, grinning as he took me roughly. When I came I couldn’t pretend it was anything but orgasm, and it triggered his own; after he’d emptied himself into me again he released my wrists lying atop me crushed under him. We lay quietly for a few moments, resting.

He kissed me on the forehead, “good Kala, that was…that was great.”

I grinned, “I enjoyed it too exalted, honestly.”

He fondled me with one hand, lying half on top of me, stroking my breasts, tweezing the nipples, stroked a hand down my belly (it felt good too, making me arch and murmur). His hand stroked back up my stomach then down again tracing around the belly button, dipped lower, pausing, then slowly he slid his hand down between my legs, which I immediately spread for him. His hand found my recently shaved vulva; he lightly stroked a finger up and down the curve of one moist outer lip.

Looked a little embarrassed as he asked, “can, can you teach me to eat you out?”

I smiled, “of course Steven, if you’re sure you want to learn. Many men don’t enjoy eating a woman’s pussy, but I can certainly guide you in how it’s done.”

“Teach me.”

I spread my legs wide apart, and guided him slowly so he lay flat between my thighs, I arched my hips just a little, “stroke my thighs Steven, lightly, just gentle.”

He did as I instructed, stroking spidery fingers across my inner thighs.

I moaned, bucked, “yes, just like that.”

I felt moistness flow between my lips, knowing he could see it (I am just a horny little thing, nymphomania can be a curse {a pleasurable one}).

“Stroke my lips with the tips of your fingers. Oh yessss.” The last an uncontrolled moan as he obeyed me.

I arched, thrusting my hips toward him, my hands found his head but I carefully didn’t urge him forward, yet; I knew he was staring, face only inches from my vagina, waiting for me to tell him what next.

“Use your fingers master, spread my lips.”

I groaned as three fingers from each hand shyly slid just a little into me, pulling my lips apart.

“Yes deeper Steven, spread me wider open for you.”

He moaned himself as he obeyed, spreading me wide apart, I was leaking fluid steadily, lubricating myself.

“Look for the little stamen Steven, my little pleasure node.”

He found it quickly, touching it with a finger.

I cried out as a sensation of unbearable wanting shot through me, “yes Steven please please do that more,” he did, “your tongue Steven, lick me there.”

I urged his head forward, and he nuzzled himself among my bare pudenda, his tongue flicked out, licking the inner lips of my vaginal mound, he pulled me wider with his hands, exposing me. I moaned, whimpering (I’m such a horny slut, I admit it). His tongue found my stamen, licking, sucking strongly. I moaned and immediately jetted a stream of ejaculate into his face, he recoiled dripping.

I whimpered, “I’m sorry Steven, I couldn’t help it, please don’t stop.”

He returned, licking me, suckling even as his fingers spread me about as wide as I could go, I was exposed, open dripping wetly, completely under his power as he licked and suckled strongly. I wasn’t guiding him now, it was all him, I felt waves of pleasure washing through me, starting in my groin up through my belly washing over my breasts, up to my heated face, then back down; and it built and built until I was moaning and twisting uncontrollably (yum). It lasted many minutes (slowed by my initial ejaculating I’m sure) but finally he brought me trembling to and then quickly, (with me screaming his name hoarsely) over the brink of orgasm. I was insentient for a while after, barely aware of him stroking my thigh gently and chuckling.

Praising me, “wonderful Kala, that was wonderful.”

I didn’t think it was wonderful, I’m a horrible teacher, all I did was beg him to make me cum; (but hey if he’s happy what kind of a slave-slut am I to complain? J).

Finally I was recovered enough, “that was amazing Steven, you’re wonderful.”

He smiled, rolled off the bed, coming to his feet. I admired the view of his tight muscled body, huge now limp dick hanging between his legs, a thick sack covered in dark brown curls hanging beneath it. He saw me watching and ducked his head, embarrassed.

“Don’t be embarrassed Steven,” I urged, “you have a nicely developed body, you’re hot. And if it really bothers you Master, order your slave to bow her head.”

He muttered sheepishly, “no you can look,” a pause, “am I really hot?”

I grinned, “You’re really hot Steven, and you’re really hot too!”

He got it, grinning, but then he bent and grabbed up his boxers, pulling them on. I watched as he walked to a dresser. Opening a middle drawer, he pulled out a digital camera, high-end, expensive it would take good quality pictures. He walked back holding it up for me to see as I sat up on the bed.

“I want to take some pictures,” he didn’t sound like he thought I’d object.

“Steven I’m sorry, but I don’t have the right to allow you to do that.”

His smile faltered, “You don’t have the right?”

“That’s right Steven, I surrendered the right to agree to things like that when I gave myself to my Master, only He can decide if I’ll pose.”

The teenager frowned, looking first at his camera as if it had betrayed him, then giving me a hurt look.

I winced, inquired softly, “Is it important to you?”

“Wouldn’t you want pictures of your first time?”

I smiled, “my Master used seven cameras ranged around the room when I gave Him my cherry, professional cameras He rented for the event and took a six week course to learn how to use.”

“So why can’t I?”

I interrupted, “I’ll make you a deal Steven, I’ll pose for you, on the condition that I take the pictures with me, I’ll show them to my Master, and ask, He’ll probably agree and if He does I’ll bring the pictures to you personally, alright?”

“So, I can take as many pictures as I want, and you’ll take them with you, and I only get them if your Master agrees?”

“That’s right Steven, He almost certainly will, in fact I’ll urge Him to, I just don’t have the right to agree myself here now.”

He frowned, “but you do have the right to agree to pose and take them with you, huh?”

I smiled, “it’s a judgment call Steven, I may be my Master’s slave, but practically speaking I am a full grown free willed and if I do say so myself intelligent young lady. I’ll pose because I chose to, then I’ll give my Master the choice of what to do with the photos because a long time ago, I chose to surrender the right to make such decisions to Him. So if you like, I’ll pose for you, and the pictures come with me, you’ll probably get them back, but I don’t guarantee it, do we have a deal?”

He nodded, “okay Kala.”

He raised the camera and I smiled prettily, sitting stark naked on his bed as he snapped a pic.

He shuffled forward, snapping more pics, grinning behind the camera, “pose Kala, show me how sexy you can be you hot little nympho you.”

I laughed and posed, shifting on the bed, sitting, kneeling up kneeling with my bottom resting on my heels, hands in my lap behind my back behind my head. I lay down, spread my legs, arched my hips toward him, smile smile smile; all as he grinned and shuffled around the bed, angling the camera this way and that way snapping, snapping.

After a while he started directing, “spreads your legs wider. Thrust out your tits, turn a little more.” Etcetera.

Eventually he started posing me with his hands, putting the camera down and gently shifting me a little this way or that, bending me over, parting my thighs, pressing on my back to make me arch. I let him, of course submitting to his will, and he dominated me easily, naturally as if he did it all the time; he was concentrating more on getting the shots he wanted than on me as a person. After a while he used the camera timer to put himself into the shots with me, patting my ass, kissing me fondling my breasts as the camera took pictures; finally he decided that was enough of that (for a while).

Putting the camera down in his little trunk, he took out a pair of handcuffs, he knelt on the bed beside me and gently he snapped a cuff on one wrist. I smiled at him, he grinned at me, brought my hand behind me, took my other hand and put it behind my back, slipped the other cuff over it closing it tight, I was handcuffed.

He knelt facing me, reached out to fondle a breast, he pinched my nipple making me gasp, he smiled. He brought his hand back, slapped my tit with a broad sweep of his open hand, sharp sound of flesh striking flesh. He hit me hard, my tit bobbled and reddened as pain flared. I gasped at the twinge, shifted a little but sat for him, he smiled at me and slapped the tit again, exact same place. I jumped and murmured in pain, he hadn’t told me to be quiet. He leaned forward, kissed my nipple sucking gently, getting his saliva on it, leaned back, slapped it hard. I groaned but remained still, his hand came up slowly, he stroked my cheek, my neck, trailing his hand down to my breast, which he then slapped again, same tit. My breast was red, the nipple tingling, hard; he grasped my tit in his hand, pinching an entire handful hard enough to bring tears to my eyes as I moaned.

He released my tit, brought his arm back and quickly slapped me (yes open hand) across the face, very, very I can’t stress it enough, very; hard. Crrrrrack! I saw stars, my world rocked, I felt myself fall across the bed with a little grunt of pain, swooning, he’d broken my jaw; pain flared radiating out from the broken bone, I think for a moment I passed out. I felt him move, closer, leaning over me, he lifted me back to my knees, smiling he brought his hand up again.

“No.” I mumbled, pain flaring from my jaw.

I felt something click back into place and the pain immediately eased. He grinned, chuckled, cocked his arm back.

I sobbed, tears falling from my eyes, “cucumber, please Steven?”

His face drained of color, panicking, “Kala? Kala are you okay?”

“Hurts.”

“I didn’t I couldn’t have, I didn’t mean, I I didn’t hit you that hard!”

He was stroking my shoulder as he said it, tears were in his eyes too, he was scared; he hadn’t meant to hurt me he just didn’t know how delicate the face was.

I begged, “Cuffs?”

“Yes, yes of course.”

He scrambled off the bed; found the key in his trunk immediately, scrambled around behind me, removed the cuffs. I brought my hand up felt my face, the bone wasn’t broken just tender, he hadn’t hit me that hard; the face however is a delicate thing, sensitive.

“Bathroom.” I mumbled, rising.

“Kala?” It was a request for comfort and reassurance; he was kneeling on the bed, tears running down his face, shivering.

I gave him a wan smile, “I think it’s alright, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Repairing to the bathroom, I peed, then (after wiping myself and washing my hands) I peered into the mirror. The side of my face was red, puffy; it was going to bruise and my Master would be displeased. The pain had eased down to a dull repetitive throb, I thought I would be fine, I touched it gently, wincing as a dot of pain flared from the center of the touch but it wasn’t unbearable and I didn’t have an actual headache so no concussion; just the dull throbbing in my jaw, which was slowly (very) but steadily lessening. I found Tylenol in the medicine cabinet and took two, gently dashed water on my face, gave myself a cup of the cooling refreshing liquid. Slowly used a hand-towel to wipe off my smeared makeup (ouchie). After giving myself a few minutes I returned to him.

Steven had dressed, he was pacing up and down in his living room, and I stood in the doorway of his bedroom, naked, giving him my best seductive pose. It took him a moment to notice me there, he looked wary.

Hesitant, “are, are you okay?”

I nodded, “I’m fine Steven, I mean it hurts like hell, but I’ll be okay. Will you come back into the bedroom and talk about it with me? I’d like to talk.” The last was a gentle request.

We sat on the edge of his bed, me naked, him in what he was wearing before, he hung his head refusing to look at me, but didn’t resist when I gently took his hand squeezing warmly.

“I’m fine Steven okay?”

He nodded.

“It’s alright, you just have to remember, the face is very sensitive, very easy to injure, you have to be very, very gentle with any sub’s face okay?”

He answered his lap, (which hadn’t been speaking to him that I heard) “yes.”

“Look at me please.”

He looked at me.

“I’m going to be okay, you just have to be gentle with my face okay?”

“I’m sorry Kala, I never, never meant to harm you.”

“I forgive you, and you didn’t harm me, just hurt the hell out of me.” I smiled at him very gently, “if you like, I’m happy to continue, as long as you promise to be very gentle of my poor face.”

“You, you mean you don’t want to go back to the house, maybe see a doctor?”

I shook my head, wincing and feeling stupid as pain radiated up and down my jaw, “no Steven, I’d like to stay here and be your horny little nympho pain slut fuck toy all night long, just as long as you promise not to get over excited and hit me there again, no more in the face, okay?”

“Yes Kala, I promise.”

I could see he meant it, he was really sorry about what he’d done, earnest puppy dog eyes told me he really hadn’t meant to do anything that hurt me like that, fun was fun and agonizing unbearable swooning pain was, well agonizing unbearable swooning pain.

“Okay.” I said softly, smiling.

For a moment we sat quietly, I needed to make the next move.

The same inflection I’d used once before, “command me exalted.”

He grinned a little ruefully, chuckling, “kneel on the center of the bed.”

I giggled, “Yes master.”

I obeyed as he stood and stripped back down to his boxers.

He grabbed the handcuffs lying on the bed, tossed them to me, “cuff your hands, behind your back.”

I complied as he returned to his toy chest. He pulled out a wooden rod, looked like a pointer, about a foot long thick on one end for gripping, it thinned down to a sharp springy willow like whip end perfect for whipping the hell out of my poor sensitive flesh.

He climbed on the bed, standing and walked to me; standing behind me he crouched over me. One hand slid around my arms, curling around them just above my elbows and he pulled tight making me kneel up and lean back so my elbows held firmly in his grip pressed against his knees, my head pressing into his crotch.

“Arch Kala, thrust your breasts out.”

I submitted to his control and he began whipping both my tits with firm hard strokes of the willow rod. The rod hurt like hell, whistling through the air, hissing against my skin, painting lines of fire across my breasts, agony flared through me. I grimaced whined grunted, writhed in his grasp as the blows continued to fall, welts became bruises and blood flowed just lightly. I was squirming thrashing, crying eyes screwed tight shut as he whipped me with the rod, I whimpered, begged but of course didn’t use the safe word, and he continued; I could feel his cock pressed against the back of my neck, rock hard. Finally he stopped, released me, I slumped on my knees, head bowed crying, but grew calmer as he stroked my hair and made soothing noises.

He moved up beside me, side on to me, and took me gently by the back of the neck, the evil rod still waiting (lightly slicked in my blood) in his other hand.

“Bend over, slave.”

Without waiting for me to comply, he firmly bent me over his knees.

“Arch Kala, present your buttocks.”

I did as he wished, lifting my cheeks up to him. He began whipping my already welted bum, teasing the welts already there, drawing agonizing streaks of fire across my flesh, my cheeks warmed, heated grew agonizingly painful.

I was bobbing my ass from side to side, grunting, crying as the pain built, yet thrilling to his firm casual use of my body for his enjoyment. Finally he tired of spanking me, and I gasped in relief as he laid the rod down and began stroking the firm swell of my upturned bottom with his hand; mumping in quiet pain when he teasingly pinched a bloody welt here and there.

“There there,” he soothed, “there there, done the spanking. Good slut good slave.”

I smiled, chuckled, “yes master, your slave humbly begs to serve you.”

He chuckled, “she does does she, well then, since she’s my Ms. Robinson, I’d better let her do as she wants hadn’t I?”

Oh he was good for eighteen, “yes exalted.” As much submission as I could proffer in my voice.

He moved over just a bit, cruelly sadistically making me lean back by pulling on the chain of the cuffs binding my wrists, not double locked they tightened firmly around my wrists (they weren’t any of the ‘safe’ kind you could buy the gentle kind, metal serrated jaws bit into my flesh). I moaned, surrendering, he pulled his boxers down around his ankles, freeing his rock hard member.

His hand found the back of my head and he guided me toward him, “I want a blow job.”

I nodded even as he gently but irresistibly moved my face toward his large ‘little head’. I opened my mouth and took him in, his hand rested on my hair but didn’t push, letting me please him as I wished.

I suckled him gently, sliding my head down taking more of him in my throat as I then sucked strongly, rubbing my tongue against the pulsing veins and arteries running blood through his engorged organ. He moaned, stroking my hair, I had my eyes closed, ignoring the searing pain in my tits and ass, the agony in my wrists, ignoring too the throbbing in my jaw as I blew him. I deep throated, taking all his 10 inches down my throat, nuzzling my nose in among the thick hair around his balls. He moaned and I felt him pulse in my mouth as I sucked strong and hard, he was already close, but he was a teenager. I suckled a bit more, pressing my tongue in little circles around the base of his head as I slid my mouth up and down him. He bucked and his hand pulled on my hair, I would have willingly swallowed his spunk but he didn’t give me a chance, moaning he shot a jet of semen into my face; he stroked himself, jetting more into my forehead, where it ran down my face, I opened my mouth shifting my head, the next pulse shot neatly into my mouth and I swallowed, he didn’t even notice I was doing it. Head thrown back, eyes closed, he pumped his hand sending another stream of white, hot sperm into me, and then another and another. His hard dick steadily wilted before my mouth, and finally he was empty, he slowly shifted until he was sitting on his ass beside me.

Stroking my hair he smiled down at me, “lovely slave, you're such a good little nympho-slut.”

“Yes master.” I whispered.

I was wet between my legs, ready and willing for him again. He found the key to the cuffs, released them, freeing me from the pain.

“Go clean yourself up, there’s mouthwash in the medicine cabinet.”

“Yes master.” I rose meekly.

                                                 ***

I returned from the bathroom with a fresher mouth, and a willing attitude, I was ready to serve him in any way he might desire (yes please). He stood near the bed, boxers back in place, a dozen lengths of neatly coiled rope laid out on the bed, one short doubled length in his hands.

He smiled at me, breathed, “I’ve dreamed of doing this.”

I smiled as I approached, questioningly, “yes exalted?”

“I’m going to tie you up now slave.”

“Yes exalted.” Nothing but surrender.

Quiet, “hold out your hands wrists together.”

Smiling, I brought my hands up, pressing my wrists together, hands closed into little fists. He knew how to tie rope, nothing like my Master a trained and experienced Rope Master, but I’m sure hours of watching videos conferred a basic understanding. He wrapped the doubled length around my wrists, passing the ends through the loop, passing it around my wrists again then split the ends wrapping them over and under the coils of rope passed around my now tightly trapped wrists, he tied a simple knot in front nestled against the four coils of rope around my wrists; now my hands were bound.

“Sit down,” he instructed, waving at the bed.

I sat, looking up at him. He took my chin in one very gentle hand, bending over he kissed me, I opened my mouth as our tongues entwined gently for a wet luscious moment, then he stood.

Murmured, “Lovely.”

Smiling, I agreed, “yes master.”

He laughed lightly, picking up several small thin pieces of rope, “palms flat slave, spread out your fingers.”

I complied meekly, when he approached I held out my arms for him offering my hands to be bound. He smiled and took a short thin piece of cord, he tied my index fingers together tying a knot just behind the second knuckle; then he tied my ring fingers, pointers my pinkies, finally he bound my thumbs together. He wasn’t done, he still had several of the thin pieces of cord, he bound my pair of ring fingers to my two pinkies, tying a knot just behind the first knuckle restraining the quartet of digits together; he tied my index and pointer fingers similarly before looping another thin cord around my ring and index fingers so all four sets of digits were bound one to the other. Last he laid my thumbs flat along the line of my pointer fingers, and tied my thumbs to them; my hands were completely immobilized, utterly helpless. Smiling he returned to his chest, came back with two thin wooden rods and his camera.

He laid the rods across my knees held up the camera, “show me.”

I smiled and held up my hands; he took several pictures from a few different angles, before setting the camera down on the floor.

Murmured, irresistible command, “lift your arms.”

Immediately I raised my arms up above my head, exposing my armpits, but that wasn’t what he’d desired access to. He reached out, stroked one of my little brown nipples, tweezing gently making me squirm, I was rock hard; smiling his hand drifted to the other nipple giving it similar treatment, I murmured in pain, he pinched making me gasp. Chuckling he picked up the rods and a length of cord, thicker than that he’d used to bind my fingers but thinner than what he’d tied my wrists with.

Ignoring me, deftly he looped this around the end of both rods tying it off loosely, before picking up another cord and tying the other end of the rods together. The rope was loose leaving lots of play for the rods; he could move them several inches apart. I realized what he was doing and groaned when he fitted the rods over my nipples, firmly pressing them into my flesh. He smiled and holding the rods in place with one hand, reached for my nipple with the other. Submissively I kept my hands up out of the way, kept still as he plucked at the hard brown nub stretching it out, laying it across the wood, he repeated this with the other nipple making sure both hung well out over the wood. He pulled on the cord binding one end of the rods together, that end slid closed tightening pinching my nipples he pulled the other cord, sliding the rods together pinching my nipples tightly between them. I moaned as pain flared in my poor little perky b-cup tits, blood rushing to my nipples.

He laughed, as the improvised nipple clamps did their job, “hands down slave.”

I did as he bade me, letting the agony from the clamps wash over me.

I smiled at him submissively, “as you command exalted.”

That forced a real snigger from him. He smiled and kissed me quickly, hand gently (very) cupping my chin. He picked up a thicker longer length of rope, already doubled and ready for use. He looped this around my arms just under my bound wrists, sliding the ends through the loop created by doubling. He began encircling my arms with the rope, loop after loop circling around drawing tight trapping my arms together, it went all the way down to just above my elbows where he tied it off, trapping my forearms tightly together.

Smiling at me, he stroked my hair, “kneel on the middle of the bed slave.”

I had to work a bit to turn with my arms bound before me, and waddle in undignified fashion (am I too much a lady?) on my knees, ass swaying, to kneel in the middle of the bed.

Steven followed me, kneeling behind me, “cross your ankles slut.”

I complied meekly. He chuckled I think at my meek acceptance at being called slut.

He praised, “Good little nympho-slut.”

I looked over my shoulder at him, “yes master.”

I answered meekly, in a tone gently reminding him my safe word gave me more control over our play than he had. It sobered him, bringing him down from childish thoughts and back to the seriousness in the reality of our play.

He stroked my hair, “such a beautiful little slave Kala, you know I’m loving every minute of this, don’t you?”

I smiled and laughed, a smoky sound I saw sent shivers through him, “oh yes Steven, your enjoyment is rather plain.”

He smiled, ordered, “face front.”

Obediently I turned away. He took another thin cord, found my big toes, and adroitly slipped the cord around them tying them together; he followed this with a thicker cord, short doubled and he wrapped it around my crossed ankles, looped it, tied it off, binding my feet together.

He took a thick rope, also already doubled, white and fluffily soft; he threaded this through the rope tying my wrists, slipping the doubled ends through the loop and pulling it through, so it became a lead tied to the rope around my wrists. He brought it up, forcing my clasped hands to follow, he looped the doubled rope around my throat, not crossing in front of my throat but going all the way around so it circled neck and wrists together, a second loop stopped in front of my wrists, where he separated the ends, tying a big easily released knot just under the knot binding my wrists. My hands were trapped firmly against my throat, fingers pressing into my poor wounded jaw, but I accepted it complacently, allowing him to restrain me as he liked (he was good, considering he had no experience).

Another thick long rope doubled, he slid it through the crook of my elbows leaving it there.

His hand found the back of my neck, firm squeeze gentle pressure, “bend over slave.”

I bent, he helped with a firm push on my neck. When I was doubled over he took up the rope he’d draped over my elbows, he circled this around my knees threading the doubled ends through the loop in the crease of my elbows. He tugged, pulling the rope tight, tighter, forcing me to bend further over until the points of my elbows pressed firmly into the flesh just above my knees; he looped the cord a few times around my knees and elbows before tying it off trapping me in place.

I was bent over now, back arched, blood welted fanny raised high in the air, face pressed into the mattress, my knees took almost all my weight the way my ankles were bound, it would quickly become painful. He climbed off the bed, snap snap snap went the camera, he circled the bed taking pics from many different angles, especially getting close ups of my raised and proffered anus. He put the camera down next to me and went back to his toy chest, he returned, my face against the mattress I couldn’t see what he had retrieved.

He pulled a pillow away from the headboard, lifted me gently by the wrists and slid it beneath me; I turned, laying my cheek on the pillow.

Meek, “thank you exalted.”

Whispered back, “you’re welcome slave.”

He slipped the thick leather discs of a blindfold over my eyes, immediately blocking all light, I felt the leather strap encircle my head as I murmured wordlessly; he tightened it smoothing it over my shoulder length hair, I was blind. Snap snap went the camera exactly twice. Gone from me for a moment he returned, kneeling beside me.

He stroked my bum, agonizing fire as his palm slid over lines of dried blood covered welts; I stiffened as I felt him stroke the tip of the hateful rod lightly against my cheek, tracing my tattoo.

Teasing, “time for another spanking?”

I shook my head, “no please, mercy.” I whined.

“Mercy, you mean I can’t spank you Kala?”

“You know you can Steven,” I admitted, “but your slave humbly begs you to show her your mercy, please Sir?”

He laughed, “If the rod hurts too much, my little pain slut, would you prefer the strap?”

“The strap?”

Firmly, “the birch rod or the strap Kala, choose, my dear, your back could use a good going over.”

I laughed, it was covered in welts from the other guests, most of them no more than 3 or 4 hours old (Steven had a nice sense of humor).

“The strap, master, please?” I begged.

He murmured, “The strap then.”

He gave me a single hard lash with the rod, making me whine and shift before I could hold myself still, then he left me again. I heard him dip into his chest, my eyes blind; my other senses seemed to heighten in anticipation. For a long moment everything was still, quiet, I felt sweat beading under my armpits, beneath my aching breasts, as I waited with bated breath for the application of the strap.

Crack! I jumped and shivered at the really loud noise, he’d snapped the thick length of leather together making the sound.

It came again, and again, “not hurting you yet Kala, be still,” he chuckled.

“Yes exalted.”

Crack! I shivered as the strap landed just where the crack of my ass started, crack! again it fell higher this time working its way up my spine crack! Whirr crack! Whirr crack! Whirr, each time making me tremble, murmur in pain, as he welted my curved arched helpless back.

He worked over my lower spine just above my hips for many minutes, welting it thoroughly, before teasing me with blows to either side working my ribs, moving up to my shoulder blades. As time passed I became drenched in sweat, swaying from side to side just the tiniest bit, straining against the bonds which held me still. Blind I could only helplessly anticipate where the next blow would fall, and although I guessed right many times (Steven after all was using brute strength to make up for a lack of experience granted subtly). Still the agonizing strain of waiting to see where the pain would blossom next exhausted my reserves of decorum until I shifted in the ropes, whined as the blows fell. Finally I was crying, begging piteously for mercy. I don’t know how long after I started begging it was before he finally stopped, but at length I waited in vain for a blow to fall, only to feel him come to kneel beside me on the bed.

He stroked my welted back very gently, “there, that’s enough of that, isn’t it Kala?”

“Yes master.” I whimpered unashamedly.

I had to have been whipped for at least a straight hour, maybe longer. He stroked my back, sliding his hand down he caressed my arse, sliding his hand over the smooth uplifted swell of my cheeks, squeezing here and there, provoking gasps of pain from me.

He shifted to kneel behind me; I felt both hands part my cheeks, exposing my anal hole to his gaze, “I want to fuck your butt.”

It was a request, he sounded like he expected to be refused.

I gave a little chuckle only through my nose, “yes exalted but, and please forgive the pun, my butthole has been used roughly the last couple of days, please please be gentle with it.” I paused, “some lube would be nice.”

“I don’t have any.”

I asked hopefully, “hand cream?”

He spoke softly, “I don’t want to.”

“You don’t want to lube me?”

“No.”

“I see. You want it rough?”

“Yes.”

I gave a little sigh, I was here to please him, and I nodded.

He perhaps didn’t see it, or was just unsure, “I’m going to fuck your butthole Kala, unless you want to use the safe word?”

“Go ahead Steven, I won’t resist.”

I felt him part my cheeks, then his finger dipped pressed gently into my starfish, slowly firmly he forced a single finger into my anus. I made myself relax my cheeks, knowing it would hurt more if I fought. He slid his finger in up to the second knuckle, slid it back then in again back and forth several times; finally he slowly with a wet suction removed his finger from my anal hole. He brought the finger up to my face, passing it beneath my nose, I’d bathed thoroughly before presenting myself to Steven, including bathing my anus thoroughly, still I could smell unpleasantness. I snorted, shifted my head, but he pressed the finger to my nose, forcing me to smell it.

“You’re a dirty little slave aren’t you Kala?” I said nothing, “aren’t you?”

It was what he wanted, “yes exalted.”

I felt humiliated, the ladyness in me rebelling, tears leaked out under the blindfold, he didn’t notice even as I fought my feelings to surrender to him.

“Open your mouth.”

I opened and he slid his finger into my moist cavern, “suckle it.”

I sucked his finger, cleaning it with my mouth and tongue; he withdrew it from my mouth with a wet noise. He stroked the cleft of my ass cheeks with his wet finger, drying it, then rose from the bed.

He dug in his chest, returning a moment later, peremptory, “open.”

Again I opened and he slipped the hard plastic of a ball gag into my maw, I tongued it lightly as he buckled it in place. It smelt brand new, I closed my teeth on it gently, unscored hard plastic I was the first to have it in my mouth. It kept me from intelligible speech although it was no muzzle, I could probably make myself understood if I really wanted to.

He crouched behind me, and I realized he had removed his boxers again. His hands gently fell on my waist, I felt his throbbing cock probe lightly at my butthole I held myself still, made myself relax, keeping my cheeks loose so he’d have it easier. One hand came up to the back of my neck, gripping firmly, the other guided and fed himself into me; I felt his uncircumcised cock rock hard and pulsing, probe up my anus. He slowly eased all 10 inches up into me, I groaned around the gag as my anus, already used roughly this weekend, stretched around him, accommodating his size. He ignored me, began fucking me roughly, with no regard to my comfort or enjoyment. That alone made me wet and horny, thrilling to be debased and used as a fuck toy, temporarily of no value but my hole, which he used for his enjoyment. He rode me hard, fast, rocking me with the force of his thrusts, he fucked me and then groaning, came, hard ropy lines of semen shooting up my ass, then dribbling back out like diarrhea.

Panting he collapsed atop me, resting against my back, until he finally whispered, “that was god damn fucking great Kala, I love you.”

CHAPTER 6

I could see Lizibeth on the steps, waiting with the front door open; security must have seen us on their cameras.

That night, after he’d released me from my restraints and asked me if I was alright, we’d lain together and talked about it for a while. I answered as many of his questions as I could (and he had many) and helped him to come to grips with the experience he’d just had in a good light. In the end we cuddled for a long time, and playfully I led him in cleaning his room (letting him order me around as I did it for him) and we went over his bondage toys, talking about the various things he could do with them (we even tried a few) and we cuddled some more, and fucked a few times (I rode him again for my pleasure roughly) and fell asleep cuddled in each other’s arms.

I woke up to find the bed empty, I heard the shower running. Steven was very, very surprised when I opened the shower door and joined him, blast of cold air making him shiver as the steam eddied and swirled.

Sleepy smile, “hi.”

“Uh, hi,” he offered.

Smiling I took the soap from him, lathering it in my hands; I soaped his chest as he looked a little befuddled. Quickly without sexual connotations I soaped his genitals (of course he hardened) I ignored his cock except to wash it, he grinned when I soaped his balls, and giggled: (yeah I know eighteen year old boys giggle, shocker) as I turned him soaped his back, cleaned his ass, I crouched and cleaned his legs, his feet.

“Shampoo exalted?”

He silently turned and handed me the shampoo, I lathered up and gently shampooed his hair, first his head, then lower; washing it gently in the hot rain falling from the showerhead. I wondered if he would want to do it to me; slightly surprised but compliant I let him take the shampoo, he did my head, then as I’d done to his balls he started on my genitals, but stopped chagrinned, my pussy was bare. I smiled and handed him the soap, turning I presented my back.

“Your tattoo?”

“It won’t come off.” I assured him.

I assumed that was true, my Owner supposedly had some solution to remove it, and soap and water hadn’t even faded it yet. He soaped my back my ass following my lead he cleaned my feet, I luxuriated as he soaped between my toes, working patiently unselfconsciously he cleaned me exactly as I had him. Taking to heart the bit I’d told him about how a person during sex would often stroke and fondle what they wanted stroked and fondled themselves, do to their partner what they themselves wanted done. He started on my front, he soaped my vulva gently, following my lead he made no attempt to molest me, he soaped my thighs my belly, breasts.

Standing before me he peered at my face, “how does it feel?”

I had a shiner, “it’s better, I’ll be fine in a few days.”

Quiet, “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay Steven, I’m fine.”

I’d had another pair of Tylenol before going to bed, planned to have two more in a minute. I took the soap from him, putting it back, there we were clean. I moved in kissing him, running my tongue over his lips until he opened and let me in, his arms came around me as I probed his mouth gently, feeling his tongue gently caress me. I pulled back, kissed his neck; he dipped his head and kissed mine.

I grinned, “Don’t take it too far Steven unless you’re sure it’s what wanted, not normally monkey see monkey do.”

He laughed ruefully, he was gaining confidence. I reached down, found his penis with my hand, he was firm not rock but hard, I closed my hand around it, and he sucked in a breath.

I stroked him gently, “make love to me Steven.”

His cock immediately became rock hard at the request. I grinned as I shifted, letting myself fall against the shower stall, taking him with me. He wrapped an arm around my lower back the other bracing himself against the stall, I shifted guided him in, he grunted as he slid in to the hilt all 10 inches of him. I raised my leg to open as wide as I could, wrapping it behind his knee standing on one leg as he began to fuck me in long smooth strokes. I moaned, throwing my head back as waves of pleasure rolled through me, I brought my hand around behind him, gently probed at his ass. He didn’t realize what I was doing until I firmly slid a finger up his asshole; he stopped thrusting with a grunt of surprise.

I whispered, “it’s okay, don’t stop, you’ll like this.”

After a moment, he started again I moaned dropping my lips to his collar bone and began feeding on him, the hot water drummed down on us deliciously. I pressed my finger more firmly up his ass joining it with a second, he grunted, thrust, I pressed with my fingers and he began spasming, shooting into me with a groan. It triggered my own orgasm (I could have fought to hold back, but why?) we came sleepily together.

We stood, leaning against the wall panting slowly. I pulled my fingers out of his asshole, held them up to the water to clean them. We rested for a minute; just as he was about to say something the water became icy cold. I shrieked he cursed spinning, his hand slammed down on the knob and the ice shower stopped.

“Sorry, it does that sometimes, the hot water’s not empty, but it has some kind of timer shut off valve. Hot water runs to one place too long, it goes off, I normally turn the valve off but I forgot.”

“Uh-huh.” I muttered darkly, freezing.

We got out and like a good little slave (which I like to be) I took a big fluffy towel and dried him thoroughly, kneeling to dry his genitals legs and feet, before I dried myself. I told him I wanted to pee and he left the bathroom hastily, apparently not wanting to give the impression he was interested in watching (I wouldn’t have let him, he was too young, I wouldn’t let him experience that though me). I peed and took more Tylenol, the dull ache in my face was only really noticeable if I thought about it, or if I touched it, it would hurt for at least a week.

In the bedroom he was dressed, a loose pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt. I came and led him to the bed.

Sitting him down I straddled his lap, “so, what shall we do, if you like I could bring you breakfast in bed?”

“Um, there is nothing in the kitchen, nothing in the main galley either, we’re going to stock in France tomorrow.”

I checked the clock, only 9 am. We hadn’t actually slept late though I felt as if I should have, “we could go to the mansion for breakfast, Mr. Thorn brought in 7 different chefs each one a five star specialist in a different style of cooking, you could have anything you wanted.”

His face brightened, then fell, hesitantly, “what about this?” his hand reached up, hovering near but not touching my bruised cheek.

I smiled, “what, are you planning to hold me prisoner until it heals?”

He smiled back, noting my gentle tone, he teased, “I have lots of rope.”

I laughed, then turned serious, “funny, but don’t joke Steven, I’m yours today if you want me, but I’m going home tomorrow, and Mr. Thorn will see me before I go. Don’t worry though, I’ll handle this, it’ll be fine.”

“I know, but, it’s - well I never meant to hurt you Kala, but others might not see it that way, I just don’t, well I’m afraid.”

He dropped his gaze, he was shivering.

“Don’t worry Steven, it’ll be okay, I’ll lie for you, I’ll handle everything alright?”

He nodded.

Bright, “hey, there’s a whole bunch of other slaves at the house, perhaps you’d like to pick one to have a threesome with.”

His jaw literally dropped, “are you serious?”

I nodded, “or, if I’m not pleasing enough, you can pick one to replace me with.”

Quickly, “I can never replace you Kala.”

I chuckled, “I’m kidding Steven,” silence for a moment, brightly, “so, shall we go to breakfast?”

He looked up at me with a mischievous smile, “if I ask, do you think the cook can make me a three ostrich egg omelet with a side order of baked bison sausage and deep fried hash browns?”

A twinkle in my eye I replied solemnly, “I guarantee it, if I’m wrong you can spank me with the birch rod.”

“I can do that anyway,” he warningly teased.

Girlish, “yes exalted.”

He laughed, slapped my ass and I got off him.

He looked to the little black pile of my evening gown, “are, are you going to wear that?”

I arched my brow, “I’ll wear anything you wish master, and I’m perfectly prepared to go naked.”

“Naked!” he was surprised.

“Everyone there has already seen me naked Steven, remember, I’m here for the weekend as a slave toy to be used.”

“Oh, well I’m not going to make you go naked, you can dress.”

“Yes exalted, what shall I wear?”

“Um, oh well, what would you like to wear? The dress you had last night?”

“Not really appropriate for the breakfast table.” I demurred although I would have put it on if he’d ordered me to.

“Yes, well what then?”

“You may dress me in anything you wish exalted.”

He grinned suddenly only now realizing he was really supposed to decide for me, “Oh, really, well, I guess I’ll dress you then.”

I felt a shiver of foreboding run down my back; I wondered just how foolish it would please him to make me look.

“Yes exalted,” I murmured my surrender to his will.

He went to a dresser, rooted around in a bottom drawer, pulled out a pair of white briefs, neatly folded; he tossed them to me, “here.”

I caught them unfolding them, they were old but clean. I put them on while he watched admiringly.

“Very nice, I don’t usually wear briefs, that’s an old pair, you can keep those, think of me when you wear them,” he was trying to put a leer in his voice, and it sounded vaguely like a line from a movie.

“Thank you exalted.”

Grinning I posed for him he grinned back and circled his finger indicating I should strut for him. I walked up and down the room in the briefs, striking coquettish poses for his amusement; he smiled and chuckled as I posed for him.

Finally I asked, “Are you going to dress me in anything else master, or am I going just in this?”

He smiled turned back to the dresser, opening another drawer, he pulled out a small pair of faded blue denim jeans, tossed them to me.

“I hate laundry, these shrunk in the wash, I was going to get rid of them but let’s see if they fit you.”

They fitted, I’d rather have the strap corset, the waistband dug painfully into me, I could only breathe so deeply, Steven would never wear these again. They hugged my ass hiding nothing from view, I wasn’t sure I could sit without ripping them.

He admired them, “very nice Kala, you have such a lovely ass.”

He slapped the aforementioned, I ducked my head submissively shot him a grin. He went back to the dresser and pulled out a t-shirt, green it went well with my dark hair, I slipped into it and he bade me tuck it into the jeans, braless my perky breasts gently strained against the tight fabric, which clung to my belly. I was dressed, and all in all not too bad…

Steven hung behind me as we mounted the steps toward Lizibeth, I held the gown and jewelry from last night in my hands, the little flash card from the camera was in Steven’s pocket, he’d nicely pointed out when I took it that I had to delete the camera’s internal memory, I was letting him carry the card so it wouldn’t break when I moved in the tight jeans.

Lizibeth looked at me, no preamble, “are you alright Kala?” she looked like she’d produce a gun if I said no.

“I’m fine Lizibeth, really don’t even think about it. We came for breakfast.”

“I’ll take those,” she took the clothes from me, turned to Steven. “Most of the remaining guests (more than half the yachts were gone) are dining in their rooms (the look she shot me suggested with a slave or three apiece); however a small party is dining in the solarium, if you’d care to join them sir?”

“Uh, yeah is my father there?”

“Yes sir, if you’ll follow Terry.” Lizibeth snapped her fingers.

Terry was a naked slave girl I’d seen around, stunning beauty, 5’8 115 pounds tight firm c-cup breasts, smooth belly firm abs tight ass, red haired (including the thick bush around her pussy) and green eyed, she was a knockout, a 12 on anyone’s 10 list.

Submissively she appeared in the doorway, “this way my lord.”

She led the way and I could see Steven reading her name off her as he followed. He paused when Lizibeth held me back but I shooed him on.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Lizibeth, I was tied up and he got overexcited and we both ended up tumbling off the edge of the bed, a stupid accident but nothing to get excited about.”

“When Mr. Thorn sees it he’ll go ballistic, he considers you under his protection, and he takes it seriously.”

“Well then, someone should explain it to him, shouldn’t she?”

“Yes, someone had better,” Lizibeth said grimly.

We walked slowly toward the breakfasters, Lizibeth sent a slave scurrying ahead, and Elsie met us in the hall outside; I told my lie to her. She heard me out nodded and said she’d take care of it. We went in, Steven was being waited on by Terry, he’d already placed his order and she was setting down a huge plate of waffles, drizzled in syrup. Thorn sat at the head of the table, Thorpe on his left, the empty chair I knew would be Elsie’s (who of course as the lady of the house, was dressed, she was slave only to Thorn) the only other guest at breakfast was the woman whom I’d assisted in torturing a bound slave with hot wax before I ate the slave out for her viewing pleasure.

I moved to sit next to Steven, who was speaking with his father, Thorn was staring at me, he looked angry and he turned a glare on Steven. Elsie was hurrying around the table toward him; she bent down whispering in his ear furiously. I sat next to Steven, Thorn sitting stiffly, stared hard at the bruise on my cheek as Elsie whispered (presumably my lie) into his ear.

Mr. Thorpe spoke, “um Steven, what happened to Kala?”

“It’s alright Mr. Thorpe, we got tangled up and slipped off the edge of the bed, a stupid accident, nothing to worry about.” I answered for him.

Thorn spoke gently, “are you alright Kala?”

“It hurts, but only when I touch it, I’m sure I’ll be fine in a week or so.”

“I’ll have the doctor brought, she’s sleeping in but - ”

“No,” I said quickly, “let her sleep, it’s not important, she can look at it later.”

Thorn nodded, and we ate breakfast. Everyone chatted amiably, a dozen nude slaves waited on us all, Terry seemed to have decided she was assigned to Steven as she hovered over him solicitously but with expert training unobtrusively. Terry was extremely submissive, I’d noted it earlier; one of those who truly are only happy when they are actively doing things for another person. Steven couldn’t help but stare at her; she was stunning, easily overshadowing most of the other slaves (I think I can say I’m in her league in most respects and since these are my memoirs well fuck you if you don’t like it)

A few times I saw the female guest watching me appraisingly, I wasn’t quite sure if she was hot for my body, or didn’t buy the story I’d reeled off; it hardly mattered. At one point I leaned close to Steven after sending Terry away to fetch me another cup of coffee. She went gracefully, smart she knew I was sending her away even if Steven didn’t catch it, but she wanted only to serve.

“Do you like Terry?” I asked quietly in his ear.

He nodded, “beautiful isn’t she, and she seems to really like me.”

I agreed, saying nothing, he had a certain innocent charm to match his good looks, I could easily see how it would attract Terry, hell it attracted me. It pleased me that he clearly didn’t put our conversation on the boat together with the question now; it would make it a great surprise. I excused myself to the bathroom, (I did indeed relieve myself) I sent a slave for Lizibeth and talked to her, things were arranged easily. Lizibeth told Thorn, Thorn made up a story saying he’d decided to send me off to see the doctor, she should be awake by now, and of course Steven accepted that.

I waited naked in the playroom; I’d been waiting a few minutes, long enough to nervously fold my clothes neatly. The door opened and Terry came in, moving with a lithe grace she came to me smiling gently.

“Hi,” I said warmly, “how much were you told?”

She smiled, her dulcet voice was husky, I knew it alone would send shivers through anyone who was into women, it sent tingles through me.

“A threesome for Steven, you’ve been assigned to him for the day and you offered him one earlier, I take it he chose me?”

“I chose you for him, he says he likes you, I um, I’m not really into women, but I don’t mind them, so,”

She interrupted confidently, “okay, you’re in charge, just explain what you want done, I have absolutely no limits of any kind.”

“I’m going to prepare you, Lizibeth is going to fetch Steven at the appropriate time.”

“I understand,” she replied submissively.

“Lie down on the bed.”

Gracefully she stretched out on the bed, stretching luxuriously, I couldn’t help but admire the interplay of her well honed muscles, she was a Mercedes compared to Chevys: no she was the 007 car compared to horse drawn wagons (I think that makes me the Mercedes or maybe a Lamborghini, I’m not really much on cars).

I needed her helpless before I felt inadequate, she cooperated with nothing but willing obedience as I shackled her wrists and ankles to the bed posts, tying her spread eagle. I slipped a blindfold over her eyes, followed it with a soft rubber ball gag, bright blue. I attached nipple clamps to her beautiful tits, I considered giving her a butt plug, but decided that was something for Steven to think about.

I started with an egg shaped vibrator, but although she writhed and moaned a bit (she’s extremely responsive not as much as I am but…), I found it wasn’t really very powerful. I put it aside and began eating her out, spreading her wide with my fingers I found her little stamen and vibrated it with my tongue, she groaned into her gag, arching her hips, writhing against me; I felt moistness flowing around my mouth, I felt moistness flowing around my own vaginal lips.

She was reacting perfectly, I brought her to the brink of orgasm, I held her there, giving little hard jolts of pleasure to keep her on the brink even as she writhed and made noises I recognized as words, begging to be brought to orgasm. That’s not what I wanted however I wanted her purring and ready, overstimulated and reacting wildly to the slightest touch for Steven when he arrived…

                                                 ***

I had a great day with Steven. He and his father left in the early evening, Jeremy approached me then and since he asked I happily fucked him. I ate Lizibeth out as well, and let her eat me (she still seemed under the impression I was bi and not just a submissive little toy, I didn’t have the heart to disabuse her), and again the Thorns took me to bed, I went home the next day. My captain (still nameless) picked me up and brought me to the harbor (he didn’t fuck me) the limo driver who owned the company met me again at the harbor (he did want another blow job) and I boarded my flight with only one little incident. Interpol had a reliable tip about drug mules (I checked later they caught thirty-seven from nine different airports), as Lizibeth had once warned me the fast talking was up to me as they searched every single women above twelve and below fifty flying to Calgary from any airport in France that day. However security had nothing to say about my tattoo except “can you spread your cheeks wider ma’am” (I of course did) and then the female Sûreté officer took me aside, looked at the bruise on my cheek, and carefully asked me if I needed help… (my Owner was vastly amused by the story) {what’s that, what happened with me and Terry and Steven? That’s another chapter of course…I know I need to be beaten severely} {bye bye for now, dimpled smile}

Yes I know, I’m very, very naughty saving the tale of my threesome with Steven and Terry for later, I believe they call it literary suspense (dazzling smile). If you don’t like it, I’ll gladly submit to a spanking. I thought I’d save the story for later though, Terry became another friend, she’s from Auckland so I only see her rarely, but she’s become a lifelong friend… and even though I’m not into women, she’s an amazing fuck (dimpled smile, curtsy eyes lowered). However I promise I’ll get around to writing it out for your reading pleasure, eventually (grin as she proffers her ass for a blow).

On more serious notes; no I never did get the names of the yacht captain OR the limo driver, it just sort of slipped past, I never got around to asking anyone whom they were. I could have found out of course, but as time passed it became less and less important, until so much time had gone by it would have been senseless asking for their names. As for the strip search at the airport, they of course didn’t find anything (despite the large man who probed my pudenda and anus with gloved fingers), and I boarded the plane without incident.

Steven, well I can remember standing in the dark on that windswept beach for well over an hour, things running through my mind. It excited and terrified me, the act I was about to embark on; but it went extremely well didn't it. I enjoyed taking Steven's cherry I think, even more than he liked giving it to me. Oh he got his pictures, but only after my Master sat him down, had a talk and he signed a legal document promising the pictures would remain for his private use and not be disseminated.

My main lament of that weekend is Elsie’s earring, it turned out we lost it, I was almost certain it had been with the clothes when we left Steven’s room, but it wasn’t there when Elsie looked over the clothes. We looked everywhere, it was gone…she was gracious about it, but I found out later it was a ten grand piece of jewelry she’d gotten for her thirtieth wedding anniversary (sigh). I couldn’t make up for it, and even though she laughed and told me not to be silly and forget it when I begged her forgiveness, still; I hate losing such a precious keepsake, one earring without the other is of course, not much use. She only agreed to beat me (she switches, not often but on rare occasion) after I broke into real tears kneeling at her feet, but I’ll never make up for it, I’m a bad slave…(okay that’s enough whining, time to get over spilled milk, see writing is cathartic).

So, I think some of you may like to hear more about my afternoon with Steven and Terry, and I’ll tell you (honest); I will tell you about how I hurt her so, in the name of a dominant’s service. How I stabbed her repeatedly with a radiant blade. Shoving it deep, so deep again and again into her body, shackled spread eagle down on the bed. How she moaned and tossed her head as she begged piteously through the ball gag for mercy. I’ll reveal just how cruel exalted was with her. How he made her suffer so very long, expertly torturing her mentally and physically. Forcing her to surrender utterly before he granted her relief.

       I will tell you all about the punishment I begged for, and received, upon losing Elsie’s earring; and the time I spent with Lizibeth. Tying off loose strings, I will introduce you to Stan, and recount my second encounter with my nemesis. A nemesis I deserve, an enmity my own behaviour formed. I know, most people, if they have one, encounter their nemesis well before thirty (twenty-eight) but what can I say; I’m a slow starter (not really but I have to say something J). These may be my memoirs but that still makes me the protagonist, and every protagonist is deserving of her own antagonist. Even a humble slave like me, whom can do no more than kneel meekly at their nemesis’s (es, es J) feet and placidly accept whatever torments the woman chooses to dole out.

I’ll reveal in more detail the fear and shame I felt when I was taken at the airport. Taken and undressed and probed most intimately. Not in play, which would have excited me, but because it was thought I, poor slave Kala, might have been a nefarious terrorist (or at least an unwitting mule J) I will tell you these things, and more.

But first let me tell you about Xo. I want to talk about her rape. Continuing until she bled vaginally, it went on all day. Still, whether it was actually rape is a matter for discussion. I’ll present the facts and let you make up your own mind. I know, I know, these are my memoirs and I wasn’t present for her punishment gangbang; however she talked to me about it, one lazy afternoon weeks later. And I wrote it down that night. So, since I’m going over that weekend at the beach and tidying up loose ends as it were, for your enjoyment, let me recount how Xo spent an afternoon.

Remember this was punishment I’d helped her gain, instead of being sent home that day, you’ll recall she got sent home the next day anyway. It’s really not her fault, she’s a kitten, coddled and cosseted. She’s a dutiful even enthusiastic sex toy and a very pretty plaything, a joyful ornament; she does try to be good. She is not mentally or emotionally built for domestic servitude; which is why she ended up going home that weekend, bound as a pretty package. I can still recall those piteous, half choked back sobs coming from beneath the cloth draped cage… Now let me recount Xo’s tale.

THE CONTINUED EROTIC ADVENTURES OF SLAVE KALA: BEACH MANSION PART 4- LOOSE ENDS

CHAPTER 7        

Naked, panting and lightly sweating, Xo jog\trotted up the forest path. She felt the cool earth pressing on the soles of her feet. The shade of the quiet forest cooling her bare skin as soft rustling breeze tousled her dark hair. She didn’t know why she was hurrying, it’s not like the northeast guard shack was expecting her at all, never mind at a specific time; she just wanted to get her punishment over with. Xo was glad to have been afforded this chance, thankful it had been afforded her. As her new friend Kala (ohh, that’s me, your humble narrator J) had interceded on her behalf, pleading her case far more eloquently than she could have done it herself. Xo resolved to thank Kala properly as soon as an opportunity presented itself, (yes I remember the thanks, and again you’re welcome Xo. Although you still ended up going home, didn’t you).

Xo approached the shack openly; anything else might actually get her shot. The ‘shack’ was actually a solidly constructed cabin, weather tight and well built. She trotted up to the door and lifted her hand to knock; hand upraised the door suddenly swung open causing Xo to freeze. A large well built man in the paramilitary uniform of Thorn’s security, belt full of weapons; stood in the door smiling at her expression.

He pointed a single finger straight up, pointing out an apparently ornamental discreet fleur-de-lys above the cabin door. “Pinhole camera, coupled with a motion alarm, after all a guard house is a target for any professional intruders. We saw you jogging up the path the moment you rounded the bend slave. Now, you were sent here for a reason?”

He looked her over, first professionally noting her nudity made plain she bore nothing but herself. Before his overbearing maleness asserted itself and his inspection became appreciative. Xo swallowed her surprise and lowered her hand.

Her naturally seductive husky voice choked out, “I was ordered to present myself here for a gangbang sir.”

His eyebrows lifted and he looked her over again. With an inscrutable expression he stepped back, one hand on the door, his other swept out to invite her in. Meekly Xo stepped past him into the cabin’s main room.

The front room was purely for business, empty in the middle just an expanse of wood floor. Windowless it was lit with fluorescent ceiling tubes. One wall was lined with a rack of shotguns rifles and automatic weapons; these were safely locked behind a wire cage with a padlocked door. The opposite wall was dominated floor to ceiling and wall to wall with a score of large sized video monitors. Each of these cycled through their own individual sets of a half dozen images, the cameras for the quadrant. The screens alternately showed sections of beach, fields and meadows or overlooked forest paths. The screens showed a lack of any activity and a pair of bored men, one a huge black, sat in comfortable chairs watching the screens with professional detachment. The back wall, which clearly divided the small single story cabin in half, was centered by a door flanked to either side by tables laden with esoteric equipment.

As the guard closed the door one of those men glanced over his shoulder at her, and then went back to watching the screens.

“Xo,” the guard who granted her entrance said after glancing at the tattoo on her butt, “through the door there.”

“Yes sir,” Xo answered; an anticipatory tremble in her belly.

He followed her to the door and opened it for her. As she went through he patted her on the ass, “Go stand in the middle of the room slave, hands atop your head.”

Loudly, “Yes sir.”

Submissive, Xo lithe body swaying gracefully, crossed the bare floor. The middle of the room had been softened with the placement of a thick brown area rug. She went to stand on it, legs braced apart ankles flexing gently for balance. She kept her head up, eyes straight as she folded her hands on top of her black silken hair.

If the front of the cabin was for work, the back was for the guards to relax in. A fridge hummed in one corner, a table beside it held a steaming coffee machine and various mugs utensils and condiments. Comfortable chairs dotted the room and a black vinyl day couch with a raised headrest graced one side of the room, pillows scattered on it. An open door showed a small half-bathroom, just a shower stall.

Half a dozen men were in the room, drinking coffee and amusing themselves with books or cards. Also a single female guard, lounging on the daybed; she was stunning. The uniform accentuated her gently flared hips, fabric straining at her large tits, blond hair cascading around her shoulders which framed her angular face and dark brown eyes. Ten guards in all Xo realized, trembling slightly at the thought of all those cocks pounding into her repeatedly.

Each of the armed security agents were well built and proportioned, large and powerful. All were muscular, not bodybuilder built but the trained toned conditioning of power for use and not simple display. All carried with them an alert aura of intelligence and competence; none were younger than thirty or older than thirty-five. They weren’t your average run of the mill; make the client feel better standard security company pool. They were highly trained and experienced mercenaries. Daniel Thorn was a nice man, with lots of money and international business interests; and that meant enemies. He took his physical security seriously.

The female guard drawled lazily, “Well Rick, what’s she for?” With that she rolled to her back weapons belt shifting; she put her hands behind her head and crossed her strong ankles as she gazed up at the ceiling, his answer clearly beneath her caring.

Rick moved to stand before Xo as he addressed his female contemporary. “You were wrong Sara. We’ve been sent a gift it seems. She’s here for a gangbang.”

A moment passed, and then one guard whistled appreciatively as others exchanged exclamations of delight. Intrigued Sara rolled smoothly off the day couch as she reached for her belt. “Oh really?”

She drew and with a practiced flick extended the three foot length of a metal police issue combat baton. Slowly she stalked towards Xo as she blithely continued,“We were under the impression our request probably wasn’t going to be possible this week; and even if it was, it certainly wouldn’t be until the day after the party.”

Sara gently pressed the balled tip of her baton into Xo’s exposed armpit, Xo flinched and trembled but managed to hold still. As if oblivious to Xo’s nervousness she glanced with a tight smile at the watching crowd as she stepped out of Xo’s sight. The baton lightly now alongside Xo’s raised pit as Sara, behind her brought her other hand up. She brushed aside a lock of the slave girl’s onyx hair, stroked the side of her neck. Before her hand slid down to warmly squeeze Xo’s shoulder. “I see you’ve recently been canned Xo, I thought the preparations were still in full frenzied swing. I thought there wasn’t any time for play?” She whispered gently into her ear.

Xo trembled, the sub in her responding to the woman’s easy dominating manner. “Yes ma’am,” Xo started.

She grunted as the baton slammed hard into her rib with a meaty thwack, “Mistress.”

Several of the watching men chuckled and Xo saw Rick smile broadly.

“Yes Mistress,” Xo went on smoothly. “I was sent here as punishment.”

“Punishment?” Sara queried incredulously, and hit her in the same place, eliciting another grunt and forcing Xo to shift to maintain balance. “Having sex with these fine gentlemen is punishment?” She demanded, “What’s wrong with them!”

“Hey yeah!” One of the men chimed in.

“Let me handle this Dan.” Sara said calmly, demanding, “Well?” Another squeeze before the hand dropped away.

“Um, I don’t know Mistress,” Xo replied small voiced. “I misbehaved, I was trying to be good but after a few times they decided to send me home. I begged to stay, so I was sent here as punishment.”

“Who exactly sent you, and what were you doing wrong?” Sara snapped.

The baton left Xo’s armpit again, but instead of hitting her with it, Xo felt the metal, warmed from being under her arm, slide between her legs to press firmly against the lips of her vagina.

“Please,” Xo whined, too well trained to drop her hands or move to face her angered interrogator. “Lizibeth sent me, I’m a kitty, I was told to clean but each time Lizibeth said I was lazy and not getting things spotless. When she agreed to let me stay, she told me to present myself here for a gangbang. She said she’d come find me later. Please Mistress, I, I only want to be good, I want to stay.” She was on the verge of tears.

Sara chuckled. “Okay Xo, it’s all right,” she soothed, “I’m just teasing, no one’s angry at you. We’ll have to find a way to thank Lizibeth, won’t we boys?”

There were words of agreement. The baton dipped out of Xo’s pubis for a second, only to rush back up, delivering a stinging blow that made her squirm.

“As for you slave,” Sara spoke suddenly. “You’ve just been delivered into the hands of nine men who intend to fuck you repeatedly, with no thought for any discomfort you might feel. And I my dear, I’m a sadist, I warn you I fully intend to beat the shit out of you for the gentlemen’s amusement; and yes I use the term loosely.” She paused for the protests, went on, “Are you scared yet Xo?”

“No Mistress.”

“No?” Xo heard her ask archly. Again a stinging blow on her pubis, “Why not?”

“I know I’m safe,” she replied simply.

“Oh, are you sure of that?” Sara demanded behind her; the baton sliding back and forth in her moistening channel.

“Yes Mistress,” Xo replied, feeling a shiver run through her as her denuded kitty responded to the stimulation. The baton left her, only to deliver a very hard blow to the opposite ribs, making her grunt.

“Still sure?” Sara asked and immediately hit her again.

“Yes Mistress.” Xo whimpered but held still.

“Why?” The baton rested in her armpit again.

“My safety was guaranteed Mistress. I never would have been sent here if it was believed you might harm me. Beat me hard, fuck me roughly yes, but not harmed. I’m sure of that Mistress.”

Xo heard another chuckle from behind, and Rick reached out to fondle one of her small breasts. “Can’t fool you slave.”

Another blow from the baton as Sara agreed, “No I guess we can’t. Let’s move on. Rick you answered the door you can have her first, but then someone needs to recon sectors one through six.”

“Okay,” Rick replied as Sara moved away, back into Xo’s sight.

At this point Xo didn’t know just how harshly they intended to use her. How harshly they had spelled out in the petition Lizibeth had been made privy to.

The petition, typed in twelve point Times New Roman font double spaced with one inch margins and point 0 five paragraph indents. Printed out on thick cream coloured Thorn Industries Worldwide stationery and signed by all the guards present. It had been presented to Thorn personally at an officially requested and scheduled meeting; their erstwhile leader Sara efficiently in the van. They delivered it en massea at his office in Marseilles only hours after the memo about the party had gone out to the European division of Thorn Industries security. Sara her friends nervous behind her, had organized idle banter and bravo into a formal attempt at fulfilling a group fantasy; and she’d spelled it out eloquently (according to my source, Thorn).

Xo knew none of that (I discussed it with Thorn after my talk with Xo) she had no idea what was in store for her (poor Xo).

Her breath whooshed out as Sara poked the ball of her baton into the slave’s belly, “Hands down bitch, bend over.”

Rick moved a little closer as Xo dropped her hands to her sides, bending toward him. THWACK! Xo stiffened as the baton cracked against her rear, stinging throbbing pain from the line of contact. Agony seemed to underline the ink proclaiming her SLAVE XO accentuating it.

“It’s, yes Mistress, when I give you an order bitch. No wonder you get punished.”

Xo sobbed, “Yes Mistress.”

Coldly, “Take his pants down you fucking whore.”

“Yes Mistress.” She reached for the snap of his black slacks; she could see the bulge of his cock as she undid him.

“That’s right slave,” he encouraged, his hand coming up to stroke her dark hair as she pulled down his zipper.

“Yes sir,” Xo answered as she started to fumble with his thick weapon littered belt.

It wasn’t difficult to undo the belt; soon it hung free in the loops of his pants. Xo felt Sara standing ready just beside her; the other guards watching as she took down Rick’s slacks; lowered the white briefs to expose his thick organ, only partially hard. She felt his hand on her head, urging her forward as Sara spoke.

“Suck him bitch.”

Xo opened her mouth as she gently grasped the thick manhood before her in one small warm hand, “Yes Mistress.” She slid the organ inside her hot cavern, suckling. Rick sucked in a breath and she felt his fingers digging firmly into her silky hair as the metal rod stroked her bottom. A moment passed as Xo suckled him, feeling him harden.

“Well Rick,” Sara playing Major Domo, prompted, “Do you want her to suck you off quick before your recon? Or you lucky devil, do you want her virgin snatch or unused ass?”

Rick moaned, “Oh I’m going to take her from behind. I’m sure it’s real tight and somebody has to loosen it up for the group.”

Dryly, “Why how noble and self sacrificing of you Rick, I’m sure everyone appreciates it.” Xo continued working as various guards jokingly chimed in their agreement. Sara spoke to her again harshly, “You heard him slut, you get him covered thoroughly with your slobber, its the only lube you get.” Xo sucked harder as she mumbled yes mistress around the throbbing maleness inside her mouth.

“I’ll make it easier on you cunt, and you better appreciate it,” Sara offered as she tucked her baton back into its little pocket on her belt. Xo heard the playful lilt in her voice, “And no comments from the peanut gallery!”

Several guards immediately made rude suggestions. Xo stroked the cock she held, sucking as Rick’s hands kneaded her head and shoulders. She stiffened but then relaxed her buttocks as she felt Sara’s hands grasp her cheeks; soft hair tickling her anal cleft as it was exposed. The hair whisked across her ass as Sara tossed her head and pulled Xo’s cheeks wider apart, exposing her. Xo knew what was coming as the woman hawked loudly. Guards made rude and appreciative comments as Xo felt the warm spittle land neatly into the crinkled star of her hole. The female guard hawked again and Xo felt the thick wetness as it oozed into her opened star. She sucked harder as Sara kneaded her cheeks, working the spittle into her asshole. Rick groaned suddenly, urging her away from his member. Xo released him as Sara released her, straightening.

“Turn around slave, spread wide hands on your knees.” A hard slap on her rump.

“Yes Mistress,” Xo replied as she hastily obeyed.

Guards urged their friend on as Rick took her by the hips. She shifted her stance spreading wider as she relaxed. She felt his slicked member probing at her prepared hole, Sara stroked her head smoothing her hair away from her face; Xo gave her a smile. Rick pushed firmly, slid in and she murmured at his hot penetration. Then he was fucking her roughly, pounding into her bottom, rocking her with the force of his thrusts as his watching friends offered unneeded encouragement and advice. He grunted and Xo gasped as he sped up, grasping her hips tight as he pummeled her with his rock hard thighs.

The baton was back out with a snap and she felt it tap gently on the point of her chin. “Head up bitch, let the boys see your pretty face as you get fucked.”

Xo lifted her head, gasped in between thrusts, “Yes…Mis…tress!”

A chuckle, “Good bitch.”

The watching men laughed, Xo saw a dim impression of them. Most of her awareness centered on the physical sensation in her abused bottom, (nothing tore thank god). A moment passed, Rick groaned stiffened, orgasmed heavily into her. Xo groaned as the warm spunk flooded her alimentary canal. He pumped hard and another hot rush came into her, panting his softened manhood pulled from her and he shuffled back. “Nice ass,” he complimented her.

“Thank you sir,” Xo’s husky voice offered meekly.

Obediently she remained bent, hands on her knees head up, as she awaited instruction. Thack! The baton between her shoulders. “Turn around and give him head, make sure you empty him bitch! Then do up his pants for him!” Sara sounded angry, as if she expected Xo to know to do this already.

Xo turned quickly, reaching for his flaccid member, “Yes Mistress.”

“Good girl,” he soothed, hands on his hips as he looked down on her.

Quickly Xo wrapped her lips around his head, sucking as she pumped him with a firm hand. A thin jet arced into her and she swallowed. Another pump brought nothing but she pressed her tongue up and felt thick moistness soak into it only to be lost in the general moistness of her warm maw. Thack! the baton against her sore bottom. She released Rick’s penis, swiftly did up his pants, making sure he rested comfortably in his trousers. “Good girl Xo,” he said, patting her head.

She smiled at him; the baton caressed her back gently, “Stand up.” She straightened. “Rick tell Mac and Steve I’ll be out to relieve them in a few minutes. And remember; take a shotgun, not the XL point fifty. We’re not to break out the autos this weekend unless we have confirmed hostiles.”

Utter professionalism, “Yes ma’am.” Rick left the room quickly after a tossed salute and a grin; but it was clear Sara was in charge, period.

The woman guard stood in front of her smiling as the baton went away again. “Now whore, you’re going to prove I’m right; since your tightest hole has been loosened a bit.”

“Yes Mistress,” Xo replied, grimacing as Sara patted her cheek disdainfully hard.

“Clothes off guys.” The men all stood and started to undress. Sara held Xo’s gaze even as she addressed her male companions, “No arguing! Darnet, cunt.”

One of the men hissed ‘yes’ and pumped his fist.

“Guy, asshole, lubed and loose for you.” Xo saw one of the men nod. Darnet naked, came to stand before Xo. She returned his smile watching as he got down to lie at her feet, six inch cock jutting like a flagpole from his nest of hair. “Straddle him Xo, feed him into you but hold still.”

“Yes Mistress,” Xo answered as she stood over him.

Gracefully she went to her knees over his hips, kneeling on the thick brown carpet. Gently she took his flagpole in her hand and slid it inside her female socket, carefully holding still. Another man Guy came and knelt just behind her, straddling his friend’s legs, muscled chest pressed against her soft back. She kept her hands on the first man’s chest as a strong arm locked around her neck, tightening making her lift and rear back as Sara watched. Xo felt the hard cock probing at her anus, and again she was penetrated up the rear. Hot pulsing, the cock thickly filled her.

“Hold still slave, we’re just starting.”

“Yes Mistress.”

Xo watched Sara turn and walk away, into the bathroom. She was loosely surrounded in a circle of men. In the bathroom water ran for a minute; Sara returned a long handled loofa in one hand, soapy water dripping into a towel. “Arms up bitch.”

Xo lifted her hands, putting them atop her head, holding herself still but feeling the pair of penises pulsing inside her. “Yes Mistress.”

Sara pressed the loofa into one exposed armpit, water squished oozing down Xo’s side as Sara rubbed. “These’ll go to Mac and Steve, serve ‘em right for being on the screens when she got here.” Several men chuckled; Sara was soaping the other pit. She presented Xo with the dripping spongy head, “Soap your hands slut.”

“Yes Mistress.” Xo brought her hands down, pressing them into the soapy spongy head, feeling soap ooze between her fingers.

“Hands at your sides bitch.”

A whimper as she realized what was coming, “Yes Mistress.”

Sara frowned at the slave’s small barely A-cup breasts. “They’re tiny but they’ll have to do.” She started rubbing soap into the channel between the small buds, “Fred, you’re a titty man, they’re yours.”

“Oh great.” Xo glanced at the man as he frankly assessed her tits.

Sharp, “No arguing. Danial, Shepard hands. And Sam that soft mouth is all yours.” Sara lay the loofa down on the towel, “You boys get ready but don’t start without the other two; I’m telling you she can do eight.”

Fred stood in front of Xo, feet on either side of the quietly lying man Xo’s hips rested on. She looked up at him as he put his hands on her shoulders. “Fucking bitch,” he groused sourly.

Xo swallowed, fear filling her belly. She didn’t say anything as he bent his knees leaning forward. his cock pressed into her chest, slipping in the soap sliding down the well of her breasts. She felt the water trailing down her belly, tracking around her navel; seeking out her denuded snatch filled now with a hard waiting cock. Fred’s small dick slipped against the soaped skin of her chest, rubbing itself against the sides of her tiny mammeries.

“Tiny little boobs,” he complained. Several guards chuckled as he squatted hands roughly gripping the slave’s shoulders as his knees dug into her ribs.

Darnet demanded in a teasing tone, “Just don’t fart buddy, I’d never get over it.”

“Oh shut up you bastard.” But Xo saw him smile.

Fred moved a bit, his cock four inches now hard, pulsed against her soaped tits, which he squeezed together with his thighs.

Another man snapped his fingers for her attention, “Here slave.”

He moved close, his hard cock grasped in one hand as he stood beside Fred, angling the organ for her face. Obediently Xo arched her neck forward, opening her mouth. The pulsing cock slid into her waiting orifice as two more men appeared through the door Sara had left by. Shirts off in their hands belts unbuckled, they started removing the rest of their clothing. The last pair flanked Xo, near Darnet’s head, they looked down on the slave.  “Hands Xo,” one said.

Obediently she reached out; one arm snaked around Sam’s hard waist. Her soft soapy hands found two more hard cocks, she grasped their bases firmly; but didn’t stroke, yet. The last pair, as they realized their lot, complained swearing, but were teased and taunted in reply. Sighing they settled into place, taking places just behind Xo they treated her as a mindless object as they both bent their knees. Taking her by the elbows they each made her lift her arm away from her body, causing soap to run further down her sides as they each slid a cock into her armpit and made her clamp her arm tightly closed.

As she cooperated with this, Xo kept her hold on the pulsing members gripped in her delicate hands, even as she felt muscles cramp and twinge from the awkwardness. She was filled everywhere, cunt, ass, both hands and armpits, warm wet mouth even the soapy channel of her tiny tits; all pulsed with warm male flesh.

“All together now,” Guy said warmly behind her.

“Suck Xo,” Sam ordered.

“And pump your hips,” Darnet called up.

Fred was already rocking against her forcefully. Xo rocked her hips feeling the friction as Guy moved in counterpoint and Darnet lifted his own hips; they fucked her. Xo sucked at the meat in her mouth, caressing it with her tongue making its owner moan. She grasped the shafts in her hands firmly, stroking them as the phalluses in her armpits slid in and out awkwardly. It was awkwardly, but Xo submitted utterly, doing her best as the cramps stole into her muscles. Sensations bombarded her from so many different directions. Long seconds passed and she was utterly surprised when she started to cum. In moments the wild clenching of her vaginal muscles jerked the penis buried inside it into wild orgasm. Her orgasm also made her buttocks clench, friction building and soon Guy too was spasming into her. Moaning Xo sucked harder at the organ thrusting inside her mouth even as her hands gripped more firmly and sped up.

As she came the writhing shimmy of her body brought Fred off and he sprayed hot cum up into her throat and the undersides of her chin. Even as Sam sent his load rushing down her, Danial and Shepard began spasming almost simultaneously, jacking frothy white cords onto her arms and shoulders, where it mingled with Fred’s as he hastily backed away. It was well for him he did, seconds later Mac groaned stopped fucking her armpit as he shuddered and sprayed the back of her neck, stroking himself.

A moment later Steve followed suit, and all the men groaning contentedly, let the slave girl draw the last few pearls from softening heads before they disengaged from the awkward grouping. Behind her Xo felt Guy’s now soft rod slip out of her anus and he moved away.

His cock slipping out of her soaked channel, Darnet patted her hip with a pleased smile, “Good girl slave, off now.”

Xo smiled at him, dulcet voice breathing submissively, “Yes sir.” She climbed off for him, knelt on the carpet covered in spunk, head down as the men stood around her.

One spoke, “Well, Sara was right; she got all eight of us off.”

“See, I told you.” Sara, unnoticed, had slipped back into the room.

“Rick?” Guy asked.

“Is watching the screens yes, nothing unusual. Your turn for sectors seven through twelve. Get dressed.” Guy nodded sharply and gathered his clothes. Sara looked at her and snapped her fingers, “Heel bitch.”

“Yes Mistress.” Meekly Xo rose.

She was taken into the bathroom, just an oversized shower stall, a sink and a rack of sundries. Sara handed her another loofa and directed her in cleaning the stickiness from her face, belly and loins; her arms sides and back as well.

As she toweled herself dry Sara snapped out her baton again, “Rick takes his coffee black with three sugars; offer him a blowjob along with it. Get him off quickly if he wants it, I want you back in here fast.”

Xo dropped the towel and nodded, “Yes Mistress.” She got a hard whack on the behind as she headed obediently for the coffee machine (poor, poor Xo J).

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“Sir.”

Rick took the proffered mug as he glanced at her, “Thank you slave.” his attention went back to the large screens.

“Would you like a blowjob sir?”

He grinned, not looking at her directly; he sipped at the coffee. Pleasantly, “Good, hot and strong with plenty of sugar. No thanks slave, Guy will relieve me when he gets back, I’ll have my next turn then. Now you better get back in there before the boys get impatient.”

“Yes sir,” Xo murmured.

Inside the back room she was taken and stood beside one of the less comfortable wood chairs. “Bend over, hands here and here,” Sara thacked the front and back edge of the seat with her baton; she really had mastered the flick of the wrist which made it such a devastating instrument of punishment (poor Xo!)

“Yes Mistress,” Xo answered subserviently. She lent forward grasping the edges of the wood seat. Thighs against one of the armrests, head hovering above the other one; dark hair dangling framing her face. Her buttocks, with one cheek baring her name and status in ink, were thrust out upraised. Ass or cunt prominently displayed, proffered for use.

Sara smacked the back of one leg, not hard, “Spread bitch.”

Quickly Xo spread her legs wider apart as she agreed, “Yes Mistress.” She leaned further forward legs far apart. She felt the bare lips of her puss, moist, spread open as her ass lifted higher, cheeks relaxed and offered to the air.

Sara wasn’t speaking to her, “Okay everyone, all her orifices are ready for use. Ass mouth pussy, you can use whichever hole you like. You can even have her start you with her mouth, then move over when the backside becomes available. We’ll get a little assembly line going, two by two. Steve, Mac since you guys got the worst of her so far, you can start.”

Mac, large and black skinned, approached Xo from behind, she trembled a little in anticipation; but she could hear the grin in his voice. “Great I’m going to have a piece of this pretty pussy.” (When I pointed it out Xo giggled and realized the double entendre had slipped past her at the time)

His cock was sized consummately with his 6’6 frame, and had already recovered itself. It pulsed hungrily as its spongy tip nosed between her legs. Steve was at her head now, and she opened quickly to take his partially erect member into her mouth. As she began servicing him with her lips and tongue, she gave a little sigh when the huge cock slid into her from the rear. The pair began fucking her enthusiastically. Sara slowly began running the baton up and down her curved spine, watching the men use her. “Remember boys,” she said to the room. “Just let me know if she isn’t pleasing enough or properly enthusiastic, and I’ll correct her for you.”

Several guards chuckled and made suggestive comments on how exactly she could do that. Most of Xo’s attention however, was on being fucked. Steve gripping her hair and urging her on, came in her mouth; as Mac was still thrusting smoothly in and out. With him finished, Sara still the group’s factotum, called for Shepard to take his place. And so the group continued to have her repeatedly like that, bent over the chair. Sometimes one of the men would allow her to bring them off with her velvet tongue and warm kittenish mouth, but most often they’d move around behind her and take either of her other two options (should she have offered them fries with it?) She was had several times by each man and she started getting really sore.

When Rick slipped back into the room and got undressed, he was immediately moved to the head of the line; and with the laughing statement ‘well I better form a basis for comparison’ smoothly took her pudendum from behind; so Sam had little choice but to be sucked off.

As the gang bangers took turns at the chair, the pair fucking her or sometimes the watchers, would jokingly (Xo is sure they were teasing, and I have to agree) claim she wasn’t performing up to standard. Immediately and with a cruel laugh, Sara would rap her hard across the back and order her to work harder. Holding her instrument at a different angle, she would give Xo stinging licks on her belly or breasts and issue crisp directives: ‘suck harder’ ‘use your tongue’ ‘wiggle your ass’ and Xo would try to comply; as she was fucked again and again.

Finally there came a time when no soft cock was thrust eagerly at her mouth, a time when with a spurt up her anus and a groan, a penis left her backside and wasn’t immediately replaced. Even nine men can only go so long before they need a break longer than the time it takes their confreres to get off. Xo stood, muscles trembling with fatigue, sore in her privets spunk drying on her skin as it trailed down her thighs. Gripping the seat tightly, bent over, she hung her head and waited…submissively.

Thack! “Stand up bitch.”

A whisper, “Yes Mistress.” She stood before Sara, gazing at the floor, and awaited a command.

“Go to the bathroom and have a quick shower, I want you back here quickly.”

“Yes Mistress.” Xo took two steps, one level with Sara one past her.

Thack! Pain flared in her inkless cheek. “Run bitch!” The sated males laughed.

“Yes Mistress,” Xo wailed, and ran.

She gave herself a very quick shower, just sluicing her svelte 5’4 frame with lukewarm water and scrubbing at the fluids covering her. She had just barely begun to dry herself when Sara’s voice came through the partially open door, “Get out here bitch!”

“Yes Mistress,” Xo called.

Naked, dripping she came back out amidst the guards. Sara hands on her hips, stood waiting in the middle of the room; the only one dressed. “Come here, now.”

“Yes Mistress.” Xo went and stood before her.

“Hands on top of your head, fingers interlaced.”

Xo obeyed, “Yes Mistress.”

Sara drew a black rectangular box tipped by two metal prongs, from a holster on her belt. Smiling sweetly she squeezed its button trigger, a humming cackle filled the air; a wavy blue line jumped between the prongs. Undulating steadily hypnotically it drew the eye as ozone filled Xo’s nostrils. Trigger released the line and hum disappeared, ozone lingering behind like a memory. “The mark four tazer has several settings and two modes,” Sara lectured. “You don’t have to worry about the modes. Setting seven will kill a two thousand pound bull and leave third degree scorch marks inside. One, two and three won’t leave marks, not even a blemish on the most delicate skin; and just hurts like hell.” Again the hum and blue line. Grimly, “Hold still.”

“Yes Mistress,” Xo whined out.

Tazer again silent, Sara brought it towards the soaken wet slave’s bare (as Thorn likes it) outer lips. SHe pressed it firmly against the wetly dripping pudendum, “Ready for a show?”

A thunderous chorus of agreement from the group of naked reclining\sitting men encircling the pair of women.  Zzzt, “ohhhugh!” Xo moaned.

Her legs gave way and she tumbled to the carpet, shaking in reaction. She curled her knees up shuddering at the pain; she barely managed to keep her hands clenched together atop her head. She felt tears in her eyes as she lay at the sadist’s feet, curled up, crying.

Sara was unsympathetic; she kicked Xo sharply in the tailbone. “Wimp, that was only setting two.”

“It hurt!” Xo whined.

“Oh for god’s sake, kitties!” Guards laughed. “Here I’ll turn it down so you can get used to it.” Xo’s tears lessened. Another kick, “Get up bitch.”

“Yes Mistress.” Xo climbed to her feet, carefully keeping her hands atop her head.

Smack, her cheek stung as Sara’s hand cracked against it. “Don’t fall down.”

“No Mistress,” Xo whimpered.

The tazer’s prongs touched her ribs, pain flared as the weapon hummed and cackled against her side. Xo whimpered in pain, swayed but managed to keep her feet. “Is that better?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Good.” Snickers from the group.

The tazer came up, nesting deeply into her armpit, Xo braced. Zzzzt. She moaned, sniffling but managed to hold still. Sara drew her baton with her free hand, extending it with a flick of her wrist. Thump! It sounded like a drumbeat as Sara thumped it in her ribs. Xo tensed as the tazer was pressed into her soft skin, just below her navel. Again agony shot through her, her breath came out in a huff as coils of pain curled up into her belly; writhing down into her groin. Kiicck! the baton slammed into her hip, she felt an ache in her bones; Xo trembled, tears of pain sliding down her cheeks.

“What hurt more, tazer or baton?”

“Tazer Mistress.”

Water dripped down her body, the rug under her feet felt squishy. Submissively she held the dominant’s gaze, showing her surrender with every line of her body.

Sara saying nothing; gave her a vicious grin. The tazer prongs stabbed into the soaken area between her tiny tits; snick, as Sara’s thumb slid a switch on the side of the box. “Setting two.” Again the hum and smell of ozone.

Xo sobbed sharply swaying side-to-side as lines of pain ran through her chest. She shut her eyes tight; the hum faded leaving tingles of hurt. She opened her eyes just in time to see the baton arcing toward her. Sara having taken a half step back, sliced the cold metal across Xo’s soft stomach. Xo’s breath whined out and she leaned a little forward against the new line of pain.

“Stand up!” Sara snapped.

“Yes Mistress!” Xo quickly straightened.

The tazer instantly slammed into her shoulder, immediately flicked on. More pain radiated from the blow, Xo gasped arm falling limply to her side.

Thock! The baton slammed into her ribs. “Oh no bitch, I don’t buy that. Get your arm back up!” Sara demanded with a smirk.

“Yes Mistress.” Her arm tingled; she was surprised when it obeyed her command, but she gave it a shake and put it back atop her head. She let her breath out in an uncontrolled rush as Sara lanced the metal ball of her baton into her gut like a spear.

“Bend forward.”

“Yes Mistress,” she wheezed, already having done so in an uncontrolled reaction to the blow.

The metal ball pressed gently into her belly button, scritching within it as Sara started to step around her; thick boots squishing on the rug. The combat baton followed its wielder’s movements, sliding around to lie lightly now against Xo’s floating rib. Metal prongs pressed into the base of her spine, digging into the small of her back just above the dip where it became the crack of her tight ass.

Snick-zzzt. A little humming ‘whoooa’ came from the back of her throat as Xo dropped to the carpet. Her legs tingled oddly as she lay on her side, she brought her hands down, only partially cognisant as she hugged herself, trembling. That hurt! Feeling returned to her legs and she moaned, lines of fire running up and down her thighs. Guards chuckled as Xo looked at the men, begging piteously, “Please.”

The pain, a dozen times worse than the first few tazerings, (I’ve pointed out Xo’s a kitty, and unused to pain, right?) She felt Sara hovering behind her, looming above her down on one knee. “Kitten, oh poor kitten,” she breathed menacingly.

The watchers laughed again, Xo whimpered. She felt the tazer’s teeth bite hard into the base of her spine, where her bowed head left it exposed. She sobbed as pain lanced through her like a stroke of lightning, crackling biting stinging through her (I checked later, yes by asking to be tazered. Hurts on setting three, but no worse than the electric wand). Xo’s senses dimmed and greyed.

Barely sentient she was only dimly aware of her arms being tugged behind her back; all was dark (her eyes were closed, silly Xo J). Thick plastic slipped over her wrists, sliding tight; biting as Sara deftly flex cuffed her hands. Slowly Sara rose to stand over her, the baton gently swept over her soft tummy, tickling; back and forth back and forth, almost soothing. Xo whimpered, trembled, eyes slitted.

“More tazer, or baton?” The question came.

“Baton,” Xo begged (I know, I don’t like electric either).

“Baton?” It wasn’t actually a question. Thick! The metal whistled up and down in a short tight arc, smacking the kitty-slave’s soft tum-tum. Xo tensed, tried to curl up. Remorseless, “Legs straight.”

“Yes Mistress,” Whimpered as she obeyed.

Ssshhett! Xo cried out loudly as the hard blow, all of Sara’s weight, strength and skill behind it, whistled into her thigh…what followed was several hours (Xo feels anyway, but I personally suspect was no more than 30-45 minuets. Based on Xo’s recounting vs. the time she was sent and the time I know Lizibeth went to fetch her) of the most viciously thorough beating Xo had ever undergone (at the time anyway. Since then my own Master has been much harsher with her I assure you; and she’s learned to take it for Gary as well).

Breasts belly ribs and thighs, both outer and inner; all were beaten harshly with the baton. Sara toed her to her belly and held her bound arms out of the way, then beat her back and buttocks to a glowing red shade while the gentlemen encouraged. Then roughly toed her to her other side so she could be worked over evenly; and despite Xo’s request for the baton, every once in a while Sara would pause to jolt her with a charge or two from the tazer. Xo sobbed, cried, begged, finally exhausted, she passed out from the pain. Not driven unconscious from the tazer or a blow to the head. No she just sort of went away mentally to escape the beating. Pain fog it’s known as, some can mistake it for a unique BDSM phenomena called subspace, but pain fog is different; and much more serious (careful with your kitties you tops! J)

Distantly Xo heard a beeping. Words, “Good slave, good Xo. Okay, you’re okay.”

She came back to herself with her hands still cuffed behind her back, flat on her bum on Sara’s kneeling lap. Cradled gently in the crook of the powerful dominant’s arm, legs stretched out body aching dully. The older woman was pressing a cup gently to Xo’s lips as her head rested on Sara’s shoulder. Xo opened her mouth at the elder’s insistent, “Drink Xo drink this, you’re fine.”

Cool water with a heavy mineral taint slid down her throat, gratefully she swallowed, a little more; the cup went away. Guy was bent over her, no one cared his partially erect cock brushed Sara’s arm. Intently he took Xo’s pulse with one hand, the other splayed across her chest, registering breathing and heart rate. Rick came into sight, holding up a knife questioningly.

Sara shook her head, “No she’s fine, she just got a little overwhelmed, the cuffs can stay. You’re fine aren’t you Xo?”

Xo heard the real concern in the older dominant’s voice. She relaxed knowing she was safe. “Yes Mistress.”

Sara smiled at her, looked at Guy. He stood up nodding, “She’s okay.”

Mac appeared, huge black cock swaying side-to-side like an elephant questing for mulch in the winter snow (sorry, Master took me to the zoo the day before this journal entry), he handed a thick red plastic cup to Sara. She took it, “Okay, everybody give her room now.” The men backed away. Sara brought this new cup, steam curling from it, to Xo’s lips. “Drink this,” she murmured.

Submissive, Xo obeyed. The cup held thick warm hearty stew. Warmth slid down her, filling her belly with recuperative strength. A few minutes passed as Sara slowly fed her the microwaved cup of stew; it was delicious (that’s what happens when you fill one island retreat with a half dozen five star chefs for a week; even the guards start eating good). As the last mouthfuls slipped (deliciously) into her mouth, Sara leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Now slave, whisper whatever you like to me, and then agree with my response.” She pressed a kiss to Xo’s brow gently.

Xo swallowed her stew, she arched her neck lifting up as high as she could; Sara’s strong arm helped her. Xo brought her mouth next to the dominant’s ear, “Whatever you command Mistress.”

Sara pulled back and looked down at her, “What slave, you have to go pee?”

“Yes Mistress,” Xo agreed.

“Well slaves like you go outside,” Sara smiled. “Oh wait, we all do, no indoor plumbing.” Guards chuckled. Xo struggled as Sara urged her up, it was hard with her hands cuffed, but Sara helped her stand. “Don’t worry boys, she’ll be back in a little while to be fucked some more; she’ll consider this her break.” Chuckles. “This rug needs to be hung outside, and the sectors need recon again. Fifteen minutes boys.” Hand on Xo’s upper arm, Sara gently led her out.

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A rabbit hopped franticly down a little hole as a naked bound Asian slave meekly followed a confident armed guardswoman into the little clearing. Hand firm on her arm, Sara brought Xo to the middle of the little forest glade. Late afternoon, it was a pretty spot; soft grass swayed in the light warm breeze as sunlight beamed down on the little dell surrounded by tall Douglas Fir (Xo says, I don’t know much about flora).

Letting go of her arm Sara turned the slave to face her. She smiled nodding as she assured, “No cameras here, lot’s of blind spots in the forest.” Xo nodded. “Can you pee Xo?”

Xo considered a moment, twisting her cuffed hands behind her in thought. She nodded husky voice admitting, “Yes Mistress.”

“Good. Squat then.” Sara took a few steps back, watching.

Xo squatted on the point of her toes, heels up legs spread apart for balance. Grass swayed just beneath her. She looked up at Sara, “May I ask a question Mistress?”

Sara nodded warmly, “Of course Xo, as many as you like.”

“The grass is thick and high, I’m just not sure, I mean; am I peeing so you can rub my face in it?”

Sara shook her head gently, “Oh no Xo, I just want your bladder empty, and I enjoy watching. I will turn around, if you really can’t without privacy.”

“Oh I can Mistress.” Xo spread her thighs wider. As she urinated into the thick, sun warm absorbent grass, she watched Sara watch her pee. Her stream came hot, thick and yellow for a moment. Slowly tapering off slowing; Xo strained a bit, another quick rush jetting out. “There Mistress. Am I to defecate now?”

“Not unless you really have to, I didn’t bring the toilet paper.”

“No Mistress,” dulcet husky voice caressing the warm air, “I’m okay.”

Sara nodded smiling as she unbuckled her weapons belt, took it off and dropped it to the grass with the soft clatter of arms. “Come here then, on your knees slave.”

“Yes Mistress,” Xo whispered as she fell forward on her knees. Hands secured behind her back, the slave crawled towards her mistress; as Sara unzippered her pants.

Drawing them slowly down strong muscular but so obviously female hips, muscled but still softly feminine thighs, down strong legs to pool around braced ankles. Leaving her in a white frilly pair of silk panties, its sheerness hinting at the dark patch of pubic hair straining against it. Softly feminine they came from a lingerie shop, not a department store, meant for sex not work; they gave the lie to Sara’s strong persona.

Xo knelt before the goddess of beauty, looking up at her as Sara grasped the hem of her paramilitary Thorn security shirt. Swiftly she drew this off and tossed it to the grass, showing her generous breasts to the warm summer breeze; showing too the frothy silk bra she wore. Half cups lifting accentuating her boobs, sheer bra hiding little barely concealing areoles, as thick hard nipples pushed at the frothy material. Sara looked down at the slave, meeting a hesitant smile with her warm own as she hooked powerful thumbs into the frilly panties. In a moment they had slid down to join her severe pants, freeing her bountiful hair to frolic in the playful light breeze washing around them.

Xo glanced at the soft vaginal mound revealed, as Sara shook her head arms lifting to brush her hair back; sweeping it over her sun kissed shoulders behind her head. Her boobs large and full, lifted in response. She looked down at the slave, gently reached down for her silky dark hair as she whispered softly, “Come here.”

Eagerly Xo leaned forward, burying her face in the dominant’s crotch. Needing not the firmly urging hand on her soft hair, she pressed her head forward nuzzling among the stiff blond hair as she sought, tongue questing for the soft pink folds; the red centre of the vaginal slit. She found it, sun warmed and salty in readiness of her coming. Sara moaned as Xo nuzzled in, tongue spreading her open, stroking. She pressed deeper finding the hard little pearl. The dom started, flinching as Xo bit gently, licked suckling as she gave a loud vibratory hum; Sara moaned as the slave licked and bit and suckled with experience and gusto. Seconds became a minute as feminine oils flowed over Xo’s nuzzling nose; another minute was all it took.

One hand reached up to grab a palmful of her own boob, kneading hard. Sara’s head tossed back face to the sky, eyes closed as the sun beamed down on her wide smile. Body arcing, her buttocks clenched as her back stiffened; her legs abruptly tightened and she gave a long drawn out moan. Her body shuddered delicately as she spasmed just slightly; her hands tightened on the slave’s head as she began to cum.

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He gave one final thrust and a groan as he sent the last hot bit of his load into her widely spread cunt. Xo moaned in pain eyes tight closed, as she felt him roll off her. Several long seconds passed, but just as she began to hope they were done using her, or at least ready to give her a break, another muscled body flopped down atop her. He moved over her soft body as she stiffened against him. Ignoring her soft moan he probed at her exposed female socket, and slid smoothly in.

She wasn’t begging anymore, had stopped long ago; receiving nothing but laughter and Sara’s slaps. She wasn’t sure when but she had also stopped thrashing in the restraints, lying quietly under the assaults; still she was being raped now she’d decided. No she had no safe word out here, yes she’d come willingly with no limits except the usual no harm\permanent marks; and had come for the express purpose of being fucked, but she felt like this was rape.

Xo didn’t bother to open her eyes and see which one it was this time, they’d all had her so many times. It no longer mattered, they were all rough kneading hands on her small tits, hot hard cocks shoved into her abused bleeding (sore but not torn, just chafed) cunt. Shoved deep chafing her thighs and vagina until they finished. Now they were no more to her than the sensations they sent jolting through her.

Sara, restored decorously, had taken her back inside and laid her on the day couch. Her back propped with a pillow, another solicitously placed under her head, Sara had urged, forced and helped her painfully bring her hands in front of her. Curling double (Mac helped) and sliding them over her heels. A second flex cuff passed through the first, used to secure her hands to a piece of the day bed’s frame. Now her wrists bit painfully into the rolled top of the couch, biting down, arms pulled taut as the cuffs stretched as far as they could. Sara finding rope, had tied each ankle; her legs had been pulled out straight and spread painfully wide, out to a fifty degree angle. Spreading her painfully wide open, pussy wholly exposed for use, as the ropes too were attached to the couch. As flexible as she was her legs had started to ache immediately, the large muscles in her thighs throbbing joints of her knees protesting; shooting pains going all the way to her toes. When she pointed it out Sara grinned and slapped her belly while Rick told her to be a good girl.

So she was bound, spread wide open, so far open the tying had forced her to arch and curl. Now her shoulders pressed into the couch but her bottom lifted a good foot in the air; but this had only exposed her more fully for their use.

Then the first one, Shepard, had mounted her. Hard cock driving smoothly into her in one long cunt spreading thrust. She’d cried when he skewered her; muscles protesting. They’d taunted her cries and pleas, ignored her earnest struggles to free herself. Now they just took her again and again and again. Her sobs had long since stopped, tears drying. She could only silently wait; head turned aside on the pillow, and endure.

Xo felt the hot little rush of blood coat her thighs thickly again as her latest fucker (she being the fuckee J poor, poor…poor Xo, they were indeed quite harsh with her), came hard into her with a hot rush of ropy spunk.  She was covered lightly in cold sweat, belly slick with it; her hair plastered to her cheeks and forehead. He lay atop her for a moment resting, then slowly he pulled out of her, swiping his flaccid cock against her bloody thigh before patting her ass (lifted in the air) and moving off. Immediately, clearly having been waiting, someone else climbed astride her.

Bound helplessly, spread open wide and proffered for use, Xo could only groan piteously as she was speared again by another rock hard cock. She felt a stinging slap on a tit, the tip of Sara’s baton, “Oh stop moaning bitch. I told you we were going to be rough. You were sent here for punishment.”

“I hate you Mistress,” Xo ground out, eyes closed.

Sara laughed lightly, “Maybe now; but I’ll see to it you forgive me properly, on your knees in a few days (she didn’t, she went home) after you’ve seen the doctor for some salve and soaked the pain away.”

Xo didn’t reply, just gritted her teeth and bore it as she was taken. They used her several more times. Then as yet another hard cock pounded into her bruised cunt, she heard the door open and her heart leapt with joy at Shepard’s words.

“Lizibeth’s strolling up the path.”

Xo opened her eyes as Sara stroked her hair, “Good, now I can thank her.” On the large colour monitors in the outer room, Xo could see the angry red orb of the setting sun. Louder, “Finish up and get dressed guys. Five minutes.”