JODI’S TRIALS

Chapter One

       The chamber is sparsely furnished, three of the shadowed walls covered with a sound suppressant, dark cloth material.  The remaining wall displays a collection of various instruments for implementing punishment.  A single lamp casts down from the ceiling equidistant to the four corners of the room, leaving it with a sinister, foreboding presence.

       Delivered shackled, she has been standing in the center of the room for some time now while illuminated under the hot glaring lamp.  Positioned to face toward the wall of implements, perspiration beads across her nude body, mixes with the soaking coat of body oil massaged over her bare flesh, chin to toe.

       Gold studs sparkling from her fresh nipple and clitoris pierces augment her tanned, glistening flesh, giving her an exotically beautiful look, as she remains virtually motionless.  Other then blindfolded with a black silk scarf, paired with the wrists, ankles cuffed and chained, she is virtually naked.

       He stands silently, watches from the lone entryway, behind her.  Muscular, tanned, he is also naked sans a black leather hood covering his face and head.  The owner, the Master of the estate, he revels in the feeling, in the control, the utter dominance he now has over his latest arrival, his next project.  He quietly approaches.

       Slowly walking toward her he hesitates, evaluates her incredible, tanned form.  Appearing to be in her late twenties, her glistening body is athletic, yet curvy.  A thick, tightly woven braid of her auburn hair sways across her back,  As he steps around her, the size of her natural breasts, large, yet extremely firm, impress him as her pierced nipples jaunt outward from the smooth tan areolas perfectly centered high on those symmetrical globes.

       A single train of thought resonates in his mind.  This naturally beautiful body trembling in front of him is his, completely his, for the time being.  Brought to him for training, she is here in the privacy of his secluded Chateau, for as long as it takes, as long as he wishes, until he has molded her into an utterly submissive sex slave.

       Her abductors have followed his instructions to the letter.  He is more then satisfied with the initial preparation she has received before her arrival here just this morning.  Since her abduction a few days ago and kept void of practically any sleep, she has been through the same routine daily.

       In the mornings, she would be given a cup of broth, then unshackled, allowed to relieve herself, then be bathed, freshly shaven from the neck down.  Next, she’d be re-shackled, then given a number of well placed, but not too harsh, strokes with a riding crop across the outer curves of her bare breasts as she held her arms above her head and forced to count.  Led back to an unfurnished, brightly lit cell until her afternoon session, she would silently stand as instructed while absolutely forbidden to touch herself, anywhere.

       In the day’s next session, her training was to obey, to stand, present her self, and follow instructions immediately, without hesitation.  Each mistake received demerits followed by painful lashes administered across her breasts, the punishment centered across the gold studs piercing her nipples.  Then left alone, forced to stand in the same cell, she would be forbidden to touch her self, especially to soothe the pierces, the welts left by the crop.

       The third and final session of the day would be in the evening.  Brought from the cell to a larger parlor, she would be punished in front of masked strangers for her demerits, again with the same crop, and again not overly harsh, but this time, initially across her buttocks, ending with a like number between her spread thighs, directly across the third stud piercing her clitoris, while humiliatingly forced again to keep track by counting aloud.

       That session finished, led back to her cell, she would receive another cup of broth, forced to squat and have her wrist cuffs chained above her head to the wall, and left until morning, to repeat the routines all over again.

       A cocktail of drugs, including Gamma-Hydroxybutyric-Acid would be administered with the little nutrition of the broth, which has immensely helped with the initial training.  She is learning quickly.  Since she has already been introduced to the crop to adjust her attitude, here her discipline sessions will be much longer, more stringent, far more severe.

       Lethargic form the drugs, fatigued by the depravation of sleep, aching from the whippings across her most sensitive flesh; she has been barely able to comprehend her predicament.  She is about to realize that not only is she a captive in this nightmare, she is being trained to be a submissive.  She will come to understand she must obey, or she will receive discipline, painful discipline.  Her only option will be to learn to instantly obey and satisfy him, completely.

       She has been standing for over an hour as already trained too.  Her lips slightly parted, though blindfolded her eyes lowered downward toward her feet, her arms lowered toward her sides.  She waits, only the subtle sound of the chains gently swaying form her shackles disturbs the silence.

       The tips of her fingers touch, crossing over, covering her freshly shaven pubic mound while the short chain hanging from her wrist cuffs brushes across the puffy folds of her bare labia.  Silent, she is motionless except for the barely discernable movement of her aching breasts.  Pressed together between her arms, jaunting outward, they gently raise, lower as she breathes, exhales.  The gold studs twitch, gleam from her thrust out, impaled nipples as the faintest pattern of whip marks crisscross her symmetrical globes, leaving the remnants of the earlier adjustments of her attitude.

       Time slowly passes by for her.  She remains rigid, hazy, trying to think, to concentrate.  Her eyes lowered, under the bottom edge of the blindfold, she barely catches the gleam of the studs glistening from the tips of her aching breasts.  She recollects, three, or was it four days ago, possibly even more, since her abduction.  She barely recalls being at a club, given a drink, becoming groggy, losing consciousness.

       She seems to recall abruptly awakened from her unconscious state, finding herself in a dark room, stripped naked, cuffed, chained spread-eagled to the four corner posts of a bed, like in a terrible nightmare.  She shudders as she recalls being surrounded, forced to watch as her breasts were twisted, stretched, both nipples pierced with long, thick skewers, one at a time, the thin studs, now glistening off her breasts, painfully mounted.

       The thought of that searing pain flashes through her mind, the helplessness of being bound completely naked, humiliated in front of the masked strangers, her arms, legs spread wide, leaving nothing concealed as she was in agony, only leading to the horror of where the skewer would be used on her next.

       Finished with her impaled, bleeding nipples, they centered their attention toward her vagina.  She remembers screaming until hoarse, struggling until she again lost consciousness as they stretched her clit, impaling it with that same skewer.

       Her left hand reflexively glides further downward, softly across the parted slit between her thighs as she recalls that torment.  Trembling, her index finger, thumb, part the fleshy folds of her vulva as her right index finger slides downward, touching, feeling the other stud, the third stud, impaling her swollen still aching clitoris.

       “Assume the position!  Stop playing with your pussy!  You know better!”

       She noticeably jerks as she hears the harsh command.  His voice breaks her train of thought as he steps in front of her.  Instantly obeying, the chains sway; dangle as she lifts her arms quickly upward, across her face as her heart pounds, knowing she would receive punishment for touching herself.  She reflexively arches as trained from the taste of the crop across her breasts these past few days.

       “Higher slut.  Above your head.”  He directs as he steps toward the wall of implements, selects a short, thin riding crop, returns, positions himself just to the side of her left hip.

       “Spread those legs wider too!”  He adds as his leg brushes hers.  She quivers, jerks, again obeying as she spreads for him, her buttocks thrusting back, her round, hard breasts jaunting outward.

       Glancing toward her face, even with her eyes covered, the classical firm lines of her jaw, chin combined with her parted seductive lips make him realize she is going to be as beautiful as described.  Reaching behind her neck, he jerks the black scarf from across her eyes.  He is not disappointed.

       Unthinking, glancing upward from the floor, for just a brief moment, she sees his naked body, his huge manhood, thick, hard, swaying between his thighs.  His sinister glare from behind the leather mask frightens her more.  She can’t help but seeing the wall in the background, full of whips, chains, countless devices, painful devices.  She can sense the warmth spreading across her face from fear, humiliation.  Quickly lowering her eyes, squinting, she feels the thumping in her chest as she obediently arches her arms further back, the short chains between the wrist cuffs tautly stretching apart, above her head.

       Open your eyes and look straight ahead!”  He orders.  “On the wall… That’s right, they’re all for you!  Now, push those tits out!”  Hovering over her, he continues.  “Further back… More I said!… Now!”  Reaching up, he grips the shackles encasing her wrists.  Jerking downward, he bends her backwards into an arch.  Her initial workout session with him has begun.

       Tugging lower and back even as she’s trying t position herself, he remains toward her side as her firm breasts shimmer under the light, jaunt outward, separate as she bow backwards in his firm grip.

       The chains jerk between her wrists, the matching chains rattling between her ankle cuffs.  Spread eagled, arched back into a semi-circle, her single braid of long dark hair sways back and forth below her tilted back head as her breasts rise toward him, forced to push upward.  Her thoughts haze, lightheaded, she feels herself struggling to maintain her balance.

       He hesitates, temporarily mesmerized by the twin mounds, the size of ripening grapefruits, and appearing just as firm, resting on her heaving chest.  Her tanned areolas, perfectly centered, spread out tautly with the buds of her nipples sparkling from the thick, gold studs.

       Holding her in position he savors the moment, watches her glistening body quiver as she struggles to maintain her awkward stance.  Tugging her wrists further downward, he smiles as her breast arches upwards toward him.  Slowly raising his right hand he again hesitates, firmly smacks the outer side of her left breast with his cupped, open hand.

       “Smack!”  The sound breaks the silence.

       “Ahhh!”  A moaning whimper escapes her parted lips. Barely audible, she reflexively bites her lower lip while twisting toward her right.  Her firm round globe bounces, sways across her bare chest, the stud sparkling even as her flesh reddens.

       Still forcing her to maintain an arch, he glances across her defined ribcage, hollowed stomach, beading with perspiration, bathed in oil, flexing with each rasping breath.  Again, just the slightest remnants of whip marks visible, crisscrossing her firm melons.

       His eyes lower, attracted toward the separation between her quivering thighs.  He focuses on her pubic mound, vagina, smooth, freshly shaven, without the slightest hint of a razor nick.  He stares even closer at the barely parted twin folds of her labia, reddened, puffy, again showing the traces of a whip.  The puffy tip of her clitoris appears wet, glistens with its matching gold stud.  He smiles to himself as he senses the tingling from deep inside his own groin as he imagines the numerous whippings applied to her most private areas the past few days.

       Twisting, pressing his left thigh against her arched back shoulder he lets his swaying cock slide against her cheek, smack across the bridge of her nose, slip across her eyes.

       “Like my cock slut?  Want to taste it?”  He scolds.

       Grinning to himself, he lets his pulsing nine-inch shaft ooze its sticky fluid as he slides it back and forth across her parted lips before sliding just the tip of the swollen head into her mouth.

       “Agghhhh!”  Grunting, as she tastes the salty wetness sticking t her lips, she reflexively jerks her head away.

       “You moved!”  He scolds, breaking the silence as he takes a step back.  “Don’t  like the taste of my cock?  Okay, you’ll be begging for more before you know it!  Push that left tit up again… Further!… Arch your back more!… Touch the floor with your fingers!”  He instructs with a rapid assertiveness as he firmly grips, circles her heaving melon with the open palm of his left hand, scrapping the stud, tugging at her nipple.

       “More!  Push it up more so I can give it a good, hard smack!  This time though, with the crop!  That’s it!  Stay bowed, don’t fall backwards.”

       Instinctively reacting, hands pressed against the floor, she finds herself complexly arching into a painful semi-circle.  Still tasting the salty, thick moistness across her lips she closes her eyes, feels her heartbeat pounding in her chest as she obediently succumbs to his commands.  She feels his palm begin to caress her sensitive flesh as she pushes her breasts outward, her arching body upward.  Humiliatingly she senses her nipple reflexively hardening under his touch, the manipulated stud sending tingling sensations through her chest.

       “Push that nipple out bitch!… Shove that stud against my hand!”  He scolds as he watches her areola shrivel between his fingers as he holds his hand firm, palm down, steady, encompassing her breast.

       Twisting her torso toward her right, she arches even further backwards while pressing her left breast up into his palm.  Arched into a nearly impossible spread eagled position, the chains between her wrist and ankle cuffs tautly stretch as she whimpers while still feeling the stud in her engorged nipple brushing against his hand, compounding the sensation, much like electrical shocks reverberating in her breast.  Confused, in pain, yet, somehow she feels an embarrassing arousal sensation.

       “That’s it.  Now, remain still”  He smirks.  “And, be ready to count!  And, you haven’t thanked me for rubbing my cock across your face yet!  Also, acknowledge which tit I’m whipping!  Thank me when I do that too!”  He continues.  “Understand?  Do it!”

       “Yes, yes Sir!”  She mutters.  “Thank you for rubbing your cock across… My… My face!  And… My, my mouth!”

       “Okay, that’s better!  Now, head down further.  And don’t whine!”  He adds as his right wrist begins to rise while his other hand slips from her breast.  “I think a dozen or so will be a good start!  Don’t you?  Maybe the last couple between your slit!”

       “Swish!… Smack!”  The whistling sound of the crop slicing through the air is quickly followed by the sound of the leather striking her damp flesh.

       The single tail leather whip snaps across her left breast, its pair of short split ends painfully curling into her bare flesh just below her exposed left armpit, the slightest mist spraying off her nude body.

       “Agghhhh!”  Trying to muffle her moan, biting down on her lower lip, she jerks, nearly falls backwards, struggles unsuccessfully to remain motionless as the crop digs into her breast.

       He watches, grins as the leather, seemingly in slow motion, sinks into her soft, glistening flesh, curls across her thrust out torso.  His cock stiffens, twitching as he observes her reaction to the stinging pain.

       “Ohhhh… God!”  She grunts, her naked body quivering, her bare round breasts smacking together before quickly jiggling to a standstill as her toes, fingers claw the floor.

       Reflexively glancing upward toward the purplish stripe across her jiggling breast, she remembers, collects her thoughts, hoarsely rasps.  “One… Oh… One!… Thank you Sir!  Ohhhh God!  That’s one across my… My left breast!”

       “Tit!  Bitch, that’s your tit, say it!”  He admonishes as he reaches over, pinches, twists the nipple stud between his thumb, forefinger.

       “MY… My… My tit!  Ohhhh!  That’s one across my left… Left tit!”

       Her eyes squint as she jerks her head away, the sound of her own quivering voice obediently counting out loud resonating in her mind.  The searing pain pounds through her tortured breast.  Dazed, her perspiring body sways, she feels lightheaded.  A fresh, red welt raises, glistens across her areola, just above the gold stud.

       “I said remain still, and no more pathetic moans!”  He orders.  “I’ll count that one, this time.  But, you better respond quicker or we’ll start over!  Hear me?”

       “Ohhhh!  Yes… Yes Sir!”  She mutters pleadingly as the pain pulses in her chest as she struggles to maintain her arch, perspiration, body oil mixing, dripping on the floor below her hands and feet.

       Stepping in front of her spread eagled, nude form, he continues.  “Now, eyes open.  Stare straight at the floor!  And, I said keep those arms and legs firm!”  He orders in rapid succession.  “Push up!  Arch!  Okay, push that other tit out toward me!  That’s it!  Hold still, don’t pull back or it won’t count, we’ll start all over again!”

       Flicking the whip back he smiles to himself as he watches her chest heave, her body twitch, and the muscles, tendons glistening on her flexing arms and legs as she instantly obeys.  God, he thinks to himself how much he loves the feeling of possessing her, whipping her, inflicting pain on her perfect, bare flesh, especially humiliating her.

       Glancing at the glistening perspiration collecting across her hollowed stomach, below her defined ribcage, he gives the whip yet another flick, firm, but not overly harsh.  The flexing dark leather glances across her heaving chest even as she is obediently pushing upward.

       “Swish… Smack!”  Slapping across the piercing, drawing a speck of blood, the split ends disappear into the rounded mound of the outer curve of that glistening breast.

       “Oomph!  Ohh my God!  Two… Two Sir!  Ohhh, thank you!  Thank you for whipping my tit!  My… My right tit!  Agghhh!”  She instantly squeals, blurts out even as her pain wrecked nude body gyrates, her fingers, toes curling, scraping at the floor.

       “That’s better!”  He leans over, whispers, watches as a new welt instantly springs across the perfectly tanned flesh of his victim’s bouncing breast.  “You like your nipples whipped, don’t you?…… I said, don’t you like me to whip your nipples?”

       Ohhh!  Yes… Yes… I like you to whip my… My nipples!”  She grunts back, biting her lip.

       “This doesn’t count.”  He whispers as he stares down at her heaving, shimmering melons, slides his free hand over the slippery globe, then the other.

       Squinting, sobbing, she feels his hand pressing across both breasts, melding, squeezing, tugging the studs, before he cups his hand, flicks it across her thrust out mounds, back and forth, once, twice, a third time.

       “Ohhhh!… Ahhh!… Agghhhh!!”  Her breasts bounce, come to rest after smacking together.

       “Okay, back to the crop!”  He exclaims as he raises the whip in his hand.  Now you can continue counting!”

       Here breasts burn.  Reddened under her glistening perspiration mixed with the body lotion, both display crisp, thin welts as they stand up, quiver on her bare chest.  Her mind races, even above the pain.  She realizes she will have to endure the sharp, stinging pain repeatedly.  Again, she will humiliatingly have to hear herself counting, acknowledging the strokes.  She reflexively braces for the next lashing.

       Casually circling around her with his arm raised, crop in hand, he slowly scans her incredible form, the perspiration already beading, streaking down across the bare flesh of her erotic body, even pooling in her flexing navel.  He smiles to himself as he watches her knees, elbows twitch as she arches precariously backwards.  Struggling to remain motionless, she keeps her feet spread apart in the stretched chains, even as she sways, balances on her aching wrists, in pain, fatigued.

       Reaching behind her neck, he tugs down on her long, braided auburn hair.  Her head tilts painfully back even further as she is forced to stare straight down, toward the floor, tears welling in her dark brown eyes.

       He senses the tenseness of her body.  He can feel it through her reflexive quivers.  He glances down across her glistening chest at the fresh thin red welts already rising on her trembling breasts, the gold studs gleaming, now with just a trace of blood oozing from her left nipple piercing.

       “Now, this time, both tits!  Right across those studs!  Push ‘em way out there!  Understand?  Ask for it!”  He directs, sliding the heal of the crop between the twin folds of her labia, slowly slides it back and forth, stretching the tender, moist flaps.  “Push those tits up!”  He commands as he thinks to himself that its time to see how well the DHB is working on her, satisfied with the thought that as he instructed, her orifices haven‘t been penetrated yet, that‘s always left for him!

       “Yes!… Oh, yes Sir!… Both tits!… Way out!  Whip me across both my titties!  The nipples, across the studs!  Okay?”  She whimpers, trying to please him as she instantly thrusts her buttocks obediently back, jerks her breasts upward as she feels the leather handles grinding across the swelling nub of her clitoris.

       Breasts jaunting out, swaying, stomach hollowing, hips thrusting out, her seductive, naked body takes on an even more exotic serpentine stance as she continues to stare down toward the floor through glassy eyes as her nipples, clit tingle, harden, even above the pain.

       Trying to concentrate, to force her body to remain motionless, she feels her thighs twitching as the hard round leather of the crop presses between hr thighs, scrapes back and forth across the nub of her bare clitoris, the piercing.  She feels the humiliating stirring deep inside.  Again, it is a tingling, strange feeling of a heightened sensitivity she has felt off and on the past couple of days.  Anxiety, apprehension, even a weird sense of excitement begins to mix, even overwhelm her.

       “Bend backwards a little more!  Arch and spread those shoulders!  Arms wider!”  He continues to command as he stands behind her while still firmly tugging on her hair with one hand while stroking the crop between her thighs with the other.  “Spread that pussy!”

       Manipulating her slit as she spreads it even wider, he enjoys his dominance, actually impressed by how fast she follows his every command, no matter how harsh or embarrassing.

       “Push those tits up!  Toward the ceiling! I want those nipples to point straight up!  That’s it!  Now bend those shoulders back some more!  Concentrate on keeping those nipples spread apart!”  He continues while glancing across her struggling form, still stroking her quivering slit with the hard leather handle.

       Perfect, perfect, he thinks to himself as she instantly obeys each command.  Forcing her to twist, arch, thrust her naked body into any position he orders heightens his adrenaline.  He feels his shaft swelling, twitching, as he too feels a familiar tingling deep inside.

       Her body bending practically backwards, her flexing stomach ripples, her glistening flesh stretching across her heaving ribcage as her thighs, hips quiver.  Her arms stretch back tautly toward the floor, her shackled wrists spread barely a foot apart, the chain stretched out as she clenches her fists, her knuckles pressing against the carpet on the floor.  Stifling her moans, she struggles to maintain her balance in her precarious position as she finds herself trying to ride the crop’s shaft as it drags slowly back and forth across the tingling stud between her thighs.

       Her mind hazes.  “I can’t bend anymore!”  She thinks to herself, her hips twitching.  She thinks about how hard he is going to whip her breasts with the very crop being used to stroke her burning pussy, poking, sliding between her thighs, grinding across the stud piercing her pulsing clit.  She bites her lips to mask her moans.  Her mixed thoughts confuse her as she feels her hips thrusting back and forth in rhythm to meet that hard, round shaft.

       “Keep that ass pushed out!”  He demands.  “And… And keep your head back.  Further!  That’s it!  I want to work on both those titties at the same time now!  That’s good!  Ready?  Talk to me!  Beg for punishment, then you can beg to be fucked!… For me to stick my cock up your pussy instead of this handle!”  He continues in a monotone command as he releases her hair, steps toward her side, jerks the crop out from her stretched slit.

       “Ohhh!  Ye… Yes Sir!  Ooohhhh!!!”  She hears herself instantly obeying, grunting.  “Work these titties!  Both… Both tits Sir!”  She whimpers apprehensively as she continues to curl backwards into an almost impossible position, reflexively tries to keep contact with the stiff leather handle as it’s being slid out off the stud in her tingling clit.

       Breasts swaying toward her sides, legs quivering, hips thrusting back and forth as the hard shaft looses contact with her engorged clit, she blurts out.  “Oh God!  Please Sir!  Whip these titties!  Then, oh God!  Then fuck me!!  Fuck my pussy hard with… With that cock!”

       Again, her mind races as she feel the crop losing contact with her quivering thighs.  “God!  What am I saying???  Be strong!!  Yet she cannot help thinking.  “Bend more!  Her womb is tingling deep inside her.  God!!  Where’s that shaft???”

       Painfully arching even further back, her arms, legs spread wider, her breasts stand tautly up, rock hard, practically straight up, off her sweat-drenched chest.  Barely audible, she adds.  “Is… Is this satisfactory for you?  Sir!… Sir??  Is it??”

       “Oh Yea!”… He quietly thinks as he stares at her firm, rounded melons jaunting up chest high in front of him.  “That’s just right… Perfect!”  He continues to think.  “Let’s give you something to really think about now.”  He smiles to himself.

       Standing to her left, remaining silent, he watches as her breasts seem to quiver in sequence, glisten with perspiration on her rigid frame.  He snaps the whip with his wrist, downward, harder this time.

       “Swish… thwack!”  The tip of the whip snaps across the floor close to her feet as he continues to stare toward her incredible breasts.

       “Ohhh!”  Whimpering, her fully arched body jerks.  Her single braid of hair sways, its tip brushing across the floor.  Her firm, global shaped melons spread, bounces as she struggles to maintain her awkward stance.  She can almost feel the taste of the whip without it even touching her.  Her heart pounds even harder.

       “I said hold still!  Don’t move or I’ll bury an extra stroke or two right up your cunt instead of fucking it!… Right now!”  He threatens as he curls the whip in his right fist, flicks it around, slides the rear of its thick leather handle once again between her quivering legs.

       This time he thrusts it harshly past the puffy folds of her glistening vulva, buries it four, five inches into her with a single thrust.  Her hips jerk, spring upward to meet the hard, round leather handle.  He thrusts it deeper, six, seven eight inches.  The gold stud disappears, dragged with her clit inside her stuffed slit.  Her hips begin to gyrate, her knees flexing as she tries to ride the thick shaft buried deep inside her.

       “Ahhhh!!  A hoarse rasp escapes her lips as her hips continue to twitch uncontrollably, her breasts bouncing, smacking together.  “Aggghhh!!!  Yessss!  God!  Yes!  She grunts as he manipulates the crop.

       Again, he enjoys his power over her, mentally and physically.  He watches her body reflexively jerking, arching, twisting as the thick handle engulfs, stretches her wet vagina walls as he twists it back and forth in a circle, slides it in and out, deeper with each thrust.

       “Ohhhh God!!! Yes… Yes Sir!  I’m sorry!  Ohhh!  More!  More!  Deeper!  Groaning, a tear streaks off her right cheek as her body contorts as she feel the leather handle spreading, stretching the folds of her labia, tugging at her pulsing clit by the stud.

       “Stop!… Stop moving that pussy!”  He sternly orders as he holds the crop motionless.  Keep those hips steady! Quit fucking the handle, slut!  Hold still!  And get ready to count!”

       Jerking, sliding the handle back out, he watches her pubic mound quivering as her vagina glistens, oozes, drips traces of her own bodily fluids.

       “Ooohhhh!”  A lone, muffled sob escapes her lips as again she senses the thick shaft slipping out from between her thighs.  Her body shakes, uncontrollably.

       Looking down at the wet leather handle, he flips it back around, feels the sticky pre cum of her vagina, grins as he wipes it back and forth across the side of her twitching left breast, then flicks it upward.

       “Swish… Thwack!   Swish… Thwack!   Swish!… Thwack!  The whip snaps briskly back and forth from right to left, the thin leather lash slashing across her dancing melons.

       “Aaaggghhhh!!!”  She screams.

       “Count Bitch!”  He scolds.

       “Ahh!  Ahhh Shit!!!  Thr… Four… Fi…”  Her babble is cut short as he unmercifully snaps the leather again.

       “Swish… Thwack!”  The leather snaps left to right, crisscrossing her taut melons yet again.

       The last blow glances off the smooth surfaces of her tanned, stretched areolas, just nicking the studs.  A fine mist of her perspiration sprays the air.  Biting her lip, grunting, as he watches the leather bury itself into her bare flesh.  His cock throbs, swaying between his thighs as his heartbeat rises.  “Count!  I said!  Count!!”

       “Agghhhh!  Ohhh!  Thr.. Threeee!… Tha.. Oh God!  Four!!!… Four!… Five!!  Oh God!!! Six… That’s six!!!!  Master!  That’s six… That’s six!!  On both my titties!  Ohhh Godddd!!  My nipples!”  She grunts, her arched body jerking, swaying as she struggles not to fall backwards across the floor.

       Her mind blurs.  Her vagina spasms.  She thinks to herself.  “Breathe… Breathe!”  The pain shears through her breasts.  She feels her arms quivering, burning.  Her legs, thighs jerk from the stress.  She struggles not to scream.

       “Good.  She’s breaking!”  He thinks, glancing down toward her wet, oozing slit, amused at the site of the twin folds of hr vulva appearing to be quivering around the gold stud.  “Now it’s time to give that pussy a real taste of the leather.”

       Slowly shaking his head, he steps beside her spasm-wrecked body.  “This lash across your pussy doesn’t count!  Don’t cry out or I’ll double it!”  He whispers as he leans down toward her ear.  “Ready!  Here comes!”

       “Swish!”  The whip flicks upward from the floor, the split ends snapping toward her gapping vagina, toward her exposed clit.

       “Oh God!”  Her mind races as she attempts to brace herself, dreading what is coming, her entire body noticeably stiffening.

       “Smack!”  The damp leather sinks into the tender flesh of her left labia fold, glances off the stud.

       “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  A single screech as her body jerks, lifts upwards.  Her bare breasts flail above her straining chest.  Her fingers, toes claw, scrap the floor.  Specks of moisture flick from between her thighs, off the leather whip.

       “Now, what else slave?”  He sternly commands, leaning over her.  “What else did you forget to say?  Or do you want another one?”

       The searing pain rips through her vagina.  Her mind blurs as she tires to concentrate enough to blurt out something he wants to hear before he lashes her between her spread thighs again.

       “Aggghhhhhh!!!  Gadddd!!”  Her body jerking, perspiration dripping onto the floor under her arched body, she nearly falls backwards.  “Ohhhh!!  Tha… Thank you!  Thank you Sir for whipping my pussy!!  My… My clit!!”

       “For what?”  He sarcastically asks as he again slides the round handle of the whip between her twitching pussy lips, across the stud piercing her swollen clit, taps it, and smacks it.

       “Thank you!  For… For whipping my titties!  And… And beating my pussy!  Thank you for hurting me!… Ohhh!”

       “Good… Good!”  He thinks to himself as he watches her body quiver, the moisture streaking across, dripping off her naked flesh.

       “You know that each time you show disrespect by not thanking me for my effort with the crop, you’ll be admonished!”  He softly whispers.  “Now straighten up, look at me!”  He orders as he lifts her head upward by her braid of hair.  “And, keep stretching those arms and legs apart! Don’t touch yourself!”

       Struggling to bend upward, joints burning, breasts swaying, arms, legs still spread eagled, she whimpers, again bites at her lip as he forces her to stand upright.

       “Oh, my nipples, my vagina!  God!  They hurt so bad!”  She can’t help muttering while she instantly obeys.

       “That pussy will swell shut from the lash if that’s what it’s going to take!  Then I’ll fuck it!  Understand?”  He scowls.

       “Ohhhhh!  No… No Sir!  Please!  I mean yes!  I’m sorry Sir!”  She blurts as she stands erect, quivering, feeling the throbbing pain of the whip across he breasts and slit.  “I… I’ll be more respectful… I promise!!!!  Just don’t whip me no more!  Please!  Just fuck me!  Fuck me!”

       “Yes! That’s what I want to hear!”  He answers while watching her painfully rise up, yet knowing there’s more coming no matter how well she obeys.

       “Now, sure you don’t want me to use this crop on your pussy some more before we fuck?”  He nonchalantly asks.

       “Wha… I mean No… Yes Sir!”  She stammers, wide eyed.  “Please!  Will you just?  Just fuck… Fuck me?”  She finds herself humiliated, yet muttering to be fucked while feeling that stirring deep inside her womb, even above the pain, almost uncontrollable.  “Please… Please fuck me now!”

       “We’ll see!  Spread those legs further apart.  Arch!  Then hold still!  Don’t move!” He scolds while releasing her matting braid of hair.

       Slowly circling behind her taut, arched, perspiring body, crop in one hand, his throbbing cock in his other, he gazes down toward the glistening stud protruding from the spread slit between her shimmering, quivering buttocks.  He smiles as he leans against her warm, damp flesh.

End Part One

       

       

       

       

                                           

JODI’S TRIALS

Part Two

       Jodi finds herself virtually in the same setting as since her abduction.  Squatting, arms shackled above her head, she leans against the wall struggling to find some sort of comfort.  She realizes she’s at another location, but the room’s identical to her previous cell.

       Breasts, vagina aching from the lashings, she still feels that almost embarrassing churning deep inside her.  A burning, tingling sensation begging for relief seems to be more of a problem for her then the physical aches and pains.

       Dropping her head, she glances down toward her breasts, slowly rising, lowering with each breath.  The gold studs sparkle from the tips of her twitching nipples, her rounded breasts parting as she arches her shoulders back against the cool surface of the wall.  Salve glistens off her bare flesh, applied evenly across the multiple welts crisscrossing her naked body as she cranes her neck, catches just a glimpse of the stud impaling her pulsing clit.

       Fingers twitching, she feels the shackles tugging at her wrists as she subconsciously attempts to lower her hands, to rub her breasts, to touch between her parted thighs, to give herself some relief.  She even finds herself attempting to hump, grind her spread slit against her ankles, calves, twisted under her.  Frustrated, she jerks at the chains, slams the back of her head against the wall, feels a tear streak off her check.  Exhausted, she closes her eyes, tries to let her body relax as much as possible.

       Time, barely exists.  Minutes become hours as she continues to lean against the wall, squatting, spread eagled, muscles, tendons knotting, tightening as she squirms, twists.  Her cell doesn’t change, same lighting, same temperature, same isolation, same shackled position.

       Having just eaten, he leans back in his comfortable recliner, slowly rocking back and forth, watching, and listening at the monitor with interest at his latest project.  The camera focuses directly above and in front of her shackled, naked body as she’s obviously distressed, frustrated.

       He grins to himself as he thinks of her begging, practically pleading to be fucked during her workout earlier today.  Her medication’s obviously working well; her thoughts about sexual satisfaction are overriding her more serious concerns.  He may just give her some of that relief this evening, after letting his dinner settle.  For now, he’ll let her simmer for a couple more hours.  Closing his eyes, he relaxes, drifts into a sublime state as the afternoon sunlight filters thru the drapes.  He’s in no hurry as he listens to her soft whimpers.

       A couple hours pass, a blink of an eye for him, what seems like at least a day for her.  He awakens, notices the darkness outside the drapes, and glances toward the monitor.  She’s still squatting, squirming, twisting as her naked flesh shines across the monitor’s screen.

       Stretching, swinging the chair around, he stands, stretches again, smiles toward the monitor, stretches the black hood over his head, steps thru the doorway, and turns down the hall.

       She hears the door opening, glances up, watches apprehensively as he enters the cell.

       “Ready to be fucked, Slave?”  He bluntly asks.

       Feeling her heart pound, she quickly lowers her eyes, catches a glimpse of his semi erect penis.   “Huh?  Ye… Yes Master!”  She hears herself blurting back as she feels her breasts smacking together as she twists toward him, attempts to stand, feels her muscles bind, knot, burn in her almost numb legs.

       Stepping practically against her, he unshackles her wrists, lifts her up, and twists her around.  “Maybe we’ll give these titties a light workout first.”  He adds as he clips her cuffs behind her back.  “Come on. “

       Stepping beside her, he slides his right hand across the upper curve of her thrust out left breast, tweaks the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and tugs it as he leads her from the cell.

       “Oomph!”  She blurts as she tries to follow, her legs burning, stinging as the blood starts to flow, circulate.

       “Quiet!”  He scolds as he gives an extra twist, tugs her across the hall toward the punishment chamber.

       As the door opens, she can’t help glancing toward the instruments filling the far wall, again her heart picking up a beat or two, her stomach churning.

       “Here!  In the center of the floor. Kneel slave.”  She hears him speak, drops immediately to the floor, stares straight ahead as he releases her nipple, steps toward the wall.

       “Let’s see!  Something for those globes of yours, something for the nipples.”  He softly speaks as he glances toward her chest, back toward the wall.

       Still staring, almost transfixed toward the multiple devices, she finds herself hoping for something the least painful, but what?

       “Okay.  We’re start with a nice pair of weights for those nipples.  Then, let’s see, maybe one for your clit too!”  He adds as he picks out what appears to be three lead weights, the size of golf balls, from the shelf.  “Now.”  Turning toward Jodi, he continues.  “Those titties, you want me to use this?”  Picking out a brim soaked hickory switch from a tubular vat with his other hand, he flicks it back and forth thru the air, spraying specks of brim across her breasts.

       “Ohhh…. Noooo!  Please…. Please Master!  Not… Not that!”  She whimpers as she subconsciously feels her breasts pulsing, her heart racing.

       Expressionless, he drops the switch back into the vat, scans the shelves, and picks up a shinning, black, riding crop.

       “Swish… Swish… Swish!”  Back and forth, just in front of her quivering breasts, he barely misses flicking her nipples.  “How’s this?”  He almost grins, staring into her tear laden eyes.

       “Ple… Please Master.” She begs.  “They… They already hurt so badly!  Please!  No!”  Shaking her head slowly back and forth, she stares pleadingly back.

       Nodding his head, turning back toward the wall, he drops the crop on the shelf, turns back toward her.  “Okay.  Tell you what, just the weights, while you suck on my cock!  Then, if I decide you did really good, I’ll fuck you!   And not whip those titties! Okay?”  Stepping toward her he reaches for her left nipple, clips the weight onto the stud, lets it drop.

       “Ohhh!  Ouch!  Yes!… Yes Master!  I’ll suck  your…. Your cock!  Real good!”

       Gripping her right nipple, he quickly clips on the weight, lets it drop.  “You didn’t thank me slave!”  He admonishes, again feeling the rush as he begins humiliating her again.

       “Ouch!… Ohhh!  Thank you!  Thank you Master for hanging weights from my titties!”

       “How about that clit”   He sternly directs, reaching down.

       “Yes… Yes Master!  Please hang a weight from my clit too!  Please?”  She hears herself pleading, still thinking of the whips, switches, trying her best to please him as she feels his hand between her spreading thighs, the weight clipped onto her tender flesh, dropped.

       “Ohhhhh, God!”  She moans, quickly recovering, tries to impress him, again that pain nothing to the alternative.  “Thank you Master!  For… For the weights on my tits and pussy!  Thank you!  Can…. Can I feel your cock in my mouth now?”

       Smiling to himself, he steps directly in front of her, lets his swelling shaft smack across her cheek, nose, as she turns her head, opens her mouth, tries to catch his manhood between her lips.  Reaching behind her head, he twists her hair in his fist, pulls her mouth over the head of his shaft.  Slowly tugging his hand, thrusting his hips, he lets his shaft slide in and out, back and forth, slowly, each thrust just a little deeper,  three, four, five inches.

       Each thrust causes her to moan just a little louder, until the moans turn to gurgles.  Six, seven, eight inches.  Her cheeks swell, her throat stretches around his thickening shaft.  The weights sway, jiggle, and bounce off her thrust out chest, from between her twitching thighs.

       Trying to breath, she barely gasps every third, forth thrust as she clenches her fingers into her palms, behind her back, grinds her breasts across his thighs, the weights scraping, tugging, stretching at her nipples.

       “Humph!…. Ummmph!…. “Hummmph!!!  Nine, the full ten inches, ram past her stretched lips, scrapes her tonsils, and engulfs her swollen throat.  Her eyes roll upward as her head jerks back and forth, her body shudders, she feels the head of his shaft pulsing, twitching, blocking her windpipe as his scrotum slaps across her chin, his pre cum mixing with her saliva, oozing, streaking from the corners of her mouth, dripping across the top rounded curves her swaying breasts.

       Looking down, he feels the rush; his own built up feelings from the day’s experience with her.  Gripping her hair, twisting it, he forcefully jerks his cock from her throat.

       “Hoooossshhhh!!!”  The suction sound emits from her mouth as she gurgles, wheezes, her hazed eyes staring upwards, toward his.

       His cock, still throbbing, bounces, twitches as it slaps across her chin, the tops of her breasts, once again across her face as her naked body visibly twitches, the weights jiggling from all three studs.

       He stares back, thinking to himself how her eyes resemble a deer’s in headlights.  He knows she’s scared she hasn’t pleased him, terrified of the consequences.  He feels the total power, control, he has over her.  The feeling’s immense.

       “Stand!”  He sternly orders, remaining stationary.

       “Ye… Ye… Yes Master!  I‘m…. I‘m sorry!  Please!”  She answers, quickly standing, her breasts swaying, bouncing, the weights tugging, swaying off her nipples, clit.  Her heart pounds, stomach churns, she can’t help glancing momentarily toward the wall full of punishment devices.

       Again he stares into her eyes, watery, swollen, at any moment ready to flood.  Reaching out toward her quivering breasts he unclips both weights, places them in his left hand as he unclips the clit weight with his right.  Turning toward the wall he tosses the three round pieces of lead onto the shelf, turns back, steps past her.  “Follow me.”

       Her mind almost becomes numb, her thoughts scattered.   Not sure of what’s happening she falls in step, follows him out the door, down the hall, watches in confusion as he opens another door, steps beside it as he turns toward her.

       “Enter!”  Again he gives a single command as he steps aside.

       Head lowered, breasts still thrust outward, she feels his hands grip her wrist cuffs as she enters into an extraordinary master bedroom suite with a huge bed, covered in white linen against the far wall.  First one, then the other cuff’s gently removed as she feels her arms released to their normal positions for the first time in God know how long.

       “Onto the middle of the bed.  On your back, spread eagled. Eyes closed.”  He instructs in the same monotone voice.

       “Yes Master!”  She finds herself replying as she hears the door shut, what must be a couple of locks, clicking, as she walks toward the bed.

       Again her mind races… What now she thinks… Punishment… Or?… Her stomach flutters, her heart races as she leans across the bed, rolls over onto her back, closes her eyes, stretches, spreads.

       Watching her as he locks the door, he again admires her sensational body.  Her breasts, almost too large for her slender, athletic frame, jaunt upward off her chest, even while lying on her back, arms spread outward.  Glistening, her muscles, tendons ripple as her hallowed stomach flexes under her defined ribcage.

       “Don’t move until I tell you.”  He softly whispers in her ear as he leans over the bed, places a black silk scarf across her closed eyes.

       Reaching behind her hair he ties a knot, securing the scarf securely in place as he gently flicks across her earlobe with the tip of his tongue, watches with amusement as her chest bucks, her breasts sway, she gives a slight sigh.

       Feeling the scarf wrapping her head, opening her eyes, she can barely make out the faintest of shadows at best.  The sensation of her ear being licked has instantly stirred her stomach, womb.  She’s almost afraid to think of what’s next.

       Again standing, he undoes his mask, slips it off, drops it onto the floor, and slides onto the bed beside her.  Kissing softly on the side of her neck, just below her earlobe, he whispers gently.  “I expect the best fuck you’ve ever given… Jodi!”

       Almost startled, hearing her name, feeling the moist lips caressing the side of her neck, again she bucks as she stutters.  “Ye!  Ohhh yes, Master.  Yes!”  Feeling his body sliding next to hers, his bare flesh touching hers, she stiffens, anticipates.

       “Don’t move until I allow you!  And, remain silent.”  He again whispers as he lets just the tips of the fingers of his left hand glide across her bellybutton, upwards, toward her sternum, his wrist barely touching, brushing across the very tip her right nipple as her naked, glistening body twitches, her abs rippling.

       “Ooohhhh!”  The lowest of moans as she struggles to remain quiet, not to alienate him as the warmth, tingling, spreads from deep within her groin.

       His left hand slides across her thigh, softly brushes upwards, the tip of his index finger reaching, flicking, gently rubbing, then carefully twisting the gold stud impaling her twitching clit.

       “Aaaahhhhh!”  Again she lets out a moan, just a little stronger, longer as she feels her hips twitching, her stomach, and womb rumbling.

Laying the side of his left cheek across the hollow of her fluttering stomach, he glances downward, across her glistening pubic mound as he gently manipulates the gleaming stud.  He feels the twitching of her stomach against his ear as he rubs it across the moist bare flesh circling her bellybutton.  Still reaching above him with his left hand, he continues to tweak, twist her right nipple stud with the same intensity, in the same sequence, feeling both her clit, and the areola, nub of her nipple, harden, swell under his touch.

       “Ahhh…  Ahhhh…. Aaahhhhh!”  More soft moans with each rasping breath as she licks her lower lip with the tip of her tongue, stretches her arms further apart, spreads her thighs even wider, arches her back, thrust her hips upwards, presses her breast against his hand.

       “Don’t cum!  Understand?”  He practically scolds as he continues to masturbate her clit and nipple, stroking, melding, twisting, and tugging, ever so gently, in rhythm.

       “Oooohhhh!  Yes… Yes…. I’m trying Master!”  She moans and grunts as she reflexively gyrates under his feathery soft touches.  Her entire body twitches, rumbles, spasms, from her breasts, vagina, to deep inside her womb as she tries to force herself to obey.

       “Please…. Please…. Master! Please fuck me!  Please fuck me now!  Make me cum!!!!   Fuck me!!!”  Bucking, quivering under his continued manipulation of her most sensitive flesh, she can’t even tell if she’s actually blurting out, just thinking, or what, as she forces her arms, legs to stretch, stiffen, her toes to curl, her fingers to dig into the palms of her hands.

       Sliding his face down across her pubic mound, he slides his right hand under her but cheeks, lifts.  “Spread those thighs wider!”  He orders as he pinches and tugs a little harder on her right nipple.

       “Yesssss… Okay….Okay!”  She grunts as her legs stretch, spread across the mattress.

       Shoving his jaw between her thighs, he flicks his tongue across her inner thigh; his hand lifts her hips higher off the mattress.  He flicks the tip of his tongue further back, across the slender membrane separating the rim of her anus from the slit of her moist vagina.

       “Oooohhhh…. Goooooddddddd!!!!”  She blurts and grunts as she feels her hips jerking, twitching with each flick of his tongue across that membrane, the twist of his fingers across her nipple.  “God…. Master…. Master!… Please Oh God….Please fuck me!!!!… Fuck me!!!!… I’ve got to cum!!!!!”

       Raising his face, he sees her entire body, jerking, quivering, covered in perspiration, the sheet beneath her drenched, especially under her hips, buttocks.  Slipping across her right leg, he slides between her thighs, pulls her hips toward his, rams his entire, throbbing ten inch shaft in a single powerful stroke between her wet, puffy labia lips, across the gold stud impaling her clit, completely into the stretching, spreading walls of her soaked vagina.

       “Aaaaaaggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!”  A screech, squeal pierces the room as her body bends, twists shakes under his.

       Grabbing both breasts by their base, he twists, melds, squeezes as he pounds in and out, in and out, the head of his shaft sometimes sliding partially out past the twin folds of her vulva stretching around his thickening shaft before pounding back in, over and over.  The gold stud drags in, disappears, and slides back out, back and forth, against his shaft.

       Her body shakes, arches, bucks as she stretches, grunts with each thrust.  He feels her vagina walls tightening, flexing around his huge shaft as her stomach rumbles under his.  Riding her, feeling her body bucking, the spasms, he holds on to her breasts as if he’s mounted on a wild animal.

       His groins burn, rumble, he feels his pent-up sperm ready to explode.  “You can cum…. Now!!!… Now”  He grunts as he leans over her flailing breasts, twisting tugging them toward her sides as he thrusts inward one last time, harder, deeper, his scrotum slapping against her butt cheeks, his load of cum spurting, spurting, spurting, deep inside her.

       Her mind races, finally!  “Ooooohhhhhh…. Yes…. Yessss…. Yessssss!”  She feels the explosion of her own from deep inside her womb, thru her bowels, between her thighs.  Screaming, her hips grinding against his, her breasts shoving the backs of his hands against his chest, her legs wrapping around his thighs, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, her entire body thrashing, gyrating against his as her cum squirts, mixes with his, splashing between their clenched thighs as they hold, grip each other tight, their faces touching, their mouths, lips locking, twisting as they continue to grunt, flex, jerk on the drenched bed sheet.  Sweating, twitching, breathing heavy, they embrace, kiss, and caress each other, finally, he rolls off.

       She again assumes her spread eagled position; drenched in sweat, heart pounding, catching her breath.  God, her first orgasm since her abduction.

       He rolls off from the bed, stands, slips a cover from a pillow, begins wiping himself, looks at her laying there, naked, sweating, beautiful, his.  Impressed with how the chemicals work well on her, he’s also thinking that just maybe, it might not be just the chemicals.

       “When the door shuts.”  He addresses her.  “You may get up.  Use the bathroom, the tub’s already filled to cleanse your self.  Remake the bed with the fresh linens on the dresser, and sleep in this bed tonight.  It’s been a long day for you.”  Turning toward the door, he unlocks it, exits, and relocks the lock.

End Part Two                                                                                                                                                                                             

JODI’S TRIALS

Part Three

       Hearing the door close, the locks turned, Jodi lays flat on her back spread eagled across the bed, the silk scarf covering her eyes.  Still feeling sporadic spasms, a fluttering heartbeat from her sexual encounter, she’s finally found some sort of relief from the frustrating urges of not being allowed an orgasm.

       Just briefly, her thoughts are on why’s she been so overwhelmed with the urge to cum.  Catching her breath, she also realizes that for the first time since her abduction, she’s not being subjected to being bound in some fashion.  Almost playfully fanning her arms, legs back and forth across the mattress a couple times, she feels another sense of relief.

       Sliding her right hand across her face, she grips the scarf covering her eyes. With a tinge of apprehension she slides it up over her forehead as her eyes begin to slowly focus.

       Glancing quickly around, the rooms lit, but dimly.  She immediately notices the dark drapes across the vast window on the outer wall are drawn tightly shut.  Slowly scanning the rest of the suite as her eyes become accustomed to the shadows, she’s taken with the elegance, the taste of the furnishings.

       Appearing to be antique, French, they’re obviously expensive.  Raising her head, again hesitantly, she catches the gleam of a brighter light shining thru the door slightly ajar to the master bathroom.

       Leaning upward, resting on her elbows, she feels the dampness of the crumpled sheets below her, sticking to her sweating flesh.  Scooting further up on the bed, she feels her breasts ache as they sway toward her sides.  Glancing down across her chest, the gold studs glisten, jiggle from the tips of her still erect nipples as faint traces of the whip marks of her previous discipline session stand out under her shimmering coat of perspiration.

       Still with a sense of uncertainty, she cautiously slides her legs over the corner of the mattress, feels the floor with her toes, and sits upright on the edge of the bed.  The atmosphere of the surroundings has taken away the edge of her predicament.

       Her feelings at the moment seem almost surreal as she stands upright, left hand still gripping, twisting the damp sheet, right hand casually slipping across her thigh.  Taking a hesitant step away from the bed, her index finger is almost reflexively drawn downward, brushes across, the stud piercing her still sensitive clit.

       The sensation reverberates between her twitching thighs, pulses deep inside her, like tiny electrical shocks.  Sliding her index finger between the twin folds of her labia, knuckle deep into her still moist slit, she feels the mixed remnants of her sexual encounter.   Quickly pulling her hand away, glancing around like she’s going to be scolded, she realizes she’s not allowed to touch herself, also realizes she’s already mounting another crave to be fucked again as she wipes her finger across the sheet.

       Stepping slowly, cautiously toward the window, she slips the drape slightly apart with her left hand.  Gazing out into the moonlit night at a breathtaking setting of some sort of grand landscaped estate, she observes fountains, hedges, stone walkways, stretching toward a forest, all visible under the full moon, and it’s all a good threes stories below her window.

       “What is this place???”   She whispers to herself as she causally  lifts her right hand, rests it across the subtle, upper curve of her right breast, presses her palm downward, gently flicking the nipple stud with her pinky finger.  Letting the drapes close, she turns toward the bathroom door, rests her left hand similarly across the top of her left breast, walks thru, toward the bathtub.  Caressing both nipples, drawn to the tingling, erotic sensations of the studs sliding back and forth in front of her aroused areolas, she disregards the touching rule.

Again a surreal scene as Passing thru the partially open door, she hesitates, stares around her surroundings.  The expansive bathroom is virtually completely white and gold, fixtures, tile, everything.  The tub’s huge, oversized, filled with hot soapy water, bubbling, the steam already frosting the upper half of the large, golden framed wall mirror above the vanity.

       Stepping toward the tub, cautiously hesitating alongside it, she raises her leg, dips the big toe of her right foot thru the nearly overflowing bubbles.  Testing the water, though hot, it seems soothing, oiled, and perfect.  As her ankle, calve, knee slowly disappear beneath the bathwater, her foot rests firmly on the bottom.  She feels the water circulating from several submerged jets, pulsing, squirting.

       Cupping, squeezing both breasts between her fingers, thumbs, she arches her shoulders forward as if holding herself steady, leans over the side of the tub, her left leg plunging into the water.  Facing forward, leaning back against the tile wall, she feels the warmth of the steam collecting, beading, and streaking across the glassy surfaces of the tiles.  Slowly letting herself slide downward into the bubbles, again squeezing her bulging breasts, the gold studs sparkle off the tips of her engorged nipples.

       She can feel the soothing warmth of the hot bathwater below the white, soapy foam engulfing her thighs, hips.  Pressing her feet along the inside of the tub’s walls, she slows her decent, feels the oiled, soapy water spread between her butt cheeks, across her tightening anus, thighs, engulf her still sensitive vagina, the folds of her spread labia lips, her pierced clit.

       Releasing her grip on her breasts, cupping them like a pair of firm melons in her upturned palms, she pinches the nipple studs between her thumbnails, fingertips, gently twisting, tugging.  Eyes closing, lips parting, her tongue softly, slowly circles.  Moisture beads across her face, trickling down her neck, she quietly moans.

Continuing to lower her self, the hot water encompasses her pubic mound, inverted navel, her abs rippling as the steamy water rises across her hallowed stomach.   Her butt cheeks slide against the flat bottom, her elbows sliding onto the flat surface of the upper edges of the tub, her hands, fingers releasing her breasts into the soapy foam.  Swaying, bobbing, her global breasts part the suds, float in the oiled water, the gold studs sparkling as they submerge, lift out, submerge again as the soothing, soapy water ripples back and forth.

       Head tilted back, eyes closed, she completely relaxes, enjoys the pulsing spray of jets of water directed from under the suds, caressing her thighs, back.  Even more strategically placed nozzles, spurt from either side, under her shoulders, armpits, across her breasts, nipples.  And, from the center of the bottom, directed between her thighs, a jet of pulsing water is directed between her legs, massaging her vagina, clit.  She quietly sighs, twitches, almost overwhelmed by the unexpected, sensual pleasure.

       Lying back, barely cognizant, the pulsing, spurting jets stimulate her clit, nipples as if they were gentle fingers, fluttering feathers.  The soft moans are hers, as the water ripples, her body quivering, for long, slow minutes.

       Feeling her nude flesh massaged, she grips the tub’s sides tightly with her fingers as her breasts arch up, outward from the suds, her knees spreading against the walls of the tub, allowing the pulsing water to masturbate her aroused clit while she grinds her hips reflexively back and forth.

       Laying back, arching upwards, slowly, repeatedly, back and forth, eyes closed, moisture dripping, crisscrossing her face, she moans, twists her head from side to side.  Her bare breasts quiver, sway, rise out of the soapy water, splashes downward, again submerging.  Her jiggling nipples, the gold studs, let off a visible mist of steam as they press upwards thru the suds.

       “Oh God!… Oh God!………. Oh God!!!…”  She moans, groans, each time louder then before, as her body twitches, her stomach, womb quivering, tingling.

       She’s quickly learning to masturbate herself in rhythm to the pulsing spurts of hot, foaming water.

       In his den, he again enjoys himself, relaxing back in his recliner after cleaning off with his typical two minute shower.  Watching the closed circuit monitor directed at his latest project, he watches her gyrate, masturbate herself unabashedly while in the tub.  He again thinks to himself maybe it’s not just the GHA she’s been so overdosed with, maybe it’s also her.  Again smiling, he twists one of the knobs on the panel in front of him, watches her with interest.

       In rhythm, feeling the multiple manipulations of her most sensitive flesh, feeling the craving building again deep inside her while she moans, sighs, she realizes she’s about to cum again!  Suddenly the jet pulses stop.  Her body still in rhythm, she rocks momentarily just a little harder, until realizing the jets have turned off.  Eyes opening, hesitantly setting upwards, she slides her arms, hands into the water, along the sides, bottom of the tub, feels for the jet sprays, gone, and shutdown.

       “Damn!”  She blurts out frustratingly.  “Damn it… Damn it… Damn… It!!!”

       Cursing loud enough to be heard over the monitor, she slides her hands between her thighs, stretches the clit stud outward, twists it back and forth with the thumb, index finger of her left hand.  Sliding two, three fingers of her right hand into her oiled slit, she pumps, stretches, manipulates her burning vagina.

       Again he smiles as he watches closely, the soapy water rippling, her upper arms squeezing,  pressing against her drenched breasts, her hands slipping between her thighs, her face lowering across her thrust out chest.  The rippling water splashes against the tub wall, spilling onto the tiled floor.  Her braided hair, soaked, sticks across her shoulders as her body continues to shudder, twist, her shoulders arching forward, arms pumping.

       “Oooohhh!!!… Aaahhhhh!!!!…. Oooohhhhh!!!”  Her body unabashedly jerks, twists in the water.

       In the precipitant state of yet another orgasm.  Her head, shoulders, jerk back, the golden nipple studs wet, soapy, glimmering as they jiggle off her thrust out drenched breasts.

       “Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”  Slumping back, the rear of her head brushing against the tub wall, forces her face to tilt forward as she moans.  “Oooohhhhhh…. Yes!”

       Going limp, her shoulders, arms relax, her breasts swaying outward, floating in the soapy ripples while she gently slides further downward, until from the neck down, only her nipples, the sparkling studs, peek above the bath water.

       Watching her relaxed, motionless, he leans back in his chair, waits a couple minutes, lets her enjoy her sublime moment.  His right arm stretched out across the desk, his hand playing with the same knob, he barely twists his fingers, back and forth, just gently, watches the water barely ripple, become calm, ripple again.  Leaning closer to the screen, he watches the reaction as he turns the knob further, releases it.

       The bathwater begins to visibly circulate, her head again tilting back against the wall as her body visibly twitches, once, twice, a third time.  He watches as her hands barely raise out from the water, the tips of her fingers gliding across the edges of the tub, then onto the sparkling nipple studs of her drenched, bare breasts as they lift erotically out from the water, quivering, the nipples, areolas, hard stimulated.

       He watches on the monitor, her eyes still closed, her mouth slowly opening, her biting down on her lower lip, tweaking the studs between her thumbs, forefingers, moaning.

       No touching!… He’ll let her sleep well tonight… Tomorrow she’ll spend the day being disciplined.  He smiles, thinks to himself as he twists the knob back, shuts the nozzles off again.  Twisting another knob, the tub begins to drain as she lays back, relaxed.

End Part Three                                                              

JODI’S TRIAL

PART FOUR

       The stark light reflects down across her face, her naked body.  Eyes blurry, squinting, she groggily lifts, tilts her head.  Feeling her arms, legs, tautly stretched, spread-eagled; her eyes are attracted up toward her wrists, down toward her ankles.  Heart pounding she realizes they’re shackled by leather cuffs to the corners of a black, square shaped wooden frame mounted to the floor in the center of a stark, stonewalled room.

Shaking her head, she glances out across her chest toward a pair of silver chains stretching upward from her nipples, also connected to the upper tier of the frame.

       Staring closer, she realizes the gold nipple studs have been replaced with larger, silver “O” rings secured to the glistening chains.  Tilting her head forward, between her stretched breasts, she sees a third “O” ring being stretched out from her sore clit by a similar chain connected to the floor.

       Frantically glancing around, starring toward the whitewashed walls, she tries to think, to understand.  Flexing her fingers, tiptoeing, she feels the muscles, tendons in her stretched arms, legs burning as the shackles prevents her any other movement from the neck down.

       Relaxed in front of his monitors, watching a couple in particular with interest, he leans back in his recliner, slowly rocking.  Seeing her movement as she regains consciousness, he adjusts the camera in just a little closer, enough that the entire front side of her naked, stretched body fills the screen.  A similar vision of her backside fills the other screen as he quickly adjusts its camera.

       He’s allowed her to have her first night’s sleep since her abduction.  After her bath last night she had slept soundly for the better part of ten hours in the master suite, barely budging, even as he quietly, carefully applied a small amount of chloroform with a saturated wash cloth across her face less then an hour ago.

       Now that he’s prepared her for a morning session of discipline, and he’s allowed his breakfast to settle while he relaxed, watched her hanging there, he thinks to himself, it’s time to slip on the mask, turn her world upside down again.

       Mind still groggy, she barely recalls the past surreal 24 hours or so.  Being whipped, performing oral sex, to having sex, to being allowed to bath, to even having orgasms, all scrambled, race thru her mind.  Now, she’s being stretched, tugged, and twisted from every angle of her naked body.  As she squirms, twists, a small part of her feels it’s a nightmare, the rest of her knows better, especially as she hears the door open, slam, behind her.

       “Swish!”  The sound split’s the air.  “Thwack!”

       “Agghhhh!”  Jodi’s screech fills the room, the black, willowy riding crop snapping above her left butt cheek.

       He watches thru the slits in his black mask, silently, holding the crop in his right hand as her head jerks back, her long dark hair flailing across her oiled back.  A thin, red welt instantly appears horizontally across her taut, rounded rump, barely stretching across the spread of her butt cheeks, just below the dimples in the small of her back.

       “Swish!”  Hearing the familiar sound, she reflexively tenses, the shackles, chains holding her rigid.  “Thwack!”

       “Oomph!”  Another slashing blow glances across her right butt cheek, a little lower then the first.  Another thin, red welt instantly rises as she jerks, the chains tugging at the “O” rings of all three pierces.

       “Ohhh… Gaaaddd!!!”  Tears streak down her cheeks, drip across her spread, lifted breasts as they’re tugged apart by the top set of chains.

       Jerking her head from side to side, she tries to glance around, to see what’s stinging her naked flesh.  Her mind races, she realizes she’s again helpless, again being administered a painful session with the crop.

       Positioning himself behind her just to her left, he takes aim, repeatedly flicks his wrist.  “Swish… Thwack!…… Swish… Thwack!… Swish… Thwack!!!”  The riding crop curls, flexes, flicks rapidly back and forth, time and again.

       “Agghh!…Aggghhhhhh!!!… Aggggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!”  She instantly feels the repeated stings of the first lashing across her left butt cheek, followed closely by the second across her right, the third, just as quickly, vertical, upward from the floor, directly between her gapping slit, glancing off the clit ring.

       Head jerking, nipples stretching, her clit burns pulses, tinged with a speck of blood oozing from the piercing, mixed with a spurt of urine.  Gasping for air, her eyes swelling, reddening, roll upwards in her head.

       Quickly stepping directly behind her, with barely a moment’s respite, he flicks the crop back and forth, side to side a couple more times.

       “Swish… Thwack!”  “Agghhhh!”  “Swish!… Thwack!”  “Oomph!”  Another pair of stinging blows find their mark, this time the crop bending, curling, circling under her glistening, hollowed armpits, the first slicing across her left breast, the second flicking across the tip of her right nipple.  The chains flex, tautly stretch, flex again as her breasts bounce, sway under the lash, only to instantly stand solidly up off her arching torso, her nipples tugged, stretched upward in the “O” rings affixed to the chains.

       “Ooooohhhhh!!!!… Ooooohhhhh God!!!!”  Sobbing, moaning, her body reflexively quivers, feels as if it’s on fire, breasts, buttocks, vagina.  Her head slips forward, downward, her chin making contact, quivering on her heaving breastbone.

       Lowering the crop, remaining silent, he carefully inspects the quick but painful damage he’s inflicted on her from behind.  Taking interest in how her stretched muscles, tendons, glisten from her spread eagled arms, legs, he watches as they sporadically twitch, bathed in a fine coat of body oil, perspiration.  Tracing the thin, crisp, red welts crisscrossing her butt cheeks with his index finger, he circles the pair of stripes across the outer globes of her breasts with the tip of the crop.  Just glancing toward the single welt parting her slit, he slowly steps around in front of her.

       “Well slave!  Got your attention?”  He states in a low, barely audible tone.  “Look at me!”

       Glancing upward thru her tear laden eyes, raising her head, she silently stares into the dark eyes behind the black hood.

       “You disappointed me.  Didn’t I treat you well last night?”  He asks in the same tone.

       The pain still pulsing thru her whipped flesh, her arms legs aching, her nude body tautly stretched, she’s confused, struggles to find words, the words he wants to hear.  “Ye… Yes Sir! You… You were… But… But… How did I… I disappoint you?  I don’t know… I’m… I’m sorry!!”  She stutters, pleads.

       Glancing down between her thighs, silently, slowly, he lets the crop glide upward from the floor, along the glistening silver chain.

Feeling the tension between her legs, the chain being tugged, she tilts her head forward, stares with wide eyes toward the tip of the crop as it reaches the “O” ring.

       “Look at me!  Head up!  Keep it up there!”  He orders, again beginning to feel the satisfaction of his complete control over her, both physically and mentally, his eyes locking with hers.

       For a few seconds he lets the crop flick back and forth, stretching the chain, flicking the “O” ring, gently, softly as her clit stretches, twists between her puffy labia lips.

       She stares back toward his mask, whimpering, fearing the hard leather flicking back and forth between her unprotected thighs, her exposed vagina.  The ring tugs, twists at her stretched clit, still stinging from the single stroke she’s already received between her slit.

       Again glancing downward, he lets the tip of the crop slide beside the chain, into the parting split of her vulva.  Sliding the crop gently back and forth, slowly in and out, two, three inches, he can feel her reflexive twitches thru the handle of the crop.

       She also feels a tinge of the sensation, the tingling, as the leather glides in and out, just barely, just enough to grind across her engorged, stretched clit, each stroke painful, yet also somehow, strangely stimulating.  Biting her lip, she suppresses her moans.

       Sliding the crop off the chain, lifting it, he lets its glistening tip tap across her sternum, below her chin.  “Open your mouth… Part your lips.”  He directs as he slides the tip of the crop up against her left cheek.

       Instantly obeying, she feels the tip of the leather press against the side of her mouth, slide between her lips.  She tastes the bitter sweet sensation across her tongue, she tastes herself.

       “Lick it!  Suck it dry like you mean it!”  He directs as he watches the glistening two, three inches of the crop disappearing between her lips.  “Now!”

       Glancing back toward him, she slowly begins to slide her mouth back and forth, sucking, circling the hard leather tip with her tongue.  Closing her eyes, tiptoeing, clinching her fists, nodding her head back and forth, she forces herself to suck her own juices off the crop.

       Watching, enjoying the site of his beautiful slave humiliating herself, performing fellatio on the crop he whips her with, heightens his sexual urges.  Letting his free hand slide down across her thigh, his index finger, and thumb flick across the “O” ring, he feels the dampness of her moist slit across his fingertips.  Sliding his fingers back out, away from her twitching flesh, raising his hand slowly to his mouth, he slides the tips of his fingers, thumb between his lips, also tasting her fluids.

       “Okay!  That’s enough.”  Pulling the crop from between her lips, dropping it to the floor, he cups his palms underneath her firm, round globes.  Pinching each “O” ring between a thumb and forefinger, leaning toward her face, looking directly into her eyes, speaks.  “What’s the rule about touching yourself?”

       “Wha… What?”  She stammers, feeling her nipples twisting in his fingers.

       “The rule!  The rule about touching yourself, Slave!”  He scolds, twisting, tugging.

       “Ohhh!”  Whimpering, glancing down toward her aching nipples, she whines.  “Not… Not allowed!  Master!  I’m not allowed!  Right?”

       Releasing her nipples, still cupping her breasts, turning his head, he quietly asks.  “Have you?”

Her heart skips a beat; dread builds in her chest, her mind races.  “Have I… Hav…”

       Cutting her off, again feeling the excitement, personal pleasure of dominating her, he states emphatically.  “Think before you answer!  Lying is unacceptable!  Totally!  The consequences are unimaginable!  Understand?”

       He can feel her body quivering, her heartbeat pounding in her breasts as the firm globes rest in his palms.  He feels the stiffening between his thighs, his own escalating heartbeat as he stares into her welling, pleading eyes, asks again.  “Well?”

       “Ohhh, I’m… I’m sorry Sir!  I’m sorry!”  She whines, lowering her eyes, a tear streaking down her cheek.

       “About?”  He asks, sounding stern, harsh, while inside, chuckling to him self, enjoying her misery.  “I said about?”

       Looking back toward him, directly into the slits in his mask, she shakes her head back and forth, stutters.  “La… Last… Last night… Master!  I… I took the bath after you had… I mean… I mean we had… Had sex!”

       Squeezing both breasts firmly in his grip, their eyes interlocking, he calmly states.  “Go ahead!   After we had sex, what?”

       A lump in her throat, her stomach tightening, she blurts.  “Ohhhh!… Ohh Master!  I touched myself in… In the bathtub!  Master, in the tub while I took the bath!  I’m sorry!  Really!  I… I couldn’t help myself!  The water… The pulsing water!”

       Trying his best not to smile, enjoying every second of this insane conversation, his mind works overtime thinking of different angles to take, different ways to embarrass, humiliate her even more as her incredible naked body’s stretched obscenely out in front of him, with her still trying to carry on some sort of dialogue.

       “What?”  He scolds. “You mean I wasn’t good enough for you?  I couldn’t satisfy your animalistic urges?”  He asks, sarcastically, shaking his head while thinking to himself how pleased he is of himself, coming up with that ridicules line, knowing that the amount of GHA she’s consumed the past few days would keep her cravings at a nearly impossible level to satisfy!  “Ohhh!  No!!… No Master!!!”  She pleads, whines, shaking her head back and forth.  “You… You were wonderful! Really… Really!!  You were Master!  You really were!”

       Reaching, thinking, wondering just how far he could go with this head game, he again firmly squeezes her breasts, leans toward her, stares directly into her pleading eyes, asks.  “Did you?”

       “Wha… What Master?   Did I What?”  She moans, pleads, her eyes flicking back and forth toward his mask, not knowing what to say.

       “Did you cum?!”  He demands, more of a statement then a question, still staring unblinkingly back at her.

       “Ohhh!  Yes… Yes!… Master!  I did!   Yes!”  She blurts, hoping, praying her answer will not displease him.  Besides, she thinks to herself, she did cum with him!

       Sliding his hands from her breasts, he leans over, picks up the crop.  “When?”  He sternly asks, of course already knowing the answer.  Matter of fact, knowing he did too!

       “When… When we made lov……I mean, when we had sex, Master!”  She answers, her heart thumping, her arms legs, almost numb, the chains twitching from her breasts, clit.

       Proud of himself, excited, his shaft twitching, swelling in anticipation, he taps her across her left breast with the tip of the crop while remaining in his stern outershell.  “When we had sex, huh! How ’bout in the tub?!!”  Again more of a statement.

       Her face instantly looses color, turns ashen, tears trickle off her cheeks.  Lowering her head, flustered, barely audible, she whimpers.  “In… In the tub?  Ohhh Master!  Ohhh!  In the….  Yes… Yes in the tub too!… I… I.”

       Flicking the crop under her chin, he lifts her face upwards, again stares into her eyes.  “What should your punishment be?  Slave!”

       What?… Wha… Ohh Master?”  Whimpering, shaking her head, lowering it, she visably goes limp in her restraints, sobs.

       Briefly, fleetingly, he almost feels a tinge of sorrow for his slave, but then decides this is too fun to quit now!  Gently flicking the crop, tapping her left nipple, right nipple, the ring in her clit, he tries with a great amount of difficulty to sound upset, stern.  “I said. How should you be punished!  But know what?  I think I’ll help you decide!”  Again winging it, he talks as he thinks.  “I think your pussy needs whipped!  Yes… Yes a good whipping right across those bare cuntlips with this crop!”  On a roll, he continues.  “The question is, how many? Well, what do you think, Slave?”

       Glaring thru her tears at the crop flicking across her bare flesh, she tries to comprehend, to grasp what to say.  “Ohh God!  Please No! Plea…”                                Probing the tip of the crop into the “O” ring stretching her clit, he butts in.  “It’s not up for discussion, Slave!  Pick a number, and it better be a good one! Or, I’ll triple it!  Or more!  Now pick or I’ll pick for you!”

       Watching her mentally wilt in front of his eyes, especially spread eagled, quivering naked in her restraints, excites him even more.  “Answer slave!  Now!”

       Twitching, almost surreally, she lowers her swollen, reddend eyes, stutters hoarsely.  “Si… Six… Six Master! Six? That enough?  Please?  Okay?”

       Again the rush, again the feeling he could cum right now.  Surprised, thinking to himself he’s in Utopia!…This incredibly beautiful, naked woman is begging to be whipped across her bare pussy with a crop!…Now, just a little more humiliation for her, just a little.

       “Look me in the eyes.  Beg to be hurt Slave! Enthusiastically, how many strokes!  Where?  Cuntlips!  Your bare Pussy!   And why!  Give me a good description too and maybe I’ll consider it. Beg me, or otherwise?”  He orders with his last ditch effort not to show his amusement.

       Slowly raising her head, staring thru her tears, again directly into his mask, she softly whimpers.  “Please… Please Master!  Whip me across my bare pussy with the crop! Whip me six… Six times across my cuntlips with that crop! Please Master!  Hurt my pussy for touching myself!  Hurt my pussy!  Hurt me!  Punish me!”

       Sliding the crop’s tip from her clit ring, his heart thumps in his chest as he leans down, disconnects its chain, lets it drop to the floor.  Standing, facing her, he softly speaks.

       “It’s a good thing you were honest!   You’re getting the six strokes though!”  Flexing the crop in his hand, he adds.  “Two across each cuntlip.  The final two across the clit ring!  Count out loud, you know the rules.  Keep track!”

       Glancing back toward him, she can already feel the leather assaulting her most sensitive flesh.  Maybe she should have only said three…Or even two…She thinks to herself, reflexively shaking her head.

       Almost anticlimactically, he positions himself to her right, slides the crop gently up and down her inner right thigh, gives it a flick, not gentle, yet, not harsh.  “Thwack!”  The crop flicks between her thighs, the tip stinging the bare flesh of her left labia lip.

       “Ooomph!…. Ohh… One!… One across my pussy… Master!  Th.. Thank you!”  She grunts, realizing the pain’s not nearly as harsh as it could have been.

       “Okay slave, five more!  The next one’s across the other side.”

       “Thwack!”  Another flick, a similar stroke sinks into the moist fold of the right lip.

       “Agghh!… Two Master… That’s two strokes across my pussy… Two…  Thank you Sir!”  She acknowledges, actually with a sense of relief as to the severity of the first couple strokes, neither nearly as severe as a few minutes ago.

       Stepping directly in front of her he slides the tip of the crop across the glistening “O” ring, softly, gently, the tip almost caressing the engorged nub of her clit.

       Biting her lip, she feels herself flinching, the hard leather flattening her sensitive nub, knowing that she’s getting closer to a couple of painful lashings across it.

       “Okay!”  He continues. “Count.”  “Swish… Thwack!… Thwack!”  Flicking the crop upward from the floor, its tip snaps across her right labia fold quickly followed by a flick across the left puffy flesh.

       “Ohhh…Ouch!!”  She squeals, twisting in her restraints.  “Ohh!  That’s three… And… And four… Across my pussy Sir!  Thank you… Master!”

       Stepping beside her, he lets the tip of the crop flick across the chains stretching up off her nipples, whispers in her ear.  “Ready for your clit, Slave?  Tell me!”

       Stiffening, with a whimper, she glaces toward the mask.  “Ye… Yes Master!  I’m ready.  For you to whip my… My clit!”

       “Okay then, Here’s number five!”  He calmly states as he again steps directly in front of her tensing body.

       “Thwack!”  The tip of the crop snaps a little harder between her cuntlips, sinks into her moist gash, and glances off the twisting “O” ring.

       “Gaaadd!!!”  Bucking, twisting, the pain jolts thru her womb like a hot brand.  “Five!… Five!  That one’s… Five Master!!   And… And across my clit!  Ohhhhhh!”

       “That hurt much?”  He asks while glancing down between her spread thighs, watches her perspiration beading, trickling down her quivering legs.

       “Ohhh yes… Yes Master!  My My clit’s sore!  It hurts!”  She whimpers, barely swaying in her restraints, glancing down between her glistening breasts, and then pleadingly back toward his black hood.

       “Well, just one more.”  He answers as he reaches down with his free hand, gently flicks the “O” ring, rubs, carrasses her twitching nub between his thumb and forefinger.  Feeling her twitch, her pubic mound flutter, he softly squeezes, melds, and twists her swelling clit as he lets the tip of the crop press across her left nipple.

       “After this lashing, I’m going to reclamp the chain on the “O” ring and leave you spread eagled like this.  Until this evening!”  He addresses her.  “That’ll let you meditate.  Think about the consequences of touching, satisfying yourself without permission.  Understand?”  He finishes, glancing into her hazing eyes as he continues to stroke, meld her swelling flesh between his finger and thumb.

       “Yes Master!  I understand, yes… Yes!”  She answers, again hearing herself saying what he wants to hear, again feeling that stirring in her womb, that feeling in her pulsing clit, her twitching thighs.  “Ohh Yes Master!  Whip my clit now, please!

       Lowering the crop between her legs, continuing to manipulate her swelling clit, feeling her reflexive response, he slips the crop’s tip between her spread slit.  Giving it a subtle flick up across the sensitive, thin membrane parting her vagina walls from the rim of her anus, then rubbing it slowly back and forth, back and forth, her hips twitch, jerk in rhythm.

       “That was six, Slave!”  He whispers in her ear, finally lowering the crop, continuing to tug, twist and stroke, masturbating her pulsing clit with his fingertips, watching her glazed eyes rolling upwards as she bites down on her lower lip.

       “Ohh Yeee… Yessss!” She moans, groans, twitching uncontrollably.  “Ohh!… That’s… That’s sixxxxx???”

End Part Four                                                                                                                                                                                

JODI’S TRIALS

       Days have passed, turning into weeks.  Her training’s been intense.  Her submissive psyche has been reached, even stretching toward a masochistic trait, a trait that initially surfaced in her very first discipline session after her arrival.  She has since experienced the fine line between pleasure and pain. Tonight, she’s going to experience another level of her submissiveness.  She’s been informed that this evening she’s going to be taken off the estate to her Master.  For the first time since her abduction, she’s not only leaving the mansion but the estate grounds.

Chapter Five

       

       Setting on the stool, facing toward the oversized mirror on the parlor’s wall, she remains motionless as the scantly robed pair of female sub missives is completing her preparation in silence.  Having bathed, shaved, toweled off and oiled her tanned body, they’ve dressed her in a silk, nude toned, sheer chiffon dress the Master had custom designed for her.  Dramatically form fitting over her bare flesh, thigh length, parted slits up both sides to the tops of her hips, the revealing bust line plunges into a “V” shape to just below her exposed navel.

       `The narrow, subtle material flowing off either shoulder is designed to barely envelop her areolas, pierced nipples.  The translucent material clings fittingly across her thrust out breasts, leaving the symmetrically rounded curves of her inner and outer globes shimmering, erotically exposed, the gold studs gleaming, their silhouette contoured along with the nubs of her nipples through the sheer dress.  An uncomfortable but tolerable flat bowed slat is stitched into the back seam of the dress bowing her shoulders back.

       Remaining stoic, she stares straight ahead, directly toward her reflection in the mirror as a submissive kneels, straps a pair of six inch black stiletto heels across her ankles as the other finishes wrapping her tightly braided hair behind her neck.  Her appearance boarders on exotic, the makeup’s perfect, professional, her toned body at first glance, appearing virtually nude.

       She wonders what the night’s bringing even as the submissive servants commence her final preparation by sliding black; shoulder length gloves firmly up onto her arms.  Tight fitting, the material’s manipulated slowly upwards, several shakes of talcum powder needed with each arm.   The material finally stretched above her elbows, the tops of the gloves end just below her armpits.  Sensing the tingling in her fingers, she watches inquisitively as her left arm, right arm are separately lifted outward by a submissive as the other sprays an aerosol container up and down, around the glove, from top to bottom.  Even as her arms are lowered, she realizes that between the loss of feeling and the hardening spray, they’re quickly becoming immobile.

       Assisted from the stool, she’s helped to stand erect, practically tiptoeing in the tall heels while still facing the mirror.  Glancing toward her reflection, her shoulders arched back, gloved arms hanging limply toward her sides; she catches the gleam of all three gold studs detectable through the translucent material of her dress.  Still in silence, a black leather chocker with four gold rings mounted evenly spaced, is affixed around her throat to complete her preparation.

       A final quick inspection and a leader leash is attached to the chocker.  She’s led from the parlor, taken directly to the side entrance of the mansion where a black limousine awaits her under the car port.  The chauffer stands, waiting beside the already open rear door as she slides onto the leather seat, unclips the leash.  As he closes the door, she finds herself isolated, the windows deeply tinted, the dividing glass closed.  Soft music plays from the surrounding speakers during the twenty or so minute drive as she leans back against the seat, wonders.

       Entering a driveway, the limo slows to a complete stop.  In moments the rear door opens, the chauffer leans across the seat, snaps the leader leash back to the front of her collar.  Flicking the gold studs, tweaking, caressing both nipples, the chauffer watches the sheer material shrink across her puckering nubs.  Assisting her out, he hands the leash to a waiting escort.

       She immediately realizes she’s being put on exhibit.  Led through the front entrance of the elegant Tudor style building, she’s humiliated by the attention she’s instantly receiving by the on looking well dressed crowd.  Her chest pounds as she’s led inside to a posh restaurant while she feels even more then naked, trying to block out the stares by lowering her head, staring toward the floor.  Passing through, her seductive body glistens, the clinging, nude chiffon dress virtually transparent under the entrance’s lights, the gold studs gleaming off her swaying, melon sized globe.

       Stepping through the separating patrons, she senses even more stares mounting from behind.  The “V” of the straps in the back of the dress trails below the upper crease of her buttocks revealing the dimples below the small of her back.  Even the clit stud is noticeable in the bright lighting, its silhouette gleaming through the sheer material from the parting slit between her spread thighs.

       Parting through the staring group, she’s escorted to a side lounge of a dozen or so tables.  They’re mostly filled with formally dressed couples, with the exception of the table in the very center of the room, where her Master, also formally attired, sits alone.  Approaching that table, a chair’s slid out for her by the escort as he unsnaps the leader chain.  Sitting, she silently positions herself.  Arms limp toward her sides, the glove’s fingertips sway past the spreading slits up the sides of her dress, her bare thighs exposed, practically up to her waist.

       He sits across from her, aloof, checking, pointing toward the wine list, advising his selection to a waiter, seemingly incognizant of her presence as patron’s eyes continuously glance toward her.  Still gazing down toward the table, she remains silent, embarrassed as the waiter leaves the table.  After a couple of silent minutes, the Master stands up.  Stepping besides her, leaning over, kissing her across the forehead, indiscreetly brushing his hand across her left breast, he simply states.  “You look beautiful. Back soon.”  Leaving the table, he exits the room.

       Staring down toward the tablecloth, she feels the warmth instantly spreading across her face as she catches a glimpse of her breasts stretching against the chiffon, her left nipple now fully exposed from the flick of his hand, the gold stud gleaming from her tanned flesh.  Helpless to adjust her dress, she remains in her proper posture, remains mute.

       The whispered comments around her are obvious, the stares of the men embarrassing, the glares of the women humiliating.  The minutes pass by uncomfortably slow as she feels totally humiliated, helpless.  The waiter finally approaches the table, pours a dash of wine in each glass while obviously focusing his attention across her bare breast while sarcastically commenting.  “You certainly are overflowingly beautiful tonight, Madam.”  Smiling, a final overall glance, he leaves the table as she again sits alone.

       Her face turns a bright chrisom shade as she grows more and more humiliated, trying to concentrate on the ripples in the wine glass, block out her surroundings, the mutterings, the stares, slow minutes pass by until finally, the Master returns, silently sits in his seat.  Raising her head glancing toward him, she keeps her eyes from glancing around the room.

       Taking a sip of wine, oblivious to the other patrons, watching her, he nods, asks.  “I love your dress, what’s the matter?  You have permission to speak.”

       “Sorry, Master.”  She answers.  “My breast is exposed, and, and I, I can’t lift my arms.”

       Smiling, he again nods.  “Well, looks like you’re just have to stay that way then, doesn’t it?”

       Lowering her head, knowing better then to complain, or even ask any type of question, she whispers back.  “Yes Master.”

       “Yes what slave?”  Looking directly into her eyes, he asks in a tone loud enough to be heard by the closer, surrounding tables.

       Her face flushing, if possible an even brighter red, she stutters.  “I’ll guess I’ll have to sit here with my breast exposed, Master.”

       “Excuse me?  I didn’t hear you Slave.”  He responds, a chagrin expression on his face.

       Lowering her eyes, she repeats herself, embarrassingly louder.  “Sorry Master, I said I’ll sit here with my breast exposed!”  Glancing from the corners of her eyes, she notices the people looking, listening.

       “Would you like your breast to be covered?”  He asks in a gentle tone, taking another sip of wine.

       “Yes, yes please Master.”  She answers with a tone of humility, her face remaining flushed.

       “Very well, but first… Here” Lifting his glass toward her lips, while softly speaking.  ”Take a sip.”

       The glass held in front of her, she leans forward, feels the glass against her mouth.  Taking a sip, she feels a couple drops drip down across her naked breast.  As he pulls the glass back, she glances down, embarrassingly watches the wine drip off the nipple stud, of her bared breast, onto the table cloth.

       “Want that wiped first?”  He asks, nodding toward her breast, picking up a table napkin.

       “Yes Master, please!”  She answers without hesitation, still trying to block out the surrounding onlookers.

       “Okay.  Well, then ask.”  He scolds, staring directly at her, napkin in hand.

       Feeling her heart pounding, realizing the humiliation she’s being put through, realizing she has to answer so others can hear her, she blurts.  “Okay Master, I’m sorry.  Please wipe the wine from my nipple before you cover my breast.  Please Master!”  Again she hears a couple of hushed comments, catches some glances from the tables as she keeps her eyes lowered, the pit of her stomach churning.

       “Look up at me.”  He directs, laying the napkin down.

       Glancing up, silent, lips parted, she obediently stares into his eyes.

       Staring back, leaning back, he orders.  “Listen, stand up. Go over to the table on your right.  Look the lady sitting there directly in her eyes, mention you’re a slave, ask her in the proper way to wipe your tit and cover it up.”  Glancing toward the table, back at Jodi, he nods.  “Do it now!  Understand?”

       A tear welling in her eye, feeling the warmth spreading across her cheeks, she slides up off the chair, struggles to balance herself in the stilettos as her arms hang limp.   “Yes Master!”  Hesitantly turning, she approaches the closest couple, distinguished, attractive.

       The room’s become virtually silent as she steps next to the table.  Her heart pulsing, she lifts her head, stares at the woman.  The couple look up toward her, in the middle of their meal, utensils in hand, stares back.

       Forcing herself, Jodi leans slowly forward.  Her gloved arms hanging limp, her bare breast swaying, the stud gleaming, the outline of her other breast pressing through the sheer material, she embarrassingly asks.  “Would you please, please cover this slave’s bare breast?  And, and please wipe this slave’s nipple first?  Please!”

       The woman smiles, glances toward her husband who remains silent, his shoulder shrugging.  Glancing back toward Jodi, she  surprisingly picks up her table cloth, pinches the nipple stud, twisting it between her thumb and forefinger, swipes the cloth back and forth a couple of times before letting it drop it back across the table.  Gently cupping Jodi’s bare breast, giving it an odd squeeze, she slowly slips the globe beneath the narrow fabric, gives another couple gentle squeezes.  Glancing back into Jodi’s eyes, still caressing the supple mound, she softly asks.  “Anything else, slave?”

       Standing upright, her arms straight down toward her sides, a tear dripping off her cheek, Jodi humbly answers.  “No, no thank you.”

       Humiliated, turning, she feels the woman’s hand slipping from the dress, the fingertips still pinching as they slide away.  Stepping back to her chair, she slips down onto the cushion.  Glancing down toward the wine glass, she speaks.  “Thank you Master, for, for letting me have my breast covered.”

       “You’re welcome Slave.”  He nods indifferently while glancing toward the waiter approaching the table.  “The usual, for the two of us, and, she’ll need a bib.”  He exclaims as the waiter simply nods in the affirmative, glancing, smiling toward Jodi as he turns away.

       “We don’t want your dress ruined now, do we?”  The Master speaks.

       “No, no Master, thank you.”  She answers back, her eyes lowered, not really even wondering what he ordered, her stomach feeling nauseated as she sits motionless with her arms completely numb at her sides.

       A couple brief minutes pass, the waiter returns.  Without a word, he unfolds a white handkerchief size napkin, lays it up across the mounds of Jodi’s breasts in a diamond pattern.  Reaching toward her throat, he clips a shinny black, shellacked clothespin across the tip of the napkin and the gold “O” ring on the chocker directly under her chin.  Leaning across her, he cups her right breast, slips it up and out of her dress.  He clamps an identical clothespin across the napkin, clipping it to her nipple.

       Still sitting silent, biting her lip, her breast stinging, a tear drips off her cheek as she watches with lowered eyes as her left breast is also tugged out, the edge of the napkin slipped across it, the clothespin shoved across the nipple stud.

       “Anything else Madam?”  He asks, sarcastically smiling as he still leans across her, pressing the clamp tightly into her nipple.

       “No, ahhh!  No, no thank you, agghh!”  Jerking, glancing up, she grunts as the clamps dig into her nipples.  Again she whispers.  “Thank, thank you.”

       Nodding, the waiter turns toward the Master.  “Your request will be out shortly, sir.”

       “Yes, thank you, I’m sure she appreciates your attention.”  He nods back, brushing his hand in front of him as the waiter turns, steps away.

       Jodi remains virtually motionless, her nipples pulsing under the clamps.  Quiet, head down, she ignores the stares as she struggles to accept the discomfort, physically and mentally.  Several agonizing minutes pass silently by until the waiter returns with an assistant, setting the course on the table.

       “Hope you don’t mind, I’m a meat and potatoes man.”  The Master quips toward Jodi as he glances at the settings.  “Steak and potatoes.  Along with the wine, that’s usually what I order here. Nothing like a good steak.”  Leaning across the table, cutting a couple slices of the bone in filet mignon, he lifts a slice to her lips.  “Taste it.”

       Obeying, she parts her lips, accepts the offering.  Chewing, swallowing, she keeps her eyes lowered, trying to blank out the embarrassment, not wanting to upset him.  Lifting the wine glass, he again allows her a couple swallows, actually careful not to spill any this time.  Disconcertedly, he alternates feeding her, himself along with occasional sips of wine.  Continuing to quietly eat, nipples aching, arms numb, useless toward her sides, she tries to block out her surroundings, but cant’ help wondering how he can handle being surrounded by so many people, in the middle of an elegant restaurant, and  yet being so casual, as if this situation is all a normal thing.

       The meal finally finished, the waiter returns, pours another splash of wine, has the rest of the table cleared.  A couple more sips and she somberly realizes that to add to her humiliation, she feels the need to relieve herself.  “Master?  She asks.

       “Yes?”  He answers, glancing toward her.

       Lowering her head, she mumbles.  “I, I need to use the restroom, what should I do?”

       Smiling, he nods, pointing toward the rear of the room.  “Over there, the restroom’s here are staffed; I’m sure someone will be more then glad to help you.  Go ahead.  And, by the way, do as she tells you.”

       Humiliatingly, again sliding off the chair, struggling to maintain her balance, she steps between the tables.  Face flushed, ignoring the looks, comments, she hobbles slowly back toward the restroom as she thinks of what he just said about obeying the attendant.  The napkin sways under the jiggling clothespins with the sides of her breasts fully exposed as she enters the lavish restroom.  Passing several patrons glancing toward her, she’s met by a uniformed, attractive female attendant who smiling, glances her up and down, raising an eyebrow, asks.  “Assistance?”

       “Yes, I, I do need some assistance.”  Jodi answers, head lowered, heart thumping, utterly humiliated.  “I can’t use my arms, and I, I need to use the restroom.”

       The attendant, still smiling, glancing toward the clothes pins, reaches out, unsnaps the pair across her breasts at the same time.  “Ouch!” Jodi grunts as the pain sears through both nipples, the crumpled cloth clinging to her stinging flesh as the attendant ignores the whining and quickly unclips the third pin from the chocker, slips off the napkin.

       “There.  Now that’s better.”  The attendant states as she obviously stares at Jodi’s bare breasts hanging out from the dress, the compressed nipples jiggling.  “Here, come with me.”

       Turning, leading Jodi to an enclosed stall, she enters with her, shuts the door, orders in a commanding voice.  “Turn around.”  Obeying, turning, Jodi feels her dress being manipulated, slid off her shoulders, down toward her ankles.

       “Don’t want this soiled, now do we?”  The attendant smirks while kneeling, gripping Jodi’s thigh with one hand to hold her steady while grabbing the dress with the other.  “Step up.”

       Again obeying, Jodi carefully lifts one, the other foot above the dress as the attendant holds it in her hand, stands up.

       “Squat, go ahead.”  The attendant nods toward the toilet as she begins folding the dress.

       Again obeying, practically numb, Jodi squats on the toilet seat, arms dangling, hears the trickle of her urine in the bowel.  The attendant holds the dress in one hand, ripping a couple of tissues from the roller, nonchalantly reaches down between Jodi’s thighs waiting for the last trickle.

       “Spread ‘em.”  She quips as she forces her hand between Jodi’s legs, wipes back and forth across the clit stud, dropping the tissue in the bowel, flushing the lever.  “Stand up.”  She orders as she suddenly slides two fingers a couple knuckles deep into Jodi’s slit while pressing her thumb against the clit stud, lifting upwards.  “Your Master instructed you to obey me!  Didn’t he?”

       Jerking, mortified, Jodi keeps her eyes lowered as she stands, whimpers.  “Yes, yes Mam!”

       Feeling the attendant quickly pinch her clit, unexpectedly kiss her harshly across the lips, she staggers back, stunned, heart pounding.  The attendant grabs a gold ring on the chocker, picks up the dress and leads her from the stall.  Stepping between several women, coming and going, all glancing inquisitively toward her, she keeps her eyes lowered.

       “Hold still.”  The attendant orders, placing the dress on the counter, returning with the three clothespins.  Reaching out, clamping a clothespin deep onto Jodi’s right nipple as she squeezes it between her thumbnail and forefinger, she quickly clamps a second on the left nipple while squeezing it.  Without hesitating, kneeling down, she clamps the third clothespin directly across the clit stud.  Deeply embedded, the pins stand straight out, jiggle.   “There, you’ve got your clamps back!  Now for my tip!  Stand still!”  She smirks.

       Stepping behind Jodi, again approaching the counter, picking up a riding crop, she steps back.  “Thwack!”  The crop flicks across Jodi’s right globe, deflecting off the nipple stud.

       “Oomph!”   Grunting, surprised, humiliated, Jodi feels the sting across her breast, lowers her eyes as the group of women silently surrounds her, watches.  “Thwack!”  She bites her lip as the second slash flicks across the left stud.  “Agghhhh!”

       “Spread!  Bend over!”  The attendant orders.

       Jodi immediately obeys, her gloved arms swaying as her butt cheeks thrust out, a couple of the women stepping behind her.  “Thwack!  Thwack!” The crop slashes across her left butt cheek, followed by one across her right.  “Uuummph!”

       “Stay like you are.”  The attendant orders as tears drip off Jodi’s cheeks, her buttocks quivering, her welted breasts hanging down, swaying between her arms.  “Thwack!”   The crop’s flicked straight up between her slit, nipping the bud of her clit.

       “Aaagghh!”  Unable to hold back, Jodi squeals as she jerks erect, nearly stumbling in her heels.

       “We’re done.”  The attendant smirks as the separating women smile,  go about their business.

       Leaning at the entrance, the attendant watches with a grin as Jodi struggles from the restroom, arms dangling.  The clothespins jiggle from her breasts as the six inch stiletto heels click across the tile floor, the lounge quiet, everyone staring her way.

       On the verge of shock, the whole experience becoming more and more surreal by the moment, Jodi stares straight at the table in the center of the room as she stumbles, virtually naked, directly toward it.  Passing the stares, hearing the murmurs, reaching the table, she slides her aching butt cheeks across the cushion, sets silently.  Tears streak down off her cheeks, marring her prefect makeup, the crop marks glistening across her bare breasts, the clothespins jiggling from her nipples.  The room’s hushed, the patrons all still intently staring, her Master somehow still seeming oblivious to it all.

       “Ready?”  He asks, glancing across the table into her welling eyes.

       “Ready!  Master?”  She blurts, trying to hold back her emotions.

       “To leave.  To go back to the estate?”  He responds with the wine glass in hand, again obviously ignoring her nudity and the people seated around them.

       “Yes!  Oh yes, please Master.”  She answers, almost begging, lowering her head, feeling nauseated.

       Glancing across the room, he nods.  In moments the same escort responds with the leash.

       “Go with him.”  The Master orders as the escort reaches for her arm, helps her stand, clips on the leash as she remains silent, just nodding.

       Turning, the escort leads her out the same way they came in.  Still crowded, the patrons parting, stare, comment as she’s led through.  Her naked body glistens, the fresh whip marks across her shimmering breasts, bare butt cheeks.  Her useless, black gloved arms slope down from her sides, the clothespins glistening from her bare flesh as she keeps her crimson tinted face lowered while being led out by the leash on her chocker.

       Taken from the restaurant to the dark colored limousine, the chauffeur helps her into the back seat.  Leaning inside, he gently removes the leash, the clothespins from her breasts, finally from her clit, shuts the door.

       Inside the restaurant, her Master, sitting alone, stands up, table cloth in hand, turns toward the patrons smiling back, toward the female attendant smiling from the restroom’s entrance.

       Chuckling, he comments.  “She hasn’t a clue I own this place and we’re all members of the society.”                                                                                                                                                                                                        End Part Five