0 comments/ 53113 views/ 5 favorites A Visit to Dom House Ch. 01 By: adoration I wheeled my little Mercedes-Benz Kompressor into the gravelled area in front of the solid metal gate, supported by high brick walls on either side, just off a leafy lane in the Surrey stockbroker belt. The video camera surveyed the vehicle and a metal voice message machine intoned its impersonal: "Dominie House, state your name and business." "Member 69," I replied, still ridiculously proud of the number I had been given, "for a session with Slave Roger." A human voice, that of a young woman, now came on: 'Hello madam, and welcome back from your holiday. Please drive up to the house." I was delighted with the personal touch, but expected nothing less from Dom House, as we privileged members call it. I had been a member of the exclusive organisation for about a year, the membership a gift from my husband, an extremely important executive of the British Government. Yes, I'm afraid he's that awful thing, a civil servant. Dominic - I call him "Dom", of course - is a lovely old thing, well, if you call 50 old. I'm 10 years younger, with a rather ripe 42-28-38 figure, which is currently superbly covered with a near-chocolate, all-over tan thanks to a month's holiday in the Caribbean. And when I say "personal touch" about Dom House, not many organisations of which you are a member know, or care, that you have been away on a month's holiday, It's just one of those special little things which make membership of the top-secret organisation such a pleasure. I drove the Kompressor up to the parking area, in front of the stately old mansion and placed it between a rather ostentatious Bentley Arnage and a rather sweet little Mini Cooper. Give me the Kompressor any time, something about the strict, Germanic efficiency that I like. I suppose it's the dominatrix in me. You see, I just love to dominate men, young men in particular. Ever since my darling husband found out that I was of the more demanding persuasion, he has funded my desire to flog naked young men. Sex with darling Dom is very satisfactory, but sadly he's not a submissive by nature. Luckily - and I am a very lucky woman - he is very generous and very broad-minded. I walked into the foyer, was greeted warmly by a stunning little blonde who had spoken to me on the metal machine at the gates, and entered the beautifully-appointed lounge. There I was met by an older, but equally stunning brunette, who offered me a champagne flute: "Good morning, madam, I'm afraid this is only Laurent Perrier, but the usual bottle of Dom Perignon is chilling in a bucket in your suite as we speak," she informed me. "Thank-you Greta," I replied, accepting the complimentary glass. Dom Perignon in the room - such a lovely touch and, of course, such a perfect name for bubbly at Dom House! "Your suite will be ready in a few minutes, if you don't mind waiting here in the lounge for a moment or two," she informed me. I nodded my head in what I hoped was a gracious acceptance, although secretly I was a little peeved. After a month away I could hardly wait to begin flogging the lovely Roger! I took a seat in a large leather chair, nodding aloofly to a famous black model and an equally famous blonde movie star. Both were 10 years younger than me and both had equally sadistic tastes, I had been told. Neither, of course, were on the same social level as myself, so conversation was utterly out of the question, but I pondered who drove what. I decided on the Bentley for the model, who I knew was of the nouveau riche, while settling for the Cooper to go with the movie star. She was from a well-to-do family, which I knew vaguely, and she had nothing to prove, unlike the appallingly haughty black woman. I leafed idly through a Tatler magazine, saw some well-known faces on the society pages who I recognised from membership at Dom House - wouldn't that knowledge have titillated the editor - and then the brunette arrived again. "Your room is ready, madam," she said, quietly, and I threw the Tatler onto a table and followed her upstairs down a long corridor. Rooms to both sides were, I knew, the scenes of considerable debauchery for members of the all-female club. At last we reached the room where I had spent so many enjoyable hours with my lovely slave, Roger. The brunette opened the door and let me in. "Shall I open the Dom Perignon, madam?" she asked. I checked my watch. Just gone 10am. "Why not?" I smiled. The woman did as I asked, then poured one flute - slaves get to do a lot of drinking at Dom House, but one thing they don't get to drink is champagne. "Slave Roger will be along directly," she said, and left quietly. I sipped on the champagne, then there was a discreet tap at the door. "Yes?" I inquired. "Slave Roger reporting for your pleasure, mistress," said a beautifully-modulated, deep, rich voice. "Come," I called, and the gorgeous beast entered, wearing the Dom House slave attire - a crisp white shirt, black slacks, bare feet. It's such a lovely touch, because dominatrixes love the feeling of power they get from ordering their slaves to strip naked. Roger is tall - 6 feet 2 inches - with jet-black dark hair which is cut in almost a feminine pageboy style. He is beautifully built, strong thighs, strong arms, a great chest, a superb arse and - apart from his head - is totally depilated. His cock is thick, measures a cunt-watering nine inches and is circumcised. I simply adore him! "Welcome back, mistress," said Roger, stepping into my welcoming arms and kissing me warmly on the mouth. I love touching his body, and the only thing which is forbidden in Dom House is fucking the slaves. But I have a plan in that regard which we'll talk about later! I felt his strong arms encircling my body. "You've got such a lovely tan, mistress," he said, warmly. "Thank-you, my darling," I replied. "You may see more of it when you have stripped." "Thank-you, mistress," he said, unbuttoning his crisp white shirt to reveal his superbly-muscled torso, also well-tanned. Then he slipped his slacks down, placed the shirt and trousers on a chair and turned to face me. His nine-inch beauty was erect, paying suitable homage to me! "I've missed you," I said, unable to keep the excitement from my voice, as I stepped to him and cupped his heavy ball sac. "Now disrobe me, you wonderful slave, you." Roger's hands unclipped the back of my severe little black dress and slid it from my body. I stepped out of it, naked now but for my black high heels and a tiny little black g-string. My breasts were full and my nipples erect, my pussy already weeping its joy at being re-united with my favourite slave! I stepped into his arms once more and kissed him. "I've missed you so much," I whispered, nibbling on his left ear. "I've not flogged anyone since my last visit to you. Have you missed me, dear Roger?" "My penis is proof of that, my dear mistress," he replied, in a deep, dark brown voice that sent tingles down my spine. "Your caresses are the best, you know that." I stroked his stiffness and smiled: "Soon you will become reacquainted with my loving lash, my darling Roger, but first tell me how your little nest egg is getting along." Roger, at 25, has been a slave at Dom House for almost as long as I've been a member and he is currently putting every penny away for when he can branch out as a freelance slave. He needs a decent car, and then he can leave the routine at Dom House and ply for trade. He already has four or five guaranteed clients, and when he is freelance he can visit me at my Mayfair apartments, or our Berkshire villa, and there we can forget Dom House and its "no fucking" rule and let our hair down! "Very well, my darling mistress," he said. "I reckon in another month or two I'll be able to give my notice, which will be both a pleasure and a sadness, as I've really enjoyed my time here - especially with you, my magnificent mistress!" "Just think of the fun we're going to have when we're not restricted by the house rules, my dear Roger," I smiled. "But now, time for business. I'm going to flog you, you are going to provide me with some oral adoration, and then - if you're really good - I may have a gift of my nectar for you. Now, fetch the flogger!" The beautifully muscled slave went to the large drawer on a bureau set on one wall of the well-appointed bedroom and from it produced a four-foot long flogger with a four-inch square punishment flap at its tip. He handed it to me, then adopted his slave pose - hands clasped behind his neck, feet spread wide. His cock swayed sublimely in front of his belly, his balls were bunched in his large scrotum, its dark brown colour possibly revealing that he had not been pumped to climax for some time. I pondered at this glorious sight of submission. Running the flogger through the fingers of my left hand - my right arm is the stronger of the two - I spoke my thoughts out loud: "Where first, eh darling slave? Buns or balls? What a decision, so hard, just like your lovely penis, my sweet slave." Roger smiled. "My buttocks have missed your crop for so long, mistress," he answered, "but my balls are heavy with lust for your caress as well." "That doesn't help me, slave," I snapped. "Then a suggestion if I may be so bold, mistress?" he replied. "Very well, only make it a good one," I grinned, my fit of pique now completely gone. "Why not alternate, mistress? One on my balls, one on my buttocks, and so on." I liked the idea. "Done," I cried, "but first another sip of the Dom, and then I'll get to work." I tasted the superb bubbly, then stepped up to my expectant slave. "Up onm tip toe, my darling slave," I hissed and up he went, the pose now accentuating his superb build. Standing a yard or more away from him I swung the flogger and the flap thwacked against his ball bag. Roger's eyes squeezed shut with a grimace as the pain coursed through his lovely scrotum. "Thank-you, mistress," he said, dutifully, with gritted teeth, still savouring the agonising pain - there's an agreement between us, I don't make him count out the number of the strokes he receives, but he must thank me for each one. I then walked behind him and marvelled at his muscular back, strong thighs and calves, but most of all at his remarkably rounded bottom, its cheeks a lovely deep brown from the summer sun. With a wide swing, I struck the flap against his right cheek, which gave an erotic little bobble as the persuader hit home. "Thank-you, mistress," he intoned, his voice calmer now. Back in front I flogged his ball sack once more. Again his eyes jammed shut as the pain pulsed through him, his cock jerking wildly as he absorbed the blow. "Thank-you, mistress," he gasped. And so my first flagellation in more than a month continued, until I had thwacked a dozen blows onto his balls, and six each on his left and right buttock cheeks. "Stand easy, rest a while," I commanded, after my first foray against his flesh. He sank back onto the soles of his feet with a sigh, grateful for the relief I had afforded him. His penis was now totally limp. "Now kneel and thank me, remove the g-string with your teeth," I told him. Roger's lovely mouth grabbed one side of the garment and dragged it down, then the other, and soon the g-string was around my ankles, I kicked it off, then stood with my feet a yard apart and felt his warm hands cup my lush bum and drag me onto his mouth. His tongue was soon working away at my anus, cunt, labia and clitoris in an exciting display of devoted oral slavery, lapping and licking at what I knew would be an extremely wet task! Soon my level of arousal was dangerously close to climax point and I didn't want to come yet! I pushed the panting slave from my pussy, aware that I too, was also panting. "Later, dear slave," I whispered, "time for more of my luscious little flogger." And with that the obedient oral slave rose and once more entwined his fingers behind his neck. His penis was now aroused again, jutting north in a fine display of excitement after the task he had just been performing. "Bend!" I snapped, and he went into the classic position for a caning, thighs and calves looking lovely, buttocks even lovelier, the cheeks taut and wantonly inviting the flogger's attentions. I began by warming his anal area, his lovely little brown arsehole puckered and pretty and hairless. I rained a dozen blows onto his slit - things seemed to be arriving by the dozen today! Then I worked the implement of correction across his arse cheeks, laying broad brush strokes across both at the same time, leaving lovely red stripes over his beautiful bum. "Stand!" I snapped and he stood to attention. "Now thank me again, my dear slave." Once more he knelt before me in supplication and pressed his already pussy-stained mouth to my sex. Once more I felt the climax arriving with indecent haste, so again I had to order him to cease oral operations and resume his flogging pose. This time, I attacked his beautifully broad back, with his rippling muscles, until I had left it criss-crossed with stripe marks. Again I permitted him a brief period of oral adoration, before making him adopt a kneeling position, with his hands clasped behind him to his ankles, forcing him into a sort of coiled crossbow pose. Now my friendly flogger caressed his belly, then his upper chest, leaving more marks of evidence across his heaving pectorals as he thanked me for each and every stroke. Again he thanked me with his mouth, before I ordered him back up onto tip toe for the final little frenzy of flogging. Once more, my cruel flap made its agonising arrival on his scrotum, only this time I doubled his dose to an almost ball-breaking 24 strokes! Then I threw the flogger away, ordered him to stand comfortably and took him in my arms, kissing his cheeks where the tears were coursing saltily down. "Thank-you, my darling slave," I whispered, as his sobs calmed. "Now I need an orgasm. Show me you still love me." And I then climbed onto the lovely four poster bed, whose posts had often had him held and tied naked while I attended to his disciplining. But today he had been spared the indignity of bondage. Today I had been merciful! Finally I lay back and relished the glorious attentions of his mouth and tongue on my sopping wet pussy. His oral servitude was something special, he was a practised and perfect cunnilinguist and now I entirely abandoned myself to the lust of giving in completely to his charms. Soon his servile attentions became those of a master, not a masochist, as I climbed up the hills to reach that wonderful plateau of near complete fulfilment, before once more ascending to the peak of pleasure and screaming out: "Oh yes, my darling slave, tongue fuck me, tongue fuck me!" Then, as his tongue flickered from my cunt to my clitoris, I writhed my way to a totally awe-inspiring climax, shuddering and shouting in ecstasy as my orgasm crashed around his ears. Fuck, can this slave eat pussy! Pardon my language, it's so unladylike, but with Roger I'm afraid I'm no lady, I'm a whore! He licked me slowly, as I descended from the peak, down to the plateau, down the hills and into the valley of sublime contentment. Then, another thrill coursed through my body as I realised I had yet more domination in store for him! I ran my fingers through his now-matted jet-black hair and peered down at his sweat-stained face. "And now, my darling slave, I have one final treat for you. Can you guess what it is?" He looked up at me with his deep brown, puppy dog eyes. "Perhaps I can, my darling mistress, but would you like another glass of champagne while I ponder the question for a while?" Ordinarily I would have slapped his face for daring to be impertinent, but I'd been away for a month and he was being such a darling! "A lovely idea, you sweet little slave," I laughed. "Fetch me one more glass, then after I've drained that I've got one more taste treat for you." The stiffly-pricked slave climbed from the bed and poured me another flute of the delicious Dom. I drained it in two gulps, then patted the bed between my splayed wide thighs. "I'm afraid this isn't going to taste like Dom Perignon, my darling," I smiled down at him, as he settled back with his mouth close to my satiated pussy. "I'm sure it's going to taste even more divine, my wonderful mistress," he replied, his breath hot on my sex trench. Then I pinched his nose - a totally unnecessary move on my part because he loves my urine. Roger opened his mouth and I released my stream. He gulped it down, then cleaned me with his divine tongue. Like I said, I simply adore him! To be continued... A Visit to Dom House Ch. 02 I sat in the lounge waiting for my suite to be ready. I had to sit opposite that fucking useless movie "star", who thinks her shit doesn't smell. Well fuck her, I make just as much money. Like all us supermodels I don't get out of bed for less than 25,000 pounds a day. Being a fashion model isn't easy, you know. There's the endless cat walk stuff, the fucking paparazzi, the interminable interview requests and the constant battle to keep fit and retain my 34-23-34 figure, which at 30 isn't easy. Not to mention my stupid sodding secretary and my PR woman. Or the constant requests to do unpaid charity work which is always for "a good" fucking cause. Makes you sick! It was for all those reasons that I'd joined Dominie House, as member 53. I've been here for more than a year and I find it a great place to unwind, torturing my favourite slave and having lots of lovely, guilt-free orgasms. Mum and dad have been looked after, I moved them from their ghastly semi-detached in Neasden to a mansion in Staines. I've got the Bentley Arnage, which I love and which announces that I've arrived, that I've got it made. Not bad for a long-legged black girl who was told by her headmistress that she'd end up in the gutter, eh? The snooty bitch who's married to that big-wig civil servant stalks in, looking like she's more important than Queen fucking Elizabeth, and she gets taken off to enjoy her slave before I do! Cheek. I must have a word with the bookings secretary. That's no way to treat a supermodel! Although, I must admit, that once I get into the suite with Dirk everything is fucking fantastic! Dirk's a lovely lad. Just turned 21, he's tall, with short-cropped fair hair and, in keeping with Dom House rules, totally devoid of hair anywhere else on his body. His 8-inch, uncut cock isn't bad, either, which is just as well because I'm really into cock and ball torture and he's a natural at it. Finally, after a 20 minute delay, the brunette arrives. "I'm so sorry, Belinda," she says, "the secretary is absolutely mortified at the delay. She's authorised that the first hour of your three-hour session will be on Dom House as a sincere token of our apologies." What could I say? I smirked down at the movie star and followed the brunette up to my suite. "Dirk will be along momentarily," she said, after pouring me a glass of Dom Perignon. "Enjoy!" Don't fucking worry, darling, I thought, I am going to enjoy myself very, very fucking much. There was a knock on the door. "Yeah?" I called. "It's Slave Dirk ready to provide you with pleasure, mistress," came his upper crust accent. "Get your pretty little arse in here, Dirk," I called and in he walked, wearing the regulation white shirt and black slacks, and barefoot, of course. He looked at me and grinned. "You look absolutely stunning in that leather catsuit, mistress," he sucked up to me. "I saw a picture of you in one of the scandal mags last week, you were displaying a lovely nipple in it, and I said to myself 'I've sucked that nipple!' Aren't I naughty?" I laughed. "You're going to suck more than a fucking nipple, slave boy," I told him. "Get all those fucking clothes off and then get me out of this catsuit, I'm ready to start punishing you!" Dirk looked as if he was going to drool as he placed his shirt and slacks neatly over a chair, then faced me with his large ball bag that I would soon be torturing and his lovely oh-so-punishable cock in erection – and his cock was definitely drooling! I've often wanted to fuck him, but it's against club rules. They have closed circuit TV cameras in every suite and this is not like the fucking movies – you can't go putting tape or spray foam over them to hide the activities in the suites. That short of behaviour would get you drummed out of the club – even for someone like me! Anyway, I turned my back to him and he unzipped the warm leather suit. Underneath I wore only a sheer black bra and matching knickers. My nipples were plainly visible through the material and my little wisp of black pubic hair on my mons was also on display. I saw him ogling my chocolate brown body, with my legs that go on forever, and then go on some more. "Well, Dirk, fucking well get on with it, bra and panties off, you know the drill," I snapped, and then enjoyed the contact of his rigid prick rubbing against my warm flesh as he removed my lingerie and placed it on the chair where he had put my catsuit. "Worship me, Dirk," I commanded and he went down on his knees and ran his silky tongue along my sex trench. Then I started the real domming! "Oh, Dirky wirky," I cried, in that silly little girl's voice that slaves simply love, "Belinda winda wants to go wee wee, but she doesn't want to go all that way to the pee pee seat. Would Dirky wirky like to drink his mistress's wee wee?" "All that way" to the toilet, which was in the superbly appointed en suite bathroom was, of course, a matter of a few yards, but I often like to start a domination session by making my slave drink my piss. It's such a powerful way to establish who's in charge, isn't it? "Dirky wirky would love to drink mithrethes' wee wee," said Dirk, playing along with my childish talk. "Good, then open wide," I snapped, reverting to the bitch domme type. Like a good slave, Dirk placed his open mouth against my sex trench and then slurped thirstily as I poured a gusher of golden piss down his receptive throat. I don't really know whether he likes my piddle, and I don't care. He always says he does, because he's an obedient, well-trained young slave. But I notice that he's always got an impressive hard-on after each drink of my nectar. Mind you, there are men around the world who would pay thousands for the privilege of drinking a supermodel's urine, eh? After he had dutifully cleaned me with his tongue, I ordered him back on his feet. "Now, darling Dirk," I told him, "I've got a gift for you, something I know you're going to enjoy playing with." His eyes lit up. I smiled: "The present is in two parts – one part is in the left front pocket of my cat suit, the other is in the right. Go fetch, there's a good slave!" He raced over to my catsuit and unzipped the breast pockets. In each pocket he found a leather glove, much like a golf glove, one for each hand. He brought them over to me. That's another thing I love about dominating – making the slave bring his implements of punishment to his domina! It's so empowering, isn't it? I pulled the gloves on, feeling the lovely smooth leather encase my hands, tight and close-fitting. "Hands up behind your neck, Dirk," I snapped, and he obeyed, spreading his feet about a yard apart at the same time, his heavy ball sac hanging down, his heavy cock pointing up! I stepped behind him and ran the palms of the gloves down his nicely taut back to the tops of his buttocks. He flinched slightly as he felt them trace across his naked flesh. Each glove, the palms and the fingers, was embedded with hundreds of tiny little metal prickers, which would tingle delightfully against him. Then I pressed against his bare back, my breasts thrusting onto his shoulder blades, my mons against his sweetly proportioned arse and reached around him with my right hand and stroked his stiffness. He winced slightly as he felt the pinpricks on his prick. Then I placed my left hand between his spread thighs and traced the glove across the bottom of his scrotum. He gave a little shiver of delight mingled with fear. "How's that slave boy," I whispered into his ear, "that feel good?" There was a catch in his throat as he answered: "God, it's wonderful mistress, it's wonderful." I increased the pressure on his cock, making sure that the pricks were really digging in now, then circled his ball sac, digging the little metal punishers into his engorged flesh. He let out a little gasp, then I stepped away from him and walked around to face him. Dirk looked beautiful, a forced smile on his face. I took his cock in the right hand once more and started to pull on his helmet, dragging the foreskin down almost to his thick ring, then flicking two fingers across the pink hood of his penis. He shuddered. As I did that, I traced my fingers in the left glove across his balls again, then I started to apply the pressure, taking his nuts in the palm of the glove and squeezing slowly, drawing another gasping shudder from my slave. Slowly, oh so slowly, I increased the pressure until he was doing some squeezing of his own – to shut his eyes, as he grimaced at the twin pains, one throbbing through his balls, the other across his sensitive cock tip. "Ready, darling?" I asked in a voice barely above a whisper. "Yes mistress, ready mistress," he replied, his voice almost a hiss as he forced himself to stand his ground from my assault. And then I squeezed sharp and hard on his poor balls, drawing a bellowing "Aieeeee" from the gorgeous 21-year-old who, unable to stand the pain any more, collapsed on the floor, writhing and grabbing his tormented testes. Then I stood over his face as he looked up at me, tears flooding into his eyes, and spurted a little jet I had been retaining for just this moment across his pretty face! "Thank-you, mistress," he grunted, though gritted teeth, remembering his position of slavery sufficiently to raise his face and lick my pussy in obedient adoration. I kicked off my high heels and lay back on the bed, spreading my thighs wide, an invitation for Dirk to forget about his pain and tongue me to satisfaction. As usual, his mouth was the perfect accompaniment to the excitement I felt after his torment. I lay my gloved hands on his upper back, tracing little trails of prickle pain across his smooth skin as he worked. Soon he had me thrusting greedily on his working mouth as his tongue flicked and probed over my sex, until I graunched to completion on his handsome, hot face. "Now sit up here and we'll chat," I smiled, after I had come down from the peak of passion. The sweet slave propped himself up beside me and arranged pillows to get comfortable. Incredibly, he was hard again, his cock drooling pre-cum from his excitingly erotic adventure between my thighs. I kissed him on his sex-stained mouth and smiled: "See, I can be so kind to you, can't I, my darling Dirk?" He nodded, then moved his mouth down to my erect, nearly black nipples, and sucked on them, switching from one to the other, then back again, as I gently stroked his hard-on with my punishment glove. Then a bit of fun suggested itself to me. "Which hand do you use to masturbate with, slave?" I inquired. "My right, dear mistress," said Dirk, pausing in his adoration of my large areolae. "In which case, why don't you share some of the punishment task," I said, pulling off the right-hand glove and handing it to him. Dirk pulled the tight-fitting leather garment eagerly onto his hand. "Now start stroking yourself," I ordered, and he obeyed, his hand moving up and down slowly on his shaved shaft. "Now pull the foreskin back a little, not down to the ring, just an inch or so," I instructed him. His perfect pink helmet came into view on each tug of the foreskin. "Now run the glove's fingers across the bare head," I told him, and Dirk complied, torturing himself with the prickle-embedded glove. When I was satisfied that he had established a good torment tempo, I began with some pleasure-and-pain of my own, stroking his ball sac with my still-gloved left hand. "Kneel, it gives me better access to your nuts," I whispered, and Dirk rose into a kneeling position, not once ceasing from his masturbatory massage on his eight-inch cock, which was now liberally dripping with pre-cum. I bent down, keeping my glove firmly on place on his scrotum, and took his cock head in my mouth, just the top inch or so and sucked on it, tasting his salty, tangy sex juice. Dirk gave a groan, which increased in volume and then in pitch as I, in turn, increased the pressure on his balls. I was about half-way into my balls squeeze and kept the pressure there, as I sucked on his sweet-tasting prick. Then, as I sensed Dirk increasing the speed of his strokes, I piled on the pressure and he began to whimper, then sob and finally with a glorious scream of "Aieeeeeee" he let out a bellow of pain and I pulled away from his throbbing dick. As the surge of agony tore through his ball bag, his masturbation reached its climax and a large glob of creamy spunk shot from his cock head and plopped with a small splat on his heaving abs. I dropped his nut sac, but Dirk kept stroking himself, producing another glob of semen, then another, before falling back on the bed, drawing his knees together and groaning in pain. With my ungloved hand, I rubbed his deposits into one large, creamy lotion, then placed my palm to his face, allowing him to lick and lave at the creamy solution on my hand. "Well done, darling," I said, kissing him on his trembling lips, "now let's have a nice warm shower." I walked into the en suite, Dirk following, not capable of walking, but crawling behind me. In the shower, with its probing little video camera set high on the roof's stud, we soaped each others bodies, then towelled dry. I lay on the bed, sipping the Dom, and while Dirk recovered I asked him his ambition in life. He kissed me on the mouth and smiled: "To serve as your slave, my darling mistress." I smiled. "You're far too young," I told him. "As a cock and ball torture slave you're great and I'm sure you'd be a lovely fuck, but set your sights a little lower." "To serve as your toilet slave, then, darling mistress?" he replied, the sexy little sod! I sucked the flute dry, then poured another glass of Dom. "Now that's a much more attainable goal, my darling Dirk," I told him. "But first I must drain this bottle and I estimate there's at least two more glasses in it. What do you suggest we do meanwhile?" Dirk smiled one of his "I'm such a cuddly little slave" smiles and handed me the punishment gloves. "Really, Dirk," I laughed, "it's a good job I visit you every week." "Why's that, mistress?" he asked, all sweetness and innocence. I smiled at his eagerly youthful masochism: "Because you desperately need someone to take you in hand!" To be continued. A Visit to Dom House Ch. 03 I thumbed through one of those glossy movie magazines as I waited for my slave to be prepared at Dominie House - known to its exclusive membership as "Dom House", of course. I was only reading it because the magazine had an interview with me, and was in the form of one of those Question and Answer things. The last question read: "And tell our readers, Linda, what do you do to get away from it all?" If I'd told them "I go to Dom House and enjoying punishing my lovely 40-year-old, big-busted blonde masochist slave by giving her orgasm denial sessions", they probably wouldn't have believed me! Or, even worse, they just might! At 28 I may be one of the world's leading movie stars, but I'm one of those "pretty" blondes, with a tiny little 32-22-33 inch figure, which may account for why I like punishing big-busted women! So I'd given them one of my stock-in-trade answers, something about curling up with a book of Alekhine's best games of chess, or enjoying videos of Debbie Does Dallas - no, it was chess, honest! I'd learned chess from my father, a former high court judge who was on speaking terms with the husband of the impossibly snooty woman sitting opposite me. At least she was preferable to that vulgar black supermodel, also waiting with us in the lounge - well, she calls herself a "supermodel", but I think she's just a trollop. The snooty woman who's married to the civil servant - he's high-ranking, but a civil servant? I ask you - has a penchant for flogging her slaves. The black bitch is into cock and ball torture, which is so gross, if you ask me. She talks about "putting the squeeze" on her slaves, which she thinks is funny, but I think is gross. Give me orgasm denial any day! The civil servant's wife got escorted away for her session first. It didn't worry me, I knew it took a while for them to prepare Pat for my session, but it seemed to irk Madam Supermodel! Then the black bitch, who drives this appallingly ostentatious Bentley Arnage, was called on. I'll take my sporting little Mini Cooper any day. Understated, but with the kick of a little mule. So much more fun. And I was looking forward to my fun this morning. I've been a member of Dominie House since its inception just over a year ago. With the high-ranking membership number of 5 I was one of the founding members and I'm on the board of trustees. I could afford to wait, I was in no hurry, Pat was going nowhere, already she would be strapped down and one of the staff acting as a "teaser" would be preparing her. Last week, I'd played with her using a new, very expensive machine the club has just purchased. It's called a SMART machine, which in this case stands for Stimulation Monitoring Automatically Regulated Tormentor, SMART, for short. I'll explain all about it when we get into the downstairs basement torture chamber. Just then, one of the staff - a lovely little dark-haired Asiatic girl - arrived to take me down to what we in the club refer to now as "the machine room". "Slave Pat has been fully aroused, Madam Linda," she informed me. "Oh, and by the way, I just loved your latest movie!" It's so nice to be appreciated! Downstairs in the warmth of the torture chamber, I stepped out of my dress and laid it across a chair. The basement has fake brick walls to make it look like something sinister, with chains and hooks hanging along the walls. It's all purely for show. The major piece of equipment in the centre of the chamber is the SMART machine. As I disrobed to my lovely little black latex bikini and high heels, I was approached by a sweet little black girl, naked save for a bright red g-string. So much more classy than that awful supermodel! "Slave Pat has been brought to arousal readiness, Madam Linda," she informed me, with a lovely smile. I thanked her, knowing she would have enjoyed performing at Pat's lush, pliant pussy. The Asian girl removed the cork from the bottle of Dom Perignon standing on the control desk where I would supervise Pat's domination session, and poured me a glass. "Enjoy, madam," she said, passing me the flute, then the two women left me alone with the lovely slave. Pat is 40-years-old, has lovely long blonde hair, which is drawn back into a smooth, severe ponytail. Although only some 5 feet 6 inches in height, she has a stunning pair of 40-inch breasts, with long, prominent nipples, surrounded by areolae the width of golf balls. She is a large-built woman, with strong thighs and muscular buttocks. Her pussy is completely depilated and she has large labia lips and a bulbous clit. She is also one of the most devotedly masochistic of the club's slaves, of either sex! I sipped on the Dom and walked over to where she lay, her body strapped down to a sort of portable gurney, the upper part made of gleaming black leather. Her large body was strapped down at the shoulders, arms, wrists, thighs, calves and ankles, making her totally at my mercy - or, should I say, the mercy of the machine! Her head rested on a rubber cushion and above her on the ceiling was a large mirror so she could observe the punishment her body would soon be undergoing. It was a nice touch and one that I thoroughly approved of. I knew that Pat found it very difficult to drag her gaze away from the erotic sights she saw reflected in the mirror. The height of Pat's body would, I knew, have been perfectly positioned by the club staff so that I could stand above her face and, without squatting, rest my pussy on her mouth whenever I felt in need of oral adoration. Such attention to detail is so admirable, isn't it? "Hello, my dear," I smiled down at her, after sipping on my Dom. "Comfy down there?" The blue-eyed beauty smiled: "Yes, thank-you Mistress Linda. I'm so looking forward to our session after last week's. I've thought of little else all week." "Great," I told her. "Now let's see, last week you enjoyed nine orgasm denials. Well, I can't promise you 10, I don't believe in rushing things, but we'll just see how things pan out, shall we?" "Yes, mistress, thank-you mistress," said the beautifully behaved slave. I do so like it when a slave appreciates what you do for them, don't you? I sat at the desk and saw that the SMART machine was switched on and ready for action. It's a sort of fucking machine, of course, but it's a fucking machine with a difference. Most decent fucking machines can cost between $500 and $1000 US dollars. This one is $3000, if it's a penny. The machine was purring away, ready to strike, so I switched it to "Penetrate" and the first probe started extending from the machine and approached Pat's pussy. On the end it had a black dildo, some six inches long, with fake balls, and a clitoral excitement pad. The machine has three speeds, 20 thrusts a minute, 40 thrusts a minute and 60. In the autopilot mode it will start off at 20, then increase pace to 40, then 60. There is an override switch. The tip of the dildo pressed against Pat's cunt lips and entered her aroused vagina, drawing a groan of pleasure from her. At full penetration the clitoral pad stroked her clit, then the machine was drawing back to the cunt lips, then thrusting back inside her. Now, as I said, this is an expensive machine and it's expensive because it has an uncanny knack of knowing when its victim is on the verge of coming. When Pat is about to come, she will reach a certain vaginal temperature. The machine knows what that temperature is, and it knows how far it can go when it has reached that point. Sometimes it pulls out 20 seconds from the orgasm, sometimes 15 seconds and sometimes, when it's in a really teasing mood - that's if a machine is capable of teasing, and sometimes I think this one is - it pulls out 10 seconds from her climax. And that's what makes it so deliciously expensive! "Enjoying that, Pat?" I asked - often I call her simply Pat instead of "slave", it's so much more friendly, don't you think? "Yes, thank-you mistress," she replied, and I increased the tempo to 40 thrusts. Finishing my first glass of Dom I walked over to my lovely victim and placed my pussy, still covered by the slippery PVC, on her face and felt her tongue worship the material. Just a brief taste, nothing too arousing. That's another thing I like about using the orgasm denial machine on her - no orgasms for the slave, as many for the mistress as she wishes! As I sat back down at the desk and poured my second glass of Dom, I noticed that she was starting to pant. I overrode the machine and flicked it into the 60-thrust mode. Soon Pat was panting and gasping and then she started to moan: "Oh yes, yes please, mistress, more." But it was nothing to do with me, of course, unless I decide to hit the override button, it was all to do with the machine. Then, about a minute later, SMART's sensors told him - he's got to be a male machine, hasn't he? - that Pat was close to orgasm and he pulled the dildo out of her gaping cunt. I checked the computer read out and noted the words "12 minutes 35 seconds to first orgasm denial; machine withdrew 15 seconds from orgasm". I could, of course, have hit the override switch to allow Pat her orgasm, but that wouldn't have been any fun, would it? Now, the second part of the machine swung into action. From a rod beneath the black dildo, came another dildo, also black, only this one was aimed for her anus. It's an eight-inch intruder and it thrusts into her slowly - a mere 15 strokes a second - until her body temperature has cooled sufficiently to signal to the machine that it's time to resume fucking her. After a minute or two, the anal intruder withdrew from her arsehole, making a slight plopping sound as it disengaged, and the cunt invader was moving forward on its next foray to her pussy. I stood up and removed the anal intruder from its prong, then walked to the head of the gurney and placed it against Pat's mouth. Obediently she sucked and licked it clean, then I replaced it on its probe ready for arse attack number two. This time, the machine took some time before it went from the slowest speed to 40-thrusts a minute, and it must have been a quarter of an hour before it accelerated into 60-thrust speed. Then Pat was groaning and sobbing, as the clit caresser worked on her sensitive nubbin. "Oooooh, oooooh, please, please, let me have one now," she begged me, but I laughed. "Silly thing, Pat, this is only OD number two, you've got lots more," I told her (OD being orgasm denial, of course). Then she was sobbing and the machine was withdrawing. The read out announced "36 minutes, 33 seconds to second orgasm denial; machine withdrew 10 seconds from orgasm". The session was almost an hour old, and the cunt dildo working her up to her third orgasm denial, when I decided it was about time for my first orgasm - I try to achieve three orgasms on her mouth for the three-hour session, which is about right, I estimate. Pulling off my bikini bottom and I stepped over to the sweating slave strapped to the gurney and placed my bare pussy on her eager lips. I shave down there, of course, name me a movie star who doesn't these days, but I leave a little strip of fair hair at my mons. Pat began her oral adoration as I slid my pussy back and forth on her. I must have been on heat, because I soon came, panting and heaving, crying out "Pleasure me, Pat, pleasure, Pat, pleasure!" and then coming with a great big grunt. No sooner had I spent myself on her mouth than the machine had her in the final throes before orgasm and as I pulled off her she gasped: "Now me, now me, please mistress, please!" But I slowly walked away, looking back over my shoulder as she sobbed and gasped when the machine withdrew from her wetness. The read out told the story: "59 minutes 29 seconds to third orgasm denial; machine withdrew 20 seconds from orgasm." Poor Pat! I sipped on a cool glass of Dom as the anal intruder worked its way up her arsehole once more, doing its slow "calm down" task in her chute. Then, as the clock showed that her second hour of torment had already started, the dildo was driving itself relentlessly back into her vagina. For her fourth OD, I thought I'd give Pat a hand - or, to be more precise, a tongue. I took a stool from by the desk and placed it to one side of her sweat-covered body. As the dildo did its slow, thrust-up, thrust-down task in her cunt, I bent and kissed her right nipple, savouring its ripe erection. I know that Pat has very sensitive nipples, possibly due to the amount of nipple torture she also receives at Dom House, and this is a lovely way to drive her to distraction before the fucking machine drives her even wilder! "Oh god, that's so fucking great," she sighed, as my mouth went work. "Now, now Pat," I chided, "less of the bad language, you know I can't abide bad language." There's far too much of it about, if you ask me. Personally, I blame Hollywood! At last she was screamingly near her orgasm, but the machine was relentless and pulled from her panting body, before the anal intruder started on its journey into her rectum. I placed the stool on the opposite site of her body and sucked on her nipple, as soon as I heard the "Ploppp" noise of the anal dildo disengaging from her bondaged body. Then she began to become aroused again and after another quarter of an hour or so of probing she was shuddering and pleading - to no avail whatsoever, of course - for her relief. "Sorry, Pat," I smiled, pulling from her swollen nipple, "that's not the way it works." After the dildo pulled back to be replaced by the anal attacker, I placed myself back on her mouth for my second orgasm of the session, then it was time to sit back in my comfortable chair and watch her endure the frustrations of orgasm denial number six. At last, with some 30 minutes to go, she had received the agony of eight orgasm denials, and I had finished the Dom. Now it was time to allow her to quench her thirst. Standing over her mouth I inquired as sweetly as I knew how: "Thirsty work, my darling Pat?" She knew, of course, what was coming, but was duty bound to answer in the affirmative. I would have played with her, drawing out her agony for a few more minutes, but by now I was bursting for a piddle, so I simply said: "Then open wide, my darling little piss slut!" As she did I let go a horsepiss-strength stream of golden urine, which she gurgled and gulped down as if her life depended on it. After having enjoyed the relief of dispelling the pressure in my belly, I then enjoyed the more erotic relief of her bringing me once more to orgasm with her mouth and tongue. The dildo was already working slowly in bringing her to arousal once more, but I stepped smartly over to SMART - sorry about that pun! - and kept it at the 40 stroke speed for a while, so that it took her rather longer to reach arousal. This time, the poor perspiring woman sobbed and pleaded and begged for relief, but I was in no mood to accede to her requests. The machine was remorseless, and pulled away from her dripping cunt, a trail of ooze for a while linking the tip of the dildo with her pussy, until the machine moved further away and the liquid link snapped. I switched the machine off after observing the final read out: "2 hours, 55 minutes 38 seconds to orgasm denial number 9; machine withdrew 10 seconds from orgasm." I walked to the poor woman and kissed her on her pussy-stained mouth. "I'm thinking of having one of these machines installed in my exercise room at home, Pat," I whispered in her ear. "Would you like to visit me one weekend when you're not on duty?" Pat responded with a kiss in reply. "You know I love it and I love you, please invite me around," she said, in a voice still strained from her final orgasm denial. So sweet. That snooty bloody civil servant's wife is welcome to her floggings, that tart of a "supermodel" to her cock and ball torture. Give me orgasm denial with Pat any day. And I hadn't even laid a finger on her! To be continued...