7 comments/ 96965 views/ 4 favorites Golden Submission By: leomasoch "Repeat after me, slave," commanded my wife-Mistress, standing over me, as I lay on the cold dungeon floor, "Repeat these words: 'It is an honour to be pissed on by my Mistress.'" She released a stream of hot piss on to my upturned face, filling my mouth with her hot urine. My reply came out as a gurgle. "Speak clearly, when you address your Mistress," mocked my wife, Belinda. Momentarily the torrent ceased. I swallowed and spoke. "It is an honour to be pissed on by my Mistress," I said. "That's better," laughed Belinda, letting a final jet of pungent piss drench me. Smiling, she then crouched over my face, so that her wet pussy lips were only an inch in front of my mouth. "Now, using your tongue, gently dab your Mistress dry," commanded the woman I worshipped. I willingly obeyed, so happy to be awarded the treat of drying the piss from the beautiful labia of my wife. When my task was finished, my Mistress rose and walked to the cell door, saying over her shoulder to me, her prostrate slave. "You will stay in that pool of my piss for an hour or so, while you consider what an honour it is to serve me and how to become a more obedient and more useful slave to your Mistress. Then you will be brought upstairs for your punishment." Yes, Mistress," I replied with sincere humility. I heard my wife lock the cell door behind her and then the 'clack-clack' of her stiletto heels on the stone steps, as she went back upstairs. As I had been told, I now had time to think about my shortcomings as a slave. I knew of course why I had received my reprimand from her. It had happened about an hour earlier. "I am very disappointed in you, slave," she had said, sitting in the armchair, as I knelt before her. "I thought you respected me." "I do respect you, Madam. You are the most important person in my life," was my reply. Belinda thrust the shiny toe of a black stiletto shoe under the little pink, nylon apron, which was all I was wearing. She gave my genitals a warning nudge. She enjoyed the fact that the action would give her slave-husband a tantalising glimpse of her lacy stocking-tops and her pink silk panties. "If that is the case, slave, why have you not washed my underwear properly?" She produced a pair of her white satin panties. I recognised them at once. I am very familiar with all her lingerie, since it is one of my slave duties to hand-wash and iron all her underwear. "There is little rust-mark on the lace surround here," she said, indicating a minute reddish spot on the panties' frilly border, "Why, slave?" "I cannot imagine why, Mistress," I stammered in reply, "I am sure that mark was not there, when I ironed them yesterday." "That is irrelevant," she snapped. "It is there now. It is one of you duties to ensure that all your Mistress's clothes are in perfect condition at all times, is it not?" "Yes, Mistress," I replied, lowering my eyes in shame at having let down the woman I served and worshipped. "My boyfriends would not be pleased to see my underwear looking like this, would they?" "No, Mistress." There were two boyfriends whom my wife saw regularly. When either of them was due to visit the house, it was one of my duties to act as lady's maid to Belinda, while she prepared herself for her lover's visit. My tasks included attending to her needs as she bathed, brushing her hair and painting her nails. Sometimes I would even be told to trim her pubic hair into the heart-shape she favoured. When Adrian visited, the slave's job was simply to be a manservant. Attired in a dark suit and black tie, I would wait on the lovers with the respect due from a servant, serving their meal and bringing wine to them in bed, if summoned. With Grant, the other boyfriend, things were tougher. Grant took great delight in humiliating me But more of that later. There I was, knelt before my Mistress, being scolded for poor laundry work. "If your standards of service do not improve, you will cease to have the honour of being my slave," She informed me. In truth I believe Belinda had no intention of dispensing with her wimp of a husband. I was much too useful to her as a business partner and as a servant. But, knowing how totally devoted I was to her, she found it good to scare me a little from time to time in order to keep me on my toes. She raised her black satin skirt a little and pulled aside her panties, showing her slave the beautiful pink lips of her sex. "Without complete devotion to your Mistress, slave, you would be forever denied the honour of worshipping this," she teased. I gazed in awesome delight at the soft, moist perfection that was before my eyes. "I promise I will improve, Mistress" I whimpered hoarsely, "Please help me to be a better slave." "A better slave, eh?" she echoed, "Well, you incompetent wimp, I find that the only way to improve your performance is regular and severe punishment." "In a minute I shall take you down to your cell now for a golden shower, after which you will be locked in there for an hour or so. While imprisoned, you will have time to consider your shortcomings. Then you will be brought out for a whipping in the presence of my friend, Tina, who -- as you know -- greatly enjoys witnessing your humiliation." "Yes, Mistress," I replied respectfully. I rose and followed her down the stairs that led to the cellar and my cell -- an old wine store with a stone floor and one small, barred window high in the outer wall. There were two raised blocks on the floor of the cell, each about the size of a brick. My Mistress used these blocks to stand on, while she pissed on her slave. It would not do for her shoes to get splashed. It was in this neat little dungeon that she drenched me in her urine and left me to contemplate my permanent role as her willing and devoted slave. As I lay in the darkness, all I knew was that I adored her, that -- as far as I was concerned -- she could do no wrong. What I wanted more than anything was to be her intimate slave for as long as she had any use for me. After lying for an hour or so in the intimate aromas of my Mistress's bodily fluids I heard a car draw up on the drive. 'Probably Tina,' I decided. Belinda and Tina had met through the Internet and discovered that they had a lot in common -- bisexuality, BDSM and voracious sexual appetites for a start. Tina had recently dismissed her live-in slave, which meant she spent quite a bit of her spare time at our house. She wanted Belinda to help her find a new slave. A few minutes after Tina's arrival my Mistress unlocked my cell door and I was given my orders: "Hose down your cell, take a shower and make yourself presentable. Tina and I want champagne served in ten minutes time. Wear the little green satin apron." "Yes, Mistress". Ten minutes later, dressed only in the pale green garment, which barely covered my genitals, I was pouring champagne for the two ladies. They were both attired in alluring silk dresses, as they lounged side by side on the leather sofa. I replaced the champagne in its ice bucket. "Come here, boy," commanded Tina, clicking her fingers. I returned to stand in front of her. "Remove that silly little apron," she commanded. She was demonstrating to the slave that Belinda had allowed her total authority over me. Reaching behind my waist, I undid the satin bow of my humiliating garment and let it fall to the floor. Tina grabbed my limp penis and looked at it. Turning to her friend, she said: "Well this ain't much good, is it?" "Don't give that thing a second thought," She laughed. "I don't have any use for that excuse for a cock," replied Belinda, laughing. "Both my lovers are far better equipped in that department. My slave's most useful physical asset is his tongue." "Well, I certainly wouldn't want that thing," replied Tina, flicking my penis with her fingers, "But I wouldn't mind finding out if his tongue is any use." She turned to me, "Put your apron back on!" she commanded. "If it was not for his skill with the tongue," explained Belinda, "he wouldn't be here at all. I have trained him to be very considerate and attentive to my immediate physical needs." "May I give him a try some time?" asked Tina. "Why not right now? Be my guest," replied Belinda, snapping her fingers and indicating that I should kneel before her friend. "But I can't get excited, unless my nipples are massaged at the same," whined Tina, indicating that the slave should pull down her panties, "you know that." "Yes, I do know that," replied Belinda, rising to move behind Tina, removing her friend's bra and starting to massage Tina's large nipples. I gently eased Tina's panties past her lacy stocking-tops and down her long white thighs. I leant forward and applied my tongue holding it still, as Tina gave a murmur of pleasure. Her warm, feminine aroma invaded my nostrils. Very gently I parted the lips, using a side-to-side movement with my tongue. This opened the threshold of her warm pussy to her attentive slave, as a few droplets of feminine honey spread themselves over my eager tongue. "That's a good start," said Tina with sigh of appreciation, "Most men seem to want to dive in, as if they were applying a power-tool." Belinda watched with proprietorial interest, proud of what she had taught her slave. "He's been well trained," She said with a smile, gently massaging the fullness of her friend's ample breasts. "But I shall be very annoyed, if he shows signs of an erection. I'd call that infidelity!" "Mmm, that's good," murmured Tina, responding to my oral massaging, "yes, yes. Now a little faster." Remembering the many lessons I had received from my Mistress, I did all I could to maximise Tina's pleasure. Sometimes I used a pointed tongue, seeking her G-spot and lightly flicking it. Then I would broaden my tongue, and stimulate her with lateral licks. Then I would use only my lips, gently sucking in and out on the delicate flesh that surrounded her clitoris. My training had all been to do what pleased my own Mistress. I did not know if the same actions would be suitable for her friend, but Tina seemed to be enjoying herself. She grabbed the hair at the back of my head and pulled my face in towards herself, so that I was almost smothered by her pussy lips -- larger than Belinda's. I could taste her warm juices -- with a distinctly different tang from what I was accustomed to. "How's he doing?" enquired Belinda, continuing to massage Tina's breasts. "Mmm! Very well," replied her friend, pulling my hair even more tightly. After a few more minutes of my ardent attentions, she started to moan softly "Mmmm. Ooh, I'm so near to coming. Faster, boy. Harder now! Work that tongue!!" she commanded. I obeyed. Spasms of joy shook Tina's pussy, as her juices erupted into my mouth and down my chin. Immediately she pushed my head away. The slave had served his purpose. There was no further use for him. Belinda stroked Tina's head during the final aftershocks of her friend's orgasm. "There, my darling. Was that good? She asked. "Very pleasant," whispered her friend. "I hope the slave wasn't getting illicit pleasure from what he was doing," said Belinda. "Stand up, boy!" I obeyed. My throbbing erection was very evident under my tiny apron. "Have you no manners, slave?" shouted my wife. "What you just did was for my friend's pleasure -- not yours. You have let me down in front of my friend. I lend you to Tina for her enjoyment and then your dirty little mind gets the better of you. You are MY slave. How dare you get erect because of another woman? In your grubby little mind you are being unfaithful to your Mistress. Fetch my new cane and bring it to me now." Yes, Mistress," I replied and went to fetch this new instrument of correction, which had never yet been used on me. It was a real rattan cane, so whippy that it could be bent back on itself. Previously my Mistress had used only sex-shop toy whips on me. They could be painful enough, but this cane looked a lot scarier. I handed it to my Mistress. Tina watched the process with idle amusement, as I was told bend over the leather armchair, known as 'the punishment stool'. "Now, Tina, watch while I apply I shall call some aversion therapy," she said, " Allowing himself to become erect when serving you just now, my slave showed extreme selfishness. The aroma of your juices no doubt excited him. For that he needs a severe punishment. I need to teach him to associate that aroma with an unpleasant experience. To do that, darling, I need these." Belinda picked up Tina's panties from where they lay on the floor and attached them over my face, so that the crotch was touching my nose and mouth. "Inhale, slave," I was instructed. The acid sweetness of Tina's scent entered my nostrils. "Are you experiencing Tina's scent, slave?" "Yes, Mistress." "I think six hard strokes with this should teach you not to enjoy that aroma." She swished the cane through the air. Its whistle scared me. ''Six of the Best, as they used to say." The cane whistled through the air and landed on my naked buttocks. "Best" was not perhaps the word I would have chosen to describe the stroke I received. But, it was not the moment for choosing adjectives. It was the moment for escape. This pain was out of my league. I yelled, "No, Mistress!" and stood up. "What do you mean, 'No, Mistress'? How dare you?" she snapped, "Bend over again!" "I am sorry, Mistress," I whimpered, "I can't carry on. I regret to admit that I am a coward. I just can't take that degree of pain. It is quite terrible." The delivery of just one stroke had clearly been a pleasure for Belinda. She wasn't going to miss out on the rest of the sentence, just because her slave was a coward. And it was important for her to establish her absolute authority over her slave. "That pain is meant to be terrible, slave." She replied. "You will take this punishment and I will not lessen the force with which it is delivered. In fact another stroke will be added to the sentence for your impudence in standing up and saying you 'can't take it'. As if you had any choice in the matter of what you 'take' or don't take." Tina sniggered. I remained standing before my Mistress, head bowed. It seemed Belinda had decided to offer me the options of leaving her service or taking the punishment. I guess she needed to win, in order to prove the nature of our relationship. If I chickened out, matters could get complicated. We shared the house; we shared our business. It was a defining moment. "If you do not accept this punishment as I choose to deliver it, we are finished. Either I am your Mistress or I am not. Do you understand, slave?" "I understand, Mistress," "Back over the chair, then," she said in a calm, measured voice, "There will be no jumping up and dictating rules about what I can or cannot do. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mistress." "Do you love me, slave? "I adore you, Mistress." "Then prove it by obeying me. I want no more interruptions. That first stroke did not count due to your wimpish behaviour. So, here comes number one." The pain was intense, but the words my Mistress had spoken had put me in a different frame of mind. It was a state of surrender. This was to be a way of proving my devotion to her. My Mistress took her time, leaving at least fifteen seconds between strokes to allow for maximum effect, but varying the pause, so that I would not know when to expect the next stroke. I cried out involuntarily when the fourth stroke landed on me, cutting across the mark left by an earlier stripe. "No sound, slave. Show courage. Show that you love me," commanded Belinda. I bit into the leather of the armchair to prevent myself from crying out. The fifth stroke landed, creating another wave of searing pain. This amazing woman, for whom I worked, for whom I existed, completely filled my head. I hated her for the hurt she was giving me, but nothing, nothing, could stop me loving her at the same time. How was it possible? The sixth and the seventh strokes were the worst, both landing across existing stripes. My Mistress threw the cane down and examined the newly created, thin, bright red marks that she had just created. "What do you think of the stripes I've created, Tina?" she asked her friend. Tina rose and ran her fingers over the ridges that Belinda's handiwork had created on my sore buttocks. "Very impressive! And you can feel the heat from them! " I remained bent over the chair, knowing that I should not get up until instructed. I hoped that Tina's panties, which still smothered my face, might hide the fact that the caning had caused me to weep quite a few tears. Tina peeled her panties off my face and staggered slightly; as she sat down to put them back on herself. "Wow. That champagne has gone to my head. I need a pee!" Belinda smiled. "Perhaps you'd like to honour my slave with your golden nectar," she suggested, "there's a lovely secluded spot in the garden, where I sometimes shower him." Minutes later I was on my back under a laburnum tree, where my Mistress had got me to construct her 'pissing platform'. It consisted of two short wooden steps up to a small area of decking. Three planks had been removed from the decking, revealing a narrow area of concrete below, where I would have to lie for my 'reward'. As instructed, I stripped and lay on my back on the concrete floor, which was about a foot below the level of the decking. Tina spoke to Belinda. "But I don't want him staring up at my genitalia," she complained. "Then keep your panties on," replied Belinda, "it'll give him an extra bit of laundry to do. "Good thinking," laughed Tina and stepped forward until she was straddling the gap, under which I lay. Tina raised the hem of her skirt and looked down at me on the concrete below her. She adjusted her position slightly, to ensure that she was standing directly over my face. "Did you get to drink any of that champagne, slave?" she asked mockingly. "No, Madam," I replied. "Well, now's your chance," she laughed, "And second-hand is better than nothing, eh, slave?" "Yes, Madam." "There's a lot of it, boy," she slurred, "I think we had nearly a bottle each." As I looked up, I saw the white satin of Tina's panties turn a light yellow colour, as they filled with her urine. Then, when the material reached saturation, the golden liquid started to splash down on to my face." Belinda cheered. "Toast the ladies in champagne, slave!" she shouted. To my amazement I was actually aware of the distinct taste of champagne, as the piss drenched my face and seeped into my mouth and nostrils. My eyes were temporarily blinded by the stinging urine. I closed them. Something was dropped on to my face. I realised it was Tina's drenched panties. I heard her voice. "You will wash and iron those, slave, and bring them to my house by three p.m. tomorrow." "As you command, Madam," I replied. In that one afternoon I had experienced total humiliation -- my wife looking on while her girlfriend pissed on me. And every day would bring more humiliation. (to be continued) Golden Submission Ch. 02 The next day was to be a very busy one. It started as usual with me, dressed in a little satin apron, bringing my wife/Mistress her early morning cup of Earl Grey tea. While she sat sipping her drink, looking utterly beautiful, propped on her satin pillows in the luxurious four-poster bed, she watched me perform my daily duties. To start with I collected from the floor where she had dropped them yesterday's discarded panties and stockings. "Your stripes from last night still show up very well, slave," she observed, looking at my striped buttocks, "It will take a few days for those marks to go way." "Yes, Mistress," I replied humbly. "You had better not give me reason for another caning, had you?" "No, Mistress," "You will still get a caning, if you deserved it, whether you had marks there already or not. Understand?" "I understand, Mistress." It is at this point every morning that my Mistress unlocks my penis-restrainer, in order that I may wash myself thoroughly. I have to shower in her personal bathroom with the door left open. She says she would not like her slave to do anything other than just wash himself. She often pops her head round the shower door to make sure that I am just washing and not spending longer than is absolutely necessary while cleaning my penis. Then my restrainer is locked back on. "Is there anything else you require, Mistress?" I asked, clutching her laundry and hesitating before leaving her presence. "Nothing else, slave." I had waited momentarily, because quite often first thing in the morning she has me lick her to orgasm. That service was not required today and I could guess why. Grant, one of her boyfriends, was coming over for the evening. Without doubt she was saving her orgasms for him. I was dismissed and went to prepare breakfast for my Mistress and to do the hand-laundry of her lingerie. There was an extra item to wash today -- my wife's girlfriend, Tina, had given me a pair of her panties to hand-launder, iron and return to her house today by 3pm. As usual I squeezed five oranges by hand to make the breakfast drink for my Mistress. Passion fruit had to be sliced and placed neatly in her bowl of muesli. While she ate, I stood to attention beside the breakfast table, in case I might be of service to my Goddess during her breakfast. At first she ate in silence, reading the newspaper I had ironed for her. After a few minutes she looked up from the paper and addressed me. "What have you got to today, slave?" she asked in a friendly manner. I replied, "I have to make your bedroom immaculate for Grant's visit this evening, Mistress, with new satin sheets and fresh flowers in the vases. Then there are my usual laundry duties and I need to go shopping for the ingredients of your candle-lit dinner, which I shall be preparing and serving to you this evening. I have also to deliver Madam Tina's ironed panties to her house." "Yes, you do," said my Mistress, "Tina seemed quite impressed by your oral attentions yesterday. She'll probably want your tongue again today." "Would that be in order, Mistress?" I enquired nervously. "No, it would not," replied Belinda, "such things are allowed to happen only under my supervision." "Yes, Mistress." She ordered me to lay out her work clothes. It was to be a day at the office for her. Alluringly pulling on her lemon satin panties, she enjoyed doing a sort of reverse striptease for me. She further excited her slave by getting me to adjust her lace-top hold-up stockings, so that their wicked black seams were perfectly straight. I was changing the bed linen, making sure that the satin sheets were neat and tidy, when I heard her drive away. She had taken the sports coupé as usual. She chooses the big black saloon only when I -- in my chauffeur's uniform -- am driving it for her. I put some freesias in the vase on the bedside table, cleaned the bath and vacuumed all the carpets in the house. Since her lover was coming for the evening, everything had to be perfect for the woman I worshipped. I knew it was madness, but as a man devoid of religion, I needed a deity and Belinda had become that deity. As my Goddess, she could do as she wished with me. Nothing would stop my fervent adoration of her. And she knew it. It was two thirty by the time I had finished all my household chores. I hurried to Tina's house and presented my newly-ironed laundry for her inspection. Immediately on my arrival at her house, she ordered me to strip naked and kneel before her. "Nicely ironed, slave-boy," was her comment, examining the white satin panties I had presented. "Your Mistress was not happy yesterday, because that my aroma excited you, didn't it, slave?" "Yes, Madam," I replied, kneeling before her, as she sprawled in an armchair. "Do you think her 'aversion therapy' was effective? Do you think the caning she gave you has stopped you being excited by my pheromones?" "I don't know, Madam." "Well. We shall have to find out, shan't we?" Tina giggled, easing down her panties and stuffing the crotch of them under my nose. With her other hand she grabbed my cock, which immediately tried to grow within the confines of its restrainer. "The treatment does not seem to have worked, slave. Does it?" she mocked. "No, Madam." "Well, that can be our secret for now. You happen to have arrived at a very convenient time for me. I have arranged to have phone-sex with a boyfriend in the next few minutes. Instead of me having to pleasure myself while I talk to him on the phone, I can have your tongue do the job instead." "I do not think my Mistress would wish me to do that, Madam," I replied nervously. "Are you questioning my commands?" she asked, annoyed at my impudence, "You, a mere slave?" "No, Madam. I just, er, I wasn't quite sure..." "Well, I command and you obey!" she laughed, "Fetch me the telephone and kneel ready to please me." A few minutes later I was doing my best to satisfy her orally, while she "talked dirty" to the boyfriend on the other end of the phone line. With her free hand she guided my head, indicating the pressure she wanted from me and where my tongue should go in order to maximise her pleasure. "Are you rubbing that lovely big cock of yours?" she asked the boyfriend in a husky, panting voice, "Don't you wish your cock was in me? I do. I'm just having to make do with my fingers," she said giving my hair an extra tug, pulling me yet closer into her dripping wet pussy, as I lapped obediently at her glistening lips. "This is beautiful," she gasped down the phone to her remote lover, "I'm so nearly there. Are you? Make it happen at the same time as for me. Now! Now!" When she finally came, her juices formed a massive gush. The warm liquid filled my mouth and ran down my chin. She pushed my head away. She had no further use for me. She dismissed the boyfriend almost as quickly as hse dismissed me. "Well done, pantie slave," she told me. "I think that's a good name for you, 'Pantie Slave'. From now on you will have to take care of the washing and ironing of all my intimate garments. I'm sure Belinda wouldn't mind. Take my laundry home with you." She flung her worn panties and a pair of stockings at my face. "Yes, Madam." By the time my wife/Mistress got back from work, all the housework has been done and I was able to attend to her personal needs. First I had to massage her feet. When I had done this with my fingers for a few minutes, I was ordered to lie on my back on the floor. She placed her feet on my upturned face and I worshipped her toes with my tongue and lips. When she tired of that, she rose and -- while I still lay on the floor -- she undressed in front of me, dropping her panties on to my face, so that I could inhale her divine aroma. After a few seconds she pulled the silken garment away from my nose and squatted down over me. "I think my pussy hair needs a little trim, slave. Do you think my lover would like it a bit shorter?" "As far as I am concerned, it is perfection to look at as it is, Mistress" I replied. "We are not talking about what pleases you, slave. We're talking about what will please Grant." "Yes, Mistress." "Gaze at it, slave," she whispered, caressing her pussy and - as she did so - she released some drops of her salty piss on to my adoring face, saying: "Dab me dry, slave. Then run my bath. You will do a little pussy-trim for me after the bath." Even with the blunt-tipped baby-scissors, trimming the pubic hair of my Mistress was a nerve-racking business. Being so very close to the glory of her sex excited me greatly. A shaky hand could cause an accident. But I completed the task without mishap and she declared herself pleased with the result. "Just how Grant likes it," she commented, looking in the mirror. Then she tried on various items of lingerie, before she was happy with her appearance. The rejected items were chucked to the floor and I knew that it would be my task to wash and iron each garment - even though it had been worn for only a few seconds - before placing it back on her lingerie shelves. Finally she settled on a pale peach, satin and lace set, which included a garter-belt -- something she never normally wears. "Grant likes them," i was told. I had to roll her stockings very carefully on to the delectable legs of my Mistress and then attach the suspenders to the lace stocking-tops. I was so close to her, that I could catch her sweet natural feminine aroma, as I went about my humble task. I was kneeling in front of her, adjusting the final clip, when she parted her legs and pulled my face into her soft satin-covered crotch. "Grant and I are going to do some beautiful fucking tonight, slave," she told me. "Yes, Mistress," was my muffled reply. Two hours later I opened the front door to admit Grant, my wife's lover. "Good, evening, sir," I said respectfully. "Hi, slaveboy. Help me off with coat." I did as I was bid and told him that my Mistress was waiting for him in the sitting room. "Get me a white wine." "Yes, sir." I brought glasses of chilled Chardonnay on a small silver tray for him and my Mistress. Grant looked up from his embrace with Belinda and said to her. "I think your slave is a bit overdressed in that dark suit, isn't he?. Something more humiliating would be more appropriate, don't you agree?" "Yes, darling," she replied, kissing him on the lips. She turned to me. "Go to your room and come back dressed only in those purple satin panties I made you buy at the supermarket." "You should have seen the check-out girl giggle, when he prsented his purchase to her!" she told her boyfriend. The panties I was made to wear certainly made Grant laugh, when I re-entered the room in those purple satin French knickers with black lace trim. To their hoots of laughter I was made to strut up and down like a catwalk model. And that is how I was dressed, as I served their meal and poured their wine, until -- that is - my Mistress ordered me to lower my panties, in order that she could show her lover how inadequate my penis was. She flicked it with a red fingernail that I had so lovingly painted earlier. "Well! What am I supposed to do with that thing?" he asked Grant, plunging her free hand between his legs, "when I have this as the other option?" Towards the end of the meal I was ordered upstairs to make the bed ready for their forthcoming love session. I adjusted the flowers in the bedside vase, pulled back the satin top-sheet and adjusted the lighting to an attractive low level. I opened the bottle of champagne I had brought upstairs and carefully placed it in the silver ice bucket next to the two crystal flute glasses on the bedside table for them to pour as required. But they did not pour the champagne for themselves. Instead, I was summoned to the bedroom some twenty minutes later to do the pouring for them. I kept my eyes lowered respectfully, as I passed the glasses to them. I then busied myself, collecting their clothes and underwear, which had been scattered over the bedroom floor. While I was doing that my Mistress addressed me. "Would you like to taste the juices of your Mistress's pussy, slave?" she asked teasingly. "Of course, Mistress," was my stumbling reply, "it would be an honour." "Well now, isn't that convenient!" she said. "You'll be able to taste my juices on Grant's cock, when you suck him off. You know it makes me gag, doing that. And Grant is so keen to have a blow-job." "Yes, Mistress." Grant pulled back the silken sheet, revealing his huge, glistening erection. I knelt beside the bed. "Do a good job, boy," he commanded, reaching over to play with Belinda's pussy, while I directed the head of his huge cock into my mouth. I tried to recreate the actions that I remembered from earlier times, when various girlfriends had sucked my cock. I ran my tongue and lips down the shaft of Grant's cock. I kissed his balls, still glistening with the lovers' combined juices from their recent love-session. His penis was so large, that it did not seem possible for me to take more than its top into my mouth, but Grant was not happy with that. He grabbed my head and forced himself deeper into me. I felt the head of his cock expand inside my mouth as his acid pre-cum hit my taste-buds. After a few seconds he began to writhe and a jet of his semen shot straight down my throat. There was no option about swallowing. It just happened. He bucked in ecstasy, as -- at the same time - I heard Belinda's excited orgasm shriek - the result of his deft fingering. The lovers both collapsed back on the bed after their climaxes. I lay down on the carpet beside the bed with tears in my eyes, wondering how what had begun as a 'normal' marriage had reached this degree of degradation for me. But I was addicted to this way of serving and worshipping my Goddess - my incomparable wife. But they had not finished with me. I was called upon to refill their glasses with the remains of the champagne. They lay naked and glistening in post-coital repose on the satin sheets, sipping from the crystal flutes. Belinda looked at me, then at Grant. "I suppose he has earned a treat," she said to her lover, smiling. "What sort of treat does he get?", asked Grant. "Watch this!" was her reply to him. She snapped her finger and thumb. "Assume the position, slave!" she commanded. I knew what that meant and arranged myself in the extraordinary pose that was necessary, when my 'treat' was to be received in this way. It meant lying on my back so close to the wall that it was my shoulders which took all my weight, while my buttocks were up the wall with my legs splayed out above them. When she was satisfied that I was positioned as required, Belinda moved forward, removed my apron and then undid the buckles on my cock-restrainer. Her beautiful, soft hands started to caress and massage my newly-released cock, in a way that only she knew. It had been several days since I had been allowed an orgasm and my head was filled with the recent experience of sucking Grant's cock, which I had both loved and hated. Loved, because it was the command of my Mistress, and hated, because I was heterosexual. Wasn't I? I no longer knew. I was just the slave of my Mistress -- there to be of service to her in any way that might be of use to her or might amuse her. Her hand worked its magic. I was approaching bliss. "Mouth wide open, slave," She said teasingly. I obeyed. She guided my shaft into what She thought would be the right position. "Go for bullseye, babe!" shouted Grant from the bed. Belinda knew how to make me come. After ten days of abstention, my orgasm was prolific. Belinda had grasped my cock in a way that she thought would direct the cum into my mouth, but her aim was not accurate. Some landed between my eyes and some on my chin. "Oh. I missed!" she laughed, "What a mess your face is, slave. I think I am going to have to clean you up. Go to the bathroom and lie on your back on the floor. Grant, come and watch how I wash my slave's face!" She stood over me and gave me a loving smile. I lived for that smile. "Anyone would find this hard to believe," she whispered, making sure that Grant would not hear her, "but you are the only man I love." Then Her golden wine began to fall on to my face. O, lucky slave.