6 comments/ 49793 views/ 12 favorites Acacia By: boxwoodsub There was a warm breeze on the terrace. For late in May, it began to feel like an early summer evening, with the darkness over the golf course and the glow of lights from the French doors of the clubhouse. He had circled the room filled with minor donors to the local museum, one of those end of season fund raising events rushed to get onto the calendar before the summer holidays began to draw everyone away. He played the part, dressed up a little in blazer and slacks, just casual enough not to be making too much of this, in a crowd where a hundred dollar donation allowed someone to show cultural awareness and get advance admission to the current museum opening, a traveling collection of Dutch landscape paintings. In fact he knew no one, and at the end of the evening probably still would not. Couples and groups clustered and chatted, apparently from long acquaintance, and a few other strollers circulated in the room. Standard advice, for the divorced, was to join in and get out, which seemed like a good idea in theory and another moderately dull evening in practice. The paintings had been intriguing, to see how when individual works were brought together, patterns and standard genre elements became clear, and how simple landscape scenes had a level of other information that only became visible when you knew the code of the time- boats indicating thriving commercial activity, a dog lying under a tree to show fidelity, the tiny brushstrokes hinting at a girl in a Dutch cap, mysteriously on her own errand. Still, the desire to socialize alternated with a feeling of being an observer in other people's lives. He stopped again at the bar, to take a second glass of red wine, something to sip and walk with. The bartender, a distracted younger man in a waiter's tuxedo, poured mid-priced Chilean Merlot-just the thing for this event, not too generic, not too special either. He slipped back into standard business marketing mode without thought- since most people in a crowd circulate in a room counter clockwise, unconsciously keeping their right hand closest to the wall, some long ago memory in case a sword fight breaks out, a good marketer knows to walk clockwise, looking into the faces (and name tags, if there are any) of those approaching. Walking, sipping, looking, thinking lightly- couples in conversation, a laughing group of several men talking football as they passed, and clusters of older women. Finish the circuit of the room another time, then slip out the door and head home. Looking up from his wine, he noticed something slightly off, and realized it was a person standing still at the edge of the crowd- a taller brunette woman, of some medium age, self contained and observing the room over her drink, not chatting and not moving. Her stillness made her stand out from the crowd, while at the same time she was part of the background. Unlike the strolling doctors' wives, who had dressed up too much because they were glad of an excuse to have a social evening, or the groups of young women in too-bright party dresses and casual heels, this woman had chosen to dress in some understated but clearly expensive and tasteful way, a sleeveless gray dress and real-looking jewelry, dark high heels, her hair up off her neck. As she turned, their eyes locked, and he flushed- caught looking, feeling foolish. He turned away, sipping more Merlot as a bit of stage business, turning the corner to finish the lap of the room. A waiter came by with a silver tray, and he had slipped his empty glass among the others and gone out onto the terrace. Now he was standing at the stone wall on the edge of the tiled patio, facing out over the dark golf course and seeing the twilight blue sky making the trees at the edge of the course look like an inky black, with crisp outlines against the sky. The breeze brought some scent of the landscape and surprisingly made him shiver a bit. Hearing a tap of heels suddenly close by, he turned back toward the building and the fading party vignettes seen through the lit windows. The woman from the room, losing her stillness, had come onto the terrace, still holding her drink- something on the rocks, more than wine, sipping it and looking at him in a very direct way. He slipped back into business mode, a medium-gauge marketing smile on his lips, and struggled to find the right ironic yet moderately charming thing to say- something about coming here a lot, or something setting the two of them apart from the crowd inside, but the look in her eyes made him stumble. It was a very direct look, not smiling or harsh or argumentative, but more apprising. He had the unconscious feeling of the painting that is observed and analyzed, without creating an immediate emotional response. "You seem more in your element out here in the dark than you did in the room. Why do you think that is?" He had to pause and think, this was not on anyone's list of social questions to expect. He saw the immediate choice- to treat this as a real question, or to push things back onto the usual casual social footing of a cocktail party and then wonder later about missed connections and leave this as an anecdote to file away. "The party was not really a party- not people together, just a shared event, and I wanted to reflect a little, not just circulate. And it seemed like a nice night for the terrace, too." "That was only half an answer. What you mean, I think, is that you are more comfortable being on the outside looking in. I wonder about that." He let himself look at her more directly now-a little younger than he was, though he was never a good judge of women's ages or clothing, except in the most obvious ways. Seen close up, she had a cool look, with something sharper in her eyes, watching his answers in a way he was not used to. The gold earrings and necklace looked very solid and real, something with a designer's name attached. Her dress was a simple shape, but clearly expensive and well tailored, with what looked like careful detailing and an elegant fabric that was a much more complex weave than a simple gray. Without being low cut or obvious, the dress clearly expressed her shape, a slim cleavage and strong legs. With her hair somehow pinned up, her neck seemed long and her head was slightly inclined, as she looked into his eyes. "You're more right than you know; I've always thought of myself as an observer, someone who does not need to be involved, maybe more does not need to commit to involvement. At the same time, I find myself wanting to be part of things, to be more intensely in the middle of things without over-thinking everything. You seem comfortable as an observer, too, though." "It is not the same thing at all, or maybe more accurately it's the inverse of what you are feeling. Some people find more intensity of feeling in managing the action, rather than in wanting to be drawn into something larger than them. I've always known that about myself. I think you know yourself too, but you've pushed that to the back of your mind. If you recognized it, you would see that intense feelings require a commitment, at least to the point of turning off your self-editing responses to life." She sipped her drink, some sort of whiskey or bourbon by the look of it, ice cubes clinking in the short wide glass. Without his glass of wine, he felt disarmed now, not able to also sip and think, his eyes watching her and the landscape and party forgotten for a moment. The unexpected conversation had taken a strange turn, moving quickly into a territory inside his usual personal defenses. Without saying more, she surprised him by dipping a long forefinger into the drink, idly stirring the ice- then reaching out to place the dripping fingertip near his lips. Without conscious thought, or analysis, or even wondering, he leaned forward a few inches and took it into his lips, tasting the cold and the alcohol, old smooth bourbon it seemed. His lips pursed around it, while his tongue felt the sharp underside of her long nail. Startled by his own action, he drew back, stumbling again for the right thing to say, for having made a move that was not thought out at all. His eyes met hers, and his start at a smile faded. What he saw was not playful teasing, or a smile, or anger- just analysis. "As I said, some direct the action, and some can find greater intensity in stepping outside who they think they are. I think you barely understand who you are, really." Every thought led him to the obvious course, to make a smiling excuse of misunderstanding, to move away from this uneasy encounter, to try to find some more solid social ground under him. At the same time, he had a sense of her investment of thought in creating this moment, and his choice to deal or not with these questions from a stranger. He skipped over in his mind all of the background questions, about who she was and why she asked him these sorts or things or made him think about himself in a new way. Considered that way, it was time to invest in some real response, without trying to plot the social chess game for several moves ahead. "When I think about myself, I see a false veneer that no one else does. I see past my situation, of being a senior professional in business life, of often being the older person in a group, of seeming to be long settled and pleasant but a bit dull. Inside, I usually feel like the youngest person, the least experienced, the least assured, someone who is riding the wave but is likely to fall off and be discovered as less adequate. My interior life comes from books, and films, and travel, not the experienced leader that people think I am." "You're talking like someone at one of those business leadership seminars we all have to go to- you're talking with me without recognizing me as real person or as a woman, and without recognizing the sexual component of everyone. You step around the issue, but you accepted my touch and want more but can't deal with it." Still serious and not smiling, her eyes widened a bit as she watched his response. "You have every male's fantasy of sexual situations with those girls at the party, but as a string of passing ideas and nothing that recognizes those inner feelings. You seem to have some potential that way, but only if you can rise above that sense of yourself as unreal somehow." Her frankness touched his mind and jarred him out of his social track, moving a casual chat to a higher level. He looked into her eyes again, trying to see her as more than just a stock character in his own play. Details snapped into sharper focus, the curve of her hair pinned back, the beginnings of a few fine lines around the eyes, the texture of her lipstick, the smooth skin of her neck soon hidden by her dress. He realized that her interest seemed to be in his potential, as someone who could be shaped in new ways, not as a suave character in a moonlight seduction scene. Her interest intrigued him in itself, and he found he was excited by a new direction, and by something more- the unexpected chance to improvise a new role without knowing and planning where it would go. As he thought about it, the idea that just reacting in a spontaneous way was such a departure from reality made him feel lame and foolish. "I think- I know I want to get beyond that. You're suddenly making the rest of my life seem so restrictive and boxed in, and the idea of some other potential is exciting." He smiled lightly, a sophisticate responding to a striking woman. Her eyes flared wide, and she suddenly took a step closer, again stirring her drink with a long finger but quickly bringing it to his lips and pushing it deep, over his tongue, almost making him choke as she pulled it back, hooked around his lower jaw, holding him closer. "This is probably not going to be what you might expect, are you really ready to find out more than you may want about yourself? No words now- I want to see it in your eyes. Make me see that you want this, show me longing." Suddenly an actor on a stage, he felt himself pulled hard toward her in an awkward hold, while he made his eyes softer, pleading, trying to express a sudden longing, as he felt his body responding to her touch and her closeness. He kept his eyes wide, trying to put all his feelings there, and to forget the options. Still holding his mouth, she slid her other hand down his chest, over the starched shirt, and startled him with a firm grip around his right nipple, pinching hard and watching him accept it and stifle the gasp. For the first time since she came onto the terrace, a slight smile showed her even teeth, close to his face. "So- we've already established your need, your longing for this, and your ability to give yourself up to a new set of feelings. Now is the real choice- to take a step this way, or to bail out now and never know. If I am directing the way, we are not having a game. I am not some web site fetish person from your late night imagination, with black leather and ridiculous shoes and a mock dungeon, but I will take your mind first and your physical self after that, where I want you to go. I am not a girlfriend and I don't care to know about the rest of your life, or even your name. I may take you for an hour, or the weekend, or only a few minutes- a lot depends on how well you learn and on the feelings you can give back. When I invest my time, I need to feel your intensity, or the encounter is worth nothing to either of us. If you decide not to step across the line, we won't see each other again and you will be left with your loss." Her finger slipped away, leaving him feeling pierced and then vacant, as she took a step back and crossed her arms over her body. "I want this, this new set of feelings- you can see that already." He took a deeper breath, to rush on with it. "Yes, I mean, I am ready, I don't know for what, but I know I need to try, to see if I can be something else. I don't even know your name, what do I- what should I call you? Ma'am, or Mistress, or- you can see I need more guidance already." "No, never those kinds of words! Ma'am is for very old ladies in elevators, Mistress is like a bad movie, and my name is certainly too private for you. When necessary, you may address me as Acacia- it is not a first name, it is the name of a beautiful tree but I like the sound of it. As for you, I will refer to you only as Five." "A number? Five?" "Yes- simply because before there were four others. No more questions now. It is time to go. Please empty your pockets here, on the glass topped table, quickly please." He started to ask the obvious question, and then caught himself. With a feeling like lining up at the top of a ski slope, he sorted through jacket and pants pockets to make a small pile of his everyday life in objects-the now ever-present Blackberry, wallet, house key with the initialed silver ring, valet parking ticket, handkerchief, a cheap office pen, a creased pair of business cards, some small change. He thought a moment, and then added the sporty watch. Without examining the pile, she swept it into her bag from the chair, some sort of expensive unconstructed leather purse. "You won't need these. Your car can stay here for now. We'll see how you do. Walk with me now, out to my car, don't say anything." Concentrating now, he let her lead by a few steps, across the terrace and down a carpeted hall through the clubhouse. Walking behind, he felt somehow lighter without his usual things filling his pockets, and with eyes down he focused on her body, moving under the gray dress. Strong arms, firm calves, heels he had not noticed were quite that high, the dress tailored to skim over her body, hair up showing a long neck. As they went out through the lobby, other party stragglers were gathering and waiting for cars. She crossed the drive to hand her ticket to the red-jacketed valet with a pegboard full of car keys, and he unconsciously placed his hand on her back as they stepped off the curb. She turned suddenly, with a low voice "You will never touch me without my request. I am not some date to you. Last warning." He flushed, put his arm down, and stood to the side as she arranged for the car. When the valet pulled up, it was a low two seater, not a make he recognized in the dark, some deep steel blue metallic color. She went immediately to the driver's side, and tipped the valet as she slid down into the car. Thinking about the right steps, he stood waiting at the other side until the valet came around and opened the door for him, with a dismissive look. Getting in required an awkward drop into the low seat, and folding his body into the small car. She reached across him to push him into the seat and fasten the shoulder belt across his body, then drove quickly down the winding drive and down the road with its stone wall along the club property. A minute or two down the road, she pulled onto the shoulder and stopped, opening the center console and looking through its contents. She turned toward him, serious and not smiling. "Here. Are you still as ready to explore as you were?" She was holding out two leather wrist cuffs that had a well used look. Thick black leather, 3 inches wide, with silver buckles and D rings attached, nothing playful about them. He held them, felt their solidity, and looked up. Her gray eyes watched him as he pushed up his jacket sleeves to buckle the cuffs onto his own wrists, feeling their weight. "Hands up behind the headrest now." He awkwardly reached up and behind his head, bringing the cuffs together as she reached over to snap the rings together, keeping his arms pinned there. Her breast brushed his body as she reached across, making him think about the sensation. She slipped a fabric blindfold, a leftover from some long flight over his eyes while he said nothing. "Now you are just Five. You have nothing except what you are wearing, you don't know where we are going, and you have made yourself open to me. Think about what you are." She checked the blindfold, and then let her hand skim down over his chest and thigh to make the point. With only his sense of motion, and traces of the spicy scent she seemed to wear, he gave up trying to understand the direction they were taking. Smooth sweeping suburban roads seemed to give way to rougher country back roads, with tighter curves and dips. She switched on the radio, a classical station with little talk and an evening full of what seemed to be string quartets, but kept the volume low so that he had to concentrate to hear it. His body was held by the seat belt, and his shoulders ached now from his arms being held by the cuffs. As he settled into feeling the drive, her hand reached over to touch him from time to time, as a reminder that she had that right- a pat on the thigh, a pinch of his nipple, a touch of his face. The car swung around a corner, and then stopped short on a bit of gravel. His blindfold was slipped off, but there was little to see- a driveway off a country road, old fieldstone pillars marking the drive, dark trees and the quiet of a country night, maybe the hum of far away truck traffic on a road over the hill they had come down. An old painted wooden sign near the mailbox said 'Haven' but it wasn't clear if this was a name or a place. She turned off the car, leaving only the ticking sound of the hot engine cooling. "Five, this is where we start. I will direct, you will obey, and perhaps we will both learn new things about ourselves." She reached behind him to unclip the cuffs from each other but not to remove them, and he brought his arms down slowly, aching muscles stiff. The window on his door whirred down as she touched the controls. "Get out of the car, Five." He fumbled to find the door handle in the dark, then pushed the door open and awkwardly unfolded himself up and out of the car, closing the door. "From here on, as long as I know you, do only what I ask but do it quickly and with no question. I will not need to explain myself to you. You have only one right now- to stop, but that is a one-way thing. If you ask to stop, there is no halfway point. I will have you returned to the rest of your life, but you will never see me or come here again- and you will always wonder what might have happened if you had the courage. This is also the last time I will ask -do you understand?" Acacia Ch. 02 (This is a continuation of the Acacia story, which readers might want to read first, but that is not essential. Thanks to readers for the useful feedback and for your scoring at the end...) "Kneel, Five." As he folded himself awkwardly to his knees next to the sofa, Acacia place the dog dish of wine in front of him, settling back into the sofa with her arm around Diana, sipping the wine and watching him with an arched eyebrow. He took his cue, and spread his legs more to bend lower, hands and cock still restrained, to bring his face into the bowl. He took in the oaky aroma of the wine as he lapped it, getting it in his chin and face. As he bent low, the toe of her shoe nudged his ass, reminding him of her proprietary role. He flashed back to the paintings from earlier in the evening, and the inversion of a warm domestic scene- a woman in charge, a woman in her arms, and him on his knees like the dog symbolizing established roles. "Diana, take care of Five, and then let's go upstairs. It really is quite late." Acacia stood, gathering her robe, and went through the hall and up the staircase. He rocked back on his knees, face dripping, head up. Diana was standing, slipping back into her discarded blouse, turning off the table lamp. With a quick step, she moved closer to unsnap the lead from his collar, signaling him to stand up. She efficiently unwound the chain; clipping the leash back to his collar ring and leading him back out through the kitchen. In the dark yard, she shivered as she walked ahead of him, to the edge of the lawn, then stopped and crossed her arms, waiting impatiently. She poked his back with a sharp finger. "Piss break, Five, quickly." Half aroused still, hands behind him, he found it hard to start, and then felt the flow coming. His urine spattered the ivy as he had to let it go uncontrolled, unable to direct himself. With a tug on the leash, and a disgusted look, she pulled him away, back toward the light of the kitchen, then stopped and turned. "Kneel now." Surprised, he turned and slipped again to his knees, taking the new position he had learned, waiting. Diana stepped closer and roughly pulled the leash to tilt his head up, lifting her own skirt and pushing his head between her legs. "Eat me, slut, quickly. She has me do her but won't let me cum." Mouth wide, tongue working, he licked her wetness and tasted her arousal as she forced him closer, riding his face with her clit, pubic bone against him. He licked faster, until she suddenly pulled away, gasping. A sharp tug on the leash got him to his feet again, as she smoothed her skirt. His cock was hard again, still in the ring, as he stumbled after her hands cuffed. In the kitchen, she pointed him to a mat on the floor, and clipped the leash to a hook on the wall with the snap of a lock. "Beta sluts sleep here. Acacia doesn't want you to touch that cock; it's not yours to play with now." She tossed an old quilt over him, as she flipped off the light and headed for the stairs. He was left to curl up, trying to find comfort on his side, hands cuffed behind, using his teeth to drag the quilt over his shoulder. The mat was thin, stuffed with cedar shavings, their smell faint now, but the kitchen was warm. His mind was full of the new contradictions, of his rapid change from his old self to a new loss of self, from his feelings of always being self-contained to the new feeling of giving, of having offered himself and having received control. Sleep came slowly. 4. Morning sunlight on the stone floor of the kitchen woke him, and he remembered his new role as the ache of his arms and the restraint of the cuffs came back quickly. He lay as the shadows moved with the sun, and the warming house tapped with rising heat, until he looked up to see Diana standing over him. In low shoes and a long white cotton nightgown, her hair newly brushed, she smiled lightly with her own thoughts as she unlocked the leash and waited while he creaked to his feet. She led him again out into the yard, naked and cuffed, and watched as he pissed in the landscaped border. Taking him to the brick patio, she removed his cuffs but kept the nylon collar and leash, as she tossed him a small rough cloth and turned the coiled garden hose on him without a word. The spray was harsh and very cold, making him shiver as he scrubbed his body all over, working his shoulders and aching wrists as he did. She leaned to twist off the faucet, and to throw him a small towel; as he dried himself he saw the sunlight shadowing her body through the thin cotton, her breasts curving against it softly. The cock ring kept him hard as he became aroused again, making her laugh for the first time this morning. "Five, you are such a slut." She led him naked into the kitchen, where Acacia in her more elaborate nightgown was pouring coffee and setting out two breakfast places with orange juice in cut glass tumblers and warm croissants and butter. Diana seated herself at the table, as Acacia unclipped the leash and handed him a small bundle. "You have a lot to do today, Five, we will have some guests this afternoon. Wear these, for now." He unfolded the clothing and held it up- a white apron that went over his neck, and small shorts in a floral pattern, along with thong sandals. "The girls call these panties 'boy-cut shorts', which is rather ironic in your case, don't you think? Put them on, now." He reached to balance himself on the granite counter as he tugged on the shorts and slipped the apron over them and his feet into the sandals. "Ah, just right for you. You can start in the kitchen, cleaning up here; there are a lot of pans and dishes from dinner last night, before you got here. Then of course we have some housecleaning, and a little yard work to get things looking nice. No cuffs today, but I don't want you to be distracted, so you need this too." Acacia brought out a small plastic sleeve, folded and hinged. "They call this the Humbler, a very appropriate name. Come here; hold your apron out of the way." As he stepped closer, she tugged down his boy shorts, and opened the device to place it around his cock, snapping it closed and fitting a small lock to it. "This will keep your hands off your cock- which is of course now mine- and you see, if you get hard it makes it painful, which causes you to soften, sort of a conditioning device for you." He felt the slight weight of it, giving his cock more sway, and the firm enclosure. She slipped the shorts back up, and he dropped the apron over them. Acacia walked to the breakfast table, where Diana sipped juice, and casually stepped behind her chair to untie Diana's nightgown and slip it down off her shoulders, below her breasts. Acacia caressed the soft globes, as Diana paused and looked straight ahead, fingering Diana's nipples. He watched, felt himself harden, and immediately felt the constriction of being enfolded in the casing and not being able to rise, and the pain caused by his automatic arousal. "Haha, Five, you see what I mean? I want you to understand that that cock is not getting anything except some pain here, that the rest of your body is what will serve me- and maybe the guests, too." She slipped the gown back over Diana's shoulders, and sat sipping her coffee. He saw his meal on the counter by the stove, dry toast and water in an old cup. The two of them finished their breakfast as he worked, leaving the table for him to clear. His kitchen chores, otherwise routine, took on a new erotic tone, as he was half dressed and wearing collar and cock enclosure. He realized this was part of the conditioning, building anticipation and seeking release he could get only in giving himself to someone else, to Acacia. For more than two hours he was busy with the dishes, cleaning them and returning them to the cabinets. He was finishing the counter cleaning and floor mopping, when the wall phone buzzed. Looking around, he paused and answered. "Hello? Umm, Kitchen." It was Acacia, calling from upstairs. "Five, I have another task for you. Come up to my bedroom, now." She hung up abruptly. Wiping his hands, he headed for the stairs, not sure if this was something to look forward to, but putting his mind in neutral to accept and obey. At the top of the stairs, in the hall, he found the master bedroom door open and sunlight streaming into the sitting room beyond. Acacia rose from the bed, in her robe again, and Diana sat on the edge of the large bed with the sheets tangled from apparent lovemaking. "Five, we are having guests for lunch. I want you to help Diana get herself ready, then you can get ready yourself. She needs a bath, and I will lay out her clothing for you in her room. Tend to her, carefully now." Diana ignored him, walking ahead of him into the large bathroom with its window over a deep tub, and a view to the garden. "Draw a bath for me, slut, and them you will clean and shampoo me. Not too hot, be careful." He kept his eyes down, as he adjusted the taps and filled the tub, adding bath salts from the ledge next to it, checking the temperature. As she slipped off her gown and stepped into the tub, she smiled at his obvious discomfort as the cock enclosure made his arousal painful. She sunk into the water, as he took a bath sponge and scrubbed her soft skin with it. Touching her skin, smoothing all of her body, put him in an agony of pleasure and pain, which she clearly enjoyed, as he cleaned her breasts and between her legs. As he used the spray hose to shampoo and condition her hair, she lightly stroked her own skin and then tapped hard on the cock enclosure to bring him back to attention. Stepping out of the tub, she stood while he patted her dry with a large thick towel, so much unlike the rough outdoor cleaning he had been given earlier. With the towel around her, she led him to the second bedroom, with new clothing laid out by Acacia. "Five, dress me now; we will make you a proper ladies' maid, among your other tasks." Kneeling, he had to hold her satin and lace panties as she stepped into them then roll the stockings up her legs and slip on her heels for her. He stood to cup her breasts in the small lace bra, fasten it, and help her on with the dress over her head, fitting it to her body and buttoning it up the back. His cock was throbbing without release as he was forced to touch her body and be so close to her. He reached to smooth one final curve, and she slapped away his hand. "Nothing for you, slut, not yet at least. Don't touch me now." She stepped away, to spray on flowery cologne and to brush her short hair. Acacia left your outfit, too,-there on the chair. Put it on now." He saw what looked like a tangle of belts, and then realized it was one object, a harness of some sort. "It is a slave harness, just the thing for a more formal occasion, Five. Take off the apron and panties, slip this on. It goes over the cock cage of course." He untied the apron and laid it aside, then slipped off the tight boy shorts to be naked except his collar in her room. She laughed as he sorted out the harness, then stepped into it and found the buckles. When he was done, she tilted the tall mirror towards him. Black leather straps with metal D rings and buckles wrapped his chest and hips, with straps over his shoulders and between his legs, on both sides of his encased cock. The effect was to be functionally naked but lewdly decorated. "You see the point, slut? This way you are not just some guy who left his clothes in the hall, you are marked as something owned and controlled and available, which is exactly what you are now. Here, put the wrist and ankle cuffs on now, too." 5. An hour later, he had helped Acacia and Diana to set out a casual lunch, on a glass table on the garden terrace, with drinks on a bar table. They wore summer dresses in bright colors, Diana's very low cut to show most of her breasts. When he looked at her, he was washed with the sharp memory of dressing her, of the feel of her body and the layers under the dress, and then the sting of the cock enclosure reminding him of his place now. Naked except for his black leather items, he looked like an out of place character from a bad movie, wearing a nighttime fantasy outfit on a spring Saturday outdoors. Acacia called him over to her chair, at the edge of the brick terrace. "Today some of my friends will be joining us, and I want you to do your best. I often have a male slave here, so they will not be surprised, but they may be...demanding. They will see Diana as an individual, though a submissive, but you will be more of an object." She reached to a table nearby and handed him a half hood, which she slipped over his head. Looking out, he realized that it left his mouth free while masking his eyes and his appearance, leaving him an anonymous submissive. She slipped off his cock enclosure, leaving him exposed in his harness, then handed him a black thong to step into and pull up, barely encasing his half hard cock. She sent him off to the kitchen, to wait and prepare drinks. After a while, Diana came into the room and located the silver serving tray, arranging glasses and ice in a crystal bowl. She laid out the tray, with a selection of wine and juices, and handed it to him, linking the rings on his wrist cuffs to its handles, so he could not put it down. She took his leash from its hook in the kitchen hall and clipped it to his collar. She turned back to him, her low cut summer dress framing her small sloping breasts neatly. "Five, just follow me, serve politely by dipping your knees, say nothing, and do anything you are told. If you embarrass her by bad training, Acacia will be flogging you later much more seriously, not for fun." She led him out onto the patio, in the warm sunlight, glasses and ice clinking on the tray he held as he walked carefully. He looked around to see almost a dozen women standing and sitting in groups, most in summer dresses and fashionable casual clothes, laughing and chatting like old friends. Among them, he saw several women, both younger and surprisingly older, who were clearly also submissives, judging by their dress. Two wore very short skirts with minimal halter tops and high heel boots which looked very much like a costume, and out of place at the casual party. The third, an older woman, wore both a leather collar and a long dress with an unusual paneled skirt. As Diana led him from group to group, he silently offered his tray, as they selected from it, bowing and dipping to them as they did so. The second group stopped chatting as he was led up to them, smiling and laughing. "Diana, who is the new one? Has he been trained yet, I wonder? He certainly is not in very good shape; Acacia must see other potential in him then." An older blonde in a strapless sun dress leaned closer, taking two ice cubes from the bowl on the tray, and then surprised him by reaching out to slip them into his thong, watching his eyes as she laughed. He felt the cold shock of ice on his cock, while he braced to hold the tray level and still. Diana smirked, as the women chuckled, then led him onward as one slapped his ass when he passed. Diana held his leash, as they got to Acacia and another friend, moving to stand together at one side. "Sarah, can you tell us more about the new sub costume you were mentioning?" The thin, laughing woman Acacia was sitting with called over the older submissive in the long dress. "This is slut Miranda- I got her a classic "O" dress, from the book, you know, Story of O; there is a web site offering this great reproduction of it. Miranda, show us now." Miranda was a fortyish woman, looking more like a librarian or a teacher, and the long dress was an unusual and not very summery slate blue satin. Her face flushed, as she stood before them and adjusted her dress. She released two snaps at the shoulders, showing how the bodice of the dress folded down easily to expose her breasts completely, with her nipples heavily rouged. She slid the long skirt panels on a concealed belt, like draperies at a window, to the sides to expose her legs and pussy completely in front, and her ass in the rear. "You see, Acacia, the point of the dress is the contrast- covered up and plain, yet all of her assets are fully accessible when someone wants them. Miranda, show us your tag, too." The woman's face went as red as her nipples, as she raised one foot to place it on a chair. Her pubic hair had been closely shaved, and her labia rouged a deep red also. Hanging between her legs was a silver tag on several metal links, like a dog tag. He realized with a sudden shiver, as his cock hardened, that the rings were secured where her labia had been pierced with a metal ring. "Ahh, interesting, I love the effect. Five, this may be something you can earn, in the future," Acacia said as Diana grinned as he flushed and tensed at the idea, imaging himself pierced and tagged like missing property. "Kneel, take a closer look." He stepped forward to the woman and sank to his knees, careful to take the position, legs apart, chest out. She shifted closer to him, one leg still bent on the chair, so that her shaved skin was close to his hooded face, and the shining silver ornament was almost at his eye level. She tried to ignore him, but he sensed her humiliation and red face as he read the tag: 'Property of Sarah. Reward if found', with a registration number. Her rouged lips framed it, an oval tag with three silver links and a ring piercing her. He could see her wetness now, and his face was close to her musky heat. "Five, be polite, kiss the tag to show your respect for Ms. Sarah. Would you like him to lick her too, Sarah?" "No, she has not earned that yet, she still needs a lot of training. Miranda, move your legs wider for him." He leaned forward, his hooded head between her bent legs, his lips finding the metal tag, kissing it and feeling its warmth, and the heat from her body. He held the kiss, then back up and knelt. At a signal, the woman stepped away and put her leg down, then arranged her skirt panels to cover her body again, leaving the bodice down, with her rouged nipples hard now. "You do have him well trained for a new one, Acacia. May I see him for a moment?" Diana led him closer on the leash, smiling now at Sarah; He stood for inspection, eyes down, and caught his breath as Sarah slapped his thigh hard and loud. She reached out and took hold of his harness, pulling him closer, turning him to the side. Her long nails rolled his nipple, squeezing it hard, and then slid down his chest to cup his thong. She laughed at his increased hardness then, and smiled at Diana and Acacia. Miranda watched from the side, without a smile, as his body was explored. Sarah reached out to pull his wrists behind him and snap the cuffs together there. He looked up, and saw that most of the other women had drawn closer, watching Sarah and Acacia, drinks in their hands and their voices suddenly quieter. "Diana, hand me the basket from the table please," Acacia said in a sharper voice. She took the small basket he had not noticed earlier and sifted its contents. When she took out a gel dildo, the group laughed. He saw it for the first time; he was surprised by its translucent pink color, and its appearance as an oversize cock, flexible as Acacia toyed with it. "Five, this is where you get to show us how much you want to please my friends and how you are dedicated to me. Fetch!" She tossed the soft dildo across the terrace, where it bounced a little on the bricks. He watched it in slow motion, realizing what he had to do. As the women laughed, he trotted across the patio, knelt next to it, and struggled to fit it sideways in his lips, finding it slippery and so thick it was hard to hold. Carefully, he got to his feet and scrambled back with it, kneeling to drop it at Acacia's feet, his face next to her high heeled sandals. He watched as she picked it up, to repeat the process, and slapped his ass as he turned to chase it again. He was sweating after half a dozen efforts, holding it in his teeth as he returned it again. Acacia Ch. 03 (another in the Acacia series, see chapters one and two to learn what brought slave Five to this point..) As always, thank you for comments and for voting your score at the end. 6. In the week afterward, he thought of little else. He was his usual self at the office, in business meetings, in the interactions of daily life- shirts to cleaners, shop for food, a dinner at a local restaurant, and calls to friends. The car service had dropped him off at the club, where he found his car in the back of the lot. Driving home, the time with Acacia began to seem so out of his typical life it had an unreal quality and an oddly flat tone too. As a film or a story, happening to someone else, it would have seemed like an exotic adventure and a sexual fantasy too. In reality, he was surprised how easily he had slipped into the situation, doing things he never had imagined he would, without a real emotional peak. As the days and nights went past, though, he remembered it in parts, and the feelings he had had. He recalled Acacia's eyes, when he first met her, as she watched him in the conditions she created, as she appraised him. He thought about the unusual ease of being naked and humiliated, and of receiving physical pain and of the honest longing he found himself trying to express to her without words. He thought about the woman Diana, an accessory to the process and someone not at all charmed by his efforts. He held the small card with her number and looked at it from day to day, trying to understand what really drew him to the situation. At dinner with a woman friend from work, he felt it in his pocket as he chatted through the meal, smiling and wanting something more. The first time he called, the number rang without an answer. He felt somehow foolish, perhaps there was no number at all, and she had put him off as a further demonstration of control. He waited until later in the evening, and realized he had called but she had told him only to text message to the number. He had to stop and think through the process, he was a generation beyond the often-texting younger crowd. He slowly typed out the message had hit Send. "May I see you pls? 5" He was immediately doubtful; was this too little to say, did she want more pleading, did this seem too casual, or too needy? Nothing happened. He slipped the cell phone back into his pocket and returned to the paper and some work at home, but his mind wandered. When he heard the chimes, he had to think before he realized it was the text message tone, which he was not used to. He fished the phone out and found the key to light the screen. "Graycliff station. Fri 8pm pickup. A." He knew the place, a commuter rail station not far from the club where they had met, a place that would be empty long after rush hour the next day. The finality of her text seemed clear, with no invitation to reply or to chat, no greeting or humor. He knew he would debate with himself, consider not going, and never knowing, and he realized he would be there. ------- It was raining Friday evening, a slow misty drizzle slanting through the lights on the other side of the station parking lot. He had left his car alongside the two or three others, probably commuters staying late in town. He was standing under the shed along the tracks, looking down the line to the three red signal lights and the gleam on the rails. Once in a while a car splashed along the road that swept by the parking lot and went under the bridge nearby, with its lights tracing the dark trees along the road. He had brought nothing with him, with no instructions to follow. Under his raincoat, he had worn casual but dressy slacks and a shirt, trying to hit the right note of style yet submission, without knowing where that line might be. He was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake about the date or the time or her intent when his phone chimed. "Be ready 5. One min." He turned to look down the hill to the road as a pair of headlights picked him out and curved toward him. The car was a surprise, an older Lincoln stretch but one well past its prime, another car service vehicle it seemed. He stepped out into the rain and opened the rear door to slide in, and as he turned on the creased black leather seat he was surprised to see a woman facing him in the car. He had not seen her before, but he began to think she might have been at the terrace lunch. She was in a dark raincoat, with boots, and seemed to also have just come in from the rain. As the car moved away, he started to settle into the seat when she spoke to him. "Slaves kneel, don't sit with me." She pointed to the flat floor, and he awkwardly took the kneeling pose as the car moved him around. He could not see the driver, as he braced himself with knees apart and his head up. She reached out with her booted foot to push his legs further apart and held her boot between his legs, tapping smartly under his balls. She held the toe of the boot to his lips, expectantly, and after a few seconds he kissed it, tasting the wet leather of it. She held it there, and he tentatively licked it, which seemed to be the right thing. He licked more, polishing it, as she watched, and the car bounced over the road. As he licked, he looked up along the tall boot. "Are you looking up my dress, Slave? Is that what you want? You seem to have only one thing in that mind." His face reddened, and he turned his eyes down. "Ah, no, umm,,Ma'am,,,I never.." She used her foot to push him off balance, and he fell sideways on the floor of the moving car. As he scrambled back onto his knees, she slid forward on the seat and pulled him toward her, opening her coat and pushing his head between her thighs. Lifting her skirt with one hand, she used the other on the back of his head to push him forward roughly. Her musky aroma was strong, as he struggled to kiss her legs, and her panties. She pushed harder, and he worked his tongue, finding the smooth skin of her thigh, pressing the panties aside and licking into her. He found it hard to catch his breath as she lifted her hips to him, making him choke as he licked faster. She held him to her, urging him on, then sat back and pushed him away again with her boot. He knelt, his face wet with her juices, as the car took another corner. She reached past him to tap on the glass divider, and after the car pulled off the road he felt the cold air as the driver opened the rear door. A younger woman, clearly the driver, stood at the open door. The rain had stopped now, but a cold mist blew into the car. The woman in the car laughed. "This slave begged to serve; he seems to think he is something special. Try his tongue, see what you think." His face went redder, but he knew now not to question her. The driver stepped into the open door, with one foot on the floor of the car, and waited for him to crawl closer. She lifted her skirt as the older woman watched, exposing herself shaved with no panties. He knelt and leaned forward, his head against her, and his tongue out. He probed and stroked, to find her slit, and began to lick deeply as fast as he was able. His tongue was tiring as he felt her convulse, and press her body forward, holding him against her as his tongue fluttered in her and he tasted her juices. With an annoyed sigh she pushed him back, stepped away and slammed the door. He found his place, kneeling, as the car bumped back onto the road. A few minutes later, the car turned into the familiar drive at Acacia's and climbed the rise to the country house. As the car pulled up, Acacia came out onto the broad front porch. The driver came around to open the rear door, and the older woman slid out and straightened her coat, brushing it smooth. "Nice to see you again, you know I always love your house." Acacia smiled and touched her arm. "Thank you for stopping by the station for me to pick up that package." She turned, and saw him, still kneeling in the car, and laughed. "Five, get out of the car and go to the back door, you know your place here. Did you let them use you? My god, you are a disgusting slut, really. Go now." "From the moment I called him Slave and made him kneel, he was a natural, and he never said no. His, ahh, skills do need improvement though; you will need to teach him I think. Still, he has some promise." As he rounded the house, he heard the exchange of goodbyes and the slam of the car door before it headed back down the drive. At the lamp post by the kitchen door, he found his harness on the hook, with a black leather thong. He stood in the dark under the pool of light from the lamp, stripping off his clothing and awkwardly buckling himself into the harness, fitting it over his body and between his legs, then slipping the thong on over it. He went to the rough cocoa mat at the door and rang the bell. Diana, the younger submissive woman from last time, opened the door and stepped back for him to walk in. She was casually dressed, in a short skirt and a loose shirt, with sandals, and smirked to see him almost naked in this slave costume. She took down the collar and chain leash for the coat hook in the back hall, fastened them on him, and led him down the stairs to a cellar, rather than to the front of the house. It was a country cellar, not a dungeon setting, with whitewashed stone walls and wood beams above, and dried flowers and herbs hanging upside down next to the large window and door to the back yard. She pointed to him to stand on two low wooden boxes, then looped the chain leash over a hook on the beam above him. He began to feel ridiculous, with the silence, and the costume, and his legs spread as he straddled the two boxes, his hands at his sides. She walked around behind him, out of his sight, and he felt the weight of wrist cuffs being buckled on, and then attached behind his back. He heard the scrape of a wooden chair on the stone floor as she sat somewhere behind him. 7. Moments passed, with the ticking of warm steam pipes among the beams, as he stood at ease but restrained by the leash, his head up. The tap of high heels was Acacia, coming down the wooden stairs, to stand looking at him. She was also normally and casually dressed, some sort of wool tweed skirt and a sweater, with rich tan leather boots, all from some upper end store with sophisticated quiet fashion- none of the leather and fetish wear from a movie scene. Her normality and appearance made him feel more embarrassed, in his token harness and a thong so small he was already rising out of it. She looked at him, in a neutral way, and then stepped forward. "So, Five, you texted, you wanted to see me again. And here you are, a slut, on display for us. It seems like you have made a choice about where you belong. Is that correct?" "Umm,yes. Yes Acacia, I mean. I do want to; I need to serve you. I could not get that first time with you out of my mind." He stopped, not sure if he was saying too much, or sounding too needy, or not saying enough. He was afraid most of all that she would decide now to turn him away, after lighting these ideas in his mind. She sighed lightly, and then took a breath. "I find it interesting and sometimes amusing to have a male slave on call, and I think you may be trainable. However, let's make one thing clear from the start; this is not a love affair, and I will never have sex with you, though I will get deeply into your mind and you will think of me and want to please me every day. You have to accept that reality from the beginning. I will own that aspect of you, which also means I might discard you if you don't work out or I might give you away if I choose to, once you are trained. Your only right in the matter is the one-time right to say 'stop' and our relationship will end, but it will not ever go back again. If you accept this, say so." He paused, and thought for a few seconds. Not knowing what might be next; he also knew he did not want to turn away from the new ideas. "Yes, Acacia. I accept this role." There did not seem to be anything additional to add. "Well, then, we need to start with the basics. Shift your weight to your right leg." As he did, she tapped the boxes further apart, so that he was standing with his legs in a wider angle, balancing with hands bound. Acacia stepped back as Diana came around to take photos with the flash of a digital camera, full view front, back and side, as he sucked in his stomach and tensed himself. Acacia used a tape measure to take his waist and chest measurements, calling them to Diana to record. Slipping on a pair of latex gloves, she circled around him carefully examining all of him, tilting his head in the collar, and opening his mouth to probe inside. Her gloved fingers covered all of his skin, under his arms, down to his cuffed wrists, probing the softness of his waist under the harness. She peeled the thong down to his thighs, to probe and cup his hardening cock and balls, and to finger the details of his ass. She left the thong there as she examined his legs and feet. As she stood up, she slapped his cock and smiled as he winced. "I am not into medical play, although I know a number of women who are, so if you are having some sort of nurse fantasy you can stop now. The point here is that all of this body is mine to explore, without asking you or offering a choice. I may do this at anytime and you will say nothing. Whether this body is dressed or adorned is my choice when you are with me, and sometimes when you are not. Perhaps some nice nipple rings and piercings, hmm?" She laughed to see the fear cross his face, at the same time that his cock hardened visibly. She turned away, then came back with a fat permanent marker and leaned to carefully letter a "5" on the left side of his ass, and a phone number. Diana handed her a flat chain, which he saw was simple hardware store galvanized sash chain, not jewelry. It was cold as Acacia fitted it around his waist, making it snug enough not to slide down over his hips, cupping it under his belly. She clipped it together with a tiny dime store lock, leaving 18 inches of it dangling between his legs. She fastened a round ring to the loose end. "Now, if you wander away, someone can call my phone to have you returned. The chain is going to be a constant reminder, since you will wear it all the time, under your clothing. You probably will not want anyone else to see you naked, since you will have to explain the chain, and you will find the loose end least annoying if you cup it in your underwear, under your balls." She tugged on the ring of the chain. "This is handy if I want to secure you as a reminder you are not independent now. I think all this body hair is just unsightly, too, but keeping you shaved or waxed smooth is too much trouble, and since your skin will never be on mine I don't care about stubble. Diana, just shear him now, quickly." Acacia stepped away as Diana used electric clippers to cut his body hair close, from his chest to his pubic hair, from his arms to his legs, under his arms, around his ass. It felt scratchy immediately, and he looked down to see himself naked in a new way. "Five, you will need to keep yourself trimmed this way from now on of course. You will clean up here later, now we need to give you the first lesson tonight. Bring him upstairs please, Diana." 8. When Diana led him on the leash into the master suite, Acacia had already changed into a nightgown under a long robe, with her hair down. He was directed to a low leather ottoman, large and square with a silk cord tied around it. Diana peeled off his thong and positioned him on hands and knees, with the end of his new waist chain hanging down. She clipped the ring to the silk cord, keeping him loosely in place, then went off behind him. "Five, pay attention now. We need to change your sexual conditioning. What I mean is that since you were a boy, like all boys your sexual focus has been that cock, and your orgasm. You get excited, you come, and then your interest goes somewhere else. You need to learn to have that sexual excitement, but to use it for my benefit as I choose, and to take your reward from pleasing me. We need to train your mind not to associate orgasm and coming with pleasure, but to want to resist it and channel your energy in other ways, such as a desire to serve and to be used." Acacia came close to where he knelt on the cushion, and lightly stroked his hair. Diana came behind her to embrace her in her long soft robe, and then stepped into his view. She had removed her skirt and shirt, to wear a red thong only, with her nipples rouged to match. She laughed, as she cupped her own bare breasts and toyed with the nipples, then slid one hand into the thong to stroke herself, to see his cock harden automatically. Acacia laughed too. "See, you are like a dog in heat, all the time. So, here is all you have to do. Stay there, on your hands and knees. Diana will try to make you come, and I think it may not be difficult. She will tease you and touch you, but of course you can never have her. If you do come, though, two things will happen. I am going to paddle that high ass, hard, and you will wind up drinking and swallowing your own cum. Then we will do it again until you learn to resist. I am sure you have had a woman take you in her mouth, and from your end it was great, and you wanted to see her swallow it. Now you will get your own taste, as you will every time you come from now on." Acacia stepped away out of his sight, and Diana came to him, as he knelt on hands and knees, reaching under him to stroke his nipples, her finger tips grazing his newly shaved chest. He felt himself getting hard as she slid her hand down to touch the cock head, and then to cup under his balls. She leaned closer, her small breast teasingly just out of reach of his lips, as she stroked his cock. Her nipple grazed his cheek, and he stiffened, and as she stroked his cock he felt the rising urge he could not stop. His hips rocked, as his cum began to spurt and he whimpered with release. As she stepped back, she slipped a wine glass under him, catching his ejaculation in it. SMACK!!! A hard paddle hit his ass, stinging hard and throwing him forward. Acacia was behind him, paddling again and again with firm strokes as his cock softened and he was gasping. She stopped and stepped around him, leaving his ass hot and aching badly, moaning. "Kneel up, Five. Get up off your hands now." She held his shoulder as he levered himself up onto his knees, his ass stinging more now. He wanted to rub it but could not. Diana brought the glass to his lips, pouring the warm cum into his mouth, watching the thick fluid coat his tongue. He tasted musk, and salt, and himself for the first time. The sticky liquid was hard to swallow, and he choked a little. Diana poured the last bit over his face, and he felt it running down his chin. "Five, you didn't last long at all, that was ridiculous. Think about doing better." She left him on his knees, slipping a pillowcase over his head. Through it, he heard their laughter and their lovemaking on the bed a few feet away, as they waited for his body to respond. They came back to him, before his aching cock could begin to harden again, and once more he took his position on hands and knees. With his head covered, he felt a warm cream applied to his nipples, which soon became hotter and scented. He felt fingers working his nipples, circling and stroking them, then pulling and pinching. He found himself becoming aroused but unable to get hard, excited from the nipple contact only, and beginning to want more. Acacia spoke, from close by, her voice husky. "I want you to understand this conditioning, which will begin to change the way you react and think about yourself. When you come as you are used to, as that romantic man in your own mind, with a hard cock, you will now have humiliation and pain. At the same time, your nipples will become more sensitive and the key to your arousal, so that just a touch begins to make you hard and soon you will be able to orgasm from that alone, without anyone touching that hard cock." Acacia Ch. 03 When the pillowcase was removed, he found a naked Diana, flushed from lovemaking, just inches away, and he found himself hard again, but trying to resist it. She offered a nipple to his lips, and he took it without thinking, and was fully aroused. She reached under him, to milk his cock like an animal, when he felt Acacia lightly rest the paddle on his inflamed skin. He softened at the idea, then hardened again as Diana's fingers took him. When she reached to massage his prostate, he exploded just as the paddle took him. SMACKKKK. He whimpered as his hips bucked and his cum spurted into the glass again. Acacia slapped him with the paddle again as he drained the glass Diana held to his lips and struggled to swallow it all. "You can't stop yourself Five, but you will learn to have more control, and to want some other higher use." They left him there, to sleep as he could, still anchored to the silk cord, covered with a quilt, his ass in pain and stinging. His cock ached, and his face was crusted with his own dried cum. Diana laughed as she took a picture before covering him and slipping into the large warm bed with Acacia. Acacia Ch. 04 ( and more in the Acacia series, see chapters 1, 2, and 3 for the route to this point, but not essential) Thanks to readers for the useful comments and voting your scores, I see there are others with these interests out there. 9. Saturday morning, he woke with the light filtering into the bedroom, to see the two women still asleep under a down comforter. He rolled over, and was pulled back by the light chain from his waist still secured to the silk cord around the ottoman. His hands were free, and he realized he could unhook the chain and get up. At the same time, he saw the symbolic point of the restraint, and knew that Acacia would be displeased if he stepped out of his new role, and he knew deep in his mind he did not want her to be annoyed with him. He shifted to find more comfort, resolving to wait, and feeling the beginning of morning arousal, and the need to relieve himself, too. He lay on his side, not wanting to touch himself, listening to the house creaking as the heat came up and the sun came through the sheer white curtains. The room, her bedroom, was more like a suite, with small sofa and chair and the ottoman he was tethered to, along with the plantation style bed and dressers. He turned when they began to stir, and Acacia slipped on her robe and came to his side. "Good morning Five. I am glad you knew to stay, like a good pet. We have a full day for you, because there is a lot for you to learn in order to be useful to me. Start by presenting yourself properly here; Kneel." She slid the small quilt off him, and he shivered a little since he was still naked except for the body harness and collar. She stepped back to watch as he got to his knees, and arranged himself, with knees wide apart, back straight, head up, and arms on his thighs with palms upturned. He held the position. Acacia reached out to correct his position with a few touches, having him put his knees wider and his body raised, correcting the angle of his chin. Diana came around the bed, in a short nightgown without a robe, so that he noticed the globes of her breasts cupped in the thin fabric, and her tan legs. He flushed as he felt his cock harden at the thought, and his need for the bathroom increase. Acacia picked up his chain leash from the mahogany side table, next to a blue and white Chinese vase with fresh yellow flowers and handed it to Diana. "Just take him to the kitchen hall bath, Diana, then you can feed him. Five, let's be clear: when you are here, your body is mine to control, just like your mind. You are not allowed to touch that cock, specifically, so when you need the bathroom Diana or another sub will take care of that, and you will have to ask to be relieved." Diana sighed lightly and took him on the leash, down the wide staircase to the kitchen entry hall and the small bathroom where he had showered. When he paused, she used the end of the chain leash to slap his ass sharply. "Ask first, slut." His voice was raspy from sleep. "I need to pee, miss. May I use the bathroom?" His face was red with further embarrassment. She raised the toilet seat and led him over. "Hands behind you, no touching it, bend over; if you make a mess you are cleaning it up too." He had to awkwardly bend forward to aim his semi hard cock at the bowl, and found it was hard at first under her eyes, until he could not resist and the hard stream spattered the surface of the bowl. After he finished, she helped him slip into a black thong over his harness and led him back to the kitchen and poured dry cereal and then milk into a dog dish and watched as he slurped it on hands and knees. Leaving him to it she busied herself in the kitchen preparing a breakfast for her and Acacia, served on the country table. He watched without speaking as they ate and chatted about the day, ignoring him in the corner. Chairs scraped as they finished, and Acacia turned to him. "Five, clean up this kitchen, perfectly, and make us some coffee. Put everything on the tray and bring it into the living room, just stay dressed as you are in the harness, it looks right on you." It took him an hour, to do the dishes and clean the kitchen all over, conscious the whole time of being almost naked in the slave harness, something out of place in this upscale country kitchen. He found the coffee maker, the silver tray, and the pot and cups and arranged everything on the tray. When he carried it into the living room, he found Acacia on the chintz sofa, reading a fashion magazine, and Diana sitting on a smaller chair. Both had dressed, in casual Saturday clothes, pants and sweaters, so there was no costume dominatrix scene going on- except for him in his harness, standing with a silver tray in his hands. Acacia looked up with a slight smile. "Five, you need some basic training to be of any real use. Serve the coffee to us, here on the low table by the sofa. Do it nicely." He focused on crossing the room, walking carefully, and bent to place the tray on the table and step back. Whepppp! The sting of the riding crop Acacia now held caught him on the back of his thigh. "No, no, that was clumsy and ugly. Pick it up and go back. Take it all back to the door, and do it again, but this time walk with grace, and instead of bending from the waist bend your knees and sink down gracefully, show us how much you ache to be of service to superior women, to make us pleased with you. Do it now." With his leg stinging, he gather the tray and turned around, this time trying to walk slowly and gracefully, imagining a beauty contestant crossing a stage. At the table, he faced her, lowered his eyes, and bent his knees until he was kneeling at the table, sliding the tray onto it. Whepppppp wheppp! "Better, but still not full of grace, and not holding your body straight enough, try again, the coffee is getting cold." It took two more tries before she accepted his effort, and allowed him to remain kneeling and then kiss the leather tab of the crop while the two women took their coffee and ignored him for a few minutes. Acacia turned a page and looked up. "Down, Five. Do it now." She watched him critically, reaching for the crop on the table. He took a quick breath and straightened his knees, then bent low to place his head to the carpet and his arms out in front, lifting his ass high as he did so. He could see only the Oriental rug and her flat shoes as she walked around him. "Not bad, Five. Keep those knees wide, and your ass higher; I want to see your body between those legs." She touched him lightly with the crop, moving his legs wider and tapping under his thong to have him lift his hips higher. "Ok, remember this position this way. Now take the coffee things away and go wait in the kitchen." She walked out of the room, heading for the front door, as Diana flashed him a superior look and followed her. He waited in the kitchen for what seemed like hours; he noticed now that the home had no clocks and even the appliance clocks all flashed 12:00, and had not been set. He was surprised by a knock on the back door, and was unsure if he should answer it or not, perhaps they had gone out? He realized at the same moment he had no other clothing, no handy coat or apron to slip into. The knocking continued, and he decided there was nothing else to do. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see a young man, and behind him a truck from the Kenwood liquor store. The man was holding a box of bottles, and a clipboard. When he opened the door, the delivery guy's eyes went over him, taking in the almost naked older man, in some sort of slave harness, wearing only a thong, the number 5 marked on one side of his almost exposed ass. He flushed hotly. "Whoa, man. Don't even tell me; just sign here for this delivery." He held out a crumpled invoice and a pen, and smirked as Five scribbled something and took the heavy box. His face and chest were red as he closed the door and placed the box on the counter- some wine, some liquor, some mixers, apparently for a small party. It made him think about how far he had gone already, from a sophisticated person who a week ago would have been considering vintage Napa wines in the shop, to a costumed and collared slave waiting naked for direction.