1 comments/ 44424 views/ 3 favorites Betrayal Ch. 1 By: Saoadora He had been my Master for nearly a year. I cannot say exactly why I so enjoyed the humiliation, the torment and the pain that he made me endure. But I did. Very much. My feeling for him was like an addiction. Many times I thought, “I’ve had enough. I can’t stand this. This is the last time.” But I always came back. I needed him. And he knew, and he used that knowledge to take my humiliation and torment to another, much higher, level. “You’ve done all right, slave,” he had said. “But I’m still not sure you are mine. I need you to prove it absolutely. I want you to bring me another slave. I think I would like that.” I was shocked and did not know how to respond. Although our Master-slave relationship was complete when we were alone in private, we had always been discrete. Surely I was a doting and obedient girlfriend when we were together in public, but nothing too obvious. He knew how much I feared that others would discover my submissive nature and strange erotic dreams. “Bring me another slave—your choice, but she must be attractive to me, of course,” he said flatly, “And don’t come back here again without one.” Forget the bondage, the floggings, the amazing things he had done to me and made me do. Banishment. That would be the worst punishment he could ever administer. As I say, I was addicted to him and I had no choic I had met my Master at a seminar in Bangkok, where we both live. I am a Thai lady. Twenty-five years old. Not a knockout, but cute enough, or so everyone tells me. I am trim, with nice legs, 34-C breasts, long straight jet-black hair, and rather fair skin for a Thai lady. My mother’s family originally came from China. I was working the registration desk at the seminar when the man who would become my Master came up to register. He was an American in his forties, but still in good shape and rather handsome. I recognized his name, and remembered I had spoken to him when he made his reservation. I told him so. In light of what was to come, he was surprisingly shy and soft-spoken. He said he remembered speaking to me. I offered him my business card and he said he would call me sometime. He did so, about a week later. I digress. How that call progressed into my current position as the lucky slave to a remarkable Master—equal parts caring and cruel—is a long story that perhaps I will tell you some other time. My task in writing at this time is to tell my story of seeming betrayal, the tale of what happened when my Master demanded that I provide him a second slave. It took me several days to decide what to do. I thought seriously of finding a prostitute who might be willing. Or perhaps to try roaming the bars for a likely candidate. But I could not bring myself to do it. Not nearly. I could not bring myself to discussing such things with a stranger. Finally I decided that I must talk to my best friend, Ying. I would carefully feel her out on the subject, and see if she would help me out. We were best friends, after all. Much to my shame, though, in the end I tricked her. I had never told Ying that I was having a relationship, let alone the nature of the relationship. Ying thought I still needed a boyfriend, and often tried to set me up. My secrecy about having “a friend” had bothered me a long time, because apart from that—and my interest in being dominated—I told her everything. Desperate, though, to bring my Master another slave so I could see him again, I told Ying I had met a remarkable gentleman whom I wanted her to meet. He had, I said, invited us to his home for dinner. She was so happy that I had finally found a man that interested me. She said she was dying to meet him. We made a “date” to go to his home on Friday night. I called my Master to let him know. As if he could read my mind, which I think he truly can, he asked, “Does Ying know she is to be my slave?” Of course I could not lie to my Master. “Not yet,” I had stammered, “I thought maybe you would like the privilege of telling her.” “Good,” he said, much to my relief. “That will make things more interesting—for all of us.” When Ying and I arrived on Friday night, he was at first the charming host. He fixed us drinks and served them himself. During some mostly idle chitchat, my Master remarked what great friends Ying and I seemed to be. Ying had answered, innocently I think, “Yes. I would do anything for Ning, and I am sure she would do the same for me.” My Master smiled and said kindly, “I thought so. But do you mean anything?” She responded without hesitating, “Anything.” “Right,” he said, and then suddenly, “Ning, stand on the table, now.” I was terrified by his sudden order, but did not hesitate to comply, setting my drink down and standing on the coffee table. “Tell Ying you are my slave and do everything I order”, he said. Tears of shame at my position, and my betrayal of my friend welled in my eyes. “I obey your every order, Master,” I said, in a tone barely above a whisper. “O.K., then,” he said, “take you dress off now.” As he had ordered beforehand, I was wearing a short black dress, black stockings and garters, black pumps, with rather long heels. I suppose under the circumstances I hesitated a little, even though I feared any hesitation would displease my Master. What could Ying be thinking? I could not even look in her direction. I reached behind my neck, unhooked and unzipped the back, then pulled my dress off over my head. This was not easy, standing as I was in heels on a coffee table. I nearly fell as I leaned forward to pull the dress over my long black hair. “You look lovely,” my Master said. “Turn around and bend forward. Grab your ankles.” To keep my balance I had to spread my legs beyond shoulder width. My hair hung to the floor. My ass and a portion of my pussy were exposed—almost thrust—toward my Master and Ying sitting together on the sofa. My view of them would have been framed by my long legs, but I had shut my eyes. I could not bear to look at the friend I had betrayed. I nearly stood down off the table and told my Master that I could take any punishment, but I could not lead to my friend’s punishment. But I didn’t. I stayed in my awkward position on the table. There was a strange silence, as neither my Master nor Ying said word. Finally, my Master broke the silence with an order, “Don’t be shy, slave, open your eyes and look at us.” Again, I barely had the nerve to obey, but I had even less nerve not to. When I opened my eyes I focused on my Master, who wore a small smile. Out of the corner of my eye I hazarded a glance at Ying. I could not read her face. Shock? Horror? Disgust? Fear? It might have been any or all of them. But what I thought I saw was wonder and amazement. Even if I was right, though, I could not know what amazed her. My Master reached out and pinched my buttocks. He ran his hand along the length of my leg. I knew he likes the feel of stockings on my legs. “She has lovely legs,” he said, as much as if he were talking to himself as Ying. “Get your collar and leash, slave,” he said. I knew from the nature of his order that I would not be allowed to walk. I stepped down from the table and crawled to the maid’s room, where I knew the collar and leash were kept. I felt miserable at the thought of crawling in front of Ying, but was relieved to get off the table and out of the room, if only for a moment. I could not delay though. I returned to the room, crawling, with the collar and leash in my mouth, as my Master wished whenever I retrieved them. My Master fastened the collar on my neck, snapped the leash into place, and—much to my surprise—handed it to Ying. “You have a terrific friend, slave. She’s beautiful. Beautiful and loyal, for as she said she would do anything for you. Show your appreciation. Worship her feet,” my Master ordered. Hardly believing I was doing this, I knelt at Ying’s feet. She was wearing open-toed high-heeled sandals over flesh colored pantyhose. I kissed the tops of her toes gingerly. I could tell, I think, that Ying didn’t know what to do. Should she pull her feet away? Would that help or hurt my humiliating position? “You worship feet much better than that, I know you do,” my Master said sharply. “Remove her shoes. Suck her toes. Lick her arches. She has said, after all, that she would do anything for you. Show your gratitude.” I had often worshipped my Master’s feet, but no one else’s. I could not believe that I was doing this with someone besides my Master, a woman at that, my best friend Ying. Still, so it was. I unstrapped and removed her shoes, caressed her feet and did as I had been ordered. “Now,” my Master said, “Tell Ying why you brought—should I say “lured”—her here. Remember, she said she would anything for you.” Every time he reminded me—and Ying—of her pledge of loyalty I burned with shame and regret. I broke down crying. This I could not do. I sobbed at the feet of Ying and said, “Please no, Master, I have made a terrible mistake. I love Ying. I can’t ask her to do this. Punish me however you will. I won’t do it.” My protests were cut short. Surprisingly, though, it was not my Master but Ying, “I think I understand the situation, Ning. A friend’s a friend. Obey your Master.” I was shocked. My tears were now a wild mixture of remorse and gratitude. I hated the words but I said them, “Ying, I have betrayed you. I have brought you here to be my Master’s slave. Forgive me.” Now, without prompting, I was showering my friends feet with kisses in search of forgiveness. I hugged Ying’s calves and said, “I’m so, so sorry.” My Master interrupted and said to my friend, “Ying, I would never do something like this without the full consent of my slave. You have a choice. You can walk out of here right now. No hard feelings. I will respect you either way. It’s your choice. If Ning wishes to leave with you, that’s her choice as well. If you two want to talk about it, I’ll even leave the room.” Ying did not hesitate. “I wish to be your slave, Master. Please take me too,” she said, as she handed my leash to my Master. I was shocked, but my Master almost seemed to expect it. “All right then. It seems Ning has done you a great favor. Ning, back on the table. Ying, on your knees and show your gratitude. Kiss her feet. Worship them.” This was all so strange. Ying and I exchanged a brief glance of confusion. But we were both obedient. In no time I was again standing awkwardly on the table as Ying, still fully clothed, except her shoes, knelt and kissed my black pumps. “Lift your right foot, Ning. Ying, suck her heel then remove her shoe with your mouth. Standing on the table, I was able to brace myself with a hand on the ceiling and lift my foot to Ying’s waiting mouth as he had ordered. Ying’s face showed no emotion as she briefly sucked the heel then pulled the pump off my foot. “Suck her toes,” my Master ordered, and she did. Despite my feelings of humiliation and betrayal, I was somehow intensely aroused at the amazing feel and sight of my lovely friend sucking my toes then, without being ordered, running her tongue along my sole and instep before sucking my ankle bone. “O.K., now her left foot, and this time don’t be so quick with the heel, Ying. Think of it as your Master’s manhood. Your first chance to please me. You’ll have many.” My view of Ying as she nipped at and ran her tongue up and down my long heel was incredible. Ying looked up into my eyes. It was for all the world the look of a slave intent on pleasing her Master’s throbbing member. Without even thinking I began to gently pump my foot as Ying took my heel in her luscious mouth. I risked a glance at my Master and noted that he too was aroused. He was staring like a schoolboy and his erection was obvious under his pants. “Enough then,” he said, “remove her shoe.” Ying did so. My Master—our Master—next ordered us to stand before him. I was ordered to remove Ying’s dress and I did so as Ying looked shyly down at the floor. My Master took Ying’s lovely face in his hands and said to me, “Slave Ning, you have brought me a beautiful new slave. You will rewarded tonight, surely.” I felt pride that I knew was not becoming of a slave—especially one who had betrayed her friend. “Ning, get the bag,” he ordered, and I padded off in my stocking feet to retrieve the bag as Ying stood in her panty hose before her new Master. When I returned, Ying was ordered to lie on her back on the coffee table. She did so. Next I was ordered to place wrist cuffs on Ying and fasten her arms on the table legs. I hated doing it, for I knew from experience the pain of having your arms pulled back and restrained in this fashion on this very table. But I did it all the same, whispering an apology to my loyal friend. She whispered a response, “Don’t worry. I want this. We are in this together—to serve our Master.” When Ying’s arms were locked in place, our Master ordered me to roll her pantyhose and panties to her ankles and fasten her ankle cuffs above the hose. He told me to roll her hose down slowly. I slipped my fingers under the waistband of her hose and did as ordered. Next I slid her panties down. I could not help but admire how beautiful my friend’s legs were, and how beautiful—and wet!—was her pussy. After I clipped on her ankle cuffs and fastened her legs on the table legs, Ying was spread-eagled on the coffee table. I knelt obediently before my Master. He placed my cuffs on my wrists and ankles, fastened the ankle cuffs to each other, and ordered me to crawl, as best I could with my ankles together, to the end of the table, the end at which Ying’s wrists were shackled. My Master fastened my wrists to the same hooks that held Ying’s wrists. Saying nothing more, he left the room. I was used to this from my Master. He often left me in an uncomfortable position without explanation. Not knowing where he was going, or for how long, always left me with a sense of utter desperation. Shackled as were together, my hair hung over the face of lovely Ying. My tears welled again, and a few dripped down on her face. “Ying, I’m so sorry,” I said, “I chose this world and I dragged you into it.” She smiled slightly and said, “Ning, quit apologizing. You’re my best friend. We are alike in so many ways. If this is your world, I want to be a part of it. It was my choice.” I felt so heartened by her words I could not help but lower my head to kiss her. Despite our close friendship I had never even thought of doing so before. She raised her head slightly to meet my kiss. I only meant to give her a small kiss of thanks. I was surprised when her lips parted and her tongue reached out to mine. Her kiss was one of passion, and I returned it in kind. I had never even thought of a woman in this way before, but somehow the strange erotic experience of this evening—and being shackled as we were together—sent a surge of desire through my body. Ying clearly felt the same. We needed each other. Our kiss was the most intense I have ever experienced. We both sucked air from each other. Gently bit each other’s tongues. Ran our tongues over each other’s teeth. I pulled away briefly and licked my tearstains from her cheeks. We kissed again, with even greater fervor. Ying pulled away, licked deep into my ear, pursed her lips and blew gently, but steadily, in my ear. I did the same. We were both overcome with desire. But restrained as we were there was little more to do. I could see Ying’s body occasionally strain at her leg restraints. I could only edge my own shackled legs forward slightly. We locked our fingers together, and continued our passionate kissing. Mouth, ears, nose throats. I yearned to have Ying’s beautiful body, and she mine, but it was not possible. For the first time, I noted tears well in Ying’s eyes, tears of frustration. I gently kissed them away. “Enjoying yourselves, slaves?” our Master said as he returned to the room. “Do you want more of each other? I think so. Don’t worry. If you are good slaves, you will get it. In fact, seeing you together brings me much pleasure.” (To be continued? Please let me know if you would like me to continue with this story. I have some ideas, but have not written them out yet… In any event, thanks for taking the time to read this…) Betrayal Ch. 2 “Yes, seeing you together brings me pleasure. Tell me Ning, have you ever made love to your friend Ying?”, our Master asked. “Have you ever yearned for her?” “Truthfully, Master,” I answered, “never. I never before even thought of Ying that way. At least not that I realized. Of course lately I’ve only thought of you.” “Good answer, Ning. And you Ying,” he asked, “have you craved your friend?” “Yes, Master, I have,” she answered. She looked up into my eyes, “I have wanted to tell her many times. But I never had the courage.” Our eyes were locked. She looked at me not just with love, but with an apparent hope of my understanding how deeply she felt about me—with a hope that I might share her feeling. As I looked deep into her beautiful eyes, and I thought of all the times we had shared together, and now of her great sacrifice in agreeing to by my Master’s slave. I realized I loved and longed for her as well. I squeezed my fingers against hers, as our wrists were locked together on the table leg. “Interesting,” our Master said. “Are you a lesbian, Ying?” “Oh no, Master, hardly that,” Ying answered. She surprised me, maybe even surprised my Master, by chuckling a little. “I love men especially.” She quickly added, “I have sworn myself to you Master. I am no lesbian, but my feelings for Ning are special.” “Good answer, Ying,” Master said, allowing himself a little chuckle. “Ning is indeed special, and I think more and more that you are too. Go ahead girls. Kiss each other—with passion—this looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Between my new found feelings of lust for Ying, and the fact that I had been ordered to do so by our Master, I was passionate indeed as I pressed me face against Ying’s. We kissed a long deep kiss, then explored each other’s ears, eyes and noses with our tongues, ending with our tongues almost locked as we sucked each other’s breath in a French kiss. I strained against the cuffs wanting to grab Ying. I felt her straining as well. Our sighs of pleasure and frustration were almost a hum. Our Master had watched us kiss for some time, and then left the room. When he returned he said, “Enough fun for now, ladies. There will be plenty of time for that. For now, I think Ying has some things to learn. You, too, Ning. There is a new dynamic here. I want to explain some rules. You will help me Ning.” Master’s arms were behind his back. Ying remained spread-eagled in cuffs on her back on the coffee table. I was kneeling at the end of the table, wrists cuffed to the legs, my face inches away over Ying’s. My hair hung down, sweeping Ying’s cheeks. I felt a nearly uncontrollable urge to lean forward and kiss her again. I think her lips and mine almost pulsed with desire for each other. “Of course, both of you are here—you exist—only to bring me pleasure. Lucky for you, sometimes it pleases me to see my slaves enjoy themselves—at my bidding. But, as Ning well knows, sometimes it pleases me to see the frustration of my slave as she struggles, striving for pleasure she is not able to attain. Sometimes I enjoy the look of fear. Of pain. Of humiliation. The hurt you feel as you endure my crazy whim simply because I want it.” As Master said this, he produced the funnel from behind his back. The funnel was actually a 1.5 liter drinking water bottle. I had on my Master’s orders cut the bottom portion of it off to create a sort of funnel. I was very surprised to see it so soon. I had been Master’s slave several months before he added water sports to my humiliations. Even then, it was several more months before he introduced the funnel. Ying had become Master’s slave hardly an hour ago. I was surprised he would so soon have her drinking his golden fluid. Of course, Master was full of surprises. As he unlocked my wrist cuffs he said, “Ning, I want you tell Ying the rules of the funnel. The “rules”, if that’s what one would call them, went something like this. The funnel was placed in the slave’s mouth. She was to hold it firmly in her lips as Master filled it with his golden flow. The slave was not allowed to swallow until ordered by our Master. Even though I was quite used to drinking my Master’s pee— having him splash my face, shower my body—the funnel was for me still another matter entirely. The urine would fill my mouth, overwhelming my senses of taste and smell. It was difficult to breath and next to impossible not to gag while lying on my back as my mouth and a portion of the bottle filled with his warm, salty fluid. More than once I had spit some of Master’s piss out my nose, and of course I was severely punished for this. I could not imagine that Master would subject Ying to this awful humiliation so soon. Even if our Master’s piss was a substance to be worshipped. I explained the basic rules, though of course not some of those details, to Ying. Master handed the funnel to me. “Place it in her mouth, Ning,”, he said, and I did so. Ying’s eyes betrayed some fear, but her mouth—the mouth I had just been worshipping with my tongue— accepted the funnel. “Now, get up on the table and give your friend a drink.” I couldn’t believe what I had heard. It was not Master’s pee that would baptize Ying’s throat, but my own. I needed to protest. I longed to kiss my lovely friend’s mouth, not piss in it. But I knew better. I not only failed to protest, I quickly scrambled up onto the end of the table. I knew the consequences of delaying to obey Master’s orders. Squatting in my black heels over the funnel was awkward at best. I edged my toes under Ying’s shoulders and lowered my pussy over the funnel, steadying myself by gently placing my hands on her breasts. I paused briefly to appreciate the feel of my black-stockinged ankles rubbing against Ying’s cheeks and the wonderful feeling of her firm breasts under my hands. I noted that her nipples hardened and rose to my palms. Fortunately or not, my bladder was full to bursting from our earlier drinks. It was fortunate in that I am not sure that otherwise I could have peed—peed into the mouth of my dear friend Ying—on command in such an awkward and humiliating position. Fortunate because the volume of my drinks had served to dilute my urine. Unfortunate because my warm flow just kept coming and coming. Beneath me, Ying’s face was hidden from my view. But I could see her body stiffen, then writhe. I could imagine—from experience—her struggle to deal with the overwhelming sensations of accepting urine, holding it in her mouth and fighting back the gag reflex. I could imagine her breathing deeply through her nose, with every breath heavily urine scented. Part of me was revolted by what I was doing to my friend. Amazingly, though, I realized another part of me enjoyed it. I had been on the other end of the funnel often enough. It felt great to be on this end. Better Ying than me, part of me thought. I had an inkling of the sense that a Domme must feel. I hate to admit it, but a part of me enjoyed Ying’s obvious suffering. When my flow finally ceased I looked up. Master stood before me smiling. “Good job, Ning,” he said. He embraced me and lifted me off the table, squeezing me with a congratulatory hug. He kissed me deeply. Such kisses were a rather rare reward from Master. I greedily accepted and returned them. Master fondled my buttocks, and toyed with my pussy. I took the liberty to hug my Master and my hand reached down to his hardened member. I started stroking his perfect penis and lost track of time. “Don’t you think we should permit your friend to swallow?”, Master asked, snapping me from my reverie after who knows how long. “My god,” I thought, “how could I be so selfish?” And I noted with interest my Master’s having said “we”. “You have done well, Ning. You have brought me a beautiful new slave. You will be rewarded, sometimes. Sometimes you will dominate her, at my bidding.” Master’s praise was unexpected. It surprised me, as did the realization that part of me enjoyed the notion of dominating my best friend. Another part me, larger I hope, was mortified. How could I dominate Ying? I looked at my friend, with the funnel still full of my urine lodged in her lovely mouth. Her eyes were sort of rolling. It was clear she could barely breath. Tears welled in my eyes, as I realized the extent of my betrayal—and my love for Ying. “And sometimes she will dominate you… at my bidding,” Master added. “Tell her she may swallow, Ning,” said my Master. I did. I saw Ying’s throat swell and contract as she took in my urine, her head lurching back with each tortured swallow, a bubble occasionally surfacing in the funnel. Her face reddened. Her breasts heaved (I wanted to suckle them). Finally the fluid was gone. Ying’s eyes looked glazed as the funnel stood empty in her mouth. She gasped for breath. I was about to ask Master to whether I could remove the funnel but before I could do so he opened his fly and stood over my helpless friend. be continued Betrayal Ch. 3 It proved to be an extraordinary evening of discovery—and conflicting emotions. I simultaneously learned of my long-suppressed craving for Ying and my previously—to me—unimaginable streak of a Domme’s cruelty. Master had refilled the funnel in Ying’s mouth with his urine, then taken my hand and led me to the bedroom. Ying was left squirming in her cuffs on the coffee table, still under the standing order not to swallow until given permission. I glanced back in pity for my dear friend Ying. In the bedroom, Master held me in a loving embrace, kissing me all over my body and gently tweaking my nipples and clitoris. Such soft treatment was a rather rare pleasure for me. I hugged my Master hard, ran my hands longingly over his body and returned his French kisses with fervor. Occasionally, Master would break from the kisses and offer some instructions for the evening. In the back of my mind I knew that Master was intentionally taking his time in explaining things to me. I could only assume that this was for Ying’s “benefit”, as she remained out in the living room cuffed in her horrible predicament. I was sure, too, that Ying could hear my heavy sighing as our Master continued to arouse me. I did not wish to imagine her agony, so I focused gladly on Master’s lovemaking and instruction. Finally, as ordered by Master, I returned to the living room. I climbed up on the coffee table and knelt back, straddling Ying’s stomach. I stroked her silky black hair and finally said simply, “You may swallow.” She did and when she was finished I removed the funnel. She was still gasping for clear breath when I wedged a ball gag in her mouth and strapped it behind her head. Next a heavy studded black leather collar. Standing off the table, I released her arms and helped her up to a sitting a position. I briefly massaged her soft arms, hands and fingers to help restore circulation. If this gesture made Ying think that things were about to get easier for her I quickly disabused her of that notion. I pulled her arms tight behind her back and bound her wrists together with cotton rope (thankfully, Master preferred soft cotton rope to harsh hemp. He had previously explained to me that he did not—usually—care for the look of rope burns on his slave’s soft flesh). My experience in bondage had up to now always been on the other end of the rope. I was a little clumsy tying off the knots, no doubt, but at least I knew very well where to place the ropes. After a short while I had Ying’s arms snugly tied together behind her, and using a much longer rope I had made several wraps around each biceps before coming around her chest and upper back, below and above her firm little breasts, leaving her nipples exposed. I removed her ankle cuffs, and led her by a chain leash to the bedroom. Ying still was wearing her flesh-colored hose and her panties around her ankles. Given that, and her inability to use her arms for balance, it was no surprise that she rather staggered as I tugged on the leash. Master was lying back on the bed. I pulled Ying along, giving the leash one final jerk that sent her stumbling into the room. When I did so, I heard a slight, muffled cry from behind Ying’s gag. “Master, your new slave, Ying,” I said as I handed him the leash. Master grabbed her chin and looked her in the eyes. Ying sobbed slightly behind the ball-gag. “Ah, Ning,” he said, “she is so lovely, and we shall have so much fun—and more—together. But tonight she must begin her lessons in discipline. And you, Ning, must be rewarded. Let us begin with the discipline.” “Ning. Bring that table to the side of the bed,” he said gesturing to a heavy round table, about three feet in diameter. The table, like all the furniture in Master’s apartment, had eyebolts and hooks in various locations. I had spent many long hours on this table, but tonight was Ying’s turn. Master pinched Ying’s clitoris and nipples, then ran his fingers along her cheek and said, “Ying, tonight you will learn something about the pain and pleasure of being my slave. And first you will learn that perhaps the greatest pain you can suffer is longing. Ning, secure her on the table.” Following Master’s instructions, I helped Ying onto the table, wrapped a long rope around her wrists at her back, looped it over a heavy hook in the ceiling, then tied it off on the table leg. I did the same with a second rope, tying it off on the other leg. I then tied each of her ankles with short ropes to a table leg, so she was forced into a kneeling, squatting position. I knew just how uncomfortable this position was, as it caused one’s calves, thighs, arms and shoulders all to ache. Her hose and panties remained, a stretched shambles about her ankles. Ying was silent behind her gag, but her wide eyes almost spoke. Next Master had me play Ying with a dildo. I teased her nipples with the end of the eight-inch long phallus before giving each nipple a longing lick and suckle. As they rose to my lips in arousal I withdrew, pinching and stretching before snapping clamps into place. The clamps were attached by a weighted chain, which dangled down, stretching her nipples in painful arousal. Ying winced and looked deep into my eyes. I rubbed the dildo on her cheeks, her navel, her sides. She would come to know the dildo well. “Go down on her, Ning,” Master ordered. Soon her love juices were flowing. I had tasted my own cum many times before, for Master fed it to me one way or another often. But this was my first taste of another woman. I loved it. It was the essence of my dear friend Ying. I lapped at her vagina with vigor, sucking her clitoris and making long stokes with my tongue. Ying’s body moved to the rhythm of my ministrations as best it could against the restraints of her bondage. I felt a trickle on the back of my neck. Looking up, I saw that Ying was drooling behind the gag. I felt Ying begin to quiver. I began to quiver. “Enough, Ning”, Master said. “The dildo.” I slowly drew the dildo around Ying’s seeping vagina. I thrust it in a few inches several times, then tickled her tummy with the dildo’s wet head. A few more thrusts, deeper this time, and Ying again began to quiver. It was clear she was close to orgasm. I was close to orgasm from the pleasure of teasing her. “Give her a taste, Ning,” Master said. I removed her ball gag. “Lick it. Swallow it, slave.” Amazingly that was me talking, not Master. I was joining in his enjoyment in tormenting poor Ying. I thrust the dildo deep into her mouth, and saw it stretch her throat. Tears were welling in her eyes. I now knew Master’s game. Without prompting, after Ying had licked and sucked the dildo thoroughly clean, I replaced her ball gag and again teased her cunt, this time with slow deep thrusts. As Ying again was clearly on the brink of orgasm I pulled the dildo out and said to our Master, “I think she’s ready, Sir.” “Let her suck on it then, Ning,” Master said. I removed Ying’s ball gag and thrust the dildo, slick with her own juices, deep into her throat and left it bobbing there. “Don’t drop it, Ying.” Master is a genius at arousing a woman. Not least of all, his tongue and lips are magical. He can use them to perfection; I knew so well the sweet agony of Master slowly licking and sucking my vagina and clit, as he would bring my arousal to the boiling point before backing off. I watched him as he worked his magic on Ying. She was so helpless and lovely, so completely vulnerable to Master’s torments. Her thighs twitched against her bonds and her upper body bounced, testing the restraints holding her by the wrists behind her back. I heard a sort of gurgling sound from behind the dildo in her mouth, and noticed saliva now coming forth in a stream. If I did not know Master better I would have been sure that any second Ying would spit out the dildo and scream in intense orgasm. Still, every time I was sure this would happen, Master would back off and taunt Ying. “You will cum when—IF—I decide to let you. Do you understand?” The first few times he did this, Ying quickly nodded her head in agreement. However, the third, fourth, especially the fifth time, it looked like she might explode. She knew she was helpless and utterly at Master’s mercy, but her arousal was so great that it took a great effort her for to acknowledge the obvious. But finally she would nod again, the dildo still firmly in her mouth. For my part, I was in a fever just watching this incredible display of arousal and denial. My shaved pussy glistened with my juices. It was all I could do to refrain from fingering myself. I would have cum immediately, but Master had not given his permission. I could not begin to tell you how long this went on. How many times Ying was brought to brink of glorious orgasm and left dangling there in her bonds. As it went on I almost think I saw the heavy table itself begin to rock from Ying’s vain efforts to find fulfillment. Finally, Master backed off. “Ning,” he said, “this slave you have brought me is not just beautiful and willing, she’s delicious. Would you care for a taste?” Saying this, he embraced me. My tongue searched deep in his mouth, licking out dear Ying’s juices. I lapped at Masters wet cheeks and chin like a puppy. Master giggled, both from amusement and the tickling. “Oh, Ning, you have done so well.” With that he threw me back onto the bed into the 69 position. He rubbed his cheeks against my black stockings. He kneaded my little feet, kissed each of my ankles, then ran his tongue in a slow rapturous trail along the backs of my legs, sucking on my soft flesh at the stocking tops before—finally!—thrusting his tongue deep into my vagina. He licked madly, and nipped at my swollen clitoris. My attention was thus divided as I tried to concentrate on his penis. I licked it. Suckled his balls. Planted loving kisses on the soft, sensitive and fragrant underside between his balls and anus. I ran my tongue in long, slow strokes along the shaft of his throbbing member. I rimmed his little pee hole, now glistening with pre-cum. At just the same time that his tongue finally thrust deep into my pussy, I took his full length in my throat. Master naturally had terrific control over his penis, and I had been well trained to withhold orgasm until receiving Master’s bidding. Still, this was too much for the both of us. In a matter of moments we both came to shattering, simultaneous orgasm. I let out a scream born of delirium, and squeezed Master’s head in a vice between my thighs as my legs fluttered and twitched I would surely have been gasping for breath were it not for my Master’s penis, now joined by what seemed a bucket load of cum filling my mouth. Master himself was almost senseless. He had let out a scream the likes of which I had never heard from him before. His body tensed and then released. I felt his full weight collapse down against me. After a short while he idly caressed and kissed my stockinged feet and toes. Only then did I remember my best friend Ying. A strange sound called her to my attention. At times it was clearly just a moan of arousal and denial, but occasionally this moan was broken off by a series of mouse-like squeaks, followed by a sniffle. I looked up from between Master’s legs and saw Ying still strung in her helpless crouch on the table. She had had a bird’s eye view of this remarkable scene. After the torment she had suffered as a prelude it appeared that this had all but broken her. Her face was deep red, almost violet. Tears flowed unchecked from her eyes. The dildo, still in place, moved slightly in and out between her lips. For all the world like Ying was sucking a giant thumb or pacifier. A puddle of her love juices glistened on the table. Master’s weight shifted, then he rolled off my body. I glanced into his eyes and he nodded. We did not exchange a word. I stood on the bed and taunted Ying. “You have no idea how incredible that was Ying. Or do you? Perhaps someday you will earn such a treat from our Master. Until then, leftovers should do.” Saying that I pulled the dildo from Ying’s mouth. I grabbed her hair and roughly pulled her head back. Inches above her sad, tortured face I leaned over. I looked deep in the sweet dark eyes of my very best friend. I stuck my tongue out and watched as slowly my mouthful of Master’s sweet cum went down like poured honey towards Ying’s waiting mouth and throat. I saw that Ning shuddered as the load reached her. She swallowed my gift almost greedily, and licked her lips to catch the drippings. I lunged down to kiss her with my now twisted love. To be continued.