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Mr Taylor's Tribulations Ch. 01

By: adoration



I lay strapped down on a leather-padded bench, my ankles spread wide on its two lower arms, my upper thighs attached to sturdy straps just below my groin, my upper body strapped down by two more straps going across my shoulders and through my armpits. My head was resting on an inflated rubber pillow. I was naked and, embarrassingly for me, displaying an eight-inch erection. I was quite comfortable, but had an apprehensive feeling that this would soon change.

In the large room in which the bench was centrally placed, sat six women, one of whom was my darling wife, Tanya Taylor, at 38, five years younger than me. She was lounging on a couch between one of her girl friends and her younger sister, Vanya, 35. On another couch three more of her female friends sat, waiting with what looked like eager anticipation to witness what was going to happen to me. All were fully clothed, a factor which seemed to my nervous mind to increase my own nudity.

It was all my own fault, of course. My name is Rupert Taylor, I'm a 43-year-old bookshop proprietor, and I married the money which enabled me to start my bookshop. My dear wife sank thousands of her fortune from her late father's estate into my business venture. In turn she has title on our house in Surrey, she owns the snazzy little Lotus I drive into town every day, she even pays my golf club fees. In return, I give her sensational sex, which is not hard because she's got the body of a goddess and the behaviour - in the bedroom - of a whore.

My bookshop is situated in a high-rent street in London's Soho, which is now a very much tamer red light district from its seedy days of the 1930s through to the 1970s. And, fittingly for Soho, it is a "specialist" book store.

It's called Book Domain for Serious Masochists, but everyone in the business of "kinky" erotica and pornography knows my little store as BDSM Books. And I do very nicely thank-you.

I have only two staff helping me, one a lovely 25-year-old lass named Naomi, an ebony temptress who wears a different leather outfit to work each day. The "straight" male clientele are often drooling by the time they've been served by her.

The male help is Dominic, a lovely gay man aged in his early 20s, who is there to help cater for those of his sexual preference - and there's more of them involved in the SM scene than you can shake a stick at. He's short, but good-looking, well built and has a very trendy hair do for his blonde locks. If I wasn't a womaniser, I'd go for him.

It was, of course, my womanising which got me into this predicament on the leather bench. Let me explain - briefly, because it's a familiar story to so many of you philanderers out there, I'm sure.

Each Wednesday, my wife went with three of her friends to play golf. I arranged - stupid, stupid, stupid, I know - to have an assignation with a "lady of the night", if you get my drift, on one of those afternoons. I usually went to her apartment not more than five miles from where we live, but this time I decided on a liaison at home. OK, I admit again - stupid, stupid, stupid.

The lovely little blonde worked under the name of Natalie - Naughty Natalie, her ad read, from memory - and she gave great head and took it up the back passage. "Rear door entry", as her ad also read. Anyway, I always took advantage of those two specialities of the house, as it were.

This particular afternoon in question, Natalie had given me a nice sucking with her hugely experienced mouth and I was just mounting her from the rear when it happened. My wife, of course, returned from her golf and caught us going at it in the guest's bedroom. I was so deeply stuck into the lovely little whore's arse that I couldn't escape before Tanya had taken three or four pictures of me with her digital camera.

Then, ominously for me, Tanya told Natalie: "Please get dressed, my dear, and come downstairs. I need to have a little chat with you."

Next she turned to me and in a voice made all the more threatening by its lack of loudness or stridency added: "And you get into our bedroom. I'll deal with you later."

Well, it seems that Tanya and her foursome had been about to tee off when an ugly thunderstorm struck the course. Rather than risk electrocution all four decided to cut and run. Usually they would have settled into the 19th hole for gins and tonic, but as my luck would have it, the other three had things they'd rather be doing that afternoon than sucking on Beefeater.

Tanya, it turned out, had suspected something was up - something to do with the way I was often "not particularly busy" on Wednesday afternoons, and decided to creep into the house and surprise me. Hence the digital camera at the ready.

I got dressed then, about half an hour after I'd been "nobbled", my wife called me downstairs. I found her in her office off the lounge, sitting in front of her computer screen.

"Oh, hi darling," she smiled sweetly - an ominous sign, I realise now, "have a look at these. They're rather rude."

And there, glaring from the screen in hideous colour was me with my cock buried in Natalie's lovely little arse, her firm little breasts hanging seductively beneath her. The next showed me half out, my cock shaft gleaming in the light of the flash. The third was a sharp and totally damning picture of my cock standing erect in all its glory, my foreskin pulled back to the ring by the tightness of Natalie's arsehole. The helmet was shiny, and a strand of pre-cum was linking my cock head with Natalie's brown puckered anus. Talk about being totally fucked!

"Rather damaging for you, eh Rupert?" smiled Tanya. "And this isn't looking too good for you either, I don't think."

With that she thrust a sheet of A4 notepaper to me. It was a typed message which read:

"This is a statement made by Naughty Natalie, real name Winifred Wimble, in my profession as a prostitute. I have for several months been entertaining as a client a man I now know as Rupert Taylor. He pays me for my services which include fellatio and sodomy. I have been offering him my services on a weekly basis. I did not initiate the meetings, it was always Mr Taylor who called me to arrange a meeting."

It was signed by W. Wimble and T. Taylor and dated.

"It's got no weight at all," I blustered, but Tanya laughed.

"This little piece of paper and these pictures from my camera are all I need to crush you completely, you fucking miserable philanderer you," Tanya snapped, displaying for the first time that afternoon a flash of temper.

"So don't give me any cock and bull about 'no weight in fucking law' you cunt," she said, this time almost screaming.

I shut up.

"Now get out of my sight while I make some phone calls to organise what I intend to do with you, you pathetic excuse for a fucking husband. Fuck off!"

I fucked off.

But not far. I hovered around in the lounge and heard Tanya making a phone call. It was obviously to her best friend, Paula Pain.

"Paula, it's me, Tanya," I heard her start. "Guess what? I've caught that fucking bastard of a husband of mine cheating on me, just as you suspected."

Paula obviously replied, then Tanya continued: "Exactly - so I was wondering if that dominatrix who helped solve your husband's behaviour problems is still around? She put on such a superb demonstration with your Jack and I thought it would be a good idea to give Rupert the same dose of mistress medicine."

Another pause, then Tanya asked her friend: "And you've had no problems with Jack since, have you? He's an obedient little puppy now?"

Tanya laughed, a cruel laugh which sent shivers down my spine. "Great, yes I've got that number, I'll give her a call. And I thought we'd do something similar to the way you whipped Jack in line. I'll invite you and my golf friends along and I thought I'd ask my sister, too. It should make for a fun afternoon or two. How many did it take with Jack? Six, wasn't it?"

I slipped out of the lounge. I'd heard quite enough, thank-you very much.

The rest of the day I waited on Tanya hand and foot and later in the evening, when we had retired I decided to go about making my apologies.

"Listen, darling," I began, but Tanya was still in no mood for contrition.

"No Rupert, you fucking listen," she said, "your behaviour has been so absolutely deplorable I'm having you taken to a behaviour modification expert."

The words sent a shiver and a thrill down my spine. "A modification expert?" I asked.

Tanya smiled, before leaning over to switch off her bedside light. "Correct, my dear devoted dallying husband," she said, icily. "Only in the books you sell in Soho she would probably be described as a dominatrix. Her name's Yvette, she's French and works under the name Maitresse Yvette."

I'd heard of her, even seen her advertisements, but I'd never been able to summon up the courage to make an appointment for a session. It looked as if my mind had been made up for me!

Tanya snuggled down on her side of the bed, yawned languidly and then added: "You're booked in for a session with her on Monday and I've invited some of my dearest friends along to watch it. We're all going to have great fun. Except you - I doubt what you're going to experience could be described as 'fun' but who knows, you may turn out to be the world's biggest masochist."

I rolled over, turning my back to Tanya. But I certainly hoped she was right!

The next day, when my wife had gone out with friends for coffee - and to no doubt inform them of my upcoming "session" - I called Jack Pain at his office in the City.

I told him my predicament and asked what was going to happen. "Oh fuck, don't ask, Rupert, please don't ask. Look, I've got my shit together, I'm in a very happy relationship with Paula now, but it's worth more than life to talk about it. Please, don't ask me." And he slammed the phone down in my ear.

The week-end dragged, and Monday morning seemed to go on forever. Finally, around 1pm, Tanya informed me it was time to go. She drove her Jaguar some five or six miles to a secluded but expensive-looking cul-de-sac and parked outside a large mansion.

The door was opened by a youngish woman dressed in an outrageous maid's outfit, the tops of her stockings were clearly visible, so was her cleavage.

"Hello, Marie," said my wife, "this piece of crap with me is my husband Rupert."

"Come with me, please sir," she said in a slight north country accent and I left my wife and was ushered into a sparsely furnished ante room.

"Clothes off please, sir, and wait for the arrival of Maitresse Yvette," said the blonde, and I started to disrobe.

Some minutes later, as I stood naked and feeling ridiculous, the door banged open and one of the most magnificent women I'd ever set eyes on swept into the room. She looked about 30.

Maitresse Yvette was wearing high-heeled leather boots which made her height almost equal to my six feet. The shiny black leather boots came to just above her knees. But that wasn't what made her look so stunning to my lustful gaze.

She was wearing a black leather basque, which was drawn tightly around her lush but firm-looking figure. The garment had no coverage for her breasts which thrust out towards me in erection-producing uplift. They were heavy and so superbly rounded I assumed they must have been implants. They were tipped with large brown, almost black nipples, surrounded by vast circlets of areolae.

The basque came down to her hips and left her lovely big bum and pussy uncovered. Her pubic hair was dark brown, like her nipples almost black, and had been shaved into a sort of crew cut which allowed me to gaze upon her thick, fleshy labia lips.

Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail, her brown eyes flashed, her lipsticked full mouth was red and sensual. She had a rich golden sun tan, which seemed to add to her hauteur.

The magnificent creature smiled at me, almost as if in encouragement. "Welcome to my 'umble abode, monsieur," said Yvette. "My name is Maitresse Yvette, but you can call me 'Maitresse'. Now, put zis on."

And with that she threw me a tiny little black rubber posing pouch. I struggled to drag it on over my hips, until it was snugly in place, my cock and balls bunched in a tight bundle.

When I had "clothed" myself, Maitresse Yvette addressed tossed me a black leather collar. "Put zat around your neck, sweetie," she ordered, only the way she pronounced the word "sweetie" convinced me her French accent was as fake as her tits.

After I had completed that task, Maitresse Yvette looked at me approvingly. "Now you are 'ere for be'aviour modification, oui?"

I nodded.

"Good, you will find eet an exciting experience I 'ave no doubt," she informed me. "Eet may be somewhat painful in parts, and 'umiliating in ozzers. But nothing will be done to - 'ow you say? - damage you in any way. Comprendez?"

I nodded, I understood.

"We will now go into ze punishment room. You weel obey my instructions all ze time and escape is 'opeless. Anyway, I am a black belt in ze judo, so you try, I 'it you 'ard. Hokay?"

I nodded once more. Then she opened a side door to the ante room and pushed me through it into a large sort of lounge. There, seated on two couches, were my wife, her sister and four of my wife's friends. The preposterously dressed maid moved among them, serving drinks.

Yvette propelled me to the centre of the room, turned me to face the audience and cleared her throat.

"'Ello, ladeez and welcome to Chez Yvette where zis afternoon we are commencing the be'aviour modification of Meester Taylor 'ere," she told them.

"But before we start, what do we 'ave to do?"

A friend of Tanya's from the golf club raised her hand: "We have to strip him nude."

Yvette laughed. "Correct, Mrs Frobisher, and since you 'ad such a prompt answer would you like to do ze onners?"

Mrs Frobisher indicated she most certainly would and a tall, lissom brunette stepped from the couch and stood beside me.

"Can I use my teeth?" she asked the maitresse, with a grin.

"Non madame," said Yvette, sternly. "You know ze rules - with your 'ands if you please."

Then Mrs Frobisher placed one hand on each hip and with a deft movement slipped the posing pouch from my groin, revealing to everyone my naked shame. Yvette grabbed hold of my wrists and dragged them behind my back as several members of the audience produced digital cameras and took flash photos of my humiliation.

Mrs Frobisher then stroked her hand along the shaft of my cock and ran a finger into my foreskin lips.

"Yuk," she announced, peering at her finger, "pre-cum, how disgusting." And before I realised what was going on she thrust her beautifully manicured finger into my mouth and forced me to suck it clean.

"Zank you, Mrs Frobisher," said Yvette, as the tall lady resumed her seat to handclaps from her fellow members of the audience.

"And now zere is another problem with Meester Taylor - can anyone tell me what zat ees?"

Hands flew into the air and Yvette chose a large, frumpy looking black haired woman, who later turned out to be the golf club's women's captain.

"Yes, Mrs Paige, and what is ze problem we 'ave wiz our slave maintenant?"

"His cock and balls need shaving," said the large woman.

"Correct," called Yvette, "and for zat correct answer you may 'ave the onner of applying ze shaving cream."

The large lady rose from the couch and took a shaving brush, dabbed it in a mug of cream and liberally doused my cock and balls until they were thoroughly prepared, a process which, embarrassingly for me, caused my cock to become aroused.

Then Yvette handed her a safety razor and as some women took pictures, Mrs Paige depilated my crotch, showing surprising dexterity, I thought, and a gentle touch which did nothing to diminish my rapidly growing cock.

After I was towelled dry the women laughed at my near nudity and my obviously growing cock.

"Zere," said Yvette, proudly displaying me by pushing me closer to the couches, "as smooth as - 'ow do you British put eet? - a baby's bum."

"And now," she said, when the laughter and bawdy comments about my new look crotch had subsided, "we 'ave one more thing to do to our ami before 'ees ready for me to start. 'Ooo wants to tell me what eet eez?"

Vanya, my wife's attractive 35-year-old sister, put her hand up and called: "He needs to be fitted with the anal intruder."

"Excellent," cried the dominatrix. "And per'aps you'd like to 'elp me get eem ready for it, Ms Vanya?"

My sister approached us and I looked on with considerable apprehension as Yvette produced what looked to be a stubby five-inch anal intruder, with two long strips of stretchy rubber attached to each side of the base plug.

"Please, madame, oil 'is anus," said Yvette, and Vanya pulled on a rubber glove, dipped her fingers into a jar of Vaseline and then snapped: "Bend over, Rupert, show us that cute little backside!"

I obeyed and heard cameras being clicked as I felt Vanya plunge two fingers into my rectum and deposit a smearing of the thick oil to my back passage. As she discarded the glove, Vanya called out to her sister: "He's got a nice tight anus, Tanya."

There were gales of laughter as I heard my wife's reply: "Not for long, sis, not for long!"

Next I stiffened and gave a sharp intake of breath as I felt Yvette plunge the anal intruder into my back passage, feeling it invade my bowels and press strongly against my sphincter, an action which caused my cock to spring up into an instant and rigid erection. Again cameras flashed, as I was ordered to stand and face the audience. Some of the women made disgusting remarks, which made my face redden even further from the utter humiliation I was undergoing.

Next Yvette took the ends of the two straps from the front of the intruder and tugged them upwards until she could hook them into the D-rings set in my slave collar. Vanya, who obviously was no newcomer to what was happening, took the straps dangling beneath my buttocks and did the same until their ends were also attached to the D-rings in the back of the collar.

Their actions caused the dildo in my rectum to be pulled even more snugly into my back passage, invading me even further and, if it was physically possible, adding to the dimensions of my engorged cock.

"Zank you," said Yvette, when she had checked to make sure the anal intruder was completely buried in my arse, "and now 'elp me prepare 'im on ze bench."

Two pairs of hands then strapped me down until I was helplessly immobile on the bench, my cock waving up in the air above my abdomen, pre-cum oozing from its slit.

"And now ladeez," said the domme, "we can commence with 'is training!" And with that, the busty dominatrix straddled my face and placed her feet on either side of the bench, which was low enough so that I could smell the strong odour pouring from her steaming quim.

"I am told zis naughty boy likes to put 'eez cock in ladies' arse'oles," said Yvette. "Well, from now on monsieur, the only thing you are going to put in arse'oles iz your tongue."

And she squatted down so my face was inches from her bum and hissed "Lick me, naughty boy!"

My tongue flicked out onto her pungent brown anus, tasting the musky tang of her slightly damp orifice.

"Lick deeper, slave boy, let me feel zat tongue up my 'ole," came her command from above me as I heard cameras clicking.

I continued with my tasteless task, until my tongue managed to invade her anus, probing an inch or so into its fleshy folds.

"Zere," cried Maitresse Yvette, in triumph, "from now on zat is 'ow you will worship a lady's bottom, with your tongue, not with your 'orrid little peenis!" And as she uttered the word "peenis" I felt her mouth surround my cock head and suck on it, accompanied by the sound of digital cameras recording my continued humiliation.


Mr Taylor's Tribulations Ch. 01



For some minutes more I was forced to lick and lave at her musky anal tract, until she removed her bum from my face and turned to the audience as I panted from my position of bondage.

"And now, mesdames, 'ooo wants to try out his tongue for obedience?" Maitresse Yvette inquired of her attentive audience.

A flurry of hands shot into the air and it was misfortune that Yvette chose possibly the largest woman in the room, a dark-haired, black-eyed beauty with a lush, large bum stretching against a tight little red leather miniskirt who she called Mrs Armitage.

"I zink he will rather like to perform some horal adoration on your lovely arse, Madame Armitage," said Yvette, drawing laughter from the group for her pronunciation of the word "oral", although I'm sure they'd heard the domina's little joke before.

Mrs Armitage stepped up to the bench, bent over and bestowed a long sucking kiss on my cock head, then unzipped her mini and squatted over me. She was not wearing panties.

As she pressed her pussy towards my face my nostrils were invaded by a strong sex smell from her unshaven minge, then a strong musky aroma hit me as her anus hove into view, dark brown and gleaming in the strong spotlights which illuminated my place of humiliation.

I tentatively ran my tongue against Mrs Armitage's back passage only to be reminded by Maitresse Yvette "Zis ees a worship task, monsieur, put some effort eento it!"

I redoubled my efforts and soon Mrs Armitage was gasping as my tongue probed her anus. For some minutes she graunched her beefy buttocks over my face before bending to plant a long, sucking kiss on my pre-cum dripping cock and moving off me.

As she did so, some of the woman in the audience applauded her performance. Then a hush fell as Maitresse Yvette stood at the head of the bench with a little rubber implement in one hand, which she waved in front of my face.

"Et maintenant, monsieur," she said, in her mock French accent, "just zo you don't get the impression that zis is all about arse licking and anus adoration, I 'ave a little bondage device for you. Eet's called, 'ow do you call eet in Eeenglish, er ze parachute?"

A voice from the audience called out: "Same word, Madame Yvette - parachute is the same word in English and French."

Yvette giggled. "Fantastique - 'ow jolly convenient."

Then she fitted the rubber pouch around my dangling balls above a conveniently placed circle cut in the base of the bench. Instantly I was aware of hundreds of tiny little prickles as the instrument of torment assailed my scrotum, sending little slivers of pain up through my groin. These were intensified when the mistress hung a large lead weight to the hook in the cords set beneath the bottom of the punisher. I gasped as the increased agony attacked me.

"Oooh, monsieur," said Yvette, in mock sympathy, "don't be such a beeg baby, it's only a little pain, n'est pas?"

I grunted but said nothing, then waited for the faux Frenchwoman to continue with her discipline.

She did not make me wait long. "And now, monsieur," she announced, "something weech you might find distasteful but weech I think ees essential for a good, well be'aved slave to experience. I need to go, 'ow do you say? Pee pee. And you, monsieur are going to be my leetle piss pot."

I could hardly believe my ears, but from the applause which rang out around the room I realised this was one of the highlights of Maitresse Yvette's performance.

"Now," she said, straddlng my face and smiling down at me, "we can do zees the 'ard way or zee eezy way. You can choose, mon petit, but whichever way you choose, I can assure you you're going to drink my pee pee."

"The easy way," I grunted, and was rewarded for my impertinence by a strong, open-handed slap against my left cheek which made my head ring.

"Zee eezy way, maitresse!" Yvette almost screamed, as the blow still rang in my ears.

"That's right, madame, show him some fucking manners," I heard a voice cry out, then realised it was that of my wife!

"The easy way, maitresse," I replied, obediently.

"Good, zen we can dispense wiv zee funnel," Yvette informed me. "I so much prefer pissing straight into the mouth of mon esclave!"

Then she positioned her quim until its gleaming, aromatic core was aimed directly at my mouth. Her hands gripped each side of my head and then she whispered: "Drink me, you thirsty leetle slut!"

And digital cameras clicked as a strong stream of dark yellow urine spumed from her urethra and sprayed into my mouth. I gulped and gasped but managed to swallow and suck down the foul-tasting salty stream, almost gagging on the heavy flow, but thankfully managing to complete my task without spilling any, an effort extremely rare in a beginner, I was later told.

Finally, Yvette's stream dwindled to a paltry dribble, then she sank onto my mouth and hissed: "Clean me, monsieur esclave, clean me!"

I did my duty, tasting the salty tanginess of her pungent pussy until after several minutes of ablutions, Maitresse Yvette started to writhe from my attentions and with a screamed "Oh fuck me!" in a cry which displayed not one trace of a French accent, she reached a shuddering climax on my mouth.

As she stepped off me, to cries of "Encore" and "Bravo" from the audience, I hoped that this was the highlight of Maitresse Yvette's afternoon performance. It was - but that did not mean it was the end of my humiliation.

Standing, face flushed and still panting slightly from her orgasm, Yvette looked out into the audience and recovering her composure and her French accent addressed my wife.

"And now, my dear Tanya, eet iz time for you to demonstrate the way you want eem to be'ave in future. Please be so kind as to present eem first with your arse, then your pussy. Show 'eem who's zee boss!"

Tanya rose from her place on the couch between Vanya and one of her golfing chums. She pulled off her tight black dress, revealing a black brassiere and high heels, but nothing else. She smiled down at me menacingly as she approached the bench.

"Righto, Rupert, ready for desserts?" And with that she turned her back on me and straddled my face. Her anus pressed down firmly against my mouth and I began to worship her there, licking her and sucking there, before thrusting my tongue into the tightness of her satiny-slit. Again I heard digital cameras recording my tongue task.

Then Tanya pulled away from my gasping features, turned and presented her semi-shaved quim to my gaze, its labia lips dark red and glistening. She was obviously hugely aroused.

"Drinkies time, sweetie," she cooed, in a sing-song voice and as digital cameras again flashed and clicked, I tasted for the first time my darling wife's urine as a sudden spurt of golden cocktail descended from her pussy to splash into my open mouth.

Her flow, thank goodness, was nowhere near as long as Maitresse Yvette's, but her conclusion to the drink was the same. Tanya grabbed my head and rubbed it firmly into her salty-tasting snatch and graunched her way to a shuddering climax on my panting mouth.

As she stood away from my cock-straining body - to my amazement I had not lost one inch of my erection throughout these severe attacks of pussy punishment - I heard Yvette announce: "Mesdames, zank you zo much for your attendance 'ere today. We weel continue with Monsieur Rupert's training next week, same time, same place - same slave! I zank you."

To be continued...



Mr Taylor's Tribulations Ch. 02



I stood naked in front of the assembled audience of my wife, Tanya, four of her friends and my sister, Vanya. Unlike my first "behaviour modification" session with the big-busted dominatrix Maitresse Yvette, the women were no longer fully clothed, but were wearing an array of sexy lingerie, some more revealing than others but all erection-inducing.

That my eight inch uncut cock was fully erect added, of course, to my humiliation, and that humiliation was in no way eased by the fact that I had been fully aroused during my first session at Maitresse Yvette's. There was no way I was going to feel "comfortable" naked and displaying a hard-on in front of this group!

Maitresse Yvette's maid, Marie, was also wearing sexy lingerie on this Monday afternoon, unlike her scandalously brief maid's outfit from the previous week. But her lingerie was even more stiffy-inspiring than that of the six ladies in the audience.

The blonde's lovely breasts were thrust into superb uplift by a gleaming black wet-look, quarter-cup bra. Her nipples had been rouged and were garishly red. On her hips was a wet-look pair of crotchless panties. I could tell that she was, in fact, a bottle blonde by the way her pubic hair gleamed around her lush labia lips – it was dark brown.

I was erect mainly due to the anal intruder which had been thrust up my anus by Marie before I was escorted into the room by her mistress. The straps from front and back which were attached to D-rings set in my slave collar served to make the dildo's penetration total and also added to the pressure on my sphincter muscle, helping maintain my full-blown erection.

My wrists had been encircled by black leather straps which were also attached to the D-rings around my throat collar. I was, therefore, totally "available" as it were, to Maitresse Yvette's designs which I had no doubt would be devious.

The week after my first session of humiliation at the hands of Maitresse Yvette and my wife's friends had passed in a blur of domination inflicted on me by Tanya. I had only been permitted to go to my Soho bookshop on two days, the final two days I called in sick, instructing Naomi to take charge, an instruction she was totally capable of following.

For the rest of the week – Thursday through Sunday – Tanya had enjoyed herself at my expense, making me perform anal adoration for her and by bringing her to clitoral relief via cunnilingus.

Each and every day she made me parade around the house nude, and each and every day she delighted in making me wear the anal intruder and my slave collar, "gifts" as she put it from Maitresse Yvette.

To add to my frustration, I had been denied cock-in-cunt sex, and only allowed one relief from the pent-up passion in my groin by being forced to masturbate in front of her for an hour being allowed the mercy of ejaculation. I was becoming "a well-behaved little slut", as she put it.

Now my second session of "behaviour modification" was due to begin and Maitresse Yvette, clad as she had been the previous week in her gleaming, open-breasted and bare-crotched black leather basque and black boots, stepped alongside me.

As I had been escorted into the room between the maitresse and her maid, I noted that the punishment bench in the centre of the room had been replaced by a narrow, leather covered sort of cot. I had no doubt I would at some stage of the afternoon be placed on it for suffer heaven knows what indignities.

Maitresse Yvette rubbed her large, implant-enhanced boobs against the side of my torso and welcomed the group.

"Ello, ladeez, and welcome to our second session wiv zis naughty boy, Rupert. Rupert – take a bow, zere's a good boy!"

Feeling stupid, I inclined my upper body and gave the ladies a little bow.

"Et maintenant, Marie, zee spreader bar, s'il vous plait," said the phoney-accented domina and her blonde assistant placed my ankles into straps on a long metal bar, which forced my feet more than a yard apart. This, of course, made me feel even more vulnerable.

"And now ladeez," said the maitresse, "wot eez eet which 'as got zis naughty boy into so much trouble? Would someone like to point eet out?"

My wife's best friend, the lovely Paula Pain's hand shot up: "His cock, Maitresse Yvette."

The dominatrix beamed at me and laughed: "Zat is so correct, oui monsieur?"

I nodded grimly: "Oui, maitresse."

The dominatrix then turned to Paula. "Madame Pain, since you were ze first to answer, per'aps you'd like to apply ze parachute to 'is naughty balls, oui?"

Paula indicated she most certainly would, by almost sprinting up to where I stood helpless to resist her attentions. She was ravishing in a black metallic looking bra and bikini brief set, which outlined her small but firm breasts and her delicious little butt. At 36-year-old the blue-eyed blonde was one of my wife's most desirable lady friends – I'd had the hots for her since our marriage.

As Paula arrived, Maitresse Yvette handed her a red rubber parachute, with two long cords dangling from its bottom end. Paula took the implement and tugged on the wider opening at the top of the parachute and placed it gently over my tautened scrotal sac.

Then, with what was far too much relish for my liking, she let go of the rubber with a snap and allowed its cruel grip to envelope my ball bag. The myriads of tiny little prickle ends immediately began to assault my poor nuts.

But my humiliation was not over. As digital cameras recorded my discomfort, Maitresse Yvette instructed Paula: "And now tie ze ends of ze cords to the 'ook in the middle of 'is spreader bar, madame!"

Paula took the ends of the twin cords and looped them through the metal hook in the bar below me and tied them tight, having the effect of tightening the parachute's painful grip around my scrotum. As she straightened up from this task, the blonde minx planted a slow, sucking kiss on my cock head, before resuming her seat to the cheers of her five fellow members of the audience.

"Merci, madame," said the mistress of ceremonies, who then took my erection in her hand and asked the assembly: "And now we are slowly punishing 'is balls, so eet's time to move on to – where, ladeez?"

Hands again flew in the air and this time Maitresse Yvette chose Mrs Armitage, the dark-haired little woman with large breasts and a wicked smile: "Oui, Madame Armitage?"

My wife's golfing partner grinned at me: "His cock, maitresse."

Maitresse Yvette nodded: "Exactement, madame. Marie, fetch me ze penis punisher, zank you."

Marie handed the big busted domina a little leather strop, some six inches long, with a split end which augured agony for the recipient of its attentions. She traced the leather instrument across my face, over my cheeks and then onto my lips.

"Your penis 'as been naughty, as'n't it, you naughty boy?" she taunted me.

"Yes, maitresse," I replied, obediently.

"And what 'appens to penises of naughty boys?" she continued, dragging out her teasing.

"They get flogged with the penis punisher?" I answered.

"Excellent, mon petit," said Maitresse Yvette, "go to ze top of ze class."

And she then placed a cool hand on the undershaft of my erection so my cock pointed out horizontally towards the audience. With the other hand she flicked the little whip down across the centre of my engorged cock shaft.

The pain flooded through my penis, not excruciatingly so, but badly enough to cause me to wince with the pain.

Maitresse Yvette tut-tutted me. "Really," she chided, "such a fuss over such a leetle stroke." And the flogger fell onto my cock once more. This time I choked back a sob as she laid the next blow slightly further up my shaft, nearer to my ring.

The next stroke, accompanied by flashes of light from the audience's digital cameras, came down square on the head of my penis, dragging a yelp from me.

"Monsieur, monsieur," said my dominatrix, soothingly, "much more of zat and I will 'ave to get Marie to put ze ball gag in place – you don't want zat, do you?"

I shook my head: "No, maitresse."

"Zen try to be'ave yourself," she said, then laid a crack of the prick punisher down on the shaft, almost against my shaved pubic bone.

I gritted my teeth and stifled a cry, then felt relief as I realised my domina had stopped for the time being.

"Eez looking a little limp, 'is cock needs a little bit of a breather," she announced. "Zat's because it's always best to flog a cock with a 'ard-on. Do I 'ave any volunteers to get 'eem 'ard again?"

Hands flew in the air and Maitresse Yvette selected my wife's sister, Vanya, for the task.

"I 'ope you don't mind your seester sucking your 'usband's cock, madame," the domina said to my wife as Vanya approached me.

"She's welcome to it," said Tanya, to cries of laughter.

Vanya, who is a busty brunette, knelt in front of me, displaying a great view of her 34-inch tits in their push-up bra as she did so. Then, stroking my pain-filled balls with one hand, she took my cock between thumb and forefinger with the other and commenced to suck softly on my helmet, soon bringing me back to a raging erection.

When Maitresse Yvette was satisfied that I was again in a proper state for the flagellation to continue, she spoke to my wife again. "Eez nice and 'ard, thanks to your lovely sister, madame, and now per'aps you would like to continue with ees punishment, peut etre?"

"I most certainly would," said Tanya, rising from her seat and walking to where Maitresse Yvette handed her the prick punisher. She looked lovely, in a bright red satin bra and panty set, but her face looked grimly menacing.

"Maintenant, madame," said the dominatrix, "pleez use ze flogger on the underside of ees cock. Eet's time 'e was given a nice warm-up zere."

Tanya nodded her understanding and with her thumb and forefinger of the left hand she took my foreskin lips and hoisted my erection so it pressed against my abdomen. Then, using her right hand as the punisher, she flicked the leather across my shaft, just above where the top of the rubber parachute was pressing punishingly into my balls.

She then proceeded to beat a steady tattoo against the underside of my cock, going up to its head, before beating another painful path back down to the bottom of the shaft. My body arched and bucked under her assault, but I managed to choke back cries.

When Tanya had finished her tattoo of torment, she let go of my poor penis, which fell away into a semi-flaccid pose, midway between total limpness and a semi-hard-on.

"Excellent, madame," said Maitresse Yvette, "zat will be enough for 'eem today, but you can take zee penis punisher, I 'ave a feeling you will enjoy using eet on 'im later zis week."

"And now, ladeez," the dominatrix said, as Tanya resumed her seat to cries of acclaim from the other five women, "we 'ave to get i'm 'ard again for my next demonstration of 'ow a slave's penis can be useful. Do I 'ave a volunteer?"

Mrs Paige, the frumpy looking club captain put her hand in the air and was signalled to approach me.

"Zank you, madame," said the maitresse, "ees all yours for ze time being."

The plain-looking woman, who I took to be in her mid-50s, knelt before me and started to suck slurpily and greedily on my cock, doing what I thought was a pathetic display of fellatio. But what she lacked in finesse she made up for with enthusiasm and as I gazed for inspiration at some of the more attractive members of the audience – my wife, my sister and Paula Pain – I started to harden.

Finally the woman kissed me roughly on my cock head and stood. Applause rang out, though I certainly wouldn't have been joining in had I been in a position to appreciate her efforts. 

The fellatio completed, Maitresse Yvette and her assistant, Marie, released me from the spreader bar, punishment parachute and my wrists were uncuffed from the slave collar.

"Now 'op on the leetle bed, you naughty boy, while I explain what's next," said the dominatrix, and I lay face-up on the narrow bed while she addressed the audience.

"Next I will geev you a demonstration of 'ow we can take advantage of 'is 'ard-on without getting ourselves all messed up," she explained. "But before zat, do I 'ave your permission to allow my maid, the lovely Marie, to face sit 'im for a while so 'e maintains 'is 'ard-on?"

"Be our guest," I heard my wife say from her seat on the couch and the lissom blonde maid placed her feet on either side of the bed and lowered her crotchless-pantied pussy to my mouth. I licked at an extremely aromatic quim, her labia lips lush and moist, as Maitresse Yvette continued her "spiel".

As Marie graunched about on my face, the dominatrix told the assembled ladies: "Zey say a 'ard man is good to find, and of course 'is erection eez always useful to allow us our horgasms.

"But since Rupert 'ere has been such a naughty boy, 'ee is not to be allowed cock-in-cunt sex, OK?"

There were nods of agreement and remarks like "Course not" and "Too fucking good for him" from the audience.

"Zo," said the maitresse, "we can take advantage of 'is stiffy and still get our horgasm by using zis method."

With that the maitresse stepped to the side of the little bed and told Marie: "Zank-you, Marie, you've 'ad enough fun on 'is face for ze time being."

The blonde dragged herself away from me, smearing my nose and forehead with her dampness as she did so.

Then Maitresse Yvette, who by this stage had discarded her thigh-high boots, climbed onto the bed and laid her big-breasted body on top of me.

"Please notice, ladeez, 'ow I 'av placed my pussy on 'is cock shaft," she told the group. "I 'ave my outer labia lips parted by 'is erection, and my cleet is rubbing against the 'ead of 'is cock.

"Now I can control ze pace of my horgasm."

And with that, the busty beauty started to hump my erection, rubbing her pussy lips up and down my hard-on with slow, slippery slides. From time to time she kissed me on my minge-smeared lips occasionally pushing her tongue into my mouth.

"Zis is ze perfect way to 'ave an horgasm and not get all messed up with 'is pre-cum and – naturellement – his mucky cum," Maitresse Yvette explained, as her thrusting slides up and down my rigid eight-inch shaft increased in tempo.

"And when you decide to finally climax on your slave, there is one final refinement," said the "French" mistress, for once completely forgetting her fake accent, as she started to pant with excitement on my naked body.

And with that she placed her hands on either side of my shoulders and raised her big boobies to my mouth. "Suck me," she commanded, and I took her lovely big left nipple in my mouth and sucked it to blood-filling erection.

"Now zee ozzer," she commanded, when she was satisfied that I had sucked her left tit sufficiently. I moved to her other heaving globe and performed similar oral adoration there. Then I moved from one nipple to the other, licking across her firm flesh as I did, until Maitresse Yvette started to buck and heave on my body.

"Oh yesss, zat is magnifique," she cried, humping and slithering and sliding on my cock so much I had difficulty maintaining my oral worship of her breasts and had to grasp her writhing buttocks to keep her in place on top of me.

Finally, with a long, low moan she erupted into a surging climax, before pulling her boobs from my mouth and pressing against me in a wet-tongued smooch.

Applause broke out from the assembly as Maitresse Yvette's panting slowly subsided until, with a chaste peck on my cheek, she climbed from the bed and took a semi-serious bow for her appreciative audience.

"Et maintenant," said the mistress, "I'll call for a volunteer to try out zee dry 'ump – who wants a go on 'eem? And Meeses Taylor, you are not allowed to bid!"

A flurry of hands shot up, and Maitresse Yvette indicated to Mrs Frobisher, one of my wife's golfing partners, that she was the "chosen one", as it were.

The tall, long-legged brunette rose from her couch and walked to the side of the bed. She was wearing an expensive-looking brown bra and panty set, and when she had removed the bra her small but beautifully rounded pert 32-inch breasts fell into a very kissable bunch.

Mrs Frobisher then stepped out of her panties to display a trimmed pubic bush, which revealed thin labia lips peeping from below the light brown fuzz. She bent her head down towards Maitresse Yvette's and whispered something in her ear. I suddenly became very apprehensive as I saw the dominatrix's break into a broad grin.

"Oh, I zink that will be luvverly for 'eem," she said. "Mrs Frobisher is bursting for a pee pee, you naughty boy and wonders eef you would like to drink 'er golden cocktail. Eezn't zat nice of 'er?"

I nodded, somewhat dumbly. "Yes, it is, maitresse," I answered like a good little slave.

"And 'ooze going to be a good leetle boy and drink it straight from 'er pussy?" demanded the mistress.

"I am, maitresse," I replied, once more the "good leetle boy".

With that the long-legged, nicely sun-tanned woman, who must have been in her mid-30s, climbed across the head of the cot and lowered her moist and perfumed minge towards my mouth.

"Open up, Rupert," she said, in an upper-crust accent and I complied, watching her finger her labia lips and reveal her inner lips to my gaze.

Then, with a little sigh, Mrs Frobisher released a strong jetstream of piss straight down my obedient mouth. The urine was strongly salty and tasted awful, but I managed to gulp the first foray from her quim down without mishap. The next blast was less strong in force but equally distasteful to my inexperienced pee-drinking palate. A third little dribble cascaded weakly from her bladder and I got most of it, but wiped the residue from my lower lip where it had splashed.

"Bravo," called the maitresse, then Mrs Frobisher started to grind her aromatic groin all over my face, while I licked and kissed at her pussy.

Then, Maitresse Yvette, tapped the tall brunette on the shoulder and smiled: "Pe'aps eet's time you got to work on eez cock, madame?"

Mrs Frobisher looked down at me and I thought I detected a look of disappointment cross her face, but she nodded and shifted her crotch down to my cock. As she got her pussy onto position with its slim labia lips resting on each side of my shaft Maitresse Yvette managed to extract even more humiliation for me from the situation.

"You will all 'ave noticed that the naughty boy's cock is still very 'ard, ladeez," she announced, "which I theenk is a clear indication zat Madame Taylor 'as a piss lover on 'er 'ands. What a lucky lady!"

Then my attention was drawn back to Mrs Frobisher, who lay her slender but firm upper body onto my chest and started to smooch hungrily on my mouth as she began her sliding thrusts up and down on my erection.

As she did so, she whispered into me ear: "You're so fucking smooth, Mr Taylor, I just love sliding my sex along your cock. Is it nice for you?"

I looked away from her up to the dominatrix, who nodded to me and ordered: "Eet would be rude to ignore zee lady, mon esclave. Talk to 'er, she's making love to you!"

"Yes, thank-you very much, Mrs Frobisher, it's lovely, I hope you're enjoying it," I replied, trying to please both her and the dominatrix with my response.

Mrs Frobisher's next move was to stretch her arms out straight and raise her slender, wiry but quite sexy upper torso from my chest and place a lovely firm little breast to my mouth.

"Suck me, slave," she hissed, obviously entering into the spirit of my humiliation. "Make me fucking come, make me come!" Her accent was so "cultured", if that's the right word to use about a woman who was dry humping me in a domination session, that the "fuck" word sounded shocking coming from her mouth.

I placed one hand on her unoccupied breast and kneaded her taut, erect little nipple, as I sucked on its partner. Then I moved my mouth, fluttering little licks and kisses on her tanned breasts until I reached the other nipple, which I then began to suck and kiss.




Mr Taylor's Tribulations Ch. 02



The double attention of my cock slithering beneath her sex trench and my mouth slithering across her breasts soon had the desired effect and Mrs Frobisher soon had her clit in exactly the right position to enable her to reach a loud, shuddering climax on my heaving body.

As she collapsed back onto me, kissing my mouth eagerly as our upper bodies again came into contact, she whispered into my ear: "We've got to do this again, soon!"

Then Maitresse Yvette was assisting Mrs Frobisher from the bed, as I lay prone, my cock stiff as a rod, waving above my abdomen.

The second session of my "behaviour modification" continued in much the same vein, with the club captain, Mrs Paige, and Mrs Armitage also enjoying what Maitresse Yvette called "dry 'umps" on my cock before reaching noisy climaxes – or, in the case of Mrs Paige, what I would term "explosive".

"And now, for out last leetle display of domination," said the maitresse, "I'm going to give zees naughty boy a good spanking. Turn over, Rupert."

I rolled over so I was face down on the cot. Marie then picked up a large leather paddle from a table in the corner of the room and handed it to her mistress.

Maitresse Yvette stood beside me, tracing its considerable weight across my buttocks. "Now, zere is an old Eenglish 'abit of giving naughty leetle boys seex of the best," she told the assembled throng.

"So I shall give 'eem seex of the best for each lady in zis room. For the purpose of zees punishment, Marie, I am going to include you as a lady!"

The audience laughed. Then Maitresse Yvette addressed me: "Zo, monsieur, 'ow many strokes will eet be?"

I gulped. Six guests, plus the dominatrix and her assistant! That's eight times six! "Er, 48 strokes, maitresse," I replied.

"Correct, monsieur," said Maitresse Yvette. "Now, into a push-hup position and get that lovely bottom in zee air."

I straightened my arms, raising my upper torso and thrust my buttocks up as high as I could. Maitresse Yvette swept the paddle down across my cheeks to the accompaniment of digital cameras clicking.

"You 'ave zee onner of counting out zee strokes," said my tormentress.

"One, thank-you maitresse," I gasped.

"Non, far too late, naughty boy," she snapped. "We will 'ave to start again!"

Again the paddle whacked onto my buttocks, sending a wave of pain through me. I began to count. Maitresse Yvette was in no hurry, striding slowly around the cot from side to side and thus being able to strike me using the flogger in either hand until she was finished.

"Stay zere, keep your bum in zee air," she snapped, "people want to take pictures."

The ladies gathered around to get photographic proof of the 49 blows which Maitresse Yvette had burned into my poor posterior.

And now, at last, Maitresse Yvette called a halt to proceedings, before addressing the six women: "Ladeez, that's eet for zis afternoon. I zank you all for your attendance and invite you back next week for naughty Rupert's graduation."

The woman applauded, before being "shushed" by Maitresse Yvette, who ended the proceedings with her own little joke.

"Eet will be a leetle like a passing out parade," she promised the six guests. "Only don't worry – I won't allow Monsieur Taylor to pass out before eez satisfied you all!"

To be continued.



Mr Taylor's Tribulations Ch. 03



On the way home in her large Jaguar, my wife tried to suppress a snicker, which became a snigger, and finally a full-blown laugh.

We were giving her sexy best friend, Paula Pain, a lift back to our place for drinks after my second humiliation session with Maitresse Yvette, and I was – naturally – in the back seat, my rightful place, I guess, now I was being trained as my wife's sex slave.

"What's so funny?" asked the blue-eyed blonde, as Tanya negotiated heavy afternoon traffic.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Tanya, "but it's that appalling woman Yvette. If I hear her come out with another 'horal' for oral, or 'horgasm' for orgasm I know I'll simply burst out laughing and it will totally spoil the mood of the punishment session."

Paula nodded. "I know what you mean. One 'horal' or 'horgasm' is quite amusing to start with, but constant repetition does tend to make it less and less funny."

"I mean," said Tanya, exchanging honked horns with an idiot in a delivery van who cut across our bows without any signal, "who does she think she's kidding?"

"Agreed," said Paula. "Before I engaged her to conduct the behaviour modification for my bastard of a husband I did some inquiries into her. Do you what her real name is?"

Tanya shook her head.

It was now Paula's turn to laugh. "It's Betty French – hence the assumed nationality, I suppose – and she's from Hounslow. Hounslow – I ask you!"

Tanya gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Oh fuck, that's so precious." And then my wife put on an imitation French accent: "Bonjour, mon esclave, je suis Betty French from 'Ounslow. 'Ow would you like to geev me an horal horgasm?"

Paula and Tanya both burst into laughter and I must admit I had to fight back a fit of the giggles.

When they'd both recovered, Tanya announced: "Well, I've had enough of it. I've decided that I know enough about how to dom poor old Rupert by now. And you can help me out, as well.

"I'm giving 'Maitresse Yvette' her marching orders. Next week, instead of her bloody silly 'passing out parade' I intend to have you and my sister Vanya along to complete his 'passing out' parade, more of a graduation ceremony, I think."

My heart gave a leap – no more humiliation at the hands of the sexy but awful fake-maitresse.

"Hold on," said Paula, "there will be a cancellation fee."

"No problem," said Tanya, "slut in the back seat here can pay it – after all, he's been paying for his behavioural modification sessions anyway."

She drove on for a moment, then added: "Rupert, I'm in such a good mood, I'm going to let you invite one more person along next Monday. That'll make four of us – an ideal number for some serious domination."

Once more my heart gave a leap. A choice! My penis started to stir in my pants and once it got fully aroused I knew there was no way it would go down – I was still wearing the anal intruder and the rubber bands were still strapped to my slave's collar.

"Who's it to be, Rupert?" asked my wife. "Make a choice."

I remembered Mrs Frobisher's hushed "We must do this again soon" which she had whispered to me during our dry hump and after she had urinated down my mouth. I had fancied the tall, long-legged blonde, even though she had slightly smaller breasts than my wife, my sister, or Paula.

"Mrs Frobisher, please, darling," I said, trying to keep the excitement from my voice. But Tanya spotted it instantly.

"Oh, Paula, he's got the hots for Jan Frobisher," she laughed. "You fancy her, don't you, slut?"

I nodded my head. "Yes, darling, she's rather lovely."

Tanya laughed. "Good, I'll remind her, we can get her to do something really diabolical to you, then."

Later that week, my wife informed me she had called "Maitresse Yvette" and cancelled any further sessions. But my relief was tempered by Tanya's next remark. "And tomorrow," she said, "you're taking me up to Soho so we can visit a sex shop and get some items for your continued punishment."

Tanya allowed me to drive her Jaguar up to town the next day. The Lotus, she reckoned, was too cramped. After leaving Naomi in charge, Tanya took me to a sex shop not four doors away from my BDSM book store. It had a sign hanging on the door "Closed: fuck off and come back later". I felt somewhat relieved, but it was only temporary.

Tanya rapped on the door and a curtain was pulled back. A hard-looking middle-aged woman peered at my wife, then me, then unlocked the door.

"Ello dearie," she said to me.

"Hello, Deidre," I replied. Deidre was a "regular" at my book shop, often purchasing books to read up on the latest fads and styles in sado-mashochism. "And you must be Mrs Taylor, eh love?"

"Hello, Deidre," said Tanya. "Well, as I explained on the phone, I need some gear. So do your sales spiel."

The busty, blowsy blonde, garbed garishly in a black leather mini, knee high leather boots and a leather jacket, its red contrasting hideously with the skirt and boots, smiled: "It'll be my pleasure, ducks – but I doubt that it'll be his 'ighness's."

Deidre then sold my wife an array of floggers, crops, whips and ball-busting parachutes – sorry, make that parachute, Tanya decided only one would be necessary. She purchased nipple clamps, weights for my ball bag, a spreader bar, a rubber ball gag and a dildo gag.

"Now for the piece de resistance," said Deidre, thankfully making no Mistress Yvette attempt at French pronunciation, "we've got this luvverly floggin' frame."

She pointed to a pair of metal poles standing about seven feet high and four feet wide, joined at the top by a cross bar. It stood on castor wheels and had various straps and D-rings attached.

"We'll never get it in the car," said Tanya.

"Yus, you will, luvvy," said Deidre, "it's collapsible."

"Ingenious," said Tanya, running a hand appreciatively along the gleaming metal pole. "I like it. Rupert, on the other hand, probably won't."

Deidre sniggered. "Give him time, ducks, and 'e'll beg you for it," she said. "All men love a bit of femdom from time to time in their lives and I bet old 'airy legs 'ere's no different, eh Rupert?"

I nodded. "I'm warming to it, Deidre," I smiled, amazed at what I was saying. I think I was still remembering Mrs Frobisher and her sweet-smelling snatch, her long legs, her pretty face. I began to get hard, merely thinking about her.

"Push off and browse around the other end of the shop," said Tanya, "there's something I need to discuss with Deidre privately."

I moved along the long racks of sex gear, crotchless panties, cut-out bras, bustiers, camisoles, you name it, while my wife spoke to Deidre and I saw a final package being wrapped and placed in a large bag containing all the equipment Tanya had purchased.

Then came time to pay – and this, of course, Tanya left to me. Deidre got a man from the back of the shop to load everything in the Jaguar, which had received a parking ticket by this time, as our meter had expired. "That's for you, too, slut," smiled Tanya, thrusting it at me before announcing she was off to golf and I could catch the train home.

At the week-end, Tanya prepared our living room for Monday's celebration of my "coming of age" as a sex slave. At least, that's the way she put it. The array of floggers was placed on a small table, along with gags and the parachute with its accompanying weights.

Then, after all the furniture was moved back against the walls, along with the dining table, the flogging frame was set up in the middle of the room and all was ready.

"Lovely," said Paula, clapping her hands in satisfaction. "All we need now is Vanya, Paula and Jan and your cup will be filled, eh my dear?" And with that she kissed me gently on the lips, then pressed her tongue into my mouth.

"All this arranging of whips and crops and the flogging frame has made me quite randy, you fucking filthy old philanderer, you. Come on, you can give me a dry 'ump, as the awful Betty French would say," she said, dragging me upstairs.

This was about the only way she used me to achieve orgasm now, although very occasionally she allowed me to perform cunnilingus on her shaved snatch. All in all, I think I preferred the "dry fuck", at least it meant I got to suck on her lovely breasts.

Monday dawned overcast and thundery. I made my now usual phone call to Naomi to arrange for her to take charge in the bookstore, and then Paula told me to get organised.

I had to shave and shower, them remove all the pubic hair from around my cock and balls, anus, back, shoulders, armpits, thighs and calves. She inspected me later to see that I had performed the task to her satisfaction. Some minute traces of bodily hair were removed after my eagle-eyed wife had carefully searched my body.

Around midday, the first of our visitors arrived. It was Paula's sister, the attractive Vanya, who I ushered into the house, as I stood nude, shielded from prying eyes in the street by the slightly ajar door. I was erect, which amused Vanya no end.



"So sweet, Rupert," she smiled, stepping into the hallway, "such a pity you've not got anywhere to put it!" And then she ran a cool hand over my manhood. "But I love playing with a man's rampant cock. Do you play with your cock, Rupert?"

"Yes," I said, lowering my head as she continued to stroke my erection, "but I'm not allowed to come."

"Oh that's great – orgasm denial, I love that game. Can I play it with you, Rupert?"

Just then my wife arrived on the scene. "Play what with him, sis?" she asked.

"Oh, hi, Tanya," said the younger woman, who still would not let go of my stiffy. "We've been chatting about orgasm denial games. I'd love to play that with him."

"Get undressed, then take him into the lounge and you can get going with him. Since you're here you may as well torture him, till everyone's arrived."

Vanya half pulled, half dragged me into a reception room and stepped out of her dress, revealing her lovely 35-year-old body, with pert 34-inch breasts in a black silk bra, her nipples clearly visible through the sheer material. The panties were made of similarly matching sheer silk, revealing her little tuft of brown pubic hair on her mons on an otherwise shaven pussy. On her hips a gleaming black satin suspender belt held up her stockings.

The sight of her caused my eight-inch cock to surge into what was possibly an even stiffer erection. Vanya noticed my interest and stepped into my arms. "Let's go, Rupert, I can't wait to see you start stroking yourself, you wicked old sex slave," she said, kissing me softly on the mouth and leading me out into our makeshift torture chamber.

Once inside, Vanya pulled an easy chair at the side of the room so it was facing the centre of the room, then sat in it, splaying one thigh across the arm, displaying the crotch of her little panties to my gaze. Then she placed a hand on her pussy.



"Now spread your feet, and start stroking your cock," she ordered, almost as if she had spoken to my wife and found out the usual pose I had to adopt for my wanking humiliation.

As I did so, and as I started stroking on my eight-inch stiffy, Vanya's hand began to stroke her pussy. Then she issued her second instruction – and then I knew she must have spoken to Tanya.

"Smear some pre-cum along the shaft, slave," she ordered, "I want to see it all shiny."

I obeyed her instruction, placing my wanking fingers inside the foreskin and spreading the juice along my shaft.

"Now the balls, don't forgot your ball bag, Mr Wanker," said Vanya, as I continued my masturbation.

My fingers smeared pre-cum on the swollen, distended ball bag.

"And tell me, Mr Sex Slut," said Vanya, as we both continued our masturbation, "what's the punishment for coming without permission?"

"It's awful," I whispered, which, of course, was not a reply.

"Of course it's fucking awful, Rupert," Vanya snapped, "but what the fuck is it?"

"Tanya makes me drink a glass of her first urine of the day if I misbehave and come without permission," I said, almost shuddering when I thought of the extremely brackish, salty, taste of her first bladder evacuation of the day.

Vanya chuckled – and just then Tanya entered the room with her best friend, Paula Pain.

"What if you come without permission?" Tanya inquired as she and Paula made for the comfort of the large leather couch, also facing me. "And who told you to stop stroking? Get fucking wanking, Mr Masturbator," she almost shrieked.

"Vanya asked what happens if I come without permission, darling," I said, as I resumed my hand work.

"Oh yes, the first of the day's piss," smiled Tanya. "Are we going to need to get a glass of that Rupert?"

"No, darling," I said, earnestly, "it won't be necessary. I'm going to control myself."

Paula spoke – a Paula who was looking absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, by the way. She was in a red PVC bra, with cut-outs at the nipples, and a pair red PVC panties, with a cut-out there, too. On her feet were red, wedged high heels.

"That's what all sex slaves say," she said, sneeringly. "My husband's just the same. 'Yes, dear, no, dear, three fucking bags full, dear' and then he tumbles and there's disgusting cum everywhere. Don't believe a word these slaves say, that's my advice."

Tanya stood – wearing a black leather bustier, open-breasted, no panties, high black leather boots which came to half-way up her sturdy, strong thighs.

"I've got a funny feeling you're right, Paula," she said, with almost a sigh of exasperation – even though I was dutifully stroking my cock and nowhere near reaching orgasm. "I'll go fetch a glass of my first morning's piss. No, on second thoughts, I'll make it a jug."

After she had left, Vanya stood up from her seat and walked towards me, as I continued to stroke my erection.

"Does Mr Slave want something to take his mind off his problem about coming?" she purred into my ear.

"Yes, please, Vanya," I said, as I kept up my stroking.

And my sister stepped out of her black silk panties and placed them on my face, arranging the gusset so it was draped on my mouth and nose. The aroma was powerful. Instead of taking my mind off ejaculation it increased my problem. Which was, naturally, Vanya's intention.

Just then Tanya returned, carrying a jug containing about a pint of thick, dark yellow liquid. She placed it on a stool just in front of me, and alongside it went a glass. "There, you wanker," she addressed me, "just a little reminder of what happens if you come without permission."

Then she pretended she had just spotted her sister's panties on my face. "Ooooh, how lovely," she laughed. "How nice of Vanya to provide you with some stimulating scents to take your thoughts away from controlling yourself. I hope you've thanked her for her consideration."

It was then that I began to feel the pressure building within me as the perfumed panties worked on my senses and as I looked at the three erotically-clad women seated in front of me.

Vanya and Paula didn't have any reaction but Tanya, who had by now plenty of experience in the wank torture game, picked up on my problem at once.

"Oh dear, my poor sex slave looks as if he's having a bit of a problem," said my wife, as the perspiration started to form on my forehead. "Does hubby wubby want an ickle resty westy?" she cooed, in humiliating child talk.

"Yes, please, darling," I sighed, as I kept up the stroking on my now throbbing and weeping cock.

"OK," said Tanya, back now to a sensible speak, "take a break."

Then she picked up a broad leather paddle and stepped behind me. "Adopt the position," she snapped, and I clasped my hands behind my neck and bent over until my upper body was at a semi-bent angle to the floor. This, of course, served to tauten the flesh across my buttocks.

The paddle whooshed down and cracked across my arse. And again, and again. Then Tanya moved to the other side of my body and whacked me three more times, then switched positions again. After 12 strokes had cracked against my naked bum, she asked the inevitable question.

"Slavey wavey want to go back to stroking his dicky wicky?" she teased me.

"Yes, please darling," I called out, as the pain burned through my poor arse.

"OK, get back to work," she snapped, and I stood up straight again and placed my wanking hand – my right – back on my by now semi-erect cock and began to stroke it back to hardness.

When I reached full extension again, there was the ding-dong chime of our front door bell.

"That'll be Jan Frobisher," said my wife. "I'll let her in, Vanya, you're in charge again. And remember, if she shows signs of coming, offer him the opportunity of the paddle again."

Vanya, whose hand was stroking slowly up and down her sex trench, smiled and answered: "It'll be a pleasure, sis."

And then I began to suffer the awful feeling of "God, my orgasm is near again, help!" but I tried to thrust the thought aside. Easier said than done, of course, wearing Vanya's panties as I was, and looking at my sister's fingers stroking herself along her sex furrow.

Then, in an obvious move to increase my anguish, Paula Pain stood and poured some of my wife's urine into the glass until it was almost overflowing. "I've got a funny feeling we're going to watch him drinking this before very long, Vanya," she said, resuming her seat, but not before giving me a long glimpse of her naked pussy in between the red PVC of her crotchless bikini bottom.

It was no good. Again I had to call for a break. "Vanya," I said, in a croaking, anguished voice, "I need a break, please!"

Vanya smiled and stood up, picked up the leather paddle from where my wife had left it on the table, and stepped behind me.

"Assume the position," she barked. I obeyed.

Then the leather went to work on my recently flogged flesh once more, only Vanya, if anything, was even more stringent in its application than my dear wife!

I endured six or seven searing strokes, then cried: "I'm ready to resume, Vanya, I'm ready!"

Vanya tossed the paddle back on the table, sat back in her chair and resumed stroking her semi-shaven minge. "Get going, and for fuck's sake try to go a bit longer this time, you pathetic wanker," she told me.

As I again took myself in hand, Tanya arrived with the long-legged, lissom Jan Frobisher. She looked a picture of erotic beauty.

Her small, but beautifully-shaped 32 inch breasts, were supported by a wet-look black satin quarter-cup bra, which pushed the pert-nippled peaks into lovely uplift. The garment served to make her breasts look larger than they really were.

On her hips was a gleaming, matching wet-look black satin suspender belt, which held up shiny black stockings. Dainty black leather high heels completed her outfit.

She was minus panties, her bare pussy displayed a small tuft of pubic bush at her mons, her slender but lovely pink labia lips were plainly visible to my gaze. I felt my cock give a surge in my hand as I stroked myself for the quartet.

The 36-year-old smiled sweetly at me, her big blue eyes sparkling. She walked over to me as I kept up my stroking.

"Hello Rupert," she said, softly in a deep, sexy voice, "pleased to see me?"

"Yes, Mrs Frobisher," I replied, feeling ludicrous as I stood naked and erect before her, my face covered with my sister's panties.

"You look so sweet," she laughed, running a cool hand over the gusset of the panties, pinching them onto my nostrils, "but you didn't have to get dressed up on my account."

This brought sniggers of laughter from the other three.

"And tell me, Rupert," said Mrs Frobisher, in a solicitous voice, "are they being nasty to you?"

"Yes, Mrs Frobisher," I replied, in all honesty, "yes, they are."

"Goody," she smiled, stroking her middle finger up and down the gusset of Vanya's panties. Then she turned to the three seated women observing my humiliation.




Mr Taylor's Tribulations Ch. 03



"OK gang," announced Mrs Frobisher, "now we're all here, perhaps we can be really, really nasty to him!"

To be continued...



Mr Taylor's Tribulations Ch. 04



The lovely, long-legged Jan Frobisher went and joined my wife, Tanya, and Paula Pain on the couch, as my sister, Vanya, continued to stroke her pussy leisurely while looking on with amusement at my masturbatory punishment.

The punishment, of course, was that if I failed to control myself and came without Vanya's permission, I would have to drink the bitter, strong-tasting urine that my wife had "bottled" from her first piss of the day for the past week.

There was, naturally, no punishment for my sister, who was free to come at any time she desired.

Mrs Frobisher sat between Tanya and Paula and remarked at "how hot and bothered he looks".

Tanya laughed. "That's because he knows he's only got one 'comfort stop' left," she told her golf club partner.

"Comfort stop?" inquired the leggy blonde, although I'm damn sure she knew exactly what that consisted of.

"Yes," said Tanya, as the quartet of dommes watched my problems with interest, "he's allowed three 'comfort stops', where he can stop stroking himself and he gets a strict paddling across that scrawny old arse until he's limp - or limper - and then he has to start wanking all over again."

"And he's used up two of his three stops?" laughed Mrs Frobisher.

"Exactly," said my wife, "I gave him his first paddling, Vanya's given him paddling number two and Paula here will deliver his third and last. Then he's on his own, as it were."

"Poor slave," said Mrs Frobisher, not sounding in the least bit concerned at my plight!

And then that plight worsened. Facing as I was four very attractive women clothed in erotic lingerie, with Vanya's aromatic panties covering my face, my stiffy was weeping with pre-cum and once more I had to plead for a halt to proceedings: "Please Vanya, please may I have my final comfort stop!"

"It's not my job to give you a rest, Rupert," snapped my sister, "it's Paula who's going to paddle you, so I suggest you beg her for a breather."

This, of course, extended my anguish, as under the rules of the "game" I had to continue stroking my cock while the plea was "processed".

Paula smiled up at me. "Of course, you poor old pud-puller," she said, "and while you have your rest it will be my pleasure to paddle that disgusting backside."

And the sexily-clad beast picked up the paddle from the table, stepped behind me and while I got some respite from whacking away at my cock, Paula started to whack away at my arse with the paddle.

I took as many as I could before the pain became burningly insistent - that was around 15 strokes, I seem to recall - and then I gulped: "Please, let me continue wanking now, Paula, please!"

Paula paused. "This is your last 'comfort stop', slave," she reminded me. "No more respites after this, it'll have to be complete control, you understand?"

"Yes, Paula," I babbled, "I understand."

"Oh, well," said the busty blue-eyed 36-year-old throwing the paddle onto the table, "get wanking again."

And as I resumed my stroking on my now semi-stiff cock, Paula walked in front of me and assumed a deliberately provocative pose. Bending over she displayed her arse to my gaze, the crotchless PVC panties revealing her slippery, aroused sex. She was, ostensibly, fiddling with a strap on her high heels, but everyone knew she was simply arousing me, taunting me, teasing me.

"Oh, Rupert," she said sweetly, leaving her pose for a few more seconds, "please start stroking yourself a bit faster. I think you're deliberately slowing down!"

My hand began to work along my shaft more quickly and then the inevitable happened - that old familiar feeling that announced the imminent arrival of an orgasm announced itself to me. I started to break out in even more sweat.

Vanya noticed my predicament immediately. "Oh, poor slavey-wavey," she said, "does he want to come?"

I panted a gasped "No, no, I'm fine" and still, of course, had to keep up my hand strokes. Then I began to collapse, knowing that my semen would soon be spurting.

Now it was my wife who barked out a command: "Don't come on the carpet, cunt!"

I blinked back the sweat from my eyes, knowing full well what the next instruction would be. Tanya smiled an evil smile at me and ordered: "Come in the glass, you pathetic wanker!"

And then the other three women, soon joined by my wife, began to chant: "Come in the glass! Come in the glass! Come in the glass!"

I couldn't control myself. The aromatic knickers on my face, the sight of the four erotically-clad dominas, the effect of my stroking on my cock all added up to one thing - ejaculation!

I stepped forward, pressed my erect cockhead down until it pointed directly at the glass full of dark yellow urine and exploded my cum into it. There was one strong shot, followed by another and then a third, smallish splat. The level of the yellow piss rose slightly to accommodate my spunk.

Then, Mrs Frobisher stood up and walked in front of me, her breasts pertly revealed by the quarter-cup satin bra. "Let me clean you up, your poor old slave," she smiled, then she bent over and placed her glorious mouth over my helmet and sucked deeply on it, her tongue swirling around just inside my foreskin.

Next the lovely 36-year-old domina lowered her mouth until it was directly above the glass of urine and with a hawking spit she expelled the contents of her mouth into the glass, then turned and kissed me sweetly, sexily.

Turning she looked at the trio of dommes still seated and announced: "I don't know about you ladies, but I think this is disgusting, don't you?" As she said this she was pointing to the glass and its contents, now dark yellow but streaked with blobs of creamy spunk.

"Quite right, absolutely horrid," said Vanya. 

"Well," said Mrs Frobisher, turning towards me again, "I think we should get Mr Slave here to get it out of our sight, don't you?"

"Agreed!" the women chanted, almost in unison.

Then Vanya, her fingers by now flying across her bare pussy, shouted in a pant "Empty the glass, empty the glass!"

As if on cue, the other three joined in until all were chanting "Empty the glass, empty the glass, empty the glass!"

I took the glass, holding its revolting cocktail in a trembling hand and placed it to my lips. The chanting ceased, abruptly.

"Slowly," ordered Mrs Frobisher, who was still standing beside me, smiling at my humiliation, "don't suck it all down in one go, which I know you were thinking of doing. At least four swallows, and swirl it around it your mouth, slave, savour it!"

I did as she commanded, tasting the awfully salty, strong urine and feeling a glob of my spunk slide into my mouth with the first swallow. Also as instructed, I swirled the dreadful-tasting mix around in my mouth before gulping it down.

I repeated this distasteful procedure three more times, then Mrs Frobisher took the glass from me, placed it back on the stool and re-filled the glass from the pitcher of urine. "I've got a feeling he'll want to drink some more of that, judging by the eager way he chugged the first glass down," she laughed, before resuming her seat.

"Right," said Tanya, standing alongside me now, her full, firm breasts in the open-fronted black leather bustier brushing against my body, "that will be your part in his 'passing out' ceremony, Vanya. Now I'll call on Paula to do her bit. What's it to be, Paula? That flogging you told me about the other day?"

The PVC-clad woman stood and said: "Sure thing, I'm reckon the old perv will enjoy it. We need to get him in the flogging frame, I think he'll be better there, then all the wriggling and writhing won't do him any good."

That said my wife and her best friend wheeled the flogging frame into the centre of the room and I was soon strapped into it, my body stretched like an "X", my wrists and ankles spread wide by the dimensions of the frame.

"Phew, that's thirsty work," said my wife. "Vanya, come with me and help me get the refreshments in here." And the two sisters departed, leaving me alone with Mrs Frobisher and Paula were left alone with.

"This game is best started with the slave displaying an erection," said Paula. "I know you fancy him a bit, Jan, so would you like to get him hard again?"

Quick as a flash my wife's golfing partner replied "Would I ever" and was on her knees before my naked, bondaged body. Soon her sweet mouth's oral attentions had me bone-hard once more.

Just then, the door opened and in came my wife and sister, carrying trays laden with sandwiches and several bottles of wine, plus four wine glasses. As they sipped on their chardonnays and nibbled on the sandwiches, Mrs Frobisher said: "This is so unfair to poor old Rupert. Here we are, noshing back on this lovely wine. He must be thirsty too, may I feed him a drink of his preferred poison?"

A shudder ran through me as Tanya laughed "Sure thing, although I think you're spoiling that slave, Jan - and was it you who got him hard again?"

"Guilty," laughed the lissom lady, who then picked up the full glass of urine and pressed it to my lips, making me drink the disgusting stuff all down in three gulps.

Then my wife called on Paula. "Time to show us your little flogging game. I can't wait to see it, it sounds like fun," said Tanya, as her best friend, wearing her open-nippled PVC bra and crotchless PVC panties, selected a flogger for the "game". It was something I was certain I wasn't going to enjoy!

Paula chose a leather flogger which was only about 15 inches long, but its business end was about three inches wide and ended in a circular leather flap. She whistled it through the air, expertly.

"Now, ladies," she announced, "I'm going to give dear old Rupey here 100 strokes with this lovely little punisher." She must have seen me give a start, because she quickly added: "Oh, don't be such a pain in the arse, Rupert. It's not at all painful and do you know why?"

I shook my head. "No, Paula."

"That's because every blow is going to land on a different spot - and all the blows must be above the knees and below the armpits."

Quite how the fact that each blow had to land on a different spot was going to help me, I could not quite follow, but I noticed that the sight of the pretty woman, her PVC outfit and her black leather flogger assisted me to maintain my erection. I had realised by now, of course, that I was starting to enjoy this!

"Right, now I'm going to need a marker for this game," said Paula. "Tanya, you often mark my card on the golf course, care to mark this slave's lovely naked body during his 100 strokes?"

My wife stepped to the table, which had been pushed against the wall and took a black marker pen and a sheet of notepaper and resumed her place beside my strapped and suspended body.

"Now," said Paula, "after each stroke, I want you to mark the splotch it leaves on his skin, then put a mark on the paper, so you can count the strokes off in batches of 10. That way we won't give him too many." Then she chuckled. "Or too few!"

"Hold on a minute," said Jan Frobisher, "I think he's lost a little bit of his hardness. As the self-appointed erection officer, does anyone mind if I get him back up to scratch, as it were?"

"Go for it," said my wife, and once more the long-legged blonde knelt in front of my swaying penis and sucked me back to a hard-on. She parted by planting a farewell kiss on the helmet of my erection and resumed her place on the couch.

"Right," said Paula, stepping in front of me, "time to get cracking, if you'll pardon the phrase, Rupert. And what better place to start than on his magnificent eight inches of manhood."

I tensed in my bonds and then the flogger was whistling down and cracking smack across my upper foreskin, stinging onto my prick lips and ring. "Aaargh!" I cried, thrusting around with utter futility in my bonds.

Immediately, my wife bent over and circled the red splotch on my cock where the blow had fallen, before placing a mark on the paper to indicate the first blow.

Paula laughed and announced: "Don't make such a fuss, Mr Slave. Only 99 to go!"

The next blow was half-way between the top of my cock and my pubic bone. Again I let loose an involuntary "Aaargh" as the flogger hit home. Tanya again circled the mark left by the leather lash and put her mark on the paper. My brain told me "Only 98 to go!" and I tensed, awaiting Paula's next stroke.

And so my tribulations continued. Three strokes were placed on my cock, which was considerably less stiff than at the start, but Mrs Frobisher's oral adoration on my cock soon had me "back up to scratch" as she so delicately put it.

Paula then proceeded to land blows on my tensed, taut flesh as my wife marked my body with the marker pen, then ticked off each stroke on her notepaper. Blows were delivered to my inner and outer thighs, to my buttocks, my back, my shoulder blades, my upper chest, my belly, my abdomen.

One fearful crack even struck the lower curve of my scrotum, a blow which drew a screamed yell of anguish from me and laughter from my merciless audience of dommes.

Finally, Paula's leisurely progress around my aching, strung up body ended, with three more strokes to my penis - re-erected, of course, by Mrs Frobisher's sexually proficient mouth.

"Fuck, that was wonderful," said my wife, when Paula had at last finished flogging me. "Now, it's my turn to play with him. Help me get him down, darling," she asked her best friend, and soon I was freed and standing before them, my body covered in red splotches from the leather whip, each one circled by the black marker pen.

"But first," announced Tanya, "upstairs with you and get those pen marks off your body. And do it properly, with a scrubbing brush, or we'll put you back up there and you'll get another 100!"

I rushed upstairs and showered, scrubbing the pens's marks away until parts of my body was feeling even more raw than it had under Paula's lashing of me.

After a quick check in the mirror to see that I was clean again, I emerged from the bathroom to find my wife, waiting on the upstairs landing, a cruel-looking three foot, single-stranded leather whip in her hand. "Just making sure you weren't going to try making a dash for it, Rupert," she grinned.

Together we walked downstairs for whatever my dear wife had planned for me in my next "passing out" parade humiliation.

"Right," said Tanya to her trio of assistants in my punishment passing out parade, "we'll need a bit of space for this. Clear a space in the middle of the room, girls."

The trio pushed all the chairs and couches back even further and then Tanya told them what her plan was for my next "game".

"It's called whip-boxing, and I came across it in a fetish magazine I bought in Rupert's favourite Soho sex shop," she told everyone. "I've got the whip, and Rupert here will do the boxing."

"Hold on a minute," said Paula Pain, "he's not wearing boxing gloves."

"No, and neither will he," said my wife. "I'm whipping him and when he gets the opportunity he licks my pussy - 'boxing', geddit?"

The women laughed and sounded intrigued. "Right," said Tanya, "first it's far too easy for him unless his wrists are handcuffed behind his back. Vanya, get him cuffed."

My sister picked up a pair of tight rubber handcuffs from the table and strapped my wrists together behind my back.

"Right, now we need a referee," said my wife. "Jan, you'll be the ref. I'm going to start whipping him when you ring that little bell I've put on the mantelpiece. He will advance towards me and try to get his mouth on my pussy.

"As soon as he's accomplished that, and not before, you will call out a count to 10, just like a boxing referee when there's a knock-down.

"That will signal the end of the first round. Vanya, you can be my second and pass me a nice cool drink of chardonnay in between rounds. Paula, you can be Rupert's second - I don't think it's necessary for me to tell you what he's going to be drinking between rounds, is it?"

Paula laughed: "No, and I'm sure he'll lap it up - but do we have enough of your lovely amber nectar left?"

"Yes," my wife replied, "it's only going to be a six-round bout."

Then she stood about six feet away from me, while I was placed with the backs of my legs against the couch, facing Tanya. Jan then picked up the little brass bell from the mantelpiece, called out dramatically "Round one!" and rang the bell.

I had no idea what I was to do but Tanya certainly did! She advanced a couple of steps, then flicked the whip out across my upper chest. It stung, deliciously. Then she cut me across the tops of my thighs.

I moved forward, knowing that somehow I had to get my mouth on her pussy to stop the blows. She delivered another cut across my side, which curled against my left buttock and I tried to hem her in. But Tanya, even though she was wearing high-heeled leather boots, smartly sidestepped me and while I had my back to her she brought her lash down briskly across my upper back and then across my buttocks as I whirled around to face her.

This manoeuvre brought applause from the audience and once more my whip-wielding "opponent" was six feet from me. Then I charged, I had nothing to lose, and a surprised Tanya couldn't even get off a shot at me.

My upper torso pressed against her lush breasts, erotically displayed in her open-fronted black leather bustier. Using my full weight I fell on her, then dropped swiftly to my knees and found - to my surprise - that Tanya had widened her stance and then I inhaled the wonderful feminine aroma that was wafting up from her pussy.

My tongue flicked out and ran against her sopping wet sex trench and Mrs Frobisher, the "referee", called out "One", then delivered the count to 10 with lengthy pauses between her counts. I must have been on my knees for 25 seconds before she reached 10, savouring the tasty delights of my wife's box.

Then I was hauled to my feet by the "referee" and I went to where Paula Pain was standing holding a glass full of Tanya's salty, brackish early-morning urine. My wife, meanwhile, was sipping on a cool glass of chardonnay! Paula fed me the urine, allowing me three gulps to swallow it all, then I heard the bell ring and a call of "Seconds out, round two!"

The second round proceeded much as the first, Tanya getting in several early blows, feinting brilliantly to allow her to target my unprotected back and buttocks, then allowing my charge against her lovely body which brought me to my knees and my mouth to her moist quim. She delivered between six and seven cuts with the lash each round, and each round ended with panting and purring as I licked her delicious pussy for around 25 seconds.

At last, it was over, the six rounds bringing a total of some 36, maybe even up to 40 strokes of the lethal lash, my tongue delivering about 36 or more strokes to Tanya's pussy. In between my wife sipped on lovely cool wine, while I was force fed six glasses of her strong-tasting urine.

When I was freed from my rubber cuffs, Tanya turned to her audience, accepted their ovation with a little bow, then announced: "And now last, but by no means least, I present the lovely Jan Frobisher, who has a special little game she's going to play with Rupert here before he can properly be said to have 'passed out'. Jan and I will go and get her prepared for this, Vanya and Paula, feel free to play with him for a while."

As they departed, Vanya stood beside me and stroked my cock until it was fully erect. "This last game is going to be so much fun, Rupert," she purred, into my ear. "You like dancing, don't you?"

"Yes, Vanya, I do," I responded.

"And you like Mrs Frobisher, don't you - come on, I know you've got the hots for her," my sister pressed me.

"Yes, she's lovely," I confessed in a low whisper.

"Great," giggled Vanya, "then you'll just love what she's got organised for you to finish."




Mr Taylor's Tribulations Ch. 04



Then the door opened and in walked my wife, with her long-legged golfing partner. But now, Mrs Frobisher had changed. Her black satin quarter-cup bra still held her pert breasts up in succulent uplift, but she had removed the garter belt and stockings, while retaining her high heels.

But the difference in her garb was instantly apparent. Mrs Frobisher was wearing a pair of rubber panties, with a long section of tubing descending from the gusset. My wife was holding the end of the rubber and she motioned to me to advance towards her.

After I had done so, Tanya placed the end of the rubber tubing around my head. It had straps which connected at the back of my head, and there was a narrow metal tube at the end of the rubber which went into my mouth an inch or so. I then noticed that at the middle of the tube, between my mouth and Mrs Frobisher's crotch, was a sort of bulbous part.

"I'll leave you to Jan's tender mercies," smiled Tanya, after she had satisfied herself that I was securely strapped into the end of the piece of rubber equipment.

"Now, darling Rupert," said Mrs Frobisher, moving forwards and taking me into her arms, "I want to have a dance with you, a nice, slow, smoochy dance. Of course, with all that rubber stuff around your lips I won't be able to kiss you there, so I'll have to make do with your cheeks.

"Unfortunately, when I dance with a sexy smoochy old perv, I get very aroused, and since I've had a bit to drink, I'm going to want to go pee pee. And when I go pee pee, you're going to block the flow with your tongue. We can't have you drinking it all down as I piss, that wouldn't be any fun, would it, dear Rupert?"

I nodded, and then my wife selected a CD on the player and a very sultry, slow-dancing tune invaded the room. Mrs Frobisher, her lovely pert breasts brushing their erect nipples against my chest, began to dance with me. Despite my predicament and my task, which was to drink her urine, I was aroused, a sight not lost on the audience.

"Oh, look," cried Vanya, "the fucking pervert's cracking a boner! What a disgusting old perve!"

And then, as Mrs Frobisher and I circled the small dance floor, she looked into my eyes, smiled and said: "Oh, this is so lovely, Rupert, I'm busting for a pee and look - here it comes!"

I looked down and saw a stream of yellow liquid entering the tubing and flowing down to the bulbous area mid-way between my lovely domina's crotch and my mouth.

"On your knees, my darling," she ordered, "and make sure that tube is blocked by your tongue. No drinkies until I say so!"

I knelt, stiff-cocked and obedient before her stunning, lithe body.

The liquid flowed through the holding tank to my mouthpiece, which I was blocking with my tongue, then backed up until the "holding tank" section was completely full of Mrs Frobisher's urine.

"That area in the tube holds just over a pint," I heard my wife inform her sister and her best friend. "Quite enough to slake a slave's thirst!"

Then Mrs Frobisher held out a cool hand and helped me to my feet, and she continued to slowly dance me around the floor, licking my cheek, occasionally kissing it, and whispering sweet nothings which sounded like "I'm loving this!" as we moved around, my erection sticking into her slender midriff.

After some minutes of this slow movement around in front of the audience, Mrs Frobisher placed both her hands on my shoulders and pressed me down to a kneeling position.

"Now, my darling," she said, in a husky, low voice, "you may drink - but not everything, just a few sucks, I want to dance some more!"

I knelt before her gloriously slim figure and sucked down a few long draughts of her warm, salty urine, until the "holding tank" was about half full. Then I was ordered to stand again.

A few more minutes of dancing was followed by Mrs Frobisher pushing me down to a kneeling position once more and making me drain the tube. Then she removed the rubber panties from her lovely figure. I breathed a huge sigh, at last my torment was over!

And then my relief was dashed by my sister.

"Fuck," said Vanya, rising from the couch, "that was terrific. But I've got to confess I'm busting for a pee myself, right now."

And then my sister stepped in front of me and picked up the rubber panties from where they lay on the carpet.

She looked at me with a smile and laughed. "Poor old Rupey," she taunted, "but I'm afraid I'm going to insist on the next dance!"

To be continued...



Mr Taylor's Tribulations Ch. 05



I bent over and my wife eased the five-inch anal intruder into my arsehole, then adjusted the double rubber straps from the front and rear of the dildo up my body to the slave collar around my throat. The D-rings the rubber straps hooked onto pulled the thick intruder deep into my back passage and provided stimulation to my sphincter muscle, thus making my uncut cock rise to its full, eight-inches of erection.

She then placed a large, red rubber cape over my head and let the cool material fondle my flesh as it fell to cover my nudity. The hem of the cape came to just below my knees, the neck had a sort of ruff which hid the leather slave collar around my throat.

"There, Rupert," she smiled, regarding my ridiculous appearance, "that's your travelling uniform. Every time I take you out and loan you to one of my girlfriends, this is what you will wear. It will remind you on the journey there, that you are my sex slave and always available to be lent to my friends for them to slake their sadistic sexual appetites."

Turning of her expensively-shod heel, she led the way to our garage which, thank goodness, is at the rear of the house and accessible by a little walkway from the rear door and thus secure from any of the prying eyes of our next door neighbour's. Not that Tanya, my lovely, large-busted 38-year-old wife, gave a damn about that, I'm sure.

It was a Monday morning, exactly a week since my humiliations at the "passing out parade" where Tanya, her younger sister, Vanya, my wife's best friend Paula, and her golfing partner, Jan Frobisher, had heaped punishment upon punishment on me. At the conclusion, Tanya had smugly announced herself "pleased" that I was now a fully-graduated sex slave.

A day or two later, Mrs Frobisher – a tall, long-legged fair-haired beauty who I really fancied – rang Tanya to ask if she could "borrow" me the following Monday for a day of "sexual entertainment".

Tanya had agreed, and as usual made me call my bookstore manager Naomi to make sure the lovely young black girl could take charge. It was a chore Naomi enjoyed, since she was more than capable, I paid her a handsome bonus for running the shop in my absence, and she was now becoming almost used to being asked to run the place for me on Mondays.

I settled down in the lush leather seat of my wife's new Jaguar, feeling the cold rubber tingle against my buttocks, but then realising it would soon be warm and slippery as my body heat transferred to the rubber.

As it was just 9 o'clock, there was still a lot of commuter traffic as Tanya drove to Mrs Frobisher's lovely new home – the proceeds of an extremely generous will from her husband, an airline pilot who had died almost two years before in a freak accident involving a golf cart and his mistress in Los Angeles, where he often "stopped over" during his long-haul runs from London to LA and places south, such as Honolulu and Sydney.

As I said, it was a busy drive and many commuters were still on the road. At one set of traffic lights, a car driven by a stunningly attractive young blonde drew up on the inside of my wife's Jaguar. The blue-eyed beauty looked at the upper part of my rubber "travelling uniform", nudged her passenger, an older male, and they burst into laughter. My face turned red, but then the lights changed and my wife drove ahead, the blonde, thankfully, made a left turn and was gone.

At another red light, a large delivery truck drew up on the inside lane. The driver, a bearded hulk, peered down, laughed and blew me a kiss. I wanted the seat to swallow me up!

At last we arrived at Jan Frobisher's lovely new home, set on the outskirts of Virginia Water, and not more than a couple of Tiger Woods' drives from the Wentworth course where she and my wife often found themselves partnered in their weekly Wednesday foursome.

Tanya drove into the large, leafy driveway and climbed from the car, then opened the door and allowed me to sprint across the gravel drive – not an easy task in my bare feet – to the side door of the house, which was discreetly opened a foot or so by Mrs Frobisher.

I stepped into the modern home and looked at the tall woman. She was already dressed for domination! Her small but beautifully-formed breasts were circled by an arrangement of leather straps. The 32-inch beauties were firmly held in the clasp of the straps, the nipples pointing erectly at me as if she say "Hello!"

On her hips was a similarly erotic leather arrangement of straps, which left her shaved pussy naked to my gaze, the only hair left down there a fair, fuzzy little splotch on her mons. On Mrs Frobisher's feet were a pair of classic-styled Manolo Blahnik metal-heeled pumps, the heels, coloured gold in rich contrast to the gleaming black leather, almost demanded worship.

But my thoughts were then dragged from Mrs Frobisher's steel-heeled stilettos to my present predicament by my wife's stern voice.

"Right, Jan, here he is, all ready to perform at your beck and call. He's your slave for the day," she said, pushing me on my buttocks towards the pert-breasted beauty.

"I'm sure you'll have no problems with him, seeing as how he's now a fully-fledged sex slave, but if anything crops up, I'll be on my mobile."

Then she turned to me. "OK Rupert," she said, "while you're under her roof, Mrs Frobisher is 'Mistress' and her command is law, understand?"

I nodded and answered in my meek "slave" voice: "Yes, darling."

Tanya turned to head for the door. "I'm off to town, an old school friend's treating me to lunch in some impossibly expensive French restaurant in Chelsea," she told her golf partner. "What is it they say in restaurants – enjoy!" And with a laugh she was out of the door, the Jaguar's throaty engine roared into life and Jan Frobisher closed the door and walked towards me.

"Hello, you adorable slave, you," she said, stepping up against me and rubbing her body sexily against my rubber cape. "Hello, what's this?" she inquired, her hand running across the crotch region to feel my hardness beneath. "What did Mae West say – 'Is this a gun, officer, or are you just pleased to see me?' Well, Rupert, are you pleased to see me?"

I swallowed and then answered, with utter honesty: "Very, very pleased, mistress. You know I love you."

Mrs Frobisher smiled and kissed me hard on the mouth: "And you want to be dominated my me, you want to worship me, be punished my me, drink my urine, fuck me, don't you? Tell me, say it!"

Her words were said in a hush, but they were almost harsh in their delivery. "I want you to dominate me," I said. It was true.

"I want to worship you," I said. It was true.

"I want you to punish me," I said. It was true.

"I want to drink your urine," I said. It was true.

"I want to fuck you," I said, "but I can't." Both statements were true.

"You can't fuck me?" demanded Mrs Frobisher, her lovely eyebrows arched in question marks, "or won't? Explain."

I gulped, then explained my predicament. "My darling wife doesn't let me have cock-in-cunt sex any more," I said. "It's part of my punishment, you see. I can only bring her to orgasm by letting her slide her pussy up and down on my shaft, or by oral adoration. A fuck is not permitted, mistress."

"But I'm in charge," snapped Mrs Frobisher, her face starting to assume a darkness. "I'm the mistress, I want you inside me." Then she snapped the release of my rubber cape at my neck and the garment fell to the floor, revealing my hard-on.

Mrs Frobisher took me in her hand. "And he wants to be inside me, doesn't he?"

There was no denying that, of course. "Yes, yes, he does, my darling mistress," I said, in a voice that now verged on the pleading. "But I'm forbidden cock-in-cunt sex, it's a taboo for me now, please, don't force me."

Mrs Frobisher's response was to squat down before me and take my cock helmet in her mouth. She sucked on it, slurping down my pre-cum, which had been gathering at the tip of my erection ever since I laid eyes on her lovely, leg-legged, lissom body.  

"You want to fuck me, don't you, Rupert?" she said, standing now, and then kissing my hungrily on the mouth. "I'm your mistress, you must obey me!"

I pleaded with her, and I decided that since I was pleading, the best position for it would be on my knees. I lowered myself, then placed my cheek on the highly-polished wooden floor, thus allowing myself to be able to run by tongue over the gleaming golden heel of her Manolo Blahnik's.

"Get up to my pussy," I heard her hiss from above me, and I knelt until my face was directly opposite her beautiful box. She widened her stance, and I could see her slender sex lips, the labia glistening with juice. I wanted to put my cock there and thrust it deep into her vagina. We both knew that.

"That's what you want, you want my pussy, don't you, Rupert?" she said, her voice less harsh now, more gentle, more loving.

I gulped back a sob and pressed my mouth against her mons, then licked her labia lips, flicking against her clitoris on the way down there. Her pussy was powerfully aromatic, it was saying "Fuck me, fuck me!" As I tasted her sweet juices I felt my cock pounding, my hard-on pleading with my brain.

"Oh fuck, you know I want you, you wonderful mistress," I sobbed, pulling from her streaming, steaming snatch, "but please don't make me, I beg you."

Mrs Frobisher leaned over me, grabbed my head and pulled it into her crotch once more. "Lick me, tell me you want me!"

I obeyed. I wanted to lick her, I wanted to tell her I wanted her, but I knew she was forbidden fruit.

"Please, mistress," I said, in a voice that was down to a whisper, "please don't make me fuck you like that. I'm mad about you, but it would be disobeying my main mistress, my darling wife. It was my cock which got me into this position, it was fucking a prostitute which saw me become a sex slave. I'm denied cock-in-cunt sex, please don't force me, please."

And I slumped away from her and looked up at her pretty face, her lovely leather-clad figure, her pussy, her breasts and I wanted her. My cock, at its full eight-inch extension also wanted her, but she didn't need to be told that!

"Right, your 'main mistress', as you call her, says 'no' and you are obeying her. So, we'll call the 'Ubermistress', see what she has to say," said Mrs Frobisher. "Come on upstairs – but stay on your knees – and kiss my arse all the way up there," she snapped.

And she turned on her heel and walked to the foot of the stairs. I struggled behind her on my knees, my mouth pressing against her lovely firm buttocks as often as I could in my awkward efforts to keep up.

Upstairs, Mrs Frobisher entered her bedroom, climbed onto the bed, still in her high heels, spread her thighs wide, pointed to her pussy in a wordless command which silently said "Eat me!" and picked up a phone on her bedside table.

She punched in a coded number, which obviously dialled Tanya's mobile. "Hi, darl, it's Jan," she announced. "We seem to have encountered a little problem and I need your assistance. Can you talk?"

From between her thighs, as I worked at her magnificent minge, I heard my mistress-for-the-day's side of her conversation with my wife.

"It seems that my command for your darling sex slave to give me a good fucking has fallen on somewhat infertile ground," said Mrs Frobisher. "It appears you no longer permit him what he quaintly refers to as 'cock-in-cunt' sex and that to accede to my demands would be disobeying the command of his supreme, Ubermistress."

Then she chuckled. "Ubermistress? Yes, it's got a certain ring to it, hasn't it?"

I still laved away at her lovely, gushing snatch, and there was a longer pause. Then Mrs Frobisher tapped me on the head with one elegantly-manicured finger and ordered: "Phone, slut, your Ubermistress wants a word with you."

I detached from Mrs Frobisher's sweet-smelling snatch and took the phone, my hard-on rubbing against her slender but athletic thigh as I rose.

My wife was still obviously on her way to her luncheon engagement, I could hear traffic noise in the background. "Right, Rupert," she said, in a calm, controlled voice, "listen and listen good. You have my permission to put your filthy little prick of yours in Mrs Frobisher's cunt, though quite why she wants it there in the first place has me totally nonplussed."

There was a pause, then, just to "rub it in", my wife added: "Or in the second place. But if she wants it, she will get it, she is, after all, your mistress in my absence. Right, you have my permission to make love to her in that manner."

Another pause. "But mark my words, Rupert," said my wife, in a suddenly steely voice, "if you don't give her the orgasm of her life, I'll thrash you 12 times a day for a month! Gottit?"

I mumbled "Yes, mistress" but my heart was soaring as I passed the phone back to Mrs Frobisher.

With an enthusiastic, "I love you, you wonderfully dominant woman!" Mrs Frobisher concluded her conversation with my wife and rang off.

She opened her arms and we embraced. "Now, you sweet old slave," she whispered, "fuck me!"

And for the first time since my wife had caught me playing with the blonde hooker, I enjoyed penetrative sex with a woman.

My penis caressed Mrs Frobisher's cunt lips, then slid smoothly into her soft-as-velvet vagina, moving firmly forward until my eight inches were fully embedded in her, our pubic mounds brushing.

"You're so fucking smooth, so tight," I whispered, as I felt the slippery confines of her vagina grip my cock head and drag my foreskin back to the ring as I moved into her.

"Now back down to the entrance, then thrust up me again, you beautifully-pricked slave, you," she whispered, and soon I was in a delightful thrusting tempo, revelling in her tight little cunt, her firm breasts rubbing against my upper torso, her legs wrapped around me, her lips kissing me poutily on the mouth as we made love.

"You're so thick, so smooth," she whispered, in between feverish little kisses on my mouth, "you're the first cock I've had there since my husband, the cheating bastard, went and died. Oh darling, fuck me!"

And my mistress-for-the-day turned into a lovely, thrashing, writhing sex toy as we banged against each other. Soon it was obvious that the lovely 36-year-old was on the verge of a big orgasm, so I slithered around until I was beneath her bucking body and I lifted her by the shoulders, allowing her breasts to fall to my mouth.

I began to suck and lick them and before very long her body tightened and she screamed "Fuck me, Rupey, fuck me, I'm fucking coming, I'm coming, I'm cuuuuming" and she went rigid as the Big O surfed through her tidy, long-legged body.

Then, as quickly as she had come, she rolled from me and bent to plant a sucking, open-mouth kiss on my "circumcised" foreskin, before allowing me to adjust it until it was again covering my cockhead.

We both lay back, panting from our exertions, then with a kiss on my mouth, Mrs Frobisher smiled at me: "And was that good – I know you didn't come, but was it good?"

"It was sensational," I said, "I think you've got a really great, fuckable body." And I kissed her on the mouth.

"I've got an idea," she said, stroking my still-stiff manhood. "I'm thinking of getting out of this country. The weather in winter is miserable, and it's not much better in summer.

"I'm looking into the possibility of buying a place in Provence, or possibly Tuscany. The weather in both places in wonderful, hot dry, summer as it should be, not as it is here.

"Why don't we run away there together. We can lie around the pool all day in summer and get brown as berries. Make love when we feel like it and play femdom games in the evening, and all winter we can play by a huge log fire while I flog you and make you drink my urine. What do you say?"

It was, undeniably, a hugely attractive offer. Mrs Frobisher was a fantastic fuck, a lovely, gorgeous domme, and now my nature had changed to that of a humble submissive, she was the sort of woman any male sex slave would die for – in a manner of speaking!

There were, however, several drawbacks. I had a well-established business in a bookstore which catered for my now specialist kink – femdom. Well, not entirely femdom, of course, since maledom was also a large slice of my business, but femdom is one of the world's major kinks. I didn't want to leave the store, it was a terrific hobby for a male sex slave.

Then there was my lovely wife, her equally lovely younger sister, and the extremely attractive Paula Pain, all of whom delighted in causing me exquisite agonies at their femdom sessions. I was living, in reality, in a sex slave's paradise.

"Mrs Frobisher – sorry, mistress," I said, "I hope you don't mind, but I am truly happy with my wife now. I have found, I think, the perfect situation for a person who, all along, I reckon, must have had a thick streak of masochism running through him.

"I love your body, I love the way you dominate me, I love the way you let me fuck you. But I don't think I'll be running away with you. Sorry."

To my surprise, Mrs Frobisher made no attempt to dissuade me, but suggested we have a quick bite of lunch, then there would be time for more domination games, more sex.

After lunch, Mrs Frobisher placed a leather saddle across my back, a saddle which had jutting up from its middle, a large, brown rubber dildo, approximately the length and width of my eight-inches. Placing her feet in the stirrups, and holding a riding crop in her hand, she forced me to ride her around the large lounge area, on a lush carpet, which helped reduce roughness on my feet and knees as I crawled around with her on my back.

During the course of her "ride", Mrs Frobisher enjoyed three orgasms, two major and one minor. Then there was time for some water sports, before she again allowed me to mount her for a frenzied, passionate bout of love-making. Again I was careful to give her an orgasm, and careful not to ejaculate myself.

Finally, the afternoon drew to a close with a short but intense flagellation session, where the 36-year-old whipped my back and buttocks with a short little leather lash – short, yes, little, yes, but cruel, most certainly.

The phone rang just after 5 o'clock. My wife said she had returned home and was "getting things prepared", as Mrs Frobisher relayed the words to me. What that meant, I had no idea.

Tanya's golfing partner then clothed me in the humiliating red rubber cape once more, and when my wife arrived, I was made to wait in the Jaguar, while she had Mrs Frobisher had what my wife referred to as "a debriefing".

On her return to the car, Tanya grinned at me, leaned over and gave me a surprisingly warm kiss on the mouth. "Have fun?" she asked, and then backed the Jag out of Mrs Frobisher's driveway.

When we arrived home it was getting on for dusk, thank goodness, and I made my way unobtrusively into the house.

My wife, clad in a power outfit of black leather jeans, high-heeled boots, a crisp white linen blouse which displayed her beautiful large mounds of breast, a jaunty little black Muir cap and leather gloves, led me upstairs, her beautiful rump wiggling in the tight confines of the gleaming leather.

When we entered the bedoom, I immediately saw what "getting things prepared" meant. Even so I still shocked by the sight that greeted me. There, strapped down over a large leather bench was the woman who had been the instrument which had led to my sexual slavery.

"Naughty Natalie" was naked but for a pair of garish, red leather wedge-heeled shoes. The young blonde's buttocks were like lovely rounded moons, her pussy was a pink gash, her anus dark brown and puckered.

"This is the young lady who got you into all this trouble, isn't it, Rupert?" said Tanya.

"Yes," I mumbled, my penis rising to erection beneath the rubber cape.




Mr Taylor's Tribulations Ch. 05



My wife stepped to my side and removed it, then indicated I should move forward. "You remember what I caught you doing with her, don't you Rupert?" said Tanya.

"Yes," I almost hissed, as my penis waved around, inches from the little slut's arsehole.

"Well, you've been such a good boy today, passing both of the tests that Jan and I set you, I've decided to reward you. You may take her in the arse, the cunt, the mouth – wherever your fancy takes you. Just my little present for you, Rupert."

My penis was drooling a string of pre-cum, which dangled from my cock head until it stuck to Natalie's left calf. I placed a hand on my shaft to steer it towards Natalie's bumhole. And then I dropped my hand.

"I can't, darling," I whispered. "What I did with Natalie was wrong and I have been punished for it. I have now learnt my rightful place, Tanya. Thank-you for the present, but I can't do it, I'm your slave now."

Tanya stepped to the bench and began to free the prostitute.

"Well then, if you won't fuck Naughty Natalie, perhaps you'd prefer it if she was, oh, I don't know, shall we say 'Nasty Natalie'?" said my wife.

Natalie was standing before me now, rubbing life back into her wrists and smiling, a different sort of Natalie from the weeks when I would fuck her and make her suck me. A crueller Natalie, somehow.

"You have passed three tests today, Rupert – although you didn't know it at the time," said my wife.

"You did not have intercourse with Mrs Frobisher until you were given specific permission. That was test number one.

"You refused her kind offer to run off with her to the south of France, or Tuscany, or wherever. That was test two.

"And you declined my present of Natalie's cute little arse just now. Test three. I am very pleased with you, very pleased, indeed."

Tanya then handed Natalie a stiff riding crop. "You know what to do, Natalie," she smiled and the nude harlot walked into the en suite bathroom, her buttocks jouncing sexily.

The young woman then squatted down and snapped: "Lie on the floor, slave, quickly."

Stiff-pricked and aroused, I complied, until I was prone on the thankfully heated tiles, facing her shaved pussy, its labia lips thick and inviting. Then she released a short stream of urine, which formed a small puddle on the floor.

"Lick it up," she snapped, cracking the crop down across my shoulder blades.

I licked at her warm, salty urine. As I did so, the vixen snapped "Faster!" and her crop again struck my back.

I soon finished "cleaning" that part of the floor with my tongue, then Natalie moved to another part of the bathroom, squatted once more and let loose another stream of piss.

"Lick it up!" she commanded, and then "Faster!" as I bent to my task, bringing the crop down across my buttocks this time. The space between the word "up" and "faster" was possibly a microsecond.

After several moves around the floor, Natalie had completed emptying her bladder, but allowed me the final indignity of cleaning her piss-stained sex lips.

Then she smiled at my wife and said: "I think he'll do very nicely, madam, very nicely indeed."

"Good," said Tanya, "then it's agreed. He used to make use of your services once a week, every Wednesday, correct?"

The hooker nodded.

"Right, then every Wednesday afternoon you report here at 2 o'clock and you can put him through his paces for three hours," said Tanya.

Then she looked at me. "That's got your week pretty well organised, Rupert. Every Monday I loan you out to which of my girlfriends wants to take advantage of your new submissive nature. Sometimes it may be more than one of them. That'll be fun, won't it?"

I nodded obediently, my cock thick and engorged at the mere thought.

"Every Wednesday, Natalie here will visit us and I'll watch as she dominates you. More fun, eh?"

Once more I nodded.

"And at week-ends, I'm sure I'll be able to come up with some fun and games we can play with Vanya. That's a busy week, but at least it gives you Tuesdays, Wednesday mornings, Thursdays and Fridays to make sure everything's shipshape in the shop, eh?"

Another nod.

"Right," said Tanya, "thank me for organising your life into such a happy amalgam of work and discipline!"

"Thank-you, mistress," I replied, aware that here the use of the word "darling" would not be appropriate.

I was rewarded with a stinging slap across my face. "Ubermistress," snapped my dear wife. "From now on it's Ubermistress!"

THE END