2 comments/ 22443 views/ 6 favorites Discretion is the Better Part... Ch. 02 By: peachesmelba In the months since Curtis had started his "employment" with Mama and moved into the rambling old Victorian mansion his life had changed considerably. HE had changed considerably... His hair, always full, and still dark thank goodness, had started growing out. The first time Mama had taken him to her salon to get his hair cut and styled was both hideously embarrassing...and in an odd way, wildly stimulating. Mama had dressed him "special" for the outing in a pearl gray satin bustier. The snug satin held him firmly, while at the same time stimulating him with its rich texture. Regulation pantyhose held "him" in place below wool slacks and a sweater. It was the first time he'd ever appeared in public in "dress" clothes. Mama had chatted quietly with the attendants for several minutes before bending over him as he sat quietly waiting in the chair. Reaching under the capacious black styling cape, she fondled him to quick arousal while murmuring - "Mama is going shopping now. If you're a good little slut maybe Mama will bring you a surprise when she comes back," her fingernails caressed his sack. "In the meantime you behave yourself and mind the girls!" It had been an..."interesting" day. The girls had stripped him naked, chattering softly among themselves in their native language - he thought it might be Viet Namese or perhaps Thai. They oohed and aahed appreciatively over the size of his cock, enhanced by the some of the multiple rings and bands he was getting used to wearing. The ridged silver ring worn just below the crown increased the size and swelling of the head itself, while the ridging on the ring provided added stimulus to those on the receiving end of his attentions. Additionally he wore one snug latex band at the base of his cock itself, and another, larger band, around both cock and balls. Once banded he was able to stay erect for long periods of time without cumming, but without danger of totally losing circulation to his genitals. For 'special events' other rings would be added that would be tighter and some had special protuberances designed to particularly excite and please a partner. Being stroked and fondled by so many women, although exciting in itself, was merely the start of his adventures that day. He had been pampered, massaged, oiled and loofahed. Manicure and pedicure along with the style and cut of his hair were next. Finally, after intense discussion and some forceful argument among themselves, he had been led into the back of the salon his robe removed again and told quite firmly to "sit" and "don't move". At the end of a sharply painful period of time that had brought tears to his eyes more than once, his glowing pink body was as smoothly hairless as Fleur's. Admiring himself afterward in the mirrors, seeing his gleaming enameled nails stroking the ridged purple head of his cock and the baby smooth bag between his legs, he nearly cried in thankfulness. The women all smiled and applauded at his obvious pleasure - then gathering once more they began stroking oil into his freshly waxed skin, seeming to pay special attention to the crack of his ass, his scrotum and rod. He knew he wasn't imagining their focus when the first tongue tip reached out boldly to rim his anus. Another mouth hotly engulfed his balls, sucking first one, then the other into the woman's mouth as she tongued them wetly throughout. Thankfully Mama had returned before their little debauch could gather too much momentum and he nearly cried again at how pleased Mama was with his appearance. She had praised him for cooperating with the suggestions of the women, and praised and generously tipped the young women themselves for their work. Stroking and fondling him from shoulder to asshole she had exclaimed over and over again about how silky and flawless his skin was for 'a mature man'. As he began to get dressed again Mama had presented him with the first of many 'surprises' he was to receive that day and in the many days to come. The double-ring 'trailer hitch' style cock ring was beautifully light-weight, wrought in titanium and he was duly flattered that Mama had thought so highly of him that she had spent so much on what was essentially a sex-toy for him. The ring portion was tightly snug and even with a liberal coating of oil on his prick, took a little effort to settle into place. Once that was done, the women had him bend over a chair, ass in the air and several of them 'helped' his Mistress to oil and lubricate his anus and the ball hitch before inserting it in its proper location. The ball portion was somewhat larger than he usually took in a butt plug and he felt a little stretched before it finally popped into place, the neck of the hitch being long enough to allow it to nestle against his prostate providing continual stimulation. The feeling was amazing when he stood and moved around again. That day they had returned to the house in time for one of 'The Monsignor's' periodic visits, allowing him to meet the man. He didn't know who the man really was, whether he was a priest in fact or only in fantasy. Whenever he appeared at the house he was wearing a clerical collar and cassock, and Mama had first introduced Curtis to him as 'Monsignor'. He was an older man with short gray hair and if he wasn't a real priest Curtis never knew it - in his clerical garb the older man looked the part. He certainly played the part well. As was apparent from the nature of some of the rooms themselves, illusion and role-playing were major drives in the lives of many of the guests who came to 'The House'. Mama kept out most of the 'riffraff' - those whose goals truly revolved more around pain and injury than around pleasure and its prolongation, or perhaps at times withholding overt pleasure as a means of intensifying the end result. Mama ruled everything and everyone who served The House with a velvet fist and there was nothing that any one of them wouldn't have done for her. Some, like the lovely Fleur, never left The House and its environs, while others like the driver, some of the gardeners and Curtis himself, came and went at Mama's discretion. He had his own set of keys now and his truck had it's own reserved space in the barn-like garage. Curtis had helped solidify many of the plans and designs for rooms of the house, redesigning a bath in one of the 'harem' rooms to appear as if it was a small, community pool built of stone. Shower heads and handheld units were artfully concealed in the faux stonework of the walls, along with growing mosses, hanging plants and vines. Several of the gardeners were promoted to handle 'in-house plants' and a number of clandestine 'rewards' of various types were meted out among various household members. The bath had proved to be quite a challenge, from providing sufficient light and circulation for growing plants through recessed lighting, a glass-block wall and antique Moroccan ceiling fans - to re-bracing floor joists to ensure sufficient support for the weight of the over-sized tub. Eventually it was accomplished by joining rooms on two levels. The added supports and braces in the cellar were used in a number of interesting designs. Mama was more than pleased with the final result and had hosted a lively weekend party. The first truly "open" house event Curtis had experienced since moving in. He found himself, at one point, overwhelmed by both the sheer number of people in the house, and by the overwhelming eroticism of everything he was seeing and experiencing. In one harem room upstairs a naked 'sheik' was surrounded by half a dozen lovely odalesques in all shapes, sizes and colors. In another lounge a tearful slave, shackled to a wall, her backside already showing a crisscross pattern of red welts, begged for 'mercy', although her hips were thrust backwards for the teasing touches of her Mistress' hand-held vibrator. The community bath held a bevy of exotic beauties lounging in the water or on the plush benches. At one time his Mistress held court in the room and he'd watched, hard as a rock, while two, and then three other women had stroked her with their soft, manicured hands, drizzling warm scented oils over her skin. Mama had stroked and kissed them in return until it became difficult to tell whose flesh was whose and he had longed to join in, to suckle from Mama's abundant teats and to nestle between her thighs - licking and sucking until she came against his mouth and face. Through it all, the Monsignor had stalked like a dark-winged bird of ill omen - impossible to tell what he was thinking or feeling, Curtis only knew that the stern, disapproving man made him extremely uncomfortable. The house reeked of rut and cum despite scented candles and bowls of of pot pourri scattered through the rooms. Maids in abbreviated French-style uniforms moved from room to room with trays of hot scented towels, clean sheets or refreshments, while 'butlers' wearing only leather chaps and hoods greeted guests, took coats and maintained the buffet tables, both providing other services as demanded. Curtis didn't realize until much later that many of these apparent servants were, in fact, guest subs, either brought by their Dom/mes for the event - or known to Mama in some way and seeking their own Master or Mistress to serve. Curtis was nervous and anxious - not simply because he had no idea who might or might not show up, whether or not it might be someone from his previous life, but also because he was not used to being around so many people. In many ways he felt quite at a loss how to behave, and his cock, as always with a mind of its own, wouldn't have altered its proud throbbing stance if he COULD have taught it better manners. The simple fact was, he wasn't sure, under these circumstances, just what DID constitute good manners, although everyone else seemed to feel quite comfortable in their roles. He still hadn't been a member of the household long enough to meet all the guests and felt vaguely guilty and humiliated in the tobacco brown and gold, satin and lace teddy and tap pants he wore with the lace-top stockings and low heels. He had not yet mastered wearing higher heels, and despite his growing comfort wearing lingerie 'at home among family' it was the fact that so many strangers (at least he fervently hoped they were all strangers) were here today that made him so uneasy. Additionally, he was 'free' today, under no constraint from Mama to withhold his orgasm, he might cum when, how and with whomever he pleased. But in some ways it was like sending a starving man to a banquet - EVERYTHING looked delicious and he had no idea what to sample first. Looking into some of the other rooms he located Fleur, legs up in the stirrups, while a 'doctor' examined her closely - apparently testing her ability to orgasm. Seeing Curtis peering in around the door she winked at him solemnly when the man with her bent to insert a speculum into her dripping cunt. Assured that she was fine and enjoying herself, at least as much as their Mistress was, he moved on. Peeking into the 'classroom' he enjoyed watching what appeared to be a pubescent school girl (judging solely by the size of her small breasts, and the hairlessness of her snatch...and her pigtails of course), with panties around her ankles and a rosy-red bottom fresh from spanking, as she sucked her 'teacher's' cock. Feeling much as though there was no place in the crowded house where he belonged or 'fit in' he ducked into the library room. There at least it was quiet, and he could work on his plans for the ornate gazebo with its designs for the sex swing, the free swinging 'bed' and several heavily framed 'trellises' that would serve to not only screen the interior and its occupants, but would also support the heavy brackets and chains he had planned for restraints. Mama's birthday was coming up in a few months and he'd been working on the plans in secret for weeks. Bent over the desk and lost in his work he didn't hear the door opening quietly behind him. He was startled when the cultured, slightly British sounding voice behind him said - "I'm sorry Miss, I didn't realize this room would be occupied..." As Curtis stood upright and turned, the Monsignor's face altered swiftly from a look of solicitous apology to one of venomous outrage. "YOU!" he spat. "You filth! Abomination!" "Monsignor?" he stammered. "What..." "You disgust me and you disgust God you Man-Whore!" The priest's lean, ascetic face was flushed with his rage, his piercing blue eyes taking in everything, from the carefully styled hair and manicured nails to Curtis' silky smooth hairlessness and still-straining erection, tenting the satin and lace tap pants. His hands appeared to Curtis to tremble slightly as he began to remove his cincture, doubling it in his hands. Shoving Curtis back, face down and sprawled across the top of the desk he began whipping him mercilessly, alternately cursing him and praying over him. Curtis didn't know specifically what had set the old priest off, but the braided cord was not the worst thing he had ever been spanked with. Laying face down he was in a good position to stroke himself against the satin of his lingerie, at least until an excess of religious zeal caused the Monsignor to rip the pants down and away, exposing his buttocks and the titanium 'hitch' linking the ball inside him to the coils around his cock. The sight seemed to inflame the priest even further and his arm was tireless as it rose and fell. He beat Curtis indiscriminately, blows landing on his thighs, back, and buttocks. The repeated blows from the cincture began to have an affect. Curtis could feel his ass and thighs becoming more sensitive, increasing his stimulation and arousal. He pressed forward, rubbing against the desktop, barely stifling his lustful moan. The whipping stopped abruptly, and he barely heard the hoarse whisper behind him - "You slut! You WHORE! You DARE to use this for your pleasure?" He heard the man fumbling at his clothes and the sonorous whisper of a zipper, then a sharp pain as the large titanium ball in his ass was abruptly removed. "Is THIS what you want then, cock-whore?" Curtis felt the massive head and hot steely shaft of the priest's cock pressing into him mercilessly. Without benefit of any form of lubrication he felt like he was being torn in half and tears sprang to his eyes as he pleaded - "No, please, Monsignor, not yet....I'm not ready....please....let me....." "Let you what?" the older man demanded. Half turning Curtis reached behind him, grasping the man's girth firmly. Looking him directly in the eye at first, he then lowered his gaze to the meat in his hand, before looking back up into the piercing blue eyes again, and licking his lips - "Let me....please?" The Monsignor didn't say a word, but he took a half step back, his eyes narrowing. Curtis took that for assent, standing and moving around to the other side of the desk, never removing his hand from the cleric's prick. The older man followed him, taking a seat in the upholstered leather executive chair when Curtis nodded toward it. His eyes never left Curtis, as though he was a snake about to strike. Curtis parted the man's knees, thankful for the roominess of the cassock that allowed him to nestle between his thighs. Licking his lips again he looked at the large, uncut cock, straining toward him. Skinning back the foreskin his mouth began to water at the appearance of the swollen, red head. Engulfing the helmet his tongue swirled around and over it, bathing it with his saliva. From the corner of his eye he could see the priest's hands tighten on the arms of the chair and he heard a barely muffled groan, tasting the first salty drops of pre-cum against his lips. Straining his mouth and his abilities to their utmost he bobbed on the cock he held, his hand working the loose skin further down. It was, by far, the biggest prick he'd ever had the pleasure of....pleasing, he thought. His goal not to make the older man cum in his mouth, but simply to coat him with sufficient saliva to hopefully ease his access. As his drool began to cover his fist and even drip into the thickly matted pubic hairs exposed around the man's groin and balls, Curtis hoped it would be sufficient. His own cock was steel hard with excitement now too and freely dripping pre-cum. Wiping his hand across its tip he gathered as much as possible, reaching back to coat his anus with the slippery substance. Rising again he bent across the desk, spreading his legs wide and reaching back with both hands to spread his ass cheeks as far apart as possible. With a whisper of cloth and a barely contained hiss of renewed fury at the sight the Monsignor pierced him to the core, driving into him in one hard push, only then pausing a bare half second to allow himself to adapt to the sensation. Even with the benefit of saliva and their now mingled pre-cum Curtis felt like he was being split in two, especially when the cleric began to pound against him in earnest. The older man's constantly muttered litany of prayers continued as he hammered into Curtis from behind and Curtis could feel the man's heavy sack, swinging forward to slap against his thighs and his own scrotum with each thrust forward. His own balls were drawn up tight and hard as golf balls with his excitement now and there was a nearly steady stream of pre-cum oozing from his pee-hole. The priest fell forward heavily, propped now with his hands on either side of Curtis rib cage and he had returned to muttered curses and name calling. Curtis could feel the sweat from the man's face dripping between his shoulder blades, wetting the satin teddy. He rolled slightly, just far enough to ease one arm below him to stroke the rigid length of his own cock, his hips flexing uncontrollably as the Monsignor continued to drive into him. The older man paused then - "You ARE a slut - a cock-whore!" Standing he pulled his cock free, eliciting a moan of disappointment from Curtis. Reaching down he grabbed Curtis hair and pulled him around, pushing him down on his back on the desk, hips and legs dangling over the edge of the desk. "Pull up your legs you....filth!" he expostulated, eyes once again narrowed and face flushed with apparent rage. Curtis obeyed eagerly if it was going to mean the Monsignor was going to fuck him some more. "Now hold your legs open to me slut....and keep your filthy hands off your....prick!" Curtis obediently pulled his knees up and back, effectively lifting and spreading his ass as the priest leaned forward, thrusting into him again. Now that his anus seemed to have stretched the sensation was much more pleasurable and the length and thickness of the Monsignor's shaft reached places inside him no living person had ever explored before. He leaned forward again, his blue eyes locked with Curtis' own as he began to fuck with a skill no celibate should be able to demonstrate. Thrusting and rotating his hips the fat mushroom head of his cock stroked and massaged Curtis' prostate without mercy, seeming to know exactly what he was doing and exactly what Curtis was feeling. Finally, biting his lip to keep from shouting out loud with his pleasure, Curtis felt the boiling spasms as his hot spunk shot out over his own, face, chest and belly. Closing his eyes briefly he felt for a moment that he might never stop cumming, and as he did he felt the shaft inside him swelling as the priest gained his own release. It seemed briefly that he could feel gallons of the man's jism spurting into his bowels, filling him to overflowing. The gray-haired Monsignor collapsed onto the floor, face in his hands, weeping and Curtis clambered to his feet, feeling the man's cum draining from his widely gaping asshole. "Monsignor?" he began. "Oh what have I done? What have I done? What have I done?" Discretion is the Better Part... Ch. 02 "Sir, are you alright?" "Oh, I've sinned.....I've sinned. I've hurt you and I've sinned." "No, Monsignor, you didn't...." "You must punish me!" the man exclaimed frantically, scrabbling on the floor for his cincture cord and thrusting it into Curtis' hands when he found it. NO, Monsignor, I can't...." Curtis protested, appalled. "You MUST punish me! I have sinned and YOU must punish ME!" the older man begged tearfully. Stepping away from the priest he watched in disbelief as the other man crawled across the floor toward him, bending to kiss and lick his shoes and feet. "Please, I have sinned....I MUST be punished." It was with enormous relief that he heard Mama's voice from the doorway. "Are you insane? What have you done to MY sweet boy?" Hurrying to Curtis side she asked, "Are you alright child? You're bleeding, did you know?" Curtis felt his head swim then, realizing that it was not just the priest's hot cum he felt continuing to slide down his thighs. That in fact his first impression of feeling split in two was likely more accurate than he had thought. Mama wrapped an arm around him tightly, using her considerable strength to hold him up while moving him to the Executive Chair to sit. "Still feeling faint? No? Good...if you should start to again put your head down between your knees." Going to the door she summoned a passing 'butler'. "Go to the Medical Room - see if Fleur and Dr. Morrisette are still there and bring them both here immediately." Coming back into the room she opened a drawer of the desk, groping in the back for the bottle of bourbon and glasses stashed there. "Tea might be better for you in the long run Curtis, but this may be more restorative." She poured a healthy two fingers in both glasses handing one to him and draining the other. The old priest continued to grovel on the floor but she had ignored him since her first expostulation. "I'm sorry, Mistress. I had no idea this would happen, that he would react this way, it all happened so fast...." "Curtis, sweetheart, you have no need to apologize. YOU have done nothing to be ashamed of and you have certainly never abused MY trust or the rules of this house!" Fleur and the 'doctor' entered at this point. Curtis wasn't sure of the doctor's actual credentials, any more than he was of the Monsignor's, but Mama had referred to him as 'Doctor' so he would give him the benefit of the doubt. Fleur had dropped to her knees at Mama's feet on entering the room, but her Mistress had simply petted her briefly and sent her to sit by Curtis. She was now nestled between Curtis knees, watching the proceedings with her green eyes wide with curiosity. Mama murmured briefly to the Doctor who had promptly come to Curtis side, checking his pulse and color. Having him stand and lean over the desk briefly he announced - "A small fissure only. The bleeding has nearly stopped now and there should be no permanent damage." Then speaking more directly to Curtis, "I'd advise a soft diet, high in fiber for the next few days to allow the tear to heal completely. No heavy lifting. I'll prescribe some stool softeners and whatever you do don't strain with movements or you'll break it open again." "Thank you Glenn" Mama said. "I trust you'll keep this..." "Under my hat, Madam, as always!" Nodding toward the sniveling cleric he asked, "Do you want something to help calm him?" "Only temporarily, Glenn. He wants punishment...he should be fully conscious during it." "I'll send someone back with something for him then." Pausing briefly to stroke Fleur's hair back and away from her face he bent and kissed her lightly on the forehead, "Thank you for your assistance with my research, child. It's always such a joy to see you and work with you..." Picking the cincture cord up from where it lay on the floor Mama doubled it thoughtfully in her hands, walking around the desk to an upholstered wing chair in the corner, carefully avoiding the grasping hands of the priest, still weeping and muttering prayers. She was dressed all in burgundy red today a lace up the front corset with built in shelf bra that supported and exposed her coffee brown nipples, burgundy lace, finger-less gloves and dark red lace-topped stockings made to stay up without garters with burgundy mules completed her ensemble. Unlike so many of her staff she had a neatly trimmed and groomed thatch of pubic hair. Her nail and lip color matched the rich burgundy red of her corset today and the cane she carried was topped with a large, dragon head carved of red soapstone. Settling back in the wing chair she snapped her fingers once - "Fleur, another bourbon please." Curtis reflected that she was always unfailingly polite, saying please and thank you - as though, he thought, any of them would dare to deny her a demand. Wondering momentarily what might happen to anyone foolish enough to do so, remembering with a thrill his first meeting and interview when she had spanked and fucked him so thoroughly and thinking perhaps he needed to risk saying no again at some point. No, he decided - no point risking what he'd found, and it wasn't, he thought, as though he hadn't had plenty of rewarding spankings and fuckings since moving in. No, he'd grown to love this job and the people - Mama and Fleur were his family now, in ways his own father never had been. Fleur had moved from between his feet to the desk, accurately pouring another two fingers into Mama's glass and taking it to her. Mama, meanwhile had draped one leg over the arm of the chair and was absently fingering herself, staring thoughtfully at the Monsignor's grovelling form. Fleur slid between her Mistress' silk and lace clad thighs, her face pressed to the older woman's crotch. In the quiet of the room, Curtis could hear the wet sounds of her lapping at Mama's cunt, even over the sound of the priest's continued tears and prayers. Watching her curiously, Curtis was surprised to note that his Mistress, still thoughtfully staring into space, seemed as indifferent to Fleur's attentions as she was to the sniveling priest, crouched abjectly in the middle of the floor. A quiet knock on the door announced a butler carrying a tray, and a rather stern looking woman dressed in a two sizes too small, old fashioned nurses' uniform with white, button down shirt, skirt and white nursing cap. Her breasts seemed ready to explode from the tightly buttoned top and the skirt barely covered the garter tabs holding her white stockings in place. She seemed, however, to know the basic mechanics, lifting the back of the Monsignor's cassock and summarily yanking his trousers down. She swabbed his ass with something before sticking him with the needle and depressing the plunger end. That done she handed the syringe back to the butler who left without a word, while she stopped by Curtis side to check his pulse again. Apparently satisfied she patted his shoulder warmly, paused to whisper something in Mama's ear and left. Fleur never stopped tonguing her Mistress' pussy. As the priests' broken sobbing and prayers dropped to occasional snuffling hiccups and murmurs, Mama patted Fleur on the head - "Thank you child, that will do for now." Looking at Curtis she inquired, "How are you feeling now, son? Better?" In some distress, feeling that perhaps he had failed in expected courtesy to a guest in some way, Curtis went to the side of Mama's chair, his eyes filled with tears. Putting her hand under his chin Mama forced his head up so that she could look him in the eye - "What's wrong Curtis, my dear?" Waving in the general direction of the priest, now curled in fetal position on the floor, Curtis said, "I'm so sorry, Mistress. I never meant for THAT to happen. I thought...." "Yes child, what did you think?" "I don't know," he exhaled gustily, dropping his head against the arm of the chair. "I guess I thought it was a role play, like all the others I've seen today. I just....feel responsible somehow." Cupping his chin and forcing his head up again, Mama shook her head firmly, the silver lock of hair at her brow catching the light and flashing around her head. "You are NOT to blame for any of this Curtis. For some, RP...role play, is more serious than others - more a part of the framework of their lives. If anyone is to blame, then I am to blame for misunderstanding how deeply the Monsignor's 'quirks' lie within his psyche." At that both he and Fleur shook their heads vehemently, their Mistress finally smiling at their disagreement. Tsk-ing at them both she said, "No arguments now, or Mama will have to spank." Seeing the glimmer in Curtis' eye she stroked his cheek, "Not tonight sweet boy. My sweet sissy has to heal a little before Mama can 'punish' him for arguing. But let's see if we can't find some other way of enjoying ourselves, shall we? First though, Mama has to take care of that." She waved expressively toward the priest - usually so coolly immaculate and stern - now tousled and torn, his blood and cum smeared dick still hanging from the front of his robes and his red face liberally smeared with tears and snot. Rising from the chair she took the cincture cord she still held, loosely knotting it around the Monsignor's thin wrists. Nudging him with the toe of her shoe she commanded - "Get up!" He tried to obey, stumbling once or twice on the hem of his cassock before finally attaining his feet. As he stood there swaying, his fumbling hands reached to stuff himself back into his pants and Mama slapped him so hard it rocked him on his feet, the imprint of her hand bright on the pale skin of his cheek. "Did I TELL you to cover yourself?" "N-n-n-no!" he stammered. She hit him again, back-handing him across the other cheek. "Did I give you permission to SPEAK?" He shook his head dumbly this time, a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth where he'd apparently bitten his cheek or tongue when she hit him. Glancing at Curtis and Fleur where they stood together holding hands, Mama gave the rope in her hands a sharp tug, "All right then, children, come along..." She marched out the door, the disheveled cleric stumbling behind her with his dick flopping at every step, Curtis and Fleur bringing up the rear. Curtis was quite self-conscious of his appearance. Pantiless with cum and apparently blood smeared around his backside and possibly down his thighs he felt as though everyone must be pointing and whispering about him. He was unsurprised at one point to look back and discover a small crowd trailing them as they descended the winding staircase into the basement areas of the house. Fleur, naked as always, tossed her hair back over her shoulders and took his hand again. In that moment, her courage covering him like a blanket, Curtis fell quite helplessly in love with the petite red-head. Submissive or not, Curtis realized, in her own way she was as strong, spirited and courageous as Mama and he wondered again if they were really mother and daughter, or like he and his Mistress, no blood relation at all. Arriving at last in the "grandstand" area of the main cellar, Mama let the cord fall from her hands, a one word command whipping through the air, as people silently filled the bleacher-type seats - "Strip!" Curtis felt confused for a moment, but Fleur gave him a miniscule shake of her head, following the older woman to the deep sink area, where she already had water running. Following the two women Curtis realized they were preparing an enema bag. Warm water with a heavy concentration of castile soap filled the sink and Mama filled the heavy bag, clamping off the hose end before hoisting it from the sink. Curtis moved to take it from her but she said quietly - "Not this time, sweet boy. No heavy lifting remember?" He shook his head and flushed, chagrined, but Mama ran a finger lightly over his lips, then down to his groin to cup and fondle his balls briefly. She muscled the heavy bag onto the wheeled stand and Fleur took it to where the priest was still standing, hands cupped over his genitals. Looking at the priest in some disgust she shook her head. "Are you deaf now too? I said STRIP! I won't tell you again..." He lifted his hands to his mouth to work the knots loose and the braided rope fell at his feet. He began unbuttoning his robe with shaking hands. Mama meanwhile turned her back on him to prepare other aspects of his forthcoming punishment. Opening the cabinet holding the various whips, paddles and crops authorized for use in the house, she fingered several items lightly before finally settling on a light, wicked looking riding crop. She'd used the wider crop on him once and he had to admit it was quite effective - the metal core giving it quite a bit of spring. But while it had stung and reddened his ass, this little thing looked like it could cut and hurt and he wondered if that was her true intent. Another cabinet held various dildos, vibrators, harnesses, as well as an assortment of cock-cages. Those members of the audience who knew the contents of the various cabinets and dressers in the room sighed in appreciation of the implements she took. The cock-cage was built to hold both cock and balls, tightly compressed, with no allowance for erection, and in fact had some painful spines built into the interior of the cage which would make an erection quite excruciating. Additionally, his Mistress held a harness, built to hold various interchangeable dildos - although he would guess it had never been intended to hold the thing that Mama handed him. The artificial horse-cock in every way resembled the stallions it was patterned after, as long and big around as his forearm it was made of firm, black silicon. Curtis noticed several women, and a few men watching who were so aroused by the sight that they were playing with themselves or each other. He wasn't sure what Mama had in mind, but he was glad he wasn't the one being punished. He knew for a fact the damn thing would have torn his ass apart under the present circumstances. Spinning the older man around and shoving him toward the wall, Mama gestured to Curtis to handcuff him with the manacles hanging above his head. Fleur appeared, as if by magic, with a spreader bar and the two of them shackled the priest's ankles into it. Mama, stepped up to face him - "So priest," her voice dripped with contempt, "you think you have the right to come into my house and abuse my staff?" He shook his head, tears starting to fall again. "Speak. You think you have the right to abuse MY people?" "N-n-noo!" he wailed. Gripping his balls and cock in one hand she twisted hard. The priest screamed. A high-pitched scream as much from terror as from pain at this point but his knees went weak and he hung limply from the wrist manacles. "No WHAT?" Her voice cracked through the room. "N-n-noo M-m-mistress!" She nodded thoughtfully, "But you have the right to beat, verbally abuse and RAPE my sweet son?" The priest's only answer was to piss himself from fear. Mama nodded sharply to two of the heavily muscled, hooded "butlers" standing by the doorway, and although Curtis didn't understand how they knew what she wanted from them the two went to a back room, bringing out a well padded pommel horse - just like those seen in any gymnasium in the world. They muscled the heavy piece over the brick and tile rim Curtis had built up around the drain areas. At another nod from his Mistress they loosened the Monsignor's hands from the manacles, bending him over the end of the 'horse' and cuffing his hands round the pommel. The old priest's lean white ass clenched and flexed with shame and fear but Curtis noticed with some fascination that his cock was starting to grow again. A murmured command from Mama sent Fleur scurrying to lock the cock and ball cage on and the cleric seemed to flinch away, as much from Fleur's feminine touch, as from the pain of the cage itself. The snap of latex gloves being pulled on drew Curtis attention back to where Mama stood next to the pole holding the heavy enema bag. Her heels clicking sharply on the cement floor, and the squeak of the wheels as she moved the pole closer to the old man were the only sounds in the room. The horse had been positioned in such a way that the 'audience' of party-goers all had a clear view of the proceedings, as Mama bent and pried his ass cheeks apart with one hand. A collective sigh seemed to be exhaled from the on-lookers when his puckered brown anus came into view. Snapping the fingers of her free hand resulted in Fleur placing the nozzle and a generous loop of hose in her hand, the clamp within reach of her fingers. As casually as if she did it every day Mama slid the nozzle into the older man's rectum, thumb compressing the clamp to release the flow of warm, soapy liquid into his bowels. Fleur stood by, ready to compress the bag with her hands, forcing the fluid out faster if desired. Mama strolled back to the cabinet, pulling out a large sized anal plug, bulb shaped with a large flange and loop. Walking back to the priest she stuck it in his face commanding - "Suck this!" The old man was pale faced and sweating profusely now from the cramping pain of his bowels. He sucked the butt plug like an over large pacifier, but when Mama pulled it from his mouth she sneered disdainfully - "One way or another, this IS going in your ass - you might want to put a little more saliva on it." Curtis wondered if she knew how hard it was to manufacture saliva when you were scared - how true the old saying about being "scared spit-less" was - then realized she most likely did and her torture of the old priest was likely to be as intensely psychological as it was physical. He still thought she was over-reacting though and didn't understand why. He wasn't that badly hurt. He'd be fine in a few days, the doctor had said so. He'd even enjoyed it at the last - that old man knew how to fuck, priest or not. While he stood pondering, Mama had removed the nozzle, still flowing, from the priest's ass. Soapy water squirted from the tip over his ass and down his legs but nothing leaked from the tight pucker of his anus. Pulling the plug from between his lips again Mama leisurely, but steadily and with some force pushed it into his anus. It was a large plug, bigger than those Curtis normally took and he was somewhat surprised when the tissues parted and the bulb disappeared, leaving only the flange and loop in evidence. The Monsignor was making faces and noises like a fish out of water now, alternately gulping, swallowing and panting heavily, and his skin looked greasy under the overhead lights. "Now then," Mama's strident tones echoed through the cement halls of the old house's cellars, the tap of the riding crop against her leg, punctuating her sentences. "We're going to have a 'little chat'." She announced, and the Monsignor groaned, the muscles of his ass working against his discomfort. "Those of you in this room who know me well understand why the rules of this house - MY HOUSE," and she lashed out with the crop against the back of the Monsignor's thighs, raising a tight red welt in the tender skin. "Why these rules are the way the are - why they have been so as long as there has been a 'Mama's House', and why they WILL be enforced!" Again she lashed out, fast as a striking snake, and a thin bloody line appeared along the crease of the old man's buttocks. If not for the spreader bar he'd have danced in pain, but he howled loud and long until Mama slapped the riding crop on the leather of the 'horse' mere inches from his nose. He went nearly cross-eyed at that but shut his mouth with a sharp click of his teeth. His skin was shuddering now - like a horse in fly-time Curtis thought absently - and you could smell the fear-stink on him. Discretion is the Better Part... Ch. 02 "And what is rule number one?" she asked of the room at large. A deep masculine voice echoed from the back of the chamber, "This is a house of love and support - a place to nurture the manifold expressions of pleasure the human is capable of!" "And rule number two?" Mama's voice had lost none of her sharpness. A female continued, "It is NOT a place of judgement or condemnation of any one, or of any means of seeking pleasure between consenting adults." Her voice softened and she stroked Fleur's hair tenderly when she asked, "Rule number three child?" Fleur's clear soprano tones rang out, "Everyone ALWAYS has the right to CHOOSE!" Her punctuation was provided by two more wickedly quick lashes that Mama laid across the old man's thighs and buttocks. Striding back to the priest's head Curtis' Mistress gripped him by the hair, pulling his head up. He was truly crying now, in pain from both the action of the enema and the sting of the whipping his eyes were swollen and red, snot poured from his nose and he had chewed his bottom lip nearly bloody. Looking down at the once immaculately groomed Monsignor, Mama purred dangerously - "And the last rule?" He opened his mouth to respond but nothing happened. He tried to clear his throat only to wheeze like a cat with a fur-ball. Finally he managed to clear enough phlegm from his throat to respond. "Entrance to this house is a privilege," he croaked. "That's right!" Mama dropped his head so abruptly that his face smacked the firm leather of the horse and bright blood flowed from his nose and lips. In the time Curtis had worked there, he had never seen Mama.....the Mistress....look quite so....lethal. He'd seen her annoyed, when something hadn't gone the way she planned but never so - so coldly enraged - before. Even Fleur was watching her somewhat anxiously, hands knitting themselves without apparent volition. Moving forward he wrapped his arms around Fleur, somewhat surprised when she leaned back against him, her hands lifting to cling to his arms where they held her. Glancing up at their movement, a half smile crossed Mama's face before she turned back to the priest, the cold, stern mask settling back over her visage. "But YOU" punctuating her speech with quick blows of the crop against the older man's buttocks, causing him to writhe and cry out, "YOU set yourself up (another sharp crack of the crop echoed through the room) as judge and jury..." At this the priest sputtered a protest, "It is abomination..." "SHUT UP!" Her voiced cracked through the room as sharply as the blows of the riding crop that followed, and the priest squealed like a pig being castrated. He'd pissed himself again and the acrid smell of fear sweat and urine began to overtake the ability of the blowers installed in the duct work to clear it. As Mama stalked toward the middle of the horse again the priest writhed and his voice could be heard begging, "Please Mistress....please....oh please....." Snapping her fingers abruptly two of the chaps clad 'butlers' moved forward. "Take this....." she waved disdainfully at the ruined remains of the priest. "Let him evacuate. Make SURE he's cleaned out! If he shits on my shoes YOU'LL be the next up on the horse!" She pushed the remains of the now cold enema toward them on the wheeled pole. "Bring him back when you're done!" One of the men smiled grimly through the mouth opening in his hood, nodding sharply. Motioning to another pair of muscular, chaps clad males for assistance they unshackled the priest, carrying him down a dark hallway. In just a few moments the priest's anguished howls could be heard as the anal plug was abruptly pulled from his rectum and the flood of soapy, shitty water stung the lash marks on his ass. Several women in the audience were now masturbating furiously, while here and there various members were performing oral sex on each other. Long moments passed filled with the sounds of grunts, howls and forcible evacuation from the other room, interspersed with the moans, groans and slurps of the audience. Curtis continued to stand with his arms around Fleur, sharing the heat of his body as she continued to shiver intermittently. Mama moved quietly, settling the huge black silicon horse cock into the harness. She slid into the contraption carefully, nestling the internal plugs in their appropriate orifices and making sure that the small ridged nodule rested firmly on her clit, before she began to oil the huge cock. There were sighs and groans of desire from the audience as she stroked the length of it with oil, her hands not even able to fit completely around the monstrosity. She grinned fiercely at some of the men and women who had made the most noise, as two of the leather-clad butlers dragged the Monsignor back into the room, sagging between them. Mama strode up to the Monsignor, the ugly black appendage bobbing to and fro as it preceded her. Looking up the priest stared in initial disbelief at the vision confronting him, but as Curtis watched, something feral seemed to lurk at the back of his eyes and he licked his dry lips, almost hungrily. "Just so it's clear 'Priest'," Mama's voice dripped venom. "Just as your actions this afternoon were designed solely for YOUR pleasure - without care or thought of anyone else. So your punishment is designed for MY pleasure. You may cum, but I guarantee you'll derive no lasting pleasure from it - especially knowing it was a WOMAN who made you cum! It's going to be the LAST time you ever cum and the last sissy boy you ever rape! The last child who has no idea they have the right and the power to say 'NO' to you!" Curtis thought her voice was probably ringing throughout the building by now. More and more people had trickled in to seat themselves on the bleachers, looking from Mama to him and back again, and he knew he was rosy with embarrassment by now. Fleur continued to stand trembling within the circle of his arms and the continued stimulation of her round buttocks against his cock was leading inevitably to circumstances he wished he had better control of. Fleur felt his growing erection and, instead of moving away from him, she parted her thighs in some discrete way that allowed his shaft to nestle between them, held close to the slippery valley of her sex. She sighed and leaned back against him further, taking an opportunity when most of the attention seemed to be directed at Mama and the Monsignor, to slide his cupped hands up and over her breasts, wrapping her own arms over them to cover their actions. By this time the room was full of spectators, both seated and standing, and their Mistress had moved to the priest's ass, pressing firmly with the enormous oily horse cock against the old man's anus. Looking at the tightly wrinkled brown pucker, Curtis was damned if he knew how she was going to manage putting the thing inside, but even as he watched the old cleric's sphincter began to expand and open. A low groan went up from the crowd, watching tensely as the huge black shaft began slowly but inexorably to disappear between the priest's striped white buttocks. Curtis was feeling quite odd by now. He'd never seen anything quite like this, despite comrades' tales during his military days, of sex shows featuring females and donkeys or horses... He'd never imagined that a scene so perverse could simultaneously be so stimulating. Additionally, Fleur's hard nipples, nestled between his fingers, and the increasing dampness between her thighs, indicated that she was growing more and more aroused as well. She was somehow flexing the muscles of her legs and buttocks - an action nearly indiscernible from any distance - but quite apparent to the recipient standing hard behind her. Curtis was discovering that he could also flex his legs, delivering a miniscule thrust of his cock forward, but trapped as it was between Fleur's thighs and held close against her pussy and clit, every movement rubbed directly on her wet heat. He didn't think he could stand much more. When his Mistress began to rock back and forth, sliding the gargantuan thing in and out , the old man groaning with mingled pain and pleasure as his rectum clung to its surface, Curtis finally gave up. His hands tightened on Fleur's breasts and he was about to pump his essence between the redhead's slender thighs when she turned, dropping to her knees and taking him in her mouth. Her arms around his thighs she clung to him as he shuddered in her grasp, swallowing every drop with apparent relish. Pointing to her own swollen sex let Curtis know how close she was as well. Hoisting her onto the edge of one of the counters he dropped to his knees, burying his face against her, licking and sucking like a mad man. Her hands pressed him closer and still closer as she mewed and twitched. Her legs crossed tightly over his back pulling him into her as well and she came, and came again, eyes still glued to the scene in front of her. Finally, her breasts oozing milk and legs trembling with exhaustion, Mama eased the long black cock from the priest's anus. His own cum puddled below him on the floor while he wept bitter tears. A number of people came forward to help her now, easing the harness from her and supporting her sagging frame. "No one," she gasped. "No one harms my children!" Heads nodded in understanding throughout the audience. Turning to her hooded and chap-clad assistants, "Take him up to the Doctor, he's waiting to perform the castration." At that, the Monsignor's head came back up. As the 'butler's' loosened his manacles and began to drag him from the room he begged and pleaded, "Not that! Anything but that! Please Mistress, mercy...." She spat on him as he passed, her companions helping her from the room, leaving Curtis and Fleur together in each others' arms, wondering what the future might hold now.