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Meeting the Master Ch. 01

By: StrangeLife



My loving wife dropped what she was doing and sat down at the table across from me with an expression of total incredulity.

"WHAT did you just say?"

Guess I had her full attention now. Good. I drew a silent breath and repeated my question. 

"Are you having an affair Ruthie?"

A simple six-word sentence but loaded with potentially life altering implications. A sentence that is all too often a precursor for heartbreak and pain.

My dad - blessed be his memory - often said that, if you can't handle the answer don't ask the question. His years as a successful lawyer in the small town where I grew up had provided him with a keen insight into human behavior and I learned a lot from him. He had also taught me to never ask a question without knowing the answer in advance. This slice of wisdom would soon become relevant too.

"Oh my GOD! Are you serious Steve? Have you lost your mind? Why on earth would you suspect me of such a thing?"

"Just humor me Ruthie. Please. Are you or are you not? It's not an essay question. Yes or no?"

"Of course NOT! Seriously Steve. I can't BELIEVE you would even entertain an idea like that. What on earth has gotten into you?"

She was getting angry now and I could understand why. Infidelity is probably the single most serious allegation you can make towards a spouse. Throwing around accusations of that nature frivolously can kill a marriage faster than George W. Bush killed the American economy.

Which brought me to my dad's other advice.

I handed Ruth the thin brown folder adorned by a well-known PI firm's logo and rose to procure a cold beer from the fridge. When I returned to the table all color had drained from her face and her eyes were full of tears. She looked like somebody who had just been handed a death sentence, and in some way I guess she had. At least concerning the part of her life that involved the family.

I fought a sudden urge to rush over to comfort her. I was the victim here goddammit! So instead I just looked questioning at her.

"I will ask again Ruthie, and this time please have the courtesy to be straight with me. Are you having an affair?"

"Oh honey. It's not that simple..." she began in a weak voice.

"Then let us look at it from the side of the evidence, shall we? What were you doing at this place for instance?" 

I pointed at a photo showing Ruth getting out of a limo in font of what was obviously a large upper class mansion of some sort. She was wearing her long red coat and was easily recognisable.

She just looked at me, silently crying like a lost child. I pretended not to notice or care and continued.

"And is that you in this picture Ruthie?"

I pointed at another photo showing a woman sitting naked astride a man on a bed, her eyes closed in an expression of intense passion. Her features were slightly blurred - probably caused by her movements combined with the fact that the photo had been shot with a powerful tele through a set of blinds - but the resemblance to Ruth was striking.

"It that you Ruthie? Did you have sex with that man?"

She still said nothing, but her silence spoke volumes. I had to get away before I did something I would later regret.

"I am going out," I stated and left without looking back.

**********

This early in the day the bar was almost empty, which suited me perfectly. I needed to think, not socialise. I had to consider the future of my marriage, if indeed it had any.

"Draw me a cold one Charlie," I growled and a cold beer appeared before me, almost as if by magic.

I took a swig of the bitter ale and felt the cobwebs clear from my head. Beer - what would civilisation do without it?

Thus invigorated I sat back and carefully contemplated my options.

Was I happily married to Ruth?

Yes I was.

Our love-life had gradually tapered off over the years, down to a few times a week. We no longer went at it with the same energy as we did at the beginning of our relationship, but I never saw that as anything unusual. It was simply complacency born of familiarity. Ruth had never rejected me nor refused to try new things in bed. Even when she wasn't in the mood I could always count on a quickie whenever I wanted sex. Hell, I could probably have it twice a day or more if I let I know that I really wanted to.

No, I could honestly say that I missed nothing in the coital department.

And that was what made this whole business so strange. There had been absolutely NO indication of Ruth having a cock on the side, nor that she felt neglected or unsatisfied in our relationship. Quite the contrary. She had clearly been happy as a clam until I set off my little bomb an hour ago. If Dave hadn't spotted her in town with that stranger and tipped me off, I would never have suspected a thing.

Make no mistake though. Kicking Ruth to the curb and filing for a speedy divorce was definitely high on the list of possibilities. Unfortunately I still loved the dumb bitch and we had two great kids plus a lot of history together. I was hurting and I was angry, but twenty good years had to count for something. I might be able to forgive a minor slip.

Provided of course that she agreed to come clean and tell me everything. And I meant EVERYTHING. Including the dude's name and address. Not that I planned on hurting him physically, but if the asshole was married - and people who lives in big mansions tend to be - I planned on seriously messing up his happy home. And if Ruth even TRIED to protect the son of a bitch in any way, our marriage would be cancelled faster than a quality series on the Fox network.

In short, I needed more information before deciding what to do next and I knew just where to get it. At the source. I pulled out my phone and composed a text message to Ruth:

"Ruthie, you have hurt me deeply and I am very angry with you right now. If we are to have any chance of getting past this, I need answers. I will be home in two hours with questions. Some of them will be hard, but if you refuse to answer anything or I catch you in a lie we are done. If these conditions are unacceptable to you, please start packing your personal stuff and make arrangements to move out today. Otherwise I will see you soon. Love Steve."

The reply came almost immediately.

"Ok pls come home. Luv R."

I whipped out my notebook and began brainstorming for questions.

**********

Two hours later we were sitting in the living room. Ruth with her hands in her lap looking like she had cried a lot while I had been gone. I fought an impulse to comfort her. She was the cheater and had no right to break down. Her job was to face the music and I was the band-leader.

I consulted my notes.

"Ok Ruthie, this is it. Ready for some Q and A?"

"Yes Steve. I will answer anything to the best of my ability."

"Did you cheat on me?"

"No."

A bad start. But I moved on in my questionnaire.

"Was it you in that picture having sex with somebody else?"

"Technically yes, but..."

"And how the hell is having sex with some guy behind my back NOT cheating?"

"I didn't do it to have sex with anybody Steve."

I took a deep breath. Ruth was a smart woman and I could tell when I was being given the run-around. 

"Ok, lets be explicit then. Did another man beside your wedded husband - that's me, in case you forgot - move his cock back and forth inside your pussy?"

"Well, yes but..."

"Then it WAS extramarital sex Ruthie!"

"If you see it that way."

"Did you orgasm?"

"Sometimes yes, but that is not something I can control."

"Yes you can! By... like... y'know... maybe NOT spreading your friggin legs for the guy in the first place?"

"I had to. I was left no other choice." 

"Were you raped?"

"Oh God, no."

"Then WHY? For crying out loud Ruthie!"

"I had no choice Steve," she sobbed. "Please believe me."

Talk about being stone walled. I was boiling with rage, but I sensed my line of questioning was getting me nowhere fast. So I changed the subject.

"Who is he?"

"I don't know."

I closed my notebook and glared at Ruth.

"I warned you that I wouldn't tolerate any lies. Do you expect me to believe that you don't know your lovers name? What kind of fool do you take me for? I think we are done here."

"NO! No, please Steve. I am not lying. I really don't know his name. I never saw him before or since that day."

"You fucked a total stranger?"

"Yes."

"Why Ruthie?"

"I had no choice."

"Because?"

"I was told to."

"Huh? WHO told you to?

"Master."

Ok, THAT was unexpected. What the hell? Was there a second lover involved? I decided to deviate from my script and explore this further.

"Who is Master?"

"He is just Master."

"I want his birth name Ruthie. Like Bob, Joe or Ed."

"I don't know Steve. I only know him as Master."

"He is not the man in the picture? The man you had sex with?"

"No."

"Did he tell you to have sex with the man in the picture?"

"Yes."

I was starting to get a really bad feeling. I most definitely did NOT like where this was going.

"Were you paid for having sex?"

"No."

"Did the man you had sex with pay somebody else for the privilege of fucking you?"

"Yes, I think so."

Crap! She wasn't merely cheating. My wife was a friggin prostitute with a pimp and everything.

"And you will do anything this Master tells you to do? Even sexual stuff?"

"Yes."

"Why the hell Ruth? You are no pushover. You are a mature and educated woman and I have never seen you take any shit from anybody before. Why would you allow some asshat to command you around like that?"

"Because he is Master."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes Steve, with every fiber of my being. Whatever else you may think of me, please believe that."

"How can you love us both?"

"It's not the same. It's a different kind of love. I love the kids too."

Yeah right. What a pile of horseshit. I decided to probe deeper for some straight intel on this Master character.

"Are you on drugs Ruthie? Be honest because I might have you tested."

"Definitely not!"

"How long have you known your pimp?"

"Please don't call him that Steve. His name is Master."

"I will call him whatever the hell I damn well please! To HIS FACE if necessary! Right before I bash it in with a friggin bat and piss on it. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes. You're scaring me Steve."

"Good. So how long have you known him?"

"A very long time."

Ruth looked concentrated for a second, in an apparent effort to come up with a more precise answer.

"Twenty four years, I think. Yes twenty-four. I gave myself to Master twenty four years ago."

Once again I was completely floored. Twenty-four fucking years! This was way out of affair-territory. She had known the bastard for more than half her life. Holy shit. I was more temporary in her life than he was.

"You knew the son of a bitch years before we met?"

"Yes."

"Seriously Ruthie. Why the hell did you hook up with me in the first place if you were in another relationship already?"

"I was not in any relationship Steve."

"But you were having sex with that Master-bozo?"

"I was, yes."

We were running in circles. Ruth was seriously not making any fucking sense! It was as if she truly didn't consider the act of banging that jerkozoid cheating. Was I trapped in the Twilight Zone or something?

"Does your pimp know that you're telling me this?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I called him while you were out and asked permission to tell you everything."

"Did he give you his permission?"

"Yes."

"So this Master decides what you can and cannot do? Even regarding our marriage?"

"In a sense, I suppose. Yes."

"Would you have told me anything, if he had forbidden you to?"

Ruth looked down and mumbled something I didn't quite catch. I decided to push her for a reply.

"Was that a no?"

She nodded.

"What if he had told you to shoot me and drown the kids in the bathtub?"

Ruth starred at me, horrified.

"Oh God Steve! How can you say something like that? He wouldn't! Never!"

I admit I was pushing Ruth to the edge with that question. However her noncommittal answer sent a chill down my spine. I decided to refrain from further exploring that particular venue for now, but the lack of a straight denial did little to endear me to her cause. This had turned into much more than a simple case of spousal infidelity or a bored housewife realising a prostitution fetish.

It never before occurred to me that my loving wife might be dangerous, but suddenly I was no longer so sure. If she was at the beg and call of some controlling cult-leader who had spent a quarter of a century indoctrinating her, who knew what the hell she might do if he commanded her to go whacko? She could potentially turn my house into Jonestown while my back was turned.

I SO needed to know more about that Master-guy. For all I knew, he could be Charles friggin Manson or something!

"If you knew him when we met, what did he think about you marrying me?

"Master approves of you Steve and he loves you too. He gave his blessings to our union. You were his first pick."

Ruth took my hand and smiled warmly.

"And he was right, wasn't he Steve? Aren't we perfect together? Isn't our marriage wonderful? Haven't I made you happy in every way a woman possibly could?"

I pulled my hand back and gave her a cold stare.

"I thought so Ruthie. I truly did. Until a while ago when I realised it was all a scam. For twenty years I have played the fool in yours and your slimy lovers disgusting sex game and I feel violated in ways I can't even BEGIN to describe."

"No! Please don't say that! I love you to death Steve and I always have. I always will. There is nothing fake about our love."

"So you take your wedding vows seriously then?"

"Very much so. You are my husband Steve and I love, honor and respect you."

"Ok, assuming you do. Are you ready to prove that?"

"Yes! Anything Steve. You have but to ask. Whatever you want, I will do it!"

If she expected me to ask for kinky sexual favors, I probably disappointed her with what I came up with. 

"Very well. Here is what we will do then. A clean break and a clean slate. Tabula rasa. You go get the cockroach on the phone RIGHT NOW and tell him - in my presence - to leave you the fuck alone. In the future you are not to contact him in any way. If he tries to contact you, we will file a harassment suit against him. Tomorrow I am putting the house on the market and we can start planning our move to the other end of the country. Rebuild our marriage together in a new place, only the two of us and the kids. No pimp and no lovers. What do you say Ruthie?"

"Steve... I can't."

I had expected that, so I wasn't surprised. Besides I had no friggin intentions of moving anywhere. The kids had their school and friends here. I hadn't done shit to deserve this and I'd be damned if I was going run away from some prick. I had NEVER backed down from a fight in my life, and at the tender age of forty-five I wasn't about to change that. But my suggestion was a quick way of gauging the depth of Ruth's commitment to our marriage. So far I wasn't impressed. 

"Not gonna happen, eh Ruthie?"

Ruth just looked at me with teary eyes and said nothing.

"If I demand that you to choose between him or your family right here and now, you will choose him? Is that what you are saying?"

She didn't answer but her silence was all the reply I needed. I felt red-hot rage surge through my veins and was getting close to losing it. This wasn't just about me anymore. Would my obviously insane wife seriously have walked out on her kids at the whim of some asshole? OUR kids?

"ANSWER ME!" I roared.

"I... I..." she jumped up and ran sobbing out of the kitchen.

I heard the bedroom door slam shut followed by muffled sounds of crying. Hell I felt like crying myself, but what good would that do?

Instead I grabbed my coat and left again. My marriage may just have blown up in my face, but I was getting hungry and needed a time-out from Ruth and her nauseating pity party. Going out for dinner sounded to me like the perfect solution to both problems. 

*********

Upon returning to my humble abode I was hit by a hundred and twenty pound female cannonball that came charging down the stairs before I even got a foot inside the door.

"You came back! Thank God you came back! I thought you had left me! I thought I had lost you forever!"

I won't lie. Her enthusiasm made me feel good. But I gently untangled myself from her embrace. I had more hard questions that needed answering and my meal had not quenched my anger over her betrayal and her continued dedication to her pimp.

Soon we were comfortably seated in the living room, ready to continue our talk.

"Tell me more about Pimpy-dimpy Ruthie. How did he get his grubby little claws in you in the first place?"

"I have known Master since my high school days, but only as a teacher. I didn't accept him as Master until after my eighteenth birthday. The day Lou-Anne Darnell was reborn as Ruth Masters."

"Huh? You weren't actually born Ruth?"

"No. I was given a new name when I accepted Master."

"He was a teacher at your high school?"

"Yes. As a substitute professor."

Figured. The guy had obviously signed up as a substitute teacher at a school in order to groom young girls for a future career in his ring of prostitution. I swore to myself right there and then that whatever else may happen in the future I was gonna flush that turd, if it was the last thing I ever did on this earth. 

"Did you start whoring for your new pimp right away?"

"Steve..."

"Answer!"

"Having sex with selected people was my assigned task, yes."

"How many?"

"Once a week usually. Mostly I would simply be their escort to events or parties. If they wanted sex, I obliged of course."

"Of course. And you fucked this Master too."

"Yes."

"How often?"

"Not often. I was never his favorite."

Christ! She actually looked SAD when she said that! What the hell had I been married to for twenty years? I didn't know the person in front of me at all.

"When did you last fuck him?"

"I don't recall when he last called on me to service him personally. I am no longer so..."

Should I be cruel to Ruth? Hell, why not? 

"Young? Attractive? Fresh? Innocent? Wrinkle free?"

She cringed. Yeah, it was a cheap one but it felt good.

"It's not my age that made him reject me. Master prefers to call on more... well... voluptuous girls. I was never like that Steve. My breasts were never to his liking, not even back then."

So the pimp was a boob-man. Interesting, considering that Ruth was tall, slim and athletic. Even after two kids, her boobs were hardly more than a handful each. Exactly the way I liked them - I never found an excess of blubber attractive on a woman - but apparently Mr. Pimpy was of a different opinion. This told me that he had likely targeted Ruth as a potential prostitute from the very beginning. He fucked her, but was never attracted to her. He was straight up using her just like she had been using me.

I was SO going to enjoy bagging that sack of shit! 

"I think I need to have a talk with your pimp, Ruthie. After all, we do seem to have a lot in common. His address please?"

"I am not permitted to tell. Sorry Steve."

"No problem. It should be here in the investigators file. Ah yes - we can be there in less than an hour. There is even a phone number here. Awesome. Maybe I should call and say hi?"

"Steve! No! Please let me call. I will say what you want, but let me do it."

"Very well Ruthie. I will leave the arrangements up to you, since I would probably waste my phone bill cursing the shithead out anyway. Tell him that we are going to meet within the next few days. It can be on his terms OR he can have me show up with a valid excuse to kick his door down and punch his face in. But either way we ARE going to meet." 


Meeting the Master Ch. 01



I didn't complain when Ruth took her phone outside to call the asshole in private. Whatever they were talking about, at this point I honestly didn't give a flying fuck. Besides, hearing my wedded wife grovelling before some whoremonger would probably have caused me to blow my stack. So I sat calmly back and waited till she was done. It took her almost half an hour to set up the arrangements.

"We are both cordially invited to enjoy the hospitality of Master next Friday Steve. I took the liberty of accepting on both our behalf. He will expect us around lunch time and he hope we will extend our stay to the entire weekend."

I rose from the chair and bowed in mock reverence.

"I graciously accept the mighty Master's generous hospitality and am looking forward to making his acquaintance."

After that I simply left without acknowledging her obvious discomfort at the implied insult, intending to go for a long walk in order to blow off some more steam. The sheer audacity of the guy in combination with Ruth's poorly veiled reverence of him had again heated my piss to a boil and I don't know if I could have prevented myself from hurting her badly if I had stayed.

And my dad did not raise a wife-beater.

**********

The next couple of days were probably awkward for Ruth. I don't know what she had expected of me, but I was acting as if nothing had happened and was deliberately ignoring the elephant... no T-REX in the room.

I didn't ask her any further questions about her double life and never mentioned her pimp. Nor did I move out of my bedroom or make other changes to our marital status.

I honestly didn't see a reason to. I had done nothing to cause our current crisis. So why should I have to change my ways or miss out on the carnal perks of my marriage? I needed regular sex, and in the absence of a faithful wife a whore would go a long way to fill the gap. I fucked myself to sleep every night and even tried a few new things I had thought about before, but never gotten around to do. I no longer bothered asking or approaching Ruth tentatively any more, but simply took her whenever I felt the urge. She was on a guilt trip and I knew she wouldn't dare protest. 

On the inside though, EVERYTHING had changed. Ruth had betrayed me in the worst possible way - not once or twice, but continuously through our entire friggin marriage - and apart from anger and humiliation I felt nothing but numbness. Who WAS this woman? She looked like my Ruthie, acted like my Ruthie and sounded like my Ruthie, but she was like a stranger to me. I thought we had shared everything for two decades but as it turned out we had shared next to nothing. It had all been an act!

I tried consoling myself with the fact, that I was basically playing house with a classy and beautiful call girl, including liberal access to the full range of her services at no charge. Not a bad deal if you think about it. And as a bonus, she even cooked for me. 

A call girl, however, who ALSO happened to be the mother of my two kids, but for now I simply couldn't deal with that issue. The kids were staying at my parent's farm for the summer - thank God for the fortunate timing - and whatever I was going to do would be done long before they were due back. 

But what if I wasn't their real father? 

What if I had unknowingly been raising the whoremonger's children?

Or the kids of one of her Johns?

No, I didn't want to go there now. A DNA test was definitely in the cards, but regardless of the outcome the kids were mine by right of association. I was the one who had read them stories. I had taken them camping. I held their hands all night when they were sick. I celebrated their birthdays. I was the one who had followed them to school, taught them good values and loved them through all their young lives.

Both kids were in their upper teens and in a relatively short time they would be legal adults. Callie would be eighteen in three years and Josh in four, after which the decision about where and how they wanted to live would rest solely in their own hands. But if anybody tried to get at them, they would have to step over my dead body. I would DESTROY Ruth before I allowed her to drive a wedge between my kids and me, and she knew me well enough to be aware of that danger. A DNA test would constitute crucial evidence in a potential lawsuit against the biological father for fraud and maybe recovery of back child-support, but nothing more. He would never be their dad or be allowed anywhere near them while I had breath left in my body.

What may surprise some was, that I seriously considered remaining in my marriage. And why the hell not? As mentioned already, Ruth was beautiful, a great wife in every way, a loving and caring person and we had twenty years of history to prove that we were good together. I was pissed at her for playing me, but before I found out about it I was happy and content. 

Maybe I could fall in love with this new Ruth? I had fallen for the old one after all, and she was still essentially the same person. So what, if she had been a working girl? We all have a past. And her experience was a welcome boost in the bedroom.

But one thing was certain; without trust and loyalty there could never be any true love. I do NOT share - period - and I wanted her a hundred percent or not at all. That was a condition on which no compromise would be made on my part. Shit or get off the pot. My future would definitely not be spent with Ruth Masters, but I might end up falling in love and growing old with Lou-Anne Darnell, if she still existed somewhere in that addled brain of hers.

Oh yes, she would have to change her name back of course. I wasn't going to allow a single trace of her pimp to stain our renewed marriage, if we were to continue as a couple. Ruth probably didn't realize it, but I WAS going to make her choose. And ANY hesitation on her part - even a short doubting glance - would be a default vote for the pimp. Which in turn would be the launch code for flushing my sham-marriage down the toilet and initiating my revenge on the puppeteer who pulled her strings. 

Those were my final thoughts as I slowly drifted off to sleep with the head of my unfaithful wife resting on my shoulder and my wet cock in a state of total drainage after an hour of great sex.

The coming weekend would be the turning point where the fate of my marriage would be decided. Whether it would end up being a polite palaver or an all-consuming apocalypse I did not know. But changes were a-coming; of that I was certain.

Everything would be dragged out in the open, all scores would be settled and every debt would be paid in full.

Next Friday.

When we were meeting the Master.



Meeting the Master Ch. 02



© This is written by me, and can be reproduced for your enjoyment, however not if it is reproduced on an internet pay site, or any other medium; without compensation for me --- the writer.

__________________________

This story is fiction. It is meant to be read by adults. Children under the age of 18, please leave. All the characters in this story are of my own imagination, and not real in any sense of the word. Any similarities to that of living people is pure coincidence.

This part can stand alone - but it would be so much more enjoyable if the reader checks out the first part. In the first part - a Dom and sub relationship is developed from online to meeting for real. This is both guys first time with another male, but the roll play made it easier to swallow. No pun intended! I purposely kept the additional sex involving women to a minimum in this part because I chose to post it to the Gay Male category. But if this story continues - it may move to BDSM or non-consent.

I hope you enjoy the story: 

****************

Master,

You wake early and visit the room you left me in - cuffed to the bedpost late the night before - finding me still asleep. As you climb onto the bed and straddle my chest I immediately wake up. Helpless to get away, I gaze at your waterdog jutting from your crotch. This is not the way I imagined being woken up - but hey - accepting that I am your slave is just part of the bargain. In fact you take this moment to remind me just who I am - and what purpose I serve. "You are Susan, My Pet. Your job while we are together is to please me. I like my dick sucked first thing in the morning. But since you were tied up last night - you couldn't come to the Master and beg like a good little slut girl for his huge meat." 

Whacking me with your hardening shaft back and forth across my face only seems to stimulate you - and be that one thing that acknowledges me being your little cock sucking pet. The back of my head presses further into the pillow - but then I have no where to run, and no where to get away from your throbbing manhood. You lift your shaft up and order me to kiss and lick your ball sack. As I obey this command, you let you thick cock lay down against the bridge of my nose, thus blocking sight out of one eye. 

My Master tells me to open my mouth -- and stuffs his hard mushroom shaped head into it. 

I run my tongue over the end -- I suck on it -- I lick the soft underside of your throbbing shaft. Something deep in my mind is allowing me to forget anything that I felt before - and only recognize that I like being submissive and serving a Mistress has always been an erotic thrill - if she were sitting on my face expecting oral satisfaction. Now instead, I find myself a submissive pet of a MASTER. While I am trying to please you through my worship of your cock - I look upward past your chest to your eyes - and they are not mean - or cruel - but they are enjoying the new power that I have bestowed. The power to be satisfied by a helpless male. You squirt your load --- and I am forced to take it all in.

Releasing me, you order me to wear the cock harness and a pair of girly panties under my shorts. "It will do you some good to spend the day as my slave, yet can't service my immense cock, or stroke your little clit for pleasure." 

We both showered and dressed for golf (t-time at 1pm) but when standing in the kitchen munching on a sandwich, you notice that there isn't a large bulge in my shorts. Surely if I had the cock strap on – it would cause my meager dick to fill with blood and extend from my body. You require that I show you the collar around my small dick and balls. I hesitantly open my shorts and drop them to my ankles – where you realize that I don't have panties on either. "Where is your clit collar?" You ask.

I answer that I couldn't wear it under my shorts since it makes my clit stick straight out from my crotch. I weakly complain that the satin panties are rubbing against my clit and teasing it unmercifully. Besides, I whine - it makes my clit poke out like I am walking around with an erection. Getting a bit upset that I would challenge your command, you order me to go get the strap for my clit, and some girl panties to cover my clit. I return wearing a pair of white satin panties, and hand the strap to you. This strap was nothing more than a 10" kitten collar that they sell in any pet store, but knowing that I am your pussy – made it just that much funnier to you to tighten this strap around my limp dick and cum filled balls. Knowing this is a chance to exert your authority and demonstrate your control over me - you command me to beg you to lock the strap around my clit. 

Dejected and realizing I am not getting my way - I begin to softly beg for you to put the strap on my tiny clit. I keep my hands behind my back, while you tighten the strap around my balls and clit. I yipe a little as a small bit of my tender skin gets trapped by the strap. Then attaching a leash to the my bound clit, you start leading me around the room --- this way -- and that way --- stopping and starting all the time. The entire time I am expected to keep my hands behind my back. Meanwhile, my shorts and panties which were at my ankles slip off my feet and I am naked from the waist down. Then you escorted me to the garage where you have rigged up my cuffs dangling from the rafters. I wonder to myself when you had time to get this ready? 

You cuff my hands behind my back, and raise them up a bit until I am bent over – my naked butt exposed to your control. My balls and Clit - locked in the strap - still has a leash dangling between my legs. Taking the ping pong paddle in your hands, you begin to smack my exposed ass. It jiggles -- it bounces -- but I am helpless to clinch it tight - and keep you from getting your best shots. The whole time -- you tell me that I am your little girl -- that my mouth is nothing but a pussy for your big cock. You remind me that you are being a benevolent Master - that you could easily take advantage of my willingness to submit and make me do all sorts of things -- and punish me all sorts of ways. You explain that you ordered me to put the clit strap on - and I purposely disobeyed you. Each statement is punctuated by a smack to my ripe butt cheeks. Sometimes you yank on the leash -- pulling my clit --- knowing that I am bound - and helpless to follow. 

Finally you explain that while we are out on the golf course, that you want my butt nice and warm - to remind me that I disobeyed and that my position is that of a Slave – more precisely – your pet girl.

Your dick hardens - as you put me through my paces. Rubbing it against my bent over face, you tell me "Your master is excited by spanking you -- and you like it Susan - don't you?" 

When I deny that I enjoy your punishment of me -- you politely explain that my own clit is excited. This is irrefutable proof that I enjoy it. This excites you tremendously to know that you can manipulate my body to obey you - not me.

Soon, you are finished with my punishment --- I am released and instructed to give you a blowjob out on the deck - without putting my panties or shorts on. Kneeling on the deck is hard on my knees -- and I squirm uncomfortably. Keeping my hands behind my back --- I look into your eyes and say "Master -- Thank you for punishing your Pet. May Susan satisfy you huge cock by licking and sucking on it? May Susan please be allowed to kiss and lick your balls?" You agree by pointing to your crotch and I begin to reverently adore your manhood, all the while rubbing my sore pink butt with my hands.

Your huge mushroom shaped head goes in and out of my stretched lips while you occasionally stoke the thick shaft – helping to jerk yourself off even sooner. What seems like the 10th time this weekend – you erupt on my face, mouth, and now down my clean golf shirt. Whacking me with your slowly deflating cock you admonish your pet for not swallowing your whole load. This is especially humiliating for me because my poor dick, blood filled and jutting out from my body is not as big and thick as yours even after you squirted all over the place. My balls ache behind the pussy strap. Remaining on my knees while a virile man sits before me and whips my face with his sticky wet cock is the ultimate in man upon man humiliation.

I am allowed to clean up, change my shirt – but this time, I have to leave the clit collar tightly around my balls, and full shaft. It can't slip off, not without my erection decreasing, and I don't believe there is any chance of that happening anytime soon. 

It looks obscene the way my dick pokes out into the panties and shorts. The shorts are just loose enough to leave some expansion room, but the soft panties stroke the end of my dick and tease me to the extreme. Your constant harassment of me – in my current condition is a masochistic wet dream. Exposed this way to the public, yet trying to act natural was nearly impossible. I am embarrassed by my jutting clit -- I try to sit in the cart and not stand around the tee box or green. After only one hole, 2 women ask if they can play through - or with us. You glance at me – and I am shaking my head emphatically no. Thus noting my hesitation to having them around, you gleefully invite them to play along.

One is a redhead (more aggressive kind of tomboy) with small tits, and the other a blonde is rather well put together with some big breasts and nice curves. We have some conversations - learning that they are staying nearby, and that they are Simi-pro golfers (Nike circuit) They learn that we are both married, and here on vacation too. We share all sorts of innocent conversation, but it is obvious that the redhead (her name is Rhonda) is fascinated by my crotch and the tent that won't go down. She even made a remark about Viagra – assuming that I had taken some just prior to teeing off. I blush and instinctively try to avoid her glances. 

Then after 6 holes, I am riding in the cart with the Rhonda because our golf balls have landed next to one another while yours and her friends are across the fairway, she bluntly asks me if I am your slave. Shocked, I gaze at her smirking face, and then to her tight low cut golf shirt. Her nipples are poking out. She is excited by teasing me. 

I try to say no - and deny our new relationship - wondering how she could have come up with that. "Don't deny it -- I have heard you two quietly talk when you both get in the cart --- he calls you PET, Slave, girl or Susan. You call him Master or sir. So tell me the truth." Rhonda snaps back. 

I look into her cold steel green eyes - I assume that her tomboy testosterone gives her the confidence to 'tell it like it is' I reply - that after being married 18 1/2 years, we met online through email - and this is the first time we have met.

That didn't quite answer the question to her satisfaction – so when we made it to the green for that hole – she starts making more comments.

She shocks my Master when we get to the green by openly making a smart ass comment about 'your pet'. Upset in someone finding out – you tell me that I will certainly get my ass spanked now! 

Her friend says – "HEY - we knew we were right!" This leads us to both assume that they had been discussing us in their cart several of the previous holes. 

Throughout the next 9 holes of the golf match – every chance for one of them to ask more questions or demand proof of our mutual arrangement got more extraordinary. Increasing my discomfort – it becomes open season on me --- with everyone taking pot shots at my current position. It gets so graphic – that I am ordered by you to flash them both my panties. I am flustered, but obedient. 

I try to play along -- admitting to the redhead that I would love nothing better than to use some Altoids on a delicious pussy. Her blonde haired, large busted friend (Jenny) is apparently is a bit on the submissive side too. Rhonda offers you Jenny to use - once we are done playing golf -- if she can have some fun alone with me. You agree. They knew we had a 4 bedroom house to ourselves, and we could have some fun there. Even in the golf game, I felt like a loser with the two of them shooting in the mid 70's while you had an 81 and I shot 105. 

We depart for our 4 bedroom house, while they return to their place for changing and gathering some "toys". We are having them over for dinner --- and you tell me that I will most certainly be the desert! I am instructed to strip down to only my girl panties – and collar around my neck.

Dinner is short – but soon the games begin – and I am the one being led around by my clit leash, while the two of them slap at my defenseless ass. One thing leads to another until I am borrowed by Rhonda - the Dom-female in return for a magnificent blow job by Jenny for you. 

I told Rhonda that I wanted to use Altoids - and sure enough I am on the bed face up with her snatch right over my face. Her fair red hair just accents her labia and clit, and I lick and suck her delicious pussy till she cums several times. She is amazed at how eager I am to lick her to another orgasm, after the first one has passed, but if she only knew just how excited I was to be licking her pussy instead of choking on my Master's huge prick. Pleased with my efforts she lets you know that I am a great oral slave! Likewise, you say that her friend is better at giving you blow job. It was obvious – the blonde and I were more suited to the opposite sex than we were to the same sex. 

The rest of the evening, sexual games were played by us all. I had to stroke your big prick, while you were kissing Jenny, and Rhonda was yanking on my clit leash. Lots of pussy licking, and cock sucking was done by me – while you and Rhonda enjoyed the efforts of your new playthings. Surely it seemed that we would all become friends – or at least playmates for many vacations in the future.

The End?



Meeting the Master Ch. 02



I rose extra early Friday morning hoping to get ready in good time, but Ruth had already seized the bathroom and seemingly set up a permanent camp in there. After waiting in vain for the better part of an hour I succumbed to inevitability and settled for doing my morning routine in the small crummy guest-bathroom downstairs. You know, the one where the water goes ice cold every time somebody turns on the hot faucet in the upstairs master bathroom. But on the positive side, a cold shower can be quite refreshing in the morning.

Seriously though. What the hell is the deal with girls and bathrooms anyway? How long can one spend on taking a shit and a shower? I could shower, masturbate, bathe the dog AND wash my car and STILL be done in less than half the time of the average female doing her daily maintenance.

But when Ruth finally emerged, I almost chocked on my coffee. However long she had spent in there, it was totally worth it.

"Holy guacamole Ruthie! I don't quite know what to say. You look..."

"Like a slut? Like a whore? Like a cheating bitch?" she probed suspiciously.

"If you put it that way, I would say you are all of those plus a few more I could mention. But the words I actually had in mind was amazing, fantastic and awesome."

She lit up with a big smile and did a pirouette.

"Like what you see honey?"

"Better believe it!"

And I wasn't exaggerating.

My wife was decked out in some sort of buckled black leather corset and matching black silk stockings held in place by a garter belt. Her entire cock-provoking outfit was covered by the most transparent silken negligee I had ever seen anybody almost wearing, and the entire outfit had effectively turned Ruth from a stylish housewife into a fetish lover's wet dream come true.

As if that wasn't enough to put the Viagra manufacturers out of business, she wore a set of panties that looked as if they were made from chains held together in the front by a wrestling championship belt. Her long blonde hair pulled tightly back in a utilitarian ponytail was the final touch and clearly signalled that this girl meant business. 

And cleavage!

Oh yes there was serious cleavage too. Thanks to the lift of the corset my wife suddenly sported a lot more boobage than I was used to seeing on her. Definitely not a bad look for her. She really ought to slut-up more often.

And I could have had THIS for twenty friggin years? Oh Master -- we were SO gonna have words!

"Will you help me with this please?" Ruth asked rhetorically and handed me an honest to god plush-lined dog collar. I snapped it in place, fighting a sudden impulse to bark.

"So what's the deal with the armoured panties anyway?"

"Oh, it's a chastity belt."

"A chawhatsyasay?"

"A chastity belt, Steve. Master has a firm rule that he wants his girls to arrive fresh when called upon so I snap this on after I shave and wash myself. Only he has the key that will unlock it. That way he knows for sure that I am fresh for him."

I didn't know what to say, so rather than breaking something expensive in a fit of rage I walked downstairs to calm myself with another cup of mocha. The sheer audacity of that prick was mind numbing!

Eventually Ruth descended too, now wearing her red coat in order to avoid getting us both arrested for indecent exposure on the trip. She greeted me with a loving peck on the cheek in passing. I returned the gesture by grabbing her ponytail and using it as a handle to hold her in place while bending her over the table.

"AUW! What are you doing Steve? Stop that. You're messing me up!"

"Sue me," I growled and snapped off the chastity belt with a pair of wire-cutters. The blasted thing rattled to the floor in a tangled mesh of shiny metal chains.

"STEVE! NO! Please! Master doesn't allow sex before attending him."

"Tough," I replied and shoved my cock inside her without further ado.

I reached around to her pubic area and was astounded to feel her complete hairlessness. A strange sensation, being used to Ruth at least sporting a landing strip. But my probing finger also revealed that she was wet as a rainstorm and more than ready to be fucked full force. Probably after fantasising about her ass-Master while getting ready. Well, if I couldn't get the dude completely eliminated from my life and my marriage, he might as well get used to enjoy my leftovers.

So with a solid grip in that handy ponytail of hers I started banging Ruth like a drum. At first she kept flailing her arms and yapping away about "Master this" and "Master that," but soon the oscillating hardness between her legs cauterised her mind of anything not relevant to her impending release. She clung to the table moaning with delight as the erotic tension between us grew with each thrust, and when I felt myself getting close, I wetted my thumb and squeezed it inside her ass. This pushed her over the edge and her very vocal climax pulled me along as well. With a triumphant roar I came deep inside her and held the position until my ejaculation was completely done. A little cream for the Masters coffee courtesy of his dear friend Steve.

Ruth pushed me away and desperately wiped her crotch with a dishtowel.

"Oh no. I am sticky and messy now. I need to go back up and rinse off."

"The hell you do! Go slip on a normal pair of panties and get your ass out in the car. We are late and we are leaving now."

"Master will not be pleased."

"My heart bleeds."

**********

It was a solid two-hour drive with a sulking and leaky wife at my side before we finally pulled up in front of the Masters mansion. 

And yes, "mansion" was the only word to adequately describe it. The place was huge. A massive multi-storey elizabethan style building surrounded by a well-maintained park and a small beech forest. It was situated a fair distance from the main road, at the end of a long winding driveway that fanned out into a spacious gravel-covered yard and parking area in front of the main entrance. The centrepiece of the yard was a marble fountain featuring several life-size statues of nude women making out.

Yeah, I was pretty sure we had the correct address.

I brought the car to a stop at the foot of a stairway so wide you could have driven a truck up it. As soon as we came to a halt a goddamned uniformed valet showed up and opened the door for me. I felt like a VIP at the Ritz.

"Your pimp's got class Ruthie," I remarked. "Gotta give him that.

"Please Steve. Could you at least stop disrespecting Master in public?"

"Whatever. Fuck you both."

We ascended the stairs and were lead through a set of heavy wooden doors at least eight feet tall with brass fittings and entered the eighteenth century.

Yeah, seriously. The guy was evidently an avid fan of medieval European castles or at least shared interior decorator with the duke of Wellington or something like that. The lobby was large and spacious with a polished tile floor in an intricate pattern that I guessed was a stylised coat of arms. The walls were bare granite stone but lined with richly embroidered tapestries and paintings, mostly featuring motives of sexual acts or naked women in highly suggestive posings. Towards the rear of the room a wide carpeted staircase with polished brass handrails lead up to a first floor landing and the lighting was supplied by four massive chandeliers hanging from the ceiling that must have been at least twenty feet above us. 

A dozen people -- mostly girls in outfits similar to Ruth's -- were lounging in chesterfield style couches and seating arrangements. A few of them looked up curiously when we entered but otherwise nobody seemed to make a big deal of the fact that newcomers had entered the premises. Guess they were used to a certain level of traffic in this place. 

Compared to the picturesque scenery, the man that came walking down the stairs to meet us looked almost benign. His smile was broad when he came over to greet us with a firm handshake for me and a hug for Ruth.

"Welcome to both of you. I hope you had a nice trip down here. As always you are a vision to behold Ruth."

"As it pleases you Master," she mumbled with her head bent demurely down.

"And it is so great to finally meet you Steve. I have heard a lot about you of course, but nothing beats meeting people face to face."

I took a second to gauge the man shaking my hand. Tall, sixty or maybe sixty-five, with a full head of grizzled dark hair and a well-groomed beard. Obviously a man who took care of himself, as was evident from the slim waist and the broad shoulders. His strongest features though were his eyes. Ice-blue with a piercing gaze that seemed to draw you in and read you like a book. I quickly revised my first impression; this man was a lot more dangerous than he initially appeared.

"That makes one of us Mr..?"

"M... just call me M."

"I see. M as in Master?"

"No, I don't believe you would be comfortable with that Steve. Let us just say it's M as the character in James Bond, shall we?"

I had to smile at that one and he laughed with a deep resonant rumble. I don't know what I had expected, but this guy wasn't it. If the situation had been different I might even have liked him. As things were though, I could not allow myself to let my guards down even for one second in this mans presence.

"As you wish M, though you should know that we wont be imposing on your hospitality for long. We are just here to inform you in person that Ruth will cease to be a member of your little stable of prostitutes. In the future we are going to work on rebuilding our marriage and that includes cutting you and your cult out of her life for good. I am sure you understand."

M let go of my hand and his expression turned from radiantly jovial to somber.

"You will need to discuss that with your wife at a later time Steve. But for this weekend she has certain obligations to fulfil..."

"Customers," I injected.

"If you prefer to put it that way, yes. Ruth has a circle of gentlemen who have been fans of hers for decades and are counting on her services on a regular basis. Some of them are booked for this weekend, and they are not the type of men you stand up."

Instinctively I took a more aggressive stance.

"Are you saying that she will be raped if she refuses to spread her legs for those Johns voluntarily?"

M actually seemed a little angry now. Ask me if I gave a shit.

"Know this Steve. I am NOT forcing, nor have I EVER forced, Ruth to do anything against her will. She is living life the way she wants to live it and my sole contribution has been helping her realise her full potential and offering guidance and direction when she needed it. So you will have to take it up with HER -- not me. And at a later date please. Because for now she has promises to keep." 

"That's your problem M. I see plenty of other sluts hanging around in this place. Pimp one of them out to your Johns instead, if you like. My wife and I are done here."

I thought I heard a gasp from Ruth at the insolence, but I ignored it. This was no longer just about her. There was a pissing contest going on between M and me and the air was running thick with testosterone. What can I say? It's a guy thing. 

"I am afraid I must insist that you remain our guests for the weekend as planned Steve. I regret to being forced to press the issue, but you seem unable to look at this in a rational manner at the moment. I apologise in advance for what is about to happen."

He waved a hand and I turned my head to see two muscular guys moving in front of the large door leading back outside to the yard and my car. Well, he was pressing the issue all right. I can't say I was entirely surprised though. A pimp running an operation on this scale is bound to have goons nearby at all time. That we hadn't spotted them upon our arrival was a testament to their quality and professionalism. I would guess ex military rather than street thugs.

But I came prepared.

"Are you sure you want to do this the hard way M?" I asked as I swiftly grabbed a firm hold of his shirt and pushed the muzzle of my new Glock 17 hard against his stomach.

This was evidently NOT the reaction he had expected and for a moment he looked completely taken aback. He quickly regained his composure though and I could almost tell how his brain was analysing the new situation. I got the distinct impression that he was mostly annoyed with himself for underestimating me rather than afraid of my gun. 

He looked me straight into the eyes with that intense gaze of his. 

"Have you ever shot a person before Steve? Taken somebody's life by force and gone on living with the knowledge that somewhere somebody is rotting in a cold grave because of you. That somewhere somebody is missing a father, a husband, a child or a dear friend because of you. Are you sure you are capable of killing another human being?"

I smiled back in what I hoped was a self-assured manner.

"To be honest, no I haven't M. This type of situation is very new to me. In fact, I have never even fired a weapon before in my life. But the guy at the gun store was very helpful. He loaded this gun for me and told me that, all I have to do is pull the trigger and a bullet will come out and destroy whatever I point at. Didn't sound complicated at all."

"So you are serious?"

"Believe it."

"Guess we have a problem then."

"Guess so. Because we ARE leaving now,- with or without your permission."

M moved in closer and lowered his voice.

"Know that if you pull that trigger you will follow me in death Steve. My people will see to that, and some of them might even direct their rage at Ruth too. Regardless of what you choose to do, you are never leaving this house alive against my will. I implore you to think it over."

"We are leaving M. We can go around you or we can go through you. Your choice."

It was then I looked into his eyes and saw the terrible truth in them. We were done. M was not going to back down and neither was I. Oh crud! Guess this was the end. I mumbled a silent prayer in the vain hope that God wouldn't hold too many of my sins against me.

My finger tensed on the trigger.

Just in that moment I felt a light touch of a hand on my shoulder. It was Ruth. She knew.

"Please Steve..." she whispered in a trembling voice.

With a conscious effort I relaxed my finger, but kept the gun where it was.

"Ok, lets talk M. What do you suggest we do in order to avoid this getting messy?"

He relaxed and the relief was evident in his pose. He knew as well.

"Here is what we are going to do Steve. You stay as my guests for the weekend as planned, and in return I give you my word that you will have free access to everything in the buildings and on the grounds. You can keep your gun too, if that makes you feel better. In fact, you are free to come and go as you please with the exception that the gate will remain closed at all time so you can't use your car."

"And we are fifty miles outside bumfuck Arizona with no cell coverage and less chance of hitching a ride than a guy in central Sahara with a camel allergy," I sighed.

M smiled and winked.

"You are quite perceptive Steve. Do we have an understanding as gentlemen?"

I couldn't help it. I honestly liked the guy. He definitely wasn't stupid and contrary to my expectations didn't come across as an arrogant thug either. His demeanour was somehow perfectly in tune with our lordly surroundings, and I could almost make myself feel like I was truly facing a nobleman of medieval Europe.

"We have an understanding M."

I let go of his shirt and returned my gun to the Kydex holster in my coat. The gorillas at the door immediately advanced on us, but a discreet wave from M was all it took to make them back down. They kept scowling at me, probably not very happy with the fact that I had gotten to keep my gun. In their eyes M was running an unnecessary risk. 

As compensation Ruth's smile was as bright as ever and it made her look even prettier. The fruit knife she was discretely palming in her left hand didn't escape me though. Since there was no fruit anywhere in our vicinity, I could only imagine one possible use for it. Yes, it was painfully clear to me that I had no loyal allies in this place. Not even my loving wife. 

M clapped his hands twice and a dream on two legs rose obediently from one of the couches and came walking towards us. She was Japanese, or at least of oriental origin, and moved with an elfin grace that told tales of long hours spent in the gym. Her jet black hair flowed behind her like a cascade of dark silk reaching all the way down to her waist and the effect was jaw dropping. Ruth was a great-looking woman by any standard, but that girl was out of this world. And out of my league. And out of my age group. My best guess was twenty, but it's always hard to tell with oriental girls.

Her only garments were the corset and stockings with garter belt, like the outfit worn by Ruth and which seemed to be the standard attire for all M's girls. But this particular girl was of a type that didn't need racy clothing to be stunning. She would look like a million bucks even rolled in shit and covered with flies. She would ooze sex whether in the process of fucking your brains out or washing your laundry.

I was beginning to wonder where the hell this was going when M knocked my socks off.

"Motoko, this is Steve. He will be your master for the weekend."

The black haired exotic dream smiled and kneeled before me.

"Master Steve. I am yours to command. I give myself freely to you, body and soul. Please accept my vow of loyalty, obedience and servitude."

Whatever I had expected, this wasn't it. I was literally speechless.

M's ice-blue eyes glinted with amusement and he looked as if he was making an effort to keep from cracking up. 

"That is a formal pledge of servitude. You are supposed to accept her offer, Steve."

"Eh, I... yeah... sure. I accept," I mumbled uncomfortably.

Instead of getting up Motoko reached for my pants. I actually recoiled in surprise and finally M was unable to curb his amusement any longer. He broke out in laughter but managed to compose himself enough to tell the girl to let me off the hook for the time being.

"I think you can postpone the formal conclusion of the ceremony till you are alone with master Steve, Motoko. He isn't quite used to our ways yet."

With the agility of a cat Motoko slid back to her feet.

"As you command Master."

"Please wait for your new master by the stairs."

"Yes Master," she replied and bowed to both of us before heading for the stairs to the first floor.

The way her hips moved when she walked away was positively hypnotic, and I found myself just standing there chewing my tongue until M pulled me back to the real world.

"Listen Steve. I really like you man, and it is my sincere hope that you will use this weekend to familiarise yourself with our lifestyle. The lifestyle your own wife has chosen to dedicate her self to and live by. And please remember that contrary to how it might appear, nobody is here against their own free will."

"Except for me," I remarked dryly.

"I was hoping the company of Motoko would sweeten the deal a little."

Ok I admit it. I couldn't hold back a big shit-eating grin. Hey, I'm married -- not dead, ok? Besides Ruth and this guy friggin owed me. Big time. Even a night with a supermodel half my age didn't come close to adequately compensating me for twenty years of betrayal, but it was a start.

"However, a word of caution Steve. You will NOT under any circumstance be allowed to disrupt the function of this house. Whether you agree with our ways or not must I insist that you respect them while you are a guest under this roof. Motoko will be your guide and see to your every need, but you should also know that she will keep an eye on you and has been instructed to kill you if you step out of line."




Meeting the Master Ch. 02



"Huh?"

"You heard me. She is the holder of several martial arts degrees and has earned every one of them through rigorous training. She can and will do as commanded. I implore you to refrain from testing my resolve in this matter. This includes Ruth's activities."

"Like butting in while she is busy banging her Johns?"

"A crude way of putting it, but essentially yes. She will spend time with several of her gentlemen friends during the course of this weekend. Gentlemen whose influence and patronage is of vital importance for our house. You will not see much of her, I am afraid."

I said nothing, but my smile had vanished like a mud pile in a rainstorm.

"Regretfully I must now attend other duties so I must bid you adieu. I am looking forward to seeing you later for dinner and getting your impression from your first day in our house. Please excuse me and feel free to join Motoko."

We shook hands and he left. I strolled over to the stairs and the walking talking wet dream waiting for me there.

"Lead the way Motoko. This is your turf."

"As you command master," she replied and walked ahead of me up the stairs.

The corset had no bottom and offered a view as delicious as the rest of her. I was hard as a rock before we reached the landing and when she guided me inside a luxurious room that seemed to be assigned to me for my stay at the manor, the front of my pants stood out like a little tent.

Motoko was apparently not oblivious to my pressing problem and knelt down in front of me as soon as the door closed.

"With your permission master?"

I just nodded and with a skilled set of moves she zipped me down, pulled out my iron-hard cock and closed her lips over it.

Holy ShihTzu she was good!

I was treated to a pleasure-cocktail of sucking, squeezing, caressing and pumping that made my vision blur and my ears ring. This girl could have made a friggin statue ejaculate so there was no way I could hope to keep my wad in check for any significant amount of time. Predictably I barely lasted two minutes before my abdominal muscles seized control and I felt myself shooting off down her throat.

Motoko drank it all like an alcoholic on a booze binge. Not a single drop was lost and the sucking and squeezing didn't subside until my erection was completely gone and I gently pushed her head away.

"Christ in gym shorts girl! I should call you Dyson DC37 from now on."

"If it pleases my master I will henceforth be Dyson."

"Whoah! Just kidding. Motoko is a very pretty name. I... erhm... order you to NOT change your name to Dyson, ok?"

She smiled and licked her lips seductively.

"As you command master. Thank you for sharing your essence with me."

She sat down on the bed leaving little room for doubt as to what she wanted to do next. Maybe the awesome blowjob had rebooted my brain and restored its faculties though, because I had a slightly different plan.

"I want to see Ruth. Take me to her."

"But master..."

"Are you refusing my authority Motoko?"

She bent her head demurely.

"No master. Please forgive my insolence. I will take you to see her at once."

She stood up and took my hand. Her expression was one of deep worry.

"Master, please be advised that she is entertaining at the moment..."

"Already? Holy shit! It has been like fifteen minutes since we parted ways downstairs. My dear wife didn't let the grass grow under her ass for sure."

Motoko continued.

"Master will not permit us to join or interrupt the events, but we are free to visit the antechamber, if that pleases you." 

"It pleases me no end Motoko. In fact, I'm so friggin pleased I can hardly contain myself. Lets get going."

**********

The antechamber turned out to be a small but well equipped room adjacent to the larger suite where Ruth was "entertaining" her tricks. Besides a big ass kingsize bed with satin sheets of a quality that would have made the queen of Sheba green with envy, the entire wall was covered by several large flat screens displaying the action in the suite next door.

"Is this some kind of peeping Tom arrangement?" I enquired.

"Yes master. I suppose you could put it that way. Some of our clients like to bring a partner and watch him or her being serviced without actually participating themselves. This is our voyeur facility where they can do so unobserved. You can control the cameras with this."

She handed me a remote with a small joystick.

"And Ruth? Does she know we're in here peeping at her?"

"She knows of this facility of course, but she cannot know whether anybody is in here or not."

I flicked the joystick back and forth until I managed to zoom in on the bed. Turned out you had to twist the little fucker to adjust the zoom.

Ruth was on her stomach, strapped to the bedposts spread eagle while a couple of naked guys and a woman took turns tickling her with various implements and whacking her ass with a paddle. The woman looked to be in her early thirties and in good shape, so I immediately pegged her as one of the other slaves. The guys were at least in they sixties, one was tall and skinny while the other was short and on the obese side of fat.

"Those old guys are her so-called male friends I suppose?"

"Yes master," Motoko said while watching me carefully for any signs of a pending explosion.

"Who is the girl?"

"That is Monique master. She lives her too. She belongs to Master like Ruth and I."

"Say, exactly how many slaves does M have?"

"Fifty two at the moment. Not all live here though. Most live on the outside like Ruth; some with a spouse or partner. And not all are called to serve as hostesses. You must have the... the..."

"Body?" I suggested.

"Yes, you must have the body for it. And most of us who are called for this task are young. Ruth is the oldest hostess of the house and she serves mainly clients who specifically prefer mature women."

"So there are many more suckers like me out there who unknowingly are married to one of M's girls?"

"Master, it is not my place to divulge..."

I interrupted her.

"As your master I command you to answer me truthfully!"

"Yes master. I do know of more girls whose true nature is unknown to their spouse and family."

"And what is your personal opinion of such a deception Motoko? As your master I order you to answer me."

She smiled, seemingly amused that I had caught on to the way of using my authority as master to pry classified information from her.

"My culture values honour before everything else master. Treating a loved one with deceit is an act of much dishonesty. I disapprove of such an act."

"Good answer," I thought to myself. Somehow it was comforting to know that not everybody around here was a lying shithead. Too bad my dear loving wife was one.

"I like you Motoko. And I would like you even more if you could tell me where one might get a cold beer in this joint."

"Please allow me to get one for you master."

She trotted away to fiddle with a built-in fridge in the far end of the room and returned with my cool beer in a tall glass.

In the mean time I had settled in and turned my attention to the on-screen live show.

Ruth was no longer the one strapped to the bed, but had switched places with the fat guy. He was flat on his back - a position didn't do him any favours for sure. Besides being at least seventy pounds overweight the guy was hairy to the point of constituting a fire hazard. His entire body was covered with a mat of curly grey fur except for his head that was bald as an egg. Hairy man-boobs sagged down the sides of his torso and in the beginning I couldn't even see his cock.

Well, until Ruth digged it out of his groin-fur and started kneading it to Ape-man's obvious delight.

The other guy was in better shape and had the added advantage of not looking like a sheepdog. And he had one more thing going for him -- the guy was hung like a friggin horse. I mean we were in salami territory here. Monique was trying her best to blow him but he wasn't even halfway inside her mouth.

"Say Motoko. Have you ever fucked Ape-man and Horsey?"

"Fucked who? I am not sure I understand master."

"Those two jokers in there. The hairball and that hung dude..."

Motoko broke out laughing. It sounded so musical I almost expected to hear silver bells chime in.

"Oh I see master. Yes, I have been called to assist Ruth on previous occasions. These particular gentlemen come her especially for the company of Ruth and Monique but sometimes other girls will join them in play."

"Is Horsey as impressive as he looks?"

"It hurts master. Even with plenty of lubrication. I am not very big down there for I haven't had the blessing of any children yet. And he is not a gentle man in bed."

"And Ape-man?"

"He is funny and it tickles all over. He is also very... enthusiastic... and he emits an impressive amount of essence."

"Essence? Oh you mean cum..."

"Yes master. Very much for such an old man with such a small organ."

Now it was my turn to laugh. Motoko smiled too.

"May I ask you a personal question master?" she asked tentatively.

"Sure Motoko. Shoot."

"I wonder. Do you feel bad or uncomfortable watching your wedded wife service her clients?"

"You mean, because I was so friggin hardnosed with M that I almost got us both killed down in the lobby?"

"Forgive my candor master, but yes. The thought did occur to me."

"I was protesting his control over us Motoko. In my mind I stood up to a bully, is all. Whatever Ruth may have done to me, she is still my wife and I resent the fact that ANYBODY else can force her to do things. But no, I don't really have any strong feelings watching her fuck those dudes. Maybe because of my twenty-year stint as a cuckold? I don't know. But when it comes down to it, what's the big deal with one more or less, right? She has been putting out for M for most of her life."

"You are wise master. And not at all what I expected, it seems."

She moved closer and put her mouth to my ear.

"Do you wish me to assist you in disrobing?" she whispered and sent goose bumps shooting up my spine.

That was pretty much the best suggestion I have had all day... come to think of it, all my life... and soon I was stretched out naked on the bed with Motoko running her long slender fingers up and down my body, making me tingle in places I didn't even know were tingly.

GOD she was good with her hands!

I glanced at the screen to see what Ruth was up to, and "up" turned out to be the operative word.

She was now straddling Ape-man who was enthusiastically pumping her pussy from below with the tenacity of a little furry Energizer Bunny, just like Motoko had predicted. His hairy man-boobs flopped up and down like the jowls of a Bassett Hound running full clip and his ass was oscillating so fast it almost looked blurry.

And good old wifey was sure liking it a lot. Her eyes were closed tight in the expression I knew so well, and if the camera had offered a higher resolution I knew I would see a pulsing vein in her left temple and little beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She was chasing her orgasm and getting closer every second. Yep, it sure appeared as if she enjoyed her work. 

Monique was being taken by Horsey doggy-style but seemed less enthusiastic about the privilege. He used a solid grip in her long hair to pull her against his cock while the other held on to the paddle that spurred her on with a hard whack every few seconds. He was not holding back either and plowed into her with long steady strokes, making her winch every time he slammed against the end of her vaginal canal. The sound was muted, but if she moaned it was probably not from pleasure. Yeah, I doubted she was getting much out of it, except for a sore pussy. Despite Horsey's impressive endowment Ruth had clearly landed the best fuck-buddy in the rotund but turbo-charged Ape-man.

My attention was drawn away from the on-screen action by Motoko who had extended her gentle massage to include my once again iron-hard cock. Magic fingers indeed. But this time my beautiful oriental slave-girl was after more than hand or mouth work.

"Master? May I please sit on your cock?"

I was in the middle of enjoying myself immensely and mumbled something that was probably incomprehensible. It took me the better part of a minute to realize that nothing was happening. Motoko kept on massaging and was clearly waiting for explicit permission. She evidently took this slave business very seriously.

"Yes Motoko," I managed to gasp. "You may sit on my cock and ride it at your discretion."

"Thank you master."

And with those words she climbed on top of me with her signature sinewy elegance, to a straddling position where the moist head of my cock rested against her smoothly shaved entrance. 

Come to think of it, I hadn't seen even the shadow of a hairy pussy since arriving. Ruth, Motoko and Monique -- not a single pubic hair between them. I was willing to bet a nut that the same was the case for the other forty-nine slaves. Apparently M didn't care for beavers much -- at least not the furry kind. And admittedly, my cock pushing against Motoko's immaculately groomed pleasure-cave was a glorious sight to behold indeed. 

But enough "beholding." It was time for action.

"I order you to sit down on my cock." I said with a trembling voice.

"As my master commands," Motoko replied and without further ado proceeded to slide down on my throbbing pole until our pelvic areas made contact.

Holy shit, she was tight! Her pussy almost felt like an ass. We had hardly started fucking yet and I was seeing moons and stars already. She sure hadn't been kidding about her diminutive size. Accommodating Horsey's massive member must have been a tremendous strain for her. I started to wonder if even MY fairly average cock was a little on the big side.

"Are you ok?" I enquired in a concerned voice.

"And I ORDER you to answer me honestly," I added, remembering how these people's twisted minds work.

Motoko opened her eyes and there was a hint of a smile on her face.

"I am much better than ok, master. I have been pining for this moment ever since I was assigned to you. May I move please?"

"You have my leave to move," I croaked with as much dignity as I could muster.

And boy, did she ever!

A slow sweeping motion back and forth, with the controlled grace of a panther yet with the promise of a pending explosion of unbridled passion evident in every move. Her tension brought out the definitions of her toned body and in the ghostly light of the flickering screens I fleetingly noticed the outline of a six-pack on her flat stomach. Motoko worked out for sure. It occurred to me that her narrowness could be deliberate as well.

"Maybe she is doing her kegel's by crushing bottles, "I thought to myself in a vain attempt of internal levity. 

Alas it didn't do anything to distract me from the relentless push to let go and succumb to my release. Sure, I had had a blowjob already -- a pretty awesome one too, I might add -- but it didn't seem to have boosted my stamina one bit. I was clinging to my wad like Leo to that friggin door from Titanic and Motoko seemed nowhere near orgasm yet.

I turned my head and checked on Ruth. Maybe watching a fat geriatric hirsute having sex with my wife would bolster my control.

Ape-man was on top now, doing his best to pound my loving wife through the mattress. Or maybe it was a waterbed? They were bopping too much up and down for ordinary springs for sure. Well, who gave a shit anyway what kind of bed it was? I was just trying to force my mind away from the ejaculation-inducing reality of a stunning oriental beauty half my age riding my cock in the most enticing manner.

And to be honest, Ape-man was doing really good so far. From a distance they looked like a friggin circus act -- an attractive tanned and toned cougar, who would look at home on Hollywood Housewives, being power-fucked by a little furry beach-ball shaped geezer, who would look at home in a dog kennel.

But the man clearly had Ruth firmly under his control. Her make-up was smeared, her long blonde hair was a tangled mess and her skin was glistening with sweat. I knew she must have orgasmed several times already -- that is when she sweats the most - and by the way she had grabbed hold of his back-fur and crossed her long legs behind his jack-hammering ass, I knew she was getting ready to set off another big one.

And then I spotted a small white and green pillbox on the bedside table. 

"Cialis," I thought to myself. "You little sneaky hairball, you!"

But hey. If it worked for him, who was I to knock it? And since I was being treated to a goddess I could hardly begrudge my darling Ruth a little wild medically assisted monkey-sex.

"Master?"

I returned my attention to said goddess.

"Master, may your humble servant make a request?" 

"You may," I said with all the lordly graciousness I could muster.

"Will you clamp me master?"

"Certainly. You have been a fine servant and definitely deserve to be clamped. In fact, you are the most clamp-worthy girl I have ever met. But... well... I don't really know what clamping means. Could you maybe throw me a hint?"

I suspected that Motoko was secretly amused by my ignorance, but apart from a noncommittal smile she didn't display any outward signs of untimely mirth. Instead she leaned into me and proceeded to kiss me deeply while simultaneously opening a drawer in the night table with her free hand. I didn't want that kiss to end -- not ever - but it did eventually and she sat back up, now holding a small silvery chain with a clamp in each end. She handed it to me.

"For my nipples master."

I examined the gizmo. Those clamps looked like they belonged on a set of jumper cables for a car. Crap on toast! This was gonna hurt like a bitch.

"You want these on your nipples? You are serious?"

"If master pleases, yes. I would like that very much."

Well, Motoko was a big girl. If she wanted it, she would damn well get it. So I carefully pressed one of the clamps against her left nipple and let it go. She gave a short hiss of breath and trembled slightly when the spring caused the clamp to bite into the tender flesh.

"Everything fine?" I enquired.

"Oh yes master. Thank you master. May I have the other one too?"

I clamped the other nipple and her small boobs were now connected with the silver chain. It looked seriously hot and I wondered if Ruth would be into something like this. She probably was -- it seemed likely that it was a natural part of all the master/slave shit -- but she had never told me or even hinted about this kind of bondage. Well, I would definitely need to get me one of these for our bedroom. 

Once again my inner monologue was interrupted by Motoko who was clearly getting increasingly excited. She was no longer merely rocking on my cock, but gyrating fast and her oriental stoicism was beginning to slip.

"M... master," she said in a breathy voice without opening her eyes. "The chain. Pull... pull the chain please."

I grabbed the chain and pulled carefully. Her nipples were being stretched out by the clamps.

"Harder... harder master. Pull me back and forth. Please."

I began pulling harder and following her rhythm, almost as if I made her move on my cock by pulling the chain. The pain must have been excruciating, but to her it was like turning on the afterburners on a jet. The harder I pulled on the chain, the wilder she became.

While nowhere near Ape-man speed, Motoko was now moving on my cock in a way that clearly said she meant business. Every semblance of control was gone, and she was alternating between arching backwards causing the chain to pull her nipples out to impossible lengths and throwing herself forward whipping my torso with her long black hair.




Meeting the Master Ch. 02



I felt like I was holding on to that chain for dear life... like riding a bucking bronco at my parents ranch. I was in Heaven and Hell at the same time and my entire lower body was on fire. Motoko was clearly chasing her orgasm now and it couldn't be far ahead. But unfortunately there was no way I was up to the chase. With seconds to spare, I let go of the chain.

"I am so sorry Motoko... I can't..." I managed to wheeze.

She heard me and bent down to my ear.

"Your pleasure is my pleasure master. Please come in me. Make me yours with the gift of your essence." 

Then she moved in for a deep kiss.

And come in her I did. Holy shit! Like a friggin runaway freight train on a thirty degree downslope. And Motoko drank me dry from both end with gusto and voracity, and didn't break the kiss until I was back from outer space, completely spent.

When I became lucid again she gave me a loving peck on the nose, got off me and moved down to my deflated cock that she proceeded to thoroughly clean with her tongue.

"What a gal," I thought to myself enjoying the attention. Ruth had been holding out on me big-time for sure. I could have had this kinda of spoilage for my entire marriage! Whatever else happened, she would have some serious catching up to do in the future. Oh yes - I was sure taking a liking to being treated masterly.

I turned my gaze to the screen in order to check on my wayward Ruth of the Jungle.

She was now resting on the bed next to Ape-man, sharing a post coitus cigarette. Hey! Hold on a minute. A cigarette? A god damned cigarette? Ruth was a smoker? Once again it struck me that I didn't know my wife at all. Who the hell was this woman really?

Another unsettling observation was the easy-going familiarity between her and Ape-man. I had no sound, but it was evident that they were chatting, goofing and generally sharing an intimate moment. Not at all like a hooker with her John, but more like two long-time lovers. I was her husband and father to her children, but in a way I got the impression that Ape-man was much closer to the real Ruth than I had ever been. With him she was herself. With me she was role-playing. He - and probably numerous others - were part of her real life while the kids and I were nothing but her hobby.

A wave of sadness washed over me. Could we ever fix this? Would it be an exercise in futility to even try? Marriage counselling maybe? We definitely had a lot of work to do and a few major decisions to make in the coming weeks. 

But right now I had an obligation to fulfil. Motoko was still in the process of cleaning me off with her tongue after giving me the best orgasm of my life. But she had gotting nothing out of it, and that deficit was not acceptable in my book. 

"Motoko. I want you get on your back and spread your legs."

"Yes master," she said and promptly stopped what she was doing. 

As soon as she was on her back I moved down to the far end of the bed and got comfortable with my face between her legs.

"Master. Please. I am not clean for you," she started to protest and even moved a hand down in an attempt to cover herself.

I decided to cut the shit short by going all master on her.

"I order you to remove that hand and submit to whatever I see fit! Understood?"

"Yes master. Please forgive my presumptuousness master."

And the hand disappeared promptly, leaving me full access to her pussy.

Which actually didn't look messy at all. It probably helped a lot that she was completely hairless, but she also had the kind of pussy that was hardly more than a slit. There wasn't really anything to mess up down here. As I opened her up with my fingers things started looking more like you would expect. You could tell from the moisture that this pussy had been in action recently and there was a tiny stream of white fluid running in the direction of her ass. 

I didn't go for the pussy right away but started out by kissing and tickling her inner thighs. I could tell she was tensing up. Motoko had been very close to orgasm when I capitulated, and I suspected she was still on a hair-trigger. A suspicion that was confirmed when I shifted my attention from her thighs and began moving the tip of my tongue up and down the length of her outer lips. As soon as my tongue made first contact she gasped and clawed the sheets and as I started moving it around on her sensitive bits she tensed up like a board.

But the real fireworks started when I zoomed in on her love-button and began circling it closer and closer, like a hungry shark toying with its prey. She started moving her hips so I had to hold her in place with both hands and her gasps turned to whimpers.

"Mas... master? Can I cum? Please let me cum?"

A stupid question begs a stupid answer, like my dad used to say.

"Not a chance!" I said firmly without pausing my clitoral explorations. 

As I blew air on the head of her clitoris she gave a small yelp and her entire abdomen trembled. Somebody was clearly getting excited up there.

"Please master! I don't know if I can... Please let me cum. Oh please."

"Don't you dare. As your master I ORDER you to not cum." I said teasingly.

This was fun, but it was time to dial it up a notch. So I did something that always made Ruth go wild - I put my lips softly against her clitoral hood and carefully sucked it rhythmically in and out of my mouth. At the same time I jabbed a thumb, lubricated by her own juices, inside her vaginal opening. It worked beyond my wildest expectations.

"Master!!! OH GOD! Please! NO! Noooooo...!" were the last comprehensible words from Motoko before she started screaming and thrashing as the orgasm took hold of her body.

I don't know if it was the lack of release during sex, the fact that I denied her permission or maybe a normal occurrence, but she was definitely NOT subtle in her climax. I mean, holy crap! I clung to her pelvis barely managing to keep my mouth in place on her clit amidst kicking legs, flailing arms and throbbing abdominal muscles. I could feel her powerful contractions in my mouth and suddenly I got sprayed in the face with warm liquid! A LOT of it.

First I was like, what the fuck? Did she just piss in my face?

But it didn't taste like urine at all. Must be female ejaculation or something. I had no idea that shit was real. I always thought it was a porn invention. Oh well, you live and learn. And it wasn't like I hadn't "sprayed" her good too.

Then as suddenly as it began it was all over, and Motoko collapsed like a rag doll. I kissed my way up her stomach, causing a few after-shocks; each accompanied by a tremble and a moan, and ended up in a spooning position. She sighed in post coital bliss, kissed my hand and wrapped herself in my embrace. Not a word was spoken before I drifted off to sleep, content and relaxed.

**********

I awoke with the feeling that something was very wrong.

At first I didn't know where I was, but almost immediately the memory came rushing back to me. I opened my eyes and checked the time. It was two in the afternoon meaning that I had slept for less than an hour. Yet I felt oddly rested.

Then I spotted Motoko sitting on the chair next to the bed. She wasn't returning my smile and that made me really worried.

Without a word she leaned over and handed me something that looked like wood wrapped in strings of leather and turned around so she was sitting with her back to me. I shook the thing probingly and a bunch of knotted leather-strings came lose and hung down. Nine, to be exact.

An honest to God cat o' nine tails! A friggin medieval torturers whip!

"Motoko?"

There was no reply.

"Answer me dammit! That's an order!"

"Master?" she said weakly without turning.

I was getting agitated.

"Listen carefully Motoko. Playing with clamps was fun and I don't mind slapping your ass a bit, but if you think for ONE second I'm gonna whip you with this monster you are severely deluded." 

She snapped around on the chair with an expression of utter horror on her face.

"But master? You MUST! I came. I disobeyed a direct command and shamed both you and myself thereby. Only the lashes can cleanse such an infraction. Please master. I beg of you."

Ok - that was it. Motoko was now officially even more batshit and disconnected from the world of sanity than Ruth.

"This thing will rip your skin to shreds. Don't you get it? IT CAN FRIGGIN KILL YOU! There is NO way I'm gonna be part of this. Get me a paddle and I shall beat your ass good, but this ugly implement..."

I threw the cat o' nine tails violently at the wall

"... is NOT a goddamned sex-toy! Understood?"

She stared at me as in total shock while tears welled from her eyes. Then she bolted for the door and ran off. I heard a loud sob and she was gone.

"God damned loonies," I cursed under my breath and went out in search of my room. I needed a friggin shower... and some sanity, if indeed such an item could be found anywhere in this madhouse. I would probably have to settle for the shower as long as I was trapped inside this crazy place. Trapped inside the Masters mansion. 



Meeting the Master Ch. 03



© This is written by me, and can be reproduced for your enjoyment, however not if it is reproduced on an internet pay site, or any other medium; without compensation for me --- the writer. 

__________________________

This story is fiction. It is meant to be read by adults. Children under the age of 18, please leave. All the characters in this story are of my own imagination, and not real in any sense of the word. Any similarities to that of living people is pure coincidence.

This part can also stand alone - but it would be so much more enjoyable if the reader checks out the first two parts. In the first part - a Dom and sub relationship is developed from online to meeting for real. This is both guys first time with another male, but the roll play made it easier to swallow. No pun intended! I purposely kept the additional sex involving women to a minimum in this part because I chose to post it to the Gay Male category. In part 2, the Master uses the slave in erotic ways - and then they both end up with a couple of bisexual women. This part continues where that one left off - with the most dominant woman Rhonda getting to 'use' the slave for her own enjoyment.

I hope you enjoy the story: 

********************* Friday evening with Rhonda

Before the night was over Rhonda decided to tame me – just a little bit further than you had explored. As my Master and sexual owner, you wanted only to tease me, play with my clit, spank me a little and most of all – get quite a few blowjobs. Rhonda decided that it would be fun to rape me with her strap on dildo. 

While you and Jenny were in one bedroom Rhonda had encouraged me to put the cuffs on my ankles as well as my wrists. Being submissive in bed is a thrill when an aggressive person is sharing that bed. It was easy for her to tie my wrists to the headboard. But to my surprise, she pulled my legs up to the headboard as well. Instead of being tied to the bed where my clit was exposed and easily toyed with, she had other ideas. She pulled one leg up toward my head and tied it off, then followed suit with the other. I was confused as to what good this did. She no longer could sit on my face... my arms and legs were in the way. She couldn't ride my cock – it was pointing straight at my face and was not in any position to be useful to her.

Instead, Rhonda got off the bed and with her back to me – pulled some leather straps up her legs until they framed her firm ass cheeks. Turning back toward me I saw she wore a cock. Not just any old cock – this one was made of firm rubber – and had to be 10 inches long. The base was very thick – and then it smoothed out so it could be attached to those straps framing her crotch. She looked menacing to me – and I – well, I must have looked extremely vulnerable. Suddenly I realized that my ass was waiting to be fucked by this bisexual tomboy. She had penis envy and her dick wasn't ever going to get soft. Rhonda took some jell and smeared my puckered asshole while occasionally sliding one or two fingers inside. I was ready – but I wasn't willing.

I begged and pleaded for her to not take me. "Please Mistress Rhonda, don't use that on me. No --- no don't fuck me with that toy. It is way too big. Besides, my Master promised me there would be no ass play. He's not into it. I am not into it!"

"Be quiet little one. You are a girl tonight – you are a girl this weekend. It is time for you to find out what it is like to have your virginity taken by a wonderful Mistress." With that – she aimed the tip of her black rubber dildo at the opening of my helpless ass – and began to thrust her hips forward.

Slowly she inched that toy deep inside of me. I thought I was full – and I was told it was only 4 inches. Oh my --- what will happen when she plows deeper? Rhonda was a cool customer – enjoying the feeling of my rape. She watched me intently as she pushed and prodded that fake cock deep into my ass.

My eyes were as big as saucers and I sucked in all the air my lungs could hold – feeling my ass getting filled with her toy. I was amazed by the sensation of being fucked. It must be affecting her as well – the pressure against her clit was rubbing her to orgasm, while fucking my open ass.

More and more she pushed and prodded the fake dick into my lubed up ass. Much to my surprise, my own 'clit' was beginning to appreciate the rape. Even if I didn't like it in my mind, my cock had other ideas. I watched her large swaying tits move back and forth as she plowed my virgin ass. The scene of her fucking me with her huge tool – was just too much – I shot my wad all over my stomach, and chest. It pooled in my belly button, and ran down the side of my chest to the bed. She was extremely pleased by my show of affection, and told me that I was hers to use tonight. 

She thrust her thick fake cock into my ass – and continued to 'tame' me as she described it. Only this way could I really be considered a 'bitch'. And if my Master wasn't going to fuck me – then she was forced to do the honors. It seemed like forever, but was most likely only 25 minutes before the pressure against her clit caused her to have a fabulous orgasm. She closed her eyes, and held my waist while she slowly moved up and down – pressing the fake cock against her clit. She had her orgasm, and then slowly undid the straps around her waist. Oh my – she was going to leave that huge rubber cock inside my ass – with my legs spread wide open – and vulnerable to all sorts of attack. 

Rhonda left the room – I assume to visit with jenny and my Master. I fell into a deep sleep as my legs went numb, and the cum on my chest dried up into white globs.

********* Slaving away a fresh Saturday morning.

The next morning I awoke – still bound to the bed, but my legs were released – while my wrists were trapped in the cuffs. I didn't remember having my legs released – how could that be? Surely I would remember not having them tied to the headboard, bending my waist in two and the numbing feeling as the blood worked to be pumped that far. The fake cock was gone from my ass, and so was the bag that Rhonda had brought to my room when she decided to rape my ass. Now I needed to pee. I needed to roll over, since my back was sore from laying in one position the rest of the night. I called out to my Master. After 10 minutes – you came to the side of my bed.

"I heard that Rhonda raped your ass – took your virginity. Now you are a Bitch – aren't you?" You taunted me.

"Yes Master – she fucked me – but good." I meekly replied. "Now can I get free and use the toilet?"

"I don't want your ass --- that is good for you – but I still deserve a morning blowjob before I release you." Then reaching over to the nightstand, you pick up the tin of Altoids. "Here – chew some of these up in your mouth!" And you proceed to push 3 or 4 peppermints into my mouth.

When I had chewed them up – you tell me to keep the next ones in my mouth while I am serving you, and you stuff 4 more behind the others. My mouth has a cool burning sensation, and my sinuses are totally clear.

Sitting on my chest – I flash back to yesterday morning – when I sucked your hefty prick off. Here it is again – all full of sperm and just waiting to be sucked. I nibble at your mushroom head, and then relax my jaws while you cram nearly 6 of your full 8 inches in my mouth. In minutes the cold burning sensation takes your dick nerve endings to a new level. Those mints are making all your sexual energy more potent. Your full, thick cock is fucking my helpless mouth. My eyes are watering and the teardrops roll to each side of my face – finding a home in the weirdest place - in my ears. My nostrils flare as I suck in enough air to keep me alive, while your powerful shaft is blocking some of my breathing passageways to my throat.

You yank your full shaft from my mouth, and to my surprise – I follow it – raising my head a few inches from the pillow I try to recapture it.

This amuses you.

"My little girl likes sucking a big cock – doesn't she?" You taunt as you climb off my chest and angle yourself a little bit to the right of my head.

I don't answer – as it sinks into my mind: I really was trying to continue sucking your big prick. You had pulled out of my mouth – and instead of turning my head so you couldn't ram your shaft back in – I chose to follow the prick with my open mouth, desperately eager to continue sucking it again.

Your thick shaft is sticking straight out from your body, and your full balls dangle down 3 inches from your crotch. Looking past your rod, my eyes examine those dangling balls a moment to see that just like your cock is bigger than mine, so too are your balls. I know you have come many times this weekend – but they still hang low and appear full.

"You must like what you see – you are staring at my cock and balls with great intensity." You stated after examining my eyes and their gaze. "Why don't you be a good little slut and beg your Master for this juicy cock?"

Just as you had suspected – I wanted to be used this way. I glance up to your smiling face and slowly start to say the words your pulsating cock needs to hear. "Please Master – I am your pet, and your bound slave. I really want to suck your thick cock – and then be set free so I can go pee."

Ahhh, the ulterior motive behind my obedience: The need to urinate!

Never the less, I did beg; and it turned you on. You thrust your full head past my lips and deep into my mouth. I suck and run my tongue over the mushroom head. The mints while somewhat dissolved, are still very potent to your sensitive flesh. 

Groaning – you are thrilled by the ecstasy that my mouth, and more importantly, the mints are causing to your massive cock. Gripping the back of my head – you force me to gag on your pole a little more. All you want is the thrill and power that comes from having your 'girl' suck on you this way. 

I begin to let my mind wander – I am your slut. I am a girl – no longer deserve to be a Man. With a thick cock but shorter and smaller than your rod - there is no comparison as to who the Man is in the room. I am sucking him. I am pleasing him. I have a clit – which is throbbing for its own attention, but because I feel weaker – and less of a man than you, it becomes necessary that I express this weakness – by paying homage to your power. I suck on your cock, and swirl my tongue around the extremely sensitive nerve endings – until your grunts become one massive moan. My mouth overflows with your cum. Yes, some is swallowed – but I remember your instructions --- and I try to swirl my tongue around your wet cock – while your salty sperm mixes with my mint flavored mouth.

"Ohhhh Susan, this is too good --- I have NEVER felt anything like this before ---- those mints and your tight little mouth are just too much!" You compliment me as your pet – the girl you named Susan.

You wipe a bit of the remaining cum from your cock on both of my cheeks – marking your property. It is humiliating for me – but quite erotic for you. There is no harm, just a mind game that makes it clear who is in charge.

You set me free and I scramble to the toilet to relieve my aching bladder. Right after that, you command me to crawl to your side – and lick and suck off the remaining sperm that oozes from your dangling shaft. Not being bound to the bed – and knowing that I have suffered every sexual degradation I ever dreamed of, I allowed myself to be put on my knees once again in front of you. I licked, and cleaned your cock like a good slave.

The only sexual tease you did to me this morning was to have my hands bound in the cuffs behind me while you teased my 'clit' till it got hard. Then explaining just how this was going to feel, you oiled up both your hands and began to twist my 'clit' from both directions. Holding it at the base, you wrench my delicate cock in your strong hands. "See how it distorts – and expands harder – and thicker when I do this?" You gleefully explain.

I squirm in your grasp – but it only makes you manipulate my 'clit' (your self appointed owned cock) even more. You twist the skin on my hard member one direction as your other hand grips the base of my shaft tightly keeping pressure of the blood from leaving.

My knees buckle as your inadvertent touch to my slick head sends shivers of ecstasy though the nerve endings. The power you have over my body at this point is amazing. I helplessly stand there, and let you rub the skin tightly one direction and then the other. But the pleasure is real. I feel it. I desire to cum – and you are not letting me – NOT YET! 

I can see my cock as the head turns a deep purple color. It is slick with the oil, and your hands are wringing my helpless 'clit' to your satisfaction.

I beg to cum. "Please Master – make my dick squirt off – make it shoot its load – I need it!"

"Your WHAT? Your dick?" You admonish me. "This is not a dick. It is too small to be a man's dick. It is a girls' clit – and my playtoy. Now ask me correctly!"

My mind sinks back to remember – that I am bound, and helpless. I know that my cock is not as big as yours, and that you make fun of it by calling it a clit. But I desire to cum and am helpless to achieve orgasm by myself in this particular condition. I relent and the words again seep out from my lips in an adoration of respect and desire. "Please powerful Master, please rub the tip of my clit – so that I can cum."

The smile on your face is unforgettable. The power you have at this moment should be preserved on film. A naked boy stands in your presence bound and helpless to stop you or make you speed up. Yes, I am younger than you, and weigh less than you. I don't have the same size cock as you – but this new way you are treating my tool is something that you have felt before. You know just the right amount of attention before I would lose the sperm in my tight balls.

My breath is short – my eyes are glazing over. You watch with great enthusiasm as I buckle again and again under your knowing touch. My legs want to give out – I can barely stand still. Yet you keep applying more oil to your hands and my clit while you wring it out. Each moment that the palm of your hand touches my sensitive nerve ending in my cock head I shudder and grow closer to ejaculation by your masterful hands.

My self control is at its lowest level – and you, my Master, relish the influence you have at this moment over my throbbing cock. As you continue to distort the hard flesh, I groan and lose my load all over the floor. It feels so wonderful to be allowed – no, controlled, into coming this way. You instruct me to show my appreciation. I gratefully kneel down and beg for your thick cock again. It is full and desires one more sucking. I comply and lap at your nice head and apply just the right amount of pressure on your soft underside. It takes little time since you are excited for your ball sack to empty and spray my face with your cum.

The rest of the day was easier on me – you, Master had to leave, and thus not stay the Saturday night as originally intended. I sat in the hot tub – I showered often – scrubbing my body to get rid of the shame I now felt. I cleaned the rooms we had had sex in, and tried to wonder if I it all had been real? Could I really have served a Man? Did I really let him treat me like a little school girl – eager to learn how to suck his massive cock just right? Would I ever see my Master again? What will happen to me now that I have embraced my submissive side to a new angle – serving a Master?

The end? 

 (Or should there be more?) 

Please don't forget to vote -- and send me your thoughts on this story. 



Meeting the Master Ch. 03



It's truly amazing the way a shower, a shave and a change of clothes can make you feel like a completely new man. Of course it's all an illusion, for in reality you are still the same middle-aged idiot whose wife has been secretly working as an upper class prostitute for some asshole throughout your entire marriage.

But hey, if reality sucks an illusion is better than nothing. 

I removed my Glock from the coat with the intention of putting it in my pants and noticed that the gun felt different somehow. I was never a firearms expert, but I could have sworn the thing was lighter or somehow differently balanced compared to when I held it earlier. Upon a closer examination I soon discovered a square hole in the bottom of the grip and cursed to myself. Crap! The friggin clip was gone! M had given me his word of honour that I could keep my gun, but naturally he never said anything about bullets. 

"Motoko you sneaky fox," I mumbled.

She evidently took her task of keeping me out of trouble seriously. Guess I could hardly blame her for following orders. And she may just have saved me from facing murder charges in the event that M or some of his goons should decide to push me around.

I left my useless gun in a drawer and strode downstairs intending to spend the rest of the afternoon exploring the premises. Well that, - and maybe locating something edible to silence my rumbling stomach. As everybody knows, there is no better way of working up a voracious appetite than engaging in great sex. And I sure as hell had my share of that earlier, courtesy of my beautiful but totally batshit oriental slave-girl. 

Who incidentally was nowhere to be seen at the moment. So I guess I was exploring on my own. To be honest her absence suited me just fine. Oh, don't misunderstand me. I enjoyed Motoko's company a lot, but even barring the bullet-issue there was no way I could trust her where M was concerned. I might formally be her "master," but I had no illusions regarding who was really calling the shots in that place.

The mansion proved even larger and more impressive than I had originally assumed and seemed to offer every imaginable luxury. I found a cinema with rows of long couches rather than chairs -- perfect for making out while watching frisky movies - and there was a large pool and spa area with nude masseuses ready to offer their services,- which I had a pretty good idea went a lot further than "ordinary" massages. Yes, you better believe that I was temped, but I was on a recon mission and my time was limited so I took note and moved on. 

The overall medieval theme of the decor occasionally clashed with the modern facilities -- the fitness room looked especially out of place -- but my general impression was that of an aesthetically pleasing house that was nice to live in. This was more like an x-rated version of Playboy Mansion than a prison, and none of the girls I encountered seemed abused or unhappy.

I could easily imagine how some of them might consider boinking a few customers once in a while and showing obedience to M a small price to pay for living a life of leisure in surroundings like these. 

Some rooms were locked - I assumed they were private quarters or maybe currently in use for carnal activities - and a little further ahead I even located a gaming room with several pool tables, air hockey and slot machines. And this was where I bumped into Horsey and Monique.

Horsey was now wearing a brocaded smoking jacket and Monique sported the usual leather corset and garters, but I recognised them both immediately. They were engaged in a game of pool with another couple I hadn't seen before. Thank God it wasn't Ruth and her Ape-man. That would have been awkward to the max and I might even have been forced to set him on fire just for the fun of it -- but this woman wasn't wearing a black corset so I pegged her as a guest rather than a slave-girl.

I went to greet the party.

"Steve Mitchel," I said and shook hands with Horsey.

"Carl Armitage," he replied in a deep resonant voice. "And this is Monique Masters."

I greeted Monique who eyed me curiously. She had been sitting in the lobby when I had my little Mexican standoff with M and was probably wondering why Motoko wasn't along to keep me in line. Maybe she had discussed me with Ruth too. The two of them appeared to be good friends.

I smiled reassuringly and introduced myself to the other couple, Mr. and Mrs. Who-gives-a-fuck, and found my original impression to be correct. They were indeed guests, just like Horsey and yours truly. I was invited to join the game, but passed on the offer and politely excused myself.

As soon as I was out of the room, I whipped out my phone. As expected there was no signal, but as I had hoped there was wireless Internet without a passcode. Why bother with passcodes when you live on a private estate with miles to the nearest neighbour, right? I Googled "Carl Armitage" and was rewarded with several links mentioning "State Court Justice Armitage" complete with pictures of Horsey in a stately black robe.

What do you know? Horsey was a friggin judge!

No wonder M didn't want to disappoint him. I was willing to bet good money that Ape-man was a VIP of some sort as well. This realisation made me elevate M on the danger scale. I had already inferred that he had to be immensely wealthy, given that he owned a place like this, but if he also had a pocket full of influential people there were few things he couldn't get away with. I would need to step very carefully and feel my way around this guy if I wanted to entertain any hope of getting Ruth and myself away from this place unscathed. Provided that Ruth even wanted to leave, which was an open question at the moment.

What a fucking mess. 

At that point the sound of steps from behind made me turn around and I saw Monique approaching. 

"Pardon master Steve. A word?"

I couldn't imagine what she wanted from me -- I hardly knew her - but when she dragged me towards a side door I obliged. I was halfway hoping for a message from Ruth or something, but as it turned out that wasn't exactly what she had in mind. 

"Master Steve. You beeg?"

"Six feet and a fraction. Why do you ask?"

"Non! Biroute... culotte... flute... member.... uuge... beeg?"

"You mean, do I have a big cock?"

"Oui," she nodded eagerly. "c'est ca."

"I am pretty satisfied with my size, but compared to Horsey in there I am afraid I can't measure up."

"Orsii?" she asked confused.

"Yeah, your date or trick or whatever the hell he is. Your pool partner in there. The guy is hung like a friggin horse. You know, like heehaw, giddyup, hi-ho Silver... cheval..."

Suddenly she started giggling and I knew she had understood me. Steve Mitchel -- polyglot extraordinaire. Yeah that's me.

"So I regret to have to disappoint you my fair French maiden, but I fear that I am not the droid you're looking for."

"Non. No beeg. Carl... c'est trop orsii... too beeg. Pleasing, but no orgasm. Too much pressure. Normal member for orgasm."

"Like me?"

"Oui. Ruth mon ami. She will permit."

"I would love to pound you like a flank steak Monique, but I honestly don't know if I can get it up. Motoko did a serious number on me twice today and I am no longer in my twenties, as you might have noticed."

"Oh? Pas de probleme," she replied with obvious self-confidence and almost before I knew it, I was in the process of getting my second blowjob of the day. 

Monique was definitely no Motoko and not even a Ruth, but her enthusiasm was beyond reproach. She sucked, blew, chewed, kneaded, flicked, pumped, gargled and even blew a raspberry or two on my cock and before long her tenacity bore fruit.

Clearly a firm believer in never wasting a good erection, Monique grabbed me and pulled me down on the floor on top of her.

"Do me now, oui?"

"Totally oui," I replied and pushed inside her.

I wish I could tell about bone crushing orgasms, heavenly passion and wild animalistic tornado-sex, but the truth was that Monique wasn't a very active sex partner. Don't get me wrong. Sex is like pizza -- even when it's bad it's still pretty good -- and she was cute enough. But after being exposed to Motoko it was like moving from a sports car to an SUV. Clearly M had paired me with his top girl and Monique just wasn't in the same league.

She was mostly just lying there with her eyes closed moaning quietly. After about ten minutes she announced... 

"Je jouis..."

...with the affect of a weather girl on TV informing about an upcoming drought and shivered a little. Assuming that was her long sought-after orgasm, I followed suit and pumped whatever was left in my poor overworked balls into her. Mostly stale air probably.

Afterwards we remained on the floor relaxing, when Monique suddenly glanced at her watch.

"Mon dieu! Orsii!" she yelped and got up. "Merci beaucoup master Steve. Au revoir."

She blew me a kiss and was out the door leaving me feeling oddly used. 

"Some women just treat us guys like pieces of meat with cocks. But we have feelings too y'know," I said to nobody in particular.

Seriously though -- I HAD to either locate Motoko or get hold of Ruth next time I was in the mood for sex. I was obviously too spoiled for anything less than a sports car.

I got up, fixed my clothes and continued my exploration. Now that I was unarmed, I really hoped Monique would be able to hide our little tryst from Horsey. Because by wrapping my baguette in her crepe, I had just trespassed deep into the domain of a VIP client. The one thing M had explicitly forbidden under threat of ultimate violence.

**********

As it turned out I was a little late in my decision to refrain from pissing off M, because when I next saw him, he was in fact severely pissed.

I was outside exploring the park in the pleasing company of Kathleen -- an attractive thirty-something redhead who was technically a slave-girl, but assigned to maintenance rather than sexual services. She was in the process of trimming a hedge when I bumped into her, and I found her to be a knowledgeable and willing guide to the mansion. I also liked her for being less hung up on all the semi-creepy master-crap and just calling me Steve.

Already from far away I could tell from his determined stride that M was upset about something, and when he got closer the way he made a beeline straight for me left no doubt about who was the focus of his ire.

"Could I please have a word Steve," he asked rhetorically.

I nodded and said goodbye to Kathleen with a kiss on the cheek and trailed him to a deserted part of the gardens. M's control barely lasted until we were out of earshot from Kathleen before the mask of pleasantry was dropped. He turned to me in seething anger.

"What the HELL Steve? I granted you status as my guest and expected you to comport yourself with the dignity of a gentleman. I extended you EVERY hospitality I have to offer and you just..."

"Stop RIGHT there M!" I barked angrily back at him. I would be damned if I was gonna allow myself to get chewed out by this glorified pimp.

"Tell me -- not shout, but TELL me -- in which way you believe me to have abused your hospitality. Because right now I have frankly no friggin idea what I have done to piss you off."

He regarded me with a doubtful expression.

"You really don't know?"

"Damn straight I don't. So why not enlighten me Kemosabe?"

"It's Motoko. She has chained herself in the dungeon and refuses to leave, eat or drink. She has been bawling non-stop for the past hour and keep screaming at everybody who approaches to leave her to die. Something happened between you two to cause this. I don't know what the hell it was, but as her master YOU carry full responsibility regardless!"

I froze in place, speechless. This was friggin insane, even by the standard of this place!

"I'm waiting," M growled. "What the hell did you do to her? She is one of the nicest and most manageable girls I have. That's why I assigned her to you. Whatever you did to her, I can't fucking imagine how she deserved it."

"I thought you paired her with me because of her ability to kill me with her deadly martial arts skills," I commented dryly.

M shook his head and sighed.

"Come on. I was bullshitting you man. Hoping -- apparently against hope - that the idea would curb your impulses and make you a little more accommodating. I can't believe you actually bought it. The girl can hardly eat a steak without feeling sorry for the cow. She's more yoga than Kung Fu. Anyway, enough smalltalk Steve. Tell me what the hell you did to her." 

"I honestly don't know M. Last I saw her she was running away because I refused to whup her ass with a friggin cat o' nine tails. She did seem a little on the edge, but not suicidal or anything."

M looked at me questioningly.

"A cat o' nine tails?"

"Yep," I replied.

"That's a bad one. Pretty much the most severe whip in our arsenal."

"I agree. And there is no friggin way you will ever get me to use something like that on another human being, let alone a young girl. I don't care if your rent-a-gorillas threaten me with lethal force. Simply not gonna happen M."

For a moment I had the distinct impression that he was contemplating that lethal force option. Then he seemed to dismiss the idea and enquired further about my interaction with Motoko.

"So what exactly made her feel like she deserved to be whipped?"

"Good question. We were just done having sex and slept for an hour or so. When I woke up she handed me the whip and pretty much told me to use it on her."

"Did she disobey you during sex?"

"Not at all. Well ok, I DID tell her not to climax but that was just a joke..."

"You told her not to cum, and she came anyway? Did you ORDER her not to cum?"

"I guess I kinda did. But I was just teasing."

"Listen Steve. As you already know we have many rules here. Some are written and some are unwritten but they are all part of our way of life. They are not all equally strictly enforced though -- some carry a harsher punishment than others. Furthermore there are certain situations where breaking the rules are punished even harsher than normal. The rule that carries the most severe punishment is disobeying a direct order from your master and the worst situation in which to do it is during sex. Do you understand?"

Not really, but I tried to extrapolate from his logic.

"Thanks to my little game of teasing, I tricked her into disobeying a direct order and because it happened during sex there were aggravated circumstances," I said slowly -- as much to myself as to M.

"Bingo. You want the pink rabbit or the blue teddy bear?"

"But can't you just go tell her to cut the crap? You are the all mighty cult leader after all."

"I am not her master before your lease runs out on Sunday or you formally return the authority to me. Besides even if I was, the infraction happened during your tenure as master and was directed against you. Only you can do anything about this Steve. She will not accept any other authority at this point. Not even mine."

"And she will actually stay perpetually in some crappy dungeon on hunger strike because of this shit?"

"Believe it Steve. To you the master title may be nothing but a sex-game, but to Motoko it's her core belief. Her master is the center of her universe. You were responsible for her and you not only failed to protect her, but actively put her in peril out of carelessness. I am NOT impressed."

Without another word M turned on his heels and strode off in obvious contempt.

So I had evidently failed big time as master. Not that I would ever admit it, but M was right in one respect. I had considered the master/slave thing to be nothing but a kinky sex-game and failed to recognise that these people apparently weren't merely playing -- they were "living" this shit. According to M he had made Motoko my slave for the weekend in an attempt to make me understand their ways, and he had picked her because she was easy to work with. Like when you give the new guy on the ranch a docile and well behaved horse for his first ride. 

"But I still screwed up" I mumbled to myself, feeling grateful that I at least hadn't told the crazy chick to go jump off a cliff.

What I had to do next, was a no-brainer. My dad didn't raise his son to run away from his mistakes. Besides I wanted more of that awesome sex. So I walked back to Kathleen, who was now busy fixing a garden lamp.

"Might I impose on you for a minute Kathleen? I have a pressing appointment in the dungeon and I could really use some directions as to where the hell I find it."

"I heard Master have a go at you. It's about Motoko?"

"Yeah."

"I'll take you there. I can finish this later."

**********

Kathleen led the way down into the deepest part of the building. Access was provided by a narrow winding stone stairway that seemed to go on for a long time, as if we were walking all the way into the bowels of Hell itself. 

When we arrived at the bottom of the stairs I found myself facing down an arched corridor with a row of heavy wooden doors on both sides. The raw granite walls were illuminated by flaming torches held in place by wall-mounted brass fixtures. The atmosphere of the place couldn't have been more medieval if Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe had walked by on the way to his armoured war-horse. I could even hear muffled screams from somewhere nearby as if somebody was being tortured. 

"Crap on toast Kathleen. This place is friggin unreal. How deep are we anyway?"

She gave me a smug smile.

"Not nearly as deep as you would think Steve. You probably didn't notice, but the steps had a slight upward slant, which made our descent feel steeper than it actually was. We are only three levels down. This would be the sub-sub-basement."

"You guys went all out, huh? And friggin live torches too."

"Well, they're actually camouflaged propane burners -- we add a chemical to the gas in order to make the flame yellow. We couldn't use real torches down here. The air would become unbreathable, even with the ventilation system on full power."

"Ventilation system? In a medieval dungeon?"

"This dungeon is used for sexual bondage Steve -- not a reenactment of the fourteenth century. We even have an emergency electric lighting system and intercoms installed for improved fire safety. Oh, and there are cameras all over as well. I challenge you to spot any of them though."

I looked around carefully and she was right. For all I could tell, I was in an authentic dungeon. I had never seen shit like this outside Disney World. Come to think of it, Disney World's imagineers probably wished they were this good.

"It is quite amazing Kathleen. And I am impressed with how well you seem to know your way around all the technical details."

I could almost see the dark cloud forming over her head. "What the hell did I do now," I wondered.

"You know Steve," she began. "I would like you a lot more if you weren't such an arrogant prick!"

"Hey! Just a minute," I tried, but was cut off.

"Shut your pie-hole and open your ears for a change. Do you think we haven't noticed how you're prancing around like some holy-man, judging people left and right? Do you think we aren't aware that you are feeling like Alice on the wrong side of the looking glass? Like a so-called normal person exploring an asylum and mingling with the loonies?"

"Kath! I never..."

"For some unfathomable reason Master sees something in you. I think he hopes against his better judgment that you will learn to accept our lifestyle and maybe even join us or at least stop giving Ruth a hard time about it. But I know that will never happen. Do you know why? Because you are walking around with your head so far up your ass that you only see the world through your belly button. And the corkscrew big enough to pull it out doesn't exist."




Meeting the Master Ch. 03



"I get it. I didn't mean to...," I tried, but there was no stopping her.

"Yes, I AM a slave-girl for Master and fucking proud of it, you prejudiced asshole. But I am ALSO a civil engineer and hold a degree in robotics from MIT. You already know that your wife is no dummy either -- at least she had your stupid ass fooled for a quarter of a century - and your little exotic love-kitten Motoko is a top-rated fitness coach and yoga instructor who is also plugging away in her free time on earning a degree in human physiology. We're not some empty headed damsels in distress waiting for Sir Steve Fucking Galahad to save us."

"Ehm... ok... and Monique?"

"She's a nurse. She runs our in-house health clinic as well."

"Not a veterinarian?"

"Huh? How the hell did you figure that?"

"I saw her with Horsey and Ape-man earlier."

"Horsey? Ape-man? What the fuck do you.... Oh..."

And then she buckled over with laughter. It was a nice change from having my ass chewed out.

"Congressman Smith and the Judge," she gasped. "Oh my god, you're killing me Steve!"

And then she continued to shake in a violent giggle attack. When it subsided she put her arms around my waist and looked at me with a pair of bright emerald eyes of the kind reserved for genuine redheads.

"Oh Steve you big oaf. What the hell are we going to do with you?"

I smiled back at her.

"Well, I could certainly come up with a few suggestions," I began.

"Maybe later, if you're lucky. For now you have somebody to rescue, I believe. It's the last door on the left. Good luck."

She let me go and headed back up the stairs, while I ventured deeper into the dungeon in order to locate my wayward slave girl.

**********

The heavy wooden door swung open on well-oiled hinges and there was a whoosh of scalding air escaping as I entered the torture chamber. It was large and spacious, at least thirty feet in each direction. Like the outside hallway, the room was illuminated with wall-mounted torches and several large BBQ like metal troughs were placed along the wall where they stood glowing an ominous red. Somehow I had a feeling that they weren't used for burgers.

I spotted Motoko standing naked in the middle of the room. Or rather she was hanging, because her wrists were manacled and chained to a beam at the ceiling thus forcing her to half stand and half hang in an obviously very uncomfortable position.

She didn't notice me at first and seemed halfway unconscious, which was no wonder since the room was hot like a friggin sauna. I figured that little miss Batshit had cranked up the heat in order to "punish herself" more, but that stunt could easily end in a heatstroke for both of us. I needed to get her unchained and the hell out of there like yesterday. But of course there was no key for the stupid manacles anywhere in sight and I saw no suitable cutting tools either.

There was only one way to handle this: I had to ask Motoko, and I had no time to be delicate about it.

She yelped and gasped for air when the bucket of cold water hit her overheated skin and brutally ripped her out of her stupor. She was still coughing and sputtering when I brushed the wet hair out of her eyes and uttered the romantic words that have captured the hearts of millions of lovely ladies since the dawn of time.

"Peek-a-booh!"

She stared at me in surprise.

"Master? But... what are you doing here?"

"Reclaiming my slave obviously. Do you think I want to suck my own cock for the rest of the weekend? But we need to get out of here right now."

"No master. I will not go. I will atone for my infraction by shedding my mortal coils and only then can we both regain what was lost."

"Is that why this place is so hotter than a tin roof on a summer day? Did you turn up the heat or something? Are you trying to friggin kill yourself?"

"I must atone."

"C'mon Motoko! This has gone too far. Please tell me where the friggin thermostat is!"

"No."

I tried my master powers. They had worked before, right?

"Motoko. As your master I ORDER you to accompany me to the nearest bed and fuck me senseless, after having downed half a gallon of water and showered." 

She smiled weakly.

"The thought is very pleasant master, but I am not worthy of receiving neither your commands nor your seed any longer. My infraction cannot go unpunished. Until it is, I must atone."

I was getting really pissed now. Ok, I was worried, but I always get pissed when I worry.

"Seriously Motoko. I was friggin TEASING, ok? I knew you couldn't last very long, and I wanted to prolong the agony of anticipation as much as possible. I just wanted to make it better for you. I was not aiming for any of that infraction-shit. Let us just forget about it and chalk it up to me being an idiot and a poor master, ok? Kathleen already chewed me out..."

"She did WHAT?"

Suddenly Motoko was wide-awake and looked ready to rip the chains out of the ceiling with her bare hands.

"Nothing to fret about. She just told me that I was an arrogant ass... and a few more words of a similar nature."

"She has NO right to insult my master. I will have words with her!"

"And the chains?" I asked.

She slumped back down in defeat. I hated to see her like this. I had to do something very soon, and there was only one option left for me. To play along with her sick game. She wanted to feel her master's wrath and if I wanted to get her out of this friggin hellhole before we both collapsed from the heat, I had to give it to her.

I grabbed a handful of hair and lifted her face so I could look her in the eyes.

"I know you came several times when I ate your pussy. How many times? ANSWER ME SLAVE!"

"Three I think. Yes, three times, master."

"And you did so despite my explicit order not to cum?"

"Yes master."

"For that you shall receive three lashes with the cat o' nine tails. One for each of the orgasms you had against my will. And you will thank me profusely for each of them. Do you accept your punishment?"

"But master..."

"This is not up for debate. Yes or yes?"

Once again I saw a hint of a smile on her face.

"Yes master. Thank you master."

I picked a whip from the collection on the wall. Not the one with the metal balls but one with leather knots. If I couldn't get out of this, at least I could limit the bodily harm as much as possible. I walked behind her and braced myself.

"Ready?"

"Yes master."

The whip made a loud crack when the nine strings made contacts with Motoko's tender skin and cut nine red stripes across her back. The shock and pain made her scream. I gave her a few seconds to compose herself.

"Thank you for the punishment master," she gasped.

There was another sickly crack as the whip drew nine more red lines on her back. She screamed again.

"T... thanks f... for the punishment master," she rasped.

A last crack left nine more bleeding stripes on her back. This time she just moaned and sagged limply forward, hanging by the chains. She must have passed out from the pain and the heat.

Shit! I needed to get her out of these friggin manacles asap. We were both getting slow-cooked in here and I would hate having "RIP Crockpot Steve" written on my tombstone.

I tried slapping Motoko awake with my right hand while doing my best to hold her up with the other one.

"Motoko goddammit! Where the hell are the keys for the manacles? Come on! Get on the clock! I NEED those friggin keys!"

Se stirred and coughed. Then she opened one red-rimmed eye.

"Button," she whispered almost inaudibly. "Press... button..."

I quickly did a closer examination of the manacles and there was indeed a small button embedded in the edge. I pressed it and the shackles sprang open and released her wrists. It happened so sudden I almost dropped her.

I wasted no time but carried her out of the dungeon and up the stairs to the ground floor as fast I could. I was struck by how light she was, how easy it was to carry her. I felt like I could have run an entire marathon without putting her down.

"And this years gold winner of the bleeding-and-dehydrated-unconscious-Japanese-girl-carrying class is Steve Mitchel," I mumbled to myself while walking briskly through the hallways.

I kicked the door to the massage room open, jogged over to the spa without breaking stride and lowered Motoko's limp body into the water, taking care to place her head so she didn't slide all the way under.

"Get Monique!" I barked to one of the girls who were busy folding towels by the changing rooms. "Hurry please."

The girl in question -- a small busty blonde wearing a white robe -- looked stunned, but took off right away and within five minutes Monique was busy examining Motoko with the professional routine of an experienced nurse.

She was babbling away in French, which I might have understood if I had paid attention in high school instead of staring at the teacher's boobs. Luckily the busty blonde had been a more attentive student and was able to give me a translation.

"Monique says not to worry master Steve. Motoko will be fine. She just needs a little rest and something to drink -- non-alcoholic, preferably fruit juice or an electrolyte cocktail -- and she will be back to full strength. When she is dry, you should treat those nasty cuts on her back with an antibiotic ointment to avoid scars. You'll find Neosporin and bandages in the medical supply cabinet in your room."

"Thanks and merci a lot Monique."

"De rien master Steve. Now I bid you au revior. Must go to orsii." 

"Au revoir Monique... and yippee ki-yay!"

She giggled left.

I suspected the judge had earned himself a new nickname among the girls. And not a half bad one, as far as nicknames goes.

**********

I had changed into my formal dinner outfit before making my way to M's private dining room. I wasn't even aware that Ruth had packed a travel case for me, but the manipulating bitch evidently knew a few things in advance that I did not.

The room was small by the grand scale of the rest of the mansion, but oozed antique luxury. It was dominated by a polished wooden table seating ten or twelve people, and the walls were covered with wood panels featuring intricately carved reliefs depicting scenes from the Kama Sutra. At the end wall was a built-in fireplace and the room was illumination by a large crystal chandelier. The table was set for four, so we had plenty of room. 

M rose and greeted me with a handshake and Kathleen -- now wearing a tight green dress matching the colour of her eyes -- nodded and smiled.

"Nice of you to join us Steve. Everybody else is at the banquet down in the big hall, but... well..."

"Ruth is entertaining a trick," I said and nodded. "I understand."

"Thanks for understanding Steve. Yes, I wish to avoid awkward situations so I figured we could have our own little party up here. And it will give us an opportunity to talk. But say... where is your lovely companion? I thought she would join us for supper?"

"Dominique ordered rest, so I slipped a sedative into Motoko's fruit juice and she went out like a light. She will remain oblivious to the world for at least two or three more hours. I will see to her needs later, if she wakes up hungry."

We sat down to eat.

The dinner was an exquisite three course gourmet meal with prawn cocktail as appetiser, deer with brandy sauce and baked potatoes as the main course and home made orange sorbet for desert. We were tendered to by a pair of girls in the signature black corset and garters.

"Isn't it impractical for the catering crew to wear slut-gear. What about grease stains and sprays?"

"Slut-gear?" M noted with a laugh. "That's a good one. But it's only the servers who are dressed this way. The people working in the kitchen wear normal kitchen clothes."

M raised his glass a proposed a toast for the kitchen crew who had made us an excellent dinner, and Kathleen and I joined him.

"And now Steve -- pray tell me how it goes? Are you beginning to gain an understanding of what we do here and why we do it? Or are we still a bunch of freaks and weirdoes to you?"

I coughed and looked at Kathleen. She smiled. So evidently this was not going to be another chewing out. I was relieved.

"Well, I have hardly been here for a day, yet already I have had several of my limits limits tested and my perceptions challenged. You were right about what you accused me of down in the dungeon Kathleen. I do kinda feel like Alice behind the looking glass. But I have never encountered a sex-cult before so you can hardly blame me."

Kathleen nodded in acknowledgement of my concession.

"But after having experienced your lifestyle first hand and talked to people I am beginning to figure you guys out. At least I think I do..."

I took a sip of wine to wet my mouth.

"Except that I still don't get what can make a grown woman give up her independence and freedom to some self-appointed cult leader. I don't mind a little power play between the sheets, but living ones entire life according to some patriarchal code that belongs way back in the dark ages? That's just friggin insane. Like you said earlier Kathleen, you are smart, resourceful, well educated and you don't look like a moron. Why are you even here? What's in it for you? Why are you slaving for this guy?"

"May I speak freely Master?" Kathleen asked.

M nodded.

"I am well educated BECAUSE of Master, Steve. He took care of all my needs and sent me to the best colleges available. He helped me grow into the woman I am today and directed my path so I was able to reach my full potential and achieve my goals in life. This is what he does for everybody whom he accepts into his flock. He is always there for us, he makes sure we have everything we need and we trust him with our lives."

Her green eyes were alight with an almost religious fervor as she continued.

"Say I wanted a husband and a suburban life for instance. I don't run any risk hooking up with some deadbeat loser because Master will make sure that I pick a good man and set me up with a house and career and everything, just like he did for Ruth."

I sat my glass down a little too hard.

"Wait," I said. "A house?"

M looked away; obviously not entirely comfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. Kathleen kept going though. She tended to do that, as I had learned earlier.

"Sure Steve. Did you seriously buy into Ruth's story about a sudden inheritance from a deceased uncle? Come on. She never even had an uncle. The money you bought the house for was a gift from Master."

I palmed my face. What an oblivious idiot I had been. It never once occurred to me to check up on Ruth's deceased family members. Why the hell should it have? I'm no frigging genealogist.

"Ok Kathleen. I get it. M takes good care of his slaves and yadda yadda yadda. He's the great leader and a friggin saint. But in your case, what's in it for him? I mean, girls like Ruth, Motoko and Monique are turning tricks and can probably pull home a solid pile of cash, but you are just lounging around fixing stuff and don't seem to entertain any Johns. How do you earn your keep?"

She smiled broadly.

"Well, I happen to be REALLY good at fixing stuff, so I am confident that I am useful to have around for that purpose. But I get what you are saying Steve. And your observation is correct. Not all Masters girls are entertaining clients regularly. In fact, most of us are rarely called for that task. We still belong to him, body and soul and are at his beg and call at all times, but we live our own lives outside the mansion and contribute financially instead. Twenty percent of our income belongs to Master and most of us are high earners. So yeah -- we do our part even without opening our legs to strangers."

"TWENTY PERCENT?" I exclaimed almost choking on my wine.

"Sounds harsh to you? How much do you think members of religious cults pay to their churches? Some members give up everything they own when they join and are rewarded by being forced to walk the streets passing out pamphlets and recruiting more members. Their churches give them nothing in return but empty promises and load after load of bullshit. And even worse: No sex! In case you haven't noticed yet, we don't exactly encourage abstinence around here."

M injected himself into the conversation.

"Sorry about the deal with the house Steve. In fact, I'm sorry about the whole damned affair. Ruth should never have lied to you and I regret that I didn't intervene long ago. She is not the only one of my girls who is living a secret double life, but there will be no more in the future. I shall see to that."

"If it should turn out that I am not the biological father of my kids, you should also see to hire more goons as soon as possible. Because in that case I will be back with a bazooka. And that is NOT a euphemism." 

"Of that I can assure you Steve. If there is ever the slightest doubt about the parentage when a girl gets pregnant, the pregnancy is routinely aborted. Many of our clients are established family fathers and require a guarantee that nothing will come back to haunt them at a later date."

"Shit! You are one cold son of a bitch M."

"I do what's necessary."

"And Ruth?"

He just shook his head in a noncommittal gesture that could mean "no" or "no comment." 

"Either way M, my main problem is fundamental rather than practical. A servant cannot serve two masters and a woman cannot be equally loyal to two men. And yes -- it IS all about loyalty. If I asked Ruth to choose between us, she would pick you. Wouldn't she? If I walked down to the banquet hall and told her to come home with me right now, she would refuse. Wouldn't she?"

M said nothing. He didn't have to.

"I simply can't accept that M. No friggin way! I must have a wife that is one hundred percent loyal to ME and always takes my side against anybody else, just like I will do for her. What you have given me is not a marriage. It's a farce. Our family was little more than a hobby project to Ruth. A place for her to park her promiscuous ass during times when you didn't have customers willing to pay for the privilege of whacking it or fucking it."

"Yet you were very happy together for twenty years Steve. Doesn't that count for something? Was Ruth ever a bad wife to you? Did you ever feel dissatisfied with her as a partner and woman?" 

"Not at all M. She was a great wife. A perfect wife. That is what makes it so friggin hard man! Can't you see what I mean? I was HAPPY, goddammit. I was content. I had found my soul mate and the woman I wanted to grow old with. And then suddenly I discovered the truth and my entire life exploded in my face. And because of you and your crazy cult we can't even work on rebuilding anything. How can I forgive and forget when Ruth keeps on doing the very thing that drove us apart? Why do you think shooting your ass seemed like such a tempting prospect earlier today?"

M ran a hand through his hair looking as if he silently counted himself lucky for having made sure that my gun had no bullets in it. Kathleen moved behind him and massaged his shoulders.

"You really should stop seeing me as a competitor for her affection Steve. I am not a lover or even another man. I'm more like her religion... her patriarch... or her god if you will."

I had to laugh at that one.

"You sure ain't full of yourself, eh? GOD? So how has Jesus been lately? Please give him my regards when you see him. I hope his hands and feet are healing ok."

M rolled his eyes.

"Ok, that didn't come out right. I assure you that I harbor no intention of deifying myself. But the analogy isn't far fetched. Think about it Steve. A religious woman can love God and live by the laws of the Bible and still love her husband and children. Her love of God might even serve to strengthen her commitment to her family. We are dealing with two fundamentally different kinds of love that coexist in perfect harmony. There might even be a level of synergy between them."




Meeting the Master Ch. 03



"Probably due to the fact that God doesn't require his flock to turn tricks for him," I remarked sarcastically.

"I never claimed that the analogy was perfect Steve. But it could be your path to understanding why your wife acts the way she does. By accepting me as Master she has made a lifelong commitment to a certain way of life, just like people do when they accept Jesus. Or the samurai code of bushido. Asking her to break all ties with me is like demanding that a deeply religious wife denounce her faith. If you force Ruth to give up being somebody's slave, she will feel like something was ripped out of her life. As if she is incomplete, has lost her focus and is spiritually adrift on a sea of chaos. And in time she will grow to resent you for it."

I hated what he was saying, but I couldn't find any obvious flaws in his logic when held up against what I knew about Ruth and her cult.

"So we are pretty much screwed, is that what you're saying?" I asked.

I took a deep breath and continued.

"Because I cannot and WILL NOT share my wife with others. I don't care whether it be a man, a cult, a deity or something different. Either she is mine and ONLY mine or she is history. On the other hand Ruth seems so entrenched in this master/slave shit that I have no chance of weaning her off it. Yes, I believe you there. After twenty-four years she has probably gotten so friggin institutionalized by you and your cult that there's no coming back. So what options do I have M? None! Ruth and I are over. Finito. The end. Clear the stage and let the fat lady sing. Bitch is all yours -- I'm going home to my kids."

"Maybe there is a way," M started.

"Well, do tell maestro."

"Ruth needs a master Steve, but it doesn't have to be me. You could take on that responsibility yourself. If you haven't figured it out yet, this is one of the reasons why I assigned you Motoko. I wanted you to walk a mile in my shoes and see how you like the fit."

"Disappointment of the day, eh M?"

"No you aren't a disappointment. Far from it. You got off to a weak start and managed to throw your girl under the bus because you mistook her devotion for a game, but once you realised the implications of your action you acted promptly and determinedly like a master should. I know you hated punishing Motoko, but it had to be done and you did it."

"Whop-dee-friggin-doo," I hummed with sarcasm. "I can beat up a hundred pound girl who is chained to the ceiling and half dead from dehydration. Call me master and bow before my awe-inspiring might."

"Whatever you may think, it was a pivotal moment in your way to understanding your wife and what makes her tick. And here comes another. Do you know what a slave contract is Steve?"

"Something your carrier makes you sign in order to get the latest iPhone?"

"Hardy har har. Very funny. No here is the deal -- when I accept the servitude of a girl, she is required to sign a slave contract with me. This contract is essentially proof of mastery over her, and it is a transferable document. Meaning that you can buy and sell it."

"You have such a contract with Ruth?"

"Yes."

"And you are offering it to me?"

"That would effectively make you her master and thus solve all your problems."

"But how would Ruth feel about that idea? I have the impression that she likes fucking around with her Johns and I don't have a luxurious estate. She may not honor the sale."

"Oh, I can guarantee that she will," M said with emphasis. "This document is an essential part of her belief. It's like a birth certificate for her new life. She will follow that contract as if she was tied to it with invisible strings."

"Lucky for her you didn't sell it to an astronaut or a deep sea diver. But let us pretend that I accept. What is the going rate for slaves these days? How much would I need to cough up?"

"The price of a contract depends on the classification of course."

I must have looked confused because he continued to explain.

"Slaves are classified according to how attractive they are to own. Motoko for instance is A-plus because she is young, exotic, very beautiful and highly motivated. Kathleen here is an A. She is pretty and still in her best age, but she is also very intelligent and has a considerable earning potential that will remain consistent all the way to retirement. Ruth used to be an A as well, but because she has passed her fortieth birthday I will put her as a B today."

"And how does that translate into dollars and cents?"

"I always deal in round figures. An A is around hundred K... add an extra twenty if she's a plus. B-slaves I would let go for sixty K a piece."

"So Ruth will be a cool sixty-thousand dollars. Do you realize how utterly insane this whole concept sounds? You seriously want to sell my own wife to me for sixty thousand dollars? That is wrong on so many levels I can't even begin to list them all. We could begin with the United Nations Human Rights Declaration."

M just shrugged.

"You may not like the sound of it Steve, but I am giving you an option to consider. And as far as I can tell, it's your ONLY option if you want your wife back in a manner you can live with. Unless you take her home as her master, she will never be fully yours and you will never have that loyalty you crave. Even if I order her to go with you and never come back, you will be forced to live with the knowledge that another man holds power over her. Because if you don't somebody else will. It's in her nature. She's simply wired that way."

*******

Later, as I was back in bed listening to Motoko's rhythmic breathing, my mind kept revolving around that friggin slave contract.

The money was not a problem. It was a serious chunk of change for sure, but I could cash out my retirement or mortgage the house. Either option would net me two hundred thousand easily. But the principle was abhorrent. I mean seriously? Buying Ruth's loyalty? Is loyalty worth anything if you gotta buy it? This shit felt mostly like an extortion scheme to be honest. Like paying off the pimp to get my wife out of prostitution. Somehow the whole thing just didn't sit right with me. 

I had to talk to Ruth about this, and there was no time like the present so I attempted to shake Motoko awake.

"Master? What..." she mumbled without opening her eyes.

"Where does Ruth sleep? Do you know?" 

"Next to the pool room."

"What is her room number?"

"I don't know master. The lamp next to the door is broken. It's the door with the broken lamp."

"Is she alone?"

"Yes. We don't sleep with clients."

"Thank you Motoko."

"Master..." she mumbled and drifted back to sleep.

It was way past midnight so I managed to make it to the poolroom without bumping into anybody. A good thing, considering that M would be seriously pissed if I was caught violating his explicit instructions to not interfere with Ruth's work. There were cameras all over the place of course, but at this hour they were most likely going directly to a recorder, so I ignored them. Just like Motoko had said, the light was out next to one of the doors, and I sent a silent prayer of thanks to the God of lazy maintenance workers.

It was a breeze breaking in by sliding my pocketknife between the door and the frame and push back the bolt. The door swung open without a sound, and like I had hoped, the thick luxurious carpet conveniently muffled my steps as I sneaked into the bedroom in search of Ruth. If it wasn't her room after all, I was prepared to make a hasty retreat.

As it turned out, it was indeed her room but unfortunately she wasn't alone. Ape-man was asleep next to her, snoring like a friggin sawmill. I guessed he was drunk as a skunk... a skunk in a Ron Jeremy costume.

I was just about to abort the mission and slink away, when I remembered the medical cabinet in my own bathroom. Maybe all the rooms had one? Bingo. Apparently they did. I scanned the inventory and settled on a fast-acting propofol-based sedative. The drunk Ape-man didn't even flinch when I pushed the thin hypodermic needle into his thigh and injected a dose I hoped would put his ass into a deep sleep for a while without killing him. I needed him out of commission for my upcoming marital conference.

After about five minutes of waiting to make sure the sedative had taken effect, I rolled him out of bed and let him fall. He didn't even miss a snore when he hit the carpet, so I guessed the stuff worked. I left him there -- rugs belong on the floor after all - and climbed onto the bed.

Ruth was sleeping on her stomach, like she often did when she had something to drink. It was amazing how the sight of her slim body still did it for me after so many years. I felt my cock rising in homage and so inspired I carefully pulled the blanket aside to get a better look.

The telltale wet area between her legs left no room for misunderstandings. Ape-man had been there first. Shit!

There was no friggin way I was having the dude's sloppy seconds, but luckily Ruth was on her stomach anyway so there was a second option. I grabbed the Astroglide from the drawer next to the bed, lubed up my cock and slowly pushed it inside Ruth's ass. She moaned a little and mumbled something about "Archie" and "insatiable." I pushed my cock all the way inside and whispered right next to her ear: "Sorry Ruthie. No Archie here."

That woke her up.

"Steve! What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm fucking your ass."

"And Archie? Oh no honey. What did you do to poor Archie?"

"Hairball? The dog pound picked him up a while ago. He's on Alpo now and will be put down tomorrow."

"STEVE!"

"Relax Ruthie. He's on the floor with the rest of the rugs, passed out. Which is perfect because we need to talk."

"What you're doing right now doesn't exactly feel like a conversation."

"Do you want me to stop what I am doing?"

She hesitated for a split second before answering.

"We really should. It's against Masters orders you know."

"And you do know that I don't give a shit, right?"

She shivered and made a small moan. My loving wife was beginning to enjoy herself. Good, that made two of us. I started going a little harder and faster.

"Anyway, M has to do with what I wanted to talk to you about Ruthie."

"If you want to talk, then how come you are... ugh... fucking my ass?"

"Because there is no better way of ensuring that you have peoples full and undivided attention than fucking their ass. You should see me at board meetings."

"Well, you've got my attenti... ohhh... for sure. So please don't stop."

I smiled to myself. This was my Ruth the way I knew her and loved her.

"Great. So lets talk about slave contracts. M has offered to let me buy yours. What is your take on that?"

"He has? He must really have... uhhh yes... confidence in you. That sounds great, if we can afford it. You would be master then."

"But you must realise that it would mean the end of your little call girl business? That issue in not up for discussion. You know that."

"It will end soon anyway Steve... Ohhh, that feels good! Sorry.... Where was I? Oh yeah, I'm pushing forty-five and I'm already working super hard to maintain my looks. I can't keep fighting off age and gravity forever."

"I see. So what's the deal with Ape-man by the way? I thought you didn't sleep with your clients? As in actual sleep."

"Archie is special to me. He was my first assignment with Master and... oh yes.... uhhh.... I have known him since before I was married. He's like a dad to me... or an uncle... a really good friend. I can tell him everything. You will like him too."

"I sincerely doubt that."

"He is a good man Steve."

"Who has cuckolded me during my entire marriage, shared a level of confidence and intimacy with my wife far beyond what I myself ever enjoyed and he knew all about your double life while I was kept in the dark."

"I couldn't tell you without... ohh... can you get a little deeper? Yeah, like that! Anyway, I couldn't tell you about Archie without jeopardising my life with you and the kids. You would never have accepted any of it."

"And you think I will now?"

"We are both older and wiser Steve. We can work through this. Now do your husbandly duty and make me cum please. "

And I did.

After Ruth was done squeezing every last drop of Steve-juice out of my cock with her powerful rectum, I held on to her for a moment enjoying the familiar closeness. We shared a final kiss and as she drifted back to sleep I snuck out of the room.

I made a visit to the maintenance locker nearby and returned with a bottle of general-purpose glue, which I proceeded to pour over Archie, who was still sprawled on the floor like a mouldy bear-rug. I put on the finishing touch by rolling him over so he was now being glued to the carpet. The glue should be hardened before he woke up.

"Thanks for two decades of cuckolding you nasty-ass hairball," I growled and left.

This time I let the door slam shut behind me.

Motoko was sleeping when I got back - seemingly in the same position that I left her in. But as soon as I had undressed and slipped into bed next to her, she sat up like a spring-activated bear trap.

"Master? Master? Oh... sorry... I had a bad dream. I dreamt you weren't here."

"Where else would I be Motoko?" I replied and put an arm around her.

She sighed contentedly and we both drifted off into the domain of Morpheus.

**********

Saturday went by in a blur with me getting introduced to more of the many wonders of M's luxurious mansion.

Motoko stuck to my side like an appendage all day and evening, displaying a degree of vigilance that made me suspect that M had emphasised her instructions to keep me on a tight leash. I managed to avoid ever seeing Ruth or Ape-man, which I also suspected was by M's design rather than pure coincidence.

Maybe pouring glue on Ape-man had been a bad idea?

Naah, c'mon. I did the guy a favour. A good back waxing ain't cheap these days and he got it for free. Plus Ruth now had a rug beside her bed made of genuine man-fur. Her own little piece of Archie to nuzzle her feet when she got out of bed in the morning. A win-win for everybody.

I couldn't help myself. I busted out laughing at the thought.

"What amuses you so master?" Motoko enquired curiously.

"It's nothing. I'm just a hair-brain today."

But like I said, it was a good day to be me.

After a gourmet breakfast and a morning blowjob we went to the spa and massage room and spent a few hours getting pampered to the max. Then I watched Motoko do her daily exercise routines outside in the park. It was impressive to behold and it also made me horny as hell.

Yeah, I have a thing for sweaty girls exercising. Got a problem with that?

Naturally we didn't let my horniness go to waste and had sex behind a group of bushes, generating even more sweat. After showering together we relaxed in the hot tub and subsequently watched an old samurai flick in the theater. Motoko turned out to be somewhat of a movie buff -- especially regarding sci-fi.

Naturally I had to give her the ultimate test.

"Who shot first? As your master I command you to answer honestly."

"Han," she replied without hesitation.

As I said before: What a gal!

Saturday evening I had dinner with M and Kathleen again -- this time with Motoko by my side -- but as opposed to the previous day the conversation was casual and light-hearted. I did my best to be nice and M didn't mention my part in Ape-man's back waxing. However right before we left for what would turn out to be yet another lengthy session of great sex with my beautiful and horny slave-girl I had a quick word with him.

"Regarding the contract, let's do it. How about tomorrow before I leave?"

M nodded solemnly and we shook hands on it.

As odd as it may sound, I no longer felt like killing him on the spot. Not that he didn't deserve it for his part in wasting the best twenty years of my life, but I had come to realise that his demise would hurt the girls too. They were living in some sort of screwed up symbiosis and you couldn't take out one without fucking up the other.

Apart from the very real risk of leaving my kids without a dad if I went to prison, my petty personal revenge for my hurt pride was not worth that kind of collateral damage. If so, I would be no better than M and I wouldn't live with that taint on my conscience. Yeah, sometimes being a man means doing what's right and control your impulses.

**********

Sunday morning marked the end of my stay at M's mansion and thus the strangest weekend I had ever experienced.

It was time for me to get back to the real world and get on with the rest of my life. For the past twenty years I had worn the blinders put on me by M and my wife, but the events of the past week -- and the weekend especially -- had cleared my vision completely. I was now seeing the whole picture and would be able to take control of my own destiny.

It was a bittersweet feeling though, because much against expectations I had mostly had a great time in the mansion and I had gotten to know a couple of people I would miss having around. Like feisty redhead Kathleen, with an IQ the size of the national deficit and a temper that could send Clint friggin Eastwood running for cover. Or my assigned slave-girl Motoko -- impossibly beautiful, yet an insatiable she-devil in bed. With her, hot sex was messy but as out of this world as the rest of her. And of course I can't forget to mention mademoiselle Monique -- Florence Nightingale and resident horse tamer and possibly the most boring lay I had had since before I got married. But she was a sweet girl and I liked her. 

I could mention several others -- busty blonde German guest-slave Helga from the massage team or the strange tattooed lesbian goth girl who joined us in the hot-tub and immediately started making out with Motoko. Even the field of volcanology doesn't have the word to describe how hot that was to watch.

Yeah, I was gonna miss this place a little. 

While Motoko was busy packing my stuff, I took a moment to enjoy one last view from the large panorama window in my room. It was overlooking the courtyard and judging from the luxury cars and limos that kept pulling up down below I wasn't the only guest returning to the real world on this Sunday morning. I noticed Motoko grabbing my packed suitcase and dragging it towards the door and I immediately rushed over and took it from her.

A slave she might have been, but there had to be certain limits. Killing spiders and carrying heavy stuff would always be a man's job as far as I was concerned.

M was waiting for us in the lobby with some paperwork as we had agreed. I signed as buyer on the dotted line with an honest to God fountain pen -- yeah, these guys were really big on ceremonial stuff -- and while M put down his own John Hancock I went on-line with my MacBook and facilitated the payment.

When I was done M stood ready to formally hand me the contract. I received it together with a thunderous applause from at least thirty girls assembled in the lobby. I felt like I was inaugurating a building or signing a treaty or something.

"My apologies for the ruckus," M said apologetic. "I haven't sold a contract for fifteen years so I guess the girls see it as a big deal. The gossip mill has been churning."

I spotted Ruth walking around hugging and kissing her "colleagues," but just then M pulled me aside.

"Listen Steve. I know you bought this particular contract in order to secure your own marriage, but slaves can generate a pretty good income as well. Just like you can purchase a business on credit and pay it off later with future profits, slaves can be purchased on similar conditions. It's a good way of achieving critical mass for a business without requiring a prohibitively large initial investment."