Chapter 1.

 

 

��������� The young man was nervous. He was only twenty-six, and he�d come to this place for sex, paid sex of an esoteric kind that could not be readily obtained otherwise. Thank heaven for the Internet, the medium by which he�d finally achieved this liaison. When seeking to sate a forbidden lust like this, anonymity was an absolute necessity. And although he was uneasy about the coming encounter that was the way it was supposed to be. That was the frission he was seeking. This excursion was as much about fantasy as reality, as much a paid encounter with a highly specialized prostitute as an important soul-journey into murky depths of self-discovery.

It was an attempt, once and for all, to finally either dispel or surrender to the mad, self-destructive obsession that had lately gained such an ironclad claim on him. Now, living out his perverse imagination, determined to experience this eager nightmare in all its beloved detail, he was gratified that so far circumstances had decided to oblige. The woman waiting for him was exactly as he�d pictured her, exactly as their carefully circumspect correspondence had led him to expect. His autonomic nervous system responded accordingly. Breath quickening, heart pounding, he parked his car in these entirely appropriate surroundings, locked the doors, engaged the alarm and got out.

��������� It was dusk, and this part of the city seemed deserted. No � worse than deserted. Desolate was only word that fit, despite the looming structures all around. Empty high-rises, untenanted industrial buildings, these victims of the economic downturn were little more than hulking derelicts, crowding the empty streets of this crumbling complex as though brooding over the crimes they�d seen and been shunned for. There were no working streetlights, and as the whole area was zoned industrial, there were no bars, stores, or residences nearby either. Even the gangs and homeless, urban constants both, seemed to have for some reason forsaken this chain-link labyrinth of defunct factories, storage silos, and vacant vertical warehouses.

A single rat could be seen nosing about, but with no humans to provide refuse there was hardly even likely to be a respectable infestation of vermin. The entire area�s aura of profound desolation was so pervasive that it was downright creepy, stirring an instinctive warning tingling somewhere in the young man�s medulla oblongata that his conflicted upper cortex both savored and screamed at.

The risk he was taking coming here like this made the game he was playing excruciatingly intense. After all, no one knew where he was (to whom could he confide an embarrassing lust like this?), and being from an entirely different state he now had only the vaguest idea of his whereabouts himself. Somewhere south of the river. All he truly knew was that everything was dark, scary, ominous, exciting, and oh so desperately arousing, from the cleverly coded instructions directing him here to their imperious author now waiting haughtily ahead of him.

��������� Before the door of the fifth building down, at precisely eight p.m. (exactly as she�d promised), the woman stood tall and shapely and mostly black, wearing stiletto-heeled boots and a stylish, full-length overcoat of darkest alligator.

Above it, her visible flesh was a few shades lighter, a subtle gold-brown to its tint that went pleasingly well with the surprising fineness of her features. Although the thick, sensual lips were African in their fullness, and the cheeks and jaw cherubically round, the chin was small if strong and the nose a cute little upturned pug. Perfectly symmetrical, it was a strikingly attractive face, and clearly of mixed race. Between the upturned collar of the overcoat and a tight, round cap of curls flashed feral green eyes and sharp white teeth that seemed savagely bright in the surrounding oppressive urban gloom.

The young man swallowed apprehensively twice. It was late fall, and a sudden vicious wind scuttered vagrant scraps of trash past the two of them. Yet the waiting woman�s stance betrayed not the least bit of impatience, or even acknowledgement of any elemental force not intrinsically her own.

Tall, strong and silent, consummately self-assured, she seemed an icon of implacable femininity, perhaps even the very divinity itself. Everything within the range of his senses, from the failing light and his own frail mortal presence, to the haunted emptiness of the surrounding decrepit landscape, seemed to be nothing but an extension of this mythic figure�s vast and overwhelming power of will. And of course, in a way it was. After all, who else had arranged the time and place for their kinky bit of business? If a man�s fevered imagination wanted to make more of things than that, then so much the better. The twitching in his pants was indisputably real.

��������� Hands on her hips, emphasizing both an aggressive upper torso and elegant hourglass waist, the femme fatale who�d brought him here continued to posture there challengingly, smugly and professionally assessing his now rather slinking and timid approach. Only when he�d closed to within a bare couple of meters did that appraising glance at last dismiss him, and flick out contemplatively over his sweet Mercedes convertible. Then she lashed her laughing look back at his quickly averted face.

��������� �Good�good boy.�

Her voice was butterscotch and chocolate, melted down, heated up, and then liberally spiked with a dangerously potent liqueur. �Apparently you�re capable of following instructions. Very, very good. Soon that�s going to be an extremely essential skill for you. Here�s another one: give me the money.�

��������� Unhesitatingly the man handed over the three hundred dollars promised, and without bothering to count it she pocketed it. He was barely five foot-ten, and with the considerable benefit of her spike-heeled boots, the woman loomed nearly six inches taller than he. As he at last dared to raise his gaze to her face, she stepped right up, intimidatingly close. Blatantly invading his personal space, she grabbed his tie and wrapped it a couple of times about her gloved fist. Briefly silver spikes and studs glittered on the knuckles, betraying that the garment was really a gauntlet. Leaning down into his face, the big sister spoke then in a cold, no nonsense manner. All her former dulcet warmth was gone.

�I don�t know you, male. And you don�t know me. Complete anonymity. That�s what you wanted, right? That, and to get your money�s worth. Well, that�s exactly what you�re going to get. From this moment onward, you and I do not have names � only titles. From this instant forth, you are to be known exclusively as Slave. I am of course your Mistress. We do not have any other appellation. Maybe, some day, once again we will. But until I say so, we do not. Is that understood?�

Slave�s voice creaked and croaked like as he responded. �Yes, Mistress�

�Good. Then come with me, Slave. Our appointment is pressing.�

One more meaningful tug, and she dropped his tie and turned. Slave followed his Mistress immediately, obediently, as she took him through a rusted, unpainted, yet still stout metal door, which she promptly closed and locked behind them.

It was pitch-black inside the building, and random phosphenes danced before his eyes � spots of imaginary color that only drew back and faded when Mistress turned on a flashlight. Heart thumping in his chest, pants twitching in tandem, Slave followed as she led the way past a large parked motorcycle (presumably hers), and down a short corridor. After a moment she turned into an alcove and accessed a fuse box.

One by one she snapped on breakers, yet once they had electricity she didn�t bother with lights but merely led him on toward a large freight elevator. They stepped aboard, she ran the barred gate closed and inserted a key. She twisted it, and with a clank and a lurch they began to sink into the Earth. For a moment, all the butterflies swooping and fluttering in Slave�s belly lost their crazy choreography and bonked into one another.

Now that he was reasonably committed, he began tasting yet again those increasingly unpalatable misgivings. He knew better than to speak without being spoken to, now that the money had changed hands. That was elementary. Nevertheless questions kept crowding into his throat, and pleas for reassurance. After all, he�d never attempted this kind of thing before, and he wasn�t sure what to expect. Pitiless female domination at the least, that was what he craved and that was the arrangement, but how far would each of them be willing to go, and what if he needed it to stop? There were lusts to be explored here that might prove to be either practically bottomless or quickly unendurable. He wouldn�t know which until he finally indulged them. Jazzed by the uncertainty, Slave�s heart raced, his palms sweated, and within his slacks he�d grown as long and rigid as the available space permitted. Pulsing painfully in his confinement, the monster (as he jokingly referred to his reproductive organ) clamored for release. Soon, my pet, he promised himself, stealing a glance at the woman beside him.

If she caught his scrutiny she ignored it. Stepping forward as the cage carrying them lurched to a stop, she opened the gate just a meter. �Wait here,� she ordered, and moved off confidently across what was obviously a darkened basement.

First she found a tangle of pipes, spun a familiar valve and nodded to herself at the sound of available water. Then she turned, moving off even further until her flash picked out a ceramic brick wall, a heavy iron door, and an array of inset gauges, dials, switches and handles. She punched a button, twisted a dial, and with an audible whooosh! the big building�s old-fashioned industrial furnace/trash incinerator roared into oil-fired life. Slave could smell the greasy tang of burning hydrocarbons, his own slight sweat and expensive cologne, and then the faint but heady musk of woman-flesh, as Mistress silently rejoined him, and sent the elevator surging back upwards.

His scalp prickled, and every sense seemed dialed to high alert � his eager nerve endings tuning themselves up for the riot of sensation ahead. Superseding his misgivings, Slave�s tyrant imagination joined the fun, once again kicking him quickly back into his remorseless memory. Soon their grinding, clanking progress up the shaft was overlaid with a compressed yet nevertheless desperately affecting recall of the unlikely course that had brought him here, ascending to the lair of a woman being paid to victimize him.

 

 

��������� It was Jean who�d started all of this, almost certainly inadvertently, on Christmas Day five years ago. A long-gone girlfriend (in fact Slave�s one-and-only girlfriend, at least to date), Jean knew quite a bit more about sex than he, and she enjoyed most devilishly dazzling her shy, na�ve lover with her energy and invention. That particular December afternoon, in repayment for the bestowal of a particularly coveted gift of jewelry, lovely, lively Jean had finally outdone herself, pushing a button in Slave�s deepest gut that he�d eventually found impossible to switch back off.

Suddenly, without the least bit of warning, his starry-eyed mate went from gleefully admiring her dazzling new ring to leaping across the space between them and tearing at his clothes almost viciously. In seconds they were in shreds, and while Slave was still trying to credit this assault she propelled him effortlessly backward across the room. Flinging him down upon the couch, tearing away her dress, she�d straightaway straddled him, grabbing him by the hair and proceeding to thrash his sputtering face with her swinging, slapping, tautly swollen, exquisitely grinding breasts. Suddenly the monster was awake and raging, painfully rigid, then just as suddenly he was engulfed in silken liquid fire. Shrieking like a banshee, smacking his face repeatedly, screaming Jean had mounted and ridden his helplessly pinned body with a possessed insanity that seemed to be downright unholy. Shocked stupid, taken aback, utterly blown away by unprecedented arousal, Slave soon began to ejaculate so explosively that in those brief few seconds of convulsive biologic release he lost his very soul. Afterward, he lay there in a disbelieving daze, both shamed and unmanned somehow despite the surpassing potency of his climax.

Beneath Jean�s body he could barely meet her eyes, beneath her smugness and overwhelming sexual superiority he was profoundly diminished, yet somehow, paradoxically, this had led to transcendence. It was a perception that changed everything. Even since then, long before his eventual claiming and naming by Mistress, a Slave he had truly become. Constantly he lavished the devilish minx who�d conquered him with ever more slavish devotion, always begging for a repeat of that strange, incendiary performance. But cruel Jean would only smile at him indulgently, and coyly respond that �she had to save something for the honeymoon � and after.�

Of course, long before it could get to that, she dropped him entirely, moving on to new man challenges and returning Slave to his life of lonely, involuntary celibacy with all-too vivid memories of consummation and release so potent and indelible that they haunted his every sexual thought.

Imagination and analysis: What was it about that encounter that had been so arousing, seizing him by the libido and so effortlessly squeezing his sperm from him, without a modicum of mediation from any conscious entity?�

As an occasional impotent, Slave knew all too well that it was the voices in the head that often worked to spoil or diminish the erotic experience. For some reason, Jean�s attack had effaced his upper brain so completely and effortlessly that he had at last achieved the purely animal bliss of wholly reflexive living. And how had he attained this rare sublimity? Through straight domination, plain and simple. By having his relatively weaker self eclipsed by the more imperative power and hungers of his voracious woman.

Whatever the subconscious dynamic, whatever it said about him deep down inside where he�d rather not look, the important truth was that Slave�s ingrained vulnerability to such total sexual subjugation had serendipitously provided him with an inner avenue to unparalleled ecstasy. He recalled that mind-blanking climax, so exquisite, and craving it thought to find another equally dominant woman (or maybe one even more so!) and submit himself to her, in hopes of recapturing those all-too-fleeting instants of surpassing bliss. After a while, this unrequited need took on the stature of a neurotic compulsion.

He began to buy magazines, and to visit web sites devoted to fetish enthusiasts, where he voraciously devoured stories of bondage and discipline, punishment and humiliation, brutal female domination of all kinds, sexual and otherwise � as well as perusing the many interesting personal ads. He masturbated over these breathlessly, constantly picturing himself in the role of the hapless submissive: being whipped, being tortured, being simultaneously ground down and elevated to ecstasy by the cruel ministrations of an Amazon sex goddess.

And the longer he studied the pics and stories, the images and accounts of paddlings, canings, sexual sadomasochism, role-reversals and unfettered female worship, the more obsessed he became with the idea of prostrating himself before the fantastic sex he�d always proved patently unworthy of.

Eventually he�d begun to answer the ads, to carefully correspond with potential dominas, and finally the lure of one particular set of promises had proven irresistible.� Despite the dangers inherent in placing himself under the control (however temporary) of a total stranger, despite the qualms that whispered to him of always being wary of what one wished for, Slave had finally, freely and eagerly followed the instructions leading him here: to the top floor of a run-down industrial building, one among hundreds in a shunned and forgotten corner of a grimy Northeastern city.

 

 

The elevator lurched to a halt, and Mistress shoved aside the gate onto pitch-black ambience. She moved unhesitatingly ahead, spike heels echoing sharply, and for a moment her flashlight beam carved laser-like arcs of light through empty space � a lot of empty space. Then she reached her goal, a panel of light switches, and bank after bank of cone-shaded incandescents flickered into being.

The bulbs were strong and yellow and far overhead, the ceiling beyond even higher. Slave estimated it as nearly a dozen meters, almost the height of a gymnasium. The rest of the room was of similar scale, vast and open and echoey, and he immediately deduced that this immense space occupied the entire top floor of the structure. Far off to one side, opposite the elevator, stood a drinking fountain, a pair of extra-large industrial metal sinks, and a small door marked with a toilet symbol. Beside and around the sinks, on a pair of folding tables, had been established a makeshift kitchenette: a small fridge, microwave and toaster-oven, automatic drip coffee maker, et cetera, with a garbage can and tough plastic or rubber matting guarding the floor. Most of the rest of the huge rectangular space was empty, just bare concrete floor and air. The crucial exception was a similarly protected and densely cluttered furniture island right in the room�s exact center. There, well away from the boarded-up windows, clustered around a vertical chute to the basement, sat an odd and sinister-looking grouping of esoteric objects. Slave blinked, squinting across the distance and trying to pick out identifiable items in the bizarre conglomeration. Rectangles resolved themselves first.

There were trunks and cabinets of all kinds, some neatly closed up and some with their contents spilling haphazardly out. There were several tall floor mirrors placed at various spots in various angles of inclination, and in the center of all appeared to be a queen-sized wooden plinth, thigh-high and slightly angled, thinly upholstered with black leather or vinyl and equipped with crank and chains like a medieval rack.

There was a strange wooden chair just dripping with straps, racks and racks of whips and ropes and shackles, plus miles of piled chain in every gauge. Ominous and unmistakable, there was also a small cubic cage, barely five feet square, its thick, stainless steel bars closely spaced and glittering with the polish of an endless succession of sweaty, grasping fingers and palms. Chilled by the image, Slave wrenched his gaze away, to a small, odd-looking three-wheeled carriage perched at the fringe. For a moment he was puzzled, then he noticed the long traces and harness, an entire intricate pony-rig for towing the Mistress around and around and around the large open room�s perimeter.

Of similar complex design was the archipelago�s most striking feature, a large, complicated looking high-tech personal weight-bench/workout machine. A short, narrow, hinged and inclined bench stuck out from its center like a lolling tongue, and bulking above, behind and all around loomed the hinges, bars, weights, cableworks and support structure for exercising just about any conceivable muscle group. Perhaps it had also been cunningly modified to suit other purposes as well. Standing there goggling at it, his imagination running riot, Slave felt anew the urgent pulsing in his pants, and he at last stepped quickly out of the opened elevator. Where the hell was Mistress?

No sooner asked than answered. While he�d been concentrating on what lay directly ahead of him, she�d been shedding her overcoat. Now she was approaching him at speed, and her steel-studded first was already swinging. His startled eyes had hardly enough time to take her beauty and glory in.

The boots she towered in were of the finest grade of leather, a soft jet-black. Stiletto-heeled, they climbed to a good three inches above the knee. Besides being spiked, the gauntlets gripping her fists were perforated decoratively and stretched from the knuckle-cut finger holes to at least an inch above the elbow. A crystal-studded silver collar circled her neck, but otherwise she wore nothing at all except a simple, minimalist body harness of thin, criss-crossing black leather straps. Shiny rings and buckles flashed at appropriate junctures, and a hard, black plastic plate appeared to be molded and strategically integrated at the groin to cup the mons venerus. But elsewhere it was just satiny brown skin, well-toned muscles, bulging breasts and swelling hips and shoulders and loins and buttocks all firmly bound and accentuated by those gleaming black strips of dead, cured, and beautifully finished animal skin.

Boldly emphasized thus, Mistress� naked form was heart-stoppingly erotic, more worshipful in its statuesque perfection than anything Slave had ever seen or fantasized. In the second before she was upon him, his cursed memory recorded enough intense visual imagery to foster a lifetime of wet dreams.

The body before him had seen extensive hours on yonder exercise machine, and doubtless many long days of wielding the heaviest of tools, toys, whips and weapons. Despite the opulence of the breasts (taut, swollen, nipple-topped teardrops that burst out succulently through the encircling harness), and the elegantly-curved hips and flanks that seemed to flaunt a fount of welcoming fertility, it was this impressive overall musculature that Slave found the most appealing.

While stopping short of the steroid-fed grotesquerie that marks professional bodybuilders, this Mistress was nevertheless the quintessence of feminine pulchritude. Perfectly proportioned, powerfully built, she had just enough subcutaneous fat to soften her sinewy lines and no more. Tall and sculpted, she could have been a professional model, athlete, or a Nubian warrior priestess, closing in on a hapless captive; determined to drive him to her place of sacrifice in the heart of her pagan realm.

�Move it, Slave, quickly! Don�t just stand there gawking!� She gave him a punch that reeled him, following it up with a hard shove, and another, and suddenly it was just like yesteryear, being helplessly propelled backward toward some unknown, surpassingly potent apotheosis, some forbidden female sex ritual that would convulse his body and sear his soul. He stumbled keeping his feet under him, using the excuse to snatch a peek at her face. He was simultaneously terrified, gratified, and exhilarated by what he saw.

Mistress� bright green gaze was ablaze with passion. Unholy joy and unreasoning anger, pure mad vitality and bizarre, unassuagable hungers, all these and more suffused her features, as she dealt out slaps and kicks and punches and shoves and herded him backward across the floor toward her equipment. Here was no jaded kink-hooker going through the motions for the benefit of a buck. Here was a true-blue sadist, exalted at the thought of torture, tasting already his fear, pain, and groveling subservience. Sharp teeth bared, cursing at him viciously, Mistress drove him to the very foot of the low wooden plinth, where she at last halted him � once again by yanking on his expensive silk tie. Then she dropped it contemptuously, wiping her hand as though soiled.

�Get those fucking clothes off, Slave! Every last stitch. Slaves of mine do not wear clothing, particularly not the uniform of the upper-class male oppressor. Get your worthless ass naked and get on your fucking knees, facing the rack right here!�

Immediately Slave obeyed, struggling to loosen his tightened necktie, while her impatient expression darkened. At last he ripped it free, casting it to the ground and following it with his sport jacket.

Buttons popped and leaped as he wrenched at his shirt, trying to demonstrate a placatory zeal, and before long that was on the ground as well. Hot blood began to flush his face then, and his heart pounded in his bent-over head, as he stripped away shoes, slacks, socks, and cotton bikini briefs. Finally he was nude, or so he assumed, and he knelt before the plinth as instructed. From behind him came a derisive snort.

Slave glanced up, and in one of the full-length mirrors he caught a glimpse of Mistress assessing his backside. Then she moved out of the picture, rummaging, only to return immediately, looming over him from close behind. One of his wrists was gripped, encircled with steel, and with a ratcheting click it was tightly cuffed. Two hands worked together to bring his own likewise, low at the small of his back, and in a trice a second cold bracelet gripped him, the two matching manacles and the short chain between them effectively robbing him of the last of his autonomy.

Now he was truly helpless, not just in the face of his carnal obsession but in all the cold hard ways that matter can be affected by reality. Should she only chose to, the anonymous woman behind him now could easily slit his throat, and blithely dump him in the downstairs furnace. He could do nothing at all to prevent it.

Paradoxically, his erection strained upward, reveling in this perception, and being freed now of all garment restraint the monster finally, truly stretched his long, long neck.

It was sauropod-sized, at least in ambition, and the one-eyed head seeking heaven felt all the rapacity of a starving Diplodocus. Slave kept his gaze locked on his upcocked appendage, trying to control his breathing while marveling at his unprecedented length, tumescence, and downright painful rigidity. Any doubts at all about how bondage would affect his libido were dispelled within seconds, and an unconscious moan escaped him as Mistress next began securing his ankles.

A spreader-bar was used for this, a telescoping tube of steel with a ring and crank in the center and a shackle at either end. Brusquely his feet were kicked apart, and before long each bare foot was as implacably gripped in steel as his cuffed-together wrists. More ratcheting clicks, as the bar was extended, and Mistress methodically split his helpless lower body as widely apart as mechanics and biology allowed. Slave was forced to keep shifting open his knees, abrading them occasionally on the plastic mat beneath, but Mistress wasn�t satisfied until his feet were two meters apart and he was teetering on the bare edge of balance.

Next she wedged a bit between his teeth, a hard plastic bar that trapped his tongue and pulled back brutally on his lips and cheeks. Mistress pulled the straps tight, and buckling them together at the base of his brain stem he was effectively gagged: able to breathe, moan and make garbled sounds, but gain little in the way of intelligibility. He rolled his eyes, expecting to blindfolded or hooded next, but instead Mistress left him, and busied herself positioning mirrors.

There were several of these, tall and narrow or short and wide: floor mirrors all handsomely made with gorgeous wooden frames set in stable, adjustable stands. A light patina of dust was all that obscured the pristine glass. As Mistress used a feather boa to quickly wipe this off, Slave could see that most of the mirrors were specially beveled to magnify the reflected image. Two of these, squat and rectangular, she placed on either side, to his right and left each at a couple of meters. A tall, full-length glass was placed at the head of the rack; to reflect down the low plinths inclined slope at him kneeling helplessly gagged and shackled at the foot. One last square mirror placed well behind them both finished the arrangement, pinning the naked Slave in a nexus of bisecting, endlessly reflecting light rays.

His every angle was available for scrutiny, and repeating images of every corner of the room beyond receded into infinity. A million Mistresses suddenly turned, approaching her captive Slave from every direction to begin her initial inspection.

Each reflection of her animated face and erect nipples showed exactly how exciting she found even this rather mundane responsibility, and her hot anticipation was contagious. Diplodocus strained upward, as proud of showing himself off as the Slave�s upper brain was humiliated at witnessing him: preening ridiculously there in the endlessly repeating pictures that he made. Nevertheless, despite the flush coloring his cheeks and the urge to hide his shamed face, Slave forced himself to kneel up straight, squaring his shoulders and straightening his spine to present as becoming a figure as possible. Mistress didn�t seem overly impressed.

She reached him, and seized him by the hair. With her other hand she peeled back his already stretched open lips, the sharp nails arming the deft fingers honed to the exact correct length to provide maximum dexterity and structural strength. No gaudy phony talons here, as brittle as they were uselessly decorative. Just well trained growth, correct, meticulous attention, and endless coats of strengthening lacquer.

Slave could tell that claws like those could rend a hell of a lot of flesh before finally splintering. Then they�d just become dangerously jagged. They could rip out a man�s throat in under a second. Fortunately Mistress wasn�t interested in rending, just inspecting his dentition. With a brief sniff at his expensive orthodonture, she moved on to peering into his ears, sifting through his hair, then methodically testing the shape and tone of skin and muscle all over his body � a far more rough, thorough, and fundamentally demeaning going over than any physician had ever administered.

Slave endured this with a kind of embarrassed breathlessness, feeling his body pinched and prodded, but apparently the monster had no objections to his owner being treated like cheap meat. He continued to strain skyward, begging for attention, and at last the Mistress deigned to recognize this as his apparently only redeeming asset. Finishing her inspection at his genitals, she proceeded to pull, heft, measure, test, and finally comment on what she concluded.

�Eight and three quarter inches!� Running a graduated tape up the underside of his erect penis, Mistress marveled a little silkily. �I�d not have expected that much in a rich little white boy like you. Kind of skinny, this thing, like you in general, but nice and long and with a really pretty curve. Truly excellent.�

She squeezed it painfully, grinding it between her fingers as though searching for the proverbial bone, then relented and pushed it down sharply, bending old Diplodocus� head and neck way far back down underneath. Pitilessly she held him there, smiling at her new Slave�s very first groans, and then quickly released him, snatching back her hand to observe and judge the eagerness and resilience of his spring back upright.

Watching him jump and waggle, a giggle of almost girlish delight escaped her, and grabbing him back she suddenly began jerking him quickly and viciously, at test, perhaps, of his relative weakness or control. Slave�s hips almost buckled, his balls almost spasmed, but somehow he managed to limit himself to a single strangled gasp, and not spurt out hot and wet and spunky through her manipulating fist.

Mistress nodded, provisionally satisfied, and moved her attention down to his drawn-up and quivering balls. She tested the texture of the scrotum, looking for rash or fungal infections, then palpated each testicle, rolling them expertly through her thumb and fingers.

Again Slave was reminded of his extreme vulnerability, as his tender gonads trembled in the grip of pincers more than capable of squashing them like grapes or tearing them free from their thin, vulnerable external sack. Yet it was a questionable relief at best when she moved on to check and probe his anus.

A little wiggling, a little spearing, and his sphincter clenched on her invading finger. Slowly it relaxed as she gently stroked it. His face burned then as she tested his prostate, and then at last his hole and channel were his own again � presumably. Mistress left some doubt of that with her next few casual comments.

�Well, no hemorrhoids, at least. That�s lucky for you. Lucky as well that my finger came out clean. If you�d disobeyed me and showed up dirty, I�d have made you extremely sorry.�

Still no response had been directly called for, so Slave kept his silence while she gave his springy buttocks one last rough going-over.� Finally, his examination apparently complete, Mistress applied a penultimate bit of bondage.

A harness of thin leather straps was wound about the base of his genitalia, snapping so tightly into place that it prevented the passage of fluid in either direction. This served of course to trap the blood, ensuring an erection of unlimited duration, and simultaneously keep the slave from indulging in any premature or unauthorized ejaculation.

�That should do it.� Mistress announced, rising up from her own unseemly kneeling position. She noticed how Slave had been breathlessly ogling her heavily depending breasts as she bent over, and she promptly gave him a roundhouse slap across the face. While he struggled for balance, savoring the flaming pain of his hurt, feeling the old craving avidly respond, he listened to Mistress� warning hiss, her voice as cold and deadly now as an African Black Mamba.�

�Show some respect, you. You will treat my body like a great work of art, a Michaelangelo masterpiece, and not some smutty cheap centerfold. If I catch you looking at me again and see crawling, greedy lust instead of awe-inspired worship, I�m liable to get exceedingly violent. So listen to me, Slave, and listen well. I don�t believe in blindfolds. For special occasions, yes. But generally I want the hapless slave to see everything that�s coming his way. That�s why all the mirrors. It�s much better like that. I want to see every flicker and play of emotion that flits across the stupid dupe�s face as he finally realizes exactly what he�s in for. For example��

Mistress crossed the floor, her stiletto heels clicking and echoing despite the plastic matting. Reaching the pile of his discarded clothes, she went through them methodically, confiscating his car keys, money-clip and wallet. Then, with a cruelly grinning flourish, she dumped his every garment, including his shoes, down the central garbage chute to the furnace. Only his belt she retained, marveling over its glossy finish, its suppleness and strength.

�Sweet June petunias, what a beautiful belt this is. I should know, I own a goddamn leather goods store, the best one in the state, in fact. I believe I�ll add this to my inventory. Thank you. Oh, and what else have you got for me there?�

She strode back over, and in a twinkling had relieved him of his sweet gold watch, expensive silver ring (a gift from Jean, how pathetically appropriate), and even the tiny diamond stud from his single pierced ear. Then, having stripped him of everything but his skin, she grinned at last with such a mixture of lascivious promise and dire intent that waves of gooseflesh pebbled out over his chest. Soon Slaves� little boy nipples were as erect as Mistress� far more impressive ones, as she snapped the belt professionally between her fists and moved in behind him.

�Now then, Slave, it�s time to begin our transaction proper. I�m afraid you�re going to end up paying me than you�ve planned, but believe me, you�re going to get commensurate recompense in return. You�ll get every� fucking� cent�s� worth!�

She reached out, roughly grabbed him and heaved him forward, literally lifting him up and slamming him face down upon the low wooden plinth.

 

 

��������� Here they were, down to business at last.

Mistress� elbow was gouging his shoulder, her fist gripping his hair and holding his bound form pinned.

Pinned as well was Diplodocus, trapped between his belly and the hard-as-a-board plinth beneath. Hard as a board was that fellow, still pulsing with life despite the tourniquet gripping him, hot and fat with the blood engorging his every straining inch. His long-imagined punishment about to begin, Slave�s fantasy-inspired fear-arousal was covering him like a cloak, every sensitive nerve ending waiting in a state of breathless erotic suspense. The discomfort of having his erection crushed, his face pressed firmly to the vinyl padding and his arms and legs locked pitilessly behind him was wonderfully carnal confirmation of the physical reality about to supersede his dreams.

So far bondage and humiliation had been as exciting as he�d hoped. How much more arousing would be the vaunted discipline, and how much of it would he be able to bear, before breaking and begging his Mistress for mercy? And of course, what would happen after that? They had a contract here for eventual sex, but there was certainly no mercy implied in that gesture with the clothes, shoes and furnace.

��������� Probably that was just theatrics, designed to intensify the coming experience. And if a bit of casual robbery was involved, well, such a thing was not unheard of in the annals of prostitution. Slave got this far in forming coherent thoughts, and then questions of both the past and immediate future flashed away in the first white hot flare of the first seriously struck blow of his enslavement.

��������� Mistress had slashed her new belt viciously down, leaving a stripe across his right hip and buttock that glowed an immediate cherry red in his magnified reflection. Magnified as well was the pain, when Mistress slashed a second stripe down, overlapping the first, then another, and another, and another. Slave gasped and grunted, drooling a little around the bit in his teeth, at last living completely in the animal present.

��������� A first he didn�t even try to scream. He just clamped his teeth on the handy bar and bit it back, absorbing each excruciating blow like persistently repetitive lightening strikes. As if to prove the old saw wrong, they struck the same general spot again and again, the voltage generated quickly dispersing itself throughout his entire nervous system � not just flaming on his screaming buttocks, but sending out thrilling little tingles to the tips of every single bodily appendage. His toes curled, his nape and scalp began to prickle, and as for his prick itself, the long-suffering rail-spike had never been happier. Each slash of the belt crushed him down a little more, each overwhelming neural rush sent a fiery electric burn surging through his tempered-iron length that would eventually make his ultimate quenching that much more exquisite. Wallowing in sensation, finally getting a first-hand taste of the perverted satiation he�d been so avidly pursuing, Slave savored each strike like a sex-goddess� kiss, exalted that she�d lower herself to touch him. And then, to his utter ecstasy, she even deigned to speak.

��������� �How�s this?� grunted Mistress, the belt whistling down. �How�s this? How�s this? How�s this!?� Her fist ground his face into the plinth, her muscular arm delivered blow after blow after blow, and the first of many interrogations was underway.

��������� �How do you like it, huh, white boy, how do you like it, Slave? How do you think my ancestors liked it, picking your cotton, feeling your whips, takin� your rapin� white dicks? You think any of it was pleasant? You think any of it was fun? Well I think I owe you a little payback, white boy, from my asshole father�s race to yours. And I don�t think just a simple whippin� is going to do it. Still, there�s no reason for us to get ahead of ourselves. You still haven�t told me how much you like it.�

��������� Slave managed to open his eyes between blows, although each successive smack sent him wincing back into himself. In the mirror Mistress loomed over him, her gorgeous breasts dancing as she wielded her strap, and despite the bit gagging him she clearly expected a reply.

Slave tried to form the words, to get them out. Oh, Mistress, I love it, I love it, I deserve it, please, please, punish me for being so unworthy! But each word his trapped tongue shaped now came hissing out in a kind of strangled scream, as faster and more vigorous blows continued to fan the cumulative fire that had replaced his upper thighs and buttocks.

Still the demands for appreciation escalated, the endless blows continued to fall, and despite his runaway arousal Slave began to squirm in place, his more sensible body trying to escape what his brain and gonads insisted was good for it. Luckily Mistress was on the case.

��������� �You hold still, boy! Don�t you dare try to move or you�ll get this!� The next vicious crack exploded straight into his leather-bound testicles.

Mistress had aimed the belt so exactly and swung it so enthusiastically that it hit nothing but pure nuts, and a red-hot bowling ball was born in his bowels. Slave gagged uncontrollably, retching against the bit.

So different, that stroke, from the almost sexual slaps that had been caressing his ass! This Mistress knew how to get the response she wanted, all right. Soon she was playing him like a fiddle: endless percussive cracks across the butt counter-pointed by the whistling hiss of leather through air, the sibilant respiration of the artist, and the lovely sounds of suffering produced. Then, like a crescendo, the cracks! began to get louder, the breaths to get faster, the sobs and cries more frequent. And then Mistress added her own tones to the symphony: a series of urgent, satanic-sounding bass grunts.

Slave hung on those guttural vocalizations, hearing whole libraries of greedy need and incremental satisfaction in each irrepressible one. When at first whole words and then phrases and sentences began to once again slip out around the pants and grunts, he clung to them just as desperately. Anything to wrench his focus away from the elaborate damage being done to his buttocks.

��������� �That�s�right�you�ll�take it�and you�ll�like it�and you�ll�beg me�for more!�

An especially vicious crack! punctuated each word, particularly the last, and finally a real scream escaped around the bit. Apparently gratified, Mistress picked up the pace, giving them both a real workout, still dropping her comments to him like beacons in a maddening abyss of agony.

So incredible, that so much pain could be inflicted with just a simple leather belt! Soon Slave was sobbing unabashedly, listening to Mistress� contemptuous jibes through a kind of weird, floating, out-of-body haze. In his suggestive extremity, he immediately adopted each individual statement as gospel.

��������� �You�re nothing, male! You�re a weak (crack!), twisted (crack!), desperately fucked-up (crack!), piece of sexually inadequate scum (CRACK!)! You deserve (crack!), every last thing (crack!), that I can think to do to you! (CRACK!) You belong to me, Slave! I own this body now! And anything I want to do to it is my RIGHT! (CRACK!) (CRACK!) (CRACK!) (CRACK!) (CRACK!)�

��������� The belt swung and swung, for what seemed like an eternity. Slave�s tears flowed and flowed, and his nose and mouth added snot and saliva to the liquid slickening the vinyl under his cheek. Still pinned remorselessly down by that hair-gripping fist, his face was rubbed in it, galled, and endless strangled screaming sobs were garbled by the bit. Nevertheless, despite the various torments that wracked him (the supernova his now completely blue-black ass had become topping the list), Slave�s locked erect penis, (referred to in lighter moments as the monster Diplodocus), still remained a hard and needy constant.

His bondage, humiliation and physical subjugation continued to arouse the monster despite the fact that his homononculuos had long since stopped enjoying himself. Now he was in the grip of more primal emotions. As his face was abraded and his arms and shoulders cramped, as his skin shuddered under the relentless assault of that pummeling strap and his brain floated off further and further into endorphin-induced detachment, his ravening erection continued to exult in it all. Collared-off Diplodocus throbbed and strained and seemed likely to explode before he ever found a welcoming hole. But then at last, and yet long before Slave had hoped to expect, the Mistress began to drop delicious hints along with each descending swing.

��������� �(CRACK!) How�s that? (CRACK!) How�s that? (CRACK!) How�s that, and that, and THAT?� (CRACK!) (CRACK!) (CRACK!) How�s my latest Slave like his very first beating? (CRACK!) Does he love it? (CRACK!) Does he want it to never end? (CRACK!) Or is he a weak little pussy? (CRACK!) Huh? Speak up, white boy! Had enough punishment yet? Ready for sex? (CRACK!) Or do you want some more warm-up first? (CRACK!) Hot wax? (CRACK!) Electro-shock? (CRACK!) How about a good caning? That one�s particularly popular with the Chinese, and the secret police in Iraq.�

��������� Slave strained with every fiber of his being to indicate his preference for the former, the horrifying litany of tortures being suggested instead suddenly shocking the numbing endorphins from his brain. Mistress witnessed his pathetic attempts at communication and cruelly played along.

��������� �What�s that? You do want more punishment? A couple-three hours of torture? Yes?� Slave shook his head as vigorously as the fist in his hair allowed, and the lilting voice continued to tease him.�� �No? No more torture just yet? Sex instead? Is that what you want? Sex? You want to fuck? You want me to fuck you?�

��������� Slave garbled and begged, nodding his assent and groaning unbearably at the pressure in his erection. Suddenly he didn�t care that he�d so far only gotten forty-five minutes or so for his money, watch, et cetera. The mission was a success, let it come to an end. He�d braved the worst demons of his imagination, the most persistent, and although they�d tried him extensively, he�d come out on top, exalted by the struggle. Now all that remained was to take the climactic pay-off: brutal, kinky sex with this she-demon. And how transcendent the orgasmic experience certain to result! Slave�s heart leaped with excitement at her easy acquiescence, his hot anticipation sending yet another surge of electricity through mad Diplodocus.

��������� �You do want me to fuck you! So soon? My stars, Slave, we�ve hardly even gotten to know each other yet. But all right. If that�s what you want, I�ll be magnanimous. I�ll fuck you. I�ll fuck you reeeeeeal good. I�ll give you a fucking like you ain�t never dreamed of!� Suddenly the fist was gone from his hair, the weight from his back. A clatter came as the belt hit the floor, followed by a few steps, and the sound of rustling.

Slave blinked clear his tear-bleary vision, and focused in the nearest mirror. Mistress was doing something to her crotch, clearing access to her pubis no doubt. But then she turned, and excitement and arousal immediately collapsed in the face of sudden, horrified recognition.

��������� Mistress had not been removing the molded plate that protected her mons venerus. She�d had, in face, been augmenting it. Now, as she menacingly approached her goggling dupe, leering with a devilish relish at his obvious and extreme consternation, she was preceded in her step by a long, thick, elegantly upcurved penis.

 

 

��������� Hysterical thoughts of hermaphrodism flashed through his head. His eyes flicked helplessly to the muscular shoulders, bulging biceps, and then centered with relief on the lush and indisputably natural female breasts.

The tight leather harness so lifted and separated these, aggressively emphasizing them, that despite his inner turmoil Slave�s blood began to once again boil at the sight. He would have dearly loved to linger on the beautifully feminine face as well, more reassurance, but of course he didn�t dare. Instead he found his gaze returning to the endlessly replicated images of Mistress� stunning erect cock, simultaneously so out of place and so logically appropriate that it hurt his eyes to look at it.

Below the washboard abs and trim, narrow waist, growing from the very bottom of the molded plate, it curved up and thrust out from the base of her crotch in timeless, rigid fashion. Cast from the hardest plastic or rubber, this heavily veined blacksnake was nearly a match in size for Diplodocus. Thicker if not so long, gleaming a shiny jet, only this obviously manufactured color distinguished him from flesh. That, and his lack of natural bounce and waggle. Screwed right into that molded plastic plate, Mistress� six-inch dildo had become an integral extension of the tightly gripping body harness. As she closed the distance between them it continued to hold itself steadily on course, homing in on him like the world�s most ancient and deadly weapon.

��������� Slave shook his head in urgent denial, voicing unequivocally his objection to such a depraved intent, and for the first time he really began testing his shackles.

��������� They were hard and steel and remorseless of course, and in his current position facedown on the plinth he hadn�t the leverage to do more than frantically squirm. This he did, suddenly galvanized, and Mistress� laughter burst richly forth. Full-throated and hearty, her mockery echoed in the huge empty room.

��������� �That�s right, Slave, struggle! Wiggle your little ass like a streetwalker! See what it gets you. You got one hell of a fuckin� comin� up, young man. What, did you think sexual slavery was limited to ass kissing and bootlicking? Not even close. Your body is mine now, Slave-boy, and that means mine to use in any way I see fit. And right now, I see fit to thoroughly revenge myself and all my sisters on you.

�The way I see it, my sex owes your sex for about three hundred million years of painful, undignified penile penetration. That�s a hell of a lot worse than your racial debt. So you�d better just accept what�s about to happen to you, white boy. You�d better get used to it real damn quick. You�d better even learn to love it, in fact, because from now on it�s going to happen to you with regularity.

�Look on the bright side. I�ve decided to start you off small and easy, and not pop your cherry right away. Most new slaves just get the full-bore reaming, dry as a bone. But I�m actually starting to take a shine to you. You�ve got a pretty little prick.�

��������� From now on? Regularity? What the hell was this crazy bitch talking about? Nothing had been said over the Internet about this. He wasn�t going to be anally raped by anyone, not even once, not if he had anything to say about it. He redoubled his struggles, flopping up and down on the rack, squalling around the bit in his teeth like a panicky pony entangled in his reins, helpless and infuriated by it.

Mistress laughed, and laughed, watching him in the mirror as she greased up her penis, relishing his stupid and futile struggle to escape. Then at last she moved up close enough to lay her hands on him.

��������� Once again he was partially lifted up and then slammed back down against the hard wooden plinth. Once again his erection was crushed between his belly and the board, and once again a remorseless fist gripped his hair, steadying him.

Slave quivered there in horror and pain, so stunned and demoralized by Mistress� obviously superior strength that in despair he finally wilted, giving up the struggle. Unbelievable, that this should be happening to him.

��������� Unbelievable and unavoidable. Bent over the thigh-high plinth, locked in place with his legs as splayed as widely apart as they could possibly get, Slave felt his cruel, implacable Mistress step inside the open triangle of the spreader bar.

��������� �Here we go,� she crooned, grinding his face down into the plinth while she lined herself up behind him. �Here�s my tender little virgin�s very first fuck, his very first cock-stickin� in the whole wide world. Oh, he�s going to like this. He�s going to love it. And if he don�t, well, too damn bad. It�s going to happen to him again and again��

��������� Heat burned in his cheeks, his heart pounded in his ears, but Slave heard enough of that last comment to start his head swooning around in a sickening spiral. Then once again conscious thought went on vacation, as full-blown nightmare burst in through the undefended back door.

A sudden cold, hard, bulbous shape pressed insistently up against him. Far, far worse than Mistress� probing finger, her big black cock wanted in and was not going take no for an answer. With her hands now spreading his cheeks, Mistress braced her weight, thrust her body forward and brutally impaled him, pushing his puckered flesh apart and forcing entry. Already sobbing with revulsion, Slave wailed miserably in response, feeling more shamed and violated than he had ever dreamed possible.

��������� He�d sought new experiences, wild sexual adventures, and goddamn him, he�d certainly found them. Mistress drew slowly black, then thrust forward again even harder, penetrating into territory never meant to endure such an unnatural insult. With a waggle of her hips and a rotating twist she loosened him up some; then began pumping away, still crooning evilly down at him. Soon her gradually accelerating rhythm had her burying herself to the hilt in Slave�s most private, personal center, filling his tightness with so much dick that he seemed to feel his pelvis coming apart.

He wept despairingly, seeking to expel the foreign object, but every time it pulled it back briefly it was only hammered right back in again, and that much harder and deeper. Worse, Mistress began goading him on now, picking up the pace with her exhortations.

��������� �Oh yeah, boy, oh yeah! Take that cock, boy, take it, take it, feel it, feel it, ooooooh! Yeah! You gonna make a nice little slut for me, white boy! You just gonna be so damn open and accepting that I can use my biggest cock on you! Ohhhhh, yeah. Yeah! Yeah! Take it! Take it! Take it! Take that cock! It�s all f�you��

As Mistress became more excited her polished erudition faded away, and more of the street black began come out in her tone. Soon she was cursing him ripely as she worked his ass, hammering herself ever harder up into him, until her shapely hips were clapping hands with his wounded buttocks, reawakening all those bruises and driving him roughly, rhythmically down onto the barely-padded plinth.

Hearing himself described in all the vilest of terms, hearing Mistress reiterate once again her absolute sovereignty over him, Slave gradually felt the reawakening of his strange submission compulsion. Against his will the dirty talk stirred him, and sensing this somehow Mistress poured it on.

�Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Yeah! Fuck you, white boy! Ugh! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! Ugh! Slut! Ugh! My slut! Ugh! My fucking come-hole! Ugh! That�s what you are! Ugh! My fucking come-hole! Ugh! My fucking slut! Ugh! You revolting male shit pile. Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Take my fucking cock! Ugh! Take it, boy-cunt! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Take it all! Ung! Take its every inch! Ung! Take it deep like you deserve! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!�

Her every grunt signaled another hammering thrust, and every thrust slammed his body pitilessly against the plinth. The pain in his rectum was enormous, the pain in his battered buttocks immense, but nothing like the turmoil stirring his guts into knots. Diplodocus was still trapped rigidly erect, still crushed tightly between his belly and the plinth, only now every rhythmic fuck-stroke rocked his body forward.

Caught between pinching surfaces, tugged back and forth by friction, the monster was at last receiving the (simulated) attention he�d been dying for. This mechanical manipulation of his genitals � along with the extreme humiliation of Mistress� vile sex-talk � was soon indisputably arousing Slave in a way his conscious mind couldn�t accept.

No heterosexual male should feel aroused by anything during the ongoing process of anal rape, that�s what society at large and his own socialization said, and that�s what Slave still fervently believed. Thus it was hardly surprising that a strange mental screaming suddenly swamped him, as his imperiled self-concept tried to use pure hysterical revulsion to conquer his insubordinate gonads.

In some ways the mental and emotional torment this contradiction inflicted was worse than the actual physical pain of his raping � at least for awhile, long enough for him to repress his momentary arousal. But then Mistress� arousal got serious itself, and the fervor this induced became her suffering Slave�s most exquisite misfortune.

��������� Syntax was soon lost to her, and grunts and shrieks and rare individual words were all her breath and attention could allow. Somehow so stimulated by the act of ultimate domination she was performing that orgasm was imminent, Mistress made like a male and built up her already manic rhythm to a final frenzy.

A pneumatic pile driver seemed to been unleashed in his ass, and Slave screamed in eye-bulging agony as it pounded away at him. No pain could be as fundamentally damaging, and no sound as instinctively daunting, as that mad cock goring and banshee screeching of Mistress performing at her furious climax. The huge room clamored with echoes, and the club stabbing into him might have been made of diamond-hard ice and hot molten steel, as big as a ball bat and rapid as a jackhammer.

��������� Slave endured it as long as it lasted, eons it seemed, but perhaps it was only a manner of minutes. Surely such an energy expense was too lavish for even the fittest of Mistresses to indefinitely sustain. And indeed eventually the screams tapered off, and the endlessly thudding blows slowed down. Finally there came an enormous sigh, and the invader slipped from him completely.

Slave�s acute agony began to melt into miserable relief, though the tears still flowed, and from somewhere outside himself he heard his Mistress groaning in aftermath, toweling away the sweat of her effort and blissfully savoring those last few waves of resurgent inner bliss. Then she laughed with satisfaction, and the sound made Slave once again begin blinking away his tears, suppressing his sobs and misery the better to gauge what the hell was going on here. Would this nightmare never end?

��������� Apparently not. Despite whatever profound regrets her Slave was entertaining about engaging her services, Mistress was clearly having the time of her life. Her voice was simultaneously as evil and mellifluous as at their very first meeting.

��������� �Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh, yeah! How about that, boy-cunt! I hope that fuckin� was as good for you as it was for me.�

��������� Slave sobbed hard in miserable outrage; then once again suppressed his hurt.

Damned if he�d let this bitch get the better of him. Still he was stuck until she decided to release him. He glared at her through heavily reddened eyes, no longer caring about Mistress-Slave protocol. He�d get her for what she�d done to him.

��������� Mistress must have read this intent, for she permitted the eye contact, and even smiled almost sweetly at him. He had much to learn, her look seemed to be saying. Perplexed and somewhat daunted, Slave dropped his eyes, and Mistress picked up their one-sided conversation as though no other message had intervened.

��������� �No? Well, no matter. You�ll get your puny little rocks off soon regardless. If you�re any kind of a man that is. I think I�m about done with your backside for now. Let�s see what we can do with your front, and that pretty little prick.�

 

 

��������� Once again Mistress turned away, and accessed her seemingly endless supply of toys, tools, objects, artifacts, et cetera. This time she approached a pegboard hung with dozens of various collars and leashes, and other restraints for controlling wayward dogs. She chose a short, stout, heavy but supple choke chain large enough for a Saint Bernard. Just a simple steel noose with a leather-loop handle, the entire thing was barely four feet long. Mistress claimed it and returned to him with her by now familiar grin, and to Slave�s dismay she slipped the shiny steel chain over his head without delay.

��������� If being so noosed caused Slave dismay, however, that was but the merest harbinger. Without freeing either his hands or his feet, Mistress suddenly heaved on the leash, using it to jerk his bound form up off the plinth of his defilement, over the pivot of his ankle bar and right onto his black-and blue bruised buttocks.

The pain in his wounded ass was excruciating, but that was the least of his worries. The steel noose had closed pitilessly about his neck, and as Mistress used the leather handle to drag his seventy-kilogram body across the floor he was choked as efficiently as mechanically possible.

The chain encircling his throat cut off his airflow, and Slave strangled helplessly as he was hauled across the room and then up on to the protruding tongue of the high-tech weight bench. But then his traumatized butt at last found purchase, and straddling the bench he was dragged back along it until his kidneys met the incline, and his feet came to rest with the locked-apart heels just resting on the floor.

Mistress dropped the chain to concentrate on momentarily unlocking his wrists then, and despite his fervent wish to strike out or escape, he was forced to ignore whatever thin opportunity this chance might have presented. Head swimming, with the pressure on his throat (however temporarily) relieved, it was all he could do just to gasp explosively and retch for breath.

Mistress took advantage of his debilitation to free his arms and slam him back against the narrow weight bench�s inclined upper half. Then she re-shackled his wrists behind the bench, leaving him as helplessly imprisoned as before, even more so. Then he could have at least squirmed like a worm. Now he was locked in a rigidly sitting, sixty-degree angled position, the contortion of his arms thrusting his slight chest forward and the jaunty cock of his perched-up-on-the-weight bench hips causing Diplodocus to jut right out in perfect opposition. Still harnessed rigidly erect, he immediately grasped the potential in his position and began regaining some of the urgency that raping and strangulation had taken away from him.

Having finally regained his precious breath, Slave looked up hopefully, emboldened when Mistress straddled the bench herself.

Stepping right up over it and him as though she finally intended to give them both an incredible workout, she placed her glorious breasts in such close proximity to Slave�s plastic-bitted lips that he groaned exquisitely in heart-rending need. Surely, now would come the big pay-off, no? He had more than earned it�

Unfortunately, riding the monster was still not Mistress� business. Instead she merely reclaimed the end of the choke chain, and leaving it noosed around his neck, she connected the handle to a previously unnoticed cable descending from above.

This led of course to the complicated system of computer-controlled pulleys and weights, an ergonomic masterpiece that provided the necessary pull or resistance for exercising any group of muscles in existence in any manner imaginable. A simple steel snap, and the chain and cable were one. A simple touch or two on the nearby control panel, and Mistress had programmed the initial direction and amount of stress. Iron weights slid and clanked out of sight somewhere behind him, and once again the stainless steel chain pulled suddenly taut.

Slave�s head jerked up and back, his throat once again considerably constricted, and with an assessing smile Mistress watched him, gauging his reaction.

Briefly she reached out, in a strange show of charity, and released a bit of pinched flesh, settling the noose more comfortably about his throat. Then she punched another button, adding additional pounds, and the steady pull on Slave�s choke chain climbed remorselessly, slowly hanging him.

Only when his breath had thinned to a whistle did she finally seem satisfied. Retreating from the bench, she rummaged around once again, only to come right back with a heavy leather bullwhip, a taser, and a handful of feather-decorated alligator clips. Seeing the horror again conquer hope in her stupid dupe�s eyes, Mistress laughed with the cruelest of relish.

�Not yet, Slave-boy. I need a bit more foreplay first. Then we�ll see what you can do with that thing.� A hot, eager enthusiasm had been rekindled behind those lovely green orbs, and her strangling Slave shivered with a panicky dismay, as she closed back in on him and went to work.

 

 

��������� The sharp toothy clips came first.

Commonly called �alligator clips�, these were used for forming electrical contacts in wiring jobs. However, simple expediency and popular culture had adapted them to other uses as well, particularly for holding the smoldering roach of a nearly finished but still too-tasty-to-discard marijuana joint.

At some point, enterprising hippies had taken to buying huge quantities of these, decorating them with beads, handles, even gaudy fans of colored feathers, and selling them at head shops, rock concerts, et cetera. Judging by the rest of the outrageous surplus merchandise lying around, Mistress� store obviously sold more than just leather goods, and these must have been in the inventory. She had a fistful, and setting her weapons temporarily aside she began pinching open their spring-loaded clamps and applying them to vulnerable spots on his body.

��������� One on each of his earlobes, tender under the teeth, then one apiece upon the pinna, clamping down hard on the cartilage within.

All four were only moderately excruciating of course, compared to what he�d recently been through, and the decorative feathers that hung down to his shoulders weighed next to nothing. Not so the ones attached to his nipples. Those clips were painted black, filled with lead and trailing wire leaders and heavy lead sinkers originally designed for sport fishing. These weighed considerably more, but even if he hadn�t been gagged and half-strangled, Slave would have hardly dared to complain. After all, a simple snap swivel could add any arrangement of wickedly sharp, barbed, treble fishhooks to be found in the tackle box. Tiny steel teeth were tormenting enough, thank you very much.

��������� All up the underside of his prick they bit into next. Alternating weighted clips with decorative ones, Mistress festooned Diplodocus as though for a parade. Trailing feathers like flags, dipping down lower and being forced to fight harder to raise his hungry head, the monster nevertheless persevered in spite of the exquisite, stinging pain. Surely worse was in store than mere decoration.

��������� Indeed. Having appropriately prepared her Slave for sacrifice, Mistress claimed her whip, stepped back, and began to use it. Slowly, with great ceremony, she drew back her powerfully muscled arm and then flung it forward, slashing the leather lash at him with such a look of unholy glee wreathing her face that it seemed to shine.

��������� Slave exploded into agony at that initial strike, a searing streak across his chest and gut that put the earlier, rather tame assault on the thick skin of his ass in entirely new perspective.

Had he thought that belt delivered a lightening strike? Maybe so, but apparently he�d been limited in his experience to storms on Earth. The single-tail bullwhip Mistress swung now delivered thunderbolts like those on Jupiter: gargantuan, sizzling strikes that leapt from the planet-sized maelstrom of the Great Red Spot to deliver their charge undiminished through millions of miles of crushing, poisonous atmosphere.

Slave might have been on the surface of that world himself, struggling to breathe its thick gases against enormous pressures while unimaginable energies coruscated through him. Still bolt after Jovian bolt continued to strike, Mistress� whip whistling effortlessly through the air and slashing into his flesh with all the primal force at her disposal. Soon he was criss-crossed with livid red welts, seeping weals that crawled across the blasted landscape of his skin like acid-trails.

This beating was far more serious than the one delivered earlier, and there was little question now of enjoyment. Between his slow strangulation and the lashing whip, Slave had found his nightmare in earnest, and quickly descended into a black, unthinking fog. Not contemplating or hoping but only being and enduring, he sucked steadily for sips of live-giving gases and waited ambivalently for either death or mercy.

Neither appeared to be immediately forthcoming. The bull whipping continued for an indeterminate interval, finally culminating with a frenzy of cleverly aimed strikes all across the hips and groin. Diplodocus took several straight on, and despite his earlier rigid arousal, he soon needed all the tightness of his throttling harness to maintain his upright stance. Helpless tears streaked Slave�s slowly darkening face, and when it was at last abundantly clear that agony had defeated ardor, at least temporarily, Mistress cast the whip aside and eagerly moved in closer.

Time for more sophisticated techniques!

 

 

Slave came out of his daze to temporary heaven. Just not be struck again, that was salvation enough, but suddenly someone was petting his monster Diplodocus.

�I think I�m ready to try your cock,� Mistress declared. To his utter astonishment she crouched down next to him, and began removing the agonizing clips.

So subsumed had his smaller pains become by the striping of his groin, belly, and chest that Slave had almost ceased to take notice of those tiny spots of intense neural fire. But suddenly relief replaced them, and was then replaced in turn by ecstasy. Mistress gripped his twitching length and began pumping and pulling, expertly manipulating the life back into his waning erection.

Slave groaned extravagantly, almost as tormented by this sudden instant bliss as all the terrible tortures earlier. Diplodocus sprang back into trim, regaining his urgent elegant curve, and Mistress crooned appreciatively.

�Oooooohhh, yeah, there�s that pretty pink turtle-neck, stretching his head up so far out of his shell! Oh, yeah!

�You know, Slave, most men are worthless scum, utterly contemptible, really, but sometimes I just can�t help loving cocks! Especially ones like this. So eager, so trusting, so willing to be coaxed up into the most vulnerable shapes and positions! Oh, yeah! Why, this guy here�s so long and hard I could do just about anything I wanted to him��

So saying she suddenly engulfed it, accepting the monster in one long unhesitating slurp. Just shy of the cinching base strap her teeth clamped tightly to him, painfully pinching and biting, demonstrating her ability to unman him. Then the teeth retreated, caressing lips took over, and she bobbed professionally on the shaft until her rhythm drove him to the bare edge of sanity.

The pleasure of her expert fellatio was so acute after all that had occurred that Slave began weeping with joy, almost prepared to believe that the game was worth the candle. But then the hand that wasn�t methodically massaging his testicles came up, and the taser was in it. Mistress� head came up, his dick slipped out, and the hand applied both opposing poles of the device to the tender and wet, hard and yet soft, exquisitely tongue-washed head of his swollen erection.

This time true lightening blazed into his body, the conduction greatly aided by saliva, and Slave lurched in his bonds like a cardiac patient being defibrillated. Red-hot agony scorched into his penis, the same conduit formerly delivering such pleasure now carrying a fiery bright pain sufficient to convulse his muscles and shudder through his tightly restrained limbs like overloaded high-tension lines. He quivered in his gibbet as the spasms wracked him, straining mightily for breath against the remorseless steel noose. Meanwhile Mistress dropped her head again, engulfed him again, eagerly and enthusiastically serviced poor scorched Diplodocus again, until once again he was bursting with eager blood. And then again the head came up, the taser rammed forth, the hot points pricked him and he convulsed in electricity-induced agony.

Again and again Mistress played this trick, until at last her Slave was appropriately slack-jawed and goggle-eyed. Then finally her libido got the better of her. She dropped the taser, ducked and sucked him up into his most engorged state ever. Then at last she ripped free the imprisoning base-strap, and without ceremony stepped up, swung her leg over both bench and boy and dropped herself down.

Apparently the harness made provision for this, because although she still wore the big dildo curving up in front, below the protective cup-plate her pubic saddle remained free, with just the thinnest of bracketing straps proceeding on back. Between these, her genitals gaped open and wet, and before he could credit it Slave found himself crushed under a hundred and sixty pounds of female, his burned Diplodocus suddenly buried to the hilt in hot, wet, slickly pressing, delightfully caressing cunt-flesh.

Perhaps his disbelief was the only thing that kept him from coming, at first. Those glorious tits were right in his face, the hardened nipples seeming as sharp as onyx arrowheads. Her weight was squashing him, her limbs enfolding him, her sheer womanly proximity blowing all his circuits. Wheezing for breath, blinking back against diminishing consciousness, he stared dumbly forward at Mistress� perfectly symmetrical cleavage � at least until her palm flashed out, slapping hard against his cheek and rocking, however slightly, his chained-up head.

�What did I tell you about looking at me?� Her dildo poked uncomfortably into his gut, and after a moment she reached down and removed it. Then casting it aside she grabbed him by the hair and leaned in close, the muscles of her vagina pulsing and tensing against his imbedded length, as she laid down a few simple ground rules.

�This is what I call hang-fucking, Slave.� Slowly she ground her hips against him, eliciting a whimper.

�What I do is gradually hang you while I fuck you. If you�ve ever seen men die on the gallows, then you know one of their final acts is an incredibly convulsive ejaculation. You will never have experienced its like, and I intend to get the ride of my life. So I guarantee you, if you come before I do, or before your body reaches that penultimate point of uncontrollable spinal reflex, it will be the last thing you ever do. I�ll reach up, touch a button here and add the whole fucking stack to the pull on this chain.

�With my weight and your locked arms holding you down, it might just rip off your head. At the very least it�ll pop your spine. So if you don�t want that to happen, don�t you dare ejaculate � until, of course, it�s time to. Then I want every fucking drop!�

With that she reached up, punched a button, and two more pounds clanked down. Then her hands came up above and to either side of his now seriously purpling head and grabbed a pair of handles, solid iron press bars to anchor her movements. Then, with the pointy toes of her boots just barely riding the floor, she launched herself headlong into the most energetic copulation that Slave had ever fucking seen.

 

 

Not that he�d ever seen much fucking, or could even see much of what was happening to him now. Grayness was creeping in, claiming more and more of his peripheral vision. He sucked ever more desperately for breath, and received ever less in response. Anoxia was gradually claiming his consciousness, and already he was slipping into a dream-like, hallucinatory state.

Had he just been condemned to an incredibly gruesome death? Or was that just the penalty for premature ejaculation? He was too far-gone into the strange fantasy/reality netherworld he�d created to make the distinction. All he knew for sure was that the penultimate scene was at last upon him, quite literally, bucking and heaving, grinding and twisting, slamming up against his chained, tortured body in the form of one huge, gloriously potent and attractive brown-skinned female.

Stuck on the spike of his painfully hard prick, socketed down tightly onto his firmly elevated hips, Mistress rode her Slave�s restrained body like it was merely an inconsequential extension of the inanimate exercise machine. Braced over him, glaring down, hollering out abuse and exhortations, she was the supremely vicious and dominant female Jean had only dreamed of being.

Her deltoids and biceps bulged as she gripped the iron bars, and her lovely throat was corded with the effort of her haranguing screams. Despite the restraining straps, those big breasts bobbed, flopping and bouncing right in front of Slave�s face like burstingly ripe fruits being shaken on a branch. And all the while those bunching, muscular haunches pumped her crotch pneumatically back and forth, her seething, clenching insides stropping Diplodocus to an ever-keener edge.

That should really have meant his death. Under normal circumstances (normal? Nothing about this night was normal!), being buried under such a hot, wet, mobile and aggressive woman for any amount of time would have quickly shorted his circuits, causing the deprived monster to spit his long-hoarded load in astonished glee. Now however, with a chain noose around his neck and Mistress� dire warnings hanging over his head, Slave�s anoxic detachment steadily deepened, keeping Diplodocus from fully appreciating his unprecedented good fortune.

The distant walls were expanding even further, retreating into gray as the world beyond the weight bench steadily removed itself.

Slave felt his body struggling, his wrists wrenching against the cuffs, his upper half wriggling impotently beneath his Mistress.

Some failsafe deep in his genes commanded this, but the proof of his intractable captivity was only slightly more affecting than the crazed calisthenics of the wild naked woman so energetically having her way with him.

Both stimuli were equally terrible and arousing, each so evocative of the pure loss of control at the heart of his bone-deep, self-destructive desires that they alone stayed with him, however dimly, throughout the continuous and progressive loss of his upper cognitive faculties. Everything else but the most urgent physical sensations faded away.

Then suddenly even more faculties were lost, and urgent physical sensations intruded indeed, as only seconds later Mistress responded to his recent feeble attempts to struggle. Without causing a hitch in her rhythm, she reached up and slapped at the appropriate button, dropping even more weight on the stack and correspondingly increasing the pressure closing in on his tender throat.

Slave felt his head stretch upward, vertebrae creaking, and the pinhole he�d been breathing through narrowed down to nanometers in diameter.

Now Mistress picked up the pace, humping away at him even harder, and as she thrashed back and forth atop his locked-up body, Slave felt his tongue swelling, attempting to protrude from under the bit and gradually succeeding.

His jaw creaked open ever wider, his eyes bulged out of his blood-filled face and his pulse pounded urgently in each one. Yet despite the flood of fluid widening his lips and lids, he could see steadily less and less. Tunnel vision was beginning to close in, the peripheral grayness surrounding his field of view deepening slowly, inexorably to black. Slave�s eyes were beginning to glaze, and he felt himself slipping away.

�Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! AAAAAAHHHHH!�

Just in time, Mistress� high, grunting shrieks of effort and need began rising to the pitch of orgasm again.

After his previous experience with that banshee screeching, Slave could have recognized the sound even his in sleep. Within the narrow scope of his remaining consciousness, this urgent signal struck a tingle of significance.

Taking his cue, the monster Diplodocus reared in response. Instinctively grasping that it would soon be now or never (maybe now and never, again, that is) he suddenly re-awoke to all the ungodly erotic energy concentrating around him.

Bathing in the fluids and frictions so busily manipulating him, he recalled in a split-second all the desperate purpose of this encounter, spiking Slave�s waning awareness to one final rally, just at the penultimate moment. Focusing his pinhole vision, he saw only those luscious, incredibly animated breasts (and oh, what a desperately erotic sight they were, jiggling and joggling, goading him on toward his long-sought apotheosis). But somehow he sensed it as well when Mistress reached out, yet again, to slap at the control buttons.

A loud clatter signaled the drop of a great number of heavy iron plates. Simultaneously the steel choke chain was jerked excruciatingly tight, closing his throat off completely and yanking Slave brutally upward by the skull.

Although this sudden pull was insufficient to rip off his head, or even break his spine, the continuously tightening garrote was agonizing in the extreme. Closer and closer it crushed in about his trachea, until Slave�s chest heaved and hitched absolutely fruitlessly, and suddenly his spine came alive with a life of its own.

Bunching and writhing like a spring, it fired off impulses right and left in a last ditch effort to do something useful before its necessary connection to the brain was severed. Wracked by autonomic impulses far more powerful than before, Slave�s oxygen-deprived body shuddered uncontrollably within its bonds, wrenching against his shoulder sockets with a force almost sufficient to dislocate them. Nevertheless, the handcuffs still held his wrists locked tightly together behind the bench. If the chain now brutally throttling him dragged his body remorselessly upward, the weight of the woman socketed atop his bucking hips helped that shackled-together loop of his arms hold him tightly down on the sturdy weight bench.

Normally the hanged man�s legs would have bunched and thrashed uncontrollably as well. But with Slave�s ankles also locked solidly apart, all that energy was transferred instead to the small of his back and buttocks, which bucked and bounced between bench and bitch with enough unfettered force to lift her repeatedly into the air.

Beautiful and omnipotent, bursting with vibrant life, his already screaming Mistress greeted this spastic pogo-ing of the body beneath her with even more ear-piercing cries of excitement, triumph, and surpassing orgasmic glee.� Enjoying the rodeo ride of her life on his very death throes, her insides suddenly began to quiver and shudder themselves � just as the promised last uncontrollable spinal reflex finally kicked in.

Diplodocus suddenly began to shake, and then like a dragon spitting fire he vomited out lava-hot semen, erupting extravagantly as every muscle clenched and every neuron fired, before extinction could shut them down completely.

For Slave, teetering on the last dreamy brink of consciousness, bucking and shuddering uncontrollably, feeling his bowels preparing to give out, this last-ditch emptying of the barrel was just as exquisitely orgasmic a biological release as he�d sought and been promised: an extreme consummation as towering and apocalyptic as death itself � a state certain sure to swiftly follow.

Slave�s last, incoherent thought before winking away was exceedingly strange

Mommy, I don�t want to go to school today�

 

 

��������� Fortunately (at least for the purposes of this story), that wasn�t the end of it. After an unknowable interval, Slave became dimly aware of terrible pain, a first and wholly sufficient proof of his continued existence.

��������� His throat was sore, so sore that every gasping, hacking breath was a torment.

It seemed that this torment was being inflicted by his own stubborn body. Still grimly determined to cling to the life its organizing mind had wantonly forsaken, it retched and shuddered autonomically.

Without a thought for the pain inflicted on its bruised tissues, his throat coughed and choked and sucked in huge draughts of life-saving air. His diaphragm stretched, his greedy lungs worked like blast-furnace bellows and his stuttering heart leaped back into rhythm, urgently pumping its oxygen-enriched blood to starved cells everywhere.

An agonizing headache accompanied this process, pounding deeper and harder behind the eyeballs with each cardiac throb. Gradually this stimulus brought other, higher faculties back on-line.

Finally perceiving his survival, remembering his harrowing ordeal and continued precarious circumstances, Slave� next agonizing gasp expelled a sob of purest misery. Afraid of what he would discover, he took careful, wincing stock of both his inner and outer condition.

The bit had been removed from his teeth, easing his breathing, and the noose hung slack around his neck. A terrible thirst tormented him, but his body was still locked as securely as ever to the weight bench. His neck was swollen, bruised and abraded, his front side covered with livid welts and his ass extensively traumatized inside and out. Diplodocus slumped shrunken in defeat, and both his nipples and ears still bristled with painful alligator clips. His head throbbed, his eyes and nose ran, and one last series of wracking coughs punished his excruciating throat. At last Slave blinked repeatedly and finally forced his bleary eyes clear. What he saw made him groan all over again.

Everything about his surroundings remained substantially the same. The mirrors had been repositioned, the better to reflect him in his bonds, and one other crucial object had been added to the tableau. It was this that elicited the groan, an uncontrollable sound of torment and need that was as heart-felt as any preceding it. Mistress was seated on the edge of the plinth, casually going through his wallet, and next to her on the vinyl padding sat a nearly full twenty-once bottle of Beck�s beer, so cold that it dripped and trickled gleams of condensation.

Flipping through his bank and credit cards, Mistress must have noted his groan, for she looked up. Seeing him fully conscious again, she greeted him with such a dazzling smile that he felt weak and helpless before it. Despite all she�d done to him, she was still so beautiful�even now her voice just dripped and ran with honey, as though the right kind of sonic magic could sooth away his hurts like nothing.

�Ah, here�s my pretty little Slave, back among the living! Well done! Now that�s what I call great sex, no? Perfectly executed � pun definitely intended. We both came so hard simultaneously� And you didn�t even shit yourself! I�m getting better and better at hitting that release button at just the right time. Good thing, too, I hate that smell. How some people get off on playing in shit is beyond me. Yes? You have something to say?�

Slave had been making desperate facial expressions, and now he fought his aching, croaking throat into use.

�Please�drink�help��

Mistress� grin widened teasingly. She picked up the beer, swigged deeply, and smiled at him with such blissful savor that he fully expected her to deny the request. Her circumlocutions were maddening.

�What�s that? You want a drink?�

�Please��

�A drink of my beer? You want to put your lowly lips to the same bottle as mine? How presumptuous!�

�Please��

�And I had to walk all the way to the refrigerator for this, while you were still trying to decide whether to live or die. Don�t you think I deserve the whole thing?�

�Yes, but please�drink��

�Please what?�

�Please, Mistress. I beg you for a drink.�

�Well�since you put it that way�� Mistress rose from the plinth, and carrying his wallet in one hand and the beer in the other, she strolled the short distance to the bench. Leaning over him, she grinned down.

�Open up, Slave. I�ll share my beer with you, but there�s no way your lips are going where my lips have been � at least not yet.�

Slave opened his mouth and tipped his head, carefully closing his windpipe so as not to choke, and true to her word Mistress tipped the bottle and poured pure, foamy cold heaven straight down his traumatized throat.

Nothing had ever tasted so good as that premium German brew, burning and tingling, simultaneously soothing his tender swollen gullet. As long as Mistress poured he swallowed gratefully, and when she stopped he felt immeasurably better. She must have liked what she saw in him as well, for she laughed down at him, and with the back of one hand she briefly stroked his cheek.

�You�re cute. I�m glad you came back to me, Slave, for a lot of reasons. For a while there the issue was in some doubt.�

Emboldened by her recent kindness, Slave risked the burning question.

�What if I hadn�t come back? What if I�d died from that?�

Mistress� smile didn�t waver. If anything, it broadened.

�Why, then you�d have followed your clothes and shoes down the furnace chute a little earlier than planned, that�s all. I�d have been out some money and fun and you�d have been out a few more months of life. That�s all. A couple months of awesome orgasms for me, a short season exploring sexual slavery for you. I figure it�ll take me about that long to fuck you out, bleed you dry, and decide on an appropriate manner of murder. Then you�re finally going to get your ultimate wish, and join my ever-growing eternal harem.�

�Murder?� Slave�s weak voice shook. �Bleed me dry?�

Mistress nodded sympathetically.

�Before you go in the furnace, I need to torture you into revealing the PIN numbers for all these bank and credit cards, so I can drain the accounts. Plus I�ll need a power of attorney, to cash in any stocks and insurance policies, or other investments you have, and sell off your house and such.

�We all have bills to pay, Slave, even the richest of us. Also, I need to make sure my new Slave boy isn�t going to be overly missed.�

Mistress� sympathetic smile became a devilish grin.

�I�m going to need all sorts of information out of you, white boy, and I�ll get it before the end, every bit of it. Trust me � I always do. I�ve played this kind of game over a dozen times already, and it�s always been an incredibly intense experience emotionally. Not to mention outrageously sexually gratifying, and generally reasonably profitable.

�Of course, the longer a given slave manages to resist my tricks, and hold onto his worthless life and assets, the better it always is � for both of us. One guy I had up here lasted almost six months, and we both must have came a thousand times before I finally took him, quite willingly, into my eternal service.

�So, my newest Slave, let�s make this as challenging and fulfilling as possible for both of us, okay? That way you�ll live longer, I�ll have more fun, and we�ll each get what we want in the end.�

Mistress took a long pull off the beer, then held it out and tilted again. Slave didn�t let the sudden horror crashing in on him prevent him from opening up and greedily swallowing, not the way he needed the ailment, but as soon as the beer was gone he gasped for breath and then gaped in dismay. As Mistress turned to discard the empty bottle, and rummage once again amongst her extensive collection of sadistic paraphernalia, he gazed not outward but with pure stunned horror inward, at the terrible abyss he�d created for himself.

Moments later any opportunity for adjustment was past, and his new life � or slow death � was upon him. Mistress turned back, and in her hands was a large pair of electricians pliers. Once again a sadistic exhilaration lit her lovely features, and her bright green gaze was focused hungrily on his groin

�Now then, Slave, let�s start with everyone you told about this meeting, and all the nasty, vicious things I can do to your genitalia��

 

 

 

 

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