Dark Eden

http://www.eroticexcursions.net/

Presents

Dark Eden Copyright 2005 by Rene.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author. This material is presented as adult entertainment and is not intended for any person under the age of eighteen years. While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the author assumes no responsibilities for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of information contained herein. All characters and descriptions are purely fictitious.

SEEK AND YE SHALL FIND

Fantasies even good ones don't hold a candle to real flesh. The problem, as always, was how to meet like-minded people. I wanted to meet people who play the game, but also play by the rules. I can't afford to end up with injuries and trying to explain how I got them. Bruises are a hazard, but so are welts. Not always, but sometimes. `The best times.' Came that little voice from inside my head. Most people think that it's a question of getting off on pain. Wrong. It's sensation, attention, and limits. It's the master or mistress focusing complete and total attention on the most profound way to make you feel. I may be submissive, but I'm really the one in total control. I'm the top. It was that way last weekend when I started my new life. I was in just enough control to feel again and just desperate enough to be reckless. I had to have somebody watching out for me upstairs, because I struck gold.

THE PHONE CALL

It was an absolutely miserable night. Cold, wet. The phone like ice in my hands and the numbers hard to see. The call itself was almost impossible to make. I could barely breathe. I felt like someone had kicked me in the chest, hard. I'd prepared myself like Rob had taught me. I was as ready as I would ever be, so I steeled myself and dialed the phone. A woman answered.

"Hello?"

"I'm calling about your ad in the Urban Times."

I tried to keep my voice steady and hoped that I succeeded somewhat.

"Do you have any experience?"

Does years of living inside the three ring circus of my own mind, count as experience? Probably not, so I recounted what I did know.

"About six years ago I had a boyfriend that did this kind of thing."

Humiliating to speak of this forbidden desire that kept me awake nights.

"Do you have any costumes?"

Costumes? That was a new one on this naked, kneeling girl. I spoke the truth.

"No, I never needed any on my end."

That was accurate enough. There was a pause on her end of several seconds and I got the impression that I was on a speakerphone. The tone had that weird wind-tunnel effect that those phones have.

"I see. Can you describe yourself briefly?"

I did. I'm average, normal height and weight. Brown-hair, hazel-eyes. She seemed pleased by my description and I heard a male voice in the background speaking.

"Have her come in."

"Can you come in on Monday?" Monday was bad for me. I had my real life on Monday. Separate from this fantasy life. "I'm sorry, I work." Another pause from her end.

"Oh, you have a job?"

I was kind of puzzled. Don't most people have jobs or some way to make money?

"This is not my real life."

Just a hobby. Came the little voice again. God, what a smart-ass. They were conferring in the background, but too low for me to hear.

"Can you come by tonight?" Overdrive on my pulse. "We close in about an hour."

Close? Oh well, time for questions later. I agreed and got directions that I repeated back to her. Wouldn't do to knock on the wrong door now, would it? It was her last words to me that ran through my head on the way over like a time loop.

"Be ready for anything."

I debated whether or not to even go. My palms were wet and my breath came in short pants. I pulled the shreds of my dignity together and prayed for some sort of guidance. It came from within me. That little voice that I usually ignored.

What do you have to lose?' That was it. I had nothing to lose. Nothing but the empty, boring sterility of my waking world.

I made it on the expressway in twenty minutes. I found a place to park on the street. I was kind of surprised to find myself in a residential neighborhood with an address in my hand. I found the right house. A three-story Victorian in the Indian Village area. High-walls surrounding the property. A real nice house actually. I sat in my car gripping the steering wheel. Mouth dry. Panic circling my lungs. God, don't let me knock on the wrong door.

I took a deep breath and got out of my car. Walking up to the door and knocking softly. A woman answered it.

"Yes?"

The voice from the phone, without the echo from the speaker. I cleared my throat.

"I called a little while ago and you asked me to stop by."

She smiled pleasantly, moving to clear the doorway.

"Come on in."

I did so. Noticing the foyer and hallway had been expertly restored to their turn-of-the-century splendor. We walked towards a big oaken door that she opened to reveal a study done in shades of cream and ivory. A real fireplace graced the room, a leather sofa [ivory] before it. Cream plaster walls with hunt prints. Bookshelves with titles that I recognized. The only thing that looked out of the ordinary was the umbrella stand with riding crops in it, instead of umbrellas. About ten of them. "My husband will be here in a moment."

Husband? I must have looked surprised, because she said.

"It helps to have both of us in the business."

She smiled at me, motioning me to sit down on the sofa.

"This is how we make our living."

Pride shone through her every word. She checked the clock on the mantle.

"He'll be just finishing up."

Very hard not to ask who, or what, he was finishing up. I managed it. She left me alone with my thoughts, going back out the door that we had entered to the main hallway.

I wasn't sure what to do. How to sit even. What would they want? I was nervous. I rolled my head and shook out my arms. Doing some deep breathing. Saying to myself. "Grace and perfect obedience. Perfect silence and flexibility." I'd just finished when I heard the door opening up behind me.

I didn't turn. I looked straight ahead. Hands on my knees. Hearing the slow steady tread before me. A man's tread. He came to a stop before me. I glanced up to about waist height and noted the black leather pants with studded boots. He put out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Jon."

I looked up into his face as I gripped his warm fingers. Standing up from the couch as I did so. Business habit. Carnegie Grad, you know?

"I'm Anne."

Firm grip of my hand in his. He introduced his wife, Traci. Inviting me to sit back down on the sofa. I was slightly uncomfortable. Unsure of what he wanted of me. I knew that he was master here, but did not know their protocols.

"So how did you hear about us?"

I swallowed down the fear and answered honestly.

"Your ad in the paper. I called from a pay phone."

I had no idea why I volunteered that little snippet of information to him.

"Why?" He asked directly.

Face sincere. Intelligence in his dark-eyes. I noticed that he was 35-40 with just a touch of gray in the dark hair at his temples. Coupled with his commanding manner he was formidable.

"Because I was tired of vanilla, when I'd rather have rocky road."

I wanted to bite my tongue out, but they laughed. Thank you, God. She spoke.

"I've never heard it put quite like that before. I like it."

She sat on the end of the sofa and curled her legs under her body.

"You'd better tell her about us, Jon." "You know about the code?"

I nodded and the relief must have shown on my face. A certain tension leaving me in a rush. The code was a set of rules. Rules designed to set parameters and prevent accidents. I had hit gold, if they abided by it when they played. I kept my cool.

"I did six years ago. Has it changed much?"

"Just a safe-sex clause. You don't object to condoms, do you?"

Another tension gone. I assured him that I believed in them one hundred percent. No one' is touching my body without protection.

"Are you a dominant or a submissive?"

This was the one question that I had been dreading. This was it. The moment when I stated out loud for the first time what I really was. Who I was.

It was hard to get the words out around the congealing lump in my throat. Rob had never made me say it. He just took it for granted that I was his. This man wanted me to say it out loud. Express what I was craving. I had to force myself to say it and even then it was barely a whisper when it came out of my trembling lips.

"Submissive."

I felt hot color crawling up my neck and over my face. My hands clenched on my knees. Eyes down. I felt his presence as though he had just suddenly appeared before me. His voice when he spoke again had changed. It had hardened.

"If you are a submissive, then you are in nowhere near the proper position to be addressing me."

I didn't even hesitate. I dropped from the couch unto my knees on the floor before him. Hands behind my neck and under my hair. Legs slightly apart, eyes down. Thinking that if I did what I had done before and it was properly respectful that maybe it would be acceptable. He asked me questions. Rapid fire, trying to pin me to some kind of personal philosophy.

"Voice trained?"

"Yes Sir." I said, quickly.

"Sexual Orientation?"

"Heterosexual, Sir."

Never ever tried it any other way. Why mess with what you like?

"Have you ever been with a woman?"

"No Sir."

I felt color creeping up my neck. He waited and I made myself continue speaking, slowly.

"Almost once, but I'm curious sir."

"Wait there."

I felt them walk away by the changing in the air around me, then snatches of the conversation they were having over in the other end of the room. Never a whole sentence, just snippets. Words like- Willing, Nice Manners, Not hard to train this one. Then I heard her say.

"Well, we didn't have anything else planned for the rest of the evening now that Adam's taken the weekend off. We can ask."

They whispered for a couple of minutes, and then came back to where I was kneeling on the floor.

"We could really use a good submissive, honey."

Nothing like being in demand.

I heard them talk about fees, contracts, costumes, and hardware. I thought I was going to pass out it got so hard to breathe there for a minute. My heart hammering in my chest at much faster than its normal rate. I was dazzled and filled with a sudden sense of unreality. I heard one of them leave and one came back over to stand in front of me.

"You can stand up." Traci said.

I did it, noting with some surprise that I was much taller than she was.

"We'd like you to stay for awhile as a trial. If we like what we see, we'll include you with our regulars."

I looked at her with curiosity shining in my eyes.

"We have a fully equipped dungeon. Whips, chains, clamps. I do erotic body piercing. You will have an opportunity to pick your safe-word, if you agree to stay. Once you agree to stay, if you ask to leave it's considered an act of rebellion. If you use your safe- word to get out of a non-painful situation. That too, is considered rebellion. If you agree to stay we will consider you our property and use you as such."

I asked her a question that was important to my answer to them.

"Have you ever had an accident here where anyone got hurt? Really hurt?"

She smiled with a great deal of pride.

"No, we are more than careful here and have never had an accident with one of our people. We are always near and always watching."

I looked her straight in the eye.

"Are you secure here? I cannot afford to have even a whisper of this get out. It won't ruin me, but it would make my life much more difficult to live."

She looked at me seriously, as though I had handed her a loaded gun.

"This is the most discreet establishment in the city. We screen our guests very carefully here. If you become one of our regulars here by the time you return to us. We will know everything about you that is possible to know."

I believed her.

"I agree." I said it fast, so that I wouldn't balk.

"Okay, I'll take you someplace to prepare for the festivities."

I blushed. "I...umm. Already douched. Twice, both ways."

She looked curiously interested in what I said.

"Were you expecting?"

I shook my head and sheepishly grinned down at her.

"No, Ma'am. I'm only human. I had a date with Mr. Michigan, later in the night, if you know what I mean. I was planning on going home alone."

She laughed. Understanding full well what I was saying to her. She walked over to a cabinet and got a blindfold.

"You will wear this until we get downstairs."

I nodded. Traci went behind me and buckled the blindfold carefully around my eyes, moving my hair out of the way.

"You'll be able to walk until we get there."

That was okay with me. I felt myself giving over to the slave way of thinking and knew that it was the blindfold. Erotic darkness covering my senses with velvet night.

Nothing weakens your resolve like a blindfold. It softens you, robs you of will. She took my hand and led me slowly out of the study. I followed her.

"Careful here." She said, guiding me a bit to the right of the corridor.

She had me stop, putting my hand on the railing to some steps. Telling me that there were thirteen steps to the bottom. I went down, counting carefully. I could smell leather and rubber with the darker smell of basement. Jon spoke.

"Bring her over here and strip her down. I want a good look at the merchandise."

I quickly felt hands on the laces of my shoes before they were removed. Then my pants, pantyhose, shirt, bra and finally, my panties. I was naked. Another layer of vulnerability exposed to sight. No more false veneer of civilization. A hand took my elbow and led me forward.

"Spread your legs." Jon commanded me.

I did it. His hand taking my wrist and deftly securing it with a quick action to chains above me. Soft wrist cuffs holding it upwards. He did my other wrist. The heat from his body warming the front of me subtly. Body heat, very nice, especially in contrast with the coolness of the room. Hint of danger as I gave up control of my limbs. Pulse bounding.

I heard him walking around me, slowly. I took the chains in my fists and held on tightly to their comforting solidity. I cocked my head trying to hear his motion and felt the sharp sudden sting of a strap against the backs of my thighs, surprising me, making me gasp at the unexpected delicious pain. It had been too long. I was instantly ready.

"Head up, Anne."

"Yes, Sir." I said, around the lack of air in my chest.

He put his hands on my breasts and pinched the nipples lightly to make them hard. I sealed my lips shut. The one thing that I had learned very early on about the game was that the pleasure was never first. Tonight was to be no exception. I felt deft fingers closing clamps over the tips of my nipples. Tightening them expertly to the very threshold of pain. I fought to keep a groan inside myself. Sweat breaking out to form a sheen on my skin. Hands patted my shoulders and the added weight of the clamps on my nipples pulled maddeningly. I heard him step back to survey his handy-work. Moving once again close to me to whisper into my ear. Hand lightly traveling the curve of my buttock and upper thigh in a lingering caress.

"Do you like Greek, little bottom? I do it very well."

I shivered at the thought and couldn't answer because my mouth was suddenly too dry to speak.

"Since you hesitate to answer my questions. I need to find no excuse to punish you, Anne. You yourself have provided it." "I'm sorry, sir. I beg forgiveness."

"Then answer my question."

"It's been so long that I am frightened."

Truth was a scary thing. That was also one of the few places that your virginity actually does grow back and, sad to say, I had let it. I moved back into comforting ritual.

"If it pleases you, Sir."

He removed the blindfold and I looked around me for the first time at the dungeon. It must be some unspoken S/M rule that these places are always in the basement. I saw a large punishment cross in the corner. Several recessed cabinets and large open spaces. In one corner there was a bar that Traci was sitting at, sipping a tall glass of what looked like water. Jon drew my attention back to him.

He put his large hands on my waist drawing my gaze back to the planes and angles of his face. A roughly handsome face in a rugged sort of way. He smiled kindly at me with teeth that looked very white and straight in the indirect lighting.

"When we break a rule. That rule is explained." His voice was matter of fact. "You, as a slave, have no right to look me, as a Master, in the eye."

I dropped my gaze quickly from his eyes.

"Correct but futile. We call this the Rule of the Eye."

I nodded.

"Why will you be punished?"

"This slave has broken the Rule of the Eye. I looked you full in the face. I beg your forgiveness and accept without question, your judgment."

I watched his hands kneading my hips. Hoping that what I had said was ritualized enough to please him. Falling back into this foreign way of thinking more easily than I had imagined that I would. Much more easily than a small part of me hoped.

"Very nicely put, Anne."

"Thank you, sir." I answered. Waiting for him to continue with his will.

"Tell us how your other Master had you act."

I trembled then, burning with humiliation so intense it was almost like pain. I took a breath and spoke the words that Rob had taught me six years and a lifetime ago.

"I am a submissive. Forever and always beneath my Master or Mistress. I am to be always graceful, willing and accepting of anything that the Master or Mistress decides. I will be punished for three reasons; your pleasure, Infraction of the rules, or my Education. I am to show no preferences of any kind. I am merely here to serve."

I managed to get it all out without stumbling over any of it. They seemed pleased with it.

"What was your safe-word?" Jon asked.

He flicked the clamps lightly in an effort to distract me from his words. It almost worked too, but I forced myself to focus on him and him alone. My body and my need, secondary.

"Blue, Sir." I gasped out.

The gentle motion of the clamps hurt me slightly, just enough to be almost luxurious. Traci went to a dry erase board in the corner and wrote the word `Blue' under a legend that read; Language of a quitter.

I practically winced at the thought. I wasn't going to say it now, unless I absolutely had too. Never, ever. Not here at least, not tonight on my first night.

"I will ask you some questions, Anne, so that our time together is fruitful to both of us. There is severe punishment for lying to me and Traci will be taking notes so that later down the road I can check your answers from tonight." He paced in front of me. I kept my eyes down and forward. "What repels you?"

"Nothing really. I have not done very much. I have no interest in certain foul bodily secretions. I have no idea, Sir."

That was honest. How was I to know what repelled me unless I actually did it?

He was studying me. Touching my arms lightly, my back. Putting his body near enough to almost touch me, then drawing away. What was he trying to do?

"Ever been in a sling before?"

A fisting sling? My body stiffened with terror.

"No, Sir. Never, Sir." I stammered with fear.

"This frightens you?"

He showed some real interest at the thought that I might truly be frightened of something. My heart trip-hammered. Surely he could hear it.

"It is not my position to deny you, Sir."

Traci said no accidents and I held unto that thought like I was drowning.

"Would you have any objections to being pierced?"

That was a trick question. I had almost had it done a couple of years ago, just to see if I would like it, but I chickened out.

"No, Sir." I answered quickly. "Anyplace but my clitoris, Sir. I wish to risk no permanent damage to something that I am quite fond of in my own way."

Jon pressed his body suddenly against my back. His hand slipping into the moist apex of my thighs, making me groan as he touched the small knot of feeling that we had been discussing. Fingers firm. My sex, wet and starving.

"Quite the smart-ass, aren't we, Novice?"

"Yes, Sir."

I had to fight to control my words around the rapid surge of fever that flowed over me. It had been so long and he was so hot.

"Forgive me, Sir."

"You will come to know many exotic pleasures in my house, Anne. I am an explorer of the sensual."

I was beyond wet. I could feel it on my thighs- thick, hot, moist. Smell the scent of arousal on the air like sweet perfume.

"I will take the time to know you better than you know yourself."

I believed him.

"Your strengths, your weaknesses. I am always searching for new ways to open your soul..."

His fingers slid into my sex deftly.

"To my touch."

My legs grew weak and I held tightly to the chains supporting me. His fingers feeding the desire that was growing inside me to unbearable proportions. I moaned against my will, softening all over as his fingers slid home.

"I have traveled the world learning how to torment and treasure. I know the Fist, The Greek and the feel of slick tight cunt around my cock. I can safely take you beyond your wildest fantasies."

His voice was a mere breath of sound against my ear.

"Yes, please..."

I begged, beyond shame. Hoping for. What? Orgasm? Acceptance? I closed my eyes in misery. My spread legs aching terribly. My head rolling into my arm, helplessly. I felt my heart in my throat. I ached with desire. A throbbing, pulsing heat. I tried to speak, but bit it off because I had not been spoken too. The last of rational thought in my head.

"Speak, Anne."

He ordered this, never ceasing the gentle motion between my legs. This was so hard for me. I had never been very good at revealing secrets. Beat me, but don't ask me why I want you too.

"I'm frightened of who I am, sir."

Soft hands on my shoulders. Traci. The tenderness more of a horrifying shock than the brutality. More painful, inside, anyways.

"Why?" Jon asked, his voice sounding almost intrigued by what my reply would be. "Answer me, and never, ever hesitate."

"I fear punishment as much as I crave it. I fear because it has been so long and I am so hungry."

Total honesty. Total submission. Letting light into the darkness that was inside me. The darkness that was my sexuality. Savagely suppressing the conservative voices of shame that told me this...wonderful feeling would damn me for all time to the eternal pits of Hell.

"I fear the loss of control."

The true crux of my problem. I felt tears then, filling my eyes and captured by the edge of my lashes. "I am not supposed to enjoy..."

"You are bound."

Traci said to reassure me. Attempting to ease the guilt that flowed through me.

"We are in control."

I whispered the secret that I had kept to myself so long that to reveal it was more intimate than the act of love itself. My voice was low.

"I orgasm under the strap."

Shame spilling the wetness from my eyes. Hands stroking me from both sides. Jon's low laugh from behind me then his soothing voice in my ear.

"It's very difficult for you, almost unbearable. The guilt. The shame of it all. It burns your soul with searing intensity."

I nodded.

"Yet, even now you have the power to absolve yourself. There is nothing wrong with you and nothing wrong with us."

I took a deep breath to regain control. His hands leaving my shuddering body.

"Prepare her for punishment."

"Yes, Jon." Traci answered him. Her hands falling from me as well. "Go with it, Annie. We'll make it good for all of us."

Flush of desire. Yearning for this. Get the pain over with, so the pleasure could follow. Build my passion to an unbearable level of heat and need. Set me free.

I set myself. Rational mind shut off. Dreading the next few minutes. No matter how much you crave it or want it. The whippings, paddles and spankings hurt, even when it absolves the guilt. Even when it makes the fire between your legs burn white hot. Even when it teaches you about limits, or your own soul. The bite of leather against flesh will eventually break you.

Traci stood in front of me with the blindfold in her hands.

"You will not see which one of us is instructing you tonight. Do you understand?" Her tone was matter-of-fact.

"Yes, ma'am." I affirmed, keeping my eyes forward. The soft leather buckled over my eyes and Jon asked me.

"Why will you be punished?" His tone was hard. The question direct. I answered.

"I, a lowly novice, dared to look you in the eyes. Boldly and without humility."

I felt my arms lowered to the height of my waist. Hands on my shoulders pushing me to my knees. I automatically kept my legs open while kneeling. When I was set very solidly on my knees with no pull on my shoulders. Someone took the bulk of my hair and laid it over my shoulder, smoothing it carefully. I remained still, with my head forward.

The blindfold is an amazing device. It's surprisingly calming, yet every other sense you possess comes completely awake. I felt air on the hair of my skin as subtle shifts of pressure. My ears almost preternatural in their acuity.

It still took me by surprise. The first hard stroke across my buttocks. I gasped, clutching at the chains with desperate fingers. The strap fell again and again.

I sealed my lips shut and tried to maintain what was left of my dignity in extremis. Whoever it was swinging the strap was a real expert. The blows were evenly spaced, deliciously hard. Rapidly painful as the blood rushed to my skin, sensitizing it. I called on reserves of self-control I didn't know I possessed. My safe word a litany in my mind; `blue, blue, blue.' Yet still I remained silent.

Silent even after the tears started to form in my eyes and wet the underside of the blindfold. Quiet even after I felt myself breaking open inside. My head back, body tensing with agonized passion. Orgasm threatening me with sudden violent release. My own breath harsh in my ears. Thigh muscles set like stone and trembling with strain. I never even realized the moment that they had stopped. I struggled against the pain. Fought not to cum on my knees. My skin slick with sweat. Hair damp and inarticulate animal moans coming from deep in my chest.

"Easy now."

Came a tender voice and gentle hands on the back of my neck.

"Good girl."

I collapsed, unable to support my weight even on my knees. Pulling great lungfuls of air into starved tissues. Feeling weak all over, soft.

The hands freed my wrists. Letting my arms fall limply to my knees. I felt a collar being slipped around my neck. I pulled away and hands steadied my face. Low voices telling me to be still, calm. Just a collar. Wide, but not too tight. A chain snapped to it. The gentle tug to the right told me which direction they wanted me to go in. I remained on my knees, trying to keep up with normal steps. Feeling carpet under my knees. I ran into a low bench and waited to be led.

"Climb up, lay on your back."

Perfect obedience in my every gesture. I strove to be graceful around the weakness in my limbs. The air perfumed with the scent of sex from the warm fluids on my thighs. Need, a raw animal wanting, burning through me.

They stretched my arms over my head and secured them. My ankles, as well.

"Why will you be punished?"

I couldn't remember a reason other than the last reason that I had given. My heart stopped and a spasm jerked my body.

"One crime, one punishment." He said.

"For my education, Sir, or your pleasure."

Someone knelt between my legs and hands touched my sex. Opening the hot, wet folds. Exploring the opening just a little roughly, deliciously. Where was the pain? This wasn't pain. Long fingers entering me gently, deftly.

I heard the soft sound of cellophane and the hard snap of rubber. A soft moan escaped my lips. Two fingers, then three. Testing the width of my opening, my resilience. Other fingers lifting the hard kernel of my clitoris and pinching it mildly, tantalizing it, making it grow hard with demand.

A body moved between my legs. An organ rubbing up my cleft with the pull of dry rubber slowing it down, making me moan through closed lips. Resting briefly at the gate of my vagina. Hands rested at the sides of my face. The cock started to slide home, into my tight well. Breaking through the resistance of six years of celibacy with a thick wet scraping. Resting inside me with all the time in the world to fuck me. The ache of dilated flesh convulsing my cavern as it tried to expel the invading member.

The stiff cock started to move in an age-old rhythm. Rocking my sex. Deeply in, almost out. Barely brushing the gate of my womb as the hard rhythmic thrusts roughly worked me to climax.

My senses blazed. The inferno inside me coming quickly to critical mass. Hard hands took my breasts, changing my focus from my sex to my breasts. Releasing the clamps so the blood flowed into the deprived tips. Agony pushing me closer to the pinnacle. I heard Jon's voice near my ear, low. Floating from behind me. Confusing my senses.

"Traci fucks pretty good, doesn't she?"

Overdrive. It wasn't him pumping me. It was her. The Mistress expertly rocking my clitoris against my pubis in that endless, relentless rhythm that my body knew so well.

"Yes, Sir." I gritted out between clenched teeth.

`Don't cum. Not now.' I told myself, rolling my head upon the bench under me. Fighting to restrain the inevitable tide that would take me over the edge and into the abyss.

"Go ahead, orgasm. Traci is."

I needed no more encouragement to let myself go. Abandoning any attempt at self-control, I arched against the bonds holding me. Widening my legs as far as I could get them in the bondage to deepen her access to me. She pushed deeper and harder.

The orgasm swept over me and annihilated me. Rocking the very foundations of my existence until my breath froze in my lungs. Heart beating as though trying to escape my chest. I cried out with it, moaning. Body twitching with sharp, violent jerks. Hands on my flesh, but whose? Hers or his? I couldn't tell and truly didn't care. Still she did not stop. Driving me higher to a new plane of sensual gratification. I cried out, shrilly. The litany in my mind becoming tumult `No, don't stop this exquisite torment. I yield to you. I yield to you.'

"I yield to you." I whispered. "I am yours." I whispered as the next series of convulsions shook me.

I went beyond thought into animal instinct. The point where only one thing has any meaning. Sex, pleasure, the pain of touch. Another orgasm swept me. Bigger, louder, more shattering to my body. Too much! They had to stop. I could take no more of this unbearable pleasure. I tried to free myself with uncontrollably frantic movements, but was unable too.

I felt a cock by my lips and took it hard into my throat. Arching my head back to take all of it. Deeper into my shuddering mouth. Any distraction welcome to my fevered mind. Forced to concentrate on what I was doing to his warm human flesh. The pleasure became more manageable, all-encompassing. Almost fantasy to me. Romance in chains. The organ pulled from my vagina, leaving it clenching on emptiness. I longed to have my hands free. Closer, master. Deeper. Cum in me, please.' I could feel the tension in him. Taste salt-thick fluid leaking from the tip of his organ like honey on my tongue. Give it to me, your slave. Favor me by this simple service to you.' My thoughts a menage of ritual submissive surrender.

I felt him push harder and my hands were freed from their restraint. By touching him I knew he faced Traci above me. Fucking my face without choking me. I clutched his thighs as he quickened his pace. Shallowing slightly so he could cum away from my mouth. Thinking that he wasn't going to let me taste his release. I laughed and held fast. I was not some silly high school girl afraid to taste of a man. Much less the essence of the Master.

My grip pushed him over the edge. He went absolutely rigid except for the sharp uncoordinated motion of his hips. He groaned and hot fluid rolled over my tongue. I swallowed and went to the very root of his organ. Feeling the twitches and spurts against the back of my tongue. Tears rolling from my eyes as I took him into me as far as I could. Devouring his release as though his essence was the sum total of his power over me. I became the one in control, because I had allowed him to have me.

I sighed when he left me, hands falling to the bench limply. Hearing him breathing above me in a rapidly normalizing cadence. Someone was removing the blindfold from my damp eyes. Wiping them with gentle fingers, touching my gently swollen lips lightly. Ashamed of this surfeit of emotion, I turned away.

"I know why you cry." Jon's velvet voice in my ear. "You weep for your innocence. Weep that you can no longer be content with what you consider `normal.' You've gone too far for that."

Maybe I had gone too far. Forging the pain/pleasure link in bands of iron.

"When you can consider yourself to be a caring, normal person. Someone who merely needs a harder touch in love-play than someone else. It won't be so hard for you to seek out what you need, Anne."

Would it really? Could I learn acceptance of myself? I wasn't sure I could, but I wanted too. Desperately.

Laying on the bench, broken open and drained. I felt closer to normal than I had in many years. Grateful to the people who had taken me where my body so wretchedly wanted to go. I felt them undoing my ankles and hands helping me to sit.

"Go with Traci. She'll take you someplace to shower and then we will need to talk."

"Yes, sir."

"Call me Jon."

I nodded at him, speaking slowly.

"Yes, sir."

Then Traci led me out of the dungeon and back up the stairs.

CLEAN UP

What they had done to me was over. Letting me up from my knees, out of the dungeon. I followed willingly as they led me towards a white bathroom with a shower. Traci smiling as I reached the plain white door telling me to clean up if I wanted. I nodded, silently thinking about the scene between us. Thoughts flowing like quicksilver in my mind. It was oddly kinky, that she, not him, brought me to orgasm practically passing out from pleasure. The fact that I found it kinky, kinky to me. My head was like a three ring circus at times. Perversity is in the eye of the beholder, is it not? I knew that I was not gay. I liked men too much to be a lesbian, but she had reached some unknown part of my response system. I was not sure what to do about it, but try to think it through. A difficult prospect. At least to my reasoning. The rationale for picking one sex over the other to play' with, are not as clear as they used to be. It's no longer as hard to cross over that gender line. I had never done it, not even now. I did not truly think. Does having a woman fuck you like a man; mean you've slept with her? Had sex with her? Even my questions were unclear, or were they just a justification for having enjoyed having her take me to climax? The thought of putting my hand on her breasts, seemed, well, obscene to me. You'd do it if they ordered you, wouldn't you?' That was the crux of the entire question, when I was in slave mode, and into it. Yes, I would, just to please them. It would be part of the whole S/M deal. Part of my agreement. My code of conduct. As long as they were protected by latex, and I wanted the action to continue. Yes, I would, willingly. So now what did that make me?

Nothing replaced a man, though. I can't even tell anyone what indefinable quality it is that makes me like them. They are arrogant, bossy, mostly irritating, but utterly fascinating. There is nothing else like one, at least for me.

I love the feel of big hands. Hot, hard organs inside my slick sex. The taste of the delicate pre-come droplets that leak from the cleft, after you start a really long session of hot oral sex. I love the way they grab my hair before they climax, holding my head into that concealing curly hair. The smell of secret sex that you only get from burying your head under their scrotum to lick their furry cracks. Big legs and hairy buns. Skin both rough, and smooth. I love men.

Women always seemed like equals. Even when a woman is on top with a man, there's the potential for annihilating violence, contained by lust and desire. A woman has power over a man. That's the difference. I had power over Jon, because of my willingness, my hot sucking mouth. Power because I was able to take that rough rock-solid organ into my throat and coax the release from within it, drinking the warm juices with unfeigned relish. Traci just made me come. Good head trip though, and I did like her. She reminded me of me. Good imagination and a hot body.

I stepped quickly into steaming hot water, leaning my face against the clean white tile. Cleansing from my body the scents and sweat of sex. It was wonderful. Ivory soap and astringent shampoo. Good everyday smells that brought comfort. My mind slowed to lazy, warm circles. It was all the same thought; had I gone too far? How far was too far, and would I know it when I got there?

The spray was stinging, warm, and almost painful. Aches melting from my various limbs slowly in the mist. I washed myself slowly, carefully between my legs. Letting the thoughts clear my head as dirt cleared from my body. I stepped out of the glass door of the shower to find that Traci was waiting for me, with a towel. A soft terry cloth robe, held loosely in her hands. She was grinning at me, and I hid my hotly blushing face partially behind the towel. She laughed in delight at the visible crinkle around my eyes. I was grinning too.

"Well, you recovered quickly."

I shrugged, negligently.

"We've never had anyone here handle as much of a mind-fuck as you did tonight. Nice job."

I wasn't sure what to say. This was technically my first time in a situation like this. Were we on, or off?

"You can just talk in here. It's safe." She said.

I marveled at her perception. She seemed to know what I was thinking, and it had to be from observation. I wasn't saying much. Okay, nothing.

"Come out, and talk when you're ready."

I was relieved to have a bit of privacy.

"Thanks, Traci."

She turned back to me, assessing me carefully, eyes filled with intelligence and open interest.

"Did you like it?"

Licking her lips, slowly. As if she couldn't wait to taste me. Her eyes glowing with remembered passion. I had never had a woman look at me like this in my life. She looked at me like a man does... Shrewdly assessing the erotic potential of my deep valleys and firm mountains. It was disconcerting and surprisingly arousing.

"I loved it."

I was telling the truth. I was sure sincerity shone through every part of my body. I meant it. I felt good. Calm, relaxed. A certain indefinable tension gone from deep within me, the way I always felt after a really good fuck. Ready to eat, drink, and think about what I had done. I put the cream-colored robe on. It was soft. A comforting heaviness that only good terrycloth has. The armor of the civilized... A veneer that changed the very way I walked. I know I stood taller in it.

GENTLE LOVE

Going out the way Traci had. I saw a room with low comfortable pillows and bright colorful Afghans. A low plain wood table near the floor had wine, and cheese, set upon it. The harem-like profusion of multi-colored pillows was wonderfully luxuriant. Every shape, every texture and style. It looked like a harem. Walls vibrating with a dark vibrant maroon hue. Moldings of natural woods, carved in delicately twining vine-work. The leaves no bigger than my thumb. The kind of turn-of-the-century craftsmanship that you only ever see in these renovated mansions in the heart of the city. Built before pre-fabrication became the normal way of building. The carvings were uniquely appropriate to the room.

I saw Jon lounging against a small pile of fat pillows, smiling at me as though pleased. I smiled back.

"Wine?" He asked, and I whispered yes, that would be lovely.

"Sit, get comfortable."

I did. Warm, damp from the shower. The glass of Zinfandel, he handed me, cool against my fingers. I sipped the wine, declining the cheese. Feeling one thing. This was heaven. For the first time, in a very long time. I felt I had an aspiration, beyond work. Here I could be myself and whom I was inside. I had no expectations to meet. I was free to be as I truly am. Jon was studying me carefully, as I looked at the detailing of the room. I was content, simply happy. Like I had no other prospects, beyond being content. Did I understand why I felt this way? No, but today the feeling was enough.

"How do you feel?" He asked me suddenly.

His sharp eyes searched mine. Strange to look the master in the face.

"I feel great."

Traci laughed in amusement at my reply. Her pale-eyes delighted.

"She means it, Jon." Her hands together in a small tent. "She's not ashamed, or sickened. She's bone-deep, truly satisfied." I was a little puzzled, wasn't I supposed to be? I thought that was the point. He asked me another question, patting the low pillows next to him for in an inviting gesture for me to draw closer.

"How did you feel when you cried?" were his words, as I moved next to him.

His big hands opening the tie on the robe, exposing my clean body to his eyes. His hands moving as I watched them to slowly stroke my damp breast softly.

"When I told you that it was a woman inside you, not me."

My breath caught in my throat.

"What did you feel?"

It was suddenly hard to form coherent thoughts, to put into words the shattering of my personal preconceptions. His tone was commanding, and I didn't dare refuse to answer. Over the rapidly rising level of lust in my heart, I spoke.

"I felt as if you had broken open my soul and peered into the darkness that I keep hidden from the light."

Brutally honest, and horribly revealing. Panic circled my throat. `Tie me, Fuck me, but don't know me. Please don't open my spirit to view. Please.' I thought these things, but did not speak them. His fingers gently tantalizing my flesh, and soothing the rise of hair on my skin.

"I loved, and hated, you both."

This surprised him. His eyes reaching my face again, as his attention was captured by the elegance of what I was saying. How I was expressing myself.

"Why?"

He truly wanted to know. Traci was behind the table, moving the edibles to another place along the wall. Carefully out of the way of whatever purpose Jon had in mind.

"Because you took some of my darkness, into yourself. I had no will and no thoughts beyond pleasing you, everything else was gone. All that remained was pulse, flesh, and bone."

I looked down at his hands, moving in lazy circles towards the apex of my now open thighs.

"It was like you knew me better than I knew myself."

I was practically panting with exertion. He patted the table, and in my visible, shuddering weakness I climbed upon it. Seeing his robe parting before his stiffening cock, rapidly growing rigid, once more. Jon knelt up between my open legs, taking a condom from his robe's pocket. I watched him open it, and roll it gently over his own organ. I was floating in the lazy warmth of the room...Pulse quickening...Skin tingling. His hot eyes meeting mine as he rubbed the excess lube into my fresh-scrubbed opening.

I was stunned to stillness. Arms limp at my sides. This was not rough, or mean. His fingers were careful, even soft. Not hurting me, as he spread me open. Exposing me to his gaze. I was suddenly confused. Trip-hammer pulse beating in my breast, my skin heating under his hands. Traci a distant memory, fading from my thoughts. Panic in my eyes, as he smiled gently. He carefully slid his thick organ into me, stretching me until I groaned with rapture.

"I do know you." He said, as he moved leisurely in and out of my moistening cleft. "A true slave can forget their humanity, and be merely the flesh. All thought suspended."

He ran butterfly soft fingers over the tips of my breasts until I shivered. I had no idea what he was doing, or why, but it was taking me to a new plateau for agonizing abandon.

"Even in tears, your spirit never broke. In the very center of your being is a core of ice that no one has ever touched, have they?"

I shook my head, looking away, and closing my eyes. This was more humiliating than anything they could even contemplate doing to me in the dungeon.

"Look at me." He commanded and I did. "Traci and I have interviewed many people in this house. Very few can give us the honesty that you have given us."

His deliberate thrusts were making me wet again. His unhurried hands on my clean skin driving me almost crazy; his lazy voice an undercurrent to the perfect fit of his penis inside me.

"Most submissives like the pain or the humiliation, but not the subtlety of a good mind trip."

He picked up the pace. His hard fingers joining his cock, at the gate of my womanhood. Pinching the clitoris, making it throb with voluptuous sensuality. Working me softly, so delicately, that my mind filled with white-hot yearning. "I want to try something different with you." Hard to breathe at the absolute erasure of thought at his words.

"I want the scene to start the night before... The week before...We want to prepare you, open you. Lay the foundation layer by layer."

His big hands rested on my thighs as he pumped into me furiously. His face starting to darken with the approach of his climax. I watched him in breathless, eager anticipation, trying to feel it with him. The power of intimacy. Wondering at the metamorphosis of ecstasy that changed a man in control to a ravening beast. It was endlessly fascinating. I writhed beneath him, helping him to cum. The strong internal muscles of my vagina squeezing his thick organ mercilessly. His hands becoming hard and urgent. His thighs hitting my pubis at just the right spot. I was not surprised to feel our movements pushing me beyond the very edge of restraint. He was making me orgasm with unadorned vanilla words and gentle fingers. The master using me as a real woman and not some abject pet or thoughtless slave.

That was when he leaned over, and really kissed me. Sliding his tongue into my open mouth plumbing my very depths. Twining his tongue around mine sweetly, like a lover. I felt myself rupture in my soul. My hands hesitantly rising from my sides, finding his back. Clutching hard at his buttocks with reckless abandon. Running my sweaty hands desperately up his searing flesh, holding on for my sanity. Gratification like this had been unheard of for me for many years. Soft hands in my hair, and slick indulgence in my deep cavern. I bucked beneath him, like a mare under a stallion. Opening my legs wrapping them around his waist to give him more access. `Deeper, Master. Faster.' Moans coming from deep inside me, in mindless profusion. I whispered his name over and over. A litany to remind myself of where I was, and what was really going on. That was when his velvet lips again silenced my words, my very ideas. His hands cradling my face to bury it against his hard chest.

"Come on, Baby. Let it go." He whispered into my hair. "I want to feel it. I want your climax, Baby. Come for me. Come for me, now."

I couldn't stop it. It flowed from somewhere so deeply buried in my psyche. It practically shattered me. When I let myself go, I came in his arms as an equal. Back arched, heart stopped, a scream of raw animal ecstasy tearing itself from my throat. Vagina quivering around him, and clenching him tightly, mindlessly. Feeling the bold shuddering pinnacle of his own pleasure by the strong hot jerks of his cock against my sex. He clutched me against him hard, and pushed a couple of times deeply into me. Pulsing against that elusive little ridge of clitoral tissue buried deeply inside a woman, making me react to him once again. He whispered against my hair. Patient easy words meant to soothe me. Quiet my racing heart and still the tremors inside my soul. `What had I done?' A sob caught in my chest, almost sound, but not quite. He touched my throat, as I turned my face away from him. More truly tormented by this simple act of normality than by any elaborate bondage fantasy they could do to me. His tone was bittersweet, and sad, as he spoke into my ear. His breath making me shiver.

"It's not all pain. Making love, to one, or the other of us, will be expected of you, tender one."

Tears again, running silently down my eyes to be kissed away.

"You can take the agony and the orders. It is the tenderness that moves and scares you, touches you in places that you thought long buried." He was right, and terror moved inside me. `Don't be right! Leave my heart alone!' It hurt to have him this close. Knowing that my hands had pulled him near. My lips had whispered his name. His instrument had taken my vanilla virginity.

"You want to be here with us. You need to know if this life is what you want or only a dark fantasy for you. Answer me, Anne."

"Yes." I whispered painfully.

I wanted, no, needed to know. I opened my tear-filled suffering eyes into his loving trusting ones. Nodding slowly.

"Yes, Jon. I need to know."

New calmness coming over me. He grabbed the base of the condom, and pulled his softening flesh from mine. Still laying over me protectively as he tossed the rubber neatly into a small trash basket. I took a deep breath suddenly shy. I had no idea what to do now. I looked around the room. Traci was gone.

"Where?" I started to ask, but he just laughed. Pulling me off the table, and holding me against his hairy chest tightly on a nest of soft warm pillows. Pulling an afghan over the top of us. Tucking me in.

"I can handle this on my own, dear."

I shook my head.

"Not what you expected?"

I shook my head again. "I find that the ones who come to us out of a certain internal desperation."

I stiffened, offended, to move away, but he stopped me. Arms tightening their hold.

"Not that kind of desperation, but someone treated to a pleasurable taste of the strap. The barest amount of bondage or servitude. Often think that in order to enjoy the Life, they have to give up the sweet gentle tenderness of vanilla sex."

This astounded me. Although why I had ever thought of my sexuality as a sacrifice, was a concept beyond me. The thing was that I had accepted the loss of `normal' lovemaking as a matter of course. I spoke up, interested in this idea. This intriguingly foreign concept.

"You make love to everyone who comes here?" I asked my voice low.

Curious to what he would say to me, because everything that he was saying had the ring of truth to it. Logical progression.

"Had you been a lesbian. You would be in Traci's arms right now, but yes. I make love to all applicants gently at least once in the first week here. Your willingness to partake of this `delicacy' has given me some valuable insight into your mind. This is very hard for you, isn't it?"

I nodded. He hugged me tighter until I relaxed against him. Almost enjoying the simple closeness he was giving me. How long since I had just been held and not pushed away after an empty act of sex? The hurried oral sex in a car, the quickie? I allowed myself to bask in his presence near me, touching some empty place in my heart, that I knew he was filling. He continued speaking. The simple elegance of his mind, flowing into mine.

"Pain is always easier to bear, but not all is pain. When I give you to a guest here, this may be the service that they require of you. A simple act of love."

"What is love?" I asked suddenly, angrily.

The mercurial thoughts flowing like water out of me.

"How can you tell? Is it you coming inside me? Is it the simple human act of touching another person and feeling the essence of that person? Is it not judging another person when they wake in the morning?" I sighed. "I have never had love. This simple act of love that you describe is beyond me. Lying in your arms, right now is so profoundly kinky to me. I barely know how to act."

He laughed a little sadly.

"Love is what you make of it. It is weak and strong. Firm and soft. I love Traci and cannot imagine not rising to her every day. We think alike, and enjoy the same things. We don't deny each other's sensuality or desire for others. I love some of the slaves I've trained, and let other masters, or mistresses, have. I love you."

I shook my head, and laid it against his chest in mild disbelief. A long sigh escaping me.

"You don't understand?"

Not really. Well, maybe I did on some lower level.

"I love every person who ends up here. The outsiders searching for acceptance."

"Is that what I am?"

I said it so haughtily, that Jon laughed out loud. I did too. It was true. All my life I had felt like the kid on the outside of a birthday party, looking at all the other `normal' kids having fun. Wondering what set me apart from them. What made them normal?

"I understand, and you're right." I sighed. "For all my life. I've tested the limits of acceptable behavior. Just so far, and no more. Hiding, terrified."

He nodded in complete understanding.

"There is steel inside me. Forged by holding back from every aspect of my life. Never giving up control. Unable to let go."

I played with the tangled hairs in the center of his chest.

"Tonight felt good. I cannot guarantee to will be perfection or good all the time." I took a deep breath. "The thing is. I like you both. I would like to do this with you. If you'll have me here. I never expected what I got here, and I enjoyed the surprises."

There was an easy silence between us now. I could hear the slow steady beat of his heart under my ear. Feel his pulse under my fingers. Alive, warm, feeling.

"You've seen a contract?" He asked, as he rubbed my back under the robe.

My mouth went dry at the sudden business-like hardness in his voice.

"Yes, One form of it."

My voice was small. It was a safeguard, a surety against accidents. An agreement with a checklist attached to it that had limits and preferences, for the dominant to play with. So far, no more. I felt an undefined tension melt from my shoulders. Another layer exposed by a firm set of rules.

"I'll give you a copy to memorize, and you will be tested on it. The rules we operate under here are very strict. We train slaves, and find them a place with a master to love them."

His voice was very matter of fact, and precise.

"Like a dating, matchmaking kind of thing?"

He roared outright at this, hugging me closer to him. As if I was some kind of rare treasure that he had found on the street in a lucky twist of fate.

"For three months, as our schedule and yours allows. We will train you in our ways of pleasure. It will be difficult, and uncomfortable. Be prepared for that, and always remember it. It is what we do, and who we are. Be very clear on that part of it. This kind of `normal' love is a rare occurrence for us."

I nodded.

"At the end of that time, we will either find you a master or mistress to subsidize your visits here, or send you on your way to someplace where you can get what you need. Do you understand?"

Slower nod this time, as fear again shook me.

"Read the contract this week, learn what you can from it. Think about it seriously. I am hard, and demanding, but I turn out artists. Traci is the same way. Our people are in demand in the Inner Circles, and I have seen some of my people live the life full-time after my teaching, but it will not be easy."

Inner Circle? Full-time? Dazzling possibilities.

"Nothing worthwhile ever is." I said, simply.

I meant it. He patted me absently.

"I cannot go on, just thinking about what I might be missing. Everything you've said has had the ring of truth to it. I will do what you suggest, and think about it carefully, Jon. I do not think I'll change my mind. I have always had these feelings, and I will go absolutely crazy if I have to deal with one more amateur or unsafe situation, in order to have the kind of mind-blowing orgasm I had when you told me it was Traci in me tonight."

He chuckled in my ear, and leaned up to grab the glass of wine on the floor by the table. He offered it to me, and I sipped it.

"What you have described to me sounds good. I would like to have the opportunity."

"There are some rules that you'll have to follow this week, and come back next weekend to start."

I sighed in gratitude. My head bobbing in assent.

"Your orgasm is mine, no private stimulation. No outside contacts and no talking about our existence here. Can you agree to that?"

He sounded very serious about this, and it was easy to agree. Who would I tell? My mom? That's a pleasant thought. She'd have me at Maumee Valley Psychiatric before I had the words out. No, I could be silent, easily so.

"Yes, I think so. The no private stimulation will be the hardest part, but I won't disappoint you."

He smiled good-naturedly, eyebrows together in a playful little frown over his dark-eyes.

"I know you have your own toys, so to speak. All beginners do. Bring them here to avoid temptation. You will have a locker and a bath servant assigned to you on Friday night. He will be in charge of you when you are here. He will bathe you, cleanse you internally, and generally prepare you for any activities that we have planned for the night."

His tone was matter of fact. Business-like.

"You will be the lowest of the low here. Every single person will have access to you. They will be able to use your body, your hot little mouth, or your hungry tight ass, if they want too. You will have no choice in the matter. If you resist them, or try to use your safe-word to avoid satisfying them. You will be forced. Can you truly accept that, Anne?"

I did not know how to explain what his words had done to me. The sudden tightening in my sex. The first wave of eager anticipation flowing wetly unto my thighs, so I took his hand to lead it down to the burgeoning slickness. He found it, fondled it. Smiled in pleased amusement at it. Putting his drenched fingers in my mouth so I could taste my own smoky arousal. I practically swooned.

"No more for you tonight, little one. I want you eager and ready for me next week. Like you are now. Traci will want a taste of you next time, and you will need to accept the fact that your own heterosexuality has no meaning here. Slaves cannot choose."

I accepted that. Part of the job.

"I think you'll do pretty well here, and at the end of the training time I will find you a master to torment, and love you, as you need to be."

His words gave me a frisson of anticipation. Something to look forward too. I wanted to belong somewhere, have people accept me for what I was. I was tired of hiding my true nature all the time. I wanted out of the darkness that I was trapped in. His words would have shocked the straight, repressed people I dealt with every day, but to me they were like someone had main-lined a powerful aphrodisiac, pumping the blood straight down to the apex of my thighs. How could I spend a week like this without? Well, taking care of it myself? Sweet torment, but then he knew that, didn't he?

I lay quietly in his arms, talking softly for the rest of evening. Acquiescing to the fact that he was going to hold me until he tired of it, and that part of me liked the gentle male attention for a change. I continually surprise myself in the most shocking ways.

That night when I finally went to my home. I slept truly well for the first time in at least a year. Dreamlessly, easily. I had with me a packet of papers to look at, and attempt to memorize. Traci grinning knowingly at me, when Jon led me to the door to say good night. There was no malice in her face, and the kind light in her eyes told me that what had occurred was a normal and accepted thing with them. Extraordinary people. I liked them; a lot more than was good for me probably. Considering my new position.

I drove home slowly; listening absently to an erotic book on tape I had just bought that week. Tonight it was not going to be a problem, Tomorrow, well maybe. By Friday? Torture. I slid into my big, soft bed, after another quick shower. Sated, abraded and very satisfied. I fell asleep quickly, and did not dream.

REALITY DRONE

I awakened the next day anticipating the weekend to come. They had taken my name and number, made an appointment for me at a local doctor for the next week, which was associated with them somehow. I didn't want to think about that too much. Too big a mind-blower. I wouldn't want to be tortured by someone that knew as much about the human body as a doctor. They had given me a copy of the contract to sign, and I felt a shiver of anticipation. Half dread, half-lust. My life was already changing. Taking on a new erotic luster.

I knew I needed to explore this side of myself, and I considered myself pretty lucky to have found Jon and Traci so easily. Many were not as lucky. They spent their lives denying the reality of their lusts. Denying themselves and suffering needlessly. I didn't feel like I wanted to do that. I would rather face myself straight on than attempt an end-run around my psyche. You can never escape yourself anyways. You are there in the mirror everyday.

I signed the contract that night, using big bold strokes from my favorite pen. The flamboyant letters jumping out of the pages at me. I started filling my journal with the flashes of lusty heat I was feeling in ever-increasing increments. It felt good.

It felt real good.

To say that work sucked that week would have been putting it mildly. It is very hard to concentrate on facts, and figures, when you're thinking about your sexual fate. I did think about it, almost every minute. I played by Jon's rules but I regretted it. Yes, again, almost every minute. Usually just about the time my thoughts would wander for the fortieth time in as many minutes, when I wondered if I would need a spatula to stand up from my chair. Something to break the suction with. Every maddening, tormented second, I regretted being a `good girl.'

All I thought of was sex. Not the regular kind, no that would be too easy to dismiss. The kind of sex that I liked was what I thought about. Every man I saw was a fantasy. Every woman a sex object. Questions floated in lazy erotic rhythm through my fevered thoughts. How do these nameless strangers taste? What kind of orgasms do they have? Do they moan, or cry out? Could I make them come? Dangerous thoughts, not so easily dismissed from the rapidly increasing pulse of desire that was moving them to the front of my mind.

I was wet and horny, all week long. I filled my journal with these wandering thoughts. Fantasies that haunted my imagination all day long at the very edge of cognizant thought. My world became an erotic playground.

There was this one particular little number that wandered quietly into my brain that I had to repeatedly push away. It's quite a trip.

OPEN DESIRES: FANTASY

We had been talking about sex for days as we drove together on the open road. The how's, why's, and when's. The unusual, and the common. On the Net, and in the home. Innocent conversation, or so I thought. Erotic wordplay. Maddening, especially for me. For five years I had gone without by choice. It had been offered to me and refused, on several occasions. The wrong time, or someone I had no interest in, or someone that wanted more of me than I wanted to give. They wanted to control or break me. Things I would not allow. Nothing personal.

I could feel it building inside me to almost unbearable proportions. A time bomb and, then, he said something so uncommon, I could barely respond. It took the breath from my lungs and sent my pulse into heated overload.

"You know I go home, and take care of this myself."

I knew what he was talking about, and, God, what a waste. I felt the intoxicating pulse of danger flowing through my veins.

"No one will see us out here." He said, voice low, raw with lust.

It was true and tempting. I wanted it, too.

Looking out the window and assessing the risk over the rush of adrenaline in my body. I could suddenly smell him. Hot, willing, male animal. A savage scent.

Five years of living with women. Surrounded by them and their delicate sensibilities. Missing the scent, touch and feel of male. Strong hands and hard thighs. I was instantly aroused, lust blossoming between my thighs in imperative wetness. Darkness around us. No buildings. No people. Feeling the temptation of Sex without Strings. Release without Regret. Flesh alone speaking to me.

I looked at him, puzzled by my inexplicable hunger for him. Why him? He who had angered me beyond reason. Enraged me past all thought before he even knew me. Why would he tempt me? How could he be the cause of all this...heat? Suddenly, I didn't care. I crossed the line from civilized to bestial. My eyes narrowing with determination.

"Let's go in back."

Asking for what I wanted for the first time in a long time.

"I want to give some head."

I know my voice had that edge to it. The `let's do it now, before I lose my nerve', edge. We did. Quickly climbing back into darkness and faceless anonymity. I practically raped him. Feeling sexual power flowing through me. I wanted my hands on his flesh and more I wanted his cock in my mouth. Letting him kiss me and touch my face. His lips hard, sweet. Breathing in the smell of cologne, tobacco and skin. Running my teeth down his neck sensing his eagerness. Savoring the salt of flesh against my tongue. Too long for me. It's been too long. I want fast and hard. Needed to take the edge off before I could slow down. He let me, saying nothing, not protesting my speed. Not protesting the driving urgency that was energizing my hands, my body. I was the one holding back so I wouldn't mark him with my lips, my nails. It was an effort of pure will.

His hands cupping me through my clothes, creating a burning need. Hands finding my breasts through my shirt and under my shirt. I know I moaned, a low animal noise of want, escaping my clenched teeth. I murmured I wouldn't mark him. Promise, no one will know, but us. I wanted to bite the buttons from his shirt and bare his skin. Fighting for control through a haze of red-hot craving. I started pulling his belt free with quick efficient movements of my fingers. Opening his pants and ignoring the sensible voice in my head that whispered he was dangerous. Hazardous because of his willingness to play. His enthusiastic arousal of the beast inside me. Making me hot and wet. Willing to revel in the feel and taste of the flesh. I pulled him out with hands that shook and found him hard. Ready. Musky clean tang of his body filling my head. Droplets leaking from the tip of his cock, begging to be tasted tantalized. Dewy moisture that flowed over my tongue as I closed eager lips over his organ taking as much of him as I could into my throat, practically coming as he filled me. Gripping his thighs, his lean hips, with my hands. Teasing him with my lips. Flicking my tongue and creating a deep pulling suction as I descended on him fully. Hearing him moan my name above me as I searched for his rhythm. His hands finding my hair as he tensed. I could do this, I remembered this. The feel of cock in my throat and the pulling moisture I felt between my legs. My mouth inflaming him. His thighs flexing under my hands. Holding my head and gently guiding it for full effect. Long minutes of willing passion building to zenith.

He was going to come. I could feel him hardening and filling more of my mouth. I took him deeper, faster. My own orgasm building between my legs. Part power, part need. His fingers flexing against my scalp. Come for me.' I thought. I want it.' All this anticipation moving through my head, until I had no thoughts but the release. Following instinct to its climax. I felt soft jerks in my mouth and followed it down. Burying him deep in my throat as he swelled inside me. Filling my mouth with the salt and sour of his essence. I swallowed his gift. Teasing all of it from him, licking it softly. Orgasmic on my knees before him. Trying to catch my breath, as it swept me. My fingers digging helplessly into his thighs. Immobilized for several long moments. Spent, head resting against his knees. Uncaring of anything but the pleasure sweeping my body. Wishing for more time and more room.

I came back to myself slowly, helping him cover himself. Tucking, zipping, buckling. Fighting the urge to do it again and this time, letting his fingers find my wet flesh. Almost losing control and giving into it. My shaking fingers stroking him through the dense, rough wool of his pants. Maddening. I felt a small burning ridge on the inside of my upper lip; it sent a shiver of desire through me as my tongue stroked it. The taste of him still on my tongue. Desire forming a knot inside me. My body soft and mind whirling, as we drove off into the blackness of the road. Talking softly as if nothing had happened. No change in the everyday scheme of things.

Not love, lust. Pure release and no small amount of danger. Out in the open, and away from the everyday garbage that ruled our lives. No future and no past. Would I do it again? Yes, I would, for one simple reason. I want too.

GIRL'S NIGHT OUT

Very hard to get rid of that one. Subtle, pleasant. A little vanilla. Implied bondage. I thought about that particular tidbit quite a lot. What else could I do? I was playing by the rules, because I didn't want to blow it. I was looking forward to an experience well beyond the everyday scope of my existence. The boring, mundane, 9-to-5 drill I went through five/fifty-two/twelve. I'm still not sure how I did it. It was Thursday, the day I regularly went out with some of the girls from work that reality hit. I had been a little bitchy that day. I'm thirty-two, and hitting my peak if you know what I mean. I wasn't even getting the mild relief I gave to myself. Janie, my secretary, was practically drooling on this Yuppie banker type across the bar. At a Yuppie bar, in a Yuppie neighborhood. Three executive women sipping white wine, and making jokes about the lack of love in our lives. Work, work and more work.

The thing was. This guy was nothing special, and I was so frigging horny. I would have laid him on the bar in a second flat. My whole week had been that way. I had more sexual energy at my disposal than the Milky Way has stars. I spent all week dripping, drenched, and thoroughly saturated. My world having an erotic undertone with every passing fantasy I constructed in my brain. My very out-look had changed. Not so just everyone would notice, but some of them did. The eyes of some of the men at work followed me in a puzzled sort of way. Liking, and repelled, by what they sensed in me. I put on underwear that showed off my body. Make-up that accented my hot-eyes. I attracted more attention than I ever had in my life. The thing was, I had promised not to do anything about it.

What surprised me most was how I was looking at other women now. I had always been a solid Kinsey three. Fantasizing about men, and women equally. I had just never really wanted the hassles of crossing the gender line. I was to middle of the road. I just always chose men as sex partners. It was the easier, socially acceptable, cowards way out. It was also a personally preferred choice. Men are hard. Harder than we are. Hard organs, hard hands in your hair. Rough palms on your breasts. Thick fingers in your sex or your ass. It's feeling helpless under their strength. Hairy chests, legs, and openings. Being mastered physically, and not through the delicate intricacies of a head-trip. This new point of view frightened, and excited me. All at the same time. Lending an air of carnality to everything that I did. Every word I uttered. Every gesture. I was thinking about this one concept so hard, that I missed Janie's question.

"Jesus, Annie. You've been on Mars all fucking week. Are you PMS?"

I shook my head, no.

"How often do you fantasize?"

They appeared eager for my response.

"All the time." Smiling sweetly.

They laughed, drawing attention to our little group.

"A good orgasm, releases a lot of... tension."

They really howled at that.

"You are more like a man, than any of us." Janie said, with a giggle.

They all nodded in agreement. I asked her to explain herself. I was puzzled.

"You don't think like we do." She replied. "You enjoy watching us, and you enjoy our company. However, a lot of what we, as women do, puzzles you."

True, but I remained quiet, listening intently. "You take less shit than most of the guys we work for, yet seem to be more of a woman than they could handle." Lydia twittered, adding jokingly.

"You scare the hell out of them, Annie!"

We all laughed, even me. I was thinking about it, though. We had laughter, friendship. Yet I was as much of an outsider here as anywhere else. It was disconcerting. We quipped, blew off a couple of the bolder men daring to approach our little bitch group. We had the same kind of generic good time that we always had. About as satisfying as a meal at Denny's on Christmas Eve.

I went home that night to my sterile little world, and thought about what they had said for most of the night. I could see what they were saying about me, but why would they suddenly say it now? What was different about me? Why would I scare anyone?

LAST DAY

Friday... At last. When I had gotten home last night the message machine had been flashing, but I hadn't listened to it until today. It was Traci's voice.

"Six o'clock Sharp."

That was a mean thing to do to me. Not real good for my staff either. I kept everyone so busy that they almost hated me by the end of the day. I wanted time to fly. Bob, my boss, came over to my area surveying my little industrious group for several long moments. He observed me, and the way I was working, saying loudly.

"This company hires more psychiatric patients, all women, than anyplace else that I've worked."

I looked up over my glasses at him, coldly, bitchily.

"You ladies, are out of your minds to work like this on a Friday."

My staff didn't say anything, but I'm sure they agreed. I had to respond, just this once to his male-related, macho bullshit.

"Bob, have you ever once thought, that maybe working within this bunch of sub-moronic, medieval cretins day-after-day, simply takes a mentally healthy woman and drives her batshit after a couple of years?"

The others around me howled and passed the exchange down the line. Bob was visibly stumped, unable to muster a suitable reply. He tried to chuckle, but it had that sickly sound that some men make when they barely get a joke and it pisses them off. I knew his look and it was; `I owe you one.' All that meant was that I would have to watch my back. That was okay. I'm a fucking barracuda at work. It's part of my charm.

The day drew nearer to its close and I felt my pulse slowly going up in anticipation. At 4:46 PM I wanted to rip my hair out by the roots. This was agony. Being boss when I wanted to be... Upside down and taking orders?] God, I hated that little voice in my head. I know everyone has one, but I always seemed to be arguing with mine. Telling it, that it was right, but to please shut-up. I want-what-I-want-and-thank-you-so-much-fuck-off-now. That kind of thing.

I had told everyone that asked about my plans that I was going out of town for two days and could not be reached. Implying death to anyone that bothered me on my much-needed retreat from the world-at-large. I felt my attitude starting to change the later it got and I went over my preparations in my head one more time. All my toys' were in duffel bag in the car. I had followed the rules' for the week. I had memorized the rule packet; Jon had given me, in my copious spare time. I had filled out all the paperwork, they had included. Most of it fairly mundane. I had been `good.'

I didn't like the fact that I would have to go there straight from work. Dirty clothes and work-stained body. Unfortunately, if I wanted to be there by six sharp and I did...I would have no choice against rush-hour traffic in the city.

5:00 PM- I noticed the time with a shock and trying to walk sedately to my car was deliberately agonizing. The sanctuary of my car no real help for my situation. I drove fairly fast for me. Especially in the parking lot-like conditions, but I made it with five whole minutes to spare. I wanted desperately to be there on time, shivering at the thought of punishment for tardiness. Taking my bag from the backseat, I went to the door. Standing in front of it for the last three minutes, then at 6:00 PM sharp. I found myself ringing the bell. Someone I did not know answered it.

THE HANDLER

"I'm here to see Jon and Traci." I stammered quickly, going beet-red.

Not meeting the cold green eyes that looked down from above me. Thick, shaggy dark-hair. I hoped to God, I had the right house.

"Come in." He ordered. I did so immediately. Standing in the foyer with my bag. The broad wooden door was pushed shut behind me and a big hand closed on the back of my neck. I fell to my knees quickly, bowing my head.

"When that door closes from now on, you're `property,' and property is never on its feet without special permission."

"Good thing I'm not the Avon lady." I quipped over my shoulder sarcastically, hearing a soft chuckle behind me.

"That's five for insubordination."

I bit my lip. `Shit.' I thought.

"Any other amusing comments?" He said in a low purposeful voice.

"No. Sir."

I said it through tightly clenched teeth. Unsure of his title. Who was this guy?

"I am your Handler and you can address me as such."

"Yes, Handler."

Handler? Horses had handlers but wait, I had read about them in that packet and Jon had said something about assigning someone to me to groom me last week at our little vanilla playtime. Someone to bathe me and such. It couldn't be him, could it? Not this gorgeous specimen of male flesh. Tall, broad. Big. I damn near fainted at the sudden lack of air in my lungs.

"Follow me. They are waiting for you in the study. I don't have to remind you to do it on your knees, do I?"

"No, Handler." I said.

I put the duffel bag handle between my teeth, trying desperately to keep up with him. Down the long, dark hallway. The marble tile harsh under my hands and knees. So much for my panty hose. At least, I knew where I was going. I had been to the study last weekend. It was the other rooms of the house, which the mere thought of, turned my body into drenching quivering submission.

The Handler stood in front of the door and knocked softly. I heard Jon say.

"Bring her in."

The door opened before me and I followed Adam into the study. Same soft carpet that I had felt before. Traci, dressed in a blue leather mini-dress, sitting on the sofa in relaxation. Jon standing by the fireplace in soft black leather pants that were molded to his body like he wore them a lot. Soft white billowy shirt open at the throat. They were smiling as though anticipating my arrival. They probably had, but not as much as I did. The low buzz of sexual tension in my body went up a notch. Traci stood and came to stand before us. Looking down at me coldly. I felt my heart triple its rate in my chest. She was so much more frightening than Jon was. Colder, more calculating. She was just more. I kept my eyes down looking at very expensive thigh high boots of black patent encasing her strong calves. I kissed the boot quickly, just because it was close enough to do so without falling on my face. Nothing outlandish, just a quick peck on the toe to show my respect.

"Did you bring back the things I gave you last week?" I dropped the duffel bag from my teeth to the floor to answer her, quickly. Urgently speaking in a low and hopefully respectful voice.

"Yes, Mistress."

I opened the duffel bag taking out the folder that I had put everything into. Putting it into my mouth before gently giving it to her.

"Did you memorize the page of rules?"

I saw her pick up the folder, hearing it being opened over my head.

"Yes, mistress."

She asked me to kneel up and hold my head straight to recite the rules. I did it letter perfect, I thought. Keeping my eyes below the level of their chest. They read while I did this. My voice clear in the quiet room. Traci held the list of options that they had given me. Her eyes narrowing and she drew a sharp intake of breath. When she spoke, her voice was clinically hard.

"You marked several items, No, on this list. I will go over them one-by-one, asking your reasons. If they are valid they may be considered. However the wishes of those above you will come first."

She looked down at the list before her. I answered her respectfully.

"Age play?"

It was the first item on the alphabetical list.

"I have no interest in being with, or being considered, a child. I am a consenting adult and feel any activity that uses me as a child is perverted."

Jon chuckled, repeating the word, perverted, under his breath. I tried not to laugh at the amusement in his tone. It was kind of funny.

"Daddy's girl?"

That was the only thing on the list that actually made me queasy. Yuck.

"If you had met my daddy, Mistress, you wouldn't have to ask." I quipped lightly.

A rough hand on the back of my neck forced my head to the floor harshly. Adam's flinty voice over my head.

"That's five more, Annie, for disrespect. Keep it up."

The Handler sounded pissed and I groveled quickly. Not wanting to spend the rest of the night on any one of the big punishment crosses I saw in the basement last weekend.

"Forgive me, Mistress. I meant no disrespect to you, Mistress."

She read the last of the items. Public Sex. What would the guys at the office say? Shaving. I like the hair between my legs. It's an old friend. Tickling. Too much like vanilla sex for me, thank you very much. I heard her speaking to Jon in a low voice.

"Your discussion list will be handled as it comes up. Any items that you do not recognize will be explained to you. The house doctor has been contacted, and Adam will take you on Thursday night."

She paused and composed her words carefully for full effect.

"For this next month, you will consider yourself the property of Jon."

I felt an unknown tension fall from my shoulders with relief. A feeling of dread that I had not even known I felt leave me quickly. I lay my head against the carpet for a moment. Thank you, Traci. I thought.

"All initial training and tasks will be assigned by him and for his pleasure. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."

She laughed softly. As though my relief had been a tangible thing in the air. She ordered Adam to clean me up and get me out of the work-stained clothes that I was in. Her voice filled with a mild disgust that a slave would dare be in her presence in clothing. I again picked up the duffel bag with my teeth.

"I'll have her in the training class in an hour, Traci."

Adam turned abruptly and I kept up with difficulty. Staying to his left side at heel. Standard `Pet' behavior. I would have no higher reason until I earned it. I tried to let my thoughts go blank, but I could not. What the hell was the training class? I kept looking for calmness. Trying to leave the smart-ass work attitude outside. It was going to be difficult.

THE BATH CHAMBER

On the way up the stairs as I began to tire. I felt my body starting to heat up. Slowly warming to above normal temperature as my imagination took me into `training class.' My head seemed to reach a new efficiency for dealing with thoughts of sex. I was just getting into it when Adam abruptly stopped and opened the door to a bath chamber. This was not a bathroom. Bathrooms are typically small and cramped. Mostly cold tile. This room was palatial. Gold-shot black wallpaper and black marble tile.

Soft black carpet on the floor. Indirect lighting. Straight across from the door was a sunken tub with air jets bubbling cheerfully. Tropical plants hanging over it. To the left, was a thick marble column with handles at shoulder height. Whips and paddles made of rubber hanging on the wall next to it. Almost behind the door was a black toilet and bidet. Hidden behind a low wall of glass block. Spigots on the wall and a shower. Two black vinyl massage tables. A black marble block in the very center with a basket on it. The outside walls covered with the inevitable bank of cupboards and everywhere there were piles of thick, fluffy, black towels. The temperature was warm and welcoming.

"Come inside and go to the block. Remove your clothes and place them neatly in the basket with all your personal items."

It was an order not a question, so I just did it. Taking my journal out of my duffel bag to lay it in the basket.

"What is that book?" came Adam's cold voice.

"It is my journal, Handler." I said. "I write in it every night, Handler. It goes everywhere with me." It was the truth. It did come everywhere with me. Everywhere important anyways. Like here for instance. I felt crimson color creeping up my neck slowly. I never stopped taking off my clothes, however. Even if disrobing in front of a stranger was new to me. I just did it. He'd seen it before I was sure. I didn't know if bringing my journal in was a good idea, but I couldn't leave it at home there was too much in it. I also did not want it in the bag with the toys. Dumping it in bleach with the gadgets wouldn't have done it any good either. Just a small breach of slave etiquette. I heard the soft ringing of a phone. Adam answered it, as I finished taking off my work clothes, noticing that my pantyhose were ruined. I'd never wear them here again. He didn't look at me, but I stood stock-still before the basket afraid to move.

"Right away, Jon." He said as he hung up.

He walked towards me, taking the journal from the top of the basket then walked out the door. It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. I didn't move, but I freaked. My own private soul had just walked out the door and I had allowed it, foolishly bringing enough psychological dynamite with me to blow my character wide open to view. Thoughts, feelings, fears and fantasies. All my personal philosophy was in those hand-written pages, I struggled to remain composed. Suddenly, I just let it go.

"Oh well, what the Hell." I said aloud.

Better to have all the cards on the table. I expected to be revealed, but not quite as much as the journal would expose me to scrutiny. It was all a head game, right? That's what I thought until Adam came back.

"Five More. Do you know why?" I sighed, realizing quickly that the room was bugged, or under surveillance. Probably the big mirror behind the column. Part of training class?

"For speaking without being spoken too and profanity, Handler."

He nodded in assent. Fifteen already and I hadn't even been here thirty minutes. I was trying so hard too.

"What have you learned from this?"

Heavy duty, now he wanted me to think. Was this allowed? I answered respectfully, voice quaking a little with fear.

"I am never alone, Handler. My every action is witnessed and judged for whether or not it pleases my master."

That seemed to be the correct clarification. I was kind of surprised that it fell so easily from my tongue. Voice training had been another lifetime ago, but Rob was very particular about how I said what I did say. The slave mentality taking over my thoughts, easily mutating me to servitude. I wanted to make them happy, when they were happy. They would in turn satisfy the fire burning through my own body. That was the object, and it was a reward and punishment sort of deal. I understood that. I was awfully glad that I had memorized the rules, before I got here. It made it easier to recognize when I broke one. `Face it; it made it easier to formulate glib explanations for my fuck-ups.'

Adam stood before me, as I stood by the pedestal-like block. Moving closer to me with deliberate intensity. An intense look on his handsome face. He bent me at the waist and I opened my thighs quickly. Never ever close your legs, or your mouth. Always ready for access. I heard him doing something when he moved behind me. I didn't turn to him though. I merely waited. Wondering what was coming, but not too much. I had earned the strap, and that was what I expected from him.

When his organ slipped into me it was a complete surprise. I was pushed further over to feel the cold marble under my breasts. My belly pressed downwards. He put his hands on the small of my back, heavy and cruel. His big body restricting mine against the hard unyielding surface. He did not care about my comfort. Adam merely clutched my hips, crudely, and rammed his organ into me, seeking only his own release. He was practically raping me. Ignoring the gasps and cries that his sudden assault tore from me. That I was getting some small pleasure from his body in mine was just enough to shame me into not struggling against him.

My thoughts were a litany. `Accept, accept, accept,' but it was so hard! I clenched my hands into tight fists, gritting my teeth against the use being of made of me. So hard to do that though, because at the first deep thrust, the inferno inside me came to vibrant, vivid life. One small touch between my legs would have boiled the orgasms over me in an excess of untimely discharge. There was nothing else for me to do. Grabbing tightly to the edge of the block and holding myself up close to the coolness was all I could do. I knew somehow that my own release was not the purpose of what he was doing. Some instinct told me that if I came at this moment I would be denied release for the rest of the weekend. This purposeless brutality was merely discharge for him, so he could touch me without wanting me. I heard him speaking, as he leaned over my back.

"Tighten those cunt muscles for me, slave. I want it tighter than this. Squeeze me harder. I want it so tight it hurts."

His big hand cradled the back of my neck as I clenched with the deeper muscles between my legs. Exerting myself desperately. New sensation traveling through the damp fullness of my wet cleft. Taut fingers in my hair, pulling it painfully. A low snarl from my Handler.

"You cum, bitch, and I'll see you don't for the rest of the month. Your night hasn't started yet."

I clenched the strong muscles in my thighs and gritted my teeth for control. Pulling the moist air into my lungs in short bursts. My back arching to give him access, praying that he finished quickly. Hoping to stem the pleasure trying to wash over me. `I was so close!'

Adam seemed to take forever but finally I felt his thick organ jerking rhythmically inside me as he boiled over. His weight pressing into my back. His wet lips on the back of my neck where it meets my shoulders, making me shiver. Big hands on my arms holding me down as he went soft within me. I had done it. Holding it back and keeping myself focused on Jon and his designs for me tonight.

"Stay there."

He said and moved away. Taking care of his organ and cleaning himself. I heard the condom come off with a thick rubber sound. I could see him in the periphery of my sight. Doing something.

"Don't move."

I hadn't moved, why would he say that? I heard a whistle through the air and the cruel snap of flexible leather bit into the underside of my buttocks. The instantaneous pain took my breath away and I wanted to put my hands over my buttocks to protect them. The soft whistle coming again and forcing me to concentrate. Catch a hold of the lip of the marble. Pull yourself taut. Fight the urge to run, to flee. Instinct trying to supplant will, as pain became my world. I realized with some remaining thought processes that Adam was good with the strap. I could feel the welts forming on my unmarked flesh, but knew I did not bleed. Blood was rushing to the offended area in a vain effort by my body to put out the fire there, but none of it leaked out of me. That took some skill and no small amount of practice. If it hadn't of hurt as bad as it did. I might have appreciated it more. As it was the beating came so quickly and so surely. All I could concentrate on was the flow of pain from my backside into my dripping sex. Deliciously swift, inescapable blows with none of the finesse that I was used too. Unmerciful, unrelenting blasts of undiluted agony. Punishment. This was not pleasure, it was educational. This torment had one purpose, to teach me not to do whatever it was that I had done. `I would try, please stop.'

By five strokes of the thick leather strap, I was raw. At ten, I could feel the air on my swollen flesh bruising me. By fifteen, I was unable to stop the moans from escaping my clenched teeth. Tears flowing with reckless abandon from my eyes. Rob had never, ever, beaten me this raw. Even the night he broke the riding crop before he took me. I managed to remain where I was, but I don't know how I did it. I was a suffering, miserable wreck by the end of my ordeal. Sobbing unto my arms on the marble. Gasping for air and trying to control my shuddering body.

"On your knees."

I quickly dropped down and turned to him. Burying my face against his shoes. Silently begging him for mercy. The strap touched my cheek caressingly. I took it in my hands and kissed it. Remembering that I was supposed to thank him for taking the time to correct me.

"Thank you for your correction, Handler."

I sobbed into his boots, trying to pull myself together and not orgasm all over the floor. He laughed, a low sound, as if he knew what I was fighting. A gentle hand in my hair petting me. I had done something right. I just didn't know what.

"Over to the side, on your knees. Time to clean you up for class."

I shivered daintily with foreboding. As with every other gesture of dismay, it was pointless. He took care of everything that I thought disgusting, or personal, first. Humiliation making me burn with blistering emotion. The small nozzles he carefully inserted in my secret openings, maddened me with lust. I felt like a slave, as he purged my bowels, not once, but twice, for Jon to make use of. The warm water filling me and cleansing me. Softening me in a different way than the lash had. Opening me more fully as the narrow nether passage was cleared for penetration. It frightened me even as it excited me. The cursory examination of my body and its new bruises was a study in quiet compliance. I had to remain still as he massaged the welts, oiled them for viewing. He bathed me and washed my hair. Drying it then putting it into a fat pony tail that hung well down my back. Brushing my teeth carefully and placing Vaseline on them lightly, so my lips wouldn't stick to them. When he finally thought I was ready for use. Adam had me kneel before him and he placed a softly padded blindfold over my eyes. I could see nothing but the darkness inside me. I was effectively isolated, alone. He kissed me tenderly. His tongue playing with mine for several seconds. His fingers cupping my bruised buttocks, pinching the welts. Bringing my passion to the surface again. He spoke, sweetly low in my ear, as he buckled a collar around my neck loosely.

"I'll tell him how good you were, sweet. How tight and compliant. How slick and hot."

My hungry cavern tightened as he spoke, teasingly into my ready ear. His lips finding my neck and nibbling there delicately until I shivered with heat. His big hand cupping my sex softly. I melted against him, knowing the only reason I was still dry in his hands was that I had been douched.

"I'll see you after the trainer's little romp, and I'll warm those buns of yours with deep hard thrusts of my organ, Annie."

`Why wait? I need you now.'

"I get to use you whenever Jon doesn't have any thing else for you to do and I intend to take full advantage of your presence."

Moisture flowed over his fingers as his words galvanized the appetite unreleased for the whole long week. I let a small sound of longing escape me. `Please.' My whole attitude begged of him. As the knot tightened to almost gratification. Adam released me. Taking me by the leash and down to the training hall.

AMATEUR NIGHT IN THE TRAINING HALL

He let me walk and I was grateful. My knees, unused to such abuse, had begun to feel like raw meat. I followed him closely through the hallway and did silently whatever he told me to do. When the door opened I heard Jon speaking out loud. Explaining the link between pleasure and pain. I heard another voice asking a question. Low laughter and Jon saying slowly. "Good question, but it has no real answer. I like what I like and the hell with anyone who tries to make me feel like a freak. Deviance is only what one person perceives it to be. I will not feel that way because of the kind of sex I like."

There was applause, at least four or five others. I leaned desperately close to Adam, clutching his arm. Remembering to late the rules about not speaking without being spoken too, but I could make a request couldn't I? I had to make this one. I would die without the granting of this request.

"Gag me, Adam." I whispered. "Please, for God's sake, gag me."

I felt him start with surprise.

"I'm here and it's working on me. Please don't let me disgrace myself here, not now."

He said nothing, but led me into the room. Jon telling the others that the demonstration subject was here. I was almost in a panic. Hot blood pumping with fury through my limbs. I struggled for composure. Sweat breaking out all over my body as I fought the urge to flee this room, and all the faceless people in it. I could not see them and could only guess what they saw when they looked at me. My burnished naked flesh. My new welts. The blindfold. The visible fluids on my thighs from desire. I tightened at the picture my imagination gave me, almost had me needing nothing else to orgasm where I stood. Breathing in short hot bursts as if I had been running. I heard Adam talking to Jon.

"On your knees, Anne." Jon said simply. Grateful for his presence. My master of the deep voice. I kissed his boots, groveling. The perfect picture of suffering for the watching students. I would try to be perfection. He tilted my face up and ran the tip of his index finger over my lips. He said one word at the silent supplication of my body. `Please, master.'

"Alright."

`Thank you, Master.' My whole body said and I kissed his calves in gratitude. He tilted my face upwards and I felt the roll of hard rubber going through my teeth, silencing me. The buckle being tightened behind my head.

"This is a novice. New to training. She has agreed to enter a three month, part-time, training program."

"Is she Bi?" Came a curious voice from the background. A young male by the sound. Nervous laughter from the others. "According to her file, No. That sort of personal preference has very little to do with the training of a new slave. Her heterosexuality is a moot point. She has to be taught to focus on pleasing me. Her master. My wishes must always be first. If I want her to eat a woman, she eats her until I tell her to stop."

The crowd liked that.

"Until such a time as she thinks that way, she is subject to punishment. Like this."

He stood me up and turned me around. Low gasps from the crowd. I must have some good marks.

"After everyone has had a chance to examine the slave and feel her compliance to command. We will demonstrate the various types of whips and paddles. Any questions?"

There was one.

"She's gagged, what about her safe-word?"

That was a woman, older with a voice like melted honey. Probably a divorcee getting into it for the money it could bring in.

"Annie, did I gag you?"

I shook my head vigorously.

"Did you request to be gagged?"

I nodded the same way.

"Are you feeling blue?"

NO! My hair moving in my vehemence, practically whipping me.

"Are you ready to play?"

YES!!! He touched the opening to my vagina the wetness seeming to get bigger. Syrupy thick.

"She's wet. Periodically, during our play. I'll ask her how she feels. Blue is her safe word and I can incorporate it into meaningless sentences to enhance the torment."

His hand left me in that self-same, sweet torment he was trying to explain how to do to the others. "Adam, Please."

I was suddenly lifted and put on my back. My arms and legs spread on a hard surface, like a starfish and secured with heavy leather restraints at least three inches wide. These were quickly buckled and the sound of the D-rings being snapped to the table hooks was clearly audible to me. So audible that I barely heard Jon's words over the pounding of my heart thundering in my ears. Words softly spoken to the class about the roots of desire and expected responses. I relaxed into the bondage and felt big hands on the sides of my face. Adam's hands, I could smell him. I went beyond thought, beyond the room. Into the secret place inside me that was the true base of my desire. I surrendered.

"See how the restraint enhances the submission. She has given up whatever mental struggle caused her to ask for the gag and eased her into the physical sensations she is expecting me to inflict on her. Her mind is free. She is no longer expected to control herself. I have taken that away from her."

That was it exactly. The pure, undiluted essence of what I was feeling. I was beyond my own control and into his. Jon knew what I wanted and gave it to me. I felt the most profound surge of love that I had ever felt for anyone in my life for him. My master.

He called the students up to the front of the room with him. Asking for a one to volunteer for something. Adam's hands tightened on my face. Covering my ears to muffle the sounds around me. His thumbs stroking my cheeks absently.

I felt hesitant hands on me. Squeezing my breasts then lightly pinching the nipples until the tips hardened into little knots of pleasure. Moving slowly down my quivering ribcage to rest on my belly and the gentle sloping curve above my pubis. My hips twitched and the low laughter reached my ears even through Adam's hands. A hot blush creeping up my neck, prettily, I hoped. Lower the hands moved, more confidently this time. Just skirting the hot moist hungry triangle at the apex of my thighs. I moaned... a low miserable sound.

One touch of those fingers would send me over the edge. More hands touched me all over. My legs, my arms. Lifting my breasts again to roughly squeeze them. Little pinches on the insides of my thighs. My opening strained, clenched. Forcing the wetness out to run between my legs and pool on the table beneath me.

A hand moved to my opening. Separating the lips gently, widening the folds allow. I arched my back off the table in spasm. Feeling the fingers sliding up the pubic lips, as they were pulled tautly open. Massaging them. Making me frantic with pulsing, throbbing heat. I struggled against the table. Make me come, or for heaven's sake, let me go! The tiny bud of my clitoris, impossibly full and fluttering visibly between my thighs. The quick fingers pulling on it to make it swell even larger and more obvious. Adam's voice broke through the fog covering my senses.

"Jon says it's alright. Come when they make you."

I growled around the gag ferally. All thoughts of dignity gone between those words and the fingers being pushed into me slowly. Expanding the blood-filled tissues. Other hands cupping my thighs and teasing the welts under them. Two fingers in me now pushing in as far as they could. Knuckles grazing the pearl of longing in delightful bursts. Long fingers, thick fingers. Now three, rotating in ever increasing agility. The motion of it like an organ. I felt someone else brush against my clitoris with the gentlest of contact. A butterfly-feeling pressing upon it, barely felt through the thick fluids covering it. Fast light movements. Tighter and tighter, my passion wound in me. My senses whirled and I was entangled in the crude sensation between my legs. My heart palpitating in my chest, wildly caught in the sensations overcoming me. I barely felt the slick fingers become four. Going into me just a little roughly, yet so deliciously. Working me to climax. I was as tightly wound as a good bowstring, orgasmic tautness making my body rigid as I neared my peak. The ebb and flow from these hesitant fingers maddening me, driving me so slowly to the crest. I wanted to scream in frustration and when I did finally scream aloud, the blessed gag muffled the sound to nothing.

I came then. A weeks worth of unrequited passion spilling over the hand inside me and all the hands on me. The memories of the whipping fueling the fire. The almost remembered feeling of Adam's thick organ driving into me from behind. The complete surrender of my will by the bonds. The gag and the blindfold. The faceless strangers in me and on me. Shook my drenched cleft and my heated body in a surfeit of clutching, twitching, straining passion. The stretch of my body against the bonds when I came was felt throughout my whole being. Wrenching every nuance of feeling from my hot little opening. The hand squeezed tightly in the merciless clench of my vagina. My uterus spasming as well in fast, firm, powerful little jerks.

I came down slowly and was just starting to catch my breath. To come back into myself, when I realized the motion was continuing. Pushing me towards yet another higher orgasmic plateau. These fingers were coarser, just a bit cruder. The tender little clitoris starting to ache under the merciless assault of bigger, harder fingers. Rolling it and pinching it indelicately.

"That's Jon on your clit and he says that once is enough for right now, little one."

Adam explaining to me in a calm clear voice that I must not come again. I must wait and fight against it. I sobbed miserably as Jon worked my tiny button. Feeding it to frenzy once again, not letting me even catch my breath from the last time. My now empty vagina, clenching on emptiness. I battled to contain the rising rush of orgasm. My muscles tighter than when I came the last time. My head trying to roll helplessly on the table, yet held still by Adams firm fingers. Breath almost suspended, a bare whistle between my lips and the gag. I tried to move my hips away from the thoughtless insistent fingers and couldn't. I was just making it worse. Just when I knew that I was truly lost. Just before I was going to be unable to contain it. When it was going to get out of my control and the frantic feeling of being trapped on that table threatened to overwhelm me. The fingers withdrew, pinching my wet labial lips closed once again. I was weeping with relief. My throat working around the gag to supply air to starved tissues. Swallowing around the lump in my throat. Misery and triumph at war within my soul. I had done what he wanted but it had been so difficult! My body craving the pleasure, but wanting to please. The hands left my face and I heard low laughter.

"Are you feeling blue yet?"

No! Because then I would be left like this. Left with this burgeoning knot of unreleased feeling boiling inside me, or worse yet. Having to deal with it myself. The dry release that felt like nothing compared to this. This complete and utter subjugation to another's will. I would not stop now. I was at the point where I felt truly free from the daily reality that ruled my every waking minute. This was my ultimate fantasy. I would not be the one to stop it. I shook my head, sobbing behind the gag. I had the undivided attention of all the people in this room. They had touched me, felt me orgasm. Talked about what to do to me next. Played me like an expensive piano until I had exploded against their passions. Caressed my loins and my breasts. I had no wish for them to stop now. I loved everything they were doing to me. They were me. I felt... alive.

"That's the big lesson, right there."

Jon's voice was soothing and his hand stroked me with genuine affection.

"The slave must feel that they have no choice and all choices."

Something trailed over my stomach, slowly. I blossomed with a new and different heat. I knew the strap, craved it, and wanted it. I wanted the hard ritualized whipping that I was used too. Just hard enough to climax too, but not hard enough to be punishment. My body knew the difference and responded with this new humiliating fire.

The thin leather bands tracing over me in a delicate teasing pattern. `Don't stop there, Master.' I thought wickedly. The little voice inside me becoming caught up in the heat of the moment.

"There are many ways to punish, or torment, your slave."

A quick whistle through the air and the gratifyingly luscious stroke of thick unsparing leather against the soft unmarked curve on the inside of my thigh. I pulled against the bindings, feeling again the solid thump of the lash on the other tender thigh. Quick flash of rapidly dissipating pain. Wonderfully perfect. A multi-tailed cat, if I didn't miss my guess. One with enough heft to it to sting the way it was supposed too.

"Note the responses of the slave as they become visible. Deepening respirations, and the quaint little hitches of the torso. It could indicate either tears, or passion. It's up to you to determine which. Adam, please."

The blindfold was coming off! I was losing the safe darkness I was abandoned in. They would be able to see my eyes. My damp, suffering, eager eyes.

"Taking the time to vary the environment also creates its own sensations. What was once in solitude is now revealed for all to see. Look her over carefully."

The light was almost painfully bright and it raised small tears on its own. When I blinked, they rolled from the corners of my eyes to rest in the hair at my temples. Seeing what was above me for the first time was an experience all its own. The room was filled with subdued brilliance. The track lighting set in the corners away from the center of the room. One broad beam slanted across my body to light it to perfection. By raising my head I could see the people standing outside the periphery of the light and almost see the dark wooden paneling that graced the walls. The table I rested on was at waist height for Jon. I could see him next to me, leaning over. I looked, as much as I was able too through the light. He smiled down, in amused tolerance. His eyebrows meeting over his eyes in mock severity. Several others leaned over me and I met their eyes blandly, coldly. They were merely window dressing. Hands that Jon was using on me. Distraction from his true purpose. He wanted to see how much I would take before strangers. These uninitiated strangers. I knew that he wanted some deep intellectual/physical reaction from me. I wanted to go with the flow. If he had looked at my diary, he would know that crowds captured my imagination on some lower level, but that one-on-one was much more difficult for me to bear. I heard the crack of the whip and waited for the feel of it on my body. My eyes clenching shut, tensing for the pain that never came. Jon laughed and I heard one of the students ask.

"Are they any other safe ways to induce sensation without risking the kinds of injury the whip causes?"

I saw this one asking his question and didn't want to hear Jon's reply. Of course there were many ways. Just as painful, but they left no marks. I much preferred to be whipped, if I had a choice. Thank you, very much. It's over quicker.

"Here try these, carefully."

I heard the tinkle of chain and saw him handing small steel clamps over me to the young male. The good ones with the tension screws set in the tops so they don't do any real tissue damage, not like the kind from Radio Shack.

"They work best when they are tightened after application. They serve a different purpose than the whip."

They did too. Restricting blood flow to whatever area they were applied too. They didn't even hurt until you took them off.

"Go on, those were designed for the nipples."

He handed others around the room and I didn't even want to know where they were supposed to go. I was still hot and ready for some action. Not this slow maddening head-trip. Where he explained ever-single thing that he did to me. If he wanted to work me why didn't he just get on with it? This was taking so long. The boy's hands were shaking when he touched me with uncertainty. Adam stood next to him, gazing over his shoulder.

"Here, like this."

He took a hold of my nipple and twisted it painfully, smiling at the quick painful jerk of my torso. Clamping the little steel torture device on the sensitive, pulsating tip.

"The twist gets the blood coming to the area and when you clamp it, well, let's just say that it has a much harder time, getting there."

The boy did the other one, but much more slowly. Harder pinch though. Tighter set on the clamp too. Adam loosened it.

"Not too tight, now. Some blood must flow, or the area goes numb. They have to be able to feel it."

One of the others asked how you could tell if they were tight enough, and Adam gave a solid wrench on the chain connecting my breasts to each other. Arching me off the table and bringing quick tears of pain to my eyes.

"Tight enough. They didn't come off."

I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Do the ones between her legs, the same way."

I felt the clasp of tight little steel teeth against the soft wet folds of my labia. Pinching me just firmly enough to be uncomfortable, not enough to bruise. They all gave little tugs on the trinket's chains and played with slick wetness seeping out of me in unfulfilled desire. Putting more little adornments on my earlobes and a quickly applied something in my belly button. Maddening me and distracting me.

"They are used as reminders that her body is not her own. By binding the cleft closed and inaccessible. We are reminding her of my ownership."

Jon was speaking to the amateurs softly. His voice cold and clinically arousing.

"We can go into the other room now, and finish our discussion. Traci has something in mind for her and I promised to leave her in here, slightly heated, to await her."

The students laughed nervously, and then I heard them leave. All of them, even Adam. It wouldn't be too long. Nobody responsible ever left a slave truly alone and bound up. I relaxed, waiting for the arrival of the mistress. Trying to ignore the irritating pull of the clamps, attached to my flesh.

AS A WOMAN AS A MAN

It seemed to take forever for Traci to come in, but I knew that it was only a few moments. I spent those precious quiet seconds trying to ignore the medieval pull of the clamps on my body. Striving not to wiggle the clips loose from my skin by moving violently. I chewed on the soft rubber gag in my teeth for comfort. Glancing around the room slowly. Perusing the light brown walls and the decidedly masculine atmosphere. I heard the door open. The sounds making me turn to that direction. It was Traci. She was dressed for sex. A black leather corset with black garter belt. Her breasts connected by a fine black chain through the rings in her nipples. Thigh high black boots with fishnets. Black leather panties over the top. A short quirt swinging from her belt. In her hands she was carrying a fairly large wooden box. She completely ignored me. Walking towards my feet before putting the box down. She came over to my left and opened a drawer in the table I was on. Putting two ornate glass jars next to me. I was intrigued enough to almost forget the pull of the clamps. She checked my arms to make sure they were tight enough, then my legs. Giving a little twist to the screws on my breast clips to tighten them past the point of pain. She unclipped the whip from her belt and looked down at my curious face.

"Jon believes in a certain amount of latitude with new slaves. I do not."

There was absolute conviction in her manner.

"I expect complete obedience without hesitation. I understand that you have no desire to pleasure a woman, but that has no bearing on what I want from you."

I nodded in understanding.

"If you falter, vacillate, or disappoint me in any way. I will punish you in ways that only another woman knows."

My eyes widened in fear.

"Do you understand me?"

Her speech was precisely menacing. I nodded. My imagination understood her only too well. I would do what she wanted of me, whatever she wanted of me. I would do it immediately and without question. She smiled at my fear, noticing the rapidly developing sheen of sweat on my skin. Putting her hands at the damp flesh at the apex of my thighs, and then laughing when I twitched in reaction. Patting me gently, she walked down to the end of the table. There was a sharp click and a wedge of the wood between my legs disappeared. She stepped up between my thighs to open my sex wide with her thumbs. Peering down at my dripping attributes in delight. Her fingers entering me to probe gently. Watching me blush with abject humiliation. The little chains pulling wide and holding fast to the folds. She pressed my clitoris, rolled it between her thumb and forefinger. Teasing me with nimble dexterity.

"Nice large features and generous openings. Very high quality. I have to try this little toy I bought out on you."

She leaned down and I heard her open the box. Pulling out a very long butterfly clip with a small peg on the lower end. She pinched a portion of my clitoris up from the rest of the kernel, and clamped it. The embrace of the little vise achingly strong and miserable. She moved the vise and rocked it. Laughing at the convulsive movements of my vagina. The quivering of my thighs from the strain. The small peg on the end jammed under the heart of my clitoris, pushing it firmly, achingly. She took a belt out of the box and slid it under the small of my back. Buckling it onto me with quick sure pulls. Two smaller belts hanging free. She took my left arm, released it from the table, and then hooked it to the belt with big brass marine snaps. Doing the same thing to the right. She stroked the inside of my damp thighs and looked at my face. Speaking softly to me. Eyes menacing.

"I can beat you to orgasm, do you believe that?"

I nodded, at her. Trying to make sure the nod was very obvious. `I do believe it, Mistress." I thought.

"I will do that one of these days to you. Spread you and take a strap to that pulsing little kernel of heat between your legs until the violence of your orgasm rocks the very foundations of your soul."

Her dulcet, flowing words were close to doing it already. Her words and the throbbing pulsations of pain from the `toys.'

"I enjoy creating profound sensations and I use many things to do this. Unguents, clamps, penetrators and piercings. I want the orgasm to be secondary to whatever I decide to do to you. I will talk to you about piercing at a future date, but tonight I will introduce you to my style. Nothing I do is overtly painful, so the gag may stay on. Your safe-word is meaningless to me. The most agonizing thing I have ever induced without a whip in my hand was a cramp. Do you understand?"

I nodded, chewing on the gag in apprehension.

"If you obey me with complete compliance it will go better for you. I merely want to map your body. Study your responses."

She looked down at my trembling carcass, and smiled.

"Then I will begin preparing you for me."

I shivered.

Traci touched the little butterfly on me and tightened it a little bit more. Reaching over me for one of the glass jars, the green one. She opened it carefully so I could smell the fresh scent of wintergreen and menthol. She took a small amount of the cream and smoothed it over my breasts. Close to the clamps. It was hot and cold, all at once. She rubbed it in. Leaning over me to blow on it so I shuddered on the table, moaning. Her hands unhurried. Teasing me and tightening the clamps again another little turn on my pulsing nipples. Although her hands stayed above my waist I felt her touch all the way to my sex.

She went between my legs and took out a phallus of hard black rubber. Wiping her hands on a trick towel, before reaching for the other jar. Her eyes glossy as she dipped the smooth item in the thick gelatinous goo. The smell of spice strong in my nostrils. She opened one of the pairs of clamps on my labia, spreading the lips to slip the phallus into me with sure even pressure. Pushing it well into my sex. Stopping to touch the clamp on my clitoris. My vagina clutched at the phallus, grateful to be filled again. She watched me expectantly. I wondered why. Only for a moment. The item inside me began to itch very softly against the interior walls. She rocked it, in and out. Up and down. Scratching the itch, and inflaming it. `I couldn't take this!' It felt as though a thousand ants had invaded my moist sex and were trying to drive me insane. I struggled vainly against the bondage and heard her speaking to me from a long distance.

"The more you struggle. The worse it will be. I have no intention of removing it until after you pleasure me. Accept it."

I tightened in subdued cupidity and tried to lay still. It was going to be impossible, but I could not force it out with the strong convulsive movements of my muscles. She buckled it into place with the extra straps and replaced the clamps on my lips sealing me shut tightly. Untying my legs, she made me stand. Taking a small ball from the box before her. She threw it.

"Fetch that for me on your knees."

I did it, quickly. More urgent because of my condition. The movement irritating the flames deep inside me. She sat on a chair and waited for me to bring the ball to her with my hands. She threw it again, when I did. Then again after that, and again. I lost count after ten. Doing what she wanted in urgent haste and debasement. Hoping to please her enough to take the driving orgasmic irritation from inside me. "Do not orgasm, or I will leave it in all night." She said, amused.

I hung my head, ashamed that I had been so obviously aroused.

"Come here and turn around."

I did it. Bending over so she could see my pale buttocks and keeping my legs well apart.

"Back up closer to me. I need some leverage to push this in."

She had another phallus in her hands and I almost bolted from her. `Not more of the itching stuff, please.' It was one of those thin then wide then thin ones. The kind that stretches your ass impossibly large then closes around it. My hands, bound to my waist, were no good to me. I felt the small end being pushed relentlessly into my ass and rested my face on the floor in resignation. The lube on the thing felt like nothing but KY or some such. No matter really, it was getting uncomfortably too large to go inside me. I knew that it was not going to make it all the way in. Too big, and to insistently huge to fit in my tight little ass. I was wrong. Traci simply wrapped her legs around mine, and pushed hard. Whispering over my back to me.

"It only hurts for a moment."

This was that moment, and I almost climaxed at the stretching ache of the thing being set well into me. Spearing me, filling me. Buckled into place to be held even against the push of the muscles of my anus. She stroked my back. Pulling on my hair so I would stand up.

"Come with me."

She walked towards the door with normal stride. I, in my misery, struggled to keep up with her. Unable to close my legs or walk with any kind of grace for fear of dislodging the clamps on me or the toys in me.

It seemed that we walked the corridors for a long distance, coming finally to a door. I followed her inside and found myself in a Victorian bedroom.

"Come here." Traci said.

She sat on the edge of the bed, sliding the leather panties down her legs to the floor. For the first time in my life I was faced with the pleasure organs of someone of my own sex.

I went to her and she released my hands. Leaving the cuffs on.

"Bring your head down here so I can take off the gag."

I did as she bid me too. Working my sore jaw up and down for a moment. She pulled on the chain holding my breasts. Jerking me closer so she could twist her hands in my hair and kiss me. Her mouth sweetly pliant on mine.

I was beautifully stunned at the feel of her soft lips on my lips. Her tongue slipping into my mouth to taste mine. She leaned back. I did not expect what she did next. It was a totally agonizing surprise as she wrenched the chains from my nipples with a sharp snapping jerk. I yelped in pain. The blood rushed back in a flood of heated agony making me fall forward unto the bed to rest on my arms, moaning with pain. Her hands' caressing the burning tips. Kissing them and suckling them. Flood of moisture in my wet opening, lessening the itch. Could that be it?' It flashed into my brain. The hotter I get the less it will irritate me?'

"Put your hands on my sex, slave. Feel me." She ordered.

I moved to her right and touched the soft inner part of her thigh slowly moving my hand upwards. In a sweet caress that men had been using on me since the first man. She was wet and docile. The softly damp margins of her cleft were warm and full of heat. I had never known that another woman could be so velvety, so fine. Slipping a long finger into her satin sheath. I watched her face darken with passion and her breaths deepen to pants. I put my thumb on her tiny button and Traci moaned. She quickly moved up the bed to rested against the pillows.

"Put your face between my legs, slave, then eat me until I orgasm." She commanded, her tone was ritually hard.

I wanted to hesitate, but did not want to suffer all night. I did it, promptly. I kept my legs apart. Laying face down near her thighs. Resting on my elbows, widening her with my thumbs. She was all fire and water. Hot and moist. The scents of pure need reaching my nostrils, gently intoxicating.

"Do it now."

I dipped my face into the saturated flesh and hesitantly tasted the salty smoky fluids of another woman for the first time in my life. Losing myself in the submission. I let myself go wild on her. Nibbling, nuzzling, probing with my tongue the opening I found there. Licking the drenched clitoris that hardened to granite under my inexpert ministrations. I bit it gently, feeling her grab my head. Making me laugh against her swelling flesh. I was relentless in my goal. The rush of pleasure flowing from her to me. Tightening the phallus' impaling me. Sweat forming on my skin so I was slick. The hunger between my legs growing to unbearable proportions. Cosmic, galactically huge. I knew she neared climax when she grabbed my hair and pulled my face up tightly to the hard kernel of heat at the apex of her thighs. I sucked it like a dick, creating a deep pulling flick with my tongue on the underside. She overflowed. Bucking her hips, body tensing under me. I hung on to her hips, fighting not to orgasm on my own. Letting her release run over me in a flood. She pushed at my head. Crying out for me to stop, that it was enough. I pulled my face away, reluctantly. Wiping my cheeks on the spread beneath her. When I looked up at her, I knew what she was feeling. I had felt the same way many times before. Traci lay like a starfish, open, soft, spent, for several long moments. Trying to still the trip-hammer beating of her heart. Control the shifting spasms in her sex. Oh yes, I had been there myself.

"Lay on your back, and spread your knees."

I did so, waiting for her. My legs starting to ache from need. The itch almost gone, but still felt deep within me. She caught my eyes and twisted her fingers in one of the chains closing me. A quick pull and the clamps slipped off with a little biting drag. She took the folds and rubbed the circulation back into the spots gently. I felt like a spring being tightened past the breaking point. I was inexorably being wound tighter towards gratification. She did it again and I made a small sound of surrender.

"Please, Mistress." I begged her, shamelessly.

She shushed me. Unbuckling the belt and removing the butterfly. I tensed as the blood flowed back twice as fast into my clitoris. Swelling it to unbearable levels of fire. She leaned over me and I licked the nipple that rose above me. Just a small liberty in desperate arousal. `Please.' Taking another magic jar from the nightstand she pushed her whole fist into it. The thickly moist fluid covered her hand with a glaze. I watched in curiosity. Traci turned to back to me, leaning over me.

"I will make you climax and before we are through here tonight. You will know how to please a woman, as well as a man."

She slid the phallus from my sheath and when the air hit the labia the fire ignited. Scorching me. The desire forming a palpable corona around me as the aphrodisiac-like itching became an inferno. Taking the oily hand, she pushed two fingers into me. I sighed, as the fire near those two small digits died. The dissipation a keening undertone to the other places inside me. Searing overindulgence. Going straight to my clitoris, soaring need feeding the wetness in my vagina. Traci went to work on me. Pushing, probing. Rubbing the damp moist envelope of demanding privation. Her careful fingers brushing the little nubbin of heat as she worked me. She touched my hips with her other hand, holding them still. Making me realize that I was moving in urgent haste. The stroking of her fingers roughened. She bent her head down so I could feel the warmth of her breath on my hairy opening. Taking the last set of clamps in her teeth. She pulled them off to toss them away with a flick of her head. Her mouth closing on the hard knot of pleasure building between my legs. Sucking it the same way I had.

I exploded under her. My hands forming claws and holding her head against me. Legs shaking with stress as her arm worked me with fierce, tumultuous thrusts. Driving me to frenzy. The quick little flicks of her tongue and the suction pulling every bit of orgasm from my shaking body. I arched up and froze in mid-air. Awash with feeling. Throaty cries leaving me gasping. A sudden deep thrust from Traci's strong right hand and she was still. Licking the satisfied little lump gently, causing my limp legs to jerk in pangs of afterglow. She stroked my sweaty stomach. Her hand just resting at the gate of my womanhood. Her eyes alight with satisfaction and profound gratification.

"Still think women are too soft and easily manipulated?"

She'd been in my diary. I answered her, breathlessly.

"No mistress, I was wrong."

She wiped her hands on a towel and started to unbuckle the belt at my waist. It fell loose and I let her slide it from underneath me. She made a motion for me to roll over. When I did, she pulled the larger phallus from my anus with gentle force. The powerful muscles clasping against the removal. When it was out, and I was empty. She came back up to my head. Watching me, carefully.

"You think like a man does. Even when you are with me, you do not think as I do. Your goal is the orgasm, the profoundness of the sensation. I am merely an instrument to you."

I nodded at the truth in her words.

"I want you to wait for me."

She went away for a moment to another cabinet. When she came back to the bed, what she had in her hands galvanized me in lustful fear. She had a double-headed phallus.

"Stand up."

I followed her orders willingly, unsure what she was going to do to me. I was quiescent as she approached me. Putting another belt on me, but lower. Slipping the large life-like organ into me to secure it inside me. I started to heat up again. She lay back on the bed, looking up at me. Opening her legs and playing with herself. Her fingers sliding deeply into her sex.

"Now, you are a man and have a woman willing to fuck you on the bed before you."

I put my hand on the jutting organ between my legs. Her little speech exciting me and capturing my imagination. My hand stroking the stiff toy, harshly. Once when I was in High School. I had this erotic dream where I made love to one of my female classmates. I freaked. Going two weeks with no sleep, no food. Filled with angst. I had been a homophobic mess. I had fantasized about another woman. NO! Finally when I had been unable to stand it anymore. I had gone to my school counselor. A nice man named Bill. He listened to me and finally asked me; had I been a man or a woman in the dream. I had to think about it, but I had been a man. On top, aggressively screwing this girl. I had been a man. Bill had said that it was a normal part of adolescence to have dreams like that. My subconscious was merely wondering what it would be like to be the other sex. It didn't mean that I was gay, just curious about what it would be like to be male. Now, I wasn't a curious teenager anymore. I had voluntarily entered service to Traci, Jon, and now Adam. I was being asked to play a role for Traci and my failure to do so, would result in a bought of severe punishment. I was feeling a little too good for that. I wanted the pleasure to continue. I stood there and wondered how I should approach this. Traci was using her hands to good purpose. I could see how wet she was from here. `I could do this.' The very moment I thought this I slipped easily into the masculine role she wanted from me. I became every man that I had ever been with. Not the boys trying to get laid, but the men who wanted to satisfy themselves and leave a satiated women on the bed thinking about the next time. I moved towards her purposefully. Knowing that my eyes had gotten harder with lust. She moved back up on the bed a little fearfully. I smiled playfully at her. Advancing over her with the organ sticking from the apex of my thighs. She touched her breasts, arching her back enticingly. I ran my hands down the furrow created between them, stroking the soft skin. Feeling her heat. Playing with her breasts. Her abdomen, rolling her hips as I lay between her legs. My fingers moving with firm even pressure on the satiny smoothness. Hearing her moan softly in a pleading way for me to fill her. I lay gently on top of her, cupping her cheeks and kissing her deeply. My tongue moving with hers and my hands traveling over her neck. I felt her legs opening wider and went up on my arms. Leaning my head down to kiss her softly. Touching her tiny eyes and small features. Watching the glaze cover her face with that animal in ecstasy look I loved to see on the face of someone in my bed.

"Put me in you, honey."

Her fingers found the organ and she slid it into her tight little well. I pushed home hearing her gasp at the size of it. I pumped her, my hips easily finding the rhythm. My legs tight together and the feel of the thing bouncing against my own clitoris very exciting in its own right. I could come this way very easily. Her legs wrapped around my waist. When she did so I sat up bringing her hips with me. Still humping her, but able to get to her clitoris with my hand. I pulled the labia wide, just a little roughly. Manipulating the wet knob with an agile flicking motion of my fingers. The organ grinding into her hot sex. I could feel pleasure sweeping me as well. I leaned back over her quickly, clutching at her and rolling my hips in an ever-increasing tempo.

She was all small noises and grasping hands. Hard kisses and sweeping passion. I could feel her pulse going up in the soft spot on her neck. Her damp hair flowing over my face. I rotated us both, putting her on top. She didn't miss a stroke. Rising above me to pound down unto my hips. I touched the junction of her thighs and she stiffened into climax. Cresting on top of me and driving herself beyond it. Head back, hands on my stomach, shoulders shaking. I rubbed her cleft to draw out every tremor she could give me. My left hand on her hip to steady her. Smiling at the fact that I could do this to another woman. She collapsed on top of me and I felt my own passion hit a low-level buzz. Almost pleasure, but more like symmetry. I was satisfied by her climax, her response. She rested and crawled over my body to lie on the bed to catch her breath.

"Did I please you, Mistress?" I asked.

She pulled me near to embrace me. Smiling into my hair, practically purring with contentment.

"Please me? As if you couldn't tell you did."

I chuckled, pulling her closer. We lay like that for several long moments as her body quieted. I listened to her breathing return to normal.

"Is there something you want to do now? We have a few minutes of free time before I have to give you back to Jon."

I looked at her. Curiosity warring with uncertainty.

"I want to see what another woman looks like without having to worry about satisfying her. I want to see the mechanics. Can I look at you, Mistress? I'll pleasure you after, but can I just look?"

She immediately propped some pillows behind her back and opened her legs. She was so understanding of my curiosity I wanted to weep. Moving down to open her was a strange experience. I found myself identifying the parts that I remembered from anatomy class in High School. Clitoris, Urethra, Vagina, Perineum, Anus. Soft secret parts that were hidden in tissue so velvety yet tough. I gazed down in wonder. "Haven't you ever looked at yourself?" She asked of me.

I shook my head, answering her truthfully.

"No, never seen myself. Didn't seem to be relevant. Mistress." I added as an afterthought. "Are these the average?"

I found several little holes for piercings and, surprisingly enough, found myself playing with them.

"No, I have larger openings, there are some interesting little games that require that."

I looked up at her in surprise. `What kind of games were those?' She touched my hair, and sat up.

"That's enough for now. Jon will give you back to me sometime soon. I have to clean you up for him now. Your night is far from over. Adam has something planned for you."

I already knew that, been warned. I stood up slowly. My body tiring even as my mind did not. How many orgasms can one woman have in one day? It looked like I was about to find out.