JC's Maid

Part 1

Mistress JC Makes Her Girl by Counterparts199.
This is fantasy.  Duh!

Three short raps on the door woke her up.  She'd sensed the waiting so intensely
that she'd spent most of that early afternoon pacing, and pretending to like
early afternoon television.  All the fretting had made her nerves crash, and
that's why she'd startled awake, half on and half off the sofa.

The place was a mess, although she usually picked up daily, and tomorrow was
cleaning day; once a week, whether it needed it or not, which it always did.  It
had taken more strain than it was worth to leave it this way.  As for JC, she'd
wanted to dress a little, but not wanted to be about the house all day dressed
to the nines.  The unplanned nap had left her in jeans, shirt and socks.

"Well, he'll either like me like this or not at all; the whole thing is a crazy
idea anyway," JC told herself, as she approached the door.  "Christ, this
pervert could be Charles Manson for all I know," she added, feeling a jolt of
apprehension as her hand unfastened the door lock and opened her house to the
stranger.

"Hi.  Are you JC?"  The man stammered, weakly and with a great more apprehension
than JC imagined she'd just felt.

Knowing that emboldened her, "Mistress JC to you.  Are you the slave I ordered,
or is that a vacuum cleaner hose in your pants?"  There was a pause as the man
seemed to lose his composure.  "Well come in, slave," said JC, a bit on
autopilot by now.

"Thank you, Mistress," stammered the slave, as he entered.

"Take off your pants, and put them on the coat hook, Gary.  That was your name,
wasn't it, slave?"  Said, JC, as she led the way.  Suddenly turning, JC put her
hand on Gary's shoulder.  He hopped on one foot, already one leg half out of his
pants.  Looking into his eyes, as they peered half up, she added, "You do
understand that your prick isn't going to have any pussy.  Just because I have
you undressed doesn't mean it's for sex.  Are we clear, or do I have to put you
out with one leg out of your pants already?"

"Of course not, Mistress JC.  I understand that I am to be your slave.  Sex, of
course, is up to the Mistress," said the slave, a bit rehearsed.  He took the
other leg out, and after the hand gesture of the Mistress, also the shorts. 
Gary felt silly, walking into the living room, still wearing his shirt and
socks, but having lost his shoes, undershorts and pants by the door, several
steps behind.

"Have a seat on the chair," Offered JC, from the couch.  "Tell me about
yourself.  Your background, and life.  Your ad didn't say very much."

"Well I live alone, about twenty minutes..." Gary began, finding it odd that he
was engaging in a conversation (maybe an interview) seconds from entering the
house of a fantasy he'd imagined years ongoing.  "...and I have a girlfriend,
but we're not really steady, you know ..."  It felt like someone else was
talking, and his cock seemed to be shriveling to the size of a peanut,
uninspired by his own rumbling.  When he'd taken off his pants, his prick had
grown to a respectable size.  Gary wondered which was more unflattering, the
peanut or the erection.  "...I work at..."  The lady looks just like a
housewife.  No fake stuff at all.  Gary hated the fake allure of professionalism
so germane to the scene; that's why he'd never gone to a professional dominatrix
before; that's why he'd placed the ad.  She seemed so real and the thought made
his cock re-enlarge a little before the diatribe she kept nodding at and
inviting, kept dribbling out of his mouth.  The cock returned to peanut size.

He seemed to JC to be your average middle aged horny bastard, adding of course
the need to be subjected to female domination.  That excited her, but for mainly
practical reasons.  She remembered the ad, as he spoke, and found him much like
what she'd hoped.  It had read, 'Middle aged male eager to please assertive
lady.  Willing to do her bidding, and cater to her whim.  Sincere only please.' 
It had been simple, but promising.

After a week, she'd called the number that morning, and he'd said he could make
an excuse and cut the afternoon at work.  She wondered, should she do what she'd
imagined?  Would it work?  Well, what the hell, it's free.  The worst she could
do is scare him away.

"You've said enough, slave," said JC, cutting the slave off in the middle of
talking about his cat.  That propensity to talk too much was going to have to be
dealt with later, she promised herself.

"Take off the rest of your clothes, and put them in a neat pile over there by
your pants.  Then crawl over here and bow in front of me.  Make it fast!"

In seconds, slave Gary was at her feet, taking off her socks, and kissing her
feet.  JC found it a bit ticklish at first, so she made him massage them
instead.  "Why do you want to be a slave, Gary?"  She asked.

"I find it erotic to serve the needs of a woman.  Maybe it's normal, I've
imagined.  A lot of men want to please the woman in their life.  Slaves are just
a little overboard, maybe," offered the slave.

"You'll leave it to me whether it's overboard, or just something men have
repressed.  Do you think all men are slave material, or just perverts like
yourself, slave?"

Gary knew it was a trick question, and answered, "Only perverts like myself,
Mistress, although superior women such as yourself are worthy of all men
worshipping them."

"In any way the Mistress demands, slave?"

"Yes Mistress JC.  I am your servant," answered the slave as he fondled the
Mistress's feet.

"Are you gay?  What would you think if I brought a man in here and had him fuck
you in the ass?"

The question startled Gary, who answered with a white face, "I'm not gay,
Mistress.  I meant only to offer my services to you."  He stopped massaging the
feet, and bowed his head to the floor.

"Well that's good, slave.  I'm glad that you’re not gay.  Still, you're going to
do exactly what I tell you to do, aren't you?"

"Yes Mistress."

"Then go sit down in your chair.  Put your hands on the armrests, and wait for
me.  I need to get something," said JC.  She disappeared into the bedroom, and
came out with a camera.  "Sit with your legs apart.  I need a picture."  Seconds
later, the Polaroid had two pictures developing.  The Mistress looked at the
pictures and laughed.  "You won't believe it.  The first one has a small dick,
and the second one is almost man sized.  I think you like being photographed,
slave," said JC, as she put the pictures and camera away.

"I hope you like the pictures, Mistress," said the awkward slave.

"Oh, I do.  Kind of a before and after thing.  Now, time for your bath, slave. 
Come on.  Get in there," the Mistress said, leading the way to the bathroom. 
She handed the slave some soap, a washcloth, and a razor with cream.  The slave
looked at her incredulously.  That brought a slap that even amazed JC.  As the
slave's cheek brightened, she explained, "You'll have to decide if you want to
be a man or a slave.  I don't imagine that many men go without body hair.  So,
if you finish your bath shaven, I'll have to take it as a sign that you like the
idea of serving me, and don't need to assert your male ego, slave."

"But what about my girlfriend, Mistress.  When we date, she'll wonder why..."

"You said it was an occasional girlfriend.  How hard can it be to break up?  If
you don't want to take this seriously, then you can just up and leave right now. 
I'm not going to waste my time on someone ..."

"Sorry, Mistress," the slave interrupted.  "I'll do it.  I'll shave.  Sorry
Mistress," Gary stammered, as he stepped into the tub.

The Mistress raised an eyebrow, and said, "Very good slave.  Everything below
the eyebrows now.  I'll be having a snack.  Come out when you're done."  The
door slammed behind her.

Slave Gary looked around the room, and noticed the decor.  There was a man's
shaver in his hand, and some Mennen cream.  Not everything was female in the
house.  As he'd noticed from the first time up the front steps, she was either
married, or she lived with her brother - or father.  He hoped the husband didn't
come home while he was in the bath.  He'd just have to trust that JC know her
stuff.  She was really good at the assertive side of things, he realized.  The
scene wasn't fake like those he'd seen advertised in the magazines.  She was
assertive and genuine.  The thought of the real-live and down-home woman just
beyond the bathroom door inspired him to lift a leg, and begin a long stroke
that took off a razor full of hair.

She was all woman too, he realized.  She had breasts, and a pussy, a little bit
of tummy and tender feet, and she smelled womanly.  Everything about her was the
weaker sex, supposedly small and frail, and he was to subject himself to her
will, allowing himself to be used and abused because the poison in his mind, as
well as the power of her natural sex, overcame all that he was.  What was he? 
He was nothing, a slave.  These thought drove him to scrape the hairs off his
crotch and balls, tenderly stretching the scrotum so as not to nick the thin
flesh.

Yes, he thought, I'd give up my status as a male stud to serve under her feet. 
In fact, I've already done it and may as well continue, sans hair from the waist
down; it would be hard to date and act manly now, that's for sure.  Those feet
had been so small and dainty.  He'd wanted to suck her toes when he'd had them
in his hands.  Gary had finished the legs, and let the thought of being under
her feet help his hand brush the razor across his chest.

She'd mentioned he's never get in her pussy.  Of course, as the relationship
matured, that was open to debate, but right now the thought of being a
non-sexual underling to the Mistress got his cock hard.  Not a man at all, he
thought, over and over in his mind, driving the razor up and through the
formerly uncut hairs of his underarms.

It seemed as if the whole bath experience had been one foggy encounter with his
most fantasy filled recesses of his mind, and it had all centered on the words
she'd spoken so far, few as they had been.  Standing in front of the mirror,
Gary shaved his face and neck, tightening the sideburns up until they were under
the hairline.  His skin glistened with smoothness he'd not known since infancy. 
That was it, Gary told himself; I am an infant in her arms.  Only, it is mainly
the mind that is an infant, he corrected himself.  My body is her slave to work
and toil as she sees fit.  What did she have in mind, Gary wondered.  As if
snapping out of the fog of sexual thrill, Gary hurriedly toweled off, neatened
up the bathroom, and stepped out to meet JC.

He got two steps out of the room, and heard the snap of the Polaroid.  She put
the Polaroid hand down, and raised the other hand, dangling a pair of white
panties off a finger.  A wicked little smile was playing across JC's face.  "Put
them on, and step into the middle of the room.  I want another picture of my new
pussy slave."

Gary took the panties and worked awhile to find the front.  His jockey had a
seam for his prick to piss out of, but these just had a pink tag, which he
remembered from his childhood trousers, had to go in back.  They were big too,
not bikini, but the overlarge kind that he imagined his mother wearing.  As
large as they were, it surprised him to find that they didn't come over his
hipbones.  The idea that they could just ride down under pressure or time made
him feel more vulnerable in them than he had out of them.  He was transfixed by
the outline of his re-grown cock behind the fabric, and so completely missed the
photo shot.  He understood how easy it would be to be raped as a woman with only
a skirt to life and these thin panties to slide down.  Was he to be penance for
what men had encouraged in dressing women?

"I want you to put this dog collar around your nuts too.  Maybe I should have
told you before I had you put the panties on, but you can drop them a little. 
That's it.  No!  Tighten that.  I want to see those balls pop out of there. 
Better.  One more."

Gary strained to put the collar one more notch, using his fingers to keep from
pinching the testicles in the flesh.  It went one, with a tug.  His balls stood
out obscenely, and seemed under intense pressure from within.  He put the
offered leash on, and waited while JC pulled the leash between his legs.  She
finished by putting the end of the leash in his mouth, and tucking his panties
back up an inch below where he'd had the waistband before.  The head of his dick
nudged at the very thin elastic in front.  The leash wedged out at the elastic
behind.

Another photograph, and her hand went to his head, coaxing him to his knees.  JC
took the leash handle, turned around, and said, "I need you to kiss my ass. 
This is your symbolic surrender.  From now on, you are my ass kissing servant. 
You will work for the privilege of kissing my ass.  If you're good, I'll even
let you lick my ass, like a massage.  Think of it as your sexual outlet.  Now
kiss slave.  That's a good slave.  You want to touch me.  That's it; in the
crack.  Of course that's what you want.  Put your tongue right in there.  Don't
worry about getting the pants wet.  Think deep.  All men want between a woman's
legs.  As for slaves, it's pretty much the same thing, only from the back. 
You're good at this, slave.  I might keep you.  Would you like that?"

"Yes Mistress," the slave mouthed, a little muffled.

"Well, we'll see.  Come on,"  said Mistress JC, pulling at the leash.  She led
him into the bathroom.  "You've been given your first panties, but to earn the
next gift, I think we need to get some use out of you.  You implied that you
wanted to be a slave.  Slaves work for nothing; that's mainly why I've decided
to try you out.  So far, it's been take, take, take.  You owe me at least a
couple hours in here cleaning this place up.  There's a toothbrush under the
sink, and a glass with a bar of soap.  You will eat off the dirtiest thing in
this bathroom when I inspect later.  Get to work."

Slave Gary was left on his knees.  With the door behind him shut, the bathroom
seemed smaller and stuffier than it had a minute ago.  Well this is it, Gary, he
told himself.  He got the toothbrush, and started working.  There would be no
pay, no reward of sexual intercourse, no steak dinner or movie.  He knelt to the
corner under the toilet, and began to scrub.

"You're too pathetic for words, you know," said Mistress JC from behind after
the door squeaked open almost two hours later.  The bathroom sparkled, but was
still breaking his hand trying to get at the last of the mold between the tiles
on the bathtub wall.

"But the bathroom's not too bad," added the Mistress.  "Maybe I'll retain you. 
When you're done with that, you can come out into the living room and wait on
your knees in the middle of the room."

Gary answered, "Thank you, Mistress JC.  I was hoping too ..."

"You talk too much.  Try to remember that you are in someone else's house,"
corrected the Mistress.

"Yes Mistress."

Several minutes later the slave was waiting in the living room.  JC walked out
of the kitchen, instantly catching Gary's eye.  Her eyes met his, as she paused
before finding a seat on the couch.  "What are you looking at, slave?  I can see
we need to talk about what is expected.  First, I've had enough of your face. 
From now on, when you are asked to wait, this means to kneel, knees shoulder
length apart, hands flat on the floor in front of the knees, and mouth open
slightly, one inch from the floor.  Is that hard to understand, slave?"

"No, Mistress JC," answered Gary, carefully following instructions, and
modifying his position a foot in front of the Mistress.

"Turn a little.  I don't want to see your face, and I don't need to look at your
ass, so be sideways.  Now.  Here's the deal.  I'm going along with this for
perfectly pragmatic reasons.  I don't like housework.  So, the way I see it, I
can use you for that, but the problem is that when you're done, I have to put up
with you.  Are you going to be difficult, nosy or noisy, or do I have to get
someone else for the job, slave?"

"I'll be quiet, Mistress," offered slave Gary.

"OK.  Now, while you was in the bathroom, I took the liberty of checking up on
you.  You had a check stub in your car.  Is this your workplace, slave?" Asked
the Mistress.

Gary was shocked that she'd rifled through his pants and taken the keys with
which to pry.  Yet, he had offered his services.  Was she assuming too much
right, he wondered?

"Should I call?"  Asked the Mistress after his delay.

"No, Mistress.  Yes, it's where I work," said Gary sheepishly.

"Very good.  Now crawl into the bedroom.  There's no need to have a pervert
running round the house naked, so I've laid some things out for you.  Go along. 
I'll be right behind," commanded JC.

Slave Gary crawled into the bedroom, and saw a small pile of clothing on the
unmade bed.  Behind him, the Mistress prodded his pantied ass with the point of
her slipper.  "Put on the bra first.  Adjust and snap it in front, and then
twist the snaps behind you and slip your arms though the straps."

Gary was mortified, as he put the three hooker on, and adjusted the straps when
they seemed too tight.  He'd imagined becoming a sex slave to be more sexual
than he'd experienced so far.  On the other hand, the female clothing was sexual
in its own right.  Getting one's hands on a bra was every man's early fantasy. 
JC handed Gary two pair of thick wool socks.

"Stuff those little titties, honey.  What they don't know, won't hurt them," she
teased.

Until he picked it up, Gary was unsure what the next item was, other than it was
red and had a thick, red belt.

"One leg at a time, slave," commanded the Mistress, as Gary identified the mini
skirt he'd picked up.  Unlike pants, the skirt was like stepping into air.  He
inhaled deeply and zipped the side.  The belt tightened to the third hole before
JC stopped insisting he squeeze another hole.

The skirt swayed freely, open an inch below his crotch.  He imagined it
impossible to sit in the thing without exposing his panties to whomever was
near.  Women did this all the time, he thought.  The secret would be in sitting
carefully, and maybe putting his hands in his lap.  The skirt was useless as
protection against the weather, but at least his cock was no longer apparent. 
She handed him a pair of back seamed knee high stockings, which he rolled like a
pro, and eased over his toes.  Gary couldn't resist running his hands over the
nylons before straightening the seams at the top.

"Liked that, didn't you, slut," said the Mistress, noticing how he'd handled the
material.

"No Mistress.  I'm not a transvestite," said Gary, embarrassed by the thought he
might have liked it more than seemed appropriate, which was a weird thought
given he'd literally begged his way into being a slave the whole afternoon.

"Yes you are.  Yes ... you most certainly are.  And that will be about all the
sass I get form you today, slave," commanded the Mistress, pulling an ear.  "Now
put on your heels, and assume the waiting position."

Time passed eternal, as Gary waited, his head bowed, mouth open, knees spread at
the foot of the bed.  That time was interrupted by the click of the Mistress's
camera.  He noticed her feet, as she'd reentered the doorway.  The slippers were
gone, and nylons of her own encased red painted toenails.  The pretty toes left,
and were replaced by black heels a few minutes later.  Something jangled a foot
above her legs, out of the advised vision of the slave.

"Bend up slave.  Time for a little bondage.  You like bondage, don't you slave. 
All slaves like a little bondage."

"Yes Mistress," admitted the slave, noticing his cock rising so precipitously in
his panties that it caused a slight dent in the skirt.

"Put your wrists beside you at the belt."  Mistress JC snapped one side of a
handcuff across one of his wrists, looped the chain through both the side skirt
loop and the belt itself, and then secured the second half to the same wrist. 
She repeated the shackling of the second wrist in the same manner with a second
pair of handcuffs.  Gary found himself unable to move either wrist more than a
few inches, although he imagined it possible.  Then again, the belt seemed
pretty thick, he told himself, reexamining his predicament.

Mistress JC tossed the blankets off the bed with a, "You'll clean this up
later," and then pointed in the middle of the bed.  "Crawl up here, and wait
like a good bitch, slave!"

Gary made his way up the bed one knee at a time, and then waited awkwardly on
the bed.  Bent down as he was, he imagines the bottom half of his panties showed
pretty well, and wondered why that embarrassed him after he'd been naked or in
panties most of the afternoon already.  Another snap of the camera seemed to be
right behind him, maybe aimed right at the panties and skirt.

There was a pause, followed by the feeling of her touch.  The Mistress's fingers
worked the chain out of the back of his panties, and wormed it under his numb
balls, up and out the front.  After it was all done, he realized her hands, as
exciting as the touch had began, were almost clinical in the way they had
performed the task and nothing more.  She looped the chain across a bedpost,
turned off the light, and left the room.

Slave Gary awaited his fate in the dark room, hearing every footfall the
Mistress made until she turned the television back on and started rattling pans
in the more distant kitchen.

The slave tried to keep his posture, mouth an inch from the bed, but without the
use of his arms, his back ached and his head slowly fell until he rested on a
pillow.  Under his head, the bed smelled of his Mistress.  The features of the
room became more apparent as his eyes adjusted to the darkness; he reveled in
the thought that the vanity was where his Mistress dressed, and the dresser in
the corner held her most personal garments.  He was himself encased in some of
them, he was constantly reminded.  Tense with lust, the slave found it hard to
rest, but the strain soon had his back lowered until his lower and upper legs
rested one on top of the other, and his head found a crevice between the double
pillows.  Sounds from beyond the door had stopped; Gary imagined his Mistress
had found a sofa of her own to rest upon, or maybe she'd simply gone out on an
errand, a thought that aroused him even more, and for reasons he could not
imagine.

He was startled from his sleep with a crisp cusp of light as the door swung
open.

"Get that ass up in the air, bitch.  I didn't give you permission to sleep,"
commanded Mistress JC.

He'd wanted to say, "Yes Mistress," but his mouth was dry, and he realized he'd
been ordered quiet, so maybe it was best not talking.

"I have something for you," she added, her voice cold and seemingly less
personal than the one he remembered.  His eyes focused on the edge of the bed,
and he noticed the thin fabric of a black nightgown.  He dared not look further,
and watched with only a squint.

Mistress JC came to the foot of the bed.  She opened the top of the new tube of
lubricant.  His panties were slid down with a jerk, and the mouth of the tube
inserted roughly between his cheeks.  She felt around with the tube, and when it
finally found the right spot, sliding in a half inch, the tube was squeezed with
one long and hearty press of both hands.  Slave Gary felt the cold and
impersonal intrusion, and then the steady stream of cool jell as it filled the
lower tracts of his anus.  The squeeze was long and patient; with each second's
passage, more filled him until Gary was sure he'd been the receptacle of half a
tube, although he wasn't sure exactly what he'd been forced to absorb.  The
stuff seemed very slick, of that he was sure.

She withdrew, patted his ass, and said, "Good boy.  I've decided to let you have
some sex after all.  We won't be long."  The door shut the bedroom back into
darkness.

Now Gary was quite alert, and the room beyond seemed a bevy of noises, a chair
moving, a hustle of feet, and her voice.  Or was it her voice, Gary asked
himself, detecting a lower decibel.  What had she meant by we?  Someone pushed
the door open a little, and then he heard the second voice far more distinctly.

"I just didn't know ... we did, but ... If it's what you can feel com ..." Gary
made out some of it, and seemed to miss much of the meaning, as the speaker was
moving around the distant room.  What he did understand completely was the
maleness.

The door was banged the rest of the way open, and Gary opened his eyes
completely now, oblivious to the notion that his Mistress wanted him to not
look.  In the doorway the Mistress stood beside a man.  They were laced
together, arm and arm, the man's hand down low behind her, and her with both
arms surrounding his body.

"Well, what do you think?"  She asked him, as if offering a gift, nuzzling her
face into his chest.

"It needs some work, but I can see potential.  Does it satisfy your needs, baby? 
I mean, does the slave perform its duties,"  The man asked.

"The bathroom's spotless.  Now you'll have to promise me one thing," she said.

"What?"

"You'll have to promise that you won't take this as an excuse to have sex with
whomever you want.  That's part of why I've decided to indulge you your
fantasies, and to find a way to make it mine," explained the Mistress.

"I wouldn't have done that before.  You know that," said the man sheepishly.

"I doubt that," said the Mistress, rashly.  "Boys will be boys, and women know
how things get out of hand."

Gary watched the scene in the doorway with round eyes.  He wondered if they were
going to have a family squabble right there.  The man was not all that much of a
hunk either.  He guessed him to be a hundred and thirty-five pounds in wet
clothes.  Like the Mistress, he was younger.  The unmistakable gleam of a
wedding ring matched the one that had found its way upon the hand of the
Mistress.

"Give it a try.  I really do want to see this," said JC.  To Gary's horror, her
hand started unbuckling the belt of her husband's pants.  The man responded by
kissing her mouth, which upturned to meet his darting tongue.  The hand not on
her ass, found and caressed a breast.  With the belt barely undone, the Mistress
kissed her husband's chest, and undid the buttons on his shirt so that both his
pants and shirt were half undone, before kneeling in front of her man, where
slave Gary could only see the back of her head.  The head paused, and then,
after her fingers were done with the busy work in front of her face, started to
boob at the man's crotch.  She moaned with relish at her task.

The husband's breathing grew fast, as he looked down at his wife's pout mouth
consuming his cock.  She looked up at him, noting the strength of his erection,
and taking pride in what she'd been able to do after so many years of
familiarity.  When she looked down again, and her eyes closed, the husband
looked away, and over to the bed where the slave was waiting.

Gary noted the glance, and looked away in utter shame.  With his head down in
the pillows, he imagined the scene more show than real.  Certainly the Mistress
will blow her husband and then let him go.  The slave had fantasized about being
forced to serve a male, but now that it was so near, he couldn't imagine
actually going through with it.  In fact, he'd never imagine going through with
it, and knew he had no gay compulsions.  And, hadn't she asked just that
afternoon if he was gay.  Hadn't he said no?  Certainly she would respect his
limitations, slave Gary thought.

Watching the slave's face bury itself in the pillows, JC's husband found it much
more appealing.  After all, he was not as much into gays as he was into Tvs, and
this slave didn't even have makeup on.  That was more like it, head buried deep
in the ground like an ostrich.  The slave's shaven legs, and pantied ass made
his cock grow even harder though.  He was going to explode in his wife's mouth
and lose the edge if he didn't get her to stop soon.

"Come on, baby.  I think I'm ready," said the husband.

"I think so too," said Mistress JC, her lips speaking to the red hot prick an
inch from her tongue.  She helped him remove his shoes and socks, step the rest
of the way out of his pants and lose the shirt by the door.  "Don't worry about
the mess.  The slave will take care of it later," she explained, as she guided
her husband by his hand to the foot of the bed.

It was her hands the slave felt lower his panties to the crease at his knees. 
It was her breath he felt at his side as she cupped his face in her hand.  It
was her voice that explained harshly, "Scooch up, and get up on the knees like I
taught you.  And, keep quiet; this is between me and my husband.  If you screw
up our private time, you'll regret it, slave; I promise that; I'll make your
life hell.  Don't forget I have pictures and information on you from your car."

Feeling the hand of doom encase him, Gary scooted up until his head was nearly
to the headboard, and raised his ass up high.  His whole body trembled with
dread and nerves.  The mattress at the base of the bed sank with a new, heavy
weight, and for the first time, he felt the hands of his new Master grip the
bones of his waist.  This was real, the slave told himself.  This is really
going to happen!

Mistress JC said, "Well, go ahead honey.  I'll just lay back beside you two, and
play with my tits," adding, "Look the other way, slave!  My tits are for the
man."

The head of a cock poked him on a cheek of his ass, and then adjusted towards
the crack, leaving a tiny but memorable wet spot on the virgin ass, followed by
the strange sensation of silky flesh just above his anus.  It probed, and
missed, forcing Gary's head forward where it thudded lightly on the headboard. 
The next thrust was closer, and came away with a little lubricant on the crown
of the Master's head.  Finally, Gary felt the tip of JC's husband's cock touch
his anus exploringly.

He tried to clinch his muscles tight, but the lubricant forced an intrusion that
seemed an inch.  At what point am I fucked, wondered slave Gary.  He'll quit. 
He'll not like it, and quit, the slave hoped.

"That's it, sweety' fuck her.  Fuck her good," squealed Mistress JC.  "She wants
it so bad.  Look at how she's got her ass up waiting for you!"  The Mistress's
words fought against Gary's hope of reprieve.

"Oh, no.  Please," begged Gary, realizing the impact of the next thrust would
surely be the one that would forever take away his hetrosexuality.

"Yes, baby," said Mistress JC's husband, to JC, and ignoring the slave's
meaningless pleas.  "She'll be so much better for you later, but first you have
to break her in.  Be gentle," JC added with a giggle.

"No, wait," the Mistress said, changing her mind.  The bed shifted, as she got
up, and ran from the room.  Gary breathed a sigh of relief, hoping she'd
relented after all.  Then the Mistress returned, and he heard the familiar click
of her camera.  "Go on now.  I wanted to get the first good penetration on
film."

"Oh, God, no!" said Gary, not too loudly to anger the Mistress, but enough to
let them know he objected to being queered for real.

"Ignore him, honey.  I have lots of film to prove he begged for it.  Keep your
head down, slave!  I've forgotten your makeup," the Mistress injected.  Gary
felt her sit down beside him again, and felt her arm across his back, laid there
like he was an armrest.  He imagined her looking over his ass as her husband
finished the deed.

Again, the penis missed the spot, but fully lubricated, found it a half second
later, and slid in what seemed like the same inch.  Gary's eyes bulged as he
watched the crease between the pillows, bed and headboard.  The things he saw
were inanimate objects, although smooth and comforting, he thought.  That's what
I am too; an inanimate, but comforting object, he resolved to be in order to
endure.  And then, the penis penetrated the inch a third time, and waited.  It
eased back a fraction, and slid in a second inch.

"Loosen up, slave.  You can save trying to be tight for when you're ass is tired
and stretched," the Mistress said with a laugh.

Gary felt pain on the next thrust, as the penis penetrated three inches,
although he couldn't be sure of the distance, the feeling in his ass were not
refined, he knew.  His only chance was to relax, he realized, or else the
fucking was going to be very painful.  Gary tried to relax, imagining himself
taking a shit.  The cock eased back, as if confirming the common act of
extricating.

Taking advantage of the surrender, JC's husband pushed forward.  Although Gary
had imagined himself being fucked a full three inches, JC and her husband had
only seen an inch of cock disappear until that one.  The cock buried itself a
deep seven inches into the slave with one massive plunge.

"That's better slave.  Now you've been fucked.  Might as well get used to it,
and learn to like it.  Fuck him good honey.  I want you to cum in her and make
her take your little babies," she teased.

Gary realized she'd been right.  He was now being fucked, he couldn't deny it. 
Once fucked, always fucked.  There was no use denying what they'd done to him. 
He was their whore; he'd been taken.  It was no longer a could be or a hoped for
reprieve.  She had made him surrender his masculinity to her, and shared it with
her husband; much of it against his will.  Strange as hell, and against the
slave's utter feelings of shame, the understanding of his rape made his cock
twitch.  Gary got hard, and as the fucking proceeded, steady and slow, rough and
hot, and finally, steady and grunting, the slave cried in his pillow with the
shame that he might grow to like it.  The Mistress's camera clicked, capturing
his tears with a flash.

"Oh, God, baby.  I'm going to cummmmm!"  The Master extracted his tool, and shot
hot wads of sperm actross the ass and back of the zombic slave.  Then, before
the last spasm, quickly rammed the penis into the still gaping hole of Gary's
pussy ass, injecting the remaining cum as deeply as he could probe.  He held his
prick in place, and let it hum, beat and tense a few more times.  Mistress JC
came to kiss him, and then bent forward, licking the hot cum off of the slave's
back.

The sight of his wife's head licking the cum excited the Master so much that his
dick seemed to gain new life, but as she came up to kiss him, his passion
changed to comfort and tenderness.  The prick slowly lost it's size, and
dribbled out of the slave hole, where it waved limply.

This tenderness was almost new to the Mistress, having had to satisfy his
desires to dominate.  Today, he had a new plaything to dominate, so she would
have his tender side, she realized.  That was fine with her; she'd always wanted
more control in her sex.  Things were working out very kindly indeed.

"Slave.  The key is on the kitchen table.  Crawl out there, and unlock the
cuffs.  I want you to lock them back in place in front of you, wrist to wrist. 
Then you can tidy up the living room and kitchen.  And, be quiet.  We're going
to cuddle," commanded the Mistress.

Slave Gary, mortified, and queened, his panties still down around his knees,
fell off the bed, and crawled out the door.  Behind him, the Master added, "And
close the door, bitch!"

The word bitch was met by the ring of a smack in his ear, and the sting of the
Mistress's hand on his ass.  Gary jolted awake for real this time.  His eyes and
mind was fuzzy, and as he adjusted, Gary realized he'd dreamed the entire
episode with the man.  The Mistress was behind him, leveling a second smack
across the second cheek, prompting the slave to raise his ass in a more proper
posture.

How he'd managed to sleep so suddenly and so soundly, tight in anticipation as
he'd been could only be explained by the fact that he'd spent most the previous
night in fits, unable to sleep.  The idea of actually going to the home of a
real Mistress had enlivened his senses, and at the same time, doomed him to a
crash that had left him seeming less than enthusiastic.  He'd not wanted to seem
unappreciative to his Mistress, but this was what he feared might be the case. 
He'd have to convince her he'd not intended to be lethargic, and said, "Thank
you, Mistress!"

"Didn't I tell you not to speak!"  Insisted the Mistress.  When the slave bowed
his head deeper, in agreement, Mistress JC added, "all right, I'll let you say
simple things like thank you Mistress and yes Mistress, but only for awhile. 
But, if you break into some kind of diatribe, I'll make you eat a bar of soap
just to ensure you never forget.  Rules are mine to make, and yours to remember,
slave!  Now get up, and crawl into the living room for some instruction."

The slave crawled after the Mistress, for the first time since being led to the
bed, seeing her as he crawled behind.  The heels were there, and the seamed
stockings.  Above that, he dared only look high enough to notice a sensuous
black skirt.  His kneed burned on the carpet without the aid of his hands which
were still chained securely at his sides.  His chin touched his chest, strained
to not look too far up, because if he hunched too far over, he'd lose his
balance.  She led him by the chain, tugging at time for amusement and then took
a seat on her favorite chair.  He bowed, his head inches from the floor, mouth
slightly open, one foot in front of her toes.

"Kiss my feet.  Take off the shoes, and kiss the red toes first," commanded JC.

The slave crawled forward, and then bent, almost falling into the toes.  His
mouth loosened the heels, and took them off, taking time to make sure they were
positioned right side up to the side.  He touched the first little toe on her
left foot, and kissed tenderly, before proceeding to the next and the next.  He
wanted dearly to rise and let his lips wander up the leg, but her hand on the
leash made him aware of her constant monitoring.

A tug, pulled his groin wickedly, and the Mistress commanded, "Kiss the insteps. 
I want you groveling, thinking about the place you are meant to be.  Kiss the
instep and imagine yourself underfoot.  That's right, you perverted slimeball. 
On over the arch now.  The heel next.  Kiss the heel passionately, not like a
little boy kissing his cousin!  Better!  Better."  She shifted the feet, and
left him to kiss the bottoms.

"Now that matter of sleeping without permission....  It was, to be polite, rude. 
Was you not told to maintain a certain posture of respect?"  Asked the Mistress.

"Yes Mistress," the slave ventured.

"Close your eyes, and lift your face up here where I can get to it," she
commanded.

The slave reluctantly left the honored position of kissing the Mistress's feet,
and raised until his back was straight.  He kept his eyes closed tightly,
willing himself to comply correctly, and make himself a good slave for the
Mistress he'd just been honored to kiss.  Her fingers found his nipples and
played teasingly.  They continued, irritating the nipples as the fingers played
them with steady upward flips.  He wanted to move away, and moan, but kept
himself still, wanting most of all to please.  A minute passed, and then
another, the slave almost feeling the Mistress thinking about what to do next.

"I'll have to correct you for sleeping on the job, your job being a slave to my
whim after all.  Did I tell you that you could sleep?"

"No Mistress," said the slave.

That was met with a slap to the cheek that moved the unseeing slave's head
several inches, and left a red mark of four fingers.  "Never tell your Mistress
no, slave!  Be more creative."

The slave thought, and then said, "I have no excuse, Mistress."

A second slap, this time from the other direction, stung his cheek and left a
hot burning sensation.  "Too many words slave.  I guess you just can't win. 
And, of course, that's exactly how I like it.  I love it when the slave can't
win, and is fodder for my correction.  Of course, if you'd not been a fool and
fallen asleep, you'd not be in this mess at all.  That's the point, perhaps;
don't give me an excuse to put you in an unredeemable situation."

The servant took the opportunity to answer, "Yes Mistress."

"Oh, you are clever after all, shithead....  Now, since you will need to be
punished for sleeping, and since I want to keep your ass in respectable
condition for your complete feminization, I'll have to punish your face.  It
will leave you with rosy cheeks anyway, and that's exactly how they should
always be.  Saves foundation," the Mistress said with a chuckle.

Gary could sense the Mistress shift her position and reach for something on the
table beside her chair.  "Now be very still, honey.  This will only hurt you,
and not me, so you'll not need to fret.  I bought this paddle just for this sort
of thing."

A whistle of air preceded the smack of a leather paddle across the slave's
cheek.  Two seconds later, the burn rushed across the cheek as if an
afterthought.  The Mistress put the weapon in the other hand.  It was made of
black leather, about a foot long, and an inch wide across it's mostly flat
length.  The mark on the cheek was deep red and rectangular.

 "Smack!"  The second cheek took its first blow.  Tears swelled involuntarily in
the slave's eyes, and started to flow across the two ribbons of red.  "Very
irregular," observed the Mistress, aiming the next blow to even out the
rectangular marks and give more of an all around crimson glow.  Six more blows
left the slave visibly sobbing.  Try as he may, Gary could not control the
natural body reaction.  Of course, the control he could muster made him seem
more a baby than ever.  The Mistress delighted at the futile attempt.

Yet, she took pity, and pushed his head down to her skirt covered crotch. 
"There, there slave.  Put your head down.  Feel my pussy with your forehead. 
Wouldn't you love to be kissing my pussy right now, panty boy?  Sure you would,"
she added, feeling his head bob up and down in affirmation.

"What would you be willing to do for the right to eat my pussy, slave?"

The slave risked, "Anything, Mistress," muffled by the clothing that nearly
suffocated him as the Mistress rested her paddle hand on the back of his head.

"Oh, that's lovely.  Anything, Mistress, the slave says.  Well, you couldn't
maintain your posture for a couple of little hours, and you fell asleep without
permission, and you have just about talked me out of house and home, but now you
say, 'Anything Mistress' like it's nothing at all.  I think you've a long way to
go before you can give willing consent to, 'Anything Mistress.'"

"Yes Mistress," the slave said.

"Oh, so you agree?  Are you asking for more, slave?  Is that what I detect in
that?  Yes, Mistress, I'm ready for the journey!  That's what I think I heard. 
Jesus, Gary, so far you've only cleaned the smallest room in the house, and took
a nap.  Your boats barely left the dock.  We'll find out just how much you want
to eat my pussy all right.  Now get up," said the Mistress, yanking up on the
chain.

Slave Gary raised to his feet, and let the Mistress lead him across the room.

"Head up, slave.  I think by looking down, standing as you are, you'll see too
much of me.  Head up, to the ceiling.  There you go, slut.  That way you can't
look at your skirt and bra either.  I know how that turns you fucking perverts
on.  Too bad you haven't earned any heels to go with your stockings, slut. 
We'll work on that right away.  Over here!  Open the closet door!  The handle is
right down there by your right hand," commanded Mistress JC.

He had walked over to the closet on his tiptoes due to the tightness of her hold
on the leash, growing to dislike his own collared balls that had stretched a
couple of inches from his body, twisted over his lopsided erection.  With his
head up, he could see the top of the door frame, and fumbled around for the
handle, opening the closet.  The wonderfully sexy fingers of Mistress JC looped
the handle of the leash across the closet clothing rod, and pulled until the
slave had to walk into the closet and strain on his toes.  A shelf in front of
the slave wedged into his face.  He could only see hats and other miscellaneous
weather gear on the shelf, or the glowing bulb just above.  The Mistress tied
off the leash with a square knot, flipped off the bulb, and banged the door
against the slave's ass.  It wouldn't close all of the way, allowing a crack of
light to illuminate the preposterous position of the slave.

Standing in the room, Mistress JC laughed to herself, seeing the side of the
slave from her seat in the living room.  He was standing very still, and
obedient, she thought.  Maybe he'll do?  Maybe he's just what I've been needing? 
Well, we'll find out, she told herself.

First, let's see if he knows how to stay out of the way for awhile - without
going to sleep.  Nothing can be worse than a slave always underfoot, she's
imagined, flicking on the television with the remote control.  She flicked by a
couple of football games, imagining the slave at home on a normal day, a beer
beside him, screaming at some ref's bad call.  Oh good, she thought, finding an
old classic movie.  She picked up the phone, ordered a pizza, and sat back in
her chair to enjoy the show.  A glance at the closet told her that the slave
hadn't moved an inch, except for a line of sweat that glistened from under his
arm, and had made it's way over the bra strap to one of the cuffs at the waist
of his skirt.  Her face burst into a full smile, which stayed until the pizza
boy knocked at the door.

"Come in!"  She yelled, getting up on her stockinged feet to meet him at the
door.

The boy came in, holding a pizza and six pack of soda.  "That's nine, fifty
three, please," he said, taking the pizza out of the warmer and putting it on
the coffee table.

JC looked around the room and then said, "Oh yes," before walking to the closet
and pulling open the door.  She leaned over the slave, and plucked her purse off
of the top shelf.  Turning around, the Mistress pushed the closet door shut {all
the way this time), and retrieved a ten from her purse while walking back over
to the pizza boy.

The boy looked in a state of shock when she looked up and handed him the bill. 
"What's the matter; never seen a feminized slave before?"

"No ma'am.  Sorry ma'am," he answered with a stammer.

"Maybe next time I'll buy my pizza out of your ass," she teased with a smile
that almost looked kind.

"Not me, lady.  I'm just the pizza delivery guy," admitted the boy, who fumbled
for the change and quickly lilted through the door.  Mistress JC watched him
retreat through the opening, and shut the door with a laugh.  Sure; the boy was
a stud.  They all are studs when they're eighteen, she told herself.  On the
other hand, ten years from now he'll be thinking about that offer.  Ten years
from now he'll be driving by the door, looking in the cracks of the windows as
he passes ... wondering.  "Like planting seeds," the Mistress said, positively
giddy.

She went over to the television, turning down the sound, and then went by the
closet door which she opened all the way.  The slave was shaking with dread at
having been seen, and at the strain of being on his toes for most of an hour. 
JC loosened the leash, but retied it so the slave could only back up about a
foot.

"all right, foot lackey, tell me what you was dreaming about in there before I
had to punish you and send you to the closet.  You seemed to be into something
from the way your ass was sashaying," mused the Mistress.

"Yes Mistress.  It was just a dream about you," evaded the cross dressed
servant.

"Me doing what, slave?"

"Well, it was mostly your husband.  You was at the door of the bedroom, hugging
and kissing him, and, you know, kind of gloating over me," confessed Gary.

"Oh really?  Tell me more, cunt!"  Her voice grew crisp.

"Well, he ended up raping me, while you looked on.  It was very embarrassing,
because as you know, I'm not gay, Mistress," explained the slave.

"You're what I think you are, assume nothing, bitch," spat the Mistress, a bit
angrily.

"Yes Mistress."

"What am I going to do with you slave.  Do you really think I need a man, you
worthless bootlicking cunt?  A man's place is kneeling at my feet.  Once again
you assume too much; first the excessive chatter, and now you've imagined I need
a husband in my life.  Should I share you with another, it will be another
dominant female and her huge strap on.  Twice now flaws in your slave mentality
have occurred.  I should have corrected you more harshly the first time. 
Perhaps what you need is to have the sting of my leather studded paddle across
your backside.  And, then I should violate your asshole with something the size
of my fist while you beg for my forgiveness.  Are you clear as to who we are and
how far we need to go if we are to be compatible, asshole?"  The Mistress fumed.

"Yes, Mistress."

She untied the slave's leash, led him abruptly to the door, and made him kneel
facing it.  Gary couldn't imagine what she was up to, but was suddenly stuck by
a pile of clothing thrust across his body.  He looked aside, and with cuffed
hands, gathered his old male clothing.  The Mistress came behind him, and kicked
his side, causing him to lean over, and at the same time, making it easier for
her to uncuff the first hand.  It seemed the party was over.  A sense of lost
opportunity engulfed the slave, leaving him perplexed.

"Here's what I've decided, slave.  I think you have potential, but there have
been problems with your tact, as well as your demeanor.  You talk excessively,
and sleep without permission.  Then you insult me with this macho concept that
all women need a man, me hugging and kissing on him indeed.  You've grown
tiring, and it's getting late," explained the Mistress.

"I'm sorry, Mistress.  I'll do better," the slave begged.

"Sure you will," she said sarcastically.

"I will; I promise," pleaded the slave.

"Take off the leash and collar, and put your clothes on, slave.  Over the female
clothing, but leave the skirt," she flatly said, returning to the couch, and
opening her box of pizza.  The room fell silent for a few minutes while the
slave dressed.  He dreaded the thought of losing what he'd only recently found
most taxing.

"I'll tell you want," she finally said as he finished.  "I'm going to be
interviewing a couple of more potential slaves the next couple of days, if for
no other reason than to get this place cleaned up; I had intended for you to do
it, but we spent so much of the day sleeping and tied up with punishment
therapy.  Basically, you've been useless," she started.

"Yes Mistress," the slave injected.

"Was I done, slave?"  She asked.

"Sorry Mistress," the slave answered, remembering not to say no to the Mistress.

"If they don't work out any better, I may give you a second chance.  That is, if
you are willing to wait for it.  Are you willing to wait for your Mistress's
answer, slave?  After all, waiting is what you slaves seem least capable of," 
Mistress JC asked.

"Yes Mistress," Gary answered.

"Very well then.  Under your work clothing you will have to wear what you have
on now.  When you get home from work, hand wash them, and dry them on a warm
temperature.  While this is going on, you will shave ... everything ... and
bath, and eat, but be quick about it.  Then, when the clothing is dry, put the
undergarments back on, but nothing else.  You will wait for one week by the
phone.  Every night, from seven, or as soon as you are ready, to twelve, you
will be on your knees in the bathroom, with the phone on the toilet in front of
you.  You will not use the toilet during this time, nor will you do anything
else.  If someone calls, you will tell them that you have to cut it short.  A
note pad and pen will be by the sink in case I leave instructions.  Is this
clear so far, cunt?"  The Mistress asked.

"Thank you Mistress," the slave said, hoping to butter her up and win her
approval.

"If after a week I don't call, you will know that you have been rejected.  As a
way of thanking me for considering you enough to reject you, you will wait
exactly one more week by the phone as previously instructed.  This is because
you are a slave, and I need not tire myself with you in order for you to
understand the facts of your own existence.  A week of penance for having been
born in the disguise of a man is only appropriate behavior in your case.  After
the two weeks, you will return the undergarments to me cleaned and pressed by
mail, and never ever try to contact me again." she explained.

"Yes Mistress," said the slave.

"I'm keeping one of the pictures for your boss if you do contact me without
approval.  Here, you can keep the rest.  Don't lose them!" The Mistress said,
handing the pictures to Gary, and opening up the door.

Gary looked back sheepishly, caught her face, and then, remembering, dropped his
eyes to her feet, before backing out the door.  The door shut loudly, and her
hand brushed aside the living room curtains a couple of seconds later.  Unable
to turn around, slave Gary backed down the front walkway, until a couple of
concrete stairs made him turn around.  The silken feel of thigh high nylons and
panties twisted against his flesh as he spun.  the panties made a wedgie up his
ass, a surprisingly delightful intrusion.  Looking down, he could see the clear
outline and discoloration offered by the bra under his thin shirt.  He noticed
this in spite of the fact that it was pitch dark out, and may have been for
hours he thought.

Gary realizing he had no idea of the time, but was incredibly hungry.  Still, he
doubted if he could eat, as excited as he was.  He'd do everything right, he
told himself.  He'd bow at that toilet and wait and she'd call, he willed,
glancing at the house over and over again, even as his car idled around the last
curve within sight.

On Monday, the slave rushed home.  The bra snaps were digging little u shaped
notched into the small of his back as he squirmed in the car.  At work, he'd
been forced to wear a heavy shirt during the warmest part of the shift, and his
nylons itched around the thighs.

He rushed into the house, threw in a microwave meal, and stripped.  By the time
he'd run a sink of warm water, and made bubbles with the laundry detergent, the
meal was done.  Gary gobbled the food, wondering why he'd lost so much appetite,
in spite of the fact that he'd barely eaten lunch.  There was this gnawing
twisting in his stomach, anticipation or overwhelming sexual stimulation, he
couldn't say for sure.  It was five thirty when he'd eaten the last of the
smallish meal, and began his chore of scrubbing the lingerie.  The fabric felt
fine to his fingers.  He imagined that they were his Mistress's clothing, and
that she was standing right behind him, paddle in hand, forcing him to work more
carefully.  Below the edge of the sink, his liberated cock bobbed and weaved
heavily with penned up stimulation.

While the clothing dried, he went about extending the phone cord so it would
reach the bathroom, and set down an extra rug for what he knew would be a long
night of waiting.  He bathed, and shaved, his skin already a little stubbled.

He would be doing this every night, he reminded himself, as he curled on the
thigh high stockings and smoothed on the panties.  Gary snapped the bra clasps,
twisted it around, and then looped his arms into the straps that had been
adjusted for maximum play.  The cups came down nice and low over his shaved
breasts.  Flat as he was, the C cups sagged limply until he filled the with a
pair of forms he'd purchased on his lunch break.

A half hour early, the slave started his first day of waiting.  There was
absolutely nothing to do, and it seemed like every second lingered.  By seven
o'clock, the knees started to ache, and the slave had to rest himself by sitting
a few minutes.  It wasn't as if she could actually see how he was seated, the
slave told himself, so by eight he stretched out for a minute of relaxation. 
He'd hoped she'd call right away, but it wasn't going to be that easy, Gary
realized as the evening wore on.  Maybe he'd spend some time finishing the plans
for the den, he thought, just as the phone rang.  Clutching it quickly, so as to
not let it ring a second time and make the Mistress think he'd not been right in
front of the phone, the slave quickly said, "Hello!"

There was a pause, and then the other end clicked.  When the dial tone returned,
he put the receiver back.  She'd just checked on me, the slave imagined, or
maybe it was just a wrong number?  He couldn't be sure, but he didn't get a lot
of wrong numbers, he assured himself.  Down below, his cock was pounding, but he
didn't want to beat off, knowing how much more obedient he'd likely be if he
waited until eleven, only two hours away now.

After ten he got a second call, only this time it was someone from his old
College wanting alumni money.  It took him three minutes to get them off.  God,
if she'd called just then, he'd never hear from her again.  He wondered why that
was important.  After all, this wasn't sex, this was one person abusing another
for selfish pleasure.  Why did he put up with it?  Why did he need it?  The
slave waited, the missing answer as elusive as the writing on the newspaper a
dog retrieves for his Master.

Eleven came and passed.  He stripped off his underwear, set them on the chair
for Tuesday, beat his meat until he came, and then went to bed naked, feeling
the slightest breeze across his close shaven body.  But, Tuesday came and went
without any calls, as did the next two days.  Friday was a wrong number, and on
the weekend, slave Gary couldn't force himself to leave the house, even during
the morning and afternoon when he was supposedly free.

Of course, all of this time, the slave wore his feminine undergarments.  They
reminded him of her, and she had insisted  Getting used to the clothing, he
worried that someone might come over and he'd forget he was dressed in bra and
panties until after he answered the door.

Sunday night, day seven, he waited.  It was ten till eleven, and the slave felt
the pangs of rejection.  She was playing with him, he realized.  There were
plenty of slaves in the sea of demented men, and he wasn't the most handsome man
on earth.  The Mistress could pick the best of the litter, or maybe she just
liked toying with one after the other.  He felt a fool, but he waited.  Then,
just at eleven, the phone rang.  On the other end, he could hear someone
breathing, but they didn't answer his hello.  After a half minute, he said hello
again, forcing himself to sound pleasant.  Ten seconds passed, and the phone
hang up.  It was past eleven, the seventh day.

He felt, well, relieved in a way.  The slave got up, and masturbated three times
to a porno flick.  Around one in the morning he finally had his fill, and fell
asleep on the floor.  It took all he had to make it to work, and as he drug in
that evening, he determined that he'd not wait by the phone, but at seven he had
a change of heart.  His cock was getting hard again, and he'd worn the feminine
clothing just for fun.  He'd not shaved the stubble, but what the hell, he said,
it's just a week, so Gary went into the bathroom, and got on his knees feeling
very relaxed.  Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and then on Friday he had a
hang-up.  Saturday he slept all day, watched one movie and went into the
bathroom where he'd put a chair and read a book.  The phone rang, and he
gingerly picked it up on the second ring.

"Slave!  Why did it take two rings?  I don't have all day to waste with you." 
The voice sounded unfamiliar.

"Mistress?"  Slave Gary said and asked in one word.

"I can hear the echo.  That's the only thing saving your ass right now.  If I
had any reason to believe you wasn't in the bathroom as instructed, I'd have
hung up immediately, and you'd be ownerless," said the Mistress.

"Thank you, Mistress Anna," the confused slave cowtowed.

"OK.  This is Mistress Anna.  I had a talk with your owner and she said you may
have some potential, and asked me to give her a second opinion.  Is this
acceptable to you, slave?"  Asked the new Mistress.

"Yes Mistress," said the slave, his head swirling.  He'd been planning his
Sunday, and now everything seemed back to the lifestyle altering event of a
couple of weeks ago.  Well, he thought, it would be fun, and they did this once
a week or two, why not play along.

"I'll have my driver pick you up in thirty minutes.  Be properly prepared. 
Mistress JC didn't exactly tell me how that would be, but I trust she has left
you with ample instructions on how to impress me," instructed the Mistress. 
"Wait by the front door in the proper position, with the door unlocked.  There
will be no assumption that an invitation is needed.  You are a slave after all."

"Yes Mistress," said the slave to her hanging up phone.  "Jesus, I have to
rush," he said to himself, cleaning up the bathroom, and turning on the hot
water so he could rush a proper body shave.  Twenty minutes later, the slave was
bowed at the door, wearing only a long coat and loafers over his only accepted
clothing.

An engine neared, followed by the sound of tires on the driveway.  The engine
stopped, and an eternal half minute later one car door opened and closed.  Some
shoes neared, and immediately a hand turned and opened the door.  He slave eyes
down, mouth slightly open, and body bowed a few feet back from the door, the
slave could only make out black pants and shoes.  The person moved beside, and
inches close to the slave.  His coat was roughly pulled from his body, and
replaced with a paper thin pink blanket.  A leash was dropped over his neck. 
From behind, the driver snapped a pair of handcuffs over each wrist as they were
pulled back behind the slave.

The slave Gary was tugged up by the back of his panties, and led out the door. 
He hoped to God none of the neighbors could see him there on the porch, just
standing with a pink blanket over himself, his head down as if shamed, but he
doubted if anyone did because his house was fairly well shaded.  Behind him, the
driver left him on the porch while he did something inside the house that took
forever.  Slave Gary waited, but amused himself with the thought that at least
by now he was used to waiting for things.  After all, the action was sure to be
soon.  Of course, that terrified him immensely, even as it made his cock hard.

He heard the driver return, close the door, and use keys to lock it shut. My own
keys no doubt, imagined the slave. Pushed roughly, the pathetic minion was
shoved face first into the back seat of the car.  Once well in, the driver's
hand shoved his head down behind the driver's seat as if to say, "Keep it there,
and don't move."  The car started, and drove until the city lights became an
occasional refection of headlights.  Finally, nearly an hour later, the car
wound up and then down a drive, where it stopped.  The driver got out and left. 
The slave waited, his back nearly broken from bending over and under the seat. 
Outside, it must have been dark, because in the car was pitch blackness.  Then,
somewhere not too distant, a porch light lit, and he could hear the sound of
several feet return.

The door was yanked open, and he was pulled from the car.  He found himself
under the feet of a lady in jeans and sneakers, and the mysterious driver.

"Mistress JC informed me that you weren't much use when she met you.  I don't
have that problem.  My policy is simple.  I beat you sick the first time I meet
you, and then from that point on we have an understanding of fear.  But, I do
give my slave's choices.  I'll give you your first choice now, slave.  Do you
want me to beat you or not?"

"Yes Mistress," the slave said with dread.

"Very good start then.  If you'd said no, I'd have been inspired to beat you so
badly I'd not have much further use for you.  See how my choices work?" Laughed
the Mistress.  "Now stay on your knees, slut.  I want to walk you like a dog. 
Do you want to be walked like a dog, slave?"

"Yes Mistress."

"Ha!  Excellent.  I think Mistress JC will enjoy the improvements we make
together.  The improvements have already begun, haven't they, cunt?"  The drive
took the slave's pink blanket off, as Mistress Anna grabbed the leash closely,
and held the slave's head a foot and a half off the grass.  His hands were
useless, cuffed behind him, so he found himself totally reliant upon her to keep
his body up.

"Yes.  Mistress," the slave managed to gag when he found a breath.  What had he
done now, he wondered.  This was more than he'd bargained for.

With a, "Come along, bitch," and a steady forward tug on the leash that was
nearly suffocating, the slave struggled forward to a distant side door on the
dark side of the large country house.

The entranceway was a small square four yards and dark.  Forward to the left,
four steps led up to the kitchen of the main house, which was dimly lit by a
light in a further room.  Off to the right side was a large open shelf with an
assortment of household maintenance materials.  Almost directly in front of
them, a second door opened into a cellar.  The slave had to wait outside, while
the Mistress unlocked the basement door with a church key that was tied to a
string which was in turn nailed to the wall.  The door squealed opened, hiding
the shelf, and displaying a row of rickety wooden stairs which ended in
blackness where the naked twenty watt bulb on the entranceway ceiling abruptly
cut its shadow.

"come along behind me, doggie," teased the Mistress, stepping onto the first
step.  She yanked the leash, and the slave entered the entranceway.  Behind him,
the driver shoved at his butt, and forced him to take the first step down.  He
did so awkwardly, toes on the stairs, knees hovering about the next few steps
down, and his upward body being supported by the taunt strain of Mistress Anna's
hands on the leash.  Just before the first leap, he'd managed a breath, but now
he was unable to breath under the weight, and took the next step quickly.

"God, you're a heavy bitch.  Make the next step more smoothly, or I'll be forced
to drop you.  I could see you now, lying at the bottom of the stairs with a
broken arm, and me having only just begun," Mistress Anna teased as he took the
next few steps.  Half way down, he was stepping into blackness, and wanting
desperately to see his destination, but wanting most of all to breath.  Long
before the last step he imagined the journey's end near, but the cellar was
deep, the steps seemingly endless.  Near the last step, the smell grew wet with
mold.  Finally, the last step came, and the Mistress let go of the leash.  The
slave quickly sagged, and let his head rest on the cool concrete floor where he
sucked in panting breaths.

"I love it when they think it's over, and it has only just begun; don't you,
Penelopy?" Mistress Anna asked the driver as she reached for a light.

"Yes Mistress, Anna.  He must be very happy to be breathing right now," answered
the driver.  For the first time, slave Gary heard her voice, and realized the
driver must be a woman.

"Well, we mustn't assume things.  Do you hear me, slave.  Never assume that you
have a right to breath my air!  Anything can be taken from you, if you disobey
me.  Now crawl over here, and keep your eyes on the floor.  That's right.  Crawl
on your knees, right behind me.  Follow my shoes.  There we go.  Now stand up,
and look up at the ceiling."

"Should I take the hoist, Mistress," asked Penelopy, a bit overly
enthusiastically.

"Listen to yourself.  Sometimes I doubt your masochism, bitch.  But, you do hate
man so very nicely.  That's why I let you help me with these projects.  OK, but
don't be too eager.  Remember, bitch.  I'm the Mistress here!"  Said the
Mistress.

The slave listened to this, his eyes finding the ceiling.  As they came from
floor to ceiling, he noticed the Mistress.  She had wonderful blond hair that
cascaded over her body.  There were off colored strands of blond that made her
witching.  Her clothing was rather plain, as if the entire affair was much of
the normalcy of her day.  This was not play at all, he instantly realized, but a
part of her lifestyle.  As the driver, she was dressed in a black chauffeur's
outfit, complete with cap.  At her crotch, the slave noticed something gleaming,
but didn't have the time to make out the details.  It could have been a buckle,
or leather, or anything, the slave's curiosity was piqued.

On the ceiling, however, was a small but unmistakable block and tackle.  The
ceiling here was nearly eleven feet tall, and the latch hook at the bottom of
the tackle about nine feet above his head.  It started a slow descent as the
driver moved the gears from a winch across the room.  Off to the side, a single
bulb illuminated all of this, making his shadow wave across the ceiling and a
distant wall.

Behind him, the Mistress un-cuffed his hands, and then put a pair of mittens on
his hands.

"Raise the hands, slave.  I need to cuff you to the hook so I can torture you!"

"Yes Mistress," whispered the slave.  She'd said the word torture so impassively
that he had been taken off guard.  Of course she wanted to beat him; after all,
she'd said as much, and that was often part of the S&M scene.  On the other
hand, her words had said torture, as she'd requested his hands in the air.  The
ring had a tone of finality, of ultimate surrender.  He barely had the strength
to raise them above his head, so full of dread he'd become.  Still, the slave
raised his hands, and before he could change his mind, the Mistress snapped the
cuffs in place, and put the chain into the hook, snapping the hook stay over the
end.

The slave watched his hands above him as the block raised, and the chain lost
its slack.  As it raised, the cuffs twisted at the fabric of the mittens, and
drew him up on his toes.  He thought it would end when he was well up, but it
kept right on going until he left the balls of his feet, and was up on the round
of his toes, and then one more notch until only the tips of his big toes were
grounded, enough to keep him from spinning in place when he strained as far as
he could.  The pain at his wrists was sharp, competing with the tension in his
arm and back muscles.

"There.  Very good, Penelopy.  Penelopy is so eager to impress me with her
work," said Mistress Anna to both Penelopy and slave Gary.

"Yes Mistress," Penelopy said politely.

"Do you know why I call her Penelopy, slave Gary?"  Asked the Mistress.

Oh no, thought the new slave; I can't say, no Mistress.  After a frightfully
long think, the slave whispered, "I am too ignorant to say, Mistress."

"Yes you are, slave," offered the Mistress.  "Well, she is such a whore I
decided one day that she can fuck all she wants.  After all, she wanted to fuck
all the time; I had my hands full of her.  So, I gave her a strap-on dildo and
now I let her fuck around almost every night.  Too bad, with all that fucking,
she rarely has an orgasm.  It's just the way things are.  When a slave wants
something, I feel it's the main duty of a wise and caring Mistress to take it
away so they can appreciate it.  In her case, I both give and take.  I let her
fuck around, and I don't all in the same plan.  She's very frustrated.  Women
can be so miserably mean when frustrated.  Don't you agree, slave?"  Asked
Mistress Anna.

"Yes Mistress," said the suspended slave.

"Oh, so you think women are miserable, slave?" Asked the Mistress.

"Sorry, Mistress," said the slave, caught in the trap.

"You're going to beg me to let her fuck you tonight.  In fact, I bet you'd let
her fuck you right now, if for no other reason than to have the chance to change
positions a little.  I bet that strain is awful, isn't it, cunt?"  Said the
Mistress.

"Yes Mistress," said the slave, near tears with strain already.

"But that's not enough.  I'm going to have to have your word that you will do
everything and anything for me before I let you down.  Unrepented, unremitting
surrender.  When you're willing to give me all you have, then I might feel you
are worth something other than torture," said Mistress Anna.

"Yes Mistress.  I'll do anything for you, Mistress," chanced the slave.

"Of course you will.  All slaves say these things.  What the difference will be
is that in a little while, you will mean it ... eternally ... one way or the
other," corrected the Mistress, stepping to the rear of the basement where the
slave could only barely hear her rummaging for something.

"Can I help, Mistress," begged Penelopy from her station by the winch.

"Of course not, slut.  Virgins are too much fun for a penis cunt like you.  Turn
around.  Face the wall.  I've had about all the input I can stomach from your
mouth tonight bitch," Anna corrected.  "I don't want you wearing out your lips
anyway, until I need them to help me relax later.  In a little while I'm going
to be so hot I'll need to have a tongue bath, and this thing's not nearly ready
to do a decent job of that," appreciated the Mistress as she returned by the
suspended body of her captive.

A pencil thin, leather rod about eighteen inches long wandered across the eyes
of the slave.  The tip found the slave's lips, which it slid across playfully.

"Lick it.  I want it wet when it cuts you, cunt.  That's right.  Didn't Mistress
JC tell you to keep your mouth slightly open at all times.  There we go.  Let me
tease your tongue with it.  Open.  Open.  Open!  That's right.  Now swallow it
for me," instructed the Mistress, as the wand went into the waiting mouth.

The slave's head lowered a little, to accommodate the Mistress, but not enough
to let the probe enter his throat.  Anna took the back of his head, and pushed
it forward, then probed the slave's mouth with the crop until he started to
choke.  She pulled it out, and then inserted it a second time, to the same
effect.

"Listen here, slave.  I expect you to learn how to deep throat whatever I put in
there.  Let me try this one more time, and maybe we can end it if you get it
right.  Breath.  There you go.  In.  Now, the probe; hold your breath.  There. 
Now out.  Breath.  Good.  In.  A little longer this time.  Out.  Very good. 
Didn't choke that time, now did you bitch?"  Said the Mistress.

"Thank you, Mistress," said the terrified slave, as his head returned to the
ceiling.  While his head had been down, he'd seen how natural and detached she'd
seemed.  This was her fantasy.  She was into it.  He was a prop to her, he
understood.

"Now, wet it good for me," she continued, as he licked the crop with ample spit.

She walked behind him, and waited for the silence to work him over.  His
trembling made him stumble, and his body started swaying without the support of
the toes.  A perfect time to begin, imagined the wondrously wicked Mistress
Anna.  "Swwwwwwwwwack!"  the crop laid a pink and growing red stripe across the
slave's buttocks.  Of course, the Mistress couldn't see this, so she pulled his
panties down until they were around his knees.  The slave was still at first,
but as the stripe burned in, he moaned in misery, and fought to find his toes
before the next blow, as if that would help him manage the pain.  A fat chance,
laughed the Mistress to herself.

"Swwwwwwwwwack!"  The next blow cut across the other cheek.  A verbal ugh flew
from the slave's throat.  His body swayed under the momentum of his body
involuntarily trying to get away from the point of impact.  She caught him again
on the backswing of his body, "Swwwwwwwwwack!"

His panties dropped from his knees to his ankles, and then quickly to one toe as
they curled up in pain from the next two blows.  "Ahh!"  The slave protested,
one wall of pain, seemingly unending between the blows.  Without recovery time,
the next blow seemed unlivable.

"Please, Mistress.  I'll do whatever you want me too.  Please!"  Screamed the
slave, his body twitching on the rope.  There was no touching the ground
anymore, as the slave's legs came up to protect his body from the pain.  He
rocked so nicely on the ropes, the Mistress smiled.

"I'm going to torture you.  Didn't I say that, slave.  I expect for it to be
unpleasant.  You have no idea of the horrible position you are in, but we will
establish an order to our universe before we are done," said the Mistress.  She
came around to the slave, and had him wet the crop again.  He licked eagerly,
anything to please her, he thought.  She stuck it down his throat, and he deep
throated the crop several times, ending in a full fifteen seconds of waiting
time with his last swallow.  "You're doing very well," praised Mistress Anna.

She went behind him again.  "Swwwwwwwwwack!" "Swwwwwwwwwack!" "Swwwwwwwwwack!" 
His body swung higher, and his legs jacked into the fetal position.  The panties
dangled from a toe, and then fell to the concrete.  The Mistress laughed in joy. 
The slave screamed in horror.  A trickle of blood dripped from one of the cuts
as the bruise rose to the last layer of skin.

"Please, Mistress, may I watch, said the excited slave Penelopy from her wench.

"No!"  Answered the Mistress roughly.  She want over to Penelopy, and laid one
mean stroke across the driver's black pants.  From his vantage, dangling loosely
and still deep in unrelenting pain, slave Gary saw the cut and cringed, knowing
his were more violent, and without the protection of pants.  The Mistress
returned, and offered the tip of the crop to the slave's mouth.

"You screamed.  I don't allow that," she said, dropping to the floor, and
picking up the panties which she stuffed in the slave's mouth.  She want up the
stairs, returning with some electrical tape, and wrapping two strands around his
mouth to keep him quiet.  "Now you can scream.  Not that anyone can hear you; or
at least not anyone who won't enjoy it."

"Swwwwwwwwwack!" "Swwwwwwwwwack!" "Swwwwwwwwwack!" "Swwwwwwwwwack!"  The slave's
body cringed in pain, and started to turn as it swung.  The Mistress kept on
beating, striping both the front and the back, maintaining her blows to the
upper legs and ass of the mortified slave.  Finally, one last deep blow found
the upper thigh of the slave, just inches below his withdrawn cock.  The slave
moaned sickly, and then a trickle of piss leaked out of his prick, and dripped
down his leg, wetting the top of his thigh high stockings.

"Oh look, Penelopy!  Look!  Look!  The new slave has pissed himself.  This is
too much; I have to share this with you," said the Mistress in obvious delight.

As for the slave on the rope, he was too absorbed in his torment to care.  His
eyes lowered, barely able to make out the other driver slave through is tears,
as she turned and lit up with a smile at his humiliation.

There was a hand on his limp cock, which he knew to be the Mistress's and it
toyed with the impotent weapon as another thin trickle of piss leaked out
weakly.  She aimed it at his other stocking, "Piss good, slave.  I want to watch
you piss your legs.  That's a good boy.  Little wee wee got to go for mummy,"
she teased, as he let go of the rest of his piss, eager to do anything that
pleased her enough to pause the torment of the crop.  She opened up the top of
the stocking seam, and directed the last of the stream inside.  Wetness filled
the stocking, and soaked it to the toes from the inside out.

"Look at those stockings Mistress JC entrusted you with, cunt," said Anna,
mockingly corrective in her tone.  "You've barely worn them, and already the
knees are torn to shreds, not to mention you've let someone stain them to ruin. 
I think you've been whoring without paying up.  Have you been our whore and
forgotten to pay your pimp, you dishonest, and hot slut?"  Asked the Mistress.

"Yes Mistress," confessed the slave through the muffling panties.  The whole
world was hers, he imagined.  Even her fantasy was real, and hers.  He would
confess to anything, because all things were controlled by her.  The pain in his
buttocks seemed a mirror of before, but just as real.  He was a mirror of her
will, and just as real.  He was her imagination, her reality.  "Yes Mistress,"
he repeated before she said anything at all.  "Yes Mistress," he could not stop.

"You can't get enough, can you, whore?"

"Yes, Mistress!"

"You belong to us, don't you slut?"

"Yes Mistress."

"You will do anything we ask, won't you bitch?"

"Yes Mistress!"

She took her hand off his dripping cock, and grabbed his balls roughly, moving
his body a few inches in the direction of her pull.  "You'll give us whatever we
want."

"Yes Mistress."

"Everything!  Won't you ... boy!" She added.

"Until nothing is left of the man you once imagined you were!"

"Yes Mistress."

"I don't thing you mean it.  Let the torture continue," said the Mistress,
dropping his balls, and turning back to the back of the room.

"Yes Mistress," the delirious slave said, still unable to comprehend the world
through watered eyes and pain dulled senses.

"I had a slave once who was really into pain.  I mean to say, he loved the
stuff.  Most of the masochists are really not in the least into pain - it's just
a fantasy they indulge.  What saves them is the fact that most women don't
really beat them like they imagine.  This slave, on the other hand, really did
seem to enjoy it.  The skin on his ass must have been an extra quarter inch
thick with calluses; I wasn't the only Mistress to have a swing at him,"
explained Mistress Anna.  She came around in front of the slave.

She continued, showing the slave two feet of inch wide leather.  "He made this
out of two belts, folded, and one over the other, just to see if he could find a
limit.  I made him scream a little."

Anna snapped the belt across one of the suspended slave's lower leg.  He
flinched, and lifted it wildly.  It was just a taste, but on the next one the
loud crack echoed off the basement walls, and slave Gary's leg reached high up
above his waist.  The slave tried vainly to hop on one leg, but this only made
the other leg into an easy target, attracting the Mistress's next swing.

The slave jerked his second leg forward.  As his body swung back, the Mistress
timed her stroke, forcing his body forward.  On the next back-swing, another
stoke fell, until the slave was hopelessly swinging on the block and tackle.  As
the pain grew, he tried to ball his legs up on the backward swing, forcing the
Mistress's attention on his exposed ass, and only serving to increase the height
of subsequent swings.  After a few dozen blows, the slave was screaming in pain,
balled up like an armadillo on a swing.

Mistress Anna looked down, and to her delight, the slave's balls were dangling
perfectly, two tiny tantalizing targets below the balled up human hive of flesh. 
She smiled, and aimed a blow that sent the balls flopping up against the slave's
flaccid prick.  His legs dropped like lead weights, and then curled slightly in
pain.  A long low groan wept from the peon's mouth.

"Oh.  Mistress.  That was so lovely," said Penelopy amused at the spectacle.

"I thought I told you not to watch?" scolded the Mistress.  "Never mind. 
Penelopy, get me the candles.  Put them in the cast iron holder, and set them
under his feet."

The slave girl went to the storage cabinet, and extracted a large metal holder. 
It was about eighteen inches across, and circular.  She shuffled it under the
slave, and then filled a dozen inserts with stubby fat candles.

"Light them," commanded the Mistress, handing the slave girl a lighter.

"Now slave.  I'm going to take a rest.  You just relax.  When I come back, you
let me know if you want slave Penelopy to fuck you," said Mistress Anna.

"I want her to fuck me now, Mistress Anna," cried the slave.

"We'll see," said Anna, walking towards the stairs.

"Please, Mistress Anna.  I want to be fucked.  Please let Penelopy fuck me. 
Please, oh God, please, let me have her cock up my ass.  I need it so badly,"
begged the slave, desperate for release from the ropes that strained on his
muscles, and beginning to have trouble finding a good place to hover his feet
without a burn.

"Up a couple inches, Penelopy," said the Mistress, one hand on the handrail.

"Yes Mistress," answered Penelopy, a lilt in her voice.  The slave was raised a
couple inches, hopelessly beyond touching more than a half inch above the
candles.  Penelopy returned to lighting the last few candles.

The slave searched for a place to put his feet without burns, but couldn't find
it, shifting the legs in scissors like movements.  As he tried, the Mistress
ascended the staircase, and left him to Penelopy, as she lit the last candle. 
Unable to sustain the pain in his feet, the slave forced his legs wide, holding
them up as best he could.  There'd be no way he could do this for long, Gary
realized.  God, this was tiring, he told himself.

"How's that feel, sweetheart," Penelopy said, raising up to face the slave.

"Fuck me.  Please, Penelopy.  Let me down.  I promise to be a good fuck for
you," pleaded Gary.

"I can't do that.  Mistress Anna would kill me," she explained, a wicked grin on
her face.  Gary noticed the lighter in her hand was still lit.  His eyes dropped
from hers to the lit light.  She lowered it threateningly.

"Besides, I like to play too.  I envy you.  I imagine what it would be like to
be bound like you are now, my Mistress holding this lighter.  She'd put it right
down there, and hold it for just long enough to ..."  Penelopy dropped the
lighter to a few inches below the slave's cock, and held it in one place.  A
line of stinging heat lanced up, and seared the flesh on one wide of his prick.

"Please!"  Screamed the slave.  "Oh God, stop!"  He yelled, just before she
moved the lighter, burning another spot.  Penelopy laughed with delight.  Slave
Gary looked down, and saw the lit candles, the slowly roaming lighter, and the
gleam of all the lights off of the long black dildo strapped between Penelopy's
driver uniformed legs.

"Penelopy!  I didn't tell you to do that," Mistress Anna said from behind the
door at the top of the stairs.  Penelopy stopped, and then walked over to the
wall in front of the pathetic slave.  She put her back to the wall, and watched
him struggle to keep his legs up out of the flames.  There they waited, his pain
the subject of her lust, until the Mistress returned, fifteen agonizing minutes
later.  Unable to hold his legs up any longer, the legs had slowly dropped, to
the delight of Penelopy's widening eyes.  Of course, the pain was unbearable,
but he managed to move the legs around a little, sharing the searing flesh one
blister to the next.  She descended the staircase slowly, relishing the picture
with a flash of her instant camera.

"Mistress JC so loves her pictures," the commanding Mistress said bemused.

"Please, Mistress.  Have me fucked.  Let Penelopy rape my ass.  I want it so
much.  Oh, Goddess, pleassssse ..." begged the slave with a whine, seeming to
have awaken from his intense concentration of dodging fire.

"Do you promise to let it in, slave?" Asked the Mistress.

"Oh, yes, Mistress.  I'll be so open for her cock," said the slave, pleading his
case.

"Will you meet her thrusts?"

"Yes Mistress.  I want to please her cock," he begged.

"If it hurts, you'll remember that it's important to do your duty to her?  A lot
of women have learned to indulge a little pain for their lover," explained
Mistress Anna.

"Yes.  She can have me deep, hard and long, Mistress," Gary said in all
earnestness, neglecting a foot, and flinching in pain.  He raised both legs,
inspired with strength, growing in confidence that his Mistress would soon
release him for a simple raping.  His whole body ached.  One little asshole
seemed no sacrifice at all by comparison.

"OK then.  But if you start enjoying it too much, I'll have to put you back and
beat you some more.  You'll have to learn to like it petitely; like a lady."

"Yes Mistress.  Like a lady," repeated the slave enthusiastically.

"Of course, you know, you will belong to Penelopy when she does this.  You'll be
her bitch, slave.  I almost pity you," said the Mistress.

"It's all right, Mistress.  I want to be Penelopy's bitch, Mistress."

"Well, OK.  You heard him, Penelopy.  Come take the candles away, and take down
your bitch.  She'd going to let you fuck her as long as you like," said Mistress
Anna to Penelopy by the wall.

Penelopy squealed in delight, hopped across the space, and blew out the candles
before taking them away to the shelves.  There was a half notch upward motion,
and then slave Gary was dropped to the ground.  His legs would not hold him, and
when he tried his arms, they were twisted with cramps and strain.  The slave
held himself on two knees, and rested his face on the cool floor, taking a few
seconds to let the blood recover.  The hands, still chained, were like one lump
of weight attached to rubber limbs.

"Well.  Get up a little, and spread some," said Penelopy too soon, and dropping
a small square of rug on the floor beside his knees.

Mistress Anna added, "Just wide enough to miss the rug, cunt.  The rug is for
Penelopy.  You're the one being raped today; not her."

Slave Gary mustered the last of his strength and got up on spread knees.  Behind
him, the shadow of Penelopy told him she'd dropped to her knees, and was inching
forward to take his virgin ass.  The slave waited, and willed his ass open.  If
he moved, no telling what the Mistress would do to him.  No, there'd be no
excuse granted for her to string him back up; the man widened his stockinged
legs, and arched his bra covered body, as if inviting the cock of salvation into
his womb.

Gary backed towards the waiting rubber penis, and felt Penelopy's hands work
over the head with a coat of lubricant.  She squeezed off a second line of goo,
and roughly stuck a little finger full up the slave's waiting ass.  He puckered
with a natural reflex that caught her finger, but the lubrication still allowed
its easy withdrawal.  Then he felt the rubber cock nudged the crack of his butt. 
Aimed by an obviously experienced Penelopy, the phallus found the opening, and
almost immediately penetrated, burying the penis to the ridge of the head.

"Say thank you, Mistress," coaxed Penelopy, a lilt in her voice.

"Thank you, Mistress," managed the slave.  Fear, humiliation and a strange
mixture of reassurance was in his voice.  Reassurance because he wanted
desperately to let them know he wanted this, and not the hoist, humiliation
because his own voice was being used against himself as he pleaded to be fucked,
and fear because he knew Penelopy would not be so joyous unless she knew his
plight to be hopeless.

"Let me get this in just a little more.  There.  Just a bit more.  Oh.  A little
tight.  I love my bitches tight.  Do you have a tight pussy for me, slave?" 
Asked Penelopy.

Mistress Anna, still dressed in casual jeans and sneakers, turned and walked
back up the stairs with a, "I'll just leave you two love birds alone.  I think
I've seen enough of you to disgust me for quite awhile anyway.  Go ahead,
Penelopy, fuck your bitch.  It isn't every day you get a virgin.  Oh, and Gary;
virgins bleed.  It's perfectly normal the first time."  The door shut, and the
slaves could her the Mistress return to the living room somewhere above.  The
television was turned up, drowning out the whimpers of pain and lust below.

Mistress Anna watched most of a movie, and then at a commercial, phoned her
friend, JC.

"Hello?"  Picked up JC.

"I have him.  Penelopy's downstairs right now giving him a nice slow fucking,"
reported Anna.

"How's it going?  I've been dying to hear the details!"

"He's been beaten, and I imagine his arms will take a day or two to throw off
the buzz.  You know me; I start them off with a heavy lesson, and the rest is a
piece of cake."

"That's why I like your work, Anna; you have no style, but you go for
effectiveness.  I'll never understand why slaves suffer so for a perfect
stranger, and then come home to me so deliciously broken, but I'll never argue
with your results.  Will you be able to use him all weekend?"  Asked JC.

"Actually, I have more than my share of house-mates to call on.  There's not
been a need for a new laborer here since I bought Penelopy.  But, for you dear,
I'll find something for him to do."

"You could always just leave him hanging around.  I've already done that with
him a little.  He keeps all right," suggested JC.

"Wouldn't he wish.  No, in my house an idol slave is an idol mind.  I'll find
enough to keep him busy.  The word slave means something here, sweetheart,"
argued Mistress Anna.

"I'd think you'd find it a bother coming up with stuff."

"You forget I live in the country.  The fields need plowed, the weeds pulled,
fences mended.  We have ten back acres.  The corn's just been harvested. 
Someone has to make sure to bury all the stalks in order to accelerate the
composting process.  My farming may only be supplemental, but I do have the best
non-chemical operation in the state," explained Mistress Anna.

"Oh dear!  Can I come over and watch.  I'll call so he won't see me come in,"
asked Mistress JC.

"What's the humiliation of slavery, if those who feed off of it can't amuse
themselves with the view?  How about twelve?"

"See ya," answered JC, with an immediate hang-up.

Down below, the moaning had stopped, making Anna suspicious.  She got up, and
walked over to the basement door, pulling it open easily, so as to not be heard. 
She peered down into the dungeon, and saw Penelopy easing the penis out slowly. 
The slave had crumpled until his face was rested on the cement, and his back
arched as if buckled by gravity.

"Out, slowly, lover," whispered Penelopy.  "In, slowly.  You love it when I fuck
you slow and sensually, don't you, baby?"

"Yes Mistress.  Fuck me," cried the slave in deep pain, but beyond any ability
to resist.  Slave Gary knew that if he didn't make her love his raping, he'd be
punished more.  He doubted he'd survive any more of that.  Best to let the pain
come and go in waves of penetration.  At least it was only his ass.  She was
tearing to shreds with the phallus, but then again, maybe he'd still be able to
recover his asshole after the fucking.  What could they do, he wondered?  Could
they amputate an asshole?  And, of course, he did love the slow sensual
penetration of the rubber cock.  He loved it because if it started rough and
fast again, he'd surely pass out from pain.  "Fuck me slow, Mistress.  Make me
love your cock," he pleaded.

Up above the staircase, Mistress Anna smiled.  He was putty in their hands.  The
slave had been turned to mush.  He'd say anything just for the exchange to a
lower pain level.  Tomorrow he'd tend the fields gladly, Maybe even relish the
clean air.  She'd put a new pair of white utility panties on him, plus a tampax
to catch the bleeding.  He'd have to wear a skirt to keep from being arrested if
seen, and of course his own bra.  Then, since the country road was in front of
the house, and lightly traveled, she'd have no problem putting him to work in
the field where he'd tan nicely with bra lines.  What a delight as he worked the
shovel in thin feminine hand-me-down shoes.  She'd have to set up a camera and
run some tape as a baby-sitter and record the event all at the same time.  After
all, she'd not want to watch him all day, and wouldn't her friend JC just love
the tape as a gift.

"Penelopy.  Put away your toy.  We have a busy day tomorrow.  And don't forget
to grease up your last penis thrust with some antiseptic," commanded the
Mistress, who closed the door, and went up the grand stairway to the bathroom
where she made herself ready for bed.

In the bedchamber, Anna slipped on a thin nightgown.  She pulled back the
covers, and laid down in the middle of the bed.  Propping a pillow up, she
reached over to the console, and turned on some romantic music.  Two stories
below, a scream told her Penelopy had just rammed a penis coated with antiseptic
seven inches inside of the slave.  Maintenance was always the most painful part
of slavery, thought Anna, a bit humored by the thought.

Her hands went to her breasts, which she fondled until her nipples peaked.  How
lovely it had been watching that slave swing and sweat on the hoist.  Her hands
touched her pussy, running her fingers through the hairs.  She touched her lips
with one finger, smelling her own smell, and loving it; women smell so much
better than men, she knew.  A tongue licked the finger wet, and she reached
down, wetting her clitoris.  She was ready.

"Slave Shit!  Come out and lick me," she said in an even voice.

The closet door opened, and a man dressed in a pink dress crawled out on his
hands and knees.  He crawled as if in pain, his face wincing with each movement
of one knee in front of the other.  Through the pain, slave Shit found the foot
of the bed where he raised himself to her feet and kissed each toe lightly.

"Forget the formalities.  Just come up here and eat me.  I want to feel my clit
sucked deep in your mouth, and I want easy little circles from that tongue. 
Deep, then easy, deep, then easy, understand slave Shit?  Then after I've cum,
you'll tongue my pussy hairs flat and dry and lightly."

"Yes Mistress.  I'll do my very best," the slave said in as high a voice as he
could muster.

"Well of course you will, slave," agreed the Mistress.  "Just like you thought
you remembered to keep your voice high and feminine for me the other day," she
mocked.

"I'll do better, Mistress," the slave pleaded, his voice high enough to break
glass this time.

"A lot better, you should say, slave.  After all, you only have one ball left. 
Another mistake would be most unfortunate, and since I define mistakes as I see
them, you'll have to imagine my pleasure as your center of being.  In theory it
works," added Mistress Anna as she laid her head back, and relaxed.  Or course,
in practice it hasn't worked yet, she added in thought.

The futility of those allowing themselves to become slaves brought a smile to
the Mistress's face.  They were all so fatally predisposed.  Step by step, she'd
taken many of them down until so totally removed from reality that they
effectively no longer existed as human beings.  Why did they grow to need that? 
What flawed human gene let them allow themselves to be so reduced by another
person?  Didn't they understand that she actually enjoyed taking their power
from them, and reducing them to human fertilizer?  Well, never mind explaining
it; it just was; and most of all, she needed it too.  In fact, she needed it a
lot right now.

Then again, it could be regarded as some gift from the gods.  After all, this
pussy licking was going to be very good as the slave tried his miserable best. 
After a dramatic dose of recent attention, slaves tended to be so very very
good.

The divine Mistress Anna closed her eyes and pictured slave Gary below being
chained to the drain pipe for some much needed rest, unable to get it, due in no
small part to the pain racking his whole body both inside and about now.  He'd
wiggled so sexually when smacked by that quad belt, she recalled.

Slave Shit's tongue rocked her gently, bringing her first to orgasms, and then
to sleep.  And, as she passed into sleep, slave Shit wondered what he was
supposed to do.  His tongue was tiring, yet she'd not given him any further
instructions.  With fear mounting, and fatigue pressing down upon his pathetic
body, the slave licked gently upon the pussy he'd already forfeited so much just
to worship.

Down below, Penelopy was busy putting the new slave away.  She locked him on the
spreader bar, and cuffed his hands behind his back before hoisting the slave up
by a loop of rope under his underarms.  The slave was laid back, almost at a
forty-five degree angle, his balls dangling in front of a chair Penelopy placed
directly in front of him, a knowing smile on her face.  Familiar with the
routine, she found the panties, and stuffed them back into the slave's gapping
mouth.

The side of the room that Mistress Anna had gone to so often was in plain view
of Gary now, and he marveled at the table and pegboard.  The Mistress had a
complete workshop of tools and household repair parts; it occurred to the slave
that the work area had been put together by some unfortunate man, perhaps the
Mistress's husband or benefactor.  The way Anna had so thoroughly dominated him,
slave Gary doubted that the man was anything more than a servant now.  After
all, she'd not been quiet about his domination, and no footfalls had disturbed
the occasion.  If a man did exist in the Mistress's life, he'd not been invited
to the party.

Penelopy fumbled about at the tool desk, avoiding the pantry within which the
Mistress held her dildos, cuffs and whips, and collected the things she'd need
for the evening's last chore.  She returned to the slave, dropping the items at
the slave's foot, before rolling a pair of welding tanks over to his other side. 
She sat down, the large black phallus still wobbling between her legs, a
grotesque reminder to the slave of his raping as it waved in the air less than a
foot in front of his own dwindled cock.  As much as he feared the penis, and as
much as he'd thought himself unable to endure the whipping that had forced him
to beg to be raped, the items at his feet sent chills of utter terror though his
soul.

The Mistress's apprentice reached in front of her, and grabbed the slave's balls
at the base, and twisted.  She worked the balls out by tugging and twisting,
until she's made enough space to hold him in all four fingers of her fist.  The
balls grew purple, and foreign as they stuck out the back side of her fist. 
Gary was glad she'd not taken to squeeze the balls themselves, relieving him of
at least that discomfort, although the force of the extrusion of his balls from
the security of his warm crotch left him little choice but to squirm, and nearly
lose his footing in the spreader bar.

"Now be still, slave," said Penelopy, slapping the tight, exposed balls with her
off hand.

The slave whimpered, and did his best to remain in one position, even though his
body trembled under the fear and strain of the awkward position.

"Now let's see.  I think for you we'll have to use the little one.  There was a
guy in here last month that I thought I had to use the big one on, but it fell
off later; just slipped right off.  The Mistress nearly skinned me alive.  Of
course, she did skin him a little.  You'll thank me if this doesn't come off -
even by accident.  Now hold still, this won't hurt a bit," said Penelopy.

She took a large tie-wrap, and twisted it over the scrotum, just below the bulge
of his balls.  Then, holding the skin between the tie-wrap and his body,
Penelopy pulled and twisted until Gary was sure he'd be herniated.  The sinew
attached to his prostrate caused him to feel nauseated from the strain.  Looking
down, his eyes unable to leave fixation upon the thin and elongated top of his
scrotum, he watched as Penelopy put a three inch layer of insulated tape around
the flesh, keeping it taunt and less than three quarters of an inch in diameter.

"Ever see one of these, slave.  You can buy them at any hardware store," teased
Penelopy, holding up what looked like a link of quarter inch thick chain, but
with one side open.  There was a treaded larger cylinder, that when slid along
the chain link side, could be threaded into one solid link of stainless steel.

"They're expensive though.  Mistress had me get a couple dozen last year, and it
set her back about four bucks apiece.  These were cheaper," she explained,
holding up a second link of chain, this one without threads, and looped it onto
the first one.  Penelopy looped the first link under the stretched and taped
length of scrotum, and squeezed the stuff flat so it could all fit.  Even though
the chain link was less than three quarters of an inch thick, it ran an interior
length of nearly two inches, a quarter inch of which the second link cramped. 
Still, tape and all, she'd managed to stretch him enough to fit easily.

"Yes Mistress Penelopy," slave Gary mumbled into the panties, mostly from
nervous reaction.

"Don't worry.  The tape comes off in a minute," she reassured.  Somehow, Gary
didn't feel so reassured, knowing how Penelopy reveled in his sufferings.

Penelopy took up the torch, and unscrewed the tank mixtures.  Taking a spark
generator like a pro, she lit the end of the large welder, and a blue flame shot
out five inches long.  With a little more fiddling, the flame was thinned and
cut to a white hot inch.  "Now, just don't get a hard-on, and we'll not have to
cut anything off," teased Penelopy, a wide and well lit smile on her face.  She
picked up some goggles, and tossed them over her eyes, then leaned in over both
his real and her own protruding fake phallus to see better.

Gary looked away, his heart pounding in his ears, and waited for the touch of
the flame.  A spark jumped, indicating contact; then more sparks, a couple
landing on his legs, and another on his cock.  He jumped in his bonds, and
Penelopy laughed with delight.  "Just one more, and we're all done," she assured
like a dentist.  This time, sparks flew wildly, and with one long burn.  He
willed his body still, every muscle flexed, the stings of sparks all over the
place.  The heat built up steadily near his groin.  Then, just as suddenly as it
had begun, Penelopy stopped welding, reached down, and tossed a bucket of ice
cold water into his lap.  Gary rattled in his chains, still not looking, and
completely sure he'd just been flames for the half second it took him to realize
it was water.  The water sizzled, sending up a small plume of smoke, but the
heat in his groin was gone.

"There!  How do you like your new pocket buddy, slave?  I do declare I'm getting
better at this," said Penelopy with pride.  The lackey looked at his lap and saw
a perfectly immovable link of chain welded over some burnt tape that had managed
to protect his scrotum from absolute ruin.  Also held by the chain was the
second link, obviously a handy means of attaching him to whatever the Mistress
desired, he realized.  They had him by the balls; literally.  Even a pair of
bolt cutters would have to be both large and expertly handled to both do the job
and to keep from cutting into the skin.

Penelopy reached down, and worked the tape loose with the skill only manageable
by fine feminine fingers.  Soon, the chain was a bit looser, but cool against
his skin.  With a pair of cutters, she snipped away the tie-wrap, and the balls
started to shrink back against his body, hiding much of the link.  In spite of
the relief, Gary realized he'd always feel the cool and tight constraint of the
oval.  He moved a little, and the loose link moved a bit with him, resting on
the back of a different sliver of skin.

After putting her toys away, Penelopy returned to the slave, taking the panties
from his mouth, removing the rope and cuffs, and even the spreader bar.  She
handed him a robe, and some slippers.  Then she led him gently by the hand to a
wall where she sat him at a stool.  Gary sat gingerly, and then accepted a meal
of soup which Penelopy had warmed in a microwave oven.  She handed him a spoon,
and then, as he ate.  She went back to the table, and got a foot long length of
chain, which she attached to an embedded closed loop of steel in the wall behind
him.

"Scotch up, slave," she commanded sweetly, and then ran the length of chain
right across the seat he was sitting on until it just showed under his balls. 
"I'll just put a little Master lock on this so you can eat, and I can go
upstairs knowing you'll be good," she said.

"Yes Mistress Penelopy," the slave said, wondering if this was a good time to
make a break for it.  That, of course was answered for him by a snap of the lock
through his dangling link.  "You'll have to give me this too," added Penelopy,
pulling the stool out from under him.

Gary nearly fell off the chair as it was pulled forward and away.  Catching
himself just in time, he found himself chained to the wall by a foot of chain. 
If he stooped, he'd only be able to make it a foot and a half from the floor. 
He tried leaning up against the wall, and bending his knees, but they only bent
a little, and that was more awkward than standing.  Maybe if he tried hard, he
could get a leg over the chain, and face the wall, he thought?  But then again,
what if he fell trying?  And, what would it do for him?  He'd still have to
stand.  God, I'm so tired, thought Gary.  The pain from extending his muscles
with tension, and the beatings, and the raping had taken his body to a new
limit.

"Comfy?" Asked Penelopy.

"Please Mistress," pleaded Gary, beyond worrying about the consequences of
speaking out.  "Please let me have a little slack.  I'm exhausted," begged the
slave.

"Are you complaining, bitch?" Asked Penelopy, a look of delightful surprise on
her face.  "I'll have to tell the Mistress," said the woman, still in her
driver's uniform.  There was a lilt in her gait as she made for the stairs. 
"This is delightful.  She'd be very pleased that I made you disobey."

"I'm so sorry, Mistress Penelopy.  Of course, Mistress.  I'm very comfortable. 
Thank you Mistress," pleaded the slave, understanding the futility of his plea,
and the consequences it might bring.

"It's too late now, pissant.  I have you by the balls now!"  She said, opening
and closing the door at the top of the stairs.

The slave sagged in his chains, letting the chain bear a little of the weight. 
Might as well get used to it, he told himself, finding a happy medium between
stretched balls and pained legs.  Still, the night was young.  At least he had a
robe and slippers, he told himself.  Then he wept and waited for the light to
come through the three small basement windows he had all night to count.

Upstairs, slave Shit waited as well, bearing tears of his own, tears of love at
being allowed to lick his Mistress's pussy, and tears of dread, knowing he'd not
be able to achieve an unknowable perfection.  She'd told him to lick her pussy,
and now, asleep, if he licked, he might wake her up , an act apt to cause her
anger, and if she woke without feeling his tongue, then what?  He looked at her
lovely pussy, and licked the air between it and him.  Would that be the thing to
do, he wondered?  He licked again, this time touching a few of the hairs. 
That's it, he imagined.  Lick the air, and then just a few hairs, very
carefully.  His back ached from kneeling at the end of the bed, and his night
passed lick by slow, tongue aching lick.  The Mistress, and finally Penelopy,
slept like babies, without a care on earth, and dreamed of men tortured for the
mere sight of their feet.

A blue sky slowly illuminated the basement windows, allowing slave Gary to make
out his surroundings better with each passing minute, but well before the sun
was completely up, the morning was announced with a scream.

Upstairs, slave Shit had been startled back from his delirious worship by a kick
of the Mistress's foot.  He retreated fast and fearfully to his closet prison,
where he waited for the Mistress to leave the floor.  Not until then would he be
allowed bathroom privileged.

"Get out of there slave, and draw my shower.  I swear, you just can't get good
help these days," announced the Mistress, rapping on the closet door.

Hearing this downstairs, Penelopy was aroused from her maid's room single bed,
and grabbed her neutral sun dress.  The Mistress had not instructed her on the
day's attire, so the rule was to keep it simple.  She went to the half bath, and
sponged her body awake, then applied the garish red lipstick.  Penelopy had
naturally peach skin, and the Mistress liked to see it without makeup when
alone.

Her breasts were large and unflawed 44 D, the brown aureoles nearly three inches
across.  It seemed her nipples were unable to soften after so much time in
service.  If she'd taken to a more natural sexual lifestyle, Penelopy knew she'd
not have trouble landing any man, yet the life of a submissive had so
overwhelmed her that she'd allowed another woman to take her flesh in ownership. 
The fact that she doubted any penchant towards biological homosexuality made the
gift of her body to another woman only more erotic in her mind.  That of course
was a completely screwed up thought, she realized, but everything about sex
seemed a little unexplainable, Penelopy had come to realize; like why someone so
submissive so thoroughly enjoyed tormenting male submissives - particularly men
she found attractive.  Was it a need to eliminate a natural craving for a normal
family life, a way of erasing what seemed natural so as to better replace it
with the macrabre?  Whatever that is, thought Penelopy, never having had much
normality as a child.

She washed the breasts carefully, allowing them to bounce seductively as she
did.  "These breasts are yours, my Mistress.  When I touch them, I do so knowing
that I merely maintain the Mistress's treasure," she'd been forced to say her
first day of surrender.  Slipping the flower printed sun dress over her naked
body, Penelopy went to attend to her chores of breakfast.

"I see my favorite cunt is pretending to be the perfect housewife today," said
the Mistress, coming down the stairs to the main level, and peaking in on the
female servant.

"Good morning, Mistress," said Penelopy, immediately dropping to her knees, and
bowing until her nose touched the floor.  From her position, she noticed a
little dust had settled, and resolved to polish the Mistresses wood grained
floor early in the afternoon.

"Fix the slut downstairs a good breakfast, and then tether him with a thirty
foot chain.  I'll be putting him to work in the field, but not until he's had a
couple hours of sleep.  I want him looking good for Mistress JC when she
arrives," said Mistress Anna.

"Mistress JC, how wonderful.  Should I fix something special, Mistress Anna?"

"Yes.  Fix a plate, and chill a few coolers.  No, make that a six pack of beer. 
I want to get JC a little drunk.  She opens up so well, and always makes me
laugh when she's had a few too many and starts inventing new ways to pork the
new piglets," laughed Anna.

"As you say, Mistress."

"The thirty foot chain, piglet Penelopy.  What are you waiting for?" Anna
insisted, her tone suddenly darker.

Penelopy made a plate of oatmeal, and crawled to the basement door.  She found
slave Gary leaning his shoulder on the wall, trying as best he could to stay on
his feet.  His balls were stretched three inches from his body as they did their
best to take a few pounds of the load.  It brought a smile to her face.  He had
such cute balls, she thought.  Hairless now too!  Wouldn't they look good
slapping against my chin, Penelopy imagined wickedly.  Of course the Mistress
would look at that as a complete sacrilege event.  Penelopy imagined the
Mistress having her tongue cut out due to the contamination; sometimes the
Mistress had no sense of humor.

"All right, slut Gary.  The Mistress is cutting you some slack.  If it were me,
I'd just leave you hang until you found a way to castrate yourself, but such is
the luck of the Irish.  Now turn around; let me get at the lock," Penelopy
began.  A few minutes later, slave Gary had eaten the food from the plate which
had been left on the floor.  Still handcuffed behind his back, he'd eaten like
he imagined a dog did, only less expertly.  He was still attached by his balls,
but to a new thirty foot chain, and once sated with food, left to catch a couple
hours of sleep on the cool basement floor.  He had time to think, the rug helps
a little, before crashing into a deep sleep.

"Get up, you lazy bum!" Interrupted that sleep way too soon.  He was led up the
stairs, allowed to walk like a man this time, and out the same doorway he'd
entered last night.  It was mid morning now.  Mistress Anna personally led the
way, most of the chain in her hand.  He walked, his head down, thoroughly
convinced she'd find something to punish him for, but equally determined to make
it hard for her to find it.

They turned towards the back of the house, and entered a field of corn.  It was
a warm, early fall day, and the corn had been recently picked.  At the center of
the field, something was banging.  As he got closer, slave Gary chanced a look
farther ahead, and saw a couple of men working diligently with sludge hammers. 
Whatever it was, they looked very busy at it, all of which made him feel like
Thanksgiving dinner being herded towards the ax.

They paused at a small clearing, where the Mistress handed the new slave a
shovel.  An eyelet had been screwed into the middle of the handle, and the
Mistress immediately produced a small lock, securing the shovel to the chain ten
inches from the slave's balls.

Gary wondered why the men didn't seem all that impressed that a lady in casual
Saturday morning clothing was hauling a man dressed in a bra into the center of
the field by a chain to the balls.  Of course, what could they say, he thought;
the thought almost made him laugh, a mistake he imagined might prove fatal,
given the torture he'd already endured for almost no reason at all.  Equally
impressive, Gary wondered why all of this didn't embarrass him more than it did,
and realized it was because he was too afraid to feel anything as petty as
humiliation.  That, he guessed, would come later.

"How deep is the rod?" She asked the two workers, who labored over a peg in the
ground with heavy blows of their hammers.

"Bout six feet, Mistress.  If lightning hits, it'll be the worst place to be,"
explained the worker.

"Good.  Secure the chain to the peg, and get your asses out of here.  Oh, and
Henry, we'll need a couple cases of beer.  There'll be a few other things.  See
Penelopy.  Tell her I want her to fuck with you when you get back for a couple
minutes.  John, she can use you as her lapdog until Henry gets back."

"Yes Mistress," said the men, securing the chain and leaving with bows.

Once out of earshot, Anna said, "Slaves are so easy to exploit.  Isn't that
true, slut Gary?  Look at you in that bra.  Bitch, what is this all about, a
sane man might ask?  Why would a slave give up his weekend to be beaten, raped,
worked until nearly dead, and then turned out in utter contempt?  Beats me, to
tell you the truth, but I'll find some use for it.  This field work is classic
slavery as far as I'm concerned.  Of course, Mistress JC is a little more
understanding.  I just go for the jugular, I'm told.  Ha.  Whatever.  I'll have
one of those part-timers bring you a pan of water.  You'll need it.  I want you
to bury every stalk of corn within reach of your chain.  Don't slack either, or
you'll be out here all night.  As far as you can reach means as far as your
useless little balls will stretch.  Do you understand me, cunt?"

"Yes Mistress," answered the slave, thinking, at least I will be out in the
fresh air, and not be whipped.

"Very good.  Get to work.  If I see as much as a leaf out here in this clearing,
I'll have to find a new place to put that link of chain on your balls.  You'd
better hope the wind isn't too high either; something might blow in just in time
for the sundown inspection," threatened the Mistress on her way back towards the
house.

When she was out of earshot, slave Gary mumbled, "Oh God.  This will take
forever.  I've never heard of someone burying corn stalks, or at least without a
tractor.  What the hell have I gotten myself into this time."  Still, the slave
worked the shovel up under his bare foot, and pushed it three inches into the
ground before the edge of the shovel pained him too much to go deeper.  He
wedged out a quarter shovel full of dirt, and set it aside.  The sun was coming
well up, and he could feel its weak rays starting to tan him around his bra
lines.  A second, less full wedge of dirt was pried loose.

"Jesus!  I can't dig without shoes.  Shit!  This will take forever."  He tried
to get down on his knees.  An odd angle of the shovel caught, knocked against
his morning boner and nearly ripping his balls off.  Gary tipped the shovel
down, and laid it in front of him.  Kneeling was easier than standing.  He
scratched the dirt with his hands, and took out as much dirt as he had taken
while working the shovel, only quicker.  That was how to do it, he reasoned; the
hands got just as much, and they didn't hurt his feet.  Good thing this is
farmland, and not clay, he thought.  He could do more handfuls per minute too,
but now the shovel was just in the way.  Gary continued to dig.  Half an hour
later he had a good sized hole.  He grabbed a stalk, ripped it from the ground,
maneuvered it around the allways intrusive shovel, and tossed it in the hole. 
No, that wouldn't do, I'll have to break them in half, he calculated.  Only six
stalks completely filled the hole, less than three feet on one row.  An hour had
passed, although the slave couldn't be sure.  There were blisters on the hands
already.

Gary walked his chain out to the furthest length.  Reaching out, he measured off
nearly twenty rows.  At sixty feet per row, three per hour, that's twenty hours,
times twenty rows, times two directions.  Gary sat down and recounted.  "That's
insane."  No.  Maybe if I do it differently, he thought.  Maybe if I make a
bigger hole.  Yes.  That might help.  Gary went back to the center of his hell,
and started a more frantic dig.

Out beyond his vision, Mistress JC's car came to the house.  Penelopy was
resting, after a busy morning having her feet licked by a couple of low
tolerance slave wannabees.  Upstairs, Mistress Anna took a catnap.  The door
rang, and slave Shit answered, having been put on door and phone duty.  He
curtsies in his pink dress.  Mistress Anna loved his white nylons, and how the
white garters showed so innocently under the edges of his full petticoat.  He'd
gotten so much better at standing in his pink six inch heels, and the makeup was
perfectly done.  Anna couldn't resist giving him a sweet sisterly kiss on the
cheek, an act so kindly as to cause slave Shit no end to tremors.

"Where is your Mistress?" commanded JC.

"Upstairs, Mistress Anna," answered the door slave.

"Well go get her," said JC, a voice suggesting he was an utter moron.

"Yes, Mistress," the slave said, bowing deeply as he walked towards the stairs. 
Of course, waking the Mistress was always full of uncertainty.  She'd never told
him exactly how to do it, so every time he did he got another scolding - or
worse.

JC knew that, and smiled at his timid retreat.  There was a temptation to follow
him up, just to see her kick him or whatever she had planned.  Anna always had a
plan worked out before the infraction, a natural delighter in the administration
of pain.  JC had never known a sadist quite like her, and of course this is why
they'd become such good friends.  There it was, the yell, as if slave Shit had
been surprised by Anna's lashing out.  Slaves were worth keeping just for the
fun of such moments, realized Mistress JC.

"Oh there you are!"  Squealed Mistress Anna, who'd descended half of the
staircase, and was bending over to see just below the level of the ceiling. 
"Come right on up here.  I have something to show you that you'll just adore."

"Is it my slave?"

"You'll see.  Come on!"

The Mistresses went up the stairs, and then up the ladder to the loft.  JC had
never been in a loft without cobwebs, but Anna's was the exception.  That, of
course, reminded her of the mess piling up at her own house.  Anna had loaned
her a slave last weekend, but a week's still a week, and JC would be damned if
she was going to do another day of cleaning after what she'd learned about the
ready supply of labor in this country.  They went to the far wall, led by Anna
who pulled up a chair, and sat a second down for her friend.  They both sat.

"Slave Shit!"  Anna screamed towards the loft entranceway.  "Get us some beers
and pretzels!  And Penelopy's plate of vegies.  Make it fast, or I'll have that
other ball!"  Anna laughed, as did JC when she imagined the terror of slave Shit
at the prospect of having that kind of threat always over his head.

"He must shit bullets all day long," said JC.

"Well that's why I call him slave Shit," teased Anna.

"Nice view," injected JC, changing the subject.

"Not there.  Look over in the middle of the field there."

"Oh look.  Who's that?"  There was a pause with no answer.  "Is that my new
slave, Gary?" Asked JC at last, recognition dawning on her.

"Sure is.  He's trying to bury my corn stalks out there.  No shoes, no clothing,
it's impossible to do the way I've left him, and in the time I've given him. 
But watch him try.  Like a little rodent from this distance," said Anna,
admiring her work.

"You're so nasty," smiled JC, taking her beer from the pink and white slave
Shit.

"Ain't I so," laughed Anna, flicking her finger around and then down, at slave
Shit.  Slave Shit adjusted himself on his knees beside the Mistresses, and Anna
put the containers of food on his tabletop, level back.

"That's a good trick," admired JC.

"Oh it's easy.  The first time you try it, if something falls off, you just put
a little lighter fluid on their miserable cocks and light it for a few seconds. 
They learn pretty quickly to attend to small details."

The morning and afternoon went by in pleasant little fits of girl talk.

An hour after dark a figure came across the field towards slave Gary.  At first
the slave thought it was the Mistress, but as it neared he realized it was yet
another man he'd not met before.  The Mistress Must have a lot of part time
servants, thought Gary; maybe he'd become one too after this initiation.

The guy was about half the size of the two who'd been called to drive in the
stake, but he had the sledge hammer in one hand, a flagged stake and cuffs in
the other.  The Mistress had a certain sense for getting the right man for the
job, thought Gary.

"Mistress Anna wants you to go back to the basement.  She says she left the door
open for you," announced the man, dropping the hammer and stake at Gary's feet
before unlocking the shovel.

"She expects me to just walk right back in there?  She nearly killed me in there
last night," complained slave Gary.

"Do what you want.  My advise is to do what you're told.  Things could be worse. 
Most slaves who leave ultimately end up right back here.  You don't want to be,
'one of those who came back,' cause they don't fair too well the second time
around," explained the man.

"What do you mean?"

"I've already talked too much.  The Mistress has ears everywhere around here. 
You didn't hear me say a thing; got that?"  Said the man, a bit of fear in his
voice.

"So you think I should just walk right back into that dungeon, and let her kick
the hell out of me a second night?"

"Yes.  It'll get easier.  Trust me; you'll get used to it.  Besides, you're not
her property, as I understand it.  Now shut up, or I'll make up something to
piss her off," threatened the man, as he unlocked the chain from the post, and
re-attached the long end of the chain to the handcuffs he set on slave Gary's
wrists.  He pulled the rest of the chain into a ball, and handed it to Gary to
carry back, one end still attached to the link on his balls, and the other now
to handcuffs.

"Shit!"  Said Gary resignedly.

"Christ, you didn't get much done, did you," answered the other man, looking
over the new glen.  Leaves were scattered everywhere.  Here and there, a few
stalks showed too near the surface.  His thirty foot diameter glen was actually
more like fifteen by twenty.

"Thanks," replied Gary, sarcastically.

"Hey.  I'm the best friend you have here," informed the new man, as he took up
the sledge hammer, and pegged the post down a few inches below the surface.  He
poked the flagged poll into place, and knocked it a foot deep, while slave Gary
signed a resigned sigh.

Every inch of Gary's body ached from the continuous labor.  Mostly though, his
stomach ached from no food.  They'd starved him nearly to death, he thought,
walking with his heavy chain towards the side of the house.  Looking back, the
other man was tidying up the glen a bit, maybe helping after all, thought Gary. 
Every step slave Gary took was labored with weakness and pain.  The sun had
burned the parts of him that the beating had missed the night before.  His
asshole hurt just from the motion of legs.  Maybe most importantly, his mind had
to overcome his terror at taking each step a little closer to the door at the
side of the house.

He'd wanted it, he told himself.  He'd asked to be enslaved.  What had he
expected?  The slave forced his body into the doorway, and without turning on
the light, walked down the stairs to the dungeon below.  No, he told himself,
they'd have to give him a break.  The Mistress wasn't an idiot; she'd know that
another night like that last one would kill him.  Gary collapsed by the rug, and
fell into a deep, troubled sleep.

He awoke with the light on.  Penelopy was unlocking all of the restraints,
leaving him with his ball links and bra.  She took off the bra, and led both it
and him over to a corner shower.  She let him soap himself clean under warm
water.  It was like heaven - in spite of the fact that the soap stung a whole
host of places, mainly on his hands, thighs and ass.  Then she took off her
clothing, and crawled inside the stall, where she knelt down near his rising
cock, and pretended to want him in her mouth.  She licked her lips, and closed
her eyes.  The mouth opened slightly as she leaned forward, and then she cupped
his balls and dick in her hands, and lathered them with soap.  Just short of an
orgasm, she stopped, and washed the rest of his lower body.

"You'd like a blowjob, wouldn't you, slut?  Wash your bra, and leave it hanging
over the rail.  Remember a girlfriend, or your mother, leaving the lingerie all
over the bathroom?  That's you now, slut.  Clean it good, or the Mistress will
think you cheap," teased Penelopy.  She got out of the stall, found a towel, and
whipped it playfully at the showering slave.  It seemed so innocent to slave
Gary, more so since she'd been such a sadist the night before.  Penelopy's
breasts jiggled nicely as she snapped the towel.  Her pussy was neatly trimmed,
and her skin beautifully soft peach.  His cock reacted predictably, in spite of
the stinging snaps that seemed directed at it.

She stopped, saying, "There's a razor and some cream on the shelf.  You should
be bitch smooth.  Let me know when you're done by turning off the water, and
I'll bring you some rice; Mistress Anna has decided you're on a diet."

"I don't feel overweight, Mistress Penelopy," said slave Gary, forgetting his
place in the midst of his and Penelopy's playful mood.

"Sure you're not.  Look at those square hips, and the ten pounds of spare tire. 
Don't worry, honey; you'll be down to one-twenty in no time, and then we can do
something with you.  Right now you're pathetic; I've seen better in a Mexican
whore house," informed Penelopy, surprisingly with a less than sarcastic tone to
her voice.

"Yes Mistress Penelopy," said Gary.

The slave shaved off the hair, feeling a little better about things after his
leisurely shower and playful moments with Penelopy.  She toweled off, and found
a place on the floor to rest a little.  He got up on his knees when the door
opened, and Penelopy came down.  She wore a common, blue bathrobe that split
when she walked, showing a little leg.  Her hair was wet from the recent shower,
and she looked like the fresh girl next door.  Penelopy carried his bowl of
rice, which he eat without utensils like it was caviar.

Penelopy gave him the new plan.  "You'll rest tonight, and I'll get you up
tomorrow to finish in the field.  Mistress Anna has gone out, and left me in
charge.  It's your good fortune that I'm tired tonight, so I'll have one of the
slaves deal with you a little, and then you can get some sleep, and I can watch
some television.  I mean, I have to do something, because the Mistress will not
abide an unattended slave.  Stand up, and put your hands in these cuffs," said
Penelopy, handing slave Gary a pair of padded handcuffs.

Gary put his hands in the cuffs, a feeling of dread sinking his stomach.  The
rice churned inside, disproportionate to the amount of nourishment it supplied. 
He was almost sorry he'd eaten.  Then, almost instinctively, he raised his hands
at her direction, and let her hoist him up until his toes barely met the floor. 
The arms were beyond painful, combining the strain of the night before, the
day's work, and the new burden.

"Slave Shit!  Come down here, and bring me a nice soft chair," yelled Penelopy
up towards the doorway.

A slave in a pink dress came flying through the door, carrying a small rocker,
and nearly stumbling down the stairs in his haste.  His face was made up, and
his posture a bit bent over from some kind of pain in his gut, noticed Gary from
his own impossibly humiliating position in the hoist.  The chair was delivered,
facing slave Gary.  Slave shit then put his body between Gary and the chair, and
bowed at the feet of Penelopy.

"See how our slave Shit looks," said Penelopy, sitting down.

"Yes Mistress," answered Gary.

"He wants to be a girl.  In fact, he came to us wanting to be cross dressed, and
humiliated.  Isn't that so, Shit?"

"Yes Mistress Penelopy," answered the slave as he bowed.

"Get up and look at slave Gary.  Gary doesn't want to be a girl; isn't that so,
slave Gary?"

"As you say, Mistress," said Gary diplomatically.

"Shit here wants to be one, and yet we can't seem to make him into one.  Look at
the beard.  I'd say it's a good two days worth under that makeup.  And the
twenty pounds of filthy fat on him is preposterous for a slave.  It shows a
certain amount of laziness, don't you think?"  Asked Penelopy.

"Yes Mistress," answered Gary, wondering what her point was.

"So, since you don't like men, and since Penelopy wants to be a woman, but can't
seem to manage it, I've decided that tonight I'm going to let slave Shit give
slave Gary a blowjob.  We'll just leave it to nature to let you two figure out
what that means.  You wanted a blowjob earlier, didn't you, slut?" Penelopy
asked slave Gary.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Well don't miss your chance.  We don't allow much slave sex around here.  This
may be your lucky day," teased Penelopy.

"OK.  Do your job, Shit!"

Slave Shit crawled up between Gary's legs, and looked at the shrinking penis. 
Still, shrinking and all, from the teasing alone, the penis had one small drop
of cum at its slit.  Slave Shit knelt up and licked the drop off the head,
leaving a string of cum that stretched a few inches before snapping loose and
dangling both off the head of the cock and Shit's lips.

"Get to it.  I'll miss my shows," said Penelopy, who happened to love late night
television, but only got to watch when the Mistress was watching and allowed it,
or away.

Slave Shit leaned forward again, and took Gary's cock in his mouth.  The cock
slid forward, and in spite of Gary's revulsion, had a mind of its own, swelling
instantly.  Then the cocksucking slave leaned all the way, poking Gary's groin
with whiskers.  Mind of its own or not, slave Gary's cock shriveled a half inch.

"Listen, fellas.  I expect an orgasm in fifteen minutes.  If I don't see a wad
of cum on slave Shit's tongue in fifteen minutes, I'm going to fucking beat the
hell out of both of you.  The Mistress told me when she left that I could do
anything I wanted to the slaves as long as I didn't leave any permanent damage. 
That leaves a lot to the imagination, and tired or not, I'll do it I swear.  Now
start sucking with some feeling ... and you up there, try to be a good partner
to your fag friend, and donate him some lunch," said Penelopy with a giggle.

The Mistress leaned back in her chair, put her hands up the crease of the blue
bathrobe, and started playing with her pussy.  Gary, of course, saw this, and
strained or not, even stubble or not, his cock responded after so long without
relief.

Shit cupped Gary's balls with one hand, and started playing with the man's
nipples with the other.  Gary strained forward with each gulp, hoping to gain
the maximum feeling from the suck.  Twice he almost came, but lost it, finding
it hard to cum from such a strained laid out position.  He imagined himself
watching an old movie of a woman in chains in some dungeon, and then transferred
the thought to Penelopy.  She'd look great in chains with some vampire looking
her over for a meal, he fantasized.

She looked back, imagining herself able to read slave Gary's mind, and coming
close to her own orgasm.  Then slave Gary's body shuddered, his eyes got wide,
and his breath lightning quick.  Underneath, Shit let the strokes quicken, and
cupped the balls tightly.  The cock twitched, stopped, and then plunged forward
several times, cumming with gigantic heaves into slave Shit's eager mouth.

Shit crawled over to Penelopy, letting go of the cock before it was half
fulfilled.

"God!"  Gary moaned, disappointed that he'd been lift with a need to thrust a
few last times by the selfish need of slave Shit to show his prize to the
Mistress.

"Good boy, Shit.  You make a good homosexual, for a man.  You have my permission
to swallow, fag breath," teased Penelopy, knowing how much slave Shit wanted to
be regarded as one of the girls.  "Now that was a good start, but as you can
see, I didn't have time to cum myself.  I guess you'll just have to do it again. 
But don't worry; this time I'll give you twenty minutes before I beat you."

Gary's heart sank.  He had wanted more, but only a few last seconds, not a
second time around.  This time when slave Shit took the penis into his mouth,
the thing was only a couple of inches of sensationless meat.  Penelopy laid
back, fondled a breast, touched her pussy with the off hand, and smiled a
knowing smile of conquest.

Gary closed his eyes, and thought of his most wicked fantasies, one right after
the other, hoping to cause a stir.  Ten minutes later nothing had happened, but
then a slight rise came out of nowhere as the penis recovered from the recent
orgasm.  Penelopy was on the floor seat moaning at the sight of two men
struggling to cum for her amusement.

"Slave Shit, did I not make myself clear?  If you fail, both of you will have
the beating of your lives.  Can you stand that with your recent operation still
gnawing at your groin, boy?  I'd think you'd find a way to make him cum a little
faster if I were you!"  Advised Penelopy.

Slave shit increased his foundling of Gary's balls, and then took a little of
prick at the base between his fingers.  The hand beat at the prick ferociously,
masturbating the fellow slave to a new peak.  Another nineteen minutes passed. 
Slave Gary worked his body on the chains.  He reached up with his legs, and
draped them over slave Shit's back.  This helped a little, and then, within a
few seconds, he was almost there.  Over at the chair, Mistress Penelopy moaned
with an orgasm, and seconds later his balls emptied into slave Shit's eager
mouth for the second time, leaving a small deposit which slave Shit eagerly
showed a second time too soon.

"Eat it," insisted Penelopy, fighting her own struggle with a second orgasm. 
"Again.  Thirty minutes this time.  Get sucking, and do a little moaning up
there.  Tell him you love his mouth.  I want some drama, or I'm going to tell
her slave Shit isn't worth the ball she left him."  Penelopy moaned a few of the
words, going for a third.

Shit sucked one more time.  This time twenty-five seconds passed before Gary
felt a thing.  Still, for the next five seconds he fought near orgasm.  Mistress
Penelopy was done, and watched with a constant smile of satisfaction at the
control she'd engineered.  One minute remained, and Gary's cock was hard, but
seemingly empty.

"You will have to do better than that, Shit.  I thought you wanted to be a
woman.  What kind of woman can't suck the cream out of a man's penis?  I think
you've just been fooling us all this time.  I think you're really just a queer
who dresses up because he wants to look respectable, instead of a slut in heat. 
Give him something to remember, Shit baby.  Suck his testicles out through that
straw, baby!"

"Yes Mistress," mumbled Shit around the penis in his mouth.

"I love your mouth, slut," moaned Gary, trying to play the part, but thinking it
counter towards his goal of orgasm.  He'd never thought of an orgasm as painful
before, but this was one to make him want to swear off of sex for awhile.  Then
he felt something at his ass, and looked down to see slave Shit put his finger
up in his ass, and probe.  The finger had been wetted by the slave's mouth, and
slid up easily after the widening from the night before.  His cock immediately
swelled involuntarily to the invasion.  The finger moved up, well past the
second knuckle, and then fiddled inside, rubbing the inside of his anus,
invading him with foreign flesh.  The jab was humiliating to him, but he had
only seconds, and willed himself to yield to it as if it were pleasure.  Ten
seconds later, slave Gary came one more time into the eager mouth of slave Shit.

This time slave Shit lingered a little longer, finishing the sensation of
pleasure Gary felt, and then crawled over the Mistress to show his prize.

"Very very good, slave Shit.  You can swallow that one too.  You've been a very
good homosexual man tonight, and I had several orgasms just watching you suck
off another man.  I should have Mistress Anna rent you out to sailors," she
teased.

The festivities wound down, and a cot brought out for slave Gary.  Mistress went
to her TV, and the other TV went up to his closet.  Nobody stirred when Mistress
Anna came home and put herself to bed.  Tomorrow would be a new day.

By morning slave Gary was feeling a little homesick, a feeling made more
overwhelming when he woke up without someone's insistence after what felt like
twenty hours of sleep.  One side of his body was stiff, and the other buzzing
from sleeping too much on one side.  The sun was well up, illuminating most of
the dungeon.  He went off to the corner, found the mini-bathroom, washed,
brushed his teeth with a finger and soap, and did his constitution.  When he was
done, Gary looked at his body by leaning up to the sink mirror.  For the first
time in ages, he could count some ribs.  Maybe it wasn't all bad, he reasoned.

Ten minutes later he'd been whipped with a riding crop, hustled into a new,
clean bra, and chained at the balls to yesterday's thirty foot long chain. 
Penelopy led him out to the same field.  She clipped the shovel onto the chain
with a second padlock, this time less than a foot from the padlock at his
testicles.  He'd grown to hate that shovel, but then again, his hands had been
worn blister raw by digging on his hands and knees the previous day; maybe it
would do some good to find a way to use it.  Penelopy had him dig up the head of
the post, and laughed with a mock 'Wicked Witch of the West laugh' as she
secured the other end of the chain to it.  She gave him a half loaf of French
bread, and sat a canteen of water down before wandering back to the house.

He was half way done with the first hole before he realized she'd not said a
thing.  In fact, he became aware that he'd been thankful for the almost calm
predictability of the morning routine.  After all, she'd not beat him the
previous night, he'd had some very needed sleep, and other than a few slashes of
her crop that morning, the punishment aspect of his last twenty-four hours had
been light.  All he needed to do was keep the faith, and bury some corn stalks. 
Sometime tonight they'd no doubt be driving him home; the whole thing was almost
over, he resigned thankfully.  These thoughts calmed him; the digging slowed. 
After an hour or so, he took a drink, and ate half the bread before it got
stale, or eaten by the always resourceful ants.

He'd stood around eating for several minutes before someone came out of the
house in his direction.  Fearing the worst, he took the shovel, and started
digging a second hole, in spite of the fact that the first one was only half
filled with stalks.  Digging seemed like a more taxing task, and it allowed him
some posture from which to glance at the coming visitor.

This time it was Mistress Anna.  She was dressed casually again, blue jeans that
were cut off in celebration of the rising sun, a red, short sleeve shirt, socks
and tennis ankle high yard boots.  In her hand she had what looked like a rifle,
bringing instant terror to the slave's throat.  His digging intensified, as if
offering an act of repentance.

"What do you think you're doing, loafing out here, you little shit!"  Screamed
the Mistress.  He'd not heard her scream yet, only imagining her tongue as harsh
under the strain of her vicious beatings.  This, however, was terror, and slave
Gary stumbled a step aside - a step into his new and hastily dug hole.  He fell
across the ditch; the shovel yanking up on his nuts as it stuck in the ground,
and tugging at his balls while they pivoted in an arch to the ground.  His fall
looked like some sort of strange new athletic event for wooden puppets.

"I've not had a slave around here in months who had the audacity to stand in one
place as long as you.  You're pathetic!  Didn't I tell you to clear this area by
nightfall yesterday?  You'll be lucky to have it half done by the end of the
second day the way you're going," Anna scolded, raising the rifle, and aiming it
at the slave.

Gary's eyes grew large, and he turned instinctively, just as she squeezed the
trigger and shot him.  Instead of a bang, there was a kind of thump, followed by
a stinging pain on his thigh.  Gary screamed, his hand groping for the wound,
but instead of a bullet hole, he found a welt about the size of an eraser
instantly rising.  She cocked the rifle again.  The compression of air was
distinct, and the slave realized it was an air rifle she'd shot him with. 
Still, the pain was marked, not in the least lessened by the time the second
pellet smacked against his other thigh, this one whizzing by his flailing cock,
and landing two inches from his crotch.

"Please, Mistress.  I was only eating the breakfast.  I'm sorry.  Please.  It
won't happen again," begged the slave, as she cocked the gun one more time.

There was a pause, and the slave eased his head around, finding the Mistress
looking at him with about half the anger on her face she had a minute earlier. 
The gun was tucked under an arm.

She began, "all right.  I'll have to assume you're as stupid as you look, and
give you a second chance.  You know, you might as well find out right now why
you were sent to me in the first place.  Mistress JC is a good friend of mine,
and she told me that you appeared to have some promise as a domestic.  On the
other hand, and I think it has been obvious from the first time I saw you
myself, she implied that you were very lazy the first time she asked you to a
minor little tribulation.  Is that right?  Were you a lazy little slut the first
day, slave Gary?"

"Yes Mistress," answered the slave eagerly.

"And, of course, that is why I find it so refreshing when I torture you.  I
personally have a limited imagination.  I think slaves have only two purposes. 
One is to work, and the other is to suffer.  If you can't find it within
yourself to be a trifle helpful, then I guess you are asking to be tormented. 
Look at this work; I could have this done with a tractor for fifty cents worth
of gas.  You're not even worth fifty cents worth of gas.  I find that pathetic,
slave," explained the Mistress instructively.

"Yes Mistress," said the slave, sure that the best route to redemption was
cooperation.

"So here's the deal.  If I am forced to tell Mistress JC that you are a lazy and
un-redeemable slob of a slave, then it is highly unlikely that she will take you
on as her little project.  She will promptly dispatch you from her service, send
those pictures she has of you off to everyone you know.  She will assume that
the only use for you is punishment.  Maybe someone will take the chore on, and
maybe not.  In either event, and since no Mistress can abide a slave who is only
useful for torment forever, things do not look encouraging for your longevity in
an Mistress's service.  I don't expect you to understand all of this, so just
nod," derided the Mistress.

The slave nodded, his body balled up, and his head angled away from Mistress
Anna as she stood at the edge of the thirty yard radius, her rifle still under
the crook of her underarm.

"It is better to serve than to be dismissed, slave," added the Mistress.  "Best
of all, I guess, I mean if it were me, is to have never volunteered, but since
you have already taken that first step, the next ones are automatic.  You will
serve either as a servant, or an instrument of torment.  I am an expert at
torment, slave; you will do much better with Mistress JC; she knows some
kindness from time to time."

"Yes Mistress," answered the slave.

"Do you repent?"

"Yes Mistress," said the slave.

"I want you to stand up then, legs spread, and facing away from me.  Drop the
shovel, and let it pull those balls down with the weight.  Do it!  Now, slut!" 
Commanded Mistress Anna.

"Yes Mistress," whispered the slave, feeling very vulnerable.  The shovel was
put down gently, but the short chain length only let it drop half way to the
ground, pulling the balls down.  In the past day and a half, they'd stretched
some, and pulled away from the body so that they hung a good six inches under
the weight.

"Now bend over.  More.  More.  Spread the legs another six inches," said the
Mistress.

"Yes Mistress," said the slave, willing his terrorized body to move.  If he
didn't do what she said, what then, he wondered?  God, perish the thought, he
answered himself.  Regardless of her plan, not cooperating would certainly be
twenty times worse.  The slave moved his feet apart some more and leaned over
until he could see a meter between his legs.

"Now stand still.  I need some target practice," said the Mistress.

Tears started to well in the slave's eyes, as he internalized the tension of
waiting to be hurt.  She was going to shoot him, and he was going to offer
himself as a target.  Almost as unbearable as the impending pain was the steady
humiliation of offering his ass to her rifle sights.  It was almost a relief
when the first pellet smacked dead center into the meat of his left cheek.

"Lean over some more.  Come on, slave; pay attention.  Now lift your head way
up.  I can see your eyes between your legs.  What would happen if I hit you in
the eye, and put your eye out with this thing.  OSHA would come over here, and
close this place down.  Lean it up a little more.  Up.  There we go; backbone
level to the ground, head up high.  Got to put the meat in just the right pose. 
Think of yourself as just a target, something not human, like a cow carcus or
something.  The less you think about the body, the less it will hurt.  Now open
your mouth, and pretend I'm putting my ten inch dildo into some useless, fleshy
hole.  Pregnant women have to learn this; to take the body, and mind and
mentally separate the two during childbirth.  Rape victims do this too; they
just kind of float away.  You'll thank me later for this information, slut."

The humiliation was making his head redden with utter shame, as he opened his
mouth out of fear, and in spite of the fact that he was sure she couldn't see it
from her angle directly to his rear.  Still, she'd seen his only brief moments
of laziness, and used it well enough to deliver this round of excitement, he
reflected; he opened his mouth wider, from which a guttural moan escaped when a
second shot smacked into the meat of his right buttocks.

"That one almost toppled you over.  If you fall like that, that shovel might
catch again, and who knows, maybe it will be the end of your precious testicles,
slave.  That would be a shame.  No slave babies for you then....  I have so many
plans for them later, so be careful....  I have an idea.  Why don't you reach
back as far as you can with your hands ... I know they're a little restricted in
those shackles.  Now pull your buttocks apart gently, and let me see the rose of
your tiny asshole.  Think of it as your only chance to moon the Mistress. 
That's it.  Reach back a little more, and pull the cheeks wide apart.  Oh,
lovely.  You have such a cute asshole; has anyone ever told you that, slut.  It
looks just like a tight little pussy.  Hold that.  Don't move; you'll spoil my
aim," said Mistress Anna, as if giving gentle instruction.  She gently squeezed
the trigger from the seat she'd made between the stalks of corn.

The rifle thumped, and the slave felt the pellet slip perfectly into his
asshole, where it smacked into his rectum wall, stung him inside, and then
rested four inches inside.

"Ohhh," moaned the slave, feeling the intrusion, pain and horror of rape with
one little copper intrusion.  He wanted to shit both the pellet, and the rising
welt inside, but knew it would be both insulting and futile.  The tears fell
across his cheek, and the Mistress answered with the perfect, stoic firing of a
second pellet that also went directly up his ass.

"My father, God rest his soul, taught me how to shoot.  He wasn't worth much of
anything else before he left me this place, but at least he taught me that.  Of
course, it wasn't the only thing he taught me, but I have no end to volunteers
to help me pay that back.  Don't move," she whispered, shooting another one deep
inside.

One after the other, the Mistress filled him until the pellets stopped beating
against the lining of his anus, and started banging into one another.  The
Mistress tosses a four inch butt plug between his legs.  He saw it roll into the
hole nearby through the blur of wetness in his eyes.

"I'll want you to keep the pellets in you until you're done; as a reminder. 
That's what the plug is for.  And, slave ... this piece of field will be done by
this evening, or else I'll have to tell Mistress JC that you're just not worth
the time.  Punishment or service; to what degree each is administered is the
only choice you have left, so figure it out, but do it fast.  No.  Not now. 
Hold still just one more time," said Mistress Anna, just before the final pellet
smacked against his left nut with a smack that sent the testicle sack jumping
enough to lift the shovel an inch.

The slave keeled over, letting the shovel jolt him a second time before falling
face first into the dirt.  He groped at his crotch, finding it all there,
although one side smashed flat but swelling that promised to more than
compensate.  This last act was a clue to what she ultimately wanted, slave Gary
told himself.  She wants to get even with any symbol of her male father.  The
slave was miserable, but not stupid, yet at the same time he wondered if being
intelligent made any difference in this line of work.

He licked the plug until it was wet all over, and shoved it up his ass without a
second thought to the newness of such an intrusion.  What kind of intellect puts
a butt plug up his own ass so nonchalantly, he wondered.  He'd been through a
lot; what was a plug up the ass compared to the rest, he reasoned, slowly
rising.  There was a pain in his gut that made him almost lose the bread he'd
eaten, a near disaster given the amount of food he'd eaten in the past two days. 
The shovel hit the dirt in spite of his sick feeling, and the second hole dug
before he chanced to look in Mistress Anna's direction.  He found her already
out of view.

There alone he worked, and from there forward it was his life.