Lisa and robert

Lisa and robert - Part I

I'm a 33 year old partner in a major Washington, D.C., law firm, and for the
past two years, I've been living with Lisa, a para-legal at the same firm.  

Lisa's an absolutely georgeous woman with long, almost black hair which she
usually wears in a pony-tail.  A year older than I am, she's also a couple of
inches taller, nearly six feet in flats.  She was a ballet dancer when she was
younger and retains the grace, flexibility and ease of movement of a dancer. 
She still gets a lot of exercise -- aerobics and weight training.  She's
unusually strong for a woman.

She's my mistress, and I'm her slave.  I wear a ring through my scrotum, just
below the base of my balls, and I have her signature tattooed on my ass.  We're
getting married next month, and the only reason I'm not taking her name, which I
would certainly do if she demanded it, is that she feels it might hurt me
professionally.  She is keeping her name, of course.

Here's how our adventure began.  We worked together a little, and I was quickly
attracted to her because she's smart, agreeable to be around, witty and sexy as
well as beautiful.  Dating co-workers is a bit tricky, and I also feared that
Lisa might balk at going out with someone shorter than she is.  But I decided to
give it a whirl and persuaded her to have dinner and go to the movies with me
one night, and we clicked.  We had conventional sex on our second date and were
soon together several nights a week, despite office demands.  I fell completely
in love with her and asked her to marry me.  She demurred but agreed to live
with me.

Six months after Lisa moved in, I screwed up my courage and told her my
fantasies about female domination.  They've been with me for years, refreshed
regularly by reading the Internet.  Up to then, I hadn't had any experience with
my fantasies but I really wanted Lisa to take control.  Maybe subconsciously I
had chosen Lisa to begin with because I recognized her as my superior.

She resisted the idea at first, saying she loved me too and was afraid it would
demean me.  But eventually I succeeded in convincing her to try it as a game. 

At first, I supplied most of the ideas.  But that didn't last long.  Lisa soon
found that she enjoyed my submission and before long it was no longer a game.
Lisa has one hell of an imagination -- I stipulated that she was smart.  Once
she embraced her dominant position, she took me far beyond anything I ever
dreamed of.   My ideas are no longer wanted.

At her command, I wear a locked chastity device to which she has the only key.

While she permits me to have bodily hair in my groin, she requires me to
eliminate all hair on my scrotum and around my anus.  I am examined, over her
lap, once a week.  Any hairs on my balls that escaped my razor are removed with
wax and I am severely punished for having missed them.  Hairs in the crack in my
ass are also stripped with wax, and there's a punishment for missing those too,
though less severe because it's harder for me to shave back there.

Under my clothes, at all times during the day, I wear Lisa's soiled panties from
the previous day.  It arouses me by keeping me conscious of my slave status. 
The chastity device prevents me from having an erection but I am in a constant
state of arousal.   Recently, Lisa has taken to wearing panty girdles, though
she does not require them with her trim figure.   They are worn for me, not for
her.  The control panels increase the tightness around my cock and balls.

When Lisa's menstruating, I also wear her used rag.  She never uses a tampon at
night, and her night-time pad is transferred to me in the morning.  Sometimes,
if I'm being punished for being too hairy, my balls are tied off with rawhide,
which is anchored in the ring.  The discomfort increases as the day wears on. 
With the chastity device on, I am unable to loosen the knot, and in any case
would be severely punished if I tried.

We make love often.  Sometimes, it's normal sex.  But since Lisa is now my
Mistress and no longer play-acting, my slavery is generally incorporated in our
love-making.

Frequently the sex begins when Lisa returns from her thrice-weekly exercise
class.  She wears gear I purchased for her on her instructions that is designed
to increase bodily heat and, therefore, perspiration.  She continues to wear
those clothes through the first part of our encounter, when she exerts a lot of
energy and continues to sweat profusely.  

I greet her on her return from class in the nude and with my forehead pressed to
the carpet.  On Inspection Day, making me my balls and anus hairless is the
first order of business.  I am required to keep track of the hairs she finds,
knowing that I will be punished for every hair.

On other days, I am simply draped over her lap for an initial spanking with her
hand and a hairbrush or slipper.  Lisa knows very well how much I can tolerate
-- and takes me much further.  She stops when she's ready, not when I am.

After my ass is fiery red, I am made to bend over and hold my ankles while she
swats me with my old fraternity paddle.  Because of Lisa's physical strength,
the paddling is quite harsh.  Receiving it several times a week really gets to
my sitter, so I now have a standing desk at the office and use it most of the
time.  Sitting through long meetings is agony.   I am required to tell Lisa when
such meetings are scheduled so that she can add more swats to make certain I am
aware during those meetings of her presence.

Once a week on Inspection Day, when the spanking and paddling have concluded, I
am ordered to lie face down on the bed while she uses the springy horsewhip I
bought her.  She whips me until she draws blood.   The welts make a wonderful
criss-cross pattern and last the entire week. 

Strokes are added for the number of hairs she was forced to pluck: one for each
hair taken from my balls and one for every three hairs from the crack in my ass. 
If the total of extra strokes is five or more, I will have my balls bound in
rawhide the next day.

When she's done with the spanking, paddle and whip, we make love.  I help her
out of her sweat gear and begin by tonguing and massaging her entire body,
drinking in her odor and perspiration.  That takes about an hour.  After the
massage is completed, I get to eat her sweaty pussy, a wonderful taste treat. I
cannot begin to describe how arousing I find it to service my mistress when she
has been perspiring.  It is far more powerful for me than any perfume. 

Only after Lisa is completely satisfied does she invites me to enter her.   As
we fuck, I am very conscious of the ring I wear in my sac.   I feel it as I slam
into her.  The sensation is incredibly erotic.  Sometimes Lisa has me lie on my
back while she climbs on my prick facing my feet.  She likes to play with my
ring while she uses me.

When we're all finished, Lisa goes off to take her shower.  Before stepping into
the shower stall, she wipes herself thoroughly with her panties.  Her juices and
mine, the remainder of her perspiration, and the odor of her asshole will flavor
the panties I wear the following day.

While Lisa takes her shower, I don her sweat suit, which will be my night
clothes.  Her sweat encompasses me.  Lisa sleeps in the nude and I am expected
to tongue her back and front whenever I wake during the night.  She will
sometimes allow me to eat her to orgasm in the middle of the night but she has
never invited me to take off her/my clothes and fuck.

In the morning, I am made to strip and receive a wake up spanking, refreshing
the redness of my ass.   Then I shower, dress in her precious panty girdle and
business suit, and we have breakfast and go to work.  When the rawhide cord is
part of my day's uniform, Lisa ties it, pulling hard to make sure it bites.

Lisa has been careful to keep my status secret.  I had my scrotum pierced and
the tattoo done on a trip we took to New York.  She signed my ass with a felt
tip pen, and the tattoo artist did the rest.  The ring she had inserted in me is
an earring with a dangle bearing her initials.   It feel it against me as I
walk.

The only person in Washington who's in our secret thus far is my female
internist, Heidi, whom Lisa chose for me.  I resisted the idea of seeing a
female doctor but Lisa silenced my protests.  Not until later did I discover
that Heidi and Lisa had been roommates in college.

The first time I went to see Heidi was the most embarrassing experience of my
life.    She took my medical history in her office, then sent me into an
examining room to undress.  By design -- she knew my schedule -- Lisa had used
the whip on me the night before, so my welts were fresh.  Having failed
inspection, I also had my balls tied in rawhide.    And of course Heidi saw my
chastity device, the ring in my sac and the tattoo.  She smiled and said: 
"Well, I see what you're into."  That was all.  But it completed my humiliation. 
Of course, I was seriously aroused when she finished.   Lisa made me recite the
details that evening.

Heidi has since been to dinner at our house.  Lisa forced me to make the call
and extend the invitation.  I tried to refuse and received an especially severe
whipping that night.  For my temerity, she also made me wear the rawhide cord
around my balls for three straight days and nights, which was exceptionally
painful and left a mark on my scrotum that lasted more than a week.

The night that Heidi came to dinner the principal topic of conversation was my
slave routine.  Lisa told Heidi how I had tried to refuse calling and explained
how she had punished me.  I was in a high state of arousal all evening though
the chastity device prevented me from achieving an erection.   As she left,
Heidi said:  "I hope you will use him harshly this evening.   I think he needs
it."

After Heidi left, Lisa took me up to our bedroom and beat me with particular
relish. For the first time, she got me not merely to beg for mercy but actually
to cry.  When I joined her in bed, she was less sweaty than usual but she was
drenched in her own juices.  Clearly, the scene with Heidi and my humiliation
had aroused her mightily.

I'm not sure what the future holds for Lisa and me after marriage but I'm sure
her plans for me will involve further humiliations.  I can almost get hard
thinking about it. 

Lisa and david   Chapter 2

I've only made Lisa really angry once but the incident is
indelibly stamped on my memory.

It happened not long before we got married.  We'd gone out for
dinner and got to discussing a legal matter in which the firm was
involved.  Lisa had been working on the case and knew things I
didn't know.  On the other hand, I was the lawyer and she was
merely a paralegal.  I expressed an opinion about the law, she
disagreed, and I told her she didn't know what she was talking
about.  In fact, what I said was that her view was "ignorant."
She got up and walked out of the restaurant.  I took $100 out of
my wallet and put it on the table.  I followed her out and tried
to apologize.  

"Stow it, goddam you," she said. She was teary but also spitting
mad.  "I don't want your apology.  In addition to the fact that I
own you, not the other way around, I won't be patronized by you,
and I won't be put in my place.  I'm every bit as smart as you
are, maybe smarter."

She tried to hail a taxi to take her home.  I uttered a dozen
"pleases" before she agreed to let me drive her.  The last thing
she said to me that night was that she would deal with me later. 
That was a Monday night.

On Wednesday, about noon, Lisa walked into my office and handed
me an envelope containing written instructions.  I was to spend
the coming weekend buying and installing certain pieces of
equipment in our basement:  a pommel horse, a particular brand
of rowing machine, a padded sawhorse and a sawed off broomstick
which was to be set in notches at a height she prescribed.   On
the following Friday, nine days from the time she handed me the
envelope, I would report to the basement in the nude at 8 p.m.

I saw less of Lisa than usual that week.  Sex was suspended.
Lisa, as ever, went to her aerobics class, and I slept in her
sweaty gear, inhaling her aroma.  One night, I awoke and
attempted to tongue her, a customary form of love-making between
us.   She awoke long enough to tell me that her pussy was off
limits to me and that she would add sexual harrassment to the
list of my offenses.  She made sure I had soiled panties to wear
under my clothes each day, however.  She wore the panties under
her sweat clothes to her aerobics class.  And twice she had me
masturbate into the panties right before I put them on.

On the first weekend, I had to find out where to buy a pommel
horse and to rent a truck to get it home.  The rowing machine she
specified was not much easier to come by.  I had to call around
to find one.  I bought a broom; I already had a saw. I got the
sawhorse from a builder friend and the padding from a mattress
store.  I needed the help of a teenage neighbor to carry the
bigger items into the house and down to the basement.  I fended
off his questions.  

Since my skills as a carpenter are rudimentary, it took we longer
than it should have to pad the sawhorse and install the sawed off
broomstick as she had instructed.  But I managed to get it all
done.  When she measured the height of the broomstick, she said
it was an eighth of an inch higher than she instructed but since
that would serve the purpose even better, she wouldn't punish me
for my inept performance.

The next week went by very slowly.   I imagined a lot of things
and, since I wasn't having as much sex as usual, I spent a lot of
time with a raging hard on.    Friday night, a few minutes before
8 p.m., I undressed and went down to the basement.  I adopted the
usual slave posture: forehead on the ground, haunches in the air.

Lisa came down at 8:10 p.m.    She reached into her jeans pocket
and pulled out a butt plug.  "Put it in," she ordered.  I asked
for a lubricant.  "Put it in, goddam it," she said.  I'd never
worn a butt plug, didn't like it at all and knew it would become
increasingly unpleasant with time.

Next she bent me over the padded saw horse and bound me to it
hand and foot.   She stood behind me with her paddle and began.
I lost count at 30 and must have taken at least twice that
number.  I hollered for mercy -- to no avail.  I screamed -- to
no avail.  When I finally started crying, she applied a couple of
extra strokes and then quit.  I felt bruised through and through.

She released me from the sawhorse.  "If you need to piss," she
said, "you'd better do so now.  You're going to spend the night
on the pommel horse."

I returned from the bathroom.  She instructed me on how to swing
up onto the pommel horse.  I hadn't been on one since junior
high.   Once I was aboard, she took two 18 inch lengths of
clothesline, tied them to my wrists and then to the rear handle
of the horse.  The effect was to assure that I would have to sit
straight up.  "Good night, Richard" was all she said.

I spent the night enthroned on the pommel horse in perfect agony.
Lisa had made it uncomfortable for me to sit many times before
but never, ever like this.  My rear-end ached like I'd been
kicked there by a mule, and the pommel horse became an
increasingly unpleasant mount as the night wore on.  I couldn't
sleep or even doze, though the way my wrists were bound would
probably have prevented my falling off.  The butt plug made me
feel as if I were impaled on a saddle.  I couldn't raise my
haunches more than an inch or two at a time, and everytime I
shifted position, my discomfort seemed to grow.  The night may
not have lasted forever but it was a close cousin of forever.  My
ass hurt, my asshole hurt, my back hurt, my entire body hurt.

When Lisa reappeared, newly showered but dressed in her sweat
clothes, she helped me down off the pommel horse and examined my
rear.  "How do you feel, cowboy," she asked cheerfully.  "Like
the last roundup,"  I replied.  

"Good," she said.  "Go brush your teeth and urinate and be back
here in 10 minutes."

I did as she instructed.  When I returned, I saw that she had
looped a choke chain, such as dog trainers use, around the rowing
machine's front post.   She kneeled before me and caught my balls
in a noose of nylon thread which she drew so tight that it cut
into my skin.  I took a deep breath and exhaled sharply.  Next
she tied a doubled length of rawhide cord to my balls in the same
location as the nylon thread, just below the ring in my scrotum,
not through it as she normally did.  

She had me sit down on the hard saddle of the rowing machine.  It
was harder on my butt than the pommel horse.  She told me to move
into the up position and then took the other end of the rawhide
cord and secured it to the end of the choke chain dangling from
the front post.  "Pull," she said, nodding at the oars.  I pulled
back and the knot at my balls tightened and stretched me until I
yelped.  "Come forward," she said.  She didn't think I had been
stretched enough.  She reattached the end of the rawhide to the
choke chain so as reduce the distance to my balls.  "Pull," she
said again.  I felt as if my balls were in danger of being parted
from my body and screamed that I couldn't stand it.

"Good," she said, standing up.  "You see that display, Richard. 
I expect you to have rowed 300 strokes by the time I return. If
you haven't finished the 300 strokes, you'll finish them and row
another 300.  If you tamper with the tie around your balls, I'll
retie it tighter than it is now, and I'll stand here until you've
rowed 1500 strokes.  Don't worry about the skin on your balls,
Daddy.  It will grow back.  And a little blood will prepare you
for your next adventure."

I don't know how long she was gone.  I didn't have a clock.  All
I had was that display in front of me, counting the strokes.
Rowing 300 strokes would be difficult.  Rowing it with my balls
being tugged from my body and rubbed bloody seemed impossible. 
If I was going to finish before Lisa returned, I would have to
steel myself against the pain I was inflicting on my tortured
scrotum.  I was rowing with my teeth gritted, bathed in my own
sweat, wetting my cheeks with my tears -- and I was nearly there
when Lisa walked in.  

She looked at the display.  She looked at the knot.

"Close, Lover Boy," she said, "but no cigar.  Finish the 300. 
Then you'll row another 300."

I begged her for mercy.  "Please, Lisa, please.  I can't stand
any more.  My balls are coming off.  It's killing me."

"Richard," she said.  "I'm teaching you a lesson, and it isn't
'please' or 'thank you.'  I don't give a damn if it takes your
balls a month to heal.   You'll do the 300 and you'll do the
second 300.  And that's all there is to it."

She added:  "I'm going upstairs to read the papers.  I'll give
you what I consider an appropriate amount of time.  If you don't
finish the second 300 on time, you'll do a third.  

I finished the second 300 just before the door opened.  My back
ached.  My muscles ached.  My bottom ached.  My balls were raw
and there was a fiery line of pain around the base of my cock
where the nylon thread was knotted and where the rawhide had torn
my flesh.   The floor around the rowing machine was bathed with
my sweat.  I was very nearly weeping in agony.  And I was
exhausted.

"Good boy, Richard," Lisa said.  "Next year we'll go the Henley
Regatta.  You'll be a sensation."    Weakly, I said:  "Thank you,
Mistress."   She responded:  "Lisa will do.  I am your mistress. 
I don't require the title."  She undid the rawhide cord from the
machine and then from my balls.  She snipped the nylon thread.
The pain did not leave.  

"Let me see your butt plug," she said.  I bent over.  She turned
it a little in me, and I moaned.  "Uncomfortable?  Good."

"You may go upstairs and take a glass of orange juice.  I
wouldn't have any coffee, if I were you.  I'm going to put you
somewhere for a long time, and you're not going to be able to
urinate unless you do it on the floor -- and I wouldn't like
that.  Be back in 15 minutes."

When I returned she told me to put myself astride the broomstick. 
There was a funny smell in the air, and the moment I followed her
instructions I understood why.  She had painted the broomstick
with linament and the moment my body -- the tenderest parts of my
body -- came in contact with the broomstick, I screamed in the
worst agony yet.  The night on the pommel horse, the morning on
the rowing machine with its effects on my balls, and the butt
plug I was wearing all came to their apogee with the mounting of
the broomstick.

The height Lisa had specified meant that my toes were not in
contact with the floor when I was balanced on the broomstick. 
The "natural" position of the broomstick was down my middle.  My
balls and the crack in my ass were right on the wood.  I felt as
if the buttplug were being forced into me.  And, of course, the
linament against my private parts made it feel like I was being
torched.

Lisa took a canister of flour and spread it liberally on the
floor beneath the broomstick.  "You'll be on the broomstick for
at least two hours, Darling.  How much longer is up to you.  You
probably won't be able to hold on completely, and I'll assign an
extra 30 minutes for every toe print.  I'm come down every hour
to recoat the broomstick, and that will give you five minutes
each hour to recuperate.  If you're brave and have good balance,
maybe you'll be done in two or three or four hours.  If not, why
you can stay there until Monday morning and go back on Monday
night until Tuesday morning and so on forever."

I found out that it's not possible to get used to the fire of
linament on the intimate parts of your body.  It just keeps on
burning.  And riding a broomstick, trying to hold your balance,
presses you against the linament in the deepest way possible. 
And just when the power of the linament is fading, there's Lisa
again to refresh it by repainting the broomstick.

I touched down twice in the first hour -- unmistakably.  So I had
been on the broomstick an hour and had not made any progress at
all.  I also touched down twice during the second hour. 
Altogether, I was atop that abominable machine for six terrible
hours.   My butt hurt.  My balls were not only raw and bloody,
they were in flames.   The crack in my ass ached like fury from
riding the broomstick and it was just as fiery as my balls.  The
butt plug had done its work: my asshole felt like it had been
reamed, and I had serious cramps.  To add to it all, my arms
ached from keeping me balanced.  My back ached.  My ass was
deeply bruised.  I stank from sweat, and I had not been able to
avoid urinating on the floor.

But Lisa was merciful.  "Wipe it up," she said.  "We'll deal with
that later."

She took me upstairs, had me remove the butt plug and visit the
toilet.  It hurt to sit and it hurt to move my bowels.  

Lisa stood me under the shower, and the play of the water on my
body hurt me too.  She took off her clothes and joined me.   She
soaped me and washed me and got down on her knees to minister to
my tortured balls.  That hurt too.   She bent me over and washed
my buttocks and the crack between.  And that also hurt.   

She patted me dry.  She took me into the bedroom and put me to
bed.  I fell asleep and when I opened my eyes an hour later she
was still sitting beside me stroking my arm.  

"Thank you for my punishment, Lisa," I said.  "I belong to you. 
I love you.  Will you marry me?."

That was the night she said yes.  I'd guess -- and it's just a
guess -- that because she'd worked her will on me, proving her
ownership in a way that went beyond the rituals of sex slavery,
she was now free to accept me as her spouse.  Although I wasn't
up to making love that night, or for several days afterwards, I
was never more deeply in love with her or more deeply enslaved.  
I certainly never wanted to make her angry again.  

Chapter 3 Heidi

Lisa has been careful not to advertise my status -- except to her
former college roommate, Heidi, who she picked as my internist.
There's nothing as humiliating as having yourself felt, poked and
prodded by a gorgeous brunette, unless it's having that same
brunette at your dinner table discussing your slave status.  

I've already written about the first time Lisa sent me to see
Heidi.  The second time was even more humiliating.  At Lisa's
instruction, I went on a Sunday morning to Heidi's home.   She
took me into her office and told me to undress.  I waited for her
to step out but she didn't. 

"Undress," she said again.  I took off my shirt, undid the buckle
on my pants and turned my back on her.  "Face this way, please,"
she said.   I faced her and stepped out of my pants.  I closed my
eyes, as if that somehow protected me from her gaze, and pulled
down Lisa's dirty panties from the previous day.  Inside them was
a rag stiff with Lisa's blood; she was menstruating, and when she
did, her night-time pad was part of my next day costume.

"I see Lisa's on time," Heidi said.  I was naked now.

"Come here," she said, sitting on a wheeled office stool.  I
stepped toward her.

She took my hairless scrotum in her hand and examined my
testicles with her fingers.   I was very hard.  She touched the
ring inserted in my scrotum at the base of my cock.  "Do you have
any problems with the ring, Richard?" she asked.

"Sometimes," I said, blushing fiercely, "when my testicles are
tied up and the cord cuts into me."

"I'll prescribe a salve," she said.  "And do you get a rash from
wearing Lisa's panties?"

"Yes," I said.

"I'll give you the name of a lotion to buy for that."

She rolled the stool back and stood up.  "Climb up on the table,"
she ordered. "Face down."

For the first time, I noticed that there was a portable table, of
the type used for massages, set up on the other side of the room. 
It had a sheet over it and a pillow at one end.

I climbed onto the table.  She said:  "Lisa asked me to give you
a proctoscopic examination.   In order to do that, I'm first
going to have to give you an enema and then a second one."

I said, my voice rising:  "I could have done the preparation
myself.  Why wasn't I told to?"

"Because Lisa wanted me to give you the enemas."

I submitted to the enemas.  They were humiliating and arousing. 
I was near sniveling by the time they were over.

When I returned from the bathroom the second time, Lisa had laid
out her tools.  She told me to lie on my side with my rear end
toward her and my knees raised.

Her fingers ran over my buttocks where they were tattooed with
Lisa's signature.  I also bore the welts from a recent whipping.

"Do these hurt?" she asked.

"Not now."  I struggled not to tell her to mind her business. 
She was Lisa's instrument and I was Lisa's slave.

"Do they stay with you?"

"From one whipping to the next."  

She took a lubricant and swabbed her instrument and my asshole.
The examination took minutes that seemed like an hour.  

When it was over, Heidi said:  "You're fine."  

I got down off the table.  Heidi put on a plastic glove. 

I said:  "Oh, no."

She said: "Oh, yes."

I bent over with my back to her and she felt my prostate.

"Good," she said.  "Now one more thing."

"Yes?" I said, dreading the answer.

"Lisa asked me to do a sperm count on you.  So I'll need a semen
sample."

"Can't I bring it in?"

"No, Richard.  Here and now.  And you'll do it right in front of
me."

So I did it in front of her with my eyes closed as I neared
climax.  When I ejaculated, Heidi cheered softly.  I felt as if I
was red as a beet.

Heidi sent me home and Lisa made me repeat every detail of the
examination.  Three days later Heidi called me at the office. 
"You have a healthy sperm count, Richard.  You'll need a
vasectomy."

I was startled and said so.  Heidi responded:  "Lisa wants to
stop taking birth control pills and has decided that children
would not be compatible with your life styles.  So I'm going to
give you the name of a urologist.  Female, of course."

I protested that one female doctor was enough.

"Don't argue, Richard.  Lisa wants the vasectomy performed by a
woman doctor.  She wants all your medical procedures and all your
examinations performed by female doctors.  It humiliates you.  I
understand.  But that's the point."

And so I went to Dr. Sally Kaufman, a urologist.  Dr. Kaufman
wasn't part of Lisa's network.   But, as if the ring and tattoo
weren't enough of a clue, she clearly understood from Heidi about
my status.   Her examination of me was business-like but I could
not suppress an erection.  

I made an appointment to have the procedure performed.   The
night before I saw Dr. Kaufman for the second time Lisa whipped
me unmercifully so that I had fresh and bloody welts to show.

Now a second female doctor knew my story and from what Heidi had
said there would be others over time.

But, as I soon discovered, Lisa had other humiliations in mind
for me.   One Saturday, we flew to New York to visit a storeroom
in a loft that catered to transvestites.  We were expected.  Lisa
had made an appointment by telephone with a "consultant," a
brassy blonde female.  We went into a back room and Lisa had me
strip down to her underpants.   The brassy blonde, Mary Anne,
felt me back and front, lingering over my cock.  Lisa explained,
in unnecessary detail, that she always wore the panties before I
did.

Mary Anne grinned widely.  "Cool," she announced.

"What's your waist size," she asked me.  I told her.

"What size panties are these?" she asked Lisa.  Lisa told her.

"I'm going to bring in one size smaller," she said to Lisa.  "It
will be a lot tighter on him.  You try them on," she said to
Lisa, "and if they're not too uncomfortable for you, we'll go
with the smaller size."

Lisa tried on a pair of forest green panties with control panels
back and front.  "They're a little tight," she said, "but I'm
willing to wear them so he can."

Mary Anne took back the green panties and handed them to me.  I
tried not to understand.

"Take it off, Richard," Lisa instructed sharply.  I did what she
wanted.  I started to put on the new ones.  "No," she said.  "Let
Mary Anne see you first."

Mary Anne looked at my nakedness.  She touched my pubic area,
cupped my balls in her hands, turned me around and examined my
tattoo, bent me over and made me spread my cheeks.  She ran her
finger down the crack in my ass, pausing briefly at my asshole.
My cock grew hard as a rock.

"Very nice," she said to Lisa.  "I've got a depilatory you might
want to try in back and some nice female lotions to use on his
body."

She looked at my armpits and at my legs.  "Have him use women's
creams and a woman's razor.  He'll find it sexier."

"Okay," she continued.  "Put on the panties."  

I pulled them up.  The increased tightness was perceptible. 
"You'll want to examine the elastic every time they're washed,"
she said to Lisa.  "The minute they're stretched, they should be
replaced.  Keep 'em tight, keep him hard."

Lisa ordered three dozen pair in six different colors.  She told
me to try them on in front of Mary Anne and asked Mary Anne each
time to test the fit by stroking my cock, balls and ass.  I came
about half way through the collection into a pair of midnight
blue panties.  

"He'll wear those home," Lisa announced.  "You can package the
rest."

On the plane back to D.C., Lisa kept a firm grip on my hand. 
When we got home, she took me up to the bedroom and fed me her
pussy.  It was sopping wet.  Afterwards, we made love and, after
a nap, we made love again.  And yet again.

In the morning, she said:  "I'd like to take you somewhere where
I could put you on display all the time.  I'd like the whole
world to know that you belong to me.  I'd like the whole world to
know that you wear my filthy panties.  I'd like everybody we ever
meet to know I whip you."

I went down on her.  She gripped my hair and put her legs around
my neck.  And she had another orgasm.  I wasn't up to one more
fuck.  But I was satisfied.  Lisa's imagination had triumphed
again.  I suspected that it would be only a matter of time until
she figured out a way to put me on display.

Chapter 4   The Circle

Through a newspaper published in the D.C. area, Lisa found an
answer to her desire to display me..  

She identified a local organization that specializes in
domination and submission.  And when she had satisified herself
that there was minimal risk of disclosure, she scheduled our
attendance at a coming meeting.

I knew nothing about any of this until later.

One Thursday she went off, as usual, to her aerobics class and
returned an hour and a half later pouring sweat into the special
clothes I had purchased for her at her request.  I met her in the
nude, as was our custom.

"Over my lap," she said, as she entered.  "Inspection Day."

I protested that Inspection Day was Saturday.  "Not this week,
Richard," she declared.

Of course, I hadn't just shaved my balls or the crack in my ass. 
She plucked 18 small hairs from my balls and counted 17 more that
she scraped off me behind after applying a dipilatory
preparation.  That meant 30 extra strokes from her riding whip
later, 18 for each of the hairs from my balls and 12 more for the
35 hairs from my rear.

Next she applied her hand and carpet slipper to my buttocks. 
Harder and longer than usual.  I was sobbing when she finished
and the cheeks of my ass were a fiery red.  Next I was motioned
off her lap and in position to receive the customary paddling.   
Again, it was harder and took longer than usual.  Sitting would
be seriously uncomfortable for many days, whether or not I was
paddled soon again.  

Then she used her riding whip on me, topped off by the extra
strokes.  I was nearly crying when she finished.  My ass would be
criss-crossed with bloody welts for many days to come.

I helped her out of her sweaty exercise uniform.  Instead of
following our custom, which required me to give her an hour-long
massage before sex, she immediately pulled me face down into her
pussy, her legs locked behind my neck.  She was drenched with
sweat and with her own juices.  I tongued her to two unusually
violent climaxes.  

"Now, Fuck me," she said, and I did.  

I was pretty aroused myself.  As soon as I spurted, she told me
to lie down on my back.  She put her pussy to my mouth and fed me
my come.  Then she turned around and sat on my face.  I did what
was expected of me, inhaling her aroma and tasting the sweat
which still pearled her body.

She climbed aboard my cock, rode me to another orgasm and gave me
another feeding.   I nibbled and tongued her until she was
satisfied.  

She collapsed on her side of the bed, not bothering to shower,
and fell soundly asleep, in the nude as always.  I put on Lisa's
sweats as my night clothes, an every night ritual, whether or not
she's been to exercise class.   Lisa weighs less than I do, but
she's taller than I am, so her clothes fit me, except in the
crotch.

When I awoke early Friday morning, she was still sleeping beside
me, facing my way and curled into a ball. I put my head under the
covers and licked her thigh.  Lisa shifted position and opened
her legs.  I accepted the invitation and brought her to an early
morning orgasm.

"Good boy, Richard," she said, opening her eyes for the first
time.  "That's a nice start to a special day."

I didn't know what she was talking about.

She had worn purple panties the previous day and, after I
showered, those were the panties I wore under my suit.  Little
did I know I would wear them before an audience later that night.

I had a busy day at the office.  Much of it was spent at my
standing desk.  My buttocks were severely bruised from the
Thursday night paddling.  Lisa never allowed me to sit
comfortably.  I felt her even on a well-padded chair, and a hard
chair was unbearable.   

When she came into my office at day's end from her office two
floors down, she said:  "We're due in Potomac in 45 minutes.  I
have the directions."

I said:  "Where are we going?"

She said:  "Why don't you just wait and see."

I drove and she directed.  We headed out River Road in the
direction of Potomac.  She found the cross street she was looking
for and, after that, the subdivision.  We followed the road
circling through it, and she directed me into a driveway in which
three other cars were already parked.  It was an enormous house.

"There's a suitcase in the trunk,"  Lisa told me.  "Carry it
inside."  I got the bag and took it with us.

A gigantic male met us at the door.  He was six-four or more and
built like a linebacker.  On the cook's apron he wore, it said
"Hers."  Beneath it, he had on a T-shirt and jeans.  "I'm Bobby,"
he said.

"This is Richard.  I'm Lisa."

"Welcome Mistress Lisa," replied Bobby.  "You can put him in the
bedroom upstairs on the left.  There's a bathroom in it.  The
ladies will be having drinks downstairs in half an hour.  What
would you like?"

"Dry white wine," she replied.  "Thank you very much."

I followed her up the stairs into a room with a four poster bed
and deposited the bag.  "Undress," she said.  "All the way."

When I was nude, she put me on my stomach and with four lengths
of clothes line, taken from the suitcase, bound me tightly hand
and foot to the bed posts.   She brought out her riding whip and
hit me with it a couple of dozen times to freshen the damage to
my backside.

Then she disappeared into the bathroom.  I could hear the shower. 
When she emerged she was wearing her riding costume with the
thigh high boots.

She said:  "I'm going downstairs, Richard.  When you are
summoned, you will give yourself a hard on and put my panties
back on.  Do you understand?"

I said I did.   I also understood I would not be fed that
evening.

There was a clock on the nightstand.  It said 7:29.  When the
door to the room opened, it said 9:36.  

Bobby came in.  He was also nude and, I could see, freshly
whipped.  He undid the ropes from my wrists and ankles. 
"Mistress Lisa said for you to prepare yourself and report to the
den in the basement."

I had been erect or semi-erect most of the time Lisa was gone.  I
made myself harder, pulled on the purple panties and went
downstairs.

There were five women in the room  -- Lisa in her riding costume,
a beautiful red head dressed in leather from head to toe,  a
busty blonde in a jeweled black ball gown, a flat-chested young
woman with straight black hair dressed in a black sweater and
black jeans, and a curvy brunette wearing a woman's business
suit.

"Richard," Lisa said, "you can start by telling these ladies what
I did to you last night.  Don't leave out any of the details,
please."

I recited.  The redhead -- Mistress Pam, she informed me later --
leaned forward to catch every word.  The other women made
approving comments to Lisa.
 
When I was finished reciting, the brunette, Tommie, said:  "Now
let's see him."

"Nude, Richard," Lisa said.  I pulled down the panties.  She made
a circling movement with her hands and I revolved.  I heard oohs
and ahs. 

"I like the tattoo, Lisa," said Mistress Tommie.  "That's a
wonderful touch, having him marked with your signature."

"And the ring in his sac," noted Mistress Pam.  "Right where he
feels it when you have sex."

"Lovely," said the busty blonde, later identified as Mistress
Ann.  

"Oh yes," said the black haired girl, Mistress Jennifer.

"How often does he shave," inquired Mistress Pam, the red head.

"Inspection Day comes once a week," Lisa replied.  "Like clock
work, except last night."

"Inspection Day must be special," said Mistress Tommie.  Lisa
assured her that it was.

"Would you bend him over," the red head asked.  Lisa nodded.
I bent over and spread my cheeks.

"May I?" the red head asked.  

"Be my guest," Lisa responded.

Mistress Pam ran two fingers down my crack.  "Very smooth," she
said approvingly.  "Stand up and turn around," she told me.  I
stood up and faced her.  She lifted my balls with her hand.   She
had long nails which she used to rake my scrotum several times,
very sharply.  I gasped.

"When you want him hard, you ought to put a ring around the base
of his cock," she said to Lisa.  "It will keep him that way quite
a long time.  If you'd like, I'll get Bobby to give you one
before you go."

It was my first clue that this was Mistress Pam's house.

She turned me around and touched the welts on my ass.  

"Let me show you something I use," she said.  She crossed the
room to a closet and came back with something that looked like a
bull whip.  I could see that the lash had metal ends.  

"Bend over," she ordered.  

I bent.

She took a stance about six feet to my side and used the whip on
my right cheek.  I yelped and half rose, involuntarily.

"Down," she said.  I bent down.  She used it again and a third
time.  I was sure she had me bleeding.

She moved closer and caught me three times on my left cheek.

The other women, including Lisa, admired her skill.

"Where would I find one of those?" Lisa asked.  

"You can have this one.  I've got others," Mistress Pam said. 
"It will take a while until you learn to use it.  He may catch a
few on his balls while you're learning but he'll like that, won't
you Richard?"

I said nothing.  She said:  "I asked you something, Richard.
I expected an answer."

I started to say something and she said:  "Shut up, Richard.  You
had your chance.  Bend over again and spread your legs."

She caught me on the balls with her whip.  I cried out.  She hit
me twice more, and when she finished, I saw that I was bleeding. 

"You liked that, didn't you Richard."

I said:  "No, Mistress.  It hurt."

"Good," she said.  "I'll have your attention that way."

She said to Lisa:  "Why don't you leave him here until Sunday
night.  I'll give you back a better slave."

Lisa said: "I'm not into sharing.  He only has sex with me. But
when you come to my house, you can punish him all you'd like."

"Okay," Mistress Pam said.  She stood me up, turned me to face
her again and cupped my chin in her hands.  "Tell me you want me
to punish you, slave."

I said:  "Please, Mistress Pam, come to our house and punish me."

"When?" she said.

"Whenever Lisa invites you."

"When do you want me to come, slave?"

"That's up to Lisa."

"Don't play with me, slave.  You obviously haven't learned who I
am.  Bend over again and make sure your legs are apart."

She used the bull whip on me a dozen times distributing the
lashes to both cheeks and my balls.  I was slobbering for mercy
when she finished.

"When do you want me to come, slave?"

I glanced at Lisa.  She held up four fingers, discreetly, but not
so discreetly that Mistress Pam failed to see.

"Next month?" I asked.

"That's Mistress Lisa's answer, slave.  When I come, I'll punish
you for failing to give me your answer, and I promise you it will
be extravagant punishment."

She let me stand up and seated herself.

The black haired woman, Mistress Jennifer, asked whether Lisa
ever used a dildo on me.  Lisa told her that she had used a butt
plug on me once when I made her angry but that she had never
inserted a dildo.

Mistress Ann, the blonde, asked if I were regularly tied up. 
Lisa said no.  Did we have a dungeon?  "Not exactly," Lisa said. 
"We have some equipment that I've used when he's made me really
angry.  But generally I prefer to whip him without tying him up. 
He obeys my will and my imagination that way."

Mistress Tommie, the brunette in the business suit, asked about
the panties Lisa and I wore.  Lisa explained how they were
acquired.  "My slave is bigger than I am," Tommie said.  "But
I've got a neighor who I think would be happy to give me dirty
underwear every night for him to wear the next day.  They're in
the same carpool.  That would add to his embarrassment.  Maybe
I'll buy her a supply of panties. "

Mistress Pam said to me:  "Richard, I think it's time for you to
masturbate."

I looked to Lisa and she nodded.

Mistress Pam said:  "Richard, when I come to visit, you'll take
your orders from me, not from Lisa.  You'd better understand
that.  Right now, show us your stuff."

It didn't take me long to bring myself to a climax, shooting all
over the rug.

Mistress Pam said:  "On your knees, slave.  Lick it all up."

I did as she directed.  I did not look at Lisa.  

"Put your panties on and go back upstairs.  I'll have Bobby retie
you,"  Mistress Pam instructed.

It was nearly 2 a.m. when we left.  My ass blazed with pain.  
When we got home, I saw in the mirror that I had been sliced open
in several places by the bull whip.  

Lisa went down on me, the first time ever.  I don't know where I
summoned the erection but she certainly found a way to use it.

I wondered what would happen next month when Mistress Pam came
calling.  

Chapter 5 Pam Comes to Visit


Lisa prepared me for the visit from Mistress Pam by giving me a
particularly severe beating the night before.  It included all
the usual treatment -- spanking with her hand and a hairbrush, a
purposeful paddling with my old fraternity paddle to make sure I
would have difficulty sitting, and a heavy dose of her riding
whip. 

She also used the bull whip on me.  She wasn't very good with it
yet.   As a result, in addition to catching me on the buttocks,
where the blows were aimed, the metal tipped lash also landed on
my back, legs, balls and even, in one instance, wrapped around my
middle and found my cock.   Lisa's blows weren't as efficient as
Mistress Pam's but they hurt like hell and, even when they didn't
land where intended, they opened my flesh just as Mistress Pam's
had done.  

I spent part of the following day, a Saturday, at the office,
dressed as always in Lisa's dirty panties from yesterday.  The
paddling having been especially severe, I never touched a chair,
working at my standing desk.  I had been told to be home by 4
p.m.

When I arrived, Lisa instructed me to take off her panties, which
I did.   She draped me over her lap to inspect my close-shaven
private parts.  She pulled four hairs from my scrotum and rescued
20 more from the crack in my ass.  That called for 11 more
strokes from her riding whip -- one each for the hairs from my
balls, one for every three or fraction from my rear.  I received
them lying face down on the bed.  

They reopened the cuts on my bottom made by the bullwhip.

"Well, Richard.  I believe you're about ready.  You'll find an
envelope in the bathroom that Bobby [Mistress Pam's slave]
delivered a couple of hours ago.  Follow the instructions."

The envelope read: "For Richard, from Mistress Pam."  It was a
courier envelope lined with plastic.  Inside were a small tape
recorder, an eyeless mask, a contraption that I recognized as a
ball-gag, a freezer bag with red panties steeping in what looked
like urine, another freezer bag with a second pair of panties
(white), and a third freezer bag with a small stool in it.

My heart rose into my mouth.

I punched the play button on the tape recorder.   Mistress Pam
directed me to split her stool between my armpits and to smear it
around thoroughly, losing none of it.  Then I was to don the red
panties soaking in her urine. "The panties are my color but your
size, Richard," she said. "The piss is mine, especially for you. 
Don't you dare wring the panties out," she admonished sternly. 
"And leave any excess in the freezer bag."  After I washed my
hands, which was permitted, I was to put on the ball-gag,
buckling it behind my head, don the mask, place the second pair
of panties over my face ("I've worn them three straight days,
just for you") and return to the bedroom.

I applied the stool and after washing my hands, extracted the red
panties from the sack.  They were dripping wet.  I found, as I
pulled them on, that they were thong panties, intended to display
the cheeks of the buttocks.  The thong went right down the crack.
The pressure the panties put on my cock and balls was unusually
constrictive.  Excess urine from the panties dribbled down my
legs.

I washed my hands again and took out the white panties, sniffing
them.  Mistress Pam's odor was very powerful.  

I put on the ball gag, adjusting the straps behind me.  I donned
the mask.  It shut out all light.  I put the white panties over
my face.  

When I groped my way back into the bedroom, Lisa said:  "Well, I
see you've followed orders.  Let me fix it a bit."  She adjusted
and tightened the ball gag slightly.  She moved the panties on my
face so that my nose was in the crotch.

"Mistress Pam has asked that you be tied to the bed, face down,
Richard, until she arrives.  I will be present but she will be in
charge.  She can use you any way but sexually.  I expect you to
acquit yourself well.  If you fail to do so, you will account to
me.  Understand?"

"Yes, Lisa," I replied.

"Okay," she said.  "Lie down, Lover."

I did as she ordered, and she used four lengths of clothesline to
secure me to the front and back legs of the bed.  I was spread
eagled.  I could feel that I was resting on a rubber sheet to
keep the urine from penetrating the mattress.  

I lay that way in my personal darkness and wetness, smelling
Mistress Pam's undies and her defecation in my armpits.  I lay
there a long time.  The wet panties I wore made my balls and
crotch clammy.  

When the door finally opened, Mistress Pam spoke.

"Good evening, Richard," she said.  "I see that you remembered
our date."

The ball-gag prevented my answering.

She undid my ropes.  "You may take away the panties over your
face and remove the mask and gag."  I did so.  Lisa had seated
herself in an easy chair beside the bed.

"Would like to welcome me, Richard?"  Mistress Pam asked.

"Lisa's slave welcomes you, Mistress Pam.  I am pleased that you
have come."

"Yes, I'll bet you are, Richard."   She was wearing a leather
costume different than the one she had worn on when we visited
her house.   Like her hair and the panties I wore, it was red. 
It had a jacket and a mini skirt riding high up on her thighs. 
Her high boots ended several inches down, leaving plenty of
flesh. 

"You may kiss my foot, Richard."

I kneeled down and kissed both her feet.

"Stand up and revolve," she ordered.  She felt the stripes on my
bare ass, using her long fingernails on the wounds to make me
bleed anew.  "Take off the panties and show yourself to me."  I
did so.   She asked me to lift my arms over my head so she could
see my armpits.  She expressed satisfaction.   

"You may go into the bathroom and clean yourself, Richard.  No
shower, just toilet paper and wash cloth."  

I went into the bathroom and did my best to clean up.  The crack
in my ass felt raw, as did my armpits.  When I returned to the
bedroom, Mistress Pam had me stand in front of her.  

During the hours of waiting, my erection had wilted slightly,
despite the cock ring.   She stroked it gently until it was near
bursting.  She lifted my balls in the palm of her hand and, as
she had done at her house, began raking my skin with her long
nails.  Only this time she didn't quit.   She cut into me until
the blood actually flowed.  I clenched my jaw and tried not to
cry out.

Then she touched me with a white stick, shaped like a pencil, and
I winced with the pain.  

"A styptic pencil," she explained to Lisa.  "Very handy.  It
stops the bleeding and it hurts."

She handed me a tiny collar.  "Put it on your balls," she said, 
"and make sure it's tight."

I found it a difficult task.  I pinched the skin in trying to fit
the thing together.

"You're botching it, Richard," she said.  "Get it done, and 
it better not come off." 

"Maybe you should knot some thread around his balls," Lisa
suggested to Mistress Pam.

"Richard," Mistress Pam said.  "Go get some thread.  You put 
it on and put the collar on over it.  Tight.  Very tight.  I want
your balls to stand out."

"Yes, Mistress Pam.  I'll be right back."

I knew where Lisa kept the thread.  I cut off a piece of it with
Lisa's scissors and returned to our bedroom.  I knew enough not
to be gone long.

Making a slip knot and securing it tightly to my balls was
awkward work.  Adding the little collar was easier once the
thread was on me.  The thread's slip knot and the collar rested
against the ring that was inserted in my scrotum right below the
base of my cock.  Right above it was the cock ring that held me
triumphantly erect.  

Mistress Pam attached a leash to the little collar and tugged me
hard with it.  She dropped the leash on the floor and stepped
behind me.  "Hand it to me," she ordered.  I handed her the leash
through my legs.  She pulled it so that my balls came back into
my groin and my cock stood straight out from my body.  She put
her boot on my ass and pushed while she pulled.  My balls started
bleeding again and some blood ran down my leg.

When she was done with that amusement, she handed the leash to
Lisa and asked her to keep my balls taut.   Then she picked up
her own bull whip and began work on my ass.  She hit me on the
left cheek and then on the right cheek until I had absorbed 20
blows.  Then she started on my legs, just below my buttocks.  Not
inadvertently, the way Lisa had hit me.  But deliberately.  She
aimed a blow between the legs, right on my distended balls.  She
wrapped one around my middle and landed the metal lash on the tip
of my engorged cock.  It hurt like fury.  

Lisa was a kindergartner with the whip.  Mistress Pam had earned
her Ph.D.

Beginning at about the 10th blow to my backside, I commenced
crying out with every stroke.  The blows to my legs, balls and
cock hurt more than the blows to my ass.  

"Say thank you, Richard," she instructed when she was finished.

I caught my breath, steadied myself and said: "Thank you,
Mistress Pam."

"Now that the preliminaries are over, Richard, I'm going
downstairs, and Lisa and I are going to have dinner.  When we're
done with dinner, we'll have some serious fun.  You're looking
forward to it, aren't you?"

"No, Mistress Pam," I said.  "I'm afraid."

"Good," she said.  "I like that you're afraid.  And you're right
to be afraid of me.  You're going to do something for me while
I'm gone, Richard.  I'm going to tie this leash around the
doorknob and you're going to retrieve these marbles for me where
I'm going to spill them.  You'll only be able to do that by
torturing your own balls.  It should keep you fully occupied
while we're gone.  Every marble you fail to pick up will cost you
three strokes from the bull whip. There are a hundred marbles in
the can.  They'll be under the bed, under the dresser,
everywhere.  If I were you, I'd try like hell to pick up at least
90, 95 if you possibly can.  I don't think you can absorb more of
the whip than that.   And I wouldn't begin even to think about
untying the leash, Sweetie.  You can't imagine the punishment for
that. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress Pam.  I understand."

Lisa came over and kissed me before she left the room.  "Hold on,
Lover.  Worse is coming."

I was busy all the time they were gone.  I tugged myself pretty
hard collecting the first 63 marbles, and those were the easy
ones.  Reaching those in the far ends of the room made me weep in
pain and frustration.  I was up to 87, bathed in my own sweat,
when Lisa and Mistress Pam returned.

Mistress Pam picked up the rest, making me multiply each number
by three.   "I really don't think you can make it to 39, Richard.
But because you fell so far short, you've earned a bonus.  I'll
give you 50."

She confined these blows to my buttocks, alternating cheeks. 
Lisa held the leash.  I was near crying at 20, flinching at every
blow and begging for mercy.  There was none.  Before she was
done, she had me grovelling.  My buttocks were lacerated.  There
was blood on the floor.  At one point, I fell to my knees,
yanking the leash from Lisa's hands.

"You'll get 10 extra for that, Richard.  The next fall will cost
you 25."  She put me back into position.  As the strokes added
up, I jumped and staggered but did not fall.  When she finished,
I was virtually blubbering.

She let me rest for a few minutes.  She released the leash from
my balls but left the collar in place.  She flicked my balls
several times with her finger.  I cried out with the pain.   I
dropped to the floor and licked her boots. I petitioned for mercy
at her feet.  I was no longer trying to show my manliness by
resisting the agony she inflicted.   Although I knew that mercy
would not be shown, I pleaded for it as an acknowledgment of her
power over me.
  
She let me lick, she let me grovel, she let me beg.  

After a time, she took a handful of my hair and pulled me
upright.  Then she turned me around and instructed me to bend
over.  From the inside her leather jacket, she produced the
replica of an erect male organ, a dildo. 

"See this," she said, thrusting it under my nose.  "Lisa said at
the last meeting that she'd never used a dildo on you.  I'm going
to take your virginity."

She smeared some vaseline on my asshole.  Soon I felt it
being stretched.  She worked the thing in until I thought I would
faint and still she kept on going.  It was a lot thicker than the
instrument Heidi, my female internist chosen by Lisa, had used on
me to examine my colon.  I felt like I had a telephone pole
rammed up my ass.  When it had been inserted to its maximum
depth, Mistress Pam turned on the electric power and began
fucking me with it, out and in and around.  I moaned.  I saw
stars.  The longer she kept at, the worse it felt.

I said: "Please, Mistress Pam.  Please.  It hurts.  I can't take
any more.  You're splitting me."

"Don't be a sissy, Richard.  Of course you can take more. 
Because I'm going to give you more."

I don't know how long it went on.  I was actually in tears before
she stopped.

When she took the dildo out my backside, she straightened me up
and turned me around.  "Kiss my hand and thank me."

I kissed her hand and thanked her.  

"Next time you recite, Richard, you'll tell all the other ladies
how I fucked you in the ass with a prick bigger than your own. 
You'll tell them what it feels like having your ass fucked, won't
you?"

"Yes, Mistress Pam," I replied, "I'll tell them it hurts like
hell."

"You'll tell them I'm cruel, Richard, and you'll tell them that
you worship me.  Won't you?"

"Yes, Mistress Pam.  I belong to Lisa but I also worship you."

"Good," she said.  "Very good.  I won't make you jerk off.  I
suspect that Lisa might have a use for that hard on."

When Mistress Pam departed, Lisa took me into the back bedroom
and fucked me to sleep.   The last thing I thought as I drifted
off into unconsciousness was that I hope she wouldn't buy a
dildo.  It was worse than I imagined.  Still, when I said I
worshipped Mistress Pam, I was speaking the truth.  Lisa was my
wife and Mistress.  Mistress Pam was my Bitch Goddess.  

I belonged to Lisa because I desired her.  I belonged to Mistress
Pam because she commanded it.

Chapter 6 Tommie Takes rob

The domination/submission group which Lisa had joined and to
which I belonged (literally) consisted of five female mistresses
and six male slaves.  One of the women, Mistress Ann, a buxom
blonde, kept two slaves, whom she referred to as her "houseboys."

I rarely saw the other men.  We waited our turns in separate
rooms, tied to a bed in my case, and were ministered to when
called by the women.   One of the other slaves would free me from
my bonds and might tie me up again after I was dismissed but we
otherwise had little traffic with one another.  Though some of
the women traded slaves and used them as submissive sex partners,
the rule for me was that I was Lisa's property.  She would lend
to be beaten and lend me to be humiliated but she drew the line
at sexual congress.
  
Proudly, I wore her dirty panties from the previous day to each
of the group's meetings and, proudly, I displayed the ring that
had been inserted in my scrotum and the signature that Lisa had
scrawled across my ass for the tattoo artist to inscribe.  I felt
that I was by far the most privileged of the slaves because Lisa
loved me and I loved her.   Though the other male slaves
addressed her as Mistress Lisa, she never wanted me to call her
anything other than Lisa or Lover.

She always took me to the group meetings well whipped.  She
rarely hit me in front of the other women.  My body testified to
her cruelty to me.  I had no idea what she did to the other male
slaves but I was certain that she did not take them as sex
partners.   She was as monogamous as she required me to be.  

I was proud also of the fact that my mistress commanded me with
her imagination.  She had accepted my desire to be dominated and
carried me into orbit with it.  Only Mistress Pam, the redhead,
outdid her in brutality.  I never learned to tolerate her
punishments.  Mistress Pam was the group's bitch goddess and
mine.  I adored her.

Mistress Ann, the blonde with two slaves, liked horse and rider
games.   She was the biggest of the women across the hips.  One
night, she came to the meeting wearing boots and spurs and when
she rode my naked back, she flogged my ass and flanks with a
riding crop and dug the spurs into my sides enjoying my yelps of
discomfort.  The flogging I got from her that night was nothing
compared to what Lisa routinely inflicted.  But she left her
marks on me with the spurs, and I was exhausted when she climbed
off me after a 20-minute ride. 

Mistress Jennifer, a slim woman with black hair who favored black
sweaters and black jeans, took me over her lap and, imprisoning
my cock between her legs, beat my ass with a ping pong paddle,
swat after swat after swat after swat.  The noise was awful, and
it hurt quite a bit.  But Lisa had given me worse with a wooden
hairbrush and a carpet slipper.  

However, Mistress Jennifer also used a dildo on me.  Not as big
as the one that Mistress Pam had employed.  But having it applied
while lying on her lap in front of the other women made it
particularly humiliating.  Whereas the treatment from Mistress
Pam had been painful, Mistress Jennifer used it to stimulate me. 
She rubbed her jeans against my cock and eventually brought me
off.   She required me to lick my come off her clothing and made
me linger at her crotch.  I could tell from the way she breathed
that she was wet beneath as well as on top of the jeans.

Mistress Tommie, a pretty brunette invariably in a business suit,
employed a ragged rattan cane which cut where it landed.  She
used it on my ass, hitting me the bottom of my buttocks cheeks,
exactly where they would come in contact with a chair when I sat.
Her hits would be felt long afterwards, like Lisa's paddle and
Mistress Pam's bull whip.

Mistress Tommie also made it clear that she would like to have me
between her legs.  She said so to Lisa, who smiled and said
nothing.

We went to several of the group's meetings, rotating between
Mistress Pam's house, ours and Mistress Ann's large three-story
town house.   I inferred that Mistress Jennifer and Mistress
Tommie did not have large enough places to accommodate the group. 
There needed to be room enough for five slaves -- Mistress Ann's
"houseboys" were stored together -- which meant that there had to
be four rooms available for that purpose.

I did not know the last names of any in the circle.  Lisa
obviously did.  Nor did I ever encounter any of them outside the
group until one memorable day when I walked into a large meeting
at the U.S. Chamber of Commerce building and found Mistress
Tommie there.  A friend introduced me to her as Mary Thompson
Alexander, called "Tommie," a lawyer with a firm in Crystal City,
Va., across the river from Washington.   

She tapped the chair beside her, and I sat, feeling Lisa's
paddling from two nights before.  She said into my ear:  "I'm
taking you to lunch afterwards."

I said: "I can't.  I have another date."

She said:  "Cancel it, Richard.  You may call Lisa if you like.
Then call your lunch date and tell him something's come up.  It
will."  

I blushed.  I excused myself, went out into the hall, found a
phone and called Lisa to say that Mistress Tommie wanted me to go
to lunch with her.  

Lisa was curt with me.  "Go to lunch with her, Richard, and do
exactly as she tells you.   Goodbye."  The phone went dead.  I
caught my breath and cancelled my lunch date.  My armpits were
moist.

Though the briefing dealt with issues my clients were concerned
about, I did not absorb much of what was said.  My mind was in
turmoil.  When the session broke up, I followed Mistress Tommie
out the door, making perfunctory goodbyes to people with whom I
would normally have lingered to discuss the meeting.

When we stepped out the front door, Mistress Tommie hailed a cab,
gave an address in Georgetown and took my hand.  She said: 
"You're in my power now, Richard.  I like that." 

I closed my eyes.  Now I was really wondering.  When I reopened
my eyes, they took in Mistress Tommie's dark, expensive suit, her
short brown hair, and her brooding good looks.  I smelled her
perfume.   She was extremely attractive.

At the restaurant, we were led to a table at a banquette with two
facing chairs.  She took her seat at the banquette and patted the
cushion to her right on the banquette.  I sat down, leaving the
chairs opposite vacant.  She drew the table to us and then put
her right hand in my lap.  

"Give me more room, Richard."

I parted my legs.  I came erect for her.

"See, Richard," she smiled.  "I told you something would come
up."

My breath was slightly ragged.

After a time, the waiter came, and Mistress Tommie ordered for
the two of us.   White wine, salads, and pasta.  When the waiter
departed, Mistress Tommie said to me:  "Richard, I want you to go
into the men's room and remove Lisa's panties.  Bring them back
here like a good boy."   I started to protest, and Mistress
Tommie said evenly:  "Richard, do as I say.  Now."

Luckily, the men's bathroom was small enough to lock.  I took off
the panties, redressed and brought them back to the table. 
Mistress Tommie took them from me and put them in her briefcase.

Her hand found my pants zipper and pulled it down.  "Undo your
belt," she said.  "And keep your legs apart."  

She lifted my balls in her hand.  She stroked my cock.  She
licked her fingers.  My cock surged at that.  

She said: "You've got a bit of stubble down there, Richard. 
You'll need a shave."

My pants were open all the while we ate.  Between bites, she
explored my center.    She toyed with the ring that had been
inserted in my scrotum at Lisa's orders.  She felt my thigh and
tickled my balls.   There was little conversation.  

I had difficulty eating.  It took everything I had not to go over
the top.

After lunch, which she paid with a credit card, she said: 
"Here's our address, Richard," handing me a piece of paper with
some directions on it.  "Be there at 6:30 p.m.  You'll be
spending the night.   Don't bring a thing -- not even a
toothbrush."

I called Lisa again when I got back to the office.  She said:
"I've already told you to do exactly what Mistress Tommie wants. 
Do it."  She banged down the phone.

At 6:20 p.m., I was outside Mistress Tommie's condo building.  I
knocked on her door at 6:30 p.m.

Jim, her slave, opened it.  He directed me to the bedroom.  "Take
off your clothes," he said.  "She'll be in."

I made myself naked.  Mistress Tommie entered.  She was still
wearing the dark business suit she had on earlier.  

She pointed to a bar, like a chinning bar, affixed to the wall at
the far end of the room.  "Over there," she said.  Dangling from
the bar were two sets of handcuffs, each with an open end.   She
closed them on my wrists with my back to the wall.  

Very slowly and deliberately she fondled my balls and stroked me
to an erection.  Just when I thought I might ejaculate, she took
a hard plastic cock ring, spit on her hand to lubricate my penis,
then pushed the ring over the head of my penis and forced it down
to the base, resting on the ring in my scrotum.  

"Now," she said, "I'm going to freshen up."  She began to undress
in front of me.   I had never seen any of the mistresses but Lisa
with their clothes off.  

Mistress Tommie had firm breasts with flat nipples, a small
waist, silken looking flanks and a dark patch of pubic hair.  Her
buttocks and thighs were trim.   

From her briefcase, she extracted Lisa's panties which she used
first to swab her armpits, then her vaginal opening and finally
her anus.   She held it up to my nose.   "Smell me, Richard," she
said.  I obeyed.

She rubbed her breasts on my chest.  Raising herself on tiptoes,
she kissed me on the lips.  She forced her tongue into my mouth. 
My penis leaped.

"A stiff prick has no conscience, Richard," she laughed.  

She left me and went into the bathroom.  I heard the shower. 
When she emerged, it was in an entirely different costume than I
had ever seen her wear before.  She had on a black singlet and
black bicycle shorts that fit like a second skin.

She released me from the handcuffs and made me lie down on the
bed.  She had a razor with her.  "I'm going to shave you,
Richard."  

I started to protest but she said "shut up" -- sharply.

Without benefit of shaving cream or liquid, she took the razor
and scraped my pubic area and my balls.   She made me lift my
legs over my head so she could get at my underside.  I was
bleeding from several places when she was done.   She applied an
astringent, which made me cry out.  

She smiled bleakly.  "There," she said.  "You'd be wise to shave
more often.  It's like the Army.  You can never be certain when
you'll be inspected."

Next, she took a leather harness which she fit over my cock and
balls, then a leather collar which she applied to my neck.   To
the cock and ball harness she affixed a leash and attached that
to a D-ring in the collar, so that my penis was held firmly at
attention.

She announced: "You're going to serve dinner, Richard.  Just the
way you are.  Jim's been doing the cooking."

So I served the two of them dinner that way.  The combination of
leash and cock ring kept me both aroused and firmly erect through
out.

Jim said little.  However, when I slopped some soup into his
plate, he said:  "I hope you'll punish him for that, Mistress."
And when I dropped one of the forks in cleaning his place, he
said:  "That oughta be worth some extra strokes, Mistress."

Mistress Tommie said the same thing both times.   "Of course,
Jim."

Although I was serving him, Jim was obviously not pleased at my
presence.   He was the slave in this household, I sensed, and he
saw me as a usurper.

After dinner, which I was not permitted to eat, Mistress Tommie
told Jim to watch television if he wished and to sleep in "your
bedroom."   I guessed that he was welcome in her bed only for sex
and punishment.

She took me to her bedroom again.  She took the handcuffs off the
exercise bar and reattached them to a second bar at below waist
level.  At her motion, I faced the wall and she clamped the open
ends on my wrists.  That left me bent over with my ass high in
the air.

"Legs apart, Richard," she said.

She flicked my balls three times with her middle finger.  It hurt
like hell and I cried out each time.

"You need to work on your serving skills, Richard.   That will
remind you."

Next she took Lisa's panties, on which she had earlier wiped
herself, and stuffed them in my mouth as a gag.  Then she began
on me with a wide belt.   She was not especially powerful, and I
bore those strokes equably, though they went on for quite a
while.  When she turned to the rattan cane, that was quite
another story.  She cut me repeatedly, landing again and again
right where I was tenderest from Lisa's last paddling.  When I
was moaning into my gag, she stepped up the pace and hit me
harder.  She was breathing heavily when she finished.  I would be
uncomfortable for a week.

She released the cuffs from the bar on the wall and told me to
lie down on my back on the bed.   When I did that, she reattached
the open ends of the cuffs to bars at the head of the bed and
secured my ankles with ropes to bars at the foot.  I lay there
spread in an X.   

Next she brought out a cat-o'-nine tails, which fortunately
looked fiercer than it was, because she proceeded to use it on my
middle.   The metal studs on the lashes stung but did no real
damage.  Nevertheless, it hurt and the streaks it left where it
fell would probably last several days.  

She picked up a braided riding crop next and used that on my
balls.   I had never been beaten that way before and I writhed
with the pain of it, yelping into the gag.

When she was done beating me, Mistress Tommie released the leash
that held my genitals to the collar around my neck and took off
the cock and ball harness.   Finally, she took the gag out of my
mouth.    "Now," she announced.  "I'm going to rape you."

I said:  "Please, Mistress Tommie, I'll do anything you ask.  But
Lisa doesn't allow me to have sex with anybody but her."  

"Please," I continued as she removed her bicycle shorts. 
"Please, please.  I beg you.  I'll do anything you ask.  I'll
come here whenever you want and let you beat me."

"Shut up," she ordered.  "I'm going to fuck you.  That's all
there is to it.  And you'll be back anyway.  You can bet on
that."

She positioned herself over my cock and sank down on it.  She
rose and fell on it and rose and fell again.  She used her tongue
on my chest.  She played with my balls behind her.

I shot into her and until my cock wilted completely she sat there
on me letting the juices drip out of her onto my body.  She
disappeared into the bathroom and when she reemerged, she had
taken off the singlet and was now completely nude.  

Soon, she stroked my penis back to life and when I was hard
again, she climbed on me a second time and rode me to a prolonged
orgasm.

She untied my legs from the bottom posts and undid the cuffs from
the head of the bed.  Afterwards, she cuffed my wrists together,
then curled up to me and slept.  In the middle of the night, she
stiffened me again and, warning me not to resist, rode me again
to another climax.   

In the morning, she was able to make me hard but I had no more
sperm left.  I don't think she liked that.  

She put her middle on my mouth.  "I'm still horny, Richard.  Use
your tongue."

I used my tongue for a long time until she said "yes" and rolled
off my face.   She rested for a few minutes then sat down on my
face again.  "Open up, Richard," she said.  "I need to pee."

I made as if to turn my head in order to escape.  Coldly and with
emphasis, she told me: "If you spill as much as a drop, I'll use
the rattan cane on your front.  And I'll invite Jim in to watch. 
He'd like that."   I stopped struggling.

After a moment, she released a stream of urine into my mouth, and
there was nothing I could do but swallow.  When she was finished,
she said: "You'll tell Lisa, of course.  And at the next meeting,
you'll tell the other mistresses, and then I'll give them all an
in-person demonstration of your talent."

She didn't release me from my bonds until she was dressed, more
casually than usual, for Saturday morning at the office.  When
she had freed me, she said: "Have a nice day, Richard.  I enjoyed
having you."  And then she left.   My penis was turning purple
where the cock and ball harness had held me, and, as I dressed,
donning the soiled panties with Mistress Tommie's smell as well
as my saliva, I could see in the mirror that my rear end was
bruised and cut.

Jim glared at me on my way out, but we did not exchange any
words.

When I got home, I found Lisa waiting.  I didn't know what to
expect.  Somehow, I felt as if I had violated our marriage vows. 
I had tears in my eyes when I told her how Mistress Tommie had
raped me and pissed in my mouth.

Lisa's eyes glinted.  "Men have been doing that to women since
time began, Richard.  I thought you deserved a sample."

So it had been her idea all along.   My heart sank.  I understood
that I was no longer off limits within the circle.  Worse, I was
sure that Lisa didn't plan to observe the limits either.

Chapter 7 -At Pam's

Lisa, my wife and mistress, had permitted -- in fact, invited --
Mistress Tommie to take me to her condo apartment and rape me
repeatedly through a long night.  That experience forever changed
my status within our circle of dominatrixes and slaves.

I had previously been available for punishment but off limits for
sex.  And I was proud of that status.  It marked me as Lisa's
exclusive property.

Now I was everybody's property, like the other slaves in the
circle.  I could be used by any one of them at the group's
parties.  Or, by arrangement with Lisa, I could be borrowed. 

Lisa's imagination had found another way to deepen her domination
and my submission.   I didn't quite understand that until I
realized that the night at Mistress Tommie's had been
choreographed by Lisa.   She wanted me raped.  She was glad to
have Mistress Tommie piss in my mouth. She wanted me to feel
vulnerable, violated and victimized.

When she disclosed her design to me, I felt more profoundly
enslaved than ever.  I loved her.  But I had also learned to be
afraid of her imagination and will, which were so much stronger
than my own.

When Lisa gave me to Mistress Tommie, I assumed it meant she
intended to employ the sexual services of other slaves.  To my
surprise, though she immediately announced my availability to the
other mistresses, Lisa showed no interest in sex with other
slaves.  She was a one-man woman.  And, while it may be difficult
to understand, I remained a one-woman man. 

When other mistresses used me for sex -- and used is the right
word -- I remained conscious of Lisa's presence.  Though the
means was delegated, they were each executing her will.

At the next meeting of the circle, Mistress Ann rode my back
bare-assed instead of in jeans and boots, and she made me go down
on her afterwards.  Mistress Jennifer used her dildo up my ass,
then mounted my face with her pussy and let me eat her to orgasm.
Mistress Tommie again tied me up and raped me; afterwards, she
beat me viciously with her rattan cane; then she took me
downstairs and, in front of the whole group, including the other
slaves, gripped my head tightly between her thighs and pissed in
my mouth.  She required me to thank her, which I did. 

Mistress Pam, the beautiful red head, my Bitch Goddess, did not
use me that night, but told me as we were leaving that Lisa had
agreed to lend me to her that weekend.  My heart dropped into my
stomach.  Mistress Pam was the most brutal of the mistresses and
the kinkiest.  She had visited us one night, an incident I've
previously described, and it had taken me a long time to recover.

As the weekend vist to Mistress Pam approached, Lisa suspended my
regular whippings.  "You'll need your stamina, Richard," she
explained.  Our sexual encounters that week were strangely
normal.  For the first time in a long time, I could sit without
pain and my ass was free of the usual welts.  Instead of plucking
the hairs from my balls and using a dipilatory on the crack in my
ass Saturday morning, Lisa shaved me herself, gently, and applied
a soothing cream in both locations.  She sent me off with a kiss. 
I had nothing to carry.

I arrived at Mistress Pam's huge Potomac mansion at 4 p.m., the
appointed time.  Her slave, Bobby, a giant of a man, met me at
the door and gave me my instructions.  I was to go to Mistress
Pam's bedroom in the wing upstairs to the left, strip to Lisa's
soiled panties and report to the den downstairs.

Mistress Pam's bedroom contained a gigantic bed, considerably
larger than a king-size.  It had a number of different pieces of
equipment arrayed around the room.  And a collection of whips
stored like billiard cues in a wall rack.  I undressed myself,
hung my clothes in the closet, put my shoes on the floor with my
socks in them, and, clad only in Lisa's panties, walked
downstairs to meet my fate.

From what she had done to me at our house, I thought I knew more
or less what to expect.  At least in the beginning, I was quite
wrong.

Mistress Pam was seated in a leather club chair.   She was
dressed in leather suit and boots.  She motioned me to stand in
front of her.  She looked at me with a hard gaze until my eyes
dropped.  I stood there about five minutes.  Perspiration
gathered in my armpits.  I was erect, and my cock twitched.

"Richard," she began finally, "from the standpoint of the slave,
domination and submission are about arousal.  When Lisa first
brought you here, before you became available for sex, the
whippings you received aroused you for Lisa's pleasure.  When I
came to visit you in your house, the punishment I doled out to
you aroused you and pleasured Lisa.

"This weekend is not about arousal.  I am going to use you
sexually until you are beyond arousal.  And then I will punish
you for your edification and my amusement.  If I find that you
are aroused during the punishment, we will eliminate the arousal,
you and I, and the punishment will begin again.  By the time you
go home tomorrow night, you will not be up to giving Lisa any
sexual pleasure. 

"Tonight," she said, "you are my slave, not Lisa's.  By tomorrow
evening, you will be thinking only about pleasing me.  You will
submit and be dominated without arousal.   I will punish you
implacably, and you will leave here to return to Lisa's cocoon as
my slave, a fact that you will acknowledge to her because I have
commanded it.  Do you undertand?"

I trembled during her recital.  I was terrified.

"Put your hands behind your neck," she said, arising from the
club chair.   She was amused by the perspiration in my hairless
armpits.  She collected it with a finger from both armpits and
inserted the finger in my mouth.   

She took a pocket knife from her leather jacket and opened it. 
She cut Lisa's panties down one side and the other.  I sensed
that it was symbolic rape.  I stood before her naked.  

My penis was erect, enclosed in the cock ring which Mistress Pam
had suggested that Lisa use on me to maintain an erection longer.

"Bring yourself off," she ordered.  

I fucked my hand while she began to take off her clothes.  I was
through before she was, spurting on the carpet.  

"Lick it up," she said.  

I licked it up.  When I was finished, she stood before me nude. 
She had a perfect hour-glass figure.  The triangle between her
legs was darker than her hair but unmistakably red.

She pulled me to my feet and began stroking my penis and tickling
my balls until I started to become erect.  Then she lay down on
the carpet and said, "Make love to me, Richard." 

I lay down beside her and held her in my arms.  I kissed her lips
and put my tongue in her mouth.  She stirred beneath me.  I
nibbled her neck.  I felt her breasts and kissed my way down to
her nipples.  I worked my way down her body all the way to her
feet, skipping her center.  I sucked on her toes.  Then I worked
my way up the inside of her thighs until I was at her crotch.  I
licked her pussy open.  I tongued it and nibbled at it.  While
she pulled me in by the hair, locking her ankles behind me, I
drank her nectar.  My prick felt like a tree trunk.

"Put it in me, Richard," she said.  I entered her and began my
pumping motion.   After a while, I went off again.

I took my weight off her and lay face down beside her.   Too
soon, she turned me over on my back and began working on my
dormant penis.  I was not ready but that didn't stop her.  She
kept at it until she was rewarded with signs of further life. 
Eventually, she got me up again, and this time she sat on me and
became the aggressor.  She took me deep inside her and began
working her thighs to milk me.  I felt her against the ring Lisa
had inserted in my scrotum at the base of my cock. 

With her tongue, she licked all of my body that she could reach. 
She was perspiring freely now and so was I.  I doubted that I
would spurt again, so soon after the last time, but she did not
relent and, at last she earned another, more feeble orgasm.

She allowed me to rest awhile and then she said, "Your turn
again, Richard.  Make yourself erect.  Bring yourself off."

I protested that it was impossible.  "Impossible is what I will
do to you if you fail to obey me, Richard.  I don't care how long
it takes.  Make yourself erect.  Bring yourself off."

I closed my eyes and began.  I imagined erotic scenes from my
past life.  I drew on my fantasies.  I wet my hand and massaged
myself.  Nothing seemed to help.  Shame-faced but growing
desperate, I fingered my asshole.  That brought a faint response. 
I was breathing hard from the exertion.  I lifted my legs in the
direction of my head and fingered myself more deeply. Gradually
my organ began to swell.  Mistress Pam reached over from her
perch beside me to give me an assist.   At last I had an
erection.  She put the cock ring on me again.

I wet my hand again and worked it up and down.  I upped the rate. 
I upped it again.  And again.  I moved my hips to my rhythm.  I
clenched my teeth.  I kept on going until my flanks stirred and I
had a sad imitation of an orgasm with a small amount of fluid
emerging from the tip of my cock.

"Is that the best you can do, Richard," she laughed.  

"It's all I can do, Mistress Pam."

"Good.  Now we can begin."

After Mistress Pam had forced me to repeated orgasms so that I
was no longer capable of arousal, she marched me up to her
bedroom and the punishment phase started.  

She made me lie over the edge of the bed, and she lacerated my
ass with her bullwhip.   Dissatisfied with my position, she
prodded my legs apart so she could reach my balls.  She caught me
there and on my upper thighs repeatedly, raising angry cuts.  
She told me to beg for mercy but ignored my begging.

When she was through with that treatment, she led me to a machine
used for lifting weights.  She put me down on my back.  She
caught a manacle tight around my balls and looped the chain it
was attached to the pulley system.  Then she went around the
other side and used the lifting apparatus to pull me up in the
air until I was off the ground, suspended by my balls.  I
screeched in agony.  She lowered my shoulders to the ground and
lifted again.  I screeched again.

"Good," she said.  "We'll go to 100, Richard.  Count for me.  If
you fail to call a number, that one won't count."

I tried deperately not to miss but I couldn't help myself.  On
the way to 100, I missed at least 10.  She rested from time to
time -- but not on my account.

I felt like my balls were being torn from me.  Once the manacle
slipped off my balls, bruising them in the process.  I writhed on
the floor and gagged.  Mistress Pam opened the manacle,
reattached it and resumed lifting.  My skin was torn and bleeding
when she finished.

She helped me to my feet and took me over to the bed.  She laid
me down on my face and went off to the bathroom.  When she
emerged, I saw, with terror, that she had an enormous dildo
protruding from her vagina.  It was held in place by a harness
that went down between her legs, rose up her back and came down
the front in a yoke from her shoulders.  It was thick and long.

"Please, Mistress, I can't take that in me.  I can't.  I can't."

I all but cried for her.

"Maybe you can't take it, Richard.  But you will.  Spread your
legs."

She smeared vaseline on me, positioned herself over me and drove
it in slowly until her own pelvis met my flesh.  I screamed most
of the way in.

The sensation of having a woman's body at the other end of the
dildo was different than having a women's hand at the other end. 
Mistress Pam was intent not merely on fucking me but on being
fucked by the dildo's other end.  She entirely disregarded my
pain to obey her own pleasure.  I was near weeping while she was
crying out.  She raked my shoulders and chest with her long
fingernails.  After a time, she rested.  But I was mistaken in
thinking that she was through.  

She fucked herself -- and me in the process -- three times in
all.  She got herself off.   I was beyond arousal, as she had
promised.  It was pure torment.

"You're bleeding," she observed when she finally pulled out. 
"Good.  I like that."

When she was finished, Mistress Pam said, "I'm going to be
merciful, Richard, and let you get some sleep.  You'll be in the
bedroom down the hall. In the bathroom there, you'll find your
red panties soaking.  Put them on and I'll be in.

"My" red panties were thong panties like hers but in my size. 
She had made me wear them at our house when she visited.   I
found them in a pan soaking in Mistress Pam's urine.  I pulled
them on, remembering not to wring them out.  The urine ran down
my legs.  

The thong fit tightly into the crack of my ass.    The urine
stung the contusions on my scrotum.   The panties gripped my
balls and penis and held them tight against me.

I was standing by the bed when she entered.  She kissed me full
on the lips, then put her tongue inside my mouth and explored my
oral cavity.  Then she told me to lie down on my face.  "There's
a rubber mattress cover," she announced, "but I think the feel of
wet sheets will add to your overnight pleasure, Richard." 

She tied my hands behind my back and my ankles together.  "Wet
dreams, Richard," she said as she left.

I slept on and off, repeatly awakened by the wetness at my middle
and on the sheet.   She had not covered me, and I was also cold.  
The night passed and morning arrived.  I was fully awake long
before she came into me.

When Mistress Pam entered, she undid my bonds.  "Did you have the
wet dreams I wished you, Richard?" she asked, grinning.  I said I
had.  

"Good," she said.  She stood me before her.  She turned me around
and examined my ass cheeks, separated and accentuated by the
thong panties.  "Let's freshen these up a bit," she said.  "Bend
over."  

She brought out a hairbrush like the one that Lisa used on me and
hit me with it a couple of dozen times on each cheek.  I had
taken worse from Lisa but it hurt nevertheless.   She made me
pull down the panties and she examined my balls, still raw from
their earlier treatment.  She used her long fingernails to
improve the rawness.  I shuddered with pain.

"Ok," she said, "now get washed and come into my bedroom.  Put
the panties back to soak."  So I was not done with the panties
for this visit.

When I entered her bedroom, Mistress Pam motioned me into the bed
beside her.  "Eat my pussy, Richard," she said.  Wearily, I
started to move down her body.  "69," she said.

I did as directed, putting my mouth to her middle and my middle
towards her face.  She opened her legs to accommodate me, then
imprisoned me in her thighs.  I began to tongue her and suck.  
She pressed my head in with her hand.  After a while, she grasped
me behind the legs with her other hand and pulled me toward her. 
She licked my penis with her tongue.    

I was limp and tried to remain that way.  I was totally without
desire.  But she was determined.  She took my member into her
mouth and nibbled on it.  About the time that I brought her to
the brink, she got me to stir, and when I drove her over the top,
she had coaxed me to a feeble erection.

"Well, Richard," she said, "you're still capable of arousal, it
turns out.  Remember what I told you last night?  We'll have to
take care of you, won't we?" 

It was impossible for me to achieve anything by myself.  She
helped me along by masturbating me.  She licked the length of my
cock and sucked my balls into her mouth.  

I wanted to come in order to get it over with.  I couldn't get
there.  I moaned with the effort.  She kept on.  Eventually, I
experienced something like the dry heaves.  There was no fluid in
my system, but my cock twitched, and I went limp.

Mistress Pam was amused.  "Now you can service me again, Richard. 
I'll put my legs around your shoulders this time.  Pull my ass
towards you."

She was having sex.  I was doing carpentry with my mouth.  My
penis was beyond limp.  Finally, when I had tongued and licked
and sucked her to her satisfaction, she instructed me to go down
and make her breakfast.

I went down in the nude, of course.  Bobby was in the kitchen. 
He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt.  "She's drained your
radiator, hasn't she, little man.  And I see she jacked you up by
the balls.  Don't you wonder what she's got in store for you
today?"

He laughed.  He was enjoying himself.  

I said nothing.  I didn't know what the consequences would be if
I told him to go to hell.  He was seven inches taller than me,
bigger all over, outweighed me by 75 pounds at least.  But it
wasn't Bobby that I was afraid of.  I was terrified -- no other
word for it -- about breaking the rules of the household,
whatever they were.   Was being in the kitchen with Bobby a trap
laid by Mistress Pam?   What would she do to me?

Once, as readers may recall, I made Lisa angry and she punished
me memorably.  Lisa was inventive; but Mistress Pam was cruel. 
Lisa loved and chastized me; Mistress Pam relished my pain.  So I
said nothing.

When the toast and coffee were ready, I made a tray with orange
juice, butter, marmalade, cream and sugar and carried it up to
Mistress Pam's bedroom.  She had donned a dressing gown.  "Put it
on the table next to my chair," she said. "While I eat, you may
lick my feet."

So she ate, and I licked her feet.  "All around," she said. 
"Between the toes."

I kept at it until she was through. 

Next she led me over to another of her torture contraptions.  At
about the level of my waist, it bore a metal saddle and in the
middle of the saddle was a blunt spike about four inches long. 
"Sit," she ordered.

I had no difficulty understanding.  I had to lift myself off the
ground on the thing's frame in order to take the spike in me.  
She manacled me to the machine by my ankles.

The metal protuberance was neither as long nor as thick as the
dildo she'd used on me the previous night.  But I was already
sore back there.  I would not be able to bear it long.

So it was with a good deal of dismay that I heard her next words. 
"I'm going out shopping, Richard.  But don't go away.   I'll ask
Bobby to bring you lunch after a while."

I gulped.  "I don't need lunch, Mistress Pam."

"Why of course you do, Richard.  And besides it will give Bobby
something to do while I'm gone."

"I don't want lunch, Mistress Pam."

"Bobby will give you lunch, Richard.  Don't argue.  I don't like
to be argued with.  Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mistress Pam," I replied.

I spent the next few hours both in physical and mental agony.  
The thing in my bottom grew increasingly intrusive.  The metal
saddle was harder than the hardest chair.  And I dreaded what
might happen when Bobby made his appearance.  

There was no clock to watch in my field of vision.  At one point,
I craned my neck to look for one behind me and but for the spike
I would have fallen over.  As it was, I wrenched it in me and
cried out with the pain.

I wanted it over.  Yet I didn't want Bobby to enter.

He opened the door without knocking.   I don't know why I thought
he might knock.  He was dressed in the same jeans and dark T-
shirt I had seen him in earlier. 

"Well, little man," he said grinning broadly.  "Don't you look
like you're having fun.  Mr. Tall in the Saddle himself." 

"Cut the comedy," I said in exasperation. "Do what she told you
to do and get the hell out of here."

"Little man has a big temper, doesn't he?"

I started to say something more, and he interrupted:  "Listen to
me, little man.  I know what's in store for you and you don't. 
Get smart with me, and I'll ask her to up the ante.  You're a
weekend's amusement, kiddo."  

Silence, I decided, was the best course.

"Better," said Bobby.  "Have a sandwich."

My hands were free.  I took the sandwich and ate.  He handed me a
glass of soda and I drank.  He gave me a napkin and I daubed my
lips.

"Say thank you," he said.  

"Thank you," I said.

"Enjoy the rest of your day."

It must have been 4 p.m. by the time Mistress Pam returned.  I
felt as if I had been atop this metal prick for a life time.  
From the buttocks upward to the middle of my colon, I felt
utterly ravaged.

"Hello, Richard," was her greeting as she entered, "fancy meeting
you here."

I said "Hello, Mistress Pam."

"Bobby give you a good lunch?"

"Yes, Mistress Pam."

"Did you thank him?"

"Yes, Mistress Pam."

"Good boy, Richard."

She kissed me on the lips and sucked my tongue before she
released me.  She let me go to the bathroom.

When I emerged, she walked me over to an exercise bench, bent me
over it and tied me to its legs by my wrists.  She traced Lisa's
signature tattooed on my ass.

"I'm going to try something new on you, Richard.  I expect it to
hurt quite a lot.  And it may leave you marked for a very long
time."

She brought out a cane made out of bamboo and showed it to me.  I
could see that it was wet.  I learned later that it had been
soaking in brine.

"They use these in Singapore, Richard, to punish criminals.  A
martial arts expert lays it on.  Across the butt.  It's quite the
deterrent, they say.  Of course, I'm no martial arts expert but
I've been practicing.  I doubt that you'll have a complaint."

She swished it menacingly through the air.

"How many, Richard?"

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.

"As many as it takes to satisfy me, that's how many, Richard."

She took her stance behind me and to my left and she brought the
thing across my ass with her full force.

I howled.  I'd never felt anything like it.  It was Lisa's paddle
and Mistress Pam's bullwhip to the tenth power.  She landed
another and I knew that she'd cut a broad path across my bottom
cheeks.  I screamed at the top of my lungs.

The third blow had me kicking my legs.  I was desperate with
pain.  I knew that I was bleeding.   At the fourth blow, I
fainted.  She doused me with water.  Then she hit me again.  And
again.  And I fainted a second time.

When I came to, she bathed my forehead with a wet cloth.  She
said:  "Well, I suppose you're disappointed, Richard, aren't you. 
You were hoping for a few more.  But you'll have to take a
raincheck.  I think you've had enough for today."

She untied my wrists and helped me over to her bed.  I staggered. 
My knees were weak.  She let me lie down on my stomach.  

"Rest awhile, Richard.  Sleep if you'd like.  I'll bring you some
tea after a bit."

Every pain fiber in my body was centered on my buttocks.  I
touched myself and made myself cry out.  I came away with bloody
fingers.  I lay there exhausted by my ordeal and moaning. 
Presently, I fell asleep.

When I awoke, Mistress Pam was sitting beside me.   Propped on an
elbow, I drank from the tea cup she offered.   I sank back onto
my stomach and felt her hands on my neck and shoulders.   She
massaged and soothed me until I slept again.

When I next opened my eyes, it was already dark.  Mistress Pam
lay with me naked.  "You'll give me one more orgasm, Richard.  
Then you can go."

Every part of me was stiff, except my penis.  Bringing her to
orgasm was the toughest thing I'd ever done.   But it was the
tribute she demanded, and it was the tribute I paid.

When she went over the top, she rested briefly, then said:  "I'll
get you ready, Richard.   Bobby will take you home."

She climbed out of bed, beckoned me into the bathroom, and there
she dressed me in her urine-soaked red thong panties.   She
buckled on the ball-gag. She bound my wrists behind me.  Finally,
she draped a pair of panties over my face.   There was a lump of
her excrement smeared in the crotch.

"Goodbye, Richard," she said.   "Come again soon.  And don't
forget to give Lisa my message.  It won't go well for you next
time if you fail."

I was driven home by Bobby, lying face down on the back seat. 
The thong panties separated the cheeks of my ravaged ass,
displaying them.

On the way home, Bobby informed me that he expected Mistress Pam
to give him an opportunity one day to fuck me in the ass and that
he would also "magnanimously" allow me to suck his cock and
swallow his come.  He also intended to fuck Lisa and let her have
his bastard since I was obviously sterile.  With the ball-gag in
my mouth, I could not answer.  But I doubted that I would have
said anything to him if I could.  Some day I'd find occasion to
knee him in the balls.

When the car finally stopped, we were inside our garage.   Bobby
dragged me out of the back seat but Lisa took me from him and
guided me gently upstairs into our bathroom.  She took Mistress
Pam's panties off my face, undid the ball gag, took off my
panties, cleaned my backside gently with a soapy wash cloth,
smeared ointment on my buttocks and cream on my balls, washed my
face with another cloth, gave me a drink of water.  Only then did
she untie my hands.

She led me to bed and put me down on my stomach.  "Poor baby,"
she said.  She undressed and lay down beside me.  She stroked my
arms, cooed to me, kissed my face.  I fell asleep.

Next morning, she made me recount the events of the weekend.  I
did not forget to tell her that I was now Mistress Pam's slave as
well as hers.  She looked at me thoughtfully.  All she said was
"oh?"

Chapter 8   Pam Versus Lisa

The next meeting of our domination/submission circle was again at
Mistress Pam's.  I was in no condition to be punished that night. 
The wounds from the caning Mistress Pam had bestowed on me at our
private session had not healed.  I had angry scars across my
buttocks, still oozing fluid.

Lisa put me in the bedroom we had used before and tied me down.
When my turn came, Bobby, Mistress Pam's slave, entered the room
and released me.  He wore the same costume I had often seen him
in: jeans and a dark T-shirt.  "You are to put these on and
report to the den," he said, handing me the red thong panties
which Mistress Pam had made we wear on other occasions.  They
were dripping with her urine.

My face must have shown my confusion.

"Mistress Pam wants you in her panties.  She told me to remind
you that you are her slave now."

So I went down in "my" red thong panties, a larger duplicate of
the panties Mistress Pam wore.   They set off my buttocks cheeks
for display.  Lisa averted her eyes when I entered.  She seemed 
strangely subdued.

"Sorry you won't be able to whip him tonight, ladies," Mistress
Pam said, pointing to my bottom.  "I gave him a good dose of the
cane.  But his cock and tongue are available."

Mistress Tommie took me first.  Since the time she had invited me
to lunch and then taken me back to her condo to be raped
repeatedly, she regarded me as property on which she had a lien.
She took me to lunch occasionally and made sure I had an erection
when she kissed me goodbye -- always on the lips.   

On this night at Mistress Pam's, she led me up to my bedroom,
stripped me of the red panties, tied me on my back, stroked me
until I was hard, then climbed on me and fucked me over the top. 
The fact that my middle was clammy from Mistress Pam's urine did
not bother her in the least.   When she through fucking me, she
crouched over me and dripped my come out of her slit into my
mouth.   When the drip ended, she lowered herself onto my face
and had me suck her to orgasm.  She kissed me, tasting her juices
and mine.  

"I love you, Richard," she said.  "I wish your were mine.  I'd
keep you tied up all the time and rape you every day in the
week."

When her turn came, Mistress Ann, a busty blonde with wide
feminine hips, untied me and forced me down on her.   She told me
to eat her from pussy to asshole.   After she was satisfied, she
made me fuck her, wrapping her legs around my back to increase
the penetration.  Having just been drained by Mistress Tommie, I
had to go at it quite a long time before I filled her with my
sperm.

Mistress Jennifer, the slim young woman with the flat chest, put
me in the 69 position but she was unable to coax an erection from
me.  She compensated by keeping me between her thighs until she
had several orgasms.  Mistress Jennifer was very desirable but I
was all out of desire.  My neck and jaw hurt.

"You are to remain here until the party's over," she said as she
left.  She did not bother tying me up.

I dozed.  When the bedroom door opened, I awoke with a start.  It
was Mistress Pam.  "You are staying over, Richard.  You'll spend
the night in Bobby's room."

I protested.  "No, I won't do that.  I'm not a homosexual.  I'm
leaving here," I said, reaching for my clothes, "and I'm never
coming back."

"I thought you might react that way," Mistress Pam said. 
"Bobby," she called out.

I struggled but he was much too strong for me.  He wrestled me to
the ground, planted his knee in my back and bent my wrist behind
me until I acknowledged that I was beaten.

He marched me into his bedroom, Mistress Pam following.  "Fuck
him good," she said.   She left me alone with him.

"On the bed, little man.  On your face and raise your ass."

I saw Bobby pull off his T-shirt and lower his jeans.   He wore
no underwear.  He was as hairy as I was smooth-shaven.  I thought
about trying to knee him in the balls and fleeing.   He read my
mind:  "Any funny stuff and I'll break your arm and THEN I'll
fuck you.  Make up your mind, you're gonna get fucked."

He stroked himself into a gigantic erection, climbed on the bed
behind and smearing my asshole with lubricant, entered me slowly
but relentlessly, spreading my legs widely apart so as to
maximize his access.   His balls were against my ass.  He grasped
my buttocks and squeezed.  I winced.   I could feel the fluid
oozing from my cuts.

He leaned his hairy chest on my back and began moving.

Mistress Pam had fucked me with a strapped on dildo.  Being
fucked in the ass by another man was entirely different.  
Mistress Pam was smaller than me and her body was smooth and
soft.  Bobby was considerably bigger than me in every dimension
and strongly muscled.  

His hard body slammed against me as he fucked me.   He was in no
hurry to get it over with, and he had incredible staying power. 
When he finally shot his load and collapsed on top of me,
flattening me under him, I was almost snivelling.

"Don't move, little man," he said.  He fell asleep on me.  
Eventually, however, he rolled off and I was able to get some
sleep.

In the morning, he was the first awake.  He shook me into
consciousness.  "Second act, sport," he said.  "I promised you a
mouthful and you're going to get it.   Bring me a wash cloth."

He made me watch as he cleaned his penis.  "Okay, cocksucker, on
your knees."        

This was my chance to squeeze his balls and run.  But I didn't
have the guts to do it.

I sank onto my knees.  His penis was not limp but it was far from
erect.  He pulled me into him by my hair.  I was repulsed by the
feel and smell of him.  Nevertheless I put my lips to the head of
his cock and then my tongue.

"Lick it," he said, tugging me roughly.  "All the way down, and
don't forget my balls."

When he was fully erect, he entered my mouth.  He found the back
of my throat and I gagged.  He began fucking my face.   Though I
was revolted by it and felt as if I might choke, I did my level
best to speed him to orgasm.  I wanted it over.  

He showed no signs of coming, so I reached a hand behind his
balls and sought his asshole with my finger.  He increased his
pace.  He adjusted his position and allowed me to insert the
finger.   At long last, he came, filling my mouth.

"Swallow, little man."  I swallowed.  "You see, I keep my
promises."

He took me downstairs.  I was nude.  He wore his jeans and T-
shirt.  He fed me breakfast.   

We had been there about half an hour when Mistress Pam appeared
in one of her leather costumes.  "I've got a surprise for you,
Richard,"  she said.  She clapped her hands.

Lisa walked into the kitchen and my heart sank.  She was wearing
red thong panties but she was otherwise without clothing.  There
were tears in her eyes.  The nipples on her breasts bore clamps
and the breasts themselves were criss-crossed with red streaks
where she had been whipped.  When she was turned around to
display her buttocks, they bore the unmistakable signs of
Mistress Pam's bullwhip.  

"I'm sorry, Richard," Lisa said.  "I signed you over and I've
signed myself over.  I had to know what it's like."

I began sobbing.

"Okay, Bobby," Mistress Pam said.  "She's yours.  Take her right
here on the floor in front of him."

I rushed at him.

"Stop, Richard."  It was Lisa.  "He'll break you in half."

I hesitated.

"I belong to Mistress Pam now," she said.  "I follow her orders."

Bobby said:  "Take off the panties, Lisa.  Lie down on the floor
and spread your legs."

He removed his clothing.  He was already erect.  

Lisa did as Bobby directed.  He guided himself into her and lay
down on top of her.

I looked elsewhere.  I found myself crying, my shoulders heaving.

"Show him how much you like it," Mistress Pam said to Lisa after
a time.  "Let's hear it."

Lisa began making animal sounds.  I looked involuntarily.   She
was scratching Bobby's broad back with her nails.  He picked up
the pace and her sounds grew louder.  They weren't fake.  I knew
desire when I heard it.  She held on to him tightly.  She was
panting.

Suddenly, she moaned "fuck me."  Then she screamed.  "Fuck me. 
Fuck me.  Fuck me.  Give me your sweet cock.  Give me your come."

She entered into his rhythm.  She locked her legs behind his
back.

It seemed interminable.  I was crying freely.

They reached the summit together.

When he rolled off her, Mistress Pam said to me: "Clean her out
with your tongue, Richard.  Taste Bobby's come hot from her
pussy."

"I can't do it."

"Lisa?" Mistress Pam said.

"Do what she says, Richard.  Clean me out."  Lisa echoed, her
voice breaking.  "I told you.  I belong to Mistress Pam.  And so
do you.  She gives the orders.  We obey.  Both of us."

The next weekend, we moved into Mistress Pam's house, leaving
ours vacant.  Lisa was installed in Mistress Pam's bedroom, I in
mine.  I no longer had access to Lisa's body or she to mine.   I
no longer wore her sweaty exercise clothes to bed nor her panties
to work.

The new routine was that both Lisa and I now wore thong panties
during the day.   Always red, like Mistress Pam's.  Mistress Pam
used mine for toilet paper before I wore them.  

At Mistress Pam's direction, I also re-grew my body hair.  She
liked to smear my armpits and pubic hair with her excrement. 
That was now my night-time perfume. 

I was whipped regularly but Mistress Pam gave more of her
attention to Lisa.   In the evening, after work and before
dinner, she often employed her bullwhip on Lisa's ass and a
riding crop on her breasts.  When they came down to eat -- Lisa
never in anything but the red thong panties -- Mistress Pam
usually had placed clamps on her nipples.

A couple of times each week, Mistress Pam gave Lisa to Bobby. 
Always in front of me.  On one such occasion, he took her in his
lap, stripping off the red thong panties.  She spread her legs
and he began massaging her pussy lips.  

"Finger fuck me," she whispered.  Soon he had her impaled fore
and aft on his hand.  She rocked her self in his grip, shuddering
to a quick orgasm.

She reached for the buttons on his jeans, her fingers trembling,
undid his fly and pulled out his organ.  "Let me," she said,
slipping off his lap onto her knees.  She kissed him and tongued
him.   His prick stood away from his body.   She lowered his
jeans to the floor and took them off his feet.   She sucked his
toes.

"Fuck me, Bobby," she said.  "Fuck me until I see fireworks."

He took her right there on the rug in front of me, depositing his
come in my wife's vagina.  I sucked her clean.  It was the only
taste I now got of Lisa's pussy.   When I was finished, Bobby
stood up and pulled Lisa to her feet.  He was again erect.  The
man was unbelievable.  He grabbed her behind the buttocks and
lifted her into the air, easing her down onto his penis.   He
bounced her and she bounced with him, moaning with pleasure.  
After a while, a rivulet of sperm dripped out of her onto his
middle and she screamed:  "Yes, yes.  I'm coming.  I'm coming." 
And she shook violently in his arms.

I cleaned her out again.  I was weeping. 

"Good job, Richard," said Mistress Pam.  "You're getting very
good at what you do."

Lisa and I rode back and forth from work together.  She told me
she loved me.  But she wouldn't let me touch her.  "Mistress Pam
doesn't allow it," she explained.  

One evening, when we had arrived home, Lisa announced that she
was pregnant.  I bit my lip and convulsed in tears.

Bobby grinned broadly:  "Told you she'd have my bastard, little
man."

I flew at him, hoping to kill.  He knocked me down and fell on me
catching me in a headlock.

Lisa ran to me as I hit the floor.  "Let him alone," she
screamed.   "Let him alone.  I love him.  I love him.  Please,
Bobby."  She flung herself on his neck.  She used her nails.

"Let go of him, Bobby," Mistress Pam said.

When he did, I kicked him and he put me down again.

"Take him upstairs and prepare him for the cane, Bobby.  I'll
deal with Lisa."

Bobby marched me upstairs with my right arm twisted behind my
back.  The pressure on my elbow was terrible.  But when he let me
loose, I made another attempt to get at him.  So he punched me in
the stomach, then kneed me in the groin.  I fell to floor,
moaning and holding myself.  He lifted me up, forced me over the
bench and tied me down by my wrists.  He wasn't even breathing
hard. 

About 15 minutes later, Mistress Pam entered the bedroom.  Lisa
followed her, sobbing.   She was naked.  Mistress Pam had applied
the bullwhip to her buttocks, legs and to the flesh between her
thighs.  She bled from several of the wounds.  Her breasts were
marked with a network of fresh red welts.  

Bobby grinned at her.  "Next time we fuck, Mommie, tell me how
much you love him.   It's my cock you want.  It's my baby you're
gonna have.  Say it."

"Say it," Mistress Pam hissed.

Lisa choked.

"Say it, damn you," Mistress Pam repeated.

"It's your cock I want, Bobby," she said.   She could hardly get
the words out.

"Say the rest, cunt," Bobby said.

"I'm going to have your baby."  

"Yes," said Mistress Pam.  "And you're going to watch me use the
bamboo cane on Richard's bare ass.   And then you're going to
show Richard how much you love him by sucking Bobby's cock until
he comes in your mouth.  And then you'll deposit that come in
Richard's mouth.  I don't tolerate rebellion.  Is that
understood?"

Lisa wept the whole time that it took Mistress Pam to beat me
into unconsciousness.  She hit me eight times, two more than she
had done the previous time she had employed the cane.  I would
not be in condition to walk for a day or two and would be unable
to sit indefinitely.  

When I opened my eyes, Mistress Pam ordered Lisa onto her knees
in front of Bobby.   He stepped out of his jeans and stood in
front of her.  She sucked Bobby until he deposited his come in
her mouth.  She was leaking tears the whole time.  Then she came
over to me on my bench and transferred Bobby's come into my
mouth.  I was barely conscious, but I French-kissed her as a sign
that I loved her.

Chapter 9 - Lisa Is Pregnant

Once, my wife and I had been members of a circle of dominatrixes
and slaves headed by Mistress Pam: Lisa as one of the five
mistresses, I as her slave.   Now she and I both belonged
unconditionally to Mistress Pam.   

We were no longer part of the circle.  Although I still saw
Mistress Tommie occasionally at business meetings, I was no
longer available to her.  Mistress Pam forbade it.

Lisa slept in Mistress Pam's enormous bed.  I slept alone in the
bedroom which had been ours when Lisa and I attended the circle's
meetings.  I no longer had access to my wife's body.  I assumed,
without knowing for sure, that Mistress Pam had become Lisa's
lover.    

However, there was no uncertainty about Bobby, Mistress Pam's
male slave, a giant of a man who stood 6 feet 4 and had the body
of a pro football linebacker.  Mistress Pam gave Lisa to him
often and in my presence.  After he had fucked her, Mistress Pam
required me to clean Lisa's vagina with my tongue.

Soon Lisa was pregnant with Bobby's child.  That released
something in her.  She no longer showed embarrassment at having
an audience or pity for my humiliation.  

She went to Bobby eagerly now.  Like a newly-wed, she displayed a
voracious appetite for his prick.   Whenever they were in the
room together, she settled on his lap, running her hands under
his T-shirt and hugging him tight.   She called him "Lover," my
name.  He referred to her as Lisa but sometimes as "my little
whore."
 
All the clothing Mistress Pam allowed Lisa at home were red thong
panties identical to the ones she also made me wear.  Now that
she was pregnant, Lisa was no longer routinely whipped, nor did
she wear the clamps that Mistress Pam had earlier attached to her
nipples to give her pain.  

When Lisa curled up on Bobby's lap, he would fondle her bare
breasts and exposed buttocks until both of them were fully
aroused.  Then he would take her in front of me, usually on the
carpet, though sometimes right there in the chair, planting her
on his prick and driving himself into her with little rocking
motions. 

Once, he carried her up to his bedroom and spent an hour
ravishing her repeatedly.  Mistress Pam sent me with them to
watch and perform my duties.

"I can't help myself," Lisa explained to me one day as we drove
down to the office.  She was sobbing.  "I really am his whore.  I
crave his cock morning, noon and night."

The four of us went to dinner and the movies one night.   Lisa
was dressed in a blouse and skirt with no bra.  Mistress Pam had
reserved a room for us where we were alone except for the waiter. 

After we had given our drink orders, Bobby pulled Lisa into his
lap.   He unbuttoned her blouse until she was open from throat to
navel.  She bit her lip but did not protest.  He fondled her
naked breasts, teasing the nipples with thumb and forefinger. 
Lisa made a motion to cover herself when the waiter returned but
Mistress Pam checked her.  "Leave yourself open, Lisa," she said
evenly.  

Lisa complied, closing her eyes.  The waiter stared at her but
said nothing.   The massage continued.  Lisa clasped his hand to
her.  I could hear her panting. 

When dinner was served, Lisa went back to her own chair leaving
her blouse open.  Bobby took away her silverware.  "You won't be
needing these," he said.  He fed her with his fingers.  She
licked them with every bite.  Her face was flushed.  She got back
on his lap and asked him to put both his hands on her.  She
didn't care any more about the waiter's presence.  I could see
her achieve a climax.

When we left the restaurant and arrived at the movies, Mistress
Pam bought a tub of popcorn which she gave to Lisa, then guided
us to seats in the last row.  I was against the wall, Lisa next
to me, Bobby beside her and Mistress Pam on his left.  Bobby said
something into Lisa's ear and she reddened.   Surreptiously, she
lowered her panties, squirming under the tub of popcorn in her
lap.   He made his thick fingers buttery in the popcorn, then
found her slit beneath her skirt.  She worked herself on him,
moaning softly.  It was all plainly visible from my seat. 

He said something else into her ear, and she leaned my way.
"Bobby says I should tell you'll have a big job later."  I hated
her in that moment.

Down the row, beyond Mistress Pam, a young woman whispered in the
ear of the male next to her and gestured in our direction.

Bobby relieved Lisa of the panties when the movie ended.  As the
lights rose, he held them up for the woman and man to see.  Then
he handed them to me.  "You be the caddy, little man."

Mistress Pam delayed our departure so we were almost the last
ones out.  On the way up the aisle, she lifted Lisa's skirt so
that the elderly gent who was following could see her bare
bottom.  Lisa reddened again and kept walking out into the night.

On the way home, Bobby and Lisa sat in the back seat of the car.
Mistress Pam told her to take off the rest of her clothes.  After
she complied, Lisa crouched on the floor and dived for Bobby's
cock, lowering his zipper.   She nibbled at him all the way back
to the house.  

Once inside the door, she pulled Bobby down to the floor.  He
fucked her while she crooned with pleasure.  Then he fucked her
again, not pausing for me to perform my clean up chores.  She
went down on him, and he fucked her a third time.

Only when they were both sated was I invited to do my job.  Lisa
said it:  "Okay, Richard, you can clean up now."  She massaged
the back of my head as I did my work, lifting herself so I could
reach further into her with my tongue.  I hated her, absolutely
hated her. 

The only one who found any use for me sexually was Mistress Pam.  
She enjoyed exhausting my desire and then keeping me busy long
afterwards.  I was never more conscious of being her slave than
when I ate from her pussy with a limp prick.  

One holiday weekend when she invited me into her bed, I
discovered that she was menstruating and at the peak of her flow. 
She wanted me to fuck her and eat her in that condition.  She
rubbed herself against my thighs.  In the morning, my cock was
smeared with her blood, and so were my face and trunk.  Without
allowing me to wash, she told me to go downstairs and bring her
some coffee. 

"Take Lisa some too," she said.  "You hear me?"

I said:  "Yes, Mistress Pam."

Lisa was already in the kitchen.  She looked at me in disbelief.  
"Oh, Richard," she said.  Her eyes filled with tears.

"Fuck you, little whore," I responded.

She said:  "This was your idea to begin with."

I said:  "I never intended for us to go over the edge."

She said:  "I couldn't help myself.  My imagination took over. I
can't help myself now."

She caught me to her bare bosom and hugged me tightly.  I held on
to her, and that's the way we were standing when Mistress Pam
entered.

"Isn't that touching," she said.  "The loving couple.  But it's
Bobby's prick you want, Lisa.  Isn't it?"

Lisa held on to me and choked.

"It's Bobby's prick you want," she repeated coldly.  "Isn't it?"

"Yes," Lisa said.  "I want Bobby's prick."

"And where do you want it, Lisa?"

Lisa choked again.  She did not relinquish her hold on me.

"Where, Lisa?  Where???"

"In my pussy."

"And in your mouth?"

"Yes, in my mouth," Lisa admitted, sobbing.

"And when do you want it?"

"Now," she said.  "All the time."

"Tell him that, Lisa.  Tell him to put you down on the floor. 
Tell him to spread your legs.  Tell him to moisten your pussy
with his tongue.  Then ask him to go fetch Bobby for you."

Lisa was crying in earnest now.  

"Tell him, Lisa," Mistress Pam ordered sharply.

"Lay me down," she said.  Her shoulders shook and her voice was
barely audible.   I helped her to the floor.  "Open me up."   I
moved her legs apart.  "Make me wet."  I got down with her and
licked her.  "Get me Bobby."

Bobby was asleep.  I shook him awake.  Tears were pouring down my
face.

He laughed at me.  "I see Mistress Pam's been using you as her
tampon.  About what you're good for, little man."  

He took his time getting ready.  He visited the bathroom, combed
his hair, brushed his teeth.  Then he followed me down.  Lisa was
lying there weeping soundlessly.

Mistress Pam prodded her with a foot.  "Beg him for his cock,
Lisa.  Beg him for it.  Tell him what you said."

"Please, Bobby, give me your cock."

"Where?" Mistress Pam said.

"In my pussy."

"Where else?"

"In my mouth.  Up my asshole."

"When?"

"This minute.  All the time.  Please, Bobby.  I want your cock. 
I'm begging you for it."

"What do you think, Mistress Pam?" Bobby said.   He was grinning.
"She's going to have my little bastard, and she's begging me like
the little whore she is to stick my cock in every opening she's
got.  She makes me sick.  I think it's time to give her back to
the asshole she's married to."  He spat and a glob of it landed
on Lisa's belly.

Lisa flinched and began wailing hysterically.  She tore at her
breasts and belly with her own fingernails.  "Fuckin' bastard,"
she moaned.  "Fuckin' bastard," she screamed.  "Fuckin' bastard,
fuckin' bastard, fucking bastard, fucking bastard, fucking
bastard."

It had become a drone, a mantra.

"Bit off more than you could chew, didn't you, bitch?" Mistress
Pam said.  "Want a goodbye fuck?," she said.  The question wasn't
directed at Bobby but at Lisa. "Up the asshole, maybe?  You
begged for it just now.  What do you think, Bobby?  Up the
asshole?"

"I've had enough of this twat," Bobby replied.  "I don't want her
dirt on my dick.  I'd rather save my juice for you.   We've
played enough with these two.  Get them out of here and let's us
go climb in the sack."

I was kneeling beside Lisa.  I tried to prevent her from doing
herself more damage with her fingernails.

"Filthy son-of-a-bitch," she screeched at Bobby.

"Shut up, little whore.  You got what you needed from me, a
really good fucking and a baby.  Get your ass and your asshole
out of here and take the little man with you."

I took a swing at him and he knocked me down.  He forced his foot
into my middle, planting it at my balls.  "Try anything else," he
said, "and I'll crush these."

I lay inert.

"You heard Bobby," Mistress Pam said to us.  "The two of you get
your stuff and go.  Take your red panties with you as a memento. 
They're not my size."

Bobby withdrew his foot and allowed me up.  I helped Lisa up off
the floor.  She was crying harder than ever.  I hugged her to me. 
I took her upstairs and dressed her.  I pulled on my jeans, a
shirt and shoes.   I did not bother with the rest of her stuff or
mine. 

We took our car from the garage and went back to our house, which
had been vacant for three months.  I undressed her.  We got into
bed, and I held her close.  She wept for me until she had no more
tears.  

"I'm sorry, Richard," she said finally.  "I made a complete fool
of myself.  And I've betrayed you.  Right in front of you I
betrayed you."

"I asked for it, Lisa.  I wanted you to take control.  I didn't
understand what it might do to you, to us."

"I'll go away," she said.  "I'll have the baby and put it up for
adoption.  I couldn't bear to look at it."

"I don't want you to go away, Lisa.  We'll start over as husband
and wife.  And it's your baby as much as it's his.  I'm willing
to be its father."

She said:  "I don't deserve another chance, Richard."

"Neither of us deserves another chance.  But we're going to
forgive one another and go on."

She kissed me, and I kissed her.  And so we fell asleep in our
own bed.  

We tried to put our lives back together.   We abstained from sex. 
Neither of us could cope.  Lisa stopped working as her body
swelled, carried to term and had the child.  There was no
mistaking that I was not the father.

A baby present arrived in the mail from a Potomac address,
printed in Bobby's bold hand.  I threw it in the trash without
showing it to Lisa.  I resolved to kill the man if he ever showed
himself in my son's life.

The baby was a month old when, for the first time in seven
months, we had sexual intercourse.  I initiated it but Lisa
welcomed me to her.  There were no wild bursts of passion nor
flashes of light for either of us.  But at least it was a start.

And then we went to sleep nestled in one another's arms, waiting
for the child to awaken us with his cries.

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