FEMDOM FARM – 1, THE TRIAL

 

I knew I was in the shit as soon as I saw the bitch of a judge. She was one of those haughty “Are you man enough?” whores, with flashing brown eyes, black hair that fell to her shoulders in glistening shafts, with a big, red mouth and a stunning “Tit fuck” type figure.

 

Oh, and she was black. And I could tell she didn’t like the look of little old white boy me, with my unfashionably long blonde hair which almost reached my shoulders, as soon as she swept into the courtroom and sat down.

 

The clerk of the court had called out “Femdom Court, Judge Calista Clitorides presiding, all rise” as the black-latex-clad judge had sat down with a sneering glance at me. She was 40, possibly 45, and I could have fucked her given the right set of circumstances. Now, it was me who was gonna get fucked!

 

I, being the prisoner, was already standing, of course. I had a spreader bar which kept my ankles a yard apart, my wrists were cuffed behind my back – oh, and I was naked. A biting, gripping, bitch of a cord had been tied around my cock and balls and was connected tautly to a D-ring in the middle of the bar between my ankles. It served to make my eight inches of uncut cock stand stiffly to attention.

 

“Who’s this slut?” asked Judge Clitorides, in a contemptuous, arrogant tone.

 

The clerk of the court glanced at her sheet and announced: “Name’s Rick Dunger, madam, aged 32, resident of Sadism City. And the charge is unlawfully accessing pornography on the internet.”

 

The judge actually snorted. “Fuck, cunt,” she laughed, towering above me from her bench, “don’t you know in the state of Femdominia in 2097 that males aren’t allowed to look at pornography!”

 

Of course I did, what a fuckin’ stupid question. But, hey, I’m a pervert, and I enjoy surfing the net for porn, never mind the fact that in Femdominia – it was called Arizona 90 years back, before women took over complete control of the US of A – only women were allowed to look at filth on the net.

 

Oh, by the way, it’s still the good ol’ USA, only we males sometimes make jokes about it now being the “United States of Agony”, only it’s not such a fuckin’ joke, right?

 

“Sorry, Madam Judge,” I muttered, “it was a sudden aberration, it won’t happen again.”

 

“Sure it won’t,” the pretty black bitch grinned down at me, “cos I’m gonna send you away for a little bit of behaviour modification. Only thing is, for how long, eh, Dunger? Or should that be ‘dungheap’, eh slut?”

 

It was what I think is called a rhetorical question, one not requiring a response on my part, and anyway, even if I’d wanted to, this stunning blonde seated at a long bench in front of the judge was rising now and addressing the black bird.

 

“Madam Judge,” she said, “my name’s Gloria Graunch, and I’m appearing on behalf of the prosecution. And if I may, I’d like to open right now by saying that this cunt’s claim it was ‘a sudden aberration’ is a load of horseshit.”

 

The judge inclined her head, quizically. “It is?” she said, a cruel smile crossing her admittedly very pretty face. “Well, in that case I may have to be more severe in my sentencing. Explain, please, Mizz Graunch.”

 

The blonde, who I reckon was about my age, was wearing a catsuit made out of red PVC and it did nothing to hide the fact that she had a body to die for. Tits, ass, thighs, you name it, it was all there and all in the correct fuckin’ order!

 

Ms Graunch certainly did explain. She started off by telling the judge how I’d fallen for a “sucker punch” on the net, as it were.

 

“Three months ago, Madam Clitorides,” said the prosecutor, “the prisoner accessed a website called ‘Porn for Men’, which informed people logging onto it that it could subvert the state government-installed pornography blockers on all computers accessed by males.”

 

“A sucker punch?” asked the judge.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” said the oh-so-fuckable prosecuting attorney, “you see ‘Porn for Men’ is a state-owned website that has been designed to see how many males succumb to its lures.

 

“And that’s also one of the reasons why this case if being heard in camera – so the secret doesn’t get out.”

 

The judge grinned. “And what did lover boy here do?” she asked the lovely prosecutrix.

 

“The cunt paid 500 hard-earned dollars to subscribe to the ‘Porn for Men’ facility,” said the attractive, blue-eyed blonde. And we’ve been monitoring his perverted tastes ever since.”

 

The judge grinned, and although it made her look even prettier, I detected a look of sheer sadism glinting through. “And he’s been wanking himself off to porn on the net for three fuckin’ months?” she asked Ms Graunch.

 

“Correct, madam judge,” said the blonde bombshell. “He’s been surfing all kinds of disgusting sites, and thoroughly enjoying himself.”

 

The judge leaned away from her bench in the high-backed leather chair.

 

“Remind me, Mizz Graunch, what’s the maximum penalty for such an offence?” she asked.

 

Miss Graunch pulled a large book of statutes in front of her, then pulled on some reading glasses. Fuck, take no notice of that old “Men seldom makes passes at girls who wear glasses” line – she looked absolutely stunning in them, strict, severe, fuck she looked great!

 

“The maximum sentence is 10 years in the state prison, but I won’t be seeking that, since he’s a first offender,” she said, a wicked smile forming on her lips.

 

“What did you have in mind, Mizz Graunch?” asked the judge.

 

“Something like 18 months, would be more appropriate,” said the blonde.

 

The judge looked at me. “All right, cunt, before I pass sentence, what sorts of sites did you look at, what perversions did you prefer? And don’t lie, because I’m sure this extremely able young lady here has chapter and verse.”

 

The blonde laughed, and walked to the bench. “May it please the court,” she said, handing a four sheets of A4 paper to the black beauty, “this is a log of every website the cunt’s been perving on.”

 

The judge looked down the list, then looked at me, my cock now nowhere near as hard as it had been when she had walked into the court.

 

Then she read out some of the sites I’d been trawling. And she read ‘em out in a tone which sneered “Pathetic pervert cunt!” at me with every word she spoke.

 

“Mean Bitches. Goddess of Cruelty. Strip, Slave. Femdom Library. Orgasm Denial – Stories to Make You Cum and Cum Again. Trample Me Now. Sit on Me, Smother Me. Teenage Tormentresses?”

 

I lowered my head, then was brought to my senses by the judge’s snapped command. “Look at me, you filthy fucker,” she almost screamed.

 

“You pathetic little cunt, you and your ‘sudden aberration’, you little fuckshit. You’re disgusting.”

 

Then she calmed slightly, and produced a slim riding crop from where it had been sitting on the bench and started to “Tap, tap, tap” it on the palm of her left hand.

 

“For accessing pornography on the internet in violation of the criminal code of conduct for the state of Femdominia, I hereby sentence you to 18 months prison at Femdom Farm.”

 

Despite the stories I’d heard about the cruelties inflicted on us men at the place out in the desert, I almost whistled a sigh of relief. Then the bitch lowered the boom on me.

 

“And for lying to the court and calling it a ‘sudden aberration’ when, in fact, you’d been jerking off to pornography for almost three fuckin’ months, I’m sentencing you to 12 months’ prison at Femdom Farm. The sentences will be accumulative.”

 

Then the judge fixed me with a steely stare. “Know what ‘accumulative’ means, cunt?”

 

I nodded glumly. “Yes, madam judge,” I said. “It means the 18 months and the 12 months are added together.”

 

“So?” asked the judge, in a voice now dripping with treacle. “How long you gonna be inside for?”

 

I gulped. “Thirty months, madam judge,” I said, when I finally had swallowed the bile in my throat down. I’d heard of Femdom Farm, fuck, every male in Femdominia had heard of it, and I knew it was no place for poor white boys like, I can tell you.

 

But I was brought back to my senses once more by the judge’s voice.

 

“And now, all that remains for me to do now to discharge my solemn duty as a judge of the High Court of Femdominia, is to give you a stroke of this here crop for each month of your term.

 

“Mizz Graunch, if you’d like to accompany me into my chambers, I shall inflict the 30 strokes on this cunt right now, and I’d like you to be my witness.”

 

I know it was silly, because here I was, cuffed, naked, a spreader bar between my legs, and I was going to get 30 cuts of the crop from the big black judge, and watched by this lovely blonde bitch. But I couldn’t help it – my cock started to grow!

 

Inside the judge’s chambers, I saw a leather-padded sort of saw horse standing in the middle of the room.

 

When the clerk of the court had left the room, the judge grinned at me. “OK, cunt, over the horse, while Mizz Graunch and I have a cup of coffee. I promise I won’t keep you waiting too long.”

 

I lowered my upper body onto the coolness of the leather, and waited while the judge and the prosecutor chatted away over their coffee.

 

“Fuck, being a judge nowadays is so easy, Gloria,” said the judge, seated off behind me in an easy chair, occasionally stroking my tensed, taut buttocks with the flap of the crop.

 

“Ever since they did away with defense counsel for sex offenders this job’s a piece of piss. Up gets the prosecutor, reads out the facts, then I sentence ‘em. Shoot, a child could do it.”

 

“As long as the child was a female,” laughed Gloria Graunch.

 

Then I heard the judge move behind me, and as she stepped from her chair to her flogging position, I saw that she was wearing black leather boots, which came to half-way up her luscious thighs. Fuck, she looked great!

 

And then the crop swished and my buttocks became alive as the tough leather cracked across my naked flesh. Judge Clitorides had obviously done this many times before. And she was in no hurry.

 

The crop descended again and again, but the blows were interspersed between long gaps, so the pain of each stroke burned itself deep into my backside in a long path of pain before the cruel judge inflicted the next blow.

 

Finally, she was done and I was allowed to stand. I pressed the backs of my cuffed hands against my blistered, bruised flesh, but Judge Clitorides was having none of it.

 

“Hands off those buns, cunt,” she yelled as she saw my trying to massage my crop-caned buttocks.

 

Then the judge walked in front of me and looked me directly in the eye.

 

“And if you think that was painful, it was like love bites compared to what they’re gonna do to you out at Femdom Farm,” she smiled, lifting my limp cock and stroking it in remarkably soft hands.

 

Despite myself, I couldn’t stop my cock was getting a rise out of the occasion, and the judge continued her manual manipulation until the betraying bastard at my crotch was fully erect.

 

“Know somethin’, Mizz Graunch,” smiled the judge, still fixing me with an eye-to-eye stare. “I think this cunt’s gonna be a model prisoner.

 

“I might even drive out to Femdom Farm in a month or two and see how he’s comin’ along!”

 

Miss Graunch smiled and ran a cool hand over my blazing buns.

 

“Great idea, judge,” said the blonde, taking her turn at stroking my stiffy.

 

“Mind if I hitch a ride with you?”

 

 

 

To be continued.

 

 

                FEMDOM FARM – PART 2, GETTING THERE

 

 

After my post-sentencing whipping – painful, but I had feared fuckin’ worse – the judge called down to the holding cells. A pretty little blonde’s face appeared on the vidphone screen.

 

“We’ve got a cunt for you for the farm,” snapped Judge Clitorides, “get up here and get him.”

 

About two minutes later, the blonde arrived with a colleague. Did I say the blonde was pretty? Well, her mate was fuckin’ awful, looked like she banged into Mount Rushmore, very, very slowly.

 

“He’s all yours,” said the judge, signing a chit the blonde gave her.

 

And then I was dragged down to a cell on the ground floor. The blonde must have been about 25, and had short-cropped, blonde hair. Her mate must have been about 40, close-cropped black hair. Oh, I forgot, she was black.

 

“He’s pretty,” said the black bitch. “We go the long route back to the farm, eh?”

 

The blonde, who despite her youth, appeared to be in charge, grinned. “Sure, we’ll take the scenic route, he looks like fun.”

 

And then she started to stroke my cock! Like I said, she was pretty and she was wearing an identical outfit to her mate. It consisted of a black PVC bra which bunched her pert titties in gleaming uplift. On each cup was a bright red letter “F” – Femdom Farm, geddit?

 

Lower down, the two guards wore tight-fitting hot pants, also in black PVC. On the backs of the garments were also two “F” letters.

The fronts of the pants gleamed against their prominent pussy mounds.

 

On their feet they wore regulation, knee-high boots. On each toe – yep, you guessed it – were the letters “F”.

 

 

 

And on their heads were military-style leather caps, like those cunts in the old Nazi war of 1939-45 used to wear, only instead of a fuckin’ swastika, they had the letters “FF” emblazoned above the gleaming peaks. Trying to get a message across, you reckon?

 

Shit, I already knew I was going to fuckin’ Femdom Farm!

 

And despite my apprehension at my destination, the lovely little blonde soon had me erect, and then it was time to go.

 

“Right, cunt,” she snapped, bending to release my spreader bar, and untie the cord around my cock and balls. “Now we’re gonna take you to the van along the humiliation ramp. And good women of this fair city have paid hard-earned money to get a viewing position, so you wave the cock around, you understand?”

 

I nodded and she grinned, then stroked me some more. “And tell me, cunt, how long is it?”

 

I guess I was pretty sullen, ‘cos when I told her “Eight inches”, she slapped me across the face.

 

“Eight inches, ma’am,” she shouted. “Eight fuckin’ inches, MA’AM.” And she slapped me again.

 

Oh, forgot to tell you – both the bitches were wearing black leather gloves. I later found out, that at Femdom Farm they were referred to as “bitch slappers”.

 

Whether that was because the slapping was done by bitches, or the act of slapping was known as bitchslapping I don’t know, and frankly I don’t give a fuck. But shit, did the pretty little bitch make my head ring!

 

Outside in the glare of the sunlight – it must have been around 11.30 – was a ramp leading to the opened back door of a big GM truck. On either side of the ramp was a group of about 30 women, 15 on each side, standing behind a sort of barricade. They were all wearing those sexy fuckin’ bikinis that women in Femdominia like to stroll around in, driving us men wild with lust.

 

As soon as I appeared there was a lot of shouting.

 

“Look, he’s got a fuckin’ stiffy!” shouted one pert little brunette, with equally pert little titties.

 

“Shake it around for us, cunt!” shouted the woman next to her, who was old enough to be her mom.

 

“Wank it, cunt, stroke it!” snapped a big, butch-looking black woman.

 

The blonde hissed in my ear. “Do it, cunt!”

 

My hand started to stroke my still stiff cock.

 

“What’s he going in for?” one woman asked as my two guards halted me half way up the ramp and made me keep pumping my prick.

 

“He’s an internet porn pervert,” said the black guard.

 

“Cunt!” shouted one woman, who was accompanied by a trio of youngsters who must have been no older than 16 or 17. “Did you pump it like that when you were perving on the net?”

 

The blonde hissed: “Answer her, cunt!”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, my face burning red now.

 

“Oooh, look, mommy,” said the youngest of the trio of girls with the older woman, “there’s stuff leaking from that ugly piss slit! What’s that, mommy?”

 

“They call it pre-cum,” she told her daughter. “Can we force him to come?”

 

The black guard pushed me in the buttocks. “Sorry, ladies,” she said, “shows over. But your kids can have a quick feel, if they want.”

 

And then, to my utter and total humiliation, the guards pushed me over to the young girls, and the youngest, the one who’d asked about my “pre-cum” fondled my balls, then squeezed my shaft.

 

“Ooooh, it’s so thick, mommy, almost as thick as my dildo toy!”

 

The mother laughed. “Yep, but your dildo don’t get limp when it’s tired, eh, Theresa?”

 

The girl laughed and look up at me, and fuck she was pretty.

 

“How long you been sentenced to the farm for, cunt?” she asked, sweetly, the little slut.

 

“Three years, ma’am,” I told her.

 

“You pervert,” said one of her sisters, “I bet you’re looking forward to it, what with that hard-on and all.”

 

And then that little tart reached out and squeezed my nuts!

 

I bellowed, and the women were all laughing and jeering, things like “Pervert” and “Cock stroker” as the guards pushed me into the air-conditioned confines of the big truck.

 

Once inside, and the doors had swung closed, I looked at the inside of the vehicle which was to take me into slavery. Whips, paddles and strap-on dildos hung in rows on the leather-padded walls. A sort of large leather throne stood with its back to the driver’s compartment.

 

Ominously for me, the black bitch was pulling down her hot pants till she was pussy naked, and then she settled onto the “throne”. The blonde walked to the microphone set in the wall by the partition and announced: “He’s a pretty boy. Take the scenic route.”

 

Then, moving beside me, the blonde said: “Usually, when the slut’s an ugly cunt, we take about an hour to get to the farm. Luckily for you, you’re pretty, so we’ll take the three-hour trip instead.”

 

“Now, get down and start servicing my friend, and do it well,” she ordered.

 

I knelt on the metal floor and pressed my face to a totally hairless pussy, the thick labia moist with arousal. The insides of the lips were bright pink. The cunt was dripping, the anal whorl was dark, almost black.

 

“Start at the anus, cunt,” snapped the black woman. “Always – unless you’re commanded otherwise – start cunnilingus at Femdom Farm at the anus. That’s a sign that you’re a worthless piece of shit.”

 

I inhaled deeply, and to tell the truth, although the bitch was ugly as sin, she had a wonderfully aromatic pussy, the sex juices were musky and strong and, I have to confess, my hard-on was present again after my squeeze on the humiliation ramp.

 

As the truck started to wend its way out of town I began to orally worship between the black bitch’s strong thighs. Soon she was thrusting her crotch at me, graunching on my face, enjoying the attentions I was lavishing on her.

 

While I worked, the pretty blonde sat in another chair and started to speak. It was a speech that she seemed to have memorised – possibly she gave it quite a lot.

 

“Now, cunt, listen up while you’re working on my friend,” she said. “You will, throughout your entire sentence at the farm, refer to any woman there as ‘ma’am’. I’m ma’am, the lady you’re working for now is ‘ma’am’.

 

“There are only two women who you do NOT refer to as ‘ma’am’. One is the woman who runs the outfit, and who will call on you for punishment or pleasure from time to time.

 

“You will refer to her as ‘Boss Bitch’, just that, nothing else – not ‘Boss Bitch Mistress’, not ‘Boss Bitch Ma’am’, simply ‘Boss Bitch’.

 

“The other woman who you will refer to by her first name will be the bitch who has you for her torture or fuck toy. There are no cells at Femdom Farm, there are little chalets where the guards live.

 

“There are lots of guards at Femdom Farm and you will be assigned to one, and this one you will refer to by her first name. So let’s say it’s a woman called Dominia, you will call her ‘Mistress Dominia’. Understood – raise your right hand if you do.”

 

Fuck, it was simple enough, a child could understand it. I raised my right hand.

 

Now, my oral ministrations at ‘Ma’am’s’ crotch was paying dividends and she started to graunch herself against me really hard, while grabbing my hair and pressing me into her quim with gusto.

 

When she started to pump her way to climax she started to abuse me, the bitch!

 

“Fuck you, you cunt, you fuckin’ cunt, I’m fuckin’ cumming, cunt, oh you fuckin’ cunt!” she stormed, which I thought was a bit unfair – she’d ordered me to fuckin’ eat her for chrissakes!

 

Anway, then she came on my face, ejaculating a small amount of post-cum sex juice, which I lapped into my mouth. It tasted salty, brackish, and wasn’t the most pleasant liquid I’ve ever had to deal with. There would be, of course, far worse later, but I’ll get to that.

 

After her climax – and after she’d calmed down – the blonde hauled me to my feet. I was sporting this stiffy, and she grinned and stroked it.

 

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” she smiled. “Now for the next lesson. See those straps? Grab ‘em and don’t let go or I’ll flog you for the rest of the journey.”

 

There was a sturdy metal bar set across the ceiling of the truck, and hanging from it, two leather straps. I put my hands into them and grabbed hold tight. This action caused my body to stretch taut, and I had a job keeping my feet on the floor.

 

While I was doing this, the blonde pulled a leather lash from the racks on the side of the vehicle and she stepped behind me. The black bitch on the throne, meanwhile, started to play with herself, a big grin on her ugly mug.

 

And although she was ugly, I now realised she was superbly built, strongly-muscled, but I’ve got a thing about women who work out – OK, not those who look more like fuckin’ men than women – but a nicely toned female figure is, well, sexy.

 

I was brought back to my senses by the lash being cracked against my straining upper back.

 

“Now pay attention, cunt,” snapped little miss blondie. “This is an electro-flogger, we use ‘em a lot on the farm.

 

“There are three types of flogger – single tailed, like this little beauty. Then there’s a triple-thonged one.”

 

And with that, she pulled another leather discipline instrument from the wall and showed it to me. It was made of an identical strand of slim leather, but a foot or maybe nine inches from the tip, the thing splayed out into three tails.

 

“And then there’s my favorite,” she said, “the good old cat o’ nine tails.”

 

Same as the triple-thonged number, only another six tails!

 

“Now, this is the low setting,” said my blonde guard.

 

And with a slashing stroke, she cut my upper back again. It hurt more than the first stroke, a warm glow left where it had done its work.

 

“And now the medium setting,” she said.

 

This time it was a searing jolt, which made me thrust forward, as if trying to jerk away from the lash’s attentions.

 

“And finally, cunt face, the high setting.”

 

And this time a burning, searing, slashing stroke of pain slashed into my flesh. I bellowed something which sounded like “Yaaaaargh!”

 

“For being really fuckin’ naughty, our slaves can get a two-hour flogging all over their bodies with the cat o’ nine tails set to ‘high’,” the pretty little beast informed me.

 

“And after two hours of that, they are gibbering and sobbing and spluttering so badly you can’t fuckin’ understand what they’re going on about,” she told me. I could well understand it!

 

“Right, get back down on your knees and try to give ma’am on the throne there a decent licking now!” she commanded, and I went back to work.

Again I started to work on the black bitch’s quim, which was still smelling strongly of sex juice, and had such a high musk rating I was soon hard as a rock again.

 

While I worked, lapping and laving at the dark pleasure palace, the blonde was talking again.

 

“Let me tell you what’s gonna happen when we arrive,” she said, as the black woman started to grunt and groan as I pleasured her.

 

“First you will be taken to the fitting room. You will be fitted with a device that will not allow you to escape – as I said, there’s no cells at Femdom Farm, and there’s no perimeter fences, either.

 

“But we get you organised so you can’t fuckin’ escape, although some dumb cunts actually try it on. No one escapes, though, trust me, I wouldn’t lie to you.

 

“After you’ve been fitted out, you will be taken for an interview with one of Boss Bitch’s officers. That’s purely to find a name for you. We don’t do this out of any benevolence, it’s just that we like to give you a humiliating name. Numbers are a fuckin’ bore, no one can remember ‘em.

 

“But give a slave – oh, sorry, you’re a slave from now on, cunt, not a prisoner, not an inmate, you’re a fuckin’ slave! Anyways, as I was saying, give a slave a humiliating name – like ‘Cumdrinker’, or ‘Pissdrinker’ or ‘Momma’s Slut’ and we can all remember it and have a laugh.

 

“And then, after your interview, you are wheeled in to meet Boss Bitch. She’s gorgeous, you will like her, and she will make your life both heaven and hell while you’re enjoying your stay with us.

 

“But – and it’s a big fuckin’ ‘but’, cunt – it will be mostly hell, believe you me!”

 

And I believed her, but soon the black bitch was sliding her crotch firmly across my face, she was coming close once more to her climax.

 

 

 

“Fuckin’ cunt, oh fuck you, fuck you, FUCK you!” she shouted, and once more, when her orgasm arrived, so did a small but tangy-tasting delivery of juice. I knew the drill by now, and again I swallowed it down.

 

Once more, blondie allowed me to stand – my cock was swaying stiffly in front of me, like one of those old-fashioned policemen’s truncheons from the previous century. It looked fuckin’ good to me, I have to confess.

 

Then the black bitch stood up, bent, displaying a large but very shapely, toned ass, and picked up her hot pants. As she did, the blonde, now minus her pants, settled into the chair.

 

“Right, cunt,” she said, placing her lovely thighs on each leather arm, and displaying a small sprout of fair hair on her mons and an otherwise totally hairless snatch, “let’s be having you!”

 

I knelt and eagerly pressed my mouth to her sweet-smelling pussy. Fuck, she smelled divine! And she tasted good, too!

 

As my tongue worshipped first at her tight little anus, she placed a leather-gloved hand almost gently on my head, and stroked me.

 

“Now up to my labia, you cunt, and don’t touch my cunny on the way,” she ordered. “Ah, yes, that’s good, nice, keep it going, now dip into my cunt, you pervert!”

 

I followed her instructions, moving my mouth around her minge, licking, kissing, sucking, doing basically as I was told.

 

And then I heard some words that sent a shiver down my spine.

 

“Piss time, cunt,” snapped the pretty bitch. “Get your mouth over my piss area, seal it tight, and when it comes chug it down, come on, you know you want to, we know which websites you perved on – what was one called? Oh yep, I remember now, Piss of the Princess was one, and Piss Perverts on Parade was another. Filthy cunt!”

And then, when my mouth was in place, she let out a sigh of utter contentment and I was chugging down her piss, a long, strong flow. And it tasted AWFUL!

 

It was salty, it was warm – of course – and it was brackish and just, oh, I guess yukky is the word.

 

When she’d finished she had another instruction. “Clean around my piss flaps, lick me dry – do it thoroughly, lick me clean, get rid of all traces of my pee, and then start back on pleasuring me, cunt!”

 

That task wasn’t so fuckin’ bad. There was still the taste of urine, of course, but soon it was mingling with the taste of her glorious sex juices, and then I was back at work. Fuck, she was tasty!

 

After she had come – much quieter, much more refined than the black tart – she made me stand by the side of the throne.

 

Looking up at me with a smile that was so fuckin’ sweet, she went on with her lecture.

 

“Now, before we arrive, cunt, do you know what Femdom Farm stands for?”

 

I shook my head, remembering to address her properly. “No, ma’am, sorry ma’am, no idea, ma’am.”

 

She laughed. “One ‘ma’am’ is quite sufficient, cunt,” she told me. “No need to lay it on with a fuckin’ trowel.”

 

I nodded my understanding, and looked into her deep blue eyes, as she stroked my hard-on.

 

“Well,” she said, “when we get there and you are removed from this truck the first thing you will notice is there is no farming going on. Know why?”

 

I shook my head. “No, ma’am,” I whispered, because her cock-stroking was so fuckin’ lovely.

 

“That’s because the word farm stands for ‘Females Adjusting Recalcitrant Males’,” she smiled. “Know what ‘recalcitrant’ means, cunt boy?”

 

I nodded. “Naughty?” I ventured.

 

Blondie laughed again. “Don’t show your fuckin’ ignorance, cunt,” she reprimanded me. “It means having an obstinately uncooperative attitude towards authority or discipline.”

 

She smiled at me, and although she was fuckin’ pretty, like I’ve said on more than once occasion, there was a trace of sinister sadism in her smile this time.

 

“And we,” she said, pulling my foreskin back slightly, allowing the head to glisten in its slippery, aroused state, “are gonna beat that fuckin’ attitude out of you!”

 

 

To be continued.

 

 

                     FEMDOM FARM – PART 3, THE ARRIVAL

 

I climbed from the back of the air-conditioned truck into the sizzling heat of the Arizona desert. Blinking to adjust my eyes to the harsh light, I saw several slaves being paraded around.

 

Each was naked, each was wearing a sort of neck choker and ring around their cock and balls. Oh, and each was erect!

 

Every one of them was being attended by one, or in some cases, two “guards”. All the guards had the same qualities – while not all were the most stunningly attractive women I’d ever laid eyes on, each had muscular, rippling bodies, which gleamed with healthy golden tans.

 

They were, faces aside, erection machines. All of them wore brief bikinis, made of shiny PVC or rubber, which showed expanses of breasts, and all were thong-style, so their buttocks were exposed.

 

Some of them looked at me with wry smiles of amusement, but my gawping was suddenly interrupted by blondie who shoved me towards a fairly large building.

 

Inside, was a sort of reception area and a woman – also dressed in a shockingly brief little bikini – arrived, took one look at me, smiled, said “Pretty boy, eh?” to blondie and her black partner, then lifted a part of the desk and said: “Come on in, the girls have been expecting him.”

 

The pair pushed me through the opened partition and into a back room, where two women in high heels, tiny bikinis and haughty looks on their fuckin’ faces were sitting in easy chairs.

 

On my arrival, both stood and as I was pushed into the middle of the room, they flanked me. One fondled my cock, the other ran her hands over my butt and back, as if they were inspecting a lump of fuckin’ meat. In a way, I guess they were!

 

“We’ll deal with his hair, first,” said the dark-haired bitch to her redheaded partner.

 

“Leave his head hair,” said blondie. “He’s gonna be a pretty boy!”

 

I didn’t know what she was talking about, but the redhead looked at me with a sneer. “Reckon you’ve got the strength for the job, eh, pretty boy?”

 

What the fuck she was talking about I didn’t have a clue, but I nodded: “Yes, ma’am, I think so.”

 

Then the dark-haired one laughed at me. “That’s what they all say, cunt!”

 

The next thing, she took a cloth, about the size of a facecloth, and using a large spray full of some blue liquid, she sprayed a liberal amount on the cloth.

 

Very carefully, she ran the cloth over my chin, my upper lip, then poked her finger into it and pushed the cloth into each nostril, and also into my ears. As she worked on my face, I noticed a very pleasant, warm tingling glow.

 

“That’s done the first bit,” smiled the dark-haired bitch, who was careful, I noticed during the wiping process, to press her rock-hard titties against the upper sides of my body. I was starting to get hard again.

 

Once more she sprayed the cloth, and as she rubbed it over my chest and my back, down to my butt, she informed me: “This means that you will never, ever, have to shave again, pretty boy.

 

“No hair will ever grow in that fucking nose, or your ears. No hair around your titties, none on your back, none in the small of your back. Nothing!”

 

Her next port of call was around my cock and balls. Spraying the cloth, she rubbed it along my shaft, over my scrotum, and around my pubic bone. I felt a warm glow there, and my cock seemed to actually stiffen even more!

 

The woman then rubbed the cloth over my thighs, commenting as she did “Nice cock, nice legs, nice pretty boy!”, and then she wiped my calves and ankles. She even rubbed my feet all over.

 

 

 

“Hands!” she snapped, and I held my hands out. She wiped the backs of them, removing all traces of hair there. “Arms up!” I raised my arms and next my armpits were depilated. Then she worked along each arm, till she was satisfied.

 

“Last thing, pretty boy,” she snapped, “bend!”

 

I bent over, and felt the cloth sending a warm glow around my ass, especially on my anus and then down to my scrotum again.

 

“Up!” came the order, and I stood.

 

Both women inspected me, both nodded.

 

“He’s even prettier now!” giggled the redhead, who I saw was holding the neck choker and collar arrangement I’d seen on the slaves on my arrival at Femdom Farm.

 

“Now, let’s get you harnessed up,” said the dark-haired bitch, still rubbing her titties against me, and me still sporting an erection.

 

The redhead swung into action, slipping my balls down through the  cold metal ring and then pushing my erection down until it, too, was encircled by the metal.

 

Set at the top of the ring as I looked down at it, was a metal chain some inch or two wide, which came up over my pubic bone, along the middle of my abdomen, over my navel and up between my pectorals until the collar at the top was fitted around my neck.

 

I then heard a sort of hissing sound, and realised the collar was being sort of welded shut at the nape of my neck.

 

When she had finished, the redhead inspected her work.

 

Finally she told me what it was all about. “This keeps you as a prisoner on the farm,” she said. “There’s a sensor in the ring around your cock and balls.

 

“It’s fine if you stay within the confines of the farm, but stray one inch past the dark line of tar around the perimeter and you’ll feel a shock that will bring you to your knees.”

 

The dark-haired bitch took over. “The perimeter is not fenced because it doesn’t need to be, cunt. It runs around the farm in a big circle, which is 10 miles from the central point here.

 

“And don’t ever try to test the thing out. We had one slave who went to the top of a big bluff and tried to escape by jumping off. He fell some 50 feet to the bottom, by which time he was in agony, because the pain intensifies the further you get from the perimeter.

 

“When he realised he was in shit street, he tried to get back up the bluff, scrambling in the sand. You could hear his screams from a mile away, the chase guards reckoned.

 

“But he couldn’t make it, of course, it was all too much for him. When the chasers reached him, he was dead.

 

“They cut the choker and cock and ball ring from him and brought it back here. We framed it. They left his body there. That was five years ago. Apparently you can still see the white bones there to this day.”

 

Then she rubbed her beautifully firm breast mounds against my upper chest and smiled wickedly. “Not gonna try to make an escape, are you, pretty boy?”

 

I gulped and heard my voice come out as a squeak as I said “No, ma’am, no, indeedy!”

 

“Right,” said the dark-haired bitch, slapping me on my butt, “he’s all yours gals. Take him on to the next step.”

 

The black bitch and the blonde beauty flanked me and marched me out of the block across a dusty sort of square ground to what seemed to be a Femdom Farm’s headquarters section.

 

As I walked between them, more curious eyes from guards and other slaves stared at me, making me acutely aware that I was wearing the cock and ball ring and slave collar, and also that I was still proudly erect.

 

Inside the building, I was marched up a short flight of stairs to a door labelled “Admissions Officer”. Blondie rapped on it, and a voice bellowed “Bring the cunt in!”

 

Inside, I came face to face with a blonde bitch with a really hard, sneering face and a body built like a brick shit house, as I think they used to say back in the 1900s.

 

She had bright blue eyes, close-cropped blonde hair, and black high heels. Her breasts and pussy were covered by a black PVC outfit which gleamed at her big boobs and glowed across her prominent pudenda. She was stacked – stacked and muscular.

 

“Leave him and his file and fuck off,” snapped the officer and my two guards, who were obviously in awe of her, backed out of the office quickly.

 

The bitch moved towards me, her mouth smiling, but her eyes were blazing. She looked one helluva mean mother!

 

When our faces were about six inches apart, she lifted her right arm, raised her bunched right fist and brought it down to her shoulder in a bicep-displaying body builder’s pose.

 

“Look at that,” she ordered. “Isn’t it fuckin’ fantastic? Lick it, kiss it, feel its power!”

 

I obeyed. It did, indeed, feel fuckin’ powerful. When I’d laved and licked it and kissed it for a while, she sneered at me.

 

“I could throttle you with this,” she said. “Or with these!”

 

And she stepped back, placed her bunched fists on her suntanned, strong hips and then rippled the muscles in her thighs. They looked superb, veins standing out on the glistening flesh.

 

“On your knees, cunt,” came the command, and I sank down before her PVC-covered snatch.

 

With a quick move, she was towering over my face, then I felt my head being pinned between those tremendous slabs of muscle, and my mouth was pressed against her minge. It was a minge that smelled strongly of lush, sexually-aroused juices.

 

“You want to fuck me, don’t you boy?” she asked, but I had no way of replying, being buried in her crotch as I was.

 

Then she allowed me to stand, panting a bit, but still, of course, erect.

 

“You want to fuck me, don’t you, boy?” she barked again, with a sneer.

 

I nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” I agreed.

 

“Course you do,” she said, her hand stroking my stiffy, her palm rubbing across the pre-cum seeping head. “They all do.”

 

Then she turned on her heel, allowing me a glimpse of her muscular, magnificent ass cheeks.

 

Sitting in an easy chair, she looked at my file.

 

“What did you do, cunt?” she asked. “Perved on the net, eh? You’re a fuckin’ pervert, aren’t you? What are you?”

 

I agreed with her – what choice did I have? “I’m a fuckin’ pervert, ma’am.”

 

“And just look at the fuckin’ sites you visited, cunt,” she laughed, reading out some of the raunchier names. “Slave sites, masochist sites! You’re not just a pervert, you’re also a masochist, aren’t you?”

 

Again I agreed with her. “Yes, ma’am, a pervert and a masochist.”

 

“You’d like to wrestle me in the nude every day, wouldn’t you boy?” she asked, peering at me from above the file she was perusing. “Wrestle, then inhale my juice, then drink my nectar, you cunt!”

 

I nodded once more. “Yes, ma’am,” and the idea – apart from the “drinking her nectar”, really did appeal, although I was afraid she’d break my back.

 

She swung her swivel chair around and switched on a screen on her desk.

 

“Let’s see, pervert and masochist, pervert and masochist,” she said, speaking only to herself really. “Gives me an idea, let’s see.”

 

And she scrolled down what I could see was a list of slave names, their ages, what looked like their cock sizes, and their release dates.

 

“Great,” she said, clapping her hands, then entering something on the screen. “It’s not taken.”

 

When she had filled in my details, she stood and moved back to where I apprehensively waited for her decision.

 

“From now on you will be known as ‘Pam’,” the woman informed me. “When you’re asked – and you will be, a lot – you will explain it stands for ‘Pervert And Masochist’.”

 

Then she stepped into my arms and to my utter surprise kissed me, warmly, passionately on the mouth. Her tongue pressed between my lips and into my mouth, she tasted of vanilla ice cream.

 

“I know what you want,” she smiled, pulling her mouth back, briefly.

 

She kissed me again, running one hand up and down my hard-on, the other over my buttocks.

 

“And Pam, you’re gonna fuckin’ get it!”

 

Then she removed herself from my embrace – I had held her, but on her strong shoulders, not lower down, although I desperately wanted to caress her great tush.

 

“Now you’re going next door to the Boss Bitch,” she said. “At some stage she will ask you how old she is. You will say 35, 36, something like that – she likes that.”

 

And she walked me to a connecting door, rapped on it, but without waiting for a response, opened and shoved me into the next room.

 

“This is Pam, Boss Bitch,” she said, and I heard the door slam behind me.

 

I gazed at a strikingly pretty black beauty. She was almost my height, and had gleaming, lustrous, black hair. Her eyes were flashing brown, her mouth was thick and cruel. But it was her body that made that betraying cock of mine stand to stiff attention!

 

Boss Bitch was wearing a half-cup, black satin brassiere, and it thrust her superb breasts – look, I’m no expert but they’d be D cups and around 35 inches – into mouth-watering mounds.

 

When I say it was “half-cup”, again I’m no expert, but it was cut so that the dark brown areolae went on display. Her thick nipples thrust into the material.

 

On her superbly-shaped hips was a matching black satin garter belt, only it was deeper than a belt, it must have been about six inches deep. It shone around her body. Also shining were the black, seamed stockings she was wearing.

 

She was pantyless and I could see a dark thatch of trimmed back pubic hair on her mons, and thickish labia beneath. Her legs were strong, but not over-muscled.

 

I wanted her. Badly. Hungrily. I must have shown it.

 

“Cunt, you’re thinking of the fuck already, aren’t you?” she sneered, walking from where she had been leaning with her thighs on the edge of her desk.

 

“No, Boss Bitch,” I stammered, “sorry, Boss Bitch.”

 

She walked to me, stroked my stiffy, then cupped my balls.

 

“Don’t be sorry,” she grinned. “I like it when people look at me and think of the fuck, it does me good. You’re pretty. You’re VERY pretty. How old?”

 

I told her. She actually whistled.

 

“You look younger,” she said. “Around 10 years younger. How old do you reckon I am?”

 

“Er, 35, Boss Bitch?” I ventured, and remembering the advice of a few minutes ago.

 

“Fuck, you’re not only pretty, you’re also a fuckin’ diplomat,” she laughed. “I’m 45, cunt. And Pam – why the fuck have you been given the name?”

 

I told her, and again she laughed, a laugh that sent little tingles down my spine.

 

“Well, pervert, there’s gonna be plenty of pain for you here, that I can promise you. Now, take me in your arms and kiss me.”

 

I was astounded. Boss Bitch, the number one, numero uno, big bad boss wanted me to smooch with her!

 

I placed my arms around her shoulders and kissed her warmly on the mouth. She tasted like the other woman – of vanilla ice cream.

 

Suddenly I was doubled up, panting and grasping my crotch as the hardness of her knee smashed into my groin.

 

She was looking down at me, a sneer on her pretty face. The aroma from her minge was wafting to my nostrils. Still I wanted her!

 

Boss Bitch turned, presenting me with a view of a stunning, superb ass, and from her desk she picked up a single-tailed lash.

 

“Follow me, Pam,” she said, and walked through a door set in the middle of the far office wall.

 

In that room a naked slave was polishing a large oak table. He was erect, unlike me. My hard-on had disappeared courtesy of Boss Bitch’s knee to my balls.

 

“Bend, hands on knees, PeeSlave,” she snapped, and the man stopped his task of making the table the most polished table in the entire fuckin’ world, and turned with his back to Boss Bitch, his hands clasping his knees.

 

This forced him into a slightly bending position, and his well-shaped butt was the black bird’s target. She stepped off to one side, drew her arm back and slashed it across the slave’s taut flesh.

 

A stripe easily noticeable on his tanned buttocks was evidence of the stroke. Then she struck again, and again, and again – and once more. When I thought she had finished, one final, flashing sixth stroke cut across his backside.

 

“Thank-you, Boss Bitch,” he murmured, wincing slightly. His cock, though, was still fuckin’ hard, I could see.

 

“Get back to fuckin’ work, PeeSlave,” snapped the black flagellatrix, and she swept back into her office. I followed.

 

Tossing the lash on her desk, Boss Bitch looked at me, her eyes flashing.

 

“Kiss me again, Pam,” she hissed, and I did so, warily at first, but with increased passion as I realized I was not going to be kneed in the balls again.

 

The black beauty ran a hand through my hair and asked, almost like a lover: “Know why I did that, Pam?”

 

I shook my head. “No, Boss Bitch.”

 

She kissed me fiercely, then bit into my lower lip, not drawing blood, but damn close.

 

“Not because he was not doing a good job,” she informed me. “He always does a good job. It’s expected of him.

 

“No, cunt, I flogged him because I felt like it!

 

“And in answer to your other question – I set the shocker to medium.”

 

Then she pushed me away and went to a vid screen on her desk.

 

“Now, let’s find you a mistress, cunt,” she said, slipping into a large leather chair.

 

She went through a file, women after women, all attractive, all scantily-clad, all muscular, some more than others.

 

“Come and look,” snapped Boss Bitch. “I’ve got someone in mind for you.”

 

I stepped carefully behind her chair and looked, until she arrived at her choice.

 

There was a picture of a woman with a head of full, thick, dark brown hair. It was piled on her head in a sort of old-fashioned style.

 

She was wearing a black, leather waistcoat, which gleamed on her lush figure. It was open at the front – it had no buttons or holes for them to go in – and her breasts were large, larger than Boss Bitch’s.

 

Her hips were ample, but not huge, her thighs gleamed. On her feet were boots which came to just below her knees. She was wearing nothing else, so I could see a thatch of dark pubic hair at her quim, pubic hair which had been trimmed back into a short-style, leaving her sex lips visible.

 

“This is Eva,” said Boss Bitch. “She’s in a sulk because her torture toy was released four days ago. Still, she needn’t have worried, eh, Pam? Because you’ve come along, haven’t you?”

 

Below the screen read a little strip of information: Eva, age 41, 38-26-38, 5ft 4in, 120lbs.

 

Then Boss Bitch pressed her palm against the screen. Suddenly, the picture of Eva came alive and she was smiling out at us.

 

“Eva, get your lush ass into my office,” said her boss. “I’ve got a new torture toy for you. You’ll like him. He’s pretty and he’s 32.

 

“Oh, I nearly forgot. He’s a pervert, and a masochist and his name’s Pam. Come and collect him.”

 

As Boss Bitch leaned out to switch off the vid screen, the 41-year-old started moving. She walked with a haughty stride, her breasts swaying like lush melons as she strode towards her boss’s office.

 

And while I may have been mistaken, I thought she was licking her lips .......

 

 

To be continued.

 

                FEMDOM FARM – PART 4, MEETING MISTRESS

 

 

Mistress Eva arrived in a minute or two, was introduced to me by Boss Bitch, traced her hands appreciatively over my body, murmured “He needs body physique work” and then slapped me on the buttocks.

 

“Thanks, Boss Bitch, he’s gonna be a lovely replacement for the lad who I lost last week, I’m much obliged.”

 

Boss Bitch nodded. “Train him well, I think I’ll test drive him when you’ve introduced him to life here at Femdom Farm.”

 

Mistress Eva looked at me quizically. “Give me a week, and then he’ll be ready to undergo your fuck test,” she said, and then with a snap of her fingers she ordered “Follow me, cunt!”

 

I followed the statuesque beauty out into the glaring sunlight, and she turned and gave me a mocking look. “When accompanying me out in public, clasp your hands behind your neck, walk a yard behind me, directly behind, and keep your gaze fixed on my buttocks, Pam.”

 

I nodded “Yes, Mistress Eva” and she strode off. Being a yard behind her was no particular hardship as I got to stare at her stunning tush, the lovely buttocks jouncing as she walked ahead of me.

 

On the walk, several other guards came from the opposite direction, their stiff-cocked slaves also walking behind them, staring at their mistress’s buttocks.

 

“Nice looker,” said one, as we passed her. “A pretty boy!” commented another. To each, Mistress Eva replied as if she was the one responsible for my good looks!

 

Finally, after a walk of about five minutes, we came to a single-storey chalet-type building in a long row of similar constructions. Parked outside it was a twin-shafted buggy, to which I was obviously destined to be harnessed as a ponyboy.

 

Walking inside, Mistress Eva turned and grabbed me, pulling me against her lush-breasted body.

 

“You want to fuck me, don’t you, Pam?” she hissed, and the way her mouth pressed against mine, and the way she ground her firm breast mounds against my chest it was pointless to disagree.

 

“Very much, Mistress Eva,” I whispered, when she broke our kiss.

 

“You will, boy, you will,” she smiled. “Now, let me show you around.”

 

We were standing in a sort of living room with a large TV screen. “This is the main room, you will keep it spotless,” said my new mistress.

 

Moving into a kitchen with a small table and four chairs, she waved a hand. “We eat here. You will also keep this spotless.”

 

Next she took me into a bedroom. The bed was large, with fitted, black satin sheets, and black satin pillowcases. Alongside the bed was a small cot, with rubber sheets and a rubber pillow.

 

“This is the bedroom,” said Mistress Eva. “Spotless like the rest, OK?”

 

I nodded.

 

She moved to a room alongside the bedroom. It was a bathroom, with a large bath, a large shower cubicle, a toilet and a chair with leather padded arms but no bottom.

 

“This is the bathroom. It will be kept perfectly spotless. That – [here she pointed to the chair] – is the throne. Each morning you will lie beneath that and drink down my first piss of the day.

 

“Drunk a woman’s piss before, cunt?”

 

I nodded. “Yes, Mistress Eva, from one of the guards on my journey here.”

 

Mistress Eva grinned. “Like it, cunt?”

 

I shook my head. “No, Mistress Eva, I did not,” I said, perfectly truthfully.

 

“Good,” she said, with an evil smile, “then it will truly be a punishment for you.”

 

Moving back into the bedroom, Mistress Eva pointed to the bed. “When I’m in a good mood, you may sleep with me. Otherwise, you sleep on the cot, cunt.”

 

I nodded.

 

“Sex,” said Mistress Eva. “When it comes to sex women at Femdom Farm come on top – unless they instruct you otherwise, all right?”

 

I nodded again, then cleared my throat. “Can I come, mistress?” I asked, in as neutral a tone as possible.

 

Mistress Eva looked at me as if I had taken leave of my senses. “You what?” she asked, incredulously.

 

“Er, can I come, Mistress Eva?” I asked again.

 

Then she laughed. “Fuck, Pam, didn’t they explain anything to you about that thing you’re wearing?”

 

I nodded my head, feeling sheepish now, “coming” was obviously a “no-no” for slaves at Femdom Farm.

 

“They told me it would cause me agony if I strayed outside the farm’s perimeter, Mistress Eva,” I said.

 

Again she laughed. “They didn’t tell you any more than that?”

 

Once more, I nodded.

 

“Oh fuck, that’s priceless,” said the nipple-hard woman, stroking my stiffy, which was now sobbing its heart out, weeping pre-cum onto her palm.

 

“Tell you what, Pam,” she said, “I’ll tell you all about that fuckin’ ring while we’re having a fuck. That’ll be fun won’t it?”

 

I nodded my head, eagerly. I was desperate to fuck this stunning woman.

 

“Hold on,” she said, pointing to the floor. “Unzip my boots and put them in the walk-in wardrobe, on the rack with my other boots.”

 

I knelt and carefully removed the lovely leather boots, and put them alongside rows of other cruel-looking footwear in her wardrobe. By the time I returned to face her, Mistress Eva had removed her waistcoat, tossed it onto a couch, and was talking into a vid phone on her bedside table.

 

Up on the screen came the pretty, dark-haired woman who had depilated me earlier in the afternoon.

 

“Hi, Bedelia, this is Eva,” said my mistress. “You process a new cunt this afternoon – here, this cunt!”

 

And she pushed me into the phone’s viewfinder.

 

The dark-haired woman nodded. “Sure, we fitted him out over an hour ago,” she said. “That looks like a nice hard-on. What’s wrong? He defective in some way?”

 

My mistress shook her head. “Nope, it’s just that he only appears to know about the confinement capabilities of the ring. You didn’t tell him the rest?”

 

The dark-haired beauty grinned an evil grin. “Thought you might like to tell him the rest, Eva,” she laughed.

 

Eva roared with laughter too, although what both saw funny was a mystery to me.

 

“Course I would,” she told the dark-haired bitch. “In fact, I’m gonna tell him while we fuck!”

 

The DHB whopped again, like a fuckin’ teenager. “Oh shit, Eva, that is A-1 fuckin’ priceless.”

 

Then Mistress Eva went to flick the screen off, but she had another question. “Will the thing be fully functional now, Bedelia?”

 

The woman on the screen consulted another screen, this one on her desk. “He was outfitted with it almost an hour and a half ago, so sure, it would have been fully up and running for 30 minutes now.”

 

“Great,” said Mistress Eva, “then the fun can begin!”

 

Shutting down the vid phone, the busty beast lay on her back on the satin sheets, her shoulders propped against a pair of piled up pillows, a pose which made her big breasts stand up pertly.

 

“Now, before we fuck, you worship me – I’m wet there, but I’m curious as to how you perform, cunt,” she commanded.

 

I climbed onto the bed, acutely aware of my swaying stiffy, and then lay between her bronzed thighs, gazing at her glorious growler.

 

A strong perfume of piss and sex juice met me, and, remembering my advice on the delivery journey, I began at her anus, a dark brown, moist thing, with a bitter taste to it.

 

For a few minutes I worshipped there, then raised my tongue to the wetness of her cunt. A while there, then I went between her slippery, lush labia to her clit.

 

“Good,” I heard her murmur, sounding very contented. “Now put that eight-inches of red hot meat into me, Pam!”

 

My heart soared as I moved my hips to hers and placed my foreskin lips against the damp cunt slit. Then, with a slight push I entered her, feeling as I did the tightness of her vagina drag my foreskin back to my ring.

 

She was sensational! It was like fucking a velvet glove, a velvet glove which had been smeared with a liberal application of sex juice. I moved smoothly into her, until our pubic bones were bumping together.

 

A quick kiss from her lovely mouth, and she ordered: “Hands beneath my buttocks, and then slow, smooth strokes, cock down to outer cunt lips, then up again, slowly, let me savor it!”

 

I did as instructed, and was amazed at the way I was fucking her. She was so fucking gorgeous that normally, the mere thought of making love to such a creature would have had me creaming.

 

And then she started talking. “Now, Pam, listen and listen good,” she said, moving in a sensual tempo beneath me.

 

“What the girls who fitted you into this thing didn’t tell you was that it was more than a controller – more than a torture device for when you reach the boundary of Femdom Farm,” Mistress Eva told me.

 

“It keeps you hard, you must have noticed that?”

 

I nodded. “Yes, it’s nice like that,” I confessed.

 

“Well, it keeps you hard and will keep you hard unless you are undergoing torture so intense that it drives your hard-on away,” said my mistress. “And it will allow you to go flaccid when you sleep.”

 

I kissed her on her lovely mouth. “But it won’t let me come, will it?” I asked, then quickly adding “Mistress Eva”.

 

She grinned. “No, you can’t come, the ring will not allow you sexual release. Which won’t worry you for a day or two, but after three days, you will start to develop an awful case of blue balls.

 

“And then, on the 10th day, you will be in agony down there, and I will give you an injection of an antidote – I’ll put it in your tush,” said Mistress Eva.

 

“You will then have a 10-minute ‘window of opportunity’ in which to wank to ejaculation,” she said. “You will pump the sperm accumulated over the previous nine days, into a glass.

 

“As soon as you have spunked into the glass you will experience an intense desire to piss. You will add your piss to the glass. I will then seal the glass and refrigerate it.

 

“Later, when it’s nicely chilled, I will shake it up and you will be given the pleasure of drinking that tasty mixture of your spunk and piss. Great, eh?”

 

I shuddered, despite my pleasure at my first fuck with my mistress. The thought of what I would have to do every 10 days was, of course, revolting to me.

 

“Now roll over so I can come on top,” snapped my mistress and when I was lying on my back and she was on top of me, she continued her taunting.

 

“So you see, cunt, fucking here is a pleasure for the women – and a hell for the men!”

 

She raised her upper body, her fists on the mattress, her arms straight, lowering her heavy but firm breasts to my mouth.

 

“Suck my nipples, cunt, suck them so I can come on you – so I can come!

 

“But you, you cunt, you can’t!”

 

Now I was sweating beneath her, feeling her glorious body pressing on mine, her breasts brushing across my face as my tongue sought to suck on her thick, blood-engorged nipples.

 

Soon my sucking on her titties brought shouting cries of ecstasy from her as her new torture toy brought her to a climax.

 

And then, as the pinnacle of her pleasure washed through her, she brought her lips close to mine and hissed: “Welcome to Femdom Farm, cunt!”

 

 

To be continued.

 

 

                   FEMDOM FARM – PART 5, SHOWN OFF

 

After my new mistress had calmed, she climbed from the bed, snapped “Draw me a bath, cunt,” and walked into her kitchen to produce a bottle of white wine.

 

When her bath was ready, I had to pour her wine, and soap her lovely body while she lay back, luxuriating in the warm water, into which I had poured scented bath salts as she stood over me.

 

“This is the way I like my bath, Pam, this is the temperature, the depth, and the amount of salts – remember it, because if you don’t get it right, you get flogged, understood?”

 

I nodded. “Yes, Mistress Eva.”

 

Then she ordered me to sit on the side of the bath, and as she stroked my cock – I still sported a stiffy to be proud of – she spoke of what she had planned for me in the evening.

 

“Normally,” she began, “I’d simply fuck you till you were so fuckin’ exhausted, and then I’d fuck you some more. But I’m so pleased with your looks, that I’m inviting a couple of friends around.

 

“They will like you – and you will love them. You like mature women, correct?”

 

I attempted a slight piece of humor. “If they are as gorgeous as you, Mistress Eva,” I said, with what I hoped was a winning smile.

 

My new domina sneered. “Cunt, you will like every woman at this fuckin’ place if I order you,” she snapped. “So cut out the smart-ass remarks! One is mature, one is just out of her teens. You’ll love ‘em!”

 

Dinner was a steak with all the trimmings for her, and some sort of gooey gruel concoction for me, which she said would help in my muscular development. “And there’s a lot of fuckin’ help needed there, cunt,” she snapped.

 

Soon after I had cleared away the dinner things, there was a rap on the door.

 

“Get it cunt, tell ‘em who you are and bring ‘em into the lounge,” said Mistress Eva.

 

At the door, I found two big women, both white, but that was about all that they had in common.

 

One, the shorter, was a blonde, with small, but pert breasts and a trimmed thatch of light brown hair on her quim. She had her hair in a short cut, which framed her very pretty face. She also wore high heels and a red leather waistcoat, which revealed her firm puppies.

 

Her companion was rather different. She had jet black hair, pulled back in a strict ponytail. She, too wore a leather waistcoat, only hers was black. She had breasts like soccer balls, hard and pumped.

 

She also had a broad bum, strong, muscular thighs and she was ugly – well, attractive in an ugly sort of way. I immediately knew I was gonna hate her!

 

“Hello ma’am,” I said to the pretty one. Then after another “Hello” to Mizz Ugly, I announced: “I’m Pam, Mistress Eva is waiting for you.”

 

The pair swept past me, but not without both of them grabbing my erection and slapping it on their way in.

 

“Hi Eva,” said the blonde, “he’s kinda cute. What’s with his name?

My mistress, who was lounging on a couch with a glass of red wine in her hand, grinned. “Tell ‘em, cunt.”

 

“It stands for Pervert and Masochist, ma’am,” I informed the pretty blonde.

 

“Well fetch me a wine, and one for my friend, you fuckin’ cunt,” snapped the pretty thing, who I guessed to be around 20, no more, and at least half the black-haired bitch’s age.

 

When I had returned with wine for my mistress’s two guests, and they had settled on the couch, on either side of her, Mistress Eva spat out a command.

 

“Walk around, strut, show your stuff, wave that cock around, then bend, show us your ass, part your cheeks, come on cunt – this is a parade!”

 

My face reddened as I pranced my stuff, strutting around in front of the trio.

 

“What’s he fuck like?” asked the PB.

 

“Good, but he’s gonna get better,” smiled Mistress Eva.

 

“Fuck how he fucks,” said the Ugly Bitch, “how does he like being face fucked?”

 

Mistress Eva grinned. “Be my guest – find out.”

 

And the UB stood, placed her glass on a table by the end of the couch and glowered at me. “On your back, take a deep breath and pray you don’t suffocate, cunt!”

 

I lay on the thick carpet, and the woman towered above me, her shaved snatch glistening with juice.

 

Turning, so her face pointed down towards my stiffy, she knelt on the floor and squashed her pussy and ass hard down on my face.

 

“Lick me, cunt!” she roared, and I tried to get my tongue into her crevices. She didn’t taste bad – in fact, she was very tasty – but the fact that I hated her made my air-draining task difficult.

 

Then the big black-haired bitch started writhing on my mouth, thrusting her sex down onto me for all she was worth. My nose was stuck against her musky anus, my tongue was in her cunt, and she was heavy!

 

Suddenly everything went foul – she let off a ripper of a fart, the noise was blatant, the aroma disgusting.

 

“Like my shit chute, cunt,” I heard her command from her place on top of me. “Lick it, savor it, you cunt!”

 

Then there was laughter from the couch. “Fuck, Bambi,” said the blonde, “was that fragrant!”

Bambi, the ugly bitch, laughed a raucous laugh. “And there’s more where that came from!” she roared, as I felt my face enveloped by the putrid stench of her flatulent discharge.

 

“Lick me harder, cunt, come on, this isn’t a fuckin’ holiday,” snapped the Bambi bitch, and as I pressed my tongue deeper into her moist cunt, another splat of sound came as she farted once more.

 

The waves of fetid aroma washed over my face and then, to my delight, the UB was off me. But my delight was short-lived.

 

“What’s he like under the throne?” demanded the big bitch, grabbing me by the hair and yanking me towards the bedroom.

 

“Haven’t tried him,” called my mistress. “Don’t drown the cunt!”

 

And she and the blonde laughed as I was hauled towards the bathroom.

 

The next thing I knew, the UB had me lying on the leather bench, so my head was directly beneath the open-seated chair. Then things got darker as she sat down, and I saw her fingers running through her labia, parting them slightly.

 

As she announced “Incoming, cunt!” I was aware that my mistress and her blonde friend had entered the bathroom to witness the indignity being forced upon me.

 

But all thoughts of my humiliation being witnessed were dashed from my mind when a strong spurt of acrid yellow urine suddenly jetted from the UB’s urethra. I gulped and placed my mouth as close as possible to her pussy to grab all the salty, ghastly-tasting urine.

 

The piss seemed to flow forever, but in actuality it was probably only 25 to 30 seconds, then she was done.

 

“Don’t make me use toilet paper, cunt,” came the UB’s next command. “Lick me clean, you fucker!”

 

I ran my tongue over the piss flaps, still moist from her arousal and her urinating. Then I heard the blonde speak up.

 

“Fuck, that’s made me want to piddle,” she said, and as the dark-haired cow stood, the pretty little blonde replaced her on the throne.

 

“Lick me first, cunt,” snapped the girl, “taste me, taste my sexy juice, before you taste my piss nectar!”

 

I did, and she tasted superb!

 

Then she pissed down my throat. Not so superb!

 

The urine from the glorious little blonde was, if anything, harsher, tarter and more foul-tasting than from the UB, but somehow I managed to chug it all down.

 

Climbing from the throne after I had thoroughly washed her minge with my tongue and lips, the girl looked at Mistress Eva. “Can  I have a fuck with him now?”

 

Eva laughed. “Hey, he’s a slave, isn’t he? You don’t need permission, Kirsty,” and with a grin, the blonde dragged me from the bathroom and onto my mistress’s bed.

 

“Straight in, cunt, I don’t need foreplay,” she said, “pissing down a slave’s throat does it for me every time.”

 

And I placed my rampant cock head to her tight little cunny lips and drove into her. As I did so, I was vaguely aware of Mistress Eva and Bambi leaving the bedroom, and then the blonde kissed me passionately on the mouth.

 

“Fuck, that’s a nice cock,” she said, with enthusiasm. “Not huge, but very, very tidy.” Then her forefinger pressed against my anus and entered, perhaps an inch.

 

“You a virgin there, cunt?” she snapped, as we fucked.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

 

“Shoot,” said the kid, “will the DCs take a shine to you!”

 

“The DCs, ma’am?” I asked, puzzled.

 

The girl grinned slyly, then indicated I should roll her into the dominant position.

 

“Eva not told you ‘bout them?” she asked.

 

“No, ma’am,” I admitted.

 

“Fuck,” said Kirsty, “I won’t spoil her fun. Now, suck my titties, I wanna cum, cunt!”

 

And as I sucked her taut, tight little reddish nipples, I started to feel a surge in my crotch. I was excited, but I tried to remain calm. Perhaps the effect of the cock and ball ring had died off?

 

Then the blonde was pounding on top of me to her orgasm, and suddenly she was finished, and had rolled off my gleaming, cunt-smeared cock, with its foreskin dragged back, its head pink and glistening in the light.

 

“You look disappointed, cunt,” said the girl. “What’s the matter – didn’t you like fucking me?”

 

I shook my head. “It was wonderful, thank-you, ma’am,” I replied, “but I thought for a moment I was going to come!”

 

Kirsty sneered at me, as if to say “Whatta fuckwit!”

 

Then she explained for me. “You know what happens when someone has a limb amputated?” she asked. “For some time, they can still feel the leg, or the arm, as if it’s still attached to them.”

 

I nodded.

 

“Well, it’s like that with your cock,” she said, climbing off the bed. “It thinks it’s gonna cum, but like fuck it is! Don’t worry, that ‘Oooh, I’m nearly cumming’ feeling will be gone in a day or two. The only time you come, cunt, is on the 10th day.”

 

And with a laugh she marched back out into the lounge. I followed, shamefaced at my stupidity.

 

“Hey, Eva,” said the blonde, settling back on the couch, “this cunt doesn’t know what the DCs are.”

Eva smiled at me. “I know, I’m saving it as a surprise for him. Hell, Kirsty, you didn’t fuckin’ tell him, did you?”

 

The girl made an “As if I would” look and said “No, course not. Now, I have to go, a slave to flog, you know how it is.”

 

Her companion sighed, and moved off the couch where she had been engaged in a passionate smooching session with my mistress.

 

“Time for me to punish my cunt, too,” she said, pecking Eva on her cheek. “Thanks for letting us try him out. Perhaps tomorrow night, eh?”

 

Eva smiled. “Perhaps, we’ll see.”

 

Then the pair were at the door, but Bambi, the bitch, wasn’t done with me yet!

 

Turning to face the door, she bent over slightly and snapped: “Lick my anus, cunt, and lick it good!”

 

I knelt behind her large ass and placed my hands on her big cheeks, parting them slightly to gain access to her anal whorl. My tongue flickered against the dark striations at her ass.

 

And then it hit me. As my tongue made its initial contact with her anal bud, the Ugly Bitch let fly with a ripper of a fart, I swear it made coffee mugs on hooks in the kitchen area, shake.

 

I continued to press my tongue hard to work on her anus, but thankfully, Kirsty opened the door. “Fuck, Bambi that’s so fuckin’ gross,” she said, stepping out into the night.

 

“Bollocks,” said the UB, “these slaves love it!”

 

My mistress slammed the door shut after her guests, and walked into the bedroom.

 

“Come on into bed,” she commanded. “I wanna fuck, a good fuck, mind, and I’m gonna tell you about the DCs.”

 

I climbed onto the bed, my hard-on as rigid as it had been all evening, even during the face sitting farting, and the chugging down of the piss.

 

DCs? I hadn’t a clue what Mistress Eva was talking about, but I had a funny feeling I wasn’t going to like it!

 

 

To be continued.

 

 

                      FEMDOM FARM – PART 6, My first day

 

 

I started out on my first day of imprisonment – oh, all right, slavery – at Femdom Farm feeling far from confident. OK, so I’d fucked the lovely Mistress Eva, but things weren’t as they seemed. This was no happy fuck camp!

 

After her guests had left the previous night, I’d climbed into bed with her with my inevitable hard-on – there was no way around it, slaves at Femdom Farm are erect except when they’re being painfully tortured or are asleep, remember?

 

I pointed my pussy pleasurer at her wet cunt and as I drove into her, my mouth closed on hers, and then she smiled a sadistic smile and said: “Right, now you’re doing the fuck, let me explain about DCs.

 

“That’s what we call a lady with a pretty face, nice tits, an ass to die for, great legs – oh, and a cock and a pair of balls.

 

“We’ve got about 10 of ‘em working here, all guards, of course, and they’re called DCs because they’re ‘Dick Chicks’. And boy, are they gonna like you, you pretty boy, you!”

 

If I’d not been subjected to the constant-erection device around my pecker and balls, I’d have lost my hard-on instantly, but of course that couldn’t happen.

 

As I was fucking her – and my balls were starting to ache a bit now, so I wondered how fucking painful they would be by the time I got my “ejaculation shot” – she told me more about the DCs.

 

“You will refer to each one as ‘Dick Chick’,” she told me. “That’s as in ‘Yes, Dick Chick, no Dick Chick, three bags full, Dick Chick’. Two of ‘em will arrive to take your to their entertainment room.

 

“It’s gonna be on CCTV, so you will scream and struggle and put up a fight as they drag you away. And you will stick on a good act during the time you’re enjoying their company because it will be filmed.

 

“If it’s any good it will turn up on the Porn Punishment program, understand?”

 

I’d never heard of it, and I told her.

 

She smiled cruelly. “It’s only available to rich women, it’s on air 24 hours a day, and features stuff from Femdom Farms throughout the country. If you’re good, you’ll appear on it, in an edited version.”

 

I nodded, miserably. “And, cunt,” Mistress Eva went on, “if you’re really good, women will vote for you and ask for a repeat. You might end up becoming a personal slave to all 10 Dick Chicks. Until the viewers tire of you, of course.”

 

That didn’t seem to be my idea of much fun. How bad it was really going to be I’d find out soon enough, though.

 

After putting the fear of Jesus H Christ up me, my mistress then rolled on top of me, demanded her rights to orgasm, sated herself, and kicked me out of bed to huddle beneath the cold rubber sheet. Thankfully, I was so exhausted I slept like the proverbial log.

 

The following morning, Mistress Eva woke me by the simple method of kicking me in the butt as I lay facing the wall.

 

“Piss duty, cunt,” she snapped, and I arose and followed her to the big bathroom.

 

As she settled herself on the throne, I lay back on the leather bench beneath her ass, and noticed that as my mouth secured a sort of seal over her labia, that the ring was working – my cock was thick and hard, already!

 

Then she blasted her overnight piss down my throat. I chugged and swallowed as much as I could as quickly as I could, in the hope that the dreadful taste wouldn’t be noticeable if I drank fast. But towards the middle of her stream the salty, horrible taste was plain to my taste buds.

 

Then I cleaned her snatch, and we showered together.

 

Over breakfast – a three-egg omelette, orange juice and coffee for her, gruel and a small glass of milk for me – she told me of her plans for the first day.

 

“We’re gonna start off your pony boy training today, cunt,” she said, smearing a slice of bread around the edges of her plate. “I will teach you to prance, then you can pull a little sulky with me sitting in it.

 

“Do you good, tone those muscles and get you fit.”

 

I hated the idea already!

 

Outside, walking behind the gloriously-buttocked bitch, I followed her to what was obviously a pony boy training ring. She clipped a long leather lead onto my neck chain, then selected a five-foot long buggy whip.

 

I was then made to prance in high-step mode around the perimeter of the ring, keeping my knees up high, while Mistress Eva occasionally flicked the whip painfully against my buttocks, or my aching shoulder blades.

 

During my training another mistress came along, with her prancing pony boy slave.

 

“Hey Eva, he’s a good looker,” she said. “He been to the Dick Chicks yet?”

 

Eva laughed. “Tomorrow’s his day with them,” she replied. “Think they’ll like him?”

 

The other mistress nodded. “Fuck, they’ll wanna keep him, he’s so fuckin’ pretty,” she said. All of which, of course, added to my apprehension of my first meeting with the Dick Chicks.

 

After I’d pranced for what seemed like hours, and worked up a big sweat, Mistress Eva took me into a sort of gear room and hitched me to a little sulky, with a red leather seat.

 

I dragged her outside into the sun’s heat and found that once I’d got the thing in motion it was quite easy to pull, although the red rubber bit in my mouth was a bastard.

 

We’d just got outside the gear shed when she reined me to a halt, and snapped: “Pam, look to your left, that’s what happens to experienced pony boys.”

 

The sight was amazing. It was a large, four-wheeled cart contraption, being pulled by two pony boys, side by side. Their bodies were gleaming with sweat, but their cocks, aided by the engorgement rings were erect.

 

Seated on the bench on the cart were two buxom mistresses. But it was what was beneath them that caused me concern.

 

The seat obviously had cut outs where the two women passengers were sitting. Under their naked crotches and licking their pussies, lay two more slaves, who were both lying on slim benches which were angled so their heads were at pussy level, higher than their feet, which were strapped to the ends of the benches at the rear of the cart.

 

“That’s called a ‘four-in-hand’,” Mistress Eva informed me. “They will be going for a nice long drive out towards the edge of the farm. When they get there, the two slaves who have been pulling will be strapped to the benches to perform piss-drinking and pussy-worshipping duties, while the other two will be harnessed to bring the mistresses back.

 

“That’s a nice way to spend a morning, eh Pam?”

 

And with a laugh, she made a clicking sound with her mouth, flicked the buggy whip against my upper back and I started to take her for a drive.

 

I went in the opposite direction to the “four-in-hand” and after about an hour’s progress over the sandy trails, Mistress Eva reined me to a halt, released me and ordered: “I need to piss, get your mouth sealed on me!”

 

Again I drank down her salty, tangy, bitter piss, and cleaned her. As I was doing that, she moaned. “Fuck, that’s good Pam, carry on, I may as well have a cum!”

 

And, with me kneeling in the sand and my mistress standing with her booted-feet wide, I brought her to an orgasm. During this exercise my cock was, of course, erect, and the ache in my balls was more noticeable. Fuck, I wanted to come now, but relief was days away. What would it be like by the time of the injection, I shuddered to think.

 

On the way back to farm headquarters and the accommodation chalets, we came across the “four-in-hand” which was approaching from the opposite direction.

 

“Whoa, pony boy,” snapped Eva, pulling harshly on my reins and flashing the buggy whip across my buttocks. I panted to a halt as one of the two busty bitches on the cart reined the two puffing pony boy slaves to a halt as well.

 

“He’s pretty,” said the other bitch, who was carrying the whip. Both women’s pussies were being serviced by the bench strapped pony boy slaves.

 

“Yeah, a real good looker,” agreed Mistress Eva. “His name’s Pam – it stands for pervert and masochist.”

 

“When’s he due for some fun with the Dick Chicks?” asked the other mistress.

 

“Tomorrow, due for pick up at 9,” said my mistress.

 

“Fuck,” said the whip carrier, “there’ll be fuck all punishments carried out on the farm tomorrow, we’ll all be glued to the CCTV.”

 

Mistress Eva laughed. “I sure as hell hope so,” she told the two mistresses on the four-in-hand, “because I’ve told him to put on a good show!”

 

The reins holder asked: “He a virgin in the ass department?”

 

Mistress Eva jerked on my reins: “Mistress asked you a question, cunt. Nod or shake your head.”

 

I nodded, wildly.

 

“Fuck,” said the whip mistress, “he’s in for a real fun time, then!”

 

And with roars of laughter, the reins were shaken for the two sweating pony boys, the buggy whip cracked against their backs and then buttocks, and they resumed hauling the four-wheeled cart.

 

After I was hosed down with icy cold water, we went back to Mistress Eva’s quarters where my mistress ate a nice salad with a chunk of salmon. I was ordered to lick my gruel from a bowl on the floor.

 

Then, I was commanded to perform an early afternoon fuck, followed by a long drink from her piss slit, then she enjoyed an afternoon nap.

 

I lay on my rubber-sheeted bed.

 

An hour after she’d slipped off for a peaceful nap, my mistress awoke, ordered me to put her boots on her feet, zip them up, and place her waistcoat over her gorgeous upper body.

 

When she was “dressed” – her buttocks, her quim and her breasts were all on display, of course – she walked out into the sunlight. I clasped my hands behind my neck and obediently followed, eyes glue to her wonderful bottom.

 

She strolled down to a large building, we entered, and walked along an air-conditioned corridor. Every now and then she paused to look through spy holes set in doors. Finally, she murmured “Good, this flogging cell is available” and she entered.

 

The spartan room had only one item of “furniture” in it – that’s if you can call a flogging frame “furniture”.

 

It consisted of two metal poles set about five feet apart, and joined together by horizontal poles on the cell floor and at the uppermost part of the frame. Two more poles went from the extreme tops of the crossbar out at 45-degree angles. They ended on the floor and from the bottom, two more sturdy poles went back to the bottoms of the posts.

 

Mistress Eva strapped me into the sturdy frame so my back was facing the floor.

 

“I’ll start on your front, cunt,” she told me, then she went to a row of hooks on the cell wall. From each was hanging a weapon of flagellatory torture.

 

Mistress Eva selected a single-stranded leather lash.

 

“Just leather, slave,” she smiled, as she saw the apprehension flood over my face. “No nice electro shocks with this little beauty.”

 

And then she adopted a wide stance which displayed her marvellous semi-nude body and proceeded with my flogging. She whipped the lash across my upper chest, and then the fronts of my thighs, until I had received about 35 strokes in all.

 

The lash stung, but it wasn’t agonising. It wasn’t merely love caresses, either. Just somewhere in between.

 

Then she moved towards me, cupped my balls in her hand, and then ran her fingers up over my still stiff cock. “Thank me, Pam!” she hissed, and I realised she was aroused by what she had just done.

 

“Thank-you, Mistress Eva,” I said, quietly.

 

Next, after I had been unstrapped, she made me turn and strapped me back to the frame. Now my back and buttocks were obviously to be the targets.

 

This flogging, which also lasted for some 35 strokes, slashed across my upper back, buttocks and backs of my thighs.

 

It also hurt a darn sight more. She was, I realized, putting more weight into her work. After about 20 strokes, I started to yell out in pain, and by the time she had finished, I could see that at last my erection had gone. And while the aching pain still lingered in my balls, it was now accompanied by searing pain across my back, backside and backs of my thighs.

 

Mistress Eva freed me, then ordered me to my knees. “I’m busting for a piss, cunt,” she informed me, “so drink up.”

 

And the warm flow of her salty, horrid piss surged down by throat, as I cupped her great ass and drank her urine once more. It still tasted awful. Even so, when I had finished, I looked down and noticed that my cock was again erect!

 

“Now thank me, cunt,” snapped my mistress, and once more I orally serviced her sweet-smelling snatch from my kneeling position.

 

After she had enjoyed her orgasm, Mistress Eva ordered me to my feet. “Know why we came here for some fun, cunt?” she asked me.

 

“No, Mistress Eva,” I replied, quite honestly.

 

“So you can experience a small taste of what you’re gonna get from the Dick Chicks tomorrow. Did you enjoy it?”

 

I nodded, and then said something that actually amazed me.

“Yes, mistress,” I stammered. “Thank-you for torturing me, mistress.”

 

Mistress Eva looked at me with a large smile on her face. “Fuck, cunt,” she said, fondling my hard-on, “this is great.

 

“Here we are on the first day of your fuckin’ sentence and already you’re thanking me for torturing you.

 

“Shit, Pam, I’m gonna enjoy having you around with me at Femdom Farm.”

 

And then she said something that sent a shiver down my spine. “And that goes for the Dick Chicks, too, I reckon!”

 

 

To be continued.