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Dressed For Show by Lizbeth Dusseau

 

Dressed For Show by Lizbeth Dusseau

 

Excerpt from Bad Girls & Dangerous Men © 2000 by Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved

 

I wake, feeling the warmth of Bailey’s crotch behind me. His sensuous pulse transmits through my ass into my cunt. I turn, kiss his rough face, the night’s growth of beard, and wait for him to open his eyes, which happens slowly. I inspect him, waiting, wondering what he’s been dreaming, if he dreams. Everyone dreams, but does he remember his? I’ve never asked. Three months, I’m still in awe. He wants me with him every night and every morning when he wakes. Few men says these things aloud. Bailey does.

“Mornin’, sugar,” I say sweetly.

He growls a bit, then smiles.

“It’s early, you don’t have to get up yet,” I tell him.

“What’s the time?”

“Time to fuck,” I giggle, and wiggle on him, nuzzling into his side, smelling the rich flavors of his body—the sour, the sweet, the tart, the aromas of leftover sex from a very good night. I’m still wearing the bondage dress he wove on my body the night before. The knots are still place, including the one just above my clitoris that stimulates it every time I move. My flesh pulses, radiating with need.

There’s an open place where the ropes go through my crotch, open for Bailey’s cock to pass between. As I squirm against him, my hand floats around his scrotum—playfully avoiding a direct assault on his rising organ. I let the momentum build.

In minutes, his whole body is engaged, coming after me as passionately as I go after him. Our lips lock; our tongues reach inside the other’s mouth. My legs scissor to fit the enormity of him inside me. I feel the ropes strain with every movement. My skin’s alive, as animate as another being, tingling, raw, sensitive to even the slightest graze of his palm. I rise on top of him as he rolls over on his back, and begin to hump in the saddle of his hips. Bailey’s cock slides freely inside the messy interior of my vagina. The accumulation of old semen, wet female remains and fresh dew merge to lubricate the ride. He’s fast, and I follow with him, allowing my body to swell and then burst brightly with orgasm, knowing that Bailey’s climax will follow seconds later.

He comes just as my tremors are departing, while I’m left with the prickly remnants and the well-being that floods even my addled head—at least for awhile.

I collapse against him in a languorous faint when the fucking is over, and run my hands absently through his hair. I’m about to say, ‘I love you’, when he suddenly pushes me away and jumps from bed on his way to the bath.

“Sorry, Maddie, morning calls!” he yells to me.

I smile. I’ll mention love later, I think. Now, I’m content to drift.

 

“Hey, sleepy head!” I hear Bailey’s soothing roar knock me from my nap. “You’re due at work by noon.”

“Yes,” I agree.

“You said you had errands?” he asked.

“I do.” I remember that fact with a frown.

“Then I’ll see you later. Noon on the dot,”—he’s always reminding me to be on time. My stellar reputation for tardiness is one small sore spot in an otherwise pleasant relationship.

“What about the ropes?” I ask, staring up at him, realizing that he’s ready for work, while I’m still naked, sweaty and streaked with last night’s come and this morning’s new batch. Still, I have two hours before I have to be at work, plenty of time for what I need to do.

“Leave them on,” he says.

“Under my clothes?”

“Yes. Sponge your crotch and pits, put on a little perfume and wear them the rest of the day.”

“You want me to be miserable?”

“Is it misery?”

Of course, it’s not. I smile. “Maybe, a little…”

“You’ll survive. You need a reminder of who’s in charge, slut.” His eyes twinkle playfully and then he’s gone.

 

***

 

I feel the ribbons of crossed and knotted hemp when I walk. Their feel is comfortable, comforting, stimulating. I hardly slept the night enjoying their sensuous tug and jerk, and I let them titillate me now. This is good. I’ll need to generate a bit of sexual prowess for what I face. It might prevent the scene from getting ugly—I can always hope.

This part of town could scare a thief, but I’ve negotiated it for years. The abandoned businesses and broken houses are familiar to me. I remember when this wasn’t such a trashy place—when fucking in the alleys and back alcoves was sexy fun. I wouldn’t dare do that now.

Scofield’s current address is new—though the building is ancient. Once a factory, then a warehouse, now it’s been cut up into sections with several marginal businesses. At the moment, the whole place looks deserted. I feel an annoying sensation at the back of my neck, and then without warning a pair of hands on me. I get pushed into the alley, and shoved against the wall.

“I see you kept your appointment,” I hear his unmistakable voice.

“What the hell are you doing, Scofield!” I yell.

“Hush!”

“Why? I’m here on my own. You don’t have to act like a jerk even if you are one.”

He angrily pushes my face into the brick.

“Scofield, stop!

“No, you stop!” he seethes behind me. “You shut your mouth and listen. Fight me, Madison, you’ll regret it.”

I regret I ever came here. But I had little choice.

He shoves me through the alley into the backdoor of the building. Why the front door wouldn’t do as well, I don’t understand, but obviously I have no say in the matter. He has my hands behind me. Ah, so much like Bailey in the dark, but this man has no morals, and I’m honestly afraid.

“I have your money, Scofield. There’s no need to get rough,” I tear away from him. I rummage through my purse and pull out the envelope with the five one hundred dollar bills.

Scofield throws it on a paper-strewn desk without looking inside, “It’s not enough.”

The man’s an ass—but an odd one for his underworld of losers, thugs and opportunists. He keeps himself impeccable; wears clean, pressed clothes on a muscled, well-built body. His black hair is trimmed short and his face cleanly shaved. He could almost pass for a business suit professional—without the suit. He’s got the manners and the attitude to deal with bankers and corporate types, but he prefers his riffraff, and making dirty money.

“What do you mean it’s not enough?” I ask him with contempt, trying to hide my concern. This was not what I expected.

“You owe me a whole lot more plus the interest, Maddie.”

“And that’s the payment you asked for,” I snap rudely.

“Yeah. Two months late.”

“You’ll have the rest. You know that.”

There’s movement on the fringes of our conversation. Looking beyond him, I see his goons arising like phantoms out of the gloom of the nasty building. Two I recognize—one of them, Jude, was a lover several years ago. The other two men I’ve never seen before. They don’t belong here, not in their fancy suits and ties looking like lawyers or Wall Street tycoons.

Scofield starts to smirk, but his eyes maintain that deathly serious look I’ve seen before. “I’m not content to wait, Madison.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just a change in the deal. It’ll make it easier on you.”

“I’m just fine with the deal.” If I could back out of the room, I would; but there seems to be no escape.

He shrugs. “But I’m not. And since we’re following my rules, I get my way.”

“What is that?” The adrenalin starts to flow. My nerves are fried. My mouth is dry as desert sand.

“You can help me help my friends here,” he nods to the duo, who look back at me with interest.

Scofield’s hands are all over me as if he has the right to be familiar. He squeezes my ass and I jerk away. He laughs and then starts to roam my back with his palm.

“Ah, interesting.” He’s felt the ropes. “I think we have a readymade slut about to show her true colors. Take off your clothes, Maddie.”

“I will not!” I attempt to withdraw from his oily hands, but I am so outnumbered the whole idea looks foolish. I bolt for the door, and Jude is there to catch me, pull me back and slap my ass.

“Take the clothes off or I tear them off,” he warns.

The two vultures in their slick black suits wait for me to obey, knowing I will, knowing I’m afraid and enjoying every second of my fear.

“Go on, Maddie,” Scofield adds his two cents.

I’m mad. I want to cry. I want to beat my fists against the ass’s chest. Instead, I start to strip, removing my sweatshirt first, and then my pants, until I’m stripped of everything except for Bailey’s ropes, the neat knots and perfect symmetry.

“What a find!” Scofield exclaims. “What did I tell you?” He turns to his friends, whose smiles are wide as a mile and fixed on my pudgy breasts, now distended and unnaturally pushed into conical shapes by the tied rope. It’s a slutty picture, eye candy for the horny and degenerate.

I hear a grinding sound behind me and sense the impending doom. Then my eyes stray upwards following the eyes of my captors, who look with glee as a meat hook descends from the inky black of the ceiling above, then finally stops with a jerk, swinging freely in midair.

“Dammit, Scofield, no!” I plead with him.

“Honey, you’re too good to pass on. Better than I thought. This new boyfriend of yours should be here to watch. I’d bet he’d like the show.”

“No!”

“You want me to call him? Bailey is it? Albert’s brother? What do you think?”

“I think you’d better keep this between you and me.”

“Gee, Maddie,” he smiles wryly, “that’s what I thought, too.” He creeps around me, plunking the ropes like guitar stings. No sound. Not even a thud as they thump my flesh. “Cuff her hands,” he orders Jude.

My ex-boyfriend obeys the man making quick work of his job. Locked in cuffs, I can already feel the blood pulsing in my constricted wrists. The hemp dress starts to itch as I begin to sweat. Tugging on the chain that connects the cuffs, Jude pulls me with him to the center of the room and throws the wrist chain over the meat hook. The motor grinds again from somewhere off stage, and my body is slowly pulled up right as the ugly hook rises.

My pussy throbs, the whole of my sex feels liquid and squishy. I’m on tiptoe, straining, trying to stretch myself enough keep a hold on the ground.

“Stop!” Scofield orders the unseen man in control. I jerk as the pulley ceases to climb just before my toes are lifted from the cement. My body lengthens with the hemp cutting into my skin in several places, while my tormentor admires the look of me and assaults me with his sickening smile. “Trust me, hon, this won’t take long at all. A little debasement just for sport never hurt a slut like you.” He delights in his mocking observations. “In fact, we know you like it. Why else would your beau be dressing you so stylishly?” He twangs the ropes again and I wince. “Pretty. You always were so pretty with that mop of red hair.” He lays his hand on my cheek pretending to enjoy its softness. His hand is warm, his words cunning but effective. Behind me, Jude gives off sex with a pulsing crotch I can feel without seeing it. Soon my body will betray me and I’ll hate it for its lust.

I’m loving Bailey now, not these thugs and voyeurs. God help me!

Scofield backs away, Jude’s energy retreats, and the two suits on the sidelines step forward.

“Let’s put the mask over her face before we start,” one says—the tall one with the hefty body and the greased black hair. I’m thinking Mafia—his swarthy complexion suggests a mobster, but he talks smoothly with an educated ring in his voice.

The second fellow, smaller and more slender than the talking one, seems even more professional than his friend. His walk is elegant. In another world, he might be charming. I don’t understand their game, how two so civilized men could be playing these chilling games in this rancid warehouse office.

The mask slips over my face—one made of feathers intended to cover my eyes and nose but leave my mouth free. Two eyeholes allow me to see through the blur of feathers, and my nostrils are free to breathe. I’m not masked for torture but to disguise who I am.

I see why now, when a video camera appears to record the session. A black-market film is the obvious conclusion.

The two suits step back, the big one taking off his coat, and rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. His cufflinks gleam—for several seconds, the two gold ornaments reflect the morning sun as it filters though the grimy windows overhead. The smaller man operates the camera, while I’m accosted by the other. The bold, impressive man stares into my eyes. His are remote, disconnected from the feeling man who owns them. I anticipate his cruelty.

While I watch, he fits a slick leather glove over his left hand and thrusts that hand between my legs. The camera rolls, recording every move and gasp I make. He finds me wet. All the leftovers from sex with Bailey not washed away this morning appear on his leather-covered hand as he withdraws it from my crotch. After showing me the sticky find, he returns to tug, to poke, to thrust his fingers in my cunt and bumhole, to jerk me so my body thrashes loosely. My feet lift off the ground and I’m forced to hold my weight with my strained shoulders. He stops and my feet settle down, touching concrete again.

He starts to smack my ass, landing blow after blow with his leather hand. I’m gasping, moaning, though the punishment doesn’t hurt that much until he changes implements and begins to slap me with a spanking tawse. The split end piece is like others I’ve seen before. Maybe it came from Jude’s store of sex toys. This one stings. It whaps my ass and thighs, then as this suited gentlemen strolls around my body, whaps the front of my thighs and right across my pubic mound. I try holding back my cries, but when he slaps me repeatedly on my pussy, I have to cry. But even letting out a decent wail there is no mercy. He keeps on until I’m thrashing senselessly, twisting like a sail out of control.

He stops and I faint for several seconds before coming to when he lays his palm across my face—not angrily, but enough to wake me.

“Lift her off the ground,” he orders.

The engine grinds again, the meat hook rises higher until my feet dangle uselessly.

“Oh, gawd no!” I moan, believing that I won’t be able to stand the suspension much longer.

“Do as I say, and I’ll let you down,” this cruel man tells me.

His leather hand returns to my cunt and my legs naturally widen to accommodate him. As he thrusts fingers in both my holes and begins to fuck me, I sense my sexual body roar awakened like an angry tiger. I’m battered back and forth, while using the strength of the man’s arm to take the heavy weight off my shoulders. I begin to come, spasming, letting my ravished body speak. While the camera whirs before me, I follow their orders, play their game as if I wanted it this way.

I’m sated and sore when I’m finally released. The men in suits have disappeared. The camera’s gone. Jude left along with the friend who worked the pulley. It’s just Scofield and me in the mangy office warehouse. I’m on the floor, trying to gather my wits and some strength.

“I always thought it a plus that your skin never marks,” Scofield says, while observing that most of the red on my ass and thighs has disappeared. “You won’t have to explain yourself to your boyfriend.”

“Oh, go away!” I hiss.

“Don’t you want to know how much I’m knocking off your debt?”

“As if I believed you would?”

“Honest, darling. Between the proceeds from that video tape and the cash they gave me for the pleasure of abusing you, you’ve paid your debt.”

“Like I believe you,” I groan.

“Hey, honey, trust me.” He’s all smiles. “Hell, you got off too. What more could a slut ask for?”

I’m suspicious, but I’m not about to argue. I split the warehouse as quickly as I can.

I’m late for work and Bailey won’t be happy—but that’s another debt to make amends for and I’ll have to think about that one later.

 

 

 

The Phone Call

The Phone Call by Lizbeth Dusseau

Excerpt from The Scandalous Demise of Lily Lake (c) 2006, all rights reserved

When Lily sank her hands into the loamy garden dirt, she felt the earth come up to greet her, drawing her in to its steady vibration and giving her a sense of peace she rarely felt now. Gardening was her one solace, and it might have soothed her into a peaceful evening had she not felt the need to bring along the phone—in case Patrick called from Tokyo. She’d missed two of his calls in the last week and refused to miss another one. But she unwisely forgot that there might be other callers who could disturb the calm now washing through her like a miracle tonic.

The phone did ring, jarring her bones with the clattering sound—right in the midst of planting zinnias. She trembled with uncertainty hoping to connect with a husband who had been all too distant in the last few months. She wanted, needed, to reconnect with him. But it was not Patrick’s voice on the other end, but the caller who she least wanted to hear from.

“Tonight, Ms. Lake.” His firm tone was unmistakable. Strange how that boyish voice could penetrate her with such intensity that it dampened her panties with wet desire.

She gasped miserably—perhaps he didn’t hear that. “Oh no, please, not tonight.” Her heart bled miserably and her body clenched up cold as stone.

“Tonight, seven o’clock,” he came right back in the same even tone, then the phone clicked off.

 

Two hours later, she stood at the doorway of a dimly lit living room wearing the hooded, latex cat-suit the boy had bought for her months before. A plain UPS package had arrived with all that daring sensuous black, clinging to white tissue paper stuffed inside the box. She couldn’t touch the latex without trembling, without feeling a shiver of fear overtake all her senses. She’d breathed in her fear, almost colliding with the sofa, suddenly dizzy and disoriented realizing what was meant by the gift.

Now, having poured herself into the latex once again, it settled all too comfortably against her skin. A tight hood covered her face, and the boy—she called him a boy, though he was certainly very much a man at twenty-two—was there with her, at her side, whispering in her ear, close, so very close.

“You’re one sexy broad, Ms. Lake,” he purred. There was a smirk in his voice, if not on his lips.

“It’s demeaning,” she returned.

“But you’re perfectly hidden, perfectly masked.” He traced a line down her spine. “You know these people?”

“Some.”
“I thought so, right in your own neighborhood.”

“I wish I could leave.” The catsuit was crotchless front and back, and there were cutouts for her breasts that made them stick out absurdly. The hood had four holes: one for her mouth, one for her nose, none for her ears and two for her eyes. She hated the way it made her look.

“But don’t you like taking chances? Doesn’t it turn you on?” After the hand on her ass dropped between her legs, his fingers digging deeper, wiggling like little fishes against the hot, wet flesh, he offered this: “You’re juicy.”

“I know I am,” she said.

She felt the orgasm on her already, and she was just standing in the doorway. They hadn’t even officially arrived. The people in front of her were no more than a blur, as the hood caused her vision to alter in imperceptible ways and she knew that she wasn’t seeing things right, not exactly as they were meant to be seen. The hood and the oppressively heating latex made her go deep inside herself.

The boy withdrew his hand and pushed her forward into the crowd of distorted faces. Their  misshapen bodies parted on her approach, surrounding the evening’s subject with eager appetites. Her arms were lifted high above her head and secured with chains that fit into the shiny high-tech cuffs that circled her wrists. The rivets and bolts gleamed like sterling silver.

Her body had been broken down to its pertinent body parts where the skintight latex didn’t cover her real flesh; her breasts, her ass and her bared pussy with not a single silky hair remaining, gleamed white against the black backdrop. Her ass protruded from behind like two porcelain globes, shining brilliantly, screaming invitations to the crowd, ‘Beat me! Make me hot and red and welted!’ Her upper back was exposed too, although the punishment it would take would be insignificant compared to the punishment her ass and breasts and crotch would suffer.

The chains above her clanked when she shifted her weight. Then the real hurt began as little whips and crops and canes etched a painting of woeful hurt into the unblemished skin. She yelped under her breath and began to whimper like a mad dog, twisting, jerking, frenetic and uncontrolled.

Meanwhile, the boy watched from the sidelines, thinking of Ms. Lake trying so hard to be prim when she was teaching him English eight years prior, at that stuffy Northeastern boarding school. ‘Little teacher’ they all called her because they were young and she was pretty, modest and vulnerable. Boys are cruel in their teens…but just dreamers with unformed ideas of sex. Sex took strange and perverse permutations in their minds. But now at twenty-two those adolescent daydreams were being made real. Thank God for the Internet that took away the shame in perversity, that freed the mind to ride the dark absurdities like this. Pandora’s Box was never as open as now. He thought all this while watching Ms. Lake dancing with her exposed white flesh turning flaming shades of scarlet before his eyes.

The action got a little rougher when someone screwed alligator clamps on her protruding purplish nipples. He watched as every muscle in her delirious frame clenched up taut and steely as a tuned piano string.

She feigned a scream, opening her mouth, stretching the latex that framed it, though not a sound issued forth for all the effort.

“She’s sopping,” a voice chimed in, while its owner’s hand was in her crotch, fondling her to another peak of pained pleasure.

The invading digits felt slick and cool in contrast to her hot and throbbing cunt, and even beyond her latex-covered ears, she could hear the sound of her sloshing, sucking pussy juices. The burning feeling at the opening of her vagina soon became intense, as the hand forced its way deeper, demanding she open wider. She’d heard of this before, fisting; but didn’t think that shoving it into her hole from below was the right way to do it. Not by the book, according to Hoyle, or what was safe and sane. Even so, she wriggled involuntarily on that heated hand, which like the blade of a knife cut deeply into her body in an attempt to carve out more space than her pussy had to offer anything so large.

“I can’t!” she wanted to scream, but she had no voice; all the sound was trapped inside her throat. The fist plunged in all the way, doing what at first seemed impossible with guileless ease. The anonymous invader had a small hand capable of making the impossible possible.

So tight, so goddam tight! The world around her spun like a top and she was weeping, shamed and glorified by the inner image of herself. Her need to come grew stronger with every thrust of the impaling hand. While being fisted, she was still being whipped with erratic, blistering blows, until everyone could hear her garbled hiss and see her body shudder, her back arching as her muscles strained.

The blows from the sadists’ weapons, and the thrusts of the impaler’s hand went on for several more minutes until she was wasted, flopping around like a ragdoll and moaning with discontent.

A quiet moment followed as all parties withdrew from her, as weapons were put away, and the hand inside her slurped from her dripping pussy hole and left her gaping.

The boy on the sidelines sauntered forward, putting his hand on her roughed up ass, and asked in a terse whisper right where her ears were covered by the hood, “You come?”

She wasn’t ready to talk at first. Instead, her head fell to his shoulder seeking approval – or affection.

“Say it!” came out as a rebuke and she shot up straight as an arrow.

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes… well, then thank me, bitch. This is a rare treat.” He wanted to say ‘teacher’ but he promised. Not in public.

“Thank you, sir, for allowing me to come.”

“Louder!” and he cracked his hand against her ass.

“Thank you, sir, for allowing me to come!” she tried a little harder.

“Can you hear her?” he asked the crowd.

A murmur of no’s swept through the room.

“Again,” and again he cracked his hand against her bare ass.

“Thank you, sir, for allowing me to come!” This time her voice rose up clearly, and he finally backed away.

The chains that tethered her to the ceiling were unhooked and she tumbled to the floor with her flaming ass raised high.

“Around the room!” he ordered her like a dog, sending her on to lap seven dicks and one wet pussy.

She worked her way on hands and knees, closing off all conscious thought in order to fend off the barbs and the humiliation that was heaped on her. Dicks plunged into the mouth hole of the latex hood, just another body part, a receptacle for sexual use. Nothing more.

 

Ab

 

He insisted on following her inside her house, where Lily tore at the latex as soon as she was inside the front door. The lights were still off, while the hazy glow from the yard lights turned everything a grainy black and white. She tore back the hood and tugged the latex off her shoulders, down her torso, peeling the catsuit away from her sweaty skin, hating every moment of it, even as her condemning juices trickled down her thighs.

“No, Andrew! It’s not ever going to happen again. Never!” She shook out her brown hair vehemently.

His big collegiate, frat-boy grin beamed back at her from the charming boyish face.

“Sure, it will. Next time I ring your number.”
“No, Andrew, no! This is the last time.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Why, teach? When you’re enjoying it so much?”

The taste of his prick and his copious cum still soured her mouth, and she could smell on her face the remnants he left when, while they were driving home, he insisted she go down on him. She finished the blowjob just as they pulled into her driveway.

“I don’t want to enjoy that anymore. I don’t like myself anymore. I just can’t.”

“Oh, you say that now.” He stroked her hair over and over, his fingers as electric as ever, sparking little twinges of orgasm, making her pussy ache for him inside the pulsing channel. “But there’s always tomorrow and next week and the week after that.”

“I mean it, Andrew. I do.”

He saw from the glare in her eyes that she was serious, and his face turned cold, his charm vanished, and his features hardened into the chiseled beauty of a cruel and wintry landscape.

“You’ll do as you’re told, Ms. Lake,” he said, evenly, while he clenched his fist inside her hair. His voice cut, as he emphasized every syllable and his ‘s’ hissed snakelike.

“No, please…” she shook her head as she backed away from him. “I can’t. I can’t anymore. I’m so ashamed.”

“Then live with it. You fight me? I will expose your terrible secrets to the world.”

“You wouldn’t…”

“Just imagine the newspaper stories…” he strolled away, casually stuffing his hands inside his pockets, then turned back, “… how about it? English teacher, socialite, gossip columnist, the beautiful wife of Patrick Thornton-Wynn, caught screwing the Blaisedale Country Club perverts. Sounds like a story to me.”

“Andrew, you wouldn’t dare. You couldn’t—”

“Don’t try me.”

“Andrew, please, can’t this be enough?”

He raised his pretty frat-boy brows and smirked. “No, Ms. Lake, it’s not enough for me.”

“But you wouldn’t tell any one …” She cocked her head, sweetly now.

“What do you think, huh? Wouldn’t the rag sheets have the scoop to die for? I wonder how much they’d pay.” He shook his head as the pleasant vision filled his thoughts. “How could I possibly pass up the opportunity? I mean if you keep being my bitch, teach…Ms. fuckin’ Lily Lake, well, that’s something else.” Casting her one last lurid smile, he shrugged her off and sauntered toward the door, while she stood naked in her living room and watched him leave.

Indoctrination by Lizbeth Dusseau

Indoctrination
From the novel Bad Girls & Dangerous Men by Lizbeth Dusseau, copyright © all rights reserved

 

I remain barefoot in my summery dress. The colors are blue and green, soft and shimmering  like gazing into the sky through trees that flutter in the breeze. The hem skims my legs, tickling, and the neckline plunges deep in front hinting clearly at the abundance of my breasts. My hands are tied again, while I’m still in the vestibule. There’s nowhere to go, no window, two locked doors on either side of the small space and a tiny gaslight burning at the wall. Other than a hard bench to sit on, there’s nothing else in the room but cabinets I cannot open. They grey-haired man donned his robe, took my note to Bailey, and left me to myself, no further explanations, suggestions or commands.

I wait at least an hour. Interminable. Uncomfortable. My ass aches from the bench. My legs still feel weak when I stand. When the door suddenly opens, I’m leaning against the paneled wall, eyes closed, trying to sleep.

“It’s time for your indoctrination,” the man tells me. He holds out his hand, but of course, I can’t take it. It’s just as well.

My cell connects to a sort of indoor amphitheater with several graduated rows of seats circling a dais at least twelve feet below the upper rim. The entire room is paneled in the same dark and dreary wood that decorates the entry, the ballroom and the vestibule I just exited. Gazing dazedly into the scene before me, I see each seat is filled by one of my many captors, the members in a club of sadists all wearing brown cloaks around their shoulders, over their dressy suits but open down the front. Their business is solemn and the mood grim, although there is a gut wrenching swirling energy about that no one can dismiss.

I swallow hard, holding back my tears, forcing my fear to subside. But the more steps I take into the pit, the more I realize how momentous these moments could be. This is not another of Scofield’s plots. He’s a scam artist. Perhaps he led these men to me, but they would never make him a member. These are heavyweights in their worlds. I know. I know them by the power they exude now.

At the dais, I’m told to circle before the room.

I raise my eyes to the company and slowly step in place turning, greeting every eye I can find. If they are going to have me, abuse me, use me, whatever their scheme, they will know the woman they are dealing with, they’ll know my strength—what strength I have left. When the circle is complete, I’m again staring into the grey-haired man’s smooth cool eyes. But he backs away, his presentation of me is over. A second later, I can’t distinguish him from the others.

Randomly, two, three, four at a time, the men descend on me, using their hands to inspect my body. They tear away the neckline of my dress, pulling out my tits, pinching my nipples, and then putting them back inside again. Other hands reach up under my skirt, toy with my pubis, tug my labia, insert fingers in my cunt and ass. Their probing of my anus makes me screech—the entrance is dry and ungiving. They work wordlessly, purposefully, having done this before and knowing what they are looking for. At least a dozen men maul me, then disappear, blending back into the crowd. I’m surprised that I’m still clothed, disheveled yes, but still wearing the summery dress, the only significant color in the room. I feel like a battered crocus rising out of the drab winter ground.

I hear some murmuring in the seats of the theatre, discussing my attributes, I guess. When I’m assaulted again, the skirt of my dress is lifted away and held by unseen hands behind me, while in front of me, kneeling, one of my anonymous captors carefully smears my labia, inner and outer, my clitoris and the soft tissue around it with a heavily scented, spicy concoction. The pungent odor stuns my nostrils, but more unnervingly, my skin warms. The devilish stuff stings, turning my already randy crotch hot. The hand applying the potion continues to fiddle with my privates. I can’t stand still, my body gyrates, twists. I bite my lip, feel the heat inspire new tears of pain. The man in back changes places with the one in front. While my dress is held out of the way, my anal cleft is pried apart and the stinging stuff is rubbed around my anus, and just inside the tight rosette.

“Oh! Please….” I plead under my breath. No one hears, or hearing, cares to listen.

My dress is untied and discarded, my hands raised to a bar above me and attached with cuffs. My feet are spread wide and fixed to either end of a spreader bar.

“Speak to us!” a voice shouts.

I don’t know what he means.

“Speak!” he insists.

“Speak!” another voice repeats the order.

“I don’t know what you want!” I sob, defiantly.

“Speak!”

“Tell me what you want!” My entire crotch is on fire. I can think of nothing to say. I’m not even angry now. I just want this to end, but I already know these men are hardly through with me.

Other men attack my cunt and ass. They bring dildos on sticks that are shoved into both orifices at least eight inches deep.

“Dance, slut!” they order me.

Dance? How? I can hardly move.

“Dance!” They are furious with me.

I try. My ass wiggles, but there is very little range of motion. These dildos have spread the fiery potion deep into my entrails and my cunt. My groin becomes an inferno, fire and flame leaping and contorting inside out. Beside this poisonous stimulant, my body demands release in the only way it knows. The spasms are fierce, banging me from left to right, jerking the bars so I think my flesh will tear. I scream… and as my mouth opens I remember what the grey man said about my ungagged mouth, how the men will relish the sound of my pain.

There’s movement in the theatre around me, bodies restless with sexual urgency.

When the climax finally moves on, my crotch is still afire, but the raw wildness is gone. I shrink back inside myself, calm and wait.

Two naked women come to me, slithering next to my side with their hands spreading a soothing cream everywhere. The burning in my crotch slackens, I’m relieved. For a short while I drift with them as their breasts and legs move over me. Then they fall away, disappearing beyond my field of vision. My ankles are removed from the bar, my feet stand firmly on the dais, and then the dais begins to move upward, as a platform rises from the floor. I slump to my knees, finding myself on an altar. My arms are still fastened overhead, but the stretch is less vicious now.

“Speak slut!” they are after me again.

I’m almost instantly in tears. I don’t know what they want.

“Speak!”

“Tell me, please.”

“Your cooperation is not necessary for the next step in your indoctrination. But it would be advantageous.” Here is the grey man again, speaking from the audience. I can’t see his face, but I know his voice. “Do you accept what we make of you?”

“What is that?” I find the words to ask.

“Our sexual possession.”

“What does that mean?”

“That we own you.”

“How can you own me?” I turn around, still not seeing the man with the voice.

“By entering your mind, taking over your thoughts, manipulating your body as we just did, forcing you to reply any way that pleases us. You will get used to it. You will adapt. Soon, you will know no other life. Your body belongs to this collective group. You will wear our mark and live imprisoned for life inside the rule of our private law.”

“How can I agree to that?” I ask from inside my confusion, trying not to argue, just to ask. The voice doesn’t like the question.

“How?” he snaps angrily. “Your instantaneous agreement should come rolling off your tongue without a second’s thought. Joshua!”

It’s the only name I’ve heard since I was abducted.

I know his name but not who he is, only that he controls me now, lowering the dais into the floor. I’m standing again, my arms stretched high overhead and the tortures resume. More of the burning potion is generously applied to my nether regions and then poured over my back and breasts, everywhere. My skin heats, my crotch grows hot again. I feel first the slight bite of a whip applied to my backside, then as the attacker moves around, I’m stung with the snapping fall from my tits to my knees. I jerk, twist angrily, and as a cat ‘o nine tails rips my body in tandem with the whip, the resulting welts burn far deeper than skin.

“Nooooooooooooooooo!” I’m screaming again.

The world falls away for a time as my endorphins become engaged. I see glimpses of something beautiful all around me, but then the pain crashes through my brain and my body will not settle.

When everything suddenly falls silent and the whips and cats stop, there is the voice again, speaking. “How many times do we need to repeat the treatment, Madison. Give in now,” he sputters. He’s close, behind me, I can feel his spit hit my back. “You can be certain that you’ll spend a peaceful night,” he’s becoming calmer.

My gut wrenches. I’m stuck inside their cruel game with no way out.

“You have me!” I sob. “Whatever you want, take it!”

A long empty silence follows until he speaks again, “Good, very good.” He sounds so civil.

 

The dais rises as three men approach me. I look around at their faces, one Latino, one black, one lily white. They throw off their robes, rip away their fancy clothes, and present themselves naked. Each is buff, gleaming from sweat with the natural oils of sexual arousal reeking from their bodies. Their cocks are stiff, rising from nests of thick dark hair. In front, behind and to my side, they jump to the apron of the raised alter, a step inches below the platform where I sit. One by one, they stuff their thick meat into my mouth and expect me to suck. If only I didn’t see their faces first. They are no longer anonymous and so I hate the taste of them.

Regardless, I have no choice. I suck, cover their skin with my spit, and run my tongue around the grooves of their cock heads. They gaze down at me arrogantly, while I gaze up into their eyes with a practiced look of surrender. I’ve done this before. Perhaps I even feel surrendered to them now. I can’t honestly compute what I feel. I am numb, going through motions from my past that are familiar to me. The sex is rote, the action predictable and automatic as if there is a pornographic movie playing inside my head to lead me. For a while, I move from one cock to another, then the action switches—I can almost hear the whirring of an unseen camera just off to the left. My arms are freed, but I have no time to massage the ache away. I’m straddling the black man on this alter. His sleek body draws me into his muscled chest while he thrusts his big meat in my cunt. From behind, fingers prod my anus. I know what’s coming next. I gear up for the expected, as two, then three, then four fingers jut into the channel and make room. I find it difficult to believe that all this flesh will fit in me. But my body has no problem. It’s only my brain that thinks this is impossible. I learn the truth when the white man’s cock impales me, and the two compete for space, for equal time and attention. Jarred by their erratic rhythms, I find there is no harmony between them, and I feel as if I’m being torn apart.

My head’s jerked back by a stocky hand winding through my hair. My mouth’s impaled with the Latino version of testosterone power forcing its way inside. I gag. Sputter. Then relax and let him in.

I have to drift. I can’t think. I’m triply fucked… maybe even happy for it, being so full makes me forget. Forgetting is easy, a listless, endless, numbing thing. I’ve come too much to come again. My body is bound by its own limits, unwilling to release for anyone’s pleasure, including mine. They don’t care. My men are selfish, each one demanding more, expecting that I can pay attention to all three of them at once. I do my best, probably do a half-assed job, but they aren’t complaining. My eyes open and close. I get glimpses of the room around me, as naked women crawl from cock to cock in front of the theatre seats, giving pleasure; and the men without a woman jack off inside their hands.

I am the New Age Marilyn Chambers sucking, fucking cock behind the fawn-colored door leading to gross debasement.

I’d like to think I’m something special, but I know I’m just another misbegotten girl, lost inside her life, vulnerable and open to attack. Just my luck! It is strange to find myself musing on these things as I complete the main act of their ritual play. But it’s comforting to know that the bottom line of my debasement is the same old thing, the same old need to get off, jack off, fuck. I suspect they’ll turn into harmless lambs once they’re spent.

It’s really a great game… if it is game. The idea that they are seriously considering me as their newest initiate sex slave sort of worries me. But they’re coming now, spilling seed everywhere inside me, on my roughed up skin, in my hair, wherever they like—after all, I’m theirs.

 

A Wild Ride by Patrick Richards Excerpt

A Wild Ride by Patrick Richards

Paperback & Ebook

My iPod was playing in the background, as I surfed the net.  I had been checking out a few porn sites and came across one dedicated entirely to Femdom stories, videos and pictures.  They peaked my interest a little.  No, actually they excited me quite a lot.  By the time I finished reading one about a young college guy who was tightly strapped over a bondage horse and having his ass brutally whipped, my cock was as hard as a fireplace poker and steadily dripped drops of per-cum.  I read on, as he endured a savage beating from a beautiful woman clad in sexy black leather lingerie.

I pushed my jeans and underwear down to my knees and stroked my dick while I continued with the story.  She used a long, thick leather strap to redden his ass and leave dozens of dark purple welts crisscrossing his butt.  He screamed and yelled from the intense pain, but his cock was as hard as mine.  As the intense whipping continued, he fought and struggled against his bonds, trying to escape the agonizing pain, yet wanting more.  I imagined that it was me who was locked helplessly over that padded bench.  I wanted to feel every stroke of her whip across my ass.  I would have changed places with that guy in a heartbeat.  My hand rubbed harder and faster, as the tawse painfully bruised and blistered his tender flesh over and over again.  As his Mistress finished his brutal torture, my balls rumbled and roared, releasing their load.  Gobs of steaming sperm shot from my hard cock.  Long ribbons of creamy cum streamed from my long, throbbing shaft.  The immense pleasure of my orgasm raged through me.  It was far more intense than ever before.  At that moment a profound lust for sexual pain and submission was permanently etched within my brain. I finally leaned back in my chair and caught my breath.

“Holy shit… I wonder where I can find a woman like that,” I asked myself.

After putting that story site into my favorites, I came across some pictures of a beautiful dominatrix who was looking for a slave to serve her.  She wore a black leather bra and a tiny little thong.  Her fishnet stockings were held up by a matching garter belt, and she wore really tall, stiletto-heeled boots.  In her gloved hands was a cat o’ nine tails with vicious looking knots along each of its long, braided strands.

I eagerly studied every inch of that picture over and over.  My God, she was magnificent. Finally I printed it out and hung it on the wall next to my bed.  She was my Goddess.  I was in love.  Something came alive in me that night.  I reread that story dozens of times and went to bed every night mesmerized by the picture of my perfect Mistress.  I fantasized about being totally naked at her feet and feeling the agonizing, but pleasurable pain of her whip.  I jerked off to her image and longed for what she had to offer.  I wanted her.  I dreamed of serving her.  I would be her slave forever.

Hour after hour and day after day I read those stories and was drawn in ever deeper.  I couldn’t get those thoughts and desires out of my mind.  God, it seemed like I was living with a perpetual hard-on.  Even dreams at night contained scenes of bondage and torture, and yet I wanted more.

Those thoughts filled my life, but it was going nowhere fast.  Mornings were no better than my evenings.  I had flunked out of college and was renting an older, furnished studio apartment by the month in downtown Albany.  It wasn’t much, but it would do.  I didn’t have a job, but I was eagerly looking for one.  There was enough money left from my college loans to last for a few months if I was careful.

Every day I picked up the previous day’s newspaper from the convenience store down the street.  The manager there saved it for me, so I could check the classifieds and look for a job.   He told me he would give me some part time work as soon as a spot opened up.

During the day I went from store to store looking for work.  I went to job fairs but never seemed to get a call.  I remember someone once said that you should spend as much time looking for a job as you would working at one.  I did.  Looking for something was my job every day.  After all, there was no way I wanted to go home and live off my parents.   I couldn’t anyway.  We didn’t get along and hadn’t spoken in months.  It was constant.  I filled out applications and checked on them every few days.  I couldn’t understand it.  Nothing seemed to work.  I realized I had no experience and couldn’t even put together a decent resume.  I was going nowhere fast.

I got some part time work at the McDonalds down the street.  The manager knew I needed the job and didn’t have any money, so he let me eat some of the stuff that had been sitting around too long.  They were going to throw it out anyway.  Sometimes I ate well, and other times it was a little slim.

Nights I stayed home and read on my laptop.  I didn’t have the money to do anything else.  Luckily I was able to get free Wi-Fi from someone in the building.

One night an older woman, who lived on the first floor, stopped me when I came in.  She needed some help.  She had dropped some clothes over the back of her washer and couldn’t get them out.  Of course I helped her, and she treated me to some homemade chocolate chip cookies and milk.  As I ate, she noticed that my clothes were a little dirty and suggested I bring them down so she could wash them for me.  I didn’t want to put her out, but she insisted.  She knew I was desperate.  I went upstairs and got them, and she put in my light colors.  We talked for a while, as I emptied the plate of cookies.  I was hungry, and I guess she was lonely.  The first load was finished, so she threw my darks into the washer.  It was a rather pleasant evening, and I had clean clothes without having to go to the laundromat.  That costs a lot on money.  A few days later I put on a clean pair of jeans and found a twenty dollar bill neatly tucked in the pocket.  I knew where it came from.  Mrs. Hansen became my guardian angel.

One afternoon I asked a cute little blond who worked at McDonalds with me if she wanted to go to the movies.  I told her it wasn’t really a date, because I could only afford the movie.  She laughed at me and walked away.  That night I sat at my computer, read some more stories and later jerked off.

That month my cell phone was turned off and things just got worse.  Now they couldn’t even call me for an interview.  Finally Bob at the convenience store had me work on Saturday nights from four to eleven.  It wasn’t much, but it helped.

There was a small television running in the office at the Stewart’s Shop.  Between customers I saw a small segment here and there.  I caught just the last bit of some controversy about people who advertise in the personal section on Craig’s List.  I went back to the register and sold a guy a pack of Marlboros.  He looked eighteen.  Hell, he looked thirty, so I didn’t bother to check his age.  Someone in the main office just happened to see me not check his ID on their surveillance camera.  I lost my job over that one the next day.  Bob was unhappy about it, but he didn’t have a choice.  I wasn’t mad.  It was my own damn fault.

A couple of nights later I decided to see what all the excitement was on Craig’s List.  I clicked on the Personal Ads for Albany, NY.

There were dozens of ads for men looking for women, but very few where women were searching for a guy.  Actually most of them were guys looking for guys.  Then a different ad seemed to jump right out and grab me.

“Woman seeks young submissive male for fun with ropes, whips and paddles.  I’m in my early 30’s – tall and slender and love to show off my sexy body in leather lingerie.  No long term commitments, just an evening of exploring your limits.  Call me at 518 four five five 6170.  No $.  Let’s talk.”

I read it over several times and looked at the picture that I had previously hung on my wall.  Then I reached down and adjusted my jeans, as my cock began to grow.

“Fuck!  I wish my phone worked.”

After writing down the number, I went back to reading stories and looking at pictures.  I suddenly looked at the clock.  It was 9:15.  I had time.  It only took me about ten minutes to walk to the convenience store.  I figured I could borrow a phone for a couple of minutes if Jeff was working.

I smiled as I walked in, because he was there.

“Hey Jeff, can I use your cell phone for a minute?  Mine got shut off.”

“Sure bud.”

“Mind if I use it outside?”

“No, go ahead.”

I stepped outside and pushed the number.  On the third ring she answered.

“Ah… ah… I just read your personal ad on Craig’s List.”

“Yes, are you interested?” she said in a real sexy voice.

“I think so.”

“You call me about being tied up and whipped, and you only think so?  How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“So what makes you think you can handle this kind of stuff?  Do you like pain?”

“I’m not sure, but when I read stories about kneeling at a woman’s feet and being brutally whipped, I get… ah… ah… I get really hard.”

She laughed.

“Why not get a girlfriend and try some normal sex or just jerk off, if you’re that horny?”

“I have, but that’s not what I want.  I need something else.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to… ah….  Look.  I’m on a buddy’s cell phone.  Mine was shut off.  I flunked out of college and rent a small studio apartment off Henry Street.  Can I email you or talk to you on webcam?”

“Sure.  What’s your first name?”

“Nick.”

“Do you have Skype?”

We exchange information.  She said we’d talk around ten thirty.

I gave Jeff back his phone and thanked him.

“You get a job?” he asked.

“No… better.”

Later I was in my meager, one room place when my computer beeped and started doing its thing.  Suddenly she was there.  I was mesmerized, as I saw her.  She was beautiful.  I could see her full breasts and her long blond hair.  Yea, I’m a normal, well almost a normal male….  I noticed her round, full, upturned breasts before anything else.

“Wow,” she said.  “I don’t know why you aren’t out fucking some hot young babe tonight instead of waiting for me.”

“Thank you, Mistress, but you have something to offer that those young girls don’t have.”

“What’s that?”

“Ah… whips and ropes and that kind of stuff.”

She chuckled.  “Are you ready for what I have waiting for you?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Have you ever had a whip laid across your ass and felt that kind of pain?”

“No, but if you do it, I will gladly accept it.”

She laughed.  “Once I start, there will be no escape.”

“I know.  That’s the way I want it.”

“You’ve probably heard the expression, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I think Eminem and maybe even Daughtry did a song with those lyrics.  They sang, ‘Be careful what you wish for – ‘cause you might get it all.’  Are you ready for all of it?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Remember, there is always the possibility of unforeseen and unpleasant consequences.  Are you ready for those as well?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Let me warn you one more time – be careful what you wish for.”

“I will Mistress.”

“Then tell me everything that I should know about you.”

“Well, I’m 19 years old and have no future.  I drank, drugged and screwed my way out of college.”

“No future?  Everyone has a future.  You just don’t know what it is yet.”

“Yea… well things aren’t going too well for me right now.  I can’t find a job, and I’ve pretty much exhausted any money I have.”

“Things could always be worse?” she reminded me.

“I doubt it.”

“Well in spite of all that – describe yourself physically for me.”

“Ah… well I’ve got dirty blond hair and dark green eyes as you can see.  I’m five foot ten and weigh about 150 pounds.  I have always worked out, so I’m in really good shape, and I have a… ah… ah…,” I explained as I looked down.

“Go ahead.  How big is it?”

“About eight inches.”

“Nice.  What about family?”

“We don’t get along.  I don’t speak to them and haven’t in several months.  They have no idea where I am or what I’m doing, and they don’t care.  Personally I don’t either.  My mother’s too busy with her new boyfriend to even return my calls.  She’s probably afraid I’ll ask her for money or something.”

“That’ll change some day.”

“Maybe, but I rather doubt it.”

“What about your dad?”

“I haven’t heard from him in six or seven years.  He’s somewhere down south I think.  Ran off with some young chick he’d been screwing.”

“Look, this is Wednesday.  Come by Friday night at seven.  I’d like to meet you and maybe play a little to see if this is what you really want to do.  Let’s call it a trial run.”

“God, that’s great.  Where do you want to meet?”

“Do you know where the Spectrum 8 Theater is on Delaware Street near the Medical Center?”

“Yes.”

“Just a block from there is Hulbert Avenue.  I run Rare Dragon Antiques just three stores up from the corner.  Think you can find it?”

“Yea… I can.”

“Now listen closely.  I want you to wear a dark colored, hooded sweat shirt and a pair of sweat pants with absolutely nothing on underneath.  Take the bus and wear the hoodie up covering your head and face as much as possible.  Can you do that?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Look, I don’t advertise or anything.  I like to keep this part of my life a secret.  Only those I invite know about my dominate side.  I am a legitimate, respected business woman here in the city.  So I expect the upmost privacy.  Please don’t discuss this with anyone or let anyone know where you’re going.  If anyone asks, tell them you have a date.  I hope you understand.”

“Oh I do, Mistress,” I responded as my hard cock raged within my jeans.  “I want this to remain a secret just between the two of us as well.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you do one other thing for me?”

“Anything….  What do you want Mistress?”

“Stand up and show me that big, beautiful cock.”

Without a thought I did as she asked.  I unzipped my jeans and slowly pulled them down along with my underwear.  By then my cock was already rock hard.

“Nice… really nice.  Most guys would give their right nut for a cock that size.”

I blushed a little but smiled, knowing that size really does matter with most women.

The rest of the night was spent reading more stories of Femdom and slavery.  I was so intrigued and just couldn’t get enough of it.  God it made me so fucking hot.  Finally about three in the morning I just jerked off to the picture on my wall and went to bed.

I found it impossible to sleep however.  All I could think about was the guy in the story who got his ass beaten by his dominatrix.  That was going to be me.  I found her.  After a while I drifted off.

Friday night couldn’t get here fast enough.  That morning I decided to go down to see Mrs. Hansen about doing another load of laundry.  I needed to wash my sweatshirt and sweatpants for tonight’s activities, so I took her a whole load of jeans and stuff.  That was no problem; in fact she had even made me a pan of chocolate brownies.

Later in the afternoon I showered and got ready as if I was going out on a date.  Finally it was time.   I left my room with my key and just enough money for bus fare both ways.  I did as she asked, wearing just the sweatshirt, sweatpants and sneakers, nothing more.  I pulled the hoodie up over my head and hid deep in its dark folds.  I didn’t want anyone to see me.

A fear of the unknown swept over me, as I got off the bus just up the street from the theater.  Slowly I walked down the sidewalk until I reached Hulbert.  It’s the third door up I told myself. Suddenly I was there.  The antique shop loomed in front of me.  My heart started to pound, and my cock was rock hard and ready.  I think I was trembling with excitement.

I stood there for a few minutes more.  Finally it was 7 o’clock.  I sucked in a huge breath and entered her shop.  A small bell hung on the door and rang as I walked in.  I was a little scared.  Moments later a gorgeous woman appeared, and all my fears disappeared.

“Nick… I presume?”

“Ah, ah… yes, Mistress.”

“Please come in.  Let’s go on into the back rather than stay out here with all these big open windows.”

I followed her around a variety of well-used junk.  There was that distinct stale smell of old hanging in the air.  When we got in the next room, she turned and looked at me.  Slowly she reached up and put my hood down with both of her hands.  She smiled, as she looked deep into my eyes.

“You’re really cute,” she said as she ran her fingers through my shaggy hair.

I grinned and blushed a little.

“Thank you, Mistress.”

She was wearing a long black satin robe which she slowly opened in front of me.

I’m sure my jaw dropped open when I saw her.  She was gorgeous.  She was just as I imagined.

“What’s the matter Nick?”

She stood there in a black leather bra and….

“Holy fuck…,” I whispered.

“Isn’t this what you expected slave?”

“Oh God yes,” I said, as my hand reached out and lightly touched the soft leather of her garter belt where it came around her hip.

She took my hand and raised it up until I gently felt the smooth leather that barely covered her firm breast.  She watched my every expression before she spoke.

“Now it’s your turn.  Off with those sweats so I can see what you’re so proud of.”

I never hesitated and anxiously pulled my sweatshirt over my head, tossing it into a nearby chair.  She ran her hands over my hairless chest and circled my small nipples.  Her fingers soon reached the waist band of my sweatpants and slowly pushed them down over my hips.  She laughed as the soft material caught onto my fully erect cock.

“Do I excite you a little slave?”

“Yes, Mistress… a lot.”

“I see that.  I’m glad.  If I didn’t, I’d be really upset.”

She ran her hands up and down the entire length of my hard organ a couple of times.

Moments later I was standing before this magnificent Goddess totally naked.  I really thought I would have been a little reluctant to be here like this, but something stirred within me.  I wasn’t bashful in the least.  My balls churned, and my cock throbbed in anticipation.  Small droplets of pre-cum glistened on its tip.  I stood there submissively with my head down a little and waited.  I wondered if I should get down on my knees.  I was ready to be her slave.

She walked slowly around me sort of surveying the merchandise.  Her hand ran across my ass cheeks.  I tightened them just a little.  She chuckled.  After completing her little circle, she reached down and hefted my rather small balls.  They aren’t huge and hang way down like a lot of guys, but everyone is a little different I thought.

“You don’t shave anything do you?”

“No, Mistress.”

“I like that… just naturally blond and with hardly any body hair at all.  If it wasn’t for this long, hard, magnificent cock, I’d think you were only about twelve years old.  But this monster,” she chuckled, as she ran her hand up the length of my shaft once more, “makes all the difference doesn’t it?”

I smiled.

“I wonder why you aren’t out having some young, sweet little pussy dancing on the end of this beauty tonight instead of standing here naked with a woman nearly twice your age.

“Are you gay?”

“No, Mistress, definitely not.”

“I knew you weren’t when you got so hard so quick just looking at me and my leather outfit, but I had to ask.”

She stepped off to the side and picked up something from a small table.

“Turn around.”

As I did, she grabbed my wrist and snapped a handcuff around it.  I could feel the cold steel and hear the ratcheted sound as it closed snuggly against my flesh.  My balls rumbled, and my cock throbbed even harder from the excitement of that moment.  I reached around with my other hand eager to become her captive.  She laughed and fumbled with the cuffs for a moment or two and then turned me back around.

“I fixed the double locks.  That way they can’t get any tighter and cut off your circulation.  You never know what position or where you might end up before the night is out.”

Then I smiled.  “I’m yours to do with as you please Mistress.”

“Oh I will, now on your knees slave.”

Immediately I sank to the floor before her.  Her leather clad pussy was right there in front of me.  I stared at the folds of smooth leather that disappeared into the junction of her legs.  I could smell the intoxicating mixture of the leather and her sex.  Slowly she slid her tiny leather thong down over her hips and then spread her legs a little once it was off.  A very narrow strip of dark hair led my eyes to her moist lips.

I looked up at her and then back down to her waiting pussy.

“Normally I would have never let you even see me at this point.  You would have had to lick my boots and serve me for many months to prove that you are worthy, but I’m especially horny tonight.  Lick my pussy slave, because it will be the last one you will see for a long, long time.”

My head was pushed back as she pulled me between her widely spread legs.  I pushed in a little deeper, so my tongue could explore every inch of her moist pouting lips.  She eased forward a little more and worked her pussy over my face, as the lust surged through her.  I could smell her scent and taste her passion.  I wanted her.

I was hot as well.  My cock throbbed and pulsated with every heartbeat, as I continued to serve her.  I think she was as excited as I was, having a young stud between her thighs.  My tongue worked deep within her moist pussy, and my nose rubbed her ever-hardening clit.  I licked and sucked and savored her sweet nether lips continuing to worship her.  Finally I worked up until I could latch on to that erect little button with my lips.

“Slow down slave.  Take your time.  Enjoy it while you can,” she whispered.

I moved back down and ran my tongue in and out of her love tunnel.  I tongue fucked her for several minutes before moving on.  Finally I slid back up to her special spot.  She put her hands on the back of my head and held me there.  I covered my teeth with my lips and sucked her clit between them.  I worked my tongue over that hard bundle of nerves for a couple of minutes.  Finally after a few more brutal lashes with my tongue, she moaned with pleasure.  Her girl cum gushed from her sweet pussy, as she came over and over again, drenching my lips with her musky offering.  I savored every drop of it, as she moaned and cooed.  I never stopped my eager assault.  I licked and sucked and worked my mouth over her hungry pussy, as she screamed with unending pleasure.  Her orgasms roared through her, one after another.

Finally she stepped back but continued taking long, deep breaths.

“Holy shit!  For a young guy you’re really good at that.  You must have had lots of practice doing that while at college.  I bet you made a lot of girls really happy.”

I smiled, as she stepped back and pulled her little thong back up covering that beautiful treasure.  Then she reached around and picked up something else from the table.

“Open wide slave.”

I opened my mouth, and a large red ball gag was wedged between my teeth.  It filled my mouth as the leather straps were pulled around behind my head and buckled tight.

“Stand up.”

Then she reached over to the table and picked up a second set of cuffs.  They were much heavier with a short, six inch length of chain between them.  These were closed snuggly around each of my ankles.

“Now turn around a little and bend over this table,” she said as she picked up a thin riding crop.

As I did, she continued, “I’m going to give you a dozen hard lashes with this crop across your ass.  Have you ever been whipped before?”

I was a little scared, as I shook my head back and forth.

“You have to pay for the pleasure you just had.  Since you don’t have any money, you’ll pay with a little pain.  That’s why you came here though isn’t it?  You want the pain.”

My head nodded up and down a little, as I tried to mumble, “Yes.”

She ran her hand across my unblemished globes.  They were smooth and ready for her to decorate with dark red stripes and thick purple welts.  My bottom was a blank canvas for her to paint in black and blue.  I was ready.  I wanted it.

I heard the swish of her whip, as it came around and slammed across both of my ass cheeks.

“M – m – m….”

“That hurt slave?”

I nodded my head up and down and tried to mumble through the gag.

“Do you want more?”

Eagerly I nodded yes once more.

Another line of pain sizzled across my ass.  God it hurt.  It cut deep into my flesh, but I never made a sound.  Again she brought the whip around and left another deep red welt just below the last one.  Its fire burned across my butt.  As she continued whipping me, the intensity increased.  Each one hurt more than the last, but I was determined to take it.  I never made a sound as the ninth and tenth lashes fell hard.  The eleventh one went diagonally across both cheeks with even more force than the others.

“M – m….”

The last one was the worse.  It landed in that crease where my ass meets my thighs.  My cheeks clenched tight, and I moaned once more.

“Is that what you expected?”

I didn’t know how to answer.  I really wanted more.  I wanted to be fastened to some bondage bench and whipped some more.  Finally I shook my head up and down as the throbbing continued.

She chuckled as she reached between my legs.  My cock was fully engorged with hot sex-charged lust and desire.  It begged for more.  I looked up at her as she smiled.  I think she was impressed by the way I took her whipping.

“Did you like that slave?”

I nodded my head up and down.

“Do you want more?”

As I indicated my desire, the moment was shattered.  We both heard the bell on the front door of her shop jingle.  Someone entered.

“Shit!” she said.  “I must have forgotten to lock the door and turned the open sign around.  I’m sorry.  Don’t move or go anywhere.  I’ll be right back.”

Yea, chained up like this and being totally naked, I’m going to run right out in the street, I thought to myself.  Of course I’d wait for her. I wanted more of her – much more.

“Just a minute,” she yelled.  “I’ll be right out.”

“Take your time,” some man replied. “I’ll just look around a little.  You never know what special thing you have here that I might be able to take home with me.”

Then she turned to me.  “I’m going to borrow these.”  Quickly she slipped into my sweats to cover herself up and went out into her shop.  I could hear them talking.

“Oh Mr. Mueller… I didn’t expect you quite so early.”

“Well, I was in the area and saw the lights on, so I thought I’d stop in.  Is there any possibility of picking up my newest acquisition tonight?”

“I guess so, but you’ll have to give me a minute or two to get it boxed.  Look around.  I’ll be back in a little bit.”

“Please take your time.  There’s really no big hurry, even though I’m really quite excited to see it,” he added.

She came back to where I was and whispered to me.

“Quick!  Get in here Nick and don’t make a sound.  He’s after something rather special,” she explained, as she opened the top of a heavy wooden box.

Being securely locked in both ankle and handcuffs, it was a little difficult, but she helped me climb in, so I could hide.  The box was actually quite small, so I lay down on my side in a tight fetal position in order to fit in.  It was really dark as she closed down the lid.

Soon they were both in the room right next to me talking.

“So,” he asked. “Is this one going to make me happy?”

“Oh without a doubt.  I think he’s absolutely perfect.  He’s exactly what you are looking for. Possibly even better.”

“Can I see him?”

“Of course Franz… he’s right in here.”

Suddenly the top of my hiding place opened, and I looked up in total surprise.  Instantly our eyes met, and a strange sensation rushed through me.

“Very nice,” he said, as the top was again closed.  “I think he’ll do just fine.”  Then I heard some sort of latches on my box, and the click of two locks.

“No!  Let me out of here,” I yelled unheard because of the gag, as I tried to move.

Immediately a feeling of overwhelming panic enveloped me.  I knew I was in deep shit.  There was no doubt in my mind.  I tried to get up and push my way out of the box, but I couldn’t move.  My hands and feet were locked in unyielding chains.  The box was way too strong and locked securely shut.  I screamed and yelled, but the gag kept most of my sounds inside.  Finally I quieted down and lay there wondering what had just happened.

It was nearly pitch black inside the shipping crate except for a few thin steams of light that came in through the small holes that would allow me to breathe.  I quickly realized that there was no possible escape.  I was doomed to whatever lay ahead.

“He’s younger than I thought you would find.”

“As I told you on the phone yesterday… he’s only 19 and absolutely perfect.  There are no family ties, no job and no one will realize he’s missing for several months or more.  I’ll send someone to get anything important from his room tomorrow, and he will completely vanish without a trace.  That’s why I told you I needed a premium price – twenty-five thousand in cash.”

I can’t believe what just happened.  I’ve just allowed myself to be kidnapped.  I willingly came to her for a night of bondage and fell right into a trap.  I even got into this tiny box without a struggle.  I pushed and shoved and fought as hard as I could once more, but it was impossible to get loose.  I was stuck in this fucking crate until he decides to let me out.  I screamed for help, but it didn’t do any good.  No one could hear me.  There was no help for me.

I could hear the muffled sounds, as the transaction took place.  The money was counted, and the deal was finalized.  I had just been sold.  I had just become his property.  I guess I would be his slave instead of hers.  That scared me.  It scared me a lot.

After a while I felt the crate move.  I think I was put on a dolly or something, as my box shook and bounced along.  There were a few sudden jars and jolts.   I was obviously taken down the front steps of the building.  Right there in front of anyone who might be watching, I was taken away.  Then there was one more solid, bone-jarring thud before I heard a motor start.  I was in a vehicle, heading somewhere into the unknown.  At that moment I realized my life would never be the same again.

She was right.  No one will miss me.  If she sent someone to get my computer from my apartment, there would be no trace of me ever.  I will have just vanished from the face of the earth.

Why would someone pay that much money for another person?  That thought bounced around in my brain for quite some time.  Why was I worth $25,000?

I was running all kinds of thoughts through my mind, when I remembered something she said, as I knelt between her thighs, “Lick my pussy slave, because it will be the last one you will see for a long, long time.”

She had asked me earlier if I was gay.  Suddenly I got a bad feeling.  The guy who just bought me is obviously gay.  He was looking for a young submissive male, and it turned out to be me.  I realized that I wouldn’t be eating any pussy in the future.  I wouldn’t be fucking any young, cute college girls either.  I would be sucking cock and probably taking his dick up my ass.  I’m the one who would be fucked.  There was no doubt in my mind that I just became the sex slave of a goddamn faggot.

Again I fought as hard as I could to free myself from this fucking crate and the future that lay ahead, but it was no use.  I was doomed to a new life.  There was no escape.

“N – o – o – o – o….” I screamed.  “N – o – o – o….”

Then something else flashed through my brain.  She told me something the first time we spoke.  It was something about “the possibility of unforeseen and unpleasant consequences.”

I told her I was ready for those, but now I’m having different thoughts.  I have heard about people on the internet who are not who they say they are.  Was I that naïve?  I never gave anything like that a thought.  After all, it couldn’t happen to me.  Who would think of being abducted as a sex slave for some gay guy while answering an ad on Craig’s List for a female dominatrix?  Maybe Craig’s List really does have a few problems.  The ad said “an evening of fun with chains, whips and paddles… no long term commitments.”  Like everything else, it was a lie.  Oh I’m sure the part about “looking for a young, submissive male” was accurate, but where’s a lifetime of slavery fit in to that listing?  That sounds like a pretty long term commitment to me.  And serving a man for God’s sake!

Then I realized I had missed another monumental clue back when we were first talking on Skype.  She told me about being discrete and not telling anyone where I was going.  She said she didn’t advertise.  That’s fucking bull shit.  That fact never registered.  Hell, I found her because of her ad on the internet.  She strung me along – telling me just what I wanted to hear.  Maybe I didn’t want to know the truth.  I wanted to serve a Mistress.

I guess I was wrong when I told her that I had no future.  It isn’t what I had planned, but I guess I have one now.

Katerina In Charge by Don Julian Winslow Excerpt

Katerina in Charge by Don Julian Winslow – Paperback & Ebook

Suddenly she felt him tense and straighten up, and she turned to look over her shoulder to see Katerina standing in the doorway — imperious Katerina looking down on them in that characteristic pose of hers: hands on hips, her long tapering torso now encased in the black armor of the tight bustier.  She made an imposing figure, tall legs set apart in a widened stance, shimmering black stockings held in place halfway up her long thighs by the elastic stays, and sleek boots of gleaming leather with wicked stiletto heels.

  In her right gloved hand she held the paddle they had purchased earlier that day, and the ruthless determination of her hard lean features made it clear, that this was no longer a sisterly shopping companion.

Slaves of Rome by Don Julian Winslow Excerpt

Slaves of Rome by Don Julian Winslow – Paperback & Ebook

I watched the parade without much interest as it made its way slowly by, when a creaking wagon came into view and with it a particularly rare prize.  The jogging cage held a statuesque blonde.  This must be a captive from the Northern peoples, I realized, a rare Teuton to be sure, as I recognized the striking Nordic features that Gaius had once described to me in such loving detail.  This Germanic beauty was impressively tall, regal in bearing, and elegantly made, she stood with cold blue eyes looking out over the crowd, eyes that were remote and unblinking.  Mostly the favored captives who found themselves so displayed in the tall wooden cages would shrink back to huddle in a far corner averting their eyes, or they might squat down studying the planks on the floor with head held low in the utter shame of defeat.  But this woman did no such thing!

            She stood there boldly, defiantly facing her Roman enemies, strong legs set in a widened stance as though to compensate for the roll of the wagon.  Her hands clasped the bars at either side of her pale face, as she stood regarding with icy contempt those who would seek to subdue her.

Bedtime Story – Lost & Found by Nat Cameron

Lost & Found by Nat Cameron – Paperback & Ebook

Before I start my story, I just want to remind you…I love you,” John says as he and Sam lie in bed. It’s warm outside but not hot enough for the air conditioning so they can hear the breeze blowing and the calls of exotic birds and animals unfamiliar to them.

“I feel so good being here with you, so happy. It’s such a contrast to when Aidon, Kate and I went to Hawaii shortly after the divorce. We all wanted a great Christmas holiday in the sun but the trip was also an escape from everything that reminded them about how much their lives had changed. I remember being there, and trying really hard for them, but I knew they were hurting and so was I. I saw families, and couples everywhere at our resort and I wanted what they had, or appeared to have. I felt so bad about taking their home from them.

But now, I know they’re happy again and here we are. We have so much together. You are a real partner, the one I was looking for and I never want to let you slip away.”

Sam is delighted to hear John express himself so freely. She always knew he was a good communicator, it was one of the things that attracted her to him, but he is like other men in her life; able to talk about how he feels, but not conditioned to do it, so it doesn’t always come easily.

“That story you told me this morning was so exciting. I’ve been having fun thinking of a story for you,”

he continues. “I kept imagining how hot it would be for you to be Pam’s Pet Girl and how exciting the whole scenario would be for me to observe as a fly on the wall. So that is where I am going to start.”

“Mmmmm, yummy” Sam says, turning off the light and settling in, under the sheet.

John begins:  “Pam has arranged to take you to her house for a sleepover. She comes to my place to pick you up. I greet her at the door. You are fully dressed because you are ready to go, but you are kneeling on the floor with your head down when she arrives.

“John, good to see you man!” she says “I am so excited about having Fifi overnight. As per our talk on the phone the other day, my friend Andrea is coming over for dinner and she knows I’m borrowing Fifi, so that’s all good, right?”

“Perfect, now, I want to be very clear about the rules for Fifi. She is to be a Pet Girl the entire time. Any failure on her part, any talking or, God forbid, talking back, will be met with severe punishment from you and I will back you up 100%. I have already explained these rules to her but she might need some discipline to help her to remember. Isn’t that right girl?” I stroke your hair and you leave your head down.

“Let me show you what’s in her bag. I have her food and water dishes, her leash and collar and of course all kinds of toys and restraints for you to use at your discretion. Any vocalizing from her that you don’t approve of, or any at all, will result in punishment, a gag or both. How does that sound?”

“Amazing! I am so excited, I can hardly wait!”

“One last thing, I’m going to restrain her hands behind her back right now if you are okay with that and you can drape her coat over her like a cape, okay? I just think it’s good to establish your authority right away. I’ve got Zap Straps in there, so feel free to use as many as you want to. They are excellent restraining tools.”

Pam takes you out to her car. You sit in the backseat. “Head down” she says as she straps you in. I’ve put a light cotton tee shirt on you, no bra.

“Oh, look at you, all trussed up like a good little slut” she says as she strokes your nipple through the thin cotton, watching you harden under her touch.

“Be good, or I’ll be sure to let John know about it. Do you understand?”

You nod your head.

“Good ”

When you get to Pam’s place, her friend has not arrived yet. She leads you into her house. As soon as she has you inside the door, she orders you to get on to your knees. You kneel at her feet.

“Such a good little pet” she says as she pats your head and then runs her hands through your soft hair.

“Come” she beckons you to the chair she has just sat down on. You walk on your knees to where she is. She takes your coat from your shoulders and looks at your body. She loves seeing those lovely little breasts of yours under the tee shirt I’ve dressed you in. She can’t resist stroking and fondling you through the material.

“Mmmmmm you’re getting such hard little nipples aren’t you? I’m hoping there are some nipple clamps in that overnight bag of yours…if not…I have plenty here we can play with. Lie down” she orders, and you rest compliantly on your side at her feet while she relaxes, finishing an article in the newspaper. After a few minutes, she goes into the kitchen where she places the bowls down, puts water into one of them and leaves the food one, empty for the time being. She goes upstairs to her bedroom and opens the bag. On her bed she places the handcuffs, a package of zap straps, a ball gag, the vibrator and a pair of nipple clamps. She then takes out the thick, black leather collar and the silver chain and goes back down stairs.

“Good girl” she says as she sees you lying down on your side the restraints still holding your hands behind your back.

“Kneel,” she says as she places the collar on your neck and tightens it. She attaches the chain and then she orders you to walk on your knees. She leads you into the downstairs bathroom.

“Pee?” she asks, you nod.

“Alright, stand up,” she says. You stand

“Head down” she says making sure that even though you are standing, your subservience is maintained. She unbuttons your jeans and pulls them down. She then pulls your panties down. While you pee, she takes off your socks and shoes. She then slides your pants and panties off. You are now sitting on the toilet wearing only your tee shirt, and the thick collar with the chain attached.

“All done? good,” she says as she takes toilet paper and wipes you off, taking her own sweet time. She knows she is exciting you.

“Up” she says as she washes her hands at the sink. She uses nail scissors to cut off the plastic restraints around your wrists and then she orders you to raise your arms above your head. She takes off your shirt and you stand before her naked.

“Keep that head down” she orders as she runs her hands over your body, appraising you, stroking, pinching and fondling you freely, with complete control.

“Turn” she says. You turn around and stand with your back to her. She strokes the skin on your back and fondles your ass, kneading you, stroking you, reaching around between your legs to feel your lips.

“Open, that’s it, good little slut,” she says because she knows exactly how turned on you are already.

“My!….how wet you are, my beautiful, slutty girl. Turn back this way.” You comply immediately, partly out of a desire to please her and partly to avoid punishment. She kneels down.

“Open, wide this time.” She takes a good look at your pussy, so smooth and pink. She runs her hand over the bare skin of your mound.  Her fingers re-acquaint themselves with all of your secrets. She opens your outer lips, pulls and spreads your inner lips, briefly slides two fingers inside you and then rubs them teasingly, all wet and slippery on your clit. You work hard not to make any noise.

“Down! right down, on all fours like a good pet, now!” she says firmly. You obediently comply and feel the cold floor on your knees and your hands.

“Such an excited girl,” she washes her hands again. “You keep my fingers so wet baby, what a good girl you are,” she says. She leads you out to the living room where she tells you to sit. Obediently, you do as you are told. She places a soft fleece blanket on the floor with two large cushions and orders you to lie down. You walk to your bed, your chain dragging on the floor behind you.

Pam goes to the kitchen and you hear her open a bottle of wine and pour it into two glasses. You hear her as she prepares a meal. She puts some music on.  Not long afterwards, your smell garlic and herbs and many other good smells coming from the kitchen. The door bell rings. Pam goes to the door and calls through it.

“Is that you Andrea?”

“Yes”

“Give me a minute, I want to have everything just right.”

“Okay”

Pam approaches you. “Come!” she says as she walks you to the door. Pam places you beside the door and orders you to kneel.

“I want Andrea to be able to get a good look at you, beautiful pet.”

“Head down again now, that’s it.” She strokes your hair for a moment then opens the door.

“Hello, I am so glad you’re here!” Pam says as she and Andrea hug each other.

“Me too, thank you so much for inviting me, I am so excited about meeting your pet!” Andrea says.

“And….we get to have her all night. Her master won’t be picking her up till noon tomorrow.”

“Mmmmmm,” Andrea says, “so I guess we can be her Mistresses until then, how exciting!”

Andrea approaches you, raises your chin, looks at your face appraisingly. You know better than to make eye contact. She lowers your head and then crouches down to run her hands over every part of your naked body. She touches your upper arms.

“Nice toning” she says to which Pam agrees.

“He keeps her in really good shape.”Pam says

“I can see that, turn around girl! turn around Fifi!” Andrea says, already in complete control, showing firmness and absolute dominance. You turn, allowing her to look at your toned back and beautiful, round, athletic ass.

“Magnificent, alright, look at that! she has the backside of a twenty year old sprinter” Andrea says with appreciation.

Pam jumps in ”….which reminds me….I want to make sure we have some good things on hand with which to spank her, should she need discipline or punishment. I have strict rules from John, who has been very clear about his expectations for her. Let’s go upstairs and I’ll fill you in and we can make sure we lay out a good paddle for that lovely bottom of hers.”

“Stay!” Pam commands and she and Andrea disappear upstairs. The room is a little cold from the opening of the door. Your nipples harden but you stay still, eager to show them both, how good you can be when you put your mind to it. They come down, go into the kitchen without looking at you, get their wine and take it into the living room. They chat and get up-to-date a little, ignoring you entirely and establishing their complete control over you. Eventually Pam calls you.

“Here girl” she calls absently, as she continues to laugh and talk to Andrea. “Good wine isn’t it? and it doesn’t cost an arm and a leg,” Pam says as you walk compliantly to where she sits.

“Come here! What did I tell you about your head!? hmmmm? What did I say? Bad girl! You keep that head down! Now! That’s better!”

She takes your chain, wraps it around her hand several times and pulls it hard. She roughly manoeuvres you, so that you are in front of her on all fours.  She orders you to put your head right down on the carpet. You comply immediately. Andrea watches all of this, completely captivated by the spectacle she is observing. She sees you with your side to her, ass up in the air waiting for whatever punishment you have coming to you, to be delivered decisively. Pam gives you several hard spankings. You feel completely humiliated, your face flushes bright red and you feel as if you are going to come, right then and there.

“I’m sorry Andrea, that our conversation had to be so rudely interrupted by an impertinent girl who seems to be having great difficulty understanding her place at this moment. “

“Not to worry……I’m sure we can think of several different ways to reinforce that message as the evening progresses. I look forward to it.”

“Me too, but let’s keep her on a short leash in the mean time, there really can’t be too much discipline in this situation. Now, what were we talking about?”