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The Barefoot Girl by Lizbeth Dusseau

The Barefoot Girl
From Crimes & Lovers by Lizbeth Dusseau © Copyright, all rights reserved

 

In a land beyond time, in another world, in a country of castles and kingdoms, of slave queens and noble whores, a barefoot girl with the virtue of an angel stood shivering before an audience of thieves, and traders, gawking noblemen and their ladies, her future ripped asunder, irrevocably altered by a foolish whim.

 

Torches blazed serving as fire-spewing heralds to the evil done in the counting house dungeon. The theatre had not yet begun this night, and the chaotic company chattered like magpies. Gossips whispered tales into the shocked ears of the unknowing. Gamblers laid their last illegal bets on outcomes, and under the table, money was exchanged that would not be taxed by Lord Nor’s magistrates. Under other tables, whores took cocks in their mouths for pleasure, while roving hands lifted the skirts of rich harlots and gentle ladies, their asses fondled in plain sight. Breasts were bared for the eyes of ogling men, nipples were pinched and squealing women blushed to have their wares displayed so lewdly. Two, three, even four rounds of ale had been poured into tankards held by outstretched hands. And the drunkenness that followed only lifted the last shreds of decency in this teaming mass of uncivilized humanity.

The master tradesman beat his gavel for nearly ten minutes before the barbarous assembly finally took their seats to gape at the spectacle about to be performed before them. And yet, none desired to miss this brutal ravagement. It was, after all, what they’d come to see. The laying waste of an innocent maid, a mere breath of spring, one of the earth’s fair flowers, just as she was about to bloom, was an act so repulsively vile, so cruelly treacherous, and yet so deliciously pleasing as to make it a ritual that warranted its repetition. For twenty years without exception, in the spring of the year, the rite launched the legal bartering season. Lord Nor blessed this act of graceless savagery to appease his restless masses after a bitter winter, even though he’d not attended the ceremony in several years. He was superstitious, and often feared these ravaged maids were strangely magical with the power to upset the steady waters of his kingdom. With that in mind, he was often away at war or hunting—those activities twin pleasures he pursued with as much relish as this throng in the counting house dungeon relished the moment about to explode before their eyes.

The barefoot girl was already on stage. Her hands were chained behind her, her head held proudly high, though the fear in her eyes was alarming. She quaked beneath the thin frock that covered her slight form. With torches flaming behind her, the outline of her fair body could be seen in silhouette. Her breasts were yet slight, surprising perhaps, since she was of the right age, eighteen. Many previous girls were much more well-endowed than this one. Ah, but her body was delightfully curvaceous, her hips well-rounded, her waist slim and her nipples were curiously large, the two generous buds poking through the sheer fabric of her attire. Her pale red hair was tangled in wild locks that dangled across her face. Though she tried to fling them back, tossing her head, she was hardly successful. But how that hair gleamed in the light of the flickering orange flames—as though a part of this innocent lamb was as savage as the company she faced. The pale scared eyes peering out from behind that hair looked panic struck. She stood frozen with fear, though her heart beating hotly in her chest. Perhaps she’d fought when she was captured. The spit and fire would be expected and enjoyed. Such moments bred all kinds of speculation.

 

In the clamoring crowd with necks straining to get a better view, one pair of womanly eyes looked on, with both the lust of her fellows, and the sheepishness of the tender flower before her—thinking back in time.

 

The master tradesman pounded the gavel again, irritated. This year’s assembly was especially rude.

“Shall we give the maid a reprieve, or will you nasty folk hold your tongues,” he roared.

There were a thousand shushes around the room, the agitation subsiding for a moment, though it would only be brief for the way it still brewed just underneath the surface of their collective quiet. The master snarled and then sneered, though it was unclear for whom that sneer was meant—the girl or the audience.

“You have another, my fine folk,” he addressed the crowd, “plucked from the teaming streets, a babe, a mere child, a virtuous innocent. Shall we celebrate her purity?”  The master posed the question seriously and the crowd murmured, stirred, but yet silent. “Or shall we rip her virtue from her and make her an offering to lust?”  The crowd roared, hands pounded the tables and boots hit hard against the floor. It took another ten minutes of the master’s hard hitting gavel to calm them again.

“So be it!” he roared as he smashed the heavy hammer into the block of wood.

The crowd roared again, but quieted on its own as three men advanced on the fainting beauty from behind. One stood at each side, dressed only in trousers, their brawny muscles had been oiled and gleamed like the maid’s lustrous tresses. Their hair was loose, falling around their shoulders. Their faces had been freshly shaved. The third man stood behind her, with his bald head oiled and gleaming as dearly as the chests of the two men at her side. He wore a leather vest and leather britches with a laced codpiece, and boots polished to a shine. His dire expression was meant to capture the eyes of the audience. The girl gazed side to side, but she did not see the man behind her or his menacing grimace. Yet, she could feel his hands enclose her bound ones and hold them tightly.

“She is your prize,” the master shouted, “how would you have her?”

A thunderous clamor began, “Bare her breasts!”  And the boots pounded the floor again as the throng cheered.

“Whip her,” other voices shouted from the sidelines.

“Strip her!  Make her dance!”

The whole room rocked wildly. Bets were placed on how long it would take to de-virginize this appointed damsel.

While the bald man held the maiden’s hands, one of the men at her side, grabbed the bodice of her dress and ripped the garment to her waist, exposing the delicate breasts to the teaming air and the eyes of the entire theatre.

Tears steamed down her flushed cheeks as she tried to look away. The bald man’s free hand massaged her breasts from behind. His lips descended to the crook of her neck and the barefoot girl shuddered.

“The whip, the whip, the whip,” the crowd roared and one of the bare-chested brutes withdrew the dreadful implement from the belt around his waist.

“Against the cross!” The crowd knew each act of this ghastly play, each scene, each line by heart.

Hearing the crowd’s commands the three men complied. The bald man released the girl’s hands, and then turning her about, shoved her toward the two crossed beams of wood that had been pushed into the center of the make-shift dais. The three, binding her wrists to the ends of the cross, and her feet to the massive beams below, immobilized her. One of the long-haired pair would begin with the whip against her back. She was to be flogged with force—and finesse. For these spectacles it was not wise to deplete the maiden in the first minutes. She would have to last some time to satisfy this expectant crowd. And she’d have to fight, to scream, to suffer and then to be pleased. Not one step in the thrilling process could be missed or wasted.

The flogging began gently, and the maid’s fair-skinned back jerked softly with each blow of the three-taloned leathers that hit the tender surface. As though teasing the audience that wanted the full force of the whip laid on, these first strikes were more like caressing love-play than invigorating cuts that would send shocks of pain through her body. Yet, as the leather played with her undulating shoulders, the cries for more force rose throughout the close confines and began a chant that the whip-wielding brute heeded. Laying on the talons with a crescendoing fervor, he made the barefoot girl shriek. Her cries, both sad and anguished seemed as loud as those of the hundred men and women in the theatre who demanded this beating. As the intensity mounted, so too did the lust of the audience. Seeing her striped back take on the color of a setting sun inspired more brutality, and then the next phase of the girl’s torture.

“Bare her body!”

“Thrash her ass!”

“Her cunt, her cunt, her cunt!” Even the women in the audience screamed.

The flogging ceased and the three men descended on the limp child, pulling her from the cross. The master tradesman rose to the podium again as the girl was brought around to face the crowd. She tugged at their confining hands, an angry spirit in her rising. The crowd went mad.

“Let’s see her fight!”

“Let her kick!”

“Impale her ass!”

The roar was deafening.

 

From the second tier of spectators, a woman’s eyes swam with tears, even as she cheered with the others. Those around her jabbed her with their elbows and shouted in her ear about the assets of this poor young maid. She smiled and cried inside, at the same time her salty tears stung her eyes.

 

The master tradesman banged his gavel once again, and once again the wild crowd subdued its incessant demands, heeding the man’s booming voice.

“You have your offering gentle people. She stands before you the sacrifice of spring. There are dozens more slaves awaiting your inspection, would you not have compassion on this one, let her be free, auction this beauty with the others?”

“No!” the shout rose in an instant.

The gavel hammered again and the crowd squelched its cries.

“Then you shall have her,” the master informed them. “Make her naked,” he said turning to the three who held the girl captive.

“NO!” she shrieked. “Please.” Her wail was breathtaking and pitiable. She had no clue to the trial that awaited, and yet, she rightly feared the worst.

“Let her plead,” some rabble rouser in the front row barked.

“Let her beg us,” another chided with glee.

The master turned to the barefoot girl and she looked at him with anger and sorrow both mixing with her tears.

“Ah, master, please!” she whimpered so that hardly anyone could hear her, though the audience could see she was desperate. “Please.”

The master looked on as the girl and crowd played two sides of a jarring song in a dissonant counterpoint. He was persuaded by both. Though he was not an inconsiderate man, he was more a man of expediency and self-interest. He took his eyes off the barefoot girl, and with a sneering glance to the crowd turned to her three attendants and gave the order.

“Strip her naked!”

The crowd went wild. Officials with staffs moved before the dais to block an onslaught of zealots from charging forward. The girl shook with fear.

“Take your seats!” the master ordered the crowd with the gavel hammering the block. “Or I shall have her removed!”

Quiet reigned for a time, the audience reduced to hushed and passionate whispers as they watched with anticipation.

While the two long-haired attendants held the struggling girl’s body by her arms, the bald-headed man stepped around her and placed his hand at the waist of her dress. Then with a fierce tug, he ripped the cloth into shreds, leaving it to settle at her feet, as he exposed her nether regions for the eyes of the audience.

More tears streamed down her face. She trembled, tried wearily to jerk away, but knew her fate was written. Her perspiring thighs quaked while the curls of her pubis took on a lovely rose-brown hue, glistening with female dew, leaving some to believe she was aroused. The bald man stepped to one side of her and sunk to his knees so that most of the audience could see the full disclosing. After prying open her thighs with his hands, he parted the pubis so the pink skin and bud of her clitoris could be seen by those in the first several rows.

The girl blushed, but not so anyone would notice, save perhaps the woman in the second tier, who could read the young beauty’s expression as though it were her own.

“Rip her free!” the crowd began to chant.

“Let the blood spill!”

“Give her to us!”

They were driving for the end, perhaps too quickly, but that was to be expected. It had been a hard winter in Nor’s kingdom, and his minions needed relief. They needed the spectacle of this sacrifice and perhaps even more they needed what would happen in the hours afterwards when the auction of slaves would proceed. The good master tradesman knew them well, he knew that the timing must be precisely right. He knew the time for plucking this flower from the bed of virginity was now. And he gave them their most desired wish. “Pass lots and take her to the stone!” he announced. Then he swept from the podium and waited in the wings while the ravagement proceeded.

The girl struggled with every ounce of strength she had, trying to wrest herself from the grasp of the two long-haired men. Yet, their strength was too much for her and they pulled her to the stone bench in the center of the dais.

While she struggled, the bald man made the rounds of the room with an earthen vessel filled with stone tiles. Each man in the room drew a tile from inside until three had pulled out the marked stones that gave them the right to plunder this girl’s virtue.

With the girl laid back on the cruel granite bed, her thighs were spread wide by her two attendants and her hands clutched tightly overhead, secured in the fist of the bald-headed man. Prepared for the violation, the three lucky men descended on her. As the first stepped forward, he stood some moments looking into the girl’s frightened eyes. Banging his erection against her pubis, he watched as her eyes filled with tears, but he was too aroused to be moved to sympathy.

“Please no,” she murmured softly, but he could not hear her for the noise of the crowd cheering him on. Then, too overcome by lust to draw out the moment any longer, he plunged his erection deep into her unspoiled vagina, and the crowd thundered to hear her anguished cry rise as if it was going heavenward.

The girl thrashed about in anger and lust. The pain present, but not foremost in her thoughts, she seemed on a strange precipice between revolt and sensuous joy. Her body deceived her. And even her cries were not the screams of a maiden being tortured. The longer the hefty cock pummeled her insides, the more she seemed to relinquish to the incessant probing. Her attacker held off his climax for some time, which only added to the amazing spectacle of raped victim and the rapist finding some common ground within her body. Though she might have spat on him when he withdrew from her and moved to her face, she licked the depleted stalk almost lovingly.

Her next assailant was poised for her mouth as well, coming forward almost before the first was finished. Mounting the granite slab, he straddled her chest so his organ could be taken by her open mouth. He drove it deeply, forcing his way inside beyond her moaning cries and her attempt to gag and spit him out. He implored her to give him entrance, to suck the hot rod with lips and fondle it with her tongue. Though she resisted to the end, he was not displeased with her, and she not as disgusted as any witness would think. The more she got used to the taste of a manhood in her mouth, the more this too was less vile. When the climax finally came and he spilled his seed about her face, she looked at him without contempt, unconsciously licking her lips of his residue. She was lost to herself, vacant and depleted, wary and yielding, yet strangely satisfied.

 

The woman in the second tier recognized the look because she could recall the feeling in herself.

 

With the third man descending on the withering maiden, the crowd began its rumbling again. Cries for the final justice resounded off the walls. It was time to complete this ritual and time to move on. The agitation in the room grew strong. The master tradesman was tempted to return to his gavel, but he remained on the sidelines watching the proceedings carefully, lest they become too tumultuous as they had several years ago when the victim did not survive the sacrifice.

This crowd was, however, immediately deterred by the man with the marker. He was a roguish, blackguard from some territory beyond Illusia. His dress was peculiar, marked by a gold threaded cloak that covered most of his hefty form, and skin the color of freshly turned earth. There was just a fuzz of hair at his chin, while his head was as bald as the man that held the maiden’s hands. As he approached the barefoot girl, she whimpered seeing the blackest of eyes peering at her.

“Give her to me,” he said with a power of command that her captors could not ignore. He’d removed his cloak, handing it to a young man that attended him. Reaching the girl’s loins he took her hips in his hands while her attendants freed her. Then with a gentleness uncommon at such rituals, he turned her about, drawing her knees under her.

“You shall take her ass?” one long-haired man whispered to him.

“So, I shall,” he agreed, though first he brought the girl’s nether crack to his face and ate of it as though he was eating exotic fruit, and drank of it as though it was fine wine. His tongue probed both orifices and the girl began panting and cooing. It no longer seemed to matter that this indignity was being witnessed by an attentive company that would never forget the look they saw on her face.

The more she took this pleasure, the louder she cried. Her body bucked freely against his face. He had his fingers in her vagina and his tongue at her nether hole when she cried the loudest. Then, at the moment when her body wrenched wildly with orgasm, he pushed her down, grabbed hold of her sides and planted his erection beyond the mellowed sphincter, deep into her ass. He stretched her wide and made her full. But she rode him without the pain that might have marked this violation. Though she screamed in reply, only the woman in the second tier guessed the girl’s state of mind. Sharp pleasured spasms ripped wildly through the maid’s ass until the black man’s climax broke free as did her own.

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.

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?”