Date: Sat, 23 Sep 2006 16:10:47 -0700 (PDT)
From: anne gentry <sable197903@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dark Eden

http://www.eroticexcursions.net/

Presents

Dark Eden
Copyright 2005 by Rene.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored
in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the
prior permission of the author. This material is presented as adult
entertainment and is not intended for any person under the age of eighteen
years. While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this
book, the author assumes no responsibilities for errors or omissions, or
for damages resulting from the use of information contained herein. All
characters and descriptions are purely fictitious.



SEEK AND YE SHALL FIND

Fantasies even good ones don't hold a candle to real flesh. The problem, as
always, was how to meet like-minded people. I wanted to meet people who
play the game, but also play by the rules. I can't afford to end up with
injuries and trying to explain how I got them. Bruises are a hazard, but so
are welts.  Not always, but sometimes. `The best times.'  Came that little
voice from inside my head. Most people think that it's a question of
getting off on pain. Wrong. It's sensation, attention, and limits. It's the
master or mistress focusing complete and total attention on the most
profound way to make you feel. I may be submissive, but I'm really the one
in total control. I'm the top. It was that way last weekend when I started
my new life. I was in just enough control to feel again and just desperate
enough to be reckless. I had to have somebody watching out for me upstairs,
because I struck gold.


THE PHONE CALL

It was an absolutely miserable night. Cold, wet. The phone like ice in my
hands and the numbers hard to see. The call itself was almost impossible to
make. I could barely breathe.  I felt like someone had kicked me in the
chest, hard. I'd prepared myself like Rob had taught me. I was as ready as
I would ever be, so I steeled myself and dialed the phone. A woman
answered.

"Hello?"

"I'm calling about your ad in the Urban Times."

I tried to keep my voice steady and hoped that I succeeded somewhat.

"Do you have any experience?"

Does years of living inside the three ring circus of my own mind, count as
experience?  Probably not, so I recounted what I did know.

"About six years ago I had a boyfriend that did this kind of thing."

Humiliating to speak of this forbidden desire that kept me awake nights.

"Do you have any costumes?"

Costumes?  That was a new one on this naked, kneeling girl.  I spoke the
truth.

"No, I never needed any on my end."

That was accurate enough.  There was a pause on her end of several seconds
and I got the impression that I was on a speakerphone.  The tone had that
weird wind-tunnel effect that those phones have.

"I see. Can you describe yourself briefly?"

I did.  I'm average, normal height and weight.  Brown-hair, hazel-eyes. She
seemed pleased by my description and I heard a male voice in the background
speaking.

"Have her come in."

"Can you come in on Monday?"  Monday was bad for me.  I had my real life on
Monday.  Separate from this fantasy life.  "I'm sorry, I work."  Another
pause from her end.

"Oh, you have a job?"

I was kind of puzzled.  Don't most people have jobs or some way to make
money?

"This is not my real life."

Just a hobby. Came the little voice again.  God, what a smart-ass.  They
were conferring in the background, but too low for me to hear.

"Can you come by tonight?"  Overdrive on my pulse. "We close in about an
hour."

Close? Oh well, time for questions later. I agreed and got directions that
I repeated back to her. Wouldn't do to knock on the wrong door now, would
it? It was her last words to me that ran through my head on the way over
like a time loop.

"Be ready for anything."

I debated whether or not to even go. My palms were wet and my breath came
in short pants. I pulled the shreds of my dignity together and prayed for
some sort of guidance. It came from within me.  That little voice that I
usually ignored.

What do you have to lose?'  That was it.  I had nothing to lose.  Nothing
but the empty, boring sterility of my waking world.



I made it on the expressway in twenty minutes. I found a place to park on
the street. I was kind of surprised to find myself in a residential
neighborhood with an address in my hand. I found the right house. A
three-story Victorian in the Indian Village area.  High-walls surrounding
the property. A real nice house actually. I sat in my car gripping the
steering wheel. Mouth dry. Panic circling my lungs. God, don't let me knock
on the wrong door.

I took a deep breath and got out of my car. Walking up to the door and
knocking softly.  A woman answered it.

"Yes?"

The voice from the phone, without the echo from the speaker.  I cleared my
throat.

"I called a little while ago and you asked me to stop by."

She smiled pleasantly, moving to clear the doorway.

"Come on in."

I did so.  Noticing the foyer and hallway had been expertly restored to
their turn-of-the-century splendor. We walked towards a big oaken door that
she opened to reveal a study done in shades of cream and ivory. A real
fireplace graced the room, a leather sofa [ivory] before it. Cream plaster
walls with hunt prints. Bookshelves with titles that I recognized. The only
thing that looked out of the ordinary was the umbrella stand with riding
crops in it, instead of umbrellas. About ten of them.  "My husband will be
here in a moment."

Husband? I must have looked surprised, because she said.

"It helps to have both of us in the business."

She smiled at me, motioning me to sit down on the sofa.

"This is how we make our living."

Pride shone through her every word.  She checked the clock on the mantle.

"He'll be just finishing up."

Very hard not to ask who, or what, he was finishing up.  I managed it. She
left me alone with my thoughts, going back out the door that we had entered
to the main hallway.

I wasn't sure what to do. How to sit even.  What would they want? I was
nervous. I rolled my head and shook out my arms.  Doing some deep
breathing.  Saying to myself. "Grace and perfect obedience.  Perfect
silence and flexibility."  I'd just finished when I heard the door opening
up behind me.

I didn't turn.  I looked straight ahead. Hands on my knees.  Hearing the
slow steady tread before me.  A man's tread. He came to a stop before me. I
glanced up to about waist height and noted the black leather pants with
studded boots. He put out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Jon."

I looked up into his face as I gripped his warm fingers.  Standing up from
the couch as I did so. Business habit.  Carnegie Grad, you know?

"I'm Anne."

Firm grip of my hand in his. He introduced his wife, Traci.  Inviting me to
sit back down on the sofa. I was slightly uncomfortable. Unsure of what he
wanted of me. I knew that he was master here, but did not know their
protocols.

"So how did you hear about us?"

I swallowed down the fear and answered honestly.

"Your ad in the paper. I called from a pay phone."

I had no idea why I volunteered that little snippet of information to him.

"Why?"  He asked directly.

 Face sincere. Intelligence in his dark-eyes. I noticed that he was 35-40
with just a touch of gray in the dark hair at his temples. Coupled with his
commanding manner he was formidable.

"Because I was tired of vanilla, when I'd rather have rocky road."

I wanted to bite my tongue out, but they laughed.  Thank you, God.  She
spoke.

"I've never heard it put quite like that before. I like it."

She sat on the end of the sofa and curled her legs under her body.

"You'd better tell her about us, Jon."  "You know about the code?"

I nodded and the relief must have shown on my face. A certain tension
leaving me in a rush. The code was a set of rules. Rules designed to set
parameters and prevent accidents. I had hit gold, if they abided by it when
they played. I kept my cool.

"I did six years ago.  Has it changed much?"

"Just a safe-sex clause. You don't object to condoms, do you?"

Another tension gone. I assured him that I believed in them one hundred
percent. No one' is touching my body without protection.

"Are you a dominant or a submissive?"

This was the one question that I had been dreading. This was it. The moment
when I stated out loud for the first time what I really was. Who I was.

It was hard to get the words out around the congealing lump in my
throat. Rob had never made me say it. He just took it for granted that I
was his. This man wanted me to say it out loud.  Express what I was
craving. I had to force myself to say it and even then it was barely a
whisper when it came out of my trembling lips.

"Submissive."

I felt hot color crawling up my neck and over my face. My hands clenched on
my knees. Eyes down. I felt his presence as though he had just suddenly
appeared before me. His voice when he spoke again had changed.  It had
hardened.

"If you are a submissive, then you are in nowhere near the proper position
to be addressing me."

 I didn't even hesitate. I dropped from the couch unto my knees on the
floor before him. Hands behind my neck and under my hair. Legs slightly
apart, eyes down. Thinking that if I did what I had done before and it was
properly respectful that maybe it would be acceptable. He asked me
questions. Rapid fire, trying to pin me to some kind of personal
philosophy.

"Voice trained?"

"Yes Sir." I said, quickly.

"Sexual Orientation?"

"Heterosexual, Sir."

 Never ever tried it any other way. Why mess with what you like?

"Have you ever been with a woman?"

"No Sir."

I felt color creeping up my neck.  He waited and I made myself continue
speaking, slowly.

"Almost once, but I'm curious sir."

"Wait there."

I felt them walk away by the changing in the air around me, then snatches
of the conversation they were having over in the other end of the
room. Never a whole sentence, just snippets.  Words like- Willing, Nice
Manners, Not hard to train this one.  Then I heard her say.

"Well, we didn't have anything else planned for the rest of the evening now
that Adam's taken the weekend off. We can ask."

They whispered for a couple of minutes, and then came back to where I was
kneeling on the floor.

"We could really use a good submissive, honey."

Nothing like being in demand.

I heard them talk about fees, contracts, costumes, and hardware.  I thought
I was going to pass out it got so hard to breathe there for a minute.  My
heart hammering in my chest at much faster than its normal rate. I was
dazzled and filled with a sudden sense of unreality. I heard one of them
leave and one came back over to stand in front of me.

"You can stand up."  Traci said.

I did it, noting with some surprise that I was much taller than she was.

"We'd like you to stay for awhile as a trial.  If we like what we see,
we'll include you with our regulars."

I looked at her with curiosity shining in my eyes.

"We have a fully equipped dungeon.  Whips, chains, clamps.  I do erotic
body piercing. You will have an opportunity to pick your safe-word, if you
agree to stay. Once you agree to stay, if you ask to leave it's considered
an act of rebellion. If you use your safe- word to get out of a non-painful
situation. That too, is considered rebellion. If you agree to stay we will
consider you our property and use you as such."

I asked her a question that was important to my answer to them.

"Have you ever had an accident here where anyone got hurt?  Really hurt?"

She smiled with a great deal of pride.

"No, we are more than careful here and have never had an accident with one
of our people. We are always near and always watching."

I looked her straight in the eye.

"Are you secure here?  I cannot afford to have even a whisper of this get
out. It won't ruin me, but it would make my life much more difficult to
live."

She looked at me seriously, as though I had handed her a loaded gun.

"This is the most discreet establishment in the city. We screen our guests
very carefully here. If you become one of our regulars here by the time you
return to us. We will know everything about you that is possible to know."

I believed her.

"I agree."  I said it fast, so that I wouldn't balk.

"Okay, I'll take you someplace to prepare for the festivities."

I blushed.  "I...umm. Already douched.  Twice, both ways."

She looked curiously interested in what I said.

"Were you expecting?"

I shook my head and sheepishly grinned down at her.

"No, Ma'am.  I'm only human. I had a date with Mr. Michigan, later in the
night, if you know what I mean. I was planning on going home alone."

 She laughed. Understanding full well what I was saying to her. She walked
over to a cabinet and got a blindfold.

"You will wear this until we get downstairs."

 I nodded. Traci went behind me and buckled the blindfold carefully around
my eyes, moving my hair out of the way.

"You'll be able to walk until we get there."

That was okay with me. I felt myself giving over to the slave way of
thinking and knew that it was the blindfold. Erotic darkness covering my
senses with velvet night.

Nothing weakens your resolve like a blindfold. It softens you, robs you of
will.  She took my hand and led me slowly out of the study.  I followed
her.

"Careful here."  She said, guiding me a bit to the right of the corridor.

She had me stop, putting my hand on the railing to some steps.  Telling me
that there were thirteen steps to the bottom. I went down, counting
carefully. I could smell leather and rubber with the darker smell of
basement. Jon spoke.

"Bring her over here and strip her down.  I want a good look at the
merchandise."

I quickly felt hands on the laces of my shoes before they were
removed. Then my pants, pantyhose, shirt, bra and finally, my panties. I
was naked.  Another layer of vulnerability exposed to sight. No more false
veneer of civilization. A hand took my elbow and led me forward.

"Spread your legs."  Jon commanded me.

I did it. His hand taking my wrist and deftly securing it with a quick
action to chains above me. Soft wrist cuffs holding it upwards. He did my
other wrist. The heat from his body warming the front of me subtly. Body
heat, very nice, especially in contrast with the coolness of the room. Hint
of danger as I gave up control of my limbs. Pulse bounding.

I heard him walking around me, slowly. I took the chains in my fists and
held on tightly to their comforting solidity. I cocked my head trying to
hear his motion and felt the sharp sudden sting of a strap against the
backs of my thighs, surprising me, making me gasp at the unexpected
delicious pain. It had been too long. I was instantly ready.

"Head up, Anne."

"Yes, Sir."  I said, around the lack of air in my chest.

He put his hands on my breasts and pinched the nipples lightly to make them
hard. I sealed my lips shut. The one thing that I had learned very early on
about the game was that the pleasure was never first. Tonight was to be no
exception. I felt deft fingers closing clamps over the tips of my
nipples. Tightening them expertly to the very threshold of pain. I fought
to keep a groan inside myself.  Sweat breaking out to form a sheen on my
skin.  Hands patted my shoulders and the added weight of the clamps on my
nipples pulled maddeningly. I heard him step back to survey his
handy-work. Moving once again close to me to whisper into my ear. Hand
lightly traveling the curve of my buttock and upper thigh in a lingering
caress.

"Do you like Greek, little bottom?  I do it very well."

I shivered at the thought and couldn't answer because my mouth was suddenly
too dry to speak.

"Since you hesitate to answer my questions.  I need to find no excuse to
punish you, Anne.  You yourself have provided it."  "I'm sorry, sir.  I beg
forgiveness."

"Then answer my question."

"It's been so long that I am frightened."

Truth was a scary thing.  That was also one of the few places that your
virginity actually does grow back and, sad to say, I had let it. I moved
back into comforting ritual.

"If it pleases you, Sir."

He removed the blindfold and I looked around me for the first time at the
dungeon. It must be some unspoken S/M rule that these places are always in
the basement. I saw a large punishment cross in the corner. Several
recessed cabinets and large open spaces. In one corner there was a bar that
Traci was sitting at, sipping a tall glass of what looked like water. Jon
drew my attention back to him.

He put his large hands on my waist drawing my gaze back to the planes and
angles of his face. A roughly handsome face in a rugged sort of way. He
smiled kindly at me with teeth that looked very white and straight in the
indirect lighting.

"When we break a rule. That rule is explained." His voice was matter of
fact. "You, as a slave, have no right to look me, as a Master, in the eye."

I dropped my gaze quickly from his eyes.

"Correct but futile.  We call this the Rule of the Eye."

I nodded.

"Why will you be punished?"

"This slave has broken the Rule of the Eye. I looked you full in the
face. I beg your forgiveness and accept without question, your judgment."

I watched his hands kneading my hips. Hoping that what I had said was
ritualized enough to please him. Falling back into this foreign way of
thinking more easily than I had imagined that I would. Much more easily
than a small part of me hoped.

"Very nicely put, Anne."

"Thank you, sir."  I answered. Waiting for him to continue with his will.

"Tell us how your other Master had you act."

I trembled then, burning with humiliation so intense it was almost like
pain.  I took a breath and spoke the words that Rob had taught me six years
and a lifetime ago.

"I am a submissive. Forever and always beneath my Master or Mistress. I am
to be always graceful, willing and accepting of anything that the Master or
Mistress decides. I will be punished for three reasons; your pleasure,
Infraction of the rules, or my Education. I am to show no preferences of
any kind. I am merely here to serve."

I managed to get it all out without stumbling over any of it.  They seemed
pleased with it.

"What was your safe-word?"  Jon asked.

He flicked the clamps lightly in an effort to distract me from his
words. It almost worked too, but I forced myself to focus on him and him
alone.  My body and my need, secondary.

"Blue, Sir." I gasped out.

The gentle motion of the clamps hurt me slightly, just enough to be almost
luxurious. Traci went to a dry erase board in the corner and wrote the word
`Blue' under a legend that read; Language of a quitter.

I practically winced at the thought.  I wasn't going to say it now, unless
I absolutely had too.  Never, ever.  Not here at least, not tonight on my
first night.

"I will ask you some questions, Anne, so that our time together is fruitful
to both of us. There is severe punishment for lying to me and Traci will be
taking notes so that later down the road I can check your answers from
tonight."  He paced in front of me.  I kept my eyes down and forward.
"What repels you?"

"Nothing really. I have not done very much. I have no interest in certain
foul bodily secretions. I have no idea, Sir."

That was honest. How was I to know what repelled me unless I actually did
it?

He was studying me. Touching my arms lightly, my back. Putting his body
near enough to almost touch me, then drawing away. What was he trying to
do?

"Ever been in a sling before?"

A fisting sling?  My body stiffened with terror.

"No, Sir.  Never, Sir."  I stammered with fear.

"This frightens you?"

He showed some real interest at the thought that I might truly be
frightened of something. My heart trip-hammered. Surely he could hear it.

"It is not my position to deny you, Sir."

Traci said no accidents and I held unto that thought like I was drowning.

"Would you have any objections to being pierced?"

That was a trick question. I had almost had it done a couple of years ago,
just to see if I would like it, but I chickened out.

"No, Sir."  I answered quickly.  "Anyplace but my clitoris, Sir.  I wish to
risk no permanent damage to something that I am quite fond of in my own
way."

 Jon pressed his body suddenly against my back. His hand slipping into the
moist apex of my thighs, making me groan as he touched the small knot of
feeling that we had been discussing. Fingers firm. My sex, wet and
starving.

"Quite the smart-ass, aren't we, Novice?"

"Yes, Sir."

I had to fight to control my words around the rapid surge of fever that
flowed over me. It had been so long and he was so hot.

"Forgive me, Sir."

"You will come to know many exotic pleasures in my house, Anne. I am an
explorer of the sensual."

I was beyond wet.  I could feel it on my thighs- thick, hot, moist.  Smell
the scent of arousal on the air like sweet perfume.

"I will take the time to know you better than you know yourself."

I believed him.

"Your strengths, your weaknesses.  I am always searching for new ways to
open your soul..."

His fingers slid into my sex deftly.

"To my touch."

My legs grew weak and I held tightly to the chains supporting me. His
fingers feeding the desire that was growing inside me to unbearable
proportions. I moaned against my will, softening all over as his fingers
slid home.

"I have traveled the world learning how to torment and treasure. I know the
Fist, The Greek and the feel of slick tight cunt around my cock. I can
safely take you beyond your wildest fantasies."

His voice was a mere breath of sound against my ear.

"Yes, please..."

I begged, beyond shame.  Hoping for. What?  Orgasm?  Acceptance? I closed
my eyes in misery. My spread legs aching terribly. My head rolling into my
arm, helplessly.  I felt my heart in my throat. I ached with desire. A
throbbing, pulsing heat. I tried to speak, but bit it off because I had not
been spoken too. The last of rational thought in my head.

"Speak, Anne."

 He ordered this, never ceasing the gentle motion between my legs. This was
so hard for me. I had never been very good at revealing secrets. Beat me,
but don't ask me why I want you too.

"I'm frightened of who I am, sir."

Soft hands on my shoulders. Traci. The tenderness more of a horrifying
shock than the brutality. More painful, inside, anyways.

"Why?" Jon asked, his voice sounding almost intrigued by what my reply
would be. "Answer me, and never, ever hesitate."

"I fear punishment as much as I crave it.  I fear because it has been so
long and I am so hungry."

Total honesty. Total submission. Letting light into the darkness that was
inside me. The darkness that was my sexuality. Savagely suppressing the
conservative voices of shame that told me this...wonderful feeling would
damn me for all time to the eternal pits of Hell.

"I fear the loss of control."

The true crux of my problem.  I felt tears then, filling my eyes and
captured by the edge of my lashes. "I am not supposed to enjoy..."

"You are bound."

Traci said to reassure me.  Attempting to ease the guilt that flowed
through me.

"We are in control."

I whispered the secret that I had kept to myself so long that to reveal it
was more intimate than the act of love itself.  My voice was low.

"I orgasm under the strap."

Shame spilling the wetness from my eyes. Hands stroking me from both
sides. Jon's low laugh from behind me then his soothing voice in my ear.

"It's very difficult for you, almost unbearable. The guilt. The shame of it
all. It burns your soul with searing intensity."

I nodded.

"Yet, even now you have the power to absolve yourself. There is nothing
wrong with you and nothing wrong with us."

I took a deep breath to regain control.  His hands leaving my shuddering
body.

"Prepare her for punishment."

"Yes, Jon."  Traci answered him.  Her hands falling from me as well.  "Go
with it, Annie.  We'll make it good for all of us."

Flush of desire. Yearning for this. Get the pain over with, so the pleasure
could follow. Build my passion to an unbearable level of heat and need. Set
me free.

I set myself. Rational mind shut off.  Dreading the next few minutes. No
matter how much you crave it or want it. The whippings, paddles and
spankings hurt, even when it absolves the guilt. Even when it makes the
fire between your legs burn white hot. Even when it teaches you about
limits, or your own soul. The bite of leather against flesh will eventually
break you.

Traci stood in front of me with the blindfold in her hands.

"You will not see which one of us is instructing you tonight.  Do you
understand?"  Her tone was matter-of-fact.

"Yes, ma'am."  I affirmed, keeping my eyes forward.  The soft leather
buckled over my eyes and Jon asked me.

"Why will you be punished?"  His tone was hard.  The question direct.  I
answered.

"I, a lowly novice, dared to look you in the eyes. Boldly and without
humility."

I felt my arms lowered to the height of my waist. Hands on my shoulders
pushing me to my knees. I automatically kept my legs open while
kneeling. When I was set very solidly on my knees with no pull on my
shoulders. Someone took the bulk of my hair and laid it over my shoulder,
smoothing it carefully. I remained still, with my head forward.

The blindfold is an amazing device. It's surprisingly calming, yet every
other sense you possess comes completely awake.  I felt air on the hair of
my skin as subtle shifts of pressure. My ears almost preternatural in their
acuity.

It still took me by surprise. The first hard stroke across my buttocks. I
gasped, clutching at the chains with desperate fingers. The strap fell
again and again.

I sealed my lips shut and tried to maintain what was left of my dignity in
extremis. Whoever it was swinging the strap was a real expert. The blows
were evenly spaced, deliciously hard.  Rapidly painful as the blood rushed
to my skin, sensitizing it.  I called on reserves of self-control I didn't
know I possessed.  My safe word a litany in my mind; `blue, blue, blue.'
Yet still I remained silent.

Silent even after the tears started to form in my eyes and wet the
underside of the blindfold. Quiet even after I felt myself breaking open
inside. My head back, body tensing with agonized passion. Orgasm
threatening me with sudden violent release. My own breath harsh in my
ears. Thigh muscles set like stone and trembling with strain. I never even
realized the moment that they had stopped. I struggled against the pain.
Fought not to cum on my knees. My skin slick with sweat.  Hair damp and
inarticulate animal moans coming from deep in my chest.

"Easy now."

Came a tender voice and gentle hands on the back of my neck.

"Good girl."

I collapsed, unable to support my weight even on my knees.  Pulling great
lungfuls of air into starved tissues. Feeling weak all over, soft.

The hands freed my wrists. Letting my arms fall limply to my knees. I felt
a collar being slipped around my neck. I pulled away and hands steadied my
face. Low voices telling me to be still, calm. Just a collar. Wide, but not
too tight. A chain snapped to it.  The gentle tug to the right told me
which direction they wanted me to go in. I remained on my knees, trying to
keep up with normal steps. Feeling carpet under my knees. I ran into a low
bench and waited to be led.

"Climb up, lay on your back."

 Perfect obedience in my every gesture. I strove to be graceful around the
weakness in my limbs. The air perfumed with the scent of sex from the warm
fluids on my thighs. Need, a raw animal wanting, burning through me.

They stretched my arms over my head and secured them. My ankles, as well.

"Why will you be punished?"

I couldn't remember a reason other than the last reason that I had
given. My heart stopped and a spasm jerked my body.

"One crime, one punishment." He said.

"For my education, Sir, or your pleasure."

Someone knelt between my legs and hands touched my sex.  Opening the hot,
wet folds.  Exploring the opening just a little roughly, deliciously.
Where was the pain?  This wasn't pain.  Long fingers entering me gently,
deftly.

I heard the soft sound of cellophane and the hard snap of rubber. A soft
moan escaped my lips. Two fingers, then three.  Testing the width of my
opening, my resilience. Other fingers lifting the hard kernel of my
clitoris and pinching it mildly, tantalizing it, making it grow hard with
demand.

A body moved between my legs. An organ rubbing up my cleft with the pull of
dry rubber slowing it down, making me moan through closed lips. Resting
briefly at the gate of my vagina. Hands rested at the sides of my face. The
cock started to slide home, into my tight well. Breaking through the
resistance of six years of celibacy with a thick wet scraping. Resting
inside me with all the time in the world to fuck me. The ache of dilated
flesh convulsing my cavern as it tried to expel the invading member.

The stiff cock started to move in an age-old rhythm. Rocking my sex. Deeply
in, almost out. Barely brushing the gate of my womb as the hard rhythmic
thrusts roughly worked me to climax.

My senses blazed. The inferno inside me coming quickly to critical
mass. Hard hands took my breasts, changing my focus from my sex to my
breasts. Releasing the clamps so the blood flowed into the deprived tips.
Agony pushing me closer to the pinnacle.  I heard Jon's voice near my ear,
low. Floating from behind me.  Confusing my senses.

"Traci fucks pretty good, doesn't she?"

Overdrive.  It wasn't him pumping me.  It was her. The Mistress expertly
rocking my clitoris against my pubis in that endless, relentless rhythm
that my body knew so well.

"Yes, Sir."  I gritted out between clenched teeth.

`Don't cum. Not now.' I told myself, rolling my head upon the bench under
me. Fighting to restrain the inevitable tide that would take me over the
edge and into the abyss.

"Go ahead, orgasm.  Traci is."

I needed no more encouragement to let myself go.  Abandoning any attempt at
self-control, I arched against the bonds holding me. Widening my legs as
far as I could get them in the bondage to deepen her access to me. She
pushed deeper and harder.

The orgasm swept over me and annihilated me. Rocking the very foundations
of my existence until my breath froze in my lungs. Heart beating as though
trying to escape my chest.  I cried out with it, moaning. Body twitching
with sharp, violent jerks. Hands on my flesh, but whose?  Hers or his?  I
couldn't tell and truly didn't care. Still she did not stop.  Driving me
higher to a new plane of sensual gratification.  I cried out, shrilly. The
litany in my mind becoming tumult `No, don't stop this exquisite torment. I
yield to you. I yield to you.'

"I yield to you."  I whispered.  "I am yours."  I whispered as the next
series of convulsions shook me.

I went beyond thought into animal instinct. The point where only one thing
has any meaning. Sex, pleasure, the pain of touch. Another orgasm swept
me. Bigger, louder, more shattering to my body. Too much! They had to
stop. I could take no more of this unbearable pleasure. I tried to free
myself with uncontrollably frantic movements, but was unable too.

I felt a cock by my lips and took it hard into my throat.  Arching my head
back to take all of it. Deeper into my shuddering mouth. Any distraction
welcome to my fevered mind. Forced to concentrate on what I was doing to
his warm human flesh. The pleasure became more manageable,
all-encompassing. Almost fantasy to me.  Romance in chains.  The organ
pulled from my vagina, leaving it clenching on emptiness. I longed to have
my hands free. `Closer, master. Deeper. Cum in me, please.'  I could feel
the tension in him.  Taste salt-thick fluid leaking from the tip of his
organ like honey on my tongue. `Give it to me, your slave. Favor me by this
simple service to you.' My thoughts a menage of ritual submissive
surrender.

I felt him push harder and my hands were freed from their restraint. By
touching him I knew he faced Traci above me.  Fucking my face without
choking me. I clutched his thighs as he quickened his pace. Shallowing
slightly so he could cum away from my mouth. Thinking that he wasn't going
to let me taste his release. I laughed and held fast. I was not some silly
high school girl afraid to taste of a man. Much less the essence of the
Master.

My grip pushed him over the edge. He went absolutely rigid except for the
sharp uncoordinated motion of his hips. He groaned and hot fluid rolled
over my tongue. I swallowed and went to the very root of his organ. Feeling
the twitches and spurts against the back of my tongue. Tears rolling from
my eyes as I took him into me as far as I could. Devouring his release as
though his essence was the sum total of his power over me. I became the one
in control, because I had allowed him to have me.

I sighed when he left me, hands falling to the bench limply.  Hearing him
breathing above me in a rapidly normalizing cadence. Someone was removing
the blindfold from my damp eyes. Wiping them with gentle fingers, touching
my gently swollen lips lightly.  Ashamed of this surfeit of emotion, I
turned away.

"I know why you cry."  Jon's velvet voice in my ear. "You weep for your
innocence.  Weep that you can no longer be content with what you consider
`normal.'  You've gone too far for that."

Maybe I had gone too far. Forging the pain/pleasure link in bands of iron.

"When you can consider yourself to be a caring, normal person. Someone who
merely needs a harder touch in love-play than someone else. It won't be so
hard for you to seek out what you need, Anne."

Would it really? Could I learn acceptance of myself? I wasn't sure I could,
but I wanted too. Desperately.

Laying on the bench, broken open and drained. I felt closer to normal than
I had in many years. Grateful to the people who had taken me where my body
so wretchedly wanted to go. I felt them undoing my ankles and hands helping
me to sit.

"Go with Traci. She'll take you someplace to shower and then we will need
to talk."

"Yes, sir."

"Call me Jon."

 I nodded at him, speaking slowly.

"Yes, sir."

Then Traci led me out of the dungeon and back up the stairs.


CLEAN UP

What they had done to me was over. Letting me up from my knees, out of the
dungeon. I followed willingly as they led me towards a white bathroom with
a shower. Traci smiling as I reached the plain white door telling me to
clean up if I wanted.  I nodded, silently thinking about the scene between
us.  Thoughts flowing like quicksilver in my mind.  It was oddly kinky,
that she, not him, brought me to orgasm practically passing out from
pleasure. The fact that I found it kinky, kinky to me. My head was like a
three ring circus at times.  Perversity is in the eye of the beholder, is
it not? I knew that I was not gay. I liked men too much to be a lesbian,
but she had reached some unknown part of my response system. I was not sure
what to do about it, but try to think it through. A difficult prospect. At
least to my reasoning. The rationale for picking one sex over the other to
`play' with, are not as clear as they used to be. It's no longer as hard to
cross over that gender line.  I had never done it, not even now. I did not
truly think. Does having a woman fuck you like a man; mean you've slept
with her? Had sex with her? Even my questions were unclear, or were they
just a justification for having enjoyed having her take me to climax? The
thought of putting my hand on her breasts, seemed, well, obscene to
me. `You'd do it if they ordered you, wouldn't you?' That was the crux of
the entire question, when I was in slave mode, and into it. Yes, I would,
just to please them.  It would be part of the whole S/M deal.  Part of my
agreement. My code of conduct. As long as they were protected by latex, and
I wanted the action to continue.  Yes, I would, willingly. So now what did
that make me?

Nothing replaced a man, though. I can't even tell anyone what indefinable
quality it is that makes me like them. They are arrogant, bossy, mostly
irritating, but utterly fascinating.  There is nothing else like one, at
least for me.

I love the feel of big hands. Hot, hard organs inside my slick sex. The
taste of the delicate pre-come droplets that leak from the cleft, after you
start a really long session of hot oral sex. I love the way they grab my
hair before they climax, holding my head into that concealing curly
hair. The smell of secret sex that you only get from burying your head
under their scrotum to lick their furry cracks. Big legs and hairy
buns. Skin both rough, and smooth. I love men.

Women always seemed like equals. Even when a woman is on top with a man,
there's the potential for annihilating violence, contained by lust and
desire. A woman has power over a man.  That's the difference. I had power
over Jon, because of my willingness, my hot sucking mouth. Power because I
was able to take that rough rock-solid organ into my throat and coax the
release from within it, drinking the warm juices with unfeigned
relish. Traci just made me come. Good head trip though, and I did like
her. She reminded me of me. Good imagination and a hot body.

I stepped quickly into steaming hot water, leaning my face against the
clean white tile. Cleansing from my body the scents and sweat of sex. It
was wonderful. Ivory soap and astringent shampoo. Good everyday smells that
brought comfort. My mind slowed to lazy, warm circles. It was all the same
thought; had I gone too far?  How far was too far, and would I know it when
I got there?

The spray was stinging, warm, and almost painful. Aches melting from my
various limbs slowly in the mist. I washed myself slowly, carefully between
my legs. Letting the thoughts clear my head as dirt cleared from my body. I
stepped out of the glass door of the shower to find that Traci was waiting
for me, with a towel. A soft terry cloth robe, held loosely in her
hands. She was grinning at me, and I hid my hotly blushing face partially
behind the towel. She laughed in delight at the visible crinkle around my
eyes. I was grinning too.

"Well, you recovered quickly."

I shrugged, negligently.

"We've never had anyone here handle as much of a mind-fuck as you did
tonight.  Nice job."

I wasn't sure what to say. This was technically my first time in a
situation like this. Were we on, or off?

"You can just talk in here. It's safe." She said.

I marveled at her perception. She seemed to know what I was thinking, and
it had to be from observation. I wasn't saying much.  Okay, nothing.

"Come out, and talk when you're ready."

I was relieved to have a bit of privacy.

"Thanks, Traci."

She turned back to me, assessing me carefully, eyes filled with
intelligence and open interest.

"Did you like it?"

Licking her lips, slowly. As if she couldn't wait to taste me.  Her eyes
glowing with remembered passion. I had never had a woman look at me like
this in my life. She looked at me like a man does...  Shrewdly assessing
the erotic potential of my deep valleys and firm mountains. It was
disconcerting and surprisingly arousing.

"I loved it."

I was telling the truth. I was sure sincerity shone through every part of
my body. I meant it. I felt good. Calm, relaxed. A certain indefinable
tension gone from deep within me, the way I always felt after a really good
fuck. Ready to eat, drink, and think about what I had done. I put the
cream-colored robe on.  It was soft. A comforting heaviness that only good
terrycloth has. The armor of the civilized... A veneer that changed the
very way I walked. I know I stood taller in it.


GENTLE LOVE

Going out the way Traci had. I saw a room with low comfortable pillows and
bright colorful Afghans. A low plain wood table near the floor had wine,
and cheese, set upon it. The harem-like profusion of multi-colored pillows
was wonderfully luxuriant. Every shape, every texture and style. It looked
like a harem. Walls vibrating with a dark vibrant maroon hue. Moldings of
natural woods, carved in delicately twining vine-work. The leaves no bigger
than my thumb. The kind of turn-of-the-century craftsmanship that you only
ever see in these renovated mansions in the heart of the city. Built before
pre-fabrication became the normal way of building.  The carvings were
uniquely appropriate to the room.

I saw Jon lounging against a small pile of fat pillows, smiling at me as
though pleased. I smiled back.

"Wine?"  He asked, and I whispered yes, that would be lovely.

"Sit, get comfortable."

I did. Warm, damp from the shower. The glass of Zinfandel, he handed me,
cool against my fingers. I sipped the wine, declining the cheese. Feeling
one thing. This was heaven. For the first time, in a very long time. I felt
I had an aspiration, beyond work. Here I could be myself and whom I was
inside.  I had no expectations to meet. I was free to be as I truly am.
Jon was studying me carefully, as I looked at the detailing of the room. I
was content, simply happy. Like I had no other prospects, beyond being
content. Did I understand why I felt this way? No, but today the feeling
was enough.

"How do you feel?" He asked me suddenly.

His sharp eyes searched mine.  Strange to look the master in the face.

"I feel great."

Traci laughed in amusement at my reply. Her pale-eyes delighted.

"She means it, Jon." Her hands together in a small tent. "She's not
ashamed, or sickened.  She's bone-deep, truly satisfied."  I was a little
puzzled, wasn't I supposed to be? I thought that was the point. He asked me
another question, patting the low pillows next to him for in an inviting
gesture for me to draw closer.

"How did you feel when you cried?" were his words, as I moved next to him.

 His big hands opening the tie on the robe, exposing my clean body to his
eyes. His hands moving as I watched them to slowly stroke my damp breast
softly.

"When I told you that it was a woman inside you, not me."

My breath caught in my throat.

"What did you feel?"

It was suddenly hard to form coherent thoughts, to put into words the
shattering of my personal preconceptions. His tone was commanding, and I
didn't dare refuse to answer. Over the rapidly rising level of lust in my
heart, I spoke.

"I felt as if you had broken open my soul and peered into the darkness that
I keep hidden from the light."

Brutally honest, and horribly revealing. Panic circled my throat. `Tie me,
Fuck me, but don't know me. Please don't open my spirit to view. Please.' I
thought these things, but did not speak them. His fingers gently
tantalizing my flesh, and soothing the rise of hair on my skin.

"I loved, and hated, you both."

This surprised him. His eyes reaching my face again, as his attention was
captured by the elegance of what I was saying.  How I was expressing
myself.

"Why?"

He truly wanted to know. Traci was behind the table, moving the edibles to
another place along the wall. Carefully out of the way of whatever purpose
Jon had in mind.

"Because you took some of my darkness, into yourself. I had no will and no
thoughts beyond pleasing you, everything else was gone. All that remained
was pulse, flesh, and bone."

I looked down at his hands, moving in lazy circles towards the apex of my
now open thighs.

"It was like you knew me better than I knew myself."

I was practically panting with exertion. He patted the table, and in my
visible, shuddering weakness I climbed upon it.  Seeing his robe parting
before his stiffening cock, rapidly growing rigid, once more. Jon knelt up
between my open legs, taking a condom from his robe's pocket. I watched him
open it, and roll it gently over his own organ. I was floating in the lazy
warmth of the room...Pulse quickening...Skin tingling. His hot eyes meeting
mine as he rubbed the excess lube into my fresh-scrubbed opening.

I was stunned to stillness. Arms limp at my sides. This was not rough, or
mean. His fingers were careful, even soft. Not hurting me, as he spread me
open. Exposing me to his gaze.  I was suddenly confused. Trip-hammer pulse
beating in my breast, my skin heating under his hands. Traci a distant
memory, fading from my thoughts. Panic in my eyes, as he smiled gently. He
carefully slid his thick organ into me, stretching me until I groaned with
rapture.

"I do know you." He said, as he moved leisurely in and out of my moistening
cleft. "A true slave can forget their humanity, and be merely the
flesh. All thought suspended."

He ran butterfly soft fingers over the tips of my breasts until I
shivered. I had no idea what he was doing, or why, but it was taking me to
a new plateau for agonizing abandon.

"Even in tears, your spirit never broke. In the very center of your being
is a core of ice that no one has ever touched, have they?"

I shook my head, looking away, and closing my eyes. This was more
humiliating than anything they could even contemplate doing to me in the
dungeon.

"Look at me." He commanded and I did.  "Traci and I have interviewed many
people in this house. Very few can give us the honesty that you have given
us."

His deliberate thrusts were making me wet again. His unhurried hands on my
clean skin driving me almost crazy; his lazy voice an undercurrent to the
perfect fit of his penis inside me.

"Most submissives like the pain or the humiliation, but not the subtlety of
a good mind trip."

He picked up the pace. His hard fingers joining his cock, at the gate of my
womanhood.  Pinching the clitoris, making it throb with voluptuous
sensuality. Working me softly, so delicately, that my mind filled with
white-hot yearning.  "I want to try something different with you."  Hard to
breathe at the absolute erasure of thought at his words.

"I want the scene to start the night before... The week before...We want to
prepare you, open you. Lay the foundation layer by layer."

His big hands rested on my thighs as he pumped into me furiously. His face
starting to darken with the approach of his climax. I watched him in
breathless, eager anticipation, trying to feel it with him. The power of
intimacy. Wondering at the metamorphosis of ecstasy that changed a man in
control to a ravening beast. It was endlessly fascinating. I writhed
beneath him, helping him to cum. The strong internal muscles of my vagina
squeezing his thick organ mercilessly. His hands becoming hard and
urgent. His thighs hitting my pubis at just the right spot. I was not
surprised to feel our movements pushing me beyond the very edge of
restraint. He was making me orgasm with unadorned vanilla words and gentle
fingers.  The master using me as a real woman and not some abject pet or
thoughtless slave.

That was when he leaned over, and really kissed me. Sliding his tongue into
my open mouth plumbing my very depths.  Twining his tongue around mine
sweetly, like a lover. I felt myself rupture in my soul. My hands
hesitantly rising from my sides, finding his back. Clutching hard at his
buttocks with reckless abandon. Running my sweaty hands desperately up his
searing flesh, holding on for my sanity. Gratification like this had been
unheard of for me for many years. Soft hands in my hair, and slick
indulgence in my deep cavern. I bucked beneath him, like a mare under a
stallion. Opening my legs wrapping them around his waist to give him more
access.  `Deeper, Master. Faster.' Moans coming from deep inside me, in
mindless profusion. I whispered his name over and over. A litany to remind
myself of where I was, and what was really going on. That was when his
velvet lips again silenced my words, my very ideas. His hands cradling my
face to bury it against his hard chest.

"Come on, Baby.  Let it go."  He whispered into my hair. "I want to feel
it.  I want your climax, Baby.  Come for me. Come for me, now."

I couldn't stop it. It flowed from somewhere so deeply buried in my
psyche. It practically shattered me. When I let myself go, I came in his
arms as an equal. Back arched, heart stopped, a scream of raw animal
ecstasy tearing itself from my throat.  Vagina quivering around him, and
clenching him tightly, mindlessly.  Feeling the bold shuddering pinnacle of
his own pleasure by the strong hot jerks of his cock against my sex.  He
clutched me against him hard, and pushed a couple of times deeply into
me. Pulsing against that elusive little ridge of clitoral tissue buried
deeply inside a woman, making me react to him once again. He whispered
against my hair. Patient easy words meant to soothe me. Quiet my racing
heart and still the tremors inside my soul. `What had I done?' A sob caught
in my chest, almost sound, but not quite. He touched my throat, as I turned
my face away from him. More truly tormented by this simple act of normality
than by any elaborate bondage fantasy they could do to me. His tone was
bittersweet, and sad, as he spoke into my ear. His breath making me shiver.

"It's not all pain. Making love, to one, or the other of us, will be
expected of you, tender one."

 Tears again, running silently down my eyes to be kissed away.

"You can take the agony and the orders. It is the tenderness that moves and
scares you, touches you in places that you thought long buried."  He was
right, and terror moved inside me. `Don't be right!  Leave my heart alone!'
It hurt to have him this close.  Knowing that my hands had pulled him
near. My lips had whispered his name. His instrument had taken my vanilla
virginity.

"You want to be here with us. You need to know if this life is what you
want or only a dark fantasy for you. Answer me, Anne."

"Yes."  I whispered painfully.

I wanted, no, needed to know.  I opened my tear-filled suffering eyes into
his loving trusting ones.  Nodding slowly.

"Yes, Jon.  I need to know."

New calmness coming over me. He grabbed the base of the condom, and pulled
his softening flesh from mine. Still laying over me protectively as he
tossed the rubber neatly into a small trash basket. I took a deep breath
suddenly shy. I had no idea what to do now. I looked around the room. Traci
was gone.

"Where?"  I started to ask, but he just laughed. Pulling me off the table,
and holding me against his hairy chest tightly on a nest of soft warm
pillows. Pulling an afghan over the top of us.  Tucking me in.

"I can handle this on my own, dear."

I shook my head.

"Not what you expected?"

I shook my head again.  "I find that the ones who come to us out of a
certain internal desperation."

I stiffened, offended, to move away, but he stopped me. Arms tightening
their hold.

"Not that kind of desperation, but someone treated to a pleasurable taste
of the strap. The barest amount of bondage or servitude. Often think that
in order to enjoy the Life, they have to give up the sweet gentle
tenderness of vanilla sex."

This astounded me. Although why I had ever thought of my sexuality as a
sacrifice, was a concept beyond me. The thing was that I had accepted the
loss of `normal' lovemaking as a matter of course. I spoke up, interested
in this idea. This intriguingly foreign concept.

"You make love to everyone who comes here?"  I asked my voice low.

Curious to what he would say to me, because everything that he was saying
had the ring of truth to it. Logical progression.

"Had you been a lesbian. You would be in Traci's arms right now, but yes. I
make love to all applicants gently at least once in the first week
here. Your willingness to partake of this `delicacy' has given me some
valuable insight into your mind.  This is very hard for you, isn't it?"

I nodded.  He hugged me tighter until I relaxed against him. Almost
enjoying the simple closeness he was giving me. How long since I had just
been held and not pushed away after an empty act of sex? The hurried oral
sex in a car, the quickie?  I allowed myself to bask in his presence near
me, touching some empty place in my heart, that I knew he was filling. He
continued speaking. The simple elegance of his mind, flowing into mine.

"Pain is always easier to bear, but not all is pain. When I give you to a
guest here, this may be the service that they require of you. A simple act
of love."

"What is love?"  I asked suddenly, angrily.

The mercurial thoughts flowing like water out of me.

"How can you tell?  Is it you coming inside me? Is it the simple human act
of touching another person and feeling the essence of that person? Is it
not judging another person when they wake in the morning?" I sighed.  "I
have never had love. This simple act of love that you describe is beyond
me. Lying in your arms, right now is so profoundly kinky to me. I barely
know how to act."

He laughed a little sadly.

"Love is what you make of it. It is weak and strong. Firm and soft. I love
Traci and cannot imagine not rising to her every day. We think alike, and
enjoy the same things. We don't deny each other's sensuality or desire for
others. I love some of the slaves I've trained, and let other masters, or
mistresses, have. I love you."

I shook my head, and laid it against his chest in mild disbelief. A long
sigh escaping me.

"You don't understand?"

Not really. Well, maybe I did on some lower level.

"I love every person who ends up here. The outsiders searching for
acceptance."

"Is that what I am?"

I said it so haughtily, that Jon laughed out loud. I did too.  It was
true. All my life I had felt like the kid on the outside of a birthday
party, looking at all the other `normal' kids having fun. Wondering what
set me apart from them. What made them normal?

"I understand, and you're right."  I sighed.  "For all my life. I've tested
the limits of acceptable behavior. Just so far, and no more. Hiding,
terrified."

He nodded in complete understanding.

"There is steel inside me. Forged by holding back from every aspect of my
life. Never giving up control. Unable to let go."

I played with the tangled hairs in the center of his chest.

"Tonight felt good. I cannot guarantee to will be perfection or good all
the time."  I took a deep breath. "The thing is. I like you both. I would
like to do this with you. If you'll have me here. I never expected what I
got here, and I enjoyed the surprises."

There was an easy silence between us now. I could hear the slow steady beat
of his heart under my ear. Feel his pulse under my fingers. Alive, warm,
feeling.

"You've seen a contract?"  He asked, as he rubbed my back under the robe.

My mouth went dry at the sudden business-like hardness in his voice.

"Yes, One form of it."

My voice was small. It was a safeguard, a surety against accidents. An
agreement with a checklist attached to it that had limits and preferences,
for the dominant to play with. So far, no more. I felt an undefined tension
melt from my shoulders.  Another layer exposed by a firm set of rules.

"I'll give you a copy to memorize, and you will be tested on it.  The rules
we operate under here are very strict. We train slaves, and find them a
place with a master to love them."

His voice was very matter of fact, and precise.

"Like a dating, matchmaking kind of thing?"

He roared outright at this, hugging me closer to him. As if I was some kind
of rare treasure that he had found on the street in a lucky twist of fate.

"For three months, as our schedule and yours allows. We will train you in
our ways of pleasure. It will be difficult, and uncomfortable. Be prepared
for that, and always remember it.  It is what we do, and who we are. Be
very clear on that part of it.  This kind of `normal' love is a rare
occurrence for us."

I nodded.

"At the end of that time, we will either find you a master or mistress to
subsidize your visits here, or send you on your way to someplace where you
can get what you need. Do you understand?"

Slower nod this time, as fear again shook me.

"Read the contract this week, learn what you can from it. Think about it
seriously. I am hard, and demanding, but I turn out artists. Traci is the
same way. Our people are in demand in the Inner Circles, and I have seen
some of my people live the life full-time after my teaching, but it will
not be easy."

Inner Circle?  Full-time?  Dazzling possibilities.

"Nothing worthwhile ever is."  I said, simply.

I meant it.  He patted me absently.

"I cannot go on, just thinking about what I might be missing.  Everything
you've said has had the ring of truth to it. I will do what you suggest,
and think about it carefully, Jon. I do not think I'll change my mind. I
have always had these feelings, and I will go absolutely crazy if I have to
deal with one more amateur or unsafe situation, in order to have the kind
of mind-blowing orgasm I had when you told me it was Traci in me tonight."

He chuckled in my ear, and leaned up to grab the glass of wine on the floor
by the table.  He offered it to me, and I sipped it.

"What you have described to me sounds good.  I would like to have the
opportunity."

"There are some rules that you'll have to follow this week, and come back
next weekend to start."

I sighed in gratitude.  My head bobbing in assent.

"Your orgasm is mine, no private stimulation. No outside contacts and no
talking about our existence here. Can you agree to that?"

He sounded very serious about this, and it was easy to agree.  Who would I
tell? My mom? That's a pleasant thought. She'd have me at Maumee Valley
Psychiatric before I had the words out. No, I could be silent, easily so.

"Yes, I think so. The no private stimulation will be the hardest part, but
I won't disappoint you."

He smiled good-naturedly, eyebrows together in a playful little frown over
his dark-eyes.

"I know you have your own toys, so to speak. All beginners do. Bring them
here to avoid temptation. You will have a locker and a bath servant
assigned to you on Friday night. He will be in charge of you when you are
here. He will bathe you, cleanse you internally, and generally prepare you
for any activities that we have planned for the night."

His tone was matter of fact.  Business-like.

"You will be the lowest of the low here. Every single person will have
access to you. They will be able to use your body, your hot little mouth,
or your hungry tight ass, if they want too. You will have no choice in the
matter. If you resist them, or try to use your safe-word to avoid
satisfying them. You will be forced. Can you truly accept that, Anne?"

I did not know how to explain what his words had done to me.  The sudden
tightening in my sex. The first wave of eager anticipation flowing wetly
unto my thighs, so I took his hand to lead it down to the burgeoning
slickness. He found it, fondled it. Smiled in pleased amusement at
it. Putting his drenched fingers in my mouth so I could taste my own smoky
arousal. I practically swooned.

"No more for you tonight, little one. I want you eager and ready for me
next week. Like you are now. Traci will want a taste of you next time, and
you will need to accept the fact that your own heterosexuality has no
meaning here. Slaves cannot choose."

I accepted that. Part of the job.

"I think you'll do pretty well here, and at the end of the training time I
will find you a master to torment, and love you, as you need to be."

His words gave me a frisson of anticipation. Something to look forward
too. I wanted to belong somewhere, have people accept me for what I was. I
was tired of hiding my true nature all the time. I wanted out of the
darkness that I was trapped in.  His words would have shocked the straight,
repressed people I dealt with every day, but to me they were like someone
had main-lined a powerful aphrodisiac, pumping the blood straight down to
the apex of my thighs. How could I spend a week like this without? Well,
taking care of it myself? Sweet torment, but then he knew that, didn't he?

I lay quietly in his arms, talking softly for the rest of evening.
Acquiescing to the fact that he was going to hold me until he tired of it,
and that part of me liked the gentle male attention for a change. I
continually surprise myself in the most shocking ways.

That night when I finally went to my home. I slept truly well for the first
time in at least a year. Dreamlessly, easily. I had with me a packet of
papers to look at, and attempt to memorize. Traci grinning knowingly at me,
when Jon led me to the door to say good night. There was no malice in her
face, and the kind light in her eyes told me that what had occurred was a
normal and accepted thing with them. Extraordinary people. I liked them; a
lot more than was good for me probably. Considering my new position.

I drove home slowly; listening absently to an erotic book on tape I had
just bought that week. Tonight it was not going to be a problem, Tomorrow,
well maybe. By Friday? Torture.  I slid into my big, soft bed, after
another quick shower. Sated, abraded and very satisfied. I fell asleep
quickly, and did not dream.



REALITY DRONE

I awakened the next day anticipating the weekend to come.  They had taken
my name and number, made an appointment for me at a local doctor for the
next week, which was associated with them somehow. I didn't want to think
about that too much. Too big a mind-blower. I wouldn't want to be tortured
by someone that knew as much about the human body as a doctor. They had
given me a copy of the contract to sign, and I felt a shiver of
anticipation. Half dread, half-lust. My life was already changing. Taking
on a new erotic luster.

I knew I needed to explore this side of myself, and I considered myself
pretty lucky to have found Jon and Traci so easily.  Many were not as
lucky. They spent their lives denying the reality of their lusts. Denying
themselves and suffering needlessly. I didn't feel like I wanted to do
that. I would rather face myself straight on than attempt an end-run around
my psyche. You can never escape yourself anyways. You are there in the
mirror everyday.

I signed the contract that night, using big bold strokes from my favorite
pen. The flamboyant letters jumping out of the pages at me. I started
filling my journal with the flashes of lusty heat I was feeling in
ever-increasing increments. It felt good.

It felt real good.

To say that work sucked that week would have been putting it mildly. It is
very hard to concentrate on facts, and figures, when you're thinking about
your sexual fate. I did think about it, almost every minute. I played by
Jon's rules but I regretted it. Yes, again, almost every minute. Usually
just about the time my thoughts would wander for the fortieth time in as
many minutes, when I wondered if I would need a spatula to stand up from my
chair. Something to break the suction with.  Every maddening, tormented
second, I regretted being a `good girl.'

All I thought of was sex. Not the regular kind, no that would be too easy
to dismiss. The kind of sex that I liked was what I thought about. Every
man I saw was a fantasy. Every woman a sex object. Questions floated in
lazy erotic rhythm through my fevered thoughts. How do these nameless
strangers taste?  What kind of orgasms do they have? Do they moan, or cry
out? Could I make them come? Dangerous thoughts, not so easily dismissed
from the rapidly increasing pulse of desire that was moving them to the
front of my mind.

I was wet and horny, all week long. I filled my journal with these
wandering thoughts. Fantasies that haunted my imagination all day long at
the very edge of cognizant thought.  My world became an erotic playground.

There was this one particular little number that wandered quietly into my
brain that I had to repeatedly push away. It's quite a trip.

OPEN DESIRES: FANTASY

We had been talking about sex for days as we drove together on the open
road. The how's, why's, and when's. The unusual, and the common. On the
Net, and in the home. Innocent conversation, or so I thought.  Erotic
wordplay. Maddening, especially for me. For five years I had gone without
by choice.  It had been offered to me and refused, on several occasions.
The wrong time, or someone I had no interest in, or someone that wanted
more of me than I wanted to give. They wanted to control or break
me. Things I would not allow. Nothing personal.

I could feel it building inside me to almost unbearable proportions.  A
time bomb and, then, he said something so uncommon, I could barely
respond. It took the breath from my lungs and sent my pulse into heated
overload.

"You know I go home, and take care of this myself."

I knew what he was talking about, and, God, what a waste.  I felt the
intoxicating pulse of danger flowing through my veins.

"No one will see us out here."  He said, voice low, raw with lust.

It was true and tempting. I wanted it, too.

Looking out the window and assessing the risk over the rush of adrenaline
in my body.  I could suddenly smell him. Hot, willing, male animal. A
savage scent.

Five years of living with women. Surrounded by them and their delicate
sensibilities. Missing the scent, touch and feel of male. Strong hands and
hard thighs. I was instantly aroused, lust blossoming between my thighs in
imperative wetness.  Darkness around us. No buildings.  No people. Feeling
the temptation of Sex without Strings. Release without Regret.  Flesh alone
speaking to me.

I looked at him, puzzled by my inexplicable hunger for him.  Why him? He
who had angered me beyond reason. Enraged me past all thought before he
even knew me. Why would he tempt me? How could he be the cause of all
this...heat?  Suddenly, I didn't care. I crossed the line from civilized to
bestial. My eyes narrowing with determination.

"Let's go in back."

 Asking for what I wanted for the first time in a long time.

"I want to give some head."

I know my voice had that edge to it. The `let's do it now, before I lose my
nerve', edge. We did. Quickly climbing back into darkness and faceless
anonymity. I practically raped him.  Feeling sexual power flowing through
me. I wanted my hands on his flesh and more I wanted his cock in my
mouth. Letting him kiss me and touch my face. His lips hard, sweet.
Breathing in the smell of cologne, tobacco and skin. Running my teeth down
his neck sensing his eagerness. Savoring the salt of flesh against my
tongue.  Too long for me.  It's been too long. I want fast and hard. Needed
to take the edge off before I could slow down. He let me, saying nothing,
not protesting my speed. Not protesting the driving urgency that was
energizing my hands, my body. I was the one holding back so I wouldn't mark
him with my lips, my nails. It was an effort of pure will.

His hands cupping me through my clothes, creating a burning need. Hands
finding my breasts through my shirt and under my shirt. I know I moaned, a
low animal noise of want, escaping my clenched teeth. I murmured I wouldn't
mark him. Promise, no one will know, but us. I wanted to bite the buttons
from his shirt and bare his skin. Fighting for control through a haze of
red-hot craving. I started pulling his belt free with quick efficient
movements of my fingers. Opening his pants and ignoring the sensible voice
in my head that whispered he was dangerous. Hazardous because of his
willingness to play.  His enthusiastic arousal of the beast inside
me. Making me hot and wet. Willing to revel in the feel and taste of the
flesh.  I pulled him out with hands that shook and found him hard.
Ready. Musky clean tang of his body filling my head. Droplets leaking from
the tip of his cock, begging to be tasted tantalized. Dewy moisture that
flowed over my tongue as I closed eager lips over his organ taking as much
of him as I could into my throat, practically coming as he filled me.
Gripping his thighs, his lean hips, with my hands. Teasing him with my
lips.  Flicking my tongue and creating a deep pulling suction as I
descended on him fully. Hearing him moan my name above me as I searched for
his rhythm. His hands finding my hair as he tensed.  I could do this, I
remembered this. The feel of cock in my throat and the pulling moisture I
felt between my legs. My mouth inflaming him. His thighs flexing under my
hands. Holding my head and gently guiding it for full effect. Long minutes
of willing passion building to zenith.

He was going to come. I could feel him hardening and filling more of my
mouth. I took him deeper, faster. My own orgasm building between my
legs. Part power, part need. His fingers flexing against my scalp.  `Come
for me.'  I thought. `I want it.' All this anticipation moving through my
head, until I had no thoughts but the release. Following instinct to its
climax. I felt soft jerks in my mouth and followed it down. Burying him
deep in my throat as he swelled inside me. Filling my mouth with the salt
and sour of his essence. I swallowed his gift.  Teasing all of it from him,
licking it softly. Orgasmic on my knees before him. Trying to catch my
breath, as it swept me.  My fingers digging helplessly into his
thighs. Immobilized for several long moments. Spent, head resting against
his knees.  Uncaring of anything but the pleasure sweeping my body.
Wishing for more time and more room.

I came back to myself slowly, helping him cover himself. Tucking, zipping,
buckling. Fighting the urge to do it again and this time, letting his
fingers find my wet flesh. Almost losing control and giving into it. My
shaking fingers stroking him through the dense, rough wool of his
pants. Maddening.  I felt a small burning ridge on the inside of my upper
lip; it sent a shiver of desire through me as my tongue stroked it.  The
taste of him still on my tongue. Desire forming a knot inside me. My body
soft and mind whirling, as we drove off into the blackness of the
road. Talking softly as if nothing had happened. No change in the everyday
scheme of things.

Not love, lust. Pure release and no small amount of danger.  Out in the
open, and away from the everyday garbage that ruled our lives. No future
and no past. Would I do it again?  Yes, I would, for one simple reason. I
want too.


GIRL'S NIGHT OUT

Very hard to get rid of that one. Subtle, pleasant. A little
vanilla. Implied bondage. I thought about that particular tidbit quite a
lot. What else could I do?  I was playing by the rules, because I didn't
want to blow it. I was looking forward to an experience well beyond the
everyday scope of my existence.  The boring, mundane, 9-to-5 drill I went
through five/fifty-two/twelve. I'm still not sure how I did it. It was
Thursday, the day I regularly went out with some of the girls from work
that reality hit.  I had been a little bitchy that day. I'm thirty-two, and
hitting my peak if you know what I mean. I wasn't even getting the mild
relief I gave to myself. Janie, my secretary, was practically drooling on
this Yuppie banker type across the bar. At a Yuppie bar, in a Yuppie
neighborhood. Three executive women sipping white wine, and making jokes
about the lack of love in our lives. Work, work and more work.

The thing was. This guy was nothing special, and I was so frigging horny. I
would have laid him on the bar in a second flat. My whole week had been
that way. I had more sexual energy at my disposal than the Milky Way has
stars. I spent all week dripping, drenched, and thoroughly saturated.  My
world having an erotic undertone with every passing fantasy I constructed
in my brain. My very out-look had changed.  Not so just everyone would
notice, but some of them did. The eyes of some of the men at work followed
me in a puzzled sort of way. Liking, and repelled, by what they sensed in
me. I put on underwear that showed off my body. Make-up that accented my
hot-eyes.  I attracted more attention than I ever had in my life. The thing
was, I had promised not to do anything about it.

What surprised me most was how I was looking at other women now. I had
always been a solid Kinsey three. Fantasizing about men, and women
equally. I had just never really wanted the hassles of crossing the gender
line.  I was to middle of the road.  I just always chose men as sex
partners.  It was the easier, socially acceptable, cowards way out.  It was
also a personally preferred choice. Men are hard. Harder than we are. Hard
organs, hard hands in your hair. Rough palms on your breasts. Thick fingers
in your sex or your ass.  It's feeling helpless under their strength. Hairy
chests, legs, and openings.  Being mastered physically, and not through the
delicate intricacies of a head-trip. This new point of view frightened, and
excited me. All at the same time. Lending an air of carnality to everything
that I did. Every word I uttered. Every gesture. I was thinking about this
one concept so hard, that I missed Janie's question.

"Jesus, Annie.  You've been on Mars all fucking week. Are you PMS?"

I shook my head, no.

"How often do you fantasize?"

They appeared eager for my response.

"All the time."  Smiling sweetly.

They laughed, drawing attention to our little group.

"A good orgasm, releases a lot of... tension."

They really howled at that.

"You are more like a man, than any of us." Janie said, with a giggle.

They all nodded in agreement. I asked her to explain herself. I was
puzzled.

"You don't think like we do." She replied. "You enjoy watching us, and you
enjoy our company. However, a lot of what we, as women do, puzzles you."

True, but I remained quiet, listening intently.  "You take less shit than
most of the guys we work for, yet seem to be more of a woman than they
could handle."  Lydia twittered, adding jokingly.

"You scare the hell out of them, Annie!"

We all laughed, even me. I was thinking about it, though. We had laughter,
friendship. Yet I was as much of an outsider here as anywhere else. It was
disconcerting. We quipped, blew off a couple of the bolder men daring to
approach our little bitch group. We had the same kind of generic good time
that we always had. About as satisfying as a meal at Denny's on Christmas
Eve.

I went home that night to my sterile little world, and thought about what
they had said for most of the night. I could see what they were saying
about me, but why would they suddenly say it now? What was different about
me? Why would I scare anyone?


LAST DAY

Friday... At last. When I had gotten home last night the message machine
had been flashing, but I hadn't listened to it until today. It was Traci's
voice.

 "Six o'clock Sharp."

That was a mean thing to do to me. Not real good for my staff either. I
kept everyone so busy that they almost hated me by the end of the day. I
wanted time to fly. Bob, my boss, came over to my area surveying my little
industrious group for several long moments. He observed me, and the way I
was working, saying loudly.

"This company hires more psychiatric patients, all women, than anyplace
else that I've worked."

I looked up over my glasses at him, coldly, bitchily.

"You ladies, are out of your minds to work like this on a Friday."

My staff didn't say anything, but I'm sure they agreed. I had to respond,
just this once to his male-related, macho bullshit.

"Bob, have you ever once thought, that maybe working within this bunch of
sub-moronic, medieval cretins day-after-day, simply takes a mentally
healthy woman and drives her batshit after a couple of years?"

The others around me howled and passed the exchange down the line. Bob was
visibly stumped, unable to muster a suitable reply. He tried to chuckle,
but it had that sickly sound that some men make when they barely get a joke
and it pisses them off.  I knew his look and it was; `I owe you one.' All
that meant was that I would have to watch my back. That was okay. I'm a
fucking barracuda at work. It's part of my charm.

The day drew nearer to its close and I felt my pulse slowly going up in
anticipation. At 4:46 PM I wanted to rip my hair out by the roots. This was
agony. Being boss when I wanted to be... Upside down and taking orders?]
God, I hated that little voice in my head.  I know everyone has one, but I
always seemed to be arguing with mine. Telling it, that it was right, but
to please shut-up. I
want-what-I-want-and-thank-you-so-much-fuck-off-now. That kind of thing.

I had told everyone that asked about my plans that I was going out of town
for two days and could not be reached. Implying death to anyone that
bothered me on my much-needed retreat from the world-at-large. I felt my
attitude starting to change the later it got and I went over my
preparations in my head one more time. All my `toys' were in duffel bag in
the car. I had followed the `rules' for the week. I had memorized the rule
packet; Jon had given me, in my copious spare time. I had filled out all
the paperwork, they had included. Most of it fairly mundane. I had been
`good.'

I didn't like the fact that I would have to go there straight from
work. Dirty clothes and work-stained body. Unfortunately, if I wanted to be
there by six sharp and I did...I would have no choice against rush-hour
traffic in the city.

5:00 PM- I noticed the time with a shock and trying to walk sedately to my
car was deliberately agonizing. The sanctuary of my car no real help for my
situation. I drove fairly fast for me. Especially in the parking lot-like
conditions, but I made it with five whole minutes to spare. I wanted
desperately to be there on time, shivering at the thought of punishment for
tardiness. Taking my bag from the backseat, I went to the door. Standing in
front of it for the last three minutes, then at 6:00 PM sharp. I found
myself ringing the bell. Someone I did not know answered it.


THE HANDLER

"I'm here to see Jon and Traci."  I stammered quickly, going beet-red.

Not meeting the cold green eyes that looked down from above me. Thick,
shaggy dark-hair. I hoped to God, I had the right house.

"Come in."  He ordered.  I did so immediately. Standing in the foyer with
my bag. The broad wooden door was pushed shut behind me and a big hand
closed on the back of my neck. I fell to my knees quickly, bowing my head.

"When that door closes from now on, you're `property,' and property is
never on its feet without special permission."

"Good thing I'm not the Avon lady." I quipped over my shoulder
sarcastically, hearing a soft chuckle behind me.

"That's five for insubordination."

I bit my lip. `Shit.' I thought.

"Any other amusing comments?"  He said in a low purposeful voice.

"No. Sir."

I said it through tightly clenched teeth. Unsure of his title.  Who was
this guy?

"I am your Handler and you can address me as such."

"Yes, Handler."

Handler? Horses had handlers but wait, I had read about them in that packet
and Jon had said something about assigning someone to me to groom me last
week at our little vanilla playtime. Someone to bathe me and such. It
couldn't be him, could it? Not this gorgeous specimen of male flesh. Tall,
broad. Big. I damn near fainted at the sudden lack of air in my lungs.

"Follow me.  They are waiting for you in the study.  I don't have to remind
you to do it on your knees, do I?"

"No, Handler."  I said.

I put the duffel bag handle between my teeth, trying desperately to keep up
with him. Down the long, dark hallway.  The marble tile harsh under my
hands and knees. So much for my panty hose. At least, I knew where I was
going. I had been to the study last weekend. It was the other rooms of the
house, which the mere thought of, turned my body into drenching quivering
submission.

The Handler stood in front of the door and knocked softly.  I heard Jon
say.

"Bring her in."


The door opened before me and I followed Adam into the study. Same soft
carpet that I had felt before. Traci, dressed in a blue leather mini-dress,
sitting on the sofa in relaxation. Jon standing by the fireplace in soft
black leather pants that were molded to his body like he wore them a
lot. Soft white billowy shirt open at the throat. They were smiling as
though anticipating my arrival. They probably had, but not as much as I
did. The low buzz of sexual tension in my body went up a notch. Traci stood
and came to stand before us. Looking down at me coldly. I felt my heart
triple its rate in my chest. She was so much more frightening than Jon
was. Colder, more calculating. She was just more. I kept my eyes down
looking at very expensive thigh high boots of black patent encasing her
strong calves. I kissed the boot quickly, just because it was close enough
to do so without falling on my face. Nothing outlandish, just a quick peck
on the toe to show my respect.

"Did you bring back the things I gave you last week?"  I dropped the duffel
bag from my teeth to the floor to answer her, quickly. Urgently speaking in
a low and hopefully respectful voice.

"Yes, Mistress."

I opened the duffel bag taking out the folder that I had put everything
into. Putting it into my mouth before gently giving it to her.

"Did you memorize the page of rules?"

I saw her pick up the folder, hearing it being opened over my head.

"Yes, mistress."

She asked me to kneel up and hold my head straight to recite the rules. I
did it letter perfect, I thought. Keeping my eyes below the level of their
chest. They read while I did this. My voice clear in the quiet room. Traci
held the list of options that they had given me. Her eyes narrowing and she
drew a sharp intake of breath. When she spoke, her voice was clinically
hard.

"You marked several items, No, on this list. I will go over them
one-by-one, asking your reasons. If they are valid they may be
considered. However the wishes of those above you will come first."

She looked down at the list before her. I answered her respectfully.

"Age play?"

It was the first item on the alphabetical list.

"I have no interest in being with, or being considered, a child.  I am a
consenting adult and feel any activity that uses me as a child is
perverted."

Jon chuckled, repeating the word, perverted, under his breath.  I tried not
to laugh at the amusement in his tone. It was kind of funny.

"Daddy's girl?"

That was the only thing on the list that actually made me queasy.  Yuck.

"If you had met my daddy, Mistress, you wouldn't have to ask."  I quipped
lightly.

A rough hand on the back of my neck forced my head to the floor
harshly. Adam's flinty voice over my head.

"That's five more, Annie, for disrespect.  Keep it up."

The Handler sounded pissed and I groveled quickly. Not wanting to spend the
rest of the night on any one of the big punishment crosses I saw in the
basement last weekend.

"Forgive me, Mistress. I meant no disrespect to you, Mistress."

She read the last of the items. Public Sex. What would the guys at the
office say?  Shaving. I like the hair between my legs.  It's an old friend.
Tickling. Too much like vanilla sex for me, thank you very much.  I heard
her speaking to Jon in a low voice.

"Your discussion list will be handled as it comes up. Any items that you do
not recognize will be explained to you. The house doctor has been
contacted, and Adam will take you on Thursday night."

She paused and composed her words carefully for full effect.

"For this next month, you will consider yourself the property of Jon."

I felt an unknown tension fall from my shoulders with relief.  A feeling of
dread that I had not even known I felt leave me quickly.  I lay my head
against the carpet for a moment.  Thank you, Traci.  I thought.

"All initial training and tasks will be assigned by him and for his
pleasure.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress.  Thank you, Mistress."

She laughed softly. As though my relief had been a tangible thing in the
air. She ordered Adam to clean me up and get me out of the work-stained
clothes that I was in. Her voice filled with a mild disgust that a slave
would dare be in her presence in clothing. I again picked up the duffel bag
with my teeth.

"I'll have her in the training class in an hour, Traci."

Adam turned abruptly and I kept up with difficulty. Staying to his left
side at heel. Standard `Pet' behavior. I would have no higher reason until
I earned it.  I tried to let my thoughts go blank, but I could not. What
the hell was the training class?  I kept looking for calmness. Trying to
leave the smart-ass work attitude outside. It was going to be difficult.


THE BATH CHAMBER

On the way up the stairs as I began to tire. I felt my body starting to
heat up. Slowly warming to above normal temperature as my imagination took
me into `training class.' My head seemed to reach a new efficiency for
dealing with thoughts of sex. I was just getting into it when Adam abruptly
stopped and opened the door to a bath chamber. This was not a
bathroom. Bathrooms are typically small and cramped.  Mostly cold
tile. This room was palatial. Gold-shot black wallpaper and black marble
tile.

Soft black carpet on the floor. Indirect lighting. Straight across from the
door was a sunken tub with air jets bubbling cheerfully. Tropical plants
hanging over it. To the left, was a thick marble column with handles at
shoulder height. Whips and paddles made of rubber hanging on the wall next
to it.  Almost behind the door was a black toilet and bidet. Hidden behind
a low wall of glass block. Spigots on the wall and a shower. Two black
vinyl massage tables. A black marble block in the very center with a basket
on it. The outside walls covered with the inevitable bank of cupboards and
everywhere there were piles of thick, fluffy, black towels. The temperature
was warm and welcoming.

"Come inside and go to the block. Remove your clothes and place them neatly
in the basket with all your personal items."

It was an order not a question, so I just did it. Taking my journal out of
my duffel bag to lay it in the basket.

"What is that book?" came Adam's cold voice.

"It is my journal, Handler." I said. "I write in it every night, Handler.
It goes everywhere with me."  It was the truth. It did come everywhere with
me. Everywhere important anyways. Like here for instance. I felt crimson
color creeping up my neck slowly. I never stopped taking off my clothes,
however. Even if disrobing in front of a stranger was new to me. I just did
it. He'd seen it before I was sure. I didn't know if bringing my journal in
was a good idea, but I couldn't leave it at home there was too much in
it. I also did not want it in the bag with the toys. Dumping it in bleach
with the gadgets wouldn't have done it any good either. Just a small breach
of slave etiquette. I heard the soft ringing of a phone.  Adam answered it,
as I finished taking off my work clothes, noticing that my pantyhose were
ruined.  I'd never wear them here again. He didn't look at me, but I stood
stock-still before the basket afraid to move.

"Right away, Jon."  He said as he hung up.

He walked towards me, taking the journal from the top of the basket then
walked out the door. It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. I
didn't move, but I freaked. My own private soul had just walked out the
door and I had allowed it, foolishly bringing enough psychological dynamite
with me to blow my character wide open to view. Thoughts, feelings, fears
and fantasies. All my personal philosophy was in those hand-written pages,
I struggled to remain composed.  Suddenly, I just let it go.

"Oh well, what the Hell." I said aloud.

 Better to have all the cards on the table. I expected to be revealed, but
not quite as much as the journal would expose me to scrutiny. It was all a
head game, right? That's what I thought until Adam came back.

"Five More. Do you know why?"  I sighed, realizing quickly that the room
was bugged, or under surveillance. Probably the big mirror behind the
column. Part of training class?

"For speaking without being spoken too and profanity, Handler."

He nodded in assent. Fifteen already and I hadn't even been here thirty
minutes. I was trying so hard too.

"What have you learned from this?"

Heavy duty, now he wanted me to think. Was this allowed?  I answered
respectfully, voice quaking a little with fear.

"I am never alone, Handler. My every action is witnessed and judged for
whether or not it pleases my master."

That seemed to be the correct clarification. I was kind of surprised that
it fell so easily from my tongue. Voice training had been another lifetime
ago, but Rob was very particular about how I said what I did say. The slave
mentality taking over my thoughts, easily mutating me to servitude. I
wanted to make them happy, when they were happy. They would in turn satisfy
the fire burning through my own body. That was the object, and it was a
reward and punishment sort of deal. I understood that. I was awfully glad
that I had memorized the rules, before I got here. It made it easier to
recognize when I broke one. `Face it; it made it easier to formulate glib
explanations for my fuck-ups.'

Adam stood before me, as I stood by the pedestal-like block.  Moving closer
to me with deliberate intensity. An intense look on his handsome face. He
bent me at the waist and I opened my thighs quickly. Never ever close your
legs, or your mouth.  Always ready for access. I heard him doing something
when he moved behind me. I didn't turn to him though. I merely
waited. Wondering what was coming, but not too much. I had earned the
strap, and that was what I expected from him.

When his organ slipped into me it was a complete surprise.  I was pushed
further over to feel the cold marble under my breasts.  My belly pressed
downwards. He put his hands on the small of my back, heavy and cruel. His
big body restricting mine against the hard unyielding surface. He did not
care about my comfort. Adam merely clutched my hips, crudely, and rammed
his organ into me, seeking only his own release.  He was practically raping
me. Ignoring the gasps and cries that his sudden assault tore from me. That
I was getting some small pleasure from his body in mine was just enough to
shame me into not struggling against him.

My thoughts were a litany. `Accept, accept, accept,' but it was so hard!  I
clenched my hands into tight fists, gritting my teeth against the use being
of made of me. So hard to do that though, because at the first deep thrust,
the inferno inside me came to vibrant, vivid life. One small touch between
my legs would have boiled the orgasms over me in an excess of untimely
discharge. There was nothing else for me to do.  Grabbing tightly to the
edge of the block and holding myself up close to the coolness was all I
could do. I knew somehow that my own release was not the purpose of what he
was doing.  Some instinct told me that if I came at this moment I would be
denied release for the rest of the weekend.  This purposeless brutality was
merely discharge for him, so he could touch me without wanting me. I heard
him speaking, as he leaned over my back.

"Tighten those cunt muscles for me, slave. I want it tighter than
this. Squeeze me harder. I want it so tight it hurts."

His big hand cradled the back of my neck as I clenched with the deeper
muscles between my legs. Exerting myself desperately. New sensation
traveling through the damp fullness of my wet cleft. Taut fingers in my
hair, pulling it painfully. A low snarl from my Handler.

"You cum, bitch, and I'll see you don't for the rest of the month. Your
night hasn't started yet."

I clenched the strong muscles in my thighs and gritted my teeth for
control. Pulling the moist air into my lungs in short bursts.  My back
arching to give him access, praying that he finished quickly. Hoping to
stem the pleasure trying to wash over me.  `I was so close!'

Adam seemed to take forever but finally I felt his thick organ jerking
rhythmically inside me as he boiled over. His weight pressing into my
back. His wet lips on the back of my neck where it meets my shoulders,
making me shiver. Big hands on my arms holding me down as he went soft
within me. I had done it.  Holding it back and keeping myself focused on
Jon and his designs for me tonight.

"Stay there."

He said and moved away. Taking care of his organ and cleaning himself. I
heard the condom come off with a thick rubber sound. I could see him in the
periphery of my sight.  Doing something.

"Don't move."

I hadn't moved, why would he say that? I heard a whistle through the air
and the cruel snap of flexible leather bit into the underside of my
buttocks. The instantaneous pain took my breath away and I wanted to put my
hands over my buttocks to protect them. The soft whistle coming again and
forcing me to concentrate. Catch a hold of the lip of the marble. Pull
yourself taut.  Fight the urge to run, to flee.  Instinct trying to
supplant will, as pain became my world. I realized with some remaining
thought processes that Adam was good with the strap.  I could feel the
welts forming on my unmarked flesh, but knew I did not bleed. Blood was
rushing to the offended area in a vain effort by my body to put out the
fire there, but none of it leaked out of me. That took some skill and no
small amount of practice. If it hadn't of hurt as bad as it did. I might
have appreciated it more. As it was the beating came so quickly and so
surely. All I could concentrate on was the flow of pain from my backside
into my dripping sex. Deliciously swift, inescapable blows with none of the
finesse that I was used too.  Unmerciful, unrelenting blasts of undiluted
agony. Punishment. This was not pleasure, it was educational.  This torment
had one purpose, to teach me not to do whatever it was that I had done. `I
would try, please stop.'

By five strokes of the thick leather strap, I was raw. At ten, I could feel
the air on my swollen flesh bruising me. By fifteen, I was unable to stop
the moans from escaping my clenched teeth. Tears flowing with reckless
abandon from my eyes. Rob had never, ever, beaten me this raw.  Even the
night he broke the riding crop before he took me.  I managed to remain
where I was, but I don't know how I did it.  I was a suffering, miserable
wreck by the end of my ordeal. Sobbing unto my arms on the marble. Gasping
for air and trying to control my shuddering body.

"On your knees."

I quickly dropped down and turned to him. Burying my face against his
shoes. Silently begging him for mercy. The strap touched my cheek
caressingly. I took it in my hands and kissed it. Remembering that I was
supposed to thank him for taking the time to correct me.

"Thank you for your correction, Handler."

I sobbed into his boots, trying to pull myself together and not orgasm all
over the floor. He laughed, a low sound, as if he knew what I was
fighting. A gentle hand in my hair petting me. I had done something
right. I just didn't know what.

"Over to the side, on your knees. Time to clean you up for class."

I shivered daintily with foreboding. As with every other gesture of dismay,
it was pointless. He took care of everything that I thought disgusting, or
personal, first. Humiliation making me burn with blistering emotion. The
small nozzles he carefully inserted in my secret openings, maddened me with
lust. I felt like a slave, as he purged my bowels, not once, but twice, for
Jon to make use of. The warm water filling me and cleansing me. Softening
me in a different way than the lash had. Opening me more fully as the
narrow nether passage was cleared for penetration. It frightened me even as
it excited me.  The cursory examination of my body and its new bruises was
a study in quiet compliance. I had to remain still as he massaged the
welts, oiled them for viewing. He bathed me and washed my hair. Drying it
then putting it into a fat pony tail that hung well down my back. Brushing
my teeth carefully and placing Vaseline on them lightly, so my lips
wouldn't stick to them.  When he finally thought I was ready for use. Adam
had me kneel before him and he placed a softly padded blindfold over my
eyes. I could see nothing but the darkness inside me. I was effectively
isolated, alone. He kissed me tenderly. His tongue playing with mine for
several seconds. His fingers cupping my bruised buttocks, pinching the
welts. Bringing my passion to the surface again. He spoke, sweetly low in
my ear, as he buckled a collar around my neck loosely.

"I'll tell him how good you were, sweet. How tight and compliant. How slick
and hot."

My hungry cavern tightened as he spoke, teasingly into my ready ear. His
lips finding my neck and nibbling there delicately until I shivered with
heat. His big hand cupping my sex softly. I melted against him, knowing the
only reason I was still dry in his hands was that I had been douched.

"I'll see you after the trainer's little romp, and I'll warm those buns of
yours with deep hard thrusts of my organ, Annie."

`Why wait?  I need you now.'

"I get to use you whenever Jon doesn't have any thing else for you to do
and I intend to take full advantage of your presence."

Moisture flowed over his fingers as his words galvanized the appetite
unreleased for the whole long week. I let a small sound of longing escape
me. `Please.' My whole attitude begged of him. As the knot tightened to
almost gratification. Adam released me. Taking me by the leash and down to
the training hall.


AMATEUR NIGHT IN THE TRAINING HALL

He let me walk and I was grateful. My knees, unused to such abuse, had
begun to feel like raw meat.  I followed him closely through the hallway
and did silently whatever he told me to do. When the door opened I heard
Jon speaking out loud.  Explaining the link between pleasure and pain. I
heard another voice asking a question. Low laughter and Jon saying slowly.
"Good question, but it has no real answer. I like what I like and the hell
with anyone who tries to make me feel like a freak. Deviance is only what
one person perceives it to be.  I will not feel that way because of the
kind of sex I like."

There was applause, at least four or five others. I leaned desperately
close to Adam, clutching his arm. Remembering to late the rules about not
speaking without being spoken too, but I could make a request couldn't I?
I had to make this one. I would die without the granting of this request.

"Gag me, Adam."  I whispered. "Please, for God's sake, gag me."

I felt him start with surprise.

 "I'm here and it's working on me. Please don't let me disgrace myself
here, not now."

He said nothing, but led me into the room. Jon telling the others that the
demonstration subject was here. I was almost in a panic. Hot blood pumping
with fury through my limbs. I struggled for composure. Sweat breaking out
all over my body as I fought the urge to flee this room, and all the
faceless people in it. I could not see them and could only guess what they
saw when they looked at me. My burnished naked flesh.  My new welts. The
blindfold. The visible fluids on my thighs from desire. I tightened at the
picture my imagination gave me, almost had me needing nothing else to
orgasm where I stood.  Breathing in short hot bursts as if I had been
running. I heard Adam talking to Jon.

"On your knees, Anne." Jon said simply.  Grateful for his presence. My
master of the deep voice. I kissed his boots, groveling. The perfect
picture of suffering for the watching students. I would try to be
perfection. He tilted my face up and ran the tip of his index finger over
my lips. He said one word at the silent supplication of my body. `Please,
master.'

"Alright."

`Thank you, Master.' My whole body said and I kissed his calves in
gratitude. He tilted my face upwards and I felt the roll of hard rubber
going through my teeth, silencing me. The buckle being tightened behind my
head.

"This is a novice. New to training. She has agreed to enter a three month,
part-time, training program."

"Is she Bi?" Came a curious voice from the background. A young male by the
sound. Nervous laughter from the others.  "According to her file, No. That
sort of personal preference has very little to do with the training of a
new slave. Her heterosexuality is a moot point. She has to be taught to
focus on pleasing me. Her master. My wishes must always be first.  If I
want her to eat a woman, she eats her until I tell her to stop."

 The crowd liked that.

"Until such a time as she thinks that way, she is subject to punishment.
Like this."

He stood me up and turned me around. Low gasps from the crowd. I must have
some good marks.

"After everyone has had a chance to examine the slave and feel her
compliance to command. We will demonstrate the various types of whips and
paddles. Any questions?"

There was one.

"She's gagged, what about her safe-word?"

That was a woman, older with a voice like melted honey.  Probably a
divorcee getting into it for the money it could bring in.

"Annie, did I gag you?"

I shook my head vigorously.

"Did you request to be gagged?"

I nodded the same way.

"Are you feeling blue?"

NO!  My hair moving in my vehemence, practically whipping me.

"Are you ready to play?"

YES!!! He touched the opening to my vagina the wetness seeming to get
bigger.  Syrupy thick.

"She's wet. Periodically, during our play. I'll ask her how she feels. Blue
is her safe word and I can incorporate it into meaningless sentences to
enhance the torment."

His hand left me in that self-same, sweet torment he was trying to explain
how to do to the others.  "Adam, Please."

I was suddenly lifted and put on my back. My arms and legs spread on a hard
surface, like a starfish and secured with heavy leather restraints at least
three inches wide. These were quickly buckled and the sound of the D-rings
being snapped to the table hooks was clearly audible to me. So audible that
I barely heard Jon's words over the pounding of my heart thundering in my
ears. Words softly spoken to the class about the roots of desire and
expected responses. I relaxed into the bondage and felt big hands on the
sides of my face. Adam's hands, I could smell him. I went beyond thought,
beyond the room.  Into the secret place inside me that was the true base of
my desire. I surrendered.

"See how the restraint enhances the submission. She has given up whatever
mental struggle caused her to ask for the gag and eased her into the
physical sensations she is expecting me to inflict on her. Her mind is
free. She is no longer expected to control herself. I have taken that away
from her."

That was it exactly. The pure, undiluted essence of what I was feeling. I
was beyond my own control and into his. Jon knew what I wanted and gave it
to me. I felt the most profound surge of love that I had ever felt for
anyone in my life for him. My master.

He called the students up to the front of the room with him.  Asking for a
one to volunteer for something. Adam's hands tightened on my face. Covering
my ears to muffle the sounds around me. His thumbs stroking my cheeks
absently.

I felt hesitant hands on me. Squeezing my breasts then lightly pinching the
nipples until the tips hardened into little knots of pleasure. Moving
slowly down my quivering ribcage to rest on my belly and the gentle sloping
curve above my pubis. My hips twitched and the low laughter reached my ears
even through Adam's hands. A hot blush creeping up my neck, prettily, I
hoped. Lower the hands moved, more confidently this time. Just skirting the
hot moist hungry triangle at the apex of my thighs. I moaned... a low
miserable sound.

One touch of those fingers would send me over the edge.  More hands touched
me all over. My legs, my arms.  Lifting my breasts again to roughly squeeze
them. Little pinches on the insides of my thighs. My opening strained,
clenched.  Forcing the wetness out to run between my legs and pool on the
table beneath me.

A hand moved to my opening. Separating the lips gently, widening the folds
allow.  I arched my back off the table in spasm. Feeling the fingers
sliding up the pubic lips, as they were pulled tautly open. Massaging
them. Making me frantic with pulsing, throbbing heat. I struggled against
the table. Make me come, or for heaven's sake, let me go! The tiny bud of
my clitoris, impossibly full and fluttering visibly between my thighs. The
quick fingers pulling on it to make it swell even larger and more
obvious. Adam's voice broke through the fog covering my senses.

"Jon says it's alright. Come when they make you."

I growled around the gag ferally. All thoughts of dignity gone between
those words and the fingers being pushed into me slowly. Expanding the
blood-filled tissues. Other hands cupping my thighs and teasing the welts
under them. Two fingers in me now pushing in as far as they could. Knuckles
grazing the pearl of longing in delightful bursts. Long fingers, thick
fingers.  Now three, rotating in ever increasing agility.  The motion of it
like an organ. I felt someone else brush against my clitoris with the
gentlest of contact. A butterfly-feeling pressing upon it, barely felt
through the thick fluids covering it. Fast light movements. Tighter and
tighter, my passion wound in me. My senses whirled and I was entangled in
the crude sensation between my legs.  My heart palpitating in my chest,
wildly caught in the sensations overcoming me. I barely felt the slick
fingers become four. Going into me just a little roughly, yet so
deliciously. Working me to climax. I was as tightly wound as a good
bowstring, orgasmic tautness making my body rigid as I neared my peak. The
ebb and flow from these hesitant fingers maddening me, driving me so slowly
to the crest. I wanted to scream in frustration and when I did finally
scream aloud, the blessed gag muffled the sound to nothing.

I came then. A weeks worth of unrequited passion spilling over the hand
inside me and all the hands on me. The memories of the whipping fueling the
fire. The almost remembered feeling of Adam's thick organ driving into me
from behind. The complete surrender of my will by the bonds.  The gag and
the blindfold.  The faceless strangers in me and on me. Shook my drenched
cleft and my heated body in a surfeit of clutching, twitching, straining
passion. The stretch of my body against the bonds when I came was felt
throughout my whole being. Wrenching every nuance of feeling from my hot
little opening. The hand squeezed tightly in the merciless clench of my
vagina. My uterus spasming as well in fast, firm, powerful little jerks.

I came down slowly and was just starting to catch my breath.  To come back
into myself, when I realized the motion was continuing. Pushing me towards
yet another higher orgasmic plateau. These fingers were coarser, just a bit
cruder. The tender little clitoris starting to ache under the merciless
assault of bigger, harder fingers. Rolling it and pinching it indelicately.

"That's Jon on your clit and he says that once is enough for right now,
little one."

Adam explaining to me in a calm clear voice that I must not come again. I
must wait and fight against it. I sobbed miserably as Jon worked my tiny
button. Feeding it to frenzy once again, not letting me even catch my
breath from the last time. My now empty vagina, clenching on emptiness. I
battled to contain the rising rush of orgasm. My muscles tighter than when
I came the last time. My head trying to roll helplessly on the table, yet
held still by Adams firm fingers. Breath almost suspended, a bare whistle
between my lips and the gag.  I tried to move my hips away from the
thoughtless insistent fingers and couldn't. I was just making it
worse. Just when I knew that I was truly lost. Just before I was going to
be unable to contain it. When it was going to get out of my control and the
frantic feeling of being trapped on that table threatened to overwhelm
me. The fingers withdrew, pinching my wet labial lips closed once again. I
was weeping with relief. My throat working around the gag to supply air to
starved tissues.  Swallowing around the lump in my throat.  Misery and
triumph at war within my soul. I had done what he wanted but it had been so
difficult! My body craving the pleasure, but wanting to please. The hands
left my face and I heard low laughter.

"Are you feeling blue yet?"

No! Because then I would be left like this. Left with this burgeoning knot
of unreleased feeling boiling inside me, or worse yet. Having to deal with
it myself. The dry release that felt like nothing compared to this. This
complete and utter subjugation to another's will. I would not stop now. I
was at the point where I felt truly free from the daily reality that ruled
my every waking minute. This was my ultimate fantasy. I would not be the
one to stop it. I shook my head, sobbing behind the gag. I had the
undivided attention of all the people in this room. They had touched me,
felt me orgasm. Talked about what to do to me next. Played me like an
expensive piano until I had exploded against their passions. Caressed my
loins and my breasts. I had no wish for them to stop now. I loved
everything they were doing to me. They were me. I felt... alive.

"That's the big lesson, right there."

Jon's voice was soothing and his hand stroked me with genuine affection.

"The slave must feel that they have no choice and all choices."

Something trailed over my stomach, slowly. I blossomed with a new and
different heat. I knew the strap, craved it, and wanted it.  I wanted the
hard ritualized whipping that I was used too. Just hard enough to climax
too, but not hard enough to be punishment. My body knew the difference and
responded with this new humiliating fire.

The thin leather bands tracing over me in a delicate teasing pattern.
`Don't stop there, Master.' I thought wickedly. The little voice inside me
becoming caught up in the heat of the moment.

"There are many ways to punish, or torment, your slave."

A quick whistle through the air and the gratifyingly luscious stroke of
thick unsparing leather against the soft unmarked curve on the inside of my
thigh. I pulled against the bindings, feeling again the solid thump of the
lash on the other tender thigh. Quick flash of rapidly dissipating
pain. Wonderfully perfect. A multi-tailed cat, if I didn't miss my
guess. One with enough heft to it to sting the way it was supposed too.

"Note the responses of the slave as they become visible.  Deepening
respirations, and the quaint little hitches of the torso. It could indicate
either tears, or passion. It's up to you to determine which. Adam, please."

The blindfold was coming off! I was losing the safe darkness I was
abandoned in. They would be able to see my eyes. My damp, suffering, eager
eyes.

"Taking the time to vary the environment also creates its own
sensations. What was once in solitude is now revealed for all to see. Look
her over carefully."

The light was almost painfully bright and it raised small tears on its
own. When I blinked, they rolled from the corners of my eyes to rest in the
hair at my temples. Seeing what was above me for the first time was an
experience all its own. The room was filled with subdued brilliance. The
track lighting set in the corners away from the center of the room. One
broad beam slanted across my body to light it to perfection. By raising my
head I could see the people standing outside the periphery of the light and
almost see the dark wooden paneling that graced the walls. The table I
rested on was at waist height for Jon. I could see him next to me, leaning
over. I looked, as much as I was able too through the light. He smiled
down, in amused tolerance. His eyebrows meeting over his eyes in mock
severity.  Several others leaned over me and I met their eyes blandly,
coldly.  They were merely window dressing.  Hands that Jon was using on
me. Distraction from his true purpose. He wanted to see how much I would
take before strangers. These uninitiated strangers. I knew that he wanted
some deep intellectual/physical reaction from me. I wanted to go with the
flow. If he had looked at my diary, he would know that crowds captured my
imagination on some lower level, but that one-on-one was much more
difficult for me to bear. I heard the crack of the whip and waited for the
feel of it on my body.  My eyes clenching shut, tensing for the pain that
never came. Jon laughed and I heard one of the students ask.

"Are they any other safe ways to induce sensation without risking the kinds
of injury the whip causes?"

I saw this one asking his question and didn't want to hear Jon's reply. Of
course there were many ways. Just as painful, but they left no marks. I
much preferred to be whipped, if I had a choice. Thank you, very much. It's
over quicker.

"Here try these, carefully."

I heard the tinkle of chain and saw him handing small steel clamps over me
to the young male.  The good ones with the tension screws set in the tops
so they don't do any real tissue damage, not like the kind from Radio
Shack.

"They work best when they are tightened after application.  They serve a
different purpose than the whip."

They did too.  Restricting blood flow to whatever area they were applied
too.  They didn't even hurt until you took them off.

"Go on, those were designed for the nipples."

He handed others around the room and I didn't even want to know where they
were supposed to go. I was still hot and ready for some action. Not this
slow maddening head-trip.  Where he explained ever-single thing that he did
to me. If he wanted to work me why didn't he just get on with it? This was
taking so long. The boy's hands were shaking when he touched me with
uncertainty. Adam stood next to him, gazing over his shoulder.

"Here, like this."

He took a hold of my nipple and twisted it painfully, smiling at the quick
painful jerk of my torso. Clamping the little steel torture device on the
sensitive, pulsating tip.

"The twist gets the blood coming to the area and when you clamp it, well,
let's just say that it has a much harder time, getting there."

The boy did the other one, but much more slowly. Harder pinch
though. Tighter set on the clamp too. Adam loosened it.

"Not too tight, now. Some blood must flow, or the area goes numb. They have
to be able to feel it."

One of the others asked how you could tell if they were tight enough, and
Adam gave a solid wrench on the chain connecting my breasts to each
other. Arching me off the table and bringing quick tears of pain to my
eyes.

 "Tight enough. They didn't come off."

I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Do the ones between her legs, the same way."

I felt the clasp of tight little steel teeth against the soft wet folds of
my labia. Pinching me just firmly enough to be uncomfortable, not enough to
bruise. They all gave little tugs on the trinket's chains and played with
slick wetness seeping out of me in unfulfilled desire. Putting more little
adornments on my earlobes and a quickly applied something in my belly
button. Maddening me and distracting me.

"They are used as reminders that her body is not her own. By binding the
cleft closed and inaccessible. We are reminding her of my ownership."

 Jon was speaking to the amateurs softly. His voice cold and clinically
arousing.

"We can go into the other room now, and finish our discussion.  Traci has
something in mind for her and I promised to leave her in here, slightly
heated, to await her."

The students laughed nervously, and then I heard them leave. All of them,
even Adam. It wouldn't be too long. Nobody responsible ever left a slave
truly alone and bound up. I relaxed, waiting for the arrival of the
mistress. Trying to ignore the irritating pull of the clamps, attached to
my flesh.

AS A WOMAN AS A MAN

It seemed to take forever for Traci to come in, but I knew that it was only
a few moments. I spent those precious quiet seconds trying to ignore the
medieval pull of the clamps on my body. Striving not to wiggle the clips
loose from my skin by moving violently. I chewed on the soft rubber gag in
my teeth for comfort. Glancing around the room slowly. Perusing the light
brown walls and the decidedly masculine atmosphere.  I heard the door
open. The sounds making me turn to that direction. It was Traci. She was
dressed for sex. A black leather corset with black garter belt. Her breasts
connected by a fine black chain through the rings in her nipples. Thigh
high black boots with fishnets. Black leather panties over the top.  A
short quirt swinging from her belt. In her hands she was carrying a fairly
large wooden box. She completely ignored me. Walking towards my feet before
putting the box down.  She came over to my left and opened a drawer in the
table I was on. Putting two ornate glass jars next to me. I was intrigued
enough to almost forget the pull of the clamps. She checked my arms to make
sure they were tight enough, then my legs. Giving a little twist to the
screws on my breast clips to tighten them past the point of pain. She
unclipped the whip from her belt and looked down at my curious face.

"Jon believes in a certain amount of latitude with new slaves.  I do not."

There was absolute conviction in her manner.

"I expect complete obedience without hesitation. I understand that you have
no desire to pleasure a woman, but that has no bearing on what I want from
you."

I nodded in understanding.

"If you falter, vacillate, or disappoint me in any way. I will punish you
in ways that only another woman knows."

My eyes widened in fear.

"Do you understand me?"

Her speech was precisely menacing. I nodded. My imagination understood her
only too well. I would do what she wanted of me, whatever she wanted of
me. I would do it immediately and without question. She smiled at my fear,
noticing the rapidly developing sheen of sweat on my skin. Putting her
hands at the damp flesh at the apex of my thighs, and then laughing when I
twitched in reaction. Patting me gently, she walked down to the end of the
table. There was a sharp click and a wedge of the wood between my legs
disappeared. She stepped up between my thighs to open my sex wide with her
thumbs.  Peering down at my dripping attributes in delight. Her fingers
entering me to probe gently. Watching me blush with abject humiliation. The
little chains pulling wide and holding fast to the folds. She pressed my
clitoris, rolled it between her thumb and forefinger.  Teasing me with
nimble dexterity.

"Nice large features and generous openings. Very high quality. I have to
try this little toy I bought out on you."

She leaned down and I heard her open the box. Pulling out a very long
butterfly clip with a small peg on the lower end. She pinched a portion of
my clitoris up from the rest of the kernel, and clamped it. The embrace of
the little vise achingly strong and miserable. She moved the vise and
rocked it. Laughing at the convulsive movements of my vagina. The quivering
of my thighs from the strain. The small peg on the end jammed under the
heart of my clitoris, pushing it firmly, achingly. She took a belt out of
the box and slid it under the small of my back.  Buckling it onto me with
quick sure pulls. Two smaller belts hanging free. She took my left arm,
released it from the table, and then hooked it to the belt with big brass
marine snaps.  Doing the same thing to the right. She stroked the inside of
my damp thighs and looked at my face. Speaking softly to me.  Eyes
menacing.

"I can beat you to orgasm, do you believe that?"

I nodded, at her. Trying to make sure the nod was very obvious.  `I do
believe it, Mistress." I thought.

"I will do that one of these days to you. Spread you and take a strap to
that pulsing little kernel of heat between your legs until the violence of
your orgasm rocks the very foundations of your soul."

Her dulcet, flowing words were close to doing it already. Her words and the
throbbing pulsations of pain from the `toys.'

"I enjoy creating profound sensations and I use many things to do
this. Unguents, clamps, penetrators and piercings. I want the orgasm to be
secondary to whatever I decide to do to you.  I will talk to you about
piercing at a future date, but tonight I will introduce you to my
style. Nothing I do is overtly painful, so the gag may stay on. Your
safe-word is meaningless to me.  The most agonizing thing I have ever
induced without a whip in my hand was a cramp. Do you understand?"

I nodded, chewing on the gag in apprehension.

"If you obey me with complete compliance it will go better for you. I
merely want to map your body. Study your responses."

She looked down at my trembling carcass, and smiled.

"Then I will begin preparing you for me."

I shivered.

Traci touched the little butterfly on me and tightened it a little bit
more. Reaching over me for one of the glass jars, the green one. She opened
it carefully so I could smell the fresh scent of wintergreen and
menthol. She took a small amount of the cream and smoothed it over my
breasts. Close to the clamps.  It was hot and cold, all at once. She rubbed
it in. Leaning over me to blow on it so I shuddered on the table,
moaning. Her hands unhurried. Teasing me and tightening the clamps again
another little turn on my pulsing nipples. Although her hands stayed above
my waist I felt her touch all the way to my sex.

She went between my legs and took out a phallus of hard black
rubber. Wiping her hands on a trick towel, before reaching for the other
jar.  Her eyes glossy as she dipped the smooth item in the thick gelatinous
goo. The smell of spice strong in my nostrils. She opened one of the pairs
of clamps on my labia, spreading the lips to slip the phallus into me with
sure even pressure. Pushing it well into my sex. Stopping to touch the
clamp on my clitoris. My vagina clutched at the phallus, grateful to be
filled again. She watched me expectantly.  I wondered why. Only for a
moment. The item inside me began to itch very softly against the interior
walls.  She rocked it, in and out. Up and down. Scratching the itch, and
inflaming it. `I couldn't take this!' It felt as though a thousand ants had
invaded my moist sex and were trying to drive me insane. I struggled vainly
against the bondage and heard her speaking to me from a long distance.

"The more you struggle. The worse it will be. I have no intention of
removing it until after you pleasure me. Accept it."

I tightened in subdued cupidity and tried to lay still. It was going to be
impossible, but I could not force it out with the strong convulsive
movements of my muscles. She buckled it into place with the extra straps
and replaced the clamps on my lips sealing me shut tightly. Untying my
legs, she made me stand. Taking a small ball from the box before her. She
threw it.

"Fetch that for me on your knees."

I did it, quickly. More urgent because of my condition. The movement
irritating the flames deep inside me. She sat on a chair and waited for me
to bring the ball to her with my hands.  She threw it again, when I
did. Then again after that, and again. I lost count after ten. Doing what
she wanted in urgent haste and debasement. Hoping to please her enough to
take the driving orgasmic irritation from inside me.  "Do not orgasm, or I
will leave it in all night."  She said, amused.

I hung my head, ashamed that I had been so obviously aroused.

"Come here and turn around."

I did it. Bending over so she could see my pale buttocks and keeping my
legs well apart.

"Back up closer to me. I need some leverage to push this in."

She had another phallus in her hands and I almost bolted from her.  `Not
more of the itching stuff, please.'  It was one of those thin then wide
then thin ones. The kind that stretches your ass impossibly large then
closes around it. My hands, bound to my waist, were no good to me. I felt
the small end being pushed relentlessly into my ass and rested my face on
the floor in resignation. The lube on the thing felt like nothing but KY or
some such. No matter really, it was getting uncomfortably too large to go
inside me. I knew that it was not going to make it all the way in. Too big,
and to insistently huge to fit in my tight little ass. I was wrong. Traci
simply wrapped her legs around mine, and pushed hard. Whispering over my
back to me.

"It only hurts for a moment."

This was that moment, and I almost climaxed at the stretching ache of the
thing being set well into me. Spearing me, filling me. Buckled into place
to be held even against the push of the muscles of my anus. She stroked my
back. Pulling on my hair so I would stand up.

"Come with me."

She walked towards the door with normal stride. I, in my misery, struggled
to keep up with her. Unable to close my legs or walk with any kind of grace
for fear of dislodging the clamps on me or the toys in me.

It seemed that we walked the corridors for a long distance, coming finally
to a door. I followed her inside and found myself in a Victorian bedroom.

"Come here." Traci said.

She sat on the edge of the bed, sliding the leather panties down her legs
to the floor. For the first time in my life I was faced with the pleasure
organs of someone of my own sex.

I went to her and she released my hands. Leaving the cuffs on.

"Bring your head down here so I can take off the gag."

I did as she bid me too. Working my sore jaw up and down for a moment. She
pulled on the chain holding my breasts.  Jerking me closer so she could
twist her hands in my hair and kiss me. Her mouth sweetly pliant on mine.

I was beautifully stunned at the feel of her soft lips on my lips.  Her
tongue slipping into my mouth to taste mine. She leaned back.  I did not
expect what she did next. It was a totally agonizing surprise as she
wrenched the chains from my nipples with a sharp snapping jerk. I yelped in
pain. The blood rushed back in a flood of heated agony making me fall
forward unto the bed to rest on my arms, moaning with pain. Her hands'
caressing the burning tips. Kissing them and suckling them.  Flood of
moisture in my wet opening, lessening the itch.  `Could that be it?'  It
flashed into my brain. `The hotter I get the less it will irritate me?'

"Put your hands on my sex, slave. Feel me." She ordered.

 I moved to her right and touched the soft inner part of her thigh slowly
moving my hand upwards. In a sweet caress that men had been using on me
since the first man. She was wet and docile. The softly damp margins of her
cleft were warm and full of heat.  I had never known that another woman
could be so velvety, so fine. Slipping a long finger into her satin
sheath. I watched her face darken with passion and her breaths deepen to
pants. I put my thumb on her tiny button and Traci moaned. She quickly
moved up the bed to rested against the pillows.

"Put your face between my legs, slave, then eat me until I orgasm."  She
commanded, her tone was ritually hard.

I wanted to hesitate, but did not want to suffer all night. I did it,
promptly. I kept my legs apart. Laying face down near her thighs. Resting
on my elbows, widening her with my thumbs.  She was all fire and water. Hot
and moist. The scents of pure need reaching my nostrils, gently
intoxicating.

"Do it now."

I dipped my face into the saturated flesh and hesitantly tasted the salty
smoky fluids of another woman for the first time in my life. Losing myself
in the submission. I let myself go wild on her. Nibbling, nuzzling, probing
with my tongue the opening I found there. Licking the drenched clitoris
that hardened to granite under my inexpert ministrations. I bit it gently,
feeling her grab my head. Making me laugh against her swelling flesh. I was
relentless in my goal. The rush of pleasure flowing from her to
me. Tightening the phallus' impaling me. Sweat forming on my skin so I was
slick. The hunger between my legs growing to unbearable proportions.
Cosmic, galactically huge. I knew she neared climax when she grabbed my
hair and pulled my face up tightly to the hard kernel of heat at the apex
of her thighs. I sucked it like a dick, creating a deep pulling flick with
my tongue on the underside.  She overflowed. Bucking her hips, body tensing
under me. I hung on to her hips, fighting not to orgasm on my own. Letting
her release run over me in a flood. She pushed at my head.  Crying out for
me to stop, that it was enough. I pulled my face away, reluctantly. Wiping
my cheeks on the spread beneath her. When I looked up at her, I knew what
she was feeling. I had felt the same way many times before. Traci lay like
a starfish, open, soft, spent, for several long moments. Trying to still
the trip-hammer beating of her heart. Control the shifting spasms in her
sex. Oh yes, I had been there myself.

"Lay on your back, and spread your knees."

I did so, waiting for her. My legs starting to ache from need.  The itch
almost gone, but still felt deep within me. She caught my eyes and twisted
her fingers in one of the chains closing me. A quick pull and the clamps
slipped off with a little biting drag. She took the folds and rubbed the
circulation back into the spots gently. I felt like a spring being
tightened past the breaking point. I was inexorably being wound tighter
towards gratification. She did it again and I made a small sound of
surrender.

"Please, Mistress."  I begged her, shamelessly.

She shushed me. Unbuckling the belt and removing the butterfly. I tensed as
the blood flowed back twice as fast into my clitoris. Swelling it to
unbearable levels of fire. She leaned over me and I licked the nipple that
rose above me. Just a small liberty in desperate arousal.  `Please.' Taking
another magic jar from the nightstand she pushed her whole fist into it.
The thickly moist fluid covered her hand with a glaze. I watched in
curiosity. Traci turned to back to me, leaning over me.

"I will make you climax and before we are through here tonight. You will
know how to please a woman, as well as a man."

She slid the phallus from my sheath and when the air hit the labia the fire
ignited. Scorching me. The desire forming a palpable corona around me as
the aphrodisiac-like itching became an inferno. Taking the oily hand, she
pushed two fingers into me.  I sighed, as the fire near those two small
digits died. The dissipation a keening undertone to the other places inside
me. Searing overindulgence. Going straight to my clitoris, soaring need
feeding the wetness in my vagina.  Traci went to work on me. Pushing,
probing. Rubbing the damp moist envelope of demanding privation. Her
careful fingers brushing the little nubbin of heat as she worked me. She
touched my hips with her other hand, holding them still. Making me realize
that I was moving in urgent haste.  The stroking of her fingers
roughened. She bent her head down so I could feel the warmth of her breath
on my hairy opening.  Taking the last set of clamps in her teeth. She
pulled them off to toss them away with a flick of her head. Her mouth
closing on the hard knot of pleasure building between my legs.  Sucking it
the same way I had.

I exploded under her. My hands forming claws and holding her head against
me. Legs shaking with stress as her arm worked me with fierce, tumultuous
thrusts. Driving me to frenzy. The quick little flicks of her tongue and
the suction pulling every bit of orgasm from my shaking body. I arched up
and froze in mid-air. Awash with feeling. Throaty cries leaving me
gasping. A sudden deep thrust from Traci's strong right hand and she was
still. Licking the satisfied little lump gently, causing my limp legs to
jerk in pangs of afterglow.  She stroked my sweaty stomach. Her hand just
resting at the gate of my womanhood. Her eyes alight with satisfaction and
profound gratification.

"Still think women are too soft and easily manipulated?"

She'd been in my diary. I answered her, breathlessly.

"No mistress, I was wrong."

She wiped her hands on a towel and started to unbuckle the belt at my
waist. It fell loose and I let her slide it from underneath me. She made a
motion for me to roll over. When I did, she pulled the larger phallus from
my anus with gentle force. The powerful muscles clasping against the
removal.  When it was out, and I was empty. She came back up to my
head. Watching me, carefully.

"You think like a man does. Even when you are with me, you do not think as
I do. Your goal is the orgasm, the profoundness of the sensation. I am
merely an instrument to you."

I nodded at the truth in her words.

"I want you to wait for me."

She went away for a moment to another cabinet. When she came back to the
bed, what she had in her hands galvanized me in lustful fear. She had a
double-headed phallus.

"Stand up."

I followed her orders willingly, unsure what she was going to do to me. I
was quiescent as she approached me. Putting another belt on me, but
lower. Slipping the large life-like organ into me to secure it inside me. I
started to heat up again.  She lay back on the bed, looking up at
me. Opening her legs and playing with herself. Her fingers sliding deeply
into her sex.

"Now, you are a man and have a woman willing to fuck you on the bed before
you."

I put my hand on the jutting organ between my legs. Her little speech
exciting me and capturing my imagination. My hand stroking the stiff toy,
harshly. Once when I was in High School. I had this erotic dream where I
made love to one of my female classmates. I freaked. Going two weeks with
no sleep, no food. Filled with angst. I had been a homophobic mess. I had
fantasized about another woman. NO! Finally when I had been unable to stand
it anymore. I had gone to my school counselor. A nice man named Bill. He
listened to me and finally asked me; had I been a man or a woman in the
dream.  I had to think about it, but I had been a man. On top, aggressively
screwing this girl. I had been a man. Bill had said that it was a normal
part of adolescence to have dreams like that. My subconscious was merely
wondering what it would be like to be the other sex. It didn't mean that I
was gay, just curious about what it would be like to be male.  Now, I
wasn't a curious teenager anymore. I had voluntarily entered service to
Traci, Jon, and now Adam. I was being asked to play a role for Traci and my
failure to do so, would result in a bought of severe punishment. I was
feeling a little too good for that.  I wanted the pleasure to continue. I
stood there and wondered how I should approach this. Traci was using her
hands to good purpose. I could see how wet she was from here. `I could do
this.' The very moment I thought this I slipped easily into the masculine
role she wanted from me. I became every man that I had ever been with. Not
the boys trying to get laid, but the men who wanted to satisfy themselves
and leave a satiated women on the bed thinking about the next time.  I
moved towards her purposefully. Knowing that my eyes had gotten harder with
lust. She moved back up on the bed a little fearfully. I smiled playfully
at her. Advancing over her with the organ sticking from the apex of my
thighs. She touched her breasts, arching her back enticingly. I ran my
hands down the furrow created between them, stroking the soft skin. Feeling
her heat. Playing with her breasts. Her abdomen, rolling her hips as I lay
between her legs. My fingers moving with firm even pressure on the satiny
smoothness. Hearing her moan softly in a pleading way for me to fill her. I
lay gently on top of her, cupping her cheeks and kissing her deeply. My
tongue moving with hers and my hands traveling over her neck. I felt her
legs opening wider and went up on my arms. Leaning my head down to kiss her
softly. Touching her tiny eyes and small features. Watching the glaze cover
her face with that animal in ecstasy look I loved to see on the face of
someone in my bed.

"Put me in you, honey."

Her fingers found the organ and she slid it into her tight little well.  I
pushed home hearing her gasp at the size of it.  I pumped her, my hips
easily finding the rhythm. My legs tight together and the feel of the thing
bouncing against my own clitoris very exciting in its own right. I could
come this way very easily. Her legs wrapped around my waist. When she did
so I sat up bringing her hips with me. Still humping her, but able to get
to her clitoris with my hand. I pulled the labia wide, just a little
roughly. Manipulating the wet knob with an agile flicking motion of my
fingers. The organ grinding into her hot sex.  I could feel pleasure
sweeping me as well. I leaned back over her quickly, clutching at her and
rolling my hips in an ever-increasing tempo.

She was all small noises and grasping hands. Hard kisses and sweeping
passion. I could feel her pulse going up in the soft spot on her neck. Her
damp hair flowing over my face.  I rotated us both, putting her on top. She
didn't miss a stroke.  Rising above me to pound down unto my hips. I
touched the junction of her thighs and she stiffened into climax. Cresting
on top of me and driving herself beyond it. Head back, hands on my stomach,
shoulders shaking. I rubbed her cleft to draw out every tremor she could
give me. My left hand on her hip to steady her. Smiling at the fact that I
could do this to another woman.  She collapsed on top of me and I felt my
own passion hit a low-level buzz.  Almost pleasure, but more like
symmetry. I was satisfied by her climax, her response. She rested and
crawled over my body to lie on the bed to catch her breath.

"Did I please you, Mistress?" I asked.

She pulled me near to embrace me. Smiling into my hair, practically purring
with contentment.

"Please me? As if you couldn't tell you did."

I chuckled, pulling her closer. We lay like that for several long moments
as her body quieted. I listened to her breathing return to normal.

"Is there something you want to do now? We have a few minutes of free time
before I have to give you back to Jon."

I looked at her. Curiosity warring with uncertainty.

"I want to see what another woman looks like without having to worry about
satisfying her. I want to see the mechanics.  Can I look at you, Mistress?
I'll pleasure you after, but can I just look?"

She immediately propped some pillows behind her back and opened her
legs. She was so understanding of my curiosity I wanted to weep. Moving
down to open her was a strange experience. I found myself identifying the
parts that I remembered from anatomy class in High School. Clitoris,
Urethra, Vagina, Perineum, Anus. Soft secret parts that were hidden in
tissue so velvety yet tough. I gazed down in wonder.  "Haven't you ever
looked at yourself?"  She asked of me.

I shook my head, answering her truthfully.

"No, never seen myself. Didn't seem to be relevant. Mistress."  I added as
an afterthought.  "Are these the average?"

I found several little holes for piercings and, surprisingly enough, found
myself playing with them.

"No, I have larger openings, there are some interesting little games that
require that."

I looked up at her in surprise. `What kind of games were those?'  She
touched my hair, and sat up.

"That's enough for now. Jon will give you back to me sometime soon. I have
to clean you up for him now. Your night is far from over. Adam has
something planned for you."

I already knew that, been warned. I stood up slowly. My body tiring even as
my mind did not. How many orgasms can one woman have in one day? It looked
like I was about to find out.