From the Random House Webster's Dictionary:
cabal (ka-bal'), n. 1. a small group of secret plotters. 2. the secret plots or schemes of such a group.
The Cabal is a very secret, very selective and highly specialized social organization. Cabal memberships are tendered only to people of like interest who come highly recommended by active members. Prospective members are then thoroughly vetted and must be approved by each of three other active members who are experienced at checking out initiates. Complete physical examinations and medical record reviews are required of each candidate to prevent the slightest safety or health hazard to the other members.
Candidates who pass these in-depth reviews are allowed to take the Cabal "entrance examinations". These exams test knowledge of current events, social graces, as well as testing out certain practical skills. Candidates must acquit themselves well and present themselves positively, regardless of situation, be it polite conversation or other types of interactions. Upon passing these tests, candidates are given the opportunity to take the final initiation. Initiation is the ultimate test of a candidate's suitability for membership.
Membership in the Cabal is prized among those who know of its existence because it provides safe contacts who share a common interest and it also provides safe places in which to share that common interest.
The Cabal exists to bring together true devotees of the D/S, B&D and S&M lifestyles. Mistresses and slaves, masters and switches all find acceptance, companionship and safety, both to person and to reputation, in the select community that is, the Cabal. In particular, the Cabal is dedicated to the more sexual aspects of the lifestyles. Candidates and members are expected to enjoy and excel at all aspects of sexual play. Indeed, one purpose of the initiation process is to ensure that prospective members can enjoy and be enjoyed within that context. Candidates who are primarily into pain, dealing or receiving, or who do not consider sex and orgasm to be a regular and vital part of a scene's play are ordinarily weeded out quickly. Our story is about one candidate who had avoided being weeded out.
A unique aspect of the Cabal Charter Rules is that members must maintain and periodically demonstrate proficiency at both sides of top/bottom scene equation. New members can choose to be primarily dominant or primarily submissive once they achieve full membership, but the vetting process tests their aptitude for both roles. To be accepted for membership, initiates must be skilled and able to carry off a successful scene in either role, to the satisfaction of the other player or players in the scene.
Submissives who can not dominate on occasion can be boring and dominants who do not taste the emotion felt by a bottom from time to time may lose touch with the caring sensitivity the Cabal Charter mandates. Therefore, all members are required to participate in at least one scene as the dominant player and one scene as the submissive player every year to maintain their membership. This requirement ensures that every member respects and understands the effects each role has on the other participants in a session.
Annual switch scenes for members who exclusively or almost exclusively play only top or only bottom, are often open demonstrations for the rest of the membership. Committed submissives acting in a dominant role have rare insight into the mind of a bottom. Masters and Mistresses are always eager to learn new ways to torment and titillate their favorite slaves. Who would know better than a submissive what really reaches the soul of a bottom in a scene?
Normally dominant members, submitting as a bottom, are often stoic in the extreme. Such behavior, although it is not grounds for the individual to repeat the required session, does not achieve the desired goal of keeping the requalifying dominant in touch with the feelings of the bottom. The top assigned to dominate the testee must prepare the session carefully and often must work particularly hard to reach into the hidden psyche of the testee. Assigned dominants who fail to break through that reserve lose face and reputation among the other members, particularly among the bottoms. Therefore, the sessions in which regular tops submit for their annual qualifications are among the most intense, demanding and imaginative scenes that the membership is likely to see.
The only limitation the Charter imposes for these annual switch sessions, other than that the safety of all involved is never compromised, is that committed couples are never forced to "switch" roles for the amusement of the membership. Nor are they asked to participate in their other half's scene. As indicated earlier, the switch sessions can be uniquely intense and emotional. Some buried anger or hurt might surface during the session and those aspects of even semi-public relationships are simply too private to parade for outside eyes. The Cabal's doctrine of safety includes the safety of true lovers' privacy. The other players in mandatory switch sessions are selected by either blind draw from volunteers who want to scene with that member or by special request from the switching member with the consent of the Cabal's officers.
The spring air was warm, fortunately for the ten women standing rigidly at attention in the buff on the floor of the open air arena. Seated around the arena on the ground and on benches were the various dominants and submissives who were here to view the upcoming spectacle.
It was the first weekend retreat of the Cabal since before winter and the turnout at the secluded mountain estate, owned by one of the wealthier members, was heavy. Per custom, each member had declared themselves upon arrival at the gate. They could call themselves dominant, submissive or switchable, although the latter was usually frowned upon for members arriving stag. Preferably, switches arrived at least pairs. If the numbers of dominants and submissives were too uneven, then the single switches were the first ones asked to change. Those asked to change were given preferred treatment at a future retreat.
Today, there was a good mix of members playing top and bottom for the weekend, so the folks looking to play the field and to "fill in" in an ongoing scene had not been asked to declare themselves. There were no mandatory scenes or initiations scheduled for this meeting, so the fun would be less structured and a little less fierce, except for the games. Or so most members thought. Incorrectly.
The slave girls who stood at attention, their skin glistening in the sunshine from sweat and sun screen, were part of the entertainment. Today, they would compete in a series of tests for the opportunity to play the 'big game' Sunday afternoon, to win the opportunity to play for the special prize that would be awarded to the ultimate victor. In the past, these prizes often included leather ware, special bondage gear or other toys, but always, the winner was given a Cabal-style get away weekend with the Cabal member of their choice, in the role of their choice. Only two of the ten women would compete in the 'big game' the next afternoon. The other eight women would 'pay' for their failure by being the 'demonstration dummies' for tonight's entertainments and exhibitions. The earlier a girl was eliminated, the more strenuous and demanding the scene was promised for her that night.
The women were all beautiful, well conditioned and sleek. Many long time members were surprised to see Mistress Gemma among the contestants. The tall, elegant black woman with the Oxford English accent was an avid and dedicated top. Her presence among these women, all but two of whom would face a night and day of submission and discipline, was completely unexpected. To the best any of the members at the arena could recall, Gemma bottomed out once a year and that was it. In fact, she had embarrassed the last two tops to work her by not breaking her reserve during the session. She had apparently not even orgasmed.
The explanation for this surprise was known only to Gemma and three other people. Mistress Rayna, a career dominant and a long time member of the Cabal, her primary slave, Stefan, and Gemma's favorite slave, Alex. At the last meeting, the two Mistresses had traded slaves and made a bet about which of them could break the training of the other's slave first. The loser had to pay a forfeit of the winner's choosing. Gemma had lost, and it had been her own fault. Alex had been ill at the time. She had either not listened to him or had not been sensitive to his condition. He had been in no condition to take what Rayna had dished out, even though, as he told her later, Rayna was not nearly as skilled as his Mistress. She had been furious with herself for putting him in that position, for not taking greater care of someone who obviously loved her. She planned to win this competition for herself and for Alex. Then, she'd see about evening up the score. Rayna could not have missed that Alex was not well and Rayna should have terminated the scene. That she did not stop, and then had demanded payment of the forfeit further infuriated Gemma.
The other women were a mixed bag of experience and skill. Five of the women were new members attending their first retreat since initiation. They were the unknowns in the puzzle. Gemma did not think they were ready for what the games would require. Of the other four, Gemma had been served by two of the remaining four women and knew their strengths and, more importantly, their weaknesses. She could handle them. The other two were longtime members who normally submitted only to their beloved Masters. They were not naturally submissive, otherwise, and would not surrender easily. The highly public and humiliating penalties typically imposed on the losers by the Entertainment Mistress, while highly erotic to most submissives, would spur these two to greater efforts to avoid them. These women were entered to win the prize for their Masters. They were both previous winners of the games and would be her principle competition.
The Master of Ceremonies called the games to order. He stood between the women and the audience, and welcoming all to the games. The games, he explained, were loosely patterned on the Olympic Games, and would combine physical ability and sexual ability in the competitions. The games also included as many aspects of bondage, dominance, submission and discipline that the organizers could work in. While he spoke, male slaves, under the close supervision of a senior Mistress, put ten short, three legged stools in a large circle around the periphery of the arena playing field. The circle was about fifty feet in diameter when the Mistress in Charge herded the setup slaves off the stage. When the arena was clear of male slaves, the Master announced the opening ceremonies and first competition of the Spring Games.
The women slaves were circled in center of the arena. Each woman was given a syringe filled with a heated lubricant. "Each contestant will please prepare the asshole of the slave in front of her. You may use as much or as little as you please." The woman in front of Gemma was a very petite blond that Gemma had never met before. She could not have made five feet tall if she stood on tip-toe. One of the new ones, Gemma thought. Gemma knew what was coming and decided to be generous. This one would not be in the competition very long. She popped the nozzle of the syringe into the girl, drawing a surprised shriek, then emptied the entire syringe into and around her anus. The slave behind Gemma was not nearly as accommodating. Gemma felt the syringe slide between her cheeks and the barest dab of the lubricant squeezed out and none of it even near her asshole. Gemma kept her cheeks together to try and get the maximum benefit of it for what was to come.
The women were ordered to the circle of stools, each woman standing at one stool. The seats were no more than eighteen inches off the ground. The seats were more like bicycle saddles than chairs, very slender and intended to allow a woman's buttocks to slide down on either side of the seating surface as she lowered onto it. In the center of each saddle, was a anal probe of one type or another. Butt plugs of various lengths and widths adorned some while more ordinary shaped dildoes were attached to others. The sizes of the dildoes varied, too, from the merest "thumb-sized" tickler to a huge, thick implement that would challenge many women's fist, let alone their backsides. The textures varied from smooth to knobby to little spines intended to irritate going in, going out and while inserted.
The rules of the Opening Procession were similar to those for Musical Chairs. The slaves would jog around the perimeter while the processional music played. When it stopped, they would have to seat themselves, fully, on the stool nearest them. Disputes over who got any specific stool would be dealt with (firmly!) by the Mistress in Charge. Failure to seat the implement fully within 2 minutes of the music stopping disqualified the contestant. Gemma looked carefully for the layout of the probes. She wanted to get a true butt plug. Not because she particularly liked the things up her ass, but because she knew from past experience what often followed the procession. She specifically wanted to avoid the huge rubber dick and the small thumb plug.
The music started and the women started off at a quick jog. Gemma was a slender woman, and her curves were sleek rather than rounded. When she was running was one of the times Gemma did not regret that she was not just a little more gifted. Her small, high breasts did not bounce uncomfortably when she ran as some of the other women's did as they moved around the circle. The music stopped suddenly and Gemma made a last second dash to the nearest butt plug. Unfortunately, it was the biggest of that type of toy in use today, but she knew she had to get it. Her bottom's lubrication was almost gone, dissolved in the sweat she had worked up in the afternoon sun, but she settled herself quickly into a deep, wide legged ballet stance over the stool, dropped down until she felt the tip slide between her buttocks and then shifted her body to align the plug. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed and permitted herself to drop her weight onto the probe. Halfway down, she screamed her anger and pain; the lubricant was gone and she still had the widest part to seat. Other women answered her as other unlucky contestants worked their bottoms onto the saddles. Swallowing her pain, she forced herself down again, this time until she felt the bulb of the plug enter and her ass start to close over the narrower part. She sighed as she felt the saddle touch her butt.
Blondie was also seated. She looked none the worse for wear. The bitch who had not properly lubricated her, one of the previous winners, was also seated. Gemma had passed up the 6 inch, life-like fake cock that bitch had stuffed up her guts to get the plug. One of the new members had gotten the king dong and was not getting anywhere with it. She sat atop the tip of it, trying to force it in, but had only succeeded in getting the head inserted when the timer sounded. She was handcuffed and lead away by the Mistress in Charge to await the evening's festivities. The others were told to remain seated for their next instructions.
Gemma Thomas sat on the little stool as the girl who failed to get a dildo up her butt was lead away. She concentrated on the deep breathing exercises she instructed her slaves to use so that their muscles would relax. She sincerely wished she had not gotten the plug with the two and a half inch bulb. The staff male slaves were running about with sports drink for the remaining contestants to prevent dehydration. Her eyes slipped to the audience and found Alex, her Master for this hellish weekend, seated among the other assembled members watching the games. All the players were required to have an "owner" for the weekend. The most significant reason was to call a halt to the activities for the protection of their slave. Slaves were as competitive as anyone. Since there were only two overseers for the games, the slaves might hurt themselves if no one else watched over them continuously. Alex had agreed to serve in this capacity for her. Alex was always ready when she needed or wanted him.
Her mind flew back to that day almost two years ago when she had first met Alex Marino. In her day life, Dr. Gemma Thomas, PhD, teaches physical therapy at a large Midwestern university. One of her students had just come into her office to consult with her on a case. The girl was overseeing the therapy exercises of a young male student with a very serious knee injury. That student had been Alex Marino.
Gemma had arrived at university college after earning her doctoral degree in England. It was while attending medical university that she discovered S&M and female domination as a lifestyle. The talent, determination and implacable forcefulness that bullied and drove her patients back to health found full expression in a D/S scene with a male slave at her feet and a whip, strap or paddle in her hand. After finishing her post doctoral work, she had accepted the position as a teacher and clinic director at the college where she still worked. Over the next seven years, she had become tenured and was now well positioned for full professorship in the next year or two.
Alex Marino was a college wrestler who had left his right leg behind when the rest of him had tried to move. The leg all but parted at the knee. The prognosis for recovery was poor. The referring doctor's report indicated that only with the greatest force of will and commitment to therapy on Alex's part was there any chance of him walking normally again, let alone ever being physically active again. The report went on to say that the knee would never be strong enough to tolerate the stresses of competitive wrestling again. The only dissenting opinion was given by Alex. No one had convinced him. The student therapist was concerned, not because Alex wasn't doing the exercises, but because he would not stop doing them.
Gemma observed the next appointment between the wrestler and her student. After reading the doctor's report and seeing the x-rays of the knee, she was amazed to find the young man's recovery was so much further along, physically, than the pain of his injury should have permitted. Alex was a striking young man, Gemma had noted. Not tall, he stood a mere five feet seven inches tall. Gemma was four inches taller than that in her stocking feet. In her every day heels, she topped him by more than seven inches; in her full battle, bitch goddess regalia, she would top him by ten inches, easily.
With the exception of his injured leg, he had the lithe, compact musculature and physical coordination demanded by his sport. Determination and strength of will seemed to hum in the air about him. Gemma knew that he would be a formidable opponent on the mat. His Italian ancestors must have come from Northern Italy since he was blond and blue eyed. His face showed strength and would age well, Gemma observed. It would have character rather than pretty boy good looks.
Gemma took over the case and planned to oversee Alex's remaining therapy personally. She knew her student did not have the experience to prevent Alex from seriously re-injuring himself overdoing his exercises. Her other reason was far less professional. The ability to challenge pain, to overcome it, to take that next step, knowing that it would hurt, but recognizing the need for that pain and embracing it, fascinated Gemma. It was, she thought, the most basic and essential of human victories. To be part of that triumph, to be in control of that experience challenged and excited her. She had learned and accepted this quirk in her makeup when she first started to enjoy the truly difficult therapy case. It was this aspect of her personality that had come to full flower with the emergence of the powerful dominant, Mistress Gemma.
This young man's tolerance for pain, his perseverance stirred her. She wanted to oversee his pain, direct his pain, control his pain. She wanted to control him. She wanted him, wanted to own him and she would have him. In every way, she and Alex were a study in contrasts. He was in his early twenties, fair, white, relatively short for a man and was confronted with pain. She was thirty one years old, black, exceedingly tall for a woman and was a provider of controlled pain on request in both of her callings. He seemed to challenge everything she was or saw herself to be and he did not even know it - yet. She would oversee his treatment and, before he realized it, she would be overseeing his young ass as her whip played its song of challenge just for him. She had plenty of time while she supervised his efforts to regain the use of his leg and she would use it all. But before they were done, he would belong to her, abjectly and completely.
One thing about that first meeting, however, had surprised Gemma. When her student introduced her to Alex and told him that Gemma was to replace her as his therapist, his reaction had not been at all what she expected. Most Caucasian men she had met since arriving in this country, especially young men, nearly always did at least a double take when they first met her. She was a physically and personally imposing black woman whose very bearing dared men to test her. Few did when she pinned them eye to eye with 'the look'. Alex had merely shaken her hand firmly, but not painfully as some men did in reaction to her own challenge, and given her a weary smile. "Are you tough with your patients?" he had asked her after the pleasantries were dealt with.
"The very toughest." She had assured him, looking him directly in the eyes.
He met her gaze squarely and steadily, holding it with his own. She could see his mind working and assessing. "Good. Tomorrow, then? Same time?" She agreed and watched him leave, walking on crutches that he should not have been ready to use. This one was a challenge, indeed. He'd walk. He'd run. She guaranteed it to him and to herself. She wanted this one at the height of his powers when he gave himself over to her. He was going to submit his most essential self to her. A man that strong while that young would be the challenge and the triumph of a lifetime.
The Master of Ceremonies was moving back to the podium where the announcing equipment had been installed. His movement past her had brought her back from the quiet darkness of her memories. Now Gemma would find out if she had made the correct decision in forcing that infernal plug up her ass. She rarely played anal games so she was almost virginally tight and the damned thing hurt. The Master signaled for attention from the crowd. Normally, the slave contestants would have come to attention or assumed their position of submission when a Master passed or was about to address them. In this case, the Mistress in Charge had told each of them to remain on their stools, with their asses fully packed, until specifically directed by the Master.
"The next event, honored members, is the 100 meter dash. The course runs from the marker over there," he indicated a slave holding up a "Start" sign. The Start was about 25 yards from the front of the stands. "to there.", directing their attention to another slave, about 25 yards on the other side of the stands. His sign said "Turn-about". "The starting line is also the finishing line." The course kept the slaves in full view the entire race. The racers ran directly past the crowd on each leg. "The last two finishers are eliminated. As an additional challenge, our runners will carry the stool that they have won for their owners in the previous event. Since we do not want these gifts soiled or damaged, we will be forced to disqualify any contestant who drops hers. And how shall it be carried? Why, in the very manner the gifts are now held, of course. Touching the stool or any part of it with anything other than their, ahhhh, netherparts will also be grounds for disqualification." He grinned at this witticism, then turned to the Mistress in Charge. "Mistress, please herd the slaves to the starting line."
The Mistress acknowledged the order and got the group moving with snapping touches of her crop to their hips and exposed backsides. Normally, any strokes given a contestant were only for show since each owner wanted to win and did not want unfair disadvantages imposed on his slave. However, Mistress Stephanie was a colleague and friend of Rayna, and Gemma felt that she might have gotten just a little more of Mistress' crop than the others on the jog to the starting line. None of the women wanted to move too fast and take the chance of losing their hold on their owners' "gift", so all had gotten at least one stroke along the way.
Although the plug's size made movement very uncomfortable, Gemma was now glad she had gotten it. She had seen this particular race run before. The easiest dildoes to get inside an asshole were the ones that came out just as easily. Her competition all seemed to be in comparatively good condition. Slaves aren't allowed to get sloppy. However, only a couple of them looked like they would be any competition for her in a race. Running was her preferred exercise. She often ran twenty five to thirty five miles a week. She even used running in some of her scenes with her slaves. She loved chasing naked slaves through the park, late at night when the chance of being caught was minimal. She had no worries in this event, even though that damned plug felt like it was inflating. It seemed to be stretching and irritating her tender anal passage more with passing second.
The women went into the starting blocks. The Cabal's specially designed blocks locked onto the runner's ankles with spring-loaded, steel shackles. The 'starter's gun' triggered them back open to start the race. The other special feature of the starting blocks replaced sound of the starting pistol. Once the women raised their bottoms up into the starting position, matched rattan canes were aimed, cocked and latched. When the starter pulled the trigger, the same firing mechanism as the ankle irons simultaneously released the canes striking each woman just below the saddle stools held clenched in the nine asses, in that sensitive crease between buttock and thigh.
"Take your Mark, Get Set, .... go!". The final word was punctuated by a loud >crack!< as nine canes simultaneously made solid contact with nine tightly stretched bottoms. A starting pistol firing blanks could not have been any louder. One or two indignant squeals were heard, but most of the women did not waste the breath. Gemma's size was translated into a slower start off the blocks than some of the other women, particularly blondie and a very petite Asian woman, both of whom ran like experienced sprinters. Gemma's long legs and strength made up for the slow start and she was back with the leaders before they had passed the stands. The plug, completely unlubricated now, was hurting with each stride, but she pressed on and was solidly in second place at the turn.
The slowdown and quick shift of direction at the turn was blondie's undoing. She planted her foot for the turn, momentarily relaxing certain muscle groups. The smooth, small dildo popped free, before she could clamp back down to retain it. Gemma had to hurdle over the fallen stool, but her own plug remained tightly seated. Gemma coasted in from there, taking third place and advancing to the next round. The only event where victory would count would be the last one today and the 'big game' tomorrow. What counted now was not losing and maintaining her endurance for the next event.
The two losers included one of the slaves that Gemma knew from past meetings of the Cabal and another of the new members. The Mistress in Charge told them they could remove their saddles. Three male slaves led the losers and blondie off to the holding room to be prepared for the upcoming evening's entertainment. The saddle hurt Gemma more, when she extracted it. Her asshole was very tender. It would be a vulnerability for her, at least for the rest of the day. She'd have to be careful during the other games to ensure none of the women exploited that weakness. She looked up to see the slut who had not lubricated her watching her and smirking at her discomfort. She'd have to watch that one, Gemma thought. She may have purposely not lubricated Gemma's ass to gain the advantage.
The women were each given a squeeze bottle of tasteless green fluid and were told to rest in the grassy area near the finish line while the next event was set up. Gemma's remaining opponents were quick to take the offer. Gemma remained standing, stretching her muscles to relax them from the strain of the sprint and the butt plug. Her fellow players seemed no worse for wear, although a couple were still breathing relatively hard and were slick with sweat.
Gemma considered entering Alex in the Fall Games, the counterpart to these games for the males. His knee was far stronger now than it had been, and would be as close to fully recovered as it would ever be by then. Besides, it wasn't as if it was the purely athletic aspects that would challenge Alex.
She could still remember the first times with Alex. Each of those personal, intense milestones: the first therapy session, the first spanking, the first date, the first session in her dungeon. Each was as clear in her memory as if those two years had been only two days. They'd been good years.
He had arrived early at the center and had been directed to her office by the staff therapist on duty. She had reviewed his record, discussed the original therapy plan and his extraordinary progress to date. Alex had sat quietly throughout the meeting, answering direct questions in a respectful manner, meeting her gaze directly and openly, but without offering anything of his own to the agenda. When she asked if he had any questions, he replied, "When do we start?" She remembered asking why he did not ask the standard question which was when would he be fully recovered. His quiet, confident response "Because I already know. I will finish healing when I have hurt enough and worked hard enough to finish healing."
That therapy session had been grueling. He should not have been able to tolerate what he was doing to himself. He'd grimaced in concentration to control the pain, he did every exercise she asked without complaint, until she ordered a stop for the day. She'd asked if he enjoyed the pain and he had responded negatively. He lived with pain from the injury regardless of what he did. That being the case, he wanted to benefit from the pain rather than simply suffer with it. She promised him that he would always benefit from whatever hurt him in her charge.
They progressed steadily over the next months. Friendship grew between them outside the confines of the therapy room, but when they entered those doors, the relationship changed. Gemma became more demanding, more stern, more bitchy. She would pummel him verbally, sometimes screaming in his face to get one more exercise repetition from him. If he minded, Alex never said so and it had never affected him outside of her "lair" as he came to call the room. About four months after she'd taken the case, a session went sour. She had bullied and driven him, but exercises he had been doing easily were beyond him that day. "You can't do it, Marino, I know you can't. I will even bet you that you can't do it."
He'd snarled back at her "Name your stakes."
She saw her opening. "Your pretty pink ass, little man. You lose and I give you the paddling of your life right on your bare butt." She watched him and waited to be told to go to hell, at the very least. She had acted in the emotion of the moment and the careful effort of four months could have been lost.
He'd given her that long, considering look. "And if I win?"
She tossed her head disdainfully and looked down at him from her height advantage. "I named my prize, you name yours." she'd snapped back, instantly regretting those words, too. Alex was a very powerful man for all his youth and lack of stature. She did not know if she wanted to trust his control and his inexperience if he decided he wanted to whack her bottom if he won.
"I want to go out with you on a date." Her dismayed response amused him. "You really didn't know, did you? I am quite taken with the woman outside this den of horrors. I'd like to find out if there is something more there for us. I want to go out with you if I win. That's my prize." She had no choice but to agree. She wanted her chance at his tight bottom.
In the end, she had won that bet. He had not been able to complete the exercises and she had told him to present himself at her home in the country that night for his spanking.
As always, Alex was on time. Gemma had decided not to play the bitch goddess for that session. She had dressed casually, in jeans and a sweatshirt, for his arrival. She did not want to lose him on the first go-round if he overreacted to full latex or leather regalia. She was not yet that sure of him that she'd endanger her standing at the college. He might report her to the administration if he thought she'd gone too far. She was far enough out on a limb as it was.
She decided she'd tackle that concern before they went any further. She thought she knew her man, thought she could trust him to keep his mouth shut, regardless of what happened tonight, but she had worked too hard at the college to lose it all. She offered Alex a drink and sat him down in her den. "You really don't have to go through with this, Alex. If it is going to come back on me later, it's not worth it no matter how much I may want to do this."
"Want to do this?" His tone was amused and questioning. "What an interesting choice of words. Am I to infer that this is not something you regularly do to encourage your patients to greater efforts?" His tone was sardonic and it irritated her.
In her best grand dame, Oxford tones she returned "You may infer whatever you please.", then in a more normal tone, "It is something I want to do and that I specifically want to do to you. Yes, I enjoy corporally correcting men with my hand, a strap, a paddle, even a whip. I am sexually dominant with all my partners and if you expect to be with me, to get to know me, you will have to get to know and learn to deal with that aspect of my personality."
Her eyes turned black and her voice became husky. "The thought of your tight little butt turning pink then red under my hand and paddle, the idea of your eyes overflowing with tears excites me, thrills me. I want that and if we are going to go any further outside of my lair, I will have it." She stood up and walked to the fire place that was in front of his seat. "The choice is yours, really. You can finish that drink and leave now and we will have no further contact outside of the therapy room." She played what she thought might be her trump card. "Even that contact will end soon. You are far enough along that a less demanding therapist will be all you need to keep you from overdoing. If you want me, you have to take all of me, and this" She picked up a long, brightly shining black leather paddle with a polished wooden hand grip from the hearth and held it up for his inspection, "This is a very big part of me. Are you man enough to take what I want to give you?"
Surprisingly, Alex merely smiled. "There is no need to prod my ego, Dr Thomas. I would not have come if I wasn't ready to pay my debt in the currency you demand. I think that you know me well enough to know that I will not betray you regardless of how this turns out tonight." Setting his drink aside, he stood up. "I am ready when you are."
She set her own drink down. "Then strip from the waist down, to the skin, Alex. Fold your clothes neatly and put them on that chair in the corner. Since you can't kneel with that knee, I want you to go stand in the corner over there like the bad little boy you are. When I come back, I expect that you will be standing there with your shirt tail up and your pretty ass presented for my inspection. If you aren't in that corner in the condition I have just specified when I return, don't be in the house at all." With that she whirled and stalked from the room, without looking back.
Her heart was pounding wildly. She hoped against hope that he would still be there when she returned. She was dismayed to realize just how much she wanted him to stay, how much she wanted him to learn to challenge her and the pain she would give to him. For the first time in her life, she did not honestly know if she could exile him from her life and that bothered her, too. She changed into a tight, short skirted lycra dress and four inch tall high heels. Sexy, eye catching, maybe even a little risque, but not so fetishistic that he would be turned off or frightened, but still giving her the freedom of movement she hoped that she would need. Taking a deep breath, she walked regally into the room.
He was there, standing in the corner, his bare butt colored by the dancing light and shadow of the nearby fire. She nearly crowed with exultation at seeing him there, waiting for her! The scars on his right leg seemed to glow blood red in the firelight. She picked up her paddle and walked to the chair in front of the fire, and seated herself. She called him to her. It was the first time she had seen his penis. He was partially erect, a very respectable specimen, she thought. He was not unaffected by the sexuality of humbly presenting himself to her. To protect his injured knee, she bent him forward over the back of a large, overstuffed easy chair, his face in the seat. The position brought him up on tiptoe, his skin pulled tight across the hard muscles of his buttocks. She seated herself on the arm of the chair, the paddle languidly swinging back and forth between the arm of the chair and his face.
She reached behind him to stroke his scrotum teasingly, and began to speak very softly, very gently. "This is a first spanking for you under the loving guidance of a strong woman, Alex. There are some rules. First, when I correct or dominate you, you will refer to me as Mistress, because that is what I am, the Mistress of your fate. Second, you will always present yourself fully to the blow, straining for it, welcoming it. If you don't, I will order you to do so. Failure then will incur added penalty strokes. Finally, I will expect you to ask for each blow and count it for me. Do you understand and will you comply?"
"Yes - what!?" The hand that had been stroking his scrotum latched onto his testicles, squeezing, still gently, but enough to assure him that she could and would squeeze harder.
"Yes, Mistress, I understand and will comply."
"Very well, since this is the first spanking, we will limit you to only a dozen stokes across the buttocks with one to be good and one to grow on." She smiled grimly at her joke. "If you were more advanced, I might also paddle your thighs, but neither you nor your knee are ready for that. Also, since this will not be a very demanding test, I will not give you a safety word. You either accept the full count without moving or trying to resist me or you may leave as we discussed before. Ask for the first, Alex." He did and she struck.
The paddle landed with a loud splat sound. The second's sound was sharper. He had tensed his buttocks in preparation for that blow. She varied the strikes, right - left, top - bottom, swinging the paddle with her considerable strength, covering his ass cheeks with the red splotches that grew together to form one, large mass of red color from cheek to cheek, top to bottom. The last two bonus strokes were the hardest and nearly broke him. She heard him sobbing, muffled by the cushions of the chair. She had to order him to present for the last one, the one to grow on. He met her challenge and took the blow.
She had been amazed. Normally a new submissive broke into tears by the fifth or sixth strike on her initiation spanking. None had lasted beyond the ninth before Alex. She ordered him to stay in position and left the room. She brought back a jar containing a soothing cold cream that she rubbed into his flaming bottom, all the while praising him for his fortitude and courage.
When she let him up, he asked if he could leave. She gave him back his clothes and left the room to give him the privacy he would need to get the pants back over the painful parts of his anatomy. When she returned, he was gone, without saying another word. She was not surprised, but she was strangely disappointed. It was only after he'd left that she realized she had not made him orgasm. She had been so carried away in the shear high of controlling him that she had failed to give him any reason to return. She always brought a first timer to orgasm after a spanking so that the last memory of the session was one of intense sexual pleasure and not one of the intense pain and humiliation of the paddling at her hands. In her rage at herself, she threw her favorite paddle across the room where it bounced twice and landed in the fire. She stood there, watching the treated leather flare, and burn to ashes that seemed to match the taste of self disgust in her mouth.
The next day, he missed therapy for the first time and for three days after that. He still needed daily therapy and would continue to need it for some time to come if he was to fully recover. She decided she had gone too far. She had mixed her business with her pleasure and the result was endangering the recovery of a patient who came to her for help. She would have to swallow her own desires and call him, offer him the option of another therapist to finish his treatment. Her professional ethics demanded that she not be a barrier to him receiving the help he still needed. It was the first time she had read someone so wrong and it hurt. More than she would have expected because she always known she would fail with someone from time to time.
The fifth day, Alex was waiting for her in her office when she arrived at the clinic. The sight of him stopped her momentarily and she gaped at him when she realized he was there. She walked past him quickly, beckoning him into her office and closing the door behind him. "I expect that, as a minimum, you've come to demand a new therapist. I've already made the arrangements. You start with her on Monday. I thought I would have to track you down today so I did not plan for her to start today, but we can check to see if she's free, for a meeting if nothing else." Gemma realized she was blathering.
Alex lifted a single blond eyebrow. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Why, your reassignment, of course. I went too far, too soon and I guess I'm sorry for that. I understand that you don't want to work with me anymore, but you have to work with someone. I can't have that failure hanging over me, too."
"I don't want another therapist. I want you. I had to resolve some things in my head." He gave her the look, again and she looked away. "I had to answer the questions you asked me that night, before you .... well, before you spanked me. I don't know if I can take it. I've slept on my stomach and have done everything else standing up since then. All I do know that you have become very important to me, far beyond what we do in the lair. I have to try and accept the rest of you, just like you said. All parts of you. I think I love you and I have to find out what that means."
Gemma stared at him. "You don't want to love me, Alex. I am almost ten years older than you and I can be the most thorough going bitch. That night is just the merest of samples. Men suffer at my hands. I challenge their most basic strengths and weaknesses during my tests and sessions. My man, the man I accept as my mate, well, he will suffer more. He will continually challenge me and prove himself to me. I will prove myself to him. I am a dominant and I like it that way, so don't expect me to change."
Alex gave her a lopsided grin. "Kinda figured that out for myself, lady. The age doesn't matter. My right leg is effectively twenty years older than you right now. I know that loving you is not the most intelligent thing I have ever done in my life. I spent the last few days with the same argument, trying to talk myself out of my feelings. Didn't work. I have to try. Are you willing to help me? I figure this is something I have to learn, just like wrestling. You have to fight the pain out there on the mat, too."
Gemma nodded as she swallowed to regain control of her voice. "If you are sure." He gave her a quiet nod. "Well, if you are going to be trained, you will need a safety word so that you can tell me when the session is going too far for you. I can tell you right now that some will. A safety word stops the activity in progress, sometimes the session, Alex. Sometimes, with someone like me, it can also end the relationship. Use yours carefully. I think "white tail" will do nicely." She smirked at the thought. "It will be the only 'white tail' you'll have so long as you are with me." She saw him frown and hurried to fill in the silence. "We'll go at a pace you can stand. I won't hazard your recovery. And I will always explain. I am severe, Alex. This is not a game with me. I will cause you pain so that you can challenge it, overcome it and defeat it. We will be great together." Her eyes glittered at the thought. "Now, let's go hit the lair. You have work to make up."
Their first date occurred shortly after that. He won the bet that time. She agreed to go as long as they went into the city where she wasn't known. When he arrived, she was a walking object lesson in what he could expect when she was put out with him. She was in full form. She wore a black leather mini dress over a see through black blouse that showed the white lace bra beneath. She wore black seamed stockings and her highest heels, giving her an almost ten inch height advantage over her suitor. She expected him to stammer or blanche when confronted by her. He did neither.
He took her to a nice little Italian restaurant and then dancing at a club. They drew stares, but only because she was so tall and striking, and through it all, Alex was the perfect gentleman. Attentive, interesting, intelligent and he intrigued her. He insisted on dancing all the slow dances with her (his leg was not up to the faster ones, yet) and showed no indication of embarrassment at being towered over by his date.
He took her home, escorted her to her door and asked her if she wanted him to check the house for her. She declined, pointing out that she always came home to an empty house. As she turned to go in, Alex scooped her up into his arms, balancing most of the weight on his good leg, so that her head was at his level. Then he kissed her hard and deep, set her back on her feet, and left a very confused dominatrix behind him.
She accelerated his therapy because she wanted him in her dungeon, kneeling at her feet. He could not kneel for any length of time until almost a year after she had first met him. The first session in the dungeon included a twenty minute strapping, kneeling over her whipping block. Alex could not drive home after that session, could not sit for almost a week. She had been afraid that she had gone too far again, but still he had stayed. She had kept him in her bed so that he would not sneak away. It was the first time they had slept together and the first time they were in any way sexually intimate outside of the clearly defined boundaries of a scene.
Sexual release had been a part of their sessions for a long time. He had performed extended cunnilingus and she had either masturbated him or overseen him performing the deed himself. This was the first time they had been together without the impetus of the dominance and submission that marked their only other experiences.
Alex had been in no shape to make regular love. His backside, hips and knee were too sore. But, as Gemma had been quick to point out, his tongue wasn't hurt. Merely inept, she had told him afterwards. He still had a lot to learn about the subtleties of proper oral worship of a woman. She looked forward to overseeing and benefiting from the instruction. So did he. She also looked forward to administering the penalties for faulty service.
The amplified voice of the Master of Ceremonies announcing the next event recalled Gemma to the present. That bitch Rayna did not appear to be in the audience. Rayna'd be there to gloat, particularly if Gemma lost or was eliminated. After all, that was the goal, Gemma mused, to ensure that Gemma was publicly humiliated, punished for failing today during the tonight's open entertainment. For the various submissives competing today, the experience of public display, forced sexual torment and usage, was planned to be and would be a super turn-on. Under normal circumstances, a submissive was guaranteed that nothing truly against their will would be done to them. For Gemma, and she suspected, the two previous winners, that experience would be rough. Her forfeit to Rayna mandated that she accept, without reprieve or complaint, whatever the Entertainment Mistress proposed for her.
Gemma's self image was totally that of the dominant. Even during her Cabal-mandated annual submission session, she was still the dominant because she did not break. Tonight would be different. Tonight she could face an entire crowd who could use her, toy with her as they pleased. Instead of being able to focus all her strength, all her will against a single person, a single dominant, she would never know where the next torment would come from. She could refuse orders that were repugnant to her, use her safety word, but that would only make matters even worse. That would be to admit to weakness, to admit that she had been defeated, to admit that Rayna had won. It would also violate the terms of her forfeit and result in her expulsion from the Cabal. The only acceptable reason for refusal in this case was if her physical safety was at risk. Other than that, she would be at the non-existent mercy of Rayna and her clique.
Suddenly, a scalding line of fiery pain flared across her bottom. Forgetting her current role, she spun furiously to face her tormenter. It was the Mistress Stephanie. In her high heeled boots, with Gemma bare footed, the two women were of equal height. Stephanie was staring gleefully into Gemma's eyes, waiting for her to make a punishable offense that would give her any reason to get serious with her crop. The two women locked eyes momentarily, and the insolence of that action gave Stephanie the excuse she was obviously looking for. Gemma instantly realized her error and, closing her eyes, braced herself for that first stroke. It never struck.
A surprised, feminine grunt was followed by a splutter of pure rage. She opened her eyes to see Alex holding Stephanie's whip hand by the wrist, his pose one of bored relaxation and poised control. Stephanie rounded on him, furiously, but his grip on her wrist did not break. "You are interfering with the function of the Mistress in Charge. This slave has been insolent and must be punished. Who are you?" She looked at him, and recognition set in. "You! You are the slave that Rayna broke last fall, the one whose failure is the reason that ..." She never finished the statement as the force on her wrist suddenly increased. Stephanie bit her lip against a cry of pain.
Alex's face went dark. "Yes, Mistress, that is correct. But at this very moment, I am registered as a Master. Specifically, I am Master to the slave Gemma for this weekend and you have been abusing my slave without cause. I have been carefully watching you in the execution or your duties and my slave has felt your crop three times as often as the slave with the next largest total and she has received more strokes than the rest of the field combined. She has been well behaved, except for this incident and I find you more at fault than she. The inequity of your actions is negatively affecting the ability of my slave to win this competition. I will have it stopped and stopped now or I will protest the results." With that, Alex released her wrist with a snap. "Do I make myself clear?"
Stephanie's glared at him, furious. "Who are you to order a True Mistress? You are only a slave to this bitch. You may act the Master, but you are still her little slut boy, doing what she wouldn't trust a True Master to do." She turned her back to him as if to walk away, then spun back on Alex, intent on delivering a crop stroke across his chest. Wrestling trained reflexes responded and he again caught her wrist before the stroke could land.
This time Alex brought all of his formidable strength to bear on the muscles and bones of Stephanie's wrist. Her leather gauntlets provided no protection and her crop fell from limp, nerveless fingers. And still Alex increased the pressure. Sobbing now in pain, trying to pry Alex's hand off her wrist with her free hand, Stephanie sank to her knees from the shear agony of bone and muscle being squeezed onto nerve. Alex held her there, up on her knees, looking up at him with fear in her eyes. Had he not held her unright with the captured wrist, she would have keeled over onto her face, writhing in pain.
Slowly, still retaining his hold on Stephanie's wrist, he bent down to put himself eye to eye with her. His voice was a harsh whisper, audible only to Stephanie, Gemma and the Master of Ceremonies who had just arrived on the scene. "Listen to me, bitch. Tell Rayna that you were found out and had to stop harassing my slave. I am Gemma's Master, if only for this weekend. If I choose to submit to her in the normal course of our relationship, it is because I want to give her that gift of myself. I have no need or interest in sessions with second raters like you. When I choose to submit, I do so with the best, someone worthy of my worship. Now, I will tell you one more time. Strike her again when she does not deserve it and I will protest the games, but before I do that, you may be assured that I will deal with you first." Incredibly, the pressure on Stephanie's wrist increased again, causing her to whimper in pain. "Now, have I made myself clear?"
"Y..y..yes." She breathed, trying to recover her composure. Alex squeezed again, his eyes demanding in their intensity. Stephanie understood what he wanted of her. "Yes, Master." she screamed. Alex threw her wrist away, causing her to roll over onto her back in the dirt.
Alex looked at the Master of Ceremonies. "Do you have anything to say?" His voice soft with menace. The Master literally took a couple of steps back when Alex confronted him. He had seen the cropping of Gemma by the Mistress, had heard most of the exchange between the two antagonists and had seen Stephanie attempt to use her crop on a registered dominant. He had also seen Alex's swift, sure retaliation and had correctly assessed the raw power of the man he faced. The Master decided that he had nothing to say. Alex looked to Gemma. "I have seen to it that you are spared any more unearned punishment. Compete well so you do not earn any. I expect victory."
Gemma shivered at a tone she had never before heard from Alex as she bowed her head in submission to his order. She was shocked at the way he had stepped in and dealt with Stephanie. Stephanie was a professional and lifestyle domme, used to dealing with submissive males. She was known for her ability to overwhelm a bottom with the force of her personality alone. For Alex to get the drop on her like that, and so easily, it simply did not fit with Gemma's personal image of him. "Yes, Master, thank you." was all she said, all she could say.
The games resumed as the Master of Ceremonies moved back to the podium while a much chastened Mistress in Charge herded out six male slaves who would serve as the apparatus for the next event.
"Masters and Mistresses of the Cabal, our next event is the javelin throw. Before you on the stage, you see six male slaves. Each one of them has been assigned to one of our contestants by blind draw. Each of the male slaves has been milked to sperming twice within the last three hours, most recently during the running of the 100 meter race. They provide the javelins our contestants must throw. Each female slave must masturbate her assigned 'javelin' to orgasm. The last two contestants to complete this task will be eliminated from the remainder of the competition. The use of any part of the female slave's anatomy, other than her hands and fingers, on the 'javelin' will result in her immediate disqualification. To make the game more challenging, each of the male slaves who orgasm will be put in a disciplinary cock and ball harness, locked up for the remainder of the weekend. They will have no hope of any further orgasms until they leave the retreat. The keys to unlock their harnesses will be provided to them only when they leave the gate. Of course, they will help with tonight's entertainment, as well."
The male slaves were laid on their backs in a loose semicircle on the stage. The female slaves knelt beside their assigned slave, on the side opposite from the audience to afford the assembly the best view of the proceedings. Gemma's javelin was a young man she had played with before. He was a well trained slave with admirable control. Under normal circumstances, he would be a significant challenge in this type of competition. Gemma wondered just how blind that draw really had been. It was just too bad for Rayna's apparent conspiracy, but Gemma knew this slave and she knew his weaknesses. She had broken him in previous scenes with him and knew some things that really got to him.
The start command was given. Most of the women attacked their assigned javelin-dick with a furious flurry of hand motion, but without much positive reaction from the males. Each of the slaves was still recovering from being milked. The milking process had involved some fairly rough handling and, to a man, each of the male slaves was suffering from a pretty severe case of tender-cock. The harsh jerking off that the men were being subjected to at the hands of the contestants was hurting them even more and was, therefore, counter productive.
Gemma recognized the futility of a frontal attack. Her javelin was bright red from the not so gentle ministrations of whoever had milked him. The men could not get off if the manipulations were more painful than exciting.
She started to tease the dick of her apparatus with the gentlest brushes of her long nails, grazing the sensitive underside seam and tickling the scrotum where the testicles stretched out under their own weight. She laid down lengthwise beside him and put her mouth to his ear. "You are going to come for me, little man." she whispered as she continued her teasingly light touches, "No matter what they threaten you with for this weekend, no matter what they actually do to you, no matter what they offer you as an incentive to succeed, you will come for me. Remember, this is only one weekend. I will be back, as myself, and I will find you. I will find you and I will own you, just like the last time we played. Nothing you face this weekend will compare to what I will do to you if I am displeased. You don't want to displease me, do you, little man." She felt the first tell tale quiver and hardening as the visual picture she was painting started to excite the most erogenous zone of all - the brain.
Her whisper was little more than a hiss in his ear. "You want me to be very happy with you the next time I face you with my favorite whip in my hand and your cute little hairless ass in my sights. Isn't that right, little man. You know you'll want me to whip you, don't you. And I will. Oh, how I will whip you, but the question is - Will I be the only one to enjoy it." The teasing, both verbal and manual, reached into the dark core of fantasy inside the young male submissive. His cock grew rigid, in spite of his best efforts to control his response to her ministrations. He started arching into her gently teasing grip uncontrollably, trying to avoid the caresses and yet, trying to increase the stimulation of feathery touches playing at his genitals.
He was almost there, she had him on the edge. Gemma brought out her big gun, a weapon she possessed from her intimate knowledge of his darkest fantasies. As ordered, no part of her anatomy, other than her finger tips would touch his cock. Rising up onto her knees, Gemma delicately lifted one leg, straddled his head so her head continued to face his feet. Setting her knees firmly against his shoulders, she pillowed his head on her ankles and gently lowered her ass down on to his face, all the while continuing the verbal and physical teasing that was driving him mad. She relaxed her buttocks so that they parted easily around his cheeks and nose, then abruptly dropped her full weight onto his face. She squeezed her cheeks together with all her strength. It was a classic queening and it was this slave's most closely guarded secret. Not even his owner/Mistress was aware of how acutely, being crushed like this, affected him. Her ass effectively sealed off his nose and her cunt sealed off his mouth. He started to struggle for air and she momentarily relaxed her ass muscles, allowing him to swallow a quick bite of ass flavored air before she quickly resealed her grip on his nose and mouth.
He became steadily more excited, more out of control. The forcefulness of her stroking increased in response. On her third reseating, the slave lost it completely. Semen spewed from him in a rush and he bucked like a wild horse. Gemma tightened her thighs on his head and road out his climax without losing her seat. When his spasms subsided, she meticulously wiped his cum from her hand into the slave's hair. With a final squeeze of her ass cheeks on his nose, she wiped her bottom across his face and got to her feet in victory. A quick review of the progress of the competition revealed that she was the first player to qualify.
Eventually, other contestants finally coaxed their assigned javelins to climax. Gemma thought that the slaves who came would not care about having their cocks restrained. Another orgasm this weekend would probably be more of a threat to those slaves than the cock harnesses. All of their cocks were such a fiery red that it hurt just to look at them. The other semifinalists were the two previous champions and the little Asian slave. The losing women and the men who had orgasmed were lead away. An intermission was called prior to the last event.
Welts had formed on her ass from Stephanie's last cropping. The pain from the cuts prevented Gemma from getting too comfortable on the ground while she waited for the final event of the day. She was absolutely convinced that Stephanie was actively working to prevent Gemma from winning the competition. There was no question that Rayna wanted Gemma on public display tonight with the losing slaves. She did not expect a Mistress to excel at, let alone win a slave performance competition.
The strange thing was that it was commonly known among the Cabal membership that the European Mistress who had trained Gemma firmly believed in the classic methods. She insisted that candidate dominants she trained must learn first as submissives. Only the trainees who became the most accomplished slave-submissives were offered the opportunity to train as dominants in their own right. Gemma had been an exquisite slave for her Mistress. She also became her finest student of dominance. Rayna had obviously reconsidered her position if Gemma won the competition. She was obviously taking no chances that Gemma might get to claim Rayna herself as the prize.
Gemma still marveled at how Alex had come to her aid and at how easily he had overcome Stephanie. In simple fact, Alex had every right to be angry with Gemma for the incident that had precipitated this farce today. Gemma had violated the most basic contract between a dominant and a submissive, that of ultimate safety and protection. Alex could have bought a revenge truly worthy of her crime simply by not intervening with Stephanie. The whipping Stephanie intended for Gemma would have been bad enough, but the after effects would have guaranteed that Gemma's elimination from the competition before the finals. And yet, he had stepped forward to protect her. The depth of his commitment and (dare she think it?) love amazed her. She did not think she would be so forgiving had he violated such a trust.
She could not even clearly recall what had precipitated the stupid confrontation. She did not like Rayna. Rayna acted like she had invented female dominance and condescended to 'advise' all other dominant women in the Cabal. She seemed to take particular delight in 'helping' Gemma with her professional expertise. Gemma's teacher had forgotten more about managing a scene than Rayna would ever know and Gemma had come to resent Rayna's continuing interference. It may have just been the sharp contrast the two women presented that initially singled Gemma out for the other woman's attentions. Both were tall, standing nearly six feet without heels. Rayna was the only woman in the Cabal who could look Gemma in the eyes, but the similarity ended. Rayna was a green-eyed, fiery hued red head, who had a lightly freckled, but creamy white complexion. Gemma privately thought that her striking hair color got some chemical assistance, but that was beside the point.
Last fall, at the retreat weekend, Gemma had finally had enough and called Rayna to accounts. The two women, toe to toe, an ebony goddess in white leather facing down a flame tressed warrior woman in black, had quickly drawn a crowd. They were separated before it degenerated into an actual fight, but words were exchanged and the skills of each were impugned by the other. They agreed on a contest, each to test the other's best trained slave. The first to force the other's slave to break won the bet and could demand a forfeit, subject to the Cabal's executive approval.
The Council agreed to set up the competition for that evening. Fortunately, one of the physician members was in attendance for that retreat, although she had to be changed from registered submissive to dominant to perform the required function.
The Cabal does not rule out the harsher type of scene. Those scenes are just not the principal focus of the group. However, from time to time, a dominant/submissive pair agree to an extremely demanding scenario, such as a ritual flogging or a very strenuous bondage session. In these cases, if the Cabal's facilities are to be used, the organization's primary directive of mutual consent and safety apply, and a doctor, with full authority to terminate the scene for any reason at all, must be present for the session.
Gemma had gone and told Alex what she wanted of him. He had seemed listless and distracted, but she had attributed that to the fact that he was upset with her giving him to another Mistress to test. He could have said no. The Cabal requirement of full consent meant that she had no authority, other than that which he gave her, to direct him to participate in the session. Both knew that she would lose the bet if he refused to participate. He said nothing and she led him to their quarters to prepare him.
That night, she had led him on leash to the main auditorium of the retreat. Rayna was already there with her slave, a great brute of a man, Nordic of type, who was kneeling at her feet when they arrived. Both slaves were dressed in collars and full chastity belt/cock harnesses that included a strap that separated their buttocks and held seated a stubby, plug up their asses. They were not otherwise restrained since that would be a part of the challenge. Alex had been quite flushed, but again, Gemma had interpreted it to be excitement or embarrassment over the situation he found himself to be in.
Alex knelt beside the other slave, in front of Gemma. The Master of Ceremonies read the challenge and the rules. Each mistress would test the other's slave until one cried off using his safety word, or until the doctor ordered the competition halted. In that case, her decision of who lost was final. If one of the slaves lost consciousness for any reason, that slave would be disqualified and his Mistress declared the loser.
The two submissives were told to tell the other Mistress and the attending physician their safety word. The slaves were led to opposite ends of the stage where there were identical sets of bondage restraints, toys and flagellation tools arrayed for the Mistresses' to use.
The start signal was given. Gemma, absolutely confident of Alex's training and his stoic self control, took her time getting started. She put a spreader bar between her subject's ankles and fixed that to the floor. She manacled his wrists behind his back, and attaching the manacle chain to an overhead pulley, raised his arms up, forcing him to bend over and come up onto his toes. A crossbar, placed in front of him, would prevent him from falling forward and breaking an ankle or dislocating a shoulder while still providing access to his restrained and erect cock. She took a scrub brush and began to run the rough, hard bristles over his backside, severely irritating his skin and waking up all the nerve endings. When she had his ass turned just the right color of pink and covered with little striations from the bristles, she went to the nearby peg board to choose her tools.
In the meantime, Rayna, abandoning any subtlety or craft, had tied Alex to a whipping block and had simply started whaling away with a long paddle. She gave him an even dozen with all of her strength. Alex eyes glazed and he seemed disoriented. The doctor moved in for a closer look while Rayna shifted to a dressage whip. Alex had passed out on the tenth stroke to his ass. Gemma was incredulous. Dropping her strap, she had run over to Alex while Rayna had strode triumphantly over to release her own submissive. One touch on Alex's forehead told her something was wrong. His skin did not have the cold, clammy feel of fear and sweat, he was burning up. He revived, but did not seem to recognize her. Gemma helped him to his feet and led him away, beckoning the doctor to follow.
The doctor diagnosed Alex to be suffering from a particularly nasty viral sickness. He was running a high fever and would not be able to take care of himself for several days. Naturally, the physical stress imposed by the contest session did not help him in his already weakened state. Gemma did not hesitate. She checked them out and took him to her home where she would be able to devote her attentions to nursing him.
She could not understand why he had not told her he was feeling ill. Had he told her and she simply had not been listening to him? She could not understand how he had tolerated as much of the punishment before he passed out.
The fever came and went over the next few days. Gemma wanted to put Alex into the hospital, but, during one of his lucid periods, he had refused. She would never be able to explain the welts and cuts from Rayna's beating. Alex was afraid the police might arrest Gemma or that some reporter might latch onto her lifestyle as fodder for an expose on kinky college professors.
The final irony, as Gemma discovered, was that Alex was blamed himself for her losing. There was no way that she could allow him to accept that blame. The failure was hers. If she was to be subjected to humiliation and corrections for this fiasco, well, as her own Mistress would have quickly pointed out, it was no less than she deserved. Mistress had always maintained that a submissive as devoted and as well trained as Alex was a gift. Gemma was only now starting to understand that maxim and was devastated that she had not been worthy of his devotion, or .. his love?
More confusing to Gemma were her own feelings toward Alex. She had always perceived him as an incredible challenge, a vessel into which she could pour her most extravagant, most severe tests. Someone whose tolerance for pain equalled her need to control another's pain, her need to control, period. Now, with him laying in her bed, ill, weak, she felt different somehow. Ashamed, certainly, for the first time in her life as a dominatrix. Possessive, too. He was hers. But there were other feelings, softer feelings that she could not put name to, and they frightened her.
The third day after Gemma had brought Alex home from the retreat, Rayna had arrived at Gemma's place in full dominant armor. This act alone was a violation of Cabal etiquette and protocol. Many of the members took their activities to the Cabal rather than play at home in order to protect their reputations in conservative home town communities. Not wanting to explain exotic, leather-dressed callers to their neighbors was a basic reason for seeking membership in the Cabal. Rayna obviously did not care what effect she had on Gemma's reputation.
Gemma told Rayna that Alex had been and continued to be ill.
"No skin off my ass, Gemma dear. You put him up, he passed out, you lost. Simple as that. And then, you snuck off like a thief to avoid your fairly lost forfeit service. You welshed, bitch." Rayna was nearly screaming.
Gemma stood quietly and took it, then spoke. "You have won the bet, but there is no honor in your victory. However, I should not have placed an ill bottom in your hands, so I am at fault. I will pay the penalty for that reason, not because you are in any way, superior to me."
Rayna backhanded Gemma, cutting her mouth with a gaudy ring. "Slut, you lost and you will serve as I choose. I'm going to prove how inferior you really are." A forehand slap from the same hand rocked Gemma further back onto her heels. "I'm going to prove that you are not even worthy to be a slave in the Cabal, let alone be a Mistress." She slapped Gemma again to emphasize her point. Prepared this time and furious at the treatment, Gemma retaliated, landing a fist squarely on Rayna's jaw. Her tormenter dropped like a stone.
"Bitch," Rayna screamed, "You think you're so tough, that you know every thing about the lifestyle. Well, bitch, you'll get to prove it. You are entered in the Spring Games as a slave slut contestant. By the terms of our bet, the forfeit was approved by the Cabal Council. In your absence, I might add, since you didn't have the guts to stick around and take your medicine like a Mistress. You will walk through those gates in the Spring as a slave or you will never walk through them again."
She picked herself off the floor and walked over to her foe. Rayna glided a finger under Gemma's chin, lifting her head and running her finger through the blood trickling down from Gemma's mouth. She tasted the finger delicately, as if savoring a rare, gourmet treat. "I'd go into training, if I were you, sweetheart, those games are rough, and you know the penalties for failing to make it to the second day of competition. Hope you enjoy sucking slave cock, bitch. When you are eliminated from the games and have to serve at evening entertainment, I'm going to see that you get to service a lot of it. I'm going to see you suck off every single slave there. I suspect that the assembled Masters will find the opportunity to seductive to resist, as well. I'd get myself a rubber cock and get those lip and jaw muscles in shape, if I were you." She turned and walked out leaving Gemma in a cold, dark rage. Gemma thought that the day just couldn't get any worse.
It did get worse. She shut the door and turned to see Alex standing, leaning actually, in the hallway. "I heard the scuffling. I came to see if you needed my help." He reeled dizzily as the effects of three days fighting a fever caught up with him. He caught himself and looked up at her as she moved to support him. "Is it true? Can they make you enter those games as a slave? Because of me?" His voice was so weary, so defeated, it made her ache.
She helped him to the couch and settled him there. She sat down on a foot stool across from him. "It was the terms of the bet, Alex. If I want to continue my membership in the Cabal, I have to pay the loss forfeit. That I stupidly endangered you by entering you into a scene you were too ill to withstand is no excuse. In fact, if it becomes commonly known to the Council that I hazarded a sick slave, I could be blacklisted for violation of the Charter." Attempting to lighten the mood, she placed her right hand over her heart, struck a pose of great dignity and spoke with the tones of a judge reading law, "'The responsible dominant will always hold the ultimate responsibility and accountability for the safety of any submissives who give themselves into his or her service'" she quoted. She smiled ruefully at Alex and spoke in a more normal. "That the submissive has his or her own responsibility is true, but I knew that you would never say no to me. All I was concerned with was beating Rayna, not protecting you. I am most humbly sorry, Alex. You deserved and do deserve better. I hope you can forgive me." Her eyes were downcast in embarrassment.
"Bullshit. That's bullshit, Mistress. I love you. I have made no bones about it and I would do anything you asked. This time, my failure comes home to roost on your back instead of mine. I'll go to those guys and offer myself in your place."
Gemma smiled at him, and gently shook her head. "Won't work, even if I'd permit it. The Council has accepted the forfeit plan and I will have to comply. It won't be so bad, Alex, only one weekend. And all of the structure and strictures for the protection and safety of the submissives will be there for me. I'll have to start all over again, earn my place as a Mistress to be reckoned with all over again, particularly if I don't win, but it will only be seventy two hours and I will get through it. I will think of it as a new challenge. Then, when I have finished with this penance for my lapse of judgement and I have recovered my reputation, then I will deal with Rayna. Trust me on this, okay, Alex?"
He stared at her mutely for a time, then nodded. The look of utter defeat made her cringe inside. He went white as a sheet, his store of strength depleted. She put him back to bed and left the room to review what she would do next.
Gemma's memories were interrupted by an angry shout from the Mistress in Charge and the sound of crop striking backside. At least this time, the backside was not hers. The setup for the day's final event was taking longer than expected. The remaining male slaves were busily erecting two roped-in boxing or wrestling rings directly in front of the spectators. So, she thought, she'd guessed correctly on that score as well. All those extra hours would now either pay off or they would not. In any case, they had provided her the excuse she'd needed at the time. Strange how very important it had seemed then. Even now, any other result of the confrontation between Alex and herself did not even bear thinking of.
Alex's recovery had been slow. The incident with Rayna had not helped and he remained listless and introspective. She nursed him for over a week before a semblance of his old strength and constitution began to show itself. She went to school, taught her classes, did only the work that absolutely had to be done at the office, then packed up the remainder in her briefcase and hurried home to Alex.
One day, about two weeks after the contest with Rayna, she arrived home to find the guest room empty. Cleaned up, straightened up - completely free of dirt, clutter or any other sign that Alex had ever been in her home. Even the bed linens were cleaned. The only indication that he'd ever been there was a white envelope, addressed to her, on the night table. She frantically grabbed the envelope and tore it open.
I hate good byes. I have taken and endured everything that you have demanded of me, but I am still a coward and cannot face the test I know you will ultimately give me. The reasons for my endurance and my cowardice are the same - I love you. I take your strap and your crop because I know you find value in it. And because I love you, it gives me fulfillment and satisfaction to provide you that gift. Now, you must tell me to go away. You say that you do not blame me, but I know I failed and the day will come when you realize it, too. To see your face, to hear your voice, when you tell me that I will never again have a place in your life is more than I can stand. I will not do anything foolish, so don't fear that. I will have to move away, though. It is too painful to live near you and not see you. The thought alone hurts more than anything you have ever asked me to endure.
Good bye, darling, I will always love you.
For the first time in her memory, Gemma broke down and cried. She did not know what emotion dominated her tears; sorrow, fury, betrayal or self hatred. She crumpled the letter and flung it away from her, ran to her room, and fell onto the bed crying.
When the emotion had run its course and she'd calmed down, she went and recovered the letter, smoothed it out and reread it. It occurred to her that this was the first love letter she had ever received as an adult and it was a Dear Jane. It was not a submission letter or a request for her to consider a potential slave, it was an statement of love. What that implied about her life and her future she didn't much like considering.
She made some tea, built a fire and sat down to think. Facing one's private self is not fun and never easy. Over the course of the first half of a long night fighting her personal demons, she arrived at a couple of clear and surprising revelations. Alex was important to her and he was important to her as more than just a shapely ass for her strap or whip. Secondly, she had never shown him, never told him that she valued him. Hell, she had never known she valued him. They had never even made genital love. Certainly, they had both achieved orgasm during some of the scenes. She sometimes forced him to orgasm so that the intensity of the strapping or the paddling was not blunted by sexual excitement. It was her sternest test, and Alex always endured it for her. Those were the key words, weren't they? "For her".
And so, thinking that he was of no further use to her, and that he had failed her, he had left her rather than be told to leave by someone he thought did not care about him. And now she, God help her, was alone. And she felt truly alone for the first time in her life. She missed him already.
So, m'girl, she thought in the brogue of her old nanny, jest what are ye goin' ta do about it? God, she did not even know where he lived, where his apartment was. She had to think. There had to be a way to get back together long enough to regain what she had thrown away without even realizing that it was there in the first place.
Dawn found her at her office going through her files. A quick check of his treatment record to get his home address and she was back on the road. At 7:30, she was at his door with coffee and fresh croissants. Alex's face went blank when he opened the door to look up into Gemma's face. "May I come in?" she asked hesitantly. She held up the bags in her hands. "I brought breakfast." He stepped aside to let her into the studio apartment. She walked over to small kitchenette and laid out the food. She reached for cream containers and sugar packets and then stopped. Keeping her back to him, she took a deep breath. "I don't even know how you take your coffee." It came out as an accusation.
He stepped up beside her and took the styrofoam cup. "Black. Wrestlers are always fighting to keep their weight down." He sipped the coffee and waited for her to face him. "Why are you here?"
She sipped her coffee and asked if she could sit down. He motioned her to the one chair in the living area of the studio and moved a kitchen chair over next to it. He was limping slightly. He had not finished his therapy and that effort had lapsed as well while he recovered from the virus. Now or never, m'girl. "I need help, Alex, and you are the only person in my world that I trust enough to ask for it." His look of dazed astonishment cut her to her soul. He was shocked that she trusted him. He couldn't even hide it.
She watched him take a hasty sip of the coffee as the emotions played across his face, his fight for composure obvious. He turned to her, hope flaring in his eyes. "What can I do for you?"
"I need a Master." This time the astonishment warred with confusion on his face. "I'm serious, Alex. If I am retain my Cabal membership, I must present myself as a contestant in the Spring Games. If I don't have a Master or Mistress to see to any mandatory preparations, one will be assigned. This experience will be hard for me, I won't lie about that. I have not bottomed, except for my annual, for years. I need someone I trust, not someone who may have a grudge, not someone who would find testing a domme for a whole weekend too seductive to resist. Or I could end up with Rayna by open draw. I need you, Alex."
"Gemma, Mistress, I don't know how to be a top, particularly with you. Don't you understand, I love you and I know that you don't want to be submissive. I don't know if I can do things to you, things that hurt you." The torment in his voice was there for her to hear. He wanted to be there for her, but the thought of having to hurt her was hurting him. Lord, the man truly did love her.
"Someone will, Alex, the rules require it." she said in a gentle tone he had never heard from her before. "Unless you agree to be my Master, someone will assigned to own me for that weekend and I would rather it be you. If I have to be hurt, I know you will do it as gently as possible within the requirements. I would rather submit to you than to anyone else. You will care for me. Besides, just think of the insurance I'll have." Her awful, sexy, evil, wonderful grin was back. "You know paybacks will be hell. And I can teach you how to be a masterful dominant, at least for outward appearances." She stopped to consider her words, "It will be for more than just appearances, Alex. The contestants are expected to be prepared. That usually means some type of corporal punishment and sexual tricks before, during and between contests. That will be the responsibility of the contestant's owner. Inadequate preparation is grounds for disqualification. Please, Alex, will you help me?"
He considered for a long moment. "I would probably do anything for you, Mistress. I will do as you ask."
"And that's the first lesson," she interposed briskly, "You will need to start calling me Gemma, with a lower case inflection on the 'g' if you can manage it. You can't slip up and call me Mistress during the weekend. We have four months to prepare you and we will need them all." Her mind whirled with all the things he would need to learn, all the things he would need to practice. Practice!?! Hell. "I just hope my arse is up to this. I'll call a girl slave to act as your practice dummy." Her voice trailed off in thought. "You will have to move back in with me. Every spare minute will be an opportunity for you to learn your new role." The voice of command was back and Alex agreed, smiling at the return of the old, assertive Gemma.
She continued. "Alex, I have to do this, but I want to win the thing. The prizes always include a weekend for the slave's owner with the Cabal member of his or her choice. I've attended the games before so I know the most likely events. I can handle running events and I can handle sexually exciting someone to or near to orgasm. What we'll have to work on is my ass. All of these exhibitions will involve at least one up the ass event, in particular, up my ass. Anal sex is not part of my regular sex play. So you training my ass will be excellent training for you since I guarantee I won't like it very much. It will toughen your tender sensibilities a bit. The other event will involve some type of semi-cat fight. I need to learn how to handle myself in those situations. I need to learn some tricks to help me win. Can you help me?"
"What kind of cat-fight? Fists, kicks and nails?"
"No, usually more like mud wrestling. No one gets hurt. The women generally just make fools of themselves because they don't know how to fight. I don't want to look the fool. I want to know how to fight, how to win and how to win quickly."
"I can teach you to wrestle. Your height and strength, coupled with what I can teach you, will give you power, leverage and technique advantages over most women. I can even throw in a few martial arts throws."
And so Alex moved into her house and began training as Gemma's Master. It was hard for him to push her around. He really hated spanking and paddling her, particularly when she cried. Alex rebelled at abusing her that way and she could not convince him otherwise. It wasn't a real favorite experience of hers, either. Alex was a powerful man.
She solved much of his problem by bringing in a cute blonde coed who, the first time Alex spanked her, orgasmed furiously over his knee. That effectively convinced him that he could learn how to deliver punishments of varying levels of severity, and not worry too much about the recipient. Of course, Gemma still got hers, because as Alex pointed out, those muscles and nerve endings needed exercise, too, if she was to tolerate what was to come. Gemma own thoughts were that once he'd seen a woman cum that way, he kept on at Gemma to spank her to orgasm, too. Over her dead body.
The blonde turned out to be a top athlete, a college basketball player. Alex taught them both to wrestle and refereed their battles. Both were competitive and both enjoyed the raw competition of wrestling. Alex enjoyed watching two gorgeous women, one black, one blonde, locked in nude combat. Gemma concentrated on the holds and became quite proficient. Di, the blonde, had a more fiery temper and often degenerated their matches into hair pulling cat fights. Gemma responded with some of the more painful and femininely humiliating wrestling holds that Alex had taught her, and the matches usually ended with Di's mouth on Gemma's pussy. Slave Di always left those sessions knowing her place with Gemma was unchanged, and loving it.
The slaves finished the setting up and the remaining contestants were moved to the stage. The defending champion was told to pull a slip of paper out of a jar. She drew the other previous champion. Gemma would get the little Asian in whatever conflict this was. They were directed to enter one of the two rings and wait for further instructions.
The Master of Ceremonies mounted the podium. "Masters and Mistresses of the Cabal, this is the final event of the day. The two winning slaves will compete tomorrow for the big prize. This is the Knife Fight." A referee in each ring handed the women dildos on knife handles. "The rules are simple. No punching, kicking, hair pulling or biting. The goal is to force your opponent to orgasm. A slave who orgasms within the six minutes of the match loses. In the event there is not an orgasm, points are awarded as follows: The knife dildo held in the opponents pussy - 1 point for every two seconds. The knife dildo held in the opponent's ass - 1 point for each second. Full insertion is required to start the timer, but the timer will not stop until the dildo is completely removed from the ass or pussy. One point will be awarded if a player forces any part of her weapon into opponent's mouth. The most points at the end of six minutes will win. Sitting on a lead is not allowed. The referees will indicate stalling with their riding crops on appropriate targets. Stallers will be unable to sit on anything." An approving laugh answered his joke. "Three stalling calls is a disqualification."
Gemma looked at the dildo. The business end was a reasonably sized fake cock, about six inches long and a little over two inches in diameter. It would fit, not easily, up the ass. It would go up an average pussy fairly easily. Most points would be pussy scores, she thought. The dildo was the silicone filled variety. Soft enough to be safe; stiff enough to do the job.
The bell rang and the contestants moved to the center of the ring. The referee-Mistress made them salute each other with their weapons and then assume the "en garde" fencing position. Satisfied with their position, she raised her crop between them and said "Ready .. Begin!" The sharp command was punctuated by an even sharper rap of her crop to the extended thigh of each contestant. The time keeper started the six minute match on the first >crack<. Gemma had expected the stroke, but so had her opponent. Apparently, her owner was not a new member.
The two women closed on one another, looking for an opening. Gemma wanted to use her greater size and leverage on the diminutive Asian, but her opponent was quicker. She evidently was also proficient in some type of martial arts. Suddenly, Gemma was on her back and the girl's dildo was sliding into her vagina. Gemma rolled to her stomach, but the girl rode with her and succeeded in fully seating her weapon into Gemma. Seconds ticked by as Gemma fought both to dislodge the dildo sliding in and out of her increasingly wet, excited puss, and to stop her dizzying spiral ride to a fast approaching orgasm.
Alex's voice rose above the din. "Sitout, Switch!" Training took over. She raised her bottom, getting her knees under her, using her strength to pick up the little Asian. She started the switch by scooting one leg beneath the other. Her lower body and hips slid away from her opponent while her hand held onto the wrist that was still wrapped around her middle. Once she was out from under her opponent, she arched her back and drove down hard on the imprisoned arm's shoulder with her own free arm. The little Asian's face was driven into the mat and she lost her grip on her weapon. Gemma scrambled to her feet and pulled the dildo free of her love nest. She now had both weapons. Her opponent's was lubricated from Gemma's own juices. That would work to her advantage, so she threw the one she'd been issued to the audience where Alex caught it. "Forty seconds" the referee- Mistress announced, "That's twenty points. There are four and a half minutes left to fight. Lost weapons are not replaced."
Gemma attempted to close in, but the girl was using her quickness to stay out of Gemma's reach. At about four minutes to go, the Mistress' crop delivered a stinging cut to the Asian girl's bottom. "First call for stalling." she announced. The Asian girl attempted another throw, but Gemma blocked it, and nearly impaled the girl's cunt before she danced away again. Gemma was the clear aggressor; her foe only trying to preserve her lead. At about three minutes to go, the girl was penalized again for stalling. One more stalling call disqualified her.
The girl tried a martial arts arm tie up to hold Gemma off, but that spelled her doom. With her weaponless hand, Gemma used superior leverage to shrug the girl's arm away, twisting the girl so her body was no longer square to Gemma. Gemma stepped behind the girl and put her right foot in front of the girl's right leg in a trip position. Gemma's right ankle hooked the girl's leg behind her knee while she reached with her free hand around the girl's back to her front. Gemma locked her arms around the girl's left leg at the knee. Gemma propelled herself into a somersault, carrying the girl with her and ended up laying on her side, with the girl's back tight to her stomach. Gemma's opponent's head and shoulders were on the mat, perpendicular to Gemma. Gemma had the girl in a classic spread eagle, her legs dangling helplessly above her head, both held firmly by Gemma's own arms and legs. More importantly, her ass and pussy were completely open and undefended.
Gemma arched, pulling the left leg with her arms and the right leg with her own legs, stretching the girl's legs yet further apart. The girl cried out in frustration and pain from the stretching of her hamstrings and could not gather the wit to resist as Gemma slid the dildo home into the girl's pussy. The referee-Mistress indicated that there were two minutes left. Gemma slid the dildo in and out, all the while teasing at the girl's clit with her fingers. The girl's movements became more frantic, her moans less of pain and more of arousal. At the one minute mark, Gemma was ahead on points and pulled the dildo free of the girl's pussy. Arching hard again to distract the girl's attention, she drove the pussy juice-slick dildo firmly, but carefully into her opponent's little asshole. The fake cock would have challenged a larger woman's ass and Gemma had no wish to seriously hurt her with the dildo. Her goal was to ensure she won the bout, but that toy must have felt huge to this diminutive woman.
The girl started to sob at the invasion. Burying the dildo to the hilt, Gemma let go of it and, maintaining her hold on the girl, began to tease her clit in earnest. She'd been nearly to climax when Gemma'd shifted the dildo because in seconds she was fighting again, but this time she'd given up; now she fought for sexual release, not physical release.
It hit suddenly. One second the girl was moving frantically within the human bondage of Gemma's hold, the next she was rigid - unmoving and seemingly not breathing. Seconds passed until she arched so hard that she nearly broke Gemma's hold. Gemma released the girl and grabbed at the dildo with one hand and the girl's pussy with the other. She dove face first into the girl's muff, licking, tickling and stroking the dildo all at once, wrenching a monumental orgasm from the sobbing, frantic girl. There would be no questions about this victory.
When she had come down from her orgasm, Gemma pushed the girl's hair from her face and gave her a lingering, probing kiss on the lips, then slipped the dildo from her now relaxed asshole. Her hand was raised in victory by the Mistress. She turned to where Alex sat, watching her. She raised the hilt of her weapon to her chin, mimicking the salute given by fencers, acknowledging his role in her victory.
The other match went to overtime. The bitch who had started the day by not lubricating Gemma, won in sudden death when she caught her opponent from behind, and jammed the dildo into the other woman's panting mouth. Gemma knew, as sure as her name, that she would never let that slut defeat her. She would beat that bitch tomorrow, and then she would find a way to get her in a session some time. She'd remind her, most forcibly and appropriately, why anal sex games require proper lubrication. Then she'd really get nasty.
Gemma was lead to her Master by the referee-Mistress. The presentation of Gemma to Alex was done with all due honor and pomp. Gemma was not the only one impressed by Alex's handling of Stephanie. Cabal Retreat rules require slaves not engaged in tasks be restrained at all times. Alex locked her wrists behind her with the handcuffs she had given him. The smoothness of his movements were a tribute to her training. Alex had fully mastered the techniques she had taught him and had become a technically superb top. Of course, with his athletic training and his natural grace and strength, her job had been much easier than it might have been. He had also been motivated to learn what she taught because he had wanted to help her so very badly.
Maybe she would consider training dominants from now on. She would get to dominate some very strong personalities because she would insist on training them as her Mistress had trained her, from the 'bottom' up, so to speak. She had enjoyed watching Alex work Di and it would be a change from her usual activities. She could keep her slaves, like Di, to provide "training bottoms" since she wasn't going to offer up her own ass as she'd had to do in training Alex. It was worth further consideration.
The Master of Ceremonies handed Alex a rattan cane and a bag with something bulky in it. "The requirements are inside. You will, of course, be responsible for preparing her for tomorrow. If I do not find that she has been properly prepared, she will be disqualified and will lose. She must have five clearly visible welts on her ass tomorrow and she must be wearing the enclosed items. Any questions?" Alex shook his head and the Master left to talk to the other finalist owner.
Gemma shuddered. The cane was an implement she had not instructed Alex in because she had not wanted to be on the receiving end of a cane. She could not recall their use in these games before, and now, she would have to take a caning from someone who had no experience with the implement. She expected that she would have to take more than the five specified because Alex would not know how hard to strike and would probably need to repeat at least some of the strokes. Damn! And what was in that damned bag? She supposed she would find out. For now, she would have to wait and see. Alex led her off to his apartment. At least she was spared being a public spectacle tonight during the evening entertainments. She had foiled that little scheme of Rayna's, she'd accomplished that much, at least.
The large estate ballroom was decked out like an old European-style cabaret or nightclub. Candle-lit tables were positioned around a combination dance floor and stage. "Acts" would be presented throughout the evening on that stage for the amusement of the attending members. During breaks between the scheduled acts and demonstrations, dance music would be provided from an excellent sound system.
Alex, in keeping with his status as owner of one of the two finalists, was accorded ringside seating for the evening's entertainment. Alex wore formal black tie evening dress well and Gemma enjoyed simply looking at him. Her own dress was somewhat less formal, but was in keeping with her current station. Alex had dressed her in a tall, rigid neck corset with attached leash, a lace-up leather waist cincher and garter belt set, thigh high silk stockings and six inch high heeled shoes. Her breasts, bottom and vulva were delightfully bare, and beautifully framed and presented. She had never felt more exposed in her life, not even during her slave training period with Mistress. He completed her ensemble with a wrist to elbow arm binder that held her arms securely, but gently behind her back in a leather arm bag. All of her "clothes" were bright pink. The cosmetics Alex specified clashed sharply with the shocking pink of her costume, making the richness of her ebony skin even more vivid. She had asked him why he had chosen the color scheme. He'd replied because he had never seen her wear pink. He liked pink on women and this opportunity had been to good to miss. Her own response to that comment was oddly placid. She saw in his eyes that he thought she was beautiful and that pleased her. It was very strange.
They created quite a stir when he led her by the leash to their table. She was nearly a foot taller than he was wearing those blasted heels and, between the heels and the neck corset, she had no choice but to walk proudly erect and tall. Hell, at nearly six and a half feet tall in those stilts, she towered over nearly every one in the room. No one could miss the spectacle they made; a tall, elegant and exotically beautiful slave being led by a very short, compact and confident man through the crowded room. She watched Alex as he moved through the parting crowd with the calm assurance of a True Master and she felt proud. Proud of him, proud to have trained him and proud to be seen with him. It was damned disconcerting. She'd be very glad to get out of this mess and get a paddle in her hand again. One of her little girl slaves was going to have a very long night next week.
The meal was excellent, although Gemma would rather have fed herself or have drunk her wine from the glass instead of through a straw. Alex seemed to particularly enjoy hand feeding her and having her lick the residue of the meat or sauces from his fingers, damn him. Gemma found herself looking deeply into his eyes as she obeyed his orders, licking and sucking each of his fingers clean after each delicate morsel. The looks she got in return shook her to her core and made her heart do funny jumps. No words passed between them making those moments even more poignant, more meaningful. She truly felt owned. Who was this male who was suddenly starting to scare the hell out of her.
After dinner, she settled herself to watch the entertainments. She hoped the distraction would help distance her from Alex. She desperately needed some distance just then. Even when acting the slave, she could always learn some new trick to play on her own slaves. The costume and restraints he had put her in were not overly strict and she was able to sit without discomfort. She was able to dance, too, although initially she felt very strange out on the dance floor with Alex. With no arms to hold him, she had no choice but to obediently follow his lead in the slow, close dancing he preferred. It was during one such 'belly rubbing music' dance that Alex discovered a new game to play with her. Towering over him as she did, Alex found that his nose and mouth were very strategically positioned. His thin, trimmed mustache was perfectly placed to tickle and tease her nipples with the short, wiry hairs till she nearly screamed in frustration. She started squirming under his relentless and erotic attack and complained that she felt very conspicuous out on the dance floor. Alex merely smiled at her distress and told her that if everyone was watching them, it was only they were jealous of his good fortune for having the belle of the ball on his leash. Slowly, she relaxed and she began to enjoy dancing in his arms, tickles and all. She would have to make sure they did more of this. Clothed, of course.
If she was comfortable, she knew that Alex, for all his outward calm, was not. After the last event of the day, he had returned to their suite, very concerned about the five cane strokes he was required to inflict on her backside. Gemma knew the potential severity of the cane and rarely used that implement or the whip, for all she talked it up in her scenes. She did not want to worry about accidental skin cuts becoming infected on slaves who did not properly care for themselves after her initial treatments. Still, she'd been dismayed when Alex had used the cane on himself, using his considerable strength, in order to gauge its effects first hand. She'd watched, awed by his concern for her, as he'd carefully varied the force and the snap of the strokes, trying to determine the best way to make lasting welts with the least long lasting pain. After more than a dozen sharp strokes, Gemma had finally been able to convince him that enough was enough. She'd take her strokes and be grateful for his concern. How could he sit so quietly when his bottom must be hurting terribly?
Her fellow contestants made appearances throughout the night. All of them were serving out some penalty suitable to their failure during the games. The Entertainment Mistress was particularly good at making the 'punishment fit the crime'.
The first contestant they saw was Blondi, the one who had lost her grip on her stool during the race. Gemma told herself that she'd have to learn that girl's name and get her into a scene sometime with Alex. She was cute as a button and seemed game for just about anything. She was the first act. She was outfitted with a fake handle bar mustache, a bald skull cap and a fake tiger skin tunic. She lampooned the circus strong man. She postured and flexed her arms while the Master of Ceremonies played the barker of the midway. The jerky motions of her arms made her high, pert breasts bounce delightfully out from under the ineffective concealment of her tunic. Her weight lifting act, however, was not one that Barnum and Bailey had ever presented. Her ass had gotten her into this, and appropriately, her ass would bear the full burden of her crimes. The barbell provided for her act had a butt plug affixed prominently at the center of the cross bar that held the weights. Under the watchful eye of the Master of Ceremonies, she carefully squatted over the bar and lowered herself onto the dildo. Her eyes glazed and her mouth formed an 'o' as the bulb of the plug slipped past the muscular ring of her anus. She then did a series of dead lifts with the only the grip of her ass holding the weight. The actual weight never increased much above ten pounds, but the number of repetitions combined with the exaggerated crouch needed to reseat the slippery, lubricated plug put a real strain on her thigh muscles. Her thigh and calf muscles gave out under the strain and she collapsed, unable to lift herself out of the crouch. She did, however succeed in holding onto her barbell. She was lead off by her Master for an evening of scene play with him. Next time she would not drop her stool.
A woman outfitted as a nearly naked cigarette girl appeared at their table. Her tray was filled to overflowing with various toys and restraints for the use of the patrons. Gemma did a double take when she recognized the woman who had been unable to force the king dong up her ass. And immediately behind her was the slave from whom Gemma had wrenched an unwilling orgasm during the javelin throw. The girl, who was shorter than her shadow, was wearing very tall platform shoes that adjusted her height to match his. Her arms were restrained tightly, wrapped behind his back. His arms, in turn, were tied tightly around her waist. Her tray of goodies was supported by fine golden chains running over her shoulders, which in turn were attached via nipple clamps to the male slave's tits. Similar chains were run tautly from her pierced ears around behind his neck, forcing her head erect. A final set of equally tight chains ran from her own set of nipple clamps down between her legs, spreading apart the lips of her pussy, and attaching ultimately to the discipline cock harness earned by her shadow's failure to resist Gemma's wiles.
The final, crowning aspect of this pairs bondage exhibition was his erect, restrained cock piercing deep into her very tight little ass. Their every step had to carefully choreographed between them to prevent the clamps or chains from pulling tightly and painfully on tender tissues. Every step caused tight, nearly virgin ass muscles to erotically massage a dick toward a release that it was unable to achieve. It was perfect. The two slaves punished each other by doing nothing more than moving about the room. Gemma would have applauded had she arms and hands to do so.
While Gemma had been appreciating the pair's dilemma, Alex had been studying the woman's wares and the bright red erection of the woman's nipples in their clamps. Alex chose a pair of vibrating nipple clamps from her tray and carefully tightened them onto Gemma. Her own nipples were still tightly erect and excited from the gentle brushing of his mustache out on the dance floor. He turned on the tingling toy. Gemma gave him a very accusatory look, but Alex again merely smiled. He was taking this Mastery just a little too far. She'd remember these little toys, just see if she didn't. God, the vibrations made her feel like her nipples were connected directly to her clitoris. She spent the rest of the evening fighting to keep from squirming against her seat in response to the vibratory sensations.
Over the course of the night, the toy-tray girl was seen in similar bondage displays with each of the other orgasming javelin slaves, always with the ultimate purpose of the pose to get a cock up her bum. Gemma noted that males were presented in order based on the size of his cock. The largest went in last. The finale came when her Master brought her on stage with the same king dong dildo she had been unable to accept earlier in the day. To the encouragement of much hooting and hollering from the assembled revelers, the slave girl worked the huge toy into her now well-stretched asshole. A chastity belt was locked about her waist. The strap running from the back of the belt to the front seated the dildo firmly up her rectum, where her Master assured the audience it would stay, at least until the retreat was over.
The women who had failed to get their javelins to come were put in special body stocks. The stocks were designed to force the slaves's heads to what would be waist height for any passers-by. Dental clamps prevented them from closing their mouths (or biting). Leather cords braided into each woman's hair, forced their heads up and back so that their open mouths were in just the right position for whatever anyone desired to put into them. Many slave cocks relieved their long frustrated balls into those mouths. Gemma shuddered at this exhibition, remembering Rayna's earlier threat.
The two women who had lost in the knife fight put on a series of jello wrestling exhibitions, sometimes enticing Masters or Mistresses to send their slaves in to join in the fun. They even ganged up on a husky male slave who was sent into the ring by his Mistress wife. Gemma laughed as the twosome thoroughly slimed him up in sticky glop, much to his embarrassed dismay and to his wife's amusement. This was easily the least severe penalty. Gemma suspected that the Entertainment Mistress knew that the woman who had previously won the contest was not the type of submissive who could get off on anything more embarrassing than that. She was definitely a one Master-submissive who came to the retreat to play with her Master, but that was usually all. She participated in the games as a gift to him and everyone in the Cabal knew it. The Mistress was taking exceptional care with her to avoid any incidents. No one here enjoyed seeing a submissive broken publicly because her limits were not respected. Besides, exhibitions like this were always fun to watch.
The women who lost the race were skin painted white with black spots, and their hair was arranged to look like floppy ears. Furry tails, attached to inflating butt plugs completed their ensembles. They were put into a dog run kennel and made to play fetch all night for the passing Masters and Mistresses. They also were "walked outside" to "do their business" in the bushes on several occasions. They always came back to their kennels blushing beneath their makeup.
All in all, Gemma thought that it was a well chosen set of penalties and she was glad that she was not being subjected to them.
Toward the end of the evening, a large, heavy set Master came up to their table with a slender, bald girl in tow. She was shaven from head to toe. Her nose, nipples, naval, clitoris, labia and ears were all pierced and fitted with varying sizes of rings. Chains attached to the various rings served to force her into an overtly submissive and hunched posture while doubling as restraints and leash. Her breasts, what there were of them, and her Venus mound were tattooed with bright red, yellow and orange flames, probably indicating how hot someone thought she was. Probably her own opinion, Gemma thought with a snort. Well, if the tattoo was permanent, the submissive could never wear even a modest bathing suit without all her markings showing. The Master was impaired, having obviously had too much to drink. "Fire slut fancies you, little man. How about a trade of services. I have a hankering to try out this brown sugar slut of yours." His alcohol flavored breath nearly bowled Gemma over and she was offended by his condescension to her Alex.
Alex gave the man a cold, lingering, considering stare, then turned his back and merely said "I don't think so." Alex reached up to reconnect Gemma's leash to her neck corset. A beefy hand grabbed Alex by the shoulder from behind and spun him around. "Why not? You'll get fair value in return. Fire Slut is three times the slave that half baked Mistress will ever be. I just want a chance to make her dance to my tune." He leered drunkenly at Gemma and dug his elbow conspiratorially into Alex's ribs. He then reached for Gemma's leash. He never got it because Alex had him by the wrist and pulled him away.
"First of all, because she competes tomorrow, and I will not have her performance degraded by any rough treatment. Secondly, because I would not trust a insect with someone who is as stoned as you are, and finally, because I don't like you or your attitude. Go sober up. If your slave is injured tonight, I will testify against you in Council for Dominating While Intoxicated." DWI involving injury to a submissive was an expulsion offense in the Cabal. The threat made the man stop blustering for a moment. Alex turned back to Gemma, when a blow struck him behind the ear. Cabal members had the man restrained before Alex could turn on the man to retaliate. The drunken fool was struggling in their grip to get at Alex. "Let him go." Alex said in an icy cold voice carrying such authority and command that Gemma did a double take.
The much bigger man charged at Alex, hands upraised for attack. Alex side stepped, and then dropped the man in a heap with one hard left to the solar plexus. Security carried the drunk away. The Master of Ceremonies came over to Alex and indicated the tattooed girl. "By our rules, she came with him and he is no longer considered fit to own a slave. He no longer has any rights or any place here. Since she wants to stay, by the Charter she is yours, now." Alex shook his head. "Auction her off to the highest bidder. Use the proceeds to make a contribution to some shelter for abused women and children. I think that guy may been responsible for a few customers. How in hell did he ever pass muster?" The Master shrugged and led the slave girl away. Alex took up his leash. He told Gemma to lead the way this time. Summoning all the pride and self assurance of her years as a top Mistress, Gemma walked regally through the parting crowd to the door of the ballroom. Spontaneous applause followed them out the exit, into the hallway.
Their room was sultry dark and warm when they walked in. Alex turned on an unshaded red overhead light that cast eerie shadows on them and the room. He released Gemma from the neck corset and arm binder, then added padded wrist restraints connected by a light, twelve inch chain. She was still restrained in accordance with Cabal rules, but could do for herself in the bathroom. When she returned, Alex was wearing his ruffled dress shirt, open at the neck and his dress trousers. He was staring into the flames jumping in the ornate hearth, idly slapping at his palm with the cane.
The rooms at the retreat were designed for dual use. All the furnishings were, of course, comfortable, even luxurious. A couple who'd had enough D/S or sexual stimulation during the day could come to the peace and quiet of their room and nothing would suggest that this place was one of the finest B&D or D/S facilities in the country. If, on the other hand, a couple or a group came to their room revved up, and ready to play, the same furniture would still suffice. Regardless of game or fetish, whether the guests wanted a mild tie down session or a strict, inverted suspension or a tightly restrained and strict thrashing, every prop or toy needed was already provided in their room.
The same hassock that looked so elegant, comfortable and refined in the center of the conversation grouping, became a strict whipping block with just a few simple adjustments and the addition of some readily available leather straps. The decorative overhead chandelier hid an electric winch that was capable of safely lifting over five hundred pounds. The easy chairs were modeled after the ones described in the classic Victorian erotic novel "A Man with a Maid" and could suddenly entrap the unwary victim in their spring loaded arms. The bed had the stereotypical brass headboard bed complete with special hooks for easy attachment of whatever restraining toy the players wanted to use. Alex, of course, knew all about this aspect of the room. Gemma had, during their previous visits, taken almost fiendish delight in capturing him in every one of the hidden gadgets, and then giving him a first hand demonstration of all their secret tricks. Now, he'd be turning the tables on his wicked love with her full, if not completely willing, approval. And he was definitely looking forward to most of it.
Alex saw her standing in the bathroom door, watching him. He held out his hand, bowed, and offered her the hassock in exaggeratedly courtly manner. She visibly steeled herself and then walked over and sat down. "You haven't removed these, Master Alex." she said lifting her cuffed hands to point to the nipple clips still vibrating on her breasts. The vibration precluded the normal numbing effect of long term wear of the pinching little toys. Her nipples were starting to get sore.
"No, I have not. Your hands are available. You could remove them."
"No, I don't think so, Master Alex." her tone was sardonic as she recognized one of her own precise language word games. He had said that she 'could', not that she 'may' or was 'allowed' to remove them. She did so love the poor grammar of Americans. It gave a Mistress so many openings for punishments without having to work very hard for them. "You gave them to me, you will take them off when you are ready to." She gave him a rueful smile. "I already have enough to deal with tonight, Master, without earning more demerits breaking my own rules." Alex grinned and reached over to release the snap grips on the clamps. She inhaled sharply, her eyes nearly crossing from the sudden painful rush of blood and sensation back into her nipples. She had been more numb than she thought.
Before she could regain her equilibrium, Alex bent down and kissed her thoroughly, tasting her, savoring her without the restraint she demanded in their normal roles. When he broke the kiss, Gemma found herself following him up, trying to prolong the intimacy of the contact. Her pussy was all but spasming in response to the pillaging of her mouth by this man who was supposedly her slave. She had been kissed thoroughly before, been eaten out expertly, and by highly skilled lovers. Alex himself was probably the best, most devoted worshiper in all her experience, but if she had ever had a more erotic moment in her life than that kiss, she could not remember it. It seemed that every other minute of this misbegotten day, Alex became more and more a unknown quantity, more of a stranger to her. And that made no sense at all. She was his Mistress, wasn't she? Wasn't she supposed to know him better than he knew himself?
Alex gently pushed her back down to the hassock. He sat on the chair across from her. "Well, Mistress, dear. The time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things. We have some decisions to make tonight." She gave him her full attention, trying to ignore the pulse of her arousal and the gentle throb of it echoing in her nipples. Alex grinned. "I don't know if you've considered it, but there is no reason for me to cane you tonight." Gemma's head snapped up, her eyes wide in confusion. "Well, there's not, you know. You've won your way into the finals. There are no penalties for not winning tomorrow. All you have to do is show up without the stripes on your gorgeous black fanny and you are disqualified, the competition will be declared over and we can simply go home."
Gemma started to speak but Alex silenced her with a gesture. "If you decide to proceed with the game, we will have to cane you and that has a couple of different ways to go as well. I can cane you tonight, get it over with, and you can rest on your tummy tonight, not having that still hanging over your head to disrupt your rest. Of course, in that case, it won't be what's over your head keeping you awake. However, I think I can get you to sleep tonight, sore fanny and all. You will probably be less sensitive tomorrow and will probably handle the big game better for it.
"Or you can wait until tomorrow. I won't have to cane you as hard to ensure you are marked for the pregame inspection, but you will still be freshly caned and probably more sensitive than you would be in the first case." He drew a deep breath, and controlled himself. "It goes without saying that I would rather not cane you. I have been sitting on the stripes I gave myself all night and I cannot imagine inflicting that on you, my love."
"However, the decision is yours to make. I will do whatever you ask of me, and hope that you'll be able to forgive me." He stood and walked over to lean against the fireplace and stare into the dancing flames. Gemma sat for a long time. She had not considered that she could stop now and not pay the price of a caning, that she could quit and not have to face the evening as a pleasure or entertainment slave for the membership, particularly for Rayna. The solution had much going for it. For one thing, her favorite slave would not be given the chance to get more of an upper hand with her than he already had. Just as quickly as it occurred to her, that thought was dismissed. Alex might enjoy having her at his feet and playing little bondage games with her, but look at him. He was really upset about having to use the cane on her. And he did play his games very well. The leather of the hassock was becoming stained from the flow of her aroused response to his kisses and caresses.
Besides, she really did want to win, she wanted Rayna squirming and humiliated at her feet. She wanted revenge for herself and for Alex. She stood, still balancing carefully on the tall heels and walked over to Alex. She brought her arms down over him from behind and hugged his back to her. She gently brushed her sensitized nipples against the smooth broadcloth of his shirt and shuddered from the sensation. She rested her chin on the top of his head. "Gotcha, little Master." She giggled, surprised at her pun and the giggle itself. She was actually starting to enjoy this! "I want to win, Alex. I want that bitch who put me here and who hurt you without care for your health." He spun in her arms, and then scooped her into his. His strength, as always, amazed her. He sat down in the easy chair and simply held her for a few moments.
"When do you want it?"
There was no question what he meant. The caning. "The sooner the better, Master Alex." He nodded and settled her on the seat and got up to prepare the whipping block. The legs locked into hidden latches in front of the fire. A hand crank underneath the upholstery raised the hassock to a more optimum height. Leather straps were stored behind the bar and were quickly attached to lick rings on the hassock legs. When he was done, Alex led Gemma to the alter of her coming submission. He put pillows on the floor on the fireplace side of the horse to cushion her knees. Her knees were strapped tightly to the furniture legs. The hassock was wide and this binding forced her knees to spread nearly two and half feet. The effect was to place her vulva on display and to make clenching her cheeks very difficult. Her torso was draped over the top and then her hands and elbows were strapped to the front legs of the of the hassock. She could already feel the heat of the fire on her buttocks and on her pussy. A final wide strap pulled hard into the small of her back. The strap forced her to arch her back into the hassock and to lift her ass and shoulders against the restraints on her arms and legs. Every muscle of her lovely arse was taut with strain, roundly and perfectly presented to the tender mercies of the cane.
Alex left for a minute and returned with a face harness that, when strapped on, would force a thick, wedge shaped rubber bit into her mouth. "The room is sound proofed, you know, Master." she said as he adjusted the straps to her head. Not only would the bit be uncomfortable, but the black rubber tasted terrible.
"I know, but that isn't the purpose of this anyway. I am not as skilled as you are, Gemma. I do not want to give you more than five strokes, so I must ensure that I mark you. I may strike too hard and I don't want you biting your tongue or your lips. Remember when you used the whip on me? You did the same thing." And in the bit went. It was just as foul tasting as she remembered. And she remembered the scene with the whip, too. Alex had not walked correctly for a week. Scared the hell out of her because, once again, she'd gone too far. What was it about this man that caused her to lose her carefully cultivated self discipline, her renowned control?
A small rubber ball was pressed into her right hand. "Throw this if you need me to stop. You can't speak well enough though the bit for a safety word. I am taking you at your word that you want to continue, so I fully intend to give you the full measure of the five strokes. Nod if you understand." Her head shook up and down in an exaggerated signal of acceptance. "Are you ready?" Another nod. "Well, I don't think so, but trust me, beloved, you will be. Oh, yes, you will be." A blindfold covered her eyes, his hand stroked her back with a teasing, ticklish touch, and then, he was gone.
Alex stood apart from her, simply looked at her, bound and blindfolded at his hands, for most of five minutes. She was the most beautiful woman in the world and he loved her. Didn't make a hell of a lot of sense when he thought about it. The tests and demands she heaped on him, the pain he had endured for her and with her certainly did not have anything to do with love as far as his middle class, third generation Italian family preached it. He simply knew that life would be very empty without her. Now, he was going to have to hurt her, at her own request, to be sure, but hurt her, none the less. His own evening of sitting on the stripes he'd given himself was proof of that. He'd never intentionally hurt a woman before today. That Stephanie bitch would have to be dealt with another time. He was certain that she would be looking for him the next time Gemma brought him here, once again as the dominant member of the team.
The forced rigid posture of the bondage and the highlights from the fire made her look like a statue carved of the finest ebony. Might as well get started, this was going to take a while.
He approached her and settled beside her on the hassock. Gently, he ran his hands down her ribs, barely grazing the skin. He teased at still stiff and erect nipples and licked ever so slowly and sensuously at the base of her neck and the pulse points behind her ears. Gemma shuddered against her bonds and her nostrils flared in response to the sexual, erotic teasing Alex was inflicting on her.
Deftly, Alex moved down to her ass and began a thorough oral assault on her helplessly exposed ass and cunt. Agile fingers found each and every erogenous point on her body as his tongue drove her higher and higher. Gemma growled into her gag, unable to resist him as he used all the skills she had taught him to attack her sensibilities with unerring accuracy.
Tiny spasms started deep in the core of her, her breath came in gasps, partially through her nose, partially around the rubber bit in her mouth -- Al ... Most ... There ...
Gemma screamed in fury and pain as the stroke of the cane landed cleanly and sharply across both cheeks of her ass. She thought she must have come close to biting that damnable bit in two. So close to finishing what she was sure would have been the best orgasm of her life and then, that. Before she could form another thought, the tongue and fingers were back, working at those centers of pleasure she had trained Alex to find with her crop in hand. Fire of a different kind rekindled pleasurably in her loins and the trip to the promised land started again. Once again she was reaching for the little starry lights of climax when the cane struck, this time about two inches higher than the first, but just as hard, just as evenly placed across both cheeks of her bottom.
Now she knew what he was doing. Several times in the course of training Alex, she had forced him to orgasm before she had strapped or paddled him. Without the pain dulling haze of sexual arousal to protect him, the fires she ignited were twice as hot, twice as severe. He had taken it for her and she had felt exalted above anything in her experience. Now, he was doing just the opposite with her. He was keeping her on the knife edge of climax, using the body's own hormonal pain killers to help her take the caning, to ease the pain of the strokes.
Three more times Alex took Gemma to the limits of her erotic precipice, and three times he brought her back with a cutting slash of the rattan cane. The total process took nearly forty five minutes, especially since he stretched out her pleasure, stringing her out as far as he could without letting her cum, for the last two cuts.
When he had delivered the last cut, he came around and removed the blindfold and the bit. Gemma's eyes cleared and she saw Alex, kneeling in front of her. He gently cupped her chin and looked at her, his eyes scanning her intently for any indication she was not conscious or that she was hurt badly. She saw the tears in his eyes, the regret that he'd had to hurt her. She felt loved. Here, tied to this abominable whipping block, her ass aflame from the cuts she herself had asked for, she felt totally and completely loved by the man kneeling before her. Alex leaned over and kissed her, then disappeared behind her again. The hands and tongue came back with a vengeance, and Gemma sang a song of ecstatic joy in response to their attack. The spasms began again, for the sixth time. A knot formed and grew in her belly; every muscle in her entire body tensed to the point of cramping as he took her higher. Only her uncompromisingly rigid bondage held her and kept her from gyrating madly from the teasing torment of that infernally quick and dancing tongue.
Then, the world stopped.
As if turned off, every muscle in her body stopped moving. Alex seized the hard, tight little button of her clit between his lips and sucked it in. He held it with his lips while he wirebrushed it with rapid, fluttering strokes with the hard point of his tongue. Gemma's world shattered.
When she regained her senses, Alex was back in front of her with a glass of cool, white wine. She lapped at it gratefully, then, looked up at him. "Kiss me again, please." Alex complied and, for the first time in her memory, she kissed him back, tasting and savoring the flavor of her own spendings on his mouth and tongue. Once again, he'd protected her when he could have gotten his own back without any chance of reprisal. And then she knew. She would have to do something about that but she had something she had to do first. "Alex, cut me again with the cane." He looked at her blankly, as if she'd lost her mind.
"You don't need it, Mistress, believe me. The welts will show up just fine tomorrow."
"I know, Alex, but I need the cane, now, without the gift of your wonderful tongue to dampen the fire. Just one, so I will understand, first hand, the gift you just gave me." Alex looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. She grinned ruefully. "Please Alex." He shook his head again, but stood and moved behind her. She heard the cane sing as Alex whipped it in the air to get the feel of it again. His hand came to rest at the base of her spine, just above the crack formed by her buttocks.
"Ask for the cut, Mistress. Say please."
He wanted her to ask for it. He still didn't believe her so he was using her own game to force her to ask one more time. All right. "Please, Master Alex, one of the best across my ass, sir." The cane sang and the fire blazed anew in her bottom. She tried but could not prevent her scream of pain. Alex was at her face again. She swallowed and tried to smile through her tears. Dear God, that had hurt, ten times worse than any of the others. Was that what she had demanded of Alex? She had to speak, had to talk, for him, now. "Th .. thank you, Alex. I .... did need that." She took another deep breath. "You don't know how much I needed that." Alex threw the cane away and reached for the straps restraining her wrists. She stopped him. "No, not yet, dearheart." His head snapped up at the endearment. She did not give out many of those and usually they were given out with a sarcastic edge in her voice. "I need something else, now, more than I need to be freed. Give me your cock, Alex, make your slave girl show her gratitude for the gift of your rod by orally loving your other rod." Alex stared at her, dumbfounded. God, was she going to have to break free and rape the man? What more did he want, an engraved invitation?
Alex evidently did not, because he was nude and in front of her in seconds. She had always admired his penis, especially since she had shaved off his pubic hair the first time. Oral love was not something she had a lot of practice at, except at receiving. Tonight however, was different. Tonight, she was making love. Tonight, for the first time, she knew the difference. She tried to give back, with the warmth of her mouth and the touch of her tongue, all the gifts Alex had given her this day. It must have worked, because he was soon holding her head with his hands and gently sawing his dick in and out of her mouth. It was not enough! Suddenly, she remembered what she had realized only today, that she and Alex had never had intercourse, had never made love in that most basic sense. She tried to spit out the surging cock that was now ravishing her.
Alex, sensed the change and pulled out of her mouth, breathing raggedly. My god, she thought, even now, this close, he is trying to take care of me. "Alex." Her voice was a strange, high pitched, pleading wail. "Alex, make love to me, now! here! Please, Alex." This time, she did not have to tell him twice. Thought became deed and he was inside her for the first time. Alex thought he had died and gone to heaven when Gemma was sucking his cock, and he had descended into the depths of hell when she had begged him to stop. Now he knew paradise. His last thought as he spewed what felt like two years worth of sperm into her tight, hot core was how in god's name he would ever go back to the way they had been before after knowing this joy.
Gemma awoke in the master bedroom bed several hours later, Alex holding her tightly in his sleep. They'd both passed out from the force of their orgasms. Alex had awakened first and had unfastened her, bathed her and put her to bed. In a few more hours, she'd have to face the 'big game'. Soon enough, she thought, and snuggling more deeply into Alex's embrace, fell back asleep.
The nightclub of the previous evening was gone. In it's place was theater of the macabre. All the members were seated around what had been the stage the night before. Now, it was only a raised dias upon which two, tall, wide whipping posts stood, separated by about ten feet. Alex stood before one of the posts with Gemma kneeling at his feet, her head bowed in submission. The owner of the other contestant and his slave were similarly situated in front of the other post. The Master of Ceremonies stood to one side and signaled two slaves to come forward. They carried rags and bottles of alcohol. The two contestants were made to stand, turn their backs to the audience and, holding their legs straight, touch their toes. Under the watchful eye of the Master of Ceremonies, alcohol soaked rags were rubbed vigorously over the weals, bringing swallowed grunts of pain from Gemma. Then the weals were counted to verify that five, true cane cut weals were in evidence. Past contestants had attempted to gain an advantage by using cosmetics to fake some or all of the weals, thus the alcohol baths.
Both women were completely nude with the exception of one inch leather straps bound tightly about their necks, wrists, elbows, waists, knees and ankles. These had been provided in the bag that each Master had been given at the same time as the cane. Each strap had a large 'D' ring to simplify the restraining of the women in whatever manner was desired by the guest dominant who would oversee the final test.
The two women were brought to the center of the dias and stood facing one another. Slave attendants attached short chains that connected the two women's ankles together and then snaprings that connected the outside of Gemma's left knee to the inside of her opponent's right knee and the inside of Gemma's right knee to the other's left knee's outside. Each woman bent at the waist and had her left arm wrapped over her opponent's back and tied tightly around her opponent's waist. Now each had a clear view of the other's butt. A heavy, short handled paddle was pressed into each contestant's still free right hand.
The Master of Ceremonies took center stage after seeing to these preparations. "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the final event of the Spring Games, the 'big game'. Before we begin, we will allow our athletes a short time to properly warmup the muscles that will be used in our event today. The time limit will be two minutes. In that time, as many blows may be struck as the arm can hold up for. Anywhere above the thighs and below the tailbone is fair. One warning will be given for striking outside the fair zone, then the repeat offender will be disqualified. Of course, as always in accordance with the Charter, anytime a slave concedes, the match will be over, as will the big game and the other will win, but I don't believe we need to worry about that with these two." He turned to face the two Masters. "Masters, are you and your slaves ready?" Both indicated that they were. "Very well, the two minutes begin .... now!"
Gemma's opponent started hitting rapidly and erratically, all over the fair area of her target. She was trying to tenderize as much of Gemma's butt as she could in the time allowed.
Gemma's strategy, was just the opposite. Gemma concentrated her blows on one area on each cheek. The spot directly out from the anus, midway up the cheeks. Gemma struck as hard as she could with a six inch swing, bringing to bear as much force and as many blows to those localized areas as she could.
When the two minute bell sounded, Gemma's ass was tingling from the spanking, but her opponent had wasted much of her energy with wild swings, had not gotten in nearly as many strikes as Gemma had, and had tired towards the end of the time period. Gemma, on the other hand, had kept a hard steady pace, striking as hard at the end as at the beginning. The top of each of her opponent's cheeks sported a bright ruby red circle the size of Gemma's paddle. Her movements, when she was released to her Master, were slow and deliberate.
Each woman was now bound to their respective whipping posts. They were hung by the wrists from hooks set high on the posts. Their arms, wrists and legs were bound around the post so that the women hugged the rough wooden logs tightly to them. Finally, their collars were fixed to rings on the post. The women could move the slightest little bit when the final restraint was tightened.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to introduce, Lady Starr, our guest dominant. She has chosen the strap as her tool, today. She is the head instructress at an academy of dominance and submission in the Alps, responsible for training slaves, dominants and other trainers. She has most graciously come here today to test our two champion slaves. The rules are, as always, simple. Each slave will be given, in turn, twelve strokes of the strap by the Mistress. If a slave should break during a set, that is, give her safety word, then the Mistress will move to the next slave and will begin with her. If neither slave yields, Lady Starr will start again with the next twelve strokes. The slave who takes the most strokes wins. Masters, please have your slaves tell the Lady Starr her safety word."
Gemma's opponent gave her safety word, then the Lady came over to Alex. She shook his hand, and congratulated him on his handling of the situation the previous evening. Alex and Gemma had agreed that she would use his safety code of "white tail". She opened her mouth to tell the Mistress and Alex stopped her. Bowing formally, he asked a moment's indulgence and then bent to Gemma's ear. He whispered into her ear and her eyes went wide and jaw dropped. She looked into his eyes, fire shooting at him from her own. He merely looked at her. "You have your orders. Carry them out."
Gemma swallowed her anger, but her voice still shook with emotion when she was able to speak. "Mistress, Lady Starr. My safety word is .. ... ... 'Rayna wins'." The words almost choked her and she knew she'd never be able to say them again in this life. Alex had just sentenced her to victory, and possibly, hell on earth.
Actually, it was anticlimactic. The Mistress was an artist with the strap. She started with Gemma. By the end of the first dozen, she had Gemma crying like a baby, crying as she had not under corrections since her own Mistress had first started training her those long years ago. Her opponent, however, only took the first nine, before the strap caught the two bright red spots Gemma had inflicted on her. The reaction the Mistress got from her brought the next stroke to the same place and it was over. Her Master was shocked, but Gemma had prepared the girl well and she had broken.
The Master of Ceremonies congratulated Alex and read the list of prizes that would be given him as the owner of the champion slave. The final prize was the weekend, anywhere in the world, with the member or members of his choice in whatever role he desired. Alex was about to speak when Gemma spoke up. "Master, please, may your slave speak?" She was still trying to regain her composure from the strapping and her voice was shaking. He told her to speak. "Master, I know what we agreed upon when you said you would master me this weekend. It is enough that I have won. If there is anything you desire, other than what we agreed upon, it would please me greatly if you would take your desires first." It was half in her mind that maybe Alex would pick her. Last night had been special and she would like more of them, a lifetime of them. Maybe this was a way to start.
Alex looked at her and smiled that enigmatic smile she had seen so much of this weekend. "Thank you." He turned to the Master. "I choose Mistress Rayna and her slave, Stefan. We will meet here, the weekend after next. Both will be prepared to submit to me and my slave fully. I ask that this not be an open affair. I would like this to be a private affair for myself and for the reputation of the Mistress."
"As you wish. Let it be known that, upon pain of being barred from our membership, Mistress Rayna of San Francisco and slave Stefan are to comply with the wishes of the champion's owner. Per his wishes, their trial will be closed to all but any whom he personally will allow to participate. Again, Master Alex, congratulations. Well done for a first event as a Master."
Alex inclined his head in response, turned to Gemma, indicated she should follow and then, left the theater, again to the applause of the assembled membership.
Things were strained between Gemma and Alex when they returned to her place. Alex, for his part, was very uncertain as to what to expect. Should he expect to stay in her house? When would she let him know just how many paybacks he had coming for his treatment of her that weekend? And worst of all, how was he going to live without making love to her again if she sent him away?
For her part, Gemma was still bemused by the changes in herself and the man she thought she knew to pay attention to anything but her own confused feelings. In the end, Alex stayed on at her place while both went back to work and caught up on chores around the house. They spent the next two weeks in a crazy dance where neither one knew who was leading.
The owner of the retreat had left the keys to the various rooms and facilities in Alex's hand before departing himself. Taking Alex literally at his word, the estate would be empty of all but Rayna, her slave, Alex and Gemma. Even the servants were given the weekend off so the players would have to scrounge the well stocked bars and larder for themselves while they were there. Alex was in command since Gemma had given him the choice of who to ask for. He had asked her to participate and she had agreed, half hoping that there would be a chance to get her hands on Rayna before the weekend ended.
Alex assigned each of the participants rooms and handed them instruction envelopes. An hour later, all of them met in the large ball room. Alex was in a bathrobe and slippers. Stefan was dressed in a leather spanking harness that separated presented the cheeks of his ass for corrections. Rayna and Gemma were both dressed as they had been the night of the bet. Rayna was sullenly angry at the notion of having to submit herself to another woman's slave, and at the final indignity of having to do so while wearing her favorite domination outfit. Gemma was confused, an increasingly common state of mind for her these days. Alex merely sat at a table, letting them get used to each other.
He rose and walked over to the threesome he had assembled. "Thank you for coming."
Rayna practically snarled at him, "As if I had a choice. Expulsion from the Cabal would have the same effect on my business as disbarment would have on a lawyer. Well, I'm here, let's get it over with. What have you come up with in that little brain of yours to get back at me for my so-called insults to your overrated Mistress." Rayna's temper was in full control of her or she would have been more politic. Alex owned her for now and could make the next forty eight hours pure hell for her. Gemma hoped that he would.
"Calm yourself, Mistress." Alex drawled. "I am not going to do anything to you. Instead, I propose a contest. If you win, you leave her this afternoon, your commitment met. If you lose, I give the service of you and your large friend here to my Mistress for whatever she cares to do with you." Rayna and Gemma both exploded simultaneously, each trying to shout the other down to be heard. Alex merely put his hands over each lovely mouth and continued. "Do you agree? As I see it, you have nothing to lose, because if you don't agree, I give you to her right now." Anger radiated from the eyes above his hand, but she nodded her agreement. Alex told the three to sit and he would explain the rules.
"We will repeat the competition of last fall. I will submit to Mistress Rayna, Stefan to Mistress Gemma. The first to cry off with the use of the safety word loses for his Mistress. Prizes are as I indicated. Now, since there is no Doctor available, only blows below the tailbone, above the thighs and cheek to cheek will be allowed. Is this agreed?" Rayna nodded vigorously, grinning widely at the thought of getting out of this humiliation. She could even work it to her advantage in a professional sense. Alex turned to Gemma. "And you, beloved?"
She looked at him as if she had been slapped. "Are you sure, Alex?" He nodded. "Then, yes, I agree." And God have mercy on that bitch's slave, because she wouldn't. This time, Alex won.
Alex removed his bathrobe to reveal an identical harness to what Stefan wore. "Let us begin, then." Rayna led Alex to the far side of the dias and restrained him across a block for a repeat performance. Gemma had other plans. She remembered what Alex had taught her during that magical night before the 'big game' and she would use that lesson now.
"Down on the floor, on your back!" Stefan complied. "Now, I want you to jerk that pitiful little boy cock of yours off until I see cum spewing from it. Now get busy." His eyes mirrored his confusion as he did as ordered. Rayna never let him cum in her presence. He always jerked off after she left the room, but this ebony goddess was telling him to come. He had not had an orgasm since the retreat, Mistress being so angry that he had been in a cock cage until just before they arrived at the gate. Gemma straddled his head and settled herself down to a little queening while she had the chance. It was all it took. A very impressive surge of semen spewed from the slave cock, five, maybe six hard spurts. When he'd finished coming, Gemma flicked his thigh lightly with the crop, "I did not say you could stop. Do it again, just as quickly. I want to see rivers of cum. Do you hear me?" His response was muffled under the press of her ass into his face, but his hand resumed its rapid stroking. She helped him this time, tickling gently at his balls with the tip of her crop.
The sound of a paddle being applied with full force sounded. Rayna had Alex restrained and was beginning his test. Gemma hoped she had the correct strategy. The sound of the paddling triggered her slave and again, his semen poured forth. Gemma rose from him and looked down at his panting, sweating face and grinned. Her most evil, frightening grin. Now he knew what she had done and would do; and he was afraid. Gemma got him to his feet and then suspended his hands above his head. His reaction to the first stroke of her crop frightened even Gemma and stopped Rayna in mid strike. Without the sexual excitement to dull the pain, the sharpness, the scream Stefan let out was deafening. Gemma looked at the bottom she had just cut. The welt was bright red and would bruise a bit at the tip end of the cut, but it was not that serious. Well, if that got that reaction...
Gemma started a serious cropping. Stefan fought hard, trying to withstand the unshielded pain of the test. Rayna redoubled her efforts, but only grunts came from Alex in response to her increasingly erratic efforts. Gemma stepped back from her target and undid the harness strap that separated his buttocks, letting it fall. Then, taking careful aim, she brought her crop straight down from over her head, slicing down between his buttocks, the stinger tip of the crop digging against his asshole. The scream that Stefan emitted was unholy. "No more, Mistress," he screamed, "No more, please!"
"I did not hear your safety word, slave." Gemma retorted, and she started to raise the crop again. She held it above her head, wondering if she could really do something that devastating to another person, again, when Stefan took the decision out of her hands. Some third eye warned him what was coming. Sobbing, he bellowed out his code. Rayna dropped her paddle, and ran to Stefan, unbelieving. She walked around him, amazed that so little real damage had been inflicted.
"She made me come, Mistress, I didn't know. God, it hurt so badly, I'm sorry Mistress. Please don't send me away." It was a litany. Gemma watched as Rayna reached up and with gentle hands, stroked the brow of her slave, giving comfort, and telling him in a quiet, surprisingly soothing voice that she would not send him away. Together, Gemma and Rayna freed the two men and helped them to deep whirl pool baths installed at the retreat for this purpose.
As they watched the two men, Rayna asked Gemma how she had done it. "It was the orgasm. I'd never realized how much potent sexual desire shields a slave taking a beating until Alex used it to dull the pain of the caning the night before the big game. Then I learned how much worse the blows feel when you aren't excited. I have done that to Alex in the past, made him come, then whipped him, unknowing of the true measure of that test. What will you do with your big blond there?"
"Keep him." the redhead said. "He loves me. He'd never take what he has from me if he did not. It's not really his nature to submit. Truth to tell, I think I may love him, too. Don't know what to do about it, though." She sighed. "Well, I guess I belong to you, now. Thought I did when I came here, but your little man there threw me a curve. What do we do now?" Gemma looked at the woman beside her, a woman who was struggling with the same problems she herself was fighting. She could do something about Rayna. Alex would approve. Alex .... Maybe he'd approve if she....
"Wait here. I'll be right back." Gemma walked over to the whirlpool and talked quietly with the two men. Stefan jerked a disbelieving look at Rayna and then returned his gaze to Gemma. Suddenly both men looked as if they had been handed the keys to paradise. Gemma walked back to Rayna with a jaunty step and a self satisfied smirk on her face. The two men padded after her, dripping water. "Rayna, for the remainder of the weekend, you and I both have the following commands. We will each take our young man to our room and we will proceed to fuck their brains out." Three pairs of eyes slewed to her in astonishment at the crude words spoken in the light feminine voice with the Oxford English accent. "We will accept their cocks in every possible manner at least once before the weekend is over. Also, and this is the hard one, before we leave here tomorrow night, we will each tell our man that we love him. Do you understand and will you comply?"
Rayna looked up at the massively built Stefan, who was looking at her as if everything good in life was wrapped up in her, and swallowed hard. He was the only submissive she had ever accepted who was taller than she was in her heels. Maybe now she knew why that was. "I'll still want to play my games. I'm still a bitch, Stefan, and I like my life. And I like being dominant, too, especially with you." Stefan nodded his understanding and agreement. "Then I understand, Mistress Gemma, and I will happily comply." She was gone in an instant as Stefan swept her up, squealing in her surprise, over his shoulder and made for the doors.
As she watched them leave, Gemma became more aware of Alex intently watching her than ever before. She turned to face him. "If I tell you I love you now, can I get a ride like that to our room?" She asked hopefully.
He decided to go for it all. "Only if you marry me." Gemma had thought nothing could shock her after today. She was wrong, but that did not stop her from dealing with his offer in her own inimitable manner - forcefully, dominantly and positively.
The spring air was warm, fortunately for the men and women standing in the open air arena. Seated around on the ground and benches were the various dominants and submissives who were here to watch the upcoming spectacle. It was the first weekend retreat of the Cabal since before winter and the turnout at the secluded mountain estate was heavy.
Gemma and Alex, Rayna and Stefan stood before their friends and fellow members reaffirming their wedding vows. All were registered as switches for this weekend, and, in an approved variance to normal procedure, no one would attempt to claim them. One of the members, a federal judge, presided over the ceremony which was a first for a Cabal meeting. However, both couples felt that since the Cabal had helped to clear the obstacles from their romances, they had to share their joy with the other members. Unique in this ceremony was that the man and wife were joined physically by the officiating judge, with shiny silver handcuffs, the keys for which would be withheld until they left.
For Gemma and Alex, it was their third ceremony having said their vows in his family's Catholic parish and in her family's church in England. Needless to say, when each had brought the other home to family, shock was the mildest response. But they'd worked it out and now, each was accepted, perhaps grudgingly, by the other's family. It would work out in time. The only minor skirmish came when Gemma had proposed to wear flat heeled shoes with her gown. It was her first experience with Alex's temper. She wore full four inch heels and had been happy she had when she saw the look in Alex's eyes.
The pair of them had attended the summer and fall retreats together. Gemma was back in full dominant form for the summer retreat. True to her promise, she had gotten the woman who had failed to lubricate her during the games. Pairing up with the woman's Master for a two-on-one, she had seen to it that the bitch had been ass fucked with only the lubrication she could provide with her mouth. When Gemma'd whispered "Ain't paybacks a bitch" to the woman, she'd burst into tears and into orgasm at the same time.
Much to the surprise of the members, in the fall, Gemma had registered as Alex's submissive. She remained intensely dominant with any other person, but now she happily switched from time to time with Alex. The only thing that had topped that surprise was when they'd met Rayna in the Cabaret that night. A radiantly happy and very naked Rayna who was wearing Stefan's leash and collar. Gemma and Alex were not the only ones who switched from time to time, now.
The ceremony ended and their friends crowded to congratulate the newlyweds. The handcuffs were already getting in the way of shaking hands or returning hugs. One of the well wishers asked how would they ever perform their wedding night duties. Alex smiled. "I am very well trained. I have all sorts of ways. We'll make do." Gemma smiled herself. She'd just make sure he had to work a little harder at it tonight than normally. He knew her smallest erogenous zone and lately, he'd been using his expertise to keep her in a continuous daze of sexual bliss. A dominatrix with a satisfied, goofy smile on her face loses some of her impact, somehow. Well, he definitely had to be brought back to earth. Good thing she thought to bring her hairbrush and she was lefthanded. Yes, she'd see things were warmed up a bit tonight first. He could take it. Yes indeed.© 1997 by Tigger