BDSM Library - A Colorado Country Girl\'s Self Bondage

A Colorado Country Girl\'s Self Bondage

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Synopsis: True memoirs of a middle aged woman\'s life of bondage
Streets

        A Colorado Country Girl’s Self Bondage

 

 By Mary Elizabeth Moore Writing As Shackleford Bond

 

CH 1

My mom is the greatest person in the world. We were always close, but after my dad died we became even closer. We would talk for hours about anything and everything. When I got a little older we had long talks about sex and sexuality. Mom was very direct about such matters and didn’t hold back when it came to the birds and the bees.

We lived on a farm but after my father died, Mom couldn’t manage it alone so she leased the land to other farmers and sold water rights to the ditches on our land. She also worked at a bank in town. We weren’t rich but we got by.

Our house is a neat old place with big porches, tall trees and a wide shady lawn. There is a big barn behind the house that Mom uses as a garage, otherwise its empty.

When I was sixteen my boyfriend Bobby and I were poking around in the barn one lazy afternoon. He found some rope and jokingly suggested that I let him tie me up. I agreed and let him tie me to a post.

He tied my hands behind the post and it took me about three minutes to get loose. I laughed at how easy it was to free myself, so he tied me again, tighter. It took longer but again I wriggled loose. Now it became a test of wills.

Bobby tied my wrists together behind the post, then my elbows, very tightly. It hurt when the ropes pinched my skin but oddly I liked the pain. For the first time in my life I felt that sweet tingle in my pussy and my nipples popped erect under my tee shirt. Bobby didn’t seem to notice as he wrapped ropes around my chest and the post, then he knelt and tied my ankles. I was very aware of his head so close to my pussy.

 This time he did it right. There was no getting loose. The only thing I could move was my head. I made the mistake of taunting him about that, so he wrapped another rope around my forehead and the post. I was completely immobilized, and I liked it.

Bobby started to untie me but I told him to wait. I wanted to see if I could escape. I wriggled and tugged at my ropes and the more I struggled the more turned on I became.  My face was pink and I was breathing hard. Bobby thought it was from exertion and told me that I could try all I wanted but I would never get free. He had no clue that getting free was the last thing I wanted. I told him to go away for a while and I would get loose. He went to the house and got a pop from the fridge. I was alone in the barn.

I stood against that post for about thirty minutes, loving every second. Bobby came back and asked teased me about not getting loose. I pretended to pout and grudgingly admitted defeat. He untied me and we left the barn.

After he went home I ran back into the barn and took my clothes off. My pussy was tingling as I stood against my post with my hands clasped behind it pretending that I was tied. I tied a rope into a loop and slipped it over my hands. I twisted it until it tightened against my wrists. Just the pressure was almost enough to make me cum. I wished that Bobby would come  back to the barn and find me. At that age I wasn’t sure what I would have wanted him to do. My early fantasy didn’t get much past the stage of wanting him to see me naked and helpless.

A few days later I talked Bobby into tying me again. I pretended to make a game of it and bet him that I would get free no matter how tightly he tied me. This time he placed me in a hog tie. We put and old blanket on the barn floor and I lay on my stomach. Bobby tied my ankles and knees together, then my wrists. He bent my knees and brought my ankles up and tied my wrists to them. I was a slender and flexible girl and slipped the rope off my wrists within minutes. We agreed on another try and this time he tied the ropes so tightly that I lost feeling in my hands. Much better! I pretended to struggle and discovered that rubbing my breasts against the floor was delightful. I huffed and puffed and squirmed until my nipples were deliciously sore. Finally I admitted to Bobby that I couldn’t get free. As soon as he left I masturbated for the first time.

          Bobby and I made up rules for our game. I would have thirty minutes to free myself and win a point, if I couldn’t get free Bobby got a point. At the end of each week the one with fewest points had to pay for burgers or pizza.

I didn’t hide our game from Mom. In fact, I told her about it soon after we began. She wasn’t concerned in the least.

Bobby spent a lot of time at our house. He mowed the lawn and plowed the drive when it snowed. He often ate dinner with us and we worked on our homework together. Once homework was done, he would often watch television with Mom and me.

One evening I was teasing him. He wanted to watch the show on tv and I was pestering him something awful. He finally grabbed me and wrestled me to the floor. He tied my wrists behind me with his belt, then sat on the couch to watch the show. Well, it didn’t take me long at all to get loose. Mom was watching and laughed.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” she told Bobby. He ran out to the barn and brought back an armful of rope.

I allowed him to tie me in a hog tie on the living room floor. Mom watched in amusement. I managed to get one hand free but not the other or my ankles. Bobby wouldn’t untie me and neither would Mom.

“You got yourself in that predicament,” she said, so I scrunched around until I was facing the television, propped my chin on my free hand and nonchalantly finished watching the show.

A few nights later I challenged Bobby to tie me again. Mom watched while he tied me to a chair. It was a simple tie, with my wrists tied behind the chair back, and my ankles and knees together. I slipped the ropes on my wrists within twenty minutes. Mom declared me the winner.

Bobby retied me to the chair. This time he tied my wrist rope to the lower rung of the chair. He did the same with my ankle rope. He also wrapped  rope over my chest and around the chair back. While he was doing this his knuckles brushed my breast. Bobby was so intent on what he was doing that I don’t think he realized it, but it was like an electric shock to me. When Bobby’s hand touched my breast, just that tiny amount, I had my first orgasm. I gasped and jerked. Bobby thought he had tied me too tight and had hurt me. I managed to regain my composure and assured him I was all right. But my heart was pounding and my pussy was throbbing. It took a great deal of will power to pretend that everything was normal. Mom looked at my pink face and her eyebrow rose slightly. I think she knew.

          The next afternoon I was home alone. I got the ropes and tried to tie myself up. The first attempts were unsuccessful. I wanted to be tied, but I also had to be able to get loose. I finally put a knife on the floor beside me and placed myself in a pretty good hog tie. I tied my ankles and knees and made a simple slip noose for my wrists. As soon as I tightened it I felt my pussy tingle. I lay on the floor of my room imagining that Bobby was caressing my breasts. By rocking I could press them against the floor. I liked that. I was getting close to another orgasm when I heard my mother come home. I got my hand on the knife and was able to cut myself loose before she came in to my room. I hid the ropes and was innocently brushing my hair when she looked in on me.

I spent the next few days in a state of confusion and guilt. I wasn’t sure if my feelings were “proper” for a good girl. Mom and I had talked about sex and I knew about the birds and the bees, but nothing like this had ever come up. I felt dirty for getting  excited about bondage and I felt guilty for not confiding in Mom. I wanted to talk to her about it, but couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Bobby and I continued our game and I got in the habit of taking my panties off before he arrived. I didn’t need a bra at that age and didn’t wear one around the house. Every time Bobby tied me up I was naked under my shorts and tee shirt.

One evening I was hog tied in front of the television. Bobby had crossed my ankles before bending my legs. This forced my knees apart. The position felt very sexy and I was making only perfunctory efforts to get loose. Bobby was bragging that I wouldn’t win any points that night. Mom agreed with him and made the comment that I had given up too easily.

“If you think its so easy,” I said. “why don’t you try it?” To my surprise she agreed.

“Ok Bobby, tie me up,” she said

Bobby asked her to sit in a chair. He tied her ankles together and wrapped a rope above her knees. He tied her wrists together in front. It didn’t take her long to get loose.

“That was the easiest way to be tied up there is,” I scoffed. “Tie her up for real.”

“Ok Bobby, do your best,” mom said

Bobby tied her wrists behind the chair. I watched carefully as her tied her wrist, then her elbows together. Then he tied her wrists to the chair rung. I watched Mom’s face and when Bobby tugged that rope tight I saw that split second flash of excitement in her eyes. She glanced at me then looked away. I suggested that Bobby tie her ankles to the front legs of the chair.

Mom was wearing cut off jeans and an old sweatshirt. She opened her legs and pressed her knees against the arms of the chair while Bobby tied them. She glanced at me over his head as he knelt to tie her ankles to the chair legs. Her face was expressionless.

Poor Bobby was oblivious to what was going on between Mom and me.

Mom tried hard to free herself. She tugged at the ropes and really exerted herself. As she struggled her breasts bounced around under her shirt. Bobby was watching her and he got an erection. I noticed the bulge growing in his jeans, Mom saw it too. She glanced just for a second, then pretended not to see. Bobby got embarrassed and went into the kitchen and pretended to get a drink of water. Mom struggled even harder and her boobs shook from side to side. I couldn’t take my eyes off them.

Finally she stopped. She was panting and her face was flushed. Her hair was in her eyes. She sat for a moment until her breathing was normal, then called out for Bobby to come untie her. When he released her she smiled sweetly at him and went up to her room.

Bobby and I continued our game. We thought up all sorts of ways to tie me. I got used to being tied for long periods of time, and in private I tied myself. I was masturbating all the time. Bobby and I didn’t have sex together. Oh we smooched and petted, but nothing too heavy. And Bobby was typical teen aged boy. He could be very grabby at times, and I had to push him away more than once, but oddly, he never tried anything improper when I was tied up, and that was when I wanted him to touch me, but I was still a good girl and couldn’t bring myself to ask him.

Mom and Bobby’s mother are friends. Years later Mother told me that she told Bobby’s mother about our game. They talked it over and decided it was harmless. After all, we were just kids playing a childish game. She even let us tie her up again.

One evening we were watching an old cowboy movie. There was a scene where the pretty school marm was kidnapped by the bad guys and tied to a stake. Watching the movie made my pussy tingle. Mother remarked that she had never seen me tied the way that girl was.

“That was the way Bobby tied me the first time,” I told her.

“Yeah, I tied her to a post in the barn,” Bobby added.

“It looks interesting,” Mom said. “And difficult to escape from.”

“You should try it,” I suggested.

 “All right,” she said nonchalantly. “Bobby why don’t you get the ropes.”

While he was out there she went up to her room. I tiptoed up stairs and peeked in. I was thunderstruck to see mom slide her shorts off and strip out of her panties. Then reach under her shirt and undo her bra. She slipped it out through a sleeve then rummaged through a drawer and found a pair of spandex shorts. She pulled them on. They were very tight and showed every outline of her pussy. She looked at herself in the mirror, rubbed her pussy briefly and took a deep breath. I scampered down stairs.

She came down acting very casual as Bobby walked in carrying the ropes. He didn’t seem to notice that she had changed shorts.

Two ornamental pillars flank the doorway into our dining room. Mom placed her back against one of them, reached behind it and crossed her wrists. As Bobby tied her wrists she reminded him to make the knots tight. She joked that she didn’t want to be able to get free too easily. Bobby tied her very tightly, then knelt to tie her ankles. He wrapped a rope around her waist, her upper legs and her forehead. Mom was staring off into space by the time he finished.

Bobby stepped back and a looked at Mom with puzzlement.

“Aren’t you going to try to get loose?” he asked.

“I was just waiting until you were done,” Mom said brightly.

“Yeah, you can start,” Bobby said.

She began tugging at the ropes. She didn’t look at Bobby or me but Mom really got her breasts moving under her shirt as she twisted and tugged. Bobby retreated to a chair and crossed his legs, obviously hiding another erection. 

We watched Mom struggle for several minutes. Bobby was staring at her breasts. So was I.

I couldn’t stand it and told him that I wanted to play too. Bobby went to the barn for more rope.

Mom stopped struggling for a moment. She was panting and her face was pink.

“I don’t think you’re going to get loose,” I told her.

“Oh yes I will,” she said brightly, still pretending it was a game.

“I don’t know Mom,” I said. “Bobby is getting pretty good with the ropes.”

“We’ll see.” She began struggling again.

Bobby came back and tied me to the other pillar. He tied me nice and tight and I was tingling all over when he finished, but the sweet tingle wasn’t for me. It was for Mom. I stood there marveling that she was turned on just like me. She was excited about bondage!

If my mother, my wonderful, sweet angel of a mother was turned on, did that mean that she was dirty inside too? Or maybe it wasn’t dirty, maybe it was ok to have the thought s I had. Maybe I wasn’t such a bad girl after all.

I thought about this all the next day. When I got home I went to my room and undressed down to my panties. I tied myself spread wide on my bed, arms and legs tied to the corners. Then I called out for her to come up to my room. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw me, but she didn’t seemed too surprised. She didn’t say anything, she just waited for me to speak.

“I’ve been doing this for a long time,” I told her.

“I know, Mary.”

“Do you think I’m awful?” I asked.

‘No.”

“I’ve been having these wicked feelings about being tied up,” I said. “I can’t help it and I want to be tied up all the time.”

“Lots of women have the same feelings,” she said. “They aren’t that unusual.”

“Do you get them?” I asked.

She paused before answering. “Yes. I’ve had them since I was a little girl.”

“Did anybody ever tie you up?” I asked. “For real, I mean. Not like Bobby does.”

“Yes. Your father used to tie me up,” she said quietly. “I liked it, and I miss it.”

She kissed my forehead and went down to cook dinner. I lay on my bed imagining Mom tied to a bed having Dad doing sexy things to her. I was so excited that I couldn’t stand it. I untied myself and took off my panties. Then, with my door wide open I played with my pussy until I came. And all the time I hoped Mom would walk in and see me.  

                                                                                                                                                                                      CH 2

 

Bobby and I continued to play our game. But things were different now. He had no clue about what was going on inside me. I felt older than him.

Once he came to the house and discovered me when I had tied myself. Luckily I was fully clothed. I told him that I had tied myself so I could practice getting loose and beat him at the game. He accepted this without question.

          As my teen years passed I grew. I filled out. My breasts grew and I lost my lankiness. In high school Bobby and I drifted apart. There were lots of cute boys in school and I dated a few, but none of them seemed to be special. Sometimes, if I liked the boy we might pet and sometimes it got hot and heavy, but I remained a virgin. In most ways I was a normal high school girl. But I never mentioned bondage to anyone, not even my best friend.

I continued to experiment with tying myself. I became very creative, both in style and location. And very adept at tying and untying myself. Our barn had a hundred places to be tied. I tied myself to pillars and spread between posts, hogtied on the floor, in empty stalls, in the loft, even outside to trees. I also began to develop exhibitionistic tendencies. My fantasies grew to include having people see me tied up. I came up with a daring and dangerous stunt.

I went to the loft and opened the upper doors. Just inside the shadow I placed an old chair. I stripped naked and tied myself in the chair with my knees wide apart. I sat facing the county road for hours. Any passing car might have seen me if they had looked closely.

Later I improved on this. I installed hooks in the walls on each side of the door about three feet off the floor. I threaded ropes through the hooks and over a beam above my head. I tied them together in a noose with a slip knot then tied myself in the chair with a waist rope, then tied my ankles to the wall ropes. I placed my wrists in the noose above my head and tugged it tight. The harder I pulled on the noose, the wider my legs were opened. I’ve spent hours in that tie, and have had lots of orgasms. Its still a favorite.

          Sometimes when I am tied up I go into a dream state, almost a trance, and I have the most realistic fantasies. This time I imagined that passing cars could see me, and dozens of them turned onto our driveway. I could almost hear the sound of tires on the gravel, and car doors slamming, and men’s feet on the loft stairs. And I imagined man after man fucking me.

          Mom was very understanding about my curious hobby. She sometimes rolled her eyes at some of my shenanigans, but she never criticized me. Not even when I got in the habit of walking around the house with my wrists tied and a hobble on my ankles. She came home one time to find me studying in a self-induced hogtie.

I was lying on my stomach on my bed. I had propped my textbook against my pillow and was turning the pages with a pencil held between my teeth. I was in bra and panties and had tied my wrists to my ankles.

“Is Bobby here?” she asked.

“No, why?”

“Well who tied you up?” she wanted to know.

“Oh,” I said. “I did. See?”

I untied my ropes, then retied myself in the hog tie.

Mom burst out laughing and went down stairs. I finished doing my homework.

That little episode helped me move to another level of bondage. I didn’t like holding a pencil between my teeth. It was awkward. So I wrapped a bunch of tape around the end of a pencil and made a ball about two inches across. That was easier to hold in my mouth. And it was a perfect ball gag.

I like the heightened sensation of helplessness the gag gave me. So I experimented with different kinds. I discovered that a simple rubber ball inside nylon stocking worked great. I just tied the stocking behind my neck and the gag was perfect. (I was still a small town farm girl then, I had no idea that an entire bondage culture existed outside my cocoon. I actually thought I had invented the ball gag. It wasn’t until years later that I found out differently).

The drug store in town had a section in the magazine rack dedicated to “Men’s Magazines” and detective stories. The covers always showed scantily clad women in perilous situations, often tied up. There were paper back novels too, with the same kind of covers. It was very low key pornography by modern standards, but in the sixties they were pretty risqué. I was fascinated by the magazines but didn’t dare buy them. Good girls just didn’t do that. So I stole them.

I shoplifted the magazines and books, but managed to pay for them. When no one was looking I’d drop money on the counter near the cash register. Then I’d rush home and read the stories and look at the pictures. I got very excited looking at the drawings of bound women, imagining that I was in their situation. Usually the stories were about beautiful girls being interrogated by German soldiers, or tortured by Japanese. Often the were captured by wicked looking Arabs slave traders. One picture in particular turned me on. It was of two naked women tied to posts on a tropical beach while dozens of natives danced around them. I imagined that Mom and I were the women. I even cut our faces out of photographs and pasted them onto the women in the picture. I still have that picture after all these years.

I love watching any kind of movie that has bound women in it. I get new ideas that way. Anything that shows women tied up is cool. I even like scenes in dopey old horror movies where women were tortured in dungeons or witches were burned at the stake. Now I’ve never been interested in being burned, but at about seventeen I began to fantasize about being tortured. Needless to say, I never told Mom that.

I found a picture in a book of a woman stretched on a medieval rack. An evil looking man was leering over her reaching toward her breasts with a hot iron. I wanted that to happen to me, so I made myself a rack.

I found a wide plank in the barn. It was over ten feet long. I screwed an eyebolt to each end and placed it across a set of sawhorses. I found a big piece of metal from an old dismantled tractor. It weighed about fifty pounds. I tied a rope to it and made a slip noose at the other end. I didn’t put the rope through the eyebolt, not for the trial run. I put the weight right on the end of the plank and laid a broomstick near it. I climbed on the plank and tied my ankles to one end. I lay on my back, slipped my wrists in the noose, and then pushed the weight off the plank with the stick. The board jerked, my arms were snapped straight and my body slid up the board until stopped by my ankle ropes and I had an incredible orgasm!

I lay on the plank in pure ecstasy. The weight dangled a few inches off the floor. It pulled fiercely on my arms tight and made my shoulders ache, but I loved it. I found that I could pull the weight up a little, then let it drop. Each time I came. After five or six orgasms I was exhausted. I just lay back and reveled in feeling helpless. After about an hour I released myself by rolling onto my side and pulling the weight rope off the end of the plank. I tugged the weight toward me until there was enough slack in the rope to untie myself. If I had threaded the rope through the eyebolt, it would have been impossible to get loose. I did this many times over several days.

I wasn’t sure if Mom would be as understanding about self torture as she was about mere self bondage. I didn’t want her to find my new device so I took it up to the loft. Peering over the railing I was struck with a new idea.

          The next time I tried self-torture, I set the plank so that the end with the weight extended over the edge of the loft. I tied a longer rope to the weight and this time I put the rope through the eyebolt. I tied my ankles to the bottom of the plank, put my wrists through the loop and pushed the weight off. I was in for more than I had expected.

The weight fell fifteen feet. It jerked my body as tight as a bowstring. My wrists went numb instantly and I felt like my shoulders were being dislocated. Something also happened that I hadn’t anticipated; the bottom end of my plank rose into the air. The whole thing, including me, slid forward and teetered over edge of the loft. I was terrified that I was going to fall. I screamed with fear and an orgasm hit me in mid scream!

I hung for a second, then the plank crashed back down onto the sawhorse. The weight must have rebounded, because my ropes went slack for an instant, then the weight jerked my arms tight again. I screamed again and I had another orgasm.

I screamed and screamed. I screamed in pain and delight and in wild sexual abandon. The plank came to rest and the weight finally stopped swinging, and I was absolutely helpless. My hands were numb and I could never have freed myself. I lay there in pure ecstasy. Eventually I dozed off into one of my trances. I dreamt of being tortured on a real rack, branded by hot irons, tormented with pincers, beaten with whips while they turned the wheel that stretched me tighter and tighter, then being fucked by my torturers.

I didn’t hear her car when Mom came home, I was still dreaming of torture. When she couldn’t find me in the house she began searching eventually she discovered me in the loft.

She was horrified when she found me semi conscious. She cut me loose and helped me off the plank. She wanted to drive me to the hospital. I roused out of my dream like condition to assure her that I was not only all right, but I was incredibly all right.

Mom demanded to know what I thought I was doing. I had to confess to her that I had moved to another plateau in my kinkiness. She listened, agreed that it was very sexy, then made me promise never to do it again. I promised, reluctantly but couldn’t get the memory of that wonderful experience out of my mind.

I made some modifications to my rack. I bolted the blade from an old sickle on the wall beneath the loft so that as the rope swung it rubbed across the blade. The rope would cut through in a few minutes, the weight would drop away and I could free myself. As another precaution I connected a rope from a hook on the far wall to the foot of the plank. The plank still bounced me around, which was part of the excitement, but at least I wouldn’t fall out of the loft.

I tested my improvements and they worked, the only problem was that the rope cut through too quickly. I wanted to be tied longer. Oh well.

I demonstrated my new safety feature for Mom and she grudgingly gave me permission to use it. I was a little surprised at how easily she gave in. (I later found out why.) I slowed the cutting time by using thicker ropes, then I doubled them and even tying knots where they touched the blade. And I made sure that the blade wasn’t very sharp. Once when Mom was away for several days I knotted the rope so thickly that it took literally all day to cut through.

I used (and still use) weights to hoist myself off my feet. There was a ton of junk metal in the barn. It was simple to put a rope over a beam and tie one end to a mass of metal that weighs more than me. I put the weights on a board a few feet off the ground. One end of the board rests on a sawhorse; a stick props the other end. I tie a rope to the stick and hold the other end. I slip my hands through the noose, pull away the prop and up I go. I absolutely adore hanging by my wrists this way. I can’t untie my wrists when I’m hanging. I always loose feeling in my hands so I rigged a release mechanism.

 I learned in history class how the Egyptians used the weight of sand to lift objects. I filled an old sack with sand and let the sand pour through a small opening into a bucket. As the bucket gets heavier it drops lower and lower and pulls a string with a knife across my rope. The trick is to keep the knife edge firmly against the rope and this is one time to make sure the blade is sharp.

Depending on my mood, I sometimes tie my ankles together, or apart with a spreader stick, and sometimes I don’t tie them at all. Occasionally its fun to kick and thrash around pretending I’m being whipped.

One of my favorite fantasies was (still is) to hang naked from the crane outside the loft door, twenty feet off the ground. I never dared to try this in daytime but one evening I did it after dark. I tied my wrists to the end of the beam and stepped off the floor. By jerking my body I managed to get the swing arm moving away from the wall. When I had enough room I could swing like a trapeze artist and really get the crane moving. Unfortunately I swung it so far that the locking pin dropped in place. I heard that soft click and knew that I was not going to be able to swing back to the loft door. A terrific orgasm flashed through me when I heard that pin drop. I was naked, outside and completely helpless. I enjoyed myself for a couple of hours, but finally had to call for Mom to come release me. Surprisingly, she wasn’t angry. She just swung the crane in and watched while I untied myself. Then she went back inside.

I’ve hung from that crane on many a warm evening. I have even tied my ankles to it and hung upside down. Once, on a hot night I couldn’t sleep. I got out of bed and roamed around the yard naked. Out of boredom I tied myself under the crane and swung it out. I reveled in my bondage, watched the lights of passing cars, then I fell asleep!

Mom found me the next morning just as the sun was coming up. Sunlight in my eyes woke me and I looked down to see her looking up at me as she sipped a cup of coffee. I smiled sheepishly and swung my body until the crane was inside the barn. My shoulders hurt for days, but I didn’t care. Mom didn’t say a word.

Hot summer nights can be unbearable. One night it was too hot to sleep. I’d kicked off my covers and undressed. I lay naked on my bed and masturbated but it didn’t help. Finally I got out of bed and walked naked to the barn. I thought about tying myself under the crane again but that didn’t appeal to me, so I walked down to the main road. Our farm has an old gate supported by two large posts. We haven’t closed the gate in years, in fact its so rusty that it would probably fall apart if we tried. I tied myself spread between the posts.

This was my most daring bondage adventure yet. That county road is well traveled and even after dark there are cars going by all night long. My first thought was that when I saw a car coming I’d see if I could untie myself in time to hide before it drove past.

No cars came by. Time passed and I grew hornier and after a while I decided that I wouldn’t try to hide. I’d just stand there and let myself be found.

I stood between the posts for hours and no one came by. I drifted into my dream state and imagined who would be in the first car to find me. Would it be a lone man? A car load of teen aged boys out prowling back roads? A lineman checking for a power outage? What would they do to me? Would I get fucked then and there in my ropes? Or perhaps taken away to some hideaway and kept as a sex slave. Finally car lights appeared in the distance.

My heart pounded. Should I untie myself and run back to the house? I decided to see it through. I didn’t move. The car got nearer, then stopped!

It stopped a hundred yards away. I was right in its lights. I wondered what the driver thought as he looked at me. When was he going to drive up and get out? The car sat for several minutes, then from the car I heard a woman’s voice faintly over a radio. It was sheriff’s car! I heard the voice again, then the car slowly turned around and drove away. Hadn’t he seen me? Didn’t that deputy sheriff want to fuck a naked girl bound in the night?

I could have screamed!

I untied one hand and played with my pussy until I came, then released myself and went to bed.

A few days later I was getting gas at the truck stop. A sheriff’s car pulled in and the officer got out. It was Rob Bleskow. His sister was a year ahead of me in school. He was about twenty five, tall and very nice looking. I strolled over and said hello. At first he didn’t know me, until I told him my name and where I lived. He nodded and told me that he patrolled our part of the county. His attitude was mildly condescending, after all, he was a big strong cop and I was just another high school girl.

I asked if he’d been on duty the other night. He said he had and asked why. I told him that I’d been sitting on the porch when I saw a patrol car stop, then turn around near our place. He told me that he was just cruising by when he’d gotten a call and had to turn around.

“I walked down to the gate and waved,” I lied. “Didn’t you see me?”

Waved! I was stark naked in the gateway!

“No, I sure didn’t,” he said. “What were you doing up that time of night?”

“It was too hot to sleep,” I said.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he agreed.

“You sat there for a while,” I said. “I wondered if you’d seen something unusual.”

“No, I was just checking my map for the best way to get to that call.”

“You’ll never know what you missed that night,” I thought to myself.

 

One day when I was seventeen I had an opportunity to indulge my growing exhibitionistic side. The farmer next door was plowing a field beside our house. I was gazing out my window when it occurred to me that his tractor was getting closer to our house with each pass.

We have an old teahouse on that side of the lawn, a little gazebo with lattice walls. I undressed and walked to the gazebo. I tossed a rope over the roof beams, tied a spreader bar between my ankles and tied my wrists above my head. The lattice partially screened me from sight, but just barely.

I stood motionless as the tractor got nearer. I was sure that if the man were to look closely he would see me. 

The farmer glanced toward me a few times, I think he even slowed. While he was out of sight at the end of the field, I untied myself and ran to the house. I peeked out a window as he passed by. He looked very carefully at the gazebo. I waited until he was out of sight again, ran to the teahouse and stood quite still as he passed. Then I hobbled my ankles and tied my wrists in front and shuffled to a row of bushes on the fence line. I crawled under a bush, shoved my hands between my legs and masturbated as the tractor approached. It passed within ten feet of me. As the sound of its engine grew to a roar I frantically rubbed my clit. When it was right beside me, it stopped!

He climbed down and parted the bushes to look at the gazebo. He was directly over me. He was so close that I could smell his perspiration. He peered at the gazebo for several minutes. It was so quiet that I could hear the hot metal popping on the tractor’s engine. I could fell the heat from its exhaust. I lay perfectly still, except for my fingers.

An insane thought struck me. What would I say if he discovered me? “Ok, you found me, now you get to fuck me.”

I wondered what he would say, or do.

I bit my lip to keep quiet when the orgasm came. I kept my eyes on him as the delicious shudders coursed through me.

After a moment, he started the tractor and moved away. I crawled out of the bushes and untied my ankles, then I slipped my arms over my legs so I was bound behind my back. I stood in the open sunlight as he plowed the final row. If he had looked back he would have seen me.

                                                           CH 3

 

My senior year Mom asked one of our neighbors to put plant several acres in pumpkins. In October she set up a roadside stand selling them as part of a fund raiser for the county library. I helped her run the stand, but asked her help in indulging in another fantasy.

I made myself a scarecrow costume. I bought a plastic pumpkin large enough to fit over my head. I cut jack o lantern eyes and mouth and lined the holes with black gauze. I found some ugly striped stockings, horrible old high top granny shoes, an oversized man’s shirt, a denim skirt with dozens of patches a bright red wig and a ragged straw hat. Oversized and badly worn work gloves concealed my hands. The gauze in the pumpkin allowed me to see out but prevented anyone from seeing my eyes.

I erected a cross behind the pumpkin stand. It was tall and had a footrest. I got into my costume but decided that I looked too human, so I padded the stockings with lumpy bits of cotton and straw and filled the shirt the same way. I didn’t wear a bra or panties and held the stockings up with a sexy garter belt.

 With the plastic pumpkin over my head, the straw hat taped atop it and pieces of straw sticking out of my clothing I looked like a cross between the scarecrow in The Wizard Of Oz and Raggedy Ann.

Mom tied me to the cross. She really tightened the ropes on my wrists and ankles when I asked her to. Then she sat down to wait for folks to buy pumpkins. I didn’t tell her that I wasn’t wearing panties and I don’t think she noticed that my skirt was fairly short.

I stood on my cross for several hours as people came and went. To look at me I appeared to be just a straw stuffed scarecrow. I was a warm, sunny but breezy autumn day. The wind fluttered my clothing and made the straw inside my shirt brush across my breasts. I was very excited and had to hold very still as people walked around me. I got even more excited when the wind picked up just as a man was looking in my direction. My skirt flapped in the breeze and his eyes widened in surprise. I’m sure he must have gotten a glimpse of my pussy. He walked toward me with a look of “did I really see what I thought I saw?” on his face. He stood there looking up at me.

My heart was pounding and I tried to stand perfectly still. I hoped he wouldn’t lift my skirt, and I hoped he would. I wondered if he would tell everyone that there was a live naked and tingling pussy under the scarecrow’s skirt.

He looked at me intently, but was distracted when his little boy ran up. He paid for some pumpkins and loaded his family into their car. He kept looking at me the whole time. I watched him as they drove out of sight.

I was very excited. Even tough I wasn’t naked, I was bound in front of other people.

I played scarecrow several times that year, and wore the costume to a Halloween party, still with no panties.

 

          I grew addicted to tying myself and became quite the risk taker.

I would go to the movies wearing nothing but an overcoat. I would sit in the darkened theater and quietly and slowly tie my ankles together, then my wrists. Sometimes I would undo the buttons on my coat and risk letting it fall open. At times I would tie my knees apart to the arm rests. I even would go into the rest room and stuff the sleeves of my coat into the pockets. Then I would tie my wrists behind my back under the coat. I would walk through the theater looking as if I had my hands in my pockets, find a seat and sit through the movie with my hands tied. I also added pussy ropes to this game and made myself come by tugging on the pussy rope while sitting with my legs wide apart. One time I bumped into some friends and stood chatting with them in the lobby while I gently tightened the rope in my pussy. When they left I almost ran to a seat and had a terrific orgasm as soon as I sat down.

          After high school I went to college in Denver. Denver was quite a change from my small farm town on the plains. The first year was pure hell for me because all freshmen had to live in a dorm. I shared a room with two other girls. We got along just fine, and they are dear friends even now thirty years later. But I had absolutely no privacy to indulge my self-bondage. Each time I went home on a break I would spend nearly the entire visit tying myself up.

I was so frustrated the first time I went home from college that I went to the barn stark naked, set up my rack and indulged in several hours of self-torture. I even added a new twist by placing a pussy rope through my crotch and tying it to a weight. I connected the weights so that just after the first, heavier weight pulled on my wrists it would also yank the second smaller weight that was connected to my pussy. When the first weight slammed me tight on my board it made me come like crazy, but a second later the other weight jerked my pussy rope tight and the orgasm’s intensity went up about a hundred points.

Something I hadn’t counted on was that connecting the second weight changed the way the ropes hung. My safety device, the sickle blade, didn’t cut the rope. I lay on my board feeling an incredible erotic delight for a long time until I realized that I couldn’t free myself. I loved the idea but knew that I’d have to get free eventually. I found that by tugging on the rope just a bit I got it to swing until finally it was cut. I had a bunch of orgasms that afternoon.

          The next day I modified my rack by nailing a cross piece at the foot and tying my ankles wide apart. I used the dual weights and this time the orgasms were even greater. I tortured my pussy every day and my entire crotch was bruised when I returned to college.

          I was invited to spend spring break with one of my room mates who lived in Aspen. I’d never been there and wanted to see the town. I’d cleared it with Mom but the plans fell through. My room mate’s father got sick and the family had to cancel the invitation, so I drove home. And got the shock of my life.

          I parked in front of the barn and was walking to the house when I heard an odd noise from the barn. I looked inside and saw the weight from my torture rack swinging from the loft. The board protruded over the rail and I saw a pair of hands tied to the end of the weight rope. I stood frozen in absolute astonishment. My first thought was to sneak away, get in my car and drive back to Denver, but I just couldn’t leave.

          I tiptoed up the ladder. At the top I peeked over the edge and almost shrieked with delight.

          Mom, my wonderful mother, the sweetest woman on God’s earth lay naked on the plank. Her legs were tied apart and her body was stretched tight by the weight.

          Mom had gone one better than me. I had often gagged myself, and Mom was wearing one of my gags, but she had also blindfolded herself. I had never been blindfolded. As I looked at my mother I wondered how I could have over looked such a neat part of bondage.

She had also made a slight change to my design. The crotch rope was separate from the main weight. She could use the broom stick to push it off after the main weight dropped.

          Mom writhed on the plank. Her body rippled in passion. I was utterly fascinated at the sight. I wondered if I looked that sexy when I was on the plank. Small whimpers escaped her gag, whimpers of ecstasy. I watched silently as she enjoyed her bondage. After a few moments her hands felt around until she located the stick and she pushed the pussy rope weight off.

          Wow!

          Mom went ballistic when that rope snapped tight in her pussy. She screamed in her gag and her body arched up until only her heels and the back off her head were touching the board. She pulled on the rope holding her wrists, opened her knees and humped upwards against the pussy rope. Then she relaxed and let the ropes tighten. She did this several times.

          I was so turned on that I wanted to touch her. I wanted to have sex with my own mother. I fought this terrible urge, ashamed of myself, disgusted and feeling dirty. I managed to control myself and started to leave. Then Mom let out a long shuddering moan and began humping her pussy rope again. I couldn’t stop myself.

          I walked to the edge of the loft and lifted the pussy rope weight. I looked at my mother and let it drop.

          She wasn’t expecting that and when the rope jerked tight she came up off the plank. Another orgasm must have hit because she thrashed and squirmed for several minutes. Then she realized that someone was there. She made frantic question sounds through her gag. She twisted her head around and tried to rub the blind fold off. I grasped her pussy rope and jerked it hard. She squealed and thrashed wildly. When she settled down I jerked the rope again. She was so frantic that the plank was bouncing with her. I waited until she calmed down, gave the rope one more yank then climbed down the ladder. On the ground floor I pulled the main weight to the side so that it was no longer against the sickle blade and hooked it to the wall. Now she couldn’t get loose.

          I went into the house and unpacked.

          I glanced into Mom’s bedroom and saw ropes tied to the corner posts of her bed. Her bed was neatly made as usual and the ropes were likewise coiled neatly and tied with little bows. After seeing that I felt as if nothing on Earth could shock me.

          I unpacked my things then made myself a snack. Afterwards I undressed and walked out to the barn. Mom was lying quietly on the plank. She hadn’t managed to loosen her blindfold. Her head lifted when she heard me climb the ladder. I watched her nipples harden. I couldn’t resist temptation. I pinched one.

          Mom’s body tensed, a slight gasp escaped the gag. I pinched harder, then harder still. She moaned and tried to open her legs wider. I knew what she wanted but just couldn’t bring myself to touch her pussy. I stepped back. Mom whimpered in frustration, she rolled her body toward me, clearly offering that nipple for more attention. I took a deep breath and pinched it again, digging my nails deep into her flesh. Her whimpers changed to a deep satisfied purring sound, something I’d never heard her make before. Keeping the pressure on her nipple I took hold of her pussy rope and suddenly yanked on it hard. She went wild.

          Mom thrashed so violently that I couldn’t keep my hold on her nipple. I let go and stepped away. I sat on a hay bale, spread my legs and played with my pussy while I watched my mother writhe in ecstasy.

          Mom finally calmed down, her breathing returned to normal. I walked over and undid her blindfold. She looked at me in shock and embarrassment and a hint of relief. I removed her gag.

          “Hi Mom, I’m home,” I said cheerfully.

          “Oh God. I hoped that it was you,” she said.

          “You did?” I asked.

          She blushed. “I mean, rather than some stranger,” she said.

          “That’s funny,” I said. “When I tie myself I fantasize about being found by some handsome stranger.”

          “You know what I mean,” she said. “Now will you untie me?”

          “Are you sure?” I asked. “I’d say you look pretty good tied there.”

          “She blushed again. “Yes, untie me. I have to go to the bathroom.”

          “Oh, all right,” I said. “I want to tie myself up anyway.”

          I untied Mom and she hopped off the plank and fled to the house.

          I removed the sickle blade, tied myself in Mom’s place and let the weight drop. It was wonderful to be home.

          Mom came back wearing a robe. She was embarrassed but wanted to talk about bondage. She told me that she had began tying herself up shortly after I started. She was just better at concealing it from me. She told me that she had watched me a few times and had been doing many of the self bondage techniques that I used. She was surprised that I hadn’t guessed as much. She told me that she had been watching the night I’d tied myself to the front gate. We giggled when I told her about talking to the officer who  came so close to discovering me.

          “What would you have done if he had found you?” she asked.

          “I would have let him do anything he wanted,” I replied.

          She looked at me for a moment. “He missed another chance a few nights later,” she said.

          “What do you mean?”

          “He would have found me tied naked between the gate posts.”

          “Wow, Mom!” I gasped in awe. “Really?”

          She nodded. “And tonight, if someone happens along that road, he just might get a double surprise.”

          I almost had an orgasm when Mom said that.

          She left me tied to the plank for several hours. She released me at ten o’clock and we sat and talked until midnight. Then we walked naked to the gate. I offered to tie her but she told me that there was no need. I watched as she expertly tied herself to the post.

          She hammered stakes in the ground to hold her legs open, tied her ankles to them, then using a flexibility that astonished me she tied herself to the post with a waist rope, then tied her wrists behind the post.

          “Can you get loose?” I asked.

          She smiled at me and a second later brought her hands around to the front. “Your old mom knows a few things about life that just might surprise you,” she said, retying her wrists.”

          “There’s no question about that,” I said.

          I tied myself to the other post.

          I don’t know what it is about tying myself to that gate, but every time I do, not a single car will drive by. Any other night the damn road is like Broadway in Denver.

          Mom and I talked about what we hoped would happen when we were discovered. I found out that Mom has a pretty rich imagination and she came up some very erotic scenarios. I was impressed.

                                                      CH 4

          I went back to college and my room mates.

My sophomore year was much better. I rented a tiny apartment and had privacy. I bought some second hand furniture including a king sized four poster bed. It was almost too big for my bedroom but it was perfect for tying myself to.

I got a job working as an information hostess at a large shopping mall. My job was to sit in a booth and direct shoppers to the right stores make public address announcements and act a sort of radio dispatcher for the security guards. The mall closed at nine except for a movie theater which usually let out at midnight. After closing the information booth I’d work two more hours in the mall office doing filing and accounting. I got off work at eleven and the mall policy was to have a guard escort female employees to their cars after closing.

One guard in particular was very cute. His name was John and he was a police officer who moonlighted at the mall. He was very handsome and had a strong, no nonsense personality. John was almost thirty and I was nineteen.

          One evening I was in the office when John brought in a man he had arrested for shoplifting. The man was in handcuffs. John called for a police car to take the man to jail. After the officers arrived they took John’s handcuffs off the man and put their own on him. John tossed the handcuffs on the desk and wrote his report. I wandered over and began toying with them. I pretended only idle curiosity, but actually I was very interested in the handcuffs. John was intent on writing the report and paid little attention to me, even after I sat on the desk and crossed my legs. I snapped the hand cuffs onto one of my wrists. My pussy throbbed as soon as it clicked shut. I had never worn handcuffs, but I liked the feel of them. I played with it for a few minutes, then coyly asked John to unlock it. He barely looked at me, took out his key and unlocked the cuff. Then he went back to writing.

I played with the cuffs and this time snapped them onto both my wrists. John looked up in annoyance and unlocked me again. This time I decided to go for broke. I picked up the handcuffs and walked across the office. I slipped out of my dress and slip then cuffed my hands behind my back. I was very excited, being nearly naked and with my hands cuffed behind me. An old familiar heat grew in my pussy. John was so intent on his report that he never even looked up. The office door was not locked and any of the  other guards could have walked in. I didn’t care. I just waited for John to look at me.

John’s eyes widened when he glanced up and saw me in my underwear. He looked at me for a few seconds, then stood up and walked to me. My heart was pounding so loudly that I was sure he could hear it. He turned me around and looked at the handcuffs.

He started to unhook my bra.

“That’s not the way to do it.” I said.

          He understood completely and yanked my bra off my breasts. Then he ripped my panties to shreds. He lifted me onto a desk and swept everything on it to the floor. My weight pressed onto my handcuffed wrists, which hurt and excited me at the same time. John didn’t even take off his gun belt. He just unzipped his pants, and entered me. I lost my virginity in a fashion that was almost too wonderful to believe.

 I was helpless, handcuffed, naked and in a public place. John was big and powerful. He fucked me in his uniform, with the heavy gun belt and all the metal things on it. I wondered if I would have bruises on my tummy, and hoped I would.

I had a wonderful orgasm the second he entered me and several more before he was finished.

Something clicked between John and me that night. He had looked into my soul and seen the secret me that I had so carefully hidden from the world. I was afraid that he would not respect me, but that wasn’t the case.

          After I got dressed and straightened up the office, John walked me to my car. We stood in the parking lot and talked for hours. I opened my heart to him and told him about my fantasies. It was wonderful to see that he still liked me and understood my perverse needs. In fact, he was a little red in the face and was tugging on his collar by the time I finished telling him about some of my escapades.

The next evening John dropped by the information booth. While we talked he knelt down to check the radio mounted under the counter. It was in an awkward location and was always getting bumped and knocked loose, then one of the men would have to get under there and fix it. While he was under the counter I felt something cold and hard on my ankles. John had locked his handcuffs on them!

My ankles were slender and the handcuffs fit around them easily. I felt an instant heat between my legs. John stood up, smiled at me and casually wandered away. I sat there in a state of shock, confusion and erotic excitement. I was helpless, hobbled with hundreds of people around!

I sat there trying to do my job and desperately trying to maintain some composure. I’m sure my face was bright red, and my heart was pounding. I managed to get myself under control and began to enjoy what John had done. I discovered that I could stand up, but couldn’t walk, I could only shuffle. Now that was very exciting, but pretty obvious to anyone watching. I sat back down and experimented with getting my knees as far apart as possible. I had to work my feet around but managed to cross my ankles, which allowed me to open my knees. I had to do all of this very discretely and slowly so no one would notice.

After about thirty minutes, during which I talked to dozens of mall customers, the phone rang. It was John calling from a pay phone. He asked if I was enjoying myself or wanted him to remove the cuffs. I told him that I was but perhaps he should remove them before I was discovered. He told me that he would make a deal with me. I would have to trade my panties for the handcuffs. He told me to have my panties down around my ankles when he came back. If they weren’t there, then he would leave the handcuffs on me.

I waited until no one was around, then crouched behind the desk and reached under my skirt. I yanked my panties down, then resumed my seat. I was blushing again when John strolled up. He was with another guard.

They leaned on the counter and chatted idly with me. I had a terrible struggle pretending everything was normal. I was very aroused by my situation, but I wanted John to free me before my relief showed up. I sure didn’t want her to come behind the desk and see my panties and John’s handcuffs around my ankles. I casually asked John if he would check the radio box while he was there. He shrugged, came behind the counter and knelt at my feet. He slid his hand up my leg and touched my pussy. It nearly killed me to keep my expression normal. Then John unlocked the cuffs and tapped my foot. I stepped out of the panties. He stood up and was holding my panties. He made no effort to conceal them. The other guard didn’t notice, and John casually folded them up and tucked them in his shirt pocket like a handkerchief.

I was dying trying not to giggle as John stepped around me and left the booth. He and the other guard walked away. Later John called again and invited me to go home with him. He told me that he was going to strip me naked in his car and put handcuffs on me before we left the parking lot, then he was going to drive me to his place and tie me to his bed. I was so hot and damp that I thought I’d cum just listening to him. I managed to croak out that I’d go with him.

I got off at eleven, John at midnight. At eleven he walked me out to his car. Employees had to park on the outer perimeter of the lot and by that time it was deserted and dark. John made me stand in the open and take my clothes off. Then he handcuffed my wrists and ankles and told me to lie down across the back seat. I was very excited and did as he said. He covered me with a coat and went away. I lay there for the next hour in a state of incredible excitement.

When John finally arrived I was ready to cum. If he had touched me anywhere on my body I think I would have.

John drove me to his house and made me walk to the door naked. Inside he tied me to his bed, my legs wide, wonderfully, wide apart. And he fucked me all night long.

Then next day I skipped class and John called in sick. I spent the entire day tied to his bed, with only breaks for the bathroom and a quick bite to eat. I was in heaven.

John and I were lovers for three years. He liked tying me up and listened to all of my experiences and fantasies. He even created a few new ones.

After he had cuffed my ankles, I started doing it to myself. He gave me a set of handcuffs, and I would lock them on my self in a lot of different ways. I was always naked and in cuffs when he came to my apartment.

          Working at the mall gave us lots of erotic opportunities. Many nights John would work the graveyard shift. He would be the only person in the mall until the morning. Normally he made regular rounds, sat in the office reading and monitoring the alarms, and chatting with other cops who would cruise by and bring him coffee. After midnight he usually had the building to himself.

I started staying behind after work. After everyone was gone John would tie me up in different. There were a lot of secret places in that mall, back service corridors, utility closets, air conditioner rooms, storage rooms, enormous ventilation ducts, etc. There are a couple of miles of twisting service corridors and it was very easy to get lost in them. There are lots of hiding places to tie a naked girl in.

One evening John stripped me naked in the mall office. He locked a leather collar around my neck, tied my hands behind me, and took me with him on his rounds. It was terribly exciting being led around like a slave girl. We roamed all over the building. John would stop occasionally and do wonderful things to me, and then we would resume our rounds. After leading me all through the building he took me to the huge center court, made me kneel and suck his cock.

Another time he tied me in a way that still makes me hot.

He found some of the suction grippers that window installers use. He stuck them on the marble floor in center court and tied me spread between them. Then he walked away.

I shop at that mall and even after thirty years my pussy throbs when I walk through that center court.

Sometimes John would tie me to a post or something and leave me alone for a while. I could think up some pretty erotic images while he was gone. And there was an element of risk involved. Although the mall was closed we occasionally came across someone working late in one of the stores, or a cleaning crew. A few times we almost ran into people in the corridors. I had to duck out of sight until they were gone.

I played a game with John called Tied and Seek. I would find a hiding place in the mall, strip naked and tie myself up. John had to find me. When he did he got to make love to me. It was a great game.

I discovered an interesting place in the mall. Over the main entrance was a big empty space, which supported the huge main sign. The letters in the sign were plastic and were eight feet tall and hollow. The floor of that space, was wire mesh and it was above the main entrance doors. There were some slender walkways above the mesh that gave access to the sign. The mesh was intended to support a plaster ceiling, but apparently the plaster was never applied. The mesh was fifteen feet above the floor below and the space above was dark. Anyone looking up wouldn’t see a thing except darkness, that is, until the sign lit up after dark. Then the space was filled with a bright red light from the neon sign.

I went in on a day off. I wrote a series of notes giving directions to find me then hid them throughout the mall. I put the first one in John’s box. I went up to the plenum, undressed and walked out on one of the walkways. I looped a rope over a ceiling beam, tied my ankles wide apart to a pair of the walkways, slipped my hands into the loop in the rope and tugged it tight.

I could look down on the heads of people as they passed beneath me. It was very erotic. I wondered what they would think if they knew that a naked girl was just above them.

          I had planned that John would find me and release me before the sign came on, only he didn’t. He got busy with his duties and didn’t get to me until well after dark. I almost panicked when the lights came on. I was now quite visible to anyone who might happen to look up. And of course this was quite a turn on.

When John finally reached me he didn’t untie me right away. Instead he played with my pussy until I had an orgasm. It was incredible!

          When the weather got warm John took me up to the roof. I was amazed at how huge it was. It covered several acres. It was also a mass of pipes, ducts and air conditioners. I gasped and my nipples grew hard when I saw all the pipes. I wanted to be tied to them.

          John knew what I was thinking. I made him promise that he would tie me to every pipe on that roof. There were hundreds.

          I’ve spent hours tied to pipes atop that mall. Sometimes I spent the entire night and watched the sun come up. Once a pipe burst in the building and John had to call the fire department and page out the building maintenance men to deal with it. He couldn’t get back to until almost nine o’clock. Fortunately I wasn’t visible from the ground, but I was very excited. Here I was bound naked in broad daylight in the middle of the city! I was a basket case of passion when he finally got back to me.

          One night, while playing “Tied and Seek” I discovered that the back door to the beauty salon didn’t lock correctly. I tiptoed inside thinking I’d hide there until John found me. The salon is directly across from the movie theater and people were walking around. I ducked down until I realized that they couldn’t see me. The salon was dark and the mall outside was brightly lit. I was invisible to passersby.

          I left the salon when I realized that john probably wouldn’t look for me inside a store. That wasn’t part of the game. But I did get an idea.

          The next evening I took a radio from the security office, stripped naked and went back to the salon. Sure enough, the door wasn’t secure. I went inside, dragged a chair to the window and tied myself to it, legs apart. I kept a hand free and called John on the radio.

 I told him what I was doing but not where I was. I gave him little hints and made him walk all over the building. I finally guided him to the theater, and could see him through the window. He looked around in puzzlement until I finally told him where to look. He couldn’t see me until he used his flashlight.

He had one of those powerful police flashlights that can illuminate a ball park. It lit me up big time. John stared at me in astonishment until someone walked by and he quickly shut off the light. He went around to the back door, came in and untied me. He yanked me out of the chair and bent me over the back. I was giggling and had to remind him to tie me. He did, then fucked me like a wild man, all the time people walked past the window.

John built a bondage frame out of lumber and stored it in a utility closet near the salon. He made it so that it disassembles easily. He would set it up in the salon and tie me to it with my arms and legs spread wide. I spent many wonderful hours watching unsuspecting people walk past me just outside the windows.

We made love in the salon many, many times, and I still get my hair done there.

  

          Author’s Note: Many people have said nice things about the other stories I’ve written. A few even guessed that Shackleford Bond is really a woman. I’ve enjoyed writing those stories. They grew from my imagination and are works of fiction. This story is not.

Memoirs 2

Memoirs 2

 

                                                                                                CH 5

 

                A nice thing about living in a big city is that you can be anonymous. Living in Denver was wonderful, I could be wicked then disappear into the crowd.                  

Bondage and exhibitionism can be addictive. I grew more daring. I wore more revealing clothes to school and to work. I explored Denver by riding the city busses, and discovered the thrill of letting some man get a peek up my skirt as I sat on the bus. I often went out in public wearing only a pussy rope under my skirt. I nearly stopped wearing panties altogether. I made several pussy belts out of thin material that didn’t show under my clothes. I tried different materials, including leather, which became my favorite. I made them so that they were very tight and could be locked with tiny padlocks. Sometimes I left the keys home. It was exciting to walk around wearing a pussy belt. It still is.

                John was patient with me and tolerated my shenanigans, and looking back after all these years, I am grateful for his maturity. I wanted to do some reckless things but he prevented me from doing some things that might have gotten me into serious trouble.

However, he did come up with one scenario that turned out to be so wild that it still makes my pussy tingle after all these years. Its a bittersweet memory though.

He set things up and told me what to do.

I dressed like a prostitute one evening. I wore spike heels, a mini skirt and halter top and no bra. I drove to a street called Colfax Avenue. Its a main thoroughfare and has a lot of cheap bars, pornography shops and streetwalkers. I parked a few blocks away and walked to the main street. I was excited and my nipples were hard and poking the material of my top. I got a few leers and catcalls which I ignored, but I did enjoy the attention. I loitered on the corner for about half an hour and had to decline two inquiries as to what I would do and for how much. (But I have to admit I was flattered that men were willing to pay me for sex).  It was fun pretending to be a prostitute. I was very turned on and went into a burger joint and bought a soda. I went to the restroom and took off my panties. I threw them in the trash can then went back out.

A police car rolled to a stop beside me and  John got out. That was part of his plan, but another officer was with him. That wasn’t! John didn’t tell me that he was scheduled to have a partner that night.

He had coached me about what to say and how to act.

“Ok, what are you doing?” John demanded.

“I’m just waiting for my friends to pick me up,” I said. “We’re going to a concert down town.”

“Dressed like that?” he said in disbelief.

“What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” I asked.

“You look like a hooker,” John said. “And if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, I figure its a duck. Let me see your identity card.”

“Oh, I left my purse at home,” I told him. He sneered knowingly and asked my name and date of birth. I gave him a fake name, one he had told me to use. He got on the radio and called in the name.

John’s partner was a young officer a few months out of the police academy. He was tall and slender and had a sweet boyish face. He wasn’t as experienced as John but he already had an air of authority. He looked at my skimpy clothing with unabashed interest. I was turned on by his attention.

John got out of the car and motioned to the young officer. “Put the cuffs on her, Gary,” he said. “She’s got a warrant.”

The young officer ordered me to turn around and put my hands behind my back. I was thrilled when I felt the cool metal snap on my wrists. I tried to resist but he was very strong. He pushed me against the car and bent me over the trunk. I loved the feel of my breasts being crushed against the metal. He held me in a very firm grip.

“I don’t have any warrants for my arrest,” I protested. “This has to be a mistake.” They ignored me.

“Should I search her?” he asked John. I realized that bent over like I was my pussy must have been exposed. I instinctively tried to close my legs, then remembered what I was supposed to be, so I opened them. The officer pressed his hip against my bottom to keep me still.

John looked me over for a moment. “Nah, I don’t think she’s concealing much under that outfit.”

John told me the scenario was that he would arrest me and take me away in handcuffs. I assumed that he  was going to take me to some quiet place and screw me. At first I was dismayed that he had a partner. I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to play out our game, but my exhibitionism was already in high gear so I thought I’d see how far I could go with another man present. As things turned out, I went completely overboard.

The young officer, Gary, opened the back door of the patrol car and motioned me in. I sat sideways, looked up at him and opened my legs, wide. That drew a chorus of whistles and cheers from some guys loitering nearby. John growled at them to knock it off and disappear. They did.

Gary’s eyes flew to my naked pussy. I sat there until he motioned for me to put my legs inside. I wriggled backwards until I was in the middle of the seat. Gary ordered me to move closer to the door so he could buckle my seat belt. I wiggled around until I was where he wanted me, keeping my legs apart the whole time. Gary leaned inside and buckled my seat belt across my lap.

 I had already surprised myself by showing my pussy. I’d never done anything so blatant, but then I did something more astonishing. I leaned forward and  pressed my breast against his arm.

 “Would you like to fuck me?” I whispered to him. “Or let me suck your cock?” The words just seemed to pop out of my mouth. I couldn’t believe what I was saying. It was as if I was a different person.

John had walked a few steps away and was writing in his notebook.

The officer didn’t even look at me. “Forget it.” he said.

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” I whispered. “I’m not trying to get out of going to jail, but these handcuffs turn me on and you’re kind of cute, and I’ve always wanted to be on my knees in front of a policeman.”

“I said forget it,”

“I’m being terrible, aren’t I?”  I said, pretending to be contrite. “You must think I’m a very bad girl.”

He glanced at me.

“I am a bad girl,” I went on. “And bad girls deserve to be punished, don’t they? Do they spank bad girls in jail? They ought to. Or could you stop in some secluded spot on the way and spank me, I would deserve it, wouldn’t I?”

He glanced at John.

“Oh its all right,” I said. “He can spank me too.”

Before Gary could answer John got in and started the motor. As we drove to the police station  John concentrated on driving and Gary stared rigidly ahead.

“Officer, my hand cuffs are very tight,” I said. “Could you loosen them?”

They ignored me. I asked again and told them that I was losing circulation in my hands. When Gary turned to look at me I opened my legs. He looked at my pussy for a moment then turned away. I whined about the cuffs until John stopped the car and told Gary to loosen them.

He opened my door and undid my seat belt and I managed to push my breasts against his arm again. He grasped my shoulders and turned me so he could reach my handcuffs. John glanced back an looked surprised when he saw my pussy.

Gary loosened my cuffs and rebuckled my seat belt.

“Thank you officer,” I said nicely. “That feels much better.”

I kept my legs apart the rest of the way to the police station hoping Gary would turn around and  look, but he didn’t, so I worked my skirt up to my waist. If this sounds like I had lost my mind, its true. That night I went out of my head.

When we arrived at the station Gary said a word to John.

“Sally port?”

“No, we’ll walk her in.”

I found out later that a sally port is a sort of garage that they use to bring prisoners into the station.

John parked the car and walked toward the building, leaving Gary to get me out of the car. Gary’s eyes really widened when he saw where my skirt was. He hesitated to undo my seat belt until John yelled at him to get a move on. I smiled sweetly at him and climbed out of the car.

It was just getting dark and there were officers walking to and fro in the parking lot. I was thrilled beyond belief when I stood up with my naked pussy for all to see. Gary grabbed my arm and held me against the car while he yanked my skirt in place. Then he walked me into the building.

“Is there some place you’re going to take me for interrogation?” I asked him hopefully. “Someplace where you can torture me into a confession?”

They took me inside to a holding cell. It was a small room with a desk and telephone. In a corner was a wire mesh cage with a metal bench. They put me in the cage.

“Keep an eye on her while I got get the hard copy of the warrant,” John told Gary. John glanced at me, shook his head faintly and walked out. John’s head shake was a warning. One that I ignored. Gary sat at the desk and began writing something. I sat on the bench and opened my legs.

“Don’t you normally take the handcuffs off when you put prisoners in here?” I asked Gary.

He looked up and saw my pussy.

“Oh don’t get me wrong officer, I want to keep them on,” I said. “They feel sexy.”

“Pretty damn kinky, aren’t you?” he said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” I said. “The kinkier, the better I like it.”

                “Ah,” Gary said. “I bet your customers pay well for that.”

                “I told you, I’m not a prostitute,” I said. “But I do have lots of experience in bondage. Watch this.”

                I skinned my arms under my legs and stood up. His eye brows rose in surprise.

                “Very agile,” he commented.

                I peeled my top off my breasts, then yanked my skirt down and kicked it off. Then raised my arms up and did a slow bump and grind.

I had gone off the scale! I was shameless.

                “Ok, put your clothes back on,” Gary ordered.

“Not unless you fuck me first,” I said. I pressed my breasts through the screen and rubbed them back and forth. I slowly knelt, keeping my breasts against the cold metal the whole way. “Or let me suck you off.”

He rose and left the room. I wondered who was going to come in and find me. Maybe jail wasn’t so bad, if I could do all these things while policemen watched.

A few minutes later Gary returned with another officer, a female officer. She looked at me in disgust and opened the cell door. Gary held my arms while she knelt and slipped my skirt up my legs, then she pulled my top in place. She unlocked my hand cuffs and relocked them with my arms behind me.

“That won’t help,” I told her. “I can get my hands in front if I want.”

“No you won’t,” she said flatly.”  She took a short braided rope from her hip pocket, something cops call a hobble. She looped it around my upper arms and tugged it so tight that my elbows were touching. I gasped with delight and my nipples popped up. The female officer shook her head in contempt.

“Has she been searched?” she asked Gary.

“No.”

She looked me over dispassionately. “Do you think she’s carrying drugs?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he answered. “But if she is, there’s only one place she can be hiding them.”

“Yeah,” she said resignedly. “Guard the door.”

Gary walked outside and closed the door. I could see the back of his head through a small window. The female officer grabbed my arm and led me out of the cell.

“Sit on the desk and open your legs,” she ordered.

I was taken aback. I hadn’t figured on a woman getting involved.

“What are you going to do?” I asked, then gasped in alarm as she took a box of surgical gloves from the desk and slipped a pair on. I instinctively closed my legs. She sighed wearily and took a set of leather restraint cuffs from a drawer. She grabbed my leg and buckled one on my ankle. I was still a little uncertain, but liked the feel of the cuff. I didn’t resist when she buckled the other cuff on. She yanked my feet apart and clipped the cuffs to hooks on the corners of the desk.

“Lie back and keep your knees apart,” she ordered. “If you don’t cooperate I’ll call in more female officers.”

“Yes ma am,” I whispered. “But I think I ought to warn you about something first.”

Are you threatening me?” she demanded.

“No ma am,” I said quickly. I shut up and lay back. I looked at the door hoping that Gary was watching. He wasn’t. Damn!

I had never had sex with a woman in my life and never had any serious desire to, but I was so incredibly turned on that I knew that I was going to cum the second anyone touched my pussy, male or female. Sure enough, as soon as her hand touched me I had an orgasm!

I gasped and arched my back. I felt the entire universe expand in my pussy and ripple out through my soul. I bit my lip to keep from screaming.

The officer jumped back in astonishment. She stared at me in contempt and disgust.  I felt so wonderfully low and degraded. I was free to be the slut that existed deep inside me. Every wicked, dirty, trampy part of my soul was there for her to see. That was the deepest, purest, most submissive moment in my life so far, and it was heavenly!

“Are you finished?” she asked.

“I’m so sorry ma am,” I said sincerely. “I couldn’t help myself, honestly. That’s what I tried to warn you about.”

“Hmmm,” she said. “Are you a lesbian?”

“No ma am.”

“Did you really just have an orgasm?” She seemed bemused.

“Oh yes!” I said emphatically.

“Very few hookers react that way,” she said. “They’re usually burnt out, desensitized.”

“I’m not a hooker,” I said.

“You’re not? Then why the outfit? Were you cruising the streets looking for a thrill?”

I nodded.

“That can be dangerous,” she said. Her tone softened slightly. She nodded toward Gary outside the door. “Were you hoping to be arrested?”

“No, but I’m glad it happened.”

She chuckled. “Well, you got lucky with the officers who picked you up. Those two are just about the handsomest men on the department.”

“They are cute,” I agreed. I didn’t mention that one was my boyfriend.

“You won’t have much luck,” she said matter of factly. “Male cops are warned about having sex on duty, especially with women in custody. It could get them fired.”

“Oh, I see, ” I said. “Too bad.”

Her attitude began to soften.

“What do you do for a living?” she asked conversationally.

“I’m in college and I work at a shopping mall,” I told her. “I’m really not a prostitute.”

I saw that she believed me. She started to strip the rubber gloves off.

“I don’t suppose you have any drugs hidden up your pussy, do you?’

“No ma am, but if you want to check, I don’t mind.”

“I thought you weren’t gay?

“I’m not,” I said. “At least, I wasn’t until a few minutes ago.”

She laughed softly. “Was that all it took?”

“I guess so,” I confessed. “I’ve never been touched like that by a woman before.”

“I see,” she said. “Well, according to protocol, I am supposed to make a thorough body search.”

I looked up at her and opened my knees wider. She looked at the door again, then touched my pussy.

I sighed with delight. Her touch was different from a man’s, it was gentler, more knowing and undeniably nice. I liked it.

Her fingers slipped inside my pussy, one at first, then another and another until all four were inside. Her thumb found my clitoris and kneaded it so sweetly. I closed my eyes in pure delight.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said softly. “I could get fired for it.”

“Oh dear,” I moaned. “Please don’t stop.”

“Let me know when you are close to coming,” she said. I heard an odd sliding noise.

I opened my eyes and almost came. She had drawn her baton and was placing the end between my legs.

“Yes!” I groaned. I opened my knees as wide as I could.

She pulled her fingers out of my pussy and immediately slammed her baton in. she shoved it in deep and fast. I came so hard that the desk bounced off the floor. She leaned over me, locked her eyes in mine and jammed that baton in again and again. She saw that I was fighting to keep from screaming and clamped her hand over my mouth. She was strong and I was helpless in her grip. I thanked her with my eyes while the ripples of ecstasy coursed through my belly.

She withdrew the baton and caressed my face while I fought to bring my breathing back to normal. She undid my ankle restraints and helped me sit up.

She took a deep breath and patted her cheeks.

“That was a new experience,” she marveled.

She slid the baton into a ring on her belt. She untied the hobble from my arms.

“That club is a wonderful thing,” I told her.

“Yep, and you don’t have to worry about getting pregnant with one,” she said. “You ought to hear what the male cops think that we females do with them alone in our cars.”

“I can guess,” I laughed. “But are they right?”

“Absolutely.”

I stepped closer to her.

“I wish there was time for me to show you my appreciation,” I told her.

“That’s not necessary,” she said, “Besides, I thought you weren’t a lesbian.”

“After this I may have to switch over,” I said. “And even if I stay straight, I’d still like to please you. I’ll do anything you like.”

“Do you think I’m gay?” she asked.

“Aren’t you?”

“Nope. I’m married and have two kids,” she said. “Believe me, I’ve never done anything like this before.” She stripped off the gloves. “And I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone.”

“Maybe I won’t, and maybe I will,” I said. She frowned in concern.

 “I might have to blackmail you into doing it to me again sometime,” I giggled.

She grinned and walked to the door.

“She’s clean,” she told Gary and walked away. He came back into the room and locked me back in the cell.

John came back after a while and tossed some papers on the desk.

“She’s not our girl,” he told Gary.

“What?”

“The physical doesn’t match up,” John went on. “Wrong height, weight, and eye color. The fingerprints are way off and the original booking photograph is obviously not this girl.”

“Damn,” Gary said in annoyance.

“Yeah,” John agreed. “I’ll go find the lieutenant and get permission to take her back to where we found her.”

John walked out again and Gary opened my cell door. “Turn around and I’ll take off the cuffs,” he told me.

I backed up against the wall. “No way,” I said. “I want to keep them on.”

He shrugged and stepped away. I sat down and opened my legs.

A few minutes later John returned. A police lieutenant was with him. I instinctively closed my legs when I saw the lieutenant.. He was in his forties, tall and muscular with black wavy hair graying at the temples. He radiated authority. He was definitely not the kind of man to mess with. And he was the sexiest man I’d ever seen.

“Why is she still in cuffs?” he asked Gary.

“Because she takes her clothes off otherwise,” Gary told him.

“Is she drunk?” the lieutenant asked. “Or on drugs?”

“Not that I can tell,” John replied.

The lieutenant turned to me. I looked into his gray eyes and could have melted. I was a little frightened and a whole lot turned on. I looked him squarely in the eyes and took my clothes off again. 

The men looked at me in silence.. The lieutenant looked my body over and even nodded in appreciation. John was shocked and I should have realized that I was going too far, Unfortunately I didn’t see the warning in his eyes.

“All right,” the lieutenant said. “Hold her over night until she’s sober. Release her in the morning.”

He turned to me. “You have a choice, you can put your clothes on and leave them on, or I’ll have a pair of jail matrons come down and put you in a jump suit and total restraints.”

“Total restraint sounds sexy,” I answered.

He picked up the phone and called the jail. A few moments two uniformed women arrived. One was carrying all sorts of chains and leather cuffs, the other carried a set of orange coveralls and a plastic bag.

The men watched silently while one woman held my arms behind my back. The other opened the bag and removed a pair of cheap cotton panties and held them for me to step into.

“Not very sexy,” I said, but I let her slip them on me. The woman holding me raised my arms above my head while the other slipped a cotton tank top over them.  Her hands were strong and I don’t think I could have gotten out of her grip. Not surprisingly I found this exciting.

I sighed resignedly when they put me into the shapeless coveralls. I hated the idea of  being clothed, but it got better when they locked the restraints on me. They cuffed my hands behind my back and buckled three wide straps around my arms and body. They locked a heavy belt around my waist, a strap around my legs above my knees and leather cuffs on my ankles.

They worked with the efficiency of long practice. Not a word was spoken. I wondered how many hundreds of women they had done this to. They grasped my arms and lowered me to the floor face down.  They brought my ankles up and clipped them to my wrists. 

“I don’t mean to be critical,” I said sincerely. “I’m only trying to be helpful, but the strap on my arms is loose. Could you tighten it?” They did.

I wriggled on the floor. “This is awfully nice,” I told them. “But couldn’t you make an exception just this once and chain me in the nude?”

They ignored me and filed out of the room. John, Gary and the lieutenant followed.

I heard the lieutenant talking in the hallway. “Keep her restrained over night, then release her when day shift comes on. No need to file any charges or write a report.”

I heard them walk away.

I tested my chains and thought I was in heaven! This wasn’t a game and I wasn’t going to escape. I strained against the unyielding metal until my pussy was on fire.

I lay on that floor all night loving every second. I listened to officers bring in other prisoners, heard the ranting and later the snores of a couple of drunks in other holding cells, and listened to officers talk in the other holding rooms. I slipped into one of my fantasy states. I dreamt that dozens of cops came into my cell and screwed me in my chains. I dreamt of handsome tough male officers with big cocks and stern, unsympathetic females who fucked me with their batons. I enjoyed a particularly vivid dream where the lieutenant yanked me to my knees and shoved his cock into my mouth. I never slept, but dozed at times with powerful erotic fantasies in my head. When I woke out my dreams I strained at my chains. The harder I tried to break free, the hotter I got.

I made so much noise that a passing officer looked in on me.

“If you just calm down a little, we’ll take those restraints off you,” he said reasonably.

“I don’t want them off,” I said. “I like being chained up.”

He thought I was being defiant. He shook his head and walked away.

At eight the next morning the two matrons reappeared and released me. I considered throwing a fit so they’d keep me longer, but I was getting hungry and had to go to the bathroom pretty bad. They unchained me and told me to put on my clothes. I begged for a restroom and they took me to one, then they walked me to the back door.

I expected to find John or Gary but they were no where in sight. I found out later that they were on a stabbing call.

“Wait here,” a matron told me. “Day shift is coming on duty and an officer will drive you back to your car.”

I waited in the cool morning air. I was hungry and tired and wanted to go home. People came and went from the building. I got quite a few looks in my skimpy clothes.

“What are you doing here?” a voice asked me. It was the female officer who had searched me. She was in civilian clothes.

“Waiting for someone to drive me to my car,” I told her.

“I thought they released you last night,” she said.

“They were going to, until I became uncooperative with the lieutenant.”

“Oh?”

“I took my clothes off in front of him,” I said. “He thought I was drunk  so they kept me in chains all night.”

“Was that lieutenant Dale?” she asked.

“I didn’t get his name,” I answered. “He was about forty, black hair with gray at the temples, and very sexy.”

“Yes, that was Dale,” she said. “ Just between me and you, I wouldn’t mind taking my clothes off in front of him either.”

“I thought you were married?” I said.

“I am,” she replied.” But I can still dream, can’t I?”

“I had a pretty wicked dream about him,” I said.

“After a night in restraint you ought to be stiff and sore,” she said.

“Not really,” I told her. “I enjoyed myself, and I’ve spent longer periods than that tied up.”

“Really into this bondage thing, huh?”

“You better believe it.”

“Where is your car?” she asked. “I’ll give you a ride.”

I got in her car and we drove away.

“What are you doing today?” she asked.

“Sleeping,” I said. “Being arrested was exciting, but exhausting. I want to get something to eat, then I’m going to crash at my apartment.”

“Do you mind some company at breakfast?” she asked. “I’ll buy.”

“Not at all,” I told her. “But I’ll pay. I really owe you for that terrific orgasm.”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

She took me to my car then I followed her to a breakfast restaurant.

“I really hope you won’t tell anyone about what happened between us last night,” she said. “I wasn’t kidding about getting fired if word got out.”

‘Don’t worry,” I said. “I’d never do anything to harm you.”

She seemed relieved.

“So tell me more about your kinky lifestyle,” she said lightly.

Her name was Jill. She was thirty one, married with children and had been on the police force for six years and we seemed to click at once. I instinctively felt I could trust her so I told her everything. How I got started with Bobby and our game, about my self bondage in front of my mother, my homemade torture machines in the barn and the hot sleepless nights on the farm. I told her about my escapades at the mall and kinky sex with my boyfriend. I didn’t tell her John’s name or that he was a cop. And I didn’t mention that I’d discovered my mother using my bondage machines.

We talked for a long time. It was nice to have another woman to confide in. We talked until we were both sleepy, so we went our separate ways. Before she left she gave me her home phone number.

 

                                                                                Ch 6

 

John was not pleased with my behavior at the police station. I had gone too far. He had planned to arrest me, let me show off a little to his partner, then take me to the station. He planned to keep me in the holding cell for an hour or so, until he ‘confirmed’ that I didn’t have a warrant, then take me back to my car. He wasn’t expecting me to show my pussy or to strip naked in the station.

I was hurt that he didn’t understand how much I’d enjoyed myself. I was grateful to him for allowing me to play out my fantasies and disappointed that he now regretted it. I resented his criticism and we got into a quarrel. I lost my temper and told him about the female officer fucking me with her baton. Luckily he wouldn’t believe that any cop would do something so stupid and didn’t believe me, but he was furious that I would make up such a lie.

It finally sunk in that I’d gone too far. I got frightened and begged him to forgive me. I told him that nothing had happened with any female officer, that I’d just made it up. Thank God he believed me.

Later, we talked calmly and John explained how most cops who lose their jobs do so over sexual misconduct. He wasn’t a coward but being a cop was his life’s dream and he didn’t want to lose his career over my lack of common sense. We hugged and made up, but things were never the same after that. John refused to play any more bondage games in the mall and began distancing himself.

I tried to make amends. I behaved myself at the mall, took him home made cookies, left little love notes in his mail box, but the magic was gone. Eventually we broke up.

I went through all the heartache of a broken romance, made worse because of the guilt I felt. I moped around for days. I needed someone to talk to but calling Mom was out of the question. She would have been horrified if I told her what I’d done. It was a tough lonely time for me, then remembered Jill and called her. We met for lunch, and I dressed properly.

I told her that I’d split up with my boyfriend over my arrest.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I made the mistake of telling him about my night at the police station,” I said.

“I thought he was pretty liberal about your bondage fetish,” she said.

“So did I,” I said. “But I overdid it. He didn’t like hearing about how I displayed myself to all those police officers.”

“You didn’t tell him about what I did to you?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I just told him that I’d been strip searched by a sexy female cop. I didn’t go into any details but he sensed that I was attracted to that lady cop and that upset him too.”

“A sexy female cop?” she repeated with a little smile.

“Very sexy,” I said.

“So he broke up with you?” she asked.

“Not right away,” I said. “He didn’t trust me anymore. It was only a matter of time after that.”

She nodded understandingly.

“From what you’ve told me about your bondage, I have a feeling that its like an addiction. You reach plateaus, enjoy things at that level for a while, then need a bigger thrill so you move up to another plateau. And each new level is more dangerous than the last.”

“That’s exactly the way I am,” I admitted.

“Have you done anything wild and crazy since your arrest?” she asked.

“No, I’ve been so depressed that I haven’t been in the mood for sex,” I told her.

“Maybe you ought to look for a nice decent guy who isn’t into bondage,” she said. “Take a break from ropes and chains.”

“You mean join ‘Bondage Anonymous’?”

 

I tried to take Jill’s advice. I dated nice guys, went to movies and concerts and did simple wholesome things, and was bored to death. I began tying myself up again and tried to be content with that. It didn’t work. All I could think about was John and how I had ruined things. I was at the lowest point in my life.

I was so guilt ridden that I decided to abstain from sex and especially bondage. I began thinking that I didn’t deserve any happiness. I threw myself into my classes. It lasted for a few weeks, then I fell off the wagon.

I discovered a bondage shop.

I was on a city bus when I passed a shop that advertised sexy leather goods. I tired to keep to my resolve, but the shop intrigued me. A few days later I went back, and this time I got off the bus and went inside. I was astonished at what was on sale. They had whips, floggers, riding crops, leather restraints, fetish clothing of all sorts, and books. I wandered though the store almost in a daze.

The place empty except for a female clerk. She was about forty, very attractive, and in leather. She wore knee high boots, a leather miniskirt and vest that exposed a generous amount of bosom. She had a full head of rich natural red hair that cascaded around her shoulder. Her skin was pale and her breasts were freckled and she had deep green eyes.  She was leaning on  the counter reading a magazine. She offered the usual “can I help you?”.

“Just browsing,” I told her. She smiled and went back to her reading.

I spent a long time in that store. I looked at almost everything they had. My nipples were rock hard and my pussy was hot and damp.

A woman came into the store and bought some nipple clamps. She and the clerk knew each other and chatted. I wandered over, intrigued when I heard the word nipple clamps. I was nervous and shy but they smiled in a friendly way and I felt welcomed.

“Could I see some nipple clamps too,” I asked.

The clerk took several from a glass case.

“How tight do you like them?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I’ve never worn them before.”

“Are you a dom or a sub?” the customer asked.

“Uh, a sub,” I said.

“Been in the scene very long?”

“Since I was sixteen.”

“Wow! I’m impressed,” the clerk said. “I didn’t get into bondage until my second marriage.”

“Yeah, I was a lot older than sixteen when I went kinky,” said the customer

“It was all pretty tame,” I said. “Mostly I tied myself up.”

“Good self bondage isn’t all that easy,” the customer said. “You have to be pretty adept to make it work properly.”

I took some rope off a display and handed it to her, then turned and crossed my wrists behind my back. She tied them quickly and expertly. I turned to face them and untied myself in about thirty seconds. She was impressed when I handed her the rope. 

“So how did an innocent little girl like you get hooked on this stuff?”

“A boy and I were playing in the barn one day and I let him tie me up. That was all it took.”

They nodded understandingly.

“Barns can be very dangerous,” the customer observed. “But a lot of fun.”

“They sure can,” the red head said. “I wish I had one. I could use all that space.”

“What for?” I asked.

“For my dungeon,” she said. “I’m trying to make do with a spare bedroom in my apartment.”

“You have a dungeon?” I gasped.

She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Oh, no,” she said richly sarcastic. “I just dress like this as a fashion statement.”

“Now be nice,” the customer said to her. “The girl is young.”

“Sorry sweetheart,” the clerk said to me. “I’m a professional dominatrix and I have a dungeon.”

I was astonished that she was so matter of fact about it. And intrigued. I blushed deeply.

“Go on with your story,” the customer told me kindly.

“I let the boy me all through high school,” I continued. “But we didn’t have sex or anything. Like I said, most of the time I tied myself.”

They were genuinely interested. The clerk went to the back and returned with three cups of coffee. She introduced herself as Mary. The customer was Denise. We talked for hours.

I discovered that both women were dominatrixes and friends. I was fascinated that people paid them to be tied up.

I told them about myself, my fantasies and a few of my escapades. I told them of breaking up with my boyfriend. They were sympathetic.

“What have you been doing since you broke up? Mary asked.

“Just tying myself up,” I said. “But its not as much pleasure as it used to be. I have a friend who thinks bondage is addictive and dangerous.”

“Your friend is absolutely right,” Denise said firmly. “A lot of people have gotten hurt. Be careful.”

They told me stories of people who had been injured, even killed by getting hooked up with sadists and weirdoes. I vowed to be careful.

“Is your friend into the bondage scene?” Mary asked.

“Oh no. She’s a married woman with children,” I said. They exchanged a look.

“I’m a married woman with children,” Denise said smiling. “And I’m the meanest bitch with a whip in the state.”

“No you’re not, I am,” Mary said. “And I have kids too.” They laughed.

“There are lots of ordinary married folks into bondage,” Denise told me. “Some of their spouses even know about it, but you would be amazed at how many housewives, secretaries, school teachers and professional women feel the need to be tied up and whipped.”

“And the men are worse,” Mary said. “My male customers outnumber the women about ten to one.”

“Wow,” I said. “Men like to be tied up?”

They shrieked with laughter. “Someday, when you’ve got a week to spare, I’ll tell you about all the big strong men who desperately need to be humbled by a woman,” Denise said. “And how much they are willing to pay for humiliation.”

Mary nodded.

“Do you whip your husband?” I asked Denise.

“No, he whips me,” she said.”

“What?”

“I’m both submissive and dominant,” she said. “I love to dominate men and women, I whip them, spank them, and torture some of my clients until they bleed, if thats what they want. Then I go home and go through a role reversal. My husband takes me down to the basement, strings me up by my wrists and whips the hell out of me.”

“What about your children?” I asked.

“We do it when they’re asleep or out of the house,” she said. “Once or twice a month we send them to grandma’s house for the weekend. Then I get a real working over.”

“I your husband a dominator, or whatever they call a man in your line of work?” I asked.

“Nope. He’s a general manager for a plumbing supply company.”

“How did you get into this line of work?” I asked.

“I started out as a dancer,” she said. “A stripper to be exact. And I did modeling. One modeling gig had me in leather posing with a whip and tying up another girl. I liked the feel of the leather so I bought my own outfit and talked my room mate into letting me tie her up. I liked it, she liked it and we became lovers. I was the leather bitch and she was my slave.”

“Ooooh!” Mary breathed. “I’m getting turned on.”

“You’ve heard this story before,” Denise said.

“I don’t care. I still get turned on listening to it. Tell us what you did to your slave.” Mary turned to me. “You aren’t offended by lesbianism, are you?”

I grinned and shook my head.

Denise ignored her. “When wasn’t busy torturing my roommate, I incorporated the leather and whips into my dance act I found that my tips went way up, so I slanted my whole act to leather.

“Strippers are always getting propositioned by the customers and some girls are hookers on the side. The club I worked at was clean and the management didn’t allow us to make dates with the customers, but one man kept asking me to dominate him and offered a lot of money. He was very nice, a gentleman, so I took the chance and met him at a motel. I tied him up and whipped the daylights out of him.”

“Now I’m really getting hot,” Mary said. She yanked her vest open and pointed at the nipple clamps on the counter, then she thrust her breasts toward Denise. Denise shook her head resignedly.

“Which ones do you want?” she asked.

“Bad boys,” Mary said. “Sharp teeth and all.”

Denise picked up a clamp, pinched Mary’s nipple until it stood out, then put a clamp on it. Mary’s breath hissed through her teeth..

“Oooooh, thats so good,” she said. She offered the other breast. Denise placed a clamp on it.

“Now can I get on with my story?” she asked.

‘Just a second,” Mary said. She turned to me. “Would you like to try on some nipple clamps while she talks?”

“No thanks,” I said doubtfully. “I’ve never been into pain.”

“You will be if you stay in the scene,” Denise warned. “That’s one of the dangers your friend talked about.”

I looked at the clamps. “Ok, can I start with small ones?”

“Do this instead,” Mary said. She handed me a package of  spring loaded clothes pins. They were black and had rings on the ends. “Take these home and experiment with them.”

“Thank you,” I said. “How much are they?”

“On the house.”

“All set now?” Denise asked me.

I nodded. “Please go on with your story.”

“I discovered that I really enjoyed dominance,” she said. “So I met the guy twice a week. We never had sex but I made him masturbate in front of me at the end of each session. Later he introduced me to a friend who also wanted to be dominated. I soon had a regular clientele and went into business as a dominatrix.”

“What about your husband?” I asked.

“I met him at a party,” she said. “An ordinary party, not a fetish one, and fell in love the moment I set eyes on him.  He asked me out and on the third date I told him what I did for a living. He thought it over for a few days, then decided that he could live with it.”

“He wasn’t jealous?”

“No, but he insisted that I not have sex with my clients. I promised that I wouldn’t and we got engaged.  One evening, a year later we were arguing about something stupid, like household bills. My husband was scolding me for spending too much and I got pissed off at him and I told him that I’d sucked a client’s cock. I hadn’t, but I said it to make him mad.”

“Ooh. What did he do?”

“He calmly picked me up, carried me out to the garage, tore my clothes to shreds and tied me to the rafters by my wrists. Then he took my whips out of the trunk of my car and proceeded to whip me silly.”

“And you liked it.”

“I loved it. It was the first time I’d been tied up and it was wonderful. And I enjoyed the pain. I had a couple of orgasms while he whipped me.”

“And your husband?”

“He untied me, dragged me to the bedroom, and I emphasize ‘dragged’, not carried, and fucked me until I thought I was in Heaven. Later I told him I’d lied about sucking the cock, but threatened to do it for real unless he promised to whip me regularly.”

“Wow.”

“How about you?” I asked Mary. “How did you get started?”

“I was an ordinary housewife,” she said. “Married to my second husband, raising kids, going to the PTA, worrying about bills, all that normal stuff. But I liked to read cheap romance novels, especially the ones about the woman who gets captured by Indians, or pirates who strip her and tie her up.”

“I’ve read a few of those,” Denise said.

“So have I,” I told them.

“Anyway, I wanted somebody to tie me up.” Mary continued. “I asked my husband but he wasn’t into it. His efforts were , , , uninspired and I was frustrated. We were living in San Francisco And I ran across an ad for a dominatrix in the newspaper. I was afraid to let a strange man tie me up but thought I’d be safe with a woman., so I called the number and set up an appointment. She tied me up, dominated me, touched me all over and made me play with myself while she watched.”

“You were submissive?” Denise asked surprised.

“Yes, for years,” Mary answered. “My dom and I became very close. She even had me participate in some sessions with other clients.”

“What did she do?” I asked.

“She handed me over to them bound and naked, then watched as they tortured me.

“Your husband didn’t know?” I asked.

“Not a clue,” she said. “Anyway, my dom saw something in me that convinced her that I was on the wrong side of the whip. She decided that I wasn’t truly cut out to be a submissive. I didn’t believe her, but she was persistent. She talked me into a dominance session with one of her male clients. I did it just to shut her up, but discovered that she was right. I got very hot whipping that man so I switched over and let her train me to be a dom.”

“What then?”

“I soon built up a string of clients of my own and began making nice money. I told my husband that I had taken a part time job as a night accountant at a bank. The problem was I brought all my earnings home and it didn’t take him long to figure out that I was making more than a part time accountant should make. I finally told him what I was doing and he demanded that I quit.”

“Uh oh,” said Denise.

“I was too hooked on the scene,” Mary said. “And I liked the money I was making. Besides, being a dom gave me the self confidence to get out from under his thumb.”

“If you’re going to be dominated by a man, make sure he throws in a few whippings from time to time,” Denise told me. “Otherwise its just no fun at all.”

I giggled.

“Anyway, we split up,” Mary continued. “I got custody of the kids.”

“Do they know that you’re a dominatrix?” I asked.

“The girls do,” she answered. “They’re eighteen. Their brother is twenty two. He doesn’t know.”

“What do they think about it?”

“They are intrigued,” Mary said. “They want to come to  a session and watch.”

“You know, bring your daughters to work day,” Denise interjected. Mary glared at her.

“I don’t think I could dominate someone,” I said. “I like being helpless.”

“That’s cool,” Mary said. “I still like it once in a while.”

“I makes for a nice change of pace,” Denise said.

“How much does it cost to be dominated?” I asked.

“I start at fifty bucks an hour,” Denise said. “And it goes up depending on what the client wants.”

“Oh.”

“However, I just happen to have a special rate for first time college girls,” Mary said. “The first two hours are free.”

“Oh my,” I gasped.

“Actually, we have a two for one offer on that special,” Denise said. “You can get two doms for that low introductory offer.”

“Be sure to tell your friends at college,” Mary joked.

“Interested?” Mary asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe, but . .”

“Don’t rush into it,” Denise said kindly. “Think it over. The offer will remain open.”

I went home in a terrible quandary.

 

                                                                                                CH 7

 

The visit to the store had brought back all those deep, dirty, exciting feelings about bondage, but it brought back all my guilt too. I dithered for days and convinced myself that I deserved to be punished for screwing up things with John. Perhaps pain would atone for my stupidity. I decided to take them up on their offer, but vowed that I wouldn’t let myself enjoy any part of it.

I hadn’t opened the package of nipple clamps but I dug them out and put one on my nipple. It hurt like fire. There was no sexual thrill but I enjoyed the pain because I deserved it. I put another on my other nipple. That was my first step into a period of masochism.

I was pretty green and wondered why the package contained several clamps when I only had two nipples. Later I discovered all the places they can be put on a woman’s body. I also found out that my first clamps were weak indeed. Later I wore some with springs so strong that they left marks on my skin for days.

I wore the clamps around the apartment all evening, and suppressed my feelings every time I felt a sexual stirring. I wanted no pleasure, only pain, but the little nipple clamps weren’t enough.  

I returned to the store and told Mary I wanted to be whipped.

Mary wasn’t surprised to see me.

She called Denise to join in but Denise had no free time for several days. I didn’t want to wait so Mary and I went it alone that first time.

Mary worked part time at the bondage store as a favor to the owner. They discovered that business was good on the days she was there in her leather. Fortunately I went back on a day that Mary was working.

I got to the store at three in the afternoon and had to wait until Mary got off work. We chatted and drank coffee and I browsed through the bondage magazines. I had never seen anything so explicit and was very turned on by the pictures and stories. I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to enjoy anything and became completely engrossed, then I became restless. It seemed like the afternoon would never end. Mary noticed and found a rather novel way to pass the time.

She called me to the front of the store and ordered me to take off my shirt and bra. My resolve to suffer returned so I obeyed. I stood with my breasts bared while she put nipple clamps on me. Those were stronger than my first set and they hurt! But I bit my lip and endured the pain. After several pair Mary left a set on me and told me to put my shirt on. I did and winced when the material touched the nipple clamps. The slightest touch made the pain worse.

Mary told me to leave my blouse unbuttoned, then walked me around the store. She selected a pair of leather cuffs and locked then on my wrists. They weren’t as heavy as the ones I wore in the police station, but they were too strong for me to get out of. I tried not to enjoy it when she locked my wrists behind my back.

Next she put a metal hobble on my ankles, It was an oversized set of hand cuffs with a twelve inch chain between them. I could walk but only in short steps.

After that came my first slave collar. Mary selected a high stiff one that forced my head up. I was fighting with myself trying not to allow my excitement to take over. I reminded myself that I was there for punishment. While we were doing this a customer walked in. A girl about my age.

“I’ll be right with you,” Mary told her, then clipped a leash to my collar and lead me to the counter.

“Wait here,” she commanded.

I stood like a pink faced statue while Mary waited on the customer. The girl looked at me curiously. “Is she a model?” she asked Mary.

“No, just a submissive little slave,” Mary answered. My pussy tingled when she said that, until I remembered that I wasn’t supposed to enjoy anything.

The girl looked over a selection of whips and finally bought one. She told Mary that it was for her roommate.

“Is your roommate a boy or a girl?” Mary asked.

“A girl,” the customer replied. I was surprised. She didn’t look like a lesbian.

“Do you make her wear nipple clamps?” Mary asked.

“No,” the girl answered. “Do you think I should?”

“Let me show you what we have,” Mary said. She brought the girl to the counter. Mary took out several types of clamps and the girl looked them over. From time to time she looked at me. Knowing she was a lesbian made me uncomfortable. It got worse when Mary opened my shirt to show her the clamps I wore. But then I reminded myself that I was too low to object. I was a slut and deserved to be humiliated. I thrust out my chest.

Mary discussed the merits of various sex toys with the girl, and pointed out that nipple clamps had more than one use.

“What other use?” the girl asked.

“You can whip them off the slave’s tits,” Mary told her. My pussy tingled when she said that.

“Oooh! That’s a wonderful idea,” the girl said. “Have you done that to her?” she meant me.

“That’s going to happen later this evening,” Mary said, smiling wickedly at me.

“You lucky thing,” the girl said to me. She paid for her purchases and left.

She was barely out the door when a couple entered. They were a man and woman. The man was tall and nice looking, but covered with tattoos. (I’ve never liked tattoos), the woman was fat with enormous breasts. They looked at me with unconcealed interest as they wandered through the store. Mary gave them a few minutes, then tugged on my leash and lead me to them.

“Is there anything I can help you find?” she asked.

“We’re thinking about a new whip,” the man said. “A bigger one.”

“I’m getting used to the old one,” the woman stated matter of factly. “My boobs are getting desensitized to it.”

“Hmm, what kind are you using?” Mary asked her. The woman pointed to one of the whips. “We bought it last year.” It was a short flogger with suede strands.

“Yes, thats a pretty soft whip,” Mary agreed. “Do you want to stay with a cat of nine tails, or go to a bull whip?”

They shrugged. Mary handed the woman a long slender whip.

“This is braided leather,” she said. “Its very hard but not very flexible.”

“Can I try it?” the woman asked. Mary nodded and the woman handed the whip to her husband. He waved it around a few times, made it spin like a propeller, then tried to make it crack.

“That takes more practice than people realize,” Mary said. “For now why not just whip her a few licks.”

The fat woman pushed her breasts out and her husband whacked the whip across them.

“Come on,” she said. “You can do better than that.” He hit her harder.

“Ooh, that stings,” she said. “But not enough.”

Mary nodded and they looked over the selection. The man took down another whip. It was thinner and longer.

“Try it,” the fat woman said. He looked around at the cramped area. There wasn’t room to swing the whip properly.

“We have a room in the back,” she told the man. “Why don’t you take her back there and try different whips.”

He selected a handful of whips and they headed to the back room. Mary lead me to the counter and resumed her phone conversation.

I was a nervous wreck.

I listened to the muted sounds of a whip and occasional squeals coming from the back of the store. After half an hour the couple emerged. The woman’s face was bright pink, her hair was damp with perspiration but her eyes sparkled. She was breathing very fast and couldn’t stand still. She hopped from foot to foot.

Her husband dropped the whips on the counter. He set aside two.

“We’ll take these,” he said pulling out his wallet.

“Did the trick?” Mary asked.

“Oh yes!” the woman replied.

“How do your boobs feel?” Mary asked.

“They’re on fire,” the woman replied. “And he won’t let me rub them.” Her hands fluttered toward her breasts, but didn’t touch them.

Mary chuckled. “Do you need anything else? A gag for instance?”

“Actually, we probably do,” the man said. “She’s just about chewed the last one apart.”

“I have a feeling that she’s going to need one,” Mary said. The woman blushed, but smiled.

“Ok,” her husband told her. “Go pick one out.”

As they left he turned and said: “Thanks for the use of your dungeon.”

“Is there a dungeon in the store?” I asked.

“Yes, in the back,” Mary said. “Didn’t I tell you about it?”

She led me through the curtains, down a hallway and into a large room filled with torture devices. My nipples perked up instantly, and the clamps hurt a little more, which was good because I didn’t deserve pleasure. (My thinking was pretty messed up in those days).

“We have bondage parties here,” Mary told me. “I thought I’d told you about that.”

I shook my head as I marveled at what I saw. There was a torture rack. A real one with a winch at one end for stretching people. I couldn’t wait to be on it. There were several pillories in a row. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that several women could be tortured at once. I couldn’t suppress the throbbing in my pussy.

Mary showed me the bondage frames, gallows, iron maiden and other wonderfully wicked things. I was in mental torment because I wanted desperately to allow myself to enjoy everything, but I was a slut and didn’t deserve it.

“Would you like to wait in here until I get off work?” Mary asked.

“Yes.”

“Any preferences?”

I nodded at the rack. “Would you put me on that please? And make it hurt.”

“Ok, let’s get you naked.”

She undid my restraints so I could undress. Then I hopped onto the rack. She buckled leather cuffs to my ankles. They were secured to the rack with heavy chains. She pulled my arms above my head and clipped my wrist cuffs to chains from the winch. My heart was pounding. Then she tightened the winch.

I felt a familiar thrill when my arms were stretched. It was like my home made rack in the barn. My pussy flashed into heat and I groaned at my weakness. I wasn’t supposed to enjoy this!

Mary paused when I groaned. “Too tight?” she asked.

“Not tight enough,” I told her. “Keep going. I want you to hurt me.”

“Ok kid.” She turned the winch.

It began to hurt, really hurt. My shoulders, my hips and my lower back began to burn. I was delighted because the pain wasn’t sexy. I wanted to suffer. Then my resolve crumbled and the pain was sexy. I cried out in despair. I was so  weak!

Mary slacked off the winch.

“No!” I shouted. “Make it tighter!”

“Are you sure?” Mary asked. I nodded emphatically.

Mary turned  the winch one more click, then locked the ratchet down.

She bent over and looked me over carefully. “We have to be careful,” she said. “People can get seriously hurt on one of these.”

That’s what I wanted, serious pain.

 

  

 

 

 

 

That was the beginning of what I think of as my “dirty bondage years”

 

 

 

That was the beginning of what I think of as my “dirty bondage years”. I was so depressed and down on myself that I wanted pain and humiliation to pay for messing things up with John. Looking back I realize that I was rationalizing a way to enjoy bondage without guilt. I was a pretty screwed up girl in those days.

Mary tortured me all evening.

She whipped my breasts until they were horribly sore. Even though I started out wanting the pain, I soon changed my mind. Mary didn’t care. She worked my poor boobs over with a variety of whips until she was soaked with sweat and I was screaming in real pain. She stopped whipping me only long enough to put a very large and efficient gag in my mouth. I still screamed but it sounded like a tiny kitten mewing.

Mary is a sadist, even after all these years we are still friends, but a few hours into that first evening I hated her. She gave absolutely no consideration to my pain, paid no attention to my pleadings. She just whipped me and whipped me until all thought of sex was out of my mind. Somehow she knew when I passed over that line from enjoyment to real pain and fear, then she brought me back.

She worked up a good sweat and took off her clothes piece by piece until she was only in her panties. Her breasts jiggled and flopped around as she plied the whip but I didn’t care. I hung in my bonds praying for the evening to be over. After two solid hours she stopped. I hoped she was going to release me, but she was only taking a break. She vanished for a moment then returned carrying a glass of water. She looked at my body as she sipped.

“You’ve got a good start on a nice set of stripes,” she told me. “Nothing permanent, but I don’t think you’ll be parading around the pool in a bikini for a few days.”

I begged her to release me and she understood my mumbles even through that awful gag.

“We aren’t finished,” she said. “Not by a long shot. Since this session is free I get to set the rules, and I’m in a bitchy mood.”

She stepped close and pinched my nipple. “Its nice to have a real slave for a change,” she said. “Instead of some pathetic businessman who is only play acting.” She bit my nipple hard. Her teeth were sharp. I was soon shrieking in my gag.

“I’ll give you a drink,” she said. “But only if you make no sound when I remove your gag.

I nodded frantically.

“I mean it,” she warned. “One peep out of you and I’ll put a spike gag in your mouth and whip you till the sun comes up.” She held up the most horrid gag I’ve ever seen. It was a thick rubber gag with short metal spikes. The points were dull, not sharp enough to cause damage to someone’s mouth but they would have hurt horribly. I nodded obediently.

The water tasted wonderful. I drank the entire glass and she gave me another.

“You’re using up a lot of energy,” she told me. “And I don’t want you getting sick from dehydration.”

She replaced my gag and went to work on my nipples with pincers, her fingernails and her teeth. My breasts seemed to be the center of all pain in the universe. The whipping had been mild compared to this. My nipples were white hot points of pain.


Mary talked while she tormented me. She told me of a woman slave whose nipples had been pierced with red hot needles and fish hooks. (Remember, this was a long time ago, before body piercing came into fashion). I had never imagined such a thing and the idea horrified me. Mary talked of how the woman’s master had paid Mary to torture the woman in front of an audience at a bondage party with special emphasis on the slave’s breasts. Mary had attached electrodes to the slaves nipples and jolted her with electricity in increasing voltage until the woman had fainted.

“How about you? Would you like a few zaps of electricity through your nipples?” she taunted me.

I shook my head wildly.

Mary smiled knowingly. “Someday you’ll beg me to do it.”

Even as I shook my head again I knew she was right. I saw myself on a cross in front of people, jerking uncontrollably as electricity poured through my body. I imagined their cocks hardening and pussies getting damp as they watched my agony.

In an instant my pain was sexual again. My pussy tingled and became very wet.

Mary laughed with delight when she saw that look in my eyes.

“We’re having fun now!” she shouted.

 

Mary kept me on the rack until ten o’clock. Then she strapped me to an x cross. She kept me on the cross for over four hours. If I had to pee, she held a hospital bedpan between my legs. She took it away and returned with a damp wash cloth and washed my pussy. I had no qualms- about peeing in front of her. I no longer had any right to privacy, I was a slave.

Between physical tortures Mary rested in a large over stuffed chair. She removed my gag and questioned me. It was like a third degree interrogation. She made me open my soul and tell her every dark little secret.

“What is the nastiest thing you have ever imagined?” she asked. I hesitated, until she picked up the whip.

“Being tied up with my mother,” I blurted out.

“Oooh. Naughty,” she cooed. “You want to be tied to your mom?”

“No, not that,” I said. “I mean being tied up beside her and both of us forced to have sex with other people.”

“Ah ha, no incest with Mom then?”

“God no!” I gasped.

She smiled wryly. “All right, tell me your fantasy.”

 

 

“Well, it’s a warm summer morning on the farm,” I said. “I have been tying myself up on the lawn while Mom watched. I’m wearing shorts and a tee shirt and Mom is wearing a blouse and skirt. We’re sitting under the shade trees when a troop of boy scouts comes along. They are on a cross country hike and they are walking along the creek that runs through our property. They stop and ask for a drink of water. While they are relaxing the scoutmaster sees my ropes on the grass and asks what they are for. Mom tells them that I was tying myself up.

“Knots are important to boy scouts, they have to earn merit badges in knots and rope work so they want to know what kinds of knots I use. I put on a little demonstration and tied myself in front of them. They are unimpressed when I untie myself and a big discussion gets under way about whether any girl could escape after being tied by a scout who had earned his knot tying badge.


“Mom suggests that they tie me up and find out once and for all. She tells them about my contests with Bobby. They all want to be the one to tie me and a big argument starts as to who should do it. Mom suggests that each boy take a turn. She proposes the same rules that Bobby and I had. Each boy has ten minutes to tie me and I have twenty minutes to get loose.

“The scouts draw straws to see who goes first. The first boy ties me in a hog tie. He does a pretty good job and it takes quite an effort but I manage to get loose in under twenty minutes.

“Each boy scout takes a turn tying me and the scout master critiques each effort. They crowd around me as each knot is discussed. I listen to a lot of talk about sheep shanks and half hitches and so forth but I don’t mind. Sometimes I get free but a few boys are good at knot tying and I can’t get loose and have to admit defeat.

“Naturally I am turned on by the bondage. My nipples are hard and poking through my shirt. Mom seems to be getting excited too because she suggests a modification to the contest. She tells the scouts that I am getting loose too easily and that they don’t have enough motivation so she suggests that every time I can’t get loose on time they would get to remove an article of my clothing. The boys like that idea but the scout master points out that I’m not wearing much and I would be naked after three failed escapes.(He was counting my shirt, shorts and panties. Shoes and socks don’t count).

“ ‘That’s all right’ Mom tells him. ‘So if you manage to get my daughter naked then you can start undressing me.’ ”

“ ‘What happens after we get you both naked?” one of the boys asked..

“ ‘Then you can tie me up too and do anything you want to us.’ ”

“Well, the boy scouts were motivated after that. They started over and really applied themselves to tying me up. And I was motivated not to escape. Oh, I struggled and huffed and puffed, but the last thing I wanted was to keep my clothes on.

“The next scout to tie me up really applied himself. He tied me into one of the strictest and sexiest hog ties I’d ever experienced. I loved it and getting loose was impossible. They untied me and I stood submissively while he pulled my shirt over my head. The boys all admired my breasts. Their hands were all over me, squeezing and pinching my breasts. The scout master had to order the boys to get back to the contest.

“My shorts came off when I failed to get loose from the second boy and my panties after the third. There were bulges in the pants of every boy scout when contestant number three untied my legs and slid my panties off. Since my legs were free, I opened my knees and just lay there. The boys went silent as they stared at my pussy. Once again the scout master had to remind them  that they were involved in a contest.

“I failed to get free from number four so Mom stood up and allowed him to unbutton her blouse. Number five did a good job and I genuinely could not have escaped him even if I’d wanted to. He was a naughty little boy with red hair and freckles. We expected him to take off mom’s bra but he lifted her skirt and ordered her to hold it up while he took her panties off.  Mom giggled and stepped out of them, then keeping her skirt up she turned slowly so everyone could look at her pussy.

“I could have gotten loose from the tie that boy scout number six did, but I pretended that I couldn’t so he got to take off Mom’s bra. The boys are getting bolder and he squeezed Mom’s breasts. When she didn’t object, the others wanted a turn. The scout master allowed each one to play with Mom’s breasts for a minute then we resumed the contest.


“I didn’t like the looks of number seven so I really tried to get loose, Unfortunately he was good and I couldn’t untie myself, so he was the one to remove Mom’s skirt.

“When Mom was naked, the boys tied her up. She giggled as they tied her into a strict hog tie.

“The scouts discussed what they should do to us. Some wanted to fuck us, others wanted to make us suck their cocks. Mom and I lay in our bonds and tried not to laugh as the boys sat in a circle trying to decide. The scout master finally called for a show of hands and the majority voted to screw us.

“The boys cut some pegs from tree limbs and hammered then into the lawn, then tied us on our back with our arms and legs apart. Then they drew straws again to see who got to go first.

“Mom and I lay side by side on the soft grass while twenty teen aged boys and their scout master took turns fucking us. The boys were sweet and caring and very randy. As soon as one got off of me or Mom he would run over and get in the other line.

“It was noon when the boys finally ran out of steam (and I swear each one must have taken three or four turns) they wandered down to the creek and washed up. They left us tied to the pegs.

“The scout master decided to camp by the stream that night and ordered the boys to pitch their tents. Mom and I craned our heads to watch twenty naked boys setting up tents and starting fires and such.

“They cooked lunch and brought us some. They offered to untie us so we could eat but Mom nobly told them that a deal was a deal and they had every right to keep us tied, so they tied us kneeling to a couple of small trees and fed us.

“After lunch Mom turned to me and said: ‘I hope they don’t realize that being on our knees puts us in perfect position to suck their cocks’.”

“ ‘Don’t put ideas in their heads,’ I told her. ‘Or we’ll spend all afternoon with their cocks in our mouths’.”

“Unfortunately we spoke too loudly and the boys heard us. There was a mad rush and suddenly twenty hard cocks were at our faces. There was so much jostling and shoving that the scoutmaster had to step in and tell the boys to line up and take turns. Within twenty minutes Mom’s face and chest were spattered with cum. So was mine.

“After the boys had spurted into our mouths, and several took seconds, they were tired and wandered away. Some went swimming in the creek, a couple took naps, while others explored our farm. A few went into the barn, and Mom gave me a knowing look.

“ ‘I bet I know what’s going to happen to us if they discover your rack in the loft,’ she said’.”

“Sure enough, they discovered it and called the other scouts in to see it. They were inside for quite a while, then trooped out and asked us what it was for.

“ ‘We use it to torture ourselves,’ I told them. ‘When we don’t have any visitors’.”

“They wanted to see it work so they untied us and marched us into the barn. Mom got to go first and the scouts watched in fascination as she tied herself to the device. She had them remove the sickle blade, explaining that with them there she didn’t have to worry about cutting herself loose.

“The boys gasped when Mom pushed the weight off the plank. Their cocks all sprung erect when her body jerked taut on the plank. Mom came instantly and screamed with delight. She told me later that having the boys watch was a double turn on for her.


“When Mom and the plank stopped bouncing around the scouts crowded round her. She turned her head and captured the nearest cock in her mouth. She sucked the first boy into spurting in just a few minutes and his place was quickly taken by another. I thought that I was going to have to wait until Mom sucked every one of them before I got a turn on the rack. I cleared my voice a few times and finally had to damn near shout to get their attention.

“ ‘Why don’t you give my mother a rest?’ I suggested, ‘And let me get on the rack’.”

“They scrambled to untie Mom and led her to a pile of straw, where she plopped down tiredly. ‘I’m all right,’ she laughed. ‘My daughter just wants some attention and a chance to be tortured while you watch’.” Mom always seems to know what I’m thinking.

           “The scouts hauled the weight up and I asked them to add some more metal. I wanted it to be heavier. I climbed onto the rack, put my pussy rope in place, tied my ankles to the end and slipped my wrists through the noose. The weight was the heaviest I’d ever used and it snapped my body so hard that I was certain that I’d dislocated both shoulders. The pain was terrific and the sexy thrill was incredible! I had two or three fantastic orgasms while the weight bounced on the end of the rope. The only problem was that the weight was so heavy that it didn’t bounce very long. It settled to rest too quickly.

“When I finally stopped screaming and opened my eyes several scouts were masturbating wildly, and they spurted on my face and body. I enjoyed that and was lying dreamily when one of the scouts asked about my pussy rope and the second weight.

“My hands were numb and I couldn’t manage to push the weight off so I asked them to do it for me. I came again when the rope snapped tight between my pussy lips and that set off another round of masturbation by the scouts.

“Mom and I took turns on the rack all afternoon.

“In the evening they tied us between the pegs and fucked us. In the rare moments that neither of us had a boy scout on top of our body, Mom marveled at the stamina of teen aged boys.

“‘Maybe you should hire a few as farm hands,’ I suggested.

“ ‘Trouble is, they’d never get any work done,” she said. ‘They would spend all their time tying me up’.”

“ ‘Worth every penny you paid them’,” I told her.

“After dark the scouts sat around the fire singing songs and telling ghost stories until midnight. From time to time a boy would walk over to us and put his cock into Mom’s mouth or mine, or slide it into a pussy.

“In the morning the scouts fed us breakfast then tied us bent over the rail of a wooden fence. They tied our legs wide apart and lined up to screw us. After each had fucked us (once again sone took more than one turn) they untied us from the fence and took us back to the shade tree. They tied us into terrific hog ties. Every scout participated. One tied our wrists, another our ankles, and so on. Even when we were completely tied, they added rope until we were practically cocooned in rope. Then they broke camp, cleaned up the area and marched away.

 “We were so completely tied up that I wondered if we would ever got loose. It took me several hours to free myself. Mom isn’t very good at untying herself so she waited patiently in her bonds until I was able to free us both.” 

 

Mary was sprawled in the chair when I finished talking. Her panties were off and she was playing with her pussy.


“That was an interesting fantasy,” she said. “You have a wicked imagination. As perverse as I am, I never imagined sex with my mother. Is your Mom into bondage?”

I nodded.

“Tell me,” Mary demanded.

I told her about my home made bondage devices and how I’d discovered my mother tying herself to them. I recounted how Mom and I had tied our selves to t

he gateposts on hot summer nights, how Mom had released me from the loft hoist and never commented on finding me hanging by my wrists naked.

“Does she like to be whipped?” Mary asked.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “She’s never mentioned it.”

“I think I’d like to meet your mother,” Mary mused.

I had a sudden vision of Mom beside me on a cross, her body covered with pink whip marks. To my shame, my pussy tingled at the idea.

 

Ch 9

 

Mary tortured me until two in the morning. The torments didn’t vary much. She alternated between whipping me and biting my nipples. Toward the end she let me cum.

I was screaming in pain as her fingernails pinched my nipples when without warning she touched my pussy. I felt her palm against my crotch. It was warm and felt wonderful and suddenly her fingers slipped inside me. I came in an instant!

Mary can be very cruel and she kept the pain going in my nipple while her other hand invaded my pussy. When I started to wind down after the orgasm she didn’t stop. She kept her fingers inside me, wiggling them around and pressed her thumb against my clitoris. The sweet orgasm turned to pain as she tormented  my ultra sensitive pussy.

I nearly fainted and came to my senses when I felt Mary untying my ankles. She lifted my legs up and apart and tied them to the same hooks that my wrists were secured to. I had never felt so open and vulnerable.

Mary strapped a dildo on and stood in front of me. The thing was enormous. She stepped close and slid it inside me. I came instantly. Mary leaned against my body, pressing her breasts against mine and fucked me. She pinched my breasts again, which were so tender that every touch was agony. And she talked to me.

“You like this you little slut, don’t you?” she hissed.

“Yes mistress,” I gasped.

“What could make it better for you?” she asked.

I didn’t understand. I looked at her blankly.

“What is the one thing that could increase your delight at being fucked on a cross?” Mary asked me tauntingly.

“I, I don’t know.”

“Oh, but I do,” she said.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Having your mother watch you,” Mary said wickedly.

“Oh my God!” I gasped.

“But that’s not all,” Mary said. “Some day I’ll force your mother to fuck you.”

I stared at her in astonishment. “She would never do that,” I said. “She isn’t dominant.”


“I will enslave her,” Mary said. “I’ll drive out to that farm and kidnap her. I’ll strip her naked, tie her up and drive back with her in the trunk of my car.

“When I get here I’ll strap her arms tightly behind her back and lock her into a dildo harness. Then I’ll clamp electrical contacts to her nipples and yours. I’ll force her against you and when the clamps on your breasts touch you’ll both get a jolt of electricity. Then I’ll make her put the dildo up your pussy. I’ll buckle a strap around your waists so she can’t pull away, then I’ll whip her until she fucks you silly.

That did it!

I came so hard that I fainted.

 

 

CH 10

 

CH 10

 

After my first session with Mary I was a wreck. I went home exhausted but couldn’t sleep. I was confused and distressed that she had inflicted real pain and had ignored my pleas for mercy, yet I was excited and somehow glad that she hadn’t listened. I didn’t really like the pain (at least that’s what I tried to tell myself) but I was a terrible person and deserved pain, and being such a low and worthless creature, I wasn’t deserving of mercy either.

 I needed to talk to someone so I called Jill.

Jill was disappointed that I had fallen back into bondage. She talked to me like I was an alcoholic or a junky, and in a way, I was. I was hooked on bondage.

Jill had lots of experience counseling people and she talked to me for hours. I wanted her help, but couldn’t stop my pussy from tingling when she asked me for the details of my evening with Mary, in fact, I was playing with myself as we talked.

Looking back, I realize that I didn’t really want help, or to get out of my addiction, I just needed a talk down from my emotional roller coaster. I made agreement noises into the phone and promised to try my best, but I had no intention of going straight.

 

As she had promised, Denise gave me a bondage session free of charge. I spent several hours tied up in the dungeon out back of the shop.

Denise told me to arrive at one o’clock in the afternoon. She made me strip in the store, locked manacles on my wrists and ankles and led me to the dungeon. She chained me standing between two poles and played with my breasts until I was ready to collapse. She pinched and bit my nipples, slapped and punched by boobs until they were purple with bruises, but she wouldn’t touch my pussy. The abuse of my poor breasts was painful and very exciting, and being the slut that I was (and still am) I was wild with passion.

From time to time a customer would interrupt my torture. Each time the door chime rang Denise would shove a gag in my mouth and go wait on the customer. The first time that happened she returned with two wicked nipple clamps with weights hanging from them. The next time a customer came in she put the clamps on my nipples and walked out. It’s a good thing she gagged me, because those clamps were horribly painful and I would have screamed to rattle the windows. When she returned, she tugged on the clamps lightly and I thought I would faint from the pain. Then she flicked a crop between the weights making them (and my poor boobs) bounce. She took pity on me and removed the clamps, and as soon as they were off I wanted them back on. She saw the look on my face and made me beg for them. She put them back on and I nearly had an orgasm. She laughed with wicked delight at me as I groaned with pain and pleasure. She took them off but told me she’d put them back any time a customer came in. I grew to hate and love that damn door chime.

 Sometimes she was gone for a long time. The first couple of times I was impatient for her to return, but then I remembered that I was a lowly slave and had to be patient. I slipped into my old trance like state while I waited. And it was nice that I really was secured with no hope of releasing myself. Once or twice I was so deep into my dream state that Denise had to slap me back into the real world.

Like Mary, Denise really worked me over. She didn’t let up when I was shrieking with pain and she ignored my pleadings for mercy.


I assumed this was the way that they always treated their clients, later I found out about role playing and safe words and all that. Professional doms have to play to their customers’ wishes and no matter how cruel they pretend to be, if they want return business they must ease up when the customer has had enough.

I was different. Mary and Denise saw that I was truly a masochist, and that excited them. I wasn’t a paying customer and they didn’t really expect me to come back so they decided to play out their own sick, horrible, sadistic (and wonderful) personal fantasies on me while they had the chance.

Denise beat my breasts until they were in terrible shape. They were bruised and covered with angry red welts. She stood in front of me with a thin supple whip and cracked it over and over like a lion tamer. The whip snapped within inches of my skin and I was shrieking in genuine fear. I struggled in my bonds and screamed under my gag. Denise spun the whip horizontally like a helicopter blade.  She spun it so fast that it was a blur. She moved it closer to my breasts until I could feel its breeze. She looked into my eyes, looked into my soul and raised an eyebrow knowingly. I sobbed in defeat and shame and disgusted with my self, I leaned forward and thrust my breasts into that whirling whip. The orgasm was terrific!

 

When I woke I was till hanging by my wrists. My hands were numb and my shoulders ached. Denise gave me a drink, then set to work torturing my pussy. I learned that nipple clamps work just as well on pussy lips.

 

Mary and Denise recruited me into their world. They offered me a job.

I was hired to be a professional submissive.

There aren’t many women in the world who are willing to place themselves at the mercy of a stranger, especially a self proclaimed sadistic stranger. Mary and Denise promised to protect me if I would let people torment me. I deserved to suffer after screwing things up with John. I was a horrible tramp and the more people who tortured me the better. (Rationalizing? You bet. I was still fighting with myself and couldn’t admit that I liked torture. I had to have an excuse). I didn’t have to think about it very long, I agreed.

.

Denise arranged my first session. To protect me she was present the entire time, but wouldn’t intervene in any way unless I was in real danger. As it turned out, I never was, although there were times when I was scared.

To capitalize on my youth Denise had me dress up like a school girl in a short skirt, knee socks, penny loafers and a white blouse. I wore cotton panties and an ordinary bra. Luckily my hair was long enough to braid into pigtails. I even carried a couple of textbooks.

I was too broke to buy gas so I took the bus. I was nervous and felt a little silly in that outfit, but the looks I got from men excited me so I relaxed and let them peek up my skirt while I pretended to do my homework.

When I arrived at the store and was introduced to the man. I actually curtseyed and lifted my skirt. We chatted for a few moments, then he took me to the back. He started by tying my hands behind my back and putting me over his lap. He raised my skirt and spanked me. It felt wonderful!


After my first spanking, he took my panties off and stuffed them in my mouth. That was the first time I experienced a panty gag, and I was very startled. I tried to spit them out but he secured them with a leather strap then punished me for being rebellious by spanking my pussy.

Denise looked in from time to time but didn’t see anything that worried her so she left me to him. I expected  to be bound to all the torture equipment but he never used any of it. Instead he tied me in different positions with rope and spanked me, used his belt on my butt and legs, and pinched and slapped my breasts.

The man was very strong and picked me up easily. He moved me around like a child and placed me in all sorts of positions. He used the old armchair almost exclusively and most of the time I was lying across his lap. Sometimes he bent me over the arms or back of the chair, especially when he was turning the backs of my legs bright red with his belt.

Then he tied me over the back of the chair with my legs apart. I thought that he was going to spank my pussy, and he did, but he also fucked me.

I was horrified when I felt his cock slide inside me. Denise had assured me that no intercourse would take place. I screamed into my gag and really fought to get loose. It was no use, he had me tied too tightly to escape.

Denise came back when she heard my scream but didn’t seem too surprised when she saw what he was doing. I glared at her furiously and tried to shout through the gag. She watched calmly, then spoke to him.

“Fuck the little slut till she can’t walk,” she said. “She’s only a slave.”

That did it! I came!

I thought I’d experienced or imagined just about every form of submission, but I never dreamed that verbal humiliation would excite me. Her words sent me into one of the most terrific orgasms I’d ever had.

The man came too. I felt his cock swell inside me then he was spurting. I screamed and he groaned and pumped a few more times, then staggered away. Denise sensed the effect her words had on me, she picked up his belt and began whipping my ass furiously while berating me. She told me what a tramp I was. She called me every name in the book, demanded to know why I was such a slut, how could a nice girl from a decent family do the disgusting things I did, what would my friends think if they could see me now? What would my mother say?

Between the belt and her abuse I was cumming about every thirty seconds. I was squealing in my gag and bouncing up and down on the chair. I tried to talk through my gag. She was right! I was a slut, a cheap little tramp, a whore and a sex slave! Every word was like electricity through my pussy, but when she mentioned my mother the image of Mom watching that man fuck me sent me through the roof. I orgasmed and fainted.

When I woke Denise untied me and I curled up in the chair and fell asleep. I slept until closing time and she drove me home. It was a good thing because I was a mess and in no condition to ride the bus. At my apartment she handed me a large sum of money.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Your share of the fee,” she answered. “We don’t do this for free you know.”

I honestly had not thought about money when I agreed to the session. I was disturbed and didn’t want the money.

“I don’t want that,” I told her. “I’m not a whore.”

She grabbed my breast and pinched my nipple hard. “Yes, you are a whore,” she said fiercely. “You were born one. I can tell when I see that expression on your face.”

“What expression?” I gasped.


“The one you have right now,” she said, pinching my nipple harder. “Only a whore likes this.”

I writhed in delight. I couldn’t help myself. The pain felt wonderful.

“Why are you being so cruel?” I asked.

“Hell, I’m paid to be cruel,” she laughed. “And you’re paid to take it. We’re naturals.”

“But I don’t do it for money,” I said.

“I know,” she said, her fierceness evaporating. She released my nipple and rubbed it gently. She smiled understandingly. “I’d do it for free if I could afford to. And since you didn’t enter into this looking for money, in my book that doesn’t really make you a whore.”

“Just a slut,” I said bitterly.

“Actually, I think you’re one hell of a naturally sensual woman,” she said. “And a natural submissive. You enjoyed what happened to you today didn’t you?”

I blushed and nodded.

“Then why not accept the gifts that will come your way?”

“Am I a prostitute now?” I asked.

“Nope, you weren’t expecting to be paid,“ she said. “And if it makes you fell better, donate the money to charity or use it to pay someone to dominate you in your spare time.”

“Pay you?” I asked sarcastically.

“No, I won’t take your money,” she answered. “Neither will Mary.”

“Why not?”

“Because we like you,” she said. “If you truly feel the need to be dominated just say so. We’ll do it for you for free.”

“Why would you do that?” I asked.

“Because you’re our friend.”

She kissed me, tucked the money into my bra and drove away.

 

CH 11

I was in a real quandary. Despite what Denise said, I knew enough about the law to know that what I had done constituted prostitution under the law. I had never considered taking money for bondage, and all of my discussions with Denise and Mary had led me to believe that there wasn’t sex during their sessions. I was very naive. I had trouble falling asleep that night. I wanted to talk this out with someone, but calling Mom was out of the question, so was Jill. Jill was a cop, I didn’t think that she would be very sympathetic to learn that I had just joined the ranks of Denver’s hookers.

I finally fell asleep but had some very troubling dreams. I dreamt that my secret was out and I had been exposed to everyone. I was horribly ashamed about the money. Having it known that I was a bondage slave was nothing in comparison. I awoke in the middle of the night whimpering in shame.

I lay awake for a while then fell asleep again and dreamed again. This dream was nicer.


I dreamt that I was a street walking prostitute, only I was a slave prostitute. I had a sleazy pimp who wore a white zoot suit complete with a wide brimmed hat. He led me out onto the street in handcuffs and collar. I wore the same skimpy clothes that I’d worn the night that John took me to jail. My pimp handcuffed me to light pole on a busy corner and offered me to every passing man. He tugged my tank top down to expose my breasts and lifted my skirt to show my pussy. He made me kneel and suck men’s cocks as free samples, but I wasn’t permitted to make them cum, only whet their interest. When a customer decided to buy me, my pimp uncuffed me from the pole and handed me over. The customer would lead me down a dirty alley and torture me.

Sometimes they hung me by my wrists from a fire escape and whipped  my breasts and pussy with their belts, then they’d spread my legs and screw me. Other times they bent me over a trash barrel and tormented my poor ass before fucking me. Dozens of people watched my humiliation from tenement windows. When a customer finished with me, my pimp would take me back out to the street and chain me to the pole again.                            

I woke up with my fingers in my pussy. I got out of bed and washed my face. The dream seemed very real and I was very mixed up. I was ashamed that I dreamt of being a whore, but the bondage and torture were very erotic. I went back to sleep and more dreams came.

Now I was chained to a bed in a cheap motel. The door and windows were open and my pimp stood in the doorway inviting passers by to screw me. Men walked in, looked at my naked body and paid him money.

Man after man crawled atop me and thrust their cocks into me. I sobbed in shame and tugged at my bonds but couldn’t escape. The men didn’t leave after they screwed me, they hung around and watched the next man. Then John walked in wearing his police uniform. He said nothing, he just watched.. He was joined by his young partner Gary, and other police officers. Jill arrived too. She looked at me with total disgust and I tried to hide my face, but couldn’t. Then the police arrested me. They led me naked past crowds of people and threw me in the back of a police car. I was driven to the police station and chained to the desk in the holding room. The officers crowded around and watched as Jill fucked with her night stick, and after I’d exposed my inner soul by having a screaming orgasm, they took turns with me.

 

The next morning I was an emotional disaster. I was exhausted and decided to skip class. I moped around the apartment until lunch time, then gave in and called Jill. It was her day off and she agreed to meet me for coffee. I dressed very conservatively, trying to reassure myself that I was still a decent girl.

Jill and I chatted for a while, then I told her about my dreams but didn’t mention that I’d already taken money for bondage, just made it sound like I’d had a dream about being it. Jill wasn’t too concerned. She told me that prostitution fantasies weren’t uncommon in decent women. (She still thought I was a decent woman). She slid into her counseling role and gave me a little course in female sex fantasies (as if I didn’t have enough already). She talked about ordinary women who have rape fantasies, domination fantasies, exhibition and infidelity fantasies, and so on. I sat quietly and listened. She knew that I’d been tied by Mary but was distressed when I told her about the session with Denise.

I listened and pretended to want help. Actually all I wanted was companionship. Jill looked at me in disappointment when I told her that I had decided that I was what I was, and it was foolish to try to pretend any differently. I was hooked on bondage and that was that. I told her that I hoped she would still be my friend, but I was going to continue to live that life.


Jill tried to explain about low self esteem and why some women became masochists rather than be alone, all the things I’d already heard in college psych classes. I told her that I wasn’t submissive in order to please some man, I was doing it to please myself. I began to relate in detail some of my experiences. I tidied them up a little, and left out all references to my mother, but I told Jill about hot nights on the farm when I tied myself to the gate post, or hung by my wrists from the loft crane. Jill was squirming in her chair as I told the stories an impish mood came over me. I became more graphic and went into great detail when I told her about my home made torture rack. She almost spilled her coffee when I told her how many orgasms I could give myself just by pushing a weight off the hay loft.

The power position between us shifted. Now I was in charge and Jill no longer lectured me, instead I was making her nervous and uncertain. I watched her closely and talked dirtier. Her nipples were erect under her shirt and I just knew that her pussy was wet. I realized that I actually had power over Jill, even if it was only momentary. I came close to suggesting that we go to my apartment and tie her up. Luckily I didn’t.

I changed the subject, to Jill’s relief, and we talked about ordinary things. As soon as she could, Jill left. I watched as she practically ran to her car.

I felt a little bad for making her so nervous, but laughed inside to think how excited she’d been. I came to the conclusion that down deep just about any woman wanted to be enslaved at one time or another in her life. After all these years I still haven’t met one who won’t admit to having been tied up, or who wanted to be tied.

I went into the ladies room and took off my bra and sensible panties and put them in my purse. Then, while getting into my car I made sure that my knees came apart and a passing gentleman got a good look at my pussy.

 

I decide to continue working for Denise and Mary and let them rent me out for torture. And if accepting money made me a whore, then so be it. I’d be a whore.

It occurred to me that if I was now officially a prostitute I might get arrested for real. The idea was appealing. I might be able to take off my clothes in the police station again, and if I got real lucky, maybe I’d spend another night in chains.

I went home and tied myself to my bed.

 

CH 12             

 

Being a professional submissive was not what I’d expected. I’d imagined myself lounging in a slave cell wearing a harem girl costume and chains, languidly waiting to be tortured. In reality I worked by appointments that were set by Denise or Mary. And I didn’t get enough work to make a living at it. I had to keep my part time job. And it wasn’t all fun. Some of the sessions were dull and tawdry, a few were silly and some ludicrous.

 

Mary arranged a session where we went to a man’s house. It was an ordinary house in an ordinary Denver neighborhood. It wasn’t a mansion like in the bondage novels, and he didn’t answer the door in a tuxedo. He took us to the basement, which had a large wooden table with leather straps, a few ropes hanging from the ceiling, and lots of household junk in cardboard boxes. The family Christmas tree was stuck in a corner.

He didn’t even torture me, Mary did. She wore a dominatrix outfit, black leather mini skirt, black panties a vest and spike heels. I wore a conservative dress.


He watched as Mary stripped me, then tied me to the table and tortured me. She whipped my breasts and belly for a while, all the time chiding me about what a slut I was, then the turned me over and whipped my butt. The customer never participated in my torture, he just watched. Mary put on a nice show for him bending and letting him pool up her skirt and peek at her boobs. She kept a close eye on her watch, (he had paid for two hours) and when the time was nearly up she released me from the table, tied my hands behind me and forced me to kneel and suck his cock. He didn’t even undress, he just unzipped his pants and took out his cock. It wasn’t very large. He spurted onto my face, then he handed Mary the money. I got dressed and we walked out. The man barely spoke the entire session.

“Did you have fun?” Mary asked as we were getting into her car.

“Not really,” I replied. “It was pretty boring.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought,” she said. “But I’m feeling horny. Want to go back to my place for a private bondage session?”

“Only if you promise to whip me for real,” I said. “And start by tying me up here in the car.”

She dug behind the seat and came up with a bunch of leather straps. She buckled them around my ankles knees, thighs and waist. She buckled my arms behind me and worked straps around my stomach and upper body. I was much more excited than I’d been with the customer. I  happened to glance toward the house. Our client was watching from a window and he was masturbating.

“I guess he’s more of a man than I thought,” I giggled. “His dick is hard again.”

Mary glanced toward him. “Well, let’s give him a show.”

She tore open my blouse and yanked my bra off. She pinched my nipples and the man masturbated faster. Mary bent over and bit my nipple and I came for real! When I opened my eyes he had disappeared.

“He’d better wash that window before his wife gets home,” Mary said as we drove away.

 

Some sessions were worse than that. I acquired a regular customer who dressed up in a silly monk’s robe and hood and whipped me with the lightest whip I’d ever seen. He didn’t even hit me hard, he just brushed the whip across my back. At first I bit my lip to keep from laughing but I soon grew so bored that I taunted him to try to make him whip me harder. It didn’t work. He stopped the session and scolded me for talking. He assured me that I was safe and he was never going to really hurt me. I tried to tell him that I wanted to be hurt, but he didn’t want to listen. He gagged me and went back to stroking my body with the little whip. At the end he blind folded me and masturbated. He didn’t even spurt onto me. The only way I knew he came was from his breathing. I felt like giving his money back. Unfortunately I was sold to him on a weekly basis.

Other clients were into silly play acting. They talked in stilted theatrical voices as if they were reading a script from a bad porn movie. Their idea of bondage was just as tepid.

Another client would tie me in a nice hogtie, then sit and talk. And he didn’t talk about sex either. I realized that he was just lonely and felt very sorry for him. I tried to keep the conversation on sex and slavery but rarely could I get him fired up. Most of the time he untied me after the session and sent me on my way. He didn’t even undress.

Not all sessions were dull. One gentleman in particular really knew how to torture a slave girl. (He still knows how. I still see him).

We met at Denise’s dungeon. She rented a small house and converted it to a torture chamber. Apparently she reached an arrangement with the landlord, she got a discount rate and he got tortured for free.


My customer, whom I shall refer to as MAC (his initials). Rented me and the dungeon. We clicked at once and he seemed to know exactly what to do. He stripped me naked, took off his clothes, then tied me into an excruciatingly delightful hogtie. He tied me so tightly that I quickly lost sensation in my hands and feet. While I lay on the floor he whipped every inch of my body (except my face) with a slender and very painful whip. I was covered with tiny pink stripes in minutes and had my first of several orgasms.

MAC let me catch my breath, then grabbed my ankles and spun me around on the floor. It sounds silly but I loved it. I was completely in his control. He pushed me across the floor, rolled me over and over, spun me around using his foot and while I was laughing hysterically, flipped me onto my face and thrust his cock into me.

 Instant orgasm!

He fucked me until he came, them he took a break. He didn’t offer to untie me and I was content to stay bound. When he was rested he switched my position so that I was hanging by my wrists. Then he broke out another whip. A lovely, cruel flogger with heavy leather strands. He soon had me shrieking and dancing around trying to escape that monstrous whip. I like pain, but everyone has their limits, and that whip drove me quickly to mine. I begged him to stop.

MAC is a strong and determined man. He put a gag in my mouth, hoisted me higher until my feet were off the floor and resumed whipping me. I cried and pleaded and whimpered and he didn’t care. It was one of the most painful and delicious whippings I’ve ever endured. I came several times, and after almost thirty years I remember it.

When he noticed I’d slipped over the line from pain to pleasure, he dropped the whip and yanked my legs apart. He slid his fingers inside my pussy and wiggled them around until I came. Only he didn’t stop. One of the truest forms of torture is to manipulate a woman’s pussy, especially her clitoris, after she’s had an orgasm. Everything becomes so sensitive that touch becomes painful. And MAC knows that, he’s a sadistic bastard that still does it to me.

He paid for two hours. When they were up he asked if I wanted to leave. I shook my head emphatically no. I mumbled in my gag so he took it out.

“Your time is up,” I said. “Now we’re on my time, and you can have me for as long as you want.”

We had a truly delightful afternoon, the first of thousands together.

MAC is married, has children and grandchildren, and though I am no longer a  slave for hire, we still get together at least once a month. Even after I got married my husband never knew that I was being tortured by another man, neither did MAC’s wife. He is still my cruelest master, my most wicked lover, and my dearest friend.

 

CH 13

 

Mary arranged another session for me. Like Denise she rented a small house for business purposes. I arrived early and she showed me around. The house was a little bungalow in an old neighborhood. Most of the houses on the block were rentals and were just this side of shabby. Mary’s house looked like all the rest except for having an oversized garage. A previous owner built it to store a large boat. Mary used the garage for her dungeon. The garage had open rafters like our barn back home and it made me feel homesick.

Mary had painted the walls black and lined them with whips and chains and all sorts of bondage paraphernalia. There were a couple of jail cells complete with bars, a large kennel type cage, a real rack made of heavy wooden planks (my pussy throbbed at the sight of that), crosses, stocks, and a closet filled with over sized women’s clothing for cross dressers.


(She had to explain cross dressing to me and how some men pay to be ‘forced’ into wearing women’s clothes. I found the idea repulsive. I prefer men to be dominant and don’t enjoy seeing them in submissive roles. Over the years I’ve watched men submit to dominatrixes but I’ve never enjoyed it. I enjoy being submissive and like other women who are, but I just don’t like wimpy men, even ones who are acting out roles).

 In addition to the equipment Mary had decorated the place by hanging a lot of plastic skulls and silly Halloween junk in an effort to make the place more dungeon like. I thought it was a bit silly.

The interior of the house was not much better. The living room was passable with a couch and chairs, and the kitchen was ghastly. It was clean and tidy but the cabinets were old, the counter top was battered and the linoleum worn through. Surprisingly, the bedrooms and the bath were quite nice, which made sense because they were only used for sex, Mary didn’t sleep with her clients but she occasionally leased it to real hookers or she rented it to clients who wanted to use it for trysts.  She also hosted bondage parties from time to time.

For my first session she locked me in one of the cells and dimmed the lights.

The client was into humiliation and Mary had coached me as to how to act. When he arrived Mary led him to me. She flicked on a light that illuminated my cell and ordered me to take off my clothes. I begged her not to make me, but she was adamant. Sobbing in shame I slowly undressed.  When I was naked I shrank back and tried to cover my breasts and pussy. Mary barked at me to stand still with my hands at my sides. I kept my eyes on the floor while the client examined me.

Mary gave him the key to the cell and left. She went into the house and watched television.

The man brought me out of the cell. He ordered me to stand with my hands clasped behind my head. I pretended to be embarrassed as he touched my body. He squeezed my breasts, explored my pussy, even had me bend over while he inserted a finger up my ass. I kept up my act of pretended shame. After groping me, he grabbed my arm and walked me to the center of the room. He flipped a switch on the wall that turned on several spotlights. I was flooded with light. He walked around me examining me while making comments about my body. I writhed and whimpered as if I were dying of mortification and tried to hide my pussy. Each time I did he cracked a riding crop across my butt. He made me display myself. I had to spread my legs, bend over, arch my back, squat, kneel, lay on my back with my legs in the air. I spread my ass and opened my pussy lips. I furtively touched my clit and got the riding crop across my butt for it.

 He dragged a chair out and commanded me to sit with my legs over the arms. He made me clasp my hands behind my neck and shake my breasts. All the time he kept demanding that I admit that I was a slut and that I secretly enjoyed what he was making me do. I sobbingly denied it and pleaded with him to let me cover myself. This only brought more smacks from the riding crop.

Now I enjoyed that session and the longer it went the harder it was to pretend that I didn’t. I loved what he was doing to me only wished that I was performing in front of an audience. The only downside was that he never tied me up.


As the session progressed I pretended to reluctantly admit that I was a slut. He ‘broke down’ my resistance and I confessed to more and more. He marched me to a shelf filled with dildos and ordered me to select several. I carried them back to the center of the room and knelt with my knees apart. I teased my pussy with one while in a small voice I confessed that I had wicked secret thoughts. I admitted that I went out with no panties and played with my pussy in my car and in public places like restaurants and movie theaters. I told him that I was a secretary and kept an enormous dildo in my desk that when no one was watching I opened my legs and shoved it up my pussy.

 As I created more and more wicked and outrageous confessions I put the dildo up my pussy and masturbated for real. I was very excited. I got so hot that I put a second one in my ass. I toppled backwards, spread my knees and slammed that dildo in and out of my pussy until I was ready to cum. I arched my back until my weight was on my toes and shoulders. I was thrusting my pussy up into the air in rhythm with my dildo when something warm struck my face. I opened my eyes and was delighted to see the client standing over me masturbating. He pumped his cock and spurted cum for several minutes. I watched the drops of semen arching down in the bright light, saw them land on my chest, felt them hit my face, and I came like an earthquake! I arched my back higher until my weight was on the top of my head, and I wasn’t acting!

When I opened my eyes he was gone. I didn’t know what to do, so I lay there for a while, idly rubbing his cum into my skin. I didn’t know if he was coming back or not so I decided to be patient.

Mary walked in and turned on the lights.

“Nice job. Kiddo,” she said. “He really likes you.”

“Are we done already?” I asked.

“It’s been two and a half hours,” she told me. “He only asked for two. I peeked in and saw that you were both enjoying yourselves so I let the time run over.”

“Two and a half hours?” I stretched contentedly.  “I thought we’d just started.”

The dildo was still in my pussy. Mary laughed. “Would you like to borrow that for a while?”

“I think I’ll keep it,” I replied.” Just deduct it from my check.”

“Go take a shower,” she laughed. “I’ll clean up in here. I have to leave soon.”

“Do you have another appointment?” I asked.

“Nope, PTA meeting tonight. Get going.”

I showered and dressed, but before I put my panties on I slide the dildo up my pussy again, then used my undies to hold it in. Mary was waiting in the kitchen. I lifted my skirt and showed her my panties. Her eyebrows rose in question.

“I didn’t think you wore panties,“ she commented.

“I usually don’t,” I said. “But I’m wearing your dildo home.”

“Keep it with my best wishes,” she laughed. She reached over, pulled the waistband of my panties open and dropped my share of the money in.

 

CH 14

 

I had done about a dozen sessions when Mary asked if I’d be willing to go to client’s house on my own. She told me that the client and his wife wanted a servant girl for the evening. She knew them quite well and vouched for my safety, but understood if I wasn’t prepared to simply take her word for it. I asked what they wanted from me and she replied that I would be a ‘French maid’, complete to skimpy costume and high heels, and that I would be trained to be a maid but probably get a lot of punishment if I didn’t learn quickly. I thought it over and agreed to go.


Several days before the session Mary took me to a costume shop and had me fitted for my maid’s outfit. The client was paying for it and apparently paying quite well. The seamstress was expecting us and completed the dress ready the same day as my fitting. We also selected a pair of ridiculously high heeled patent leather shoes. The heels were so high that I had to practice walking in them. I wore them around my apartment every evening.

Mary drove me to the session. She arrived at my apartment and helped me get into costume.

The maid’s dress was silvery gray with white lace trim. The skirt was very short and under it I wore a stiff ruffled petticoat which pushed the skirt out like a ballet tutu. The ensemble included a lace cap and apron, black thigh high stockings and white lacy panties. Mary brought extra panties, a dozen in all. She explained that panties were going to play a large role in the session and were likely to be torn off of me several times. I would need extras. I put on one pair, Mary folded another and tucked them into the breast pocket of my dress so that they just peeked out and put the remainder in the apron pocket. She also added several pair of stockings.

I looked at myself in the mirror and had to admit that I looked and felt very sexy. Mary took several pictures. Mary was dressed in an expensive and elegant dress. She looked nothing at all like a dominatrix.

I put my raincoat on over the costume and Mary drove me to the client’s house. I whistled when we arrived. It was literally a mansion. We were admitted by a tall elegant gentleman wearing a dark blue suit. I expected a butler but he turned out to be the client. He took us into a parlor and introduced us to his wife. Her name will be Lady L, he is Lord L. (Oh they weren’t English, but they possessed a degree of grace and elegance that was almost aristocratic).

Lady L was about forty at the time. She was tall and slender, almost lanky. Her face was thin and hatchet like. She had a beaky nose and large predatory eyes. Mary introduced me as the new temporary maid. Lady L suggested that I remove my coat. They looked me over, then both nodded in approval. Lady L asked to see my panties so I lifted my skirt. They looked at me for several minutes, then she made a twirling motion with her hand. I turned slowly in place. I enjoyed being looked at.

“I think that you will do,” Lady L told me. “Come with me and I’ll show you your duties.”

She took me to the kitchen and had me brew a pot of tea. “All of the regular staff are on vacation,“ she said. “So I am afraid the burden of service will fall upon you alone.”

“Yes ma am,” I said.

“You understand that we require strict adherence to high standards of conduct,” she warned me. “And corporal punishment is used to correct infractions.”

“Yes ma am.”

“For example, if you spill things or are untidy you will be spanked on the spot,” she said.

I immediately spilled some of the tea. “Oh dear,“ I gasped.

“Heavens!” she said. “That is precisely what I meant. Now I must spank you. Lean over the table and rest your elbows on it.”

“Yes ma am.” I bent over the table. She didn’t have to lift my skirt, that stiff petticoat pushed it up so that my butt was exposed. Lady L touche my bottom gently, she slipped her fingers between my legs and caressed my pussy. I opened my legs obligingly.

“I hope that you aren’t one of those naughty girls who get excited easily,” she said. “I don’t want you walking around with damp underwear.”

Too late for that. My panties were getting wetter by the second.


“I’ll do my best ma am,” I said. “But I must confess that sometimes I am a naughty girl.”

“We will just have to correct that,” she said firmly. “Beginning now.”

She slipped my panties down and spanked me. She must get a lot of practice because her hand was hard and stung like the dickens. She gave me about twenty smacks and my butt was soon burning. So was my pussy.

She pulled my panties up. “See to it that you keep your underwear on at all times,” she told me. “I don’t mind looking at pussies but my husband is a busy man and I don’t wish to have him distracted.”

“Yes ma am.”

She returned to the parlor and I finished making tea. I took it out on a silver tray and served them. I bustled around pouring tea and placing cookies out. I bent over a lot and saw to it that every one got a good look up my skirt and down my cleavage. Then I retreated to the wall and stood quietly.

Mary chatted with Lord and Lady L  for a while, then having finished her tea she left. I tidied up the tea things then Lady L Instructed me as to how I should comport myself. I was shown how to walk in a prissy mincing style, to stand with my chest out, my hands at my sides and my palms down, to bend with my feet together. I felt like Bettie Boop. When I was able to walk and stand to her satisfaction, Lady L told me to dust the furniture. She told me to start in the formal dining room.

The room was large and furnished with a massive medieval looking table. It was ten feet long, five feet wide and built of heavy dark wood. The top was several inches thick and adorned with massive bronze fittings, including heavy rings. I didn’t have to be told that the table was an antique and undoubtedly very expensive. I didn’t know what purpose the rings may have served originally but I giggled when it occurred to me that they would be handy for tying down slaves. As it turned out, I was right.

 I was puttering around with a feather duster when Lord L entered the room. I made sure he got a good look at my panties. He called me over and told me that he preferred that maids be naked under their skirts. He knelt and took my panties off. He tucked them in his pocket, patted my ass, and wandered away.

Moments later Lady L came in and immediately saw that I wasn’t wearing panties. She scolded me for disobeying and gave me another spanking, then ordered me to put on my panties. Lord L had taken them with him so I took a pair from my apron.

She left and he returned. He was outraged that I was wearing panties. He marched me to a chair and dragged me over his lap. He tore my panties to shreds and gave me a sound paddling. Twenty minutes later Lady L noticed that I was naked under my skirt and guess what happened.

For the entire evening I was spanked for wearing panties, and for not wearing panties. My butt was red and very sore and my pussy tingled.

At about pair number six of my reserve panties Lady L discovered that sure enough, my pussy was wet. She was outraged and concluded that simple spankings weren’t getting through to me. She made me lie across her lap face up and spread my legs, then she spanked my pussy. Lord L came into the room and she told him that spanking my butt didn’t seem to be enough. They discussed the matter while she slapped my pussy and they decided that all spankings would be between my legs. That was fine with me.


I’m afraid I wasn’t a very good servant. Aside from being unable to get it right about wearing panties I made other mistakes. I spilled water on the kitchen floor, I bumped into Lord L’s chair, I knocked over a stack of magazines, and did many other clumsy and unacceptable things. They had to spank me many, many times.

           I was so bad that Lord L opened a cabinet and called me over. I stood rubbing my butt as he showed the cabinet’s contents. It was filled with riding crops, paddles and whips. He warned that they would have no choice but to use them on me if I didn’t improve. I hung my head and promised to be good, but unfortunately as I turned to go I almost knocked over a lamp. Sighing with exasperation Lord L removed a wooden paddle and told me to bend over.

Lord and Lady L tried their best to teach me to be a good and proper servant, but no matter how hard they tried I continued to make mistakes. They used every paddle in the cabinet on my very tender butt, to no avail. As the evening went on they were forced to use riding crops and eventually whips on me. I didn’t complain, they were only looking out for my best interests.

When Lord L came to the conclusion that not even riding crops were getting through to me he had no choice but to use a whip.

They took me to an enormous bedroom. Lady L buckled leather cuffs to my wrists while Lord L lowered a chandelier from the ceiling. He unhooked the chandelier and set it aside, then clipped my cuffs to the hook and raised me until I was a tip toe.

Then he whipped me.

Lady L sat regally in a chair and watched as her husband methodically tore my dress to shred with the whip. He was quite adept with the whip, and I was nearly naked before the whip touched my skin. But when it did I felt it!

I was soon shrieking in pain, and I was not play acting. That whip hurt! (But it was sexy too).

After a few dozen strokes he stopped and Lady L rose and removed the wreckage of my dress. She released me from my bonds and ordered me to go into the bathroom and clean up.

I washed my face, touched up my makeup, and went out. The bedroom was empty. I rummaged through my dress and found the spare panties and stockings. I put new ones on and went out. I had to serve the rest of my shift nearly naked.

Lord L asked me to bring him a drink and clumsy me, I dropped some ice cubes on the floor. That earned me another whipping, this time from Lady L, and believe me, she was just as good with a whip as her husband. She had me dancing in pain.

My doltish inability to serve Lord and Lady L forced them to punish me well into the night. At one in the morning they gave up and went to bed. I was given a pillow and blankets and permitted to sleep on the floor beside their bed. And I got to watch as they made love.

Unfortunately being the silly slut I was, I grew so excited that I played with myself and they caught me. To keep me from doing such a wicked thing, they tied me tightly, covered me with the blankets and turned out the lights.

 

The next morning Lord L woke and untied me. Lady L was still asleep. He told me to clean up in a guest bathroom, then make myself breakfast in the kitchen. I looked around for my clothing but my panties had disappeared during the night. All I could find were my shoes and cap.

After eating I returned to their bedroom and knocked softly on the door. Lady L called me  in and told me that I was to bring her a pot of coffee, then attend to Lord L in his shower.


Lord L was waiting when I brought the coffee. He directed me to start the shower then remove my cap and shoes and put on a shower cap. He entered the shower stall, which was huge, and ordered me to wash him. Well, as I soaped his body, I couldn’t resist touching his rather large cock and it became hard instantly. He was very patient and generous and permitted me to stroke, then suck his cock until he spurted into my mouth.

After Lord L had completed his toilette he dressed and instructed me to draw a bath for Lady L. As with him, I attended to her needs as she soaked in the tub. I washed her body and it seemed that my hands had a mind of their own. They inevitably strayed to her breasts and pussy and in no time at all I was fingering her into a wonderful orgasm. Lady L grew so passionate that she splashed a lot of water out of the tub. Afterwards I toweled her body then cleaned up the mess.

I found a mop and while mopping the floor a wicked urge came over me and I couldn’t resist fucking my self with the mop handle. I lay back on the cool marble floor and slid the handle inside my pussy. I made so much noise that Lady L heard and came in. I started to get up but she commanded me not to move. She called Lord L in and they stood and looked at me. Lord L sighed resignedly and told me that I might as well finish what I was doing so I fucked my self to a sweet orgasm as they watched. Of course, this earned me another whipping. This time they took turns.

After my whipping Lady L told me to make the bed and tidy the bedroom, then wait. She returned and told me that Mary had arrived to take me home. She looked me over and decided that I shouldn’t leave completely naked. She opened her dressing gown and told me to kneel at her feet.

“You may remove my panties and wear them home,” she said.

 I gasped in amazement. What an honor for me!

I slid her underwear down and she stepped out of them.

“Fetch me another pair from my dresser,” she commanded. “And a pair of stockings.”

I crawled on my hands and knees to the dresser, opened a drawer and found her lingerie. I selected a pair of panties and held them for her to see. She nodded and I crawled back. I started to put them on her, when on an impulse I kissed her tummy.

“What in the world?” she asked.

“Forgive me ma am,” I said. “But I couldn’t resist.”

She looked at me sternly, then her expression softened. “Oh, very well,” she said. “Come over here.”

She sat in a chair, opened her gown and spread her legs. I crawled between them and kissed her pussy. This was the first time in my life that I actually put my mouth on another woman’s pussy and I loved it. The only thing missing was I wasn’t tied up. I thrust my tongue as deep into Lady L as I could. I licked and kissed and nibbled her until she came.

When she collapsed in orgasm I sat on my knees and waited until her breathing returned to normal.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t do a better job ma am,” I said. “But I’ve never done that before.”

She smiled at me and touched my hair gently.

“Don’t worry my child,” she said. “I’ll see to your training when you come back. I’ll make sure that you get lots of practice.”

“Thank you ma am.”

“You may put my panties on,” she said. “The fresh pair on me, the others on yourself.”


I slipped her panties up her legs then she surprised me by holding her old ones for me to step into. She checked to see that they fit properly by running her fingers over every inch of the material, especial the crotch. I was pink faced and breathing hard when she finished. Then she put the stockings on me and told me to find my shoes.

I felt very sexy wearing her panties. When I got home I carefully packed them away. I still have them. Once a year I put them on. When I press them to my face I can almost taste Lady L’s pussy again.     

Mary was waiting when we came out of the bedroom. She helped me into my rain coat and took me home.

“They want you back in a few weeks,” she told me.

“Well, they’ll have to pay for another maid’s dress,” I told her. “The one I came in is ruined.”

“Not to worry,” she said. “The seamstress was told to make several in your size.”

I told her about my night on the drive home. Mary was surprised when I told her how Lady L had disciplined me.

“That’s a change for her,” Mary said. “Usually she’s submissive.”

“What?”

“I’ve seen her crawling on her hands and knees and sucking cocks while her husband watches,” Mary said. “That’s how I got to know them. He brings her to my parties and lets everyone treat her like dirt. She loves it.”

I stared at Mary in utter astonishment. The idea of aristocratic Lady L in slavery was unbelievable!

“But she’s such a grand lady,” I marveled. “And to think, just half an hour ago I was on my knees between her legs.”

“I imagine her pussy tastes like any other,” Mary chuckled.

“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “It’s the first one I’ve ever eaten.”

Mary looked at me in surprise. I smiled and leaned back against the seat.

 

 

BOOK LIST

 

 

                                                                                                CH 15

 

                I attended my first bondage party as Denise’s slave. The party was held at the garage dungeon on a Sunday afternoon. I arrived at the house and Denise undressed me. Mary was there and had one of her regular male clients on a leash.  Mary’s little man was naked except for a slave collar. He was pudgy and had no body hair and his penis was small. Denise allowed him to follow us into a bedroom and watch while she undressed me. He squatted on the floor and panted like a dog. I didn’t mind being watched, but I’d have preferred a real man.

                Denise buckled me into a slave collar and leather wrist and ankle cuffs, then she put a partial slave hood over my head. The hood covered my head and face but left my mouth uncovered and I could see out of small eye holes. I had a pretty good idea why my mouth was exposed.

                Denise locked my wrists behind my back then played around with me. She squeezed and pinched my breasts and rubbed my pussy until my knees were weak.

                Mary’s slave, whom I shall call ‘doggy boy’, got very excited. His little cock was hard and he  played with it while he watched. Denise made him stop and handcuffed his hands behind his back. She pushed me onto the bed and spread my legs. She snapped her fingers at ‘doggie boy’ and motioned him closer. He rested his chin on the bed a few inches from my pussy while Denise finger fucked me. She was in character and brought me close to orgasm but cruelly wouldn’t let me come. I was whimpering in frustration. (The ‘doggy slave was whimpering too, the little creep). Denise stopped tormenting me when Mary called from the kitchen that she could use some help.

                Denise attached nipple clamps to my breasts, snapped a chain to my collar and led me to the kitchen. ‘Doggy boy’ followed on his hands and knees.

Mary was setting up refreshments. Denise unlocked my wrists and told me to help, she pitched in too. I carried trays of goodies to the garage.

                Setting up the buffet in the nude was exciting. I’d helped mom with parties before, but never as a slave. The only problem was that ‘doggie boy’ followed me everywhere. He didn’t have to help, he just stared at me and panted like a dog. Mary and Denise bustled around like ordinary hostesses before a party, except most hostesses don’t dress to the max in dominatrix outfits.

                Denise wore a scarlet micro skirt and matching vest. The vest did nothing to conceal her breasts and  her skirt was so short that her black silk panties were visible. She wore brilliant red knee boots complete with spurs.

Mary wore a silver bustier over a black leather skirt. The skirt was split up the front. It could be closed with snaps but she’d left them open so that her pussy was exposed, Her pubic hair was so red that I wondered if she’d touched it up.

They both looked fantastic.

                The dungeon was arranged with tables and chairs and a buffet along a wall. An X cross stood in the center of the room, just where the lights focused. My pussy tingled as I remembered my moments under those lights. I wondered what I was going to experience that afternoon.  When they were satisfied that everything was ready they locked me in one of the jail cells and put ‘doggie boy’ in another. I wasn’t terribly thrilled about just sitting loose in a cell.

“Do I have to just sit here?” I complained. “Can’t I be tied up or something?” 

 Denise pressed me against the bars so that my breasts protruded through. She spread my  arms and legs wide and locked them tightly to the bars. Much better. Then she toyed with my pussy until I was ready to cum.

In the next cell ‘doggy boy’s’ pecker was hard. He panted and whimpered until Denise tied him the same way. She even deigned to play with his cock for a few minutes.

 

The first guests arrived. A man walked in leading a woman . She was dressed like a Spanish lady in a red and black lace dress. Her skirt was made of layers of ruffles and trailed behind her. She even wore a high comb covered with a mantilla. Her hands were bound in front with a red rope and she followed her master demurely, with lowered eyes. The costume was very erotic because her skirt was completely open in the front exposing her very hairy pussy. The man was dressed like an Argentine gaucho, with a wide hat and flowing trousers tucked into boots and held up by a sash. He was bare chested and carried a whip.

He motioned the woman to a chair and walked to me. As he approached he opened the front of his trousers and pulled out a very hard cock. He thrust his cock between the bars and rubbed it against my belly. He couldn’t screw me in that position, but he sure got me hot in a hurry! He rubbed his cock against my skin for a few minutes the stepped back and toyed with my breasts.

 In his cage ‘doggie boy’ whimpered hopefully. The gaucho looked at him in disdain and smacked the handle of his whip onto ‘doggie’s’ cock. The pathetic little worm yelped in delight and began humping against the bars. The gaucho ignored him and walked away.

More guests arrived until about twenty people were present. Some wore costumes, other were in regular clothes. Most of the submissives were nude or partially so, and so were some of the dominants. Most doms were men, but several women showed with subs in tow.

One female dom had the look of a professional and her sub was a man. She led him in naked in chains. His cock was rock hard and she made him offer it to every one. Some people touched his cock but most of the male dominants ignored it or at best whacked it their whips. One master ordered his slave, a mousy little woman in chains to masturbate the male. She brought him close to coming, then stopped when ordered. The poor male groaned in frustration. Everyone laughed at him.

Another dominant woman was fascinating. She was a sweet looking lady about forty years old. She looked like a school teacher. She carried a wooden ruler, wore granny glasses low on her nose, her hair in a bun, and a severe gray business suit with some interesting modifications. She was naked under her jacket and showed a lot of impressive cleavage when she moved, and her skirt was so short that the tops of her stockings were visible. Later in the evening I got a look up her skirt and found that she wasn’t wearing panties.

Her sub was a woman in her fifties. She wore a school girl outfit with a tiny plaid skirt, ruffled panties, bobby socks, penny loafers and an enormous white bra that exposed an impressive cleavage, bigger than her mistress’s boobs. The get up would have looked ridiculous on most women her age, but somehow she carried it off. She looked very sexy.

 It turned out that the dom really was a school teacher, so was her sub. They worked in the same school and had been in the bondage scene for twenty years. Both were married but neither woman’s husband knew of their secret lives.

Their arrival caused a stir among the other guests. Everyone focused on the ‘school girl’s’ breasts and the men couldn’t keep their hands off them. She giggled and tried to stand still as several hands roamed over her boobs and under her skirt. Her dom permitted this for a few moments then shooed the men away. She promised they would all get their turn later. The school girl stuck out her lower lip and pouted. Her dom  ordered her to lift her skirt and bend forward. The schoolgirl grinned and wiggled her bottom while her dom gave her a dozen smacks with the ruler.

I guess I had expected the affair to be run more like a show, with every one putting on an act in turn, but it really was just a party. Slaves and masters mingled, chatted, ate and drank. Many of the submissives wore cuffs or chains but ‘doggy boy’ and I were the only ones who were restrained. From time to time someone would wander over to my cell and play with my breasts and pussy. Some slaves took liberties with my body. That was ok with me. I was so excited that I didn’t care who was touching me.

Mary came by with a plate of refreshments and fed me. She also fed ‘doggy boy’ and played with his cock. She knew just how to excite him until he was an inch from coming. Each time he got close she would stop. The poor little twerp would whimper and yelp and hump the bars frantically. He attracted so much attention that everyone grew quiet and watched. Mary glanced around and laughed.

“Would anyone like to see more?” she asked. They applauded.

She untied ‘doggy’ and led him to the center of the room. She strapped him to the X cross. He was so excited that he was trembling. Mary played with his cock, then whipped him. She whipped the little guy over every inch of his body, even his face (although she didn’t hit him very hard there).

He loved every stroke. His expression was ecstatic. He jerked and groaned and yelped at each blow, and his cock was as hard as a rock.

Mary stepped back and offered her whip to another woman. This was the other professional dominatrix. Her name was Georgia.

Georgia stood in from of ‘doggy’ and cracked the whip. She was very good and demonstrated mastery of the whip that would have put a  lion tamer to shame. She snapped that whip over her head, in circles, in figure eights and she cracked it so hard on the floor that it marked the wood. She cracked that whip so fast and loud that it sounding like a machine gun. Little ‘doggy boy’ watched entranced, his eyes never left the whip.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was so beautiful, so cruel and so skilled with her whip! It was wasted on ‘doggy. I should be on that cross, not him!

Never slowing the whip, Georgia moved closer to him. His face was pale but a look of pure lust was on his face. The whip got closer and closer. Then she slashed it across his chest. Two blows so fast that bright red welts appeared instantly, and ‘doggy boy’ came!

His cum spurted out and struck her leg. She ignored it and hit him again, this time slowly and deliberately. At each stroke his body jerked and more cum spurted out. He never made a sound and never took his eyes from her.   

When his cock was empty she tossed the whip to the floor and walked to her table. She walked like a queen. Her head was high, her carriage was regal and her eyes sparkled. She wasn’t even breathing hard. The room was silent and everyone stared in awe. At her table she placed her foot on a chair and motioned her personal slave to lick the cum off her leg. He lunged forward eager to obey.

Georgia sipped her drink and smiled at the crowd. “Who’s next?”

They burst into applause.

 

Mary released ‘doggy’ and made him lick his semen from the floor, then she clipped a leash to his collar and had him crawl after her as she moved around the room. He was completely contented and the other guests petted him like a puppy.

I was jealous. I wanted to be petted. I wanted to be whipped into an orgasm while they watched. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried.

Another guest decided to display his slave. He led a woman to the floor. She wore a dress that buttoned own the front. He unbuttoned the dress and tossed it aside. Under it she wore white lace panties, garter belt and bra. She was an ordinary looking woman, not pretty, not plain.  So was he, and it was obvious that they were husband and wife. They were the kind of people you wouldn’t look at twice if you passed them in a grocery store. He lowered a rope from the ceiling and strung her up by her wrists, then he whipped her half to death.

I thought Georgia had done a job on ‘doggy boy’, but that man whipped his wife so hard that she was covered with raised welts within minutes. Some of the welts even had thin lines of blood seeping from  them. And she didn’t take her whipping quietly. She screamed her lungs out.

That poor woman writhed and twisted in her bonds. She screamed and jerked and tried to avoid the whip. She tugged herself upward, then dropped back. Her feet were off the floor and she flopped at the end of the rope like a fish on a line. She struggled so frantically that puffs of dust wafted down from the rafters. I began to wonder if she was at the party voluntarily. I was incredibly excited, but as I watched her genuine agony I wondered what would happen to Mary and Denise if the woman went to the police. 

I caught Mary’s eye and she came over.

“I don’t think that she is enjoying this,” I whispered. “Shouldn’t you stop it?”

Mary looked at me incredulously.

“I could take her place,” I offered.

Mary just rolled her eyes and walked away.

The man whipped his woman until she hung limply in her bonds. Her chest was heaving and her breasts bounced as she gasped for breath. He lowered her to the floor but she didn’t try to stand. She just collapsed slowly until she lay at his feet. He released her bonds and she slowly stood up. She smiled at the applause and turned back and forth, proudly displaying her welts. She kissed her husband on the cheek and walked to their table.

Across the room Mary looked at me and winked.

A couple at the next table spoke to her. I couldn’t hear the conversation but both men seemed to reach some sort of agreement. The women changed seats, then the freshly whipped woman got on her knees and disappeared under table. The other woman did the same. Both men leaned back in their chairs. I was jealous again.

 

I watched a lot of people get tortured that night. It was a learning experience. I thought I was tough but I discovered that I was a virgin when it came to slavery. I watched people endure horrific torture that honestly frightened me.

Oh, I did get whipped that night. Several times in fact and they were all good whippings. I realized a fantasy when Denise took me out of my cell and paraded me in front of every one. Then she hung me by my wrists and asked for a volunteer from the audience. A gentleman stepped forward and selected a big flogger. Denise told him that I wanted it rough. He looked at me questioningly and I nodded.

He didn’t even warm me up, he just went at my body like a mule driver. I was squealing by the third blow and screaming by the tenth. It was lovely! My legs weren’t tied so I kicked and thrashed around and tried to keep them open. I wanted every one to see my pussy.

My tormentor (whose name I cannot recall after all these years) spun my body and whipped me as I rotated. After a few dozen from him, he handed the whip over to another man, and another. All in all I was whipped by every dominant male and female that evening. I came several times during the first whipping and discovered something about myself.

I like being dominated by men, and men are stronger and hit harder, but women are meaner and more insidious and they know just exactly where to place a whip. I had more orgasms under women than men.

After  my first whipping I was released and Denise took me to her table. Things were getting a bit wilder and instead of one person at a time being tortured, several things were going on. I saw that the school teacher had tied her sub to a post and was working her breasts over with a ruler.

The ‘school girl’ was visibly ecstatic and her smile grew with each blow. The ‘teacher’ progressed from a wooden ruler to a wooden yardstick, then to a metal one. Even with the noise in the room I could hear every smack as that yardstick hit her slave’s breasts. Several people watched intently.

The party was now an orgy. Slaves were being spanked or whipped, one man had bent his slave over a table and was fucking her from behind, and ‘doggy boy’ was on his knees sucking a man’s cock. Yuck!

In a corner of the dungeon several people were gathered around an OB/GYN table. A woman was strapped to the table and alternately screaming in pain and shrieking with laughter. I couldn’t see what they were doing to her but whatever it was, I wished they were doing it to me.

The gaucho joined us at the table and he and Denise got into a long conversation. I wondered where his Spanish Lady was until I saw her getting a spanking on the lap of another man. The lucky thing!

I got up and wandered around the room. I watched all sorts of erotic torments being inflicted on people and was about to offer myself to a man who’d just given a girl a terrific whipping when another  piercing scream came from the woman on the OB/GYN table. I went to the table and saw that the woman was being tormented with electricity.

Wires were clipped to her nipples and pussy lips. A wire was attached to a metal rod in her rectum and others were clipped to her toes and fingers. The wires ran to a control box that looked like a model train transformer. A man was turning dials on the box and that made the woman scream or giggle. From her reactions, the lower voltage was quite pleasant. She moaned and purred with pleasure, but when  the power went up her purring changed to yelps, then to shrieks, then to window rattling screams.  She also reacted differently when the electricity was applied to different parts of her body. Obviously the wires on her pussy brought  the strongest screams. At full power she screamed insanely and thrashed on the table like a mad woman.

Denise appeared beside me and told me the woman was a serious masochist and a danger freak. She even had a death fetish.  She took risks and had allowed people to torture her so severely that she had been hospitalized. Her favorite torture was electrical and she had an fantasy about being executed in an electric chair.

My jaw dropped when Denise told me that. I looked at her in astonishment. Denise shrugged and told me not to be too surprised or judgmental. I started to say something until I remembered I’d had fantasies of being sacrificed and burnt at the stake when I was in high school. I nodded.

“How well do you know her?” I asked.

“Quite well,” Denise answered. “She comes to me for sessions from time to time, but I won’t do all the things she asks for.”

“Like what?”

“Like that,” Denise said, pointed at the woman. “I have electric torture devices, but she wants them turned up so high that she really could be electrocuted. I won’t run that risk.”

“Does she have a master?” I asked.

“She has in the past, but they always break up. Luckily for her, she hasn’t met anyone who is crazy enough to do the things that she wants done to her. If she ever does hook up with someone like that she may end up dead.”

“I’ve had fantasies about being cooked at a stake,” I said. “And being a sacrificial victim, but I was more interested in the bondage, not really dying.”

“I understand that,” Denise said. “But Donna takes it to the extreme.”

“Her name is Donna?” I asked, nodding toward the woman.

“Yes,” Denise answered. “She wants to be put on trial naked for some crime, then condemned to the electric chair. She fantasizes that she’s led through a prison in the nude to the execution chamber, then strapped to the chair in front of a crowd of witnesses. The chair is especially designed for women, and it forces her legs wide apart. The prison guards secure her to the chair and insert a huge penis shaped electrode in her pussy. When they turn on the current she wants to thrash wildly, like she is now, in front of the witnesses. The executioner turns the electricity on and off, prolonging her death. As the current is increased she jerks in the chair until its rocking on the floor. When they give her the final jolt smoke comes off her breasts and tiny flames ignite on her nipples, then she has a huge orgasm and dies.”

“How do you know all this?” I gasped.

“Donna loves to talk about her fantasies,” Denise said. “I’ve listened to them for years.”

“Wow,” I asked. “She’s pretty weird!”

(Weird fantasies. . . but sexy.)

I didn’t want to be executed but I did want to strapped to that table. My pussy was throbbing so much I could have sworn it was buzzing.

                                                                CH 16

 

As I stood watching, a man’s hand clapped on my shoulder and turned me around. I found myself looking into the eyes of the gaucho. His hand pressed me to my knees where I was at eye level with his cock. I opened my mouth for him.

I enjoyed sucking that man’s cock because other people were watching. But I also wanted to see  what they were doing to the woman on the table. I sucked that cock the best I could so he could come quickly and I could get back to watching  the electrical torture. Unfortunately as soon as the gaucho came another cock was shoved in my face. I obediently took the second cock in my mouth, but was surprised to see a woman kneel beside the man’s leg. She was a strikingly beautiful woman who could have been an actress or a model. She looked at me without expression and I wondered why he was wasting time on me when he had her, until I realized that it was to humiliate her.

She was naked and her arms were tightly bound behind her back. She looked into my eyes and when he got close to coming she edged nearer to me. When he came he withdrew from my mouth and spurted in my face. I liked that but was surprised when his slave pressed herself against me and began licking my face. I held still as she cleaned all his cum off me with her tongue. She managed to slip her tongue between my lips once or twice and I finally saw a twinkle in her eyes when she finished and licked her own lips.

I started to get up but her master ordered me to lay back and spread my legs. I almost refused because I still wanted to see the electrical torture, but I was a slave and had to obey.

I lay back and opened my knees. The man took his slave by the hair and pushed her face into my crotch. She kissed my pussy, then set to work with her tongue. And she knew what she was doing.

A crowd formed around us which I found exciting. Even ‘doggy boy’ showed up, still crawling. He wormed his way past people’s legs and squatted  next me. His little cock was hard and pointing at my  face. He whimpered and edged closer but I shoved him away. That brought a burst of laughter from the crowd.

One of the masters told me to play with ‘doggie’s cock, but I refused. The master knelt and took both my hands in his. Someone handed him a set of handcuffs and he clipped them into the rings of my wrist cuffs. Then he forced my arms over my head and onto the floor. He placed his foot on the handcuffs and I couldn’t move.

Someone ordered ‘doggy’ to crouch over my chest and put his cock in my mouth. I hated the idea but I was a slave and had no choice. I sucked that pathetic little weenie.

And I got even more excited! Being on my back with my wrists imprisoned took my passion to a higher notch and being forced to do something so humiliating in front of people sent it higher still. Degradation was thrilling. (Of course, the fact that my pussy was being eaten by a beautiful woman may have helped). I sucked little ‘doggy’ as if I were in love with him. 

The crowd cheered when ‘doggy’ came all over my face, and I came a moment later from the actions of that wonderful tongue in my pussy.  Someone grabbed ‘doggy’ by the scruff of his neck and dragged him off me. The woman’s face disappeared from my crotch and I felt the weight of a man on my body. A cock thrust inside me and I came like a volcano.

I lay on the floor in pure delight as I was fucked in front of people. I was dimly aware of the beautiful slave lying beside me while someone fucked her too.

I lost count of the men who screwed me. Eventually I was alone on the floor. The beautiful woman was gone and the OB/GYN table was empty. I staggered to my feet and walked to a table. I drank a glass of water and another of wine. I slouched in the chair and felt utterly happy.

Denise plopped down beside me.

“Having a nice time?” she asked.

I managed to nod.

“Its a good thing these chairs are washable,” she commented.

I looked at her curiously until I saw that she was looking at my crotch. My pussy was pink and swollen and covered with cum. More was oozing out.

“I you sit here too long you’ll be stuck to the seat,” Denise said..

 I laughed helplessly. I noticed that my nipple clamps were missing, so was my hood.

 

The party was out of control. Someone tied two females side by side to kneeling posts and made them suck men’s cocks. Another slave was added, and a third, until a whole row of slaves knelt on the floor, including two male slaves, whose cocks were very hard. Dominant males wandered over and stuck their cocks into the kneeling slaves’ mouths.

“That’s interesting,” Denise commented.

“What is?” I asked.

“See the male sub at the end of the line, the one with the curly hair?”

“Yes.”

“He just gave a blow job to a master.”

“So?’

“He’s straight. I’ve never seen him submit to a man before.”

“No kidding? Who is his mistress?”

“The short woman in blue,” Denise said. “The one talking to those men at the table over there. She’s his wife.”

The woman in blue was looking toward her slave husband. She seemed mildly surprised to see cum on his face. She said something to one of the men at her table, who stood up and walked to her husband. The man opened his trousers and took out his cock. He moved close to the male slave, who obediently took it between his lips.

The slaves’ wife laughed in disbelief and applauded. She watched her husband suck the cock until it spurted in his mouth. When her husband looked toward her she raised her glass toward him mockingly, then  returned to her conversation. Her husband hung his head in embarrassment.

“My, my,” Denise said.

 

The plain woman who had been so brutally whipped was at it again. She was hanging by her wrists while a man whipped her. She was getting another brutal whipping, and like the first time, she was screeching and fighting her bonds. Denise followed my look.

“She is animated, isn’t she,” Denise commented. “She likes everyone to watch when she’s punished. She loves to thrash around.”

“I’m impressed,” I admitted.

“Wait until they get around to whipping her pussy,” Denise said. “She really puts on a show then.”

“That’s not her husband whipping her,” I commented.

“No, he took someone’s slave to a bedroom.”

A piercing scream came from across the dungeon. The crowd around the ‘schoolgirl’ laughed.

“They’re still working on Dorothy’s boobs,” Denise said.

“There’s a lot to work on,” I commented.

“Uh huh, they certainly are huge,” Denise agreed. “I like tormenting them.”

“You’ve had sessions with her?” I asked. “You’ve tortured those boobs?”

“Yep, and you want to know something?” Denise said. “She has orgasms from them.”

“No kidding?”

“Hurt her boobs enough and she’ll come like an atomic bomb,” Denise said.  “I wish I could come that way.”

I looked at the ‘schoolgirl’. Someone was twisting her breasts using pliers. The look on her face was pure ecstasy.

“Do you know everyone’s secrets?” I asked.

“Pretty much,” she said. “Submissives will tell you everything when they’re in character. They like to talk about their dreams.”

“I guess you’re right,” I said. “I did.”

Denise nodded toward the ‘schoolgirl’.  “Her greatest fantasy is to have somebody put giant fishhooks through her nipples, then hang her from the ceiling with them,”

I cringed at the thought, then felt a wave of heat flash through my pussy. A violent shudder rippled through my body.

Denise looked at me curiously.

“Just imagining what that would be like,” I explained. “It sounds horrid.”

“Sure it does,” she scoffed. “I can see that you’re terrified.”

I looked away embarrassed. Denise laughed.

“Don’t try to kid me Mary. I can tell by the look in your eyes that  you’d love to hang by your tits. Right?” 

“My God no!”

She leaned close. “Are you sure about that? Are you sure that you wouldn’t like to have hooks stabbed through your nipples?”

“I’d love it,” I whispered.

Denise laughed. She pinched my nipple and pulled me to my feet. She walked me to a spot near Dorothy and told me to kneel. I obeyed and watched eagerly as she took a set of wicked looking nipple clamps from s shelf. She tied cord to them and tossed the cords over the rafter above my head.

She put the clamps on my nipples and she wasn’t gentle about it. I bit my lip and managed to suppress a squeal when the first one bit into me, but  I wasn’t able to keep from shrieking when the second one got me. Heads turned and people watched as Denise tugged the cords and forced me to my feet. She kept pulling until I was on my toes and gasping in pain. Then she locked my wrists behind my back and walked away. What a pal!

                               

                                                                                CH 17

 

The party started to wind down at midnight and the guests began to leave. Dorothy and her school teacher were the last to go. I was still a tip toe under the rafter. I watched as Dorothy was released and sat with her mistress, Mary and Denise at a table.

I couldn’t hear their conversation but they were looking at me. I saw Dorothy nod and get to her feet. Denise locked her wrists behind her and led her to me. She attached clamps to Dorothy’s nipples, pressed her against me and hauled her up onto her toes. She tied a rope around our waists and snubbed it tightly. Dorothy’s body felt warm and soft.

“Dorothy, this is Mary,” Denise said. “Mary is fascinated by your boobs and interested in your story.”

“Hi Mary,” Dorothy said kindly. “So you like boobs?”

I was embarrassed. “Not usually,” I said. “But yours are magnificent.”

“Thank you. I take it you’re gay?”

“No, not really,” I told her. “I’ve been having sex with ladies but that’s because I’m a slave. I normally like men.”

“Then we’re in the same boat,” she said. “I never had sex with a woman either until I discovered my submissive side.”

We were tied so closely that I had to lean away to see her face. She looked exhausted but happy. She smiled at me.

 Dorothy’s breasts were so big, soft and floppy that they lifted easily into the air.

 Denise, Mary, and the teacher (whose name was Vivian) sat at the table and visited for an hour while Dorothy and I danced on our toes.

“How big are your breasts?” I asked.

“Fifty four inches,” she said.  “One inch for each year of my life.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m fifty four years old,” she laughed.  “And my tits are still growing.”

“They are?”

“Between having a tit loving husband, and this kind of thing, they stretch a little more each year.”

“Does your husband torture them?” I asked.

“No, never. He just isn’t into bondage,” she said. “He has no idea that I do this.”

“How do you keep it from him?”

“He travels a lot so I can have fun while he’s away. If I have marks after a session I avoid letting him see me naked, and we make love in the dark. I’ve convinced him that I like getting screwed with the lights out.”

“And he never sees your marks?” I asked.

“Sometimes he does, but I’ve trained him over the years to believe that my bras leave marks on my skin. He doesn’t even question it anymore.” 

“How did you get into the scene?”

“There are several bad things about having huge tits,” she said. “Back aches, people stare at them, and they get in the way. They knock things over.”

“What are the good things about having huge tits?: I asked.”

“People stare at them and they make great targets for a whip.”

“Wow.”

“Vivian and I teach at the same school. We were in the office one day, helping with the paperwork. Its hard for me to see under my boobs and I kept bumping into things. I knocked over the same stack of papers three times and Vivian warned me that if I did it again she was going to spank me. She was kidding, but the next time it happened she picked up a ruler and told me to hold out my hand. I did and she rapped my palm lightly, then jokingly smacked my boobs. When that ruler hit my nipples a bolt of pure excitement went through me like electricity. I jumped like I’d been shot.”

“Wow.”

“Vivian saw the look in my eyes and knew instantly. Neither of us said a word. She raised the ruler, I stuck my boobs out, and she smacked them again. I almost had an orgasm.”

“Denise told me you can come from pain in your breasts,” I said.

“Yes, I can,” she said. “I just wish I’d found that out earlier. I’d have had people torturing them a lot sooner if I’d known. I wasted a lot of years.”

“Did you come that first day?”

“No, I came close but we were interrupted.”

“What happened?”

“Another teacher came in and we went back to work. We were both embarrassed and didn’t look at each other the rest of the day. As we were leaving that afternoon Vivian suggested we get a cup of coffee. We went to a cafe and talked about what had happened.

“Vivian  had a lesbian roommate in college who was submissive, and she talked Vivian into tying her up. Vivian discovered that she enjoyed dominating the girl. They had a relationship, but after college went their separate ways. Vivian became a teacher, got married, had kids and lived a normal life, but smacking my breasts with that ruler turned her on. It brought back the memories of her college days. She asked me to let her dominate me.”

“What did you say?”

“I said no. I’d never had any lesbian or masochistic fantasies. Besides, I love my husband and would never hurt him. Unfortunately the incident triggered something in me I didn’t know existed. I got hot every time I thought about it. I was confused and stewed over it for days. I had trouble getting to sleep, and when I did manage to sleep I dreamt about being tortured.”

“I know about dreams,” I told her. “You wouldn’t believe some of the raunchy ones I have.”

“You’re too young to be having such dreams,” she smiled. “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty one,” I said. “And I’ve been tying my self up since I was sixteen.”

“Ah, an early bloomer,” she said.

“Yes, an early bloomer with an over active imagination,” I said. “I have lots of wicked dreams.”

“Someday we’ll have to compare them,” she giggled.

“I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours,”.

“Deal.”

Dorothy continued her story:

“The bondage dreams were driving me crazy so I worked up the nerve to ask my husband if he would like to tie me up. We had never done anything like that and he politely declined. He said he wasn’t the kind on man who would abuse a woman. He was surprised that I brought up the subject so I never mentioned it again.”

“Too bad,” I said.

“The dreams didn’t stop,” she continued. “So I went to Vivian and agreed to submit to her one time only.”

“Only once?” I asked.

“I thought perhaps if I did it once I might get it out of my system and be able to get back to normal,” she said.

“But it didn’t work that way, right?”

“No,” she said. “I told Vivian I’d let her do anything she wanted to me. She invited me to her house on a Saturday. Her husband was away fishing.

“I was a nervous wreck when I got there. Vivian took me to the cellar and ordered me to undress. I discovered that I liked taking orders from her, it excited me. I took off my clothes and she tied me to a post.

“A big turn on?” I asked.

“Incredible! I went weak in the knees as soon as I felt that rope tighten on my wrists. Vivian tied my wrists and ankles, and wrapped ropes around my breasts until they were as tight as balloons, then she told me to try to get loose. I struggled but it was impossible. All I could do was wiggle around and manage to get my boobs bouncing. Vivian liked that and ordered me to keep them moving. It was painful but I liked it too.”

“I’d love to see that,” I said.

She smiled and went on. “Finally Vivian got down to business and tortured me. She squeezed my boobs, pinched my nipples, dug her fingernails in as deep as she could. The pain was terrific but turned me on. She slapped my breasts with her hands, then used a ruler and a yardstick. That’s when I experienced my first bondage orgasm.”

“Did you have orgasms before that?” I asked.

“Oh yes. My husband is a terrific lover,” she said. “And we are wonderfully compatible, at least in normal sex.”

“Its too bad he won’t tie you up,” I said.

“You don’t know how many times my heart has ached to have him do the things that Vivian does to me.”

“Tell me more about your first time with her,” I suggested.

“When I came the first time she let me rest for a few minutes, then used a whip on me. I thought I was in heaven! I had more orgasms and she never even touched my pussy.”

“There was no sex between you?”

“Not the first time,” she said. “I didn’t become a lesbian until our third or fourth meeting.”

“What happened?”

“Vivian tied me to her bed and whipped me. She whipped my boobs of course, but also the insides of my thighs, my belly, even my pussy.”

“Mmmmmm!”

“I’ll say! I had an orgasm,” Dorothy said. “Then Vivian climbed onto the bed and lowered her pussy onto my face.”

“Did you like it?”

“It was odd,” she said. “I’d never done that before, but I knew it was coming sooner or later. I didn’t dislike eating Vivian’s pussy, it was just a new experience. Later I grew to love at. I still do.”

“Do you love eating all pussies,” I giggled. “Or just your mistresses?”

“All pussies,” she laughed. “But especially hers.”

“Did your mistress eat your pussy?” I asked.

“Not that time, but she did a few weeks later. She got me very excited, then made me beg for it. In our entire relationship we’ve never just made love. I’ve always been in bondage and I refuse to eat her pussy until she whips me into submission, and she won’t eat mine until I beg. Its our little game.”

“Are you turned on my submission too?” I asked. “I sure am.”

“Yes,” Dorothy replied. “I love to have my tits abused, but I get excited about bondage and even just verbal dominance.”

“Cool.”

“Sometimes Vivian calls me at home and orders me to take off my clothes and play with my pussy and do other sexy things,” Dorothy said. “I get really hot doing that.”

“Do you really do the things she says,” I asked. “Or just pretend?”

“I do them,” she said firmly. “To the last detail.”

“Getting back to eating pussies,” I said. “What about other women?”

“Sure,” Dorothy said. “She’s given me to other doms and I’ve had to eat other slave pussies.”

“Have you been given to men?” I asked.

“Never,” she said firmly. “I’ve been spanked and tortured by men, but I won’t let them fuck me. It may be a small point, but  no matter how many times I’ve betrayed my husband with Vivian, I’ve never done so with a man.”

“Forgive me, but you seemed to enjoy the attention that men were giving you earlier,” I observed.

“Its true, to my shame,” she said.

“Have you ever sucked a man’s cock?”

“Yes.”

“Well, isn’t that the same as screwing?”

“I admit that I’m a hypocrite,” Dorothy said. “But maybe the only way I can retain a tiny bit of self respect is to keep my pussy for my husband only.”

We were quiet for a while. I felt bad that I had pressed her. She spoke.

“The first time I sucked a cock as a slave I honestly had to be forced to do it.”

“What happened?”

“It was many years ago. Vivian swapped me for another woman’s slave. The other dom tied me on my knees and was working my breasts over when her boyfriend showed up. He wasn’t supposed to be part of the arrangement but the dom ordered me to suck his cock. I refused so they whipped me hard. Two people whipped my tits at the same time. Vivian was in another room and thought my screams were just ordinary screams. Part of me was determined not to betray my husband and part of me enjoyed the pain, so I refused for a long time. It went on so long that I went beyond the point of erotic pain. I was afraid that they were going to injure me, perhaps scar me permanently, so I gave in.”

“You poor thing,” I said.

“Not really,” she said wryly. “Despite the pain and degradation, as soon as that man’s cock went into my mouth I was turned on. I gave him the blow job of his life. I swallowed his cum and begged for more. The dom and her boyfriend were so impressed that they offered to buy me from Vivian.”

“Wow.”

“So I suck cocks now, but I resist as long as I can,” Dorothy said proudly. “If a man wants me to suck him off, he’s going to have to work at making me do it.”

(That sort of logic makes sense only to another sex slave. It made perfect sense to me.)

 

“How long have you and Vivian been together?”

“I was thirty five when we started, Vivian was twenty six. That was almost twenty years ago.”  She smiled and shook her head. “You wouldn’t believe the lengths we’ve gone to keep it secret. No one outside the scene has ever guessed that I’m Vivian’s slave. We never allowed a hint of it into our work or family lives. Vivian has had a child since we started. She whipped me when she was pregnant.”

“Do they make leather maternity outfits for doms?” I giggled.

 “You aren’t the first person to ask that,” she chuckled. “Actually the weirdest part of being dominated by a pregnant woman is the fact that its hard to breathe when she’s sitting on your face.”

“”Now that is kinky,” I said. “I could listen to your stories all night.”

“I have a lot of them,” she said. “Vivian and I have shared a lot of experiences over the years.”

“Have you ever gotten burnt out?”

“Oh sure. We’ve both reached the point where we needed a break. That usually lasts a few weeks, then we’re right back at it. After all these years, I’m still hooked.”

“Speaking of being hooked,” I said. “I heard that you have a fantasy involving hooks.”

“Ooooh yes!” she sighed. “I want to have my tits pierced with big fish hooks, like the ones they use in deep sea fishing. Then I want to be lifted into the air by the hooks.”

“That would probably tear your breasts off,” I said.

“I know, but since when does a fantasy have to be logical?”

“That’s true.” I said. I thought for a moment. “Would you mind if I intruded into your fantasy?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, it just came to me that instead of these clamps, they could put hooks through our nipples, run the cords over that beam so we would be connected by our tits.”

“And make them so tight that we’d have to stand on our toes?” she added.

“Just like we are now.”

“Or, they could pierce us with the same hooks,” she whispered. “A hook down through my right nipple then up through your left one, the same on the other side.”

“Yes, then they could hoist us into the air,” I gasped.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then let it out in a long shuddering sigh.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “That was nice.”

“Did you just have an orgasm” I asked amazed.

“A sweet little teensy tiny one,” she giggled. “Thanks to you.”

“I’m impressed!” I told her. “I’ve never seen anyone come just from listening to a fantasy.”

“Want to see me come again?” she asked mischievously. “Watch this.”

She raised higher on her toes, then dropped a few millimeters. The cords on her nipple clamps snapped taught, her breasts jerked upward and an expression of pure ecstasy came across her features. She let out another long shuddering sigh, then opened her eyes and smiled brightly. “See?”

“Ok. I have to try it,” I said. I lifted my self up, dropped down, and white hot lightening seared my nipples. It was wonderful!

Dorothy waited until my breathing was fairly normal. “I have another fantasy, “she said. “I saw pictures in a magazine of a woman who had earrings in her nipples.”

“Do you mean real pierced ear type rings? Not the screw on type?”

“Exactly. She pierced her nipples and inserted large rings through them. I’d give anything to be able to do that.”

 “”It would be an easy way to control a slave,” I mused. “Just attach chains to the rings and she’d have to follow you.” My pussy tingled.

“God, it would be wonderful!”

“Yes, but you couldn’t conceal them from your husband,” I pointed out.

“I know,” she said sadly.

“Unless you can take them out like real ear rings,” I said. “I wonder if the holes would grow shut.”

“They would have to be large holes,” she said. “Larger than regular ear ring holes. My husband would find them.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get to wear nipple rings,” Dorothy sighed, “Or be hung by my nipples.”

“I like to be hung by my wrists,” I confided. “I’ve done it to myself lots of times in our barn back home. I never thought about hanging by my breasts.”

“You do it to yourself?” Dorothy asked. “How do you get loose?”

“Usually by myself,” I said. “I’m pretty good about tying and untying myself, but a few times I’ve overdone it and my mother had to release me.”

“Very interesting,” Dorothy said.

“I like to hang myself  from the crane on our barn,” I said. “I accidentally locked the crane open and couldn’t get loose. I spent the night hanging there. My mom found me the next morning.”

 “You were naked?” Dorothy asked.

“Stark naked.”

“Amazing! Your mother caught you?” she asked. “What did she do?”

“Nothing,” I replied. “She’s known about my bondage since I was in high school, and anyway she’s into it herself.”

Dorothy’s jaw dropped.

 I told her about my home made torture devices and how I caught Mom using them..

“You aren’t making this up, are you?” Dorothy asked skeptically. “I mean, you and your mother really tie yourselves up? You actually discuss bondage and torture with her?”

“Cross my heart,” I said. “We talk, but she doesn’t know about all this.” I indicated the dungeon. “I don’t think she’d be happy to hear that I’m a slave for hire.”

“You never know,” Dorothy said. “Your mother sounds like a liberated woman.”

“I don’t think she’s that liberated,” I said.

“We’ve never talked about it, but I’ve wondered if my daughter has ever been tied up,” Dorothy mused.

“How would you feel if you found out she has?”

“It would be ok with me if she likes it.”

“How would you feel if you saw her being whipped by a room full of men?” I asked, “Or tied on her knees sucking cocks?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Want to hear something terrible?” I asked.

“What?”

“I fantasize about my mom and I being tortured together.”

“Sex with your mother?”

“No, no,” I said quickly. “Side by side, or like you and I are right now.”

“But submitting sexually to other people, right?”

“That’s right.”

“How about side by side on your knees?” she asked, “Like those people tonight. You want to watch your mother suck men’s cocks?”

“Absolutely. I want to see men come in her face,” I said. “And have her see them come in mine.”

“That’s pretty kinky.”

“Perhaps you and Vivian could come out to the farm for a visit,” I said. “You could meet my Mom, and we could hang you outside the barn.”

“By my boobs?”

“By your wrists,” I said. “But. . .hmm,” a picture appeared in my mind.

“What?” Dorothy asked.

I took a deep breath. “I just had a vision of  you, me, and my mother hanging by our breasts beside our barn. We were high in the air and our bodies were turning slowly in the breeze.”

Dorothy stared at me for a moment, then her eyes closed slowly. She rose on her toes, held there for a moment, then let out a long shuddering sigh.

“Would that hay crane support the weight of all three of us?”

“Certainly.”

“I’d love to visit your farm,” Dorothy said. “And I’d really like to meet your mother.”

 

They removed our nipple clamps and took us down. Dorothy gave me a big warm hug and a deep tongue kiss, then she and Vivian left.

 I took a long shower and crawled in bed in the house. Mary had to go home to her family but Denise didn’t feel like driving so she got in bed with me and we slept in each other’s arms.

 

I dreamt about a lawn party on our farm where Mom, Dorothy and I were strung up by hooks while guests strolled around and looked up at us.  Other female slaves were hung from tree limbs and telephone poles, but we were hanging from the crane. The breeze set our bodies turning gently in the sunlight.

The dream changed and we were taken down. Vivian led us into the barn where an electric chair sat in the center of the floor. The barn was full of spectators. Donna was led in and walked proudly to the chair. She sat down eagerly and impaled her pussy on the huge electrode. Men strapped her in and someone threw the switch. She convulsed and thrashed insanely until she orgasmed and died. The rest of us got in line to wait our turn.

I woke up with my hand in my pussy.

 

Library Catalogue

 

                                                                                                CH 18

 

                I was fascinated by Donna, the woman who liked electrical torture. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Her love of pain was way ahead of mine and I began to have some disturbing fantasies of my own. It wasn’t the thought of electrical torture that bothered me, far from it, but her death fantasy did. I began to have horrible, yet erotic thoughts of dying. I didn’t have a death wish, but Donna’s fantasies were the ultimate manifestation of bondage and submission. To submit to that ultimate form of torture seemed incredibly exciting. I began to wonder what it would be like.

I rationalized my fantasy by pretending that I’d been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had only a short time to live. Rather than die slowly in a hospital I would arrange to have someone torture me to death while others watched. I masturbated many times as I ran through different scenarios of my own death.

 

I imagined that I was a captive of the Maya. I was kept in a ceremonial house in the center of a huge plaza. Every day high ranking men of the city came and fucked me. As each man spurted cum into me he whispered a message to the gods in my ear. When I died I would deliver the messages.

 On the day of my sacrifice I was ritually bathed then led outside. I was naked but an elaborate feather headdress was placed on my head. Then I was bound to a rectangular wooden frame. The frame was wide enough that my legs and arms were spread open. I was lifted onto the shoulders of four muscular priests and carried through the city. Other priests sang and chanted prayers to the gods as I was carried along the great processional way to the base of a pyramid. Crowds of people watched silently as I was paraded past.

The priests carried me up the steps of the pyramid. At the top my frame was lifted upward while the priests continued their chanting. Each lift was higher and the priests grew more excited until they were practically throwing me into the air. My body bounced in the frame. I screamed in terror and excitement.

The chanting stopped and I was removed from the frame. I was bound to a stone altar with my legs apart. The chief priest raised his arms to the sky and shouted an invocation, then he tore off his loin cloth and exposed a huge and very erect penis. He stepped forward and thrust inside me. I screamed in ecstasy when he came inside me. The watching crowd roared their approval.

I screamed and writhed in continuous orgasm while seven priests fucked me. I was a quivering mass of orgasmic flesh by the time the last message to the gods had been deposited in my sopping wet pussy. The high priest raised an obsidian knife and looked into my eyes. I smiled and thrust my breasts upward as he plunged the knife into my heart.

 

Another terrible scenario that I thought up involved being tried for witchcraft in old Salem. I saw myself in the dock of a courtroom filled with dour old puritans. My accusers said that my body carried devil’s marks, the sign of a witch. I was forced to strip naked and display myself. I tried to explain that the marks were common moles and freckles, but the jury did not care. I was found guilty and sentenced to be flogged, branded and drowned in the dunking chair.

I was led out of the court room naked to the center of town. My wrists were locked over my head beneath the gallows and everyone gathered round to watch my punishment. I was flogged with a hundred strokes of a cat o nine tails. I had several orgasms during my flogging and the city fathers pointed out that this was further proof of my depravity.

After my hundredth stroke, I was taken down and chained to a wagon wheel that was suspended off the ground by a pole. A brazier was brought close and a dozen irons put in the fire. The crowd prayed while we waited for the irons to get hot. They knelt when the torturer pronounced the first iron hot enough. My pussy throbbed with excitement and I watched him draw out the red hot iron and approach. He touched it to my belly and I screamed to heaven.

For hours they branded my body. They touched the irons to all parts of me but saved the best for last. I had already had several orgasms, but when the iron touched my nipple I went insane with passion. I fainted.

They threw bucket of cold water over me and I awoke to hear the preacher indignantly telling his flock that I had fainted from another wicked and unnatural pleasure. They murmured in pious disapproval but that didn’t top them from branding my other nipple. That resulted in another terrific orgasm for me. I thanked them sweetly but that only convinced them of how sinful my depravity was. I was afraid they might not brand my pussy, but after a lengthy prayer, the governor of the colony himself stepped forward and performed his duty.  Best orgasm yet!

When the fire in the brazier had gone out, they took me to the river and bound me to the dunking chair. It was a typical dunking chair, a wooden chair secured to the end of a long pole balanced on a pivot. However, because I was such a wicked woman, they had added a special refinement. A wooden shaft, like a large penis stood upright in the seat.

I was forced into the seat (and the wooden penis was forced inside me) and strapped in. The torturer took his time and tied me very, very tightly. I giggled in delight as the ropes tightened on my skin. This brought some more lengthy prayers and a sermon about my sinfulness. I didn’t mind because it gave me more time to enjoy my bondage.

Finally they got around to business and I was swung out over the water. Another prayer, then I was dunked. The water was cold and felt good on my brands. They held me under until I thought I was going to drown, then lifted me out. The people applauded as I sat limply like a wet rat. My hair clung to my face so I shook it away. They interpreted this as defiance and under I went. They dunked me twenty or thirty times. I lost count and have to admit that I didn’t find it very erotic. If it hadn’t been for that wooden penis up my pussy I wouldn’t have had a single orgasm. Luckily, each time I dropped into the water the penis jammed a little deeper inside me. That was nice, and I discovered that wriggling around on the seat produced some delicious sensations in my pussy. I was engaged in making myself come when they hauled me out of the water. The sight of my body writhing in ecstasy infuriated the puritans and they dropped me under water until I drowned.

 

I borrowed another of my death fantasies from Donna.

I imagined that I was to be executed in the electric chair. I was guilty of something pretty serious because it was decided that my death was to be televised around the country.

I was led naked into the execution chamber, which was a large auditorium because of the need for additional room for the cameras. Every seat in the auditorium was filled with official witnesses and reporters. The electric chair sat on a stage and illuminated with brilliant lights. An extra feature had been added. The electrode between my legs was larger than usual and it was designed to thrust up and down.

I placed my pussy over the electrode and sat down. My first orgasm hit before it was fully seated. The guards strapped me into the chair, and like Donna, my legs were secured apart. Electric cables were attached to my nipples by  heavy alligator clips. The guards tested the motor that moved the electrode in and out of my pussy. They only let it run for a few slow thrusts, but they were delightful and orgasm number two shot up through my belly. Then they ran a low current through my nipples. I thanked them sweetly. 

I found myself looking into the lenses of dozens of television cameras. I could even see myself on a monitor.

The warden stepped forward and read out my sentence, then he asked if I had any last words. I politely asked if he could prolong my death as much as possible. He said he’d see what he could do, then they gagged me.

They turned on the electricity and the first jolt flamed through my pussy.

The warden was a man of his word. He drew my execution out for quite a time. The first few dozen bursts of electricity were high enough to get my attention, but not enough to kill me. The electrode moved slowly up and down in my pussy, like the most wonderful dildo in the world. Its speed was regulated by the voltage I was getting. I was enjoying my execution immensely when they ramped the voltage up a few notches. My body stiffened and white hot electricity seemed to explode inside me. I watched myself on the monitor. My body was convulsing and the electrode was pumping in and out of my pussy. They increased the voltage and the electrode moved faster. I was coming about every thirty seconds when I saw the warden signal the executioner to turn it up even more.

The electrode sped up until it was a blur in my pussy. My body was convulsing, my head was jerking from side to side and I was screaming through my gag. Pressure, electricity, and ecstasy built up in my pussy until every thing went black and I died.

 

I was sinking into a dangerous frame of mind.

 

                I shook off those ideas, but it wasn’t easy. I was frightened. I decided I needed a break from Denver and the S and M scene so I went home to mom.

 

                It was wonderful to be home. The farm looked so nice and comforting. Mom wasn’t home when I got in. I dumped my bag in my room and peeked into hers. I was delighted to see that she still had ropes tied to her bed. I couldn’t help myself, I looked through the drawers in her dresser. My pussy got very wet when I found several more coils of rope, some vibrators and a thin leather pussy strap.

                I took out the strap and examined it. It was home made, obviously well used, and secured to the waist belt by a tiny padlock. I put it back and went to my room.

I unpacked, undressed, walked to the barn naked, and tied myself to my torture machine. I pushed the weight off the loft and almost cried with happiness as the familiar rope snubbed tight on my wrists. I don’t know if it was the familiar surroundings or getting away from the strange people in Denver, but I felt so contented.

                I heard Mom’s car arrive and smiled as I pictured her looking through the house for me. I knew eventually she’d come to the barn. I timed her search and smiled when I heard her footsteps on the ladder.

                She shook her head when she saw me on the rack.

                “So, you couldn’t wait long enough to give your mother a hug?” she joked. “You’re not home ten minutes and you’ve already tied yourself up.”

                “That’s about the gist of it,” I said stretching contentedly. “Besides, I wanted to make sure the equipment is still working.”

                “Oh, it works,” she said.

                “So I see. How many days a week do you come up here?” I asked.

                “Every day,” she laughed. “I’ve gotten as bad as you.”

                “Probably not that bad,” I said. That didn’t come out as lightly as I’d intended.

                She sensed my mood, mothers always do. “What do you mean?”

                I hadn’t intended to tell her what I’d been doing, but it just spilled out. I told her about John and the things I’d done at the mall. I told her about my night at the police station and breaking up with John.

Mom wasn’t upset, in fact she wanted to hear more. I was astonished when she nodded understandingly when I told her about walking around dressed like a hooker, then getting ‘arrested’. She nodded understandingly when I told her about undressing in the holding cell. Something in her eyes made me suspicious.

“Mom, have you done something like that?” I asked.

“Sure, I walk around out little down in skimpy clothes all the time,” she said wryly.

“Come on, “I said. “Out with it.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ve never been taken to jail but I have gone out in public wearing very little.”

“Wow.”

“Before you were born, your dad and I went to Atlantic City on vacation. I’d always wanted to see the ocean and your father wanted to go deep sea fishing. We had a great time, saw lots of shows, walked the boardwalk, and did all the typical tourist things. There were lots of prostitutes who wore some very revealing outfits, and strip clubs showing  posters of their entertainers. Between performances the strippers lounge around on the walk to attract customers. They didn’t wear much either. I wondered what it would be like to go out in public dressed like that.

“Your father signed us up to go on a fishing charter but I changed my mind and stayed at the hotel. After he left I shortened one of my skirts and cut a slit up the side.  I put on a white blouse, hose and heels and went out.”

“What about underwear?” I asked.

“Of course I wore underwear,” she said indignantly, then she shrugged. “At least part of the time.”

“Mom, that is so great!” I gasped. “Did you make much money?”

“Oh, aren’t you cute.” she laughed. “No, I didn’t.”

“Ok, go on.”

“I walked along the board walk and felt very sexy, and a little frightened,” she continued. “I got a lot of stares from men and a lot of whistles.”

“I’m not surprised,” I said.

“Atlantic City is full of cheap souvenir shops, tattoo parlors, bars and the like,” mom said. “I saw a store advertising lingerie and went in. The lingerie was cheap sexy clothing, see through blouses and crotchless panties, that sort of thing.”

“Do you still have the crotchless panties?” I asked. “Can I borrow them?”

“None of your business,” she said. “But I did buy a very naughty blouse. It’s almost transparent.”

“Do you still have it?” I asked seriously.

She nodded. “I took off my brassiere and changed into the transparent blouse in the dressing room.  I left my old one at the store.”

I lay on my rack and marveled. We never really know our parents. I’d never have dreamt that my mom was capable of that!  

“I strolled around all afternoon,” Mom told me. “I loved the attention I got, but I was worried that a policeman might think I was a real hooker and stop me.”

“Don’t knock it Mom,” I said. “You haven’t lived until you’ve been strip searched by  a handsome cop.”

“Well, I wasn’t looking for that to happen, not in those days.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I ate lunch in an outdoor café,” she said, then blushed. “And I sat so that men could look up my skirt.”

“Oh, my God!” I said in delight. “How many men tried to pick you up?”

“Quite a few,” she said. “There were a lot of sailors in town and they seemed to swarm around me. I even let a couple of them buy me a drink.”

“Really?”

“They were a bold pair,” she said. “They just plopped down at my table and ordered a round of drinks. They didn’t even ask my permission to sit down.”

“Were they cute?”

“Very cute,” she said. “And they looked great in their white uniforms.”

“Did you have sex with them?”

“Of course not,” she said. “But I giggled and pretended to be a dumb little twit. We had several drinks and I admit I liked the attention, but when they started taking liberties I decided it was time to go back to the hotel.”

“What sort of liberties?”

“It started with a few pats on my bottom,” she said. “And I let them get away with it, but when one of them slid his hand up my skirt I decided it was time to go.”

“How far up your skirt?”

“All the way,” she blushed. “So I got up and left.”

“Spoilsport,” I said.

“I walked back to the hotel but ducked into a public restroom and put my bra on,” Mom said. “Even so, I attracted a lot of stares when I walked through the lobby.”

“Mom, that is so cool,” I said admiringly.

“It just goes to show that you’re not the only girl in this family to prance around dressed like a hooker,” she said. “Now what happened when they took you to the police station?’

I told her everything except the part about Jill fucking me with her night stick.

                Mom’s face was bright pink when I finished. She kissed me on the cheek and told me to stay on the rack as long as I liked, then she went to the house.

               

                                                                                                CH 19

 

                That evening I gave Mom a gift. I’d brought her a matching set of cuffs, slave collar and ball gag, all in red leather. I’d also brought a set of nipple clamps.

She was delighted with the leather gear but looked askance at the nipple clamps.

“I love the cuffs,” she said. “But I’m not so sure about these things.”

She put the clamps aside and started to put on the cuffs. She was fully dressed, but I insisted that she take her clothes off.  She went to her room and came back wearing a lacy panty and bra set. I allowed her to try on the cuffs.

Mom’s eyes were sparkling by the time she had everything on. I clipped a hobble chain between her ankles and locked her wrists behind her back. She tried to walk in the hobble and looked very sexy mincing around the room. She shrieked and giggled when she almost toppled over. I hooked my finger in a ring on her collar and led her outside She balked and protested until I held up the nipple clamps. After that she followed me meekly onto the front porch. I pointed to the porch swing and she managed to hop to it and sit down. She curled her legs under her, wriggled around until she was comfortable, and we talked.

I told her about meeting Denise and Mary, and how they came to be dominatrixes. I told her that I’d had sessions with them and that they’d introduced me to other people who tied me up. I let her think that it was a bondage club and didn’t tell her that I was paid to be a slave. Again she surprised me and wasn’t upset. I think she sensed a lot more than I was telling her but she just suggested that I take precautions against pregnancy and disease and avoid torture that might permanently scar my body.

                Her remark about scars made me think of Dorothy and her fantasy to wear rings in her nipples, so I told Mom about her. Mom was intrigued with the idea and wondered aloud where a woman could go to get her nipples pierced.

                “Are you thinking of getting rings installed in your nipples?” I asked.

                “I don’t know,” she mused. “But it is an interesting concept.”

                “Dorothy can’t do it because her husband wouldn’t like it,” I said. “But there’s nothing stopping you from getting rings.”

                “They would probably show through my clothing,” she said. “People would see them.”

                “Is that a problem?” I asked.

                “Possibly not in Denver,” she said wryly. “But around here it would be.”

                “Yep, you would shock the locals,” I said. “On the other hand, you just might start a fad.”

                “Oh, sure,” she said. “I could see all the women in town walking around with rings in their nipples.”

                “You never know,” I said. “Anyway, Dorothy wants more than to just wear rings. She has other ideas as well.”

“Like what?”

“She fantasizes about being hung by her nipples.”

                “Actually hung off the ground?” Mom asked astonished. “That’s impossible! No woman could do that.”

                “Fantasies don’t have to be logical,” I said. “And besides, Dorothy’s fantasy gets even wilder.”

                “Oh?”

                “She wants to be hung by hooks through her breasts.”

                Mom’s mouth gaped wide. “She wants to be hung on meat hooks, like in a butcher shop? My God, it makes me squeamish just to think about it.”

                “It makes me all tingly,” I said.

                Mom gave me that ‘don’t even do there’ look.

                “I think you’d get along with Dorothy,” I said. “I suggested that she might come here for a visit. I told her we could hang her up in the barn.”

                “We are not hanging anybody from hooks,” Mom said tartly. “I don’t care if they like it or not.”

                “Of course not,” I said primly. “I told her that she would have to be content to hang by her wrists.”

                “That’s better,” Mom said.

                “Dorothy wants to know if our hay crane could support the weight of three women,” I continued.

                “Why three women?” Mom asked.

                “Well, it occurred to me that we might hang all three of us,” I said.

                “All three of us?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

                “I thought it might be fun to have Dorothy, me, and you hanging at the same time.”

“All of us naked?” Mom asked.

“Of course.”

“By our wrists,” she persisted. “No hooks.”

“No hooks, Mom.”

                Mom’s expression grew thoughtful. “Who’s going to hang us?” she asked softly. “And how would we get down?”

                “Who cares?”

               

                That night I woke up hungry and tiptoed down to the kitchen, as I passed Mom’s room I peeked in and saw that she was still wearing her cuffs. She had tied her bed ropes to them, her legs and arms were wide apart. She was sound asleep. One clamp was on her nipple, the other had fallen off. I kissed her and covered her with a blanket.

 

                I spent my entire visit tied up and talking to Mom.

                She was interested in my stories of torture. She seemed fascinated to learn that women are more cruel than men. I told her that when I was in the mood for sex I’d rather be dominated by a man, but when I wanted serious pain I would go to a lady. She wasn’t upset that I’d had sex with women but was glad to hear that I still preferred men. She wondered aloud what it would be like to be whipped.

“You should start off slow,” I advised. “Have someone spank you first.”

“For your information young lady, I have been spanked,” she said.

“Really? By who?”

“By your father,” she said. “He spanked me several times.”

“Wow, that is so great! Did he tie you up too?”

                “Of course. There are very few married women who haven’t been tied to a bed,” she told me.

“Did Dad ever whip you?”

“No, we never got to that,” she said.

 

I stayed home that entire visit. I didn’t see any of my friends and only went to town once. We drove to town to buy groceries. We went to the farm co-op store and I wandered around while Mom shopped. I went to the hardware department and was looking over the selection of ropes when she walked up. She shook her head and smiled.

“Nice ropes,” she said. “But we have all we need.”

“How about some fish hooks?” I asked innocently. “They have a nice selection.”

She looked them over. “Not big enough. You may have to special order what you want.”

A man was nearby and overheard us.

“What are you ladies looking to catch if these hooks aren’t big enough?” he said. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Cat fish,” Mom said with a straight face. “We’ve found some a new kind of bait to put on the hooks.”

“Oh.”

“Cat fish?” I whispered as we walked away. “Or did you mean pussy fish?”

Mom just giggled.

 

 I tied myself up almost every waking moment. I think I was trying to return to the time when my bondage was more innocent, as if I was trying to tie myself to my past.

When I tied myself up I really did it. I used the most stringent knots and never put myself in a position that I could get out of. I ignored all my escape devices and when I was ready to be released Mom had to do it. I slept tied to my bed or in a hog tie, and once spent the night tied to my rack.

I tied myself so tightly that I had rope marks that didn’t fade for days. Mom fussed that I might damage my circulation.

I did a lot of thinking while I was bound. I was still confused about my Denver lifestyle. On one hand I loved the bondage and torture, but on the other I didn’t like many of the people who used me and I was ashamed of taking money for it.

Mom saw that I was struggling with something, and I think she had a good idea what it was. She offered to help but didn’t press me. She allowed me to tie myself in the most extreme positions I’d ever tried. (I had no idea that bondage could be therapeutic). She even gave in to my pleadings and helped me hang upside down from the loft. She let me hang as long as I wanted then surprised me when she wanted to take my place.

“You want to hang from the crane?” I asked.

“Why not?” she asked as she took off her clothes. “I’ve thought about it for a long time, but I can’t do it alone.”

“Ok,” I shrugged.

 I’d hung naked, but Mom kept her panties on.

 I tied her wrists behind her back, then she sat on the ground while I looped the rope around her ankles. She sighed with pleasure when I hoisted her off the ground.

 “How high?” I asked.

“All the way to the top.”

I kept an eye on Mom as she hung from the loft crane. I didn’t want her to be injured and I’ve discovered that you can get ill by hanging too long upside down. Mom seemed to be ok so I left her alone for about an hour, Then I decided to have a bit of fun.

I lowered Mom until her head was three feet off the ground.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “I’m not ready to come down yet.”

I didn’t answer, I just attached a long rope to her wrists then walked the rope to a tree and tossed it over a high limb. Mom twisted around trying to see what I was doing.

I tugged on the rope and Mom was pulled toward the tree. I pulled until her body was high off the ground, then released the rope. Mom’s body swung away in a long arc. She shrieked in delight. I let her swing a few times, then pulled her to the limb and let her go again. Her shrieks subsided to continuous giggles.

After keeping Mom swinging for a while, I climbed the tree and tossed the rope over a higher limb. I waited until Mom’s body was at the bottom of the arc, then holding tight to the rope, I jumped out of the tree. Her body swung much higher but I didn’t get the timing right and jerked Mom very hard, and I hurt my ankle when I hit the ground. I let go of the rope and Mom began spinning. She shrieked in genuine fear as she flew through the air. I was afraid she might hit the barn. I hobbled as quickly as I could on my sore ankle and tried to catch the rope. It slipped off the limb and trailed after Mom. It flew past her when she reached the top of her swing and it cracked like a whip.

Mom screamed again, long and loud, but it was a pleasure scream.

I waited until Mom stopped swinging, then lowered her to the ground. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing very hard. I untied her and helped her to her feet. She patted her cheeks and tried to compose herself.  She wouldn’t look at me.

“Its ok if you had an orgasm,” I told her.

She blushed deeply and walked unsteadily toward the house. I watched through the screen door as she went inside. She paused in the hallway, took a long deep breath, then took off her panties and ran up the stairs. I waited outside for a while, then went to my room. Mom’s door was closed. 

 

When it was time to leave I urged Mom to visit me in Denver.

“Maybe I will,” she said. “You could introduce me to your friends. I’d like to meet Denise and Mary.”

“Want me to set up a session with them?” I joked.

“We’ll see.”

Authors

 

                                                                                                                CH 23

 

 

                My diversions with Lord and Lady L were pleasant and erotic, but they occurred infrequently. Most of the time I lived an ordinary life of school and work. My sexual needs were fulfilled by Bob and usually sufficed, until the need for serious torture became too compelling, then I’d go to Denise or Mary.

Then I rediscovered MAC.

                I ran in to him at a movie theater. He was with his family so I pretended not to know him. He saw me, smiled, and winked conspiratorially. The next day I got a call from Mary. MAC had called her at the store and asked for me. She gave me his number.

                I called MAC and told him that I chose not to rent myself out as a slave anymore. He was disappointed but understood. We talked for a long time, and I found it pleasant to talk to a man freely about my fetish. He invited me to meet him for lunch ‘just as friends’ and I accepted.

                MAC and I talked about everything and anything and oddly, sex and bondage didn’t come up. We hit it off and recognized one another as kindred spirits. Mom later said that he and I were from the same tribe. We met for lunch several times. He was always a gentleman, but let me know that he wanted me. I told him a hundred times that I wouldn’t let him torture me for money. He always came back at me smiling and unrepentant and told me that he intended to keep on asking.

                I had to admit that I liked the attention he gave me and it was refreshing to talk about bondage openly. MAC was (and still is) devoted to his wife, but she has never been in the scene. He made it clear that he would never leave her or hurt her, but he  had needs in that part of his life that she was unable to fill.

He laid suit to me. He sent flowers and gave me small but thoughtful gifts. He called to chat and we met for lunch regularly. I decided that I was going to submit to him, but chose to play hard to get as long as I could. He knew this and enjoyed the game. I held out for weeks, but finally told him that he could have me.

We met at Mary’s dungeon.

I told MAC that he could do anything he wanted to me, except pay me. I was his slave for the day. He gave me a hug so warm and comforting that I cried.

MAC stripped me naked and tied my hands behind my back. He played with my pussy for half an hour, never letting me cum. I was trembling like a bowl of jello and begging for release, but he seemed to know exactly how close he could bring me to coming., then stop. Talk about torture! I finally sank to the floor and wouldn’t get up. That brought a terrific whipping. MAC is a warm and caring man, but he is still a master and when I don’t obey him I get punished.  I writhed and whimpered on the floor as he whipped me with a thin wicked whip, then finally struggled to my feet. He wasn’t finished punishing me so I had to stick my breasts forward and count the blows while he whipped them. My boobs hurt like fire and I had a delicious orgasm.

 He led me around the dungeon on a leash , hung me by my wrists, whipped every inch of my body, spanked me, made me crawl on all fours. I had to sit up and beg like a dog, roll on my back, whimper and whine and bark. And I had a dozen orgasms. When the session was over and we were exhausted, MAC held me on his lap. We sat for a long time, saying nothing.

MAC and I became true lovers. Our lovemaking was bondage and torture, but it suited us perfectly. No romantic trysts for us. Our getaways were to a dungeon, our caresses were the sting of his whip. He loved me the way he needed and I wanted. He became my closest male friend and still is to this day.

I didn’t tell MAC about Bob for a while, but when I did he wasn’t jealous or angry. He understood that Bob was my sex toy when he was unavailable. He even felt sorry for Bob that he had only a physical relationship with me. MAC listened to me, talked to me and understood me, and if he hadn’t been married I would have moved Heaven and Earth to become his wife. At first I was jealous of MAC’s wife, but quickly outgrew that. He and I have something wonderful and I am too grateful for what we have to ruin it over jealousy.

I told Jill about MAC and she was predictably dismayed that I was involved with a married man. But she saw that I was determined and over the years she has accepted MAC’s place in my life. I’ve introduced them and they get along just fine. When they are together at a dinner or party at my place they behave very properly and pretend that he isn’t my master and she doesn’t know that he is. I tease Jill that she ought to be tied and tortured by a man, and offer to arrange it with MAC. She always declines, but once or twice I’ve caught her looking at him in a calculating way.

MAC and I have the most intense bondage sessions possible. In the beginning I felt the way to prove my love was through some extreme act of submission. I told him that he was free to do anything to me he wants. I even offered to let him brand me, which he gallantly declined.  I almost got a tattoo stating that I was his personal slave. Mary, Denise and Jill all hit the roof when I told them, and luckily they convinced me not to do it. Fortunately I learned that proof of love is not in a single act, but consists of years of intimacy and trust. Our relationship burns long and steadily every day. It glows red when he chains me, and explodes to white hot when his whip cracks against my body. Since nineteen seventy nine that warmth has never cooled.

Like Lord and Lady L, MAC and I have traveled occasionally. He’s taken me to Las Vegas and to Mexico and to a wonderful tiny cabin in the mountains of southern Colorado. We’ve had the most wonderful times together, in chains and out.

Mary, Denise and Jill, and other people are good friends, but MAC is the love of my life. I am ashamed to confess that I love him more and feel closer to him than I did to my husband.

MAC has never been judgmental or jealous of my other relationships. He knew that I went to Lord and Lady L and attended bondage parties with Denise and Mary, and has never complained.

He was fascinated to hear my stories about self bondage on the farm and about my mother’s activities. He’s met Mom many times (she just thinks he’s a close friend, she doesn’t know he’s my master) and has always treated her like a lady. He’s never let on that he knows about her own bondage, although I caught him look at her appraisingly once. I quietly asked what he was thinking.

“I’m thinking what your mother looks like naked and bound,” he whispered.

“She looks damn sexy,” I told him. “I’ve seen her.”

“Do you think she’d be interested in a nice whipping?”

“She might,” I replied. “I’ll ask her if you like, but I thought I was your main slave girl.”

“You’re my only slave girl.” he said, giving my hand a quick squeeze. I could have cried with happiness.

I later asked MAC about his remark. He told me from the time he had become master he had not taken another slave. I believed him then, and I believe him now. But I sometimes wish that I could arrange for him to torture Mom. I love them both and know that they would have a wonderful time together. She would be the only woman I would not be jealous about.

 

 

                                                                                CH 24

 

I graduated from college and Mom surprised me by taking me on a trip to Italy and Greece. I didn’t think she could have afforded it, but it turned out that she had been making some very good money leasing water rights from the farm. The trip was wonderful and we had the greatest time. I loved every minute. The trip included a three day cruise in the Aegean Sea. I’d never been aboard a large ship and I was fascinated by it. I tried to explore every inch of the vessel and wandered in to some areas that were off limits to passengers. I was politely shooed away when that happened, but I did manage to find my way in to the crews quarters. I was surprised at the tiny windowless cabins that the crew lived in, but for some reason that triggered another erotic slavery fantasy. I told Mom about it.

“What do you think they do to stowaways?” I asked her later.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Why?’

“I saw where the sailors live,” I said. “The conditions aren’t very luxurious. The captain ought to provide more perks for the sailors.”

“Such as?”

“It occurred to me that if they caught a female stowaway they ought to put her in chains and give her to the crewmen.”

“Oh God,” she laughed. “I should have known sex was involved.”

“Just think Mom, We could stow away, get caught, then spend the rest of the cruise chained up and being screwed by all those cute Greek sailors.”

“Why limit it to one cruise?” she laughed. “Why not make your captivity longer? Say a year or two.”

“Ok,” I said. “Here’s the scenario. We get caught and stripped naked.”

“Why would they strip us?” Mom asked.

“To search for contraband,” I said. “Then they put us in chains and take us to the captain on the bridge.”

“Walking us naked all the way through the ship, right?”

“Right. Then the captain puts us on trial, right them and there and sentences us to five years sexual servitude.”

“Five years is a long time,” Mom observed smiling.

“We can handle it,” I said. “Anyway, they lead us away and take us to the brig way down in the bottom of the ship. The brig has a big cell with two beds and they chain us to the beds, Then the crew are permitted to come fuck us when they are off duty.”

“Not bad,” Mom said.

“Then when we aren’t being screwed by sailors that take us out of the cell in chains and make us mop the decks. And when we don’t do a proper job they tie us to the mast and whip us while the whole crew and all the passengers watch.”

“You really need help,” Mom laughed.

 

 

Back in Denver I found a nice job with good pay. I could have afforded a nicer apartment, but decided to stay where I was, I didn’t want to give up my trysts with Bob.

Denise relayed another business proposition to me. I told her I wasn’t interested but she persisted.

“Wait until you hear about it,” she said.

“What is it?’

“It sort of a modeling job,” she said.

I shook my head. I had already been offered a number of modeling opportunities, but knew better. I didn’t want pictures of me naked and in bondage to appear in some magazine and come back to haunt me years later.

“Its not photography,” she persisted. “You’d be a subject for an engineering project.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“We’ve been contacted by this man who builds restraint devices,” she said. “That pillory over there, for example.”

I looked at the thing she was talking about. The store sold pillories, X crosses, even racks. I’ve been strapped to them in the back room. I’d never given a thought about who made them.

“So?’

“The guy is a retired engineer and mechanic and he’s got this idea that he wants to design and market high quality devices,” she said. “Only he wants to make them out of metal instead of wood. He needs a girl to build them around.”

“Oh?” That sounded interesting.

“I thought about you because you can tolerate bondage for longer than anyone I know.”

“Tolerate it? Hell, I love it,” I said. “The longer the better.”

“Stop bragging,” she laughed. “Anyway, the guy will pay you by the hour to come to his workshop and let him fit you into his creations. He swears that no sex will be involved.”

“What’s the fun in that?” I asked.

“Look, here’s his phone number, if you’re interested give him a call,” she said.

 

I was intrigued and called the engineer. He sounded nice on the phone and I agreed to meet with him.

I drove to a house in south Denver. It was actually in a very posh suburb called Cherry Hills Village. Everyone who lived there was a millionaire. I mean that literally.

The engineer’s name was Dale. He was in his sixties and had retired from a large airline. He was quite nice and courteous. He invited me in and we had coffee in his study. He told me that he was divorced and lived alone, and was in the bondage scene. I was quick to tell him that I would not participate in sexual bondage with him. He assured me that he understood that from Denise.

“I need your services as a study for my projects,” he told me. “You will be used to see if various restraining devices are workable and if adjustable machines perform correctly. It will involve being locked into theses things for long periods of time while I make adjustments or even mill new parts.”

I rather liked the idea of prolonged bondage.

“Am I to be naked?” I asked.

“Only if you choose,” he said. “I’ll be honest with you. I like to look at naked girls, but its not a requirement, and I won’t insist if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“We’ll see,” I shrugged.

“Let me show you my workshop,” he suggested.

 

I was impressed by his shop. It was in a large outbuilding and appeared to have every tool ever made. I saw a table saw, drill presses, welders, cut off saws and thousands of hand tools for metal and woodworking. The shop was meticulously organized and neat as a pin. He showed me his current project.

It was a metal pillory designed for women. It had a metal stock with head and hand holes, a long wide frame to support the slave’s body and adjustable bars that her ankles would be locked to. A metal dildo rose from a saddle atop the bar. A power cord was attached to a box at the base of the machine. A worm gear lay in a channel in the base and operated different mechanisms. The machine was a rough prototype, but the edges were curved and softened and the high degree of craftsmanship was apparent.

My pussy started to tingle the moment I saw the thing.

“How does it work?” I asked.

“The subject straddles the support frame then bends forward and places her neck and wrists in the holes,” Dale said. He touched a button and the upper half of the stock rose several inches. “Its spring loaded. Push the release button and it opens. Push down and the lock automatically engages and the subject is immobilized.” He pressed the stock down and it locked with a loud click. 

My breathing rate went up a little.

“May I make a suggestion?” I asked.

“Certainly.”

“You’re designing this for women aren’t you? Calling them ‘subjects’ sounds so impersonal. Why not refer to them as slaves?”

He smiled broadly. “Good idea.”

“Well, I know I’d rather be called a slave,” I said coyly. “Not a subject.”

“I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

“When can I start?” I asked.

“How about right now?’

 

As soon as I saw the pillory. I couldn’t wait to be locked into it.

Dale showed me a wash room off the shop. It was simply a sink and toilet, but the room was large and served as a dressing room for me. I changed to shorts and a tee shirt, hung my things on pegs and went out.

I stepped close to the pillory. “What do you want me to do?”

“I’m working on the leg restraints,” he said. “I want them to be adjustable in length for short or tall women and, , ,”

“Slaves,” I corrected him. “Not ‘subjects’, not ‘women’, slaves. The people placed in this will be slaves.”

“Do  forgive me,” he laughed. “Yes, I want the leg bars to fit slaves with long legs and short legs. And I want to be able  to change the angle of the slaves’ legs, up or down.”

“Can the slave be placed on her back?” I asked.

“Certainly,” he said.

“Nice.”

“Why don’t you get on,” he said. “Face down.”

I sat on the frame. The metal was cool against my thighs. I wiggled a second then leaned forward. I extended my hands through the holes and Dale guided my head into the larger opening. I lowered my chest onto the frame. Dale pushed it down until it rested against my neck and I felt the cool metal clamp smoothly over my neck and wrists. I couldn’t hold back a gasp of pleasure.

“Everything all right?” he asked. “Its not pinching you?”

“I’m fine.”

He pressed it the last quarter inch and the lock clicked. I almost came.

I wriggled around testing the thing. I was completely immobilized from my shoulders up. Dale gave me a moment.

“Ready now?” he asked.

“Yes.”

 

I lay immobilized in the pillory for two hours the first day. I felt snug and secure and sexy. Dale worked on the leg restraints and buckled my ankles in and out of them many times. His touch on my legs was impersonal and he took no liberties. (By the end of the day I was hoping he would.)

Ultimately the legs bars would be equipped with metal clamps, like manacles, but for testing purposes he used leather cuffs. They felt great, but I couldn’t wait to feel the cool metal on my ankles. The support frame was eight inches wide and even though my ankles were locked, my crotch was still open. I never felt so helpless or feminine. At the end of the session dale told me he was going to test the motor.  He was working on the back and forth mechanism.

I was lying with my legs bent at a comfortable angle. Dale pushed a button and I felt the machine vibrate faintly. My ankles were pulled slowly forward until they were almost at my crotch. My knees were forced apart and I felt like a frog. Very sexy.

“Feel ok?” Dale asked.

“I sure do,” I said. “Is it as far as it goes?”

“No, but I didn’t want to over bend your knees,” he said. “Or jam your body against the stock.”

“Lets see how much I can take,” I suggested.

He ran the motor again, in short increments. My knees bent more and my shoulders were pushed against the stock. It hurt my shoulders, but it was a sexy hurt. I imagined being slammed against the stock by the thrusts of a strong man fucking me in that position. I wondered if the dampness in my crotch showed through my shorts.

Then Dale reversed the motor and my legs were straightened out. Dale pulled my legs so far down that my chin was pressed tight against the other side of the stock. My body was straight and taut. Just perfect for a good whipping.

When he released me I tried to act as if everything was normal. We chatted for a few minutes then I casually walked to the dressing room. Once I closed the door I yanked my panties down and masturbated. I bit my lip to be as quiet as possible, then  washed my face, got dressed and walked out.

Masturbating in Dale’s bathroom merely took the edge of my arousal. I hadn’t gone a block from his house when I had my hands in my panties. I played with myself all the way to my apartment. When I got home I called Bob and invited him to drop by, then tied myself to my bed.

Bob showed up fairly quickly and screwed the living daylights out of me. He saw how excited I was and did a manly job of it. He outdid himself and screwed me several times. He asked what had gotten in to me, and I lied and told him that I’d been thinking about him all afternoon. That fed his ego, and his cock popped up again and he rolled on top of me. All in all it was a very erotic day.

 

MAC called me that evening and I told him about my new job. He was delighted to hear about the device and chuckled when I told him how hot I’d gotten. I was quick to tell him that I hadn’t had sex with Dale and didn’t mention Bob either. We talked a long time, and he described what he would do if he had me locked in a pillory. I played with my pussy while we talked and had another orgasm. I think it must have been my seventh or eighth of the day.

 

My next visit to Dale’s shop was just as erotic as the first. He asked me to come on a Saturday and spend a long time. That was fine with me.

Again I wore shorts and a tee shirt. My pussy went moist the minute I arrived and I had a tiny orgasm as soon as the stock clicked over my neck. I tried to talk to Dale, but he barely answered. He concentrated so deeply on his work that he seemed to forget that I was a live girl. He worked intently for hours, then walked away without a word. I lay in the pillory for a long time wondering where he’d gone. He finally returned.

“Where have you been?” I asked politely.

“Huh?” he grunted. “What was that?”

“I asked where you went,” I told him.

“I took a break for lunch,” he answered. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” I replied. “Only I could use a potty break, and maybe some lunch myself.”

He walked around to the front and looked at me in puzzlement, then the light came on.

“Good heavens!” he said. “What was I thinking?”

I was shaking with laughter as he rushed to release me. He apologized over and over and almost followed me into the bath room. I was giggling when I shut the door in his face.

He was not in the shop when I came out. I walked to the house and he waved me in to the kitchen. He was hurriedly making a couple of sandwiches.

“I’ve been treated as a lowly slave before,” I teased him. “But nobody ever tried to starve me to death.”

The poor dear was red as a beet.

“You take as long as you want,” he said. “And help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’ll get back to work.”

“Ok.”

I poured myself a glass of milk and relaxed and ate my sandwiches, then I tidied up the kitchen and went out to the shop.

Dale was tinkering away on the pillory.

“You just sit and relax,” he said. “I can do this without you for a while.”

“Not a chance,” I said, walking to the machine. “Lock me in.”

 

I spent all afternoon happily locked in Dale’s pillory. He was working on the gears that spread the slave’s legs. He finally got them working and tried them out.

“Ok,” he said. “Get ready.”

I heard the motor hum, then felt my legs being opened. Nice, nice, nice! The bars moved slowly but powerfully until my legs were further apart then they’d ever been in my life. I squeaked when my orgasm hit. Dale stopped the machine and asked if I was being hurt.

“Not as much as I’d like,” I whispered. “Keep going.”

He opened my legs another inch or two.

“How does that feel?” Dale asked. “Any discomfort?”

“Its ok,” I told him.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

“Sexy,” I told him. “I feel vulnerable.”

“Is that good?” he asked puzzled.

“It is for a slave.”

“Really? Hmm.”

Dale was a combination mad scientist, sex pervert and absent minded professor. He hadn’t given any thought to the effect his machine would have on the women who would be in it. I was going to have to help him a bit.

He spent a couple of hours putting the machine (and me) into different positions. He spread my legs apart, closed them, raised them up and down, bent my knees in varying degrees and almost twisted me into a pretzel. I was helpless to resist and I loved it.

I spent long periods in those odd positions while Dale paused to make detailed notes. He had a large notebook and wrote down everything. I guess it was the engineer in him. I didn’t mind because I enjoyed every moment in restraint and I often slipped into my daydream trance. I’d already decided that I wanted one of Dale’s machines and hoped he would make one for me, with a few modifications.

I thought we were finished but he lowered my legs below the frame and went through more experiments. I enjoyed these because they were excellent positions for spanking and whipping as well as fucking. When he finally unlocked me I was hot as hell.

“I believe we can knock off for today,” he said. “I’m very pleased with the progress we’ve made.”

“Are you sure we’re finished?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You forgot to test the machine with me on my back,” I said teasingly. “I can’t imagine how you forgot to run those tests.”

“I think you’re right,” he grinned. “Up you go.”

He locked me face up. I was when he strapped my ankles to the bars. And after the machine had opened and closed my legs a few dozen times I was on fire. I was on the verge of asking him to tear my clothes off when he shut down the motor.

“That is more than enough for one night,” he said.

I glanced out the window. It was dark.

“How long have we been here?” I asked.

“Thirteen hours.”

“My, my.”

“I hope I haven’t kept you from anything,” he said.

“Believe me, there is nothing I’d rather be doing.”

He bowed graciously.

I couldn’t wait to get into the dressing room and take my panties off.

 

When I got home it was too late to call Bob, MAC was unavailable and I knew that both Mary and Denise had appointments. I needed to talk to someone so I called Mom.

She was fascinated by Dale’s invention. I told her all the things it could do, and told her that I had one or two suggestions to make. She was concerned about Dale and what I might be letting myself in for, but I assured her that he hadn’t touched me sexually.

“That isn’t what concerns me,” she said. “I just think you out to be seeing men you own age, not someone old enough to be your father.”

“I’m not seeing him that way,” I said. “I’m just helping him build his machine.”

“It sounds like you are pretty vulnerable in that workshop,” she said.

“Incredibly vulnerable,” I said. “And its quite a turn on. Like our rack in the barn, only better.”

“There’s no telling what he might do to you.”

“I can only hope Mother.”

 

I tied myself to bed and went to sleep. I had a very erotic dream about the machine. It was in the loft of our barn and had some additional features. I woke in the middle of the night and made drawings and notes for Dale’s machine. When I finished I went back to bed and slept all morning.

 

The next time I went to Dale’s shop I showed him my sketches. He was very surprised, but looked them over and nodded in approval..

“These are great,” he said. “But how did you ever think these things up?”

“I’m an inventor myself,” I said. “I made a bondage machine when I was in high school.”

“You did?” He was astonished.

“Men aren’t the only ones to have perverse ideas,” I told him. “Girls get them too.”

He listened intently while I told him about my rack in the barn, and my other methods of self bondage. He frowned when I explained that I used a knife to cut ropes when I wanted to free myself. His precise engineering mind didn’t like such a wasteful method. He nodded when I told how I used weights to lock myself in the rack, but he was squirming a bit when I told him about using a weight to tighten my pussy rope.

“When did you build this thing?” he asked.

“About seven years ago.”

“What became of it?”

“Nothing, Its still in the barn at home.”

“Didn’t your parents find it?”

“My mother did, my father is dead,” I explained.

“What was your mother’s reaction?” he asked.

“She didn’t quite know what to think at first, but she accepted it.”

“She did?”

“Yes, and now she’s quite happy with it.”

“She is?”

“My mother ties herself to my rack all the time,” I said.

Dale’s mouth opened but no sound came out. He stared at me for ten minutes. Finally he started breathing again. “Incredible!”

“My mother is incredible,” I laughed. “And I would like to give her one of your machines.”

Dale nodded absently, then recovered his composure.

“Certainly, I’ll be happy to make one for her.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll have her come here so you can fit the machine to her body.”

He nodded. I don’t think he trusted himself to speak.

 

 

                                                                                                CH 25

 

 

Dale incorporated every one of my suggestions into the pillory. The first was a simple chin rest below the head opening.

“Why is this necessary?” he asked.

“It helps when the slave performs fellatio on her master,” I told him. “Or masters.”

“Of course. I see.”

We moved to my next suggestion. Dale didn’t need to be told what it was for.

I’d sketched a rounded box that sat between the slave’s legs. A dildo and butt plug extended from the box and entered the slave’s body. The box had a motor with cams and the dildos would fuck the woman at various speeds, depths and rhythms.

Dale improved my sketch by cutting a groove in the support frame and attaching a rod to the bottom of the box. The rod fit in the groove and the box could slide forward and backward to accommodate different sized women.

 

Dale understood at a glance the electrical torture devices I suggested. They were simple alligator clips for nipples and pussy lips and metal dildos all connected to a power source. He was surprised that I’d added them though.

“Why would you want these things?” he asked. “They could be very painful.”

“That’s the idea,” I told him. “After all, this is a torture device, isn’t it?”

“Actually I designed it simply for restraint,” he said. “I didn’t really consider torturing women with it.”

“Well I want to be tortured in it,” I told him. “So will a lot of women.”

“Ah, I see,” he said faintly. “Well, I suppose I could add these features, But I’ll have to install an amperage regulator. Other wise it could be very dangerous.”

“Danger is part of the allure of slavery,” I told him. “Slaves are thrill seekers, just like people who ride roller coasters.”

“This is a little more dangerous than that,” he said. “A slave might be electrocuted.

“Let me tell you about a woman whose deepest fantasy is to be executed in an electric chair.” I told him about Donna and her electrocution fantasy.

Dale was no fool, he was a sophisticated and worldly man, but his kinky interests ran to simple bondage. He wasn’t a sadist. I opened his eyes to the real world of S and M. He was sweating  when I finished.

 “My God!” he gasped. “I never dreamed that someone would find their own death a source of eroticism!”

“You’d be surprised at the weird things people find erotic,” I told him. “I’ve imagined what it would be like to sit in an electric chair.”

“You don’t honestly want to die, do you?”

“Of course not,” I said. “But that fantasy takes submission and exhibitionism to the most extreme level possible. I don’t want to die, but the idea of submitting to that ultimate orgasm is powerfully erotic.”

He looked at the pillory a long time, then shrugged.

“It will be very easy to add an electrical device,” he said. “I’m just not sure how wise it would be.”

“Can you design it to stop at a certain level, for safety?” I asked.

“Easily.”

“Go ahead and make it,” I said. “Then you can test it on me and we’ll decide how high the settings should go.”

He swallowed nervously, then nodded.

“And just to be certain,” I said impishly. “I think we should run an extensive set of tests, very extensive.”

“I need a drink,” Dale said.

 

Poor Dale really hadn’t understood that women actually exist who enjoy pain. He had been into bondage and male dominance all his life, but had never been with a true masochist. I felt older than him in some ways and managed to shock him several times. My vow to keep sex out of our relation ship went right out the window. I decided I was going to teach him how to properly dominate a woman.

 

“The next device is another pain generator,” I explained to him. “It drips hot oil onto the slave’s body.”

“Why hot oil,” he asked.

“Its more controllable that candle wax.”

“And I suppose you like hot candle wax?” he said.

“Absolutely.”

“All right,” he said as if nothing could surprise him again. “Lets see what we have.”

“Its a simple tank with an electric heater,” I told him. “It is suspended over the slave and a valve controls the flow. It can be adjusted to drip oil on any part of my body.”

“How hot do you want the oil to be?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I suppose we’ll have to run tests to find out.”

‘Ok what’s next?”

“An automated flogger.”  

“Great idea!” he said brightly. “How does it work?”

“I got the idea from a John Willy book,” I told him.

“Ah yes,” he said. “The part where a pretty girl is strapped to a stationary bicycle. She has to keep pedaling to create an electric current. If she stops an automatic motor comes on and spins a wheel full of thin switches against her bottom.”

“Oh, you’ve seen it,” I said.

“I have all of John Willy’s books in my library,” he said. “So you want to be subjected to that?”

“Yep. But I have some modifications,” I said. “First, the flogger simply runs when its switched on, there is no pedaling by the slave. Second, the flogger can be adjusted to spin horizontally to get my bottom and the backs of my legs, and it can be turned to spin vertically to whip my pussy and back and breasts.”

“And the wheel should be able to accommodate different whips and switches, right?”

“And it should have different speed setting, for harder whippings,” I said.

“No problem. Are there any more changes you’d like?

“One very important one. The whole machine should be made so that a woman can lock herself into it, control the torture devices, then release herself when she’s ready.”

“Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of the machine?” he asked.

“No, you could have two types,” I said. “One for masters and slaves and one for self bondage.”

“Easy enough,” he said. “In fact I can design one machine that can be set for both modes. A simple lock out control would work.”

“Terrific.”

“Now, did you really build a torture device in your barn?” he asked.

“Sure did. Cross my heart.”

“Ok,” he said. “Your stories have given me another idea for our machine.”

“What’s that?”

“Its a secret,” he said. “I’ll show you next time.” 

 

 

 

                                                                                                CH 26

 

 

Dale must have worked day and night, because when I next went to the workshop most of the modifications had been done. And he had added a couple of his own.

The chin rest was in place. Dale had sculpted it out of metal and padded it with hard rubber. It snapped into holes below the head opening. I couldn’t wait to rest my chin on it and have someone’s cock in my mouth.

He’d placed the dildo box in a track on the frame. He showed me how it traveled back and forth atop a worm gear. I was surprised to see that one side of the box was curved and covered in thick rubber.

“What is that for?” I asked touching the curved surface

“The box can be pressed very tightly into the slave’s crotch,” he replied. “Tight enough to push her against the stock. I thought it might add some stimulation.”

“I’ll say.”  I was stimulated just looking at it.

He lifted the dildo box out of its track and put another in its place. They looked identical. I raised my eyebrows in question.

“This is your electrical dildo,” he explained. He showed me a power cord coming out of that box. “The probe is made of conductive metal and is connected to a transformer on the base of the pillory.”

He knelt and plugged the cord into another box. He indicated a row of alligator clips that were hooked to a small  wooden bar. He pulled one of them and a cord unreeled silently from the transformer.

“Electrical cables can be attached to sensitive parts of the slave’s body from here.”

The sensitive parts of my body were already aching to feel those clips. My pussy was throbbing and my nipples were hard. I gingerly touched the dildo and felt a faint tingling at the tip of my finger. Dale turned a knob and the tingling increased until it was mildly painful. Very nice.

“I still have some work to do, but I think the automated flogger will function,” he said. He showed me a tall stand on a roller base. An electric motor was mounted on the base and connected to a wheel at the top. The wheel was adorned with several wicked looking fiber glass switches. I rolled one between my fingers. It was no more than an eighth of an inch thick. My pussy tingled at the thought of those switches snapping against my bottom.

“As per your specifications, it can be adjusted for horizontal or vertical positions,” Dale said. “And the speed is variable.”

A L shaped bar extended beneath the wheel. It seemed to be in the path of the switches

“What is this for?” I asked.

“Its in John Willy’s book,” he said. “It retards the motion of the switch for a moment, then the switch slides off the bar and impacts the slave with more force.”

“Oh God!” My pussy was getting wetter by the minute.

 

“This is my own idea,” Dale said, rolling another tall stand in view. It was a telescoping pole six feet high. A tee shaped bar was atop the pole and a row of light pulleys hung from the tee. Weights on thin steel cables hung beneath the pulleys. The cables disappeared into a metal box at the base of the stand and a single cable emerged and was threaded through a separate pulley at the highest part of the tee bar. I knew instantly what it was for, but not how it worked.

“I got the idea from your home made rack,” Dale told me.

“It looks very interesting,” I said. “When do I get to try it out?”

He motioned me toward the dressing room.

It was time to take off the kid gloves. I stripped naked in the dressing room, touched up my hair and makeup, then opened the door and walked out.

Dale didn’t bat an eye. He watched me as I walked to the machine. “Its about time you were naked,” he said.

“Yes master.”

 

He placed a thin belt around my waist. It buckled in the back and had a hook in the front. He showed me a small box attached to the stock. It held a couple of buttons and a timer.

“Push the top button then place yourself in the stock,” he said. “It will close and lock ten seconds later,”

“Ok.”

“The timer will open the stock. It can be set for up to an hour.”

“That’s not long enough,” I said. “I would want to be able to lock myself in for hours and hours.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Oh yes.”

“All right,” he shrugged. “I can get a longer timer.”

“What’s the bottom button for?” I asked.

“It bypasses the timer,” he said. “I you press the top button, then the lower one. You will be locked in until someone else releases you.”

“Wonderful.”

“Up you go,” he said.

I climbed onto the support frame. The metal was cool against my skin. I pushed the top button, then the lower one and put my head and hands into the holes. I was trembling with excitement. A few seconds passed then the stock lowered onto my neck and locked in place. I had a sweet tiny orgasm when I heard that solid click. I couldn’t suppress a loud gasp.

“Are you all right?” Dale asked.

“I just had an orgasm,” I explained.

“Why? You’ve been in the machine before.”

“This time its for real,” I said.

“Ah yes. Quite true.”

He locked my ankles in the manacles. They felt odd until I realized that they were metal and not the leather test straps I’d gotten used to. The metal was cool and unyielding. Sexier than leather.

He put his hand in my crotch and squeezed my pussy. Orgasm number two hit. I sighed with pleasure as his strong fingers explored and manipulated my pussy. After nearly driving me wild, Dale’s hand slipped under my belly and pressed upward. I raised my pelvis off the frame. I heard a faint click, then his hand disappeared. I heard the hum of a motor and felt a pressure in my pussy. It was light and thin at first, but grew stronger.

The hum stopped and I felt Dale buckling a strap around my body. He tugged it tight and my breasts were pressed against the frame. He added two more straps and I couldn’t move.

“Can you move at all?” he asked.

I strained against my bonds. Nothing gave. There was no slack. The only parts of my body I could move were my fingers and toes. The temperature between my legs went higher.

“I can’t move,” I told him. “Nothing at all.”

“Splendid.” He patted my butt.

The humming resumed.

Suddenly the pressure between my pussy lips went from mild to fantastic! I felt the same sensation that I loved when the weight dropped off the barn loft and tightened the rope in my crotch. That brought about orgasm number three.

I’d barely caught my breath when the cable in my pussy went slack, then tightened again. And again! I was gasping for breath when it tightened twice in quick succession. Dale brought out a full length mirror and positioned it so I could see what was going on.

Dale’s pussy rope machine raised the weights and let them fall. A bar studded with pegs turned slowly at the base of the device and each peg tripped a release which made the weights fall. The pegs were arranged so the weights fell at random. Dale designed the thing so that a weight dropped about every eight to ten seconds, but the random pattern made some fall in quick succession, others after a long interval. After I’d gotten a good look he took the mirror away. There was no way for me to anticipate when the rope was going to tighten in my pussy. I was a babbling idiot within half an hour.

Dale has a engineer’s methodical style of thinking. He compiles data then makes calculations. After he released me from the pillory, and I was able to speak coherently, we discussed my orgasms. He made some computations and estimated the number of my orgasms at approximately seventy five. My internal orgasm counter went into melt down early in the experiment so I lost count, but upon calm reflection I think he was low by a factor of three.

 

We went in the house and Dale loaned me a thick warm robe. He cooked a barbecue dinner while I curled up on a chaise lounge. After we ate I fell asleep. I woke in a strange bed in the middle of the night. It took me a moment to collect my thoughts, then I realized Dale must have carried me to a guest bedroom. I went back to sleep.

The next morning Dale asked me to spend the day in the pillory. I was giggling in anticipation before he finished asking.  After breakfast he locked me in place and puttered around making more adjustments. I spent hours in the stocks, happy as a clam.

 While I lay immobilized I slipped into one of my daydream trances. In my daydream Dale decided to manufacture and sell the pillories.

 

He opened a huge factory. Hundreds of  workmen built the machines on an assembly line. The place was a hive of activity. Men shaped and welded the frames, while others built the motors and attachments. As the pillories moved along other workmen attached the restraining cuffs and electrical fittings. When the pillories reached the end of the assembly line they were put through quality control testing, using live female slaves.

The test slaves were hung by their wrists to overhead hooks that traveled in a large circle. Their feet were several inches off the floor and their bodies jerked and swayed with the movement of the conveyor. The circle was synchronized with the assembly line. As each machine arrived, so did a slave. The woman was taken down and locked into the pillory. She was locked into the stocks, then subjected to a battery of tortures. Each test took an hour. The slaves were spanked, whipped, and had dildos inserted in the pussies and asses. Electrical dildos were tested, as were the nipple and labia clamps. Finally the inspectors inserted their cocks into the slaves’ pussies or mouths while they completed their paper work.

When the inspectors were satisfied the women were released, hung up beneath the overhead conveyor and the cycle repeated. 

The conveyor carried each woman through a wash room where workmen sprayed her body with warm water, then soap, then a final rinse, like a car wash. Other workmen toweled each slave dry. By the time she was dry the cycle brought her back to the starting point and she was locked into another pillory. Each slave worked an eight hour shift.

The company sold some pillories with a live slave attached. A different conveyor brought women who were locked into the machines, then sent along to the shipping department. 

Every day hundreds of women lined up at the employment office.

 

Dale released me for lunch. I wasn’t hungry and ate quickly, I couldn’t wait to get back in the pillory. After lunch I ran back to the shop. Dale laughed when he came in a few minutes later and found me in the machine.

I slipped back into my daydream. 

Dale inaugurated an advertising campaign and took to the road on a marketing tour. He hired a crew and took me along  as a demonstration slave. He leased a truck and a bus and off we went. We set up displays at trade shows and county fairs. Dale wore a sort of carnival barker’s costume used a megaphone to attract the customers.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Allow me to introduce you to the eighth wonder of the modern world. A device so perfectly designed to confine and restrain a slave that you will never see its like anywhere but right here!”  Blah, blah, blah, , , , and so on.

The pillory sat center stage covered with a red velvet cloth. Dale whisked the cover off and the audience applauded.

“To demonstrate the many ways a woman can be restrained in this marvelous device,  my lovely assistant will bring forth one of my personal slaves.”

The curtains parted and his lovely assistant led me on stage. We stepped through the curtains into a brilliant spotlight. I wore a red floor length cape. The assistant wore a Las Vegas type showgirl costume with plumes in her hair, a leather bustier, sequined panties, mesh hose and high heels.

The assistant was my Mom.

She led me by a leash to center stage. I stood motionless, my chin high, my gaze fixed above the heads of the audience. Mom unclipped my cape and whirled it off my body. I was naked and my hands were cuffed behind my back. Mom paraded me back and forth across the stage, then led me to Dale where I knelt at his feet. She reached between her breasts and with a flourish brought out a shiny golden key. She unlocked my wrists, unclipped my leash, then clapped her hands imperiously. I rose and climbed into the pillory. Mom locked my ankles in the metal cuffs, then pushed the button. The stock lowered itself onto my neck and locked.

“I will now demonstrate that no matter how hard she is tortured, this lovely slave cannot escape the iron grip of my pillory!” Dale boomed. Mom marched across the stage carrying a whip on a cushion. She bowed as Dale took the whip. Dale cracked the whip several times, then stepped back, paused, and brought it across my butt. I screamed and fought to get loose but it was to no avail. I could only lie helpless as the whip turned my bottom bright red.

 Mom brought the attachments out one by one and Dale demonstrated them on my poor helpless body.

They started with the dropping weight pussy rope. The audience applauded when I went into a series of orgasms.

Dale kept his spiel going. “Now that you have seen how the pussy rope weights work, we will demonstrate another piece of equipment. My assistant is bringing out our next device.”

Mom minced across the stage pushing the mechanical whip, a broad show girl smile on her face.

I moaned and gasped and whimpered and screamed while Dale demonstrated each and every attachment on my poor body. I wasn’t acting. The pain was real (and delicious.)

Then we came to the grand finale’.

“I am now going to demonstrate the ultimate form of torture!” Dale announced. “The pain that will be inflicted upon this girl is so horrific that her screams could be heard for blocks, therefore I will request that my assistant gag her.”

Mom held up a huge penis gag and strutted across the front of the stage.

“The gag that you are seeing was specially made for this demonstration,” Dale said theatrically. “It is larger than ordinary gags,” Mom opened her mouth and tried to put it between her teeth. With a theatrical shake of her head she showed that it was too big.

“Nevertheless, the slave you see before you must wear such a gag or else you ladies and gentlemen might suffer hearing loss from her screams.”

Mom walked to my head and lifted my chin with a finger. I opened my mouth and she tried to put the gag in. It was too big and I groaned in pain as she struggled to force it between my lips. With exaggerated efforts Mom pushed and pushed and finally got the gag in my mouth. I squealed in pain while she buckled it in place.

Dale’s voice dropped dramatically. “Now ladies and gentlemen, my assistant will place clamps on the slave’s breasts.”

Mom knelt and pulled an alligator clamp from the electrical transformer. She stood and held for the crowd to see.

“As you can see, these are not ordinary nipple clamps,” Dale said in hushed tones. “They are equipped with the sharpest teeth and strongest springs ever made. Simply wearing these clamps is more torture than most women can endure.”

Mom placed her hand on her breast, paused demurely, then pulled her bustier down exposing her breasts. She looked upward, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The spotlight narrowed and focused on her beast. There was dead silence as she gingerly placed the teeth of the clamp over her nipple. She gasped, shrank back and dropped the clamp. That brought gasps and murmurs of sympathy from the women in the audience.

She picked up the clamp and tried to put it on her other nipple. She grimaced, then screamed and quickly took the clamp off.  She moaned, fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands.

“My assistant is herself a slave,” Dale told the crowd. “And has spent many long hours enduring horrible tortures in the pillory. But as you can see, even this brave lady cannot endure the pain of this terrible clamp. Please give her a round of applause.”

Mom bowed deeply as the audience cheered.

When the ovation died down Mom picked up the clamp and held it close to her breast. “I can try again,” she offered nobly.

“No, thank you my brave, brave assistant,” Dale said. He turned to the audience. “The clamps are painful in the extreme, but they serve an even more terrible purpose,  for they will carry hundreds of volts of electricity onto the nipples of this wretched girl!”

This brought more gasps from the audience. It even produced a few muffled screams.

 Dale looked at Mom. “Proceed.”

 Now the spotlight focused on my breast. Mom held the clamp up, opened the teeth, and put it on my nipple. She stepped back and bowed to the audience while I screamed my lungs out behind the gag. Then she marched regally around to my other side and attached a second clamp to my other nipple. The audience applauded while I thrashed insanely.

Dale waited until my screams had subsided to frantic whimpers.

“As I told you, the clamps are pure torture by themselves,” Dale told the audience. “But prepare yourselves for what comes next!”

He turned on the electricity. The audience watched in fascinated horror as I tensed, then groaned, then screamed as Dale increased the voltage. They went wild when I fainted.

 Mom produced smelling salts from her bra and waved them under my nose. When I was conscious she brought out the metal dildo probe, dropped its carrier in the slot and turned the pillory so my ass was toward the audience, then she slid the probe into my pussy.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” Dale whispered,  “If you thought you’d seen the ultimate form of feminine torture, you were mistaken. Watch now as I send a current of electricity, not only through the slave’s nipples, but into her pussy as well!”

A woman in the audience fainted. Her husband, his eyes fixed on me, didn’t notice his wife’s body at his feet.

“The control mechanism allows the torturer to send electricity to any part of the slave’s body,” Dale said. “One nipple, both nipples, her pussy or rectum, all at once, or in a random pattern. I will demonstrate using low voltage.”

I got a small jolt in my nipples, then my pussy. I squeaked and tensed my muscles. Dale set the control for random. My body jerked and bounced in its restraints. The audience applauded.

“Now for the serious voltage!” Dale trumpeted. “I must warn you that this is very dangerous and could possibly result in the slave’s death. As you may know, in the Moslem world the punishment for women guilty of infidelity is death. I have received inquiries from the governments of several Middle Eastern countries who are considering using my device to punish such wicked women, even to execute them.”

The audience was silent.

“In the event that this should result in the death of our slave,” Dale said. “My assistant has courageously volunteered to take her place and complete the demonstration.”

 Mom raised her face with an expression of noble sacrifice. Then with a graceful sweep of her arm directed the spotlight onto my body. Dale held the control box up.

“And now I will send hundreds of volts of electricity into the pussy of this helpless slave girl!”

He turned on the electricity. The universe exploded in my pussy. I had the orgasm of orgasms, and blacked out.

 

Two burly stage hands removed my limp body from the pillory.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes our demonstration,” Dale told the audience. “On in past occasions I called for volunteers from the audience to come on stage and try out our wonderful machine.”

Most of the women in the audience surged forward. Dale held up his hand.

“Unfortunately, due to several incidents where things went completely out of control, the authorities have forced me to curtail the practice. However, my assistant will stand at the stairs on the right of the stage handing out order forms. If any of you wish to test the machine in private back stage, please tell her.”

A line formed instantly.

 Later when we were loading up to leave Mom was complaining to Dale. “Why can’t Mary be your stage assistant?” she said. “I’d like to be the demonstration slave once in a while.”

 

I slowly roused from my daydream. “What in the world were you thinking?” Dale asked. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

“I’ve thought up a new way to use your invention,” I told him. “Have you ever thought about going in to show business?”

 

Authors

 

                                                                                                                CH 23

 

 

                My diversions with Lord and Lady L were pleasant and erotic, but they occurred infrequently. Most of the time I lived an ordinary life of school and work. My sexual needs were fulfilled by Bob and usually sufficed, until the need for serious torture became too compelling, then I’d go to Denise or Mary.

Then I rediscovered MAC.

                I ran in to him at a movie theater. He was with his family so I pretended not to know him. He saw me, smiled, and winked conspiratorially. The next day I got a call from Mary. MAC had called her at the store and asked for me. She gave me his number.

                I called MAC and told him that I chose not to rent myself out as a slave anymore. He was disappointed but understood. We talked for a long time, and I found it pleasant to talk to a man freely about my fetish. He invited me to meet him for lunch ‘just as friends’ and I accepted.

                MAC and I talked about everything and anything and oddly, sex and bondage didn’t come up. We hit it off and recognized one another as kindred spirits. Mom later said that he and I were from the same tribe. We met for lunch several times. He was always a gentleman, but let me know that he wanted me. I told him a hundred times that I wouldn’t let him torture me for money. He always came back at me smiling and unrepentant and told me that he intended to keep on asking.

                I had to admit that I liked the attention he gave me and it was refreshing to talk about bondage openly. MAC was (and still is) devoted to his wife, but she has never been in the scene. He made it clear that he would never leave her or hurt her, but he  had needs in that part of his life that she was unable to fill.

He laid suit to me. He sent flowers and gave me small but thoughtful gifts. He called to chat and we met for lunch regularly. I decided that I was going to submit to him, but chose to play hard to get as long as I could. He knew this and enjoyed the game. I held out for weeks, but finally told him that he could have me.

We met at Mary’s dungeon.

I told MAC that he could do anything he wanted to me, except pay me. I was his slave for the day. He gave me a hug so warm and comforting that I cried.

MAC stripped me naked and tied my hands behind my back. He played with my pussy for half an hour, never letting me cum. I was trembling like a bowl of jello and begging for release, but he seemed to know exactly how close he could bring me to coming., then stop. Talk about torture! I finally sank to the floor and wouldn’t get up. That brought a terrific whipping. MAC is a warm and caring man, but he is still a master and when I don’t obey him I get punished.  I writhed and whimpered on the floor as he whipped me with a thin wicked whip, then finally struggled to my feet. He wasn’t finished punishing me so I had to stick my breasts forward and count the blows while he whipped them. My boobs hurt like fire and I had a delicious orgasm.

 He led me around the dungeon on a leash , hung me by my wrists, whipped every inch of my body, spanked me, made me crawl on all fours. I had to sit up and beg like a dog, roll on my back, whimper and whine and bark. And I had a dozen orgasms. When the session was over and we were exhausted, MAC held me on his lap. We sat for a long time, saying nothing.

MAC and I became true lovers. Our lovemaking was bondage and torture, but it suited us perfectly. No romantic trysts for us. Our getaways were to a dungeon, our caresses were the sting of his whip. He loved me the way he needed and I wanted. He became my closest male friend and still is to this day.

I didn’t tell MAC about Bob for a while, but when I did he wasn’t jealous or angry. He understood that Bob was my sex toy when he was unavailable. He even felt sorry for Bob that he had only a physical relationship with me. MAC listened to me, talked to me and understood me, and if he hadn’t been married I would have moved Heaven and Earth to become his wife. At first I was jealous of MAC’s wife, but quickly outgrew that. He and I have something wonderful and I am too grateful for what we have to ruin it over jealousy.

I told Jill about MAC and she was predictably dismayed that I was involved with a married man. But she saw that I was determined and over the years she has accepted MAC’s place in my life. I’ve introduced them and they get along just fine. When they are together at a dinner or party at my place they behave very properly and pretend that he isn’t my master and she doesn’t know that he is. I tease Jill that she ought to be tied and tortured by a man, and offer to arrange it with MAC. She always declines, but once or twice I’ve caught her looking at him in a calculating way.

MAC and I have the most intense bondage sessions possible. In the beginning I felt the way to prove my love was through some extreme act of submission. I told him that he was free to do anything to me he wants. I even offered to let him brand me, which he gallantly declined.  I almost got a tattoo stating that I was his personal slave. Mary, Denise and Jill all hit the roof when I told them, and luckily they convinced me not to do it. Fortunately I learned that proof of love is not in a single act, but consists of years of intimacy and trust. Our relationship burns long and steadily every day. It glows red when he chains me, and explodes to white hot when his whip cracks against my body. Since nineteen seventy nine that warmth has never cooled.

Like Lord and Lady L, MAC and I have traveled occasionally. He’s taken me to Las Vegas and to Mexico and to a wonderful tiny cabin in the mountains of southern Colorado. We’ve had the most wonderful times together, in chains and out.

Mary, Denise and Jill, and other people are good friends, but MAC is the love of my life. I am ashamed to confess that I love him more and feel closer to him than I did to my husband.

MAC has never been judgmental or jealous of my other relationships. He knew that I went to Lord and Lady L and attended bondage parties with Denise and Mary, and has never complained.

He was fascinated to hear my stories about self bondage on the farm and about my mother’s activities. He’s met Mom many times (she just thinks he’s a close friend, she doesn’t know he’s my master) and has always treated her like a lady. He’s never let on that he knows about her own bondage, although I caught him look at her appraisingly once. I quietly asked what he was thinking.

“I’m thinking what your mother looks like naked and bound,” he whispered.

“She looks damn sexy,” I told him. “I’ve seen her.”

“Do you think she’d be interested in a nice whipping?”

“She might,” I replied. “I’ll ask her if you like, but I thought I was your main slave girl.”

“You’re my only slave girl.” he said, giving my hand a quick squeeze. I could have cried with happiness.

I later asked MAC about his remark. He told me from the time he had become master he had not taken another slave. I believed him then, and I believe him now. But I sometimes wish that I could arrange for him to torture Mom. I love them both and know that they would have a wonderful time together. She would be the only woman I would not be jealous about.

 

 

                                                                                CH 24

 

I graduated from college and Mom surprised me by taking me on a trip to Italy and Greece. I didn’t think she could have afforded it, but it turned out that she had been making some very good money leasing water rights from the farm. The trip was wonderful and we had the greatest time. I loved every minute. The trip included a three day cruise in the Aegean Sea. I’d never been aboard a large ship and I was fascinated by it. I tried to explore every inch of the vessel and wandered in to some areas that were off limits to passengers. I was politely shooed away when that happened, but I did manage to find my way in to the crews quarters. I was surprised at the tiny windowless cabins that the crew lived in, but for some reason that triggered another erotic slavery fantasy. I told Mom about it.

“What do you think they do to stowaways?” I asked her later.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Why?’

“I saw where the sailors live,” I said. “The conditions aren’t very luxurious. The captain ought to provide more perks for the sailors.”

“Such as?”

“It occurred to me that if they caught a female stowaway they ought to put her in chains and give her to the crewmen.”

“Oh God,” she laughed. “I should have known sex was involved.”

“Just think Mom, We could stow away, get caught, then spend the rest of the cruise chained up and being screwed by all those cute Greek sailors.”

“Why limit it to one cruise?” she laughed. “Why not make your captivity longer? Say a year or two.”

“Ok,” I said. “Here’s the scenario. We get caught and stripped naked.”

“Why would they strip us?” Mom asked.

“To search for contraband,” I said. “Then they put us in chains and take us to the captain on the bridge.”

“Walking us naked all the way through the ship, right?”

“Right. Then the captain puts us on trial, right them and there and sentences us to five years sexual servitude.”

“Five years is a long time,” Mom observed smiling.

“We can handle it,” I said. “Anyway, they lead us away and take us to the brig way down in the bottom of the ship. The brig has a big cell with two beds and they chain us to the beds, Then the crew are permitted to come fuck us when they are off duty.”

“Not bad,” Mom said.

“Then when we aren’t being screwed by sailors that take us out of the cell in chains and make us mop the decks. And when we don’t do a proper job they tie us to the mast and whip us while the whole crew and all the passengers watch.”

“You really need help,” Mom laughed.

 

 

Back in Denver I found a nice job with good pay. I could have afforded a nicer apartment, but decided to stay where I was, I didn’t want to give up my trysts with Bob.

Denise relayed another business proposition to me. I told her I wasn’t interested but she persisted.

“Wait until you hear about it,” she said.

“What is it?’

“It sort of a modeling job,” she said.

I shook my head. I had already been offered a number of modeling opportunities, but knew better. I didn’t want pictures of me naked and in bondage to appear in some magazine and come back to haunt me years later.

“Its not photography,” she persisted. “You’d be a subject for an engineering project.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“We’ve been contacted by this man who builds restraint devices,” she said. “That pillory over there, for example.”

I looked at the thing she was talking about. The store sold pillories, X crosses, even racks. I’ve been strapped to them in the back room. I’d never given a thought about who made them.

“So?’

“The guy is a retired engineer and mechanic and he’s got this idea that he wants to design and market high quality devices,” she said. “Only he wants to make them out of metal instead of wood. He needs a girl to build them around.”

“Oh?” That sounded interesting.

“I thought about you because you can tolerate bondage for longer than anyone I know.”

“Tolerate it? Hell, I love it,” I said. “The longer the better.”

“Stop bragging,” she laughed. “Anyway, the guy will pay you by the hour to come to his workshop and let him fit you into his creations. He swears that no sex will be involved.”

“What’s the fun in that?” I asked.

“Look, here’s his phone number, if you’re interested give him a call,” she said.

 

I was intrigued and called the engineer. He sounded nice on the phone and I agreed to meet with him.

I drove to a house in south Denver. It was actually in a very posh suburb called Cherry Hills Village. Everyone who lived there was a millionaire. I mean that literally.

The engineer’s name was Dale. He was in his sixties and had retired from a large airline. He was quite nice and courteous. He invited me in and we had coffee in his study. He told me that he was divorced and lived alone, and was in the bondage scene. I was quick to tell him that I would not participate in sexual bondage with him. He assured me that he understood that from Denise.

“I need your services as a study for my projects,” he told me. “You will be used to see if various restraining devices are workable and if adjustable machines perform correctly. It will involve being locked into theses things for long periods of time while I make adjustments or even mill new parts.”

I rather liked the idea of prolonged bondage.

“Am I to be naked?” I asked.

“Only if you choose,” he said. “I’ll be honest with you. I like to look at naked girls, but its not a requirement, and I won’t insist if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“We’ll see,” I shrugged.

“Let me show you my workshop,” he suggested.

 

I was impressed by his shop. It was in a large outbuilding and appeared to have every tool ever made. I saw a table saw, drill presses, welders, cut off saws and thousands of hand tools for metal and woodworking. The shop was meticulously organized and neat as a pin. He showed me his current project.

It was a metal pillory designed for women. It had a metal stock with head and hand holes, a long wide frame to support the slave’s body and adjustable bars that her ankles would be locked to. A metal dildo rose from a saddle atop the bar. A power cord was attached to a box at the base of the machine. A worm gear lay in a channel in the base and operated different mechanisms. The machine was a rough prototype, but the edges were curved and softened and the high degree of craftsmanship was apparent.

My pussy started to tingle the moment I saw the thing.

“How does it work?” I asked.

“The subject straddles the support frame then bends forward and places her neck and wrists in the holes,” Dale said. He touched a button and the upper half of the stock rose several inches. “Its spring loaded. Push the release button and it opens. Push down and the lock automatically engages and the subject is immobilized.” He pressed the stock down and it locked with a loud click. 

My breathing rate went up a little.

“May I make a suggestion?” I asked.

“Certainly.”

“You’re designing this for women aren’t you? Calling them ‘subjects’ sounds so impersonal. Why not refer to them as slaves?”

He smiled broadly. “Good idea.”

“Well, I know I’d rather be called a slave,” I said coyly. “Not a subject.”

“I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

“When can I start?” I asked.

“How about right now?’

 

As soon as I saw the pillory. I couldn’t wait to be locked into it.

Dale showed me a wash room off the shop. It was simply a sink and toilet, but the room was large and served as a dressing room for me. I changed to shorts and a tee shirt, hung my things on pegs and went out.

I stepped close to the pillory. “What do you want me to do?”

“I’m working on the leg restraints,” he said. “I want them to be adjustable in length for short or tall women and, , ,”

“Slaves,” I corrected him. “Not ‘subjects’, not ‘women’, slaves. The people placed in this will be slaves.”

Do  forgive me,” he laughed. “Yes, I want the leg bars to fit slaves with long legs and short legs. And I want to be able  to change the angle of the slaves’ legs, up or down.”

“Can the slave be placed on her back?” I asked.

“Certainly,” he said.

“Nice.”

“Why don’t you get on,” he said. “Face down.”

I sat on the frame. The metal was cool against my thighs. I wiggled a second then leaned forward. I extended my hands through the holes and Dale guided my head into the larger opening. I lowered my chest onto the frame. Dale pushed it down until it rested against my neck and I felt the cool metal clamp smoothly over my neck and wrists. I couldn’t hold back a gasp of pleasure.

“Everything all right?” he asked. “Its not pinching you?”

“I’m fine.”

He pressed it the last quarter inch and the lock clicked. I almost came.

I wriggled around testing the thing. I was completely immobilized from my shoulders up. Dale gave me a moment.

“Ready now?” he asked.

“Yes.”

 

I lay immobilized in the pillory for two hours the first day. I felt snug and secure and sexy. Dale worked on the leg restraints and buckled my ankles in and out of them many times. His touch on my legs was impersonal and he took no liberties. (By the end of the day I was hoping he would.)

Ultimately the legs bars would be equipped with metal clamps, like manacles, but for testing purposes he used leather cuffs. They felt great, but I couldn’t wait to feel the cool metal on my ankles. The support frame was eight inches wide and even though my ankles were locked, my crotch was still open. I never felt so helpless or feminine. At the end of the session dale told me he was going to test the motor.  He was working on the back and forth mechanism.

I was lying with my legs bent at a comfortable angle. Dale pushed a button and I felt the machine vibrate faintly. My ankles were pulled slowly forward until they were almost at my crotch. My knees were forced apart and I felt like a frog. Very sexy.

“Feel ok?” Dale asked.

“I sure do,” I said. “Is it as far as it goes?”

“No, but I didn’t want to over bend your knees,” he said. “Or jam your body against the stock.”

Lets see how much I can take,” I suggested.

He ran the motor again, in short increments. My knees bent more and my shoulders were pushed against the stock. It hurt my shoulders, but it was a sexy hurt. I imagined being slammed against the stock by the thrusts of a strong man fucking me in that position. I wondered if the dampness in my crotch showed through my shorts.

Then Dale reversed the motor and my legs were straightened out. Dale pulled my legs so far down that my chin was pressed tight against the other side of the stock. My body was straight and taut. Just perfect for a good whipping.

When he released me I tried to act as if everything was normal. We chatted for a few minutes then I casually walked to the dressing room. Once I closed the door I yanked my panties down and masturbated. I bit my lip to be as quiet as possible, then  washed my face, got dressed and walked out.

Masturbating in Dale’s bathroom merely took the edge of my arousal. I hadn’t gone a block from his house when I had my hands in my panties. I played with myself all the way to my apartment. When I got home I called Bob and invited him to drop by, then tied myself to my bed.

Bob showed up fairly quickly and screwed the living daylights out of me. He saw how excited I was and did a manly job of it. He outdid himself and screwed me several times. He asked what had gotten in to me, and I lied and told him that I’d been thinking about him all afternoon. That fed his ego, and his cock popped up again and he rolled on top of me. All in all it was a very erotic day.

 

MAC called me that evening and I told him about my new job. He was delighted to hear about the device and chuckled when I told him how hot I’d gotten. I was quick to tell him that I hadn’t had sex with Dale and didn’t mention Bob either. We talked a long time, and he described what he would do if he had me locked in a pillory. I played with my pussy while we talked and had another orgasm. I think it must have been my seventh or eighth of the day.

 

My next visit to Dale’s shop was just as erotic as the first. He asked me to come on a Saturday and spend a long time. That was fine with me.

Again I wore shorts and a tee shirt. My pussy went moist the minute I arrived and I had a tiny orgasm as soon as the stock clicked over my neck. I tried to talk to Dale, but he barely answered. He concentrated so deeply on his work that he seemed to forget that I was a live girl. He worked intently for hours, then walked away without a word. I lay in the pillory for a long time wondering where he’d gone. He finally returned.

“Where have you been?” I asked politely.

“Huh?” he grunted. “What was that?”

“I asked where you went,” I told him.

“I took a break for lunch,” he answered. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” I replied. “Only I could use a potty break, and maybe some lunch myself.”

He walked around to the front and looked at me in puzzlement, then the light came on.

“Good heavens!” he said. “What was I thinking?”

I was shaking with laughter as he rushed to release me. He apologized over and over and almost followed me into the bath room. I was giggling when I shut the door in his face.

He was not in the shop when I came out. I walked to the house and he waved me in to the kitchen. He was hurriedly making a couple of sandwiches.

“I’ve been treated as a lowly slave before,” I teased him. “But nobody ever tried to starve me to death.”

The poor dear was red as a beet.

“You take as long as you want,” he said. “And help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’ll get back to work.”

“Ok.”

I poured myself a glass of milk and relaxed and ate my sandwiches, then I tidied up the kitchen and went out to the shop.

Dale was tinkering away on the pillory.

“You just sit and relax,” he said. “I can do this without you for a while.”

“Not a chance,” I said, walking to the machine. “Lock me in.”

 

I spent all afternoon happily locked in Dale’s pillory. He was working on the gears that spread the slave’s legs. He finally got them working and tried them out.

“Ok,” he said. “Get ready.”

I heard the motor hum, then felt my legs being opened. Nice, nice, nice! The bars moved slowly but powerfully until my legs were further apart then they’d ever been in my life. I squeaked when my orgasm hit. Dale stopped the machine and asked if I was being hurt.

“Not as much as I’d like,” I whispered. “Keep going.”

He opened my legs another inch or two.

“How does that feel?” Dale asked. “Any discomfort?”

“Its ok,” I told him.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

“Sexy,” I told him. “I feel vulnerable.”

“Is that good?” he asked puzzled.

“It is for a slave.”

“Really? Hmm.”

Dale was a combination mad scientist, sex pervert and absent minded professor. He hadn’t given any thought to the effect his machine would have on the women who would be in it. I was going to have to help him a bit.

He spent a couple of hours putting the machine (and me) into different positions. He spread my legs apart, closed them, raised them up and down, bent my knees in varying degrees and almost twisted me into a pretzel. I was helpless to resist and I loved it.

I spent long periods in those odd positions while Dale paused to make detailed notes. He had a large notebook and wrote down everything. I guess it was the engineer in him. I didn’t mind because I enjoyed every moment in restraint and I often slipped into my daydream trance. I’d already decided that I wanted one of Dale’s machines and hoped he would make one for me, with a few modifications.

I thought we were finished but he lowered my legs below the frame and went through more experiments. I enjoyed these because they were excellent positions for spanking and whipping as well as fucking. When he finally unlocked me I was hot as hell.

“I believe we can knock off for today,” he said. “I’m very pleased with the progress we’ve made.”

“Are you sure we’re finished?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You forgot to test the machine with me on my back,” I said teasingly. “I can’t imagine how you forgot to run those tests.”

“I think you’re right,” he grinned. “Up you go.”

He locked me face up. I was when he strapped my ankles to the bars. And after the machine had opened and closed my legs a few dozen times I was on fire. I was on the verge of asking him to tear my clothes off when he shut down the motor.

“That is more than enough for one night,” he said.

I glanced out the window. It was dark.

“How long have we been here?” I asked.

“Thirteen hours.”

“My, my.”

“I hope I haven’t kept you from anything,” he said.

“Believe me, there is nothing I’d rather be doing.”

He bowed graciously.

I couldn’t wait to get into the dressing room and take my panties off.

 

When I got home it was too late to call Bob, MAC was unavailable and I knew that both Mary and Denise had appointments. I needed to talk to someone so I called Mom.

She was fascinated by Dale’s invention. I told her all the things it could do, and told her that I had one or two suggestions to make. She was concerned about Dale and what I might be letting myself in for, but I assured her that he hadn’t touched me sexually.

“That isn’t what concerns me,” she said. “I just think you out to be seeing men you own age, not someone old enough to be your father.”

“I’m not seeing him that way,” I said. “I’m just helping him build his machine.”

“It sounds like you are pretty vulnerable in that workshop,” she said.

“Incredibly vulnerable,” I said. “And its quite a turn on. Like our rack in the barn, only better.”

“There’s no telling what he might do to you.”

“I can only hope Mother.”

 

I tied myself to bed and went to sleep. I had a very erotic dream about the machine. It was in the loft of our barn and had some additional features. I woke in the middle of the night and made drawings and notes for Dale’s machine. When I finished I went back to bed and slept all morning.

 

The next time I went to Dale’s shop I showed him my sketches. He was very surprised, but looked them over and nodded in approval..

“These are great,” he said. “But how did you ever think these things up?”

“I’m an inventor myself,” I said. “I made a bondage machine when I was in high school.”

“You did?” He was astonished.

“Men aren’t the only ones to have perverse ideas,” I told him. “Girls get them too.”

He listened intently while I told him about my rack in the barn, and my other methods of self bondage. He frowned when I explained that I used a knife to cut ropes when I wanted to free myself. His precise engineering mind didn’t like such a wasteful method. He nodded when I told how I used weights to lock myself in the rack, but he was squirming a bit when I told him about using a weight to tighten my pussy rope.

“When did you build this thing?” he asked.

“About seven years ago.”

“What became of it?”

“Nothing, Its still in the barn at home.”

“Didn’t your parents find it?”

“My mother did, my father is dead,” I explained.

“What was your mother’s reaction?” he asked.

“She didn’t quite know what to think at first, but she accepted it.”

“She did?”

“Yes, and now she’s quite happy with it.”

“She is?”

“My mother ties herself to my rack all the time,” I said.

Dale’s mouth opened but no sound came out. He stared at me for ten minutes. Finally he started breathing again. “Incredible!”

“My mother is incredible,” I laughed. “And I would like to give her one of your machines.”

Dale nodded absently, then recovered his composure.

“Certainly, I’ll be happy to make one for her.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll have her come here so you can fit the machine to her body.”

He nodded. I don’t think he trusted himself to speak.

 

 

                                                                                                CH 25

 

 

Dale incorporated every one of my suggestions into the pillory. The first was a simple chin rest below the head opening.

“Why is this necessary?” he asked.

“It helps when the slave performs fellatio on her master,” I told him. “Or masters.”

“Of course. I see.”

We moved to my next suggestion. Dale didn’t need to be told what it was for.

I’d sketched a rounded box that sat between the slave’s legs. A dildo and butt plug extended from the box and entered the slave’s body. The box had a motor with cams and the dildos would fuck the woman at various speeds, depths and rhythms.

Dale improved my sketch by cutting a groove in the support frame and attaching a rod to the bottom of the box. The rod fit in the groove and the box could slide forward and backward to accommodate different sized women.

 

Dale understood at a glance the electrical torture devices I suggested. They were simple alligator clips for nipples and pussy lips and metal dildos all connected to a power source. He was surprised that I’d added them though.

“Why would you want these things?” he asked. “They could be very painful.”

“That’s the idea,” I told him. “After all, this is a torture device, isn’t it?”

“Actually I designed it simply for restraint,” he said. “I didn’t really consider torturing women with it.”

“Well I want to be tortured in it,” I told him. “So will a lot of women.”

“Ah, I see,” he said faintly. “Well, I suppose I could add these features, But I’ll have to install an amperage regulator. Other wise it could be very dangerous.”

“Danger is part of the allure of slavery,” I told him. “Slaves are thrill seekers, just like people who ride roller coasters.”

“This is a little more dangerous than that,” he said. “A slave might be electrocuted.

“Let me tell you about a woman whose deepest fantasy is to be executed in an electric chair.” I told him about Donna and her electrocution fantasy.

Dale was no fool, he was a sophisticated and worldly man, but his kinky interests ran to simple bondage. He wasn’t a sadist. I opened his eyes to the real world of S and M. He was sweating  when I finished.

 “My God!” he gasped. “I never dreamed that someone would find their own death a source of eroticism!”

“You’d be surprised at the weird things people find erotic,” I told him. “I’ve imagined what it would be like to sit in an electric chair.”

“You don’t honestly want to die, do you?”

“Of course not,” I said. “But that fantasy takes submission and exhibitionism to the most extreme level possible. I don’t want to die, but the idea of submitting to that ultimate orgasm is powerfully erotic.”

He looked at the pillory a long time, then shrugged.

“It will be very easy to add an electrical device,” he said. “I’m just not sure how wise it would be.”

“Can you design it to stop at a certain level, for safety?” I asked.

“Easily.”

“Go ahead and make it,” I said. “Then you can test it on me and we’ll decide how high the settings should go.”

He swallowed nervously, then nodded.

“And just to be certain,” I said impishly. “I think we should run an extensive set of tests, very extensive.”

“I need a drink,” Dale said.

 

Poor Dale really hadn’t understood that women actually exist who enjoy pain. He had been into bondage and male dominance all his life, but had never been with a true masochist. I felt older than him in some ways and managed to shock him several times. My vow to keep sex out of our relation ship went right out the window. I decided I was going to teach him how to properly dominate a woman.

 

“The next device is another pain generator,” I explained to him. “It drips hot oil onto the slave’s body.”

“Why hot oil,” he asked.

Its more controllable that candle wax.”

“And I suppose you like hot candle wax?” he said.

“Absolutely.”

“All right,” he said as if nothing could surprise him again. “Lets see what we have.”

Its a simple tank with an electric heater,” I told him. “It is suspended over the slave and a valve controls the flow. It can be adjusted to drip oil on any part of my body.”

“How hot do you want the oil to be?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I suppose we’ll have to run tests to find out.”

‘Ok what’s next?”

“An automated flogger.”  

“Great idea!” he said brightly. “How does it work?”

“I got the idea from a John Willy book,” I told him.

“Ah yes,” he said. “The part where a pretty girl is strapped to a stationary bicycle. She has to keep pedaling to create an electric current. If she stops an automatic motor comes on and spins a wheel full of thin switches against her bottom.”

“Oh, you’ve seen it,” I said.

“I have all of John Willy’s books in my library,” he said. “So you want to be subjected to that?”

“Yep. But I have some modifications,” I said. “First, the flogger simply runs when its switched on, there is no pedaling by the slave. Second, the flogger can be adjusted to spin horizontally to get my bottom and the backs of my legs, and it can be turned to spin vertically to whip my pussy and back and breasts.”

“And the wheel should be able to accommodate different whips and switches, right?”

“And it should have different speed setting, for harder whippings,” I said.

“No problem. Are there any more changes you’d like?

“One very important one. The whole machine should be made so that a woman can lock herself into it, control the torture devices, then release herself when she’s ready.”

“Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of the machine?” he asked.

“No, you could have two types,” I said. “One for masters and slaves and one for self bondage.”

“Easy enough,” he said. “In fact I can design one machine that can be set for both modes. A simple lock out control would work.”

“Terrific.”

“Now, did you really build a torture device in your barn?” he asked.

“Sure did. Cross my heart.”

“Ok,” he said. “Your stories have given me another idea for our machine.”

“What’s that?”

Its a secret,” he said. “I’ll show you next time.” 

 

 

 

                                                                                                CH 26

 

 

Dale must have worked day and night, because when I next went to the workshop most of the modifications had been done. And he had added a couple of his own.

The chin rest was in place. Dale had sculpted it out of metal and padded it with hard rubber. It snapped into holes below the head opening. I couldn’t wait to rest my chin on it and have someone’s cock in my mouth.

He’d placed the dildo box in a track on the frame. He showed me how it traveled back and forth atop a worm gear. I was surprised to see that one side of the box was curved and covered in thick rubber.

“What is that for?” I asked touching the curved surface

“The box can be pressed very tightly into the slave’s crotch,” he replied. “Tight enough to push her against the stock. I thought it might add some stimulation.”

“I’ll say.”  I was stimulated just looking at it.

He lifted the dildo box out of its track and put another in its place. They looked identical. I raised my eyebrows in question.

“This is your electrical dildo,” he explained. He showed me a power cord coming out of that box. “The probe is made of conductive metal and is connected to a transformer on the base of the pillory.”

He knelt and plugged the cord into another box. He indicated a row of alligator clips that were hooked to a small  wooden bar. He pulled one of them and a cord unreeled silently from the transformer.

“Electrical cables can be attached to sensitive parts of the slave’s body from here.”

The sensitive parts of my body were already aching to feel those clips. My pussy was throbbing and my nipples were hard. I gingerly touched the dildo and felt a faint tingling at the tip of my finger. Dale turned a knob and the tingling increased until it was mildly painful. Very nice.

“I still have some work to do, but I think the automated flogger will function,” he said. He showed me a tall stand on a roller base. An electric motor was mounted on the base and connected to a wheel at the top. The wheel was adorned with several wicked looking fiber glass switches. I rolled one between my fingers. It was no more than an eighth of an inch thick. My pussy tingled at the thought of those switches snapping against my bottom.

“As per your specifications, it can be adjusted for horizontal or vertical positions,” Dale said. “And the speed is variable.”

A L shaped bar extended beneath the wheel. It seemed to be in the path of the switches

“What is this for?” I asked.

“Its in John Willy’s book,” he said. “It retards the motion of the switch for a moment, then the switch slides off the bar and impacts the slave with more force.”

“Oh God!” My pussy was getting wetter by the minute.

 

“This is my own idea,” Dale said, rolling another tall stand in view. It was a telescoping pole six feet high. A tee shaped bar was atop the pole and a row of light pulleys hung from the tee. Weights on thin steel cables hung beneath the pulleys. The cables disappeared into a metal box at the base of the stand and a single cable emerged and was threaded through a separate pulley at the highest part of the tee bar. I knew instantly what it was for, but not how it worked.

“I got the idea from your home made rack,” Dale told me.

“It looks very interesting,” I said. “When do I get to try it out?”

He motioned me toward the dressing room.

It was time to take off the kid gloves. I stripped naked in the dressing room, touched up my hair and makeup, then opened the door and walked out.

Dale didn’t bat an eye. He watched me as I walked to the machine. “Its about time you were naked,” he said.

“Yes master.”

 

He placed a thin belt around my waist. It buckled in the back and had a hook in the front. He showed me a small box attached to the stock. It held a couple of buttons and a timer.

“Push the top button then place yourself in the stock,” he said. “It will close and lock ten seconds later,”

“Ok.”

“The timer will open the stock. It can be set for up to an hour.”

“That’s not long enough,” I said. “I would want to be able to lock myself in for hours and hours.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Oh yes.”

“All right,” he shrugged. “I can get a longer timer.”

“What’s the bottom button for?” I asked.

“It bypasses the timer,” he said. “I you press the top button, then the lower one. You will be locked in until someone else releases you.”

“Wonderful.”

“Up you go,” he said.

I climbed onto the support frame. The metal was cool against my skin. I pushed the top button, then the lower one and put my head and hands into the holes. I was trembling with excitement. A few seconds passed then the stock lowered onto my neck and locked in place. I had a sweet tiny orgasm when I heard that solid click. I couldn’t suppress a loud gasp.

“Are you all right?” Dale asked.

“I just had an orgasm,” I explained.

“Why? You’ve been in the machine before.”

“This time its for real,” I said.

“Ah yes. Quite true.”

He locked my ankles in the manacles. They felt odd until I realized that they were metal and not the leather test straps I’d gotten used to. The metal was cool and unyielding. Sexier than leather.

He put his hand in my crotch and squeezed my pussy. Orgasm number two hit. I sighed with pleasure as his strong fingers explored and manipulated my pussy. After nearly driving me wild, Dale’s hand slipped under my belly and pressed upward. I raised my pelvis off the frame. I heard a faint click, then his hand disappeared. I heard the hum of a motor and felt a pressure in my pussy. It was light and thin at first, but grew stronger.

The hum stopped and I felt Dale buckling a strap around my body. He tugged it tight and my breasts were pressed against the frame. He added two more straps and I couldn’t move.

“Can you move at all?” he asked.

I strained against my bonds. Nothing gave. There was no slack. The only parts of my body I could move were my fingers and toes. The temperature between my legs went higher.

“I can’t move,” I told him. “Nothing at all.”

“Splendid.” He patted my butt.

The humming resumed.

Suddenly the pressure between my pussy lips went from mild to fantastic! I felt the same sensation that I loved when the weight dropped off the barn loft and tightened the rope in my crotch. That brought about orgasm number three.

I’d barely caught my breath when the cable in my pussy went slack, then tightened again. And again! I was gasping for breath when it tightened twice in quick succession. Dale brought out a full length mirror and positioned it so I could see what was going on.

Dale’s pussy rope machine raised the weights and let them fall. A bar studded with pegs turned slowly at the base of the device and each peg tripped a release which made the weights fall. The pegs were arranged so the weights fell at random. Dale designed the thing so that a weight dropped about every eight to ten seconds, but the random pattern made some fall in quick succession, others after a long interval. After I’d gotten a good look he took the mirror away. There was no way for me to anticipate when the rope was going to tighten in my pussy. I was a babbling idiot within half an hour.

Dale has a engineer’s methodical style of thinking. He compiles data then makes calculations. After he released me from the pillory, and I was able to speak coherently, we discussed my orgasms. He made some computations and estimated the number of my orgasms at approximately seventy five. My internal orgasm counter went into melt down early in the experiment so I lost count, but upon calm reflection I think he was low by a factor of three.

 

We went in the house and Dale loaned me a thick warm robe. He cooked a barbecue dinner while I curled up on a chaise lounge. After we ate I fell asleep. I woke in a strange bed in the middle of the night. It took me a moment to collect my thoughts, then I realized Dale must have carried me to a guest bedroom. I went back to sleep.

The next morning Dale asked me to spend the day in the pillory. I was giggling in anticipation before he finished asking.  After breakfast he locked me in place and puttered around making more adjustments. I spent hours in the stocks, happy as a clam.

 While I lay immobilized I slipped into one of my daydream trances. In my daydream Dale decided to manufacture and sell the pillories.

 

He opened a huge factory. Hundreds of  workmen built the machines on an assembly line. The place was a hive of activity. Men shaped and welded the frames, while others built the motors and attachments. As the pillories moved along other workmen attached the restraining cuffs and electrical fittings. When the pillories reached the end of the assembly line they were put through quality control testing, using live female slaves.

The test slaves were hung by their wrists to overhead hooks that traveled in a large circle. Their feet were several inches off the floor and their bodies jerked and swayed with the movement of the conveyor. The circle was synchronized with the assembly line. As each machine arrived, so did a slave. The woman was taken down and locked into the pillory. She was locked into the stocks, then subjected to a battery of tortures. Each test took an hour. The slaves were spanked, whipped, and had dildos inserted in the pussies and asses. Electrical dildos were tested, as were the nipple and labia clamps. Finally the inspectors inserted their cocks into the slaves’ pussies or mouths while they completed their paper work.

When the inspectors were satisfied the women were released, hung up beneath the overhead conveyor and the cycle repeated. 

The conveyor carried each woman through a wash room where workmen sprayed her body with warm water, then soap, then a final rinse, like a car wash. Other workmen toweled each slave dry. By the time she was dry the cycle brought her back to the starting point and she was locked into another pillory. Each slave worked an eight hour shift.

The company sold some pillories with a live slave attached. A different conveyor brought women who were locked into the machines, then sent along to the shipping department. 

Every day hundreds of women lined up at the employment office.

 

Dale released me for lunch. I wasn’t hungry and ate quickly, I couldn’t wait to get back in the pillory. After lunch I ran back to the shop. Dale laughed when he came in a few minutes later and found me in the machine.

I slipped back into my daydream. 

Dale inaugurated an advertising campaign and took to the road on a marketing tour. He hired a crew and took me along  as a demonstration slave. He leased a truck and a bus and off we went. We set up displays at trade shows and county fairs. Dale wore a sort of carnival barker’s costume used a megaphone to attract the customers.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Allow me to introduce you to the eighth wonder of the modern world. A device so perfectly designed to confine and restrain a slave that you will never see its like anywhere but right here!”  Blah, blah, blah, , , , and so on.

The pillory sat center stage covered with a red velvet cloth. Dale whisked the cover off and the audience applauded.

“To demonstrate the many ways a woman can be restrained in this marvelous device,  my lovely assistant will bring forth one of my personal slaves.”

The curtains parted and his lovely assistant led me on stage. We stepped through the curtains into a brilliant spotlight. I wore a red floor length cape. The assistant wore a Las Vegas type showgirl costume with plumes in her hair, a leather bustier, sequined panties, mesh hose and high heels.

The assistant was my Mom.

She led me by a leash to center stage. I stood motionless, my chin high, my gaze fixed above the heads of the audience. Mom unclipped my cape and whirled it off my body. I was naked and my hands were cuffed behind my back. Mom paraded me back and forth across the stage, then led me to Dale where I knelt at his feet. She reached between her breasts and with a flourish brought out a shiny golden key. She unlocked my wrists, unclipped my leash, then clapped her hands imperiously. I rose and climbed into the pillory. Mom locked my ankles in the metal cuffs, then pushed the button. The stock lowered itself onto my neck and locked.

“I will now demonstrate that no matter how hard she is tortured, this lovely slave cannot escape the iron grip of my pillory!” Dale boomed. Mom marched across the stage carrying a whip on a cushion. She bowed as Dale took the whip. Dale cracked the whip several times, then stepped back, paused, and brought it across my butt. I screamed and fought to get loose but it was to no avail. I could only lie helpless as the whip turned my bottom bright red.

 Mom brought the attachments out one by one and Dale demonstrated them on my poor helpless body.

They started with the dropping weight pussy rope. The audience applauded when I went into a series of orgasms.

Dale kept his spiel going. “Now that you have seen how the pussy rope weights work, we will demonstrate another piece of equipment. My assistant is bringing out our next device.”

Mom minced across the stage pushing the mechanical whip, a broad show girl smile on her face.

I moaned and gasped and whimpered and screamed while Dale demonstrated each and every attachment on my poor body. I wasn’t acting. The pain was real (and delicious.)

Then we came to the grand finale’.

“I am now going to demonstrate the ultimate form of torture!” Dale announced. “The pain that will be inflicted upon this girl is so horrific that her screams could be heard for blocks, therefore I will request that my assistant gag her.”

Mom held up a huge penis gag and strutted across the front of the stage.

“The gag that you are seeing was specially made for this demonstration,” Dale said theatrically. “It is larger than ordinary gags,” Mom opened her mouth and tried to put it between her teeth. With a theatrical shake of her head she showed that it was too big.

“Nevertheless, the slave you see before you must wear such a gag or else you ladies and gentlemen might suffer hearing loss from her screams.”

Mom walked to my head and lifted my chin with a finger. I opened my mouth and she tried to put the gag in. It was too big and I groaned in pain as she struggled to force it between my lips. With exaggerated efforts Mom pushed and pushed and finally got the gag in my mouth. I squealed in pain while she buckled it in place.

Dale’s voice dropped dramatically. “Now ladies and gentlemen, my assistant will place clamps on the slave’s breasts.”

Mom knelt and pulled an alligator clamp from the electrical transformer. She stood and held for the crowd to see.

“As you can see, these are not ordinary nipple clamps,” Dale said in hushed tones. “They are equipped with the sharpest teeth and strongest springs ever made. Simply wearing these clamps is more torture than most women can endure.”

Mom placed her hand on her breast, paused demurely, then pulled her bustier down exposing her breasts. She looked upward, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The spotlight narrowed and focused on her beast. There was dead silence as she gingerly placed the teeth of the clamp over her nipple. She gasped, shrank back and dropped the clamp. That brought gasps and murmurs of sympathy from the women in the audience.

She picked up the clamp and tried to put it on her other nipple. She grimaced, then screamed and quickly took the clamp off.  She moaned, fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands.

“My assistant is herself a slave,” Dale told the crowd. “And has spent many long hours enduring horrible tortures in the pillory. But as you can see, even this brave lady cannot endure the pain of this terrible clamp. Please give her a round of applause.”

Mom bowed deeply as the audience cheered.

When the ovation died down Mom picked up the clamp and held it close to her breast. “I can try again,” she offered nobly.

“No, thank you my brave, brave assistant,” Dale said. He turned to the audience. “The clamps are painful in the extreme, but they serve an even more terrible purpose,  for they will carry hundreds of volts of electricity onto the nipples of this wretched girl!”

This brought more gasps from the audience. It even produced a few muffled screams.

 Dale looked at Mom. “Proceed.”

 Now the spotlight focused on my breast. Mom held the clamp up, opened the teeth, and put it on my nipple. She stepped back and bowed to the audience while I screamed my lungs out behind the gag. Then she marched regally around to my other side and attached a second clamp to my other nipple. The audience applauded while I thrashed insanely.

Dale waited until my screams had subsided to frantic whimpers.

“As I told you, the clamps are pure torture by themselves,” Dale told the audience. “But prepare yourselves for what comes next!”

He turned on the electricity. The audience watched in fascinated horror as I tensed, then groaned, then screamed as Dale increased the voltage. They went wild when I fainted.

 Mom produced smelling salts from her bra and waved them under my nose. When I was conscious she brought out the metal dildo probe, dropped its carrier in the slot and turned the pillory so my ass was toward the audience, then she slid the probe into my pussy.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” Dale whispered,  If you thought you’d seen the ultimate form of feminine torture, you were mistaken. Watch now as I send a current of electricity, not only through the slave’s nipples, but into her pussy as well!”

A woman in the audience fainted. Her husband, his eyes fixed on me, didn’t notice his wife’s body at his feet.

“The control mechanism allows the torturer to send electricity to any part of the slave’s body,” Dale said. “One nipple, both nipples, her pussy or rectum, all at once, or in a random pattern. I will demonstrate using low voltage.”

I got a small jolt in my nipples, then my pussy. I squeaked and tensed my muscles. Dale set the control for random. My body jerked and bounced in its restraints. The audience applauded.

“Now for the serious voltage!” Dale trumpeted. “I must warn you that this is very dangerous and could possibly result in the slave’s death. As you may know, in the Moslem world the punishment for women guilty of infidelity is death. I have received inquiries from the governments of several Middle Eastern countries who are considering using my device to punish such wicked women, even to execute them.”

The audience was silent.

“In the event that this should result in the death of our slave,” Dale said. “My assistant has courageously volunteered to take her place and complete the demonstration.”

 Mom raised her face with an expression of noble sacrifice. Then with a graceful sweep of her arm directed the spotlight onto my body. Dale held the control box up.

“And now I will send hundreds of volts of electricity into the pussy of this helpless slave girl!”

He turned on the electricity. The universe exploded in my pussy. I had the orgasm of orgasms, and blacked out.

 

Two burly stage hands removed my limp body from the pillory.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes our demonstration,” Dale told the audience. “On in past occasions I called for volunteers from the audience to come on stage and try out our wonderful machine.”

Most of the women in the audience surged forward. Dale held up his hand.

“Unfortunately, due to several incidents where things went completely out of control, the authorities have forced me to curtail the practice. However, my assistant will stand at the stairs on the right of the stage handing out order forms. If any of you wish to test the machine in private back stage, please tell her.”

A line formed instantly.

 Later when we were loading up to leave Mom was complaining to Dale. “Why can’t Mary be your stage assistant?” she said. “I’d like to be the demonstration slave once in a while.”

 

I slowly roused from my daydream. “What in the world were you thinking?” Dale asked. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

“I’ve thought up a new way to use your invention,” I told him. “Have you ever thought about going in to show business?”

 

TITLES

Author’s Note:  An error was made in submitting the updates for this story. These chapters should have preceded part seven.

 

 

                                                                                                CH 20

 

               

                Back in Denver I went to college and to my normal job, and avoided the bondage scene for a while. I told Mary and Denise that I was cutting back on my activities. They didn’t seem surprised. For women who made their living being cruel, they were very understanding.

                I limited my bondage to tying myself alone in my apartment. I got into some serious hog ties and once tied myself so tightly that I couldn’t get loose. When I realized that I couldn’t free myself, I became frightened, but had a delicious orgasm. I wore myself out trying to get loose and had several more orgasms, but by evening I was so exhausted that I couldn’t move. My hands were numb and my shoulders and legs were in agony. I had to shout for help.

My neighbor heard and called the building manager. They opened my door with a pass key and were horrified when they saw me tied up. I had been so frightened that I burst into tears when they came in. I told them that I’d been surprised and tied up by a burglar. Because I was naked they thought I’d been sexually assaulted and wanted to call the police. I assured them that I hadn’t been raped and was naked because the burglar caught me in my shower. I told them my boyfriend was a police officer and I’d handle the report through him. My neighbor was very solicitous but something in the manager’s expression told me he didn’t believe my story. I found out later that he had already been snooping in my apartment and discovered my bondage equipment.

The manager’s name was Bob. I ran in to him in the parking lot a few days later and thanked him for rescuing me. He grinned sardonically and told me he’d be happy to help anytime I needed it. I knew he hadn’t been fooled by my story. I wasn’t embarrassed that he’d seen me bound, in fact it turned me on. I began to flirt with him.

Bob was older but nice looking. He and his wife were live in managers. He took care of the property and she worked at an outside job. I’d heard gossip about him and a few of the women in the complex. He was tall and muscular and have black wavy hair just tinted with gray. He was screwing several of the tenants and had a slightly condescending attitude. He smiled as if he was reading my inner thoughts so I decided to seduce him.

A few days later I called the manager’s officer. I said that I needed help with something in the apartment. Then I undressed and tied myself to my bed.

I became very excited while I waited. I jumped at every tiny noise and seemed to take for ever for Bob to get there. Finally he was standing in the doorway looking at my naked body.

“Another burglar?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered. “But he left before finishing the job.”

Bob was already removing his clothes. When he was naked he crawled on top of me and slammed his cock inside me. He mad no pretense at foreplay, he just fucked me like I was a piece of meat. It was exactly what I wanted. I came almost instantly.

Bob screwed me for a couple of hours that first afternoon, and many, many times over the next couple of years. We had a nice sexual relationship, but there was almost no emotional bond between us. He acted as if it was his right to fuck me and any other woman he wanted. Oddly, I was content with the arrangement.

I didn’t love Bob, in fact, I barely liked him, but I liked being fucked by him because he was good in bed and he didn’t screw me for money. Bob didn’t know I was a slave for pay, he just thought I was just an ordinary little college coed with kinky tastes.

I should have been guilty about his wife, but I wasn’t. I wondered if she knew about his affairs, but honestly didn’t care if she did. She never gave any indication that she knew about me.

We arranged a signal for me to let him know that I was tied up and he’d come by the apartment. Sometimes I had to wait while he attended to other matters. That was usually ok because I enjoyed my bondage and the longer I waited the hotter I became. I also liked it because I could tie myself in very tight inescapable positions, knowing that he would arrive sooner or later and release me. Even knowing that he was screwing another woman was exciting in a perverted way. It made me feel humble and submissive knowing I had to wait my turn.

I encouraged Bob to talk dirty to me while he fucked me, and tell me about his other women. He possessed a degree of ethics and wouldn’t tell me their names, he but did go into the details of screwing them.  He told me that another of  the tenants was into bondage and like me tied herself up before he arrived. I was intrigued and wondered who she was, but Bob wouldn’t tell me. I wondered about her. Was she young or old? Married or single? Pretty or plain? How many times had we passed in the hallway? I’d have given any thing to know who she was.

Bob didn’t mind screwing me while I was bound but he wasn’t into s and m and never tied me up, I had to tie myself. He definitely wasn’t a slave master. He wouldn’t torture me, not even to spank me. He was a good lover. He had lots of stamina and could fuck for hours without rest, and he prided himself on making sure I always had an orgasm. But he wasn’t imaginative and I would have easily grown tired of him. I just used him because I could tie myself into inescapable positions and knew he would release me. He was not master material and would have been shocked if he knew the things I allowed other people to do to me. I never told him about my secret life, I didn’t want to frighten him away.

 

                Sex with Bob was all right but we had no emotional relationship. I tried dating regular boys from college but they seemed so young and naive. They were decent young men and I felt dirty because of my secret perversions. I went to bed with one or two but wasn’t comfortable making love in the ordinary fashion. I didn’t need a lover, I needed a master.

The only person I could talk to was Jill.

She and I got together, talked, went shopping and to movies. Jill got me through that period and helped me keep my sanity.

                I stayed away from the scene for almost six months but I couldn’t break my addiction to torture. I enjoyed my affair with Bob, but I needed more than simple bondage.

I went back to the store.

 

                I looked in the window and saw Mary talking to Denise. I hesitated. I wanted to see them but didn’t want my arrival to be seen as a surrender. I was confused and walked away. I passed a bakery and on inspiration went in and bought a dozen doughnuts. I took the doughnuts to Mary’s store.

                “Hello,” I said breezily as I walked in. “You two look hungry.”

                They greeted me warmly and gave me a big hug each, then they tore into the doughnuts. I had to laugh when I watched those two wicked, cruel, heartless, domineering black leather bitches arguing over who got the jelly filled.

                “Why don’t you fight for it?” I laughed.

                “She always grabs the best ones,” Denise pretended to pout. “I never get the jelly doughnuts.”

                “Liar, liar, panties on fire,” said Mary.

                “One more word,” I warned. “And I’ll make you leg wrestle for it.”

                “We’ve wrestled before,” Mary said. “I won.”

“Oh, you did not!” Denise gasped indignantly.

I grabbed the last jelly doughnut, broke it in two and gave half to each.

“There, now eat the doughnut and tell me about wrestling.”

“We went in to a strip club years ago,” Mary said. “It was amateur mud wrestling night, so we entered the contest.”

“In your dominatrix outfits?” I asked.

“No, we were in street clothes,” Denise said. “We were driving back from a trip to New Mexico and we stopped to eat in Pueblo. When we came out of the restaurant we saw a strip club across the street, and went in.”

“Who were you dominating in New Mexico?” I asked.

“Nobody,” Mary said. “We went to Taos for sight seeing and shopping.”

“Yeah, sometimes we do real every day things,” Denise said sarcastically.

“We’re just ordinary mothers and housewives,” Mary said primly, toying with the spikes on her leather bra.

“You didn’t take any whips along?” I asked. “No spike heels or handcuffs?”

“Well, there may have been a few whips in the trunk,” Mary said. “Just in case.”

“I see,” I laughed. “But tell me about wrestling.”

“We were sitting in the club having a drink and watching the girls dance,” Mary said.

“And fending off a couple of guys who tried to pick us up,” Denise interjected. “They thought we were hookers.”

“I wonder why,” I said. “A pair of big boob broads like you sitting in a strip joint?”

“Yeah, I suppose they might get that idea,” Denise admitted. “But we weren’t hooking.”

“The wrestling,” I insisted. “Tell me about it.”

“They announced a mud wrestling contest, and invited ladies in the audience to participate,” Denise said.

“Were you the only takers?” I asked.

“Heavens no,” she said. “The place was full of women. A bunch of them volunteered.”

“A lot of them were girls in the Army stationed at Fort Carson,” Mary said. “They drove down to Pueblo so they could party far enough off base that they wouldn’t get in trouble. And some were local girls and housewives.”

“Go on,” I said.

“They set up three inflatable kiddy swimming pools, filled them with mud and paired the girls off,” Mary said. “The girls started out in panties and tee shirts, wrestled around and tore each other’s clothes off. The winner went on to another bout.”

“We watched for a while,” Denise said, “Then decided to get in.”

“They took us back stage to the dressing room, gave us tee shirts and some cheap breakaway panties then took us on stage,” Mary said.

“Did you wrestle each other?”

“Not the first round,” Mary said. “We were paired against other girls.”

“They introduced all the contestants,” Denise said. “I told them that I was a lady doctor and Mary said that she was my nurse. The audience loved it.”

“Go on.”

“We won each round,” Denise told me. “After each bout the mud was hosed off our bodies by the emcee.”

“So the men could see us naked,” Mary explained.   

“I figured that,” I said. “Keep going.”

“Anyway, we made it to the final bout and wrestled each other,” Denise said. “It was fun.”

“Did you make love on stage?” I asked.

“No, but I won fifty dollars prize money,” Mary said. “Denise got thirty.”

“I won first place,” Denise corrected her. “And I spent it all getting my hair done the next day. That mud destroyed my perm.”

 

I spent the afternoon with them. We talked about anything except bondage. I sensed that both were respecting my decision to cut back on my activities. Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Has anyone inquired about my services?” I asked.

“Yes,” Mary answered. “Several clients have, including Lady L.”

“Did they say what they wanted?”

“The usual, an innocent girl to torture,” she said.

“Well, I could use some torture right about now,” I said.

“Oh? We thought you were out of the scene.”

“Not really,” I said ruefully. “I tried but it’s not working.”

“Bondage is worse than drug addiction,” Denise said.

“I tired to make do with a mild form of bondage,” I said. “I’ve got a lover but I have to tie myself up, and I’m afraid to ask him to whip me.”

They nodded understandingly.

“Uh, is there any chance one of you might be willing to whip me half to death?” I asked hesitantly.

They exchanged a look. “I think we might manage,” Mary said.

“I can pay your regular fee,” I said.

“No way,” Denise said. “You don’t pay us.”

“And you get a double tonight,” Mary said. “Two whip bitches instead of one.”

My pussy flashed white hot!

“Here?” I asked.

“No, lets go to my dungeon,” Mary said. “You two head over there and I’ll close up. I’ll meet you.”

“I have to call my husband and let him know I wont be home,” Denise said. “Then we can go in my car.”

“Can I ride naked?” I asked.

Mary took me to the back of the store and made me strip, then buckled leather straps around my arms, legs and body. Denise drove her car to the back door and opened the trunk. I hopped through the alley and they dumped me in. It felt so good to be in real bondage and my heart was racing in anticipation. I almost came when they slammed the trunk lid.

I loved the ride in Denise’s trunk. I pretended that I was a kidnap victim who was going to be raped.

When we arrived at Mary’s dungeon Denise strung me up by my wrists and whipped me. I told her not to waste time on warm up, but to get right to a big whip. She took a heavy flogger off the wall and went to town on me. I came within seconds.

My dear, wonderful, understanding friends, Mary and Denise tortured me until I thought I was in heaven. They whipped me, put horrible clamps on my nipples and pussy lips, poured hot candle wax on my breasts, then whipped it off and put more on. They screwed me with strap on dildos from front and back simultaneously. Denise broke in a new bull whip by snapping clamps off my nipples with it. I fainted twice but they revived me and kept going.

That evening was one of the most intense and  thrilling torture sessions I’ve ever had.

They tortured me for hours. When they finished I hung in my bonds limp as a rag.

“What time is it?” I heard Mary ask Denise.

“It must be around midnight,” Denise answered. She looked at her watch. “Uh oh.”

“What?’

“Its three o’clock in the morning.”

“Oops. My husband isn’t going to be happy.”

“Neither will mine.”

They came over to me. “We have to go home now,” Denise told me.

“One of us will be back sometime tomorrow to check on you,” Mary said. “But we’re going to leave you hanging here until then.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

 

It turned out that Denise stayed in the bungalow and kept an eye on me. She released me at nine in the morning. I was a mass of bruises, welts and burns, but I was completely happy. Denise put me in the bath tub for a long soak, then drove me home. After she left I couldn’t sleep so I made a pot of tea, curled up on the couch and relived every moment of my torture.

I didn’t want Bob to see my bruises and welts. I told him that I’d fallen down a flight of stairs at school and was in no condition for having sex. He saw me hobbling across the parking lot and believed my story. It took three weeks for my body to heal.

 

I gave up on my resolve to stay away from the scene. I called Mary and we all met for a drink.

“Do you have any business for me?” I asked Mary

“Lady L wants to indulge her panty fetish with you.”

“More maid costumes?” I asked.

“Who knows?” she shrugged. “Just expect to go through a lot of panties.”

“Now that you mention it, they do seem to like panties,” I said. “The last time they were more concerned with my panties than tying me up or spanking me.”

“Lady L has a definite panty fetish,” Mary said. “For her own and other women’s. She likes to show hers off and play with other ladies’ panties.”

“She uses girls as live dolls that she can dress and undress,” Denise said. “Especially below the skirt.”

“It ought to be easy to find hookers willing to do that,” I said. “Why does she need me?”

“She and her husband want someone who is in the scene,” Denise said. “And they like you personally. ”

“Lady L also likes to reverse roles sometimes,” Mary said. “She likes to be submissive once in a while but she likes to have another sub with her, one she can trust.”

“Oh?”

“She likes to be humiliated while her husband watches,” Denise said. “She likes to be put on display.”

“Does she like to be whipped?” I asked.

“She prefers spankings,” Denise said. “Especially to have her panties pulled down and bent over someone’s lap.”

“I never would have imagined,” I said. “She seems so frosty.”

“Still waters,” Mary said. “She gets into moods where she can’t get enough submission and humiliation. The more she is degraded the better she likes it.”

“I can identify with that,” I said.

“Wait till you see her flashing people in public,” Denise told me.

“You’re kidding!”

Mary shook her head slowly. “I’ve made her do it.”

“Tell me about it,” I said

 

“Her husband arranged a session with me,” Mary said. “I went to their apartment and he gave me the keys to their car and told me to make her show her panties to as many people as possible. He paid for six hours.”

“Interesting,” I commented.

“I drove the car,” Mary said. “I made her sit with her skirt up to her waist while I took her all over the city.”

“What was she wearing?” I interrupted.”

“An orange dress,” Mary said. “Low neckline and a short skirt. It was very expensive and she wore nice jewelry and shoes. She looked elegant.”

“Did she have on underwear?” I asked.”

“At first,” Mary said. “I made her take off her bra, but let her keep her panties.”

“Lady L isn’t very interested in her breasts,” Denise said. “She is strictly a pussy woman.”

“That’s right,” Mary said. “But I made her remove her bra as part of her humiliation, and I made her play with her nipples so they would be hard and show through her dress.”

“That’s terrific,” I said. My nipples were hard.

“I would sit through red lights so people in the crosswalks could look in the car,” Mary continued. “I went through a dozen drive through hamburger stands and made her turn toward the kids at the windows with her legs open, or bend forward so they could look down her top.

“We parked downtown and I ordered her to keep her legs apart each time she opened the door. I went through a roll of dimes for parking meters. We would wait until a man approached, then she had to drop her purse on the sidewalk and squat with her legs apart to pick it up.”

“That is so fantastic!” I marveled.

“I went one better,” Mary said. “We went to a bank and I had her buy several rolls of coins. She dropped them in the lobby and squatted to pick them up. Back in the car I opened a roll of coins and poured them in her purse. The next time she dropped her purse the coins spilled out and it took her a long time to pick them up. Several gentlemen knelt and helped. She dropped her purse all over Denver that afternoon.”

“And what is so cool,” Denise added. “Is that she is so dignified that no one would ever expect her to be showing her panties on purpose.”

“That’s tight,” Mary said. “But she was hot as hell. She would tell me when her panties were damp and ask permission to change them.”

“In the car?” I asked.

“Nope, I’d stop and she would get out and change her panties in public. She brought several pairs,” Mary said. “I just make sure that there were no children in sight.”

“What else did she do?”

“We went to cafes and she sat with her legs apart. The same thing on park benches and at a bus stop. We got on the bus and rode for an hour and she kept her knees apart the whole time.”

“I’ve done that on busses,” I confessed.

“Me too,” Denise giggled.

“Who hasn’t?” Mary said. “Anyway, we rode the bus for miles along Broadway. Then back to where we started. I made her stand beside the car and take her panties off, and wouldn’t let her put another pair on.”

“Very interesting,” I said.

Mary nodded. “I made her play with her pussy while we drove around. I stopped in a few parking lots and made her get out of the car, raise her skirt and put her fingers up her pussy.”

“And she did that?” I asked astonished.

“Are you kidding? She practically flew out of the car every time. She came several times doing that.”

“Wow.”

“Don’t forget the best part,” laughed Denise.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“We went in the Greyhound bus station,” Mary said. “I made sure that no children were present, then ordered ‘Lady L’ to stand in the middle of the waiting room, lift her skirt and turn in a complete circle.”

“My God!” I gasped. “Did she?”

“She sure did,” Mary said. “When she lifted her skirt the room went silent. I walked out the door. Lady L turned in a slow circle, then dropped her skirt and followed me.”

“Incredible!”

“When we got to the car she leaned against the fender, lifted her skirt and played with her pussy while I unlocked the car. A dozen people watched. She had an orgasm then and there and I had to yell at her to get in the car. She had another orgasm before we were out of the lot and she still masturbated all the way home.”

“I never would have thought she was capable of doing something like that,” I said.

“Its rebellion,” Denise said.

“What is she rebelling against?”

“A lifetime of straight laced proper behavior.”

“Lady L is from a very wealthy and prominent family,” Mary told me. “Her grandfather was a senator and her great grandfather was state governor. She was reminded of her social position and class duties every day of her life.”

“A poor little rich girl, eh?”

“Precisely,” Denise said.

“I don’t think that everything she does is simply rebellion,” Mary said. “I believe that she truly is an exhibitionist.”

“No question about that,” Denise said. “And she’s also a masochist and part time lesbian too.”

Mary shrugged in agreement. “Actually I’ve had three sessions like that with her,” she said. “We’ve been to malls, parks, truck stops and a baseball game. I’m running out of ideas where to take her.”

“A baseball game?”

“A little league game,” Mary said. “I ‘forced’ her to sit in the bleachers with her legs apart. We were behind the dugout. The players got an eyeful.”

“Little league players are young boys,” I said.

“These players were about seventeen and eighteen,” Mary said. “They were old enough to look up her skirt.”

“Why does she need you to be along?” I asked. “If she wants to display herself in public she can just go out and do it.”

“True,” Mary said. “But I think she needs someone to ‘compel’ her to show off. I don’t think she’s secure enough to go out alone. Her husband indulges her every whim. Sometimes he takes her out but she likes to go with other people too.”

“She ought to get a job as a stripper,” I said.

“She would if she could get away with it,” Mary said.

“Maybe you should take her to a strip club on amateur night,” I suggested. “She could get up on stage.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Mary said.

“So she wants another session with me?” I asked.

 

                                                                                CH 21

 

I agreed to another session with Lord and Lady L. They wanted me to participate in a particularly perverse engagement. It was incredibly disgusting and right down my alley.

I was to play their daughter.

Denise told me to dress like a teen aged girl and to wear no makeup. I wore my school girl costume, a short plaid skirt, bobby socks and a blouse.

Lady L greeted me warmly when I arrived and took me to her bedroom. She asked to see my panties. I lifted my skirt and she looked at them for several minutes, then she touched my pussy. She caressed me through the cotton panties and soon had them wet and me squirming. She told me to open my legs, then slipped her hand in my panties. She brought me close to coming then stopped.

“Your outfit is charming,” she said. “But its a little too theatrical for tonight. I have other clothes for you.” She motioned me to follow her in to a large dressing room. She held out a lovely blue dress. It was a girl’s dress.

“Please take off your clothes,” she said to me.

I started unbuttoning my blouse but she stopped me. “I’ll do it,” she said.

I stood as Lady L took undressed me. When I was naked she played with my breasts and pussy for a while, then visibly controlling herself, she stepped back. She took several pair of silk panties from a drawer and held them up deciding which pair I should wear. She took her time and had me try them all on.  She finally decided on a lacy pair in pink. She knelt and held a beautiful pair of white pumps for me to step in to. She slipped the dress over my head and combed my hair. I felt like a doll as she fussed around getting me just right.

I looked at myself in a full length mirror. I turned slowly as I lifted my skirt. The panties were lovely.

“How does everything feel?” Lady L asked.

“Wonderful,” I told her. “My panties feel deliciously tight.”

“Are they too tight?” she frowned. “Uncomfortable?”

I guided her hand to my pussy. “What do you think?”

She caressed the silk between my legs.

“They feel all right,” she said huskily.

“They sure do,” I agreed, “But if you keep doing that they are going to be very damp soon.” She took her hand away.

“May I see your panties?” I asked shyly. She raised her skirt and showed me a pair of white lace ones, so delicate that they were almost transparent. I patted her pussy.

Lady L put her arms around me and pressed her breasts against mine. She kissed me a long sweet time.

“Our guests will be arriving soon,” she told me. “They are gentlemen from out of state and do business with my husband. You will be introduced as my daughter. I’d like you to pretend to be sullen and disobedient, and eventually I will lose patience and be forced to discipline you in front of the guests.”

“In what fashion?” I asked.

“What ever strikes me,” she said. “I don’t want us to be locked into a strict scenario. I want to be spontaneous.”  

“Should I resist, or submit meekly?”

“You can play it by ear,” she said. “But eventually I want you to end up naked.”

“Hmm, You could strip me and tie me up,” I suggested. “Then put me over your lap and spank me.”

“Not bad,” she agreed.

“Are the guests going to participate?” I asked.

“I may permit them to spank you,” she said.

“And fuck me too?”

“Would you agree to that?”

“If you want me to,” I said coyly. “I’ll do anything you want.”

She kissed me. “Who knows what the evening will bring?”

 

When the guests arrived Lady L greeted them and told them that her husband was delayed at his office. She introduced me then ushered them into the living room. I sat in a chair facing them as she poured drinks. I slouched and opened my legs slightly.

“Sit up straight Mary,” Lady L said to me. I rolled my eyes and sat up slightly. I waited until she was looking the other way then opened my knees for a second, giving the guests a quick peek up my skirt. They looked astonished. Lady L noticed the expression on their faces and gave me a withering look.

“Don’t I get something to drink?” I asked petulantly. She handed me glass of soda.

 “I meant something real,” I said.

“I know what you meant dear,” she said sweetly. “But you’re too young for alcohol. You will just have to settle for a soft drink.”

“Oh God,” I muttered. 

She chatted brightly with the gentlemen, while I acted bored and said nothing. I discovered that it was easy to behave childishly. I kept my eyes on the floor and ignored efforts to include me in the conversation. I squirmed around in my chair, crossed and uncrossed my legs and managed to flash the guests several times. I grew more blatant and finally Lady L caught me sitting with my legs open.

“Mary, close your legs and sit like a proper young lady!” she gasped.

I gave her that eye rolling, exasperated to death, ‘how stupid you are Mom’ look that every teen girl masters, and opened my legs wider.

“I told you to close your legs!” she said angrily, then paused. “Are you wearing my panties?” she demanded.

“Maybe,” I said. “So what if I am?”

“Let me see them,” she commanded.

“Make up your mind, Mother,” I said. “First you tell me to close my legs, now you want me to show everybody my panties?”

“Let me see them!” she repeated.

“Anything you say, Mother.”

I stood and lifted my skirt. The guests stared wide eyed.

“Those are my panties,” Lady L gasped angrily. “I’ve told you a hundred times to stop going into my lingerie drawers.”

“Why do you care, Mother?” I asked sarcastically. “You don’t wear panties most of the time anyway.”

“That’s enough of that kind of talk,” she said. “Come here.”

I walked to her, letting my skirt drop. She grasped my wrist and pulled me onto her lap. She raised my skirt and began spanking me.

Lady L really spanked me, there was no pretense, but I’d been spanked much harder. I lay across her lap and took the spanking calmly. I looked at the guests and raised my eyebrows mockingly.

“Mother, if you’re going to punish me in front of these gentlemen, at least try to make it a real spanking,” I said. “This is quite boring.”

She gasped indignantly and spanked me harder. That was better.

My butt was bright red and stinging from her hand, and my pussy was tingling. I wasn’t acting when I began to squirm around on her lap.

“Mmmm, that’s better,” I crooned.

“Don’t pretend you like this,” Lady L said, spanking me harder.

“What ever you say, Mother,” I said, winking at the guests. I reached back and slipped my panties down.

“What are you doing?” Lady L gasped. “What will our guests think?” She tried to tug my panties up.

“I’ll bet these gentlemen have seen girls spanked before,” I said, trying to push them down. We struggled over my panties. I had to keep from giggling.

I rolled off her lap and fell to the floor. I jumped to my feet and took of my panties.

“Here, take your damn panties!” I said. I had my back to the guests. I mouthed ‘fight me” to Lady L and threw them in her face. She didn’t miss a beat. She jumped up and slapped me.

I slapped her back, then shoved her back onto the couch. She grabbed my shoulders and threw me to the floor. I landed on my back with my legs apart. She fell atop me and we pretended to fight. Lady L kept her legs apart and the guests got a good look at her panties and my pussy. We rolled around slapping and squealing and tearing at each others’ clothes until we were nearly naked. 

I enjoyed our fight. It was fun rolling around and we were very excited. At one point I managed to sit on Lady L’s stomach and hold her shoulders down. She kept her legs apart as she huffed and gasped and struggled under me. She rolled me off and got atop me. I permitted her to turn me on my stomach. She began spanking me again.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lord L roared from the doorway.

We stopped fighting.

I got to my feet. “Hi Daddy,” I said meekly. I was stark naked. Lady L’s dress was in tatters and her bra hung loosely from one shoulder. We were pink faced and breathing hard.

Lady L tried to pat her hair in place. She took a deep breath and faced her husband.

“Your daughter has been behaving abominably,” she said.

“All I did was borrow a pair of Mother’s panties,” I said defensively.

“You know she has forbidden you to wear her panties,” he said sternly.

“I know Father, but she never wears them,” I said. “She’s only wearing panties tonight because we have guests.” 

“She’s hardly wearing anything now,” he said.

Lady L blushed and tried to put her bra on.

“Don’t bother,” Lord L told her. “Mary is naked and you might as well be. Your dress is in rags, take it off.”

“Yes dear,” she said meekly. She took off everything but her panties. She looked at her husband pleadingly.

“Go on,” he commanded.

She took her panties off, then took a deep breath and bravely faced her guests.

“I cannot imagine what you gentlemen must think,” Lord L said. “Unfortunately, despite all my efforts, this sort of thing happens all too often in this house.”

They quickly told him that it was nothing at all, and they were enjoying a lovely evening.

“You are very gracious,” he told them. “Never the less, I must ask you to excuse us for a moment while I attend to disciplining my wife and daughter.”  

He motioned us toward the bedroom. Lady L and I followed him meekly.

In the bedroom he told his wife to lie on the bed. She obeyed and he quickly tied her arms and legs to the corners of the bed. Then he ordered me to get atop her.

“Face to pussy,” he said.

I thrilled as I felt the ropes tighten on my wrists and ankles. I’d never been tied to a woman in that position. I felt Lady L’s tongue against my pussy before he finished tying us.

“Enjoy yourselves,” he told us. “I’ll bring our guests in later.”

I barely heard him. I had my tongue deep in his wife’s pussy.

That was the night that I finally admitted to myself that I wanted to have sex with my own mother. As I kissed Lady L between her legs, I desperately wished it was my own mother’s pussy.

I had a very sweet orgasm while tied to Lady L, but it was nothing like the one that roared through my soul when Lord L brought his guests in and invited them to watch us.

“Look at this, gentlemen,” he said. “It is a sad state of affairs when a man must tie his wife and daughter together to keep peace in the house.”

They made understanding noises.

“Every other form of discipline has failed,” he continued. “I’ve tried spanking and whipping them, but they will insist on quarreling. The only way to keep them quiet is to keep their mouths occupied.”

“Do they enjoy this sort of thing?’ one of the guests asked.

“Oh no,” Lord L answered. “They aren’t lesbians, but its the only form of punishment that seems to work.”

I raised my head and looked at them.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Lord L said to me. “Put you tongue back in your mother’s pussy and keep it there.”

That did it! Those words sent me into the most violent, wonderful orgasm of my life! Lady L came too.

“Uh, how long will you keep them tied together?” one of the guests asked when the bed stopped shaking.

“All night,” Lord L said. “They can meditate on the proper way to conduct themselves in front of guests.”

“We were not offended,” the guest said. “Please don’t be too harsh on your family on our account.”

“You are very kind,” Lord L said. “But I am resolved that they shall spend at least eight hours tied together. Would you mind if we brought our drinks in here? That way I can keep an eye on them while we talk.”

They didn’t object at all.

The men sat in the bedroom and chatted while Lady L and I suffered our just punishment. (And suffered through several more orgasms).

Lord L was a man of his word. The old dear kept us tied all night, even after the guests departed.

               

 

                                                                                CH 22

 

Lady L and I played that scenario for many years. We refined it over time and our act was quite convincing. They went so far as to take me to a photo studio where we posed for a family portrait. They put the photo on display when they invited guests over for one of our performances.

Depending on their mood, they had me take part in other scenarios. Sometimes I was simply a sex slave and enjoyed an evening of bondage and spanking. There were times when Lady L summoned me to be her maid and I prissed around like Betty Boop. I showed off my panties, exposed my boobs, was remiss in my duties and had to be disciplined. Most of the time Lady L was quite stern and controlling, but on rare occasions she joined me as a submissive.

Lord L hosted poker parties. When Lady L was in a submissive mood she and I played the roles of serving girls. The first time I participated she met me at the door wearing panties and bra, stockings, a garter belt and heels. She dressed me the same way.

When the guests arrived she met them at the door and showed them to the card room. They usually patted her bottom along the way. We served them drinks and snacks. We rubbed against them as we filled their drinks or wiped off the table. We giggled like twits when they squeezed our boobs and patted our behinds. I was mildly shocked when one of the card players unzipped his trousers and brought out a very erect cock. Lady L tittered and asked if he would like her to suck it. He nodded and she crawled under the table. Lord L calmly watched for a moment, then returned his attention to his cards.

“You might as well get under the table and help,” he told me.

I found it fantastically exciting to be under that table. All the men had undone their trousers and every cock was hard. Lady L and I crawled from man to man. I marveled at how Lady L could go from a dignified high society lady to a cock sucking slut. It was a real turn for me to watch her expression when a man spurted cum in her face.

It wasn’t unusual for a guest to take a break from the game and take one of us to a bedroom. Sometimes we were fucked in the same bed and sometimes the poker game was put on hold while all the guests screwed us. Lord L watched calmly as his wife screwed two, sometimes three men at once.

For me the poker nights were ok. The sex was good, but there wasn’t much bondage. I did it to help Lady L live out her fantasies.

 

Lord and Lady L were very generous to me and took me on trips where I pretended to be their daughter. We went to resorts in the Caribbean and Mexico. We put on our act at parties and one time on a yacht in Puerto Vallarta our cat fight set off an orgy among two dozen guests. Things got so wild so quickly that Lady L and I didn’t get tied together. A man pulled her off me and threw her over his shoulder. He took her into the main cabin and dropped her on the bed. I landed beside her and in an instant we were being screwed side by side.

Everyone tried to crowd into the cabin to watch. Soon all the women were naked and people were fucking all over the boat.

They were intrigued to have a mother and daughter in bed together. All the men (and a few women) took turns with us. Lady L and I got the screwing of our lives that night.

Things settled down after a couple of hours. Everyone collapsed in exhaustion. Lady L and I lay in a very sticky bed. She was staring at the ceiling rubbing cum into her skin  I decided to put on our mother/daughter lesbian act. I got between her legs and began licking her pussy. She lay back and enjoyed that for a while, then told me to get on top and in sixty nine position. We made so much noise that the other guests came in. This time there was total silence as they watched awestruck. A man suggested that all the women should get in bed with us, and several did. Soon the master cabin was a mass of female bodies. It was very erotic and the only downside was that it was an ordinary orgy with no bondage at all

.

In hotels we always wandered on to the balcony naked or arranged to have the maids discover us in the shower together or tied to a bed. Lord L tipped generously and convinced the maids to go about cleaning the room and not pay any attention to his wife and daughter tied with our faces in each other’s pussies. 

We also shocked people on the beach or by the pool by rubbing sun tan lotion on each other. Lady L and I would start out innocently enough, but then she would slip her hand inside my bra or panties, and we would become more and more daring until our bras came off. Sometimes I’d lay on my stomach and Lady L would slide my bikini panties down to rub lotion on my bottom. I’d get excited and start moving my hips. Eventually we’d make a show of going up to our rooms with the obvious intention of having sex. Lord L would sit nearby and later he’d repeat the comments people made about us.

We particularly liked resorts with nude beaches. Lady L and I would stroll along the beach naked and chat with people we met. I absolutely loved walking around naked and had my picture taken many times by other tourists. Lady L liked it too but she wore dark sunglasses and carried a big hat, and put it on when some one photographed her. She wanted to protect her identity and if her face was unrecognizable she would pose outrageously for any stranger with a camera. One Canadian gentleman shot a dozen rolls of film while we posed in pure pornography.

Once on a walk I talked her into letting me tie her up in the jungle. We went a few yards off the beach and I tied her to a palm tree with the strings from her bikini, then I tied myself to another tree. We stayed there for an hour and she was so excited that as soon as I untied us we made love then and there. I got in the habit of carrying rope on our walks. It was fun seeing people’s reactions when they saw the rope in my hand. I’d tie us to trees and we would listen to people strolling past. We always hoped someone would discover us and do wicked things to our bodies.

Another time in Costa Rica we were by the pool doing our suntan lotion act in the nude and got so carried away that hotel security officers made us stop. They told us that nudity was permitted on the beach, but not on the hotel grounds. They asked us to put on our bathing suits.

Lady L rose to her feet with massive dignity and defiantly tossed our bikinis away, then told me to come to the room. We walked through the crowd hand in hand. The security chief followed us. Lady L left the door open and as he stood outside she took me in her arms and kissed me. We rubbed our breasts together, then I knelt and kissed her pussy while she slammed the door in his face.

 

Authors note: I apologize that some of the previous parts of my memoirs are out of sequence.

There was a problem in submitting them to the web site.


                               CH 27



Dale finished the pillory and celebrated by taking me to dinner. I met him at his house. I wore a formal dinner dress, garter belt and stockings and spike heels, but no underwear. I brought my tightest pussy belt but didnt put it on. When I arrived I lifted my skirt and asked him to lock it on me. He surprised me by presenting me with a pussy chain. It was made of flattened gold links and locked with a tiny gold padlock. The links were large and the belt was delightfully heavy. It came in a pretty velvet lined box.

I held my skirt up as Dale locked the chain  onto me and for once he took  some liberties. He played with my pussy. When he had me squirming with arousal he locked the chain in place and wouldnt let me come. Then he opened another box and gave me a necklace and set of earrings, all made of the same golden chain. I put them on. My dress was dark blue and set off the gold exquisitely.

Dale led me to his car. I made sure I opened my legs as he held the door open. I wanted him to see the chain between my legs. The valet parking attendant also got a look when he opened my door when we arrived at the restaurant.

The restaurant was one of the best in Denver. I dont know what it was about that chain, perhaps it was the moment, the formal clothes, the elegant setting, but I was so excited that I could barely walk. The maitre d greeted us warmly but looked in surprise at my flushed face and rapid breathing. Needless to say, my nipples were as hard as rocks and showing against the material of my dress. We drew a lot of attention as we walked to our table.

When we were seated I leaned close and told Dale that his chain was liable to make me have an orgasm before the dinner was over. He just smiled and raised his wine glass to me.

It took a supreme effort of will but I managed not to have an orgasm in the restaurant.

The chain gave Dale an idea for another invention and at dinner he discussed making a vibrator that could be activated by remote control. He decided that it could be held in place by a metal chastity belt with a lock. I agreed but told him that Id never worn a full metal chastity belt so could he please make one for me? He nodded absently then talked about the difficulties of making a radio receiver and batteries powerful enough to operate the vibrator but small enough to conceal under a womans clothing. He opened his notebook and began making sketches at the table. The waitress glanced at his drawing and almost dropped her pitcher of water. Dale was so engrossed that he didnt notice but I smiled sweetly at her. She blushed and walked quickly away. She came back and pretended to tend the table setting while she was peeking at his sketches. I was biting tongue trying not to laugh. Dale was oblivious and just worked away.

She gasped when I suggested that the thing have two vibrators. Dale didnt look up, he just nodded. Then I suggested that the radio should have a long range so it could be activated from miles away.

The idea of walking around wearing such a device was very erotic. I imagined being in class or in a crowd when my master across town flipped a switch and vibrators unexpectedly came to life inside me. I could see myself trying to act normal while orgasms were rippling through my body and soul. It wasnt bondage but it certainly was a wonderful way to be in someones control. Once again my overactive imagination kicked in.

I ate my dinner absently as scenarios came to mind. I looked around the room at dozens of well dressed ladies and imagined them secretly wearing vibrators. I thought about a huge master control transmitter that could activate all the vibrators simultaneously.

Somewhere in a secret underground laboratory a sadistic mad scientist turned away from the dozen or so naked women he had chained to a wall and went to the control panel of his infernal device. He leered wickedly as he turned it on. Huge sparks crackled between electrodes as he threw switch after switch. Like Doctor Frankensteins laboratory, the air filled with buzzing, crackling electricity that almost drowned out the screams and whimpers of his slaves. ( Some of the poor women screamed because, like the ladies in the restaurant, they wore vibrators in their pussies and asses. They screamed in terrified anticipation of what was to come. Other slaves who didnt wear vibrators whimpered in frustration, because they were to miss out on what was to come.)

Finally, after a dramatic pause, the mad sadist threw the final switch and the signal went out to all the vibrators in the city.

I imagined the ladies ( myself included ) jerking in unison as our vibrators unexpectedly came to life. I envisioned the widened eyes and suppressed gasps, the dropped forks and sudden inability to sit still. I fantasized that even the waitresses had to desperately keep from dropping trays. I gazed around the restaurant and pretended all  the women were managing to conceal the heat in their pussies while the distant madman increased  the power. I giggled as I imagined a faint buzzing sound filling the room, coming from all those hot damp pussies. Elegant ladies set their faces and grabbed the table as they tried bravely to ride out the increased humming in their vaginas. Their foreheads beaded with sweat and their breasts heaved. Rock hard nipples showed through evening gowns and formal dresses. Legs were crossed and uncrossed, knees came wide apart under the tables. 

Then the wicked master hit full power. A woman gasped and threw her head back. Another clenched her teeth and a third rolled her eyes back and collapsed in  her chair. A woman staggered to her feet and walked to the ladies room, trying to move normally. Another followed, then another. They walked faster and faster, then broke into a run and suddenly there was a wild scramble as every woman in the building tried to crowd into the restroom.

Inside was a densely packed mass of female flesh writhing as orgasms roared through their bodies. Some women tore their tops down exposing their breasts others yanked their skirts up and grabbed their pussies. Stranger hugged each other, some even kissing wildly. An elderly lady pulled another womans hand onto her breasts and begged her to hurt them. The stranger obligingly dug her nails in to soft the breasts and squeezed with all her might. The elderly woman closed her eyes dreamily as the other womans fingernails left deep bruises.

Gasps and whimpers and squeals filled the air causing the men outside to smile at each other knowingly. Finally as the orgasms subsided we ladies returned to our seats with as much dignity as we could manage, dabbing at perspiration on our faces and trying to tidy our hair. We almost made it when the master hit the switch again.

I roused from my daydream to see Dale smiling at me quizzically. I was squirming in my chair pretending the vibrator was up my pussy. A couple at the next table was looking at me curiously. Our waitress was staring at me from across the room. I leaned close and told him my fantasy.

Dale roared with laughter.

“You ought to mass produce the vibrators and make them available to all the men in Denver,” I said. “Every woman ought be made to wear one by her husband or boyfriend.”

“Thats an interesting and erotic scenario,” he chuckled. “But a bit impractical. Think of all the auto accidents that might happen. We would have to ban women from driving cars.”

“A small price to pay,” I said. ( I would happily give up my drivers license if I could get someone to force me to walk around with  vibrators in my body. )

The waitress came by to refill our water glasses and made no attempt to conceal her interest. Dale looked at her in surprise but I motioned her close.

“Hes an inventor,” I told her. “Were working on a remote control vibrator for women that can be locked in place.”

Dale blushed.

She thought for a moment. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“Keep in mind this would be for sex slaves,” I told her. “Once the belt is locked on you cant get out of it until your master releases you.”

“Sounds better and better,” she said. She turned to Dale. “Ill take one, and put me on your mailing list.”

Dales mouth dropped open and he tuned in his chair to stare at her as she walked away. I giggled at his astonishment. For all the women hed tied up and made love to, he really knew nothing at all about them.

After dinner we went back to Dales house and he locked me into the pillory. He played with my pussy until I was millimeters from coming, then hed stop. He kept that up for hours and when I begged and pleaded to cum, he just gagged me. Dale tortured me until the wee hours, then left me in the pillory and went to bed. I was dying of frustration and arousal. I whimpered and squirmed all night until I finally fell asleep. I woke with Dales cock in my pussy. As soon as I realized what was happening I had a terrific orgasm. Dale screwed me for a very long time. When he was ready to cum he removed my gag and thrust his cock in my mouth. I sucked him eagerly and he spurted so much that I couldnt swallow it all.

After wards he released me and cooked breakfast while I showered.


I told MAC about  Dales pillory. He was interested and told me he would buy one if he could find a place to keep it. My apartment wouldnt do. It was too small and for obvious reasons he couldnt take it home. I suggested that Mary or Denise might let him keep it at one of their dungeons.

He laughed when I told him about the idea for the remote control vibrators and my fantasies at the restaurant. He liked the concept of pushing a button and sending every woman in Denver into unexpected orgasms. He mused about applying for the position of mad scientist.

He hoped that Dale could design a working model. MAC told me would buy a whole case of remote control vibrators, and with a wicked leer, told me that I could expect to have mine come on at the most unexpected times.

“Why would you want to buy a whole case?” I demanded. “Who else are you going to put them on?”

“Just you,” he replied. “I figure to use them on you so often that theyll probably wear out pretty quickly. Ill want some spares.”

What a sweetie!


CH 28


Dale never managed to make the remote control vibrator work to his satisfaction. The technology of the seventies didnt provide for a unit that was small enough to conceal. I believe that someone has invented such a thing now ( in 2007 ) and I would like to get one ( or a whole case of them ) and let MAC put it in me. Who knows, maybe Ill order some for Mom too.

Dale started another project. It was an X cross made of stainless steel that was adjustable as to the angle of the cross, and had sliding motorized cuffs for the slaves wrists and ankles. It was fairly simple and he  locked me onto it several times. I loved the feeling of pure helplessness. At a touch of a button Dale could make the arms of the cross open or close.

The feeling was indescribable. I was as helpless as a baby as the arms slowly and inexorably opened to their full extent., then paused and closed just as slowly. The sensation between my legs was wonderful. I had several orgasms just from the motion of the cross.  Another button made the wrist cuffs slide up or down the upper arms of the cross. The higher they went the tighter my body was stretched. It was like a medieval rack and I liked the feel of being stretched. Dale planned to add the same attachments on the pillory, like the automatic flogger, the electric nipple clamps, and the pumping dildo.

He was working on the final details when he died.


Dale went to visit his brother in Oregon. His brother was a retired navy pilot. They went flying one afternoon in a small plane and were on approach to land when a sudden down draft, called a micro burst, slammed their plane into the ground killing them both.

Dales son came to town to settle his affairs and was shocked to discover the torture equipment. He dismantled it and threw it away. I couldnt bring myself to ask for it. I would have paid for it but realized that I would have embarrassed Dales son by asking.

I went to Dales funeral but knew no one else there. I was sitting alone when I was approached by a very elegant and famous lady. I will not hint at her name except to say that she was known world wide as one of the greatest ballerinas of the twentieth century.

She introduced herself and floored me by saying: “You are the young woman helping Dale with his invention, arent you?”

I almost fainted with surprise.

“How did you know about that?” I managed to gasp.

“Dale was my next door neighbor,” she said. “We were friends. He told me about his invention and how you modeled it.”

“He told you about it?”

“He originally asked me to be his model,” she said. “I turned him down. Now that hes gone Im almost sorry I did.”

“Are you in to bondage?”

She shrugged and smiled “Once in a while,” she said. “Like most women, but I readily admit that Im not in your league. Dale told me about you. I was impressed.”

“Oh, my God!”

She smiled sympathetically. “Dont be embarrassed ,” she said kindly. “Dale thought very highly of you. You brought him a great deal of pleasure.”

“My God, what you must think of me.”

“I envy you,” she said. “I think you are a very fortunate young woman. You have more courage and freedom than any woman I know.”

“I dont know about courage,” I said.  “Its more like an addiction.”

“Perhaps, but I would give anything to be able to do the things you do without worrying about it appearing in the newspapers or someones memoirs.”

She put my arm in hers and we walked to the door. Waiting outside were news photographers. There was a stir when they spotted her. Cameras began clicking. She gave a tiny tired sigh, but marched on.  A television reported thrust a microphone at her and asked for a comment. She turned to me and kissed me on the cheek.

“Im glad that I met you,” she said warmly. “By the way, I admire your necklace.”

I was wearing the gold necklace Dale had given me. She was wearing an identical one. She smiled and gave me the tiniest of winks.

I started to walk away, then turned back.

“Have you been locked in Dales infernal machine?” I whispered.

She didnt answer, she just looked into my eyes for a moment, then touched my lip with her finger.

I walked away and she turned to the reporter. I glanced back. She was idly caressing her necklace as she talked to the reporters. I had a sudden image of her wearing one of Dales remote controlled vibrators under her dress.


That night I dreamt of Dales funeral, and my sick, perverted mind turned it into a bondage orgy.

I dreamt that  all women who arrived were required to undress in the foyer of the funeral home. We were locked into hand cuffs and slave collars. I was there, one of dozens of women wearing only hats and veils, stockings and heels, and panties. The staff locked our wrists behind our backs and connected our collars with light chains. Then we were led into the viewing room.  Beside Dales casket was a small platform with two steps covered with black cloth. As we filed slowly past Dales casket each woman climbed the steps and stood as a member of the staff removed our panties and placed them on the casket.

During the service we knelt with our heads bowed and our knees apart. Afterwards our collar chain was linked to the back of the hearse and we followed it slowly to the cemetery.

Then my dream shifted to a great theater. A benefit ballet was being performed in Dales honor. His neighbor, the elegant ballerina came out of retirement for this one performance. She danced Swan Lake to a packed house. When the wicked Swan king claimed the Swan Princess he demonstrated his dominance by stripping her naked and locking a golden chain through her pussy. In the final scene, when the handsome prince defeated the Swan King and rescued the Swan Princess he clipped a golden leash to her collar and led her away to ecstatic slavery.

Despite my perverse dreams I grieved for Dale.

I cried for days. Mary and Denise came to my apartment and sat with me, and MAC came by. I curled up in his lap and finally got a few hours sleep. Then, being the dear understanding friend he was, he told his wife he was going away on business and took me to his cabin.

As soon as we were out of the city He ordered me to undress. He handcuffed my wrists and ankles and I rode all the way to the cabin naked. At the cabin MAC tied me to the bed for three solid days.  Im not exaggerating! He kept me tied to the bed in the same position for almost seventy-two hours. He only let me up for short breaks. The rest of the time he whipped me and screwed me almost non stop. He fed me sitting naked on my chest and gave me drinks through a straw. I loved every second, but when he released me I had trouble standing. It was as if Id forgotten how.

MACs therapy helped a lot, but I still mourned for Dale. He was almost like a father to me, and I liked him for himself, not just for the bondage. I wish Id been able to get him and Mom together. I think they would have understood each other. I often wonder if he might not have made her his lifetime slave, like I am to MAC.


To this day I think of Dale whenever I am locked into a pillory or have a vibrator put inside me.


I went home to the farm and cried a little more. When I arrived I called Mom at the bank and told her Id be in the barn. I stripped naked and walked around the yard, then climbed to the loft. It was comforting to tie myself into my old tortured rack and to lie there all afternoon. I tied myself tightly, so that I couldnt get loose until  Mom came home and released me.

       Mom was understanding. She sat beside the rack and we talked for a long time. After dinner she helped me hang by my wrists from the loft crane. She sat in the loft and we talked some more. Mostly we talked about loss and grief, but our conversation did creep around to bondage and sex. I told her about spending three days tied to a bed in a cabin. I went into some detail, and although it was too dark in the loft for me to see what Mom was doing, her breathing gave me a pretty good idea.

       Mom went to bed and left me hanging all night. It was wonderful. I hung there twisting slowly in the breeze, my shoulders aching and my wrists numb. I listened to the night sounds and the occasional passing car, then watched the sunrise the next morning. I dozed from time to time and had some sweet erotic dreams.

       After the sun was up I smelled bacon cooking in the house. Mom came out and lowered me to the ground. I ate breakfast in the nude, then crawled into bed.

       I didnt leave the farm that visit. I didnt go in to town or see any of my friends. I just stayed naked and bound the entire time.

One hot night I walked naked down to the road and tied myself to the gate post. A short time later Mom arrived, also naked and tied herself to the other post. That night I told her about Dales idea for a remote controlled vibrator. She thought it was a good idea. She chuckled when I told her about my fantasy in the restaurant and shrieked with laughter when I told her what the waitress said to Dale. When I told her about my dreams of Dales funeral and the ballet she said that I was a terribly degenerate girl and would I please tell her more?

I also told her about my fantasy about demonstrating the pillory. I recounted dreaming about being tortured on stage by Dale and his female assistant. I just didnt mention that she was the assistant.

Between us we came up with some pretty wild scenarios for Dales inventions. Mom decided that she would have liked to be a demonstrator for the X cross as well as the remote controlled vibrators.

“Maybe the bank manager would let you set up a display in the lobby,” I giggled.

She made a lot of bad jokes about farmers coming to the bank to make deposits.

We talked and laughed until three in the morning,. We decided that if anyone were to come along and find us we would submit to anything they wanted, but no cars came by, not even a deputy sheriff.


Before he died Dale made a metal chastity belt for me. Its stainless steel and too bulky to conceal under clothing. The only times Ive worn it in public is during the winter under a heavy coat. I still have it and its not adjustable, so in order to fit into it Ive had to keep my waistline under control. Ive dieted and exercised all my life to be able to fit into it. It would break my heart if I couldnt wear it.

I still have my golden chains too. They are my most treasured possessions. I wear them, especially the pussy chain, so much that some of the links have actually become slightly thinner. Ive loaned them to Mom too. 

                                       CH 29


A few months after Dales death I took a job as a night auditor at an armored car company. The job involved reconciling invoices against customer accounts. The work was tedious but it did require a high degree of precision. Money institutions are very fussy about accounting for every penny,  they want everything to balance. For that reason I worked in a quiet place as free of distractions as possible.

I sat alone in a large office from eleven at night until seven in the morning. During the day and evening shifts the office was staffed by a dozen or so people, but at night I was by myself.  After the swing shift crew went home I was locked in the office by myself until seven a.m.

The armored  car company was a fascinating place. It was a repository for millions of dollars in cash, much of it in massive amounts of coin. We stored money for banks and there was so much that they actually used forklifts and little tractors to move it around. In one sense, the money was just a lot of freight to be handled.

Security was tight. There were armed guards on duty around the clock. Some were company employees and some were off duty police officers moonlighting for extra pay. Identification was checked and double checked at the door by men who were very conscientious. When they opened the big garage doors to let the armored cars in and out men armed with shotguns stood on the sidewalks until the doors were closed. 

Employees couldnt just wander around  the place. We were only permitted to go to and from our authorized areas and if someone tried to go through the wrong door they could get in a lot of trouble.

My office wasnt considered a particularly high security area, not as important as the main vaults or the cash handling department, but it had thick concrete walls, heavy steel doors, and had to be staffed at all times. The walls were so thick that no sound penetrated. One time a guard accidentally fired his shotgun into the ceiling in the main bay and I didnt hear it.

If I wanted to leave the office I had to call the shift supervisor and get permission, and I had to have a good reason. The supervisor would have to send someone to relieve me. It was often difficult to find a relief, even for a few minutes so I was encouraged to stay in the office. Since my duties didnt involve moving around the building I couldnt justify asking for a relief. Getting bored and wanting to wander around did not qualify. There was a employee break room but my office had a restroom, a refrigerator, a hot plate and a coffee pot so I was encouraged to take my breaks in the office.

The facility was busy around the clock and armored  cars came and went at all hours. I was surprised to learn that they had over the road routes that covered rural areas of the state. They drove very large armored cars with four man crews. They stopped at banks and businesses in small towns all over Colorado. They even had  routes that made a week long circuit through surrounding states. I checked and found that one of our trucks stopped at Moms bank once a week.

Messengers, drivers, and guards were always coming and going, and there were night shifts for the switchboard, dispatch center, maintenance crews,  janitors and mechanics. They even had an indoor car wash crew.

My office was a large open room with about ten desks and work tables. Smaller offices branched off as well as more work rooms, storage rooms, file rooms and supply closets. 

At night packages of money were made up in the cash department and coin vault and set aside for the next shift. Those packages were huge and could fill several pallets,  but some packages were small, sometimes no more than an envelope. The large packages were staged in a huge room but the smaller ones had a tendency to get lost so they were kept in my office. After the crews loaded the large packages on their trucks they would come to my office for the small ones. We had a window with a sliding steel door mounted in the wall. It had metal screens on the sides so that anyone standing outside couldnt look in to the office. All they could see was the person inside the window.

When the messengers came they pushed a buzzer and I would go to the window. All shift long that buzzer went off with packages being delivered by the cash room staff or picked up by the messengers. 

We stacked the packages on shelves beside the window. They were sealed in tamper proof containers and I actually never touched the money. All I had to do was get a receipt.

The accounting work was not demanding and I worked quickly. I usually got through the auditing within five or six hours. After that I had nothing to do but respond to the buzzer, and about half way through the sift that tapered off. It was boring and I was permitted to bring in books and magazines, but you can only read so much.

One night out of boredom I decide to tidy up the place. Some of the storerooms hadnt been cleaned in years. There were piles of dusty wrapping materials, boxes with odds and ends, ancient coffee cups, stacks of unused company forms and just plain trash. Among the junk I found a box full of nylon webbing.

I started in one store room. I set aside anything that looked like it was usable and threw away everything else. I filled a dozen big trash bags and called for a janitor to come take them away. Then I began tidying up the room. When I finished I took the box of webbing to my desk. I sorted the straps then began rolling them into neat bundles. I was rolling the straps and putting rubber bands on them when suddenly I had a vision of myself in bondage, tied up with nylon webbing.

It came out of nowhere! One moment I was working and the next I was so horny that I couldnt believe it. It was as if Id been physically hit. It was disconcerting and I jumped to my feet and walked around the room. My face was flushed and I was breathing very hard. I tried to be professional and put it out of  my mind. I took a deep breath and marched back to my desk and finished rolling up the straps. Then I placed them neatly in the box and put it in a supply room. I busied myself with other little tasks and tried to ignore the throbbing between my legs.

The erotic feeling was wonderful, but I was disturbed that the mere sight of some old webbing could affect me so powerfully. Normally I would have promptly tied myself up right then and there, but I felt that it would be unprofessional. I was being paid to do a job, not to give in to my erotic whims.

The company was very strict and from the beginning  I was impressed with the high degree of sober, professional behavior among the employees. It wasnt like my job at the mall. I knew that I shouldnt try the kind of shenanigans Id pulled there. I concentrated on my work.

Im a very weak woman and my resolve lasted about an hour. The box of straps was calling to me. I was so aroused that I gave in.

I went to the box and took out a handful of the straps. I returned to my desk and  just looked at them. I was like a reformed alcoholic staring at a bottle of booze trying not to give in to temptation. I wasnt strong enough. I gave up the fight and buckled a strap around my ankles.

I felt that old familiar flash of heat in my pussy. I added a strap to my knees and really tightened that one. I wanted to tie my hands but didnt dare. The straps were wide and stiff and had to be buckled not tied. I was afraid if I somehow managed to buckle one around my wrists I might not be able to get free. (I later experimented at my apartment and found that to be exactly the case. I couldnt get loose and had to have Bob come free me). Having my legs tied so tightly was enough to bring me close to an orgasm. I wanted to touch my pussy but I was wearing slacks. I was debating whether to take my pants off when the buzzer sounded. A messenger was at the window.

I was startled and instinctively jumped to my feet. I forgot that my legs were bound, fell onto the desk and smashed my breasts hard. That caused an orgasm, but I didnt have time to enjoy it. I tried to stand up, toppled sideways and landed on the floor. I panicked and frantically tried to loosen the webbing but the buckles were too tight. The buzzer sounded again so I grabbed the desk, pulled myself got to my feet and hopped to the window. I took a deep breath and slid it open.

The messenger didnt notice anything amiss. The walls were so thick that he didnt hear the clatter when I fell off the desk. He smiled and asked for his packages. I asked him to wait a moment, closed the window and hopped to the shelf were the packages were kept. I got his packages, hopped back, smoothed my hair and tried to control my breathing. I opened the window and signed them out to him.

After he left I hopped to a chair and managed to get the webbing loose. Then I yanked my slacks down., spread my legs and played with my pussy until I came. After I calmed down I stepped out of my slacks and panties and washed my face at the rest room. As I walked to my desk I realized that I was naked from the waist down. That was exciting! Feeling guilty, wicked and sexy, I rolled the webbing up and returned it to the box, then reluctantly I got dressed.  

Day shift arrived and I went home. I slept fitfully and dreamt of being in bondage.

I resisted doing bondage at work because I didnt want to get caught and lose my job and my reputation. All the daring and naughty things Id done in the past, from renting myself out as a slave to indulging Lady L in her fantasies had been done under the protection of anonymity. Even when I was arrested and spent the night in the police station it had been done under a false name. This was different. If I got caught everyone would know.

Except that was exciting! The risk of getting caught made tying myself all the more tempting. During my hours of broken sleep I slipped into a dream.

I dreamt I was at work, naked and strapped up like a mummy. I had tied myself but Id overdone it.  The webbing was so tight that I couldnt get free. I couldnt get up to answer the window. The messengers  buzzed and buzzed but I couldnt move. Finally a supervisor came in and found me. The messengers followed him and everyone stared at me. The supervisor took me to the general managers office.

He brought in two security officers. They didnt untie me. The supervisor wanted the general manager to see what Id done to myself. They stood me up then marched me out the door, across the central bay and up the stairs into the administrative offices. (I say marched but since my legs were tightly bound I had to hop, which made my boobs jiggle nicely). All work came to a stop and the noisy building became silent as everyone stared at me. I was in an agony of embarrassment.

I stood blushing in front of the general managers desk while the supervisor made his report. The manager made me tell him what Id been doing. I confessed to being a kinky, perverted sex obsessed little slut. He told me that he had no choice but to fire me, but I begged and pleaded and offered to submit to any punishment  if only I could keep my job. I suggested that he make me kneel and suck his cock, as well as the shift supervisors and the guards. They suggested that it would be a sufficient punishment but he thought it over and decided that I would have to be whipped instead. I agreed and begged him to whip me on the spot. He decided that my punishment would have to be done in public.

He told the guards to take me down to the bay. I hopped back down the stairs and eagerly followed them to the center of the room. Everyone in the building gathered round while a cable was lowered from the ceiling and attached to my ankles. I was hoisted upside down and the manager told them that Id been caught  tying myself up on company time, then he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves and gave me the whipping of my life. Afterwards I was left hanging for the other shifts to see as a warning to other wicked women who might be tempted to tie themselves up on the job.

I awoke from that dream in a hot sweat. I threw off the covers, spread my legs and masturbated furiously.


When I went to work that night I gave up on my resolve to be good. I was hopeless. I wore a skirt and high heels, which attracted a lot of attention as I crossed the bay. I stopped at the supply room and asked for a work smock and a sweater. (Many of the women wore smocks to keep their street clothes clean and the place could get chilly at night so the company provided sweaters). The smocks were simple cotton wrap arounds that secured with a tie.

The sweaters came in two styles, pull over and cardigan. They are good quality, thick and warm and  have the company logo embroidered on them. The man in supply bent the rules and gave me one of each.

(I still have both sweaters. They are old and worn now, but sometimes on a cool day when Im alone in the house I slip one on. And I dont wear anything else).

As soon as I was alone in the office I stripped naked and fashioned a hobble for my ankles out of webbing. Moving around was slow but sexy. I could take only small steps which made my boobs jiggle. I fell over a few times until I got the hang of walking in hobble and heels. I worked in the nude for several hours but got cold so I put on the sweater. I was still naked from the waist down but that was just fine. I waited in anticipation for the first messenger to come to the window.

I jumped when the buzzer finally rang, but spread my legs and played with myself for a few seconds, then hobbled to the window. The messenger couldnt see that I was naked below the waist. He also didnt seem to notice that I took very small steps as I gave him his packages.

Later in my shift I got colder so I traded my sweater for the smock and I added a pussy rope I improvised out of some heavy twine. It wasnt like Dales wonderful golden chain, but it would suffice. It kept my pussy warm and damp.

Later I brought a tee shirt and kept it in my locker. It was short and didnt even reach my navel. Sometimes I wore it when I answered the window. It had the added advantage of showing my nipples clearly. The messengers were in no hurry to leave when I wore that shirt.


I wanted to wear my golden pussy chain to work, but decided that it would likely set off the metal detectors. It might be erotic, having to strip in front of the security men and to explain my chain, but it would have cost me my job. I didnt dare take any of my bondage gear to work so I had to improvise with what I could find around the office.

When my shift was over I went home, tied my self to my bed and slept soundly.


Working naked wasnt as risky as it sounds because only one other person, the shift supervisor, had access to my office. To get in he rang the buzzer, then went to the door and inserted his key in the lock. He had to turn the key while I pushed a button on the inside.

The supervisor rarely came in and I always had enough warning to take my hobble off and slip into my smock. If I was slow answering the door he assumed I was busy in the file room in the back. In an emergency he could get in by calling the guard in the main control room and having him unlock the door by remote control. That was meant to be used only in the event that the girl inside had dropped dead of a heart attack or something. 


Each night I cleaned another of the work rooms. The junk that I came across was astonishing, and I found many things to use for bondage.

I found some plastic pipe an inch in diameter. I cut a foot long section using a box knife. It made an excellent spreader bar. I threaded a strap through the pipe and buckled each end around my legs just above my knees. It kept my legs wide apart and I loved sitting at my desk wearing it. I worked that way for hours. Other times I simply strapped my ankles to the legs of my chair.

At first glance you wouldnt think that an office would provide many opportunities for bondage, but never underestimate the abilities of a determined, perverted young woman.

I discovered hooks on the ceilings, an overhead track in the hallway, heavy shelving in the store rooms and lots of pipes. Id back up to a pipe, reach back and tie my wrist behind it as if to a stake. The overhead track was perfect for hanging by my wrists. And there were desks, tables, and chairs; all sorts of wonderful things for a girl to tie herself to.


                               CH 30


The department manager was a starchy, no nonsense older woman named Lillian. She was in her forties and ran that department with an iron hand. I never saw her smile. She dressed rather severely and wore her hair in a bun. Behind her back everyone called her Mrs. Grundy. She had heavy breasts, a thick waist, and fat legs, and she turned me on like crazy!

She had pictures of her children on her desk but never talked about them or her husband. She had a wall around herself like a fortress. I liked to imagine that beneath her iron exterior there was a hot passionate dominatrix and with my attraction to older women I wanted to be dominated by her.

She often arrived early and was working long before the day shift came in. One morning I brought her a cup of coffee and tried to chat but she let me know that she was too busy. I wondered what she would have done if she knew that a few hours earlier I had tied myself naked in her chair.

I was intrigued by that cold, aloof woman. I wondered if I could entice her out of that emotional castle and seduce her. I flirted a tiny bit but she paid no attention and I didnt dare become too obvious.

I dreamt of being her slave. I wanted to kneel at her feet and see her smile down at me as she lifted her skirt.

I was at my desk one morning waiting to get off work. Lillian came in but barely acknowledged my existence. I watched her putter around the office for a few minutes, then sit down. I slipped into a daydream where I was tied naked under her desk. I imagined that she wasnt wearing panties. She spread her legs and I looked lovingly at her pussy. She put her hand between her legs and motioned me to come close. I inched forward on my knees and put my face in her pussy. She clamped her legs together and held my head tightly between her thighs. I licked and kissed her pussy until she had an orgasm, then her hand reappeared and motioned me back. I backed up and waited.

All day I knelt under Lillians desk and all day she sat with her legs apart tantalizing me. From time to time she would put her hand under the desk and point at her pussy and I would bring her to another orgasm. I had to be alert, any delay on my part made her angry and I would be punished. She would pull me from under the desk by my hair, bend me over her lap and spank me. In my dream spanking was Lillians standard method of punishing  subordinates. Several times a day she would bring other women into her office and spank them for some infraction. From my little cave under her desk I watched as other women were bent over her lap with their skirts up and panties down.  

My fantasy grew and in it I became Lillians permanent office slave. My only duty was to eat her pussy.  She had one of the store rooms converted to a cell with iron bars and a bunk. If she left the office she would lock me in the cell. I spent my nights there but didnt get much rest because as soon as Lillian left the other girls came to my cell and took turns sitting on my face. I was a round the clock slave and had to please all three shifts.

I was deep into my day dream when I realized that Lillian was looking at me. I had been staring at her. My nipples were hard and I have no idea what my expression was like, but she looked at me as if she could read my mind. I blushed and felt like she had seen right through me.

I had absolutely no reason to believe that Lillian was interested in girls, but I wondered if I dared to try to seduce her. In the end I didnt try, I limited my efforts to minor flirtation, which she probably mistook as buttering up the boss. Looking back, I wish I had tried harder. Even now, after all these years, I sometimes masturbate thinking about being spanked by Lillian.


I also fantasized about being bound by other co workers, but I never was. All my bondage was self imposed.

So I hung myself by my wrists from ceiling hooks, tied myself to pipes and shelves, desks and chairs, but always alone.

Once I tied myself spread wide on a work table and fell asleep. I didnt hear the buzzer. I woke up to a series of angry buzzes. I frantically untied myself,  threw on my smock and ran to the window. The messenger was very annoyed and told me that I was going to put him behind schedule. I apologized and told him I had a touch of tummy flu and had been in the bathroom.)

I had another close call that was very exciting. I was hanging from my wrists in one of the back rooms when the supervisor walked in. I hadnt heard the buzzer so he had security open the door. The room I was in was dark and although he seemed to look right at me he didnt see me. I was terribly frightened but excited too. What would he do if he found me? Would he take advantage of me? Could I talk him in to whipping me? Fortunately the bathroom door was closed. He looked at it, shook his head and walked out. I released myself, masturbated until I screamed.

He came back later and I was properly clothed and busy at my desk. 

One night as I cleaned another room I was delighted to find a box full of rope. It was old and dirty and tangled. I spent a long time unsnarling the rope, which turned out to be an assortment of various lengths. I strapped myself tightly to my chair while I sorted the rope. Now I could tie myself up, including my wrists, and  use my ability to untie myself quickly. I began tying myself into some delicious hog ties.   


                               CH 31


During this time I had some rather nice bondage sex with MAC and Bob. The effect of being naked night after night made me super horny. As soon as I got home every  morning I would tie myself to my bed and wait for Bob to come by. Sometimes he was busy and didnt make it right away. I often fell asleep tied to my bed.

One day I was asleep. He let himself in, undressed and climbed on top of me. I awoke to his cock inside me. It was incredible! One second I was asleep, the next, there was a big heavy, hairy male on top of, and inside me. I instinctively tried to get up but the ropes on my wrists and ankles kept me pinned. For a split second I panicked. I was truly helpless and being raped!

Boy, was that a turn on! I was coming almost before I opened my eyes. I screamed so loud that  Bob clamped his hands over my mouth and I came so violently that I almost tossed him off my body. He sat up and watched me thrashing like an insane woman, then climbed back on and slammed his cock back into me. That set me off again and I swear we could have been heard for blocks. When I regained my senses Bob was screwing me fast and furiously. The next time he took a break I asked him to gag me. 

My explosive orgasms seemed to inspire Bob (or at least feed his ego) because he spent the entire day screwing me, (and I have to give him credit for stamina) he could be an arrogant s.o.b., but his cock stayed hard for hours.

I barely got a wink of sleep and went to work that night exhausted, but it was a day Ill always remember.


I dropped by the sex shop and told Mary and Denise about my self bondage. They were impressed and wanted to hear everything in great detail. Denise got glassy eyed when I told about being fucked awake, but she was particularly intrigued about working naked in a building full of people.

“Ive walked around the house in the nude,” she said. “And at the dungeon, but never in a regular place. It gets me hot just thinking about it.”

“Maybe you ought to go to work there,” Mary suggested. “Then you two could work naked together.”

“The problem is that wed never get any work done,” I said. “We would spend the shift eating each others pussies.”

“True,” Mary said.

“Can you make phone calls from work?” Denise asked.

“Sure, but what do you mean?” I asked.

“I think you could have a phone sex business on the side,” Denise said. You could talk dirty to men and get paid for it, and being naked would likely inspire you to some very naughty phone fantasies.”

“I dont think being naked has anything to do with it,” Mary laughed. “I think our girl is a natural born slut.”

“Youve got that right,” I admitted. I was intrigued by the idea. Telephone sex was just becoming popular and Id heard that some women made a lot of money doing it.

“Unfortunately the company records all telephone calls for security reason,” I told them.

“You mean there is no way to make a personal call in privacy?” Denise asked.

“There is one unsecured line in the building,” I told her. “Its in the employee break room. I dont see myself sitting naked in there making dirty phone calls while everybody sits around listening.”

“Yeah,” mused Mary. “Youd have to figure out a way to charge them too.”

I reached out and pinched her nipple.

“Ooh! Do that again,” she said.

I didnt go in to the phone sex business, at least not then. The company would have caught on in a flash and remember, this was the seventies, cell phones hadnt been invented yet.  


As I was going to work one evening it dawned on me that security wasnt too careful about checking people coming in the building. They were more concerned with what someone might be taking out. They but looked very closely at outgoing employees but made only perfunctory checks on incoming ones. The next night I smuggled a vibrator in, but just in case they decided to check my purse I wore it up my pussy.

That night the evening crew didnt leave right away. There was a discrepancy in their accounting and they all had to stay until it was cleared up. I wanted to be alone so I could play with my dildo and offered to help, but I wasnt permitted. The shift supervisor said that it was their responsibility.

I was so frustrated that I could barely sit still.

Finally everything was reconciled and they left. I practically tore my clothes off. I was tying a pussy rope in place to hold my vibrator when the entry door buzzed. I could have wept. I tossed the rope away,  threw on my smock, then opened the door. The evening shift supervisor and the night shift supervisor had decided to go over the books one more time.

They sat in the Lillians office and read through the invoices for almost two hours. I sat at my desk doing accounts and tried not to let my dildo slip out. The supervisors asked me to make a pot of coffee so I had to stand up and walk around. I was in an agony of embarrassment worrying about that vibrator, but after a while I began to enjoy it. I had to struggle to keep the thing up my pussy and pretend that everything was normal, but the danger made it exciting. Being naked under my smock was thrilling too.

I brought them their coffee and stood with my legs clamped tightly while I poured it. I went back to my desk. They seemed to be in no hurry to leave and my legs were cramping with the effort to keep my vibrator inside me. I carefully reached under my desk and buckled a strap around my knees. They didnt notice. Finally they finished and started to leave.

They stopped at my desk and chatted with me. The vibrator in my pussy, being nude under my smock, and the entire situation made me so excited that my nipples showed clearly through my smock. They  were looking and trying to peek down my front. I enjoyed the attention and actually moved around letting the smock open up a little. I casually rested my hand in my lap as we talked, then slowly slid my smock up. They were across my desk and couldnt see as I undid the strap around my legs and opened my knees. I played with my pussy. I could easily have made myself come and wondered if I could have an orgasm without them noticing. I was enjoying myself but I really wanted  them to leave so I could tie myself up. Finally they got a call on their portable radios and had to leave. The instant the door closed behind them my orgasm hit.


Another little thing I rigged up tied me to the service window. A steel bracket supported a shelf inside the window. I found a large metal key ring and threaded it through the bracket. I brought a snap hook and tied it to my pussy rope. When someone buzzed for service I would stand close to the window, clip the snap hook to the ring and tug the rope tight. I could pull it so tight that my belly was pressed against the shelf and I couldnt move. I just had to have everything for the messenger within arms reach.

I wanted nipple clamps and experimented with document clips. I used small ones  because the big ones were too strong and really hurt. (The only way I could enjoy that kind of pain was when someone else inflicted in on me). The smaller ones worked just fine for my nipples and pussy lips. Later I brought some real nipple clamps and wore them. I particularly enjoyed hanging weights from them. The swinging weight. were a real turn on as I walked around.

I got so used to working naked that at times I forgot and almost opened the window with nothing on.

The company made some modifications to the building. In my area they added a small one way window that permitted us to see who was at the service window before we opened it. And they installed a foot pedal that opened the window.

I loved the little one way window. It allowed me to watch people moving around the main bay. I stood naked and tied in front of that little window for many an hour. Nice, but the foot pedal gave me an idea for a very daring escapade.

I opened the window one night and signed out a shipment of packages to one of the messengers, then I began flirting with him. I was wearing only a tee shirt and if hed leaned in just a little he could have seen my pussy. Id added a loop of rope to the back of my pussy rope. While we talked I casually reached back and slid one hand through the loop, then did the same with my other hand. I slowly twisted the loop around my wrists until it was very tight. I was wearing a very short hobble and had already hooked my pussy rope to the bracket. I was completely immobilized. To the messenger I simply appeared to be standing with my hands clasped behind my back. He never guessed that I was bound hand and foot. When he left I took my foot off the pedal and let the window close. I was wearing very high heels and my foot slipped. I stumbled, fell backwards but my pussy rope slammed me forward against the wall. The rope tightened horribly in my pussy and triggered an orgasm that I remember to this day.

I think I screamed but of course no one heard. I hung in my bonds in a very twisted position until the key ring gave way and I fell to the floor. I lay there for a long time, alternating between terrible pain in my crotch and wonderful pulsating passion in the same spot. When I fell my hobble and wrist loops got tangled and I couldnt get loose. That was scary, but very exciting. I reveled in my helplessness and wished someone would come and find me. After a while I wriggled around and used my old escape skills to get loose. My pussy was bruised for days but I loved it. I repeated that scenario many times, although I managed not to fall down again.


CH32


I thought up some other erotic fantasies. My favorite involved being delivered to a slave master in an armored car.

Although the company primarily delivered money and negotiables, we did carry other valuables. On occasion we delivered jewelry shipments and pieces of art. Once we transported a collection of paintings from the airport to the art museum. The paintings were on loan from the Louvre and a big deal was made in the press. (Actually I think it was more of a publicity stunt than anything else). But, if the company can deliver anything why not deliver slaves?

I fantasized about being kept naked in chains in a vault with other slave girls, then taken out, signed for and led across the huge bay and lifted into the back of an armored car. Inside Id be chained securely to the floor and driven through the city to the palatial home of some rich slave master. Along the way the driver, guards, and messenger just might take turns tampering with their cargo. When we arrived at my destination the guards would get out and form a cordon around the car (attracting a lot of attention from passersby) then the door would be opened and I would be led out and into the mansion.


One Saturday afternoon I was out with Lady L. She was indulging in her favorite pass time of exposing herself in public and invited me to go with her. We were both in short skirts and no panties. We were having coffee at an outdoor café (sitting with our legs apart) and I told her about my job, self bondage  and my armored car fantasy. She loved it and we talked about it through several cups of coffee and a stack of pastries.

Lady L elaborated on the theme. She decided instead of a mansion that we should be delivered to a penthouse in a high rise building in downtown Denver. That way we would be seen by more people on the busy downtown sidewalk. And after we had been off loaded from the armored car (naked of course) we would be taken inside and held in the lobby until the concierge could call the penthouse and inform them that a shipment of slaves had arrived. Whom ever he spoke to asked him to bring us up, so he had to sign for us (after a good inspection of course) then run us up the elevator. We were met at the door of the penthouse by a very haughty English butler who refused to permit us to enter until he had personally inspected us. And in order to ascertain that we met the high standards that his employer set, he had to run us through a series of tests which included spanking, cock sucking and a quickie fuck with each of us. When he was satisfied, (in more ways than one) he tied us to a pair of beds to await the arrival of the master of the house.

We giggled about the fantasy, and tried to decide who among Denvers upper society we would want to be delivered to. We got so excited that we cut short our exhibition excursion and went to Lady Ls apartment. We jumped in bed and had some pretty wild sex until Lord L came home, then he tied us together to the bed and forced us to eat each others pussy all night long.

Lady L liked the delivery scenario so well that she asked her husband if there was some way we could play it out. He looked into it but unfortunately you simply cant call Hertz and rent an armored car for an afternoon. Lady L was disappointed, however, Lord L did arrange for her to play out that fantasy a few months later.

It took place in Vancouver, Canada of all places. Lord L took us up there in a private jet. We flew the entire way naked and in chains. We landed at a small airfield and two large uniformed men got on the plane. The pilot met them and had them sign a receipt for us. They looked us over intently, taking many liberties with our bodies in the process, then signed the receipt.

They marched us off the plane to a nearby truck. It was a box van and had a sign: Slave Girl Delivery Service on the side. Three other men waited at the truck and took delivery of two American female slaves. They were very careful and inspected us thoroughly before they would sign off. (It seems that every body involved took extreme care to verify that we were the correct slaves.)  Once wed been signed for we had to hop up a ramps into the truck.

The truck had hooks on the walls and ceiling. Chains dangled from some, leather straps from others. A chair was bolted to the wall for the guard to sit in. A box had some rope, manacles and handcuffs lying in it as if carelessly tossed in after use. The truck looked as if it were used to transport a lot of slaves. It all had an air of authenticity.

The pilot, Lord L and the men who had taken us off the plane watched as Lady L and I were chained to the walls. We here locked with our arms and legs wide apart. The guards took their time and used ratchets to tighten the chains. They would tighten them a small amount, wait for our muscles to stretch, then tighten them some more. As they did this they care fully checked our arms and legs for signs of over straining. For some reason they also checked our breasts and pussies. They explained to Lord L that they didnt want the merchandise bouncing around during the trip. They attached weighted nipple clamps to our breasts. The guard said that way he could watch for excessive bouncing. To demonstrate he shook one of Lady Ls breasts. She rolled up her eyes and had an orgasm on the spot.

The men were concerned that she had orgasmed without permission and debated whether or not that constituted product tampering. They jiggled her other breast and when she didnt respond (she was in a state of euphoria at the moment) they decided it was ok. Just to be sure though, they jiggled and bounced her boobs around for several minutes. I watched wondering when someone was going to get around to checking my breasts. I finally had to resort to shaking them myself to attract some attention. Sure enough they crowded around me and tested my boobs too. When they were satisfied, (and made one last check between our legs), one guard took a seat in the back with us, the doors were closed and locked and we drove away.

I have been tied and chained in some very secure positions over my lifetime, but those men had me tighter than anything I had ever experienced. I was so hot I was sweating. Lady L who generally prefers exhibitionism to bondage was also very highly aroused.

We were driven all over the city. They doors had small tinted windows and we could see out. I wondered if people could see us, but since the police werent called to stop the truck I presume that we were invisible, darn it.

I enjoyed myself but Lady L was in heaven. She had an expression of pure ecstasy the entire trip.

We rode for several hours, then the truck stopped.

“Were at the border,” the driver said. “Canadian customs.”

I wasnt sure if he was kidding or not, then the back door opened and a man wearing the uniform of a Canadian customs service inspector climbed in. He nodded to the guard who handed him a clipboard. The customs inspector read our invoice, then looked us over. He asked us our names, our ages and our measurements. When we told him our breast, waist, and hip sizes he brought out a tape measure and verified them against the invoice. This involved a lot of handling, pinching and squeezing. Finally satisfied that we were the correct merchandise, he handed the clipboard back to the guard and left.

The truck drove a short distance and stopped again.

“American customs,” the driver called out.

Another man got in, wearing the US Customs Service uniform. He went through the same procedure of inspecting our bodies and verifying that we were just two slaves being shipped across the border. (By that point I was so turned on that I didnt question why Lord L had flown us to Canada only to have us driven back into the United States.) He went a bit further than the Canadian officer. He demanded to know how deep out pussies were. We couldnt tell him so he measured them. He used a device that looked a lot like a long dildo marked off like a ruler. He inserted it up our pussies and noted the depth. He did it three times for each of us, explaining to the guard that they had to average the three measurements. The guard nodded indifferently.

Lady L and I werent indifferent. We were both highly turned on and she had an another orgasm while her pussy was being measured. Both the customs officer and the guard ignored her.

The customs officer signed the clipboard and away we went.

We drove some more, then finally arrived at our destination. The truck stopped at a large lovely house in the country. About fifteen or twenty people were enjoying a lawn party. They grew quiet and watched as we hopped down the ramp. We stood on the driveway and went through another detailed inspection, then we were led inside the house. The basement was equipped with a large dungeon and we were locked into cells. A pair of middle aged women in skimpy maids costumes brought us dinner and later helped us clean up and touch up our makeup. The guests came trooping down stairs and our ordeal began.

The rest of the visit consisted of the usual round of bondage, torture (heavy for me, light for Lady L), forced sex in front of the other guests and being gang screwed together by at least twelve men and several women.

After two days were loaded into the struck and driven back to the airport, and again we had to be inspected at the border and at the airport. Before they loaded us on to the plane, Lord L decide to show his appreciation to the truck driver and guards so he made us kneel and suck their cocks.

On the flight to Denver he permitted the pilot and co pilot to come back to the cabin and put their cocks in our mouths.

It turned out that everything had been staged by Lord L. We hadnt crossed the border after all and the driver, guards and border agents were members of the bondage club that owned the house. Dear Lord L had gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange his wifes fantasy.


That fantasy spawned another. I was talking to Mom on the phone. Id already told her about some of my self bondage adventures at work. This time I was telling her of my fantasy about being delivered to somebody in an armored car. And  I told her about discussing it with Lady L at the café.

“I you were with her I suppose you were exposing yourselves in public,” Mom said.

“We sure were,” I said. “And dont you be critical, not after telling me what you did in Atlantic city.”

She sighed into the phone. “All right, go on with your story.”

“Lady L was so interested in the concept that she asked her husband to arrange it for her.”

(I didnt mention our trip to Canada).

Mom laughed. “I have to admit that Ive never considered armored cars very erotic.”

“Gee Mom,” I laughed. “Havent you ever looked at those strong handsome messengers in their uniforms?”

“Yes,” she said. “I am the person at the bank who is designated to sign for deliveries when the armored car arrives. There is one guard in particular who is very handsome, but I just never thought about being chained naked in his truck.”

“Ooh, just imagine being driven all over eastern Colorado in chains.” I sighed.

I imagined being chained to the wall of an armored truck with my mother chained to the opposite wall.

“Or, even better, we could be assigned as comfort slaves on one of those interstate routes.”

“How long did you say those crews were out?” she asked.

“A week,” I replied.

“Hmm, it does sound rather intriguing,” she mused. “Keeping four men satisfied for a week.”

“Actually I thought we would do it together,” I said. “We could be paired up.”

My pussy was tingling and my hand slipped into my panties all by itself.  

“I dont suppose they have beds in those trucks, do they?” Mom asked giggling.

“Actually they do,” I told her. “Theyre equipped with extra large sleeper compartments with four bunks.”

“They have room for four bunks?” she asked.

“Sure do, the interstate armored cars are as big as semi tractor trailers. Theres plenty of room for the regular cargo and a couple of slave girls. In fact. . .”

“What?”

“Wow!” I said. “I just had a really wild idea.”

“Im afraid to ask,” Mom laughed.

It just occurred to me that somebody could set up a traveling torture chamber in a big truck and drive all around the country with us in it.”

“You mean bringing the benefits of big city life to the poor under privileged yokels in the small towns?”

“Exactly.”

She shouted with laughter. It took her a long time to be able to talk. “I can just see it. A traveling dungeon arrives in town, parks in the truck stop and sells tickets to the locals so they can torture women. Right?”

“Right, and they can bring their wives and daughters and rent dungeon space for them too.” I paused for a moment. “Of course, there might be a problem.”

“What problem?”

“Well there would probably be lots of women from the towns volunteering.”

“Like running away to join the circus?” she laughed.

“Precisely. We would quickly run out of room and d have to turn them away.”

Mom dropped the phone.

It took her five minutes to be able to talk again.

“I doubt if your bosses would be receptive to the idea,” she said, still gasping with laughter. “You probably ought to suggest it to your friends Mary and Denise.”

“Ok, Ill call them as soon as we get off the phone.”

Good idea. Now lets get back to the tamer fantasy of simply riding around in an armored car.”

“Well, wed be chained in the truck with our arms and legs spread apart,” I said.

“And we would be naked, right?” she interrupted.

“Of course Mom. Between stops the crew could take turns. One could drive, two could be screwing us, and the fourth could be sleeping off his exhaustion.”

“And then they swap positions, right?”

“Correct.”

“I dont suppose those trucks are equipped with showers and toilets are they?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then how do we stay clean?”

“They could stop at gas stations and truck stops and walk us in to use the rest rooms. And they could use a hose and wash us off every few hours.”

“Out of doors, in view of everyone? And wed still be naked?”

“And in chains,” I said. “Remember, we would be slaves and slaves arent permitted dignity.”

“Im more concerned with being washed off in cold water,” she said. “Especially in the winter.”

“Well, maybe they could take us inside in cold weather.”

“Ok, youve talked me into it,” she said. “Set it up with the company.”

Another idea came to me.

“Even if we dont get to be slave girls for a crew, maybe I could talk the company into giving me a ride home in the truck that services your bank,” I said.

“Sure,” she said. “And I could sign a receipt for my daughter when it arrives.”

“No, youd be signing a receipt for you naked daughter,” I laughed. “Who knows, perhaps we could set it up for you to ride in to Denver and visit me.”

“And I suppose youd want me to ride naked in chains?” she laughed.

“Yup.”


Mom never got to ride in an armored car. Neither did I. Like all good things my job at the armored service company came to an end.

The company asked me to cross train on the switchboard and in the dispatch center so I could fill in when they were short handed. I didnt like the idea but had no choice. As soon as I was trained the supervisors began pulling me out of my office and assigning me handle the phones or radios. I didnt like that one bit, I had to keep my clothes on.

I complained to Lillian and she made the shift supervisors use me only when absolutely necessary and for a while things went back to normal, but then the company added two other girls to my shift. I couldnt work alone any more, so I found another job and gave my notice. Id worked there almost two years.

To this day when I see an armored car on the street I get a little tingle in my pussy.

                               CH 34


When I quit my job I decided to take some time off before I started my new one. I asked Mom if she wanted to take a trip together. I thought we might drive through the state, especially southwestern Colorado, which is so pretty, and then perhaps out to the Grand Canyon. Unfortunately she couldnt take time off  from her job. The banking inspectors were coming and she was busy preparing for an audit, so I asked Jill, but she couldnt go, neither could Mary or Denise or MAC. I even asked around to a couple of my regular friends. (Believe it or not, I actually had a few straight friends. When I say straight I mean girls who liked simple ordinary loving romantic sex with a nice man, not violent, masochistic bondage sex with torture, perversions, exhibitions, role playing and multiple partners of both genders the way I do.) None of them could get away on short notice. I didnt want to travel alone so I gave up and moped around Denver feeling sorry for myself. I was considering going in the garden eating worms when Denise called and invited me to a bondage party.

“How would you like to auctioned off to the highest bidder?” she asked.

“Oh, ok I suppose. Whats the deal?”

“Ive been asked to arranged a combination bondage and poker night,” she said.

“Run that by me again,” I said.                        

“A gentleman wants to sell his wife into slavery for a night or so,” she said. “Or to be more accurate, she wants to be sold into slavery.”

“Lady L?”

“Believe it or not, no, its not Lady L,” Denise said.

“Thats one of her favorites,” I said. “Her husband has sold us several times.” 

“I know, but this time its someone else. I dont think you know these people.”

“Ok, go on.”

“The gentleman is going to set up several poker tables and invite a dozen or so men to play. After the poker game he wants to auction his wife.”

“How original,” I said wryly.

“Uh huh,” she agreed. “Anyway, the lady will be displayed naked while the gambling goes on, then when the games are over the bidding starts.”

“She wont be running around in a maids costume serving drinks to the players?” I asked. “Thats what Lady L and I usually do when she acts out that fantasy.”

“No. This woman is really into bondage. She wants to be tied on display while the men are playing  cards. She wants to be tied pretty tightly too.”

“Sounds like an X frame will be needed,” I observed.

“Several actually. She doesnt want to be alone. Im trying to find a few other women to be sold with her. ”

“Are we to be auctioned off merely for screwing or will there be any torture?” I asked.

“She wants to be tortured,” Denise said. “And I know you do, so Ill  have to recruit some women who are as masochistic as you are.”

“Good luck,” I said. “Im the kinkiest slave girl in Colorado.”

“No argument,” she laughed. “But Ill keep looking anyway.”

“So do we simply wait in bondage while a bunch of men sit around smoky card tables?” I asked.

“I suppose so,” Denise said.

“Are you going to participate?” I asked.

“I think the man wants me to preside as a sort of hostess,” she said. “But Im certainly not letting anyone tie me up.”

“What about Mary?” I asked. “Is she involved?”

“Not so far.”

“Ok, how about a suggestion? So we slaves dont get bored waiting, why dont you and Mary invite a few other doms to torture us while the men play cards. Get us warmed up.”

“Hmm, not bad, but I think we should only tease you. Let the men do the real torture.”

“Ooh,” I breathed. “I like that. Keep us on the edge but dont let us come. That way when the auction starts well be begging to be fucked.”

“Good idea,” she laughed. “I have to hand it to you, your imagination is far more depraved than mine.”

“You want to hear something even more depraved?”

“What?

“Im going to call my mother and ask if she would like to volunteer.”

There was a long silence.

“Wow!” she whispered. “Thats pretty depraved.”

“Ill even go one better,” I cooed. “While weve been talking, Ive been playing with my pussy. Want to hear me cum over the phone?”

“Oh my God!” She sputtered for a few seconds, then hung up.

I was very proud of myself. Its not every day you can embarrass a professional dominatrix.


Denise, Mary and I got together for lunch and brainstormed the poker auction. Mary agreed to be there and liked the idea of keeping the slaves close to the edge of orgasm. She suggested that we invite Lady L to be a slave.

“I dont know,” Denise said. “Shes into exhibitionism and bondage, but I dont think shes ever been truly tortured. She might not want that.”

“All she can do is say no,” I said.

“True,” Mary agreed. “What about Lord L, does he know the other people?”

“I dont know,” Denise said. “But Im sure we can arrange an invitation for him.”

“What about your mother?” Denise asked me. “Have you called her?”

“Not yet,” I said. “I thought Id wait until the planning was further along.”

“Are you seriously considering inviting your own mother to a slave auction?” Mary demanded.

“Why not?”

“Why not? Well, lets see,” she said. “First, youd be naked in bondage in front of you own mother, and she would be naked in front of you.”

I shrugged.

“Second,” Mary went on. “She would see you getting screwed by the man who buys you.”

“And you might have to watch her getting fucked the same way,” Denise said.”

I kept silent, trying not to let on that my pussy was suddenly on fire.

“And worst of all, considering how perverted most of those men are likely to be, if they find out you are mother and daughter they are certain to tie you to one another,” Mary said. “You could end up tied with your face in her pussy.”

“Oh, my God!” I said.

“And her face in yours,” Denise added. “Do you want that?”

Yes, yes, yes! I shrieked silently.

“What were you thinking?” Mary demanded.

“My mom likes bondage,” I told them. “I thought she might enjoy a bondage party.”

“Your mother really is into bondage?” Mary asked. “You arent making that up?”

I nodded.

“Does she get tied up by somebody?”

“No, she does it herself,” I said. “She uses the equipment I made in the barn, and sometimes she ties herself outside at night.”

“No kidding?” Mary was impressed.

“Has she ever been tortured?” Denise demanded.

“No, I dont think so,” I said.

“Then I dont think she ought to be at that party. What if some man starts hurting her and she doesnt like it? Did you think about that?”

“Sorry,” I said meekly.

“Its one thing to put on a mother daughter act with Lady L,” Denise scolded. “But your real mom is something completely different.”

“Thats right,” Mary said. “Even we draw the line at that.”

“Ok.” I hung my head.

No one said anything for a few minutes.

“Still,” Mary said thoughtfully, “Think of the possibilities if her Mom was willing to go along with something like that.”

Denise thought for a moment then shrugged. “Yeah, a lot of people would pay a lot of money to have a real mother and daughter pair of slaves.”

“Remember those girls in Salt Lake City, the sisters?” Mary asked her. “Boy, are they in demand.”

“They make a fortune,” Denise agreed. “But the kid here and her mother arent hookers.”

“They are really sisters?” I asked.

“Sure are,” Mary said. “They look like twins but theyre actually a couple of years apart.”

“And they are prostitutes?”

“I guess youd say so,” Mary said. “They started out just being in the bondage scene when they were teenagers. One of them was dating a guy who tied her up. One day her sister walked in a caught him screwing her tied to a bed and decided she wanted to play too. She let him tie her beside her sister.”

“Wow,” I breathed.

“Um hmm,” Denise said. “That went on for a while, several months in fact, then the inevitable happened and he tied them with their faces between each others legs.”

“Eeyew,” I pretended to be disgusted.

“By then they were hooked on bondage and put up with it,” Denise said. “Later he introduced them to the local bondage scene.”

“In Salt Lake City?” I asked. “With all those hard core religious types?”

Mary nodded. “In every city,” she said.

“Anyway,” Denise continued. “The boyfriend was young and inexperienced. They began meeting other masters with more experience and imagination. They left him for another master who introduced them to the real world of kinky sex. He had a dungeon and hosted bondage parties. He featured them at his parties as twins. Naturally they were quite a hit and other masters and offered to buy them, a few mistresses wanted them too, so their master began renting them out. At first they enjoyed being sold.”

“What woman doesnt?” I interjected.

Denise gave me a look, then continued. “Their master actually sold them for money. At first they only cared for the bondage, but eventually they decided that they ought to be the ones profiting. So they struck out on their own.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

“They still insist that they submit to domination because they like it,” Mary said. “But they drive a hard bargain when negotiating prices.”

“I think they are more into the money now,” Mary said. “Id classify them as prostitutes.”

“And you and your mother do not want to fall into that trap,” Denise told me sternly.

“What if Mom and I did it for free?” I asked. “Wouldnt that classify us only as sluts, not whores?” That earned me a very severely pinched nipple.

“I suppose you and Lady L could pretend to be mother and daughter,” Mary said. “Youve done that often enough.”

“No,” Denise said. “I think that would attract too much interest away form the woman whose husband is arranging this. Shes supposed to be the star of the show.” She turned to me.

“Sorry kid. Youll just have to be an ordinary slave girl that night. No mother-daughter act, real or pretend.”

Damn!


I called Mom to tell her Id changed jobs. I didnt go into the reason, at least not over the phone.

“I suppose that means I wont get to ride around in an armored car,” she said. “I was so looking forward to doing that,” she joked.

“Sorry,” I said. “Neither will I. And I wont be able to show up at your bank in one either.”

“Thank God,” she said. “I could imagine signing a receipt for my own daughter.”

“I was looking forward to it. Just imagine how proud youd be when I arrived in chains.”

“And what would I do with you after I accepted delivery?” she asked.

“Well, you could make me kneel beside your desk until quitting time,” I suggested.

“No thanks. People would think Im your dominatrix,” Mom said.

My pussy flashed hot when she said that. God, how I wish you were! I thought.

“What do we care what people think?” I said lightly while my fingers rubbed my clitoris furiously.

“I think Id just lock you in the trunk of my car,” Mom laughed.

“Or, maybe you could lock me in the vault on my knees,”  I offered. “And send your co-workers in one at a time.”

“Possibly. My boss would enjoy it. You might get me a pay raise.”

“Is your boss kinky?” I asked.

“Possibly,” she said. “Hes made some remarks that make me wonder.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Hes joked about putting me over his knee if I make a mistake.”

“So have you made any mistakes?” I asked.

“Ive thought about it.”

“Whats keeping you?”

“Professional demeanor in the workplace,” she said primly.

“What you do,” I said. “Is wait until you and he are alone after hours, then you go to his desk, spill coffee in his lap, then yank your skirt up and throw yourself across his knees.”

“Gee, why didnt I think of that?” she laughed.

“Maybe hes just all talk and no play,” I said.

“Oh, I think theres more to it than just joking,” she said. “Hes a gentleman, courteous and  professional, but hes also a very strong male. I think if he were to decide to spank a woman, she would get spanked.”

“What about tying you up?” I asked. “Has he joked about that?”

“Yes, one day I joked about being chained to my work and he said that I might prefer being chained to a bed.”

“Did you accept?”

“No comment.”

I sensed that there was something in what she said.

“Has he tied you up?” I asked.

       “No comment,” she repeated.

“Mom!”

       “What?”

       “Have you let him tie you up?”

       “Now Mary,” she said primly. “I cant discuss bank business over the phone. You know that.”

       I was astounded. Was she kidding, or was there something to this?

       “Mother, I have to know. Have you been tied up by some man?”

       “What would it only have to be a man?” she asked innocently. “You get tied up by both men and women. Why cant I?”

       I sat with my mouth open in pure amazement.

       “Mom, I have to know, I wont get a wink of sleep until you tell me the truth.”

       “Looks like you are in for a sleepless night,” she laughed. “But if you get bored, call one of your friends to come over and tie you up.”

“Well, at least tell me, do you get tortured when you are tied up?” I asked.

“Of course I do,” she said reasonably. “Whats the point of letting someone tie you up if not?”

“Ok, ok, ok,” I pleaded. “Just tell me!”

“Sorry dear,” she said airily. “Im baking bread and the oven timer just went off. Im going to have to get off the phone.”

“Mom, dont. . .”

“Good-bye, dear. Love you.” The phone went dead.

I dropped my phone and masturbated until I came. Then did it again, and again half an hour later.


CH 35


I was absolutely flabbergasted. I couldnt decide if Mom had been teasing me or not. The idea that she might be seeing someone was wonderful, and if she was being tied up it was fantastic! But I couldnt stand not knowing. I was so curious that I packed a bag and drove home.

I didnt tell Mom I was coming. She burst into laughter when I walked in the bank.

“Did you drive from Denver?” she asked. “I thought youd ride in an armored car.”

“Very funny,” I said. “Now introduce me to your boss.”

Grinning from ear to ear she led me into the bank managers office. It was worse than I had expected. The manager was very large and very male. He was handsome in a craggy faced way, with big hands and dangerous blue eyes. He was entirely self confident and reminded me of the police lieutenant who kept me in the station over night,  just exactly the kind of man that women love to submit to. He was a few years older than Mom, and was very charming. He stopped what he was doing and chatted with us for a while. He was polite and  seemed genuinely interested in me, and told me that if I ever decided to move back home he could probably find a position for me at the bank.

Mom was smiling sweetly at me the entire time, and when we sat down she allowed her skirt to ride up above her knees. Her boss spent as much time glancing at her legs as he did talking to me. When he made the job offer she giggled.

“Are you sure you handle two of us?” she asked him. “After all, us Moore women are more women than most men can handle.”

Her boss chuckled at the pun, but I could have killed her. I excused myself and went home. Mom stayed at her desk until quitting time.

I spent my visit pestering Mom to tell me if she was having an affair or not. She wouldnt tell me and delighted in keeping me guessing. After two days I gave up and began sulking. I went out to the barn and tied myself to my rack. I was lying contentedly when Mom came, looked at me, then retied my wrists so tight that I couldnt get loose.

“Ooh, thanks,” I said. “But why did you do that?”

“Youve been a little bear,” she said. “Pestering me about my boss. So Im going to let you stay here for a while.”

“Thats hardly a punishment for me,” I said wriggling.

“Glad to hear it,” she said. “Because you might just be here all night.”

“Why?”

“Ive got a date this evening,” she told me. “And Im not sure when Ill be getting home, in fact, I might be out all night.”

“Sure Mom.”

She smiled at me and left.

I thought she was kidding, just more of her teasing, but a couple of hours later she came back  wearing a nice dress and heels.

“How do I look?” she asked pirouetting.

“You look terrific,” I said. “New dress?”

“Yes, and Im hoping it doesnt get too badly damaged.”

“Damaged? How?”

“My date likes to play rough,” she said. “Usually the first thing he does is tear my clothes off  and throw me to the floor.”

“In that case, my advice would be not to wear panties,” I told her. “It saves time.”

“Oh, Im not. See?”

She lifted her skirt. She was wearing a sexy red garter belt and black stockings, but no panties. She spun around again, kissed me on the cheek and left.


I couldnt be sure if Mom really went out or was just playing an elaborate joke on me. It would be just like her to go to the trouble to get dressed up, show off for me, then go back to the house and spend the evening watching television.

I lay in my bonds and remembered how sexy she looked and how turned on I was when she raised her skirt. I had seen her naked many times before, but this time I almost lost control of myself. I was inches from begging her to let me eat her pussy.

It got dark and Mom didnt come back. It cooled off and I got hungry. I yelled for mom but she didnt answer. That was the beginning of a long night for me.

I lay on the rack and tried to imagine what she was doing. Eventually I dropped into that semi awake state where I was almost asleep and almost in a dream.

I saw Mom drive to a big mansion. (I imagined that the bank manager was wealthy). She drove up a curved driveway and parked in front of a palatial house with huge pillars. She got out of her car and walked up a long flight of stairs. The door opened and a light shone through it. Her boss stood in the doorway. She lifted her skirt and curtseyed. He had her hold that pose for a while, then motioned her to him. When she reached him he grabbed the front of her dress and tore it off. Mom gasped in ecstasy as he scooped her up and carried her to a torture chamber.

In my dream Mom was tied to dozens of devices. She was whipped and spanked and fucked by her boss in many different positions. I was an observer, then I became Mom and was the victim, then it shifted and we were side by side. The dream changed and we were in Denises dungeon in Denver. Mom and I were led on stage to be auctioned off. The building was crowded with men and women who watched as Mom was strapped to an X frame. The bidding was intense and the onlookers pushed and jostled to shout their bids. No one bid for me! I was shunted aside. I found myself locked in a cell watching but unable to participate. I cried with frustration and loneliness as I watched Mother shriek with delight under the whip. At some point Dales torture pillory appeared and Mom was locked in it. My frustration grew. The pillory was for me! I cried. It was for mine! I should be in it, no one else.

The dream ended with Mom sucking every cock and eating every pussy in the crowd. Afterwards she and I were taken outside still naked. An armored car waited and I was given the keys. There was no crew and I had to drive us all the way home in it.


Mom woke me the next morning. She was in her bath robe, bleary eyed and tired looking.

“Morning sleepy head,” she said. “Are you ready to get up?”

I was cold, hungry, and needed to go to the bathroom.

Mom untied me and we went in the house. She started breakfast while I ran up to my room. I took a hot shower to warm up and put on some pajamas. I looked in her room. Her bed was made up but her dress and garter belt lay crumpled on the floor. Her stockings lay in shreds in a waste basket. I went down to the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee.

“Did you have a nice time?” I asked.

“Um hmm. Very nice,” she said.

“Were you stripped and slapped around?”

“I certainly was.”

“Tied and tortured?”

“Oh yes.”

“Chained to a bed and raped?”

“You bet I was.”

“Gee Mom, sounds like a great date.”

“It was wonderful,” she purred.

I rolled my eyes.

“Dont you believe me?” she said innocently. “Would you like to see the whip marks on my boobs?”

I wasnt going to take the bait on that.

“No thanks,” I said insincerely. “Ill take your word for it.”

She smiled and sat down. A moment later she stretched contentedly and I almost spilled my coffee.

There were rope marks on her wrists.


I went back to Denver still in a quandary. I just didnt know if Mom had gone to a lot of trouble to mess with me, or if she truly had gone out. I stewed over it for days. I was tempted to call her boss and ask if his job offer was still open. I was ready to take the job just to be able to see if they really were having an affair.

Finally I called Mom and asked if she would like to participate in our slave auction.

“You want me to sell myself as a slave?” she asked.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Im not a prostitute,” she replied firmly.

“Its not prostitution,” I replied. “We wont get paid. Were doing it because we like kinky sex.”

“What about the money the men are paying?” she said.

“Monopoly money,” I said. “Each man is issued the same amount at the beginning. The winners use their winnings to bid for the woman they want, but nobody is going to get paid for having sex.”

“Hmm.” She sounded unconvinced.

“Come on, Mom, just think. Youd be paraded naked on stage, then tied up in full view while the men play poker.”

“Yes, but what if no one wanted to buy me? That would be embarrassing.”

“Mom, believe me, that is not going to happen, besides, I know a sure fire way to attract the mens interest.”

“Whats that?”

“We could be sold as a mother-daughter set.”

She was very quiet. I was afraid I might have gone to far.

Finally she spoke.

“Yes, that would probably get a lot of interest,” she said. “But have you thought about what might happen after we were purchased?”

Of course I had!

“What do you mean?” I asked innocently.

“Why, we would be forced to do things together,” she said. “Terrible things. You can count on it.”

“Oh, I guess I hadnt thought about that,” I lied.


The night of the auction I showed up early and helped set up. Denise had something at her kids school and couldnt be there until later, so it was left to Mary and me to get everything ready. Mary was in jeans and a tee shirt but insisted that I be naked. She was in an odd mood and kept touching me. Every time I walked by her he pinched a nipple of patted me on my bottom. I liked it and just assumed that it part of the plan to keep the slaves excited until the auction. Actually she was horny as hell.

We were in the kitchen getting the last of the refreshments ready when she startled me by suddenly grabbing a handful of my hair and marching me into the bedroom. She shoved me onto my knees, tore off her clothes and sat on the bed. She opened her legs and commanded me to eat her pussy. I was delighted to obey. 

After I made Mary come, which didnt take very long, I hoped shed return the favor, but she decided to get into character. She tied me spread open on the bed and teased my pussy until I was ready to explode, then she stopped. She left me and took a long hot shower. I could have wept. 

Denise arrived and came into the bed room carrying a small suitcase. She saw me on the bed and knew instantly.

“What, you couldnt wait till I got here?” she joked to Mary.

“Nope, the little slut insisted on walking around naked,” she said.

“I insisted?” I interrupted.

“Quiet slave,” she said. “And she kept shaking her boobs and ass in front of me, so I couldnt resist.”

“Oh, what a lie,” I said. “You ordered me to be naked.”

“Any more insolence out of you and Ill gag you,” Mary said.

“If you gag me I wont be able to eat Denises pussy,” I said sweetly sarcastic. “And its her turn.”

Denise was unpacking her things. Shed bought a new dominatrix outfit. She paused, looked at me and shrugged.

“What the hell, its been a lousy day. I could use some relaxation.”

She undressed and climbed on the bed. I purred happily as she lowered her pussy onto my mouth.

                                                                CH 36


After Id made Denise feel better she untied me and took a shower. Mary permitted me to put on a robe and we finished the preparations.

The man, whose wife was to be the center of attention, arrived and looked things over. Ill call him Mr. Jones. He brought the playing cards, poker chips and play money. He told us that his wife would arrive later and that he wanted the men to start playing cards before the slaves were put on display.

“Id like the ladies to be brought out and tied to the stakes one by one,” he told us. “My wife is to be the first and she is to be tied in the center of the line.”

“Certainly,” Mary told him. “But were using X crosses, not stakes.”

“Excellent,” he said. “Please see to it that my wifes legs are tied well apart”

“We will make sure that everyone gets to see her pussy,” Denise assured him.

“Good. And the cameras are set up?” he asked.

“Yes, both still and video,” Mary said. 

“Refreshments are ready,” Denise said. “And I presume all of the masters are going to play cards along with the other gentlemen.”

“There will be no masters present,” he said. “I called all the people you recommended and told them that the submissive woman had to be prepared to accept what ever happens. They could not have any protectors at the party.”

Mary and Denise exchanged a surprised look.

“How many agreed to come?” Mary asked. “Are we going to have enough women?”

“I believe we will. Some refused outright,” he said, “But they thought it over and called back and agreed.”

“What about your wife?” Denise asked.

“The same rules apply for her,” he said. “After I drop her off  Ill leave.”

“You dont want to watch?” Mary asked.

“Id love to,” he replied. “But my wife wants that added degree of uncertainty. If Im here she will feel too safe.”

“A room full of sexed up men could get dangerous,” Denise warned.

“Thats precisely what she wants,” he said. “Danger and intensity.”

He glanced at his watch. “The men will be arriving at eight oclock. The women will arrive at nine. Even if some arrive at the same time, they should be brought out singly, and with some theatricality.”

“Not a problem,” Denise said. “Were used to putting on shows.”

He nodded, shook hands with them and left.

“Well, I guess that means we wont be seeing Lady L,” Denise said.

I nodded. She might like to be displayed, but I didnt think shed be daring enough to risk an all out orgy without her husband present.

“Do we have any idea who is coming?” Mary asked.

Denise shook her head. “I gave him a list of people I thought would like to participate. It was up to him to invite them. Hes also inviting some people I dont know. Hes given them a code word so we will admit them but other than that I have no idea who might show up.”

“I hope we have enough women to go around,” Mary said. She pointed to me. “Otherwise the kid here might be in for a busy night.”

“Yeah,” I said. “And maybe you two might stripped and tied up along with the rest of us. Either one of you been raped lately?”

                       

Too our surprise Lady L showed up. Lord L dropped her off at the door, chatted with us for a few minutes then left. As he closed the door she gave him an anxious look, but took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She was frightened, but excited. I showed her the bedroom where she undressed and hung up her clothes. I took off my robe and we went to the kitchen. Mary made us kneel as she buckled collars and leather cuffs to our wrists. 

A few minutes later the doorbell rang. Mary peeked through the spy hole and got a curious look on her face. She threw a dressing gown over her leathers and opened the door. There stood an ordinary looking woman in somewhat dowdy clothing. 

“Can I help you?” Mary asked, thinking the woman must be at the wrong address.

“Is this the place for the party?” the woman asked.

“Party?” Mary played dumb.

“I have a secret word,” the woman said. “I was told it would get me in.” She gave the password.

“This is the right place,” Mary said in surprise. “Come in.”

The woman walked in and looked around. Her eyes widened when she saw me and Lady L on our knees and she gasped when Denise walked into the room in her dominance costume.

“Whos this?” Denise asked.

“I believe shes one of the submissives,” Mary said uncertainly. The woman nodded eagerly.

“My name is Jean,” she said.

Mary introduced everyone. Jean stared at Lady L and me. “Should I take my clothes off?” she asked.

“Yes you should,” Denise said.

“Uh, right here in front of everyone?”

“Strip now!” Denise barked at her. Jean blushed but hurried to obey.

When she was naked we looked at a very common housewife with a plain face, mousy brown hair, small breasts, a thick waist, and stretch marks from having children. Her pubic hair was thick and bushy and you could tell that she had never shaved or even trimmed it. She did have very nice legs however.

“Have you been in the scene long?” Mary asked her.

“The scene?” Jean asked puzzled.

“You know, bondage, S and M, torture?”

“Oh, no Ive never done any of that before,” Jean answered.

“You havent?” Denise asked astonished. “Then what exactly are you doing here?” 

Jean was starring at Lady L and me. “Shouldnt I be tied up?” she asked.

“The mistresses were putting restraints on us when you arrived,” Lady L told her. She lifted her chin to show off her collar.

“Do I get to wear one of those?” Jean asked.

“Not until you answer the question,” Denise said. “What are you doing here?”

Jean swallowed a few times before she could speak. “A friend of mine told me about the party and I decided I wanted to experience bondage, so she arranged for me to come. She set it up with a man who is bringing his wife.”

“Who is your friend?”

“I promised not to tell anyone that?” Jean answered. “But she likes to be tied up. I guess you would say that she is into the scene as you call it.”

“Have you ever been tied up?” Mary asked.

“No.”

“Theres going to be a lot more than simply being tied up,” Denise told her. “There is going to be torture, painful torture, and sex with a room full of strangers. Anything can happen to you.”

“I know.”

“You have never been tied up?” Denise asked. “Never at all?”

“No,” Jean whispered.

“You have no idea what you are letting yourself in for,” Mary said grimly.

“Perhaps not, but I want to try it,” Jean said firmly.

“Do you realize that you will be fucked by strangers?” Mary asked crudely.

“Yes.”

“Men are going to stick their cocks in your pussy, up your ass, and in your mouth,” Mary said relentlessly. “And they are going to hurt you.”

Jean nodded.

“Have you ever been screwed in your ass?” Denise asked brutally.

Jean shook her head

“Ever imagine what the pain is like to be whipped on your ass and legs and boobs, not to mention your pussy?”

“My pussy?”

“Especially your pussy,” Denise said. She pointed at me and I nodded.

Jean closed her eyes and took  a deep breath. “Ive imagined being tortured, and now I want to experience it for real.”

“Look at yourself,” Denise said. “Youre shaking like a leaf.”

“Its not from fear,” Jean whispered.

“Dont you think you might want to test the waters before you throw yourself off a cliff into the ocean?” Mary suggested kindly.

“No,” Jean answered firmly. “I want this tonight. I want those men to do terrible things to me. Lots of men and lots of torments.”

Mary and Denise looked at her helplessly. They turned to Lady L and me as if asking us to help talk some sense into this foolish amateur. I couldnt suppress a tiny smile. I shrugged and rolled my eyes.

“I dont think youre going to talk her out of it Mistress,” I said.

Mary and Denise exchanged a look, then Mary pointed to the floor. “Get on your knees,” she commanded. Jean obeyed.

Mary left the room and returned carrying collar and cuffs. She buckled the cuffs on Jeans wrists and locked them together. Then Denise tilted Jeans head forward and held her hair while Mary put the collar around her neck. Jean was trembling when they finished.

Denise pointed at me imperiously.

“Lie down and spread your legs.”

“Yes Mistress,” I hurried to comply. Denise left the room and came back carrying a short whip. She looked at me and I raised my hips off the floor.

“Higher,” she demanded.

I arched my back until my body rested on my shoulders and my toes. I opened my legs wider. Denise didnt warm me up, she just smacked that whip onto my crotch very hard.

I was already turned on, but there was something about being watched by Jean that was very exciting. Her innocent determination to be tortured was deliciously exciting and I came with Denises first blow.

For some reason that made Denis angry. She really laid into me with her whip. She poured blow after blow onto my belly, my thighs and of course my pussy. I was rolling around gasping and squealing and trying not to close my legs. Denise was trying to frighten this poor innocent away but it didnt work. Jean sat beside me, lay back and opened her legs.

Denise turned to whip Jean, raised her arm, then stopped. Jean looked up at her expectantly.

“No,” Denise said to her. “You wont get any warm up from me. If you insist on going through with this youll get your first whipping by a man.”

Jean said nothing, she just opened her knees wider and ground her hips in a wide circle. I saw the temptation in Denises eyes.

She knelt beside Jean. “Look, Im a professional dominatrix, so is Mary. We will be happy to tie you up and introduce you to bondage free of charge in a private and safe place, but some other time. The things that are going to happen tonight are going be neither safe or private. You could get hurt.”

Jean shook her head.

Lady L walked over and sat down beside me. She lay back and spread her legs too.

“Would you whip my cunt, please?” she said coolly. Denise stared in shock. Lady L didnt usually talk that way.

“No I wont,” Denise told her. “All three of you are going to lie here and dont move until I give you permission.”

“Yes Mistress,” Lady L said quietly. Jean and I echoed her.

Denise and Mary left the room. I looked at Jean. She was still trembling with excitement.

“Is this really your first time?” I asked.

She nodded.

“It may be more than you expect,” I warned. “I have a feeling that this evening is going to be very intense.”

“I agree,” Lady L said.

“I dont care,” Jean said softly. “They can do anything they want to me as long as they dont kill me or leave permanent scars on my body.”

“Ok,” I shrugged.

“Are you married?” Lady L asked her.

“Yes.”

“Children?”

“Yes.”

“Decent hard working husband, school PTA meetings, church bake sales, all that?”

“Yes. Is it so obvious?”

“And your husband has no idea you are here, right?”

“Thats right.”

“Oh my!” Lady L said softly.

“Well, I think I ought to warn you,” I said. “Even if you arent permanently scarred, you will have bruises and welts that might last for days, not to mention bite marks.”

“Bite marks?” Jean gasped.

“Yep, especially around your nipples.”

“My God!”

“You may get bitten in other places too,” Lady L said.

“In fact, you can just about count on it,” I added.

Jean closed her eyes and took a long deep breath.

“My husband is attending a church synod in Maine for a month,” she said. “And my children are spending the summer with my parents. Ill have time to heal.”

“Just in case your bruises dont heal before your husband comes home, just say that you fell down some stairs,” I told her. “Ive used that excuse a few times.”

“You have?”

“Mary Elizabeth knows what shes talking about.” Lady L said. “She is quite a masochist,”

Jean looked at me with interest. “Do you do this a lot?”

“Every chance I get.”

“Have you ever been seriously hurt?” she asked.

“Ive never had to go to the hospital,” I said. “But Ive walked around for weeks with bruises and welts on my skin.”

“Welts, from whips?” Jean asked.

“Ive been whipped so hard that its drawn blood,” I told her.

“My God.”

“And bite marks,” added Lady L. “Dont forget the bite marks.”

“Lots of bite marks,” I confirmed. “Usually from women.”

“From women?” Jean gasped. “You mean you submit to lesbians too?”

“I sure do,” I laughed. “And believe me, women are much more cruel than men.”

“Are there going to women here tonight?” she asked. “I mean women who will not be tied up?”

“We call them doms,” I said. “And I dont know if any are coming or not, but if they do, and one of them buys you, better get ready to suffer.”

“I never thought about that,” Jean said. “Being forced by a woman, I mean.”

“So do you have any lesbian fantasies?” I asked.

“No, none,” she answered. “Should I tell them that? I mean, wouldnt they prefer a girl who likes women?”

“Absolutely not,” I said. “That would only spice it up for them, dominant lesbians love to humiliate a straight woman.”

“My God.”

We were quiet for a while.

“So with your family away you decided to experience bondage?” I asked.

“Thats right,” Jean said. “After tonight Ill never do it again.”

“This sort of thing can be addictive,” I warned.

“Shes right,” Lady L said. “Its like a narcotic, the more you get the more you want. What happens if you like it and want more?”

“Ive thought about that,” Jean said. “And have promised myself that even if I do like it, I will never indulge myself again. I will be a good and faithful wife for the rest of my life.”

Lady L gave me a look of disbelief and shook her head.

“How is it that you know someone who is into bondage?” I asked Jean.

“She came to the church a few years ago seeking help with alcohol and drug addiction,” Jean said. “I became her counselor and she told me about the things she has done in her life. Over the years she has been able to break her addiction to drugs and alcohol.”

“But not to bondage?” I asked.

“No, she still does that,” Jean said.

“That ought to be a warning to you,” I said.

“I hope you arent doing this so that you can experience bondage just to be a better counselor,” Lady L said.

“No, I want the sex,” Jean whispered. “I am a very weak person. I get very excited when my friend tells me about her experiences. Ive lain awake nights wanting to do the things she does.”

“We understand completely,” Lady L said. “But theres a world of difference between fantasy and actually doing something.”

“That is very true,” I added.

“It doesnt make sense, but when shes tied up my friend says she experiences total freedom,” Jean said. “And, well, she says she has lots of orgasms.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Thats why its addictive.”

“Have you been doing this sort of thing long?” Jean asked me.

“Since I was a teenager,” I answered.

We were silent for a while, then Jean spoke.

“Once I did have an erotic experience about bondage, sort of.”

“Sort of?” I asked.

“The girl I counseled works as a phone sex operator,” Jean said. “I was at her apartment when she got a call from a man who wanted her to talk dirty to him and she let me listen in.”

“And she talked about bondage?”

“Yes. The man wanted her to talk like she was his prisoner. He told what he would do to her while she was tied up and she had to tell him how much she hated it. She pretended to beg for mercy.”

“You enjoyed listening in?”

“Actually I talked to him too.”

“You did?” 

“She told him that she wasnt alone and put me on the phone. The man demanded that I tell him what I was wearing and what I looked like, then he ordered me to undress.”

“Did you?” Lady L asked.

“No, but I told him I had, then he told me all the terrible torments that he wanted to do to me once he got me alone. I got very excited.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I pretended I was a sex prisoner and talked dirty to him.”

“Did you play with yourself?” I asked.

“Heavens no,” she blushed.

“Did you play around with your friend?” Lady L asked.

“She offered to,” Jean said. “But I couldnt bring myself to do it.”

“What is your friends name?” I asked. “Maybe we know her.”

“I promised not to tell anyone who she is,” Jean said. “We agreed to pretend not to know each other tonight.”

“Ok,” Lady L said. “We respect the need for discretion.”

“Are you sure that youve never had sex with a woman?” I asked.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“You probably will before the night is over,” Lady L said matter of factly. “Even if there arent any female dominas you can expect to be tied to another woman before they are finished with us,” Lady L said. “Men love to do that.”

“Tied to another woman in what way?”

“In the worst possible way,” Lady L answered.

“Or it could be the best possible way, depending on how strong your lesbian tendencies are, ” I laughed.

“You mean . . ?” Jean was aghast.

“Plan on being tied with your mouth to another womans pussy,” I said.

“And you cant just lie there,” Lady L confirmed. “The men will expect you be to active and they have ways of seeing that you are.”

“Oh my God!”

She was quiet for a few minutes. “Have you ever been tied to other women?”

“Only about a thousand times,” I laughed. “Mom and I have been slaves for several years.”

“Ever since her father first tied us up,” Lady L added impishly.

Jean sat up and stared at us. “You are her mother?” she gasped.

“Um hmm,” I answered.

Jeans mouth dropped open. “And youve actually been tied with your mouths on each other?”

Lady L leaned close, “Actually its one of our favorite things,” she said conspiratorially. “My husband has been tying us together for years.”

Jean couldnt believe her ears. She stared in total shock for several minutes. Finally Lady L relented.

“Actually Im not Mary Elizabeths mother,” she laughed. “But we have played that role many times.”

Jean looked at me for confirmation. I nodded.

“Are you lovers?” she asked. “Are you lesbians?”

“We are lovers,” Lady L said, smiling fondly at me. “And we like sex with women but we like men too.”

“So youve attended these type of parties before?” Jean asked.

“Yes,” I said. “And we have acted out little sex shows in front of people for years.” 

“More times than I can remember,” Lady L affirmed. “Men like to watch women together, especially if they think the women are mother and daughter.”

Jeans eyes were huge. She looked back and forth between us, almost hoping we were kidding. Finally she accepted that we werent.

“Would you like to hear about it?” Lady L asked.

“Yes,” Jean said in a small voice. She lay back.

“Better keep your legs apart,” I warned her. “Remember Mistress Denises orders.”

Jean spread her legs.

“Make yourself comfortable while I tell you about bondage, spanking, whipping and group sex,” Lady L said.

“Dont forget cat fighting, exhibitionism and feigned incest,” I added.

Lady L proceeded to tell Jean about our escapades together.


                                       CH 37


Lady L and I regaled Jean with our stories for over two hours. She lay back and listened intently. Her face was bright pink and her body was squirming when Mary finally interrupted us.

“What have you three been doing?” she asked.

“Telling dirty stories,” I replied.

“True ones, or lies?” she laughed. “Never mind, the things you do are so unbelievable that they have to be true.”

“Do they really do all those things?” Jean asked Mary.

“Yes,” Mary said simply.

Jean looked at us in awe.

The men started arriving and Mary showed them to the dungeon. Later the other women arrived and were brought into the house. Denise attended to them, showing them where to put their things, then seeing that they were properly restrained. Each woman was brought into the living room and ordered to lie on the floor with us.

I knew two of them, but most were strangers. They ranged in age from twenty to fifty. Some were pretty, some plain. I tried to guess which one might be Jeans friend. I finally decided it had to be a gal with a hard bitten look and nasty attitude. She was so tough looking that it made me think she might be a prostitute.

Jean stared at them in wonder. The newcomers were quiet at first, but eventually began talking. All except the hard looking woman. She remained silent. Soon the room was full of female chatter. Denise came in and ordered us to be quiet. She left and the talk resumed immediately. She came back a few minutes later carrying a handful of gags.

Denise knelt over Lady L and buckled a gag into her mouth, then she went around the room and gagged every one of us. The tough looking woman refused to cooperate. She turned her head away and wouldnt open her mouth. Denise struggled for a moment to get the gag in, then slapped the woman hard. The woman glared up at her then finally opened her mouth. Denise shoved the gag in and buckled it. The woman immediately made a defiant sort of snarl through her gag.

“Whats the matter Dianne? Too tight?” Denise asked.

Dianne looked up at her and slowly shook her head from side to side. Denise tightened the gag a couple of notches then looked into the womans eyes. Then she slowly drew back her hand and slapped Dianne across the face, hard. Dianne growled under her gag.

“Want another?” Denise asked tauntingly. Dianne nodded, never taking her eyes off Denise. Denise slapped her again. Diannes eyebrows rose almost mockingly, then she lay back. Denise smiled sweetly then left the room.

I looked at Lady L who shrugged and raised her eyebrows. I knew what she meant; obviously Denise and Dianne knew each other.

 

Finally Mr. Jones arrived with his wife. Denise brought her into the room naked, bound, and gagged. She was even hobbled and forced to mince along with baby steps. Her eyes widened at the sight of the rest of us. She was an attractive woman who took obvious pains to retain her figure. Her hair and makeup were nicely done and her skin showed the result of regular visits to a tanning salon. I shook my head at that. I knew her hairdo and makeup would be ruined by the end of the night.

Denise snapped her fingers and Mrs. Jones took her place on the floor. She sat on the couch, then slid to the floor. Her hobble made it difficult to move but she managed. She struggled to cross her ankles so she could at least spread her knees.

Her husband stood in the door. One women opened her legs a bit wider, then we all did. Jeans legs were widest of all and she stared up at his face. He looked at each pussy carefully, then nodded appreciatively and left.

Denise came in.

“All right slave girls, here is whats going to happen,” she said. “The men are already playing cards. Im going to take you one by one to the dungeon and tie you to an X cross. You will wait on the crosses for about an hour, then the auction will begin. When you are bought you become the property of that man for the rest of the night. He gets to do anything he wants to you, and you have to submit. You may count on things getting rough and Mary and I will not intervene. You all agreed to a night of  bondage with no limits, so if you have any reservations sit up now. Ill release you and you may leave. You have two minutes to make up your minds, after that there will be no backing out.”

There was some nervous shuffling but no one sat up.

“I mean it,” Mary said. “If these guys get out of control there is nothing we can do to protect you.”

I knew that Mary and Denise had a couple of very large men to act as bouncers in the dungeon. They would stay out of sight unless they were needed, but the other women didnt know that.

Several women looked around nervously. There were some worried noises from gagged mouths. Dianne looked around contemptuously, then thrust out her breasts.

Denise looked down at Dianne. “I know you cant wait,” she said. “But not all these girls are as sluttish as you.”

Dianne opened her legs wider and made humping motions with her pelvis.

Denise looked at Jean. “This is your last chance to back out,” she warned.

Jean was trembling so much that her breasts jiggled, but she looked up at Denise and shook her head.

Denise shrugged and pointed to Mrs. Jones. “All right, youre first.” 


                                              CH 36


After Id made Denise feel better she untied me and took a shower. Mary permitted me to put on a robe and we finished the preparations.

The man, whose wife was to be the center of attention, arrived and looked things over. Ill call him Mr. Jones. He brought the playing cards, poker chips and play money. He told us that his wife would arrive later and that he wanted the men to start playing cards before the slaves were put on display.

“Id like the ladies to be brought out and tied to the stakes one by one,” he told us. “My wife is to be the first and she is to be tied in the center of the line.”

“Certainly,” Mary told him. “But were using X crosses, not stakes.”

“Excellent,” he said. “Please see to it that my wifes legs are tied well apart”

“We will make sure that everyone gets to see her pussy,” Denise assured him.

“Good. And the cameras are set up?” he asked.

“Yes, both still and video,” Mary said. 

“Refreshments are ready,” Denise said. “And I presume all of the masters are going to play cards along with the other gentlemen.”

“There will be no masters present,” he said. “I called all the people you recommended and told them that the submissive woman had to be prepared to accept what ever happens. They could not have any protectors at the party.”

Mary and Denise exchanged a surprised look.

“How many agreed to come?” Mary asked. “Are we going to have enough women?”

“I believe we will. Some refused outright,” he said, “But they thought it over and called back and agreed.”

“What about your wife?” Denise asked.

“The same rules apply for her,” he said. “After I drop her off  Ill leave.”

“You dont want to watch?” Mary asked.

“Id love to,” he replied. “But my wife wants that added degree of uncertainty. If Im here she will feel too safe.”

“A room full of sexed up men could get dangerous,” Denise warned.

“Thats precisely what she wants,” he said. “Danger and intensity.”

He glanced at his watch. “The men will be arriving at eight oclock. The women will arrive at nine. Even if some arrive at the same time, they should be brought out singly, and with some theatricality.”

“Not a problem,” Denise said. “Were used to putting on shows.”

He nodded, shook hands with them and left.

“Well, I guess that means we wont be seeing Lady L,” Denise said.

I nodded. She might like to be displayed, but I didnt think shed be daring enough to risk an all out orgy without her husband present.

“Do we have any idea who is coming?” Mary asked.

Denise shook her head. “I gave him a list of people I thought would like to participate. It was up to him to invite them. Hes also inviting some people I dont know. Hes given them a code word so we will admit them but other than that I have no idea who might show up.”

“I hope we have enough women to go around,” Mary said. She pointed to me. “Otherwise the kid here might be in for a busy night.”

“Yeah,” I said. “And maybe you two might stripped and tied up along with the rest of us. Either one of you been raped lately?”

                       

Too our surprise Lady L showed up. Lord L dropped her off at the door, chatted with us for a few minutes then left. As he closed the door she gave him an anxious look, but took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She was frightened, but excited. I showed her the bedroom where she undressed and hung up her clothes. I took off my robe and we went to the kitchen. Mary made us kneel as she buckled collars and leather cuffs to our wrists. 

A few minutes later the doorbell rang. Mary peeked through the spy hole and got a curious look on her face. She threw a dressing gown over her leathers and opened the door. There stood an ordinary looking woman in somewhat dowdy clothing. 

“Can I help you?” Mary asked, thinking the woman must be at the wrong address.

“Is this the place for the party?” the woman asked.

“Party?” Mary played dumb.

“I have a secret word,” the woman said. “I was told it would get me in.” She gave the password.

“This is the right place,” Mary said in surprise. “Come in.”

The woman walked in and looked around. Her eyes widened when she saw me and Lady L on our knees and she gasped when Denise walked into the room in her dominance costume.

“Whos this?” Denise asked.

“I believe shes one of the submissives,” Mary said uncertainly. The woman nodded eagerly.

“My name is Jean,” she said.

Mary introduced everyone. Jean stared at Lady L and me. “Should I take my clothes off?” she asked.

“Yes you should,” Denise said.

“Uh, right here in front of everyone?”

“Strip now!” Denise barked at her. Jean blushed but hurried to obey.

When she was naked we looked at a very common housewife with a plain face, mousy brown hair, small breasts, a thick waist, and stretch marks from having children. Her pubic hair was thick and bushy and you could tell that she had never shaved or even trimmed it. She did have very nice legs however.

“Have you been in the scene long?” Mary asked her.

“The scene?” Jean asked puzzled.

“You know, bondage, S and M, torture?”

“Oh, no Ive never done any of that before,” Jean answered.

“You havent?” Denise asked astonished. “Then what exactly are you doing here?” 

Jean was starring at Lady L and me. “Shouldnt I be tied up?” she asked.

“The mistresses were putting restraints on us when you arrived,” Lady L told her. She lifted her chin to show off her collar.

“Do I get to wear one of those?” Jean asked.

“Not until you answer the question,” Denise said. “What are you doing here?”

Jean swallowed a few times before she could speak. “A friend of mine told me about the party and I decided I wanted to experience bondage, so she arranged for me to come. She set it up with a man who is bringing his wife.”

“Who is your friend?”

“I promised not to tell anyone that?” Jean answered. “But she likes to be tied up. I guess you would say that she is into the scene as you call it.”

“Have you ever been tied up?” Mary asked.

“No.”

“Theres going to be a lot more than simply being tied up,” Denise told her. “There is going to be torture, painful torture, and sex with a room full of strangers. Anything can happen to you.”

“I know.”

“You have never been tied up?” Denise asked. “Never at all?”

“No,” Jean whispered.

“You have no idea what you are letting yourself in for,” Mary said grimly.

“Perhaps not, but I want to try it,” Jean said firmly.

“Do you realize that you will be fucked by strangers?” Mary asked crudely.

“Yes.”

“Men are going to stick their cocks in your pussy, up your ass, and in your mouth,” Mary said relentlessly. “And they are going to hurt you.”

Jean nodded.

“Have you ever been screwed in your ass?” Denise asked brutally.

Jean shook her head

“Ever imagine what the pain is like to be whipped on your ass and legs and boobs, not to mention your pussy?”

“My pussy?”

“Especially your pussy,” Denise said. She pointed at me and I nodded.

Jean closed her eyes and took  a deep breath. “Ive imagined being tortured, and now I want to experience it for real.”

“Look at yourself,” Denise said. “Youre shaking like a leaf.”

“Its not from fear,” Jean whispered.

“Dont you think you might want to test the waters before you throw yourself off a cliff into the ocean?” Mary suggested kindly.

“No,” Jean answered firmly. “I want this tonight. I want those men to do terrible things to me. Lots of men and lots of torments.”

Mary and Denise looked at her helplessly. They turned to Lady L and me as if asking us to help talk some sense into this foolish amateur. I couldnt suppress a tiny smile. I shrugged and rolled my eyes.

“I dont think youre going to talk her out of it Mistress,” I said.

Mary and Denise exchanged a look, then Mary pointed to the floor. “Get on your knees,” she commanded. Jean obeyed.

Mary left the room and returned carrying collar and cuffs. She buckled the cuffs on Jeans wrists and locked them together. Then Denise tilted Jeans head forward and held her hair while Mary put the collar around her neck. Jean was trembling when they finished.

Denise pointed at me imperiously.

“Lie down and spread your legs.”

“Yes Mistress,” I hurried to comply. Denise left the room and came back carrying a short whip. She looked at me and I raised my hips off the floor.

“Higher,” she demanded.

I arched my back until my body rested on my shoulders and my toes. I opened my legs wider. Denise didnt warm me up, she just smacked that whip onto my crotch very hard.

I was already turned on, but there was something about being watched by Jean that was very exciting. Her innocent determination to be tortured was deliciously exciting and I came with Denises first blow.

For some reason that made Denis angry. She really laid into me with her whip. She poured blow after blow onto my belly, my thighs and of course my pussy. I was rolling around gasping and squealing and trying not to close my legs. Denise was trying to frighten this poor innocent away but it didnt work. Jean sat beside me, lay back and opened her legs.

Denise turned to whip Jean, raised her arm, then stopped. Jean looked up at her expectantly.

“No,” Denise said to her. “You wont get any warm up from me. If you insist on going through with this youll get your first whipping by a man.”

Jean said nothing, she just opened her knees wider and ground her hips in a wide circle. I saw the temptation in Denises eyes.

She knelt beside Jean. “Look, Im a professional dominatrix, so is Mary. We will be happy to tie you up and introduce you to bondage free of charge in a private and safe place, but some other time. The things that are going to happen tonight are going be neither safe or private. You could get hurt.”

Jean shook her head.

Lady L walked over and sat down beside me. She lay back and spread her legs too.

“Would you whip my cunt, please?” she said coolly. Denise stared in shock. Lady L didnt usually talk that way.

“No I wont,” Denise told her. “All three of you are going to lie here and dont move until I give you permission.”

“Yes Mistress,” Lady L said quietly. Jean and I echoed her.

Denise and Mary left the room. I looked at Jean. She was still trembling with excitement.

“Is this really your first time?” I asked.

She nodded.

“It may be more than you expect,” I warned. “I have a feeling that this evening is going to be very intense.”

“I agree,” Lady L said.

“I dont care,” Jean said softly. “They can do anything they want to me as long as they dont kill me or leave permanent scars on my body.”

“Ok,” I shrugged.

“Are you married?” Lady L asked her.

“Yes.”

“Children?”

“Yes.”

“Decent hard working husband, school PTA meetings, church bake sales, all that?”

“Yes. Is it so obvious?”

“And your husband has no idea you are here, right?”

“Thats right.”

“Oh my!” Lady L said softly.

“Well, I think I ought to warn you,” I said. “Even if you arent permanently scarred, you will have bruises and welts that might last for days, not to mention bite marks.”

“Bite marks?” Jean gasped.

“Yep, especially around your nipples.”

“My God!”

“You may get bitten in other places too,” Lady L said.

“In fact, you can just about count on it,” I added.

Jean closed her eyes and took a long deep breath.

“My husband is attending a church synod in Maine for a month,” she said. “And my children are spending the summer with my parents. Ill have time to heal.”

“Just in case your bruises dont heal before your husband comes home, just say that you fell down some stairs,” I told her. “Ive used that excuse a few times.”

“You have?”

“Mary Elizabeth knows what shes talking about.” Lady L said. “She is quite a masochist,”

Jean looked at me with interest. “Do you do this a lot?”

“Every chance I get.”

“Have you ever been seriously hurt?” she asked.

“Ive never had to go to the hospital,” I said. “But Ive walked around for weeks with bruises and welts on my skin.”

“Welts, from whips?” Jean asked.

“Ive been whipped so hard that its drawn blood,” I told her.

“My God.”

“And bite marks,” added Lady L. “Dont forget the bite marks.”

“Lots of bite marks,” I confirmed. “Usually from women.”

“From women?” Jean gasped. “You mean you submit to lesbians too?”

“I sure do,” I laughed. “And believe me, women are much more cruel than men.”

“Are there going to women here tonight?” she asked. “I mean women who will not be tied up?”

“We call them doms,” I said. “And I dont know if any are coming or not, but if they do, and one of them buys you, better get ready to suffer.”

“I never thought about that,” Jean said. “Being forced by a woman, I mean.”

“So do you have any lesbian fantasies?” I asked.

“No, none,” she answered. “Should I tell them that? I mean, wouldnt they prefer a girl who likes women?”

“Absolutely not,” I said. “That would only spice it up for them, dominant lesbians love to humiliate a straight woman.”

“My God.”

We were quiet for a while.

“So with your family away you decided to experience bondage?” I asked.

“Thats right,” Jean said. “After tonight Ill never do it again.”

“This sort of thing can be addictive,” I warned.

“Shes right,” Lady L said. “Its like a narcotic, the more you get the more you want. What happens if you like it and want more?”

“Ive thought about that,” Jean said. “And have promised myself that even if I do like it, I will never indulge myself again. I will be a good and faithful wife for the rest of my life.”

Lady L gave me a look of disbelief and shook her head.

“How is it that you know someone who is into bondage?” I asked Jean.

“She came to the church a few years ago seeking help with alcohol and drug addiction,” Jean said. “I became her counselor and she told me about the things she has done in her life. Over the years she has been able to break her addiction to drugs and alcohol.”

“But not to bondage?” I asked.

“No, she still does that,” Jean said.

“That ought to be a warning to you,” I said.

“I hope you arent doing this so that you can experience bondage just to be a better counselor,” Lady L said.

“No, I want the sex,” Jean whispered. “I am a very weak person. I get very excited when my friend tells me about her experiences. Ive lain awake nights wanting to do the things she does.”

“We understand completely,” Lady L said. “But theres a world of difference between fantasy and actually doing something.”

“That is very true,” I added.

“It doesnt make sense, but when shes tied up my friend says she experiences total freedom,” Jean said. “And, well, she says she has lots of orgasms.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Thats why its addictive.”

“Have you been doing this sort of thing long?” Jean asked me.

“Since I was a teenager,” I answered.

We were silent for a while, then Jean spoke.

“Once I did have an erotic experience about bondage, sort of.”

“Sort of?” I asked.

“The girl I counseled works as a phone sex operator,” Jean said. “I was at her apartment when she got a call from a man who wanted her to talk dirty to him and she let me listen in.”

“And she talked about bondage?”

“Yes. The man wanted her to talk like she was his prisoner. He told what he would do to her while she was tied up and she had to tell him how much she hated it. She pretended to beg for mercy.”

“You enjoyed listening in?”

“Actually I talked to him too.”

“You did?” 

“She told him that she wasnt alone and put me on the phone. The man demanded that I tell him what I was wearing and what I looked like, then he ordered me to undress.”

“Did you?” Lady L asked.

“No, but I told him I had, then he told me all the terrible torments that he wanted to do to me once he got me alone. I got very excited.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I pretended I was a sex prisoner and talked dirty to him.”

“Did you play with yourself?” I asked.

“Heavens no,” she blushed.

“Did you play around with your friend?” Lady L asked.

“She offered to,” Jean said. “But I couldnt bring myself to do it.”

“What is your friends name?” I asked. “Maybe we know her.”

“I promised not to tell anyone who she is,” Jean said. “We agreed to pretend not to know each other tonight.”

“Ok,” Lady L said. “We respect the need for discretion.”

“Are you sure that youve never had sex with a woman?” I asked.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“You probably will before the night is over,” Lady L said matter of factly. “Even if there arent any female dominas you can expect to be tied to another woman before they are finished with us,” Lady L said. “Men love to do that.”

“Tied to another woman in what way?”

“In the worst possible way,” Lady L answered.

“Or it could be the best possible way, depending on how strong your lesbian tendencies are, ” I laughed.

“You mean . . ?” Jean was aghast.

“Plan on being tied with your mouth to another womans pussy,” I said.

“And you cant just lie there,” Lady L confirmed. “The men will expect you be to active and they have ways of seeing that you are.”

“Oh my God!”

She was quiet for a few minutes. “Have you ever been tied to other women?”

“Only about a thousand times,” I laughed. “Mom and I have been slaves for several years.”

“Ever since her father first tied us up,” Lady L added impishly.

Jean sat up and stared at us. “You are her mother?” she gasped.

“Um hmm,” I answered.

Jeans mouth dropped open. “And youve actually been tied with your mouths on each other?”

Lady L leaned close, “Actually its one of our favorite things,” she said conspiratorially. “My husband has been tying us together for years.”

Jean couldnt believe her ears. She stared in total shock for several minutes. Finally Lady L relented.

“Actually Im not Mary Elizabeths mother,” she laughed. “But we have played that role many times.”

Jean looked at me for confirmation. I nodded.

“Are you lovers?” she asked. “Are you lesbians?”

“We are lovers,” Lady L said, smiling fondly at me. “And we like sex with women but we like men too.”

“So youve attended these type of parties before?” Jean asked.

“Yes,” I said. “And we have acted out little sex shows in front of people for years.” 

“More times than I can remember,” Lady L affirmed. “Men like to watch women together, especially if they think the women are mother and daughter.”

Jeans eyes were huge. She looked back and forth between us, almost hoping we were kidding. Finally she accepted that we werent.

“Would you like to hear about it?” Lady L asked.

“Yes,” Jean said in a small voice. She lay back.

“Better keep your legs apart,” I warned her. “Remember Mistress Denises orders.”

Jean spread her legs.

“Make yourself comfortable while I tell you about bondage, spanking, whipping and group sex,” Lady L said.

“Dont forget cat fighting, exhibitionism and feigned incest,” I added.

Lady L proceeded to tell Jean about our escapades together.


                                       CH 37


Lady L and I regaled Jean with our stories for over two hours. She lay back and listened intently. Her face was bright pink and her body was squirming when Mary finally interrupted us.

“What have you three been doing?” she asked.

“Telling dirty stories,” I replied.

“True ones, or lies?” she laughed. “Never mind, the things you do are so unbelievable that they have to be true.”

“Do they really do all those things?” Jean asked Mary.

“Yes,” Mary said simply.

Jean looked at us in awe.

The men started arriving and Mary showed them to the dungeon. Later the other women arrived and were brought into the house. Denise attended to them, showing them where to put their things, then seeing that they were properly restrained. Each woman was brought into the living room and ordered to lie on the floor with us.

I knew two of them, but most were strangers. They ranged in age from twenty to fifty. Some were pretty, some plain. I tried to guess which one might be Jeans friend. I finally decided it had to be a gal with a hard bitten look and nasty attitude. She was so tough looking that it made me think she might be a prostitute.

Jean stared at them in wonder. The newcomers were quiet at first, but eventually began talking. All except the hard looking woman. She remained silent. Soon the room was full of female chatter. Denise came in and ordered us to be quiet. She left and the talk resumed immediately. She came back a few minutes later carrying a handful of gags.

Denise knelt over Lady L and buckled a gag into her mouth, then she went around the room and gagged every one of us. The tough looking woman refused to cooperate. She turned her head away and wouldnt open her mouth. Denise struggled for a moment to get the gag in, then slapped the woman hard. The woman glared up at her then finally opened her mouth. Denise shoved the gag in and buckled it. The woman immediately made a defiant sort of snarl through her gag.

“Whats the matter Dianne? Too tight?” Denise asked.

Dianne looked up at her and slowly shook her head from side to side. Denise tightened the gag a couple of notches then looked into the womans eyes. Then she slowly drew back her hand and slapped Dianne across the face, hard. Dianne growled under her gag.

“Want another?” Denise asked tauntingly. Dianne nodded, never taking her eyes off Denise. Denise slapped her again. Diannes eyebrows rose almost mockingly, then she lay back. Denise smiled sweetly then left the room.

I looked at Lady L who shrugged and raised her eyebrows. I knew what she meant; obviously Denise and Dianne knew each other.

 

Finally Mr. Jones arrived with his wife. Denise brought her into the room naked, bound, and gagged. She was even hobbled and forced to mince along with baby steps. Her eyes widened at the sight of the rest of us. She was an attractive woman who took obvious pains to retain her figure. Her hair and makeup were nicely done and her skin showed the result of regular visits to a tanning salon. I shook my head at that. I knew her hairdo and makeup would be ruined by the end of the night.

Denise snapped her fingers and Mrs. Jones took her place on the floor. She sat on the couch, then slid to the floor. Her hobble made it difficult to move but she managed. She struggled to cross her ankles so she could at least spread her knees.

Her husband stood in the door. One women opened her legs a bit wider, then we all did. Jeans legs were widest of all and she stared up at his face. He looked at each pussy carefully, then nodded appreciatively and left.

Denise came in.

“All right slave girls, here is whats going to happen,” she said. “The men are already playing cards. Im going to take you one by one to the dungeon and tie you to an X cross. You will wait on the crosses for about an hour, then the auction will begin. When you are bought you become the property of that man for the rest of the night. He gets to do anything he wants to you, and you have to submit. You may count on things getting rough and Mary and I will not intervene. You all agreed to a night of  bondage with no limits, so if you have any reservations sit up now. Ill release you and you may leave. You have two minutes to make up your minds, after that there will be no backing out.”

There was some nervous shuffling but no one sat up.

“I mean it,” Mary said. “If these guys get out of control there is nothing we can do to protect you.”

I knew that Mary and Denise had a couple of very large men to act as bouncers in the dungeon. They would stay out of sight unless they were needed, but the other women didnt know that.

Several women looked around nervously. There were some worried noises from gagged mouths. Dianne looked around contemptuously, then thrust out her breasts.

Denise looked down at Dianne. “I know you cant wait,” she said. “But not all these girls are as sluttish as you.”

Dianne opened her legs wider and made humping motions with her pelvis.

Denise looked at Jean. “This is your last chance to back out,” she warned.

Jean was trembling so much that her breasts jiggled, but she looked up at Denise and shook her head.

Denise shrugged and pointed to Mrs. Jones. “All right, youre first.” 


Authors note: I resubmitted chapters 36 and 37 because there was an error the first time and part of the text was cut off by the margin.





CH 38


       Mrs. Jones climbed to her feet and stood shaking She radiated sexual excitement as Denise clipped a leash to her collar.

       Denise led her away.

She returned a few minutes later and looked at Jean.

“This your last chance to change your mine,” she said. “When I take you into that room you are going to be tortured, understand?”

Jean nodded.

“You are going to be tortured!” Denise repeated.

Jean looked glassy eyed, but she raised her chin bravely. Denise took her away.

The next slave to go was Dianne. Denise motioned her to get to her feet but  Dianne didnt move, she just looked up at Denise defiantly. Denise bent down and slapped Diannes face several times, very quickly and very hard. Diannes cheek was red and showed hand prints. She actually smiled around her gag and still didnt move. Denise pinched Diannes nipple very carefully and very hard with her nails. Dianne gazed up at her mockingly. Denise tightened her grip and actually pulled Diane upward by her nipple. Diane resisted fir a moment, then her resistance collapsed like a balloon. She gasped and shrank back. Denise held onto Diannes nipple until she was writhing in pain.

       “You can try your tough gal act with the men,” Denise told her. “But it wont work with me.” She hauled Dianne to her feet with just the thumb and finger of one hand. Dianne stood panting for a moment, then lifted her head, tossed her hair defiantly and stuck out her breast for more.

       “One of these days youll push me too far,” Denise said softly. “And Ill bite that nipple off.” She reached in her bras and took out a horrid looking alligator nipple clamp. That thing had the longest, sharpest teeth Id ever seen. There was a simultaneous gasp of horror from ever woman in the room.

Denise clipped it to a leash then held the jaws open in front of Diannes face. Dianne stared at it for a moment, then thrust her chest forward.

       “Would you like the left or the right?” Denise asked sweetly. Dianne rocked her body from side to side, giving Denise the choice. Denise grasped Diannes right breast, pulled the nipple forward then clipped that awful thing to it. Diannes tough gal act flickered for a moment. I saw her eyes widen and her muscles tense. A single tear appeared at the corner of her eye but she shook it away and raised her chin. Denise tugged on the leash and led her out of the room.

       There was dead silence in the living room. No one tried to speak, the eyes were very eloquent; every one of us was scared, and turned on.

       Denise returned, still angry, and yanked me to my feet. She clipped a collar to my leash and tugged so hard that I stumbled. I mumbled in protest. Denise didnt say a word, but she turned and very deliberately pinched my nipple. Hard!

       Denise leaned close and asked softly: “Are you going to defy me too?”

       I shook my head quickly, then lowered my eyelids and nodded slowly. That brought an increase in the pressure in my nipple. I couldnt repress a tiny whimper.

       “I know you like pain,” Denise said. “But youre not even in the same league as that bitch Dianne. Shes a pain junkie and if youre not careful Ill put you beside her.”

This I had to see. I wanted to be beside Dianne. I tried to tell Denise this but didnt make much sense through my gag, so I kicked her.

       Denise gasped in astonishment. She grabbed both my nipples and pinched them so fiercely that I sank to my knees with the pain. It was terrible and tears came to my eyes, but God, what a turn on! I had my first orgasm of the night right there in the hallway.

       Denise twisted my nipples until I was on tiptoes, then yanked me along and led me to the dungeon.


       Jean was stretched tightly on an X frame. Two men were toying with her. One was squeezing her breasts and another was caressing her pussy. Her eyes were closed and a  look of pure ecstasy was on her face.

       Dianne was stretched even more tightly on her cross. Two other men were looking at her as Mary explained to them that who ever bought this slave was going to have to his hands full breaking her. Mary held the leash connected to Diannes breast and tugged on it as she talked. Dianne was glaring at them.

       One of the men took a whip from Mary and smacked Diannes breast. Dianne thrust out her chest and made mocking noises behind her gag. He hit her again harder. She rolled her eyes in mock boredom. He stepped back took a full swing and slashed the whip across her breasts hard. A terrible welt appeared. Dianne shrank back for a second, then looked him in the eye and whimpered mockingly, like a puppy. The blow knocked the alligator clip off Diannes nipple, She frowned and look at it, then at her nipple. She was clearly hoping someone would put it back. The man stepped back for another swing but Mary stopped him.

       “Thats enough for now,” she said. “If you want to whip her more youll have to buy her at the auction.”

       “Better count on it,” the man said grimly. Dianne made more whimpers at him.

       Denise strapped me to the cross beside Dianne. 

“Are you sure you want to be close to her?” she asked me. She was no longer angry. “Youre likely to get treated worse because of the fallout she creates.”

I was nodding before she finished talking.

“Im serious,” Denise said quietly. “You may think that youre the toughest little masochist around, but youre a child compared to her.”

Dianne heard and turned toward us. She looked at me coldly, then raised her chin. Denise reached across and slapped her.

“What the hell was that?” laughed one of the men.

“This fucking bitch pisses me off,” Denise said angrily. I was surprised, Id never heard Denise speak that way.

“Maybe you ought to get in the game so you can bid for her,” another man chuckled. “Then you can teach her some respect.”

Dianne snorted derisively.


They brought out the other slaves one by one until all the crosses were filled. Mrs. Jones occupied into the center cross but  unfortunately she didnt get the attention she hoped for. The men were playing poker, but several had already left the tables and were sampling the merchandise. Dianne and Jean were popular.

Dianne fought her bonds and glared at everyone. She tugged at the straps holding her so hard that she shook her cross. This attracted a lot of attention. I wondered where she found the energy. Most women would have already exhausted themselves.

Jean attracted attention too. She didnt wriggle or anything, and she kept her eyes lowered. She wasnt the prettiest woman present, but she radiated an innocence that was irresistible.

Lady L was placed next me. She too drew the eyes of the men by her age and elegance. One man took off her gag and asked her what she was doing there. She blushed and lowered her eyes and told him that her family had fallen on difficult times and she had been forced into slavery to support her children.

“You arent getting paid for this, are you?” the man asked.

“No,” she whispered ashamedly. “I discovered that I like pain. Now I do it for free.”

“Sounds like you are quite a tramp,” the man said rubbing her pussy.

“Yes sir, I am.”

I had to repress a giggle. Lady L was doing a fine job of acting. She glanced sidelong at me and shook her head slightly. I knew she was trying to tell me not to blow her little act, but the man saw it and looked at me curiously. He removed my gag.

“Who are you?” he asked.

I decided to hell with Mrs. Jones desire to be the star attraction. I decided that Lady L and I should play our role of mother and daughter. I looked at her with my innocent little girl expression.

“Mom?”

The mans jaw dropped. He looked at her then me, then her.

“This is your mother?” he gasped.

I looked at her, she closed her eyes and nodded resignedly.

“Yes sir,” she confessed.

“You both like this?” he asked. “Does masochism run in your family?”

We both hung our heads. The stared at us, then grabbed my crotch and squeezed hard. I bit my lip, but allowed a soft moan to escape my lips. He slipped his finger inside my pussy and I cried out pretending to be in pain, but at the same time I rolled my hips slightly.

“Damn, you are a slut!” he said. I turned my face away.

He walked to one of the card tables. Play came to a stop as he told the others what hed just learned. Everyone stared at us.


Mary stepped onto the stage and cracked a bullwhip several times to get the mens attention. The room became quiet. She looked terrific and the men applauded. She made a little speech.

“Welcome gentlemen, you will see that we have ten slaves for your pleasure. All the women are volunteers and most are hard core masochists. Some are more enthusiastic volunteers than others.” She strolled past Dianne and flicked her pussy lightly. Dianne glared at her and the men laughed. “And one lady is experiencing her first time in bondage.” All eyes instinctively turned to Jean.

“Our newcomer insists that she wants to experience all the wicked things that you can inflict on her, so dont hold back.” Jean blushed, then looked every man in the eye one by one. I think I could hear their cocks growing.

“We have several other willing volunteers,” Mary continued. “Including two very elegant ladies who lead secret lives as slaves. For example, this one,” she caressed Mrs. Jones pussy, “Lives her entire life chained in a basement cell. The only time she is taken out is to be screwed and tortured. She loves both.” Mrs. Jones head rolled back.

Mary moved to Lady L and patted her pussy. “This lady has been a sex slave for twenty years.”

“Mother and daughter,” I whispered as Mary walked by me. Lady L nodded slightly. Mary never missed a beat. She turned to me. “And this is her daughter. Shes only twenty years old but shes been a slave since middle school.”

The room was dead silent as the mens eyes flicked back and forth between Lady L and me. I was older than twenty but the men didnt seem to notice.

Mary continued up and down the line of crosses introducing each slave in turn.

“We have tags with your names and when you purchase a slave your tag will be attached to her collar. When the auction is finished you may claim your slave. You have another hour until the auction begins gentlemen, so place your bets carefully. You wouldnt want to miss a chance to purchase one of these lovelies.”


The men went back to their game but several seemed to have difficulty concentrating. They watched us more than their cards. I have to say that it was exciting being on display like that. Lady L was in heaven. Although she kept her eyes lowered modestly I saw that she was peeking at the men. Jean stared wide eyed t the men who stared at her. She was obviously quite aroused and writhed gently in her bonds. Most of the other women waited patently or in anticipation, but Dianne just couldnt hold still. She tugged and twisted in her bonds constantly. When she made eye contact with one of the men she glared and snarled at him.

Mary and Denise walked up and down the line of slaves playing lightly with our bodies. Mary didnt have a problem with Dianne but Denise was still angry. Each time she passed Dianne she pinched her hard. At one point she grabbed Diannes breast and twisted until I thought shed pull it off. Dianne just looked at Denise and offered her other breast. Denise noticed the alligator clamp lying on the floor. She picked it up and Dianne promptly offered her breast. Denise bent and clipped it to Diannes pussy lips. A  long, deep sigh escaped Diannes gag, but then she moaned in theatrical delight.

Finally the poker games ended and the auction began. Mary offered the first woman to start the bidding. I didnt know that girl but she was young and pretty and seemed to be enjoying her bondage. The bidding was slow at first, but Denise started caressing the womans pussy. The woman gasped and rolled up her eyes. I dont know if she really had an orgasm or was just acting, but it did generate interest and bidding perked up. Her buyers name was clipped to her collar.

The rest were sold off until it was down to Jean, Dianne, Lady L and me, and Mrs. Jones. We knew Mrs. Jones would go last, and figured that Diannes antics would get her some high offers, but I didnt realize who much the men were attracted to Jean.

Jean attracted a lot of bids and was sold for a pretty high amount. During the bidding she trembled so that her breasts shook. That generated even more interest and the  bidding became quite heated. She watched eagerly as the men bid and when she was sold she stared at her buyer with a look of absolute lust. She even opened her legs a bit wider for him.

Lady L and I were next and as I expected, our mother-daughter act got us a lot of bids. Eventually two men teamed up, pooled their money and outbid the others. It was very flattering, but the undisputed star of the auction was Dianne. Denise helped her by torturing her during the bidding. She stood in front of Dianne and slapped her breasts with each bid. Dianne radiated defiance and tried to talk through her gag. I knew what she was saying, but the men couldnt quite hear. They shouted for Denise to remove Diannes gag.

As soon as the gag was out of her mouth Dianne began taunting Denise.

“Is that the best you can do?” she laughed. “You call yourself a dominatrix? Come on, hit me!”

Denise stepped back, took careful aim and slashed her whip across Diannes chest. Dianne squealed with delight.

“Ooh, thank you! May I please have a real one now?”

Denise was red in the face and furiously angry. She began a figure eight pattern of blows on Diannes body that soon had it pink. Denise was breathing hard but Dianne just looked at her calmly. Denise stepped back, breathing hard.

“Dont forget my cunt,” Dianne said to her. “You havent whipped my cunt yet.”

Denise hit Diannes pussy harder than Ive seen a woman hit in my life. The blow was like a gunshot and Diannes body lifted upward. A faint look of pain went across her face but was instantly replace by one of pure delight.

“Ooooh, thank you,” she said softly. “A few more of those and Ill be cumming like a truck stop whore.”

I couldnt tell if she came or not, but she sure got a few more.


Dianne was sold, then Mrs. Jones was put on the block. Sadly, she didnt garner much attention. She was sold, but after Diannes performance, her sale was a let down. We were turned over to our owners and the orgy began.


CH 39


Lady L and I were taken off our crosses and promptly bent over the knees of our purchasers. We were given some very nice spankings, then switched and spanked by the other man. During the evening we had all the things done to us that we had grown to expect. We were tied together face to face, had our breasts pressed together and made to kiss. We were spread out on tables side by side and screwed and ordered to watch each other, and of course we were tied with our mouths on each others pussy. Along the way we were spanked again, whipped an awful lot and forced to suck a lot of cocks. Through it all we maintained our act. I pretended to be timid and fearful, but unable to conceal my lust. Lady L suffered  with dignity and noble sacrifice, but also couldnt control herself when they abused her.

When they tied my face in her pussy I pretended to resist until she told me that no matter what, we had to obey our new masters. I sniffed back a tear and stuck my tongue inside her. Of course, we became so turned on that we were soon bucking and thrashing around with passion. Wed barely come when we were untied and violently raped. Very nice! Then the other masters began offering to swap their slaves for us.

The evening followed a familiar pattern. Ownership was forgotten as each slave was screwed and tortured by every man present. For the first hour there was all sorts of frenzied sexual activity, then, when all the men had come once or twice there was a lull. Everyone seemed to catch their breath.

Denise and Mary brought water to us slaves and wiped our faces with towels. The men lolled around sipping their drinks and munching on snacks.

When things resumed the men got creative, they began loaning us to each other, pairing up some of the slaves into forced lesbian activity, two or three men on a woman, and so on.


Occasionally I got a glimpse of Jean. Her buyer started with a rather gentle spanking until she asked him to hit harder. Later I saw another man whip her while she hung from the rafters by her wrists. Her face showed terrific pain and tears streamed from her eyes, but when he asked if she wanted to be released she shook her head emphatically and begged for more. Her tormentor held up a wicked looking pair of nipple clamps. She looked at them in horror, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then nodded. He clipped them to her nipples and her shriek pierced the room. Everything stopped for a moment, then when the men realized what was happening to her they laughed and resumed torturing the rest of us.

As is often the case in such orgies things tend to blur together. I was screwed, spanked, tied, retied, spanked again, forced to eat Lady Ls pussy, and have mine eaten in return. I also ate other pussies but rarely saw the faces of the other women. I was aware of things happening around me, but sometimes they were simply melted into noise and confused motion. Other times things stood out clearly.

I saw Jean bent over a punishment horse and caned until her butt and legs were bright pink. She writhed under the cane and struggled frantically, even after her master stopped hitting her. But when she realized hed stopped she looked back at him and wiggled her bottom for more. Another man lifted her chin and commanded her to open her mouth. She did and he thrust his cock between her lips. Her master tossed away the cane and shoved his cock in her pussy. The men looked at each other, laughed and began thrusting in rhythm. Jeans eyes seemed to roll up in her head.

Later I saw her tied to a table, legs up and apart. Her head hung down off the tables edge. A man was screwing her pussy and another had his cock in her mouth. Others were waiting their turn.

Actually we all ended up on tables. They put them in a row and the men screwed us in a line, rather like musical chairs. But that was toward the morning when things were winding down.

During the night Mary took each of us from bondage one at a time and led us to the house. The men protested but she shut them up with a withering look. In the house wed get a bathroom break and something to eat. Mary and Denise kept a pot of coffee going, a kettle of soup and a tray of sandwiches ready. We were given half an hour to freshen up, eat a quick meal and rest. I wondered if any of the women would refuse to return to the dungeon but no one did.

Dianne tried to refuse her break. She was telling Mary that she was just fine, thank you very much, when Denise elbowed Mary out of the way, grabbed a handful of Diannes hair and literally dragged her out of the room. Thirty minutes later she shoved Dianne through the door so hard that she landed on her face. Everything came to a stop, and we all watched as Denise jerked Dianne to her feet, marched her painfully to a pillory and locked her into it. She stepped back and gave Dianne ten very hard, very deliberate cuts with a horse whip across the tops of her legs. Dianne tried to tough it out but I knew that the whip was hurting her when she started to sob. After ten Denise gave her one final horrific uppercut blow into her pussy, then she went to the nearest man and grabbed his cock. It was already quite hard but she stroked it until it was noticeably larger. She tugged on his cock and pulled him to Dianne and ordered him to fuck her in the ass. He obeyed and everyone went back to what they were doing.

When he finished the other men decided to lock more slaves in the pillory. I spent some time in it and was screwed by at least four masters. (Its impossible to see whats going on behind you, but I think I could detect four different cocks up my pussy.) The only problem with being in the thing is you cant really watch whats going on around you. Luckily I was taken out to make room for another slave and I was hoisted up by my wrists. A man whipped me, then wandered away leaving me hanging. I was actually left alone for a while and had time to look around.

I watched a man tie Mrs. Jones into one of the most constricting hog-ties Id ever seen. He took his time and wrapped every coil of the rope in perfect alignment. He centered the knots and tied the perfectly. He even tucked the loose ends neatly under the coils. When he finished tying her he fingered her pussy and rectum until she had an orgasm, but he didnt stop. He kept his fingers moving until she screamed for him to stop. He did, but only long enough to gag her, then went back to tormenting her ultra sensitive pussy. Mary appeared carrying a pretty basket full of dildos and vibrators. Mrs. Jones shrieks got louder, even under her gag. They tapered off and I suspect that she had fainted, not that mattered to her tormentor, he just kept shoving things in and out of her pussy. I hoped he might do that to me, but it didnt happen.

I heard a series of rapid squeaks from Lady L. She was suspended upside down by a very tight rope around her ankles. A man was swinging her back and forth by pulling her breasts, then releasing her. Another man wandered up and slapped her butt as she swung past. Id never heard her make noises like that and couldnt tell if her squeaks were in pain or delight. I was concerned for her and almost yelled at them to leave her alone. A few minutes later I saw her spinning like a top. I hoped she wouldnt get sick.

I also remember catching glimpse of several women crawling along the floor in a race while men whipped them on. Jean was one of them, and she was huffing and puffing with exertion, but when a whip cracked across her butt she froze, stiffened every muscle then slowly arched her back until she was almost on her hands and toes. The whip cracked across the bottom again, she dropped slightly, then raised up for another. The race went on without her while her master whipped her slowly and carefully. After a particularly fierce stroke she squealed, took a deep breath, then wiggled her butt for another. The man dropped to his knees and entered her from behind. A look of contentment came over her and she wriggled her bottom happily.

Later I saw her lying face down on a table, her legs were wide apart and a man was spanking her pussy. Even though she winced at each blow, her expression was one of surprised delight. When he stopped she looked back at him and begged for more.

But despite everything else, Dianne was the star of the show. She was never still and never quiet. She taunted her owner until she drove him to a fury. Still chained to her cross she was whipped her so hard I thought she would be permanently injured. The master stood well back and struck carefully aimed powerful blows with his whip. She didnt flinch. She locked eyes with him and always had something to say, usually insulting his strength or manhood. I dont know what she said, but one master recruited some help.

Three men took her down and tied her into a painful frog tie. One man held her neck in his elbow while another thrust his fingers up her pussy and rectum. The third man bit her breast so hard the she screamed in real pain. He was joined by a fourth master who engulfed her other breast with his teeth. The men seemed to contract over her until she disappeared. All I could see was a tight ball of arms and legs and the only evidence of  Dianne were her muffled screams.

I tried to watch what was happening to her but my attention was often distracted, like for instance when a man noticed me and decided to see how many nipple clamps he could get on me. After hed used up all we had he whipped them off. Somebody else joined in and they had a little contest to see who could whip clamps off my boobs with the fewest strokes. Im not certain, but I think six men joined in the game. My poor boobies felt like they had blisters when they finished with that game.

There were times when I might be left alone for a few minutes, but almost every time I managed to get a look at Dianne she was receiving punishment. At one point she was alone on the floor. The men had finished with her and left her in the frog tie. Mary released and tried to get her to take a break but Dianne shrugged Mary off and crawled to the cross. She struggled to stand but fell back a couple of times. Finally she pulled herself upright by practically climbing the cross. She opened her legs and tottered unsteadily, then raised her arms and demanded that Mary chain her in place. This attracted the attention of a couple of the men. They watched while Dianne was secured to the cross. She tested her bonds so hard that the muscles stood out on her arms, then she looked at the men, licked her lips seductively and thrust her pelvis forward.

“Either fuck me, or whip me,” she told them. “But dont just stand there looking stupid.”

One of the men stepped close and with a round about uppercut he slapped her pussy so hard that it sounded like a pistol shot.

Denise walked over and dumped a box of whips on the floor, then walked away.

Both men whipped her pussy. A third tried to join in but there simply wasnt room, never the less, Dianne kept up a running critique of their efforts.

Later a couple of men unchained her from the cross and dragged her to a table. She fought and spat like a cat and they practically threw her down. They strapped her arms wide apart and her legs in the air. She was making thrusting motions with her hips before they even finished securing her. One of them thrust his cock inside her and began fucking her furiously. She smiled up at him mockingly sweet and said something that I couldnt hear. (The room was noisy). He slapped her face, then grabbed her breasts and squeezed with all his might. She made a kissy face at him. He came inside her and stepped back. He was instantly replaced by another man. Dianne talked to him but he ignored her. He just fucked her until he came, then walked away.

A third man stepped close, looked her over, then began whipping her pussy. He was cool and methodical and whipped her steadily for a long time and he only whipped her crotch. She watched him calmly at first, then a look of defiance came over her, that grew until she had an expression of pure fury. Still he whipped her with a slow regular rhythm. He must have whipped her for half an hour. She glared at him with a cold disdain, until without warning she went limp, threw back her head and had one of the most fantastic orgasms Id ever witnessed. The man didnt pause, he just kept the whip going. Finally another man said something to him and he stopped. He grabbed a handful of Diannes hair and bent close to her face. I dont know what he said to her but she nodded. He tossed the whip down and walked away.

A man wandered over to me and began pinching my nipples, so I wasnt able to watch Dianne for a while. This guy was into verbal humiliation. He called me all sorts of filthy names and told me what a dirty girl I was, then he made me beg and plead for mercy. I didnt mind the name calling, but he wasnt very good at torture. He didnt inflict very much pain, but I pretended by thrashing as if in agony and weeping piteously. He finished up by tying me to a kneeling post and making me suck his cock. When he came he spurted all over my face. Better than nothing, I suppose. My pose caught the eye of other men and I got to suck several more cocks.

Later as I was sagging in my bonds I saw Lady L and Mrs. Jones standing in front of two men. Their arms were tightly bound behind them and they were being subjected to some type of interrogation. I couldnt hear what was said but they nodded or shook their heads in response to questions. One of the men was the same whod subjected me to the name calling. I think that was more interesting to him than physical abuse. Finally one of the men pointed to Lady L. Mrs. Jones kissed her, long and deeply on the mouth. Lady L closed her eyes and returned the kiss passionately. They rubbed their breasts together as they held that kiss for a long time and Mrs. Jones pushed her knee between Lady Ls legs and pressed her thigh against her pussy..

After a few minutes one of the men picked Lady L up, sat down and put her on his lap with her legs apart. He ordered Mrs. Jones to kneel and crawl forward. She licked Lady Ls pussy, tentatively at first, then eagerly. The man shifted Lady L until her legs were high in the air and Mrs. Jones had better access to her pussy. Lady L closed her eyes and enjoyed what was happening, but I also saw her hands locate the mans cock and squeeze it. Another man knelt behind Mrs. Jones and thrust his cock inside her.

Lady L came in about ten minutes, and she clearly had a terrific orgasm. The man dropped her on the floor, picked up Mrs. Jones and spread her open on his lap. Lady L collapsed on the floor with a look of delight on her face. He ordered Lady L to eat Mrs. Jones pussy and Lady L tried to get to her knees but she was still overcome by her orgasm. She rolled onto her face and tried to get up but her legs gave way beneath her. The man whod been screwing Mrs. Jones yanked Lady Ls bottom into the air and began spanking her. He spanked her hard and at first she lay there and accepted it, but he began smacking her bottom very hard. So hard the each blow made her scoot across the floor a few inches. She struggled to get to Mrs. Jones but he held her firm and kept the spanking going. She began to whimper, then sob, and finally scream, but he was merciless. The man holding Mrs. Jones decided to get into the act and he began spanking her pussy. Mrs. Jones enjoyed it too, at first, but soon she was shrieking in pain. The first man decided he wanted to spank Lady Ls pussy, so her picked her up, sat beside the other man and opened her legs. Lady L was crying but as soon as the first spank landed on her pussy her eyes flew open and a look of pure astonishment came across her face and she screamed to rattle the rafters. Everything in the room stopped for a second, then the men laughed and returned to what they were doing.

Her tormentor spanked Lady Ls helpless pussy until she grew faint. I was worried about her until I saw her eyes flicker open and a tiny smile appear.

While that was going on the other man was spanking Mrs. Jones pussy. She went  into a very impressive orgasm, thrashing and squealing on his lap. In fact, it was so showy that I decided she must be faking.

He let her writhe around for a minute, then dumped her on the floor. Shed barely landed when she rolled around and kissed his feet. He looked at her curiously but she worked her way up his legs with her lips. He opened his knees and she pounced on his cock. Apparently she was pretty good because a look of astonished delight came over his face. He leaned back, closed his eyes and enjoyed a pretty enthusiastic blow job.

Lady Ls man tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to Mrs. Jones. Lady L took a long deep breath, then knelt between his legs and licked his balls.

Another man wandered over, watched for a moment, then knelt behind Lady L and thrust his cock inside her. She paused, tensed up for a second, then resumed worshipping the cock in her mouth. Somebody else decided to fuck Mrs. Jones the same way. Other men noticed and a line began to form.

After they had sucked several cocks the men spread Lady L on a table, stretched her arms and legs very tightly and tied them off, then they placed Mrs. Jones atop her. A man tied a rope through Lady Ls hair, slipped the end through Mrs. Jones waist rope and tugged until Lady Ls face was jammed into Mrs. Jones pussy. Then he did the same to Mrs. Jones hair and tied her face between Lady Ls legs. The men stood over them making sure that their tongues were busy, then wandered away.

I assumed the women would relax but within a few minutes I noticed Lady Ls toes curling and her back arch off the table so high that she lifted Mrs. Jones with her.

Mary came by, looked at me and shook her head. She disappeared then returned with a damp washcloth. She cleaned my face and then wiped my body down. I could have kissed her. She walked away and made her way around the room. She attended to each woman the same way, if she could get close that is, some were so busy being tortured that she couldnt get near them. She went to Dianne and started to wash her face but Denise appeared, took the wash cloth away from Mary and smacked it across Diannes breasts. Dianne looked up at her, smiled and said: “Thank you maam, may I please have another?”

Denise tossed the washcloth away and raked her nails down Diannes chest. Deep scratches appeared. Dianne made a smooching sound and winked at Denise. Denise went to the wall and selected a plastic yard stick. She returned and began smacking Diannes breasts. This attracted attention and several men gathered around. One made as if to take the yard stick, but Denise told him to fuck Dianne.

“You guys screw her, and Ill take care of her boobs,” Denise said.

Men gathered around and I couldnt see any more. Later the crowd parted and I saw Dianne hanging from the ceiling. Four men were whipping her and she had a look of pure unadulterated ecstasy. They changed her position so that her legs were tied open and several men walked slowly around her in a circle snapping whips over every part of her body. She squealed in delight and urged them to strike harder. Weights were clamped to her nipples and pussy lips and swung with her gyrations. If one fell off she asked to have it replaced.

I decided that she must be on drugs.


I was still kneeling and had just received a face full of cum when the room became very quiet. Jean was still tied over a table and a man was screwing her from behind. Everyone was watching because he was strangling her.

The man had wrapped a rope around Jeans neck like a garrote and was pulling it tightly. Her body was pulled off the table. Her back was arched, her face pointed to the ceiling and it was turning purple. The man slammed his cock into her body so hard that the table shook. He twisted the garrote from side to side and she seemed close to passing out. Mary moved close but the man released his grip on the rope. Jean fell back onto the table, her breasts flattening as she landed. She gasped and sucked in air. The man grabbed and handful of Jeans hair and bent close to her ear.

“You filthy whore.” he said, his voice dripping contempt. “You like this dont you?”

Jean couldnt speak for several minutes, she coughed and gasped for breath, but she looked at him and nodded. In the silence her whispered answer carried through the room.

“Yes, I want more.”

He complied and the table started to slide across the floor with his thrusts. He left the noose slack Jean threw her head back and tossed her chin up like a horse.

“Choke me again.”

He tightened the garrote and pulled her body off the table so hard that the front legs rose off the floor. Jean closed her eyes in delight.

“I think she likes being choked,” one of the onlookers commented.

“Is that true?” the man asked her. “Shall we hang you by your neck? Want us to fuck you while you die?”

Jean couldnt answer, but the bone shaking orgasm that hit her spoke volumes. The man spurted a split second later. He was quickly replaced and the second man kept pressure on Jeans throat while he screwed her too. All in all, every man in the room fucked her while choking her half to death.

Denise and Mary watched carefully, but Jean was clearly enjoying every minute.

After the fifth or sixth man screwed her the next announced his intention of fucking her in the ass. Jeans face froze and she looked at Mary in alarm.

Mary just shook her head as if to say: we warned you

Panic was on Jeans face and she tried to turn her head but the man yanked the garrote cruelly.

“Whats the matter slave girl, never been fucked in the ass before?” he sneered.

“Please dont, , ,” she began, but one of the men slapped her face and told her to shut up.

She looked at all the faces around her. There was no sympathy in any of them. Even Mary and Denise regarded her coldly. Jean took a long deep breath, set her teeth, then actually wiggled her bottom slightly. That drew howls of laughter from the men.

The man behind her positioned his cock at her anus then brutally thrust inside her.  Jeans eyes flew open in and a long wail of absolute agony came from her throat. Her scream was cut off when the man tightened the rope around her neck.

“Let her breathe,” a man suggested. “I want to hear her scream.”

Jean was permitted to scream her lungs out. The screams grew faint and as I watched the look of pain fade from her face. It softened and her eyes half closed. She looked slowly around the table, meeting every mans eyes, and I saw a faint smile on her lips.

“Jesus, she likes this too,” a man marveled. Jean smiled at him.

Denise pushed through the crowd and tossed a handful of nipple clamps on the table. They were as wicked as the one shed put on Dianne. Someone placed a clamp on one of Jeans nipples. She gasped, then screamed again, more in shock than in pain I think. Her scream hadnt stopped when a second clamp was applied. That scream was definitely a shriek of pain. She writhed begged them to take the clamps off. Her pleas were rewarded with more clamps. The man fucking her yanked the garrote and told her to shut up. She obeyed.

Another master took the garrote off Jeans throat. Everyone protested but shut up when he tied a hangmans noose on a longer rope. They watched intently as he slipped it over Jeans head, tossed the rope over a rafter and hauled her body off the table.

I made eye contact with Denise. She nodded to reassure me that she wouldnt let them kill Jean. 

It appears that screwing a slave while strangling her is a big turn on for some men because several other women suffered the same treatment. I watched in concern as a man tore Mrs. Jones ropes off then drag her and Lady L off their table. Mrs. Jones landed on the floor and lay dazed while they untied Lady L. My concern grew to alarm as Lady L was jerked roughly to her feet and a noose was placed around her neck. The noose was tossed over a rafter and she was thrown onto the table. Her head was yanked upward as the noose was brutally tightened. Mrs. Jones landed beside her and her body was pulled up a noose. Neither lady protested or screamed, in fact Lady Ls face remained calm.

A man thrust fiercely into Lady L and I hoped he was fucking her pussy because Lady L should never have to endure anal sex. (Unfortunately I was wrong. Gracious, elegant Lady L was raped in her ass that night.)

She grabbed the edge of the table and braced herself as the man slammed his cock into her, but then she let go and raised her hands gently into the air, abandoning herself to him. The same thing was happening to Mrs. Jones, but she let go of the table and folded her wrists across her back as if she was inviting someone to tie them.

The man screwing Lady L bent grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head further back. Pain flashed across her face when he yanked the noose tight. After a moment her face calmed and her eyes opened. She looked up and deliberately met the eyes of every man around her. Poor Lady Ls hair was a mess, her face was purple and covered with perspiration. Every muscle in her body was strained but her eyes were shining. She reached out and grasped the penis of a man in front of her. Another man laughed and stepped close and she took him in her other hand.

I was absolutely flabbergasted. Not at what was happening to her, but at how Lady L was responding. She was enjoying it!

She had trouble masturbating the men in front of her because from time to time the man holding her noose would yank so hard that she was lifted up and lost her grip on their cocks. They yelled at him to take it easy so he lowered her face a bit. When one of the men came Lady L deliberately aimed his cum into her face.

That brought a resounding cheer from the onlookers and the instant the first man stopped spurting he was replaced by another.

Mrs. Jones was also masturbating two cocks, but the man fucking her let go of her noose and her body dropped onto the table. A hand grabbed her hair and in an instant she had a cock in her mouth.

The man fucking Lady L came and stepped back. He was replaced and the next man fucked her. He came rather quickly but when he did he grasped her noose in both hands and jerked so hard that her head was snapped upwards. I screamed in fear that he might break her neck. He pulled harder and she was dragged so high that she lost grip on the cocks in her hands and she was lifted her off his own cock. He held her suspended while his cum spurted on her legs, then let her drop. She collapsed in the floor.

Denise rushed over and took the noose off her neck. Lady L lay gasping for a few minutes, then climbed to her feet. She reached up, put her head in the noose, then bent over the table and opened her legs. She looked up at the men, clearly waiting for the next to fuck her. Denise shook her head in dismay and stepped back into the shadows.

She must have asked him to do it, because the next man also hauled her into the air by her neck when he came.

They did the same thing to Mrs. Jones, but she wasnt expecting it. A look of panic came over her face and she fought and kicked as she dangled. The men laughed as her breasts bounced from side to side and one of them slapped them a few times, but I dont think she noticed. They dropped her after a moment, but she was quickly picked up and bent back over the table.  

Despite my worries about Lady L I was a bit jealous that I didnt get the same treatment. I wanted to be hanged too but no one paid attention to me. I was ignored on my kneeling post.


A man came to me. I saw his hard penis pointing at my face and had my mouth open when he arrived. It took quite a while to make him come, (I think they were all starting to wind down by then) so I couldnt see what was happening to Lady L.

Later I saw Mrs. Jones on the lap of a man. Her hands were tightly bound behind her back and she was bouncing up and down on his penis while he pinched her nipples.

Lady L was kneeling between another mans legs playing with his cock. It was the guy who liked to talk dirty. Two others sat nearby. They were talking to her and she was looking up at them and nodding. I had trouble hearing clearly but I did catch words like slut and whore. Lady L seemed almost eager to listen to their abuse. When the man came she lowered her face and he spurted onto her head. She massaged his semen into her hair.

Then she crawled to another man.


I fell asleep tied to my post, but woke when someone snapped a whip across my breasts. When he saw that I was wide awake, the man gave me a dozen more cuts, then untied me and dragged me to a table. He dumped me over it but didnt bother to tie me. I looked for a noose and would have put one around my own neck the way Lady L had done, but Denise had taken them away. I would have settled for a garrote but all he did was screw me, then walk away.  

I stood up and wondered what I ought to do. I wasnt tied and no one noticed me, so I went into the bathroom. I jumped into the shower, intending to have a quick wash, but the hot water felt so good that I ended up standing there for at least half an hour. I rushed back to the dungeon feeling guilty but no one seemed to notice that I was gone.

The men had pushed all the tables together in a row and were tying the women beside one another face down. I walked over and got in line. After all ten of us were tied down they formed a circle and screwed us silly. They even made Mary put on some music so they could fuck us in rhythm.

                       


       CH 40


Finally the night ended. I was asleep and woke with a start when Denise began untying me.

I was tied atop one of the other women (whose name I couldnt remember). I vaguely remembered being carried face down by two men and being dropped onto her body. A man pressed my face between her legs while others tied me to her. I didnt mind of course but I was so groggy by then that I just wanted to go to back to sleep. The men snapped a whip across my back a few times and that woke me up. Pretending great reluctance I began to lick the womans pussy, and she licked mine. She was very good and even after all those hours my pussy warmed up. I was soon writhing atop her and my tongue was seeking to go as deep into her pussy as I could get it. The men watched until she had an orgasm, then wandered away. I let my head drop and rested my nose against her pussy hairs. I thought she would want to rest but her tongue stayed busy and soon I was straining at my ropes as she brought me to a delightful orgasm. I fell asleep (or passed out with exhaustion) and didnt rouse until Denise untied us.

My face was still in the womans pussy and I couldnt raise my head. Someone must have tied it in place with ropes but I didnt remember it happening. I could feel her breath on my pussy lips but the rest of my body was cold. I was covered with sweat and it was cooling off. The womans body felt the same way, only her crotch was warm and her pussy smelled sweet and sexy. I gave it another kiss and heard her gasp. Her thighs parted slightly in invitation and I kissed her again. Denise slapped my butt to tell me to knock it off  and when I was untied I climbed off the womans body and collapsed on the floor. Denise untied her and she groaned and tried to sit up. She fell off the table and landed on top of me.

“Sorry,” she gasped.

I grabbed her face and kissed her on the lips.

“Oh, good God!” Denise said. “Would you like me to tie you two back together?”

“Sure,” I said, looking lovingly into the womans eyes. I wasnt really in the mood for more sex but I had a reputation to maintain.

The other woman looked at me in astonishment and pushed herself away. She tried to stand but her legs collapsed again. Denise pulled her to her feet and helped her into the house.

“Denise,” I called out. “Go find me another pussy to eat.”

The woman looked back at me like I was insane. Denise laughed and led her away. 

I curled up on the cold sticky floor and went back to sleep.


Later Mary woke me and told me to go into the house. I stood painfully and tottered toward the door. Across the room I saw Jean spread tightly on the bed. Her body was criss crossed with whip marks and her ropes were so tight that her hands and feet were purple. Denise was sitting cross legged beside her talking quietly.

Across the room a man was sound asleep in a chair. His head was thrown back, his mouth was open and he was snoring lightly. A naked woman lay across his lap. Her face almost touched the floor. Her eyes were open and her face was serene; she gazed into the distance. Bright hand prints on her butt indicated that he must have fallen asleep just after spanking her. The man shifted his weight and she almost rolled off. She steadied herself with her hands, waited until he was quiet again, then settled back across his legs. Her expression never changed.

The tables were all askew and two had been overturned. One was occupied by a bound woman who also wore a blank expression. Her crotch and the table between her legs was sopping with cum and a heavy weight was attached to one nipple. The weight hung off the table and pulled her breast painfully to the side. A similar weight lay on the opposite floor, apparently it had come loose. She stared at the ceiling, but glanced at me as I walked past. She smiled perfunctorily then resumed staring upward. I looked at the sticky puddle between her legs and wondered how those men could still have so much semen inside after a night like that.

I passed Dianne hanging by her wrists. Her hands were dark purple and it seemed like every inch of her skin was covered with welts. Her head was down and her hair covered her face. She didnt move so I paused for a moment, then saw that she was breathing so I continued on my way.

I saw a woman lying on the floor in a tight hogtie. A rope was tied from her hair  to her ankles and her back was arched painfully. Two men were sound asleep using her body as a pillow.


In the house I went to the bathroom. I was a mess and wanted to clean up but I was too tired and too worked up, so I wandered into the kitchen.

I found Mary brewing a fresh pot of coffee. She poured me a cup and it was heavenly.

“Well,” she said. “That was the wildest night Ive ever seen.”

“Me too,” I said. “You and Denise did a good job of keeping things from getting out of control.”

She shook her head. “I wasnt sure we were going to be able to. A few times those guys went totally weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you see the terrible things they did to Lady L?” she marveled.

“Oh yes,” I said. “I was surprised at what she put up with.”

“She took everything that they did to her and never complained,” Mary said. “I think she must have gone slightly insane last night,”

“I think everybody did,” I agreed. “And the women were the worst.”

“Yeah.”


Despite my fatigue I was jittery and wandered through the house trying to calm down. The men were gone and only a few women remained. The last woman Id been tied to was dressed and waiting by the side door. She glanced at me and I raised my cup to her. She quickly looked away. Moments later a car arrived and two dumpy looking middle aged women came to the door. She opened it and ran out. Part way down the walk she staggered and almost collapsed. The women caught her and helped her to the car.

“Who was that?” I asked Mary.

“No names, remember? Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious,” I replied. “Her pussy tasted good, and she did a very nice job eating mine.”

“You are hopeless,” Mary said.

“Without giving her name, what can you tell me about her? Is she a professional slave, a first timer, what?”

“A part time professional,” Mary said. “Her husband is an airline pilot and she only comes to bondage parties when hes away.”

“He doesnt know that shes a slave?”

“Nope, shes another closet masochist. The women who picked her up are her lesbian mistresses.”

“Lesbians eh, Ill bet hubby doesnt know about that either.”

“Theyre his next door neighbors, he doesnt know that they are lesbians and he certainly doesnt know that his wife is their slave.”

“She has a lot of secrets,” I said.

“Yeah. She seems to have a need to deceive him, which is odd because she says she loves him very much.”

“What do you want to bet that he wont tie her up, so she has to go out to find somebody who will?”

“Thats about the size of it.”

“So she resents his unwillingness to fulfill her need and she cheats to secretly punish him.”

“Its an old story,” Mary said.

“If he doesnt wise up he could lose her,” I commented.

Mary shrugged in agreement. “She likes playing out dangerous little scenarios around him. I think shes addicted to that danger as much as she is to bondage.”

“What scenarios?” I asked. “Things like wearing pussy ropes under her clothes when they are out together?”

“That and worse. He flies at night and sleeps during the day and sometimes she brings the lesbians over and they tie her up in her house. Her mistresses dominate her in her own house while he sleeps upstairs. They make her do her house work naked in chains.”

“Oooh, that sounds very naughty.”

“She invites women over for tea parties, so while hubby is asleep his wife is crawling on her knees and getting spanked and eating pussies.”

“Do you go to those parties?” I asked. “Can you get me an invitation?”

“No, I dont go,” Mary  said. “And theres a reason.”

“Whats that?

“Several years ago she thought up a very daring adventure. She bought tickets on her husbands flight without his knowledge. We dressed her up in disguise with a large blonde wig, tons of makeup, dark glasses and so on. She wore a raincoat with nothing underneath except net stockings, high heels and nipple clamps. I strapped her arms behind her back under the raincoat and attached dummy arms inside the sleeves. She pretended to be blind.”

“Oh, I saw that in a Stanton comic book,” I laughed.

“Exactly, thats where we got the idea,” Mary said.

“Did you bend her wrists up between her shoulders?”

“Yes.”

“That can be some pretty strict bondage.”

“Very strict,” Mary agreed. “I walked her through the airport and onto the plane. As soon as we took off I pulled her coat up and slid a dildo in her pussy, then I toyed with her crotch all the way to Los Angeles.”

“Ooooh! That is wicked,” I said.

“Um hmm. I kept her coat up as much as possible without getting caught. The lights were dimmed and we got away with a lot, but the stewardess almost saw us a couple of times.”

“What would she have done if she had seen what you were doing?”

“Nothing. Apparently that sort of thing happens on planes a lot and the airlines keep it quiet.”

“Wow.”

“Ellen loved every second and had a bunch of orgasms.”

“Ellen, is that her name?”

“Oops, I shouldnt have said that,” Mary said. “Forget that name please.”

“Ok,” I said. “Did her husband see her?”

“He sure did, but he didnt recognize her.”

“No kidding?”

“An hour after takeoff he walked through the cabin. Her legs went wide apart the instant he came out of the cockpit. He talked to the stewardess for a few minutes, then made his way along the aisle chatting with the passengers. I was tickling her pussy with the vibrator and she almost came just before he got to us.”

“What would you have done if he saw her having an orgasm?” I asked.

“Id have told him she was an epileptic,” Mary answered.

“What happened then?” I asked when I stopped laughing.

“She closed her legs,” Mary said. “At least part way, and I slid the vibrator inside her, then pulled her coat down part way.”

“How far down?”

“Enough to give him a peek at the tops of her stockings.”

“I see.”

“He stopped and talked to us, mouthing the usual airline pilot niceties, but he kept his eyes on her legs. Oddly he seemed to spend more time with us than the other passengers.”

“Odd indeed. And he didnt recognize her?”

“Nope, but then he didnt look at her face very often. She kept up her pretense of being blind and faced forward most of the time, but eventually she turned directly toward him.”

“And he still didnt recognized her?”

“No.”

“And all the while she had a vibrator up her pussy?”

“She sure did.”

“Incredible!”

“As soon as he moved away she jerked her legs apart and had a terrific orgasm about ten seconds later.”

“Now that is erotic.”

“She asked me to leave the vibrator in her pussy and when we arrived she walked off the plane holding it in.”

“Id have thought she would be so damp that it would slide out,” I commented. “I would have been.”

“Me too, anyway, her husband stood at the doorway and spoke to the passengers as we got off the plane. She stopped directly in front of him and he still didnt recognize her. He even offered to help her down the steps.”

“How did you get back to Denver?”

“We checked into a hotel and I spent the day dominating her. That evening we got on the return flight and played our little game all the way home.”

“And did her husband come back to chat with you again?”

“He sure did.”

“Im going to have to suggest that game to Lady L,” I said. “She would love doing something like that.”

“She probably  would,” Mary said.

“Why didnt you suggest it to her?” I asked. “That is one of the most erotic experiences Ive ever heard of,”

Mary shrugged. “I guess because I consider it a private fantasy with the other woman.”

“Yes, I suppose it would be,” I said. “But why cant you go to that womans tea parties?”

“We make the trip on her husbands plane several times a year,” Mary said. “He would recognize me if I came to their house.”

“How often do you fly on his plane?”

“About every six or eight weeks.”

“And Ill bet he always comes to your seats to chat,” I said.

“Yep. He thinks Im a nurse and that I escort her to Los Angeles for medical treatment. A couple of times Ive tucked a blanket  up to her chin, put one over myself and played with her pussy while he talks to us.”

“Does she ever come while hes there?”

“Oh yes, she loves having an orgasm while hes talking to us. The first time it happened I told him she was having a mild asthma attack when she started gasping.”

“You must be kidding,” I laughed.

“Nope, he wanted the stewardess to bring her an oxygen tank, but his wife managed to calm down and I talked him out of it. However, he insisted on arranging for a courtesy cart to take us through the terminal.”

“Well at least that way she doesnt have to worry about her vibrator falling out in front of people,” I giggled.

“True, and another nice thing about riding in the cart is she can open her legs and flash people.”

“Now I know Lady L will want to do that one.”

“Just dont take the same flight to Los Angeles,” Mary said.

“Do you travel on other flights, or just on her husbands plane?”

“We only go on his flights, but weve added a few more variations.”

“Such as?”

“Sometimes I tape pads over her eyes under the glasses so she really is blind. That makes the trip scary, and therefore more exciting for her.”

“Does she wear the vibrator as she boards the plane?”

“No, its more daring to put it inside her with people all around. And weve added a butt plug too. Ive bought vibrators with long control cords so I can torment her when I feel like it, and some that are on random timers so she never knows when one is going to go off inside her body. Occasionally Ive locked manacles on her ankles after we are seated so shes ridden the entire flight in pretty strict bondage.”

“Thats no big deal,” I said. “Its only a couple of hours from here to Los Angeles.”

“Its not a direct flight. It goes to Sante Fe, Salt Lake City, Las Vegas and San Diego before it arrives In Los Angeles,” Mary said. “It takes all night.”

“And her arms are strapped behind her the entire time?”

“Very tightly.”

My pussy was starting to tingle.

“And she spends the day tied to a bed in a hotel?”

“Sometimes, but I found a great private dungeon in Los Angeles. It belongs to a bondage club and the members let us use it for free.”

“Thats nice of them,” I commented.

“Well, not exactly for free,” she corrected. “In return they get to torture her.”

“How many people does she submit to?”

“Two or three at a time but they work her over in shifts. Shes been through a dozen or more in a single day. I used to watch to make sure she wouldnt get hurt but now I usually go off and take a nap and leave her to them.”

“Ummm, I think I might want to travel to Los Angeles with you.”

“Why not?” Mary shrugged. “Well just have to travel on nights that she stays home. I dont think I can handle two slaves on a plane at once.”

“Should we fly on her husbands plane or take another one?”

“I dont think it matters,” she said. “But he already accepts the idea that I take one blind girl with me, why not another?”

“We are going to have to give this some serious thought,” I said. My pussy was throbbing with the idea of traveling across the country in bondage.

“Do you want to be blindfolded too?” Mary asked.

I thought about it. “No, I think I want to see who is looking up my coat when we ride on the courtesy carts.” 

“Of course.”

“Besides using her frequent flier miles, what else does the pilots wife do?” I asked.

“Shes developed a liking for bondage as close to her husband as possible,” Mary said. “Sometimes she goes next door and her mistresses spread her on a cross just inside an upstairs window that faces her house. Shes watched her husband mow the lawn while she was in bondage.”

“He cant see her through the window?”

“They have sheer curtains but he could see her if he looked closely enough. Once her mistresses walked over and chatted with her husband. They pretended to be asking his advice on painting their house and pointed to the trim on her window. Theyd put a vibrator up her pussy and they watched her squirming on the cross but he didnt notice.”

“Thats pretty cool,” I said. “What else?”

“He had a barbecue for some of his Air Force buddies. She told him that she didnt intend to listen to a bunch of men sitting around rehashing old stories so she was going shopping. Actually she just went next door. Her mistresses stripped her naked and made her crawl through the backyard then tied her to stakes on the lawn just across the fence. She was only a few feet from her husband and his guests.”

“How tall is the fence?”

“Six feet. The men could have seen her if theyd looked over.”

“What happened after they tied her down?”

“They left her there for a couple of hours.”

“So she had to listen to the mens stories after all.”

“Uh huh.”

“Does she like simple bondage?”

“She loves it, the tighter the better. She enjoyed being spread open so much that she almost had orgasms just lying there.”

“Nice.”

“But her mistresses also took turns sitting on her face.”

“Well, I should hope so.”

“Yeah, then they sat in lawn chairs and made her kneel between their legs.”

“Sounds like those frumpy old gals like having their pussies eaten,” I commented.

“Theyre insatiable.”

“Maybe you ought to introduce us,” I suggested. The idea of submitting to two drab and dumpy middle aged women was oddly exciting.

“I could arrange that.”

“What else happened that day?” I asked. 

“After shed eaten their pussies several times they took her inside and put her on the cross. They even put a fan nearby so it would move the curtain.”

“But none of the men saw her.”

“Nope.”

“You said shes a part time professional, does that mean she gets paid?”

“In a sense. Her lesbian friends arent into the scene. They never take part in parties but they rent her out to be tortured. They leave as soon as she is sold then go back to fetch her later. She likes to be sold and doesnt keep the money. They give it back when they pick her up.”

“Does she usually get sold to women?”

“Men or women, she doesnt mind.”

“My kind of gal. I take it shes into serious pain too.”

“Not as much as you are. I think she was expecting more sex and less violence last night.”

“Did she get hanged too?”

“Yep.”

“Did she like it?”

“Yep.”

“Did she have an orgasm when they hung her?”

“Yep.”

“Shoot,” I pouted. “Im the only one who didnt get strung up.”

“Just about, Mary agreed. “But I dont think Ellen expected things to become so intense.”

“Who could have?” I asked. “She acted like she was in shock when she left.”

“Yes,” Mary said worriedly. “I hope shes all right.”


She wasnt the only one in shock. I discovered Lady L and Mrs. Jones in the living room. They were fully dressed and both seemed to be in a trance.

Lady L was curled up on the couch idly rubbing the rope marks on her ankle. She was staring off into space.

Mrs. Jones was in a chair fidgeting nervously but her eyes didnt seem to be focused. I smiled at her but she looked at me blankly.

I knelt beside Lady L. Her hair was freshly shampooed and her makeup had been restored. Nothing indicated what she had just been through. (I found out later that Mary practically carried her in the house and cleaned her up.) 

“Are you all right?” I asked.

She nodded slowly, her expression didnt change.

“I had no idea how intense everything would be,” she said wonderingly.

“Are you in pain?” asked. “Shall I call Lord L to come get you?”

“My body hurts, but its all right,” she said.

“Are you in serious pain?” I asked. “Do you think youve been injured?”

“No, no injury,” she answered dreamily. “Ill be all right soon. Its just that I have never experienced such things before. I had no idea.”

“Well dont worry,” I said. “Im sure Lord L will never allow this to happen to you again.”

“Oh yes he will,” she said firmly. “If I have anything to say about it.”

“But they whipped you,” I said. “No one has ever whipped you before.”

“They did worse than that,” she said. “They sodomized me and said terrible things to me.”

“Oh, it doesnt mean anything,” I said. “Its just part of the role playing.”

“They told me that I was a slut and a whore and a cock sucker,” she said.

I was aghast. I had never heard her use that kind of language.

“Its just part of the role playing,” I said.

“And they were right,” She stretched like a cat. “You know something Mary, I enjoyed being called a slut and a whore and a cock sucker, I deserved those names, but Im afraid I did something worse.”

“What was that?”

“I asked them to hang me.”

Oh my God!

“I was frightened at first,” she said. “But when the noose tightened around my throat I had a wonderful orgasm so I asked them to do it again.”

“I know, I was watching.”

“My feet came off the floor,” she said wonderingly. “And I had another orgasm.”

A very intense one as I recalled.

“Denise was concerned about me and offered to get me out of there, but I refused. In fact, I put the noose back around my neck.” She looked worried. “I fear I may have lost her respect. Did I lose yours too?”

“That will never happen,” I said. “But you sure did surprise us.”

“I surprised myself,” she chuckled. “Have you ever been hanged, Mary?”

“No, but after watching you and Mrs. Jones I wanted to be.”   

“I will have to find a way to get my husband to do that to me,” she said.

“Lord L would never do something like that to you,” I said.

“He wont want to at first, but Ill talk him into doing it, somehow.”

“I cant imagine Lord L treating any woman that way.”

“Yes, youre right. Hes such a gentleman, but I think I can start by getting him to fuck me up my ass. Getting him to hang me will take more time.”

My mouth dropped open.

“Hes such a dear, he wont refuse me a thing. Perhaps we can get him to hang us both. Would you like that my dear?”

I glanced at Mrs. Jones. She was listening intently.

“Of course I would, but for now why dont I call him to come get you.”

“Ive already called him,” she said. “Hes on his way.”

“You just go home and get some rest,” I said. “He will take good care of you and youll be fine after a day or so.”

“Thats true,” she said. “He is a dear kind man, not like those savages last night.” She looked at Mrs. Jones. “But sometimes a woman needs to be brutalized by savages. Dont you agree?”

Mrs. Jones nodded mechanically.

“Thats true,” I said. “Once in a while we all need a good gang rape.”

“Yes we do.”

Lady L looked at me and smiled. She brushed my hair back. 

“You are a mess my dear. You should go get cleaned up.”

“Ok,” I kissed her on the top of her head.

She rested her cheek on the arm of the couch and closed her eyes. Mrs. Jones watched me walk out of the room.

“Do you think your husband would hang me too?” she asked Lady L.

CH 41


I went into the bathroom and found Dianne soaking in the tub. A cigarette dangled from one hand and a glass of scotch sat precariously on the edge of the tub. She opened her eyes and smiled at me. It was the first time Id seen her smile.

“Hey kid,” she said. “Did you have a good time?” She actually seemed friendly.

“Uh, yes,” I answered surprised.

“Thats good. I watched you take a few whippings, youre pretty tough.”

“Not as tough as you,” I said admiringly.

She chuckled.

“Want to join me in a bubble bath?” she asked.

“Sure.”

She sat up to make room and I climbed gingerly into the tub. She turned on the hot water and it felt wonderful. I leaned back and sighed. Dianne and I wriggled around until we were comfortable. She took my foot and gently placed it between her legs. She rubbed it against her pussy.

“You havent had enough sex?” I asked.

“I never do,” she said. “I am every mans fantasy, a true nymphomaniac.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “And take it from me, it can be a burden.”

“Poor thing.”

She chuckled again.

“What about the masochism?” I asked. “Does that come with the nymphomania?”

“It does with me,” she said.

“How long have you been doing this?” I asked.

“Since I was eleven.”

“You were eleven?”

“Id done something naughty and my uncle spanked me.”

“Did he sexually abuse you?”

“No, all he did was put me over his knee and spank my little butt. He didnt even pull my panties down, but that spanking lit a fire between my legs that hasnt gone out to this day.”

“Wow, I didnt start until I was in high school.”

“A late bloomer eh?”

I chuckled

We closed our eyes and lay back savoring the hot water. I heard Lord L arrive and take Lady L home.

Denise came in. “Oh no,” she said when she saw us in the tub. I assumed she wasnt happy to see Dianne.

“Whats wrong?” Dianne asked

“I need to take a shower,” Denise said. “I have to go home, fix breakfast and get the kids off to school and hubby off to work.”

“Oh all right,” Dianne groaned standing up. Her body was one huge bruise.

“My God!” I gasped.

She looked down at her bruises, smiled contentedly and rubbed her breasts. “These ought to last a few weeks,” she said.

She opened the tub drain and stepped out. Denise handed her a towel, and gave me one, then astonished me by kissing Dianne on the cheek.

“God lord! I thought you two hated each other,” I said.

“We do, when Im in bondage,” Dianne said. “The rest of the time were the best of loving cousins.”

“Cousins?” I asked.

They both nodded.

“Her husband is my cousin,” Dianne said absently. She was looking at herself in the mirror, turning from side to side to examine her bruises.

“You got me good that time,” she said to Denise as she stroked the line of claw marks down her body. Denise made kissy sounds.

“Does he know?” I asked.

“Not a clue.”

Denise turned on the shower and stepped in. I went to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. Jean was there.

She was looking through the cabinets. She was naked and still wore her nipple clamps.

“Oh,” she said when I walked in. “I was looking for a cup. Is it ok if I have some coffee”

“Of course,” I said, showing her where the cups were. “Youve earned it.”

She blushed and smiled shyly. She looked at my body, then her own. Her hair was damp and matted and cum had dried on her skin. I dont think she realized that there was  dried semen in her eyebrows. She examined the deep rope marks on her wrists. “I hope youre correct about these marks fading.”

“Dont worry, they will. Eat plenty of protein for the next few days and take lots of vitamin c and e. It helps you heal, but if you want to see some real damage go look at Dianne. Shes in the bedroom.”

“Dianne? That really fierce woman?”

“Thats her.”

“My God. The way she acted I thought that she must have been brought here against her will.”

“Personally, I thought she was on drugs” I chuckled. “But I just shared a bubble bath with her and shes not what I thought she was.”

“Really?”

“Really. By the way, did you experience everything you hoped for?”

She blushed. “Yes, and some things Id never dreamt of.”

“Did anything happen that you didnt like?”

She frowned in thought, then shook her head. “No, I liked it all.”

“Even the caning?”

“Oooh! That really hurt at first,” she rubbed her bottom. “But after a while I liked it.”

“I watched at least eight men fuck you one after another.”

She nodded. “I thought it was all ten,” she said. “But I may have lost count.”

“They choked you and screwed you in your ass,” I persisted. “Did you like that too?”

She hid her face in her hands and nodded. “That was the best part of the night.”

“Which, being strangled or screwed in the ass?”

“Both.”

“No kidding?”

“When that man offered to hang me I had the most incredible orgasm of my life.”

“Remember when we warned you about bondage?”

She nodded.

“Well, youve just expressed a desire for the most extreme form of masochism possible,” I told her. “Any woman who can cum from the idea of dying is walking on thin ice. You must be very careful.”

“I know, thats why I shall never ever indulge in this again.”

“Good idea,” I said.

“Have you ever had such thoughts?” she asked.

“Not about dying,” I said. “But I have some rather terrible fantasies.”

“Like what?”

“One involves being hung by hooks through my breasts.”

“Oh my God!” she gasped. “You cant mean that!”

“I sure do.”

“How could you even think of something like that?”

“I got the idea from a woman I met right here at another bondage party.”

“And she wanted that?”

“Its her greatest fantasy,” I said. “She has absolutely huge breasts, over fifty inches, and she loves having them tormented, in fact she has orgasms from breast torture.”

“Are you serious?”

“Ive seen her do it. We were tied together and had our nipples connected.”

“With hooks?”

“No, just really strong nipple clamps.”

“Oh.”

“By the way,” I said. “Did you know that you still have alligators biting your nipples?”

She blushed  “I really like the feeling and thought I would wear them as long as I could. Do you think the mistresses would mind?”

“Of course not,” I laughed. “In fact, why not take them home. Better yet, wear them home.”

“Wear them home?” she gasped.

“Sure, Ive worn clamps under my clothing,” I said. “But its best in winter when you can hide them under a heavy coat or sweater.”

“I dont dare keep them,” she said.

“Why not?”

“My husband might find them.”

“Hide them carefully.”

“They would be too great a temptation.”

She took them off and placed them on the counter. I picked them up and put them back on her nipples.

Jean gasped in surprise when I touched her, but she smiled when I kissed her nipples. I sucked each one for a moment then bit them.

“Which do you prefer?” I asked. “My teeth, or these?” I put the clamps back. She tensed briefly with the pain, then closed her eyes and wiggled her chest from side to side.

“Im not sure. Better try again.”

I took off the clamps then bit her breast. I held my teeth on her for a moment then tightened my bite. Her breath hissed loudly and she rose onto her toes.

“Oh, my God!”

I kept the bite for a few moments then released her. I clipped the alligator clamps back on her nipples.

“Just until you leave,” I said and kissed her on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “What about the lady with the big breasts, has she actually had hooks in them?”

“No, her husband doesnt know about her secret life. He would notice if she were to have her breasts punctured.”

“She keeps that from her husband?”

“You arent the only wife with a hidden passion.”

She frowned in thought.

“Have you ever had hooks through your breasts?”

“I tried to put small fish hooks through my nipples once, but I chickened out. I think I have to be tied down and have someone else do it to me.”

She rubbed her breasts unconsciously. I rubbed mine too. 

“But Im thinking about having my boobs pierced,” I told her. “A lot of girls are getting that done.”

She nodded. “Ive heard about women who wear ear rings through their nipples.”

“And other parts of their bodies too.”

“I dont want to know where,” she shuddered. “What about your other fantasy?”

“Its the very worst. It involves being electrocuted.”

I think Jean was starting to blank out with information overload. She just looked at me, waiting for me to go on.

“I picked that one up from another woman at the same party,” I said. “I watched her get tortured by electrical probes in her pussy and on her nipples. She loved it.”

“Did she tell you how she came up with that fantasy?”

“No, I didnt talk to her, Denise told me about her.”

“Denise?”

“Mistress Denise,” I laughed. “You know, the dominant who buckled you into restraint last night.”

“Oh, yes.”

“According to Denise the electricity woman wants to be executed naked in an electric chair while people watch.”

“Now thats one fantasy that I just dont understand,” Jean said.

I shrugged. “Ive thought about it,” I confessed.

“Would you ever do it?”

“I doubt it. Denise told me that other woman is so obsessed with her fantasy that Denise is afraid that she might take it too far and die, or even find some sicko and let him kill her.”

“That woman needs help.”

“I agree.”

We were quiet for a while.

“What about the other things that happened to you?” I asked. “Other than strangulation, did you like the pain?”

“Yes, but I liked the humiliation more.”

“You mean the names they called you?”

“Yes, and crawling on my hands and knees, and keeling to suck their things. I liked every bit of that.”

“A nice break from being the respectable church wife?”

“Yes.”

“And did you get tied to another woman?”

Her blush deepened. “Yes I did.”

“What did you think about that?”

She thought it over. “I hope I pleased her,” she said. “I tried hard but Ive never done that before.”

“Did she have an orgasm?”

“I think so. She sure moved around and moaned a lot.”

“Did she make you have an orgasm?”

“Oh yes!”

“Congratulations.”

“But you know what? It was wonderfully decadent too, especially with all those men watching.”

“Actually I was hoping we would get tied together,” I told her.

“Why?” she asked.

“I wanted to eat your pussy.”

She blushed furiously, but smiled.

I was about to kiss her when Dianne walked into the kitchen. She nodded to Jean who stared at her in astonishment.

“Any coffee left?” Dianne asked. I poured her a cup.

“All you all right?” Jean asked aghast.

“Right as rain,” Dianne answered. “How about you?”

“Youre covered with bruises,” Jean said.

“Im not the only one,” Dianne laughed. “Have you looked in the mirror?”

Jean looked at her in confusion. “I cant be as bad as you are,” she said.

“Are you talking about my bruises or my morals?” Dianne laughed.

Jean looked embarrassed for a moment, then laughed too.

“After tonight I have no right to condemn anyones morals,” she said.

“Thata girl,” I said.

Dianne nodded. “I watched you last night. You are a terrific sub, you should join our club.”

“Club?” Jean asked.

“Masochists and slave girl club,” Dianne said. “Well keep you locked naked in a dungeon cell and only take you out when somebody wants to torture you.”

Jean closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and shook her head bravely.

“This is the only time Ill do this,” she said. “From now on Ill be a loyal wife.”

“Lord, what a waste,” Dianne said. “By the way, nice nipple clamps.”

Jean hurriedly took them off.

“You can wear them on your pussy lips too, you know,” Dianne told her impishly.

Jeans mouth dropped open.

“But I wouldnt advise riding a bicycle while wearing them,” Dianne continued straight faced.

Jeans eyes opened wider than I thought possible, then she looked down at her pussy. Her bows knitted in thought and I handed her the nipple clamps. She reached for them then paused when Denise walked in.

She was dressed like a normal wife and mom. “Im off to hearth and home,” she announced. “Ill see you later.”

“Well, I dont have to fix breakfast for anybody so Im going to bed for about a week,” Dianne announced. “Anyone care to join me? The bed is big enough for three.”

“I cant” Jean said. “Its time for me to go home.”

“Ill be along in a moment,” I told Dianne. “Im going to show Jean to the bathroom.”


Jean gasped when she saw herself in the mirror. She touched the angry red welt on her neck.

“Relatively speaking, thats not too bad,” I told her. “Ive seen women who were hanged who had far worse marks on their necks.”

“What will I do if anyone sees me like this?” she wailed softly.

“Just make sure no one does,” I said. “And if the damage still shows later remember to say that you took a tumble down a flight of stairs. Works every time.”

“I hope so,” she said doubtfully.

I sat in the bathroom while she showered and dressed.

“Is there really a place where women are kept in cells?” she asked.

“No, Dianne was pulling your leg,” I told her.

“Oh,” she was disappointed.

“If there was such a place, I would be the first one in line to get in,” I said.

“I think you would find Dianne already there,” she said.

“Probably.”

After she dressed I walked her to the door. She started down the walk, then ran back and hugged me. I hugged her like a friend, then I changed to a kiss, full on the lips. She didnt pull back, in fact she returned the kiss, so I slid my hand under her skirt and caressed her pussy. She enjoyed that for a moment, then pulled my hand away.

“If I dont leave right now, I never will,” she said.

She ran to her car.

I didnt feel like driving home so I went to the bedroom. Dianne was already curled up under the blanket, but she rolled over to me when I climbed in bed.

“Im too tired for sex,” I said.

“Me too, lets just sleep.”

I was asleep in ten seconds.


I never saw Jean again. Mary and Denise didnt know anything about her and we never figured out who invited her to the party.

Jean impressed me. I was attracted to her radiant sensuality and innocent passion. I remembered her parting words and wondered if I could have seduced her into staying.

I admired her decision to be faithful to her husband and never to indulge her fantasies again. Bondage is exciting and addictive and she was a natural, yet she was willing to give it up forever for the man she loved.

I wondered what he was like and if he deserved that sort of devotion. Did he appreciate what he had in her? I wondered if I could ever love a man that much. Forsaking all others would be easy, but forsaking bondage? That would be a real sacrifice. It would take a special man to make me give it up.

It would be nice to see her again, to ask if she had been able to hold true to her promise. Sometimes when Im tied with my mouth on another womans pussy I pretend its Jean.

I still find myself looking for her in crowds.


                                       CH 42


I woke up at one oclock. Dianne was still asleep and Mary was snoring away in the other bedroom so I tiptoed into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich. I was stiff and sore, so after eating I filled the tub and had another long soak.

After an hour in the bath I got out and got dressed. I was going out the door when Dianne came into the living room.

“Where are you off to?” she asked.

“Back to my place.”

“Are you hungry?” she asked. “Im starving. Want to get something to eat?”

Even after my sandwich I was still hungry.

“Sure.”

I leaned on the door jamb while she got ready.

Dianne got dressed quickly. An old pro at covering her bruises, she slipped into slacks and a long sleeved turtle necked sweater. I was wearing the same type of clothes. There were some light bruises on her face from all the slaps shed received but she quickly covered them with makeup.

“Youre pretty good at that,” I commented.

“Lots of practice,” she replied. When she was done she looked like a normal upscale blonde. Her clothes werent expensive and her only jewelry was a pair of ear rings, but she looked classy. No one would guess that beneath her clothes her body was a testimony to torture.

We peeked in on Mary but she was still sound asleep.

“Where do you want to eat?” Dianne asked as we left. We decided on a restaurant and drove our own cars. Inside we took a quiet booth. The restaurant was near the downtown financial district and there were a lot of professional men there. Dianne attracted a lot of admiring looks.

“Do you come her often?” I asked.

“Sometimes,” she replied. “The food is good and when Im feeling naughty I like to flash my legs at the boys.” She tilted her head at the room full of men.

“Well, I dont think youll be spreading your legs for a while,” I said. “At least, not in public.”

“You think I should only spread my legs in private?” Dianne asked.

“Until the bruises go away,” I said.

“Thats the problem with torture,” she said, then stretched sensuously. “But the pleasure is worth it.”

“I thought I was a bad girl,” I said, “But I dont think Im even in your league.”

“Dont be so sure,” she said. “Denise and Mary told me about you. Theyre impressed with your abilities. And I saw you take some pretty severe pain last night.”

“How could you see anything?” I marveled. “Every time I looked you were thrashing around like a mad woman.”

“Oh, I saw you.” She chuckled. “You were rather taken by that church wife, werent you?”

“Why do you say that?”

“While she was learning to take a cock up her ass I saw you hanging by your wrists while some guy whipped your boobs.”

“So?”

“You werent paying the least attention to what he was doing to you,” she said. “You were watching that other gal.”

“Oh.”

“Now either your breasts have become desensitized, or he was lousy with a whip, or you were so concerned with her that you didnt notice.”

“Guilty on the third count,” I confessed. “My boobs are ok, and he did an adequate job with the whip.”

“Only adequate?”

I shrugged. “Ive been whipped better than that, but Ive had worse too.”

“I know. Theres nothing I more frustrating than somebody whos weak with the whip. I hate that.”

“Gee, I never would have guessed.”

She laughed.

Our food arrived and we ate quietly for a while.

“I like your mother daughter act with that older woman,” Dianne said. “You two are very convincing.”

“Weve had lots of practice,” I said. “Ive been helping her with her fantasies for so long that I feel part of the family. She and her husband are wonderful people. Theyve sort of adopted me.”

“So Denise tells me.”

“Actually I was surprised to see Lady L at the party,” I said. “Ive never known her to take serious punishment like that.”

“Oh?”

“Shes more into exhibitionism,” I said. “With a little bondage thrown in.”

“She took some hard core torture last night,” Dianne observed. “And she didnt seem to mind.”

“I know,” I marveled. “I was absolutely astonished at what I saw.”

“What do you two usually do?” Dianne asked.

“Exhibition mostly. It depends on where we are,” I said. “Shes more daring when we travel, especially if were out of the country. Weve walked along beaches topless and sometimes naked in Mexico and Costa Rica, and weve allowed people to discover us having sex. A few times we even took part in orgies and staged performances at parties.”

“What kind of performances,” Dianne asked. “Mother and daughter lesbian sex?”.

“Exactly.”

“Cool.”

“Usually Lady L is usually a little more cautious here in Denver.”

“What do you do here?”

“We just walk around in public without panties and try to let as many men as possible look up our skirts.”

“Where does the bondage fit in?”

“Her husband throws small parties, often for unsuspecting guests. Sometimes Lady L and I play the roles of French maids.”

“Ahh, short skirts and skimpy panties Ill bet.”

“Usually no panties at all. And of course we do something that gets us punished in front of the guests. Over the knee spankings but never whipping or real rough stuff. Sometimes the guests are invited to help discipline us and that usually leads to them screwing us.”

“While hubby watches, Ill bet.”

“Yes. In the mother daughter act I play a bratty teenager and Lady L and I get into an argument in front of the guests. We manage to turn the quarrel into a cat fight and we end up rolling around on the floor with our legs thrashing and our panties showing. Lord L usually walks in about that time, pretends to be outraged and marches us into the bedroom. He strips us naked and ties us together on the bed while the guests watch.”

“You like being tied to her?” Dianne asked. “Do you like lesbianism?”

“I sure do, but I like men too and usually only eat pussies when Im tied up.”

“Same here,” she said. “Ive licked a lot of them over the years, but unless the woman is a really cruel dom, I prefer men.”

“Whats best, a cruel woman or a cruel man?”

“Depends on my mood. Usually I prefer men, but women are usually better at real torture. They know all the secrets.”

“A mean tempered bitch can be vicious,” I agreed. “Isnt it wonderful?”

She nodded. “I wont go down easily, but if a woman can tame me Ill do anything she wants.”

“Whats the best experience youve had with a woman?”

“Five days in bondage to a young gal,” she answered.

“Five days?”

“Remember the blizzard in seventy-two? It snowed heavily for four days straight and the city was shut down because they couldnt get the roads cleared.”

“I remember.”

“I was trying to get home but my car got stuck so I walked to a friends apartment. She put me up during the storm.”

“Put you up, or tied you up?” I asked.

“Both, at first we just watched television and talked, but when the conversation got around to sex and bondage she became very interested. Shed never experienced bondage so we took our clothes off and fooled around.”

“Who got tied up?” I asked.

“I tied her at first,” Dianne answered. “I put her in a couple of positions and teased her body, but I wouldnt make her cum.”

“Wicked,” I commented.

“Um hmm. I sensed that she wanted to be the dominant and I was in the mood for some punishment, so I kept her worked up before we switched places.”

“And?”

“A monster emerged from that sweet young woman.”

“Really? What happened?”

“She tied me so tight that I lost feeling in my hands and feet, then she whipped me, pinched every inch of my skin, slapped my face until my skin was raw, beat me with anything she could get her hands on, including mixing spoons, yard sticks, belts, ping pong paddles and spatulas.”

“Wow.”

“She beat me with her hands and fists, spanked my butt and pussy, made me crawl on hands and knees and kicked me until I rolled along the floor like a log.”

“Incredible!”

“She was very imaginative for a beginner. She turned into a demon. She thought up a lot of painful and humiliating things for me and I loved it.”

“You lucky girl.”

“She was wonderful. She kept me in bondage for five days.”

“Had she ever dominated anyone before?” I asked.

“Never. She had wanted to all her life but had never had an opportunity.”

“Did you go back?”

“Of course.”

“What happened to her?”

“She went professional. She moved to Las Vegas and got very rich as a dominatrix.” 

“How rich?”

“Very rich. She established a high paying clientele. Shes great with male subs but she is pure hell on women, and the women keep coming back for more.”

“Do you have sessions with Denise?”

“Sure, we have a deal. She whips the daylights out of me and in return I baby sit her kids.”

“Sounds like a nice arrangement.”

“Yes, but its not the same as real dominance. I go to her when I cant find someone to really torture me.”

“I saw her tear into you pretty hard last night,” I observed.

“Yes, but its still only play acting with her. I know she isnt going to cause any real damage.”

“Yeah,” I conceded. “Same with me.”

“But she takes me to bondage parties and sells me into slavery.”

“Been there and done that,” I said.

“Sometimes we pretend that Im really an unwilling kidnapping victim. I scream and fight until she whips me into silence, then she auctions me off.”

“Cool,” I said. “Maybe we ought to team up sometime.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” she said. “But Ill be damned if Im going to play your mother.”

“Speaking of playing my mother,” I said. “Im worried about Lady L. Shes never been tortured that severely. I hope shes ok.”

“She had to know it was going to be rough,” Dianne said. “Denise warned us.”

“I know, and I was surprised when she showed up. We always do our little act in a controlled setting with her husband there. Shes never gone to a bondage party without him and  shes never ever submitted to torture.”

“She doesnt look like a masochist,” Dianne observed. “But then, who does?”

“True, but I never dreamed that she would take the things she did last night. She was totally out of character.”

“Has she ever been screwed her up the ass before?” Dianne asked.

I shook my head.

“I saw several men shove their cocks up her ass,” Dianne said. “And she didnt seem to mind.”

I nodded.

“And she had a look of pure ecstasy when they hanged her,” Dianne said

“I know,” I marveled. “Afterwards she told me that she liked being hanged and now she wants her husband to do those things to us.”

“Sounds like she just moved up another level,” Dianne observed.

“Yeah, and before this all she wanted to do was show off her pussy.”

“Well, I cant blame her for that. I like doing it too,” Dianne said. “I almost got arrested in Florida once.”

“How can they arrest you for that?”

“I was sitting in an unladylike fashion, , ,”

“Let me guess, knees wide apart and no underwear, right?”

“Exactly, Anyway a female cop decided that I had to be a hooker and she was going to take me to jail on the charge: prostitute making a display.”

“What?”

“Thats the way the law is worded.”

“Did they put you in handcuffs?”

“Yes, right there on a busy street. That was the nice part.”

“What happened?”

“Her sergeant showed up, made her check my identification and found that I had no police record. He ordered her to release me. While she was taking the handcuffs off I asked him if it was against the law to be naked under my skirt.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing, but I got the feeling that if that bitch female cop hadnt been listening he might have had something to say.”

“So you didnt get to go to bed with him?”

“Hell, I didnt even get strip searched.”

“Maybe the female cop wanted you.”

“Maybe, but I took a dislike to her.”

“What if shed really arrested you and took you to jail and screwed you in the cell?”

“I would have resisted,” Dianne said. “She would have gotten nothing unless she was tough enough to break me. I gave that female cop a nasty look and she glared right back at me, she knew what I was thinking.”

“Do you like fighting back?” I asked.

“I love it,” she answered. “Even when I know Im going to give in, there is a thrill that grows until I collapse. The longer I can resist the better it is until I feel like a balloon that has popped and in that split second its like having a new form of orgasm.”

“No kidding?”

She nodded. “Try it sometime. Hold back as long as you can.”

“I dont know,” I mused. “I think Im naturally too submissive.”

“Maybe.”

“Too bad they released you,” I said. “You might have learned what its like to be dominated by a lesbian police officer.”

“I already knew,” Dianne said. “I spent twenty four hours in a lesbian dungeon in Chicago. It was owned by a woman cop.”

“Was it good?”

“Terrific. I was auctioned to another female cop who beat me so bad that I got scared a few times. She even threw me down a flight of stairs and sprained my ankle.”

“My God!”

“It wasnt too bad,” Dianne said. “After that she tied me to a bed and sat on my face all night.”

“You poor thing.”

Dianne shrugged.

“Ive been dominated by a female cop too,” I said. “In a police station.”

“Really?”

“I dressed up like a prostitute and walked along Colfax Avenue until the police stopped me and took me to the station.

“They cant arrest you for just looking like a whore.”

I just smiled at her.

“What were you wearing?” she asked.

“A tank top and micro skirt,” I answered. “No bra and no panties.”

“Thats not against the law,” she said.

“I was dating a cop and he set everything up.”

“What do you mean, he set it up?”

“I gave the officers the name of a woman who was wanted on a warrant. I was hand cuffed on the street and put in the back of the police car.”

“And gave everyone a good look up your skirt too Ill bet,” Dianne laughed.

“There were lots of bystanders,” I said. “Anyway, I rode to the station with my legs apart and my boyfriends partner got an eyeful.”

Dianne made a silent applauding motion.

“When we got to the station I was strip searched by a female cop, tied to a table and screwed with her police baton, then got to spend the night chained up in a jail cell.”

“In the nude?”

“No, they put me into one of those horrid jail suits,” I said. I told Dianne about my evening at the police station. She listened intently.

“Now thats what I call an erotic experience,” she breathed when I finished. “You ought to arrange for that older lady to do it.”

“She would enjoy it,” I agreed. “But we couldnt do it in Denver. She probably knows the mayors wife, and besides, I dont have a boyfriend on the police department anymore.”

“Take a trip to Mexico or someplace,” Dianne said. “Then bribe a local policeman to set up the same kind of situation.”

Hmm, not a bad idea. Lord L could probably make that happen. Id talk to him about it later.

I liked Dianne, we understood each other. We spent the afternoon talking, then went home.


Id just walked in the door when Mom called. She wanted to know how the party went. I told her everything and in detail. Then I told her about Jean and Dianne.

She was a little troubled about Jean. Mom understood Jeans need to experience bondage but didnt think it was right for a married woman to do that behind her husbands back.

“Mom, shes not the only married woman to go to bondage parties.”

“Yes, but dont the others go with their husbands?” she asked. “At least the man isnt being deceived.”

I decide not to tell her about the woman whos husband is an airline pilot.

“What about the time in Atlantic City?” I asked her. “When you went out in public in that skimpy outfit. Dad didnt know what you did.”

“That was different,” she said. “I didnt have sex with anyone.”

“What about those sailors you told me about? What if theyd taken you someplace and tied you up?”

She was quiet for a moment. “I suppose if that had happened then I would have had no choice.”

“What if those sailors had asked you to let them tie you?”

“Id have said no.”

“What if they didnt ask? What if they had taken you to a hotel room, ordered you to undress and told you to lie on the bed to be tied up? Would you have obeyed them?”

There was a silence for a minute. “Possibly,” she said in a small voice.

“I wish you had come to the party last night,” I told her.

“Perhaps some day.”


                               CH 43


I started my new job and was busy for a few weeks settling in. I went to work at a government agency (and still work there, so I can go into no further detail). After the party I was satisfied for sex and bondage for quite a while. I even avoided Bob for a few weeks.

I couldnt stop thinking about Jean and Dianne.

I missed Jean and was intrigued by Dianne and her go to hell attitude as well as her incredible masochism. Most of the submissives I know are meek and gentle personalities, but Dianne was a hellcat, a real spitfire. I wanted to know more about her. When things settled down at my new job I called her and we met for lunch.

She suggested a nice restaurant and showed up looking well dressed and sexy. I anticipated that and dressed up too. I wore some rather high heels, so high in fact I had to practice wearing them before I went out in public. It was nice attracting all the stares as we were shown to our table.

I asked Dianne what she did for a living.

“I have two careers,” she said. “Im an instructor at a nursing school and Im a porn model.”

Somehow I wasnt surprised.

“I usually do most of my modeling in California,” she said. “I go to Los Angeles almost every month so I keep a small apartment there, but I live here in Denver.”

“How do you get the time off from your other job?”

“I travel around the country teaching at hospitals and medical schools. I set my own schedule and come and go as I please. It gives me plenty of time off and its a great cover for modeling.”

“Modeling must pay well,” I commented.

“Very well,” she said. “But modeling has a short career span. Most models only get about ten or twelve years in before they get too old. The trick is to manage your money wisely while in your peak earning period. Invest it rather than spending it on a flashy life style. The nursing is my fall back career plus it provides me with medical insurance and a retirement package.”

I eyed her up and down, raising my eyebrows at her expensive dress and jewelry. I remembered her naked and screaming defiance at her torturers, and her she was calmly discussing investments. She saw me eyeing her clothes.

“This is all off of the interest on my investments,” she laughed. “Nearly all of my nursing earnings go into the bank or the stock market.”

“Do you worry about being recognized?” I asked.

“Actually its happened a few times but I didnt have a problem with it.”

“What happened?”

“A man stopped me in the Los Angeles airport and asked for my autograph,” she said. “That was flattering and bystanders thought that I was a movie star.”

“What else?”

“The administrator in a hospital in Omaha recognized me. It turned out he has collected almost all of my films and many of the magazines Ive posed for.”

“What did he do?” I asked.

“He began hitting on me, invited me to dinner and so on,” she said. “When he finally got the nerve to tell me that he recognized me I told him to stop pussyfooting around, if he wanted to torture me, then just say so.”

“And?”

“He took me to a motel and worked me over all night long. He was pretty good too, and I had a wonderful time.”

“Is he your master?”

“No, just a regular customer.”

“Customer? Does he pay you?”

“No, I put that wrong,” she amended. “I meant we get together regularly but I dont accept money from him.”

“Why didnt you let him become your master?” I asked.

“Hes married with kids,” she said. “A permanent relationship is out of the question, however, every time I go to Omaha we get together for some serious bondage sex.”

“How often do you go?”

“At least once a month. He found a great dungeon belonging to an S and M club and rents it when I go out there. No more motel rooms.”

“So how would he compare to the men that tortured us at the party?” I asked.

“Pretty good,” she said. “Hes very cruel and by now he knows exactly what drives me out of my mind.”

“Does he torture other women?” I asked. “His wife for example?”

“I dont think so. I met his wife at a banquet and she is the ultimate Barbie doll trophy wife.”

“Huh?”

“Beautiful, well dressed, empty headed, spends her day getting her hair or nails done or shopping. She has three perfect children who attend the most expensive private school in Omaha. The idea of that woman strung up by her wrists is out of the question.”

“Are you in love with the man?” I asked.

“Heavens, no,” she said. “But we understand each other. Im free to scream my lungs out with him and hes free to turn into a sadistic monster for a few hours. It works out nicely for both of us.”

“Sounds great,” I said.

“Have you thought about modeling?” she asked. “You have the looks and the spirit.”

“Whats that?”

“Ever notice how some bondage pictures seem lackluster? Its usually because the models arent into bondage and it shows. The good ones, the girls who like bondage seem to sparkle, even if theyre pretending to be reluctant.”

“I cant say that Ive noticed,” I said. “I dont look at many bondage magazines.”

“What, never?”

I remembered the mens magazines from when I was younger. The pictures in them were mostly drawings of scantily clad women tied up by German soldiers or cannibals or pirates. Oddly, since moving to Denver I hadnt looked at many magazines.

“I used to when I was a teenager,” I told her. “But not lately.”

“Im crushed,” she said. “I was hoping youd recognize me from all my appearances in them.”

“Sorry.”

“Ill survive,” she said. “But back to my question, would you want to model?”

“Id love to pose in bondage, but I want to get married someday and I dont want pornographic pictures of me popping up at some later date.”

“Yeah, that can be a problem,” she agreed. “Luckily I dont worry about it.”

“How did you get started?” I asked.

“I grew up in a small town in Oklahoma. The boys in my neighborhood played cowboys and Indians or army. They ran through the yards shooting each other with cap guns. I didnt like playing with other little girls so I joined in with the boys. If they played soldier I had to be a nurse but if we played cowboys and Indians I was often the captive girl.”

“I mean how did you get started in modeling,” I said.

“Oh, I thought you were asking how I got into bondage,” she said.

“What the heck, start there,” I said. “You can tell me about modeling later.”

“The first time I got tied up I was eight years old. The Indians captured me, took me to a grove of trees in a vacant lot and tied me to a sapling. The cowboys had to find me and rescue me.”

“And being tied up turned you on, right?”

“Did it ever. I didnt understand why, but I liked being helpless.”

“Did the boys take advantage of you?”

“No, they left me tied for a long time while they hid and waited to ambush the cowboys. I stood against the tree with my tiny little pussy all tingly.”

“I know the feeling.”

“I told you about getting spanked by my uncle,” she said. “Looking back, I realize that I had a tiny little orgasm when that happened. Being tied up by the other kids gave me a similar thrill.”

“Did you have orgasms while you were tied up?” I asked.

“No, but I came close. I learned to manipulate our games so that I got tied up every time we played. Eventually I discovered masturbation and self bondage.”

“Sounds familiar,” I said. “I was a little older but I learned to tie myself.”

“The problem was that if I tied myself I couldnt touch my pussy,” Dianne said. “And tying myself just wasnt the same as when somebody else did it.”

“I understand,” I said. “But I enjoy being helpless. The sexual denial is erotic for me. Ive tied myself up for hours and hours.”

“You tied yourself, really?” she asked. “Are you into self bondage?”

“I sure am, almost as much as sexual bondage. Ive gotten rather proficient at it.”

“How do you get loose?”

“Ive gotten good at that too,” I said. “I can usually untie myself if I can reach the knots, but if I want something more intense I use escape devices.”

“What kind of escape devices?”

I told her about keeping knives handy and my use of the sickle blade with my homemade torture rack. Dianne listened intently.

“Ive been stretched on a rack,” she said. “It was very painful and I ached for days, but I loved it.”

“So have I,” I said. “But its different with the one I have at home. When that big weight falls and jerks my body tight, it brings on a terrific orgasm. Youd like it, its very violent.”

Dianne was squirming in her seat.

“Perhaps I could come to visit your farm someday,” she said lightly.

“Sure,” I said. “But we might have to wait to use the rack.”

“Why?”

“My mom might be tied to it.”

Diannes mouth dropped open. “You must be joking,” she gasped.

I shook my head slowly from side to side.

“Are you telling me that your mother is into bondage too?”

I told her how I walked in to find her tied to my rack. I told her how we tied ourselves to the gateposts at night.

“And you were both naked?”

I nodded.

“Now that is sexy,” Dianne said. “Waiting to be discovered by a stranger.”

“It could be frustrating too,” I said. “I never did get screwed that way. The closest was one night when a deputy sheriff stopped his car just short of our property, then turned around and drove away.”

“I wasnt quite that daring when I was a little girl,” Dianne said. “But when I was thirteen I talked one of the boys into making me take off my clothes before he tied me up.”

“How did you do that?” I asked.

“By begging him not to make me take off my clothes,” she laughed. “Id already become good at manipulating boys.

I remembered how Id maneuvered Bobby into our bondage game when I was a teenager. I nodded.

“I pretended to be reluctant,” Dianne continued. “But he pointed his cap pistol at me and ordered me to strip. I obeyed and was absolutely thrilled when I was naked in front of him. The thrill intensified when he tied me to a tree.”

“Did you lose your virginity then?” I asked.

“No, that was a few years later. At the time I had to settle for being tied up naked, but it was pretty exciting.”

“What did the boy do?”

“Nothing except look at me, but I did see a pronounced bulge in his blue jeans. He just sat on the ground and looked at me that first day. The next time I managed to get him to touch my pussy.”

“How did you do that?”

“By begging him not to touch my pussy,” she chuckled.

I laughed.

“After that it was easy,” Dianne said. “Every chance we got he would take me to a secret place, tie me up and play with my pussy and my little boobies. Finally one day he grew bolder. Hed tied my hands behind my back and bent over a big log. He took his pants down, rubbed his cock against my bottom, then put it into my hands. It felt funny but I liked touching it. I squeezed his cock while he reached around and rubbed my nipples.”

“Im getting hot listening to this.” Now I was the one squirming in my chair.

“Oh, I can stop if you like,” she said. “But the story gets better.”

“Do proceed,” I said.

“He told some of the other boys and the next time we played I was forced to strip when I got captured. There were five of them and they all touched me at once. The first boy, Robby, showed them how to place their cocks in my hands. After that, they forgot that the cowboys were searching for me. When the cowboys burst into our hideout they were stunned. I begged them not to tell and offered to touch their cocks too. After that our game consisted of me being tied up and jacking off every one of them.”

“Go on.”

“I discovered that I was in control. I taught the boys to tie me more securely and we experimented with different positions. We found that by stretching me between two trees the boys could have better access to my pussy. One day a boy pretended to whip me with a piece of rope. I loved it and after that it was easy to get them to whip me more often.”

“How long did this go on?” I asked.

“Until I graduated from high school,” she said.

“The story never got out?” I asked.

“There were rumors,” she said, “But I learned quickly to maintain an innocent look and demeanor, so few people took the rumors seriously. Besides, every girl gets talked about, whether she deserves it or not.”

“True,” I said. “And its amazing that the things that we really do that dont get out. Everyone in my home town still thinks Im a virgin.”

“Well, no one thinks I am,” she laughed. “But thats because I dropped the pretense soon after I left home.”

“Did you have a boyfriend in high school?” I asked.

“No, but I had a lover,” she said.

“Oh?”

“One afternoon when I was fourteen I was tied to a tree by a couple of the boys when an older boy showed up.

“How old was he?”

“Seventeen. He chased off the younger boys then turned to me. I was frightened at first, but excited too. And when he touched me he did a better job than the younger boys. He knew about a girls clitoris and tickled mine until I had an orgasm.”

“Did you have a nice one?”

“Very nice. Then he untied me, made me lie down and tied my arms and legs apart. Then he took his clothes off and screwed me.”

“Umm.”

“I liked it at first, but then I got scared and told him to stop. He didnt listen so I started to scream. He stuffed my shirt in my mouth and went right on screwing me. I thrashed around trying to throw him off my body but the more I fought the better he liked it. So did I. Eventually I didnt want him to stop but I kept bouncing around. I also wanted to see how determined he was. I decided that if wanted to fuck me he was going to have to prove it. I even worked my ropes loose. He stopped for a moment, tied me much tighter, then got back on top of me. He came soon and so did I.

“He got up, pulled up his pants and left me tied there. I was in the sweetest pink haze. I thought I was in Heaven. I would have happily remained tied up all night, but the other boys came back. They untied me and wanted to tell the police but I managed to talk them out of it. They got me dressed and took me home. They were surprised when I showed up the next afternoon to resume our game.”

“What about the older boy?” I asked.

“I hoped he would come back and when he didnt I went looking for him,” she said.

“You did?”

“Um hmm. I found him hanging around a soda shop with his buddies. He looked embarrassed when he saw me. I took him aside and asked if he wanted to do it again. His eyes lit up and agreed to meet me later. We met by a creek near my house and I practically dragged him into the trees. We made love without bondage but I didnt like it as much. On the third or fourth time I asked him to tie me up again. I even brought along some rope. After that I was always tied up for sex.”

“Was he your only lover?”

“No. I had a couple of others in high school, but I always slept with guys from other towns, never close to home.”

“Did you get them to tie you up too?”

“Sure, have you ever known a man who didnt like to tie girls up?”

“Nope.” 

She got a far away look on her face. “There was one man in particular Ill never forget,” she said. “He was a sailor home on leave.”

“Sailors are supposed to be got at tying knots,” I giggled.

“He was very good,” she said. “He was twenty nine, I was eighteen. He took me to a sleazy truck stop motel and tied me to a bed all day and all night. He introduced me to the rough stuff.”

“How rough?”

“I told him to do anything he wanted to me, so the minute we were inside he threw me on the bed. I liked that and was giggling before I stopped bouncing, so he picked me up, carried me across the room and did it again. Boy, that was a rush. He did it again a few times during the night mixed in with lots of bondage, spanking, nipple pinching and fantastic screwing. He had lots of energy and lots of imagination. He was the first person to eat my pussy, and boy was that incredible!” 

“Wow.”

“You said it. afterwards we fucked on the bed, the floor, with me tied over a chair, over a table. He whipped me with his belt all over my body. That was the first time Id been whipped on my boobs and pussy and I had an orgasm from the whipping. We made so much noise that the police burst in on us.”

“No kidding?”

“Yes,” she giggled. “I was stretched very tight on the bed and he was kneeling between my legs with his cock inside me. He was slapping my boobs with his belt. The police took one look at me tied to the bed and pointed their guns at him. I thought they were going to shoot him.”

“What happened?”

“I yelled at them to get out of our room and leave us alone. You should have seen the looks on their faces.”

“Did they leave?”

“It took some doing, but I finally convinced them that I was not being raped and in fact I was quire happy with what he was doing to me.”

I giggled.

“They wanted to untie me but I told them to leave my ropes alone,” Dianne went on. “The cops demanded to see my ID card but I told them that we were married and were driving to his new base in California, and if my husband wanted to tie me up it was none of their damn business. The door was open all this time and a crowd was watching.”

“Ill bet you hated that,” I said.

She made a kissy face at me. “The cops finally accepted that everything was ok and left. My sailor went to the office and paid the desk clerk a little something to keep that from happening again. When he came back he was impressed that I could think up a story like that so quickly. I told him he was welcome, now get back on top of me.”

“You didnt invite the crowd to join in?” I laughed.

“No, I was still too conventional for group sex in those days. Besides, I was quite happy with the job he was doing.”

“Go on.”

“We stayed in that hotel room until the next morning. We ate breakfast in the restaurant. The waitress looked at me like I was a whore, but all the men were impressed with my sailor. They nodded or raised their coffee cups in salute. I was proud of him and let them all get a good look up my skirt. When we walked out I wiggled like a total little tramp. After breakfast he took me home.”

“Did you see him again?”

“Once more. He drove me to a old shed on a farm owned by his aunt. It was abandoned and rickety but private. He stripped me, hung me by my wrists and whipped me. This time he brought a real whip. Just the sight of it turned me on.”

“Oh yes,” I sighed.

“He wanted to see if I could have another orgasm from being whipped.”

“Did you?”

“I sure did.”

“After that he whipped and fucked me all afternoon. When it was over he dropped me off at home. His leave was up and he left the next day to go back to his ship and I never saw him again.”

She was quiet for a few minutes.

“You dont want to get married?” I asked.

“Not again,” she answered. “Twice is enough.”

“Youve been married?”

She nodded. “I married both my husbands hoping they were man enough to tame me,” she said. “They were into the bondage lifestyle and thought they could handle me.”

“But they couldnt?”

“I knew better than to marry a regular man,” she said. “I met my first husband through a bondage club. I gave my self to him completely. I wanted to see if he would be able to treat me the way I wanted. He was excellent, he whipped me until I thought I might die, then I begged for more. He dominated me completely and was wonderfully cruel, so I married him.”

“It didnt last?”

“No, after a few years he seemed to run out of steam. The more torture I got, the more I wanted but it became a chore for him and he lost interest. Being insatiable has its drawbacks,” she sighed. “Anyway we split up.”

“What about your second husband?” I asked.

“He was a repeat of the first,” she said wryly. “I found him the same way, begged him to enslave me permanently, and after few months of wonderful torture we got married. The same thing happened. It was great at first, but after a while he couldnt keep up with me.”

“What did you do outside of sex?” I asked. “What did you talk about?”

“Nothing, that was the trouble,” she said. “Two people cant live forever just on sex. There has to be more.”

I felt a sudden terrible sadness for her. In a split second I had come to realize that she was a very unhappy woman, and was likely to remain so all her life. I thought about MAC, my dear, loyal friend. I was so thankful to have someone like him in my life.

“You know what Ive come to believe?” Dianne asked.

“What?”

“I shouldnt live with just one man,” she said. “My ultimate fantasy is to live in a hotel with a dungeon in the basement. And the guests can come down and torture me every night. If such a place existed I could happily spend the rest of my life there.”

“Look at you,” I said. “Youre an elegant, sophisticated woman. Do you honestly think that youd be happy living that way?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “I would be like the princess who dreams of being kept barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen.”

“Except you want to be kept naked, bruised, and in the dungeon.”

“I knew youd understand.”

“So how did you get into modeling?” I asked.

“One of my lovers took pictures of me in bondage,” she said. “The pictures were pretty good and he gave me copies. I liked looking at myself in the photos and a few years later I sent some of them to a bondage magazine. They wrote back and invited me to New York for a photo shoot. I went, they set me up with a photographer in a real dungeon, and the rest is history.”

“A real dungeon?” I asked.

“Very real. It wasnt just stage scenery. It was used for real bondage sessions. I was damp ten seconds after I walked in the room.”

“How did the you like modeling?”

“The bondage was nice, but it was almost comical. The photographer and his assistant were very careful not to hurt me. They constantly asked if I was uncomfortable or if my ropes were too tight. I kept telling them that they werent tight enough and when were they going to break out the whips?”

“What did they say?”

“Well, I wasnt the first amateur model who thought she was tougher than shoe leather. The photographer told his assistant to whip me from off camera. The guy was too light on me and I demanded more. Eventually the photographer set aside his camera and whipped me himself. I thrashed around in my bonds and taunted him. He tried to be so cool and in control of himself and I did everything I could to enrage him. It became a contest of wills.”

“Who won?” I asked.

“I did. I got him so furious that he whipped me until I was bleeding. I didnt mind the blood and I loved the pain, but more importantly I loved having the power to drive that man over the edge. I was actually laughing in delight while he whipped me. He was so angry that he even hit me across the face.”

“Oh my God!” I gasped. “Thats horrible.”

She shrugged. “I had an orgasm.”

“You must be kidding,” I said.

“Nope, thats why Denise slaps me so hard. I love it.”

“Youd better be careful,” I warned.

“Oh, I know,” she said. “But one of my greatest fantasies is to have my face slashed with a knife.”

“Are you out of your mind?” I gasped.

“Dont worry,” she smiled. “Its only a fantasy.”

“Well, if you say so,” I said doubtfully.

“I can control myself,” she said. “Ive been doing this for twenty years.”

“Ok.”

“Be honest with me,” Dianne said. “Dont you have some terrible fantasy thats so horrible that you have to hide it deep in your soul?”

I was quiet for several minutes, then I nodded.

“Want to tell me about it?” she asked.

“I have several,” I said.

She waited.

“I know a woman who wants to be hung up with meat hooks through her breasts,” I said.. “After she told me about it, I wanted it too, only I want to be hoisted to the top of our barn at home. I want to hang there so passing cars can see me. Thats my first terrible fantasy.”

“Wow. Thats pretty terrible,” she whispered in awe. “But its incredibly erotic.” She thought a moment. “I think I might know that woman. Does she have enormous boobs and puts on a school teacher act?”

“Thats her.”

“Yeah, Ive been to parties with her. Did you know she can get orgasms from having her breasts tortured?”

“Yes, Ive seen her do it. In fact, I was tied to her one evening.”

“Me too. In fact a master once tried to make her smother me with her breasts.”

“Ooh, tell me.”

“He tied me on a bed, then tied her body over me so her boobs covered my face. He hoped Id pass out from lack of air.”

“Thats kind of silly,” I said.”

“Oh, I went along with it,” she said. “I wanted to see what it would be like. The problem was that I could still breathe.”

“You poor thing.”

“Eventually they gave up and resorted to the tried and true method of whipping our breasts till they were raw.”

“The old ways are the best ways,” I said piously.

“Yeah, except those gigantic boobs of hers got all the attention. She had some terrific orgasms while they ignored me,” Dianne said. “I had to remind them to whip me too.”

“Did she talk about having her breasts pierced?” I asked.

“Yes, listening to her almost made me crazy.”

“Shes married so she cant have her breasts pierced,” I said. “But Im surprised that you dont.”

“They are,” she said calmly. “But I wasnt wearing the rings when you met me.”

“Why not?”

“I dont want somebody getting crazy and tearing a ring out of my breast. As much as I love pain, I dont want to be mutilated.”

“Makes sense.”

“Whats another of your terrible fantasies?”

“Erotic electrocution.”

“Dont tell me, let me guess. You want to be executed in the electric chair, right?”

“Stark naked on national television,” I said.

“Yes Ive heard that fantasy before, and I think I know who you picked it up,” she said. “Is her name Donna?”

“Thats her.”

“That girl is crazy. Stay away from her.”

“I agree,” I said. “But you must have seen her in action.”

“Oh yes, Ive watched her screaming her lungs out while electricity jolts through her body.” She took a drink of wine. “Donna can be pretty intense.”

“So are her orgasms,” I said.

She squirmed in her chair and crossed her legs.

“Honestly now, havent you ever thought about it?” I asked.

“Of course I have.”

“Denise has electric shock toys,” I said. “Has she ever used them on you?”

Dianne looked at me over her wine glass and nodded slowly.

“Shes never done that to me,” I mused. “Ill have to get her to do it.”

“Be careful you dont get burned,” she warned.

“What do you mean?”

“If the electricity goes too high those things can burn your skin. Believe me, I know.”

My pussy went about twenty degrees hotter. I just looked at her.

“Electricity can be fantastically painful. I loved the pain and kept screaming for Denise to give me more. She turned up the power so high that I got burned on my nipples and my labia.”

“Sweet Jesus!” I gasped. It felt like electricity was coursing through my pussy.

“Yeah,” she grinned. “I said the same thing at the time, only a whole lot louder.”

“Were you badly burned?”

“Nah, just enough to make me faint when the orgasm hit.”

Now  it was my turn to cross my legs and squirm around in my chair.

“Denise is reluctant to use the electrical toys,” Dianne said. “And she wont go above a certain setting.”

“I know she wont do sessions with Donna any more,” I commented.

“No, she doesnt want to be there when somebody takes Donna too far and kills her.”

Diannes face was getting slightly flushed. I dont think it was from the wine.

“Whats the other fantasy?” she asked.

“I want to be tied to my mother.”

“Oooh! Denise is right,” she whispered. “There is a lot more to you than meets the eye.”

I smiled sweetly.

“Your mother huh? Im impressed. Is that why you put on acts with that older woman, Lady L?”

“When Im licking Lady L I pretend Im eating my mothers pussy.”

“Thats pretty heavy,” she said. “But I like the one about hanging with meat hooks best. I could get into that myself.”

“How about this?” I suggested. “Three women hanging together from hooks through their breasts?”

Dianne looked at me curiously.

“Three women, tightly bound suspended from the hay crane on a country barn, slowly twisting in the breeze, visible to every passing car,” I continued.

“Your barn?” Dianne asked.

“Of course.”

“And the women are you, me and the school teacher?”

“You, me, and my mother,” I said.


“Wow,” Dianne breathed after a long silence.

“But on reflection, I guess we could invite the school teacher too,” I said. “The crane will support four women.”

“Youve got a deal.”

I was surprised at her acceptance. “You dont think that Im horrible?” I asked.

“Hell no,” she laughed. “Who am I to criticize anyone? Besides, thats why I like you.”

“Oh?” I asked. “Does that mean we are going to become lovers?”

“Nope, I only eat pussies when Im forced to,” she answered. “And dont get any fantasies which include me as a substitute for your mother. Im not old enough.”

“What about if I fantasize about you as my older sister?” I giggled.

“All right,” she said, pretending exasperation. “If you must indulge your incest fantasies, go ahead.”

“Gee, thanks Sis.”

She made a kissy face at me.

“Getting back to your photo session,” I said. “Finish your story.”

“When the photographer and his assistant saw me coming it turned them on even more and they screwed the daylights out of me. When they finished I told them that now that we were all warmed up, could we please get down to some real torture.” She smiled fondly. “We were there all night.”

“So I guess your job interview went well?” I asked innocently.

“Yes, I got the job.” She waved her hand to make an emerald ring flash. “The New York photographer published my pictures and they were well received so I did more shoots with him and I got offers from other photographers and film makers around the country.”

“Which do you prefer, still pictures or movies?”

“Movies, because the punishment is real and I can have orgasms on camera as well as in front of the film crew.”

“Mmmm, that could be very erotic,” I said.

She giggled. “I had a director, a woman, who told me that I was great at faking orgasms. She didnt believe me when I told her I wasnt faking. We argued so much that she decided to prove that I was lying.”

“How could she do that?” I asked.

“She hired some medical people to hook me up to a machine that measures female orgasms.”

“I didnt know they had such things,” I said.

“They are used for research and to help women who have sexual problems. They measure brain waves, respiration, heart rate, temperature and so on, and they can tell when a woman has an orgasm.”

“So what happened?”

“They tied me to a table, attached sensors all around my body, and whipped me. I had four orgasms in thirty minutes.”

“I betcha that showed em.”

“Sure did, and we decided to make a movie about it.”

“Youre kidding!” I laughed.

“Nope. We wrote a script based on our argument and shot a sixty minute movie. They showed a split screen with my face on one side and the machine on the other. Every time I cum the buttons light up and the needles jump. Its still selling like hot cakes.”

I laughed so hard that I spilled my wine.

“Ive got to watch it someday.”

“Sure, I have all my movies at home, come over some night and well watch them.”

“Do you like watching yourself?”

“Oh, yes, especially the one with the orgasm machine.”

“It would be nice to see my own face when I have an orgasm,” I mused. 

“Say the word and I can arrange a movie spot for you.” Dianne said.

I was tempted.

“And if she wants, I can get an audition for that little church woman you have the hots for, too.”

I was surprised. “Do you think I have the hots for Jean?” I asked.

“It was obvious as hell,” Dianne said.

“Well, I admit I did find her attractive,” I said.

“Yeah, she has that special spark,” Dianne said. “Not much to look at but she has genuine enthusiasm.”

“Unfortunately I think Jean was serious about that being her one and only time in bondage.”

“So she says, but once a woman dips into that well, its hard not to go back.”

“I know, I know.”

“Too bad you didnt get to eat her pussy.”

“Yes,” I sighed.


                                       CH 44



“Ok, lets talk about your self bondage,” Dianne said. “Do you really get off doing that?”

“I sure do. I can tie myself so that I can get loose on my own or so tight that I cant move until my mother comes and releases me. That might be for hours and hours and I can only lie there and think erotic thoughts. Sometimes I drift into a sort of trance where the thoughts become wonderful dreams. I can almost make myself have the dream I want.”

“I like being tied up,” Dianne agreed, “But I want someone to torture me. Just lying there sounds boring.”

“Not for me,” I said. “Besides, denial is a form of torture. Sometimes I get so horny that I think Im going to explode.”

“Do you have orgasms?”

“Sometimes I do just from my imagination, but that doesnt happen every time. I have a boyfriend at my apartment building and Ill tie myself to my bed and wait for him. The longer he takes, the hotter I am when he finally gets there and I start coming the instant he slides into me.”

“That sounds very nice.”

“It is,” I said. “Hes married and screws half the woman in the building, but I get what I want from him.”

“So I take it youre not in love with him?”

“Lord no, hes a creep, but hes good in bed.”

“I think I might know him,” she said. “I know a lot of creeps.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged off Bob. “But the best kind of self bondage is what I do at the farm. Ive created some aids to orgasm.”

“What kinds of aids?”

“Vibrating dildos on timers, nipple clamps, lots of things.”

“What other thing?”

“Ok, sometimes I put strong clamps on my nipples and attach strings. I run the strings over a bar and tie weights to them. I freeze the strings in cans of water. When the ice in the cans melts the strings slide out, the weights drop and yank the hell out of my nipples. I can attach several weights to each nipple and use different amounts of ice so the weights drop at different times and I never know when one is going to hit.”

“Clever,” Dianne chuckled.

“Oh, it gets better.”

Dianne made a go on motion.

“I can do the same thing with clamps on my pussy lips or with a knotted rope through my pussy.”

Her chin dropped.

“Its pretty wild when a weight drops and that rope races between my pussy lips,” I said. “That is a guaranteed orgasm. Sometimes I almost expect to see smoke coming off the rope.”

Dianne nodded. “I could see that happening.”

“But the best is when the big weight suddenly drops and slams my whole body,” I continued. “It lifts me off the board for a second, then slams me back down. The ropes become super tight on my wrists and ankles and they keep getting tighter until the blade cuts the rope and the weight falls away. Thats always good for an orgasm.”

Diannes eyes were wide. She took in a breath and let it out in a long shuddering sigh.

“Sometimes I tie the nipple clamps and pussy rope to something solid,” I went on. “So when the weight drags me along the board they tighten up, and sometimes I set it up so that the only thing that keeps me from falling off the loft is my pussy rope. That really hurts.”

“Oh God.”

“There are other variations,” I said. “Want to hear more?”

Dianne leaned close and rested her chin in her hand.

“Ill take that as a yes,” I said. “Sometimes I substitute bungee cords which make the weight rebound for a long time and keeps me bouncing around on the board. Its very violent but the only problem with bungees is that they are too easy to get out of.” 

“Anything else?” she asked.

“Yes, one that is particularly wicked,” I said. “I dont tie my legs together, instead I tie two ropes to the weight, thread them through pulleys mounted on the walls, then tie the ends to my ankles. When the weight drops it yanks my feet wide apart.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“That one is nice because not only does it jerk my legs apart, but it also drags me along the board at the same time. And I can place the pulleys so my legs can be opened narrower or wider.”

Which is better?”

“Wider of course, but you have to be careful, too wide and you can hurt yourself.”

“I though that was the idea.”

“So did I until I went home and found my mom hobbling around barely able to walk.”

“She over did it?”

“She sure did. She had the pulleys so far apart that she strained the muscles in her inner thighs and at her groin.”

“Oooh, but then, post torture aches and pains can be erotic,” she said. “Sometimes those little twinges I get after Ive been whipped can be quite a turn on.”

“Yes, I know, especially that one.”

“Dont tell me,” she laughed. “You did it too?”

“Yep. I went up to the loft and did the same thing Mom did, strained the same muscles too.”

“Silly girl,” Dianne said, but after a moment: “Orgasm?”

“Out of this world.”

She nodded knowingly. 

“That one really is incredible, especially when you dont know when its going to happen,” I said. “Lately Ive used bigger cans of ice so the weight takes longer before it drops.”

“Why?”

“I like to doze off while Im waiting. Its absolutely fantastic to be wakened from a sound sleep by having your legs jerked open.”

Dianne was squirming in her seat again.

“Im thinking about adding some more refinements,” I said.

“Such as?”

“Electricity, for one. I could clip electrical wires to my body so that when the weight drops it would trip a switch and Id get shocked at the same time my body is being jerked around the board.”

“Hmmm, I like the sound of that.”

“And another modification would be to mount a dildo horizontally just above the board, so Ill be pulled onto it a split second after the weight yanks my legs apart.”

“Wow, thats terrific,” Dianne breathed. She sat up very straight and crossed her legs tightly.

“A metal dildo with electricity running through it,” I added.

She took a long deep breath.

“Im also think of mounting the pulleys up high so that not only will my legs be yanked open, but my body will fly up off the board and Ill dangle upside down.”

“Whooo, I like that,” she said. “But you couldnt use the dildo could you?”

“Sure could,” I said. “Id just set it on a little cradle and scoop it up as I slide by.”

Dianne started to giggle.
       “Actually Ive thought about mounting a dildo on a long pole pointing down from the ceiling.”

Dianne started laughing, chuckling at first, then gave loose with a full roaring laugh that made heads turn. I thought she was going to fall out of her chair. It took her five minutes to regain her composure.

“And youd earn extra points if you capture the dildo, correct.”

I leaned close and whispered: “Five points if it goes in my pussy and ten if I can get it up my ass.”

She lay her head on the table. Her shoulders shook.


“How would you get down?” she asked a few minutes later.

“The same way I normally get loose. The rope will rub against the sickle blade until its cut.”

“And you will fall, right? How high off the floor do you plan to be?”

“It doesnt matter, I just have to rig something to land on. I dont mind pain but I dont want to injure myself hitting that hard wooden floor.”

“Why not just put a mattress to land on?”

“Too soft,” I said. “Im leaning toward coils of barbed wire. It will hurt more.”

Dianne nodded. “That sounds reasonable.”

“Im thinking that I would attach the dildo with a weak glue,” I said, “That way I can pull it off the pole and try to keep it in my pussy when I land. Thats twenty points.”

Dianne jumped to her feet and ran shrieking into the ladies room. 



                                       Ch 45


       Dianne and I became pals. We met for lunch regularly, went shopping and ran around together. She invited me to her place and we watched a couple of her movies. They were very erotic and I became very excited, especially by the one about the orgasm machine. The movie was obviously genuine unrehearsed, and watching her face during her orgasms was fantastic. After the movie I wanted to make love to Dianne but she wouldnt do it. She simply will not have sex with anyone, man or woman, unless she is forced as violently as possible and Im not a dominant. I offered to submit to her but she wouldnt dominate me either. We both knew that either attempt would be unsatisfactory.

       Dianne was interested in my love of self-bondage and watched me tie myself up several times. I stripped, lay on the floor and put myself into a strict hogtie, then rolled around rubbing my breasts against the carpet. I looked up at her invitingly, hoping she might want to touch me but no luck. After an hour I untied myself and then suspended myself from a ceiling hook by my wrists. I wiggled as enticingly as possible but she was still unmoved. I finally ended up spread wide on her bed. I tied my legs further apart than I ever had but even the vision of my helpless and very moist pussy failed to excite her. I begged her to do something sexy to me but she wouldnt, she just sat cross legged and watched me intently for a while, then made sure that I couldnt get lose and left the room.

She thought she was being cruel but didnt truly think that I could still get very excited and have orgasms in bondage. I lay back, slipped into a very erotic fantasy involving Dianne, myself, and my mother hanging in the loft of Moms barn. I was able to create a delicious heat between my legs and was crooning softly to myself when she peeked in. She snorted derisively, thinking I was faking and wouldnt believe me when I told her that I had been close to having an orgasm.

She got dressed while I attempted to convince her that I truly could cum in bondage. When she was fully clothed she kissed me on my cheek and told me that she was going out to run a few errands and to enjoy myself while she was gone. Then she put a gag in my mouth and a blindfold on my eyes and went out. I heard the front door close, lay back and tried to recapture my fantasy about Moms barn. It didnt take long.

I imagined Mom, Dianne and me hanging in a clump, our bodies pressed together while Moms boss from the bank whipped us. After he whipped us in a group he took us down, tied Dianne and me together on the lawn with our faces in each others pussy, and took Mom up to the loft where he tortured her on the rack. Dianne and I licked each other while listening to Mom shrieking and laughing, punctuated by an occasional crash from the falling weight. When we paused from eating each other, and if I listened carefully I could hear the whip on Moms skin, and her moans of delight.

After several hours he brought Mom back, exhausted and covered with whip marks and tied her to Dianne and took me to the loft. He locked me to the plank and whipped every inch of my body while he dropped the weight time after time and in every possible variation. I had orgasm after orgasm but the greatest pleasure was wondering if he would tie me to Mom when he brought Dianne up for her turn.

Id worked myself into a long steady delightful buzz in my pussy when Dianne walked in.

“Very interesting,” she said softly. I hadnt heard the door open. I opened my eyes for a second, then thrust my pelvis upward and allowed my orgasm to burst loose.

       After my orgasm she kept me tied to the bed (ok by me), removed my gag and blindfold, and sat crossed legged between my knees. Her mocking expression was gone.

       “That was very impressive,” she said quietly.

       I wriggled happily.

       “I didnt really leave,” Dianne told me. “I waited in the living room, then tiptoed back and watched you. “Was that a real orgasm? It didnt look faked.”

       I shook my head slowly. “It was real.”

       “What were you thinking about?” she asked.

       “Me, you, and my mother tortured together by her boyfriend on the farm,” I answered.

“Wow, tell me more.” She rubbed my feet while I told her about my daydream. Then I told about all the things I did at the farm. I convinced her that the rack really did exist (she thought Id made it up), I told her about tying myself to trees and fence posts and the front porch. She looked skeptical when I told her that Mom did those things too, but I eventually got her to believe them. For some reason the story of my night alone tied to the rack while Mom went out on a date really got Dianne excited. She squirmed around and squeezed her breasts a few times but it wasnt enough to make her touch me. She untied my hands and watched intently as I played with my pussy. I looked into her eyes until I came (which didnt take long) then untied my legs and took a long shower. Afterwards we ordered pizza. 


I invited her to the farm and we drove out for the weekend. I stopped at the gate and showed her the posts.

“This is where we tie ourselves on warm nights,” I told her.

Dianne looked up and down the road.

“You really stood here all night?” she asked.

“Many nights,” I answered. “Naked and bound, so did my mother. Ive even fallen asleep tied here.”

“And no one came by and screwed you?”

“Nope. No luck at all.”

“When did you stop doing it?”

“We didnt stop,” I laughed. “I do it all the time when Im here. So does Mom.”


Mom wasnt home that afternoon; she worked at the bank until one oclock, then went to her boyfriends place after work. We had the place to ourselves and I showed Denise all round the farm. 

She thought my adventure tied in the gazebo while the neighbor plowed the fields was pretty neat, especially for a teenaged girl, and she agreed that the posts and railings on the porch were ideal for bondage, but too cramped for a good whipping. (Not enough room to swing the whip), but the big limbs under the shade tree were ideal for the purpose.

Her mouth opened in awe as we stood beneath the barn crane and I told her how I like to hang by my wrists or ankles.

“All the way up there?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“Anyone could see you,” she said looking toward the road.

“True, which is why I only do it after dark,” I told her.

“Why not just do it in the daylight?” she asked.

“Because we live here,” I laughed. “And believe it or not, Mom and I still have decent reputations in this town.”

“Oh.”

“But sometimes I tie myself just inside the loft door. I stay in the shadow but I think that if anyone looked carefully they could see me.”

“What sort of position?”

“Some times I tie my wrists over my head and just stand there, but the best is in a chair with my legs open.”

“And no one has ever seen you?”

“Not that I know of. I made a dummy by stuffing a shirt and pair of jeans with wadded up newspaper and put it the chair, then I went down to the road and looked back. Most people driving past wouldnt notice it, but if anyone looked close enough they could see me.”

“Interesting.”

“Come on, Ill show you the loft.”

We climbed up and Dianne peered around the dusty old building. She glanced at the plank but seemed more interested in the loft crane. She edged close to the door and peered cautiously out.

“You actually hang from that?” she asked, pointing to the crane.

“Yep.”

Daylight or not, I decided to demonstrate. I showed Dianne how to work the lever on the ratchet brake that lowered the cable, then I undressed, tied my wrists under the crane. I stepped off into space and gasped with a sweet little orgasm as soon as the rope tightened. I hung twenty feet above ground and looked over the fields. It felt so nice to be up there. I twisted until I was facing Dianne. She inched close to the edge and peered at the ground, then looked at me in awe. Dianne was mildly afraid of heights and was impressed at my bravery.

“You look very sexy,” she said.

“I love this,” I told her. “And I can hang upside down, or with my legs apart with a spreading bar.”

“Which is your favorite?”

“Hanging by big hooks through my boobs.”

“I mean for real,” she said.

“Right side up with my legs tied apart, facing the road with a line of school busses driving slowly past.”

After about ten minutes I saw a car approaching and told her to lower me to the ground. I watched the car wondering if they could see me, and almost hoped that they could, but Dianne got me to ground level before the car passed the house. It didnt slow down so I suppose the driver didnt notice the naked girl dropping slowly from the sky. 

On the ground I untied myself and offered her the rope. She looked up at the crane and thought about it, and said that she would try it later. She wanted to experience the rack first. I think she was still a bit afraid of the height.

We climbed back up and I showed her the rack. Its funny how primitive the thing was, over the years Id gotten so used to it that I hadnt looked closely. The plank was worn smooth by my body and some of the rope was faded and frayed.

“I think I need to get some new ropes,” I said. “And the board could use a coat of varnish.”

Dianne didnt care what the thing looked like; she was impressed that it actually existed. She ran her hand softly along the surface.

“You really tie yourself to this?” she marveled.

“We sure do.”

“And you are serious about your mother tying herself to it too?” she asked.

“Ask her yourself when she gets home,” I said.

She looked at the weight, a rusty pile of old tractor parts held together with logging chain. It sat on the edge of the loft looking harmless. It was attached to the rope, ready to drop and yank someone into masochistic delight.

I climbed onto the plank and tied my ankles to the end, then I tied my wrists to the weight rope, stretched out and let Dianne look me over. Her eyes were huge as I reached for the stick, then pushed the weight off. Dianne screamed in surprise when she saw my body shoot the length of the plank then fly up and slam back down. I had a delicious orgasm, especially helped by the fact that she was watching. It took a few minutes for the sickle to cut the rope so I lay on the rack, my body held as tight as a bow string until the rope parted and the weight fell to the floor below. When I got my breath back and my legs stopped shaking I untied myself and hauled the weight back up. Dianne still stared at me in awe as I rigged the ropes so that this time my feet would be yanked apart. I threaded the ropes through pulleys on the side walls, tied the ropes to my ankles and stretched out on the plank. I set the pole to push the weight off then tied my wrists to the top of the plank. I grinned at Dianne and kicked the pole. The weight dropped, my legs were yanked wide apart and my body was jerked tight. Nice, nice orgasm!

When I could focus my eyes I saw a look of absolute awe on Diannes face. She bent over me, looked deep into my eyes.

“My God,” she whispered in awe. “Are you ok?”

I saw that she was naked.

“Im just fine,” I told her.

“Can I try it?” she asked.

“Give me a moment,” I said, delighting in the pink haze that rolled gently through my being.

She shook her head. “Take all the time you need,” she said. She stepped back, folded her hands and waited patiently for me to untie myself.

After a few minutes I released myself and rolled off the plank. I motioned for her to climb on.

I made her try the regular method first and secured her ankles to the top of the plank. I tied her wrists to the weight rope, then I caressed her breasts long and teasingly, and despite herself, her nipples got very hard. Then, when she wasnt expecting it I pushed the weight off. She screamed when her body was hurled along the plank. I watched as her body was snapped as taut as a bowstring, then relaxed for a second, and retightened as the weight rebounded. She didnt have an orgasm. She liked the pain in her wrists and shoulders but it wasnt quite intense enough for her.

“What did you think?” I asked.

“Very nice,” she cooed. “I could get to like this but Id prefer to have some cruel male doing it to me.”

“So would I,” I said. “But we dont have one living here on the farm.”

“You should hire a farm hand,” she said. “One who could double as a torturer.” Thats not a bad idea.

“Ill mention it to Mom,” I said. “Want to go again?”

“Yes.”

I let her lie on the plank while I pulled the weight up and retied the rope. This time I removed the sickle blade so the rope wouldnt be cut.

“Ready?” I asked. She nodded.

I pushed the weight off and her body slammed taut. I allowed her to lie there while the ropes tightened steadily on her wrists. She moaned in pleasure but didnt cum.

I let her experience that for a while, then I changed her position so that the weight tightened a rope through her pussy. Dianne liked that one so much that she almost had an orgasm. After that I tied cords to her nipples and attached light weights. I dropped them about two seconds before the main weight fell. Dianne giggled and told me that shed had a small orgasm that time. I became determined to make her come like shed never come before.

I tried something that Id never done. I tied her in the chair with her back to the edge of the loft and ran ankle ropes to the side pulleys. I added a crotch rope that I draped over a rafter above her head and attached to the weight, then put two cords on her nipples and hooked them to small weights. I trotted around adjusting the ropes and trying to get the lengths just right. Dianne waited patiently in the chair at first, then began nagging when I took too long to suit her. I shut her up with a gag.

When everything was ready I removed her gag, kissed her on the lips, and pushed the weight off. The result was spectacular!

Diannes legs shot wide apart, then a split second later the rope between her legs tightened and lifted her a few inches out of the chair. Her eyes were huge and her mouth opened to scream when the smaller weights jerked her breasts upward.

Her body dropped back into the chair when the weight bounced, then it snapped upward again. This time she screamed.

And screamed.

I felt a deep satisfaction as I listened to my friends screams. I knew that she was enjoying a terrific orgasm. I smiled at her until she ran out of wind. Then she took a deep breath and screamed again. I chuckled until it dawned on me that Diannes bottom was several inches off the chair and the chair itself was several inches off the floor. In fact, the only things holding her to the chair were the ropes on her wrists.

Oh my God! Id forgotten that the sickle wasnt in place. The rope wasnt being cut!

I grabbed a knife and sawed through the rope. The weight fell away and Dianne and her chair crashed to the floor. The nipple cords tightened again, then one came loose followed by the second. Dianne screeched and writhed in the chair.

I knelt and peered into her eyes. They actually seemed to be slightly crossed.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

It took her a moment for her eyes to focus. She blinked at me a few times, then said:

“Again.”

I collapsed in laughter.


Dianne was serious about repeating the experience, but I decided that guest or no guest, it was my turn to have some fun. I untied Dianne and took her place in the chair but I didnt tie myself to it. I simply tied my hands behind my back. I told her how to set up all the ropes and weights, then told her to push the weight off the edge. It was wonderful!

My legs slammed open, the rope tightened in my crotch and lifted me off the chair, the cords felt like they were going to take my nipples off and lightning was crackling through my belly, all within half a second. I hung in space, held up by the rope through my pussy and kept down by the ropes on my ankles. Nothing supported my back and my body flopped backwards until my head was lower than my legs. I saw the cords slip off my nipples and disappear over the rafter. Everything went slack as the weight rebounded, then tightened again, and I fainted.

When I woke up Dianne was dabbling at my face with a damp wash cloth.

“Are you still alive?” she asked. I looked at her and said:

“Again.”

After I returned to the world of the living Dianne wanted to ride the chair again but she asked if we could increase the weight, and I was dumb enough to go along. We rummaged through the scrap metal pile looking for heavy pieces to add. (We must have been quite a sight: two naked girls straining and struggling to pull about a hundred pounds of rusty scrap metal up to the loft.) We got very sweaty and dirty and by the end of the day we were a mess. We added so much metal to the weight became so heavy that we could barely lift it.

       I went first and tested the extra weight on the plank with a simple straight position. It was terrific! The pressure was incredible and I felt my body being stretched very painfully. For the first time I think I felt what it was like to be stretched on a medieval rack. My shoulders hurt fiercely and the pain increased until the rope cut  and the weight fell away. I decided to try it again, much to Diannes indignation, and this time I left a foot of slack at my ankles. When the weight dropped I was hurled along the board so fast that I felt my joints popping, which was frightening, which led to a fantastic orgasm! The rope jerked so tight that it took the skin off my wrists and ankles. The plank bounced high into the air, higher than Id ever experienced, and landed with an enormous crash. For a split second I was afraid that I might flip over the edge, plank and all. I saw myself spinning through the air and the extra fear sent me over the edge of ecstasy. Dianne rushed to untie me and I was so dazed that I simply rolled off and collapsed on the floor. I thought that she was concerned for my safety until I saw that she was pulling the weight back up by herself. I watched in a daze as she scrambled onto the rack and retied herself. I should have stopped her but I was still groggy from my orgasm. Dianne tipped the weight off with the push stick and all hell broke loose.

The weight fell so hard that the whole barn shook. I watched as her body rebounded off the saw horses and twisted in the air. She landed on her side, then the weight slackened and she bounced upward again. The weight tightened the rope again and her body slammed down. I wondered if she might flip completely over and land on her face. I imagined her breasts flattening under her, which I knew she would like. The barn creaked and dust sifted down to sparkle in the beams of sunlight. I smiled at Diannes screams and hoped she was enjoying the same intense orgasm that I had.

Unfortunately when she landed on her side her shoulder was dislocated.

It took several minutes for it to sink into my dulled brain that something was wrong. When I realized that she really was hurt I staggered to my feet and untied her. She was sobbing, half in pain and half in delight and managed to tell me that shed heard something snap in her shoulder.

I got her dressed and managed to get her down the ladder, then put on my clothes and drove her to the hospital.

       “What do we say when they asked what happened?” Dianne asked me in the car. She had calmed down and slouched easily in the seat. Her injured arm lay across her lap.

       “We tell them that you fell off a ladder,” I said.

       “Oh, I just hate lying to people,” she said.

       I looked at her in astonishment. “Would you rather tell the doctor that you were torturing yourself?”

       “I suppose it would depend on how cute the doctor is.”

       “Look, I live in this town and everyone knows my mother, so for once in your life, behave.”

       “Oh, all right,” she giggled. “I guess that I cant let him peek up my skirt either.”

       “How can you think about sex at a time like this?” I asked.

“Its easy, see?” She lifted her arm out of the way with her good hand, pulled her skirt up and slipped her fingers into her panties. She scrunched lower, spread her legs and played with herself all the way to the hospital. She wouldnt take her hand out until I drove into the hospital parking lot.

       People stared as we sat in the emergency room. Id tried to clean us up, but we still had dirt smudges and rust streaks on our skin, and our hair was a mess. Dianne sat stoically waiting to be seen by the doctor and even as dirty as she was she still carried herself like a queen.

We told the doctor that wed been working in the barn and she had fallen off the ladder. Considering how we looked, the story wasnt hard to believe.

The doctor was young and nice looking. He was amazed at how calmly Dianne endured the pain. (He had no idea that the terrible throbbing in her shoulder was matched by a fantastic throbbing in her pussy.) He asked her to remove her shirt and was a little disconcerted when she undressed completely. She lay back on the gurney stark naked and looked up at him.

“That isnt necessary,” he told her.

“I landed across the top of a horse stall when I fell,” she said. “My legs were open and I think I might have injured my pelvic area. Its a little sore.”

I glared at her from behind the doctor but she just smiled and opened her legs wider.  

“All right,” he said. “But Ill have the nurse step in here.”

“Of course, but Mary is here,” Dianne said nodding toward me. “And Im a nurse myself and Im not worried about modesty in the emergency room.”

Or any where else, I thought to myself.

“Very well.” The doctor dutifully gave her crotch a thorough examination while she smiled sweetly at him between her knees. He couldnt find anything wrong at her pussy and sent her to X-ray for her shoulder. (She reluctantly agreed to put on a gown before they wheeled her through the hospital.) The test showed that her shoulder was dislocated but not broken so he reset it and put her in a brace. 

He noticed the rope marks on her wrist and looked at them closely, then he took her other hand and examined the deep marks there. Dianne met his eyes with an expression of complete innocence. He pointedly looked at the marks on her ankles but didnt say anything. He looked at me and I quickly folded my arms to hide my wrists, but hed already seen them.

“Did you get those scrapes falling off a ladder too?” he asked me, faintly sarcastic.

I blushed furiously, but my pussy tingled anyway. The doctor looked pointedly at the rope marks on my ankles but made no comment.


       “I believe that the doctor suspects that we have been up to something naughty,” Dianne said as I drove home.

       “Oh, how could he ever think that?” I asked. “What with you being so ladylike and all.”

       “I think the rope marks gave us away,” she said. “BOTH of our rope marks.”

       “So do you think he sensed that he was dealing with a pair of masochistic lesbians?”

       “Probably, but dont be too worried, that sort of thing happens all the time in emergency rooms.”

       “Oh?”

       “Youd be surprised at the people who come in with sexual injuries,” she said. “I could tell you stories.”        

“Well, at least I didnt strip naked in front of the man,” I said.        

“Only because I beat you to it.”

“I think its a good thing you werent in the chair when we added the extra weight,” I said. “It might have dislocated your legs from your pelvis.”

“You may be right,” she said. “But I still want to try it.”


When Mom came home I introduced Dianne. Wed managed to clean ourselves up but couldnt hide Diannes injured shoulder. Mom was gracious but I knew that she wasnt happy about what wed done. I cooked dinner and Mom and Dianne relaxed on the porch. Over dinner Dianne told Mom in explicit detail how exciting the experience was, including her medical exam, and she was so descriptive that Mom was squirming in her chair. We didnt tell Mom about riding the rope in the chair. Never the less, she made me promise never to increase the weight again.

She went to the barn intending to remove the extra weight. I offered to help but she insisted on going alone. Dianne and I sat on the back porch and shortly after Mom went into the barn we heard a terrific crash and watched a cloud of dust waft out of the loft. We waited a long time but Mom didnt reappear, so I climbed up to the loft.

Sure enough, the extra weight was still on the rope and Mom was still on the plank. She was naked except for her panties and was stretched very tightly. She blushed when I came in.

“I decided to test it for myself,” she said. “But the rope didnt cut.”

“Oops, we still havent reinstalled the sickle blade,” I told her.

“Ah, then its a good thing you were here,” she said.

“It sure is,” I said, and started to untie her. 

“Actually, theres no hurry,” she said blushing again.

“Ok, how long do you want to stay here?”

“Give me a few hours,” she said.

When I went back at nine oclock her ropes were so taut that I couldnt budge them. Mom was very pale and her hands and feet were purple, but she didnt want me to release her.

“Let me stay here all night,” she asked.

“No way, Mom,” I said. “You could get gangrene from the loss of circulation.”

“Youve spent the night tied here,” she said.

“I wasnt tied nearly this tight,” I answered. “Im taking you inside right now. Ill help you spend a night in bondage some other time, but not tonight.”

“Oh, all right.”

I had to cut the ropes with a knife, and then practically carry her to her room. Dianne helped as I tucked her into bed.





                               CH 46



We spent the next day relaxing and talking. Dianne had to wear a shoulder brace for several weeks so she had to wait before she could be hung from the loft crane. She enjoyed being at the farm and seemed interested in Mom. Dianne behaved herself and didnt try to seduce my mother but she did talk about sex and asked Mom a lot of questions about her boss and how domineering he was. Mom was uncomfortable at first but eventually she opened up and talked about the things her boss did to her. I must confess that I was a little shocked, and very turned on by the things Mom told us.

Apparently her boss/lover/master was quite a wicked and imaginative man. He tied her in a variety of ways and made love to her. He wasnt terribly sadistic, but he did take charge and dominate her completely when they were together. In fact Mom usually had to ask him to spank her. After he discovered her liking for self bondage he thought up a few naughty things for her to do.

He would call her at home on and command her to drive to work wearing a pussy belt, then when she arrived she had to lift her skirt and show that she had obeyed. One afternoon when they were alone in the bank he ordered her to strip naked at her desk then walk into the vault and hogtie herself on the floor. The vault door was open and Mom was just barely out of sight from the lobby. She lay in the cool floor for two hours while he waited on customers. When he closed the bank at six oclock he walked into the vault and screwed her halfway out of her mind.

She told him about tying herself to the gatepost on warm evenings (omitting that I invented that little bit of naughtiness) so he sometimes will call and order her to tie herself naked to the gate and wait for him to arrive. She described in graphic detail the things he did to her when he got there until Dianne and I both were squirming in our chairs. I wanted to ask Mom if she thought that her boss would like to come and find three naked women tied to the gate instead of one, but I managed to keep my mouth shut.

Aside from those things her boss is quite good at tying her into some strict and uncomfortable positions for spankings or sex, or both, and he often spends nights and weekends torturing Mom in our barn. He also likes to bind and gag her, then put a collar around her neck and lead along the dusty road to our neighbors house about a mile away.  He would take her as close to their house as possible, and then make love to her. One night he bent Mom over the neighbors fence and screwed her from behind while she watched them eating dinner through the window. 

I was very hot after listening to Moms stories and couldnt sleep. I got out of bed, tied my hands behind my back and walked to the neighbors house. The lights were on in their living room and I could see the television flickering. I straddled the fence and rubbed my pussy on the top rail until I almost had an orgasm, then forcing myself to stop, I crept onto their front porch and did the same thing on the banister. I was so horny and daring that I tied my wrists to the railing. If they had come outside they would have discovered me before I could have released myself. The windows were open and I could hear them talking as I fractioned my pussy to a sweet, sweet orgasm.


A few months later, when Diannes shoulder healed, I took her back to the farm and let her hang from the crane. 

Mom and I both had reservations about her condition so we allowed her a short test. We stood her on a barrel, tied her wrists the crane rope and she stepped off. The look of wanton ecstasy on Diannes face convinced us that her shoulder must be healed so we agreed to let her hang longer. She spent the first hour fully clothed but begged us to undress her. She wanted us to tear her clothes off but Mom is too frugal to waste nice things so we lowered Dianne and told her to take her own clothes off. She spent the afternoon stark naked, her body swaying gently in the sunlight. She was low enough that the bushes concealed her from the road. 

Mom and I left Dianne hanging and went about our business. I helped Mom clean the house, then while she took a nap I went to the barn and tied myself to the rack.

After a couple of nice orgasms I peeked out and saw that Dianne was looking up at the loft. I decided to mess with her so I piled a bunch of old lumber, some barrels and a bucket full of scrap metal on the edge of the loft. Then I screamed as loud as I could and toppled everything off. The racket was terrific. It sounded like a plane had crashed into the barn. The building shook and an enormous cloud of dust rolled out the door. I kept screaming for about ten minutes. Dianne twisted under the rope and stared up at the loft with a look of absolute amazement on her face. I shut up for a few minutes, then took a deep breath and screamed again until my throat was sore. Then I ran down the ladder and staggered out the door. I collapsed to my hands and knees and crawled across the grass sobbing, groaning and gasping for breath. Dianne watched with a look of utter astonishment as I feebly made my way to the back porch then collapsed at the bottom of the steps. Mom came to the door and looked at me in alarm, but I winked at her and pretended to be unconscious. Mom caught on and disappeared inside.

Diane called out to me, asking if I was all right and when I didnt answer she became frantic. Finally Mom appeared and poured a bucket of water over me. Cold water!

I wasnt expecting Mom to get quite so creative, but I pretended to rouse myself. Mom stood over me, then said:

“I thought I told you that you were never to try that again.”

“Im sorry,” I gasped.

Mom yanked me to my feet and marched me inside.

We peeked out and giggled at the look of astonishment on Diannes face. Dust continued to waft out the door and she tried to peer inside. We left her hanging.

At supper Dianne asked what Id done but Mom glared at her and told her that it was something we didnt talk about.

After supper Dianne begged to spend the night under the crane. Neither Mom nor I thought that was a good idea but we knew that she would sneak out and hang herself up as soon as we were asleep, so we agreed and one of us stayed with her all night. We took turns sitting in a lawn chair just inside the loft door. Mom took the first shift and I relieved her at midnight. Dianne asked me what I had done to myself but I wouldnt answer. She was beside herself with curiosity but I remained silent. Finally I told that I wasnt permitted to give her any details, but that form of self torture was so terrible that my aunt had almost died from it years earlier.

“Was the risk so dangerous?” she asked.

“No, it wasnt that,” I said. “It caused her to go into such a prolonged orgasm that her heart went into fibrillation and she nearly died. Now Mom wont allow any woman to use that device again.”

“What is it?” she gasped. “Where is it?”

“I cant tell you what it is,” I answered. “And its hidden in a secret room in the loft.”

It was a good thing that I was sitting in the dark; otherwise Dianne would have seen the laughter in my face.

I changed the subject and we talked for a while longer. I enjoyed looking at Diannes body in the moonlight but eventually I dozed off. At sun up Dianne was bright eyed and pink faced and so excited that as soon as I released her she played with herself until she came. After her orgasm she had breakfast, took a long shower and asked to be strung up again.

Mom shook her head in amazement. (I think until that point shed thought that I was the most incorrigible masochistic in the state, but Dianne bumped me out the spot in Moms eyes.) She allowed Dianne to have her way.

We took her to the loft and she bravely stepped off and let herself drop. She gasped in orgasm when the ropes tightened on her wrists and she hung with a look of pure lust on her face. We allowed her to hang high in the air until traffic began to pick up on the road, then we lowered her until her body was hidden from view. After a couple of hours I released her and hung her upside down. She really enjoyed that, but couldnt take being inverted or more than thirty minutes at a time. It made her very dizzy. 

Mom took a nap in the afternoon and I took Dianne to the loft. She had fun being slammed around by the falling weight but kept pestering me about the mysterious and forbidden torture device. I refused to talk about it but finally I couldnt keep a straight face and she realized that wed been pulling her leg.

I tried a variation on the rack. I wanted to see if two women could ride the plank together. I tied Dianne on her side, then placed myself against her and wrapped a rope around our waists, then I tied us tightly together. I liked the feel of her breasts against mine and kissed her on the lips before pushing the weight off. We were jerked tightly against each other, which was delightful. It took a long time for the rope to be cut and I kept kissing Dianne. Finally she gave in and kissed me back. After the rope cut away I re rigged us so that the weight tightened a double pussy rope between our legs. I had a nice orgasm and Dianne even came close. She admitted that she liked what I was doing so the next time I removed the blade. After the weight dropped our bodies were held tightly together and I was in Heaven. We couldnt get loose and lay on the plank rubbing against each other until Mom came looking for us.

I heard mom coming up the ladder so I kissed Dianne very passionately. Moms eyes widened when she saw us. Mom was a little disconcerted. She knew that I liked sex with women but shed never seen me do it before. I kept my tongue in Diannes mouth while watching Mom out of the corner of my eye. Mom stared for a moment, then turned to leave. I pretended to notice her and pulled my head back.

“I see that you removed the cutting blade,” Mom said. “Do you want me to leave you here longer?”

Dianne looked at me, and I looked at her, and we both shrugged. “Sure,” I said. “But would you mind changing our position?”

I didnt spell it out but I wanted her to tie us with our mouths on each others pussy. Mom knew exactly what I meant. She glared at me for a moment, then left without answering. I sighed in disappointment.

“Did you think that she might do it?” Dianne asked.

“No,” I said. “But I can always hope.”

“Do you want her to watch us having sex?” Dianne asked.

“Id rather have you watch me have sex with her,” I said.

“Uh huh, well would you like me to offer to tie you and your mother together?”

My pussy throbbed.

“Id give anything for that,” I answered. “But I dont dare ask her.”


Mom was quiet at dinner and I was afraid that she was angry with me, but she surprised me by accepting my offer to tie ourselves to the gate posts. After dark all three of us walked naked to the gate and tied ourselves. Mom tied Dianne to the mailbox while I tied myself to a gatepost, then Mom tied herself. We waited for several hours in the warm night air and talked. Dianne got tired and managed to lower herself to her knees, then fell asleep. Mom and I released ourselves, then chuckled while we discussed leaving Dianne there all night. Eventually Mom went to the house while I stood watch over Dianne. I sat behind some bushes until she woke up. I was fun to watch the fright on her face when she realized that she was alone, but she soon calmed down and struggled to her feet. Once she was upright she looked around, then peered hopefully down the road. I smiled to myself as she waited and waited for someone to happen by and rape her. From time to time she hopped on her toes and jiggled her breasts as if that would make a car appear.

No such luck.

When Diannes head began to nod again I tiptoed close and pinched her nipples very hard. She shrieked in surprise, then shuddered when an orgasm struck.

“Oh my God,” she gasped while I untied her. “You can do that anytime you want.”

Dianne likes the farm and pesters me to take her there all the time, so I made a deal with her that she has to make love with me while were there and to make sure that Mom knows were doing it. Dianne still doesnt like to have sex unless shes forced, but she agreed to my conditions and shes gotten pretty blatant at Moms house. 

I couldnt quite bring myself to let Mom actually see us, but we deliberately made a lot of noise. One night I tied Dianne spread open on her bed, then I crawled atop her and tied myself with my mouth on her pussy. We stayed that way all night and in the morning I awoke to see Mom staring at me from the door. She blushed and walked quickly away. During the night the knots had tightened so much that I couldnt untie myself so I waited until Diane woke, then called for Mom to release us. We were stiff and sore and when Dianne could stand she gave Mom a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Later, at breakfast she asked Mom if she would like to be tied together with her. Mom considered it for a moment, but finally shook her head.

I got so turned on when Dianne propositioned my mother that I could hardly stand it. Next to having sex with her myself, the idea of seeing her with my friend was almost as exciting.

Dianne bought Mom gifts, including a number of very naughty pussy straps and a chastity belt. Mom got rather excited when she tried on the belt and wore it the entire weekend. I helped Dianne pick it out and tried it on because Mom and I are the same size. It is very hard and unyielding and never allows you to forget that its on. Wearing it is like having a strong hand gripping your crotch constantly. I already had the belt Dale made for me but its too bulky to wear in public so I bought another one for myself.

Mom wore hers to work and showed it to her boss. She went into his office, lifted her skirt and showed him the belt, then handed him the key. Every time she wanted to go to the restroom she had to go and beg the key from him. She liked the feeling on being under his control so she gave him a key permanently. Now she wears the belt about once a week.

He asked her where she got it and she teased him by saying that shed had it made by a local blacksmith. He was so astonished that it didnt occur to him that the town hasnt had blacksmith for years.


Dianne and I took a long weekend and arrived at the farm on a Thursday night. The next day we dropped by the bank and took Mom to lunch. We were all wearing chastity belts. Mom took us into her boss and introduced Dianne. We chatted with him for a few minutes and Dianne flirted blatantly. She crossed and uncrossed her legs at least three times. I dont know if he saw her chastity belt or not. Hes a gentleman and tried not to be too blatant when he glanced at her legs, but I was tempted to give him a peek up my skirt too. Id loved to have seen the look on his face when he saw the gleam of stainless steel between my legs, instead of silk panties.

As we left he surreptitiously slipped the key into Moms hand and patted her on the bottom. 

At lunch we talked about sex and I told them how Id modeled for Dale when he built his mechanical devices. I even told them about fantasizing about Mom and me  demonstrating them in front of audiences. Mom giggled until I got to the part about my fantasy about the mad scientist and his remote controlled vibrators driving all the women in Denver wild. At that point her face got very pink and her nipples were visible through her dress.  

“Ooh, now that is something I thing Id enjoy,” Dianne said.

“Really?” I asked. “I wouldnt thing that it would be violent enough for you.”

“No, but being controlled by some mad man would be exciting,” she answered. She turned to Mom. “Dont you agree?”

Mom nodded.

“Just imagine,” Dianne went on. “Having an orgasm with people all around you and trying not to let them see.”

“It happens to me all the time,” Mom said.

“What?”

“I dont have a radio controlled vibrator, but my boss gave me a regular one with a random timer on the battery. I never know when its going to come on.”

“Mom, are you serious?” I asked astonished.

She nodded.

“Hmm, Im impressed,” Dianne said. “Are you wearing it now?”

Mom sipped her tea and nodded again. “Are you two wearing vibrators?” she asked.

My mouth dropped open.

“Does your boss know about me?” I asked.

“No,” Mom answered. “He thinks you are a nice girl.”

Dianne laughed so hard that heads turned toward us.

“Gee, thanks Mom,” I said. “So I dont get any credit for introducing you to all this kinky stuff?”

“Nope, he thinks it comes naturally to me.”

“Humph, maybe I ought to tell him that I inherited my perversity from you.”

“Do you think he would like to have three slave girls to play with?” Dianne asked.

Moms eyes got huge.

“Is he man enough to handle three women?” Dianne asked impishly.

“Yes, very definitely,” Mom answered.

“Have you ever thought about being spanked beside other women?” Dianne whispered, then glanced at me. “Or being tied together with another sex slave while a man watches.?”

Mom patted her face with her handkerchief. She was very pink.

“I have to get back to work,” she told us.

“We are going back to the farm and Im going to let Mary tie us together,” Dianne said. “Why dont you take the afternoon off and join us?”

Mom blushed even redder.

“And why dont you invite your boss to come with you?” I suggested. “Well be waiting under the shade tree.”

Mom wouldnt meet my eyes.

“Wait, I have another idea,” I said. “Have him wait half an hour, that will give you time to freshen up, then Ill tie all three of us to stakes on the lawn.”

“Ooh, I like that,” Dianne breathed. “That way he can look us over and decide which one of us he wants to screw first.”

Mom jumped up and almost ran out of the restaurant.


Dianne and I drove home and she was out of the car tearing her clothes off before I had time to shut off the engine. She left a trail of clothing, including her chastity belt toward the big shade tree. I followed her dropping my clothes as I walked. I hammered four stakes in the ground and Dianne threw herself between them.  before Id finished. I tied her arms and legs wide apart, then pounded two more sets of stakes into the grass. Then I got atop her and tied myself to her body. Her tongue was in my pussy before I finished wrapping the ropes around my wrists.

“Do you think your mother will come home early?” Dianne asked from between my legs.

I raised my face out of her pussy. “I doubt it,” I answered. “I think shes still too conventional for group sex.”

“Too bad.”

We spent the afternoon eating each others pussy. As I expected, Mom didnt come home early, in fact she didnt come home at all. Later that evening she called to tell us that she was at her bosss house and would spend the night there.


       When Mom came home the next morning she blushed when she saw three sets of stakes in the ground.

       Dianne and I were having coffee on the back porch, in the nude.

       “Did you spend the night out side?” Mom asked, tilting her head toward the stakes.

“We sure did,” I answered.

“We waited for you all afternoon,” Dianne said. “And all night, but you didnt show up.”

       “Did you honestly think Id bring my boss home with me?” Mom asked

       “We hoped you would,” I answered.

“And did you honestly think Id let you tie me to Dianne?”

“I hoped you would,” Dianne said.






                               CH 47

       

       Denise arranged a bondage session for Dianne and me with a four visiting businessmen. She set it up in the dungeon in the back of the porn shop and we didnt play any scenarios as sisters or anything. Denise just walked us in wearing chains and the men pounced on us before we were through the door. 

They grabbed me and tied me over a bench and one of them began screwing me in my rectum before the others were finished tying the knots. The same thing happened to Diane, which made her angry. She was in the mood to be warmed up with some torture, and she let them know it.

I think that the men assumed that we were prostitutes and didnt expect us to be true masochists. They were surprised when Dianne demanded to be whipped.

I wanted to feel the whip too but I kept silent, watching to see what was going to happen to her.

“She wants you to torture her,” Denise told them. “What are you waiting for?”

The men paused in surprise, until Denise started things moving by raking her nails down Diannes back and legs.

The men still stood unmoving, so Denise took a whip off the wall and slashed it across Diannes legs. When Dianne threw her head back and screamed in pure lust, the men went wild.

One of them yanked the whip out of Denises hand and began smacking it cross Diannes bottom. The others rushed to the wall and grabbed at other whips. One of them took down a killer bullwhip so thick and heavy that its never been used. Denise rushed over and took it from him.

“I dont want to have to dispose of her dead body,” she said, handing him a smaller whip. “Use this one instead.”

They crowded around and whipped Dianne until she was cooing in delight. When they saw that she was trying to lift her body off the bench so the whips could reach her breasts, they tore her loose from the bench and hauled her up by her wrists.

The man who was fucking me pulled out to join them and I gasped in disappointment. Denise handed him a flogger and he swung it very clumsily. All of them were flailing away like amateurs and they promptly got the whips tangled up. They fumbled around trying to get them unsnarled.

Dianne looked at them in disbelief, then shook her head at Denise. Denise just stood back and laughed.

The men finally got the whips untangled and started swinging again. It was so disorganized that they were hitting each other. Denise clapped her hands and they stopped.

“One at a time,” She commanded. She pointed at one man. “You.”

The others stepped back and watched as the first man whipped Diannes body. It took him a few strokes but her eventually got the hang of it and the whip was connecting to Diannes satisfaction. She sighed happily, and closed her eyes.

Denise pointed to a second man. “Stand on the other side and you whip her too.”

As soon as the first two got in rhythm she allowed the third, then the fourth man to whip Dianne. She had them swing their whips in turn and a quick steady snapping sound came from Diannes skin.

Just as Id feared, they ignored me. I gave Denise a look and she walked over to me. She turned me face up and quietly scraped her nails down my breasts and belly, then along the fronts of my legs. I let out a long, keening moan, which got the mens attention. They paused to look as Denise clawed me again, from shoulders to ankles. Her nails felt like pure hell on my breasts but when she reached my belly she leaned over me and put greater pressure as she raked through my crotch. That set off a terrific orgasm.

The men forgot Dianne and crowded around. Their eyes were huge as Denise slowly scraped the insides of my thighs with her nails. I was already screaming, but my voice went up a couple of octaves when her nails reached the back of my knees.

When I finally had to gasp for breath the room was silent. The men stared at me for several moments, then one pushed Denise out of the way and slammed his penis into me.

Denise staggered sideways from his push, then calmly walked to the board and took down a horsewhip. She wound up and cracked it around the mans torso like a pistol shot. The man screamed and dropped to his knees (pulling out of me again, dammit).

Denise was dressed in a standard dominatrix outfit: simple black leather corset, spike heels, and a disdainful expression, and she looked like an angry Valkyrie. The room went dead silent.

“I am a mistress,” she told the man conversationally. “Dont ever touch, strike, or push a mistress again, OR I WILL WHIP THE SKIN OFF OF YOUR ENTIRE BODY!”

The man shed hit looked up at her with terror in his eyes. He nodded quickly. “Yes ma am.”

She stared him down, then looked into the eyes of each of the others. They all lowered their eyes before this female terror from hell. She coiled her whip, walked to a chair and sat down, then the jerked her head toward me. “Proceed.”

The man on his knees limped away holding his side. Another tentatively approached me. He looked at Denise warily, but she was lighting a cigarette and ignoring him.

I looked up at the man. “Either torture me or screw me,” I said. “But dont just stand there.”

Well, to give him credit, his cocked popped up and he slammed it into me. It felt nice, and I pretended to have an orgasm. (I figured that after being frightened by Denise they needed some encouragement.) I gasped, then moaned, then finally screamed. That set off a frenzy among the others.

One man climbed on the bench and pressed his cock between my lips and the others attacked my breasts. They bit me, both of them bit my breasts and it hurt. One eased up.

Get your mouth back here,” I shrieked at him. “Bite me some more!”

He clamped his teeth over my nipple and shook his head like a dog tugging on a rope.

Denise told me that it looked like a bunch of lions feeding off a gazelle.

The man fucking me came and I felt heated cum flooding my pussy. He groaned and staggered back, to be instantly replaced by another. Good, good, but that left a breast vacant.

I liked being screwed but I was enjoying being bitten even more. I shouted for someone to bite my breast and the man whose cock was in my mouth pulled it away and obediently tried to pull my boob away from my ribs with his teeth.

I know it was coincidence, but somehow both mouths on my breasts bit down on my nipples at precisely the same second, and that sweet, sweet pain sent me through the roof again. I fainted.

When Denise saw that I was unconscious she told the men to get off of me. They looked at her blankly until she pointed to Dianne.

Dianne had been quiet while she watched what was happening to me, but when they looked at her she turned on her act.

“Bite my body, you worthless bastards,” she yelled. “Youll never get me to pass out.”

The men swarmed over Dianne and bit her legs, her butt, her arms and her belly, but they ignored her breasts until later.

Dianne taunted the men constantly. She mocked them, encouraged them, and belittled their attempts, until they worked themselves into a fury. They bit her so hard that they drew blood, and Denise had to step in and calm things down.

Dianne told me later that she felt as if she were being eaten by a school of piranha. She liked what they were doing, but it was also the only time in her life that shed been frightened.

The men took a break and I woke up from my nap. Denise untied me and I trotted into the restroom, then every body had something to drink, I was thrown back onto the bench and we started all over. The men went back to biting us.

Now youd think that they could have divided Dianne and me up and taken us two by two, but they stayed in a group. Either I had all four on me, or none at all. Dianne and I had to be patient and wait our turns.

They had gotten tired of me for the moment and were chewing on Diannes body. Denise checked to see if I was ok, and I told her I was fine, but to go out and buy a couple of gallons of barbeque sauce. Denise laughed and the men turned to see why.

“If youre going to eat us, why dont you cook us first?” I suggested.

Now one of the strangest, and most erotic things happened. The men looked at each other, never said a word, but went to the whipping frame and took it apart. They brought one of the uprights, which is a long brass pole, and tied my wrists and ankles to it. I knew instantly what they were thinking and I swear Ive never been so excited in my life.

When they finished tying me they hoisted me onto their shoulders and walked around the room. I felt like a girl in a cartoon, being carried to the cook pot by cannibals. It was a fantastic sensation!

Denise watched with concern, then relaxed when she saw that they did nothing more than walk around with me. I was in heaven, and the only thing that could have made it better was if theyd walked out the door and taken me down the street.

After a few dozen circuits around the dungeon, they propped one end of my pole atop a shelf and the other over a pillory. Then they tied Dianne the same way.

She was quiet as they bound her to the pole so I could tell that she was very excited. They walked around the room with her, then tied the ends of her She too was treated to a few laps, then the men tied the end of her pole to a ceiling rope.

“Wait a moment,” Denise told them, so they stood with one end of her pole on their shoulders while Denise lowered another rope. They tied off Diannes pole, then set her to swinging.

Two of them came back to me, lifted me up but turned me so that I was feet first. My head was at waist height of the men in the back and I allowed my neck to relax and opened my mouth. He put his cock in my mouth and I sucked on it as he walked.

The pole bounced and it was difficult to keep his cock in place, but he edged closer and I managed.

I made him come quickly but squealed in terror when he almost dropped me. His knees began to shake when he came and he nearly collapsed. One of the other men rushed forward and took the pole from him. Once he had me securely on his shoulder I sucked his cock.    

I sucked all four of them in turn while we circled the dungeon.


Dianne waited patiently until they finished, collapsed into chairs and recovered, then she demanded that they put their cocks in her mouth.

She got her wish, although I think I took the edge off of them first. 

They hung me back on the pillory while she went for a ride.


The men took a long break after that, and Dianne and I waited patiently until they were rested.

While I waited I slipped into a very erotic, and troubling fantasy. I imagined that I was being roasted over a fire.

I cannot say why, but for some reason I was incredibly aroused by the idea of being cooked and eaten. I daydreamed that Dianne and I were tied to spits side by side while Denise and Mary turned us over a pit of hot coals. Dozens of men watched and waited for us to be ready to eat. It was right out of Dolcett.


Denise served the men coffee and snacks, and gave Dianne and me sips of wine. Everyone perked up and the men resumed tormenting us.

Two men picked Dianne up and one put his cock in her mouth and the other slid his into her pussy. The remaining men came to me and did the same thing.

I really liked that position but it was a bit uncomfortable for them. They had to bend their knees to get my body at the right height, then hold my weight on their shoulders. They managed it however, and they were soon thrusting into me from both ends. I had a penis sliding into my mouth and another slamming into my pussy, and at times I felt like they were going to bump into each other somewhere inside my body.

With my head bent backwards all I could see were the balls of the man in front of me. They bounced rather nicely, and when he got very excited they rubbed against my face. I liked that and purred to let him know. That really got him going and soon his balls were smacking against my eyes and forehead. The hair tickled and I had to close my eyes. I began giggling. Both men went wild at that and I felt like my body was being compressed like an accordion.

The man in my mouth came and filled me with semen, then he stepped back and bent at the waist trying to catch his breath. His end of the pole dropped a bit and I slid downward, losing the cock in my pussy. The guy fucking me yelled indignantly.

“Oh, sorry Todd,” the other man apologized. He straightened up, lifted his end and slid me right back on to the other mans cock.

“Thanks, Ed.” Todd resumed screwing me and got so wild that he was pushing Ed backwards. Ed was still a bit shaky and had to plant his feet and brace me against Todds thrusts. Denise ran over, put her hands on his back and tried to brace him but Ed was so fired up that he shoved both of them backward. He slammed into my bottom so hard that I slid along the pole and ended up with the top of my head wedged against Todds stomach. I started laughing as the hour of us surged back and forth across the room.

I glanced across at Dianne and she was getting the same treatment.

Finally Ed walked backward until he reached the pillory. Todd followed trying desperately to keep his cock inside me. Denise helped Ed prop his end of the pole atop the pillory. She paused to make sure that the pole was secure, then walked away.

Todd paused, set his feet firmly, grinned down at me and went back to fucking me.

Denise plopped into her chair laughing so hard that she had tears in her eyes.


The men were worn out after that. They hung our poles over supports and collapsed to the floor. It was obvious that the night was over. Denise checked on Dianne and me, and asked if we were ready to be released, but I liked the position and told her to leave me. Dianne did the same.




CH 48


The session lasted from eight until midnight and after the men left Denise spent two more hours dabbing antiseptic on our wounds. Both Dianne and I were too exhausted to drive home so we slept in the store that night.

The next morning we staggered out the back door at seven am. My body hurt from the bites and my back was stiff from hanging under the pole, but I felt a warm glow between my legs. 

A police car with two bored and sleepy cops came slowly down the alley. They stopped, rolled down a window and asked what we were doing.

“Going to breakfast,” Dianne told them.

We looked like hell. We were still exhausted, bleary eyed and hadnt bothered to redo our makeup.

“It looks like you just finished an orgy,” the cop chuckled.

“Yes,” Dianne said flatly.

“A bondage orgy,” I added.

The officer behind the wheel looked me up and down, then nodded toward the shop. “You were in the dungeon last night?” he asked.

I was surprised that he knew about the dungeon.

“All night,” Dianne said. “The orgy went until midnight, afterwards we just slept there.”

“Are you working girls?” he asked. “Ive never seen you around the neighborhood.”

“Nope, strictly amateurs,” she said.

“Unpaid volunteers,” I added. “We do it for fun.”

“Just a couple of ordinary Sunday school teachers on our day off,” Diane said.

The officer chuckled.

I glanced down at my cleavage and noticed the bite marks on my breasts. I pulled my shirt open and rubbed them. The policeman noticed.

He looked at me with slightly more interest. “So you like it rough, eh?”

I leaned on the door of the car and bent forward. “Yes, I do.”

His eyes went to my cleavage, and his brows rose when he saw the bite marks. He pulled my blouse open slightly.

“You should have those bites checked,” he said, with genuine concern. “They could get infected.”

I undid the top button and pushed my chest toward him. His partner leaned forward to get a good look.

“Are you fellows paramedics?” I asked. “Could you check me over? Ive got bite marks are all over my body.”

“Id love to,” the passenger cop laughed. “But we arent medically trained. Youll have to go to the fire department for that.”

“Oh, but I prefer cops,” I said. “But if you wont examine me, my sister is a nurse and shell take good care of me.”

He looked at Dianne, who was hungry and in no mood to chat.

“Thats good,” the cop said. “Just make sure that you obey the nurses orders.”

“Oh, I have to,” I said. “Otherwise shell punish me.”

Dianne slapped me on the bottom hard. “Lets go, Im hungry.” She turned to the officer. “If you want to keep flirting with my little sister you can meet us at the breakfast café down the street.”

“Cant,” he said. “Were getting off shift and have to get the car back to the station. Some other time perhaps.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it,” he said.

“So do I” Dianne answered. “Give your business card.”

The officer dug into his shirt pocket and handed her his card. She took a pen from his pocket, wrote her phone number on the card and handed them back. “And bring your handcuffs.”

“Lots of handcuffs,” I added. “And your big sticks too.”

He grinned and drove away.


“Did you give him your real phone number?” I asked Dianne.

“Sure. Did you see the muscles on his arms? Hes cute and hes got a wicked gleam in his eye. Ill bet hed be pretty good in bed.”

“Especially if you are tied to it,” I said.

“Thats what Im counting on,” she said. “Besides, maybe I can get him to arrest me and take me to the police station in handcuffs like your boyfriend did.”

“Maybe.” 

We walked to my car and I noticed that Dianne was limping.

“Whats the matter?” I asked.

“They bit my toes,” she said. “They hurt.”


“Have you ever been bitten like that?” I asked Dianne at breakfast.

“Nothing like last night. What did you do to start all that?”

“Damned if I know,” I answered. “I just told one of them to bite my boob and that seemed to set them off.”

“Well, I dont know about you, but I liked it.”

“Yeah. It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase oral sex.”

“Yes,” she chuckled. “But you know what I liked the best?”

“Being carried under the pole?”

“Exactly.”

“Me too. I pretended they were cannibals taking me to their village,” I told her. “And I imagined that we were being roasted over a fire.”

“Youre reading my mind,” she whispered.

“Uh huh, and I think I can understand Dolcetts drawings now, “ I said.

“I think you need to be careful about your fantasies,” she said. “First it was hanging with hooks through your breasts, then being strapped into the electric chair, and now roasting. Dont go off the deep end.”

“Am I the only one who needs to be careful?” I asked.

She nodded. “Oh, I admit that Im just as bad. Maybe we both should step back and think about our lifestyles.”

We were silent for a moment.

“Ok, I thought it over,” I said. “And Im not changing.”

“Me neither.”

“And by the way,” I added. “Why dont you come out to the farm next weekend. Moms having a barbeque for her church and I think I can talk her into cooking us both.”


When I got home and stripped I found bite marks on every inch of my body, even on the soles of my feet. I took a long bath then wiped my body down with antiseptic oil.

Between Denises claw marks and the bites, my body looked like pure hell for a week.

       

It was a Sunday and I went to bed. I was sound asleep when Bob let himself in to my apartment. I usually didnt see him on the weekends, but his wife was out of town and he wanted a woman.

He woke me up and wanted sex but I was too tired. He was horny as hell and tried to talk me into it. He even tied me up for once, and I actually went along. At least, I didnt resist. He tied me wide open, slid himself inside and started fucking me, but seemed to lose interest when he saw the teeth marks on my body. He asked what had happened to me but all I could mumble was cannibals.

“You must have had one hell of a party,” he said disgustedly.

“Yes, I was the snack food,” I said, then I fell asleep. I dont know if he finished screwing me or not, but when I woke up I was still partially tied to the bed.  

I woke up hours later and couldnt move. I drifted off again and dreamt that I was at the annual neighborhood picnic, and I was being cooked on a huge grill. Everyone stood around chatting while Bob basted me with barbeque sauce. When I was done they ate me. That was a weird dream because we didnt have neighborhood picnics. I thought about it and decided that I wouldnt have minded getting eaten by all the neighbors. 

When I awoke again it took a few minutes to realize that my feet were tied wide apart and one wrist was tied to the bedpost. I was still tired and dopey and it took forever to get myself free. I pulled the covers up, rolled onto my side and went right back to sleep.


Dianne and I had many more sessions together, and we developed a mild rivalry as to which of us could act the craziest. We competed to take the most pain, to get the most attention, and to see how worked up we could make our tormentors.

Denise and Mary circulated the rumor that we were sisters and our intensity came from sibling rivalry, which began when we let boys tie us up when we were little girls. We made a reputation as a pair of psycho masochists.

Sometimes the sessions were dangerous, but always thrilling and once or twice I got scared. Mary and Denise watched over us and made sure that we werent injured, but they became so concerned that they told us to stop getting so crazy or they wouldnt set any more sessions for us.

Theres really no way of scoring a competition like that, but I like to think that I outdid Dianne. 


I talked to Mary and Denise about my newfound roasting fetish. I explained how sexy Id felt fantasizing about being cooked. They listened with speaking a word.

I asked if there was any way to rig up a spit to turn my body over a low fire and if they knew of anyone who shared that kind of fetish.

“Maybe you know some man who might like to pretend to cook me,” I suggested.

“Absolutely not,” Denise said flatly.

Mary fixed me with her eyes and stared forcefully. “Forget it.”

“Why?” I asked surprised.

“That is one door that you are not going through,” Mary said.

“Cooking and cannibal fetishes are too dangerous,” Denise said. “Several women have been murdered by guys acting out those fantasies.

“There was a trial of a serial killer in Canada a few years ago who cooked several women and ate their bodies, and apparently some of those women went to him voluntarily.”

“Did they actually go along with being cooked to death?” I gasped.

“Who knows?” Denise answered. “The guy claimed that they did at his trial. I think they probably went for the submission but not to be killed.”

“A psycho in California did the same thing to a girl he hired to model for cannibal photography. She was into the fantasy but didnt realize that he was serious about it until too late.”

“Im just interested in the bondage aspects,” I said.

“Sure, we understand,” Denise told me. “But that part of the bondage scene actually involves a death fantasy and too many psychopaths indulge in it.”

“And you are not going anywhere near that game,” Mary said. “If you want to remain our friend you will put it out of your head.”

They were absolutely serious.

“Ok.”


We were quiet for a few minutes.

“Do you know that the police are aware of the dungeon at the store?” I asked them.

“Sure.”

“How is it that they let you get away with it?” I asked. I was afraid to ask if the storeowner was paying bribes.

“Because we arent breaking the law,” Denise told me. “Everything we do is legal.”

Mary nodded.

I thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess youre right.”

“Why do you ask,” Mary wanted to know.

I told them about our conversation with the police officers.

“Yes, those fellows know us, and they know all about the store,” Denise said. “A good cop knows what goes on in his beat. You used to date a cop, you should know that.”

“They keep an eye on the place at night,” Mary said, “Along with all the other businesses along the street. They check to make sure that the doors and windows are secure.”

“They found the back door unlocked one night and called me at home,” Denise said. “I had to drive in and lock the place up. They were browsing through the magazines when I got there.”

“They were inside?”

“Sure. They searched the building to make certain that there were no burglars, then they waited.”

“Hmm, so if we left the alley door unlocked they might walk in on a torture session?”

“Would you like that?” Mary asked.

“I sure would.”

“Well, I doubt if the client who is torturing you would,” Denise said. “I cant imagine a faster way for a man to lose his erection than to have a pair of police officers walk in on him.”

“Well, then they could just take over for him,” I said.

“Mary just shook her head.

“Were you embarrassed to find the cops reading your magazines?” I asked.

Denise looked at me like I was crazy. “Me, embarrassed?”

“Right, forget I said that,” I laughed. “I just thought that cops might have something to say about the content of your merchandise.”

“Nope.”

“So they didnt ask for a police discount?” I laughed.

“One of them asked if I liked to be tied up like the girls in the magazines, but I set him straight.”

“Oh, did you punish him for his disrespect?”

“I threatened to, but they just laughed.”

“Too bad, Ill bet he has no idea what hes missing.”

“No, I dont think that either of those men is submissive,” Mary said. “But we do have a customer from the city that comes in on a regular basis.”

“Whos that?”

“Hes an inspector, and I wont tell which department hes with, but the first time he walked through and saw the dungeon, his eyes went glassy.” Mary said. “And I could tell that he was turned on.”

“Did he ask to be spanked?” I laughed.

“Not then, but he came back on his day off and paid for a two hour session,” Denise said. “And hes been coming in once a week ever since.”

“Does he give the store special consideration?” I asked.

“No, and he pays full price,” Denise said firmly. “The owner doesnt want any hint of bribery or misconduct, and we keep his visits strictly separate from his job.”

“His bondage sessions are private and personal,” Mary said. “Just like any other client.”

“Do any police officers come in for dominance?” I asked.

“Not that Im aware of,” Mary replied. “But we dont know what our clients do for a living, and none of them have ever told us that they were cops.”

“Yeah, and Ill bet that policemen are too tough to want to be dominated anyway,” I said. “What about police women?”

Denise just looked at me and shook her head.

I thought about my friend Jill and imagined how lovely she would look naked on a cross.

  

“Since you wont barbeque me, would it be ok if I fantasized about being handcuffed by a cop and screwed with his baton?” I asked.

“Thats already happened to you,” Denise said.

“Yes, but meeting those two officers reminded me how nice it was, so Id like to do it again.”

“Do you mean spread wide open on the hood of a police cruiser?” Denise asked. “And screwed by only one cop?”

“Or would you prefer more, say about a dozen or so?” Mary added.

“Sure.”

“Female as well as male cops?”

“Of course.”

“Ok, you can dream about that to your hearts content,” Mary said. “But thats one of my favorite fantasies.”

“Mine too,” Denise said. “And I thought of it first.”

“You did not.”

“Did too.”


I got to act out a lightweight version of that fantasy a few months later at a party thrown by Lord L.

Mary and Denise created a little burlesque where I played a streetwalker and they wore police uniforms. (Well, almost police uniforms; they wore real police shirts and hats, but the shirts were very tight and missing a few buttons so that they were spilling out of them, especially Denise. They also wore navy blue micro skirts, matching panties and knee boots.)


The scene opened with Lady L and me leaning against a lamppost dressed like Parisian hookers. We both wore slit skirts, striped tee shirts and spike heels. Lady L wore the highest heels Id ever seen; they must have been five inches high. I dont know how she managed to walk in them.

Lord L went to the trouble to have a plywood mock up of a police car built, and the lady officers drove up in it. (Actually they were dragging it along the floor with their feet, but what the heck.)

They got out, looked us over and decided to question us. They started by frisking us, then peeking down our shirtfronts, then they slipped their hands under our shirts and squeezed our breasts. And just to make sure we werent hiding anything, they yanked our shirts down to expose our boobs. Then the lady cops decided to arrest us.

They handcuffed me, but Lady L resisted arrest. They had to subdue her and it turned into a catfight with the three of them rolling around on the floor. Lady Ls skirt ended up around her waist and her panties were in full view. 

After they finally got her face down, Mary sat on her body while Denise put handcuffs on her wrists. Then she pulled her panties off. Lady L kicked and squealed but couldnt dislodge Mary. Then they rolled her over and Mary sat on her face while Denise spread her knees and searched her pussy. This involved more kicking and muffled protests.

Satisfied that she wasnt hiding anything up there, they put another set of handcuffs on her ankles, then leaving her lying flat (with her skirt still up) they turned their attention to me.

They lifted my skirt, yanked my panties off and searched my pussy too, then I got a set of cuffs on my ankles. They spun me around, bent me over the hood of the police car, spread my bottom and slid a baton inside me.

Mary held me down with a firm grip in my hair while Denise fucked me with her baton.

After I had an orgasm (a real one), they hauled Lady L to her feet and did the same thing to her.

The finale had Mary sitting on the hood and Denise on the trunk, with Lady Ls tongue in Denises pussy and mine in Marys.

After the skit we were given to the party guests. Mary and Denise took us to the bedrooms and handcuffed us to beds, then Lord L ushered the gentlemen in and let them take their pick.

Denise and Mary surprised us by going to bed with Lord L while the guests screwed us.   





 


  CH 49


       Other than that, things began to go slightly flat in my life. I continued to have sex with Bob and wonderful bondage with MAC but I began to feel a need for more stability in my life. Perhaps I was growing up.

       I met a nice man at my new job. His name was Brad and he was a decent gentle man with clear eyes and a direct and honest demeanor. He asked me out and we began dating.

I didnt wish to deceive him but I also didnt want to advertise my lifestyle, so I conducted myself as a nice girl. I didnt allow him to kiss me until our third date.

I wasnt trying to lie to Brad; I was trying to be what I thought he wanted me to be. I wanted him to like me and I planned to tell him about my past if we ever got serious. Unlike all the other men in my life, I wanted Brad for more than just sex. He was sweet and sincere and brought me flowers and candy and behaved like a perfect gentleman.

After dating for a couple of months I allowed him to seduce me. We made love like an ordinary couple and I forced myself to like it, although it felt odd to have sex without ropes on my wrists.

Brad was a nice lover. He was good in bed and considerate of my feelings; he just wasnt domineering enough. Over the months I slowly and carefully steered him into tying me. I pretended to be shyly curious about bondage and asked if hed ever tied a girl up. He said that he hadnt but he would be willing to do it for me. I invited him over and had a handful of ropes ready. I kept up my act of shy curiosity but put on a nice girl strip tease for him. I got him so turned on that he wanted to forget the ropes and make love right there, but I reminded him that we were testing something new. I lay back on the bed and talked him through tying my wrists and ankles apart. He was tentative and didnt want to hurt me so his knots were too loose. I pretended they were ok, but wiggled around until they accidentally came off. He tied me tighter and I bravely encouraged him to make them really tight. What I wanted was for him to tug those ropes so tight that I would lose feeling in my hands, but I had settle for simple snug knots. When he finished I was breathing hard and I was very excited. So was he and he climbed right on me and screwed me into a delightful orgasm.

He liked having sex with me in ropes and I pretended that all my nice girl inhibitions were removed as soon as I was bound. I went wild and we had terrific sex. Afterwards I pretended to be embarrassed by my lack of modesty but he held me close and reassured me that it was all right. I begged him not to lose respect for me, then whispered that we might do it again sometime.

We alternated normal sex with bondage and he grew better at tying me. He gained confidence, especially when I told him how thrilled I was at his manly strength and forcefulness.

About the fifth time he tied me I manipulated him so that he spanked me, and surprise, surprise, that turned me on too! Brad liked it and screwed me violently. He was great and I enjoyed a terrific orgasm. I screamed and moaned so much that he thought hed hurt me and apologized for being so rough. I stooped his apology by grabbing him and pulling his body down onto mine. He screwed me again, then part way through, picked me up and put me over his lap and spanked me again. I was very close to having another orgasm and begged him to screw me again.

Later I shyly apologized for liking it rough and told him I was so awed by his strength that I couldnt help myself. He spanked me again for the third time that evening.

Later when we were cuddling I told him that I had always fantasized about being taken by a real man, like a pirate who would enslave me, or a cruel sultan who would make me a harem slave, but had never met anyone who I felt that I could reveal this to. Brad liked my fantasies and we began acting them out. I even made a very revealing harem girl costume and met him at my door wearing it with chains.

He began tying me more often.

I resisted the temptation to have bondage sex every time we were together and let him take the lead. I was thrilled when he tied me on my knees one evening and commanded me to suck his cock. I pretended to be inexperienced but willing to do anything to please him, and despite my amateurish effort, he came in my mouth. Afterwards Brad was embarrassed, having forced me to do something dirty, and was on the verge of apologizing but I pretended to be very excited and confessed to him that Id always dreamt of being made to do that by a strong, forceful man. He was pleasantly surprised when I shyly asked if he would make me do it again. After the second time I told him that I truly was his slave girl and I would do anything he wanted. 

His spankings became harder and more exciting and I began to have orgasms under his hand, real orgasms, without pretending. The first time I came so hard that I fell off his lap. I lay at his feet in a delirious delight, and as soon as I came back to earth I scrambled up, threw myself across his legs and begged him to do it again. Brad was quite proud of himself and spanked me and made fantastic love to me all night long. After that I got spanked hard enough to really enjoy it.

I began to hope that eventually I would be able to train him to torture me beyond spankings, although I knew Id have to be patient. I knew that it might take some time before he would use a whip on me. 

One evening I tied myself up and waited for him. I made my bonds look amateurish but when he came in, he took one look, tore off his clothes and made wonderful love to me. I told him that Id tied myself up because I was really starting to like the things he did to me and I hinted that I wouldnt mind if he got a teensy bit rougher. He spanked me harder and since I was in a spread open position he spanked my pussy, which sent me into ecstasy (for real, I wasnt pretending). After I settled down I begged him to screw me and talked dirty to him while he did. Then, before the evening was over I got him to whip me with his belt.

He was hesitant and I had to settle for a few mild strokes across my bottom but within a few weeks I managed to get him to give me a light whipping across my breasts. I loved it but saw that Brad seemed reluctant to whip me there so I eased off. I did get him so excited one afternoon that he whipped my pussy with the belt. I begged for more and he made me come. My gyrations on the bed got him so excited that he was fucking me before I was able to think clearly. That was a very wonderful time. Unfortunately the belt left welts on my thighs and tummy and Bred felt terrible for harming me. He didnt want to have any more kinky sex for fear of permanently injuring me. It took a lot of gentle prodding on my part to make him understand that I really did like what hed done and that I didnt mind wearing his marks, in fact, I confessed to him that I was secretly proud of wearing them on my body, it made me feel like I truly belonged to him. I called him every day for a week and told him how sexy I felt each time I saw his marks between my legs.

Brad regretted losing his self control and wouldnt do anything kinky for a long time. I had to be patient and restrain myself from asking too much,

He didnt understand that I was a serious masochist, and I should have realized that I was deluding myself about him. I wanted to make him into a strong dominant man like MAC and I was and naïve enough to believe that I could change a mans character. 

I tried to be faithful to Brad but there were days when I simply needed to be tortured, so I would meet with MAC or arrange for Bob to drop by my apartment.


One afternoon I tied myself into a very tight hogtie. I wasnt expecting anyone and was simply enjoying being tightly bound when Brad showed up. I hadnt locked my door and he let himself in. He was astonished to see me in bondage and thought that someone else must have tied me. (He wasnt jealous; he just thought that a burglar had done it to me). I convinced him that no one else had been there, but that Id been thinking erotic thoughts about him and tied myself, but somehow Id overdone it and couldnt get loose. I was sooo glad that he came by to rescue me and suggested that he ought not to pass up the opportunity. I rolled onto my side and offered myself to him. He played with my body for an hour before he untied my legs and pulled them open. We made terrific love that evening.

Bob found out that I was seeing Brad by walking in while Brad was screwing me. I was tied to my bed and Brad was on top of me when the door opened and Bob looked in. His mouth dropped open in a look of pure dismay and I had to struggle not to laugh. Then I glared at him over Brads shoulder and jerked my head for him to leave. Bob got over his astonishment and leaned against the door jamb with a smirk on his face. I hate to confess it, but that was a terrific turn on for me, and I had an orgasm. That sent Brad into one and I locked eyes with Bob while Brad spurted into me. Bob grinned and left and Brad never realized that hed been performing for an audience.

Bob and I had a short but heated argument the next day. He stopped me in the parking lot and accused me of cheating on him. I reminded him that he was not only a married man, cheating on his wife, but that he was screwing a dozen other women in the complex, so hed better cool his jets. He backed down.


I took Brad home to Mom and she liked him, but she warned that I ought to be aware that gentle men werent always gentle.

“Im not looking for gentle,” I laughed. “Im looking for a slave master.”

“Do you think he is a master?” she asked. “Brad is exactly the sort of decent man that most women want to marry, and if you have to manipulate him into dominating you then he probably isnt the man you need.”

“Hes the man I want,” I said stubbornly.

“But does he truly understand what you are and what you want?”

“Hes getting better,” I said. “He is starting to dominate me more and more.”

“Then bring him out here and let him watch you scream your lungs out when the weight slams you tight on the rack,” she said “How will he react to finding out that his mother in law is also a masochist? Should we let him see us hanging from the loft crane together?”

Despite myself, my pussy flashed white hot when she said that.

“If he doesnt understand your needs then he isnt the right man and you shouldnt string him on any longer.”

I didnt listen.


Dianne took one look at Brad and shook her head. “He isnt right for you,” she told me. “I made the mistake of marrying men who I thought would understand me, and I was wrong, dont you do the same thing.”

“Mom thinks I ought to let him watch me torture myself in the loft,” I told her half jokingly.

“No, thats not enough,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Take him to a bondage orgy and let him watch while youre tortured and screwed by a dozen men,” she said. “And let him look at you while youre tied with your face between another womans legs. If he can accept that then he might just be ok for you, otherwise you are deluding yourself.”

“He might,” I said defensively. “It may take a while for him to understand, but he might allow me to do it.”

“Do you think he will accept seeing you come home with cum caked in your hair and fresh whip marks on your body?” she asked cruelly. “Hows this for a dinner table conversation: Hi Hon, how was your day at the office? Oh, the usual, how was your night at the dungeon?

“Oh, for Gods sake,” I laughed.

“And what if he decides to participate? How will you feel when you and I are tied side by side and your Brad is fucking me while some other guy fucks you?”

“Im not doing orgies any more,” I told her. “Ill be faithful to him. I just want him to dominate me at home.”

“You dream about being a housewife during the day, cleaning and cooking for your man, then being his slave at night in the basement dungeon,” she said.

“Exactly.”

“Well, face it, you are a born slave, but he is not a natural master, and even if he goes along, it might be fine for a few years,” she said. “But someday, sooner or later, youll have the urge to kick loose and have a wild session of ropes and whips and other people, and then youll have to sneak away and deceive him. Remember the plump little church wife from the first orgy we had together? The one you were so taken with?”

I nodded.

“She cheated on her husband,” Dianne said ruthlessly. “And I doubt if one time was enough to satisfy her. Shes probably in some mans basement right this minute hanging by her wrists and getting her breasts whipped while her husband sits at home writing his sermons.”

I should have listened.

                                   

After a year of dating Brad asked me to marry him and I accepted. I vowed to myself that I would be the best wife ever and if that meant turning my back on all my previous activities so be it.

I told all my friends that I was getting married and leaving the scene.

Lord and Lady L were delighted for me and as gracious as ever, told me that their home was always open to me.

Mary and Denise hugged me with delight but warned me that I would only last four or five years before Id want to return to my wicked kinky ways.

“No way,” I answered. “Im going to be a faithful wife, and hopefully a good mother.”

“Im a good wife and mother,” Denise said. “And I still manage to be the cruelest dominatrix in Colorado.”

“Second cruelest,” Mary said.

“Well Im not a dominatrix,” I said. “If I stayed in the scene Id have to submit to other people and that would be cheating on my husband.”

“Five years,” Mary said, not unkindly. Denise nodded.

The toughest parting was when I told MAC. He accepted the news quietly like a gentleman, but I could see the sorrow in his eyes. I felt a terrible stab of pain in my heart when I saw how much I had hurt him. If only he wasnt married. If only I could be his wife, or at least his full time slave.

Jill was absolutely delighted that I was finally going to settle down.


Before I married Brad we sat down and I told him about my lifestyle. I didnt go into too much detail and made it sound less intense than it really had been. I didnt tell him of my self-bondage or Moms participation and I made no mention of my night at the police station nor my activities at bondage orgies. I slanted my story to make it sound like I had simply been tied up by my previous boyfriend. When Brad pressed me for details I told him about the things I did at the mall but I again made it sound like that had only happened once or twice. He thought it over for a long time, then took my hands and told me firmly that if I liked to be tied up then he would do it for me, but only him. I couldnt let anyone else dominate me ever again. I got on my knees at his feet and swore that Id never submit to anyone but him, then I burst into tears and hugged him close.


We had the wedding at the farm and Mom pulled out all the stops. We held the ceremony on the porch and the reception on the lawn. The ceremony was wonderful, the weather was perfect and I was very happy.

We invited over two hundred guests, many friends and relations from town as well as others from Denver.

Mary and Denise showed impeccably dressed and looking dignified and matronly, and they attracted a lot of admiring looks from the men. Denise gave me a hug and whispered to me that they were wearing leather corsets under their dresses, and no panties.

Dianne came with them, looking like a movie star and attracted a whole lot of admiring looks. I saw one or two wives jab their husbands with their elbows to get them to close their mouths. Dianne conducted herself impeccably around the married men, but nevertheless, heads followed her as she walked around the lawn. She had tears in her eyes when she hugged me. I later learned that she was crying from sympathy, knowing that I was making a mistake, but she didnt say anything. She was even nice to Brad. 

Moms boss from the bank was there and he drew an admiring gaze from Dianne.

“Have you changed your mind about sharing him with us?” she asked Mom. “We could sneak away and let him tie us up,” she purred.

“All three of us?” I joked.

“Why not? He looks healthy enough to handle us,” Dianne said.

“He is,” Mom answered. “But not today, Ill be too busy.”

“And Im a proper married lady,” I said. “No more orgies for me.”

“Excellent,” Dianne said to Mom, “That gives him more time for the two of us.”


After the wedding Brad and I stood in the reception line for a long time. Everyone else was eating but we were still greeting guests. Denise brought me a cup of punch and whispered in my ear asking if I was wearing a chastity belt under my wedding dress.

“No,” I whispered back. “Brad doesnt know about such things.”

“Then its about time he learned,” she said, “Because Mary and I are giving you one for your wedding present.”

I wasnt sure that she was kidding, so I slipped away for a moment, found their gift, and opened it in private just to be sure. It was a toaster.

I was putting the gift back when I saw Diannes present, so I opened it too. It was a whip. I ran up stairs and hid it in my room.


Later, I saw Mary and Denise off to the side looking over the men. “What are you two cooking up?” I asked.

“Deciding which of the men would make good slaves,” Mary answered. She pointed at two young men across the room. “Those might do the trick, who are they?”

“They are my cousins,” I laughed. “Theyre only nineteen and twenty.”

“Have you ever tied them up?” Denise asked.

“No, I dont tie people up, I get tied, remember?”

“Ok, have they tied you up then?”

“No, my incestuous fantasies only apply to my mother,” I answered. “Besides, my cousins are nice guys and I doubt if theyve ever heard of kinky sex.”

“Clean cut farm boys eh?” Denise mused, “Perfect for training to the whip.”

“I just love virgin males,” Mary added.

“Id introduce you to them,” I said. “But see that heavy set lady in the red dress?” I pointed to my aunt.

“She looks pretty tough,” Denise said.

“She is tough, and shes their mother, so I dont think you would have much chance to enslave her sons.”

Mary nodded approvingly. “Ill bet shes the kind of woman that whips her husband.”

“She looks the type,” Denise agreed. “Lets go talk to her.”

“Are you going to recruit her?” I asked.

“Why not? We can always use another dom at the store. Does she go to Denver very often?” 

“Oh, for Heavens sake,” I laughed.

Then it occurred to me that my uncle is a rather soft spoken man, and Aunt Katherine is pretty bossy. I began to wonder if she might not whip him after all. God only knows what goes on at some of these farms after dark.

Also during the reception I noticed Dianne and Jill sitting together. Dianne was doing all the talking and Jill sat with a look of disbelief on her face. Dianne made a striking motion with her arm and I just knew that she was demonstrating a whip stroke. I didnt have to ask to know that Dianne was probably relating some of our torture escapades in great detail. I started to intervene, when I saw Jill jump up and walk to the refreshment table. I thought she was escaping but she brought back two glasses of punch and stared intently at Dianne when she resumed her tale. Moments later Jill turned in her chair and looked up at the barn and her mouth dropped open when Dianne pointed first at Mom, then at me. I pretended not to see.

Half an hour later I saw them emerge from the barn. Dianne was still talking brightly but Jill had a glassy look in her eyes. She started shaking her head when Dianne pointed up to the crane and made a swinging motion. Jill held her hands up, palms out, clearly saying shed heard enough. Dianne laughed delightedly and patted her on the bottom as they returned to their table.

I made my way to them. “I thought I told you to behave yourself,” I warned Dianne.

“I havent done anything bad,” she protested. “Ive just been telling Jill about your farm.”

Jill looked at me and shook her head. “I believed her at first,” she said, “But some of her stories are too far out to accept.”

“Which stories?” Dianne asked.

“Well, tying yourselves to the gateposts naked, for one,” Jill said, “And hanging by your wrists from the top of the barn? Come on now.”

I blushed but didnt say anything. Jill looked at me for a long time, then her eyes widened.

“You didnt . . ?” she gasped.

I blushed deeper and nodded.

“Both of you?” Jill gasped, “And your mother as well?” She looked across at Mom, who smiled and waved.

“Id better mingle with the other guests,” I said weakly.

“You know Jill, theres room for four naked women at the front gate,” I heard Dianne say, as I fled.








CH 50                



Mom and Lady L became instant friends. Lady L was surprised to learn that Mom not only knew about our life style, but that she accepted it. They slipped away during the reception and Mom showed her the rack in the barn. Lady Ls face was bright pink when they came down, and her nipples pressed firmly through her dress. She had a quick whispered conversation with her husband, who stared at Mom in astonishment. Mom smiled sweetly at him and he raised his champagne glass in salute. Later I saw the three of them deep in conversation, and they all shut up and tried to look innocent when another guest wandered into their group.

Lord and Lady L invited Mom to visit them in Denver and she spent a long weekend there while Brad and I were on our honeymoon. Now Mom visits them regularly and they go out to the farm about once a month. I began to suspect that they were having bondage orgies at Moms house.

I wondered if Mom had taken my place with Lord and Lady L and I was a little jealous at first, but reminded myself that I was out of the bondage life and it didnt matter.

She even travels with them. I was bemused and excited by the idea of Mom and Lady L playing out some of the scenarios we had done. I imagined them rolling around in a cat fight showing their panties to Lord Ls guests, and fantasized (in great detail) the two of them tied together. I remembered how Lady L had surprised everyone by taking part in that very violent orgy and wondered if she and Mom were doing those things together. The vision of Mom and Lady L being gang raped on tables or being hanged nearly drove me wild.

Mom told me about going sailing aboard a chartered yacht off Costa Rica. I remembered the orgy on a boat that Lady L and I participated in and wondered if Mom had done the same thing. I couldnt get the vision out of my mind and after several weeks I asked if she and Lady L were having sex. Mom pretended to be indignant and demanded to know why I would ask such a question. I told her about the orgy of the boat. She pressed me for details and made me confess to every wild thing that Id done with Lady L. After talking for hours Id told Mom everything. She looked at me oddly when I talked about Lady L and I playing our mother-daughter acts, but didnt say anything.

I expected her to tell me what she and Lady L might be doing but she just smiled sweetly and said that a lady of her years should not be revealing her secrets. She hinted that they had spent much of their time on the yacht topless (and worse) and marveled at how much rope there is aboard a sail boat, but no matter how much I pressed her, that was all she would say. I could have killed her.

Lady L wouldnt tell me anything either, and the two of them had a great time dropping hints about whose turn it was to be the boats figurehead and what it felt like to be tied to palm trees for hours at a time and how many virile young sailors were in the crew, but they wouldnt go into any detail. They loved keeping me guessing.

I did hear about Lady Ls delight in hanging nude from the loft crane while Lord L attended to Mom on the rack. They wouldnt say whether he screwed Mom or not, but I got incredibly excited when I imagined that the same cock which had fucked me so many times might have been inside my mother too. Apparently Moms boss gets invited at times and has borrowed Lady L while Lord L was with Mom.

I heard all this at lunch one day when Mom was in Denver. Lady L and Mom showed up wearing short skirts and I didnt have to be told that they werent wearing panties. True to form, Lady L had fun exposing herself and I wasnt surprised to see Mom sitting with her legs open too. They teased me so much that even though Id promised myself to behave (now that I was married), I gave up, went into the ladies room and took off my panties. Several gentlemen at a nearby table got an eyeful that afternoon. And the waiter overheard some incredible stories.


After the marriage I packed away all my bondage things and took them to the farm. I ended up with four big boxes of rope, chains, crotch straps, nipple clamps, vibrators and my chastity belt. I felt that I should throw then away but I couldnt bring myself to do it. Some of the things were from Dale and they were precious keepsakes. Of the rest, I offered a few of the items to mom to use, and the remainder I put in storage in the attic. I kept hoping that someday I might talk my husband into using them on me. 

Brad continued to tie me up and spank me, but it took an effort on his part. He wasnt truly a master. He tried, for my sake, but his heart just wasnt into torture. I loved him for his sweetness but I also needed to be enslaved.


Two years into the marriage I got pregnant. Brad changed at once. He told me that as an expectant mother I ought not to have sex, and bondage was utterly out of the question. I tried to explain that I would be fine with both but he was adamant. After my daughter was born things got worse. Brad developed the Madonna syndrome and no longer saw me as a sexual person. He thought that as a mother I had to concentrate on my child and forgo sex. I regained my figure after giving birth and my face is still the same but he just didnt see me as desirable any more. We had many long discussions and quite a few ended in quarrels.

I decided to be patient and let him get back to normal, but every time I tried to have sex with him he refused.

One Saturday afternoon Denise agreed watch the baby. I showered, fixed myself up and tied myself naked to the bed and waited for my husband to come home. I left a note on the kitchen counter telling Brad that his humble slave girl was waiting for him in the bedroom and hoped he would do anything and everything he wanted to her.

It was a disaster.

Brad walked in, took one look at me and called me every name in the book. Whore was the least of them. I couldnt understand his anger and I was devastated by the terrible things he said to me. I untied myself, got dressed and picked up the baby, then I drove to the farm and stayed with Mom for a few days.

Brad and I tried counseling but it didnt help. He blamed me and my perversions for all our troubles.

He became moody and sullen and got fired from his job for poor performance. He blamed me for that too.

Brad went down hill very fast. He couldnt keep a job and the bills fell upon me. I worked hard, took on extra projects to make extra money but then Brad complained that I was never home. When I worked overtime he accused me of seeing men and going back to my sluttish ways.

Things got so bad that we almost lost our house. Even when he did work Brad didnt bring in much money and he often fell behind in paying bills. I had to take over running the household finances. Brad finally took a job as a truck driver and was gone for days, sometimes weeks at a time.

I was glad when he was away because I was free of his anger and sullen moods. I remained faithful and hoped that someday he would calm down and learn to love me. I would even be willing to forgo my love of bondage if only Brad would love me. I felt so lonely and I was so terribly tempted to call Mary or Denise and have someone torture me. My body and soul ached to feel a whip.

The worst time came when he got arrested in Indiana for fighting in a bar and was fired by the trucking company. I had to send him money for bail and a bus ticket home.

When he got back to Denver he blamed me. He said that if he didnt have to worry about what I might be doing behind his back he wouldnt have all the problems at work. Nothing I could say or do would convince him that I was faithful to him.


One morning I was doing laundry in the basement. My husband was upstairs watching television. I found a piece of old rope and idly wrapped it around my wrists and instantly the old delight flashed back. The excitement was like a physical blow and I had to grasp the washing machine to keep my balance. I looked toward the open basement door, then tied myself to a ceiling beam. 

I looped the rope over the beam and tied nooses for my wrists. At first I just sod with my arms above my head, which felt wonderful. Then I released myself and took off my dress. I retied myself in my panties and bra and waited until the wash cycle finished, then I got loose, took off my underwear, tossed them in with the others and started another load of clothes. When the washer was loaded and the dryer was going I stood on a box and tied my wrists very tightly, then I stepped off the box. My first orgasm in months struck my belly like punch from a fist. I almost screamed with the wonderful feeling between my legs! I almost lost consciousness.

I hung from the beam for half an hour while the washer cycled, then I released myself again. I tied the rope around my waist and between my legs very tightly. I slipped into my dress and went upstairs. It felt incredible to walk around wearing that crotch rope. Brad was slouched in front of the television and didnt even glance at me.

I searched through all the closets looking for more things to wash and spent the rest of the day in the basement. I must have washed over a dozen loads of laundry.

Each time went downstairs I stripped naked and as soon as the washer was filled I tied myself again.

I began to change positions each time the dryer chimed and I became so daring that I tied myself into a very tight hogtie. I lay on the floor and pressed my nipples against the hard cool concrete. I struggled against the ropes and managed to work myself into another wonderful orgasm with the crotch rope. I felt so contented that I fell asleep for a few minutes. When I woke up I was so out of practice and it took a long time to get loose.

While I was doing all this I could hear Brad walking around upstairs and at first was afraid that he might come down and discover me, but then I didnt care and almost hoped he would. I was tempted to call him down and let him see me bound. Perhaps he would either screw me or get so angry that he would beat me. I think I would have enjoyed either one. 

After Id put the last load of clothes in the dryer I tied my wrists in front and tiptoed up the basement stairs. I opened the door a crack and peeked at my husband while he slumped in his easy chair. I slipped the handle of a garden trowel up my pussy, crouched with my knees wide apart and masturbated to a third delicious orgasm while he stared at the television.

When the laundry was done I slipped into my clothing and went upstairs. I was putting away the laundry and giggled when I realized that for the first time in my life every pair of panties I owned was clean and folded neatly in my dresser.

I took my daughter to the playground wearing only my crotch rope under my dress, and managed to control myself and keep from flashing people as I sat on a park bench. Afterwards I cooked dinner and we ate, all the time my pussy was in strict restraint.

I wore the pussy rope all evening.


After that I often played with self bondage. At first I only did it when Brad was out of the house, but then I discovered that it was naughty and sexy to tie myself while he was home and to see how close I could let him come to discovering me.

One night in bed I quietly tied myself into a hog tie while he slept beside me. I lay on the bed with my legs pulled tightly up behind me and tugged them so tight that the ropes cut into my wrists. I fell asleep and slept off and on through the night. I woke up in time to untie myself before Brad got up. He and I went through our morning routine of shaving, showering, my makeup and such, and he never once noticed the deep rope marks on my wrists and ankles.

I wasnt very rested that day but I still felt wonderful.

I wore pussy ropes constantly, at home and at work and they usually held a vibrator in place, sometimes two.

One laundry morning I tied the end on my pussy rope to the back of the washing machine, and then hung myself by my wrists. I raised my feet and slipped them through another suspended noose so that my weight was on the pussy rope. Hanging was sexy enough but when the washer went into the spin cycle the vibrations through my pussy rope sent me into a very nice and wonderfully long orgasm.

Another time I was enjoying that position when the load of clothing became unbalanced and the washer thumped so loudly that it shook the house. I was writhing in pure ecstasy from the incredible vibrations between my legs but Brad yelled down for me to fix the damn washer. I had to try to untie myself while still convulsing in an orgasm, and I almost didnt make it. I heard his angry footsteps and just managed to turn off the washer before he started downstairs. I scrambled into my dress then collapsed into helpless giggles when he went away. I leaned against the dryer and promptly fell asleep. (Passed out was more like it.) When I woke my legs were sprawled wide apart and my skirt was up around my waist.

I added more fun to the scenario by tying cords to my nipples and running them to the washer. The only problem was that the darn spin cycle was too short.


I told Denise about my laundry room bondage. She laughed and told me that she knew I couldnt stay away.

“I havent returned to the scene,” I told her. “Self bondage isnt cheating.”

She snorted derisively, then asked if I intended to take in laundry.

“Now thats not a bad idea,” I said. “It would give me an excuse to spend more time in the basement.”

“Yes, and perhaps you could make enough money that you could quit your job and work at home.”

“Hmm, do you think I should advertise as a laundry slave?”

“Sure, and just think of the business you could generate when it becomes known that you do the work in the nude.”

“And I could answer the door naked too, when the customers come to pick up their clothes.”

“Great idea and a good marketing tactic, but you shouldnt be entirely naked.”

“Oh?”

“You ought to wear a slave collar and a pussy rope.”

“Of course,” I said. “And I could have business cards printed: Satisfaction guaranteed or you can spank the laundress.

“You can do my familys clothes,” she said. “But I expect a professional discount. Ill pay you with spankings.”

“Hows that?”

“One spank per garment,” she said. “And socks dont count.”

“Oh yes they do,” I said, giggling. “One spank for each article of clothing, and I get the whip for cleaning your leather gear.”

“Does fifty strokes for a corset sound fair to you?” she laughed.

“Nope, a hundred.”

“Ok.”

I laughed until I cried.

“Now, in all seriousness,” she said. “Why dont you meet me after work and Ill hang you by your wrists and whip the daylights out of you.”

God I was tempted.

 


                                       CH 51



One evening we were watching television. Brad sat in the recliner, I on the couch. I covered myself with an afghan, curled my legs up and very slowly surreptitiously tied my ankles together. (Id hidden ropes under the cushions). Next I tied my hands together in front. Brad didnt even glance at me.

After a couple of hours I tried to quietly untie myself but discovered it takes a lot more movement than I thought. I gave up and lay quietly until Brad went to the bathroom. As soon as he walked out I sat up and got my hands untied, then with my ankles still bound I hopped into the kitchen. I just managed to get the rope off my ankles when he came in.

Brad didnt notice the rope marks on my skin, nor the bright flush on my face. He just got a beer out of the refrigerator and went back to the television. I sat on the kitchen table, opened my legs and played with my pussy until I came. Then I went back and watched more tv.

The next evening I wore a crotch rope under my robe with a noose on the back. As before, I covered myself with a throw, tied my ankles, then slowly slipped my wrists through the loop in back and hogtied myself. My husband sat six feet away and had no clue what I was doing. I closed my eyes and tugged steadily on the crotch rope until I made myself come! (Do you know how much self control it takes to have an orgasm while pretending to be asleep?)

When his tv show ended he got up, gave me a peck on the cheek and went to bed. I rolled off the couch and crawled around the carpet like an inchworm, pressing my breasts against the floor. I writhed and rolled around the room until I almost knocked a lamp over. I huffed and groaned and pulled hard on the pussy rope until I came, then I allowed myself to lay on the floor for a long time savoring the orgasm before I untied myself..


The next night I tied myself into a tight hogtie in bed and wiggled against my pussy rope while Brad slept beside me. I had another orgasm but kept very quiet and Brad barely stirred.

Another time I crept naked into the bedroom and tied a rope to the footboard and another to the headboard. Then, moving very quietly, I tied my feet to the bottom rope and my wrists to the upper one. I tugged carefully until my body was stretched very tight. The night was warm and bright moonlight shone through the windows as I lay atop the sheet. My skin was pale silver in the moonlight and I lay beside Brad for hours thinking of the wonderful things that people had done to me when I was a slave. I was so excited that I nearly had an orgasm, and when I finally untied myself I fell asleep and dreamt delightful dreams about whips and nipple clamps and hanging from the crane at the barn.

I bought a bulky oversized bath robe that concealed the fact that I was wearing nipple clamps while I did my makeup every morning. Over the years my husband never suspected that the first thing I did when I got out of the shower was to tie a rope through my pussy, and the second thing was to put clamps on my nipples. And he never had a clue that I was sleeping beside him in bondage.


On a visit to Moms place I dug through the boxes and got my chastity belts, a set of restraint cuffs and a collar. I took them home and hid them in the basement.

At the first opportunity I buckled the cuffs on my wrists and ankles and locked myself into a hogtie in the basement. I also put on the collar but I didnt enjoy wearing it. It reminded me that I wasnt anyones slave, that I didnt have a master, so I stopped wearing it. I began to think of myself as an unclaimed sex slave.

I wept when I put the chastity belt on. I hadnt worn one for years and it reminded me of Dale. I missed him very much, and Bob, and the police lieutenant, and especially MAC.

After I had a good cry I got dressed and went shopping. I felt very sexy with the unyielding metal between my legs, and I started wearing the belt almost every day, even to work.

The belt created a terrifically erotic experience that severely tested my resolve.


My car was broken down and we didnt have the money to get it fixed, so I was riding the bus to work. The bus was crowded and I had to stand. As the bus turned a corner I was pressed against a man beside me and he felt my chastity belt against his leg. He looked down curiously, then looked at me. I blushed and looked away, but the bus lurched again and I was pressed against him once more. The man looked into my eyes, then boldly reached down and patted my bottom. I stood frozen as his fingers explored the metal band around my waist and the bar between my legs. A knowing look came over his face and I knew instantly that he understood about chastity belts.

When the bus reached my stop he followed me off. I started to walk away when he told me to wait.

I was very nervous, but very excited too.

He waited until the other passengers were out of earshot, then spoke to me.

“I see that youre wearing a chastity belt,” he said conversationally.

“Yes, I am,” I answered. My heart was pounding.

“Who put it on you?”

“I did.”

He nodded understandingly. “You are a slave?”

“Yes sir.”

“Do you have the key with you?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Would you give me the key,” he said politely. “I want to take you someplace private and take that belt off of you.”

I was so tempted. I didnt know the man but I was so tempted to let a stranger take charge of me. If only for an hour, I wanted to be dominated, controlled, spanked and screwed. If only for an hour.

“I cant,” I whispered. “Im married and I cant.”

He nodded. “Too bad,” he said. “Your husband is a lucky man. Please forgive my presumption.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” I told him. “If I werent married, I would give you the key.” He smiled, a friendly, understanding smile. I turned and walked away. He went back to the bus stop.

I felt more connected to that gentleman after ten seconds of conversation then I did with my husband after three years of marriage.

Its a sad commentary on my marriage that strangers were interested in my chastity belt, but my husband never had a clue that I was wearing one. 


Brad is an early riser and was often in bed by nine oclock while I stayed up and ironed clothes or cleaned the house. (It never occurred to him to help out, despite the fact that I was working and he wasnt). I didnt mind because it gave me time to myself, and I often did my chores naked. Eventually I wore wrist and ankle cuffs and a crotch rope, and sometimes I would tiptoe into the bedroom and look down at my stupid snoring husband. 

One warm evening Brad was snoring away upstairs and I went into the backyard and tied myself to the clothesline pole. The moon was full and anyone could have seen my naked body in the moonlight. I stood against the pole for hours and remembered the evenings at the farm tied to the gatepost. Cars drove past the house and I remembered the night at the farm when the sheriffs car had stopped a few hundred yards away. That officer had missed the chance of a lifetime.

The next day I asked Brad to modify the clotheslines so that the poles had cross bars. He never thought to ask why, nor did it occur to him that I never hung the laundry out. He did as I asked and I was able to tie myself to a tee cross. I added a pussy rope tied to the top of the cross and could rub myself against it until I came, but usually I brought myself close, then relaxed and did it again. It took a lot of will power, but I teased myself for a long time before I came.

Another evening I hung myself by my wrists from a tree limb and fell asleep. I woke hours later and the ropes had tightened so that I almost couldnt get loose. The sun was coming up when I managed to free myself and I crawled in bed moments before my alarm clock went off. My wrists and shoulders hurt terribly and I called in sick at work, but the minute Brad left the house I kicked off the covers and played with my pussy until I came like an earthquake.

One night it was raining, softly and steady. After doing all my chores I tied my wrists behind my back and walked naked around the back yard. I even went to the front and stood in the deep shadow of the corner of the house. I watched passing cars and fantasized about tying myself to the front porch and letting the milk man find me. What would he do, I wondered.

After a while I went back and tied myself spread between the posts on the back porch. I got cool after a while, then downright cold, but I was in a masochistic state of mind and I told myself I deserved to be uncomfortable. Sure enough, I got so turned on that I was able to make myself come by just a little wiggling against my crotch rope. After a terrific orgasm I went in, filled the tub with hot water and enjoyed a long soak to warm up.

Another time Id tied myself into a hogtie on the front porch and had fallen asleep. I woke to the sound of a car radio and had just raised my head when the newspaper landed beside me with a loud thump. I was startled and frightened and very excited and expected to see the paper boy standing over me. I rolled onto my side and tried to open my legs, but there was no one close. He had tossed the paper from the car window.

I tore my ropes off, opened the paper and rolled part of it into a tube, then thrust it inside myself and masturbated until I came.

At the breakfast table Brad complained that the newspaper was scattered on the porch when he went out to get it. He grumbled about the sloppy delivery boy.

One very erotic night happened when Id tied myself to the clothes line post. I was dreamily fantasizing about MAC torturing me when the kitchen light came on. The light shone through the window and illuminated my naked body. I saw Brad puttering around, then he yelled in frustration.

“Mary, where the hell is the bread?”

“There is a fresh loaf on the top shelf of the pantry,” I answered.

“What are you doing outside?” he demanded.

“Just getting some fresh air,” I replied. “Ill be in shortly.”

I watched him find the bread and open the wrapper. He made himself a sandwich. If he had only glanced out the window he would have seen me.

I dropped my hips and opened my legs as wide as I could, then gyrated against the post. I watched my husband make a sandwich, then leave the kitchen. Naturally he left the lights on and a mess on the counter but I didnt care. I wondered if any of the neighbors were awake, because if they had happened to look across the fence they would have seen me. I rather hoped they might and did a naughty little bump and grind against the post. No once climbed the fence to rape me so after a while I got loose, went in and cleaned up the kitchen. Then I went to bed and played with my pussy.


I didnt get a lot of sleep in those days but I didnt mind. My co workers assumed that I must have had a terrific sex life at home because they commented that even though I was yawning through the day I seemed to be in a happy mood. I just smiled at them, wriggled a little to feel my crotch rope and went on with my work.


I often spent weekends at the farm and Brad didnt object. He didnt think I could get into mischief at my moms place, and he could lay around the house and get drunk Mom covered for me and played with my baby while I spent hours in bondage in the loft. Sometimes Mom helped tie me to the rack and made the ropes so tight that I couldnt move a muscle, then she would leave me helpless while she took my little girl into town for ice cream.

During this time I worked on some of the tricks Id teased Dianne about. I tried to rig up a dildo that I could catch in my pussy as I slid along the board, and that turned out to be a lot harder than I thought. It took a lot of trial and error to get the thing at just the right height and that required a lot of climbing up and down the ladder to reset the weight. Even when I managed to entrap the thing I still missed half the time. Mom watched one afternoon as I tried time after time, and she laughed so hard that her sides hurt all next day.

I also tried to set the weight so that it would snatch me into the air by my ankles. That resulted in a sprained hip and a large bump on my head when I swung into the wall. Mom drove me to the clinic and I was checked over by the same doctor who had treated Dianne. He didnt fail to notice the rope marks on my skin, and I thought he was going to say something about them, but the nurse came into the room and he shut up. I just knew that he was going to demand to know about the rope marks. If he had, I would have told him everything.

When we got home Mom forbade me to try the trick again, but I managed to make it work and enjoyed a fantastic orgasm when it finally jerked me upwards. I worked at it, got the swing right and refined it by tying a long pussy rope between my legs with a substantial weight on the end. When I was jerked upward the pussy rope tugged the weight along and just about the time I reached the top of my swing the pussy weight fell off the plank and tightened the rope in my crotch very nicely. I had lots of nice orgasms with that one but I had to have Mom close to release me. Mom fussed at me for doing something so dangerous and wisely chose not to try that one herself.

On warm evenings Mom and I took turns hanging from the crane or being tied to the gate post. We usually didnt tie ourselves at the same time because we couldnt leave the baby unattended, but one evening I was lying on the front lawn in a tight hogtie. Mom had put the baby to bed and joined me on the lawn. We talked for a while, then she stood up, casually undressed, and tied herself besides me. We lay on the prickly grass for hours and talked. Talk about a nice mother-daughter relationship.   

One Sunday evening as I was leaving to return home Mom very shyly asked a favor.

“Would you mind tying me to my bed, very tightly?” she asked, “So that I cant get loose.”

“Ok, but I have to get back to Denver,” I replied. “I have to be at work in the morning.”

“Oh, you dont have to stay,” she said. “I have a date tonight and Id like to surprise him.”

I was flabbergasted.

“Your boss from the bank?” I asked.

She blushed and nodded.

“When is he coming?” I asked.

“In half an hour, but he wont come in if he sees your car outside.”

“Oh, my God,” I breathed. “All right, Ill do it. Get on the bed.”

“I have to take a quick shower,” she said.

When she emerged from the bathroom she dabbed perfume between her breasts and on the tops of her thighs, then climbed on the bed and opened her arms and legs, and I tied my mother to her own bed. I wrapped the rope neatly around her ankles, then her wrists and pulled gently until she was spread wide open.

I tied her very securely and watched her face as I did. She had the same look of ecstasy that Ive worn so many times.

“Too tight?” I asked, knowing what her answer would be.

“No, Im fine,” she said without opening her eyes. “But would you do one more favor and get a whip out of the closet.”

I cannot begin to say how tempted I was to bury my face in her pussy. It took all of my resolve to be good. I opened the closet and there was a row of whips hanging inside the door. Looking at those whips, I thought that nothing ever would surprise me as long as I lived.

“How long have you had these?” I asked.

“Not that its any of your business,” she said, “But Ive had them quite sometime.”

“Which one to you want?” I asked.

“The long brown leather one,” she answered.

I hefted the whip, and then swung it a few times. It was a real whip, not a toy and I knew that it could inflict a lot of pain.

“Is this new?” I asked.

“No,” she said simply.

“Where do you want it?”

“Between my legs, please.”

For a split second I thought she wanted me to strike her between her legs with that whip, and my pussy went hot again. 

I coiled the whip and placed it between her knees.

“Would you like me to get out the camera and take a few pictures?” I asked mildly sarcastic.

“No thanks, dear. He will bring his own.”

“Oh? Are you a porn model too?”

She just smiled at me.

“I think Ill take a few pictures anyway,” I said. I got out the camera and took a roll of pictures of my mother tied to her bed. She smiled brightly as I snapped the shutter.

I kissed her on the cheek and left. I loaded the baby into the car and drove out the gate. I parked half a mile down the road and waited. If Moms date didnt arrive I would have to go back and release her, but sure enough, his car appeared and he turned onto our driveway. He parked the car and walked in the house.

As I drove back to Denver I marveled at what had just happened. I imagined tying myself to Mom with my face in her pussy and hers in mine. I wondered what she would have said, or done.


Denise had the film processed for me. She knows a place where it can be done with complete discretion.

She and Mary were looking at them when I dropped by the shop. Mary pretended to be on the phone when I walked in.

“Yes Mrs. Moore, your pictures turned out just fine,” she said. “Oh yes, they are very erotic, and weve sent copies to all the major bondage magazines. Im sure youll be getting offers very soon.” She looked at me in surprise. “Oh, your daughter just walked in. Would you like to talk to her?” She handed me the phone.

I put the phone to my ear and got a dial tone. “Theres no one on the line,” I said.

“Oh dear, we must have gotten cut off.”

“Very funny.”






                               CH 52


A couple of years later I bumped into MAC. I had avoided him because I was afraid of what might happen if I saw him. My fears proved correct.

I was shopping in downtown Denver, turned a corner and literally bounced off his chest. He looked at me in astonishment then grabbed me into the tightest hug Id ever experienced. He held me close for several minutes and I was so happy to see him that I cried. We didnt care about strangers watching, all that mattered was that I was with my dear friend.

MAC released me and apologized. He was embarrassed and told me that he forgot for a moment that I was married to another man. I told him that Id forgotten too, while I was in his arms. I joked about the tight hug.

“I thought you were going to squeeze all the air out of my breasts,” I said.

“Theres no air in them,” he replied, “Just all woman.”

It felt wonderful to be complimented again.

We went to a coffee shop and talked for hours. I told MAC about all my problems. He instantly offered to help me with money. I declined his offer but it gave my heart a warm glow. It was nice to have someone so strong and secure to listen to me. And MAC was still just as handsome and attractive to me. I ached to be in his arms, and in his ropes. I even lost my reserve and told him so. He smiled and told me that he had missed me too.

I asked if he had found someone new to tie up.

“No,” he said simply. “I dont want anyone else.”

His answer pleased me very much. I came very close to offering myself to him right then and there. He sensed what I was about to say and shook his head.

“Dont make a mistake because things are tough,” he warned me. “You and your husband must work through your problems.”

I nodded. He was right, but I needed him very much.

“I wont let you tie me up,” I said. “But I would dearly love to talk to you from time to time. Could we do that?”

“Of course,” he smiled.

“I would be very selfish of me,” I said. “And unfair to you, but I would just like to see you for lunch once in a while, and maybe talk on the phone.”

“How would that be unfair?” he asked.

“I would get the benefit of your company,” I answered. “But you wouldnt be getting any sex from me.”

“Ill manage to survive,” he smiled, “Besides, I like your company too.”


MAC and I began talking on the phone and getting together for lunch. I was strong and didnt let myself give in to temptation, at least for a long time. But one day . . .

Id called MAC in tears. My husband had been a total bastard for days and I was at my wits end. Brad left for an over the road trip and I cried for hours. Finally I called MAC and poured my troubles out to him. He listened until I was drained then he gave me an order.

“Take all your clothes off.”

“What?”

“Undress,” he said sternly. “I want you naked.”

My pussy began to throb. “What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Strip naked.” he commanded.

I set the phone down and obeyed. When Id taken off my clothes I felt very sexy. “All right,” I whispered. “Im naked.”

“Find some rope,” he ordered. “Anything to tie your legs with.”

“Yes master.” That came so naturally to my lips.

I tied my ankles together with the belt from my bathrobe. The throbbing between my legs increased.

“All right, my ankles are tied,” I said. “Shall I tie my wrists?”

“No, not this time. Hold the phone in your left hand, and touch your pussy with your right.”

Oh, God!

I did as he said.

“Imagine that the hand in your pussy is mine,” MAC said. “And make yourself cum. I want to listen to you.”

I came within a few minutes. It was terrific!

When my breathing was back to normal I spoke to him.

“Thank you master.”

“Do it again.”

MAC ordered me to cum several times that day. And I did as he commanded. I had three orgasms.

After we hung up, I cried for happiness, then took a long hot bath and calmed down, partly from the sex and partly from having Macs friendship. If only I could give him something in return.

After that MAC and I had telephone sex almost weekly. He gave me a device that permitted me to attach a headset to the phone so I could talk to him with both hands bound. Sometimes he gave me orders on where and how to touch myself, other times he made me tie myself very tightly then listen as he told me in great and very erotic detail what he would do to my body. I actually had orgasms just from listening to his voice. I wasnt sure if what we did constituted infidelity on my part or not, but I didnt care.


After the marriage Id put all my bondage things in storage at Moms house. On a visit to the farm I dug through the boxes and found the chastity belt that Dale made for me. I selected a few other things, then put the rest away.

I undressed and put new batteries in the belt, then locked myself into the belt and set the timer to go off at random. Mom walked in as I was finishing up. Her eyebrows rose but she didnt say anything.

“Are you planning to drive to Denver like that?” she asked.

“No, I thought Id put some clothes on,” I replied.

“I meant, are you going to wear the belt?” she said wryly.

“All the way home,” I said. “And I might take the long way too.”

“What, by way of Kansas City?”

(Kansas City is eight hundred miles in the opposite direction.)

“You know, if I didnt have to pick up the baby, I just might do that,” I told her. “Imagine riding all that way and back with this thing buzzing between your legs. Want to go along?” 

Mom got a far away look on her face, then she blushed.

“What do you say, shall we plan a road trip sometime?” I asked. “Well see what lasts the longest, the batteries or our pussies.”

Mom blushed and ran out of the room.

Id planned to wear my jeans on the drive back, but wearing the belt made me feel so sexy that I decided to wear a skirt instead. I found an old one in my clothes closet but it was too long, so I took a pair of scissors to it and cut it so short that my chastity belt almost was visible. I didnt bother to take the time to hem the skirt, I just left it ragged. I slipped on a very tight tank top with no bra, and a pair of sneakers.

When I got downstairs I lifted my skirt. “If I didnt know better, Id say that somebody has been using this thing,” I joked to Mom. I was kidding, but burst out laughing at the guilty look on her face.

“Would you like me to leave it here?” I asked. I started to take it off. Mom blushed and ran back upstairs.

“Im leaving,” I shouted up to her. “Shall I come up and tie you to the bed, or anything before I go?”

“No thank you,” she answered.

“What? No bondage date with your boss?” I asked.

“No, hes not coming tonight.”

“Well, then who is?”

“Mary will you just get out of here.”

I giggled and went to my car. I locked the key to the chastity belt in the trunk and vowed not to take the belt off until I got home. I kicked off my shoes and yanked my skirt up to my waist, then started the ignition.


Its a five hour drive to Denver and I was hot every minute of the way. The timer on the belt kicked on before I left the driveway and I began flashing truck drivers as soon as I was out of town. All along the way the vibrator in the belt did its job of driving me wild.

I stopped several times at truck stops and country stores just to show off in front of people. Id stroll around the store pretending to shop and attracting as much attention from men as possible, then I would buy a soft drink and leave. I reveled in my secret bondage and a couple of times the vibrator kicked on while I was near other people.

Once while I was paying the woman behind the counter saw the startled look on my face. She seemed to know what was going on, because she gave me a knowing look and asked if I needed any batteries. I was trying very hard not to have an orgasm and all I could do was shake my head.

Even though I didnt want to take the belt off, all those sodas made it necessary to go to the restroom. After several hours I just had to stop and take the belt off for a few minutes. I drove into truck stop, opened the trunk of my car and bent over to get the key. A couple of farmers were talking beside a tractor and they got an eyeful, I can tell you. I knew that were looking up my skirt, so I took my time and dug a slave collar out of the bag too. I straightened up and buckled the collar on my neck. Their eyes were huge as I walked past them.

In the restroom I barely got the belt unlocked in time, then I masturbated before I put it back on, and even though the belt had made me come several times already, that one was delightful. My pussy was very sensitive and I squeaked a few times just getting the belt locked in place. My face was bright pink and my nipples were pushing against my top when I walked out.

The farmers were still watching when I went to my car. So was a state patrolman. He was sitting in his car and watched me carefully. I thought he was interested in me sexually until it occurred that he suspected me of being a truck stop prostitute. I laughed to myself as he followed me out onto the freeway and tailed me for about twenty miles. I pulled my skirt up and tugged my tank top down and hooked it under my breasts. I considered driving over the speed limit just to give him an excuse to stop me. I would give him a real eyeful when he came to the window. I considered what it would take to get him to arrest me and fantasized about another ride in a police car in handcuffs. I wondered if I would get to enjoy another sexy episode in a jail, but I remembered that I had to pick up my daughter, so I behaved myself.

I drove to the house when I got back to town. I took off the short skirt and collar, then slipped into a pair of slacks and picked up my little girl from the baby sitter, but I kept the chastity belt on when I got home.

Brad arrived a few hours later and I still didnt take the belt off. I even wore it to bed that night and he didnt notice.

I liked the feel of the metal between my legs, holding my pussy firmly imprisoned, but I also wore it as a symbol of defiance to my husband.


I showed the belt to MAC and he approved entirely. I met him for lunch and waited for him outside the restaurant. I invited him to pat me on the bottom as we walked in the door. We sat side by side in a booth and I raised my skirt to give him a look. He grinned from ear to ear as I told him in naughty detail what the belts vibrator was doing to me while we ate. The next time we met he gave me some wicked nipple clamps, which I wore under my clothes.

I became more daring about self bondage and tied myself in every room in the house. I hung by my wrists in the garage, tied myself in a strict hogtie on the kitchen table, on the floor, and in the back yard in broad daylight. On morning I chatted with the neighbor across the fence while my hands were cuffed behind my back. She was digging in her flower bed and never noticed a thing. And it was nothing to tie myself to a chair and watch TV all afternoon.

Many times I waited until I heard Brads car in the driveway before untying myself, and on one occasion I was just able to get the last button on my dress done as he walked in the room.

Brad stopped taking care of himself. He stopped exercising and grew flabby. He didnt take care of his grooming and became very unkempt. I decided that no matter what, I would never let myself go that way, so I joined a workout class at the rec center.

The class instructor was cute and very sober young man who was dedicated to teaching the whole world the value of physical fitness. He was oblivious to the fact that his class of women were eyeing his firm young body from the very first day. He led us in jogging, sit ups, weight training and aerobics and never seemed to notice our jiggling boobs and wide open legs.

(One time I wore a chastity belt to the center and realized that I couldnt take it off. Id forgotten the key, so I had to join my class with the thing under my shorts. Jogging for a mile on the indoor track was both torture and delightful, so was using the stair stepper, but only twenty sit ups were enough to send me into a terrific orgasm. When I collapsed the instructor thought I was having a heart attack. It was only when I began giggling that he was convinced not to call an ambulance. I told him that Id taken some cold medicine before class and it made me a little woozy for a few minutes.)

After that I began jogging around the neighbor hood wearing pussy ropes or chastity belts. My eyes were usually bright and my cheeks were pink when I got home. I also invented bondage sit ups.

(Put a tight pussy rope between your legs, or a chastity belt. Put nipple clamps on, tie your ankles and knees together and tie your wrists behind your back. Then do sit ups until you reach a hundred or an orgasm, which ever comes first. Guaranteed to flatten that tummy and firm up your butt.)

MAC loves to listen to me do sit ups over the phone.

One day Mary dropped by while I was tied up. I managed to untie myself, slip into a robe and open the door. She didnt seem to notice anything and we chatted over a pot of tea, however as she was leaving she grabbed my hand, looked at the deep rope marks on my wrists and shook her head knowingly.


Brad got another job driving trucks, then was arrested for drunk driving and lost his license. A buddy took him to South Dakota and bought a false identity card, which allowed him to get a license.

I was troubled by my husbands dishonesty, but on the other hand, we needed his income, and anyway, driving got him out of the house for weeks at a time.

He settled down, for a while, and tried to do right. He drove for months without creating any problems, and we got along a little better.

Brad was full of big talk about buying his own truck and becoming an independent driver, maybe some day owning a string of trucks. I even accompanied him to a truck show one weekend.

I must admit that I was impressed by some of the trucks we saw. Some of them were huge and their sleeping compartments were small rooms, with large beds, refrigerators, stoves and televisions. They looked comfortable, even luxurious, and they cost hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Brad got enthusiastic at the truck show and talked about us becoming a husband and wife team and going on the road together. I just nodded and didnt bother to remind him that we had a child. And secretly I vowed never to give up my permanent job for some idiotic pipe dream, besides I didnt want to be a truck driver.

However, I did notice a row of hooks along the wall of one of the huge sleeping compartments and instantly imagined myself hanging by my wrists (just not with Brad driving).


One day I dropped him off at the trucking company. I sat in the car and watched the trucks coming and going and I noticed a husband and wife teaming getting into a truck. The man was ordinary looking, about forty and his wife was the same. I fantasized about him tying her naked in the sleeping compartment before they even left the lot.

One other big truck caught my eye. The tractor was oversized with a huge sleeping compartment behind the cab. I was reminded of the luxurious trucks Id seen at the show.

The paint was shiny and the truck was immaculately clean. The driver was tying a big tarpaulin over the load and I watched as he pulled the ropes tight. He was big and muscular and tugged the ropes with powerful arms, and he tied the knots quickly and expertly. I wondered if he was as good at tying women. The man glanced at me and did a double take. I blushed when I recognized him as one of the men who had been at the auction party orgy where I met Dianne!

The man stared until I raised my eyebrows indignantly. I looked at him as if I wondered why he was staring so rudely, and he looked away. Brad came out of the office and I took him to his truck. He hopped in and started the motor and I drove away. I passed the man tying knots. He looked at me again, very intently. I ignored him, but my pussy was throbbing.

I couldnt remember exactly what that man had done to me at the party, only that he must have whipped me and screwed me and probably made me suck his cock. All of the men at the party had been terrifically cruel and the memory of that wonderful night set me on fire. What ever that man had done to me, I wanted him to do it again. I almost turned around and went to him.

As I drove home I wondered what it would be like to be a truck drivers slave. At the house I undressed, tied myself to the bed and fantasized about hanging naked by my wrists, or being in an excruciating hogtie in the sleeper compartment as we drove mile after mile, hour after hour, day after day. I imagined that that driver would stop from time to time and screw me silly, then go on again. I wondered if there would be room for me to kneel between his feet and suck his cock as he drove. I hoped he had enough self control not to wreck the truck every time I made him spurt into my mouth.

I imagined that as we drove I couldnt see outside. I had no idea where we were, or even what part of the country we might be in. Sometimes Id be blindfolded so I didnt know if it was day or night, I just rode and rode in my bonds. I would be naked and bound and that was all that mattered.

I drifted into a sort of doze and saw my truck arriving at a truck stop for the night, and having my master take me out and walk me naked to the motel through the busy parking lot. The other drivers would be envious and perhaps hed tie me to the bed and rent me out to the others. Or maybe he would just make me kneel in the parking lot and open my mouth for all those strangers.

My dream shifted into me being part of a cargo of slave girls hanging by our wrists inside the trailer of a large semi. We swayed as the truck rolled along and at every stop a few girls were taken out and delivered to their new masters and new girls were loaded aboard. At each weigh station the inspectors would board the trailer and check the cargo by squeezing our breasts and bottoms and fingering a few sample pussies, then the truck would roll again and off we would go. I spent my time wondering who I would be delivered to, and what they would do to me.

Then I imagined a trailer converted into a rolling torture chamber. We slaves would be locked into tiny cramped cells, and when the truck stopped in some small out of the way town, the driver would open the back door and hang us by our wrists to let the locals look us over. Then the bidding would start.

At one stop the back door opened and a new naked woman was loaded aboard. It was Mom. I saw Moms boss signing her over and a caught a glimpse of our farm just before they closed the door. Mom smiled happily at me and curled up in her cell. 

My truck fantasy became so involved that I developed a truck fetish. I couldnt even see a truck on the street without getting moist between my legs. I even drove down to Brads company when he was away, just hoping to see the man with the fancy rig again. I dont know what I would have done if Id seen him, but luckily he was never there.

My phone sex affair with MAC kept me from losing my mind. Self bondage and self torture at his command was the only stable thing in my life. One day we were meeting for lunch. When he arrived at the restaurant I handed him a key.

“Whats this?” he asked.

“Its a hotel room around the corner,” I said.

He looked at me with a combination of happiness and distress.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“There is a bag full of ropes in the room,” I said. “And I brought nipple clamps, a slave collar and several whips.”

“How long do we have?”

“As long as you want,” I said. “My husband is out of town and Denise watching the baby and she can keep her all night if necessary.”

“Unfortunately, I cant stay all night,” he said. “But I can stay until this evening.”

I took him to the hotel. Inside the room he watched as I undressed slowly and seductively. When I was naked I put the slave collar in my mouth, got on my hands and knees and crawled to him. I knelt in front of him, sat up with my hands up like doggy paws. MAC took the collar from my mouth and buckled it around my neck, then he kissed me so sweetly that I wanted to melt into oblivion.

I had been so starved for affection and sex, that I begged MAC to simply tie me to the bed and screw me senseless. He did just that. He placed a pillow under my hips and tied me into a wonderful tight spread eagle. As tight as it was I pleaded for him to tie me tighter. He tugged hard on the ropes and I had a sweet orgasm as he was tying me. When he had my arms and legs as tight as bowstrings he climbed onto me, thrust his cock inside and made wonderful love to me. I thought I was in heaven and I screamed in ecstasy. After all those years of silent orgasms beside my husband it was a relief to be able to voice my passion. I felt like a woman again.

After my first few orgasms, he gave me time to recover, then he whipped my pussy until I came again.

MAC didnt change my position at all. He whipped me, bit my nipples and screwed me all afternoon. When he released me I crawled into his arms and cried with happiness.

I must have made a lot of noise because as I was leaving, the door of the next room opened and man peered out at me. I gave him my most dazzling smile and swirled my skirt as I blew a kiss to MAC.

As to my husband, I felt not one iota of guilt. MAC and I resumed our love affair and began meeting for sex at least once a week. We still do.



                                       CH 53


At home the money problems got worse. Brad couldnt hold up his end and I was desperate. Despite the fact that we were broke he was going hunting with his brothers for a week in Montana. I called Mary at the store.

“Hey kid! Hows married life?”

“I want you to sell me to somebody for a session,” I told her. “And make sure you get a good price.”

There was a long pause. “Whats going on?”

“Were broke and about to lose the house,” I answered. “I need to earn some money.”

“I think we need to talk,” she said. “Are you free for lunch?”


I met Mary and Denise for lunch. I told them about all my marital troubles and asked if they could arrange for me to make some money. They exchanged glances.

“We are not going to help you turn yourself into a prostitute,” Denise told me.

“I dont know what else to do,” I said sadly. “I cant ask my mother for any more money.”

“What about us,” Mary said. “Were your friends. We can help.”

“I know you would,” I replied. “But I dont want to be in debt to anyone else. I owe too much already.”

“Better to owe a friend, than to degrade yourself.” Mary told me.

“Oh, I dont know,” I said. “I used to be good at enduring degradation. It turns me on.”

“Its not the same thing, and you know it,” Denise said.

“I appreciate your offers, and your concerns,” I told them. “But Im at my wits end and I have got to make a house payment within a week.”

They were quiet for a while. Finally Denise spoke.

“All right, well see what we can do. When and how long are you available?”

“All week,” I said. “Ive got plenty of vacation on the books. My husband is off hunting and I can take the baby to my Mom.”

“Youre broke and your husband went hunting?” Mary demanded.

“Yes.”

“You know, I think Id like to tie your husband up sometime,” she said conversationally.

“What?”

“Um hmm, and when I finished whipping that son of a bitch, he would never walk again.”

From the look in her eyes, I knew she wasnt joking.

“Ok, well set something up and call you.”


“Any chance you could set me up with a kinky truck driver?” I joked after the tension relaxed.

“What do you mean?”

I told them about my trucking fantasies. They were both squirming in their seats by the time I finished.

“I have to hand it to you,” Denise said. “You have a hell of an imagination.”

“Yeah,” Mary added fanning her face.

“Have you ever heard of any traveling dungeons?” I asked.

“No, but there are mobile bordellos,” Mary answered. “Usually up in Alaska and the back country of Canada.”

“Maybe we should lease a truck and drive up there,” I suggested. “You two could drive and collect the money and Ill be the slave girl.”

They thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Ok, deal.”

“And can my mom come along too?”

“As a slave?”

“Of course.”

“Sure she can, but whos going to watch the baby?”

 

“Actually there is a pretty good bondage parlor just across from a big truck stop in Nebraska,” Denise commented as we were walking out, “Pretty good one too, from what I hear.”

Mary nodded. “They cater to the kinky truck drivers. Maybe you could get a job there.”

“Sure, I could have Brad drop me off on his way to the East coast, then swing by and pick me up after a few weeks.”

“Yep.”






                                       CH 54


Denise called that evening and told me that a session had been set up for the next day.

“What will it be?” I asked nervously. I was ashamed of myself, and embarrassed that Id had to ask my friends to pander for me.

“Twenty four hours of torture starting at five oclock,” she replied. “Serious, painful torture at the dungeon. Its going to be intense so you had better be prepared.”

“All right, thank you,” I whispered.

I drove my little girl out to the farm. She was four years old and adored her grand mother so I had no qualms about leaving her there. Mom had been delighted to watch her for the entire week. I didnt tell Mom what I was planning but she sensed that something was up. She asked what I was going to do with all that time alone. 

“Im going to clean the house from top to bottom,” I lied. “Then Im going to just decompress for the rest of the time.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” she said.

I spent the night at Moms then drove back to Denver the next morning. I cleaned up, shaved my pussy for the first time since Id gotten married and tried to relax. I was worried about what I was about to do, but I was excited as well, I was going to be tortured!

I arrived at the dungeon an hour early. The house was empty so I put on a pot of coffee and wandered into the dungeon. I was surprised to see a strange woman setting up cameras and lights. She had a lot of photography equipment and had an air of a professional about her.

“Hi,” she said when I walked in. “Are you one of the doms, or the model?”

“Uh, Im not sure what you are talking about,” replied. “Im not a model and Im definitely not a dominatrix.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward silence, then I offered her a cup of coffee. I went to the kitchen, poured two cups and returned. She and I were chatting when Denise walked in. I smiled at her but got a glare in return. She didnt say a word she just grabbed the back of my hair firmly and marched me into the house.

“Ouch!” I squealed. “What are you doing?”

She slapped me across my face. Hard.

“Be quiet you filthy little slut!” she hissed. “Dont say a damn thing.”

“Oh God!” I thought. “Denise hates me now.” I wanted to cry.

Denise took me into the bedroom and ordered me to undress. When I was naked she buckled a very large gag in my mouth. It was so large that it hurt my jaws and I whimpered in protest. That earned me another slap.

Denise threw me face down on the bed and strapped my arms tightly behind my back. I gasped in pain, but my pussy went damp instantly. She pressed her knee in the small of my back as she buckled cuffs on my wrists and ankles. She slipped her thigh between my legs and I pressed my very damp pussy against her skin while she put a very high and uncomfortable collar on my neck and pulled me to my feet. I was frightened at her anger, but very turned on.

She marched me out to the dungeon. The photographer was still setting up and her eyebrows rose when she saw me.

“I thought she wasnt the model.” she said.

“Oh, this little bitch is your model all right,” Denise said. “She just didnt know it until now.”

“I looked at Denise in astonishment. She was going to let me be photographed? I shook my head insistently.

“Dont worry,” Denise sneered at me. “Your face wont show.” She buckled a slave hood over my head then walked to the cell. She clipped my leash to a ceiling hook and tugged until I was standing on my toes. I whimpered in fear.

Denise left the dungeon. The photographer looked at me.

“Im not sure I should go through with this,” she said. “I have to be certain that you are posing voluntarily.”

I couldnt talk and I couldnt nod my head but being bound set my pussy on fire and I was very willing for what ever might happen to me. I tried to talk around my gag but she couldnt understand me. I wriggled as sexily as I could, trying to make her understand that I was willing. She started to undo my gag but paused and looked toward the door.

“I think Id better wait until she returns,” the photographer said nervously. “That lady is formidable and I dont want to make her angry.”

“Oh yes you do,” I thought, “That is, if youd like to be tied up and punished.”


Mary walked in and looked around. She smiled evilly at me, then talked quietly to the photographer. After a few moments she left. The photographer looked at me and smiled nervously. We looked at each other and I wondered if she was a porn photographer or some innocent that Mary and Denise and brought in.

Mary and Denise returned wearing their dominatrix outfits. Mary was lovely in a bright yellow latex corset with matching shoes. The corset supported black stockings and she wore opera length yellow gloves. Denise wore a shiny red skirt open in the front, a red bra, red stocking and shoes. Neither wore panties.

“Um, we have to settle something,” the photographer said. “I have to be absolutely sure that the model is willing to pose.” She glanced at me. “And from what Ive seen, Im not sure she is.”

“She is, trust me,” Denise said.

“I have to hear it from her,” the photographer insisted. “And she had to sign a models release before I can sell the photos. If I dont get the release form then I cant participate in this.”

“Ok,” Denise sighed tiredly. She opened the cell door and dragged me out. She removed my gag.

“Ask her your questions,” she said to the photographer.

The photographer looked at me. “My name is Annette Arnold. I am a professional photographer and I specialize in erotic photography.” She paused hesitantly. “Usually I try to make my pictures to be artistic and I never do pornography, and Ive never done bondage before.”

My brows rose when I heard this. She looked the type to take those rather sterile nude pictures.

“Ive been invited to photograph an extended bondage and torture session that will be very graphic, and that I will pay the model one thousand dollars.”

My eyes widened at the figure. I looked at Denise.

“I told you that we werent going to help you become a prostitute,” she said. “So we set up this photo shoot.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Oh, dont thank me yet,” she said grimly. “Heres the deal. You will be tortured worse than youve ever been in your life. Two other doms are coming and the four of us are going to tag team you for twenty four hours. They are doing it free of charge, just for the fun of it. Mary and I are doing it to teach you a serious lesson for even considering selling yourself for money. We are very angry at you for even considering whoring yourself out. Youll be lucky to be alive when we are through with you.”

My pussy was throbbing and my nipples were hard as stones.

“Thank you mistress,” I said.

       They untied my wrists and I signed Annettes forms. They also took my hood of so that Annette could take a picture of my face to go into the file.

When they put the hood back, but before I was gagged I looked up at Denise.

“Mistress Denise?”

“What?”

“You know your cousin, Dianne?”

“What about her?”

“You know angry she makes you? Well I just decided that anything she can do, I can do better.”

I lunged forward and bit Denise above the knee.

Mary gasped in astonishment. Denise looked at the bite mark on her leg. A cold look of fury came over her face. She knelt and gently buckled the gag in my mouth.

“Now, you are going to discover what real pain is,” she whispered to me.

I nodded slowly and winked at her.


They tied me to a post and Annette took several pictures. Denise decided that she would wait before putting whip marks on me. She can be very patient. I was posed in many erotic and obscene positions. I was hung by my wrists, hung upside down. stretched on a rack and placed in every other piece of bondage equipment. And it felt heavenly!

I was experiencing lesbian bondage for the first time in years. I was happy and content and thrilled, especially when I knew that Denise was just biding her time and that I was in for a hell of a lot of torment. My pussy tingled with anticipation.

The first series of pictures took several hours. Annette took pains to get the lighting perfect and to achieve some artistic shadowing. Mary and Denise were quite efficient at repositioning me and Annette commented on how quickly everything was going.

“This is one of the smoothest shoots Ive ever done,” she said, changing film in a camera. “Im not used to having a completely cooperative model like this. Many of my models are prima donnas.”

I was stretched tightly on a cross at the moment.

“Shes not a model,” Mary said. “Shes a real slave and her cooperation is genuine. Right slave?”

I nodded happily.

“She really is a slave?” Annette asked.

“She sure is,” Denise said. “This is the most submissive and masochistic little slut youll ever meet.”

“Wow,” Annette said. She looked at me questioningly. I nodded.

“Our little slave girl can have an orgasm from pain,” Denise said. “Watch this.” She pinched my nipple and twisted it savagely. I shrieked in pain and delight and sure enough, I had an orgasm!

“My God!” Annette gasped.

“Perhaps you ought to punish some of those prima donnas,” Mary suggested. “Like this.” She lashed a whip across my breasts several times, sending me into an extended orgasm.

“Youll probably get a lot more cooperation that way,” Denise said.

“They would never put up with that,” Annette gasped.

“Some would,” Mary chuckled. “They would be the first ones to come rushing back for another session.”

“And a few will offer to model for free,” Denise added. “Those who do will be the real masochists.”

“This little lady has been out of the scene for a few years,” Denise said. “Which is why shes enjoying this so much.” Her claws were still cutting into my nipple. I writhed in pain.

“Do you like this?” Denise leaned close to me. Her eyes were huge.

I nodded vigorously.

“Just wait till we start torturing her,” Mary added. “Then you are going to get some very interesting photographs.”

“Uh, thats not torture?” Annette asked, indicating Denises fingernails on my nipple.

I looked at her and shook my head.

“Thats not even a warm up,” Mary chuckled.

“Get the camera ready,” Denise told her. “Im going to whip her pussy to get her in the mood.”

She picked up a small flogger and I thrust my pelvis forward in delighted anticipation.

Annette shot several rolls of film while Denise whipped my crotch, then Mary took over and worked my breasts into a delighted stinging heaven.


After three hours they took a break. I was in a severe hog tie. My gag was removed and I was given a drink, but left in that position. The others went into the house and relaxed for a while. I lay on the cold dungeon floor in pure contentment.

Annette came back first. She knelt beside me, glanced anxiously at the door and asked me a question.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Of course,” I answered.

She looked at me in befuddlement. “You cant really be enjoying this,” she said. “I mean, she almost pinched your nipple off, and look at the welts on your breasts!”

“Oh, yes,” I sighed. “Im enjoying this, and lots more is going to happen to my body before we are done.”

She shook her head in amazement. “Ive photographed lots of sexy scenarios, but nothing like this.”

“Probably not,” I agreed. “Its going to get very intense.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Tell me,” I asked. “Do you have domineering fantasies? Do you like being in control of women?”

“I dont know,” she said, “Maybe a little.”

“Ever tortured anyone?”

“Heavens no!”

“Why dont you torture me then?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. And while were on the subject, do you like having sex with girls?”

“No, that is . . . Ive never done that.”

I looked up at her seductively. “Before the doms are through with me they are going to make me eat their pussies, probably several times each.”

“They are?”

“Oh yes,” I laughed. “Why dont you make me eat yours too?”

Her hand crept toward her pussy, I smiled and watched, and when she realized what she was doing, Annette jerked her hand away.

“Oooh, dont be embarrassed,” I whispered, “Why dont you let me put my tongue inside you.”

She blushed and fled.


Mary and Denise returned, hoisted me up by my wrists and informed me that it was time for me to start receiving punishment. They began at my breasts. Mary bit my right nipple and Denise took my left. Marys bite was painful but very erotic. Denise on the other hand, bit me so hard that I was shrieking in seconds. Annette was taking pictures but she lowered her camera and stared at me in dismay. I managed to wink at her before Denise bit again. Annette still looked uncertain so I decided to reassure her by faking an orgasm. (Actually I was close to cumming anyway, but putting on a show was fun.) Unfortunately, Denise decided that she didnt want me to enjoy my torture, not yet anyway, so she bit so hard I thought she would draw blood.

Annettes eyes were huge but she raised the camera and went back to shooting. I tried to keep my eyes on her as much as possible, but Denise inspired Mary so both of them bit my nipples until I almost fainted from pain.

Mary realized that I was close to passing out so she pulled Denise back. They gave me ten minutes to recover, then brought buckets of cold water.

I was hanging barely conscious when the first bucketful soaked my body. It was a shock, and confusing, but for some reason it sent me into another terrific orgasm.

Annette was staring open mouthed when Denise told her to get ready. She aimed the camera at me and the second blast of frigid water soused my skin and I shrieked in utter delight. Annette got a fantastic picture of my face as I experienced and another orgasm.

Then they brought out the whips. Real whips, horsewhips with long supple thongs ending in fringes. I got no warm up, just the instant feeling of red hot pain when Denises whip curled around my body and snapped on my breast.

They whipped every inch of my body.



CH 55



About an hour into my first whipping the other doms arrived. I knew one, whose name was Katrina, but the other was a stranger.

Katrina was a plump woman with big breasts, short legs, a gentle motherly expression, and an absolutely cruel nature. She wore a rather standard dominatrix outfit of black leather panties, bra and boots. Still, she filled out that bra nicely and I got excited looking at her.

Like most dominas her clientele was men and Id been at parties where she had whipped some male slaves into blubbering babies. She had one special client who was a professional athlete. He always wore a mask to bondage parties but everyone knew who he was. He was enormously big, strong as an elephant, and a simpering little wimp in bondage. He loved domination by women and often hired several dominas at once. He also liked public humiliation and invited lots of people to watch him be tortured. He has an enormous penis and it is covered by scars from Katrinas whips and branding irons. (It was an open joke around the NFL that he was shy and never showered or fully undressed in front of his team mates. The real reason was that he didnt want anyone to know that he was branded.) Later, when he retired from sports Katrina pierced his penis with a heavy gold ring and now leads him around with a chain attached to it. Better I got married Id attended parties where he suffered torture and humiliation. I usually was just one of the women in the crowd, and while it was nice to watch what Katrina did to him, I wanted to be tortured myself.

I had never been dominated by her, but I knew I was in for some serious pain when it came to be her turn.

The other domina was a severe looking woman in ordinary clothing. She looked like a school teacher (in fact, that was her dominant persona) and later she spanked me so hard with rulers and paddles that my skin was blistered. Her name was Miss Betty.

The newcomers made themselves comfortable and settled in to watch.

Denise and Mary whipped me until I was covered with welts. Annette shot dozens of rolls of film, and the only respite I got was when she had to change film.

Finally they lowered me to the floor and removed my gag and hood. I was sobbing from pain, (and my most recent orgasm) and was given a long drink of water. Denise, Mary, and the other dominas sat down together and chatted. I was relieved just to lay on the floor for a few minutes. Annette came to me and asked if I was all right. I couldnt speak so I smiled and whispered that Id never felt better. She looked doubtful, but went over to sit with the others.

After a nice break the new dominas came to me. Katrina picked up my gag but I spoke.

“Please mistress, dont put the gag or mask on me anymore.”

She looked at Mary. “I thought she was to have her face covered at all times.”

Mary looked at me. “Whats going on?”

“I want my face in the pictures,” I said.

“Are you crazy?” Mary asked. “These are going to a magazine. Youve already signed the release and I dont think Annette is willing to give up her commission taking pictures she cant sell.”

“I want them in a magazine,” I answered. “With my face fully exposed.”

“Listen to me Mary Elizabeth,” Denise said. “Your husband might see them.”

“I hope he does.”

“Stop and think about this,” Denise said.

“You said you wouldnt help me become a prostitute,” I said. “But you did say I could be a bondage model. Thats what I want.”

She looked at me for a long time. “All right.”

“Thank you mistress,” I said. “And dont forget, I bit your leg. I still think you ought to get your revenge for that.”

Mary laughed, the others looked puzzled and Denise smiled. “I will.”


Katrina got me next. She spread me on an X frame and tormented my poor body with clamps and pincers. Annette came in and shot close ups of my nipples between the jaws of alligator clamps, pliers and carpenters clamps. Katrina tied thin wires around my nipples and hung weights on them then pulled on the weights or made them swing until I thought my poor boobies might fall off.

The bondage and torture was wonderful but I was very excited about having the pictures taken. I think I reached a new plateau of exhibitionism that day. Even while I was being tormented the idea that thousands of men would see pictures of my body and face made me very turned on. I didnt realize it but I was actually grinning at the camera in some of the shots.

After shed tormented by breasts for about an hour Katrina shifted to my pussy and did the same things only worse. I kept my eyes on Annette who seemed fascinated by what was being done to me. She was breathing very hard by the time Katrina relinquished me to Miss Betty.


Miss Betty bent me over a table and paddled my bottom raw. She seemed to specialize in spanking and knew lots of different ways to punish my derriere. She didnt seem to like listening to my screams though. She put the gag back in my mouth. Annette was determined to get lots of close ups of my face and even crawled under the table to shoot up at me.

Miss Betty seemed to acting out a scenario that shed gone through many times. She removed her jacket, then changed my position so that I was kneeling atop the table with my butt in the air. It was already red and raw, but she used a ruler to make it much worse. After a few hundred spanks she changed my pose, and took off her blouse. Each time she moved me she removed an article of clothing. Eventually she ended up naked sitting on a chair and I was across her knees. I think she would have preferred to have me dressed as a schoolgirl and strip me too, but since my body was already covered with welts that wouldnt have worked. My final spanking for that hour was with a horribly painful wooden hairbrush. After the last blow from the brush she shoved the handle up my pussy and sent me into a fantastic orgasm!


Id been tortured for hours and was exhausted. Mary helped me to my feet and led me into the house. A plate of sandwiches and a salad waited on the kitchen table along with a steaming cup of tea. She released my bonds and left me alone. I collapsed into the chair. I didnt think I could eat, but the tea was delicious and suddenly I was ravenous. I ate two sandwiches, the salad and a couple of apples I found in the refrigerator. 

Mary came back and told me to follow her. She led me to the bath room where a steaming bubble bath had been prepared. I settled into the hot water with a sigh of pure ecstasy. Mary kissed me tenderly, handed me a glass of wine and left.

I soaked in the tub for an hour. I even dozed off for a while. Then Denise came in and ordered me to dry off and get ready for round two.

I was still tired, but felt a thousand percent better when Denise led me back into the dungeon.  Along the way I whispered a request to her.


I thought I was to be tortured some more, but when I came back into the dungeon, Miss Betty was lying on the bed naked. Denise led me to her and she opened her legs as I approached. Miss Betty had dark nipples and lots of body hair. She was one of those women who had to shave her legs almost every day. Her pussy was neatly trimmed but still hairy, and very pretty.

Denise forced me onto my stomach on the bed and tied me into a very rigid hog tie. She twined a roped into my hair, bent my head back and tied the rope to my ankles. Miss Betty scooted forward until her pussy was in my face. (I found out later that they drew straws to see who went first). I stuck out my tongue and ate her pussy with delight.

I ate all their pussies, one after another, while Annette took picture after picture. I turned my face toward the camera from time to time, to make sure that I was recognizable.

I was happily licking Marys delicious pussy when Denise whispered something to Annette and they left the dungeon. They returned later with Annette in a dominatrix costume.

Annette looked slightly embarrassed when she returned. She is a very slender, almost delicate woman. Her breasts are small but very pretty and her pussy is tiny. Denise wanted to loan her an outfit but everything they had was too big for her. They finally settled on a wrap around fringed skirt, garter belt and stockings, and a jeweled collar. She looked lovely but didnt quite come across as a dominatrix. She looked too uncertain for that.

“Our slave girl has asked to eat your pussy,” Denise told Annette. “But I think that you have to earn that pleasure.”

“I do?”

“Yep, you have to prove your worthiness by whipping little Mary Elizabeth until she cums.”

“Oh, but Ive never whipped anyone in my life.”

“No time like the present to get started,” Katrina said. The others nodded.

Annette looked at me in dismay. I rolled onto my side and struggled to open my legs. “Would someone please untie my legs,” I asked. “So she can whip me on my cunt.”

“Hmm. She must be very horny,” Mary observed. “She usually doesnt use that word.”

“Cunt, cunt, cunt,” I said. “My cunt is for whipping.” I looked at Annette. “And yours is for eating, so hurry up and whip me.”

All four dominas swarmed over me, undid my ropes and retied me in a wide, wide apart spread eagle.

Denise handed Annette a whip and sat down.


Annette looked at the whip uncertainly, then at me. I thrust upward with my hips. She swung the whip awkwardly and it flopped across my tummy. I rolled my eyes at her.

“Come on, you can do better than that.”

She hit me again but it was just as feeble. I looked at Denise.

Denise stood up. “Youve been watching us whip her all evening,” she said to Annette. “You know you must hit harder.”

“And you know our little slave slut likes it,” Miss Betty added. “So dont worry about hurting her.”

“Right,” Mary said. “Just dont hit her in the face.”

“All right,” Annette said. She hit me again, but it was still weak. Denise took the whip from her and showed her how to swing it properly. All the doms crowded around her and gave her a lesson on whip techniques. They showed Annette how to swing with her whole arm, how to rotate her upper body and follow through and how to snap her wrist. The lesson went on for half an hour and they forgot about me. I watched and tried not to laugh as they made her do practice swings against a post and discussed various techniques for wrap around, horse whips, floggers and bull whips. Miss Betty was a strong advocate for rulers, paddles and yardsticks.

I had a nice rest, but decided that it was time to remind them that I was supposed to be the center of attention. I took a deep breath.

“Will somebody please whip my cunt, before I fall asleep from boredom!” I shouted.

Dead silence.

They turned at looked at me, then Denise stepped back and made a sweeping motion toward my pussy. Annette stepped forward, wound up and smacked the whip right into my crotch. She was right on target and the blow was very, very hard, thank you very much!

I sighed and lay my head back. I closed my eyes and enjoyed as Annette laid on. She caught on quickly and soon whipped me into a very delightful orgasm.

Annette paused and watched as I writhed in ecstasy. Katrina stepped close, put her arm around Annettes waist and gave her a squeeze. “Now do you see the power you have?” she asked.

Annettes eyes were huge. She nodded absently as she watched me twisting in my ropes. When I could finally catch my breath I smiled at her.

“Thank you maam, may I please have another?”

I got another.

After my second or third orgasm under Annettes whip I got to eat her pussy. Annette didnt have to be told, she just tore off her skirt climbed on the table and straddled my face. As she lowered her pussy to my mouth I caught sight of the grins on the dominas faces. Annette looked around and blushed. “

Ive never had sex in front of anyone,” she said shyly.

“Well, its about time that you did,” Denise said as she picked up the camera.

I ate Annettes pussy eagerly and with all the skill I had. I liked her and wanted to make her happy. It only took about twenty minutes until she came wildly and collapsed across my face. She lay over me for a long time, then crawled off. The others applauded. I smiled at her and she smiled back. Then Denise climbed on top of me and plopped her pussy onto my mouth.

I ate all five pussies then they all seemed to run out of steam. They wandered off and went to bed in the house. I was left tied to the table but I fell asleep almost at once. It was five oclock in the morning.


At eleven Mary woke me, released my bonds and took me into the house. A hot breakfast was on the table and I was starved. I ran to the bathroom, came back to the kitchen still naked and dug in to the food. The others wandered in looking like death warmed over.

I had to giggle at the sight of four bleary eyed and bedraggled dominas sitting around the table picking at their food. Annette came in, took one look and ran to get her camera. They all protested when she began taking pictures but she told them to shut up and ignore the camera. She shot a whole roll of film then made us all sit together for a group portrait. She ordered me to lie on the floor under Katrinas chair and smile at the camera. She even put the camera shutter on a timer and posed with us. (Later, when I saw those pictures I thought they were terrific! With blurred makeup, dark circles under our eyes and my welts we looked exactly like a group of women whod just finished an all night orgy.)

Annettes picture was fantastic! She stood on wide spread legs, pulled her skirt open and glared at the camera with an expression of cruel disdain that would have put a real dominatrix to shame. (She later told me that shed never posed naked before in her life.).

After breakfast Denise asked me if I wanted to keep going.

“I know we promised you twenty fours hours,” she said. “But we are all exhausted. Do you want to knock off?”

I put my arms around her and kissed her deeply on the mouth. “Only if you forgive me for biting you,” I said.

“I havent,” she smiled. “But Ill reserve your punishment for a later date.”

“Ok.”

Everyone took turns showering and cleaning up. Annette packed away her cameras and came in to say good bye. We hugged and I thanked her for everything. She gave me her business card and told me that she would hire me to model anytime I wanted. She also handed me a check for a thousand dollars.

I offered to share the money to Mary and Denise but they refused.

“We dont need the money,” Mary told me. “We did it for you.”

“What about Katrina and Betty?” I asked. “Surely they deserve something.”

“Nope, we did it for fun,” Miss Betty said as she walked into the room. She was cleaned up and dressed and looked like a professional woman in a simple business suit. “But I might like to have fun with you again,” she said.

“I am yours anytime you want me,” I told her.”

“What about me?” Katrina asked from the doorway.

“You too.”

“Where are you off to?” Mary asked Miss Betty.

“To a long massage from a handsome male therapist, then to my hairdresser, and after that I have a three hour session with a very wealthy and generous slave boy.”

“The one who owns that big car dealership on south Broadway?”

“The very one.”

Miss Betty kissed me firmly on the lips, Katrina even slipped her tongue in my mouth, then they drove away.

“I could really get to like those women,” I said.

“Yes, theyre pretty special,” Denise agreed. “I think they had fun. They like whipping genuine submissives. Its a nice change from play acting, and I think you did a satisfactory job of eating their pussies so they are pleased about that too.”

“What about your pussies?” I asked. “Did I do ok?”

“Well, youre a little out of practice, but well let you try again later.”

I am blessed with having the best friends in the world.

I went home completely contented. My body was covered with stripes and bruises and my bottom was so bruised that I couldnt sit down, but I felt wonderful.


Annette sold the pictures to a bondage magazine. They were very intense for that day and age, and most publishers werent ready for the raw sadism that I experienced, but one magazine ran them and they were an instant hit. The publisher told Annette that the unadulterated pleasure on my face helped a lot. She was asked to provide more of the same.


I called Katrina and Miss Betty and thanked them again and asked if there was any way I could repay their kindness.

Katrina used me as an extra in several humiliation sessions for her football player. I didnt get tied up or punished, in fact I was fully dressed playing the role of a nice young woman with several other ladies who watched his humiliations. Id done this before, but this time they were taping the session. We would pretend to be disgusted as he abased himself at Katrinas feet. We talked amongst ourselves about how contemptible he was. We subjected him to scathing verbal abuse and expressed our disgust when she ordered him to masturbate in front of us. The naughtiest that I got was to raise my skirt and show my panties as I stood over him. (I must say though, it was exciting watching him spurt an impressive amount of cum a very long distance from that huge cock). Id have preferred being whipped or something, but the change of pace was rather fun and I was so grateful to Katrina that Id do anything she asked.

I hoped to get a copy of the video tape but it was done only for the client and no extra copies were allowed out.  

Miss Betty was a professional model as well as a dominatrix and she and I posed for Annette with the theme of the stern schoolteacher and the innocent schoolgirl. Despite the fact that I was almost thirty years old I could still pass for a teenager. We posed in the same scenario several times with me as a young girl who gets stripped and spanked, then forced into lesbian sex. The scenarios were either a schoolroom, or an office with me submitting to the cruel lady boss, or a shop girl who has annoyed a customer. It was repetitious but the fetish magazines bought them every time. There was usually no bondage, but Miss Betty didnt pull her punches when she spanked me and I always came away with a blistered bottom and the magazine always included a close up of the damage.

I told Lady L about my sessions with Miss Betty and she was intrigued. She and Lord L invited Betty to their apartment and she had a great session spanking Lady L while her husband watched. Later she offered to let Lady L model professionally. Lord and Lady L thought it over and decided that she could pose but only if her face did not show, so we did a photo shoot of me getting spanked in a class room by Miss Betty while Lady L oversaw the action. She hovered in the background as if she was the school principle. As I was spanked and undressed Lady Ls skirt rose until her panties were visible, then they disappeared and her lovely legs and pussy crept closer to my face as I lay across Bettys lap. The shoot ended with Lady L and Betty sitting side by side with their legs open (and their faces hidden) while I ate them both. Those pictures sold instantly and the publisher begged for more. We gave him more.

Each photo session ended up with the four of us, Miss Betty, Lady L, Annette and me, in an orgy. Lady L and I usually managed to get them to tie us to a bed and let us pleasure them with our mouths.

Annette even did a session with me and Lady L tied together eating one another, and never did either of our faces show. Those pics appeared in print and Lord L was utterly delighted when he saw them. 


When I told Dianne that I was modeling she arranged some gigs with photographers in Los Angeles. These were the big name fetish photographers. I flew to Los Angeles for two days of test shots and the photographers liked my work. Since I still had my regular job traveling would be difficult, so one of the photographers agreed to come to Denver from time to time for photo sessions. He came out, rented a studio or used Marys dungeon and shot some pretty graphic stuff. He paid me handsomely and I rewarded him after each session with several hours of private no holds barred bondage sessions. (He was very good in bed.)

I began to make serious amounts of money modeling. Dianne and I worked together on a couple of photo shoots and we made a bondage movie together.

The still picture shoots were fun and very intense. Mary and Denise posed as doms and whipped the daylights out of us, and even though the publishers were getting a bit more daring, some of Diannes pictures were still too intense for publication. They didnt appear in print until the nineties. 

The movie was fun but silly; we played two roommates who are surprised by a beautiful female burglar who pointed a toy gun at us and forced us to strip. Then she tied us together in several positions and played with our breasts and pussies. It was all soft core (bondage was never shown with intercourse or oral sex in those days) but we talked the director into allowing us to eat the burglars pussy on camera. The actress was actually reluctant to let us do that, she considered herself a professional model and had never done any hard core work. And she had never had any real lesbian sex. We managed to talk her into it and I am proud to say that we subverted her entirely. She had an orgasm from my tongue and another from Diannes. Afterward they tied Dianne and me together and filmed us eating each others pussy.

I had barely raised my head when we were untied, yanked apart and one of the men in the film crew was on top of me. I looked over at Dianne who was receiving the same treatment.

“Its about time,” she yelled as the man slid his cock into her. The rest of the crew were taking off their clothes and getting in line.

When the filming was done, we invited the other model to our hotel room and ate her pussy well into the night. (Dianne eased her standard of not having sex until forced. She told me later that it was fun seducing that girl.)

Even though the hard core scenes had to be left out of the finished picture, they ended up in private collections, which led to us filming some private movies.

And those private movies were very lucrative and incredibly raunchy.


Later, when Id built up seniority at work I was able to travel to California for the modeling sessions. I convinced my husband that I was traveling on business when I actually just took vacation time. Brad was so uninterested in me by then that he didnt question anything I told him.

I posed for stills and shot quick bondage movies which usually took only a day or two.

And I made over a dozen private movies with a very famous lady who wanted to be bound and tortured on camera. She had the connections and the money to arrange everything from cameraman to crew to the processing of the film and editing, and she had the clout to make sure that no one saw the films. Oddly, she always wanted to be filmed with other girls, so Dianne and I were hired to be with her. Another famous actress played the role of the dom and she was very good at it. She knew how to use a whip.

The famous lady had made a few low key bondage movies before but when she watched me take a real whipping and watched Dianne go into her insane woman performance, she got very turned on and allowed the dominatrix to whip her for real. The dom tied Dianne and the famous lady together and whipped Dianne while they ate each others pussies. Diane went wild, left teeth marks on the womans crotch and they had fantastic orgasms together. (I had to watch while tied on my knees.) That movie was wild beyond expectations and led to many more.

(By the way, Dianne and I were quite impressed to be whipped by a woman who has been nominated for an academy award).


I kept my modeling career secret from my husband and my mother and I opened a private bank account for my earnings. MAC helped me invest some of it and I slipped the rest into our joint account. It kept us out of financial distress.

I hoped that someday Brad would grow up and start pulling his share of the load but it never happened. Without my secret earnings we would have gone broke, so I began saving some of the left over money for myself.

I discovered Brads porn magazines by accident. They were ordinary girlie magazines, with no hint of bondage. I thought the models looked plastic and insincere. I had copies of all the fetish magazines that my pictures appeared in (dozens by that time) and considered slipping one among his. Id loved to have seen the look on his face when he saw me tied up and naked for all the world to see.

I didnt show him pictures of me in bondage but I took note of the one magazine he seemed to buy more than the others. It specialized in legs and I contacted the publisher in San Francisco and offered to pose for him. My offer was accepted instantly and I went to Los Angeles for the shoot. I changed my makeup slightly, and wore a wig, but it didnt take a genius to recognize me. I posed in panties, garter belt, stockings and heels. I did get to remove my panties, but the poses were all simply legs open, or sprawled on a bed or in a chair. My pictures werent published for over a year and by that time Brad and I had separated, so I dont know if hes ever seen the pictures or not. 

Finally I decided to divorce him.

A Colorado Country Girls Self Bondage


CH 55


Brad shrugged off my requests to go to marriage counseling and his nastiness toward me continued. He became rude to me in public and seemed to enjoy embarrassing me, especially in front of my mother. I tried to get him to be nice by making a wonderful Christmas dinner but he got drunk and ruined everything. It was the final straw and I filed for divorce.

       I asked him to move out but he refused, so I called MAC to ask for the name of a good attorney. MAC not only arranged for one to meet with me, he sent a paralegal to talk to Brad. The paralegal was a large tough looking man. He took Brad into another room and had a private conversation. I started to follow them but the attorney held me back. They were in the room only about ten minutes but when they came out Brad looked pale and agreed to move out.

       Brad disappeared shortly after I filed for divorce and MAC had to track him down to be served with the papers. Once again the tough looking paralegal handled the matter, and returned that very day with Brads signature on the necessary documents. Brad did not contest the divorce and agreed to pay child support and to let me keep the house.

       I thanked MAC in the way he liked best; I gave myself to him for an entire weekend of slavery.

       Denise watched my little girl from Friday night until Monday morning. MAC came to the house and I met him at the door naked on my knees. He buckled a slave collar on my neck and took me to the bedroom. He tied me wide open on the bed and whipped the insides of my thighs until I was screaming in delight, them he climbed on, slid himself inside me and made wonderful, powerful love to me. During a break he noticed that Id placed several pictures of my husband around the room.

       “I want to see his face while you take me,” I told him.

       “Wow,” he said. “I didnt think you were that vindictive.”

       “Not only vindictive,” I said, “But kinky too. It turns me on the think of Brad being forced to watch.”

       “Should I have him kidnapped and chained to the wall, while we make love?” MAC asked wryly.

       “Would you do that for me?” I asked. The idea was fantastic!

       “No, and I wouldnt do that to any man either,” he said. “I may be a sadist but I wont be that cruel.”

       I wriggled in my bonds. “Well then, would you be cruel to me some more? How about whipping my pussy?”

       “Oh, all right, since you insist.”

       I fantasized that Brad was chained spread eagled and naked on the wall of my bedroom, and that his cock was very big while he watched MAC fuck me.

            MAC kept me tied up, whipped, and most satisfyingly screwed all night. The next morning he took me to the dungeon.


       I rode in the trunk of MACs car in a tight hog tie. (It was my idea). He parked at the rear and opened the trunk. He lifted me out and removed enough of my ropes so that only my wrists and ankles were tied, then I could hop inside. It felt very sexy and daring to be hopping across the driveway naked in the early morning light. I hoped that the neighbors were watching.

Inside Mac started off by tying me very tightly to an X frame, then the played with my pussy. He played with me until I honestly thought that I was going to go out of my mind. He caressed, and tickled and stroked me, and slapped my pussy and breathed on it for hours, but he wouldnt put anything inside, not his fingers, not a dildo, and especially not his cock. It didnt matter how much I begged and sobbed and shrieked he wouldnt let me come. And he wouldnt let me down from the cross either.

       Not even when I had to pee. He held a pan between my legs, then washed me with a damp cloth.

       Now that was just about the most humiliating thing Ive ever experienced (and Ive experienced a lot).Ive never been interested in bathroom kink, and I dont think that MAC was either, he was just determined to keep me in strict bondage as long as I could bear it.

       We started at seven oclock and MAC took me off the cross at one in the afternoon. He kept me in a fantastic state of excitement the entire time and I had not had an orgasm no matter how close he brought me. I was weak, trembling, babbling like an idiot and my pussy felt like it was raw, but my ordeal wasnt over. MAC tied me to the bed, legs wide open and screwed me silly. I was almost fainting with exhaustion while he tied me, but the instant that his cock slid inside my pussy I had the wildest earth shaker I could remember. As soon as my heart stopped trying to burst through my chest I fell asleep (or more likely fainted) but woke up to find MAC still pumping atop me. I smiled hazily at him, had another orgasm, and didnt remember another thing until dinner time.

       Dear, sweet, wonderful MAC kept doing things like that all weekend.


       I continued my modeling and porn career while maintaining my job for the government. I even began writing some scripts and offered them to the photographers and directors. We made a ninety minute movie about my experiences at the police station, although I left out the fact that originally I had consented to be arrested. In the movie I was an innocent young woman who liked to dress naughtily, and was arrested on a case of mistaken identity. We acted out all of my experiences from being handcuffed and searched on the street to riding in the police car with my legs apart, to being tied up in a jail cell all night. We put in the scene where I was screwed with a police womans baton on a desk, and added a part where a number of male cops (and a janitor) came by the holding cell for oral sex. My character was so naïve that she had never experienced bondage before, but by the time shed undergone all the bondage and sex she was hooked. The movie ended with her being released, and running back to the same street corner wearing even skimpier clothes and jiggling her boobs at every passing police car hoping to arrested again.

       I negotiated a percentage of the films take and made a ton of money. That led to writing more scripts and I became a minor celebrity in the California fetish porn industry.

       I was invited to a lot of parties, and orgies but stopped going when I saw the amount of drug usage. Im proud to say that despite all my other vices, Ive never indulged in drugs of any kind.

       But I definitely kept my kinky life style and I found some outlets in the strangest places.

       

       I was picking up my little girl at school one afternoon. She was in the second grade and I was chatting with some of the other mommies as we waited for the bell to ring. One woman joined our group and she visibly started when she looked at me. I noticed that she stared at me every afternoon, and finally she approached me.

       “I apologize for staring,” she told me. “My name is Karla, and I was sure that Id seen you somewhere before.”

       I was in my normal mother mind set and asked where we might have met. I was stunned when she told me that she had many of my movies at home.

       “And lots of your magazine pictures too,” she added.

       I tried to pretend that I had no idea what she was talking about, but she smiled knowingly and shook her head. “I know who you are,” she said, using my stage name, “And I am a great admirer. So is everyone in our bondage club.”

       “Bondage club?”

       “Yes, we meet once a month and swap slaves,” she said. “We have a dungeon set up in a basement.”

       Uh oh. I didnt know what to say.

       I was saved for the moment when the kids came pouring out of school. I scooped my little girl in my arms and practically ran home. I was a nervous wreck that evening. The conversation with Karla had gotten me excited and I was so tempted to get involved with that bondage club, but I was very nervous. I didnt know anyone and was really hesitant to get involved with a group of strangers. I avoided Karla for several days.

       Finally, I called Denise and asked if she knew anything about Karla or her group and of course, Denise did.

       “From what I can tell she is ok,” Denise told me. “Mary and I have had sessions with her and weve been to bondage parties at the club. If anything, they are probably a little tame compared to what you are used to doing.”

       “Oh?”

       “They mostly go for tying each other up then having sex. Id say its a little like wife swapping with bondage,” Denise went on. “If they ever saw you and Dianne taking a whipping it would probably scare them to death.”

       “That might be fun,” I mused.

       “What?”

       “Having them watch me take a real flogging.”

       “Probably,” she shrugged. “Want me to set it up?”

       “Maybe, let me think about it a little longer, but I might just be in the mood to shock some people.”


       I decided to do it and I talked it over with Dianne. She was ready in an instant and we asked Mary and Denise to help out. I began flirting with Karla at school. I hinted to her that while I played the role of a masochist in my movies, it really was only acting, so I wasnt sure if I could do what they wanted at a real bondage session.

       She assured me that my limits would be respected, and besides, they werent serious sadists.

       “Well. Ok,” I said hesitantly, “If youre sure.”

       I agreed to come to the party if I could bring a friend. Denise and Mary called Karla and asked for an invitation too, without revealing that they knew me.


       The bondage club met in a basement at someones house. The basement was converted to a low key dungeon of sorts, but nothing like the one that Denise and Mary owned.

       The night of the party Dianne and I arrived and the club was having cocktails in the living room. We were dressed sedately and looked nervous, although Dianne snorted derisively when she looked over the crowd.

       “Amateurs,” she whispered to me. “Play acting.”

       “Then we will just have to open their eyes,” I replied.

       The people of the club crowded around and talked about my movies. I told them that they should remember that I was only an actress and this would be my first real bondage session. I confessed that I was a little nervous. I introduced Dianne as my older sister whod come along to make sure that things didnt get out of hand. They assured me that my limits would be respected. I caught the look on Diannes face and I knew that she was thinking that I had no limits.

       It was rather nice to be treated like a celebrity. Several asked for my autograph.

       After idle chitchat we adjourned to the basement. Dianne groaned in dismay at the silly dungeon.

“This looks like a setup for a kids Halloween party,” she muttered.

She was right, there were more plastic skulls and dime store daggers on the walls than bondage equipment.

Everyone began undressing but Mary had coached us. Dianne and I kept out clothes on and looked uncomfortable as everyone else got naked. The people looked at us expectantly, but before we could do anything Mary and Denise walked in.

Denise said not a word, she just marched up to Dianne and slapped her very hard across the face. Dianne fell backwards onto the floor, (making sure that her legs were sprawled open. She was wearing ladylike high waist cotton panties). Before she could move Denise pounced on her, rolled her onto her stomach and handcuffed her hands behind her back.

I let out a small scream when Mary grabbed me and handcuffed my wrists, then I was thrown to the floor too.

Mary sat on me (and rubbed her crotch against my hips) while Denise methodically ripped Diannes clothes to shreds. Dianne acted stunned for a moment, then began struggling. Denise slapped her hard several times and was rewarded with a piteous plea for mercy. Dianne began fighting to get to her feet but she was no match for Dianne. Once Dianne was naked (entirely, stark naked, Denise tore those grandma panties to shreds) Denise began beating her. She slapped and punched Dianne, yanked her head from side to side by her hair, and choked her. Dianne is a good actress. Instead of her normal spitfire defiance, she cried and begged and sobbed like a little virgin.

The audience watched in astonishment as Denise rolled the semi conscious Dianne into a hogtie and cuffed her ankles to her wrists. Then she turned to me.

Mary hauled me to my feet and yanked my skirt up. I was wearing pink lacy panties, but they werent too revealing, until they were yanked down to my ankles. The club members gasped when my pussy came into view. Mary thrust he hand between my thighs and explored my pussy while Denise ripped my clothing off.. I mean they ripped them. Every garment was in shreds.

When I was naked they marched to a spot beneath a ceiling hook and hoisted me up by my wrists. Then the whipping began. 

We had agreed that this would be for real, show or no show. Dianne and I were to get the whippings of our lives that night, and since it was my idea, I got to go first.

Id spent an entire week anticipating that night. I had refrained from sex with MAC and hadnt even touched myself, but I did tie myself up every chance and read every naughty bondage story I could find. By the night of the party I was very horny.

Denise stood on one side of me, Mary on the other, and they whipped me.

They began with light floggers, then progressed to larger and larger whips until they were using short bull whips. We had to use short ones because the basement was too small to swing a full sized one. (Did you know that the phrase Room to swing a cat originated in the British navy when they flogged their men for infractions of discipline?)

I screamed and cried and cursed and pretended to slowly begin to enjoy it. The club watched with their mouths agape as my first orgasm hit. I shook the rafters with that one and I wasnt pretending. I had the most wonderful experience Id ever had, and before I stopped squealing I had about three more orgasms.

Denise and Mary were soaked with perspiration and took a break. Then they took me down, hogtied me on the floor and strung up Dianne. She begged for mercy but as her whipping progressed she too began to enjoy it. She was soon demanding that they hit her harder, and was soon rattling the windows with her first orgasm of the evening. Then she reverted to her defiant bitch persona.

Dianne took her whipping with all the frantic wildcat madness that she could muster, and when she had orgasms she let everyone know it. They whipped her for the same length of time as me but when they finished they didnt take her down. Instead they stood me up, tied a hangmans noose around my neck, threaded the rope through a hook and tied the other end around Diannes neck, then they tightened the nooses until we were on tiptoe. After that they walked away and mingled with the club.


The club members had watched our torment in stunned silence, although all the men sported huge erections, and most of the women were slightly glassy eyed.

The noose around my neck was tight and I was afraid that I might lose consciousness. Dianne looked at me and smiled sweetly and shook her breasts. 

I was so hot that I was close to having another orgasm.

The noose around my neck was tight and it was hard to breathe, and while I knew that no one would let us die, it was so dangerous and so thrilling that I couldnt believe it. Dianne stared into my eyes as we trembled on tiptoe, then she grinned evilly and let herself drop. My feet came off the floor.

The noose tightened painfully, a pressure built in my head and an orgasm flashed through me. One of the men rushed over, took me in his arms and held me up. I was very conscious of his cock pressing against my leg. Another man lifted Dianne up.

“Leave me alone,” she hissed at him, when hed loosened her noose, “Either that, or fuck me.”

“Same here,” I croaked to my man. He stared in astonishment as I twisted around in his arms, then wrapped my legs around his body. I was concentrating on capturing his cock in my pussy that I forgot about the noose. He loosened his arms and the rope took my weight. I had another orgasm.

The man held me up and began screwing me. I crossed my ankles behind his back and pumped as much as I could manage. From the noises behind me I knew that Dianne and her guy were doing the same thing.

When the man came he spurted a gallon of semen into me, and he was instantly replaced by another man.

There seven men in the club, and we screwed every one of them.


After the last man staggered away from us, Mary removed the nooses and was immediately rewarded with a vicious kick from Dianne. Denise and Mary strung her up by her ankles with her legs wide apart, then Mary began methodically raking her nails in Diannes inner thighs.

I had dropped to the floor and when I regained my breath I crawled to Mary and bit her calf. I bit her hard.

Mary screamed and spun around. She slapped me so hard that I saw stars. I fell back, opened my legs and humped upwards offering my thighs. They got clawed too, so cruelly that they hurt for weeks. (And I had another delicious orgasm).

When I could focus my eyes I noticed that the room was nearly empty. Some of the club members had paired up and left the room. They were screwing in all parts of the house.

Denise took over tormenting Dianne while Mary attended to me. Dianne was mocking Denise, asking her if she didnt know how to hurt a woman, so Denise showed her what she knew. She sank her claws in Diannes crotch so fiercely that Dianne screamed loud enough to wake the dead. Within moments the clubs members came scrambling back, wide eyed and horrified at what Denise was doing to Dianne. The owner of the house told Denise to keep Dianne from screaming so loud. He was afraid that the neighbors would hear. Denise answered by gagging Dianne and me. Then she attacked Diannes pussy again. Dianne later told me that that was the worst (best?) pain shed ever experienced in her life.


After two hours the party degenerated into a simple orgy. Dianne and I were left alone in hogties while everyone else had sex. I didnt mind because my body was one huge mass of pain. Dianne was smiling to herself in her bonds. Denise and Mary collected us, set us on our feet and led us out to their car naked. Theyd brought bathrobes and wrapped us in them, then drove us home. We didnt worry about leaving our ruined clothes, wed worn old dresses knowing they would be destroyed.

Id arranged for a friend to keep my daughter over night so when I got home Denise tended to my wounds and put me to bed. Mary took Dianne to her apartment. Dianne told me later that Mary tied her spread open on her bed and ate her pussy for hours.

“Mary just licked your pussy?” I asked, “She didnt torture you or anything?”

“No, she just made me feel heavenly,” Dianne sighed happily.

That reminded of something. “Do you know that not one of the women at that party made us eat their pussies?” I commented.

She thought for a moment. “I believe that youre right,” she said. “Only their men screwed us. The women didnt touch us.”

“We have to do something about that,” I said. “We must teach those ladies the joys of lesbian sex.”

“Right, lets get Mary and Denise to kidnap them to our dungeon then tie them together and force them to eat each other.”

“Hmm, we might have to put on a demonstration,” I said, “Just to show them the proper way to do it.”

“Good idea. Should we bring their husbands to watch?”

“No, lets just make it a girls night out.”

“Ok.


The next Monday at school I saw Karla. I smiled brightly as I walked up to her. She looked at me in utter amazement.

“How can you even walk after what they did to you?” she gasped.

“Oh, Ive had worse,” I replied lightly. “Besides, I had at least ten fantastic orgasms last night.”

“You must be kidding,” she whispered.

I shook my head slowly.

“Then, that really wasnt your first time being tortured,” she demanded.

“Heavens no,” I laughed. “Ive been tying myself up since high school.”

“You lied to me,” she said indignantly.

“Forgive me,” I said. “But it was so much fun shocking your friends. Now tell me that you werent entertained.”

She smiled and blushed

Then I leaned forward. “Well invite you to a torture session at my dungeon. Its a real torture chamber and you can be a victim,” I said, “Right beside me. Think you can take it?”

She stepped back in alarm. I chuckled and walked away. I got a few yards when she called to me.

“Mary.”

I turned.

“Ill be there,” Karla said.


       

                  A Colorado Country Girls Self Bondage

CH 56



       One delightful evening in bondage I told MAC about my trucking fantasies.

       Id spent the day cleaning house and doing chores. My daughter was going to a friends house for a sleepover and I invited MAC to drop by. As soon as I got home from dropping my little girl off, I took off all my clothes and walked around the house naked.                

            I passed my living room window and noticed a teen aged boy mowing the lawn across the street. Very daringly I stood at the window for a few moments until I saw him do a double take in my direction. I stepped back and waited a minute, then peeked out. He was still pushing the mower but he was staring at my house. I giggled and waited until he turned his attention to his work, then stood at the window again. Sure enough he looked my way and I jumped back out of sight. He stopped in his tracks and walked across the street. He stood on the sidewalk and looked at the window. I wondered if he would come onto my property but he didnt. He finally walked back and I trotted into the kitchen and grabbed a handful of ropes.        

             I threaded a rope through a study ceiling hook (cleverly disguised to resemble a flower pot hanger) and tied slip knot noose in it. Then I tied a very tight crotch rope between the lips of my pussy, tied my ankles apart with a spreader bar, then slipped my wrists through the noose and tugged it tight. I was further back into the room than before so I wasnt quite as visible. (But of course, I really hoped that he would see me, come inside and fuck my brains out while I was bound).

       The boy kept looking my way and once I had to laugh when he nearly ran the mower into a flower bed. Once or twice he stopped and peered toward me, as if he just couldnt quite make out what he saw. I began dancing sensuously in my ropes, wiggling my hips, thrusting my pelvis and shaking my boobs. Things got much better when two other boys rode up on bicycles and talked to the first one. He obviously told them that hed seen something interesting in my house because they all looked my way. I increased my gyrations and now fervently hoped that they could see me. I was on fire and at that moment I would have sold my soul just to have those boys walk through my front door.

       The boys talked for a while then the two on bikes rode away. The first boy finished the front yard and moved to the back. I was disappointed to lose my audience but hit on another wicked idea.

       I released myself, ran upstairs and slipped into a tight tee shirt, mini skirt and pair of sneakers. I kept the pussy rope on. I went out to the porch and sat with my knees apart, listening until I heard the mower shut off, then I went onto my lawn, bent over and pretended to pull weeds from the flower beds. Sure enough the boy emerged from the back yard and started down the walk. His eyes widened when he saw me. I was bent so far over that I was looking at him through my legs. I glanced up, pretended to finally notice him and smiled. He smiled back rather weakly. He started down the street and I called out to him. He came over and tried not to stare at my breasts (which were braless and my nipples poked against the material of my shirt.)

       I asked him if he would be interested in mowing my lawn too and he told me that he would, but couldnt do it that day. He offered to come back after school the following afternoon.

As we talked I wiped my dirty hands on the tee shirt, pulling it even tighter and the poor dear got a lovely erection. He tried to hide it by casually crossing his hands in front of himself. I managed not to look directly at his crotch but I was tempted to drop to my knees then and there.

I agreed to his offer and silently promised myself that while he cut the grass I would be naked and helpless in ropes inside the house.

After he left I went inside, stripped again and tied myself into very strict hog tie on the kitchen floor. MAC wasnt due for several hours, and at first I lay still simply enjoying the helplessness. But then I began wiggling around to see if I could move around the house. I wasnt easy but it was a lot of fun working up a sweat and a few rug burns as I inched across the floor. My tight pussy rope tightened more as I struggled. Id intended to have no orgasms, saving them for MAC but as I squirmed and struggled one crept up on me and surprised me by causing a delicious explosion between my legs.

       I sagged in my bonds for a long sweet time, enjoying the afterglow, then decided that Id better get ready for MAC. Only there was a problem.

       In my struggles Id tightened the rope so much that I couldnt undo the knots and Id worked my way into the hallway and my escape knife was on the kitchen floor about twenty feet away.

       Now twenty feet isnt very far in the normal course of things. Shucks you can walk twenty feet in two seconds, but try moving that far when your legs are wrapped tightly with rope and your ankles are tied to your thighs. (Having my wrists tied behind my back just made it worse or better).

       I started the long tedious trek back to the knife but that insidious little pussy rope ambushed me again and sent a HUGE bolt of lightning through my body. I fainted.

       I woke up and lay smiling in a warm golden glow until I remembered that I had a guest arriving soon, so I started wiggling across the floor again.

       I estimated that Id gotten about six feet when orgasm Number Three zapped me. I honestly think that somehow my body levitated off the floor because I felt my breasts smash under my body when I landed. I gave up.

       I didnt try to get any further; I just lay on the carpet waiting for MAC. I did get slightly bored so I wriggled and huffed and groaned and twisted until I got my knees under me, which pressed my breasts against the floor, and was idly rubbing them against the rough shag rug when the doorbell rang.

       It startled me and I came again. A tiny squeak escaped my throat and I heard a voice outside. It was the mailman.

       “Hello? Are you ok in there?”

       I rolled onto my back and wished that I could open my legs. I also wished that my door was equipped with a peep hole that worked from the outside, then he could look in and see me naked.

       “Hi Tim,” I answered brightly. “Everythings ok.”

       “Uh, I thought I heard a scream,” he said.

       “Im fine,” I said. “The bell startled me.”

       “Ok, well Ive got a package for you.”

       “Could you just leave it on the porch?” I called out. “I cant come to the door, Im not decent.” (Boy, was that an understatement!)

       “Sure thing.”

       I craned my head to see the clock. I had about two hours until MAC was due and for a few seconds I actually considered inviting the mailman in. I could only guess as his expression if hed walked in and seen me. My pussy got very warm at the thought. Fortunately common sense prevailed and I kept my mouth shut. I heard Tim leave and I wondered how often mailmen were seduced, or at least teased by housewives. I continued my snails crawl to the kitchen.

       I didnt make it. I was tired. Tired from crawling in bondage and exhausted from all those orgasms. I fell asleep again.


       I woke up and something was wrong. The house was dark, my skin was cold from the drying perspiration, and there was something inside me!

       Before I could clear my hazy head I realized that someone was fucking me, from behind.

       I almost panicked. My first thought was that the mailman had returned and let himself in, and he had succumbed to temptation (after all, what red blooded man could resist me when I was in such an enticing position?) then I thought that perhaps hed called the police to check on me and some cop was fucking me. Ok, ok, especially since police officers always work in pairs. I actually listened to hear the equipment on their gun belts rattle. Nothing darn it.

       Who ever it was, he was pretty good, and large, and energetic.

       Oh my God! Was it the lawn mower boy? Had he come back? Oh that little devil. Well, if it was him he was very good for a teenager.

       Who was it? Had a stranger let himself in, or my ex husband perhaps? Hmmm, well, if was Brad he was doing the best job of lovemaking in his life. But no, it couldnt be him because he just wasnt as big as the man inside me. Who could it be?

       Ah it was MAC.

       “Hello Darling,” I said.

       “Good evening,” he replied courteously, and rhythmically, “Awfully kind of you to invite me in.”

       “Im glad that the door wasnt locked,” I said breathlessly, “Id hate to keep you waiting on the porch.”

       “Oh, Id have broken the door down by now,” he answered.

       I giggled.


       After screwing me to another delightful orgasm, Mac carried me, still in bondage to my bedroom. He placed me on the bed face up and tied my knees wide apart.

       “I presume that you tied yourself,” he commented as he undressed.

       “Oh, no,” I said innocently. “It was the mailman.”

       “Really?”

       “Yes, and when hed finished with me two police officers came by and screwed me.”

       “You do have a thing for cops, dont you?”

       “Um hmm. Then there was a teenaged boy who mows lawns.”

       “Teenagers often ejaculate too quickly,” he said, as he climbed on the bed.

       “Oh, I know, but they recover very quickly too.”

       “And how do you know this?” he asked as he slid into me.

       Another wonderful nuclear explosion erupted between my legs and I couldnt talk for a few minutes. “What were we saying?” I asked when the hurricane winds died down in my brain.

       “I wondered how you knew so much about teenaged boys,” he said.

       “Oh, every thirty something housewife screws the neighborhood boys,” I answered. “The minute hubby leaves for work. I thought that you knew that.”

       “Does every housewife tie herself up?”

       “Of course. We had to find some use for all those old clothes line ropes when we went to electric dryers.”

       “Good idea, Dont want them to go to waste. Anyone else come in after the mowing boy?”        

       “Just some stranger, I woke up to feel him deep inside me.”

       “Thats a lot of traffic through the house,” he observed. “That was me, I believe. Anyone else?

       “No, you were the next, and the best.”

       “Im flattered. Youve been a busy woman.”

       “I know, and Ive been a bad woman too. Perhaps you should punish me.”

       “Good idea.”


       Later, after MAC had punished me with a very hot spanking, he sat cross legged between my legs and let his cock reside inside me, and we talked. He kept an firm pinch on my nipples so it was slightly difficult for me to concentrate on the conversation, but I managed.

       I told him about my afternoon and the unexpected orgasms. He shouted with laughter when I told him how I had teased the teenager and he chuckled when I told him how we had shocked the members of Karlas bondage club. Then I wandered off recent events and told him about my fantasies about trucks.

       MAC had heard about my antics at the armored car company but Id never told him about wanting to be driven around the state naked in an armored truck. He perked up when I included my mom in the fantasy and told how I wanted to be delivered naked and bound to her bank. Then I talked about seeing the man at Brads trucking company and imagining Mom and I, and other slaves, being taken around to small towns and sold to the locals.

       MAC got very excited listening to my stories and I had to stop talking while he fucked me rather wildly for almost an hour. When he finished we were both hungry so he carried me into the bathroom, washed my body like I was a baby, although we got sidetracked when he untied my legs and washed my crotch. We spent more time in the bath that wed planned. Finally he dried me off, replaced my pussy rope with a dry one and we got dressed. 


       The next day I rushed home from work, called my daughters day care and asked if she could stay a little longer, then undressed and got ready for the mowing boy. I washed up quickly then inserted vibrators into my pussy and my bottom. I held them in place with Dales chastity belt, then slipped a low cut vee neck shirt on and a loose short skirt. I tried on a tight short skirt but it revealed the outline of the chastity belt.

       When Eric, the lawn boy arrived, I switched on the vibrators and met him at the door with a big smile and perky nipples. His eyes flew right to my chest and although he tried to be discreet, he had a nice erection instantly. He blushed sweetly but I pretended not to notice.

       I took him around the yard showing him what I wanted done and from time to time I bent over to pull the stray weed here and there. Finally I left him and he got to work. He started at the back of the lot. I went inside and stripped naked. I left the belt on and walked around the house with the vibrators going like mad. I locked my wrists behind my back with handcuffs and peeked out the windows watching Eric. I wasnt quite as blatant about showing myself this time, but each time he looked toward the house my pussy throbbed. Eric stripped off his shirt to display an impressive set of muscles and I pressed my pussy against the corner of the kitchen table and rubbed until I came. The orgasm was fantastic and my legs gave way so that I crashed to the floor. Luckily the lawn mower was so loud that Eric didnt hear. I lay on the floor in a delightful haze for a while, then got to my feet and ran downstairs. I dug through my secret hiding place and got a large vibrator out. I was so excited that having my wrists locked didnt impede me in the least. I bent forward and worked the smaller vibrators out and the big one into my pussy from behind, then trotted up the steps. I was very damp and it almost slipped out, so I had to stop and reseat it. When I got to the kitchen Eric had worked his way close to the house and was just passing the open back door. I froze at the top of the stairs as he walked by only ten feet away. He was looking into the house very intently. When he passed I dropped into a chair, spread my legs and bounced up and down until I came again.

Now you would think that after those orgasms I would be satisfied, but, nymphomaniac that I am, it just wasnt enough. I had to fight to get myself under control. It was all I could do to keep from kicking open the screen door and throwing myself on my back right in front of that mower.

Oh, I knew better than to get involved with a young boy, simply because they cannot help but tell every other boy they know. Otherwise Id have screwed that handsome young stud out of his mind.

       When he finished mowing I released myself and got dressed. I met him on the porch and paid him, and arranged for him to mow the lawn every week. I hadnt turned the vibrator off and it was a trial to keep my face straight as it bumbled away inside me. Eric must have possessed excellent hearing because he asked me what that funny buzzing sound was. I told him that it was the clothes dryer. He tilted his head toward the house, then looked toward my tummy. I dont think that he believed me.


       A few weeks later MAC asked if I could take a long weekend off and have someone watch my little girl. I got Denise to do it and dropped her off on Thursday evening.

       Mac had given me written instructions and after leaving the farm I drove to a truck stop in a town. MACs instructions told me to find a red and white delivery truck which would be parked somewhere on the lot. They also told me to dress like a slut. That was ok because I was in a very sexy mood, so I put on a micro skirt, a light blouse that was almost see through, high heels and thigh high stockings.

       I parked at the truck stop and walked through the lot looking for the truck. I attracted a lot of attention. I had to turn down two offers for my services. One man jumped down from the cab of his truck when he saw me. He didnt say a word; he just opened the door to the sleeper compartment and made a courtly sweeping gesture with his arm. I was flattered and tempted. I looked inside. The sleeper was nicely decorated, and if I hadnt been meeting MAC I might have accepted his offer, but I smiled and shook my head regretfully. It might have been fun to talk him into tying me up and driving across the country.

I passed two female truck drivers. One glared at me disdainfully and I shook my boobs at her. The other woman grinned and shook hers back. I smiled and thought that it might be fun to talk her into tying me up.

I finally found MAC and I laughed when I saw the sign on the truck. It said Chained Lightening Delivery with a picture of a dominant woman holding a whip. The woman looked like me. Beneath the picture was a slogan saying: Well whip your cargo to its destination.

       MAC was leaning against the fender dressed in rough work clothes and looking nothing like the dignified gentleman that he really is. I started to speak but he held his hand up to silence me. He tossed me a bag containing wrist and ankle cuffs and told me to put them on. I rested my foot on the bumper to buckle the ankle cuffs, which hiked my skirt up rather nicely. Two other drivers came toward us. One pointed to the placard.

       “See, there it is, just like I told you.”

       The other man stared at the sign, then looked at MAC, then at me. Mac looked at them coldly but didnt say anything.

       “Is this your truck?” one of them asked him.

       “Yeah,” he answered unpleasantly, “What about it?”

       The fellow pointed at me. “Who is she?”

       “Im the cargo,” I answered as I buckled my wrist cuffs.

       MAC nodded in confirmation.

       “Oh yeah? Where are you taking her?” the man asked.

       MAC walked to the back of the truck and slid the door upward. A clipboard lay just inside. Mac looked through some papers, and answered: “Im delivering her to a private dungeon in Missouri,”

“Pretty expensive way to drive a hooker around, isnt it?” one asked sarcastically.

       Shes not a hooker,” MAC told him. “Read this,” he picked up a clipboard and showed them an invoice. One of them read aloud: “One twenty eight year old female sex slave and a delivery address in Kansas City.

I was examining the interior of the truck. It was lined with leather covered panels, hooks, chains; a pillory and an X cross. There was even a fold down bed. A row of numbers was painted above hooks along the upper walls. The truckers mouths dropped open. MAC motioned me to get inside and I climbed in, making sure that my skirt hiked up as I did. I walked through the truck touching the chains and ropes. Then I turned to MAC.

       “Where do you want me?”

       He consulted a clipboard. “Position number four.”

       I stepped under number four and stretched my arms above my head. MAC buckled my wrists to a hook, then chained my ankles to the wall. The two men watched from the ground. When I was tightly secured MAC put a gag in my mouth, gave my pussy a little pat and jumped down.

       “How come shes under number four?” one asked, “Why not number one?”

       “Because I got other stops to make picking up other females,” MAC answered. “They all got to correspond to the invoices.”

       “How many more?” one man asked. His sarcasm was fading into awe.

       “Three.”

       “Whew.”        

MAC took the invoice back, tossed it casually into the truck.

“Uh, hang on a second will you?” one of the other men asked. “It looked like she aint wearing anything under that skirt. Can we, uh, , get a look?”

Mac glanced at me, shrugged, and climbed into the truck. He lifted my skirt.

“Looks like youre right, shes not wearing panties,” he put his hands on my waist and turned me toward them and ripped my blouse open. “No brassiere either.”

“Wow, say mister, do you think we could get a closer look?”

“Sure.”

They scrambled into the truck and MAC stepped aside and indicated to help themselves. One man grabbed my boobies and the other put his hand under my skirt. I couldnt suppress a gasp as his finger slipped inside me. He started fingering me vigorously. It felt wonderful and I groaned in disappointment when MAC grasped his wrist and pulled him away.

“Thats enough,” he said. “Shes already been sold and she aint for rent. And we dont allow freebies with the merchandise.”

“Merchandise?” one scoffed. “She just looks like a lot lizard to me.”

MAC shrugged. “This gal is no prostitute.”

I looked at the men and nodded.

“You arent a hooker?” one asked in disbelief.

I shook my head.

“Then what do you do for a living?” he demanded.

“Shes a housewife, married to a trucker,” MAC told him. I nodded in confirmation.

“Are you really being sold as a slave?” his friend asked me.

I nodded slowly.

“And you are ok with that?” the other asked.

“Um hmm,” I managed through the gag while I writhed slowly.

“Ok boys, thats all,” Mac pushed them out of the truck and jumped down. 

“Jeezus mister, do you get to fuck her on the trip?” I heard one of them ask.

“Yep, I fuck them all,” MAC said.

“What about her torn blouse?”

“No problem,” MAC answered. “Ill have to clean her up and get her dressed when I deliver her anyway.” He closed the door.

A moment later I heard the engine start and the truck began to move.

       I was very excited and I wondered what else MAC had in store for me.


       We drove for a long time and I had no idea where we were. It was dark in the truck and eventually I dozed off. Believe it or not, I actually slept while chained to a wall.

       After several hours the truck stopped. I heard MAC get out and I could hear him talking to someone outside but I couldnt make out what they were saying. A few minutes later the cargo door opened and I heard someone climb in. My eyes were adjusted to the dark and I had to close them in the new bright light so I couldnt see the new people. MAC made it worse by buckling a blind fold onto me. Then I heard several people moving around.

       “Chain her here at number two,” I head MAC say. I heard chains rattle for a moment and a woman moan slightly. I felt MAC remove my gag and hold a drink to my lips. It was lemonade and it was delicious. When I finished he put the gag back. Mac buckled it tightly at the back of my neck, gave my pussy another brief pat. I heard the other woman moan again, louder and passionately.

       “What are you doing?” he asked someone.

       “Getting her warmed up,” I heard another man reply.

       “Good idea,” Mac said. His hand returned to my crotch, and I was on fire as he expertly caressed my pussy to a white hot condition. I couldnt keep from moaning in delight, and was answered by the other woman. MAC chuckled and increased the friction between my legs. Within minutes I had a delicious orgasm and I groaned louder and louder until I was keening behind my gag, and when the fantastic ecstasy flashed through me I screamed. The other woman echoed my scream a few minutes later. I heard both men chuckling with self satisfaction as they closed the cargo door.

       The engine started and we were moving again.

       I heard the other woman gasping, almost sobbing, across from me. I tried to talk to her. Its difficult to communicate through a gag, especially ones that were a huge as we wore, put we managed to a degree. I asked her name and after about twenty time she finally understood what I was saying. She tried to answer but what ever she said did not come through. She asked my name and I found out that no matter how hard I tried I could not get it out intelligibly. Talking was so difficult that we gave up.


       The truck made another stop. We waited for a long time, then heard the door open. I heard a man climb in and touch my breast. His hand was heavy and rough and he smelled like a mechanic with the odor of oil and gasoline about him. He ripped my blouse open and squeezed both my breasts roughly, then a hand went to my crotch. He wasnt gentle or considerate. His fingers went inside my pussy and he dug around as if he were searching for something. I liked what he was doing and soon I was panting like a dog. He never spoke but his breath smelled of beer. After groping me he moved away and I heard the other woman squeak. Grunts and moans and squeals told me that he was abusing her body the way he had done mine.

       I heard him doing something with her chains then heard a huge gasp from the woman. Instantly there began a rhythmic thumping that told me he was fucking her. The woman whimpered and sighed and her assailant huffed and grunted like a pig, and soon he let out a brutish bellow. I knew that hed come. The woman sighed contentedly.

       A moment later I heard his zipper close and he left the truck.

       MAC and his companion came in. “Damn, he could have at least put her legs down when he was done,” the companion said.

       Might as well leave her that way,” MAC said, “It will just save time for the next guy.”

       “Yeah, I suppose so. What about her?”

       I knew he was asking about me.

       “Why not?” MAC answered. I felt his hands on my ankles, then he and his friend lifted my legs up and chained them high and open above my shoulders. I couldnt suppress a gasp of delight.

       “Nice,” the companion chuckled. “But well have to clean them up. He left grease marks all over them.”

       He entered my body and I squealed as a tiny orgasm tickled me.


       After the man screwed me I felt a damp cloth against my pussy. “Ummm,” I crooned. It felt nice. MAC or the other man washed my thighs and my pussy and my breasts, and from the sounds of it, the other slave was getting the same treatment.

       MAC brought along a tub of water, soap and towels, and they had to wash us off several times a day.


       I was dozing as the truck rumbled along. The truck hit a bump and I awoke. My legs were still chained above my head and that put pressure on my back and shoulders. My pussy was still warm and its a good thing that I was used to weird bondage positions. I wondered how long until the next stop.

       Sometime later the truck stopped and I listened as another woman was loaded aboard. I heard chains rattling as she was secured.

       “Should I put her legs open like the others?” a man asked.

       “Sure,” MAC answered. I heard the new womans muted squeal as they lifted her legs up. “Oops, we forgot to take off her panties,” the other man said.

       “Rip them off,” MAC commanded. I heard the tearing of cloth, a muted squeal, then a satisfied moan from the woman.

       “Hmm, she enjoyed that,” MAC observed.

       “Well, what woman wouldnt have?” I demanded through my gag. Unfortunately it came out completely garbled.

       “Trying to say something, number four?” MAC asked. I thrust my pussy forward in reply and was rewarded with feeling his cock slide into me again. What a wonderful sweet man he is!

       “When MAC finally spurted into me, and my head stopped whirling I heard the very distinct sounds of another couple coupling. The other man was screwing one of the other women. And before they finished I heard MAC fucking the other. Hmm, three women screwed by two men in half an hour. I knew that MAC had a lot of stamina but I wondered who the other fellow was.

       

       Late that night I was asleep again when the truck came to a stop. MAC entered and unlocked me from the wall. He handcuffed my wrists behind and I was so stiff and sore that he had to help me down. My blindfold got slightly dislodged and I was able to see that we were at a cheap looking motel. The truck was backed up to a room and MAC hustled me inside. He opened the bathroom door and told to strip naked and leave my clothes off and that I had ten minutes. I rushed inside and took care of business, then I washed up as best I could. Outside the door MAC told me that I would get a bath later, and to come out because the other slaves were waiting. I replaced my blindfold and opened the door. MAC seized me and put me into kneeling bondage. He checked my blindfold

       “Do not speak,” he told me sternly. “Dont try to talk to the other women or to me, understand?”

       I nodded.

I heard them bring in another female. She too was given a few minutes in the bath, then she joined me on her knees. We so close that her arm was pressed against mine. The third slave received the same treatment and I was surprised when they brought in a fourth woman. When had she gotten into the truck? Each slave was given the same warning about talking.

       When we were all on our knees the second man came in with food, and it smelled delightful! I hoped we would be unbound at least long enough to eat but no way. MAC and the other man fed us, still tied and blind folded.

       After eating I was taken into the bathroom and permitted to take a shower. Actually the shower consisted of the strange man stripping me naked, tying my wrists to a hook above my head in the shower stall and washing me down with a cloth and lots of soap. I was blindfolded and gagged but I didnt mind because whoever he was, he certainly took pains to see that every inch of my body was clean. He even shampooed my hair, then had me kneel on the floor while he dried it carefully. He also removed my gag and brushed my teeth! And I astonished myself by getting turning on!

       Oh, it wasnt the act of brushing, it was the fact that I had never felt so helpless and feminine in my life. This faceless man was controlling me in ways that Id never dreamt.

       “Thank you master,” I whispered when he finished, “May I please suck your cock?”

       He didnt answer but I heard his zipper and a moment later his penis was between my lips. I sucked very carefully, and was rewarded with a satisfied sigh, but before he came he withdrew. I mewed in disappointment.

       “Thanks Number Four,” he said. “But now I have to brush your teeth again, then take care of the others too. Now be very quiet.”

       He led me blindfolded into the bedroom and placed me on a bed. He undid my bonds, then retied me in a lovely spread eagle, legs and arms wide open. I heard him take another woman into the bath, and I felt the presence of the other slaves too, but no one spoke. I fell asleep but was awakened by the men lowering a naked female body over mine. I sighed in contentment as her warm skin touched mine. When they finished tying her we were warned again not to speak, on pain of being gagged all night long. Then the third slave was taken into the bath.

       The woman atop me lay very still and I could feel the tension in her body. I was entirely relaxed, and since we had not been told to eat pussies, I stuck my tongue out. Her body jerked when she felt the tip of my tongue on her pussy lips, but she didnt speak. I  

Wished that someone would put a pillow under my neck because the strain of lifting my head was tiring, but I decided to keep going. Who ever this mystery woman was, I decided to be nice to her.

       While I was busy the masters brought the third woman out of the bathroom and I heard them tying her to the other bed. And later when the fourth slave was clean she too was tied to the third. I imagined the sight of four women tied mouth to pussy and hoped that MAC would take pictures. I returned my thought to the pussy above my mouth.

       She moaned softly, and I felt her warm breath on my pussy but she didnt do anything more. I hoped she might put her tongue on me, but oh well, it didnt change my mind. I licked and nibbled and suckled her lips. I felt her body tensing until she suddenly let out a long shuddering moan and collapsed atop me.

       I heard a door open and MAC ask: “What was that?”

       “Id say that they are getting it on,” the other man chuckled.

       “You would think that they would have had enough for one day,” MAC said. The door closed. I felt very proud of myself and fell asleep within minutes.

       I woke sometime later and felt the womans tongue gingerly exploring my crotch. She had it easier since she didnt have to lift her head and I lay there in total darkness feeling that warm, moist tongue roaming around my pussy. I got the distinct feeling that she wasnt used to doing this. That made it more delightful and I tried to open my legs wider. I didnt say anything but I did purr encouragingly, and amateur or not, she did a wonderful job.

       During the night I woke to hear the women on the other bed moaning in passion.


The next morning we were untied one at a time, given half an hour each in the bath, and fed breakfast, again while bound and blindfolded. As I knelt beside the bed I tried to rub my blindfold off. I was dying to see who the other slaves were, but MAC caught me and gave me several fierce cuts across my breasts with a whip.

We were given our clothes, which had been laundered during the night, and loaded into the truck.

We spent the day driving but we had no idea where we were. I couldnt tell if we were in Colorado or not, but we made several stops and men boarded the truck and screwed the living daylights out of us. I was pretty sure that we must be in the plains of eastern Colorado because I could smell crops and most of the men smelled like farm animals. It wasnt that they stank, or needed to bathe, it was just that growing up on a farm I knew the smell that lingers on farmers.

We stopped at some location and we were herded off the truck after MAC shackled our wrists behind our backs and made sure that our blindfolds were secure. He helped me down and led me stumbling into a building. I felt the cool air of a large open area and again smelled the barnyard odor of livestock. I heard the murmur of voices.

A man spoke and announced that now that all of the females were present the auction could begin. He told the crowd that we would be on display for a few minutes so they could get a look at us. MAC told me quietly to step up twice, and I felt my feet on a wooden floor. The other truck slaves followed me. The crowd applauded then quieted as the Auctioneer told them that not only were we good for screwing, but that we were real honest to God sex slaves, who liked to be spanked and even whipped. “These chains and stuff arent just for show,” he crowed. “These gals really have to be tied down of theyll run away to find another man.

We stood on the stage for a few minutes, then we were led away. Someone helped me down, and he wasnt MAC or his companion. I could tell that he was a stranger, and he took quite a few liberties with my body. .

I listened as several women were put up for auction one at a time. They must have been local girls because he referred to the by name, as did some of the men bidding for them. I get the feeling that this was a local wife swapping club. I was tired from riding and swayed on my feet. MAC quietly led me to a bench and sat me down. The other women from the truck joined me. When the last of the local women had been sold the auctioneer announced that the big city ladies were next. This brought on applause. I felt the bench shift as one of us was taken away. The auctioneer described her only as number one, and apparently he undressed her for the audience because there were whistles and cheers.

“Not bad for a middle age lady,” I head someone say.

The bidding was brisk and soon the woman was sold. Then the next, and the next, then I was taken back onto the stage.

“Now any of you guys got any kinky tendencies, this is the one to buy,” the auctioneer said. “Ive been told that this sweet looking little girl loves feeling the whip. Is that right, Honey?” he asked me.

I nodded.

“Talks cheap,” someone said. “Lets see for sure.”

The room went quiet, then without warning red hot pain scored across my breasts. I gasped in surprise, but managed not to scream. I wriggled happily.

“Want another one?”

I nodded eagerly. I got another streak of fire right across my nipples. Suddenly I wasnt tired anymore. I was excited and I wanted to be whipped in front of all those men. I rubbed my knees together sensuously and rocked my shoulders begging for more.

“Thats enough freebies,” I heard MAC say. “Anymore and you have to pay.”

Well, Im proud to say that I sold for a lot of money, and whoever the man was who bought me knew how to use the whip, because he stripped me naked and strung me up by my wrists and whipped me until I fainted. I came to spread open with somebody on top of me and a very large cock inside me.

When he finished he rolled off and sighed contentedly. After a while he removed my blindfold. I cried in pain as the light hit my eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, and placed his cowboy hat over my face until my eyes adjusted. We were in a stall of a barn. He looked into my face and grinned.

“Damn, it is you, aint it?”

“I beg your pardon?” I didnt recognize him, and a stab of fear ran through my tummy when I wondered if we were in my home town and he recognized me. God, that would ruin my Mom.

“Ive got some of your movies and magazines,” the man said. He used my movie name.

“Yes, thats me,” I smiled in relief.

“Youre a big time actress. What are you doing running around the country getting sold to ranchers?” he asked.

“Well, the man driving the truck is my boyfriend,” I answered, “And hes doing this as a favor for me, because this is one of my personal fantasies.

“Cool,” the rancher said. “Got any fantasies about living your life as a slave girl on a ranch? I can set that one up for you.”

“Thats very sweet,” I said. “But I grew up on a ranch and prefer living in town.”

“Ill keep you naked in chains, and Ill whip you day and night,” he persisted. He was very handsome and had that direct, honest demeanor that strong men have. For a few minutes I was actually tempted, then I remembered my daughter and shook my head.

“Id love to, but I cant. But why dont you whip me again and force me to suck your cock,” I suggested.

I didnt have to ask twice. He strung me up again and got out a very old and worn horsewhip. I tried to look over my shoulder at the other slaves but a shaft of sunlight came through a high window and dust dancing in the light kept me from seeing what else was going on. I could only get glimpses of naked female bodies and men walking around. I couldnt make out anyones face.

The rancher whipped me, lightly at first but I begged him to hit harder and he got into it. I was squeaking and yelping as the whip curled around my body, and had a delightful orgasm before he finished. I was still breathing hard when he tied me on my knees and put his penis in my mouth.

When the big rancher finished with me MAC came to check on me and when he saw that my blindfold was missing he glanced anxiously across the room. He quickly replaced my blindfold then walked me back to the truck.

We spent that night like the first, in a motel and we were kept blindfolded the entire time. And we women spent the night tied to each other. This time I was tied to another woman. She just felt different than the first one. And she was more eager with her tongue. Id lost count of the orgasms I had during the day, but I had three delightful ones while tied to that very talented lady.

The third day was like the others, with stops, and auctions and lots of blindfolded sex with strangers. Again we were off loaded at another barn and took part in an auction. That time we were the only slaves; there were no local gals involved. After I was used, abused, and thrilled by whoever it was who bought me we were herded together and bent over a rail. It must have been short because we were squeezed together and tied with our bottoms in the air. Once we were tightly secured the men seemed to lunge at us (and into us) and a whole lot of grunting, thrusting and squealing took place.

I lost count of the cocks that invaded my body but after each sweaty, grunting man removed himself another took his place. I didnt get to enjoy very much punishment. Those guys were more interested in fucking than whipping, although I did a few hard smacks on my bottom by some large and meaty hands. I wiggled invitingly and one fellow got the message. He gave me a terrific spanking which had me squirming and yelping before he slid into me. That set off spankings for the other slaves but it didnt last long. The farmers went back to simple no nonsense sex.

In the middle of that mass screwing the rail broke and we all tumbled to the ground. We shrieked through our gags, some of the men cursed and others laughed. The man who was inside me fell with me and landed on my back with his penis still inside me. I was flattened on a hard packed dirt floor and I was partly on top of another woman but that didnt stop the guy who was screwing me. I honestly dont think that he missed a beat. His buddies shouted encouragement and left all of us in place until he spurted in triumph, then they unpiled us as set us on our feet. Someone brushed dirt and straw off my skin, then made sure that my breasts and pussy were ok (and he did a very thorough examination). Then they reset the rail, retied us and went back to fucking us.

   

I was worn out by nightfall and they took us to another motel. This time I was tied to the third anonymous slave. As tired as I was, when I realized that MAC and the other man were in the room and watching, I perked up and began exploring the womans pussy with my tongue. She did likewise to me.

On the fourth day we began dropping off the other women. We made a couple of stops and entertained more men, but after the second stop I noticed that one of the women was missing. We were still couldnt communicate due to the gags but somehow I just knew that one was gone. Later we stopped at a truck stop. I could tell from the sounds of big trucks coming and going and I heard one of the other slaves being taken away.

We drove for about an hour then I felt the truck slow and turn off the road. Suddenly there was a very familiar sound, and it made my stomach freeze. We had gone over the rails of a cattle gate, and instantly went over another one. Id heard that sound all my life. There are a lot of cattle gates in Colorado, but the only place that I knew that had two so close together was the back road onto our farm!

Grandpa had installed a second gate after the county notified him that they planned to widen the road and he would have to move the fence further back onto our property. After he put in the second livestock gate the county commissioners ran out of money for road improvements that year. The fence stayed where it was and Grandpa just left both cattle gates in place.


The truck came to a stop and the door was opened. I heard MAC and the other man enter and remove the shackles from the other woman. I tried to talk around my gag but they ignored me. MAC commanded the other woman to get down and they all got out of the truck. The door was left open and I heard MAC say: “Here she is, safe and sound.”

I heard another mans voice but couldnt make out what he was saying. Then I heard the old picnic table under the shade tree squeaking.

I knew that table well, because as a teenager I had tied myself naked to it many times.

The squeaking was rhythmic and prolonged, and from the moans, and pants and gasps it sounded like a woman was being fucked by someone. On my MOTHERS TABLE! I listened for a long time until it stopped. After a pause it started again, as if another man had taken over.

I screamed into my gag. I demanded to know if that was Mom on the table. All I got for my efforts was to hear the door close. I could still hear the creaking, it was muted but audible through the door. After a long time the squeaking stopped.

“Ok, shes all yours,” MAC said. “See you around.” I heard the screen door slam. Then the truck started and we drove away.

I fumed all the way to Denver. I was so angry that I rattled my chains against the side of the truck. MAC answered by knocking on the wall of the cab. That only made me angrier, and when he finally ungagged me at the original truck stop I demanded to know who else had been in the truck. He just grinned at me.

“Sorry, I promised the other ladies that their privacy would be respected,” he said airily. “No names may be divulged.”

“Was that my mother?” I shouted. A passing driver looked in at us and did a double take when he saw that I was naked. MAC waved him away.

MAC just smiled blandly and handed me my clothes. I grabbed them and jumped out of the truck, then I realized that I was stark naked in the center of a huge parking lot and there were people every where. I scrambled back inside. Mac was calmly unhooking all the chains and such and packing them into boxes. I wanted to scream at him but I knew that I would be wasting my breath. I slipped into what was left of my slutty clothes and glared at him.

“You ought to go on home and calm down,” he said mildly. “Youve had a busy weekend and you must be tired. A hot bath and a cup of tea will do wonders to relax you.” 

I folded my arms and refused to budge.

“Come on Mary,” he said. “I have to get this truck back.”

I stuck my chin up.

He sighed, bent over and scooped me onto his shoulder. He hopped out of the truck and carried me to my car, to the delight of several truck drivers in the area. I was furious, but embarrassed because my panties had disappeared long ago and it didnt help that MAC was smacking my bottom as he walked. After what Id been doing for four days I know that it doesnt make sense, but I was worried about my modesty.

MAC set me on my feet, opened my car door and held it for me. The buttons were gone from my blouse and I absently tried to hold it closed while I demanded that he tell me. MAC gestured around us and I realized that I was playing to an audience. About two dozen people were watching us and grinning. I jumped into my car and drove away. I looked back to see MAC waving bye-bye. Some of the bystanders waved too. 

I was in a great deal of confusion as I drove home. I was angry and worried, but still turned on. Had that really been Mom in the truck? Was she one of he women I had been tied to? Had my tongue been in her pussy? Would MAC actually be a party to such a terrible thing?

I was pretty sure that Id never told him about my fantasies about Mom, but he is very perceptive may have guessed them. And as kinky as he is, he is still a gentleman so I didnt think he would do something like that to us. But what about her, had she been a willing party?

How kinky had Mom become? I knew that she was serious about bondage, but sex with strangers, and sex with women? Had she reached that point?

I know that MAC would never do anything to harm me or Mom, but he is very good at making fantasies come true and what if the road trip was her fantasy as well as mine? What if MAC had set it up with her boss and they tricked her into thinking that the kinky road trip was for her. Maybe she didnt know that I was there.

And had MAC been one of the men who screwed her on the picnic table?


By the time I got home I was almost out of my mind. I parked my car and walked into the house not caring if the whole damn neighborhood saw me. I tore off my clothes and dropped them on the floor as I went to the phone. I called my mother. I took a deep breath.

“Hi Mom, what have you been up to lately?” I asked casually.

“Oh, I went for a long drive,” she answered. “Have you been trying to reach me?”




A Colorado Country Girls self bondage CH 57


After my long weekend in the plains of Colorado I took a break from bondage for quite some time. I hadnt lost interest, and the memories were wonderfully erotic, but I was tired and I was also very disturbed from wondering about the identity of the other women. I simply couldnt get over the idea that I may have been licking my own mothers pussy. The idea was wonderful and terrible. I know it was a fantasy (and it still is) but for a long time I was terribly confused.

I was offered a part in another porn film. I needed to get away for a bit so Mom watched my little girl and I flew to Los Angeles. The film was about twin sisters who are neglected by their husbands so they secretly become sex slaves. They join a bondage club and to conceal their identity they wear slave hoods. They have a great time going to the club and enjoy a lot of kinky sex, but it gets better when their husbands show up at a bondage party and unknowingly torture and screw their own wives.

I was paired with an actress who actually did wear a full hood the entire time of the shoot. She even wore it between takes and I never got to see her face. I was offered the role because I resembled her in size, skin color, etc, but our faces didnt matter because they were never seen.

She wasnt a professional actress but she had written the script based her own bondage experiences. She mailed the script to the production company and they accepted it immediately. They also offered her the part and flew her to L.A. Her original story involved a single woman but they decided to flesh out the pole into two women and to provide some dialogue other than moans and groans. Then they searched through actors profiles and decided on me to co star.

Since the other woman didnt want her face to be shown I played both parts in the scenes where the sisters faces werent hidden. My makeup was altered slightly and I wore a wig when I played one sister and my own hair for the other. I had to play both sister in the scenes where they talk to each other. This was real acting, which I really enjoyed, and love to replay my copy to watch myself talking to myself. I felt like a true actress for a change. The other woman never appeared in a scene unhooded.

The sex scenes were rather tame by my book. We shot every scene in hoods and either naked or in slave harness and they were pretty much run of the mill bondage sex. They brought in eight male actors and we were tied up side by side and screwed front and back and forced to suck their cocks while kneeling together. And of course we were tied together and forced to each others pussy. There was no S and M involved at all, we werent whipped or even spanked. All in all, I thought that it was a rather dull picture - - until I talked to the other actress.

Ill call her Masked Lady.


We were strapped to X frames, and the male actors had just screwed us non stop for over an hour. The director wanted them to cum on our bodies, not inside, so we were caked from head to toe. The men were a bit tired and the fluffers were washing semen and sweat off our bodies while the males recovered. They were lying around panting, drinking lots of fluids and falling asleep, but we felt fine (who wouldnt?) No one thought to release us, and we didnt bother to ask. We were content to stay bound to our crosses, and we chatted.

“So you wrote this?” I asked her.

“Yes.”

“Its a nice fantasy,” I said, trying to be polite.

“It isnt a fantasy,” she replied. “Its real, its what I do.”

“Really?” I wasnt impressed; after all it was routine bondage and group sex.

“Ive been doing this for six years,” she answered, “And finally I just couldnt keep this to myself.”

“No kidding?” Theres nothing new in that. The producers get tons of letters and pictures from amateurs.

“There was no one that I could confide in, so I kept a diary,” she said. “Finally I decided to make my diary into a movie script. I sent it to the production company but I was afraid that they wouldnt believe that it was true.” 

“Truth or fantasy doesnt matter in this business,” I told her. “Ive learned that real kinky sex is stranger than most fantasies. Ive been involved in some incredibly unlikely situations since I became a bondage slut.”
       “You call yourself that?” she asked shocked.

I laughed. “I do, and more. Im comfortable with what I am.”

“How did you become . . . what you are?”

“It stared in high school when I talked a boy into tying me up in our barn. I loved it from the very beginning, and I havent changed my mind to this day.”

“They showed me two of your films when we were selecting the other actress,” she said. “They were very intense.”

“Do you mean the sex, or the masochism?”

“Both, but especially the masochism,” she said. “But thats just not for me. I like being tied up but I cant imagine letting someone whip me.”

“I love being whipped,” I said simply, “It turns me on.”

“So I saw,” she marveled. “It looked like you really were having orgasms.”

“I was,” I said. “I usually do when Im making movies, which is why I like to make movies. I almost never have to fake them.”

“You really can have an orgasm from being tortured?” she asked.

“Yep.”

She shuddered. “Thats not for me.”

“Tell me about how you came to be here.”

“When the producer called me about the script he asked me to describe myself, and if I would send him some pictures of myself in the nude. My lover had taken lots so I sent some in. Then they called me back and offered me the role of playing myself.”

“That is very nice,” I said. “But I meant how did you get into bondage?”

“Oh, well I was very innocent,” she said. “Naïve really. My husband and I live in a small town in. He is a carpenter and he does construction and makes furniture in our workshop. I answer the phone and do the accounting and I keep a garden to stretch our food budget.

“The town we live in is so small that everyone knows everything about everybody. There is one family in particular that owns a lot of land and have a very wicked reputation, going back to the civil war. Rumor had it that they hosted orgies at their big house and the rumors were bolstered by the fact that there were visitors from the city over the weekends. Sometimes a dozen or more cars might be parked at their house.

“One morning one of the men of that wicked family, named Raymond Sands came into the workshop. My husband was away but I was in the office. I was surprised to see Mr. Sands, but I was intrigued. Id never met him but of course Id heard all the rumors.”

“What was he like?”

“Just an ordinary man,” she answered. “He was nice looking but nothing special.”

“No horns or a forked tail?”

“No, and he was dressed in work khakis and an everyday shirt. He didnt look rich and he didnt look evil.”

“And I dont suppose that he threw you to the floor and ravished you either.”

“No, he was very polite and he told me that he would like to order some custom carpentry work. I was glad because we could use the money, but I was shocked when Sands told me what he wanted.”

“Which was?”

“He showed me a set of pictures of torture devices.”

“Ah,” I said. “Were they drawings or photographs?”

“Photographs from a bondage magazine,” she answered, “With naked women strapped into the things. I was so astonished that I dropped them and I wanted to throw him out of the house. I blushed and couldnt look him in the face, but he waited until I calmed down, then put a large amount of money on the desk and told me to consider it a down payment.

“If that isnt enough call me and Ill bring more,” he told me.

“When I managed to meet his eyes he was smiling knowingly at me. And he looked me up and down like I was naked. I blushed. I told him that we hadnt accepted his offer and that he would have to wait until my husband came home. He nodded and left, but he didnt take the money.

“I wanted to throw the pictures away; in fact, I did toss them into the stove.”

I looked at her questioningly.

“It wasnt lit,” she said sheepishly, “And I took them out later. And I looked at them.”

I knew what was coming next, but I didnt say anything.

“I was repelled by the pictures,” Masked Lady went on. “I thought that it was evil that they would force women to do those things against their will.”

I snorted.

“Yes, I know now that the models are paid, and many of them do it because they like bondage.”

“Umm hmm.”

“I didnt know that then,” she ignored me. “But as I looked through the pictures I realized that the models were doing it voluntarily.”

I wiggled my fingers wildly and jiggled my breasts. “Id do it for free,” I whispered.

She giggled

“And it made you tingle just a wee bit,” I said.

“Yes, it did.”

“Do you still have the pictures?” I asked.

“Why?”

“Im hoping that I might be one of the models.”

She shrugged. “Ill look when I get home, anyway, when my husband came in that evening I showed him the pictures and the money. He was angry that Sands had embarrassed me, and wanted to take the money and throw it in his face.”

“It sounds like your husband was a decent man,” I commented.

“He IS a decent man,” she said, “And hes still my husband.”

“Oh.”

“But I asked him to wait and think it over. After all, the down payment was a lot of money, and we hadnt even given Sands a price. We could demand a lot. We talked about it for a long time and my husband finally agreed to do the work.”

“Bur Ill give him a bid that will be so high that hell withdraw the offer,” he said.

“But what if he agrees?” I asked. “Hes very rich.”

“If he wants this stuff so badly its going to cost him, my husband said.

“He sat up late figuring the cost of the materials then tripled it, and he estimated the time for his labor and quadrupled his normal price. The next morning he had to leave early to get to his job site out of town so I had to call Mr. Sands. I was nervous while I dialed the number and it got worse when he came on the line. I was so nervous that I was stammering when I quoted the price. He accepted it on the spot. “It looks like I didnt give you a large enough down payment,” he said. “Ill drop by today and give you more.”

“Mr. Sands has a deep masculine voice that rumbled through the phone lines. I was a little frightened, but I had to admit that he was sexy. I changed into a skirt and a tight shirt.”

“How tight?” I asked.

“Not too tight,” Masked Lady answered. “I didnt own anything that was remotely sexy, but it was the best I had. I puttered around the shop waiting for Sands to arrive, and the minute I heard his car my nipples got very hard.”

“Were you wearing a bra?” I asked.

“Oh yes, I was still very conventional then,” she said.

“Did he throw you to the floor and ravish you on the spot?” I asked.

“Not then,” she smiled. “He gave me more money and for some reason I didnt want him to leave. So I began asking questions about the order.”

“What questions?”

“Oh anything that I could think up,” she said. “I asked him to tell me the names of the things and did he want them painted or stained, what kind of wood did he want, did he prefer brass or chrome metal fittings, leather or vinyl padding? I dug out stain samples and leather swatches and we went over them as if it really mattered.”

“What had he ordered?” I asked.

“An x cross, a set of stocks, a rack, a suspension frame, a kneeling post and a bondage horse.”

“Mmm, sounds like my kind of man,” I said. “What did he do?”

“Oh, he saw right through me,” she said. “And the look in his eyes changed.”

“Changed how?”

“He began to look at me like I was interesting, instead of a drab little farm wife.”

“Did he throw you to the floor and ravish you then?”

“No, he didnt,” she said. “Not then.”

“Well, when did he?” I demanded.

“So far he has never thrown me to the floor,” she said, “Although he has carried me to his bed and dropped me onto it.”

“Ok, I guess that will do,” I conceded, “So long as he ravished you immediately afterwards.”

“Yes, he has,” she smiled. “But he always ties me up first.”

“Oooh, nice. Did you seduce him that first day?”

“No, and he didnt take any liberties either, although I was getting so worked up that I almost wished that he would,” she sighed. “I was very confused and after he left I walked around so excited that I slipped my hand under my skirt and masturbated, right in the workshop.”

“You didnt take time to go get your vibrator?”

“I didnt own one,” she laughed. “As I said, I was very innocent.”

“I presume that you have one now?”

“Several.”


“My husband grumbled when I told him that Sands had confirmed the order,” she went on. “He still didnt want to do the work but I reminded him that we were getting paid a great deal of money, and we needed it. He reluctantly got started and I sat in the shop and watched him work, which I often did. He didnt want me to watch but I laughed and pretended that it meant nothing to me. The truth was that I was turned on watching those instruments take shape. I nonchalantly asked my husband what they would be used for but he refused to discuss it.”

Masked Lady went on. “He finished the X frame was first; it was pretty simple.”

I twisted my neck and looked up at the ones we were strapped to. I nodded.

“Then he worked on the others,” Masked Lady went on. “The rack and the pillory were more complicated and I hoped that he might need me to try the things on,” she said, “But I didnt dare offer to.”

I was reminded of the time years ago with Dale when he built those fantastic restraint devices.

“I modeled for the same thing many years ago,” I told her. “I loved every minute of it.”

“Oh, tell me about it,” she asked.

“Later, after you finish your story,” I said. “How did you manage to wrangle it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I will bet you my salary for this movie that you figured out a way to try out every piece of that equipment before it left your shop,” I said.

She blushed under the hood and nodded.

“I often help paint or stain the furniture that my husband makes, and I insisted on helping with Sands order. He had selected a rich red cherry stain and I did a very good job. I put on four coats, sanded between coats and hand rubbed a deep wax finish. They looked like fine furniture.”

“Hand rubbed? Mmmm. I like that term, hand rubbed.” I giggled. She did too.

“I also do leather work so I made the straps and buckles.”

“And what were you thinking while you did that?” I asked.

“I was wondering about the women who would wear the straps, and what they would be experiencing.”

“Um hmm. And envying them too Ill bet.”

“Oh yes, I began to think about being strapped into those devices, especially the cross, so one day I locked the door, closed the blinds and undressed. Then I stood against the X cross and pretended that I was buckled to it.”

“Were you entirely naked?”

“No, I kept my panties and bra on.”

“Did you tie yourself?”

“Heavens no. I wouldnt be able to get free until my husband got home.”

“And what would be wrong with that?”

“He would have been appalled if he found me like that.”

“He wouldnt tear his clothes off and rape you on the spot?”

“No.”

“Too bad. In that case you should have practiced getting loose.”

“Practiced? How could anyone get loose from that sort of thing?” she asked.

“Like this, watch.” I released myself from the straps holding my wrists.

Her mouth dropped open. “How did you do that?”

“Practice, Ive been tying and untying myself since I was seventeen,” I laughed. “Ive become quite an escape artist.”

“Thats incredible. Can you get loose from anything?”

“Just about, as long as I tie myself, but I cant always get loose if someone else ties me up, especially if they know what they are doing, and I cant get out of handcuffs or shackles unless I can keep a key within reach,” I looked at the wrist straps that Id just opened. “The buckles on our straps are easy do long as I can touch them with my fingertips

“So you truly like bondage for real?” she asked. “Its not just an acting job?”

“I truly love bondage and torture,” I told her. “The acting and modeling came much later. They mean that I get paid for doing something that I love.”

The rigger happened by and saw that I was no longer bound. “Now who let you loose?” he asked. “Were still shooting.” He restrapped my wrists to the cross.

“Thats not very tight, Carl,” I told him. “Cant you do better?”

Id worked with Carl before and I always teased him that he was too gentle. He grinned and tightened the buckles another couple of notches. My pussy flashed hot.

“Ummm, thank you Carl,” I cooed. “Would you like to keep me after work? We could stay here all night.”

I have stayed after work with Carl. He is a very good rope man, and his ties are impossible to get out of and he is very good at tormenting helpless women. We have a standing bet that should I ever get free from his bondage he would give me a weeks salary. So far Ive never collected. He chuckled and gave me a sweet caress between my legs.

“What about me?” Masked Lady asked. “I need my buckles tightened too.”

“Is that all?” he asked.

She wiggled her hips. He leaned against her body as he tightened her buckles. She rubbed her breasts against him and was rewarded with his fingers up her pussy.

The crew came back and Carl had to get out of the way. The fluffers came to us and began massaging our pussies and squeezing our nipples and getting us excited for the next round of filming. (As if we needed encouragement.) My fluffer was a sexy middle aged lesbian named Rachael who is very talented and loves her work. Rachel leaned against me. Pressing her breasts against mine and caressing my pussy while kissing me. Rachel slipped her tongue between my lips while her finger slipped between my other lips. Masked Lady didnt like lesbian sex so her fluffer was a nice middle aged man named Gene. Gene is bi sexual and knows just about every way possible to excite and please a person, man or woman. He knelt between her feet and kissed her pussy. Gene and Rachael are massage therapists and gave us rubdowns during breaks. And Rachael even ties me to her table when I ask. (Believe me, there is nothing nearly as nice a bondage massage). She is licensed and runs a legitimate massage therapy clinic when shes not doing movie work. She insists that there is no hanky panky at her clinic, but away from there its a different story, and she loves working on lesbian movies.

Carl had already gotten us started and Rachael had me ready to explode within minutes but the director told her to stop; he didnt want me burnt out before shooting ended. Gene had worked Masked Lady to a writhing, groaning state and she whimpered in frustration when he stopped. 

The cameras rolled and the actors thrust themselves into us and the fucking began anew.


When the shooting broke for lunch Masked Lady and I were released and we went into the dressing room I took off my hood but she kept hers on. A caterer brought our food and we lounged on the daybed and continued our conversation.

“Ok, where was I?” she asked.

“You had undressed and was rubbing yourself against the cross,” I told her.

“Ah yes.”

“And you were afraid to tie yourself to it, right?”

“Yes. But I crawled around on every piece of equipment imagining that some man was doing wicked things to my body.”

“Just any man?” I asked. “Not your husband?”

“Any man except my husband. I tried to imagine that it was him but that didnt work. He just wasnt that sort of man. I had to have someone else in my fantasy.”

“Its ok to be disloyal in your secret fantasies,” I told her. “You can pretend that its the milk man, the mailman, or the boy who mows your grass”

She looked at me curiously. I told her about teasing my lawn boy.

“Is that real or a fantasy?” she asked.

“Very real, and very dangerous,” I told her. “I can never let that boy screw me or it would be all over town in hours, but I sure wish that I could.”

“I know that feeling,” she said wryly. “What is the best thing that youve done?”

“Hmm, I guess it would be a toss up between being arrested and then screwed in a police station,” I mused, “Or one particularly intense over night torture orgy.” I told her about both. She was breathing hard when I finished.

“Ive had lots of orgies,” she said. “But nothing like that.”

“What are your wildest fantasies?”

“I have a few, but they are tame compared to what youve done.”

“Do you have to have a logical scenario in your fantasies?” I asked.

“Yes. I had to have a reason for the man to be there.”

“What did you come up with?”

“A delivery man came by and caught me leaning against the cross. When he walked in the door I was too startled to move and he grabbed me and tore my clothes off. Then he buckled me to the cross so tightly that I couldnt even wiggle then he raped me.”

“And after that?”

“He put me on each piece of torture equipment and screwed me on every one of them.”

“The nice thing about fantasy lovers is they dont run out of stream,” I mused.

“I know, and when my husband got home that evening I was very excited. I wanted him to take me to bed but he was too tired. He fell asleep on the couch watching television. I was disappointed but he worked very hard and I couldnt be angry at him so I left him there and went to bed alone.”

“Uh oh,” I said. I knew what was coming next.

“I couldnt sleep so I got up in the night and tiptoed past my husband. I went out to the shop and this time I did strip naked. I stretched out on the rack and buckled the straps on my ankles and I reached up and wrapped the other straps around my wrists.”

“Mmmm, nice,” I said.

“Yes. It was,” she agreed. “I tugged at the straps and pretended that I was helpless. I pulled so hard that the wood creaked.”

“Did you wake up your husband?”

“No, but I almost wished that I had.”

“After that?”

“Bent myself over the spanking horse and opened my legs and fantasized that someone was taking me from behind.”

“Had you ever experienced anal sex?”

“No, and I was pretending that the fantasy man was inside my vagina. I had never experienced being entered from behind.”

“You didnt seem to mind what they did to us this morning,” I observed. We had been screwed up our butts during the filming so I knew that she wasnt a virgin that way, and she certainly appeared to enjoy it.

“No, I like it now,” she confessed. “That came later, thanks to Mr. Sands.”

“What do you like about it?”

“I like the fact that it is utterly degrading,” she said embarrassed, “Are you satisfied?”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, I like the sensation too.” 

“So do I, go on.”

“I went through each piece of equipment,” she said. “I knelt against the short post and crossed my wrists behind it and imagined that a man was standing in front of me.”

“A kneeling post is for only one thing,” I said.

“I know that.”

“Had you ever sucked a mans cock?”

“No.”

“Not even your husbands?”

“No.”

“Oh my God,” I sighed.

“I was very innocent,” she said, “But not so innocent that I didnt know what a kneeling post is for. If a man had appeared I would have done it.”  

“Any man?”

“I was fantasizing about that same big rough man.”

“Excellent.”

“As I fantasized about sex I got more and more excited and I turned on every light in the shop and I opened the blinds.”

“Could anyone see in?” I asked.

“Not very easily,” she said. “The shop is back from the street and partially hidden by trees from the neighbors house.”

“Ok.”

Then I lay on the rack, opened my legs as wide as I could get them and played with myself until I had an orgasm.”

“And the lights didnt wake your husband?”

“No.”

“Are you a screamer?” I asked. She had made plenty of noise while filming the movie. I wondered if it was genuine.

She smiled. “I wasnt at that time, but I am now.”

“I understand. Go on please”

“I walked naked back to the house.”

“And your husband was still asleep?”

“Yes. I stood in front of him and touched myself but he didnt wake up.”

“Ill bet he missed out on the sexiest night of his life,” I commented.

“He sure did.”

“Ive done that,” I told her.

“What do you mean?”

“Ive done naughty things when my husband was in the house, and he didnt know.”

“Are you married?” she asked surprised.

“Divorced now.”

“What did you do?”

“Ive stripped naked and tied myself up without my husband realizing what I was doing,” I said. “Sometimes he was asleep and sometimes he was awake.”

“Incredible,” she said.

I told her how I had tied myself under the blanket on the couch, and tied myself naked to a tree in the yard and watched through the window as my husband made a snack in the kitchen, how Id tied myself in the basement while doing laundry. Masked Lady was intrigued but she was really astonished when I told how Id hogtied myself beside him in bed.

“You actually tied yourself up while he slept beside you?” she breathed.

“And I masturbated beside him too.”

She stared off into space and I could see her mind clicking away as she planned to do that when she got home.

“Could you show me how to tie myself and be able to get loose,” she asked.

“Sure.”

After a pause she continued.


“The next morning after breakfast my husband went to the shop. I was cleaning the dishes when I remembered that Id left my panties in the shop. My husband hadnt noticed them lying on the floor, so I casually picked them up and used them to add another coat of stain to the wood. I ruined a perfectly good pair of panties.”

I laughed. “Thats ok, Ive spent a small fortune replacing the ones that get torn off of me.”

“My husband worked on Sands furniture for a while, then left for his other job,” she smiled. “As soon as he was gone I undressed again, stark naked this time. I buckled a set of the straps on my wrists and ankles and applied another coat of stain to the torture equipment and while the stain was drying I did the laundry and cleaned house pretending that I was a servant to some strong man. I also pretended that I was tied to our bed. The next day I played with Mr. Sands toys all day long.”

“What else did you play with?” I asked.

“Oh, I think you can figure that out,” she smiled. “When my husband came home I told him that the order was ready to be delivered, and I told him that Id like to go along. He demanded to know why, and I told him that I just wanted to see the inside of that big house. He told me to forget it. He wasnt taking me anywhere near those wicked people.

“On Saturday he loaded up the truck and delivered the things to Sands. When he came home he refused to talk about what the house looked like. I didnt bring it up again.

“I was sorry when the things were taken away, and I couldnt get them out of my mind. Mr. Sands dropped by a few days later and paid the remainder of the bill. I was excited when he came in and I didnt want him to leave. I asked him how everything was working out, and he laughed and said that they hadnt been used yet, he would have to wait until his guests came down from the city. Unthinking, I said that I hoped that they would be ok and not disappoint his guests. He really laughed at that and asked if I had tested them at the shop. I blushed and shook my head. I was very embarrassed. I offered to return the pictures to him but he shook his head and told me to throw them away.

“Where do you get these pictures?” I blurted out.

“From adult book stores in the city,” he answered. “Would you like me to bring you a few the next time I go shopping?”

“Good God no!” I gasped. “He chuckled and left. I think that he saw right through me.”

“What did you do with the pictures?”

“I hid them.”

“I bet that you still have them,” I said.

She nodded. “A few days later Sands dropped by again. My husband wasnt home and I was delighted when Sands walked into the shop. I got excited too, and he noticed.”

“He noticed your nipples get hard through your clothes?”

“Yes, and he handed me a stack of magazines.”

“Uh oh,” I said.

“She nodded. “They were bondage magazines full of pictures of naked women tied up in terribly revealing poses. Some looked painful.”

“Any hard core ones?” I asked.

“No, just women alone or being dominated by another woman, but no men,” she said. “The minute I opened the first one I was doomed.”

“Did Sands throw you to the floor and ravish you?” I laughed.

“No, he behaved like a gentleman, but I half expected him to rape me.”

“You poor thing,” I said in sympathy

“Its funny, considering his reputation, but in all the time that Ive my affair with Mr. Sands he has always treated me with courtesy,” she said.

“A considerate master?” I chuckled. “Isnt that a contradiction in terms?”

She shrugged.

“Im teasing,” I said. “Actually I have a lover who is also my master, and he is very kind to me.”

“Does he abuse you?” she said.

“Of course, but its what I want, so it isnt really abuse.”

She shook her head wonderingly.

“So if Sands didnt ravish you, what did happen?” I asked.

“He stood and watched while I went through those magazines page by page,” she said. “I forgot that he was there until I finished. He smiled at me in a knowing manner and we stared at each other for a long time. I was waiting for him to order me to take off my clothes.”

“Would you have?”

“Yes.”

“But he didnt?”

“No, he just reminded me that I had his telephone number and walked out.”

“And?”

“I called him the next day.”

“And?”

“My husband was working across the state, and I asked Mr. Sands if hed had a chance to test the devices. He had not and asked me if I would like to be the first. I said that I would. He invited me to the house.”

“Uh oh.”

“What did you do?”

“I got in my car and drove to his house, then I drove past and drove up and down the roads for an hour.”

“Confused and uncertain, right?”

“Correct, but I was so excited that I finally turned up the long drive way to his house. He greeted me at the door with a knowing grin and took me inside. I expected to see a lot of people in that big house but there was no one else around.

“Mr. Sands showed me into a large room and I gasped when I saw that it was a torture chamber.”

“What did you expect?” I asked her.

“I dont know,” she shrugged. “I was very confused.”

“Besides the things that your husband made, what else was there?”

“Chains, handcuffs, ropes neatly coiled up and arranged on hooks, paddles and whips.”

“And how did you react to all this?” I asked (as if I didnt already know).

“I got a funny feeling down there,” she answered, pointing to her pussy.

“Funny, or nice?”

“Very nice, and hot,” she laughed.

“Go on.”

“Well, Mr. Sands asked me which device I wanted to test first, and I told him it would be the X cross. I walked over to it and stretched my arms and legs against it. He just looked at me.”

“Then what?”

“He shook his head like I was an idiot and told me to take off my clothes.” 

“Well, what did you expect?”

“I didnt know what was going to happen,” she said. “And I didnt know what to do, so I just stood there.”

“And?”

“He ripped my clothes off of me.”  

“Ah, nice.” I said.

“It frightened me and I tried to get away,” Masked Lady said. “But he held me like I was a child while he tore my shirt to shreds.”

“Were you wearing a bra?”

“No. Then he yanked my shorts off too.”

“Panties?” I asked, “Were you wearing any?”

“Yes, but they didnt last long. He ripped them off too.”

“Well, at least it didnt take very long to get you naked,” I said.

“No, I was entirely nude in a few seconds,” she said ruefully.

“And then?”

“He touched my pussy.”

“And you liked it?”

“I had an orgasm.”

“Was that before or after he tied you to the cross?”

“Before, and it happened again while he tied me.”

She took a deep breath. “He lifted my feet off the floor with his hand between my legs, and he held me with just one hand while he strapped my wrists to the cross, then he knelt and tied my ankles open, and as soon as those straps tightened against my skin I thought that I was in heaven.”

“I know the feeling,” I told her softly.

“Sands stepped back and watched while I tugged at my bonds,” she said. “I struggled and strained and got incredibly aroused, and then I met his eyes.”

“What did you see?”

“Understanding, and a kinship that Id never felt with anyone else.”

“I know that kinship too,” I said softly. “Its wonderful.”

“I was already open and damp,” she said, “But I wanted to be more open so I strained to get my knees further apart. Sand looked at my body, then he suddenly lunged forward onto his knees and buried his face between my legs.”

“Mmmm! Nice. Did he make you come?”

She nodded. “Instantly.”

“Three orgasms in just a few minutes,” I mused, “Very nice.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Well, a mans tongue can be as useful as other parts of his anatomy,” I said.

“His tongue didnt enter in to it,” she said. “It was just his face nuzzling my sweetest place. I felt his nose and his lips and the roughness of his beard and it sent me wild.”

“He doesnt use his tongue?”

“Oh yes, and hes very good with it,” she laughed. “He just didnt need it that first time with me.”

“Then what happened?”

“I blacked out for a moment,” she said. “I went into a hazy feeling, and when I woke he was leaning against me and his mouth was on mine. His tongue was inside my mouth and he nibbled on my lips and nuzzled my neck and ears and I was sobbing with happiness.”

“And I bet his hands werent idle either.”

“No, she smiled, “They were on my breasts and between my legs. It felt like he had about six hands.”

“I love it when a man does that to me,” I said. “Did he rape you on the cross?”

“Yes, but he was gentle.”

“A gentle rape?”

“He didnt hurt me, he just  , , ,  made sweet love to me while I was helpless.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

There was a long pause. “Yes. After a while he undid my ankles and raised my legs up and relocked them above my head. Id never felt so open in my life.”

“I love that position,” I sighed.

“Then he slid into me.”


“Is that all he did?” I asked.

“He knelt and licked my vagina with his tongue,” she said. “And that made me have another orgasm.”

“My, my. How many in all?”

“Four or five the first day,” she answered. “He entered me again, and then used his mouth again, but this time he just teased me.

“When we finally wore down, he slumped in a chair and fell asleep. I was still strapped to the cross with my feet higher than my head.”

“Oh, how horrible,” I laughed. “How long did you have to wait?”

“I dont know,” she said. “I was in a dreamy, happy state and didnt pay attention to the time.”

“Oh, believe me, I know how incredible that condition is.”

“He finally roused out of his chair and released me,” she said. “Then he showed me to a very luxurious bathroom and let me wash up.”

“How did you get home after he tore your clothes to shreds?”

“He loaned me a shirt. He offered a pair of shorts but I declined. I drove home naked under his shirt, and when I got close to our place I took it off and finished the drive naked.”

“Excellent.”

“I went back a few days later and he did even more wonderful things to me.”

“Such as?”

“He tickled me along the crease where my legs meet my tummy, and he did it for a long time.”

“With his tongue?”

She nodded.

“Does your husband eat your pussy?”

“Oh no, he would never touch my vagina with his tongue. He would consider that disgusting.”

“Your pussy,” I corrected her.

“What?”

“Stop saying vagina,” I said. “Its too clinical. Pussy is a more erotic term.”

“Why not call it my cunt?” she demanded tartly.

“Thats ok if you prefer,” I agreed, “But generally that is a bit too vulgar, unless Im in the mood to be verbally abused as well as physically tortured.”

She looked at me curiously. “Do you like having men say bad things to you?”

“Sometimes. It depends on my mood. After all, its a version of humiliation, and dont you enjoy being humiliated?”

She dropped her eyes. “Yes. Sometimes the men who screw me talk that way. They stand over me and call me horrid names or describe that they are doing in disgusting term, but I confess that I like being treated that way, but I didnt know that other women do.” 

“Honey, there is a whole world of erotic perversion that you need to explore,” I told her, “Someday Ill tell you about a very elegant lady friend who loves to be verbally abused.”

“An elegant lady?” she asked in mild disbelief.

“Very elegant,” I affirmed. “She and her husband are cultured, refined, and move in the highest circles of Denver society, and she is into just about every form of submission possible, including humiliation and public exhibition.”

“Is that all she likes?”

“She likes pain and punishment, and group sex. And she recently discovered that she has orgasms when men hang her.”

“They hang her?” she gasped, “By the neck?”

“Yes, but shes now considering being hung up by hooks through her breasts.”

“Thats horrible! Who would want that?”

I shrugged. “I know at least five women who wish they could do it, including me.”

Masked Lady made feeble shooing motions with her hands. I decided that I wouldnt tell her of my own fantasies about being electrocuted on national television.

.

“Wouldnt you like to remove that hood?” I asked.

“No, it stays on,” she said. “No one is permitted to see my face, not even my co workers.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want no one, not my husband or my parents or anyone in town to ever know about me.”

“Im from a small town and I know how difficult it is to keep any thing secret, but I think that your identity is safe here.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, but Im not taking any chances. Ive gone to great lengths to keep my secret life hidden, and that means that no one with the production company has gotten a good look at my face or even knows my real name.”

“What about the pictures you sent in?”

“I was wearing a hood, just like this one.”

“Well, I use a stage name,” I said. “And there are a few people I dont want to know about my secret life, but Ive never seen anyone as worried about it as you are. I think that you are being a touch paranoid about this.”

“Maybe, but thats the way its going to be.”

“Does your master take many pictures of you?”

“He did at first,” she said, “And I was always masked, but he doesnt do it any more. We agreed that it would just become repetitious.”

“That makes sense.”

“Where are you from?” I asked.

She just shook her head.

“Ok, sorry I asked,” I said. “But sooner or later your secret will come out. If the Sands fellow is as notorious as you say, people will talk about him and they will know about you eventually.”

“Oh, they know about me,” she said.

“What?” I was confused.

“The whole county knows that Sands has a sex slave. They just dont know who she is.”

“How did the secret get out, did he boast about it?”

“No, he gave me to another man, who talked.”

“Really? Did you agree to that?”

“No, but I didnt object when it happened.”

“How did it happen?”

“A few weeks into my affair I was at Sands house and he had strapped me to an infernal machine that made it easy for him to take me.”

“What kind of infernal machine?”

“Its a short table that he ties me to and he can tie my legs up and open. The table can be adjusted up and down and it can be tilted.” She paused. “My husband made it.”

“Oh, you didnt. . .?” I laughed.

She nodded. “I designed it and I took it to my husband. I told him that Sands had placed an additional order. So he built it and I stained it and he delivered it to the Sands house.”

“And how soon did you get to use it?”

“That very day.”

“Wow.”

“After delivering the table my husband was going to a little league baseball game. I drove the back way to Sands house and parked in the garage while my husband was inside. I stripped naked and peeked out the garage door. As soon as he started his truck I ran naked into the house. I was climbing on that table before he was out of the driveway. Sands strapped me to it and screwed me and I probably had an orgasm before my husband was a mile away.”

“I want one of those.”

“Ill have my husband send you one,” she said.

“Thanks, but how did everyone come to know about you?”

“Sands had just finished screwing me,” she continued, “And a man walked in on us.”

“Oops.”

“It was a guy who does gardening for Sands,” she said. “He stopped dead in his tracks and looked very embarrassed. Sands got off of me and took the man out of the room.”

“Did the man recognize you?” I asked.

“No, I had my back to the door.”

“Lucky.”

She nodded. “When Sands came back he buckled a full hood over my head. I hadnt worn one before and I panicked slightly when I couldnt see, but I calmed down, and got excited because it made me feel even more helpless.”

I nodded.

Then I felt his hands touching me again, and I was ready to have sex again, but I realized that something was different. It didnt feel like Sands.”

“Uh oh.”

She nodded. “It was the other man, and Sands was allowing him to have his way with me.”

“And he screwed you.”

“Yes.”

“Was it good?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it was degrading. He was dirty and rough and different.”

“Dirty?”

“Well, it was clean dirt, like the smell of the earth on a working man, not like some creep who never bathes.”

“Then what?”

“After the other man finished Sands thrust himself into me and he had me again while the gardener watched.”

“Are you afraid of the word fuck?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I prefer not to use it.”

“All right. How did you feel about being loaned out?”

“Angry, confused, betrayed, humiliated, excited and delighted.”

“That would be just about right,” I said.

“I was furious when Sands untied me and removed the hood. The other man was gone and I was terrified that he would tell people about me. Sands told me that the man had no idea who I was; the hood concealed my face completely. I calmed down over being recognized but I was angry that he had given me to that man without my permission. He didnt care. He just smiled and told me that when I was in his house I became his property and he would do anything he wanted with me and he gave me to the handyman to buy his silence.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“Angry, confused, humiliated, and excited.”

“Uh, I hate to point this out, but a rape fantasy, which bondage is all about, means exactly that.”

“I know,” she confessed, “And I realized later how silly I was being, but at the time I didnt care.”

“What did your master do?”

“He told me that Id better get used to being his slave girl. But he did promise that he would always conceal my identity.”

“Nice of him.”

“I went home and fumed all night and the next day, but I kept remembering how helpless and degraded and sexy Id felt.

“So you didnt break up with him.”

“No, I went back.”

“Ah.”

“He gave me to his gardener again, several times.”

“And you learned to like it, right?”

“I loved it. Eventually he invited me to one of the parties for his out of town friends. They strapped me to different devices and took turns with me all afternoon.”

“How many were there?”

“Four the first time, different numbers after that.”

“And you always wore a mask?”

“Yes. He bought several types of hoods for me. Full head coverage and partial ones that leave my mouth exposed

“Having your mouth available does make things more interesting,” I observed. 

“Yes, it does.”

“Does your master whip you?” I asked.

“Heavens no,” she gasped. “He treats me very nicely. I wouldnt allow him to hurt me.”

“Oh, too bad,” I said. “I like pain.”

“I am aware of that,” she said, “From your films.”

“Then you know what a whore I am,” I said.

She shrugged. “I cannot criticize anyone on that score; I just dont like as many different things as you seem to.”

“So no whips, no paddles, no nipple clamps, no lesbian sex, no gang rapes, eh?” I chuckled.

“Well, actually gang rapes are ok,” she smiled, “As long as Im tied down.”

“Gang sex? Im impressed.”

“As long as Im tied down,” she repeated. “I went to Sands house every chance I got. He told me to park in the big garage behind the house so no one would see my car.”

“What about your husband?”

“I got very good at finding him jobs out of town. I went to Sands house several times a week when he was gone.”

“Um hmm.”

“Sex was a hundred times more exciting when I was helpless,” Masked Lady told me.

I nodded. “Believe me, I know. I lost my virginity while I was tied up. I thought I was in heaven.”


“I loved being used by lots of men,” she went on. “It seemed natural for Sands to give me away. He and I seemed to be connected, he told me that we were from the same tribe.”

“Thats a good way of putting it.” I thought about MAC and I.

“Everything that they did to me was wonderful,” she sighed. “No matter how perverse or disgusting it was; I liked it.”

“How long did it take for him to tie you on your knees?” I asked.

“That happened on my second visit and I asked him to do it.”

“Why?”

“It was as if I was intoxicated with submissiveness. I wanted to be open, open, open. To go wild and let him do anything he wanted to me, so I begged to suck his penis.”

“And?”

“He tied me on my knees and I opened my mouth for him. I tried very hard to please him.”

“Thats one skill that is easy to asses,” I chuckled. “When the man spurts into your mouth you know youre doing it right.”

“I got it right the first time, within twenty minutes,” she said proudly, “Now I get to do it at his parties.”

“How many cocks have you sucked one any one occasion?”

Hmm,” she thought. “There were six men, and I had each one spurt in my mouth at least once, and some more than once, so Id guess at least ten times in one afternoon.”

“Impressive, and anal sex?”

“That also happened the second time I went to him.”

“Was it painful?”

“Yes.”

“But , , ?”

“Yes, I liked it,” she confessed.

“I thought that you didnt like pain.”

“It was a different sort of pain, and I liked the submission more than the pain.”

“Did you ask for that too?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you must be reconciled to it,” I observed, “Considering that weve been screwed up our bottoms several times in this movie.”

“Sands guests do it to me all the time,” she said. “I like it now.”

“Have you used your new talents with your husband?” I asked.

“Yes, but he doesnt know it,” she answered.

“What do you mean?”

 

“I wanted to see the men who fuck me,” she said, “So I experimented with putting a black spandex cover over my eyes under the hood. If we left the blindfold off I could still see through the spandex but it looked as if I could not. I found it very thrilling to watch the mens faces while they had their way with my body.”

“Did you see anyone that you knew?”

“Oh yes,” she said. “It was incredible the number of men that Sands gave me to who were prominent men in our town.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “Preachers, politicians, the chief of police, the county sheriff and so on?”

“Pretty close, all hypocrites. Have you done that too?”

“No, I havent had any orgies in my home town, but I know a woman who is a slave to a prominent citizen, a banker.”

“Its the same all over,” she said.

“Uh, was there anyone that you were close to?” I asked.

“No, not my father or my brothers,” she said. “Sands knew better than to allow that, but I was screwed by my cousin.”

“Uh oh.”

“Sands didnt know that we were related,” she paused. “I know that its horrid of me, but I liked that the best.”

“Because he was close to you?”

“Yes, and because he is the black sheep of the family. Hes always been a wild child.”

“Let me guess, and in the back of your mind youve always been attracted to him?”

“Yes.”

“Did the forbidden fruit of incest enter into it?”

“I try not to think about that,” she said. “Im already far too perverse.”

I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling her about my mother and me.

She paused. “Right after that party I did something even more perverse.”

“What was it?”

“I cleaned up and drove to my cousins house.”

“My, my.”

I got there just after he arrived. I told him that Id just dropped in on the spur of the moment. We sat on the front porch and drank lemonade. While we talked I remembered what he had been doing to me just a short time earlier.”

“Did you seduce him?” I laughed.

“No, but I thought about it, especially when I felt all that semen sliding out of my vagina and knowing that some of it was his.”

“Ooooh!”


“And yet no one knew who you were?”

“No. The stories of the bondage parties were soon county gossip,” she said. “Everyone was talking and wondering who this mystery slut was. They still are, but no one knows who she is.”

“And I will bet that you enjoy the talk, right?”

She nodded. “Im just as bad as the rest,” she laughed. “The minute two or more women got together the subject comes up and we all just fume in indignation as to who this evil woman might be and how she is enticing our men.”

“Did the women know that their husbands were participating?”

“I doubt it,” she said. “Most women adopt the attitude that thank God MY husband doesnt go to that horrid house.”

“But you knew which ones actually do, didnt you?”

“Yes,” she said. “And it is all I can do to keep a straight face when I run into the men in town. Its especially fun at church.”

“Yes, I can see where that could be very interesting,” I mused.

“I cant get over how some of the nicest, gentlest men can turn into monsters when they have me at their mercy,” she marveled, “They go insane!”

“Anybody in particular?”

“There is this pudgy little man who is old enough to be my father. When I am tied up he screws me like an animal. He raises me off the table or the bench and slams me from side to side while hes thrusting into me. Even when Im tied down he still moves me all over the place. Its incredible! Im always bruised when he gets finished with me. Once I was sore for days and could hardly walk. I told my husband that I fell down the stairs.”

“But you like it, right?”

“Oh yes.”

“Who is he?”

“He works in a shoe store. I went to school with his kids.” She paused. “His wife is an ordinary looking housewife, and I wonder what he does to her behind closed doors.”


“What about your cousin, did you have him more than once?”

“You mean, did he have me more than once?”

“Oh, come on now. Surely you know that everything is being done for your pleasure, not theirs,” I laughed. “Sands sees to that.”

“My God,” she whispered. “You are right.”

“I suggest that you hang on to him,” I said. “Youre not likely to find another master like him.”

She nodded slowly.

“Yes, My cousin has pleasured me many times. I asked Sands to invite him back.”

“Were there any other interesting clients?” I asked.

“Yes, there is another man too.”

“Oh?

She looked at the floor for a long time, then straightened her back bravely. “My husband comes to the parties.”

“What!”

“My husband showed up one day and Sands gave me to him.”

“Wow.”

She nodded. “It was a quiet day at Sands house, no party. Just me and him, and he had me bent over a table and was taking me from behind when someone knocked at the door. He ignored it at first but the knocking became loud and insistent so he slipped on a robe and went out. I heard him talking to some one, and a moment later he came back and buckled me into a hood. I asked what was going on but he didnt answer, he just locked a gag in my mouth and left again. He returned with a man and invited the man to screw me.”

“Oh my.”

“I was very excited and waited listening to the man undress, then he slid into me. By then I was used to being taken by strangers and it was very thrilling. I enjoyed what was happening and hoped that Id get a chance to see who he was.”

“You couldnt see him?”

“Not while he was behind me, the hood didnt allow me to turn my head.”

“And you didnt recognize his voice?”

“No, the hoods muffle sounds.”
       “Thats true.”

“After he spurted into me I was left where I was, and he and Sands had a beer and talked about football. I waited patiently, as if I had a choice. Then the new man walked over to me, played with my bottom and asked Sands who I was. Sands laughed and refused to tell him. She might be imported from the city, he laughed, Or she might be from right here in town. No body will ever know.”

“They joked about who I might be, then the man undid my straps and placed me face up. I thought that I would faint from shock when I looked up at my husbands face!”

“Yeah, that would be a surprise,” I agreed.

“I panicked and tried to get away, but my husband pushed me down and buckled my legs open. Sands did my wrists and he winked at me while he did. Then he stepped back and watched while my husband got on top and slid into me.”

“Was your husband rough with you?”

“Yes, and that was part of my astonishment, because he is always so gentle at home.”

“Yes, well a lot of men let their masks slip when they have a woman at their mercy,” I said. “Believe me, I know.”

Masked Lady nodded. “He just rammed himself into me. He was brutal, to the point of cruelty.”

“And how many orgasms did you have?”

She lowered her head. “I lost count.”

“He didnt recognize you?” I asked, after a moment.

“No, once he started to undo my hood and I screeched through the gag. Sands came in and stopped him and told him very sternly that the hood had to stay on. Sands made him step back while he put a small padlock on the collar of the hood.”

“Smart.”

“I always wear a lock now.” She tilted her head to show me the small brass lock holding her hood in place.”

“And your husband fucked you again,” I observed.

“He did, and I lay on the table looking up into his eyes the whole time,” she said. “And he never had a hint of recognition. When I have the black cloth over my eyes they are invisible.” 

“And he didnt recognize your body? No birth marks or freckles that he would recognize?”

“No.”

“Was that sex with your husband different than usual?”

“Very different,” she said. “He was wild and rough, and slammed the table on it across the floor, with me on it. He bit my nipples and squeezed my breasts so hard that I had bruises for days.”

“He didnt notice them at home?”

“I avoided letting him see me naked unless the lights were out.” 

“What happened after he fucked you?”

“He got dressed and went home. Sands released me and I ran to my car crying. I got dressed and drove around for a long time trying to understand what had come over my husband, and how he could fuck another woman. Finally I went home.”

“What happened when you got there?”

“My husband was cooking steaks on the barbeque. He was in a great mood.”

“How did you feel?”

“Betrayed and excited. As the evening went on I began to feel sexy, and my secret made it better. I seduced my husband when we went to bed.”

“Was it good for you?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “It was dull, like always at home.”

“Did you ask him to tie you?”

“I hinted at it but, but he didnt take the bait, and I didnt want to be too obvious.”

“I tried that with my ex husband but it didnt work.”

“What happened?”

I told her about the times that I had tried to entice my husband by tying myself up, and what dismal failures they had been.

There was an awkward silence.


“Why did Sands bring your husband into your secret?” I asked after a while. “I thought you said that he was considerate.”

“He didnt,” she answered. “My husband showed up uninvited and wanted to come in. Sands tried to refuse but my husband insisted. He said that having made the equipment ought to give him some privileges. Sands realized that if he kept refusing that my husband might get suspicious about the mystery slave, so he let him in.”

“Does your husband know now?” I asked.

“No, he still has no idea. He pretends to be scandalized and indignant about Sands and the slave woman, but he still visits the Sands house.”

“Still?”

“I get fucked by my husband at least once a month while Im at Sands house. He comes up with excuses to get away, which saves me the trouble of finding excuses to get away, so I wait for him to leave then I drive like crazy along the back roads to get there before he does.”

“Ah, let me guess, after he fucks you into insanity you have to drive like crazy to get home and be in the kitchen all sweet and demure when he arrives, right?”

“Something like that.”

“Does he screw you at home after he screws you at Sands place?”

“Every time, I think the slave woman gets him so excited that he cant wait to go to bed with his wife. Hes dragged me into the bedroom before dinner.”

“Which is better, being fucked as his slave or as his wife?”

“As the slave.”

“Oooh what complicated webs we weave . . .”

“Yes.”

“Has he ever gotten to Sands place before you?”

“Yes, but I can get my car into the garage and sneak into the house without being seen. I put my hood on and buckle the cuffs to my wrists and ankles, then I wait in the kitchen for Sands to bring me into the dungeon on a leash. Actually I that because I like being paraded in front of men.”

“What does your master think about all of this?”

“Oh, he thinks its the biggest joke in the universe, I sneak in to enslave myself while my husband sneaks in to screw me.”

“Do you suck your husbands cock?”

“Oh, yes, and I like it when he watches me suck other men.”

“But not at home,” I asked.

She shook her head.

“Are there other females slaves at the parties?” I asked.

“Yes, Sands bring them in from the city.”

“Are they prostitutes or bondage lovers?”

“I dont believe that they are prostitutes,” she said. “Some seem to be nice women. But I cant imagine how he finds them.”

“Trust me, there are thousands of women who would happily enslave themselves if they could get away with it. And they are much better than hookers, who only pretend to want bondage.”

“Yes, Im beginning to see that.”

“Has your husband fucked any of them?”

“Yes, he screws every woman who might be at the party. Ive watched him.”

“How do you feel about that?”

She shrugged. “I already went through the shock of his betrayal, so now it doesnt bother me, and after all, I betrayed him first, so I have no right to complain.”

“Do you enjoy watching him screw other slaves?”

“Yes, I love it, especially when they place me with other women side by side. They tie us bent over a rail and the men, including my husband, make their way along the row. I like it when he pulls his cock out of another woman then shoves it into me.”

“Wow.”


“What has been your best, or wildest experience?” I asked.

She lowered her head. “It was awful, yet incredibly thrilling. I was given to a boy.”

“What?”

“I was the plaything to a young boy,” she said. “He was fifteen at the time.”

“Holy cow. Who did that?” (Silly question; who but Sands?)

“I was enjoying a quiet afternoon as Sands slave when his gardener showed up,” she said.

“What do you mean by quiet?” I asked. “Were you just playing cards or something?”

“No, I mean that there were only two of us. I was naked and bound and Sands was having his way with me when the others walked in.”

“Were you hooded?”

“Of course. I always wear one since Sands never locks his door and I never know who might walk in on us.”

“Good thinking.”

“The man had his nephew with him, and Sands loaned me to him.”

“What were you doing at the time?”

“I was on my knees sucking Sands penis.”

“Do you mean his cock?”

“Yes.”

“Were you tied up?”

“Yes, very tightly. My legs were strapped together at my ankles and above and below my knees, and my arms were strapped at my wrists and elbows so tight that my elbows were touching.”

“What happened?”

“The boys eyes got huge, and his penis got hard,” she said.

“Cock,” I interjected. “His cock got hard.”

“Yes, yes,” she said. “Sands stepped back and asked the boy if he had ever seen a naked woman before.

“The boy blushed and shook his head. Sands asked him if he would like to put his cock in my mouth. The boy could barely speak. All he could do was stare at me.”

I was reminded of my lawn boy. My pussy tingled.

“Well this is a slave girl and she is here for us to have fun with,” Sands told him. “So you do what ever you want to her, just dont harm her body.” Then he slipped into a robe and took the gardener to the kitchen for a beer.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“There was nothing I could do,” she answered. “I couldnt move, so I waited on my knees to see what he would do.”

“Which was?”

“He stared at me for a long time. He walked slowly around me several times. His eyes were huge and I got a deep thrill knowing that I was the first naked woman that he had probably seen. His penis was large creating a huge bulge in his blue jeans. After looking me over he knelt and touched my breasts.”

“Mmmm. How did you feel about this?”

“I was shocked and disgusted that they had brought a boy into this, and I was excited beyond belief.”

I chuckled. “Then what happened?”

“He played with my breasts for a long time. He squeezed them, and plucked at my nipples and traced circles with the tips of his fingers around and around, and I was about to go out of my mind. My legs were so tightly bound that I had trouble keeping my balance. I tried to stay still but the things he did to my nipples had me writhing so much that I toppled over.”

“And?”

“He grasped the loop on my hood and lifted me back onto my knees and returned to what he was doing.”

“Did you offer any suggestions?”

“No, I was so intent at being submissive that I didnt say a word. I just enjoyed the moment.”

“Submitting to a fifteen year old?”

“It was heavenly.”

I could only imagine.

“I watched his face and his expression was delightful,” she said. “He was in awe. He touched every inch of my body. He slid his fingers over my skin in a gentle, exploring way. He pushed my nipples against my ribs, and then tugged on them until I was forced to raise up as high as I could.  He slid them between his lips and sucked gently, and nibbled with his teeth. When he tired of that he opened my mouth and looked inside, as if he were inspecting my teeth, then he put his fingers in and touched my tongue. He caressed my lips and finally kissed me. Then he moved to my back and pressed me forward until I bowed with my forehead against the floor.

“He caressed my bottom and the backs of my legs and tickled the insides of my knees. He did that for a long time, then invaded my pussy with his fingers.”

“Mmmm,” I was squirming.

“That was very erotic,” she said, “But when his finger touched my clitoris I jerked like Id been electrocuted.”

My fingers went hunting MY clitoris.

“He stopped for a moment and bent down and looked into my eyes. We didnt speak, he just asked with his eyes if I was alright. I nodded and he continued to explore my pussy. He found my clitty again and explored its effect on me.”

“Did you cum?” I asked.

“Eventually, but at first he experimented with tickling my clitty and watching my reaction and when he realized that he could turn me into a whimpering, moaning mass of flesh with just a fingertip, he teased me to near insanity. He rubbed it in the perfect way until I was close to an orgasm, then he stopped.”

“The perfect way?” I asked. “Had he done that before with some girl?”

“No, I dont think so,” she said. “I believe that I was his first. He just seemed to instinctively know what to do.”

“Wow.”

She nodded. “He watched me carefully and when my breathing was back to normal he brought me close again.”

“Males can be very cruel,” I observed. “Isnt it wonderful?”

“Oh yes,” she sighed.

“He had fun tormenting me for a very long time but I wiggled my bottom and made puppy whimpers so he rubbed very hard and I came and toppled over again.”

“I want to meet that boy,” I said.

“I lay on my side panting and he sat beside me,” she continued, “watching intently. He didnt touch me until I looked into his eyes and nodded, then he sat me upright again. I leaned against his chest and he hugged me, and when I was breathing more regularly he went on with his voyage of discovery.”

“What did he do next?”

“He tried to touch my pussy from the front, but my legs were too tightly bound, so he bent me backwards and squeezed his hand between my legs. I moaned happily and jiggled my breasts for him. He got the idea and kissed them while he tried to wiggle his hand in my crotch. I loved what he was doing to my nipples but he wanted something else so he bent me forward and got behind me. I presented my bottom again and he slid his cock inside me.”

“Inside your pussy or your ass?”

“My pussy.”

“Do go on.”

She shrugged. “He didnt take the time to remove his clothes, he just unzipped his trousers and thrust into me. And I discovered that the feel of his zipper against by bottom is very erotic.”

“Zippers can rub your skin raw,” I told be, “Believe me, I know.”

“So do I,” she giggled. “I like the feeling, but I had red scratches on my butt for a week.”

“Have you ever gotten them on your chin?” I asked innocently.

She ignored that. “The boy screwed me until I toppled over again, but he straightened me up and went back to what he was doing, but now he held me firmly by the ring on my collar. He discovered that it was fun to shake me from side to side with that ring. He was strong and my body rolled very widely from side to side, and he never missed a beat while he was thrusting into me. His grip made the collar choke me, but I liked that too. I was entirely in his control. I felt myself getting light headed.”

I wondered if she might like to hear about hanging fantasies.

“You enjoyed being choked?” I asked archly. “That sounds a little like masochism to me.” 

She didnt answer, and I could see a blush under her hood. I was tempted to tease her but I didnt want her to get angry and stop talking.

“Did he cum quickly?” I thought about the stories of quick ejaculation in teen aged males.

“No, he went for a nice long time before he spurted.”

“Then what?”

“He left me where I was and plopped into a chair for a break.”

“And you just waited?”

“I just waited.”

“How long did it take him to recover?”

“Not long because he came back and did the same thing again.”

“Exactly the same?” I asked. “From behind?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“With shaking and choking?”

“Yes, only more violently, and he reached around and grabbed my breasts and used them to shake my body. I began having orgasms within minutes.”

“Mmmm, sounds painful.”

She blushed again.

“After the second time, he pulled me upright and stood in front of me. I looked up at him in pure adoration, then I opened my mouth and licked my lips. He thrust himself in.”

“Did he cum again, without the need for a rest?”

“Yes, and it didnt take him long either. He came three times in about twenty minutes.”

My resolve not to seduce the lawn boy began to crumble.

“After the third time he pushed on my shoulder and made me fall onto my side. Then he laughed and stretched out in the chair again, crossed his ankles and rested his feet on me. I was a living footstool.

“That can make a woman feel rather wonderfully submissive,” I observed.

“Oooh yes,” she sighed.

“Then what?” I asked.

“He looked at me as I lay on the floor. I looked right back at him and never said a word. In fact, neither of us spoke during the entire session.”

“He was the strong silent type eh?”

“He was indeed,” she agreed. “He was determined too. He wanted to get at my pussy, so he rolled me onto my back and unbuckled the straps on my legs.”

“Did he free you completely?”

“He left my arms bound, and when he undid the last strap on my legs he yanked my knees open. I gasped when a teensy little orgasm hit. He crouched over me, then dropped onto my body.”

“And fucked you silly?”

“Exactly. His penis slid straight into me. There was no fumbling and positioning, it just went right inside. I had an orgasm and screamed my lungs out. That was the only sound either of us made.”

“Did that frighten him?”

“Not at all, he just grinned triumphantly and began screwing me like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“My scream brought Sands in. He stood in the doorway with his robe open and his heavy ugly penis hanging down and watched for a while, then suggested that the boy strap my ankles to my thighs. The boy didnt understand so Sands showed him. He did one leg and the boy got the picture and did the other. Then he held my knees open and got back on.” She paused. “Then Sands picked up his camera and took several rolls of film while the boy fucked me.”

“The boy didnt mind?”

She snorted. “He grinned at the camera.”

“I would love to see those pictures,” I told her.

“After he came that time,” she continued. “While I was lying on my back he sat between my legs and examined my pussy. He seemed fascinated with it.”

“I cant blame him,” I said. “I am too.” She ignored that.

“He pulled me open, and gently tugged on my pubic hair, and ran his fingers in a circle around and around until I was groaning, then he put himself back inside me.”

“How many times did he fuck you?”

“Well, let me see,” she counted on her fingers. “He fucked me twice from behind, twice while on top of me and twice in my mouth.”

“How many orgasms did you have?”

And I had an orgasm each time except when he was in my mouth, so he had six and I had four.”

That did it! I was going to let my lawn boy fuck me senseless as soon as I got back to Denver. I began to plan to tie myself naked to stakes on the back yard and wait for him to find me, and he could bring all his buddies too!

“Oh, and there was one more orgasm for him,” she added. “At one point while I was bent over he placed his cock and balls in my hands. I knew that he wanted me to squeeze them, but my hands were cool and almost numb from lack of circulation. I did the best I could but my grip was weak. He must have liked it anyway because he spurted all over my fingers and my arms and my back. So make that seven times for him.”

“Wow,” I breathed in envy.

   

“What about the gardener?” I asked.

“After the last time with the boy I was sprawled on my back with my legs open, and the universe was spinning through my brain, when Sands and the gardener came back. The gardener stripped off his clothes and crawled on top of me. I was just barely aware of what he was doing. Sands and the boy watched while he screwed me right there on the floor, and Sands took more pictures. The gardener was spurting into me by the time I finally came out of that daze.”

“Then what happened?”

“Then they left.”

“What about Sands? What did he do? I got the impression that he was rather considerate of you. Why would he give you to a teenager?”

“Oh, he is considerate much of the time, but he is still a kinky monster, and sometimes he just has to do something awful.”

“Did he fuck you after they left?”

“He certainly did. I was a sloppy, soaking mess, covered in perspiration and semen, and that seemed to turn him on even more than usual.” She shrugged. “Some men seem to like it dirty.”

“So do some women,” I told her, “Including me.”

“He fucked me wildly,” she continued. ”He ground my body into the floor and gave me carpet burns, and when he came he spurted a huge amount of cum inside me and out. He pulled himself out and sprayed more fluid on my stomach. Then he straddled me and dribbled the remainder onto my breasts.”

“How long did all this go on?”

“Five hours. After Sands released me I walked naked and dripping to through his house to my car.”

“You didnt wash up?” I asked.

“No, he offered of course, but I was in a daze. I wandered out to my car I slipped on a tee shirt  and drove home naked from the waist down. I massaged the semen into my skin as I drove and when I got home I walked to the back yard, hung the garden hose over a tree limb and lay on the grass while the cold water showered down.”

“Good thing that your husband wasnt home.”

She nodded. “I had just dried myself and got dressed when he came home. I was scrubbing the seat of my car and told him that Id spilled a milkshake on it.”

“A milkshake?” I shrieked.

She laughed. “It was the best that I could think up on the spur of the moment.”


“Did you ever see the boy again?”

“Two days later he rode past my house on his bicycle while I was in the front yard.”

“Uh oh.”

“Right,” she said. “I thought that he knew where I lived, but he barely glanced at me and kept on going. I ran into him later in town with his mother, and he waited impatiently while she and I chatted. I was very damp and had trouble keeping a straight face remembering how his penis looked and felt, but he had no idea who I was.”

“Has he come back to Sands house since then? Have you screwed him again?”

She nodded. “He likes to release me from any bonds I might be in, then he reties me into different positions. Hes grown up now, and he has become quite proficient with bondage.”

“Has his kinky experience had any effect on him?”

“You mean, did it warp his psyche or anything?”

I nodded.

“Apparently not,” she said. “Because he now has the reputation of being the randiest stud in the county and if the stories are true he has screwed practically every woman and girl for miles around.”

“Does he tie them up?” I asked.

“I dont know,” she paused then chuckled. “But Im tempted to ask him when I see him in town. He still doesnt recognize me.” 

“Whats your best fantasy with the boy?” I asked.

“Spending a solid week as his slave in some remote mountain cabin.”

“With or without your mask?”

“Without it.”

 

“How did you manage to get away for this trip?” I asked.

“My husband is out of state on a large construction job,” she said. “I set it up for him and Ive got contracts waiting for him all over the country.”

“Doesnt he call you from the job?” I asked.

“He will call when he arrives, then maybe once more when the job is almost over. He wont be back for a couple of weeks and I can do this movie and be home in four days.”

Boy, if our men only knew what we women were capable of, I thought.


“Hmm, does that mean that you will be coming here for more movies?” I asked.

“I might.”

“Why not write a script where you, wait make that WE, are given to a bunch of young men?”

“Young men, or boys?” she asked.

“Young men, who are at least eighteen, otherwise we get into child pornography, and I wont do that. Neither would the producers.”

“Ah, yes I see.”

“But Im sure that they could find a few youthful looking actors who would do just fine.”

“Should you and I do their auditions?” she laughed. 


“What about punishment?” I asked. “Do any of the men get rough with you? Other than choking and shaking you? Do they whip you or anything like that?”

“No. Some have tried but Sands wont permit it. Some of them screw me very violently, but I like that,” she said. “Ive been bruised and had scrapes on my skin from the rack or the table, but no whips.”

“Too bad,” I said. “You should try a little torture just once. You might like it.”

She just shook her head. (I tactfully didnt remind her that she had enjoyed getting scratched by a zipper, which I would consider a mild form of masochism. Perhaps later I can talk her into something a bit more intense.)

“What about sex with women?” I asked. “Do you ever do that?”

“No.”

“Has Sands ever given you to a woman dominatrix, or tied you with another slave?”

“He wants to but I told him that it would be end if he ever did something like that.”

“Havent you even thought about sex with a woman, deep in your deepest, darkest hidden fantasies?”

“Never.”

“What, never?”

“Never ever,” she said firmly.

“Too bad,” I said. “You are missing a whole different dimension of sex.”

“Never,” she repeated.

“Well, I would be very happy to introduce you to it,” I offered. “All you have to do is lie back and enjoy.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “I think that the script calls for us to be tied together while the men watch.”

“Yes. The producer demanded that a lesbian scene be included. The script calls for we sisters to be at a party which gets out of control and we are tied us to a bed and forced to do lesbian stuff while the men watch. But I wont be in that scene; there will be a stand in actress for me.”

I picked up the script. “Yep, youre right about the mouth to pussy scene. Its scheduled for tomorrow. Ive done lots of those and believe me, being tied to another woman while the men watch is a terrific turn on. Are you sure you want a stand in? You just dont know what youre missing.”

“Ill live,” she said.

“There is also a scene where we are going to be tied side by side to kneeling posts and suck about twenty cocks. Are you using a substitute for that too?”

“Twenty?” she asked. “We dont have that many actors.”

“Ive done this before. You can expect some of the crew to undress and get into the act, or should I say, our mouths. They just wont have their faces show on camera.” 

“Really?” her nipples perked up. “I think that Ill do that scene myself.”


At the end of the day Masked Lady waited while I showered, then she locked herself in the dressing room cleaned up. She emerged wearing a large floppy hat, a scarf high on her neck and enormous dark glasses. All we could see was her nose. She refused our invitation to go to dinner with the crew and disappeared in a rented car. She showed up the next morning just as covered and locked herself into the dressing room. I waited outside until she emerged stark naked save for the slave hood. Then I got undressed and put on my hood.

We filmed the rest of the movie and sure enough, a stand in actress showed up to do the scene where she and I were strapped together with out mouths on each others pussy. It took three delicious takes before the director was satisfied (Id bribed him to do that and to make Masked Lady watch) then she went on her way and Masked Lady finished the film. Id hoped that watching me with the other girl might change her mind about lesbian sex but it didnt.

The final scene was the one with us tied kneeling and sucking the cocks of all the actors. This took a long time because the director wanted camera angles changed often, otherwise it just got to be repetitious. During the first break Carl came to release us but we both told him to leave us bound.

“Dont you want to take a break?” he asked.

“No, Im fine,” I said.

Masked Lady shook her head. Then we recounted some more of our bondage adventures. When the director broke for lunch we didnt want to be untied then either but he insisted.

“Youve been tied up since seven this morning,” he said. “You have to get up and walk around, you know, stretch out the kinks.”

“Im quite happy with my kinks, thanks,” I said. Masked Lady giggled and shook her head. He shrugged and walked away. When lunch arrived he had the fluffers feed us while we were still bound to the posts. (By the way, its very difficult to concentrate on eating when the person feeding you has one hand on your fork and the other between your legs. I have no idea what I ate that day.)

We spent the entire afternoon tied to the posts and between takes anyone who walked by grabbed a breast or tweaked a nipple. My fluffer complained that the crew was taking away her job. The director just laughed and told her to be quiet or he would have her tied beside us. Knowing her, if this had been an all female crew she would have tied herself to the post.

Late in the day, after we finished the mass cock sucking scene they shut down the cameras. Masked Lady turned to me and started to say something when she stopped in mid word. 

The crew was getting undressed and Masked Ladys surprised reaction told me that shed never done a porn film before. But when everyone began lining up in front of us she went along without a murmur and we sucked the film crew, electricians, the rigger, the director, producer, the male fluffer (and I got the lesbian) and the security guards. All together including the actors, between the two of us we took care of twenty eight men and one woman. My jaws were tired when we finished, my knees were sore, my hands were numb from the ropes, and we were soaked with cum, and I felt heavenly. When we were released Masked Lady was in the same shape so we helped each other into the dressing room. I gave her a big hug, but she tensed up and I didnt get the sexual response I hoped for. I pretended it was just a friendship hug and jumped into the shower. She waited with her hood on until I was dressed then did the same vanishing act. She skipped the post production party, which was tame compared to the last two hours in the studio, and drove away. After the party broke up I went home with the director so that he could collect his bribe. (I had offered myself to be his slave for the night.) I tried to get him to tell me who Masked Lady was but he swore that he didnt know. Apparently only the producer and the accountant knew her identity and they wouldnt talk.


When the film was released several months later I received a dozen copies from the producer (along with an invitation to come to LA and be his permanent personal sex slave. I turned him down but he calls about once a month begging me to come live with him) and showed them to my friends. The videos also contained a few out takes and bloopers and a charming addition was of us talking between takes while tied to the kneeling posts, recounting our experiences unknowingly on an open mike. A few times we were filmed standing side by side, and we really could not be told apart. I hadnt realized it at the time, but our bodies were very similar and in our hoods no one could tell me from Masked Lady. Denise suggested that I was the only actress and they dubbed my body in to make me look like two women. I laughed at that and told her that in that case I should have been paid double my salary, but honestly, the only time that I was sure that I was watching myself was the lesbian scene.

They all agreed that Masked Ladys ability to secretly screw so many men in her town and still keep her identity concealed was remarkable, and a real turn on.

I also showed the movie to my mother, and sat with her while she watched it. She made only one comment, and that was to remark on the lack of torture. I asked what she thought of the pussy to pussy scene and she shrugged and said that it was nicely erotic. She laughed when I told her about Masked Ladys secret life and she commented that many women keep many secrets.

 

I had an idea and I called the producer. I asked him to pass a suggestion on to Masked Lady. I could travel to her town and take part in one of the bondage parties beside her, and during the orgy arrange to have my hood come off as if by accident. Then to spend the next day or two walking around town being noticed and getting talked about. That ought to really confuse the locals. He called me back and told me that she liked the idea but wasnt quite ready to carry it out yet.  





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