Janet in Training

by sfmaster

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© Copyright 1997 - sfmaster - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; D/s; bdsm; slave; collar; cuffs; gag; dungeon; X-frame; rack; stocks; anal; toys; whip; cane; crop; naked; latex; cons; reluct; XX

WARNING! This story is only for adults over the age of 18 and contains Strong Sexual Content. It is intended as a work of fiction for ADULTS only, and the author does not in any way condone similar behavior. If you are under the age or 18 or reside in a state that prohibits such behavior, stop reading immediately!!!

Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if you include this statement of limitation of use and notify the author by e-mail. The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format. However, individual readers may make single copies of the story for their own, non-commercial use.

Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the author. I do want to hear from you!

Mistress Janet will return in: The Challenge

Continues from

Chapter Nine: The Ordeal

Janet looked outside her bedroom window at the dark winter sky. She had been sleeping in Erica's bedroom now for months, and fortunately Tiffany had not made an issue of it. But it still felt strange sleeping in Erica's bed, wearing her clothes, and living her life. It had been six months since her death last summer, and the time had gone by quickly.

She rose from bed, and decided not to go through the ritual of having Tina bathe and dress her. It was a nice luxury, to be sure. And she often enjoyed it. But not everyday, and she wasn't a child that had to be pampered at her every move.

Janet stretched, and jumped in the hot shower. She washed off the sweat that had been generated when she and Tiffany had dominated a new girl named Denise Powell who had been in Erica's records. Janet had decided that she didn't want to intrude on Tiffany's scene, and had politely excused herself halfway through. She could have continued with Tina, but had decided to read for the rest of the night. Besides, she had already decided to use Tina tomorrow night. Janet had brought a riding crop, and straps to tie Tina to her bed. She was going to have a wonderful evening planned.

She soaped her breasts and belly, glad that she was using the exercise room. Tina had gone to school for cooking, and Janet wondered if she was qualified to be a chef. Had she not exercised, Janet was worried that she would have gained weight. Still, she had asked Tina to lay off the rich food and adjusted the menus accordingly. Gluttons didn't fit into skintight rubberwear.

After the shower awakened her, she dressed in a plaid shirt and old jeans. She pulled her legs into a pair of boots, and tucked her cuffs inside. Janet would be going into town today to the broker, and she had to prepare.

In the six months that they had been living together as two Dominants under one roof, there was one thing that they never discussed: Erica's contest.

They shared in the training and discipline of slaves, even slept together on occasion. They shared the most intimate details that two women could have under one roof. But still, they could not discuss the Sword of Damocles that hung above them.

Janet had never made any mention of it, nor about what she was doing. She had memorized the brokers number, then burned his card. Then she had rented a bank safety deposit box in town where she kept her notes. She never kept her notes at home, nor discussed them in any way.

Tiffany was far different. She left copies of financial newspapers at home, with stocks clearly circled. Her notes were sometimes found lying around, and she made little effort to conceal what she was doing. Janet didn't know if she really owned the stocks, of course.

After dressing, she went downstairs. The kitchen was empty, and Janet guessed that Tiffany had asked Tina to help her bathe and dress. So Janet got her juice from the fridge, and started the water for fresh coffee.

If Janet wanted to be independent, Tiffany wanted to be pampered. She would frequently use Tina as her bath girl in the morning, making her rise very early. If she made a mistake, Tina would be sure to receive a few strokes with the crop that Tiffany kept in her room.

Still, Tina did not complain. She had demonstrated her ability to serve both as a domestic and more. They both used her as their assistant in the Dungeon, and as sex slave at night. Janet sometimes wondered if Tiffany was careless, however.

Tina ran into the kitchen, her heels clicking on the tiles. Worry was clearly visible on her face.

"Mistress Janet, I'm sorry to be late," Tina apologized.

"It's all right," said Janet.

"I was being used by Mistress Tiffany."

"I know. Tell me, does Tiffany interfere in your work in keeping the house? Then punish you if you have failed to clean or do something?" questioned Janet.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Thank you, Tina. I had no idea. I'll take up the matter with Tiffany, and she will not interfere with your work again."

"Thank you, Mistress," answered Tiffany.

Breakfast was a loud affair, with Tiffany eager to explain how she had disciplined and used Denise. Janet listened to her, hearing the details like Tiffany had just bought a coat at a department store. She wondered if Tiffany had really read all of the documents that Erica had left them. Or had just managed to find the one on the stock market contest and ignore the rest.

She certainly hadn't read the parts on training and using slave girls. Janet had spent day after day, reading and rereading, constantly asking questions of Stephanie. Since Janet had befriended Stephanie, Tiffany had instead turned for advice to Mistress Lauren Singer. Mistress Lauren evidently hadn't read those rules either, and Stephanie was strangely silent about her.

Like two prizefighters in the ring, Janet thought, they both had their respective corners and advisors. After breakfast, she went to the library, and turned on the radio to get the weather report. Snow was forecast, and she wanted to drive into town to see the broker.

Tiffany would use the phone to contact her broker, and Erica certainly wouldn't have them use the same person, or even the same firm. But Janet didn't dare use the phone. Instead, Janet followed her ritual of driving into town. Then she used the public library (she had given the library a generous donation during a fundraising drive) then went to the broker, and returned home. Her excuse was that she was going shopping, and she had to purchase something to justify her trips.

Living in Connecticut during winter was quite different than in Queens. Greenwich was full of hills, not flat like Queens, so driving was challenge even during good weather. Small winding roads, slower speeds, and frequent hills all made the place a nightmare to drive through. Janet had learned caution when after a brief rainstorm she had hit the brakes and slid through an intersection. So she drove nice and slow.

Snow was forecast, but only in the evening. Good, that would give her the chance to go to Greenwich and do her business with the broker. Janet now had to decide what coat to wear today.

Looking at her watch, she saw that it was near opening time for the library. It would be nice to have a day out. However, she wondered if it was better to confront Tiffany about her treatment of Tina first, or leave it for later in the day.

Her decision was made for her when she heard the front door close with a bang. That meant that Tiffany was off somewhere, and gone for the day.

At least that decision had been postponed for now. Since Tiffany had made friends with Mistress Lauren, she had certainly changed, and for the worse. Lauren expressed the view that she was lord over her slaves, and treated them badly. She definitely was glad that her first Mistress had been Erica, and not Lauren. It was one thing to serve and be properly disciplined. It was another to be carelessly treated by a selfish and intolerant Mistress. Janet shivered at the life that her slaves must lead!

Finishing her coffee, Janet turned the radio off. Only to see large white snowflakes start drifting down onto the ground, sticking right as they landed.

"Just a great day," said Janet aloud, "I have to see the broker, I have to talk with Tiffany, and it has to snow. What else will the gods throw at me today?"

"Mistress?" asked Tina, "I heard you speaking. Were you calling me?"

"No, Tina. Just talking to myself, thank you. You may proceed with your work."

"Thank you, Mistress," Tina answered as she closed the library doors.

Janet did not look where she was going until she walked right into Erica's computer, almost toppling over the minitower.

"Damn!" shouted Janet, after stubbing her toe on the computer's desk.

She seated herself on the chair, and pulled her boot off, massaging her aching toe. It throbbed, and she was considering calling Tina to get an icepack for her. Suddenly, her eyes turned to feral slits as she looked at the computer setup.

"Holy cow, what a fool I've been," said Janet to herself.

Janet stared at the computer like it was an alien artifact. In the six months since they had inherited the estate, neither of them had touched the computer. Tiffany, after leaving her job, had said that she had never wanted to use one again. Janet had just been too busy, and even though she was in the library constantly, she had never thought to turn it on either.

All of the memories of Erica working on the computer flooded back to her. Whenever she had arrived, Erica could usually be found at the machine. Janet wondered just how much she worked at the machine when the other household duties were taken care of.

Her hand was reaching for the on switch when she stopped herself. She suddenly remembered that once at her firm files had been deleted by accident. So they had taken the machine to a data retrieval service that had recovered them. If Janet had turned on the machine, they would likely have been lost!

Since Erica had covered her other clues, why not this one? Assuming that Erica had deleted the files, they would still be on the hard drive. She opened the desk drawer for the local phone books, her throbbing foot totally forgotten.

"Eureka!" Janet shouted.

Not only was there a data retrieval service here in Greenwich, they were connected to the firm that her company had used in Manhattan! She picked up the phone, and asked their hours.

Janet pulled her boot on again, and pulled the computer desk away from the wall. Fortunately, the cables were few and easy. She carried the computer into the kitchen, and wrapped it in plastic bags.

Pulling her coat around herself, she exited the house. The drive into Greenwich was already slow, and she passed an accident. Finally, she pulled in front of her destination.

"Can I help you?" asked the woman at the front desk.

"Yes, I called earlier. I need something retrieved from this machine," answered Janet.

"Fill out this form, and I'll have someone take care of you," said the woman as she passed Janet a clipboard, form, and pen.

Janet raced through the form just in time for a white-coated man to enter the waiting area.

"Hi, I'm Carl. Sharon tells me you need something found?"

"Hello, I'm Janet Davis. Yes, I need something from this machine, and I'm afraid that I may erase it by accident."

"Step this way, please," indicated Carl.

Janet followed him to a clean area, where computer lay open their internal contents open to view. He sat down at a bench, and motioned for Janet to put the machine down and take a seat.

"Would you like to leave it here?" he asked.

Janet had taken two new crisp hundred-dollar bills and had them hidden in her hand. This was something she needed now, and couldn't wait.

"The information I need is of a pressing nature, and must be extracted immediately for business reasons. I'm prepared to wait," answered Janet.

"No problem, I can do this right away," he said.

Janet watched in silence as he opened the box up, and disconnected the disk drive, only to reconnect it to another computer on his desk. Then he turned his machine on and fed power to only the disk drive on Erica's computer. He fiddled around with his keyboard for a moment, and Janet watched as file names scrolled on the screen.

"What are you looking for?" Carl asked.

"Any files that were deleted just before the computer was last used six months ago," answered Janet.

He typed in a few more commands, then sat back in his chair.

"There's just one, a letter."

"Print it, please," asked Janet.

The printer at the counter buzzed to life, and Janet walked over and removed it. She felt like screaming when she read the contents.

Dear Richard, As per our earlier discussion, Secretary Janet Davis is to be dismissed for whatever reason immediately after she returns to work.

Erica Riken

"Thank you," Janet stuttered when she looked up from the paper.

"By the way, had you turned it on, that would have been deleted," cautioned Carl.

Janet paid for the service in cash, and handed Carl the bills that she had kept folded in her hand.

"That's not necessary," he said.

"Buy the whole office a good lunch on me. I don't want any solicitations in the mail from you for computer services. So keep me off your mailing list. That's what the extra payment is for," said Janet.

Once back in the car, with the computer at her side, Janet felt like pounding the steering wheel. Had Erica and Andrea really died when their plane went down in the rugged mountains of Mexico? No bodies, or the plane, had ever been found.

Instead, now Janet knew that she was a puppet on a string. Everything that happened had been arranged months in advance. Erica's death, the will, the contest. Everything. Except knowing that changed nothing. There was still the stock market, and the possibility that she might become Tiffany's slave.

Janet wiped the tears from her eyes before setting out for the library. She placed the printed letter in her safety deposit box before going home as her last stop that day. The dark gray winter sky, with snow falling, was a perfect match for her mood right now.

Dinner was over, and they were both lingering at the table over coffee and dessert.

"Janet," began Tiffany, "I've noticed that you've been very moody lately."

"Yes, I guess so," Janet answered.

"Well, I think that you should use that little girl I've been training, Denise."

"You've already used Denise twice this week," said Janet.

"Yes, but she loves it so."

"You should really give her a break. If you use her too often, she'll never want to serve you," cautioned Janet.

"I disagree. The harder you use a girl, the more she'll want to serve."

"Where did you hear that from. Lauren?"

"Yes. Her girls are very well behaved," stated Tiffany.

"I'm sure they are, and terrified to boot. Erica never used you quite so harshly," parried Janet.

"She had me pierced," pouted Tiffany.

"Which you thought of as a mark of love, which was what you told me," said Janet.

"Maybe you're right about that. But still, we're on top now, and should act like it. So instead of entertaining Denise tonight, how about going to Lauren's? She's going to have a little party tonight, and we're invited," Tiffany offered.

"No thanks."

"I never said anything when you took me to Stephanie's, did I? You can at least be polite by going to see one of my friends, too," criticized Tiffany.

Janet realized that Tiffany was correct. Holding her emotions in check, she breathed deeply and took the last swallow of coffee before answering.

"All right. I'll go. What's on the agenda?"

"Just a little party game," answered Tiffany.

Janet chose to wear a white linen blouse and a plaid skirt. When she waited for Tiffany, she wondered just what her companion had decided. Janet bit her lip when she saw that Tiffany had picked a skintight red rubber dress, and matching shoes.

"Won't you be a little cold in that?"

"We're going to someone's house, not out to a nightclub," Tiffany pointed out.

"And rubber is a little fragile also. It's one thing to wear it at home. Something else to wear it outside," cautioned Janet.

"Will you cut it out," said Tiffany. "We have to go now, or we'll be late. So let's go."

"Who's driving?"

"You are."

With the sky totally black and the roads slippery, Janet decided to take the Toyota. Tiffany wanted her to drive the BMW, but Janet talked her out of it. She preferred to use the FWD sedan, rather than the sporty BMW. Tiffany was mollified by the idea that they might go out and splurge on a SUV. It seemed that the prospect of spending money always managed to impress Tiffany.

Janet however, had a simpler idea for dealing with bad weather: don't drive.

The trip was long and slow, with Tiffany always urging her to go faster. Janet kept her mouth shut, determined to get them there in one piece. Learning to drive here had been a bitch, and it had taken her a long time, but they finally arrived.

Mistress Lauren Singer lived well outside Greenwich, in an estate that had once been part of a large farm. Gradually, the surrounding land had been sold off, leaving only the house, which had been surrounded with a wall also. Janet drove up the driveway, and pressed a button on a post where a speaker was located. The gate opened, and she drove up to the house.

When they parked and exited the car, the door was opened and a Maid was waiting for them. Janet noted that the Maid was wearing a black silk outfit, high heels, and a kerchief on her head. She was also wearing a collar and bracelets on her wrists.

"Good evening," greeted the Maid, "you are expected."

"Thank you," answered Tiffany.

Janet followed her companion into the house. The Maid took their coats, and ushered them into the dining room.

Mistress Lauren Singer was in her late thirties, slim and good looking. Janet thought that at one time she might have been a model, but that had not been the case.

"Good evening, Tiffany. Nice to see you again, and you've brought Janet," greeted Lauren.

"I came along for the ride," said Janet.

"What a liar," said Tiffany, "she insisted on driving."

"Really. Are you a good driver?" asked Lauren.

"Yes," Janet answered, "it all depends on who's in control."

"Let me introduce you to our other guests," Lauren took Janet's hand, and they walked over to the dining room table. Seated were two other women, none of whom Janet recognized.

"This is Carla and Rene," introduced Lauren, "this is Janet Davis, who lives with Tiffany."

"Nice to meet you," said Carla, "why don't you sit down?"

"Thank you," said Janet as she pulled up a chair.

"Drink?" asked Carla.

"Thank you, is there any white wine?"

"Sabrina?" called Carla.

The Maid walked quickly to the dining room table, and stood at attention before the seated women.

"Janet here wasn't served properly," said Carla.

"Would you like a drink, Mistress?" asked Sabrina.

"Yes, some white wine would do," said Janet.

"Yes, Mistress."

Sabrina walked quickly to the bar, and poured a slender glass of white wine. She walked back, and placed it on the wooden table with a coaster.

"Your wine, Mistress," said Sabrina as she bowed.

"Thank you, Sabrina," replied Janet.

As Sabrina walked away, Janet speculated on whom among her two companions would use this little omission for an excuse to punish Sabrina. Lauren had not taken the bait from the small insult that Janet had used, but Janet still suspected that her host would somehow use it against her later.

'God, I wish Stephanie was here,' thought Janet.

In the last six months, it had been Stephanie who had taught her all about being a Mistress. Weeks before, Janet was at a party where had seen Lauren mistreat a slave girl past her breaking point. Janet wondered if she was going to do it again.

"Have you dominated many girls?" asked Rene.

"A few. I'm still feeling my way around," Janet answered.

"Lauren has showed me the proper way to deal with my girls," said Carla.

"Really?" asked Janet.

"She's going to provide a demonstration here tonight," said Rene, "so don't spoil the fun for our new guest, Carla, by spilling the beans too early."

Janet took a sip of her drink, and decided to hold her tongue. There was a structure here, a hierarchy of Dominance. And it was Lauren who was holding court in her house, like an African hyena out on the plains. Stephanie had made it quite plain to Janet that she disapproved of Lauren and her methods.

"Are we ready, ladies?" asked Lauren as she approached the dining room table.

"Yes," answered Janet, "but for what?"

"First, the prize. Sabrina!" called Lauren.

Sabrina led a naked chained slave girl by a leash. The girl was completely naked, wearing only a collar, bracelets on her wrists and ankles, and a ball gag. Her wrists were joined behind her back, and a leather strap was closed above her elbows drawing her arms together.

"This is Myra, who belongs to Rene. She's been a bad little girl lately, and so Rene and I have decided that she's going to be the evening's prize in a little contest."

"Really," said Janet as Tiffany seated herself next to her.

Janet looked Myra over, and saw that she had been well whipped. Stripes, new and old, traced their way over her naked body. The girl held herself well, though the elbow strap must have hurt. Janet wondered what she must have been thinking, with her mouth filled with the rubber ball.

"Janet, since you're new here, I'll let you do the honors. Could you go to the china closet and remove the game from the upper drawer?" asked Lauren.

"Certainly," said Janet.

Doing as she was told, Janet walked over to the china closet and opened the top drawer. Inside was a wrapped rectangular object that she carried back to the table. Janet placed it in front of her as she again seated herself, waiting for further instructions.

"You may open it, Janet," directed Lauren.

Janet pulled off the wrapping paper, and revealed a game from her childhood, Conquest. She pulled off the paper, and folded it neatly. Janet then placed it in the center of the table, so that all of Lauren's guests were facing it.

"You're all familiar with Conquest, I hope?" asked Lauren.

"Haven't played that in years," said Rene.

"Me too," added Carla.

Around the table, each guest admitted that they had played the game at one time or another. Finally, everyone looked at Janet.

"I used to play, but that was years ago," admitted Janet.

When her brother hadn't been trying to beat the crap out of her bodily, he had been doing so on the board game. They had played Conquest constantly throughout childhood all the way to college. Finally, tired of being beat, she had read some books on war, learned her mistakes, and started beating him. By the time she reached college, she was unbeatable. Macho male guys in the student center would find that she was a tough customer who they couldn't defeat.

"Well then, let's begin. The winner will have the use of Myra here tonight. All of us get to watch down in my playroom," said Lauren.

Janet opened the box, and unfolded the board onto the table. All of the players chose their color armies, and the nation cards were distributed. The armies were counted out, and placed on the board. They rolled the dice to set the order of play, and the four women engaged in War to conquer the world. With the prize being Myra, who had been led away by Sabrina.

Janet hung back, playing conservatively, letting the others battle it out. She attacked gradually, gaining new countries at first, continents next. Her color, red, that she had always used, gradually took over more and more of the Earth's surface.

In desperation, two of her opponents joined together to stop her. But with one brilliant move after another, she first smashed one opponent, then another.

One by one, the others were eliminated. Their armies were removed from the board, and they became her audience. Finally, she faced Rene, but it was all over. Rene was left with just South America, and she conceded defeat.

"Well," said Lauren, "you certainly have a poker face."

"Thank you," said Janet.

"Do you conquer the world on a regular basis?" asked Lauren.

"Not since college. But I haven't forgotten how."

"Had I known that we had such a good player in our midst, I would have chosen something else," said Lauren.

"This was quite nice," said Janet as she began to put away the game, "perhaps we should play again sometime."

"Not against you," replied Carla, "you're quite a vicious player."

"This is war, remember," said Janet, "the winner dominates the loser."

"Bravo," cheered Rene, "and now you get the use of Myra."

The four players and Lauren stood up from the table. Lauren insisted on showing them through the house, pointing out the gifts that her affluent slaves had given her over the years.

"Would you like to get dressed in something more fitting, Janet? I'm sure that I can find something in leather that would fit. I have such a large wardrobe, after all," offered Lauren.

"Thank you," said Janet, accepting her offer.

"You can go into my bedroom. My slave Sabrina is busy now, so you'll have to get dressed yourself."

"It's all right, I can manage," answered Janet.

Having seen the bedroom already, Janet went by herself. Lauren had went back to finish giving the rest of her guests the tour of the house.

Janet opened Lauren's closet, which she had only glimpsed before, and walked inside. Looking every bit as stocked as Erica's, Janet knew that she wouldn't have any problem finding something to wear.

Twenty minutes later, she was dressed in a simple black leather bra, skirt, stockings, and high heels. Janet admired herself in the mirror, and was glad that they were nearly were the same size.

Walking carefully on the rug, Janet made her way downstairs. All the doors to the Dungeon had been left open, so that she would have no trouble finding her way there.

When she arrived in the Dungeon, she found Lauren, Tiffany, Rene, and Carla seated on whicker chairs shaped like thrones. Sabrina was standing next to a bar cart, and two of the guests were holding glasses.

But at the center of the room was Myra! She was hanging from the ceiling by her wrists, which had been joined together. Her legs were held open by a spreader bar that was locked to her ankle bracelets. Her feet could barely touch the floor, so she swayed somewhat. Her body was strained, and Janet could see the ribs below her skin.

Myra still wore the ballgag in her mouth, and Janet proceeded to walk around her. Janet had not gotten a close look at her before, and she was distressed to find that the girl had just been recently used. Fresh red stripes already decorated her flesh, and Janet wondered if she should be used again quite so soon.

Walking back to her audience, she bowed, then stood in front of Rene.

"May I have the use of your property?" asked Janet.

"Of course. You may use whatever means you desire," said Rene.

Janet walked back over to Myra. Her fingertips touched the girl's trembling skin, feeling the new welts as she traced their paths on her skin. She could almost smell the fear that this girl radiated, bound in her prison of steel and leather.

Janet slowly unbuckled the ballgag, and it had been tightened so that when removed the ball almost popped out of Myra's mouth and the strap left it's cruel imprint on the corners of her mouth.

"Thank you, Mistress Janet," panted Myra.

Janet continued inspecting the bound girl, and realizing that she had already been severely used already, would not impose a harsh discipline upon her. It seemed strange to her that Myra had been chosen, since her capacity for more punishment was already quite limited. Janet saw a flogger with broad strands hanging nearby, and decided to use that.

"Why so conservative, Janet?" asked Lauren.


"Janet, she's yours to use. Surely you can find something better than that flogger," advised Lauren.

Lauren rose from her chair, walked over, and found a cat. Made of many strands like the flogger, except that the tips of each one ended in a knot. Janet knew that this would mark Myra and hurt with each stroke.

"I'll try the whip, instead," chose Janet.

"Good choice," said Lauren, handing her a slender coiled whip.

"Do you, Myra, accept my discipline?" asked Janet, standing in front of her captive.

"Yes, Mistress," said Myra.

"Than kiss the handle, and thank me for what you are about to receive," ordered Janet.

Myra did as she was instructed, and thanked Janet. Janet walked around her once more, trying to decide where she could use the whip on virgin flesh. But Myra had already been used before.

Janet lashed out, and the whip coiled itself around Myra's thighs. The tip came to rest between her legs, making her flinch.

"Thank you, Mistress," cried Myra.

"No need to count," said Janet.

Janet struck again and again, watching as her new strokes were made evident on Myra's body. Her flesh gradually became red and warm, and Janet could almost feel the heat emanating from her punished figure.

The whip landed again and again, and Janet would pause between sets of ten stokes. She wanted to carefully gauge the effect of her discipline, and did not want to exceed Myra's capacity.

"Are you a good girl, Myra?" asked Janet.

"Yes, Mistress," answered Myra.

"Let's see now," said Janet.

Pausing in her use of Myra, Janet then proceeded to pinch Myra's nipples, then bite them slightly with her teeth, making her squeal with both pain and delight. Then her hands rubbed the warm and punished flesh of Myra's bottom, separating the ass cheeks to glimpse the entry to her behind.

Then Janet invaded her sex with just her index finger, and found that Myra was wet and excited by her ordeal. Janet ordered her not to cum, but then proceeded to do everything possible to climax her. Myra held fast, but Janet noted the Goosebumps on her flesh.

"Mistress, no," cried Myra.

"Silence, slut," ordered Janet.

Her audience sat in rapt attention, only breaking their interest when they signaled to Sabrina for a drink. Janet did not do anything extra for them that she might have done in her own Dungeon.

"Oh, oh!" cried Myra.

"Don't cum!" cautioned Janet.

In spite of her orders, Myra rocked in her chains as the massive orgasm overtook her. She moaned and bucked, and the steel links reverberated in response.

"Bad girl," said Janet.

Janet again picked up the whip, delivering stroke after stroke that would wrap itself cruelly around Myra's body. Each time, the tip would come to rest on her back or behind. But it between her breasts and legs that Janet would aim the most strokes, making Myra cry and moan within her chains.

Tears ran down Myra's cheeks as the whipping continued, streaking her makeup. Janet continued her routine of ten strokes, then a pause to let the girl rest. Janet was amazed that she could take so much, given that she had been already used rather recently.

"Mercy, Mistress," cried Myra, suddenly, having reached her limit.

"What was that, slave?" asked Janet as she paused before another stroke.

"Mercy, Mistress," plead Myra.

"Kiss my whip and thank your Mistress," ordered Janet.

Myra did as she was told, and soon Janet was standing in front of her female audience.

"The slave Myra has been soundly punished, and I thank..."

"What do you think that you're doing?" asked Lauren, anger in her voice.

"Slave Myra has called for mercy, and I accept her plea," correctly answered Janet.

"Not in my house," said Lauren as she rose from her chair.

Lauren was carrying a riding crop in her left hand, and she advanced towards Myra. Myra shook her chains in fear.

Lauren was about to deliver a stroke when Janet caught her arm and held it. All eyes were upon her.

"The girl has been soundly used. The entertainment is done for this evening," said Janet.

"It has not. You're not in your House, Janet, nor Stephanie's. My rules apply here, and I say that we're not done with Myra just yet. Perhaps a few strokes of the cane will bring her around."

"No!" replied Janet, "you gave her to me for the night. Since she is mine, I say that her discipline is over. By every rule of conduct," said Janet.

"Not here, bitch," said Lauren.

"I repeat, Myra has called for mercy and her discipline is over," said Janet.

"Then if you will not let me punish her again, then you can take it in her place. Surely the great Mistress Janet is capable of accepting discipline in place of a lowly slave," insulted Lauren.

Suddenly time seemed to stop, and the entire universe revolved around Janet and the Dungeon. Just a few days before, she had used Tina in hers, and even though she had placed the girl in real distress, Tina had not been punished like Myra had been now.

Janet looked at Myra's wracked form, and realized that the girl had been correct in calling Mercy, and should not be whipped any more. Could Janet take her place, for a girl that she didn't even own? Once before, at the very beginning of her training with Erica, she had taken Tiffany's discipline. Janet had vowed never to do so again. But this was very different!

Janet had fantasized that she would one day ask her friend Stephanie to do a scene with her, so that she might know again the feel of the lash. But to let Lauren be her tormentor, who Stephanie had warned her so much about!

"Well, Mistress Janet, do you accept?" demanded Lauren, holding her crop.

"Yes. Yes, I'll do it. Because you're such a bitch," insulted Janet.

Lauren went to strike Janet with her hand, but held back.

"Why should I strike you when I can use the whip instead?" asked Lauren. "Now strip! Sabrina, attend me, please," ordered the Mistress.

Janet coiled her whip and placed it on a table where she had removed it. She watched as Lauren ordered Sabrina to let Myra down from her imprisonment, then Janet slowly removed her few articles of clothing. She placed those on the table next to the whips and other articles of the Dungeon.

Soon, she was naked and bare. She shivered, even though the Dungeon was quite warm. She walked slowly, her eyes downcast, towards Lauren. The Mistress was standing next to Sabrina, who was helping Myra.

Janet sank to her knees in front of Lauren. She kept her legs open, so that she was available for whatever the Mistress might desire of her. It had been months since any woman had used the whip on her, and Janet longed for Erica.

"That's better. Janet, do you accept discipline in place of Myra, property of Rene?" asked Lauren.

"Yes, Mistress."

Janet felt the sting of a riding crop across her back.

"Yes, Mistress Lauren," cried Janet.

"That's better. Sabrina; outfit her in collar and bracelets. We'll see what this poseur is really made of," ordered Lauren.

Janet sat silently as a collar was measured and locked around her neck. Her wrists and ankles were soon locked in steel and leather, and she was finally attired like that of a slave once again.

Lauren had changed into a leather dress, and her guests, including Tiffany, still sat in their chairs. Before, it had Myra who had been the entertainment. Now it would be Janet's turn.

"Up, slave," ordered Lauren.

Janet watched as Sabrina had led Myra away, hopefully to get cleaned up and rested. The girl needed some relief from her torment, not any additional punishment!

Janet stood impassively as her wrists were locked above her head. Sabrina had returned, and it was her job to secure Janet's ankles to a spreader bar. Soon, Janet found herself in the same position as Myra before.

"I think that the only instrument to use is the one that was used on Myra," observed Lauren.

Lauren procured the whip, snapping it in the air for all to see. The whip cracked with deadly effect like a gunshot in the Dungeon.

"Are you ready, slave?" asked Lauren.

"Yes, Mistress Lauren. Please discipline me in place of Myra?" asked Janet.

"Kiss the handle," bluntly ordered Lauren, ice in her voice.

Janet did as she was ordered. She tensed as Lauren coiled the whip, afraid for herself in a way that she had never been with either Erica or Stephanie.

"Owwww!" cried Janet.



The slender black leather whip, supple and sinuous, was cracked like a gunshot. It wrapped itself around Janet the tip coming to rest with a force that Janet had forgotten.

"Now Janet, we'll just see who's the better Mistress, or slave. You said earlier about someone being in control. Now that's me in control over you. As it should be. Enjoy your punishment, slave."



No matter how many times the whip wrapped itself her, Janet refused to either cry for mercy or to acknowledge Lauren's will over her. She flinched and pulled in her stomach every time the whip landed there or between her legs. Lauren wanted to mark her skin, and used the thin whip with deadly effectiveness again and again.

Janet felt her skin slowly heat up as the blood flowed to the surface in an attempt to cool off her overheated body. Her sweat ran down her armpits and between her breasts, and down her exposed flanks.




Janet counted another series of ten strokes, her pained shoulders and wrists bearing her weight as she swung from the ceiling. It seemed as if the universe had shrunk to just two people, just Lauren and herself. There was nothing else except for the universe of pain as the whip landed once again.

She knew that tears were now flowing, and she could taste their saltiness as they sometimes ran into her mouth. Janet had never been brought this far, either by Erica or Stephanie.

"Had enough, slave?" asked Lauren.

"No, Mistress Lauren," answered Janet.

"Good. Then I'll see what else I have in my toybox."

Janet was glad for the temporary respite. Even though she knew that Lauren was going to use something else on her, even a few seconds without the whip was precious.

Lauren returned with a riding crop with a special broad tip. She flexed it with her fingers, showing its stiffness.

"Ready?" asked Lauren.

"Yes, Mistress Lauren."

Lauren first struck at her tender breasts, making Janet cry out. Then she used it on her behind, making her recoil in pain. But Janet knew that Lauren was only warming up, that she was pacing Janet's ability to absorb the lash.

"Kiss the crop," ordered Lauren.

"Thank you, Mistress Lauren," repeated Janet as obeyed Lauren's orders.

The final use of the crop was between Janet's legs, on the inside of her thighs. Janet moaned and strained as the crop was struck from side to side like a metronome between her legs. Sometimes, the crop would strike her sex, making her cry out even more. But Janet held her plea for mercy, digging her nails into her moist palms.

"You are quite remarkable," said Lauren, "for someone who hasn't been trained by me. Therefore, I shall put you to the final test. I shall whip you again until I draw blood."

Janet's head rose in shock, just in time for Lauren to force a ballgag between her lips and buckle it tight.

"Mmmmmph," cried Janet.

"The time that you could have called for mercy is over," said Lauren, "now you shall feel the full force of my lash."

Suddenly, Janet remembered the warning that Mistress Erica had given her over one year ago when she had been disciplined for the first time as a new slave. That she should never submit to a Mistress who did not recognize the concept of a safeword. Even though her body was already warmed up by the harsh punishment that she had already received, her blood suddenly ran cold in her veins from fear.

When the whip struck again, it was like an explosive force going off onto her skin. Waves and waves of pain shot through her entire body, and it didn't matter where the whip landed. Each stroke was like a crack of doom against her naked flesh.

But it was her back where the whip expended its full force. Janet vainly tried to avoid the whip as it struck her back repeatedly. Finally the universe blacked out, as she fell into a bottomless pit of darkness.

"Mistress Janet?"

The tender voice was one that Janet didn't recognize. It was calling her name, or was it?

"Mistress Janet, please wake up?"

"Where am I?" groggily asked Janet.

She was lying naked face down on a bed, and two women were attending to her back, which she couldn't feel.

"You're in Lauren's house, remember. You took my place, remember? I'm Myra," said the girl.

"Myra," repeated Janet.

The name brought back the memory of the early evening, a game, Rene's slave.

"Owwww!" cried Janet, when feeling suddenly returned to her back.

"I've stopped the bleeding, but only temporarily," said Sabrina, "but she has to see a doctor before those wounds open up again."

"Bring my purse," cried Janet still dazed from the ordeal she had endured.

One of the girls brought Janet her purse, and she removed the cell phone, spots dancing before her eyes. Janet punched in the memory number for Stephanie, then was glad when she heard a familiar voice on the other end.

"Stephanie?" Janet asked.

"Janet?" answered Stephanie.

"Stephanie, bring your doctors bag to my house right away, and anything else that you can carry."

"What's happened?"

"I've been badly hurt," cried Janet.


"Can't talk now, see you soon," Janet answered as she cut the connection.

Janet stood up, and the two girls helped her put her panties and shoes on, leaving off her bra. Janet felt the presence of bandages and tape on her back. They then helped to button her blouse, and skirt. Buttoning her coat brought waves of agony throughout her entire body.

"Where's Tiffany?" asked Janet.

"Gone. They're all gone. You have to drive yourself home," said Myra.

Janet felt like she would pass out, but the two slaves held her. Lauren's slaves. They helped her outside, and got the keys from her purse. Dawn was breaking. Had she really been there the entire night? The cold air suddenly made her alert and awake, at least temporarily.

When she was seated behind the wheel, Myra opened the window before closing the door. She looked at the pained Mistress.

"Mistress Janet, thank you for taking my place. You're a different sort of Mistress than Lauren and her friends, and I'd love to be your slave."

"Thank you," chattered Janet.

"Just make it home, please?"

Janet started the car, put it in drive, and swung around the fountain. The gate opened, and she drove out into the cold and deserted streets. Dazed, confused, on the verge of blacking out several times, it seemed like the drive took several hours.

The physical demands of driving took their toll, and Janet nodded off to sleep, only to be awakened when the car's right front fender impacted against a tree. Janet was thrown backwards, awakening her, and the car came to a sudden stop.

"Oh, god!" Janet cried aloud, "I'm going to die."

Janet could feel the wetness of blood dripping down her blouse into her panties, and the slickness of her blouse against her back. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, tears flowing from the corners of her eyes.

She rested her head against the steering wheel, only wanting to sleep, for a release from the pain that she suffered. It would be so easy just to give up, to die.

Janet nodded off, the agony of her ordeal finally taking its toll as she closed her eyes.


'Erica? Is that you?'

'Janet, go home and live!'

'I can't, Erica. I don't have the strength.'

'Janet, this is an order from your Mistress. Return home!'

'I want to die Erica. I'm sorry.'

'Janet, you have never disobeyed me. Don't start now. This is an order, summon your strength and live. Go home. If you die Tiffany and Lauren are the winners. If you do that, then you will have disappointed me.'

'Yes, Mistress.'

Janet opened her eyes, blinking away the tears. She rubbed her eyes, dazed and confused. Has she really been talking to Erica? Or was it just a dream?

"I won't fail you Erica," Janet said to herself, even though she was in intense pain.

Gathering her strength Janet put the car back in drive, and aimed the wheels back again out into the street. The car's bodywork was damaged, but not the drivetrain or steering. Janet continued on her way home.

Finally, she saw the gates to her house. She punched the button, and the gates opened. She followed the driveway to the door, and turned the ignition off. Her head swimming, she walked up the steps, her consciousness fading in and out.

The door opened, and the bright lights dazzled Janet as she went inside her own house. What was the name of the person now before her?

"Mistress Janet?" asked the girl, "let me take your coat."

When her coat was removed, it peeled away from the back of her blouse with a liquid sound as the fabrics separated. Looking sideways at the mirror in the foyer, she saw that the back of her blouse was soaked through with her own red blood.

"Stephanie! Stephanie!"

Janet fell into the abyss, her head swaying and the welcoming darkness swallowing her.

"Janet?" asked a soothing voice, "Janet?"


"What's wrong?" asked a female voice.

"Mommy, it hurts," cried Janet.

"She's delirious, with a fever at 105. If it doesn't break soon, we'll have to take her to the hospital. Tina, hold her hand. Janet needs to feel that there's someone nearby who cares for her right now," said another voice.

Tina pulled a chair to the bedside and after seating herself, she held Janet's right hand.

"Why is she asking for her mother?"

"That's the first person that someone will ask for when very sick or horribly injured. You should have heard the adults crying for their mother in the trauma ward I interned in."

"Mommy?" asked Janet.

"No, it's Stephanie. Remember?"

Janet climbed slowly back to consciousness. She was in a bedroom, and there were three women present. She didn't know any of them.

"Who are you?" asked Janet.

"Your friend, Stephanie. Don't you remember that you called me? This is Camille, and your Maid, Tina. Do you know us?"

Janet searched her mind, but she couldn't remember any of the women standing over her. Her whole body was warm, like it was on fire. A cup and straw were passed to her, and she drank a few sips before going back to sleep.

Light. Again, Janet opened her eyes, and saw three people standing over her. Janet wavered in and out of consciousness, her vision blurred and out of focus.

"Janet? Do you remember the last time we spoke?"

"No. Thirsty."

The cup was passed to her again and she drank a few sips, and she heard the others talking. Something about fever and delirium, before she fell asleep once more.

Light. When she opened her eyes again, things in the room resolved themselves. She identified the bed she was lying on, a mirror, a dresser that was covered in bottles, and things attached to her. The regular rhythm of a heart monitor and the tubes of an IV were her constant companions.

"Stephanie," called Janet.

"Janet, you're back, the fever broke!" said Stephanie, tears in her eyes.

Janet saw Stephanie standing over her, with Tina, her eyes streaked with tears, sitting on a chair next to her bedside. Tina was holding her hand, stroking it like it was a lover's.

"Tina?" asked Janet.

"She's been here ever since you got home, at your side," said Stephanie.

"Thank you, Tina," Janet said weakly.

"What happened?" asked Stephanie.

"Party at Lauren's. I was using Myra, one of Lauren's girls, I think. She asked for mercy, Lauren wanted to continue. I took her place. She used me badly, said that I would call for mercy. I never did. She wanted me to bleed. I drove home, and that's all I remember."

"Why did you go? She hated Erica, and me. She's taken over Tiffany, who popped in here once or twice to see you before leaving. I should kill them both," said Stephanie.


Janet was passed a cup, and she sipped at the straw.

"How bad?"

"You were delirious for days, with a high fever. I was afraid that I was going to lose you, you might have died. You lost a lot of blood, but you'll be all right. I had this equipment brought over, and called in a few favors," said Stephanie.

"Thank you," Janet answered.

"What happened, why did you take Myra's place?" asked Stephanie.

"Myra called mercy, and Lauren wanted to use her past her safeword. So I took her place. There isn't anything that we can do to Lauren," said Janet.

"Why didn't you call me first?" asked Stephanie.

"Don't remember."

"Don't tax yourself. Let's get some broth into you, and then more sleep. That's the best thing for you," said Stephanie.

After a cup of beef broth, Janet again slept. She dreamt of the lash, and the crop. Several times she awakened to see Stephanie standing over her. Then she fell asleep again.

First the heart monitor was removed, then the IV tubes. Janet realized that she had been lying on the bed clothed in a hospital gown, face down. Her back was covered in an entire bandage, which was changed twice daily. Either Camille or Tina would be with her constantly, holding her hand.

Then she was stood up and made to walk. Soon, she was eating simple foods from a tray, but she still slept on her stomach. A few times, Tiffany would visit, but Janet pretended to be sleeping.

"Stephanie?" asked Janet.


"Why did you quit being a doctor?" asked Janet.

"Because I blame doctors for killing the two most important people in my life. My brother, and my husband. I retired, but I still keep certified. Even do some charity work. But I'll never practice again."

Janet again slept.

The loud voices came from next door, and Janet could make out the words.

"Lauren nearly killed her. What were you doing?"

"She accepted to take Myra's place. She knew what kind of person Lauren is."

"What was she doing there?"

"There was a party. I took her. She should have refused."

"This is all your doing, Tiffany. I never knew that you were capable of such evil, but since you associate with Lauren, I'm not surprised."

Darkness returned to Janet as she again slept.

Janet walked out of the bedroom, a victory. A physical therapist was called in, and Janet's muscles were exercised. Gradually, she recovered.

One day, Janet pretended to sleep on the bed. She was on her stomach as usual, and she could be left alone for brief periods. Tina had resumed her duties, and Tiffany would be absent as long as Stephanie was caring for Janet.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Mistress?" asked Camille.

"What's that?"

"Janet's state of mind," bluntly stated Camille.

"Don't exceed your authority," angrily replied Stephanie, "and forget that you're my Maid."

"Maid and Nurse, you mean. Just because you sewed up Janet's back doesn't mean that her mind will be healed also."

"I should strike you for that, Camille," Stephanie answered.

"Unless you're a psychologist also, I suggest that you call one in."

"Are you now a doctor also?" asked Stephanie.

"No. You may have repaired her bodily wounds. But the experience of being nearly whipped to death by Lauren will leave wounds in her psyche."

"You're an insolent, insulting little slave today, Camille. Unfortunately, you're also right," sighed Stephanie, "I just hope that Janet can recover."

Janet closed her hands into fists, her fingers tightly clenched together. Her nails dug into her palms, leaving red marks with their imprints. Even though she had been pretending to sleep, tears formed in her eyes and wet the pillow.

'Why do I want to die?' Janet cried silently to herself.

The days after her nightmare encounter with Mistress Lauren stretched into weeks. Stephanie attended to Janet, and the bandages on her back got steadily smaller as her flesh slowly healed from being damaged by the whip.

"Janet," began Stephanie, "I'm sorry."

"About what?" asked Janet.

"Your back. I thought that it would heal, but it didn't. You're going to be scarred by what Lauren did to you. I tried everything that I could. But the skin was too heavily damaged. Perhaps I should have taken you to the hospital after all."

"And what would have happened when the police would have started asking questions? Explain that I was the entertainment at a little S&M party? No doctor would have remained silent about my injuries after you'd have brought me in. My life as a Mistress would have been over."

"Then look at yourself," said Stephanie.

Janet rose from the bed and stood in front of the bedroom mirror, while Stephanie undid the ties at the back of Janet's gown. It fell to the floor, and Stephanie held a mirror near Janet's back so she could see. Janet saw the reflection of her own back in the large mirror.

Where once Janet's back was smooth and pretty, now the skin was an angry red color. The flesh was torn and uneven and had not healed properly. Anyone who saw her back would know that she had been abused horribly in some manner.

"Thank you, Stephanie," said Janet, her voice breaking with tension.

Stephanie caught Janet as she fell to the bed, naked and sobbing. She held and soothed her friend, encouraging her to cry out all of her feelings.

"There now," said Stephanie. "It's all right. I'm here."

"It hurt so much! The pain!"

Tears fell from her eyes and ran down her cheeks as the memory of what had happened to her replayed itself in her mind. Every stroke of the whip had been like a gunshot exploding against her back, and she felt as her skin broke and blood dripped down her naked skin. She had actually felt her own blood seep between her buttocks and run down her legs.

"Cry it out Janet," soothed Stephanie, "don't repress your feelings. I'll always be here for you."

"It didn't stop! It just went on and on!" Janet sobbed, her body wracked by emotions long repressed.

Stephanie held Janet tightly in her arms, rocking Janet as if she were a child.

"It's all right to cry. No Mistress or slave should have had to endure what you did, that isn't what being a Mistress is about. We're not here to kill or maim."

"I wanted to die!" cried Janet.

"It's all right, Janet. Everything's all right, now," soothed Stephanie as she clutched Janet tightly to herself, as Janet continued to cry.

The memory of what she had undergone replayed itself in her mind. Janet remembered each stroke of the whip as it struck her back. Her skin breaking and bleeding, the liquid sound the whip made each time it struck the slick surface that her back had become. The tears that fell from her eyes as the pain became steadily unbearable. Desperately she tried to scream and plead for mercy, but the rubber ball buckled between her lips blocked her cries. Finally, the welcoming darkness that she hoped was death, which would release her from the pain, and the leering face of Mistress Lauren.

"I wanted to die!" repeated Janet, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"It's all over now, Janet," said Stephanie as she clutched Janet tightly to herself.

Janet curled up in Stephanie's arms, tears flowing from her eyes. She cried for hours, and Stephanie held onto Janet, not moving, for most of the day.

Janet walked with Stephanie through the Dungeon. She looked at the chains, the whips, and the other things. She placed a collar around her neck, but didn't lock it shut. Janet shivered when she saw the whip.

"There is a big difference between discipline and being stopped with a safeword, and outright sadism which is what Lauren practices. Just remember than Erica never treated you or anyone else like that."

"Yes, I remember."

"Do you want to be a Mistress again?"

"Yes," said Janet firmly, "yes."

"That's your destiny, you know. That's why Erica gave you her estate and her property. You can start with Tina, your slave. Or me, if you'd like."

"Thank you," said Janet, as she held a riding crop in her hands.

"Janet, I have a confession to make," said Stephanie.

"Go ahead," answered Janet as she sat down on a leather-covered bench, one that she had been bound upon by Erica.

"Do you remember when Erica sent you to my house?"

"How can I forget? You placed me on the rack," Janet answered.

"That's what I have to tell you about. Erica left me very specific instructions what I was allowed, and not allowed, to do with you. I was not allowed to place you on the rack. But in the heat of the moment, in my sexual excitement, I forgot her orders," recalled Stephanie.

"What happened?" asked Janet, fascinated.

"Erica was furious with me. I never saw her so angry before, she raged at me, and said I would be the one to blame if you left serving Erica, if you stopped wanting to be her slave. She wanted to take me down to my own Dungeon and use me until I cried for mercy, but she never did."

'Perhaps because she was busy doing something else, Stephanie,' Janet thought, 'Like arranging her own death, and the competition between Tiffany and myself.'

"I liked you from the first time I used you, Janet. You took all of the discipline that I meted out, and never complained," Stephanie continued.

"Thank you, Stephanie."

Stephanie rose from the bench and dropped to her knees in front of Janet, who was speechless.

"Use me, Janet. Just as Erica wanted to. I'll submit to anything that you desire anything at all. Even if you draw blood, I won't beg for mercy."

"There's no need for that, Stephanie. I fell in love with you, and Erica disciplined me harshly when I returned. You performed as any Mistress would with a new slave, and you didn't hurt me. Lauren did."

"Thank you, Janet."

"Thank you for being my friend, Stephanie. I wouldn't have known what to do from Day One as a Mistress without your help. And thank you for saving my life. I would have died without you," said Janet as she choked back tears.

"Are you all right?" asked Stephanie as she rose and hugged Janet.

"I'm fine, thank you. I'd just like to be alone here."

"No Janet, you shouldn't be alone," cautioned Stephanie.

"Just for a little while," Janet answered.

"I'll wait outside, on the steps," said Stephanie.

As she was leaving, Stephanie saw Janet rise and pick up a framed picture of Erica, hugging it to her body. Stephanie left the door slightly open, and sat down to wait. She heard quiet sobs, but remained outside.

After almost an hour, the door finally opened, and Janet exited the Dungeon.

"Are you all right?" asked Stephanie.

"I'm fine," Janet answered.

"What's next?"

"How's the stock market doing?" Janet asked.

"What?" replied Stephanie, puzzlement clearly evident on her face, as they ascended the stairs together.

Continues in


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