The sixth day
In the morning I woke disoriented, as usual- in a nice warm bed instead of in a dog cage or on a rack as was fast becoming my usual, but still a strange bed. In addition to being in a warm bed, I was sandwiched between two warm female bodies! Unfortunately, neither of those bodies was immediately accessible, partially because they desired my submission more than they desired my organ, and also because they appeared to think that I needed a longer period of confinement in my chastity belt for training. Shit... but I’d gotten over my morning hard-on anxiety. Besides, what choice did I have?
In a while Mistress Iris awoke, and her stirring woke Monica. They cuddled for a moment, ignoring my existence, and then got up. Not knowing what to do, I stayed inconspicuously in the bed but stayed alert, not wanting to appear to be ‘sleeping in’ without orders. Both ladies were quite naked, but (in a classic feminine manner) both grabbed for covering immediately. Mistress Iris pulled on her robe, whereas Monica just pulled on her panties and her shirt but left the shirt completely unbuttoned for my viewing pleasure and frustration. The shirt covered her nipples most of the time but emphasized the size and shape of her breasts more than concealed them. Ohhh....
“Okay, Bob... on your feet. You know where everything is; get your butt into the kitchen and make some kind of breakfast for us.” I quickly got out of bed and into the kitchen where I managed to whip together scrambled eggs, sausages, and coffee. I stood quietly aside as they ate and was rewarded with a solo breakfast after they were done.
“Good job, Bob! Now I’m going to get dressed and head out to see a couple of clients, but I’m sure you’ll be happy that Monica will be with you to see that you don’t get yourself into trouble like you did when you first got here.” She smiled cheerily and I returned a more wry sort of smile. Then she disappeared to get dressed, and in half an hour I was alone with Monica in the dungeon. She took a seat and asked me “What did Iris mean when she referred to you getting yourself in trouble when you first got here, Bob?”
I blushed. “Mistress Iris invited me up for a couple of days to work on my company accounting. When I got here she said she had to rush off to take you to the airport; she gave me the keys to the house and told me to make myself at home. Well, I found the dungeon and decided to try out a few things. However, as a surprise she had left dummy keys in all of the locks. When she got home I was locked in this chastity belt and strung up on the X-cross, nicely presented for her to play with. I’ve been locked in this chastity belt ever since.”
Hmmm... I hope that’ll teach you to be less nosy! I bet you would really like to get out of that chastity belt, wouldn’t you!” “Oh, yes, Monica, I would!” “Mistress Monica to you, Bob. Well, maybe later I’ll see if I can find the keys. No sweat- if I can’t find the keys we’ll just take you to see Big Mike at the locksmith shop. But I’m pretty sure I’ll remember where I put them. In the mean time, I want to play with you, and to encourage me to remember where I put the keys I suggest that you make sure I enjoy myself.” “Absolutely, Mistress!”
“Okay... one of my favorite toys is the pillory. Lock yourself in it, Bob!” I stepped over to the pillory, my heart pounding. “Gladly, Mistress Monica! When I first started exploring this dungeon I thought about trying out the pillory, but I couldn’t figure out how to lock myself in and then later get myself out.” While I talked, I was locking my ankles in the stocks at base of the pillory. They locked closed with a wooden peg which of course I would be unable to reach when I was secured in the pillory.
“If the pillory locked with some sort of spring latch I would’ve been able to use a cord or something to pull the latch back to free myself. But the pillory just locks closed with a peg which you’ll have to insert, Mistress.” I lifted the gate, held it open with the back of my neck, put my wrists in the cutouts, and lowered the gate until it closed. “Would you be so kind as to lock me in, Mistress?”
“Well, since you ask nicely, okay!” She shoved the inch-thick peg into its hole, wedging the pillory gate closed. I automatically and obligingly squirmed to convince myself that I was locked in. “Mistress, I really like the pillory. I’m totally helpless and also exposed.” Mistress Monica turned a mirror so I saw my reflection in it.
“Yes, you’re exposed and also vulnerable.” I turned my head to my left and saw her at the wall selecting... oh shit... she picked out a long, slender whip! She crossed the floor and in the mirror I saw her behind me, getting used to the whip’s feel.
Whack! “Oww!!” “Hey, this whip feels good in my hand, Bob! How does it feel on your ass?” “Ohh... it hurts a lot, Mistress. Thank you for taking the trouble to whip my ass.” Whack! “Oww!!” Whack! “Oww!!” Whack! “Oww!!” She carefully beat my ass until it felt like hamburger meat. After fifteen minutes of diligent flogging, I was crying pitifully and Mistress Monica’s arm was weary. She walked in front of the pillory and held out the butt end of the whip. I stuck my neck out and kissed it; she shoved it in my mouth and twirled it. She then walked around to the other side of the pillory and... oh god, she shoved it so far up my ass it almost disappeared! It was a solid, gripable handle, too- about as big around as a dildo, with ridges, even, for a better grip.
However, as a side effect, having this massive object sliding up my ass had a predictable side effect- my balls sent a message to my brain that said “We want an erection down here so we can unload!” My brain got this message, thought it was a grand idea, and sent a message back which inspired a rush of blood to my penis. My penis gladly received this rush of blood and started to fatten and stiffen, only to find that (a bad thing) its fatness was limited by the size of the chastity belt’s tube, and (a very bad thing) it could straighten only if it straightened the tube, which was very strong indeed. My cock gave up, sending a signal of severe pain back to my balls. “Agghhhhh!”
Mistress Monica laughed and slapped me on the ass. “I see you like taking things up your ass. Are you sure you’re not gay, or at least bi like me? It’s not a bad option, really!” “No, Mistress, I’m quite sure I’m not gay- even though I recognize that if I were bi I would have twice as many possible lovers to choose from! But no, I’m just not comfortable with the idea of rolling around naked with another man.” “Hmmm... okay for now’ it’s your loss. But right now I think I want to get you a present. You need nipple rings; they make a great bondage anchor as well as looking pretty.” I gulped. “Whatever my Mistress wants!”
Mistress Monica released me from the pillory, had me pull on some clothes, locked my hands behind me in handcuffs, and then both required me and allowed me to watch while she dressed. Panties (a black thong), a bra (lacy white pushup), stockings (black seamless), a garter belt (flimsy), a blouse (tight white rayon with three buttons missing), a skirt (tight black rubber mini that would’ve looked long enough if she were 3'6" tall), and pumps with 4" heels. Ohhh... by the time she was dressed my hard-on would have been 10" long if I had been allowed to have one!
“Okay... let’s go!” She smacked me hard on the ass to urge me toward her car. I hurried right along, waited for her to open the car door, and gingerly sat down on my still-raw ass cheeks. She smiled and strapped my seat belt snug, stopping for a cheap, teasing feel of my locked-down cock. She went to her side and slipped in next to me; first she extended her right leg, and her skirt rode up so high I saw her panties. Then she ducked her head and followed her rear onto the car, pulling her skirt up so she didn’t sit on it. My cock was thumping for release by the time she started the car! As I watched her operate the manual transmission through traffic until she parked in a moderately-seedy neighborhood. This time she swung the car door open, swung both her legs out without bothering about her skirt, leaned out, and let the momentum of her bosom carry her the rest of the way out. Damn, what a show! She opened my car door, bent over (mooning the entire neighborhood), leaned me forward to unlock my handcuffs, and waited while I got the rest of the way out myself.
I walked half a block with her as she stopped traffic just by being herself. She turned in at “Dave’s Jewelry, Piercing, and Muffler Shop”, and a huge bearded guy with Dave lettered on his shirt greeted her. “Hey, Monica! Good to see you!” After a bit of bawdy banter, Mistress Monica said “Dave, my little buddy Bob has decided he wants pierced nipples. Will you do the job for us?” “Of course, milady- he can sign his name, can’t he?” “Sorta... he can do words if he has to!” Dave pushed some papers at me which authorized him to do anything short of brain surgery, I signed and gave him a MasterCard imprint, and then we stepped behind a curtain.
Mistress Monica reached into her purse and retrieved the cuffs and a ball gag. “He really won’t need those, Monica- I’m not as bad as people make me out to be!” “It’s just for the effect, Dave- he’ll be happier this way.” So I took off my shirt and allowed Mistress Monica to handcuff and gag me again. It wasn’t too bad, although it certainly wasn’t painless either, and twenty minutes later I was handcuffed in Monica’s car again.
On the way ‘home’ again, Mistress Monica decided to stop at a forest preserve and take me for a walk. This time she slipped off her heels and pulled on a pair of walking shoes. Then she let me out of the car and led me, still handcuffed, down a dirt path. In five minutes we could have been in the Badlands, for all I knew. We walked for another ten minutes into Darkest Montana or wherever the hell we were until we entered a clearing graced by two outhouses. Yes, outhouses- no prissy bathrooms for this outdoorsy place!
Mistress Monica led me to the Ladies’ Room and opened the door, wrinkling her nose at the smell. Inside was a one-hole potty with a plastic seat over a wooden shelf slanted at about 30 degrees. It looked reasonably clean, but it smelled bad because the bottom was, well, full of shit. Mistress Monica took off my shirt and then pulled my pants down to my knees, leaving me mostly naked, before she stepped in and pivoted to face me while she hoisted her little skirt the couple of inches it took to get it up to her hips. Then she lowered her panties to her ankles and seated herself, squirming prettily to get comfortable.
“Come in and join me, Bob!” I stepped in and stood between her wide-spread knees. “On your knees, Bob!” I knelt while she shit, listening almost reverently to the tinkles and the splats as her pee and her poop landed in the pit below. “Hmmm... I don’t like this paper. Bob, do your duty to your Mistress and clean me off.” She stood up, her knees still spread wide, her panties around one ankle, and thrust her hips toward me. I didn’t have to think long to figure out what I had to do, although the thought wasn’t exactly pleasing. But Mistress Monica was obviously waiting for my services; I buried my face between her thighs and vacuumed off any trace of moistness.
Of course, I quickly found that Mistress Monica wasn’t done. As soon as I pulled my face out of her bush, she immediately turned and bent over, pushing her butt out at me. Oh god, not this too! But a slave does what a slave has to do; I nestled my face in the deep crevice between her satiny soft cheeks and wiggled my way downward (a blissful trek) until I found her asshole (not quite so blissful). With only a little reluctance, I extended my tongue and licked her clean, being rewarded by a few wiggles indicating I had done a good and enjoyable job at her butt. My frustrated balls, as usual, complained uncomfortably.
“Ah, that feels good. Okay, Bob- more walkies! Well?” She looked at me as I stepped clumsily out of the outhouse, hampered by my pants which were still around my ankles. With an exasperated look on her face, she returned to pull my pants back up and then continued down the path. Followed her for about seven steps before my pants fell down again- she hadn’t buckled my belt. This time I called “Mistress Monica!” just loudly enough to be heard, as I wasn’t about to forget that we were in a county park; I mean, if I blundered into a troop of Brownies, I was doomed, sure to be arrested as a molester!
Thoroughly irritated this time, Mistress Monica returned, muttering something about my not being able to manage even the smallest things. She pulled my pants back up and, holding me by the back of them, marched me off about thirty feet into the underbrush and shoved me up against a tree. There, she ripped the Band-Aids from my freshly pierced tits, revealing the new gold rings. She reached into her pocket for a piece of cord, shook it out, and tied one end to my right nipple ring. Then she pulled the cord around the tree, ran it through my left nipple ring, pulled the cord snug so my face was pressed against the tree, and tied the cord. Damn, I was afraid she planned something like this for the nipple rings! Shit, what a fix- hands cuffed behind my back and anchored by my tits to a tree in a public park with my pants around my ankles, displaying the chastity belt still locked over my cock! Well, from the back you couldn’t tell that it was a chastity belt, I suppose; in back all you could see was a heavy-duty belt with chains running from the sides across my cheeks and down to my crotch, but nonetheless I didn’t want anybody to see anything. I was humiliated and embarrassed and didn’t want to add arrest to my difficulties.
“Bob, you idiot- can’t you even manage to walk any more? I think I need to wake your ass up. Fortunately, I brought a waker-upper with me!” I looked back over my shoulder at her, in the process discovering that my tits were still quite sensitive, and saw that she was holding in her hand a cat-of-nine. Its handle was thick enough to offer a good grip (and I hadn’t forgotten the other stuff she could do with a whip handle) and the ends of the strands looked stiff and nasty.
Whack! “Oww!” “Yes, it hurts, you fool! It’s supposed to- that’s why it’s called ‘punishment’ and not ‘fun’. And don’t be too noisy while you take your medicine; you don’t want to attract attention, do you?” Whack! “Oww!” Whack! “Oww!” I really didn’t think there was a human ear within a mile, so I made just enough noise to let her know that I was in pain, which of course she wanted. You don’t keep a whip in your pocket if you don’t! Whack! “Oww!” Finally, after a mercifully-brief five minutes- it seems like an hour when you’re tied by your tits to a tree and being whipped- she stopped and folded the whip back into her pocket. Then she stepped over to me, looked at my unhappy face, and gave me a little peck on the cheek. “That wasn’t too bad, was it? I hope you’re awake now!” She pulled my pants back up and buckled my belt this time before she untied the cord, folded it up, and put it in my pocket to keep and treasure.
“Well, don’t just stand there- let’s go, time’s wasting!” She continued down the trail, which eventually brought us back to the parking lot and her car. Once again, she held the door for me and watched that I didn’t bang my head. Then she buckled me in securely before she entered on her side, again making a slow and deliberate display of herself. I resigned myself to my frustrating chastity and just enjoyed the show.
When she finally seated herself with a really-unnecessary bounce of her boobs, she looked over at the unhappy expression on my face. :”Am I really displeasing to look at, Bob?” Oh shit... possible trap here. “Oh, no, Mistress! I am privileged to look upon your body when you deign to flaunt it for me. You have a truly gorgeous body, Mistress, but unfortunately I’m unable to appreciate it fully. My chastity belt makes my body quite unhappy whenever it reacts to your beauty.”
She actually smiled, a sweet and honest smile. “Thank you, Bob. You know, sometimes being a slut is difficult- everybody wants you around but nobody pays you compliments.” “Well, Mistress Monica, in spite of my present difficulties, I count it a privilege to be with you. On top of being a beautiful woman, you’re great when you display yourself- I guess that’s what you mean by being a slut- and I really think you’re a nice person. Were I not in my self-assumed subservient position, I would make overtures to you.” “I’m glad you added the qualifier about your subservient position- I would have to do bad things to you if you were to get out of line. But we’ll get along well as long as we understand each others’ position.” And in another few seconds we were ‘home’.
Mistress Monica held the door for me and followed me down to the dungeon, to which I went without question; the only option was what she was going to do to me and with what. Well, I suppose you could say that the manner in which I accepted my fate was an option of sorts, but I really didn’t consider that much of an option. After I entered the dungeon, she waited while I took off what clothes I was still wearing and then stood naked before her.
Mistress Monica stood deep in thought for a minute and then decided my fate. She led me over to a perverse vaulting horse on which was mounted a pillory. “Bob, you have a treat in store. Iris gave you to me for the afternoon; I can do with you anything I please, although she might be somewhat disappointed if I killed you. I won’t do that, probably. But I am going to give you freedom from that chastity belt for a while!”
My heart jumped for joy as she unbuttoned her blouse and reached down into her bra- a woman’s secondary wallet and secure place, it seems- and withdrew a key on a small piece of ribbon. She fitted the key to the lock and gave a small twist; I heard a small ‘snick!’. She pulled on the belly panel so it separated from the belt, and I felt her pull it away as my long-hidden cock slid out of its sheath. In a few seconds she had removed the belt and laid it on the workbench; I stood waiting as she inspected me silently. Finally she said something: “Okay, Bob- up on the horse!”
I hopped up on the horse, laying lengthwise on it. My head was against the pillory and the horse supported me about to my waist, leaving my butt sticking out and my legs dangling. Mistress Monica held the pillory gate open: “You know what goes where, Bob!” Yes, I did, but I didn’t want to seem presumptuous (and also I didn’t want to give up my freedom too soon). I slipped forward until my chin cleared the wooden frame and rested my neck and my wrists in the cutouts; now the horse supported me down to my belly, with my cock hanging free. Mistress Monica ignored the possibilities (at least what I considered possibilities) and closed the gate on me. I heard a ‘snap’ as she latched the pillory closed.
“Now, of course, I want to make sure you are properly secured, as much for your satisfaction as mine. I know you prefer being securely bound to just flopping around freely.” I couldn’t see toward my feet because of the pillory, of course, so I only felt her strapping my ankles to the legs of the horse; this pulled my ankles forward, the general effect being to make my ass project. Next I felt her attach something (I couldn’t see through the pillory, of course) which turned out to be weights to my new nipple rings.
First she attached one to my right nipple; when she let it go and the weight swung free, it pulled so hard I thought I would have to ask for a gag (and I obviously couldn’t ask her to use a lighter weight!). By the time she attached the second weight to my left nipple, the pain in the right had steadied down to a constant burn; when she finally let go of the second I was left with a constant pain equalized between both nipples. I felt like I would end up with two C-cups, and I was beginning to worry about how much weight would be required to rip the rings out of my breasts!
Lastly I felt Mistress Monica’s soft hands at my balls. I noticed that she avoided any contact with my cock, possibly because we both expected it to explode on contact. “You know what a parachute does to your balls, Bob?” I gulped. “Yes, Mistress... it stretches them and squeezes them together at the same time. I hope you will be kind, Mistress!” Once upon a time I had made such a toy at home and tried it after I saw one pictured in a catalog. Just as I said, the effect of weights on it was to try to squeeze my balls into the cone of the parachute; some weight had the same effect as having a hand squeezing my two balls together, and too much produced incredible pain.
“Well, you know I’m never more than moderately kind, Bob.” She finished securing the parachute on my balls and then walked over to the bench; when she returned, she showed me a weight which I was sure would be too much. “Please, Mistress Monica! I’m sure that will be far too much!” “Oh, stop whining. I’ll be the judge of how much is too much; it’s my job as Mistress to make those decisions for you. Remember that you gave that authority to Iris, and she delegated it to me.” She hung the weight on the parachute and gently released it. It must have been the way she did it, because the pain- although bad- was not excruciating. I let out a groan.
“Now, Bob, you see that I know best? Besides, when you let me be your Mistress, you gave me the power to make decisions like this for you.” “Yes, Mistress- I’m glad I gave you the power to choose for me. Thank you, Mistress!” “You’re welcome. I can also decide for you that you want my help in making your balls ride a couple of inches lower than they do now! You were so right in wanting me to add some more weight to your parachute.” Without waiting for unsolicited comment from me, she strode back to the bench and brought back two more weights which, to my horrified eyes, looked like they could have been used to anchor commercial fishing craft. She hung first one, then the other on the rings attached to the parachute; the parachute tried to pull down and slip my balls through the tiny opening at the top, and since my balls wouldn’t fit, the parachute compressed them until the physics of the situation held the parachute. The end result was pain! I squealed like a little girl, whereupon Mistress Monica slapped me hard on the ass. “Shut up- act like a grown-up!”
I stopped squealing and dialed the sound effects back to a loud moan. As a treat and as a teaser, Mistress Monica reached out and stroked my cock, which had now been without a comforting touch- even my own- for a whole damned week. Her soft palm found it fat and thick- not hard, but at its photogenic best. “Hmmm...” was her only comment. She let her hand play with it for thirty seconds, no more, and then she pulled her hand back.
Of course, my vulnerable ass was poised ‘way too well for her to pass up. Mistress Monica stepped to the workbench and brought back a double-ended dildo and a tube. My first reaction was that the dildo was too large for my ass, which prior to this week had entertained only the occasional neatly-tapered butt plug. This marvel was an industrial-strength model, maybe two feet long and at least two inches across. The two inches was the scary part, that’s over six inches around, and its fat head was flared like the most magnificent of my admittedly-awesome hard-ons. The second concern was with the tube; Mistress Monica confirmed my fears by showing me that the tube with which she was liberally lubricating the monster was, in fact, Ben-Gay. Oh god...
Mistress Monica stepped behind my vulnerably-poised ass and slipped first one, then two, then three slippery fingers into my poor asshole. Immediately, I felt the burning begin, and I was helpless to avoid squirming, although I couldn’t squirm very far. Then I felt something rubbery poking at my ass, and in maybe thirty agonizing seconds she had twisted it far enough so maybe half of the width of the head was drilled into me. My asshole was pried open to at least an inch across, which is like four fingers together. Oh, damn, that burned! She kept on relentlessly pressing and twisting, and the burning increased. Then she gave one mighty shove; the head slipped through my rectum and in one swoosh! slipped four feet up my bowels. Well, it felt like that much! My asshole felt like it was on fire from the incredible over-stretching, and now the Ben-Gay was spread all over the sensitive inside of my ass. I couldn’t stop the squealing, and finally Mistress Monica stepped around and slapped my face, which brought me back to quiet moans which I eventually suppressed.
All in all, I was in a delightfully miserable situation. Here I was, tied over a gym horse with my head and hands locked in a pillory, my legs strapped wide, with weights on my freshly pierced nipples, weights on my balls, and a burning dildo jammed too fucking far up my asshole! What more could she do to me?
I shouldn’t even have thought of that. First, she went to the workbench and brought back a ring-like affair I recognized as a Kali’s-teeth hard-on breaker of a chastity device. It was a metal ring about an inch wide and maybe an inch and a half across, reasonably big enough to close easily around a fat but not hard cock. However, on the inside were about a hundred nail-like points which were designed to cause me great pain if I dared to get an erection! Oh, shit shit shit... I knew Mistress Monica knew how to give me a hard-on!
Mistress Monica stepped behind me and pinched the head of my cock hard enough to collapse my hard-on and then clamped the ring over me. It fit reasonably snugly and I could feel the points, but they weren’t digging in- yet. She grabbed the dildo sticking out of my ass, twisted it firmly, and I felt my cock respond; yes, those points were going to hurt! Mistress Monica stepped away and pulled up a chair in front of me. She slowly stripped out of her blouse, teasing my eyes. Her miniskirt came off next, leaving her standing in only her scrap of a bra and panties. Eventually, she gently seated her naked self on the chair, smiling at me.
She put one heel up on a rung of the chair and let her legs part slowly. One hand stroked an awesome length of leg until it came to rest on her bush. She made eye contact with me while she parted her pussy lips gently with her fingers. Naturally, my finally-unbound cock reacted, leaping to its full length and thickness. The thickness part is what got me- its growing fatness drove the sensitive skin of my erection firmly onto the needles inside the Ring. The pain was awful and inevitably wilted my erection, but as soon as the pain was gone my erection returned. My cock went like an elevator, up and down and up and down. Only the pressure in my balls continued to mount.
Finally, after nine or twelve cycles of frustrating ecstasy, Mistress Monica worked her way toward yet another orgasm. This time, she was lying on the floor with her feet toward me, her knees pulled up and her thighs spread. In her hand she had the larger twin of the dildo which was still painfully lodged in my colon. An incredible fraction of its length was squirming faster and faster in and out of her sloppy wet cunt. She was grimacing as her orgasm approached.
Me, I was just grimacing as the outrageous bawdiness of her show drove me to another hard-on. I struggled, as always, in the implacable grip of the pillory, which bought me nothing but sweat and made the too-heavy weights on my nipples sway cruelly back and forth. Out back, my squirms made the extra length of the double-dong flap around; the impact of this flapping was of course transmitted through its shaft into my guts, which passed the messages to my balls. The more my balls screamed for an erection and an ejaculation, the more my cock- finally and blessedly free of the accursed chastity belt- gathered its strength for massive rigidity and a long wet ejaculation.
In a climactic spasm she had delayed as long as possible, Mistress Monica finally drove her massive toy practically arm’s length deep inside herself, crossed her ankles to better bear down on it, bit her lips, and then grabbed her nipples with brutal twists while she loudly screamed out her cum. My balls cramped even more than they were already cramped by the already-too-heavy parachute, and my cock readied for... pain! Damn, those spikes hurt, and I just looked at Mistress Monica and cried bitterly as my balls burned and my cock wilted. Then I hung my head and cried.
After what seemed like an hour, Mistress Monica pulled her clothes back on and then took a bit of pity on me. She first removed the weights from my nipple rings, a great relief, and then slowly pulled the dong out of my suffering butt. Finally, she remembered to remove the weights from the parachute. That left me almost in a position to enjoy life- a situation which just wasn’t in the cards, it seemed- so she freed my legs and then released me from the pillory. Moments later, I was again wearing the chastity belt and I was required to slip my cock down into its sheath home. After the expected loud CLICK!, she slipped the key back under her left breast and buttoned up. “Enough freedom and leisure for one day, Bob- please get dressed again.” “Thank you for the brief vacation, Mistress... I think.” She grinned. “Yeah- vacations are never long enough, are they? Well, after all that excitement I need a shower to be ladylike. I’ll see you in a while.” And after returning me to the stocks she went upstairs, leaving me in relative comfort but safe from trouble.
An hour or three later I heard Mistress Iris in the driveway and then upstairs; I heard two sets of feet and then voices. I wasn’t sure whether or not I wanted them to be talking about me! After what seemed like about six hours (time seems to expand when you’re helpless) I heard footsteps and then my Mistresses entered the dungeon. Both of them were of course a delight for my eyes, although there was a bit of concern there too. Mistress Monica was wearing the white blouse and miniskirt she had worn before, although her blouse was slightly messily tucked in; of course, it was not for me to think that somebody had pulled it out to get their hands on her body, was it? Of course not!
Mistress Iris was dressed in a businesslike manner appropriate to a certified public accountant. Licensing is a serious business to a CPA, involving fiduciary trust, and losing one’s license means you’re out of business. If a doctor loses his license to practice medicine, he’s lucky if he can become a veterinarian, and similarly if a CPA loses his or her license, they’re fortunate to become a bookkeeper for Ray’s Gas Station. So they tend to dress conservatively to inspire public confidence.
In this particular case, Mistress Iris, C.P.A., was wearing a stylish brown wool suit which fitted her form well but not too well and covered it from her shoulders to her knees. However, since being removed from the view of the public she served so well, she had unbuttoned the front of the dress, allowing a view of the pink camisole underneath it. As she entered her dungeon, she slipped the dress off her shoulders and hung it casually on a hook. As she cleared the door, she undid some mysterious fastening and the camisole slid to her knees. Ladylike as always, she caught it and stepped carefully out of it to stand before me clad only in tiny G-string panties and a translucent nylon bra which her confident public would never be privileged to see! The camisole joined her suit on the hook as she strolled through her domain in only her scanties.
She approached me and lightly stroked the side of my face. “Mistress Monica tells me she took you out for some exercise today and bought you some jewelry! I guess that makes you part of our family. You should feel honored!” “Yes, Mistress, I am honored, although at times I felt I was not worthy of the honor and should not receive it!” She chuckled. “Well put, little slave boy!” (This was the first time she referred to me as ‘slave’ but certainly not the last.) “Anyway, I’ve been mulling over an idea which started when something made me think back to a drawing I saw ‘way back in ‘Bound To Please’. I want you to build a device for your own abuse; it will be your project from start to finish, although the specifications will be mine. If you make the result too easy on yourself, we will go very hard on you. Clear?” “Yes, Mistress Iris!”
“Good... I have some confidence in you. Now what I envision is a ramp slanted at about 60 degrees, maybe 45, running from floor to ceiling in here. You will be on your back near the top of this ramp. A mechanism of some sort will lower you slowly from top to bottom. Along the way you will pass under a whirling thing, maybe like a weed-whacker, that will spank the shit out of your tender little body. Waiting for you at the bottom will be a toy of some sort. You may make suggestions or improvements along the way, but they had better be to increase its severity, not lessen it. What do you think?” “I see what you mean and I can build it. I will be honored to have you use it on me, and I assure you I will not make it a joy ride!”
“All right, we’ll let you sleep with us tonight while you think it over. Tomorrow it’ll be back to your special drawing board!” And they released me, first to lie bound on my back and orally bring her to her nightly quota of three orgasms, and then to bed to spend another frustrating night with them making love to each other in their big soft bed.
story continues in My Mistress, My Accountant 4