Footlocker inside fashion show mall

Provided By: BDSM Library

Synopsis: There are women who love to submit and to feel the pain. Here is a master for them to make their fantasy come true.

WARNING! THIS IS A WORK OF EROTIC BDSM FICTION. IT IS ADULT ORIENTED MATERIAL OF A SEXUAL NATURE. DELETE NOW IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO VIEW THIS TYPE OF MATERIAL. COPYRIGHT 1998: This story is copyrighted by the author, MB. AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION TO: "SUBMISSION IN SEATTLE" Most erotic stories with an SM theme are set in distant times or places so that the reader can more easily enjoy descriptions of intense sexual behavior that would be unacceptable in his or her own society. "Submission in Seattle" adds a small dash of fantasy to a very real part of modern American society, the BDSM subculture. I hope that you will find this reality-based story even more erotic than one which is totally based on fantasy. I have been told by some that the story is too "cerebral" for most people to be able to enjoy it as erotica. However, others have said that it is the most erotic BDSM story they have ever read. The popularity of BDSM has exploded in recent years, spurred on by the rapid growth of the internet. The creed of the modern BDSM culture is "Safe, Sane and Consensual". One might assume that erotic fiction which respects this boundary would be less arousing than the usual punishment/rape/enslavement SM tales that are found on the internet or in the erotica section of your local bookstore. "Submission in Seattle" may surprise you. To millions of television and film viewers, the standard symbol of BDSM is the stereotypical leather-clad professional Dominatrix. In American society, female domination of males is the most visible and politically correct form of BDSM relationship. For those couples who choose to practice male domination of the female, there is no such reassuring symbol for them to follow. The majority of these couples exercise their rights as consenting adults in private, in isolation and with a justifiable fear of persecution. As the BDSM community matures, subgroups which enjoy certain facets of BDSM play are beginning to coalesce. One group that is now asserting its right to exist is the maledom-femsub community. This novel is for them and those who are curious. Our main character, Howard Cole, is a professional male dominant for women. As everyone in the BDSM community knows, this is highly unusual. The simple rule of supply and demand in sexual commerce prevents men from making a living in this manner. However, a small number of dominant heterosexual men have established themselves as professionals. Typically just one or two in a large city that might support scores of female pro-Dommes. If you are in need of their services, seek them out in the darker regions of the internet. You won't be disappointed. M.B. 1998 SUBMISSION IN SEATTLE CHAPTER ONE Innocence is everywhere, but the honest enjoyment of perversion is rare. On a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon, platoons of harried women in expensive cars shuttled their well dressed children along the streets of an upper class neighborhood near Seattle, Washington. Each house concealed its unique story behind a screen of tall evergreen trees and fashionable forest landscaping. One home on a particular suburban lane had its own special energy. This energy was provided by the women who passed beyond the heavy black door into the residence of Howard Cole. There was nothing outwardly unusual about the one story contemporary home. Three young children from nearby families played noisily within fifty feet of the conservative gray painted exterior. The pleasant open space between the large houses was shaded from the late afternoon summer sun by a canopy of eighty foot Douglas Firs. Predictably, one of the children launched a piercing, repetitive scream in response to some injustice perpetrated by a sibling. The occupants of the gray house, as if in another world, were blissfully unaware of the commotion outside. Insulated in the soundproof basement of his large home, Howard Cole stepped back to appraise his work. As a talented photographer, he appreciated the finer points of composition, color and lighting. He stroked his short beard for a moment, then adjusted the rolled up sleeves of his open necked black silk dress shirt. He stretched his solid, six foot frame to loosen up his shoulders and straightened his round metal framed glasses. The warm, spacious, high ceilinged room resembled a photographer's studio. It had been, until he discovered a more compelling hobby. Unusual electronic music played from a sophisticated sound system, creating an air of mystery and erotic ritual. Around the edges of the hardwood floor, in semi-darkness, oddly shaped pieces of furniture rested under black sheets. In the center of the room a massage table with a well padded, brown leather top rested in a pool of light. It was quite heavily constructed, with brass fittings where its thick wooden beams joined together. Cole didn't appreciate the room as much as he did the girl. Kristina was one of his latest favorites; a true masochist who dreamed of being a slave girl. This was her fourth visit to the intimate basement dungeon. He had yet to find one girl to steal his heart forever, but he enjoyed them all for their individual qualities and varied physical attributes. The one trait they all had in common was the need for submission. To Cole, it was a priceless treasure and extremely beautiful. Every submissive girl he met captured his attention, at least for a while. Kristina was a gifted young software designer who happened to work part time as a nude dancer. He could see it in her dancer's legs and perfect little ass. She was exhibited quite nicely at the moment, he thought. He had a talent for posing the girls in the most flattering and erotic positions. A result, he was sure, of his photographic experience. Kristina noticed his admiring gaze, then wiggled her well curved bottom to let him know she was ready. She displayed her slender nude body and fragile youth while seductively bent over the top of the waist high table. The overhead spot lights illuminated her perfectly, and she knew it. She grinned as she thought, "Krissy, you've been wanting this for weeks. Trust Master Cole, he knows what you need." She felt the tension in her arms from the soft leather cuffs that pulled her wrists toward the far end of the table. Another pair of restraints held her ankles to the sturdy, polished table legs, making her struggle a bit to touch the floor with her toes. It was another one of Cole's subtle touches that reminded Kristina of her delicious vulnerability. "Looks like I'm going to get my money's worth tonight," she predicted silently to herself. She listened receptively as Cole spoke in a low, hypnotic tone that penetrated deeply into her mind, "Krissy, it's time for me to enjoy you now. If you need to stop, you know how to communicate that to me. However, if you stop, that will be all for today, and you will go home knowing you didn't satisfy me. Do you understand?" "Yes, Master Cole," she said in a dreamy voice. She looked up at him and saw a handsome forty one year old man with short dark hair. His precisely trimmed dark beard and mustache somehow made him look sophisticated and sinister at the same time. The piercing gray eyes were almost hypnotic. When she was in this delightfully submissive and sensual state, his attractiveness was very compelling. She wanted nothing more than to be close to him and give herself to him in every possible way. She closed her eyes for a minute to concentrate on the hypnotic music and she felt herself slipping into the trance-like state that she so treasured. The stresses of her high pressure life fell away bit by bit. Kristina stretched her muscles sensuously as Cole placed his hands on her well formed back and began to massage away her tension. His knowing fingers traced the firm muscles that were hidden beneath her tan skin. The bright halogen studio light made the barely visible fuzz of tiny blonde hairs sparkle and caused a languid warmth to penetrate her body. When her muscles were nicely relaxed she felt him shift his touch to the provocative curves of her ass. The first few swats of his heavy right hand were delicate, as if to judge the range and check the sensitivity of her flesh. Kristina pushed her bottom out a little farther to signal her need. As Cole gradually stepped up the spanking she could feel the stinging impact of his big hands driving her against the table. Her face was forced closer to the padded tabletop and she inhaled the sweet aroma of tanned leather that added to her arousal. "Do you like this, Krissy?" "Yes, Master Cole, may I please have it harder?" She tossed her head to spread out her glorious, shoulder length blonde hair, which she knew he liked. He smiled, "Of course you can. Your pretty bottom is getting very red, little girl, and you know that turns me on." "I know, I know," she whimpered and she continued to take the force of his hands on her bottom cheeks. She could tell that the intensity was carefully measured, being increased in precise intervals that must have taken him years to perfect. Slowly, a growing sexual tingle made itself felt in her clitoris. "It's starting," she thought with an audible groan. Kristina was no stranger to the SM scene. She loved pain play, when it was done right, but she also loved to submit. I have plenty of friends who'll give me a good spanking, she thought, but why is Howard Cole the only one I can submit to? I usually play because I enjoy it, but with him I seem to do it because he enjoys it! A more intense wave of arousal interrupted her thoughts, reminding her of the helpless position she had gotten herself into. She was restrained with her legs apart and she knew that he must have a perfect view of her cunt. He had ignored it completely and it was driving her crazy waiting for the first touch. The wonderful sensation of bare skin striking bare skin helped form an almost spiritual connection between them. Cole's strong hands were ideal spanking instruments and each solid blow landed with a loud crack. Krissy swore that she could hear the sharp sounds echoing off the walls. He changed hands frequently, using the off hand to stroke smoothly up and down her back to enhance the emotional bond. "Oooh, mmmm, ouch," Krissy whispered. The pain suddenly became more intense, and she had a brief moment of fear as she realized that he was striking the backs of her long, lean thighs. Cole could feel himself perspiring lightly after several minutes of hard spanking. When her breathing became heavier and the blood was circulating furiously in her inflamed asscheeks, Cole dragged his fingernails lightly across her hot red skin. Kristina's sharp intake of breath indicated that she was properly warmed up. He noticed how her small hips widened from the pressure of the table edge and the soft outer curves of her breasts swelled where they were pressed against the leather. Cole leaned back a little to look carefully between her parted legs, where her pouting nether lips were outlined in a most enchanting way by a well groomed thatch of fine blonde hair. Knowing that he could penetrate her later if he wished, he began to grow erect, but stopped himself so he could concentrate on the scene. Moving quietly around to the head of the table, he bent down to speak with her in a soft voice. "Open your mouth, Krissy. You'll need this rubber bit." To protect her teeth and tongue, Cole placed a rubber bar in her mouth like a horse's bit that buckled behind her head. To demonstrate his complete control, he reached down to gently open her sex with his fingers and softly stroke her sensitive inner labia. Kristina's muscles contracted involuntarily with the surprising new stimulation. She was embarrassed by her sudden straining against her bonds and moaned as she felt an overwhelming sense of submission and inevitability. Her heart beat faster and the excitement grew within her. She could feel the first trickle of wetness between her legs. She watched as Cole picked up a long, straight rattan cane and showed it to her. It was a quarter inch thick and one end had been covered with thin black leather to form a handle. As she studied it, her breathing became difficult and irregular. Holding the cane reverently, Cole walked around behind her into an area reflected by a large wall mirror. Kristina could see the full reflection of her helpless form strapped to the heavy table and she realized that she would be able to see exactly what was happening to her lovely bottom. Her own wide eyed expression in the mirror reminded her of the way a deer looks when caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. Cole noticed it too. Slowly drawing his arm back for a full stroke, he aimed the cane directly at the center of her perfect ass and drove it with full force into her taut gluteal globes. The skin was deeply indented for a hundredth of a second. A heartbeat later Kristina's head jerked, causing her hair to fly up and descend in a pretty golden shower that sparkled as it caught the light. It was as if she had been struck by lightning and her eyes widened at the astonishing impact. She grunted around the rubber bit, which had just saved her tongue from a serious injury. Looking carefully at his watch, Cole said calmly, "I like to allow about thirty seconds between strokes so that you can fully appreciate the pain." Kristina heard the music change from an erotic electronic piece to a Gregorian chant. Then she heard the hiss of the cane through the air. It struck before she could even tighten her buttocks in anticipation. The pain was extreme, and Kristina didn't know if she could continue to take it at this intensity. She contemplated ending the scene, but knew that if she did she would regret it later when she was longing to be in his bed. "Continue to breathe," she told herself, "concentrate and you can take this for him." Five minutes and ten loud strokes into the ritual, Kristina's ass was a perfect example of the double track signature of the cane. Each raised red welt was placed parallel to the others. Kristina, her skin flushed and damp with sweat, moaned and pulled hard at the leather cuffs. She forced herself to breathe very rapidly, almost panting with the pain. It seemed to help, somehow. The fire in her hindquarters slowly penetrated into her brain and fulfilled the mysterious need that only Cole understood. She knew that she had now reached that familiar plateau that was like the moment when an orgasm becomes inevitable. The scene would now continue to its conclusion. There was no other option. There was a brief pause and she was afraid he might stop. Then she looked at Cole in the mirror and listened to him speak. Her vision was slightly blurry with sweat or arousal, she couldn't tell which. "I want to hurt you some more, Krissy. You've only had ten strokes so far. I'd like you to take twenty five. The last girl I used this big cane on was barely conscious after 20 strokes, but I think you can do better." Kristina was both exhilarated and frightened, but continued to look at her own reflection in the mirror as if she were observing a dream. She watched in fascination, as the heavy rattan cane cut into her outraged bottom. She tried to scream into the rubber bit as he continued to dispense the severe blows, "Oh God... No, oooh, YES!" Her endorphins began to flow and the pain was slowly transformed into pleasure. It took six more of the slashing strokes before she was truly flying high on a trip induced by a cocktail of fantasy, emotions and natural biochemicals released by her bruised flesh. The powerful strokes slowly continued as she moaned and thrashed against the table. She was not struggling to free herself. She was writhing in ecstasy. As on previous visits, she was allowed to spend the night. Her submission was absolute. This time, after satisfying his perverted sexual urges, she was forced to sleep on the floor next to his bed. She loved every minute of it and was happy to hand him a slim envelope as she left the next morning. Kristina knew that she was just one woman among many in the unusual life of Howard Cole, but she didn't mind. Her world felt complete. She was deliciously satisfied and quite proud at having taken twenty five strokes of the terrible cane. She left his house smiling, feeling the sexy soreness in her buttocks and vagina. With any luck, she thought, she would be reminded of her caning for two or three days as she sat in her boring office cubicle. Her breasts bounced a bit as she got behind the wheel and her sore nipples peaked, reminding her of other pleasures. She drove along the conservative Sunday morning streets, observing the ordinary people living their ordinary lives. "If they only knew..." she speculated. She grinned at the thought of the secret she carried inside and wondered how long it would be until she needed to contact him again. As he watched her go, Cole felt strangely alone. He was pleased that Krissy believed she had taken the full twenty five strokes, when he had actually stopped at nineteen. The little psychological games were all part of the service. It had taken him years of trial and error to learn how to weave a woman's fantasy into a practical reality. He played the role well, very well, but he knew there must be more. CHAPTER TWO Howard Cole placed his glass of Willamette valley pinot noir on the desk next to the computer and looked around the expensively furnished home office to clear his mind. As was his nightly custom, he powered up his computer to check his email. He grinned slightly as he recalled his session with Krissy the previous week. He thought briefly about how much more interesting his life had become in the years since he had discovered organized BDSM and later, the internet. "Life certainly has its surprises," he said before taking a sip from the one glass of wine he allowed himself. While he waited for the computer to complete the logon and download procedure, he recalled the unlikely chain of events that led to his unusual lifestyle. From his elegant home in a heavily forested suburb of Seattle, Cole reached out into the shadowy world of those who searched for satisfaction via the internet. His occupation as a patent broker allowed him ample time to pursue his true love, the sexual domination of women. He enjoyed being his own boss and was usually able to set his own hours. His clients were major universities and small research companies that needed to sell their patented ideas to various industries. They usually met with him at his office in Bellevue where he shared a receptionist and secretarial staff with four other businessmen. None of them had the slightest understanding of his unusual sexual tastes. Most of the businessmen in his circle of friends brought their wives or girlfriends to business related functions. Cole usually showed up alone, which caused some speculation that he might be gay. In reality, he simply did not want to mix his sex life with his work, for obvious reasons. He remembered that on the rare occasions when he brought a woman friend, his colleagues and their wives would spend the next few days trying to figure out what gave the woman such a mysterious air of sexuality. Ill equipped to understand sexual submissiveness, they usually decided it was something mundane, like her clothing or perfume. He had no idea what a strange direction his life would take when he graduated from a Southern California law school in his late twenties with a profound distrust of the adversarial legal system. During his final year of school, he interned at a law firm specializing in criminal defense and other trial work. The things he saw there convinced him that he could never participate in the courtroom games that his classmates loved. That was also when his wife announced that he wasn't the kind of man she wanted to be married to and demanded a divorce. Shortly thereafter, he discovered a talent for patent law and never looked back. According to his estimate, he could retire at age fifty and live very nicely for the rest of his life. When the monitor finally displayed the list of incoming email, he snapped back from his self analysis and quickly focused on the messages. Ah, three responses tonight, he noted. They were replies to the personal ads that he had placed systematically on various websites and newsgroups. Each of his ads was slightly different, but they all contained basically the same message. Cole described himself in the ads as a professional dominant for women only. Although the ads didn't mention it, his fee was negotiable. It would usually depend on what the customer could afford. He didn't need the money, but it helped establish a very important boundary. It also created an atmosphere that allowed for some intensely hot play sessions. When he first considered this idea, he was told by his friends from the Seattle SM scene that there was no such thing as a professional male dominant, unless you wanted to dominate men, of course. It was a simple case of supply and demand in the sex industry. The conventional wisdom also said that most, if not all, submissive women were looking for a long term relationship. After some research and several experiments in advertising, he discovered that there was a small, but significant market for his services. Not enough to make a living, which he didn't need anyway, but enough to keep him busy with interesting new women. Once he had worked out the system, there was a slow, but steady stream of women who answered his internet ads. Most of them lived too far away, didn't have the money to travel or were just too frightened to meet with a stranger for such an intimate and dangerous activity. Cole gently discouraged many others who did not meet his personal standards for physical appearance or intelligence. About two or three times a year, he would arrange to meet with a new correspondent who seemed to be a good potential customer. In the back of his mind was always the possibility that he might meet a woman who could become his permanent partner. He discovered that many submissive women didn't feel like they could really give up control to a man who was going to be a major part of their lives. A professional dominant, on the other hand, could do his job and vanish. The woman could carry on safely with her normal life, keeping only the treasured memories of her submissive sexual experience. Many of the women he met were in situations that prevented them from seeking the kind of relationship they truly desired. Perhaps they were married and unable to leave. Perhaps their career or public image was at risk. Others wished to safely learn about their submissive feelings. It seemed that each woman had her own unique reason for seeking his services. He dropped out of the Seattle SM scene when he realized that he wasn't finding what he needed there. By avoiding public gatherings of the SM community, it was also less likely that his secret life would become known to his vanilla friends and colleagues. He would still occasionally meet his kinky friends at Beyond the Edge Cafe, the unofficial meeting place of the leather community. Only a few of his most trusted scene friends knew of his second occupation and they would occasionally send him a woman who needed his services. A meeting of the local SM club had to be something special for him to attend these days. He might go if a nationally known figure was speaking. Laura Antoniou had been at the last one and Cole had enjoyed it greatly. He sat in the back and waved politely at old friends who recognized him. After the meeting, instead of joining the milling crowd of people eager to meet potential play partners, he waited only long enough for Laura to autograph a set of her books for him. Then he quietly disappeared from the room. Now, staring intently at the computer monitor, he quickly read and eliminated all three of the responses. Not my type, he sighed. He sent each of them a polite reply telling them that he was currently unavailable. Then he answered a two day old email from a previous customer who wanted to schedule another session. Their first two sessions had been in her home, but this time she was interested in being "kidnapped" and taken away to be ravished by Cole. He quickly typed an email message: "Dear Victoria, I would be pleased to provide you with a kidnapping scene on Sunday the 18th. The usual rules will apply, except that this time I will not specify a fee. After you have had a few days to think about the experience, simply send me whatever amount you feel is appropriate. I will need the full details of your schedule that day. Make certain that you are available until at least 10 PM." Cole sent the message and shut down the computer. He thought about the particular fondness he had for Victoria. It wasn't just the fact that she had a very sexy, mature body. Under her too perfect exterior and snobbish attitude was a little girl who needed to be dominated. He also had a great deal of respect for her. Victoria wasn't a thrill seeking young SM player like Kristina. She was the mature female of the species, experienced and formidable. Too bad her obsession with her looks and her society lifestyle were so annoying, he thought. Still, she had responded very nicely during their sessions and he felt like there was potential for more good play. Unlike some of his customers, she didn't seem to mind marks and bruises, as long as they could be covered by her clothing. In fact, she had indicated that she would like it a lot rougher if possible. Cole grinned at the thought. At that moment, in the elegant ladies' room of a historic hotel in downtown Seattle, Victoria Windham-Jenkins checked her make up for the fourth time. She was forty two years old, but looked like she was thirty. "A young thirty," she said to herself as she reshaped the outline of her slightly too bright lipstick. It made her feel better after her exchange of insults with a snobbish couple in the grand dining room a few minutes earlier. She was aware that both her mood and her behavior had been gradually deteriorating in recent weeks. I'm getting to be such a bitch, she thought, it reminds me of that weird movie I watched last week. What was that Navajo word for life-out-of-balance? Koyanisqat-something? She tried to remember exactly how long it had been since her last session with Howard Cole. Was it four months ago or five, she wondered? Her secretary had jokingly pointed out one of Cole's internet ads last year and Victoria had since experienced two successful sessions with the professional dominant. Victoria's wealthy husband had died a decade before, leaving her with a company that controlled two hundred thousand acres of prime timber land and two world class paper mills. There was more money than she could possibly spend. She still missed the old bastard, though. He was so deliciously rough and he always seemed to know when she needed it. She constantly tested him and she could still remember how his big hand would bruise her bare bottom when she pushed him too far. Actually, she thought, I could use a little bit of that right now. Although she was technically the Chairman of the Board, her presence was rarely required at company headquarters. A veritable army of managers and accountants took care of things quite nicely without her. When she was not attending society functions she spent her time in the gym and at various health spas being wrapped in odd substances guaranteed to preserve one's youthful skin tone. As yet, she had avoided the plastic surgeon. It was a matter of pride, which she had in abundance. She paid a small fortune to keep a hairdresser on call at all times to maintain her elaborate bleached blonde hairstyle. She copied it from Farrah Fawcett almost twenty years ago, but she thought of it as her trademark and would never consider changing it. Looking in the mirror one last time, she admired her bright green eyes, then patted her hair and smoothed the low cut velvet gown around her womanly curves. As she left the ladies' room, she cheered herself with the thought that men were always in plentiful supply. They would compete among themselves to see who could serve her most sincerely. She remembered a recent art gallery opening, where she had counted four attractive men of various ages who swarmed around her offering flutes of champagne, crab cocktails and radishes that were carved into perfect little flowers. To intimidate the other women that night, she had worn a tight red evening dress that displayed her large breasts and narrow waist. That sexy Italian artist told me I looked like Marilyn Monroe, she recalled with a smug little smile. She remembered how she took the lucky fellow home with her that night and discarded him the next morning as if he were an empty wine bottle. Her memories ended as she returned to the party and surveyed the crowd. Tonight she had her eye on a handsome young doctor. She watched him show a mouth full of perfect white teeth when he grinned at a joke. "He'll do nicely," she thought while moving in for the kill and trying unsuccessfully to suppress a shark-like grin. The result was never in doubt. They left the party early and her chauffeur drove them both to her place. The poor doctor was used and sent home by midnight. Afterwards lying alone in her gigantic bed, she thought of her late husband, Eric, and wished that he was there to give her what she really needed. Fast and easy sex was better than nothing, she figured, but she could still feel a tension within her that would be impossible to describe to anyone else. She reflected briefly on her arrangement with Howard Cole and thought, I guess I do have something to look forward to, if I can just hold out till next week. When Victoria awoke the next Sunday morning, she remembered that she had given the housekeeper the day off. She was alone in her very large house. It had twenty three rooms, an outdoor swimming pool that was of little use in Seattle, and a smaller house for the servants. Cole hadn't told her when she would be kidnapped, but since he had asked her where she would go and when, she expected it to happen when she left the house to have lunch at her favorite Sunday restaurant. She told her driver to take the day off, so she would be free to go out alone. After a very light breakfast, she got into the shower and started to shave. She always shaved her labia and left just a little triangle of hair above. After shaving, she spent several minutes stroking herself and thinking about what might happen to her later that day. She was reasonably certain that Cole had understood her requests for rougher play. Just as she was on the verge of coming, she stopped the erotic self stimulation in order to leave herself with a nice edge. "Oooh, gotta stop now," she said to herself. Having a hair stylist on call, she normally did not wash her own hair. Unfortunately, the stylist was not available today and she resigned herself to being without her perfect hairstyle until tomorrow. It's going to get messed up anyway, she hoped. Reaching for the shampoo, she proceeded to wash her long blonde hair. It pleased her to see that she remembered how. With her eyes tightly closed, she put her head under the shower stream and rinsed out the floral scented shampoo. Without warning, a strong arm reached past the frilly shower curtain and wrapped around her waist. She was lifted completely out of the tub and a black cloth bag was placed over her head before she could identify the intruder. She hoped it was Cole, but she wasn't expecting him for a few more hours. With her heart pounding, she said meekly, "Howard, is that you?" The intruder was in the process of pulling her arms behind her back and snapping a pair of handcuffs on her wrists. A muffled voice said simply, "Shut up, Bitch!" It didn't sound at all like Howard. She was completely terror-stricken. Still damp from the shower, naked, handcuffed and shivering with fear, she was forced to walk through the house to the garage. The intruder lifted her into a vehicle that seemed to be a van of some sort and pushed her down onto the carpeted floor. He strapped her down firmly to the floor with several wide nylon straps that felt like rough seat belts, then covered her with a thick, soft quilt. She was unable to move or see, but she heard someone get into the driver's seat. Then the garage door opened and the van drove out. When her panic had subsided a bit, she called out to the driver, "Who are you, where are you taking me?" He ignored her completely. Oh God, I've really been kidnapped! she thought in panic. Her corporate security department had warned her that this was a possibility and now it had happened. She felt very frightened, but at least it was warm beneath the quilt, which was apparently filled with goose down. Maybe they'll just keep me for a few days until the ransom is paid. I certainly have enough money for that, she mused. The pressure of the tight straps and the gentle rocking movement of the vehicle gradually calmed her and created a warm submissive feeling. Somehow the feeling combined with her fear and produced a subtle erotic aura. Blinded by the cloth bag and completely immobile, there wasn't much to do but relax. After a long time, the van seemed to drive into another garage and she heard the electric rumbling as the door closed. The unseen driver opened the side door of the van and released the straps. With upward pressure on her cuffed wrists behind her back, he forced her to walk into a house and down a flight of stairs. She thought she was in a basement, but it was quite warm and the floor felt like smooth varnished wood. There was a slight smell of perfume, or was it incense? Still without a word, the man pushed her face down onto a firm bed and removed the cloth bag from her head. Before she could turn to look at him, he placed a padded leather blindfold over her eyes that was held in place with a strong elastic band. She was surprised when he took a minute to comb out her damp hair and dry it with a towel. The touch of the comb felt very intimate. Damn, I'm getting turned on, she realized. Then the handcuffs were removed and leather bindings of some sort were firmly attached around each wrist. He pulled her across the smooth floor and attached her wrists to something in front of her. A moment later, her arms were pulled straight up above her head. She was able to keep the strain off her wrists by holding a leather strap that crossed the palm of each hand. She didn't know what to expect next. The kidnapper still hadn't spoken more than three words, so she had no clue as to why she had been forced into this humiliating position. Except for the leather restraints on her wrists, she was totally naked and exposed to anything the kidnapper wished to do. She could feel that her large breasts were nicely displayed by her raised arms. She was very proud to have such attractive breasts at her age. As her ankles were fastened to the floor about two feet apart, she struggled between fear and arousal. When she thought about how her shaved cunt was now exposed, she knew that arousal was going to win. The man removed her blindfold. He stood behind her so she still couldn't identify him, but she could tell that she was in a darkened room with a single spotlight shining down on her. Nearly blinded by the sudden light, she could just make out the shape of a video camera on a tripod with a red light blinking. Perhaps the kidnapper was making a tape to send with a ransom note? Who would be looking at that tape? The thought made her hold in her stomach and thrust out her chest to show off her lush figure. The blindfold was suddenly replaced, but not before she had looked down at her nude body and noticed how her firm breasts were thrust forward and her nipples were as hard as little rocks. The feeling of debasement was strong and it stimulated an increasing wetness between her legs. The kidnapper decided to enjoy himself a bit and started slowly caressing her. No kisses, he didn't want her to feel his beard. Seeing her without her usually perfect hairstyle made her seem more than naked. The strong spotlight emphasized the fashionable paleness of her skin. Her milky white breasts were made to be offered in this position, he thought. He made sure to pinch and twist the erect pink nipples, then squeezed each breast hard several times. He lifted and dropped each one repeatedly to appreciate their resilience and weight. Reaching down between her legs, he started to lightly stroke her slightly damp cunt. Hmmm, freshly shaved, he noticed. After a few minutes, he found her clitoris, which was as hard as her nipples. She jerked when he touched it, betraying its extreme sensitivity. The ankle restraints made it impossible for her to bring her legs together, granting him free access to her erotic center. After several minutes of light touching and teasing, his semi-willing victim was nearly ready to scream from frustration. Removing his hand from between her legs, he stepped back and picked up a four foot single tailed whip that his years of practice allowed him to control perfectly. To make sure that it was properly flexible he cracked it in the air a few feet behind Victoria's back. The sound was like a small caliber gunshot. He enjoyed seeing her jump and fight against her bonds. The threatening snaps of the whip frightened Victoria and she began to make sexy whimpering noises as she realized that she did not have the slightest control over what was going to happen next. With a series of gentle overhand strokes, the braided nylon cracker on the end of the whip started to kiss her pale skin. Just a light snap on her shoulder blade, then a stronger one on her left ass cheek. The impacts burned like fire for thirty seconds, then left a hot glow behind. Very light strokes alternated with moderate ones for several minutes, leaving distinct red welts on her upper back, buttocks and thighs. There was a slow, regular rhythm to her punishment that added to her arousal and her desire to surrender herself to her captor. Every ten to fifteen strokes, the whip would crack near her helpless body with a loud report, re-igniting her fear. A few strokes began to creep around her generous hips leaving more raised red stripes there. She could feel every one of the burning welts, although she had lost count after fifty lashes. The thrill of dominating the normally haughty woman was making him hard and his rapid heartbeat was almost audible. "I feel so alive when I do this," he thought. There was an almost painful pressure as his cock tried to find a path for expansion. He would have to remove his jeans soon if this continued and he decided to pause for a moment to regain control. To regain his composure, he concentrated on his technical skills and carefully used a backstroke to place several lashes between her open thighs, setting fire to her already overheated labia. He walked around her, admiring her body and noticing how vulnerable she looked, blindfolded and hanging there within easy reach. I love the way this position emphasizes her hipbones and the way her breasts stand out and beg for attention, he thought. He sensed that it was time for another hard stroke, this one needed to strike an unmarked area of white skin just below her well shaped right bottom cheek. By this time, Victoria was sure it was Cole. He was playing her like a musical instrument. Nobody else understood her responses well enough to do that to her. Gasping between lashes, she cried out, "God, you're good Howard. I'm so horny I could die!" Pulling the blindfold off, he smiled and said, "You are such a slut, Vicky." "I am not a slut!" "Yes you are. Look how wet you get when you're tied and whipped. I'm not stopping until you admit it. Admit that you're a horny little tramp who needs to be dominated." He adjusted the overhead rope to pull her wrists higher, forcing her up onto her toes. The harsh restraints stretched her voluptuous frame to its limits. She turned her head to get a glimpse of Cole standing behind her. The handsome face with its sinister beard and the studious glasses reminded her of how hot she was for the man. The pressure of her arms against the side of her head told her that her damp hair was nearly dry and must look horrible. It was bad enough being put on display in such a lewd manner, but she shuddered with humiliation at the thought of being seen without her usual perfect hairstyle. Cole didn't mind a bit. He thought that her nicely stretched body looked quite delicious, especially when forcibly stripped of its artificial decoration. He moved around in front of her and carefully aimed the thin whip at her right breast. "No! Please... not my tits!" She moaned and watched fearfully as the tip burned a red line into the inner curve of her sexy cleavage. She tried to shake her chest from side to side to spoil his aim, but he slowly covered her thrust out bosom with one stinging welt after another. The delightful jiggling of her breasts only spurred him on. He saved her engorged, sensitive nipples for last. She was biting her lip to keep from saying the one humiliating thing that would make him stop, when she realized that he was taking aim at her highly aroused left nipple. She was a strong willed woman, but her eyes opened wide when the whip lashed her helpless teat. Almost instantly, before the pain could arrive at her brain, he had done the same to her other nipple. Throwing her head back she let out a long scream that echoed off the walls of the large room. Hanging there whimpering as the pain in her breasts slowly diminished, she said, "You're right, Howard, I am a slut. I need to be fucked so bad I can't stand it another second." "So, you're a horny little slut, are you? You'll have to beg me to fuck you. Do you want it that bad, Little Vicki Slut?" He slid three fingers inside her while using his other hand to lightly brush her abused nipples. Victoria sucked in a huge breath as she felt her vaginal muscles relax and invite the invading fingers deeper. A large quantity of her slick fluid flowed onto Cole's hand. She was terribly embarrassed by her obvious need, but it didn't stop her from begging. "Yes, please sir, I really need it now! Fuck me, please fuck me!" Victoria had never felt so degraded and debased. Cole lowered her until he could unfasten her wrist and ankle restraints from their attachment points. Then with the leather cuffs still on, he led her to a low bed in the corner. "Get on your knees slut, you're going to be fucked like an animal. Get your head down all the way. Arch your back. Stick that cunt out for me." He reached beneath her with one hand to roughly fondle her large breasts, which were hanging straight down in a tantalizing way. His other hand slapped her welted ass and stroked her cunt to bring her arousal to a peak. He quickly removed his clothing and touched his aching cock, which confirmed his extreme horniness. Cole slipped a thin textured condom onto his thick organ and knelt behind her. The view of her hips and cunt was intoxicating. He slipped easily into her wet opening and began long slow thrusts that gradually increased in speed and power. He always used a condom with his paying customers, partly to protect himself and partly to help delay his own orgasm. He was glad for the reduced sensation this time, since he had become highly aroused by dominating the proud Victoria. Being fucked from behind was Victoria's favorite position, but she never allowed her lovers to take her that way. She thought it was demeaning and didn't want them to see her like that. Being ruthlessly whipped, then fucked doggy style by someone who really knew how to use her was something from her hottest and most secret fantasy. Her skin was still burning from nearly a hundred thin welts, when the pounding of Cole's cock pushed her over the edge. She came in a long series of violent internal spasms and a guttural scream that sounded as if she were dying. Cole was breathing heavily, not from the physical exertion, but from the intense concentration. He was just a bit disappointed when she collapsed forward onto her face. "Humph!" he muttered. "You're not getting off that easily Miss Vicky." She seemed completely incapacitated as he rolled her over onto her back. He quickly fastened the wrist cuffs to the head of the bed and used soft ropes to pull her ankle cuffs to each side, leaving her cunt gaping and ready for his attention. When she opened her eyes he saw her look at his face, then at his hard cock. He felt the wave of total lust that she projected. It was obvious. Even though their relationship was strictly limited, at that moment she wanted him inside her more than any man she had ever known. "Please, please, I need more!" she begged, while trying to thrust her wanting pussy toward him. Warming up on a nearby chair was an electric massager with a large flat head heated to several degrees above body temperature. Grasping the cylindrical handle, Cole turned it on and began to slide the warm, flat, vibrating surface up and down the slippery length of her shaved vulva. He varied the pressure in time with the movement of her hips creating a symphony of sexual stimulation. Straining against her soft bonds and panting like she had just run a marathon, Victoria had two or three more earth shattering orgasms before Cole decided to give her his own cock again. He released her legs, then held them up together while he knelt and pushed himself fully into her warm depths. Her legs folded conveniently over his shoulder. The extra tightness caused by holding her legs together helped offset the effect of the condom and the soaking wet cunt. Seeing her hands still restrained above her head reminded him that he was in complete control. He looked down at her breasts, which had flattened considerably in this position, but now jiggled dramatically with his thrusting. "Nice tits, my little slut, you should see how they bounce when I fuck you like this," he said in a humiliating tone. Victoria tried to respond verbally, but could only manage a series of gasps and grunts. The physical and emotional stimulation soon had him on the verge of coming and he slapped her welted ass with his hand just as he started to spurt. Even though Victoria was exhausted, Cole's loud groan of pleasure and strenuous thrusting forced her to come once more. Nearly an hour later, when they had both recovered enough to talk, he inspected her for any cuts or bleeding. She was covered with thin welts about four inches long. Fortunately, none of the welts had broken the skin and they were all in areas that would heal nicely. "You'd better stay away from the health spa for a while. There's no way you're going to explain this," he said. "You won't be showing any cleavage either," he noted, while looking at her striped breasts. "I know, but it was worth it. I feel so relaxed, so balanced, it's almost like being high. I can survive the rat race for another few months now. Thanks, Howard... really." She grinned and pulled him into a lover's hug. "Don't you worry about me, I'll heal up OK." He showed her that the video camera had been a fake. It was all part of the performance. She took some time attempting to make her hair look better, then asked for a scarf to cover it. He drove her home and handed her the garage door opener that he had used to gain entrance to her house. When she asked how he got it, he simply grinned and said, "A pro-Dom can't tell all his secrets." Victoria turned to watch him drive away. In many ways she wanted him for her own, but she knew that it was best to keep their relationship just as it was. Turning to go inside, she started to think of her next social obligation, a party that she was hosting in a week. Her newfound state of relaxation allowed her to contemplate her duties without the tension that had been present the day before. A few days later Cole received a letter from Victoria addressed in her excellent handwriting. Inside he found a personal check for two thousand dollars and a one word note that said "Thanks." CHAPTER THREE Several months later, in an apartment close to downtown, a woman with gloriously curly, long brown hair hunched over a glowing laptop computer. It was, appropriately, resting on her lap as she reclined against a pile of pillows on her queen sized bed. Her name was Monica Peterson and she was trading email with a man whose personal ad she discovered on the internet the previous month. So far, she knew him only as Howard. She brushed her hair back from her pretty face and frowned in concentration. As she thought about the best way to convey a very private thought to her new correspondent, she recalled some of their previous conversations. He described himself as a professional dominant for women, a pro-dom. When they first made contact, he asked her to explain in great detail what she was looking for and why she wanted it. It was not easy for her to discuss such private thoughts, but it was a very enlightening exchange. They traded email almost daily for six weeks and talked on the telephone several times. His deep, sexy voice on the phone made her tingle inside. At first, Monica was reluctant to believe that he was genuine, but gradually she became convinced and started making plans to meet and perhaps sample his services. Early in their correspondence she revealed considerable information about herself to avoid any misunderstandings about what she was looking for. He patiently answered her numerous questions about dominance and submission, then asked more questions about her past. In one of their first phone conversations, she asked how he would make her submit. He patiently explained, "I have no interest in making anyone submit. Not by seduction, threats or trickery." "If someone wants to be my submissive," he told her, "they must submit willingly, even eagerly." He had vowed never to waste his time on someone who was not sure what they wanted. She learned that one of his greatest fears was to have a partner appear to submit, then change her mind and accuse him of forcing her. Monica worked as an account executive in a well known Seattle-based marketing firm. She believed that the pressures of her job were partly responsible for her intense desire to submit sexually, but the roots of her sexuality extended back beyond her dimmest memories. Perhaps it was even determined by her genes. As she and Cole were getting to know each other, she conscientiously answered his questions regarding her childhood and her first memories of wanting to submit. "When I was seven," she told him, "I remember hoping that my cousin would tie me up. He was about ten years old and had no interest in me at the time. I was very disappointed." At age nine in Boise, Idaho, she would wrap herself in long coils of rope and pretend that she was a woman being held prisoner by various villains. She wasn't exactly sure what the villains would get out of it. Apparently, tying up women was part of their job, or at least it seemed that way on television. Then there were the Nancy Drew books. She discovered them when she was eleven. The scenes where Nancy was captured and tied up held her attention like nothing else she had read before. In one book, Nancy was spanked with a hairbrush by a nefarious thief. In the privacy of her gingham and lace bedecked bedroom, Monica found out what turned her on. The next step in her sexual development occurred when she found her father's pornography hidden in a dresser drawer among the socks. There were several bondage magazines and some SM oriented paperbacks. Her favorite was the Story of O. It provided her with endless hours of erotic fantasy. Even more important, it proved that there must be others like her. She knew that someone had to be buying these books or the publishers wouldn't print them. The dog eared copy that she had stolen from her father was still kept reverently with her important papers in a safe deposit box. When she went to college in Chicago to obtain her business degree, the college men that she had expected to be so sophisticated were completely clueless. Sex was a big disappointment. Lots of groping and awkwardness. It was so hard to tell a man what she wanted, especially when so many of them expected her to take charge. Couldn't they see that she wanted them to be in control? She thought she was close to meeting her secret need when she dated an attractive older student named Robert Hamilton. He was drop dead handsome and came from a wealthy family. Several of her classmates had dated him and many others were interested. She was surprised when he expressed an interest in her, since he was only seen with the best looking women and she did not consider herself to be very attractive. He certainly acted more dominant than her previous dates, telling her what to wear and when to show up at his place. "Be at my place at eight o'clock, wearing a short skirt and the white sweater that I like," he instructed her. At first, he seemed to understand when she hinted that she wanted him to tie her hands or give her a real spanking. Unfortunately, he insisted that they stick to his script, which invariably required her to satisfy him orally. "Yeah baby, suck it hard, that's right!" His good looks and wealth had conditioned him to expect easy service from women, always on his terms. They dated three times before she was ready to admit to herself that he had no interest in spanking or bondage. "He's just a stuck up jerk," she finally told her girlfriends. Giving blow jobs could be fun for her, but only in the context of submission. He was also uninterested in helping her climax, so the sheer sexual frustration was becoming a problem. During her college years, masturbation remained her favorite sexual activity. She built up a nice collection of erotica that she kept in a locked footlocker in her tiny student apartment. It consisted mostly of soft core SM novels that she found at the mall bookstores. The first few times she purchased one of the dirty books, she was sure that everyone was watching and wondering what kind of pervert she was. The English discipline stories were particularly hot. Reading about a young woman being tied over a bench of some sort and caned beyond the limits of endurance always made her sopping wet. It could be quite embarrassing if she was reading in the bookstore, standing in the aisle where the clerk couldn't see her and wondering if the wetness was showing on her jeans. She soon learned to buy the books quickly and take them home for a thorough road test. The pirate stories were another reliable trigger. Using her favorite books and a small vibrator, she could vividly imagine herself being the helpless slave of a strong, handsome pirate. Of course she was not a very good slave, so she was ruthlessly punished quite often. Her most frequent fantasy involved being tied to the mast and flogged on her back and ass. Then the sexy bearded pirate would take her to his cabin, tie her spread-eagled to the bed and rape her with lots of pinching and slapping of her sensitive parts. Of course her own hands would stand in for Captain Blood, the Scourge of the Caribbean. She had hoped that the move to Seattle would give her a better chance of finding a compatible partner with whom to share her secret. Unfortunately for Monica, none of the men she liked had been willing to provide the kind of domination that she craved so deeply. What she really wanted was a chance to give herself completely to a dominant man, a master. She wanted a man who would ask her to take pain for him, then use her for his own pleasure. In her email messages, she briefly outlined for Cole two previous relationships that ended when her partners decided they couldn't live with her kinky tendencies. Modern American men had been conditioned to think in ways that precluded good male dominant sexual play. The constant repetition of media messages against domestic violence made any thinking man recoil at the thought of hitting a woman. She did notice however that there were more and more roles created for sexually dominant women. The image of the leather clad Dominatrix was getting to be a clich‚ in films and television sitcoms. It made her feel even more alone. Her dating experience in Seattle did prove that she was attracted to older men. Men seemed to become much more sophisticated about sex after a decade or two of practice. She also wondered if perhaps the older men weren't quite as well indoctrinated with political correctness as the younger ones. Monica discovered the kinky side of the internet about two years ago and decided to experiment with personal ads a bit later. She had some brief flings when she chose partners simply for the fact that they could play the dominant role, at least long enough to sleep with her a few times. When she realized that what they wanted was vanilla sex, or to have her dominate them, the spell was broken. Each time she came out of the semi-hypnotic state that she called her submissive headspace, she felt disgusted that she had allowed such gross men to touch her. She suddenly realized that she had been staring at her computer for several minutes, while she analyzed the events that brought her to the present situation. It was time for action, she thought as she added the final sentences to her email message. "You know I love to be spanked and dominated. It's so frustrating to have a guy give me a few pats on the butt and then ask politely for sex! If I have to pay a pro-dom to get what I want, then so be it. Let's meet somewhere and talk about this face to face. What do you say? Sincerely, Monica." Working industriously at his home computer, Cole was interrupted by a pleasant chime that announced the arrival of an email message. When he reached the end of a paragraph in his report, he switched to the email program. The message was sent by: . As he prepared to open the message, he remembered her description from her second email. She was five feet eight inches tall and one hundred forty pounds with long brown hair that was naturally curly. Her friends described her face as having a touch of Julia Roberts, perhaps because of her dark brown eyes and sexy mouth. She seemed to be rather sensitive about her weight and had described herself as being slightly pudgy. One of her messages led him to believe that there had been some emotional damage done by her mother who was a diet fanatic. Although some dominants required their on-line submissives to provide their exact sizes and measurements, Cole hadn't asked for a more detailed physical description. For one thing, she was not yet his submissive and he felt it would not be polite. He also felt that most women tended to greatly over or underestimate their attractiveness. Since Monica lived in his own city, it should be easy for them to meet and he preferred to see for himself. He already knew a lot about Monica and it sounded like they would be an amazingly good match. There was just a chance, he thought, that she might become his long term partner. He pushed the feeling aside to avoid becoming too eager. Reading tonight's email he found that she was finally ready to meet and possibly negotiate for his professional services. About time, he thought, I've never put this much time and energy into a potential customer before. There is something special about this one. He wanted to find out if Monica was serious, so he quickly typed his response. He described what he required of the women who wished to submit to him. The list of rules was easy to remember, as it was short and he had typed it many times before. The first rule was that Monica must continue with her daily life, including work, family and friends. If her dominant/submissive relationship with Cole began to interfere with her other responsibilities, it would have to end. The second rule was that he was not available for a complete relationship. Only her desire to submit could be fulfilled through this liaison. The third rule was that when they were together, her submission must be complete and without question. He assured her that their activities would include plenty of spanking, bondage and other forms of SM play which she would be expected to endure. The fourth rule was that some amount of money, to be negotiated, would change hands to establish that he was a professional. These rules had worked with many women who Cole had previously dominated in the context of a professional agreement. He was confident that this was the best arrangement for both parties. Cole closed the message with a request that they meet for the first time next Saturday at one of his favorite upscale restaurants in Seattle. He knew that this would be the test. He guessed that about half his prospects would back out at this point or simply fail to show up at the appointed time. His alternate plan was to have an excellent dinner alone and see a play at a nearby theater. In his dealings with submissive women, he had learned the hard way to have a back-up plan. When Monica received the message, there was no thought of rejecting the offer. She was exceedingly curious about Cole and badly wanted a chance to meet him in person. She didn't know much more about him than his physical description and how he felt about dominant and submissive sexuality. The pro-dom role that he had chosen for himself did not lend itself to a complete two way exchange of information. If he proved to be reasonably attractive and seemed to be honest about his abilities, she was fully prepared to enter into a professional arrangement. The next evening, Cole found another email reply from Monica. She agreed to meet him Saturday evening at Cutter's restaurant on the waterfront. He typed out a few details that she would need. The reservations were at 6PM under her name, Anderson. She didn't know his last name yet and he wanted to keep it that way for now. She knew that he was a legal professional and that he lived East of Seattle in a nice neighborhood. He described himself as being about six feet tall, short dark hair, average build, with a well trimmed beard and mustache. He would be wearing roundish metal framed glasses and a black sport coat. She also knew his correct age of forty one years. He reminded her that he had not yet agreed to accept her as his submissive and vice versa, so there would be no play at the table. Cole laughed when he reread that, since he could imagine punishing her later for being a naughty girl and playing at the dinner table. After a hectic Saturday afternoon dealing with a distraught client whose patent had just proven to be invalid, Cole went home to clean up and dress for dinner. As promised, he wore a black sport coat that would be appropriate for the restaurant. His car was still in the repair shop, so he had to drive the minivan that he normally used to carry clients and their staff to important meetings. He proceeded downtown, traveling against the evening traffic in the sleek black Voyager. Not exactly your typical bachelor's vehicle, but the nearly opaque windows and large carpeted floor space had come in handy on certain memorable occasions. He parked in a lot beneath the restaurant just off Pike street and walked around to the front door at five minutes before six. Monica was already there, watching the entryway from her seat in the bar, so that she could sneak out quietly if the man who asked for the Anderson reservation turned out to be something other than what she expected. She felt a familiar tingle inside her nether parts when she heard a handsome man, looking thirty fivish, ask for "Anderson, party of two?" He was pretty much as he had described himself, except he had neglected to mention that his frequent workouts made him trimmer and more muscular than the average forty one year old. He seemed to walk and move with unusual ease, as if possessing great internal energy. The beard and mustache were trimmed in a way that made him appear intelligent, but slightly dangerous. After Cole was seated at a table near the window, Monica approached the desk and asked to be seated at the Anderson table. Cole saw someone walking behind the hostess, but did not immediately think that this was the woman he was waiting for. He was expecting someone a little on the heavy side, but that did not describe the woman approaching him in a slinky black cocktail dress with a high neck and long sleeves. This woman was built like the playboy playmates that he fantasized about as a boy. The thin black dress was made of a knit material that clung to her body as if it had been painted on. The dress revealed the precise shape of her breasts, which was perfect and yet not quite perfect, so it was hard to tell if she was wearing a bra. Surely she must be a plaything of one of those rich executives that he knew so well. Her lush figure caused Cole to start drifting into an analysis of how society had come to demand that women must look emaciated in order to be attractive. It took him a moment to realize that the woman had stopped at his table. Then she smiled and spoke directly to him. "Hi, I'm Monica. May I sit down?" A mild feeling of embarrassment washed over him and Cole felt like he was thinking in slow motion as he looked up from her nicely rounded hips, past her narrow waist and perfect breasts. Then he noticed the brown eyes and slightly wide mouth. He was momentarily stunned. Slowly, a smile of understanding crept across his face. "Of course, I'm Howard. Thanks for being so prompt. I like that." He collected his wits as Monica sat across from him at the small table that was set for two. He had to remind himself not to stare at her body in the black dress. He made up his mind to look either at her face or out through the long bank of windows where the lights of early evening were sparkling on Puget Sound. They made small talk with the pleasant waiter, who took their orders and entered them into a small hand held computer that used a wireless connection to the kitchen. When they were alone with glasses of an excellent Chardonnay, they began to talk. "So... what's it like being a professional dominant?" she asked, a bit breathlessly. "It's hard to describe. It can be very intense, totally absorbing and sometimes very rewarding. I think it's probably the most exciting thing I've ever done," he replied calmly while looking into the dark pools of her eyes. "Although I think semi-professional would be more accurate. I wouldn't want to try making a living at it." "That's too bad," Monica said "it's such a hot fantasy." She wondered if her body language was projecting the flirtatiousness that her friends often pointed out, even when she was not trying to flirt. At least this time it was intentional, she thought. They could both feel the chemistry already. It was a bit like air and gasoline being mixed, waiting for a spark to set off the mixture. The service was excellent, as usual. As they ate their dinner of perfectly grilled salmon and pasta with a mild cream sauce, Cole explained in rather serious tones what he expected from a submissive and what he had learned from his past partners. His comments alternated with Monica's candid description of her previous experiences and what she was looking for. Their conversation seemed to flow naturally, as if they had known each other forever. "I have to admit I'm a bit surprised at how attractive you are," he told her. "From the comments in your email I didn't expect such beauty." "Really? You think I'm attractive?" "Extremely. Why, don't you think so?" "It's a long story Howard. One of those emotional baggage from childhood things." "Hmmm, someone told you that you were ugly, I'd guess. Was it your mother or your father?" "My mother. Let's talk about something else. Why do you think I'm attractive? Is it because I'm subby?" Cole gradually became more certain of his opinion that this was one of the most naturally submissive women that he had ever met. She was highly intelligent too. He didn't think he had ever known anyone else who had completed Calculus 4 in college. He sensed that this was a woman he could fall in love with. That was not quite what he had planned, but he was compelled to continue. Their conversation went on until they suddenly realized that they had been talking for well over two hours and agreed to adjourn to the bar and free the table for other diners. Monica's mind was racing. She thought that she might have finally found what she was looking for, but damn it, the man was a professional and not available. It was almost more than she could handle. She was glad for the brief break in the conversation. After receiving their drinks in the bar and engaging in safe small talk for a while, they agreed to trade looks at each other's driver's licenses. He instructed her to write down his full name and address, which should be given to a friend to hold in case she failed to return at an agreed time. Since he had not offered to tell her very much about his life, it gave her some assurance that he was being honest and was not hiding anything sinister. Then, Cole turned the topic to their future relationship. "Monica, we've done a lot of communicating the last few weeks and I have to admit that I'm very attracted to you. We seem to be developing a relationship that is quite different from what I originally expected. Before we proceed any further I'd like to ask if we can eliminate two of my rules. They don't seem appropriate anymore." "OK, I'm listening." "First the one about me not being available for a complete relationship. Would you still be interested if there was no limit?" he said with a smile and then held his breath. "Howard, you must be reading my mind. I'm very interested," she said quietly as she dug her fingernails into her palms beneath the table to help steady her voice. "There's one other thing." "What is it Howard?" "Well, I explained that I usually charge my submissives a fee to help maintain the relationship within the proper boundaries." "That's no problem, I can pay!" she exclaimed quietly to avoid the eavesdroppers in the bar. "What I'm trying to say is that I don't want our relationship to be like that. There won't be any fee. This is just for us. To explore each other and see what happens." Monica dropped her eyes for just a moment and said, "I'd like that very much." "Then ask me to accept you as my submissive." he said in a suddenly very deep voice. Her breath caught in her chest and she had to wait a few long seconds before she could speak. "Sir, will you accept me as your submissive?" "Yes, Monica. Thank you for giving me such a precious gift. From this moment forward, as long as we both agree, I am your Dominant and you are my submissive. You may call me Master if you wish, but do not consider yourself a slave. You are a free woman who is choosing to submit to a man who you believe is worthy of that gift." "Tonight you'll go home and think about this. I want you to have a chance to back out. If you still wish to be mine, come to my house next weekend. Make sure you don't have any other plans. Send me an email on Monday if you're still committed and I'll give you your instructions. We'll start slowly. I think you're something special and I don't want either of us to mess this up." They discussed a few more details including an agreement that they would both have tests for AIDs and all other STDs on Monday. As far as they knew, they were both free of any disagreeable maladies. Cole had a vasectomy many years ago, which they appreciated now since Monica was not on the pill and they both disliked condoms. After taking the elevator down to where they both had parked, they forced themselves to part with a polite hug and kiss. Then Cole watched silently as Monica drove off into the night at the wheel of a pretty blue Mazda Miata. He took several deep breaths to calm himself before climbing into his own vehicle. Arriving at her fashionable apartment twenty minutes later, Monica ran for the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. She threw herself onto the bed and began masturbating furiously. "I've never been so horny in my life!" she shouted into a pillow. There is something about Howard that really pushes my submissive buttons, she thought. Maybe it was that sexy beard or the hint of gray in his hair. Perhaps his large hands, which seemed so powerful. He wasn't at all like the men she met from the internet or those posturing assholes who answered her personal ad in the kinky section of the alternative newspaper last year. She received over a hundred responses from a single ad. She must have dated a dozen guys before she got totally disgusted and gave up. Howard was different. He said he was some kind of legal professional, although he wouldn't be more specific. It had been roughly eight months since she last had sex with someone other than herself. Prior to meeting Howard, the only good thing about her social life was that she had plenty of time to haunt the internet and hang out with her girlfriend Jennifer who had similar interests. There were countless mailing lists, chat rooms and web sites that discussed Dominance and Submission. She had learned enough about D/S to know that it was what she wanted and that she hadn't yet experienced it. SM was interesting and she did love a good spanking, but it did not satisfy her urge to serve and submit. She felt envious of the women on the internet who wrote stories and poetry about their submission. Was it finally her turn, she wondered? After several intense orgasms fueled by fantasies of her new master, Monica fell into a deep sleep, drooling slightly from the corner of her Julia Roberts mouth. CHAPTER FOUR On Sunday morning Cole awoke at seven AM as usual and looked out the window through the tall fir trees that screened his house from the neighbors. Since the Autumn monsoon was absent today, he decided to indulge in one of his favorite Sunday morning activities. Dressing in a black sweat suit, he drove to the nearest Starbuck's for a large Cafe Mocha. He passed the mirrored glass building where he rented a small office. Then, appreciating the light Sunday morning traffic, he crossed the floating bridge over Lake Washington and continued up Interstate Five to Green Lake. Finishing his coffee drink as he arrived, he parked and started to jog under a light gray sky around the 2 mile asphalt path that encircled the lake. While he idly watched the female joggers, he considered his situation. It had been twelve years since his divorce, which was painful, even though it made perfect sense. His wife had been correct, they were not at all right for each other. Constantly fighting for control was no way to live. It had taken him two years to get back on his feet emotionally and financially. Then there was a time of disappointing vanilla dating. He couldn't count the number of times that women had lost interest when they found out that his favorite form of sex play was something they considered perverted. His discovery of the organized SM scene began an important period of experimentation and personal growth. Seattle had an active pansexual leather community. Kinky organizations would form and dissolve regularly. They all had the same motto: "Safe, Sane and Consensual." To Cole, the concept of SM as a form of healthy play came as a revelation. The large pan-sexual play parties at the mansion had been an amazing experience and a great place to learn. His new friends told him that he was something called a Top, the label applied to the active partner in SM play. It turned out that he had a real aptitude for topping and he learned a lot from the Leatherdykes who were happy to teach him their highly ethical brand of consensual and almost spiritual SM. Even the professional FemDoms, who were so influential in the scene, seemed to accept him. He eventually decided that although SM play was great fun and highly stimulating in its own way, it wasn't quite what he was looking for. By the time he was ready to move on, he knew that he was more Dom than Top. It was great fun to spank or whip a willing play partner, but it was even more intense when she submitted to whatever he wished. He liked the term "playmate". It seemed a little more joyful and a bit less formal than "play partner". He played because he enjoyed it, not because he was driven by some inner demon. Taking the dominant role in sex turned him on at the deepest levels. Apparently, he was just wired that way. On the few occasions that he had tried to be sexually submissive, it had been a complete waste of time. A good massage would have felt better. He developed friendships with other dominant men and learned what he could from them. Many of the maledoms used names like Master Joe or Sir Harry. Cole never gave himself a title, although he had his subby playmates call him Master if it turned them on and enhanced their feeling of submission. He knew right away that he found some maledoms repulsive. They were the ones who talked badly about their female partners and seemed to have little concern for their well being. He called them ego-Doms. Some of them were fans of the GOR novels by John Norman, which portrayed a planet where most women were bought and sold as slaves. To be fair, however, he had met couples who seemed to have constructed comfortable D/S relationships based on "Gorean" principles. The amazing variety of kinky relationships was a never ending source of fascination for him. Around this time, Cole stopped using the initials SM to describe what he did. A new term was coined on the internet: BDSM. It was an artificial acronym that incorporated Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, Sadism and Masochism. It was a flexible term for a flexible lifestyle. Since he engaged in all the included activities, it seemed the perfect label. He had always been curious about the influences that caused a person to enjoy BDSM, so it was often his favorite topic of conversation. He never was able to figure out why he had turned out this way himself. He had no history of abuse or neglect. His earliest memories of sexual fantasies around age ten were a desire to tie up the little brown haired girl down the street. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd do with her then, but he'd seen women tied up on TV a few times and knew that it was terribly exciting. For the last three years, since turning away from the local scene and advertising on the internet, he had enjoyed more erotic female companionship than he had ever dreamed possible. He respected every woman he played with and he learned something from each of them. He was still in touch with several of his old playmates and had parted on good terms with those he no longer saw. Oddly enough, he considered himself a feminist and on occasion had used his influence to help women advance in his profession. The only thing that Cole lacked was a permanent partner of his own. The house seemed so empty at times during the long Northwest winters. He wondered if Monica would be the one. As he jogged through some fallen leaves he noticed that the women joggers didn't seem as attractive today. None of them had her smoldering sexuality that was a product of her intelligence and her submissiveness. OK, maybe her delectable body had something to do with it too, he thought with a wide grin. On Monday, Monica sent an email stating that she wanted very much to proceed with their relationship. She signed the email, "Your submissive, Monica." He sent back an email that included the following terse instructions. "Arrive at my house at exactly seven thirty Friday evening. You will be punished for tardiness. Be prepared to spend the night. What you wear is not important. Eat before you come. You can expect to be used sexually if I find your behavior acceptable. Bring the results of your STD tests. You are not permitted to have an orgasm until we meet." That week was a long one for Howard Cole. His clients were particularly demanding. He checked the local weather website and found out that there was indeed a full moon. Instead of setting his own hours, he was forced to work evenings. At least he was able to do much of his work at home. Unfortunately he didn't have time to prepare his basement dungeon as he usually did for a new playmate. Perhaps, he thought, this would be a good time to do something different. The dungeon could wait for a future session. On Friday, Monica was able to leave work an hour early and skipped her usual workout at the gym. Her friend Jennifer Lee had been envious when Monica gave her Cole's address and phone number as a precaution. Monica promised to call the next day with a full report. The two women met on-line almost a year ago in a Compuserve forum dedicated to Dominance and Submission. Upon finding out that they lived in the same city, the two quickly became close friends with a hint of sexual interest between them. Jennifer, a slightly built woman of mixed Chinese and French-Canadian ancestry was a stunning beauty. Her exotic facial features with almond shaped hazel eyes and a high forehead were the type that made everyone look twice. Her sensuous waist length silky black hair drew more attention from men than she wanted. Unfortunately, her history with men was abysmal, which was why she could usually be found in the company of women. She insisted that Monica share all the juicy details of her rendezvous with Cole, so that she could enjoy them vicariously. Monica obeyed Cole's instructions forbidding an orgasm and by now it was almost impossible for her not to masturbate. Her clitoris was in a constant state of tingling arousal and she was slightly wet with anticipation. She bounced around her apartment in a mixture of excitement, fear and just plain lust. She bathed and shaved, then tried on several outfits. With each new outfit she stared in the mirror and told herself that she was fat and ugly. Her mother and her first boyfriend had told her that a thousand times and now it was too late to believe differently. Perhaps her new master wouldn't care, if she was sufficiently submissive and obedient, she thought. Since Master Cole said that her clothing was not important, she did not want to overdress. She settled on a pair of moderately tight jeans and a tight white top with no bra. She didn't really need one. A pair of high heels made her ever so slightly large legs look elegantly slender. As she drove to the home of her new master, she was already getting slightly wet and was glad she had worn panties, even if they were just a little pair of lacy white things. She was a bit nervous, but she was comforted by the fact that they had agreed to use a safeword. All she had to do was say "safeword" and he had promised to bring their play to an immediate halt. She was more concerned that he would be too afraid of hurting her, like some of her useless boyfriends, she thought contemptuously. Approaching Cole's house, she noted the impressive neighborhood, then found her new master's home on a narrow private road. It was a large single story residence. She studied it carefully in the fading daylight. Perhaps two thousand square feet, if there wasn't a basement and it was probably built within the last ten years, she estimated. It wasn't the biggest one in the area, but it was nicely screened by large trees and seemed quite secluded. The landscaping had a distinct Japanese influence, with several large boulders placed artistically in beds of raked gravel. She parked in front of the three car garage and went to the door. Cole answered her knock with his heart pounding. There stood not only the sexiest play partner he had ever had, but someone who just might be the mythical perfect partner. He hoped he wouldn't make any stupid mistakes. Fortunately, being around Monica made him feel very dominant and confident. Was it just a coincidence that she was 10 minutes late? She saw that he was wearing black jeans and a white long sleeved casual shirt. Giving in to a strong urge to cast her eyes downward, she noticed that he also appeared to be wearing expensive leather loafers. "You're late," he growled. "Come in and follow me." He resisted his impulse to give her a hug and led her toward his study, where he had just turned off the computer a few minutes earlier. Monica scanned the interior of the house for any clues about her master. A dining room contained an expensive looking table, but only four chairs. The kitchen had several gleaming pieces of copper and stainless cookware hanging on the wall. As she followed him down the hall to the study, she noticed several professional looking framed photographs of outdoor scenes. In one, she recognized a waterfall that was near Mt. Rainier. Since her master had mentioned his photography hobby, she made a mental note to ask him later if the photos were his. They entered the large study and stopped just inside the door. "We have a little bit of business to attend to before we can begin." Cole announced, "Did you bring the results of your tests?" "Yes Sir, here they are. I guess I'm pretty healthy." Cole handed her his paperwork which stated clearly that he was STD free. She looked at it carefully and handed it back, saying "Thank you Sir." He noticed that she was wearing just the right amount of perfume. He couldn't quite come up with the name. It was something to ask her about later. "Stand right over there and be silent unless I ask you to speak," Cole said, pointing to the center of the room. A light piano concerto played softly from expensive speakers concealed in the polished oak bookcases and soft light spilled from two lamps in the corners. Monica's heart was pounding and she concentrated on the features of the room for a moment to calm herself. She saw that his computer was one of the latest models. Probably a late Pentium class, she guessed, nice big monitor, ergonomic keyboard, CD-ROM drive, expensive printer. The furniture reminded her of the expensive walnut and teak pieces that her company's CEO had in his private office. There was a fax machine or copier on a credenza behind the desk. The stereo was apparently hidden, she noted. As she looked down at her feet and noticed the fine texture of the light gray carpet, her heart was again beating normally. Cole pulled up a comfortable chair. He placed it in front of her about six feet away and sat down, which brought her attention back to him. He waited a few moments to see if she would remain silent as instructed. Monica was looking approximately at his feet, which he hoped was a sign of submission. She was wearing a short bomber-style jacket over her white top, so the next thing he said was "Thank you for coming, Little One. Take off your jacket and place it over the chair behind you" Monica complied and returned to her position in the middle of the room. Cole was fascinated by her instinctive submission. Perhaps she had more experience at this game than she had admitted. "Put your hands behind your head." Cole's line of sight was drawn inexorably to Monica's breasts and he studied them intently. "Put your arms down," he said, then "Put them back behind your head" He noticed that her breasts did not sag like they should for a 26 year old woman with this kind of figure. "What is your bra size Monica?" She felt a delicious wave of humiliation sweep over her and struggled to get out her answer. "I'm a 36 C, Master." "Do you have breast implants, Little One?" "No Master!" she exclaimed. "Take off your top and we'll see about that. Place it on the chair by your jacket." Monica pulled off her white top by grasping it from the bottom and pulling it over her head. After placing it on the chair she resumed her position in front of Cole with her hands at her sides. Cole stepped forward to examine her breasts and brushed some of her beautiful long brown hair out of the way. With her arms down, they did sag slightly. The nipples were medium size and quite hard already. They were a beautiful pair, perhaps the prettiest breasts he had ever seen. The word perky came to mind, but he didn't know if perky could apply to breasts this size. Perhaps he should mail the question to the Playboy Advisor, he thought while suppressing a grin. He very delicately brushed her nipples with his fingertips and they grew even harder. "Put your hands behind your head again," he ordered, in his dominant voice which Monica found both charming and irresistible. He began to squeeze and fondle the perfect globes while he inspected them for any surgical scars. After a minute or two Monica felt lightheaded from the stimulation and became slightly unsteady. The delicious feeling of humiliation wasn't helping. "You pass the test Little One. Those are the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen. Put your arms down now and take a deep breath. Can't have you passing out now, can we?" "No, Master." Cole sat down again and tried to take a few deep breaths himself. Could a potential partner be too perfect? He was feeling slightly overwhelmed. After a short time he ordered, "Take off your jeans now and place them on the chair." Monica complied and resumed her position, now clad in lacy white panties and black high heels. On her own initiative, she put her hands behind her head to thrust out her breasts in the manner that her new Master seemed to like. Although Cole was a card-carrying breast man, the view of Monica's perfectly rounded hips and flat stomach almost caused his heart to stop. She had a tattoo over her right hipbone that he moved forward to examine. It appeared to be a small naked woman that might be described as a winged nymph. It was exquisite, perhaps the work of a famous tattoo artist. I'll have to ask her about it later, he thought. Cole moved back to his chair and just looked at her for a few minutes, drinking in the intoxicating sight. His inspection of her body gave the solution to another mystery. Although she didn't carry an ounce of what he would consider excess weight, she was slightly large boned and firmly muscled beneath her curves. Her reported weight of one hundred forty pounds was probably accurate, but most people would guess it to be about twenty pounds less. He was delighted that she didn't resemble the starving fashion models, but he could understand how she might be worried that she didn't measure up to society's standards. "Do you lift weights often, Little One?" "Yes, Master. Three or four times a week." "I see. Take off your panties and drop them on the floor." Monica quickly tossed her panties on the floor behind her, revealing her perfectly shaved pubis. Then she replaced her hands behind her head and parted her legs slightly. How did she know that I love a shaved cunt? Cole thought, as he struggled to breath normally. Fortunately, Monica was looking at the floor and was not aware of his difficulty. "When did you start shaving your cunt, Little One? I don't recall ordering you to do that." "I've always done that sir. If you don't like it, I can stop shaving, but it would feel very strange for me." He knew his voice was shaky as he said, "That won't be necessary. Continue to keep yourself smooth. It pleases me." He noticed that she had a light tan without lines. In Seattle that meant about one session on the tanning bed each week. Pausing to collect himself, Cole managed to give his next order calmly, in a deep voice that a radio announcer would envy. "I said that you would be punished if you were late. We'll have to take care of that before we can begin your training. Kneel on that stool over there, then bend forward and place your palms flat on the floor." His command voice was working well now, he was relieved to see. Monica thought that she would faint from the excitement. None of her previous men had treated her this way. It was as if her greatest fantasy was being made into reality and she hoped it wouldn't end too soon. She wondered if her Master would notice the slight trickle of lubrication starting to drip down the inside of her left thigh. Was she allowed to be aroused or would she be punished for it? Monica moved to a padded footstool about a foot high and two feet across. After kneeling with her knees apart and with her feet dangling off the back of the stool, she bent forward at the waist to place her palms on the floor. Her perfect ass was presented in a most lewd and vulnerable manner. Her breathing was rapid and her skin flushed. Cole tried hard to ignore his growing erection as he approached her from behind. "You'll be spanked on your bare bottom until I feel you've been punished properly for being late." He didn't know if he had the strength to administer a good spanking since most of his blood supply seemed to be heading straight for his cock. Sneaking a look at her deliciously dangling breasts, he wanted to reach down and caress their sexy outer curves, but he pressed down gently on the small of her back and began to spank her. In this position, her hips and buttocks formed a classic symbol of feminine beauty. She was offering it to him as a gift. The stinging slaps were gentle at first, then harder. Red handprints began to show up on her lightly tanned skin. Monica reacted only with a slight intake of breath at each blow. Her firm ass muscles soaked up the spanking easily and Cole realized that he was hurting his hand as much as he was hurting her. Stepping over to the closet, he removed a thin wooden paddle that would nicely cover one cheek at a time. Measuring his stroke carefully, he struck the lower curve of her left buttock, then the right. Her body jerked slightly with each impact, but she held her position perfectly. He tuned his senses into Monica and felt that familiar joining that occurred to him during intense play sessions. Monica felt it too. She imagined that she was the one spanking a pretty kneeling woman who thrust her ass out to receive each blow. Although the woman was Monica herself, she was perceived as much more beautiful, almost ethereal. The heat from her punishment gradually spread through her body. She felt like she would explode from the strange sensation that was half deep submission and half physical lust. They both lost track of how many minutes went by or how many blows were struck. At some point, without conscious effort, their breathing became synchronized. When Monica started having trouble maintaining her position, Cole forced himself to come back from the strange space that he had entered with her. Regaining his senses, he noticed a heavy flow of slippery fluid on Monica's muscular inner thighs where the tendons stood out with the strain of holding her position. He hadn't even touched her cunt yet and already she was dripping, he thought. Standing up straight, Cole told her to rise and stand before him. He gathered her to him with one hand firmly gripping the hair at the back of her head. Looking into her eyes he spoke carefully. "I'm very impressed with you so far Little One. I've punished you enough for being late. As a test, I'm going to give you a choice about what we do next. You will not be punished for choosing either way." "We can either begin your training or you can offer your new Master the pleasure of using that pretty cunt. Which option do you choose?" She took a step back as Cole released his grip on her body and hair. Kneeling before him with her hands behind her head and her eyes locked onto his shoes she said, "Master, I'd be honored if you would use my cunt for your pleasure." Then she thought to herself, Oh please, oh please, oh please, I need it soooo bad! He breathed a silent sigh of relief. Unless he could get his hormones under control, this relationship was going to involve more sex than domination. Maybe that was not a bad thing, he thought as he escorted Monica to his bedroom down the hall. She looked around Cole's bedroom with great interest. The fog of lust had dissipated just enough that she could remember her girlfriend's theory that you could learn a lot about a man if you saw his bedroom. She noticed a king size bed with a padded frame around the edge. The handsomely built oak headboard contained some closed cupboards and several metal fittings that looked suspiciously like bondage points. Glancing up at the ceiling, she suppressed a smile when she noticed the large eyescrews embedded in the ceiling at various places. She tried not to appear too curious, in case her Master objected. "Lie on the bed, face up, in the center," he ordered. Taking two pieces of soft rope, he carefully tied each wrist to the headboard with non-tightening knots. He then wrapped lengths of rope several times around each ankle to distribute the pressure without causing discomfort. He did not fasten the free ends to anything just yet. "Be quiet now and just enjoy, Little One. I certainly intend to enjoy you," Cole said as he stood up to undress. She took advantage of the opportunity to study his nude, muscular form in the dim light. She knew exactly what she wanted and it was terribly hard to wait. With her arms securely fastened about three feet apart to the headboard, Monica could only lie there and allow her Master to explore her body, which would reveal to him her most private sexual responses. She tried not to writhe her hips as Master kissed her flat stomach around her navel and hip bones. With a great effort she was able to hold nearly still while he gave her breasts the most professional stimulation she had ever experienced. When he finally removed his mouth and hands from her glowing teats she would have sworn that they were steaming from the inner heat. Monica was afraid she might faint from extreme sexual desire and she was sure that she would die if he touched her rock hard nipples again, but still she kept nearly silent. Only when Master began tying her ankles to the headboard did she start to make a strange repetitive moaning sound as she imagined what might come next. When her legs were pulled all the way back and spread as wide as possible, her Master placed a pillow under her head so that she had a direct view of her own cunt. The strain of the unusual position was not as bad as she would have imagined, but the sight of her own erect nipples and gaping cuntlips was a visual stimulus that only increased her sexual tension. Her hood of her clitoris appeared to be much larger than normal and she wondered if it could possibly return to its regular size. Cole wondered if she was going to hyperventilate as he eased himself down on the bed and applied his tongue to her swollen clit. He disliked going down on women who weren't shaved, but the sight of a sweet shaved cunt on a restrained woman brought out the cunnilingist in him. Dominant or not, he had been taught long ago that a gentleman always makes sure the lady comes first and old habits are hard to break. He made himself stop periodically to prevent her from coming too soon. He expected a woman with her pelvic structure to be rather large inside, so he was somewhat surprised to find that she was very tight. He used his tongue and fingers for a long time to make sure she was as well lubricated as possible. Eventually, Monica had the first of many orgasms. She felt that she was being forced to come. It would have been impossible for her to resist. She closed her eyes so that she couldn't see Master doing that shameful thing to her private place. Most of her boyfriends had not been willing to do that because they thought it was dirty or disgusting. It seemed that Master was doing it simply because he enjoyed it. What better way to control his little slut than by forcing her to come in a most unladylike manner, with her legs spread wide and unable to move. She felt so humiliated, so slutty, that there was no longer any point trying to pretend that she was anything more than a simple whore, a sex object to be used for her Master's pleasure. Each climax was stronger than the last. Cole kept his right hand on her left buttock, cupping it nicely and feeling the heat from her paddling while he attended to her with his tongue. After several minutes, his lust caught up with him and he could stand it no longer. Rising up on his hands and knees, he thrust his unusually thick, aching cock into her well lubricated sheath. With her legs so far back, he had to thrust nearly straight down. Even with the heavy natural lubrication, she was devastatingly tight. Instead of just a tight ring of muscle inside the entrance of the vagina, Monica was tight all the way to her cervix. He knew that he would explode any second. Would she be disappointed that he hadn't lasted longer? Then he remembered that she had just experienced more orgasms than he could count and decided it was his turn. Besides, he was the Master, wasn't he? Placing both hands on her chest to support his weight, he pinched her nipples viciously. After a dozen vigorous thrusts, every muscle in his body tried to contract at once and he shot his hot load deep into Monica's lovely body. Some time later, when he was able to see and move again, he used the last of his strength to untie the ropes and gather her in his arms. She had already fallen asleep and he joined her within seconds. CHAPTER FIVE Sometime during the night, Monica awakened from a heavy, dreamless sleep to make a trip to the adjoining bathroom. "Did all that really happen?" she asked herself. She felt a pleasant soreness in various areas of her body. It was proof that her memories were real and she displayed a huge satisfied smile as she walked quietly through the bedroom. Climbing back into the large bed, she snuggled up against her new master and returned to her deep sleep feeling warm, safe and complete. Hours later, Cole gradually regained consciousness as bright sunlight poured through the large window, rendering sleep impossible. Before he opened his eyes, the small portion of his brain that was working at this hour tried to analyze several things that seemed unusual. For one thing, he was curled up on his right side spoon fashion with a naked woman. He immediately remembered Monica and opened one eye. The sight of her delightful dark brown curls confirmed his guess. Most women would pay big money for a perm like that, he thought, but Monica claimed it was her natural look. Closing his eye again, he considered going back to sleep, but he realized that he could barely feel his right arm. Apparently it was under Monica and had been there a long time. He tried to reach up and feel her breast, but the hand was too numb. Not being able to feel a breast was serious! Feeling somewhat alarmed, he opened both eyes and began the process of extricating his arm from beneath his soft and warm new lover. It wouldn't do to wake her yet, so he maneuvered very carefully. Eventually the arm came free and he was rewarded with a painful tingling sensation. Sitting on the edge of the bed cradling his right arm, Cole realized what else was wrong this morning. Looking out the window, he saw through the trees a large expanse of blue sky. Whoever was in charge of the weather had obviously forgotten that this was Seattle in November. No problem, just a surprise. Is it simply El Nino or is it a good omen? he wondered. As he waited for his arm to recover, he thought about how his relationship with Monica was developing. Was she his slave? Lover? Playpartner? Maybe it didn't matter right now. He decided that the best thing to do was to just allow the relationship to develop naturally, without applying a label. His stomach reminded him that breakfast was more important right now anyway, so he pulled on a T-shirt and jeans before going down the hall to the kitchen. Monica awoke suddenly to the smell of coffee and a slight hint of onions frying. "Where am I?" she wondered, "and why do I feel so good?" Then she remembered. Her dream of finding someone to be her dominant sex partner was apparently being fulfilled. Stretching luxuriously in the comfortable bed, she wondered if Cole had found her acceptable, since he wasn't here right now. Was he making breakfast for himself? Visions of last night's events flashed through her mind. She gently caressed her buttocks to check for any damage. There was a slight tenderness that she found stimulating, but nothing disturbed the smooth surface of the skin. She grinned widely as she realized that this was certainly the most exciting thing that had ever happened to this little subby girl from Idaho. She was proud of herself for finding a safe partner who could give her what she needed. She now trusted Howard completely. There would be no question in her mind when he asked for her obedience. She longed to give it to him as a gift. Going into the bathroom, she performed her morning necessities including a quick shower. She twisted her long hair into a pretty ponytail and looked around for something to wear. In the closet, His closet, she found a pair of men's dark blue flannel pajamas. She put them on and they felt oddly appropriate. With a slight feeling of apprehension, she walked toward the kitchen to see what kind of mood her master was in. Cole turned away from the stove, where he had just finished preparing a frying pan of cottage potatoes with onions and various spices. He noticed Monica standing in the doorway wearing a pair of his flannel pajamas. She looked like a model from a slick lingerie catalog, demonstrating the latest cozy fashions for winter sleepwear. "Master? Is it OK if I wear this?" she said as she assumed a seductive pose in the kitchen doorway. He allowed himself to stare at her and a broad grin stretched itself across his face. She was devastating, even at this hour. It was nine o'clock on Saturday morning. They had played so intensely the night before that they were asleep before ten PM. Nothing like ten hours of sleep to put one in a good mood, he thought. Did Monica look this good every morning? "Of course you can wear it, Little One. What a good choice! You're beautiful this morning." He placed the steaming potatoes on the table next to a bowl containing hot eggs scrambled with a hint of mustard. Stepping forward, he offered her a wineglass filled with excellent orange juice. "Will you join me for breakfast my dear?" She accepted with a smile and sparkling eyes. Over breakfast they discussed the latest issues that had developed in their relationship. Love was obviously starting to blossom. Unfortunately, an intense D/S relationship prevented many activities and conversations that were important to the healthy growth of a relationship. Cole understood it a little better than she did, but as he explained his thoughts, she quickly realized that they had to make some new rules. With two logical minds hard at work, it only took an hour to lay the groundwork for their mutual agreement. Their first point was to keep the rules flexible. They decided that they would not maintain their master/slave roles all the time, only when they were both in the mood. Serious play sessions could be planned in advance, but due to their hot chemistry, spontaneous play would be inevitable and they agreed to enjoy it whenever it happened. They would also schedule non-kinky activities just like vanilla couples did. She enjoyed watching foreign art films, so he agreed to go along. He enjoyed shooting, which she reluctantly agreed to try. Monica made it a point to tell him that their paddle play had been nowhere near her limit. Next time, she wanted to play harder, if it pleased her master. Cole brought up the fact that they were not using condoms and needed to be very careful if they had any sexual contact with others. Monica was thinking farther ahead. "Howard, did I tell you what a big turn-on it is for me to be the partner of a pro-dom?" "Yes, I think you mentioned it," he said, wondering where this was leading. "Well, I'd like you to keep doing it." He was obviously surprised, "You would? Wouldn't you be jealous?" "Maybe, but I bet we can work something out," she said with a husky, lustful voice. "You know how the erotic SM stories often have a woman who helps the dominant male? I've always thought that would be a fun role to play. Does that sound like something you'd be willing to consider?" "Hmmm, you mean the girl who gives the beautiful captive victim a bath and dresses her in a sexy silk gown?" "Yes, that's exactly what I mean!" her eyes were wide, " I think that's so hot! What do you think?" "Well, if I had an assistant, she'd have to be submissive and extremely beautiful. I'd want her to have dark brown eyes and a great body. Do you know anyone like that?" Their conversation dissolved in swirl of laughter and hugs. Once again they had found something they had in common. To celebrate their success, they moved to the bedroom intent on simple vanilla lovemaking. To their surprise, their chemistry was too strong and they each fell into their dominant and submissive roles automatically. Cole wrestled her into position for a nice sexy spanking, pulling down the flannel pajamas. He noticed that her bottom was completely unmarked, which seemed a little strange after last nights paddling. Attempting to rectify the situation, he proceeded to give her a good hand spanking. Monica started her sexy pre-orgasmic breathing after only a minute of delicious hand impacts on her soft, yet firm, ass. When they could stand the building sexual tension no longer, they paused a few seconds to strip, then leaped back onto the bed. She found herself on her back, looking up at Cole, kneeling between her legs and sporting a huge erection. He quickly slid both his arms under her knees and brought his hands up to her wrists. Then, gripping her wrists and pinioning her hands next to her shoulders, he held her legs open with his arms. He looked down on her pretty shaved cunt and allowed his demanding cock to pause at her greedy orifice. Her eyes widened as he began to penetrate her sensitive vaginal passage. He forced himself to take his time. She was very tight, so he paused halfway in and bent down to kiss and nibble her breasts for a minute. Slowly filling her with his manhood, he barraged her with sexual commands. "Serve your Master now slut." "Shove your cunt forward for me, my little sex toy." When her lubrication was just right, he started thrusting faster. "Tell me what you need to come now, you little strumpet." "Just keep fucking me like that Master!" She came quickly and violently, with strong pelvic thrusts and it was all he could do to hold her down. When she was finished he said, "Hold still for me now Little One". With her wrists still locked in his grip and her legs held wide open, she held still obediently while he took his pleasure. She looked up at him with a feeling of satisfaction. Not because of her own intense orgasm, but because she had given her master pleasure. When they were able to speak rationally, they decided that they would each attend to their own business and meet again that night for a movie downtown. They were both feeling sated at the moment and agreed that their next play session would be in a week. Cole explained to her that he used the basement photo studio as a dungeon. "You have a basement? Can I scream down there?" she asked. "Of course, my little pain slut, the neighbors will never hear a thing." "Oh God, I can hardly wait. I love to scream, but I'm always afraid that someone might hear me." He wouldn't show it to her now as he wanted it to be a surprise when she returned later for a heavy play session. They were so excited, it was hard for them to part. With a quick hug and kiss, she drove off in the direction of her home near downtown. CHAPTER SIX It took Monica about forty minutes to drive across the bridge and return to her place on Capitol Hill. Her apartment was one of three that had been created by subdividing a lovely old home. The rent was steep, but the location close to downtown saved her nearly two hours commuting time each day compared to her previous apartment in Auburn. After placing a load of clothing in the washing machine, she went on to give the place a thorough cleaning. She actually liked housecleaning. It gave her time to think. Mostly she thought about Cole. She couldn't decide if she should think of him as Howard or Master. She did know that she was starting to fall in love. Her study of D/S relationships had warned her that strong emotions were the rule between D/S couples. I'm not going to make any hasty decisions, she promised herself. She played back the previous evening in her mind to see if there were any danger signs. If Cole had intended to hurt her, he would have done it by now, she concluded. Breakfast this morning had been a big surprise. She couldn't remember any of her previous lovers or boyfriends making breakfast for her. This guy just might have the makings of a good husband. That thought produced a big smile. For some reason, she always felt better dating a man who was potential husband material. It kept her from feeling that she was wasting her time. When she had been in his study, she had noticed some diplomas and various certificates on the wall. Apparently Howard was an attorney. She had never really liked lawyers. Perhaps it required a big ego to work in the courtroom. Her only lawyer friend had always referred to her colleagues as "asshole attorneys", but Howard was unlike any attorney she had ever met. Later that night, they met downtown to see a French film with subtitles. Monica alternately cried and squeezed his hand with a grip that would have done credit to a gorilla. Afterwards, they found a quiet restaurant where they had coffee and dessert. They decided that she would arrive at his house next Saturday at five PM for a much anticipated play session. Their horniness gradually built up to a fever pitch during the week. Cole told her to masturbate as much as she wanted, since he didn't think it would detract from her enjoyment of their play. On Saturday, Monica went shopping with her friend Jennifer at a local lingerie store. She wanted to find just the right item to please her master. Cole spent much of Saturday afternoon preparing the basement dungeon. He wanted to provide her with a more intense scene tonight. Heavier impact play on her sexy ass and something to excite those amazing tits, he thought. He was getting pretty excited just thinking about it. Time to take a deep breath and cool off, he told himself. First, he vacuumed the hardwood floor, since the cleaning woman was not allowed in the basement. The next priority was to arrange the play furniture to permit the type of play he had in mind. He preferred not to move his partner during a scene, so he tried to use one piece of equipment that would allow for multiple positions. He decided to use a small spanking horse that only supported the hips and a wooden bar that would hang from the ceiling. The heavily padded top of the horse was only about four inches wide and twenty inches long. It was solidly supported by a pair of four by four posts set in a heavy platform. There were attachment points in the base for securing wrists and ankles. The ankles could be widely separated and there was an eyebolt in the base a few inches in front of the horse for attaching a waist belt to enforce a bending position. The height of the horse was not adjustable. When someone was bending over it, they could be penetrated from behind by someone who was the correct height. Since Cole had built it himself, he made certain that the height corresponded to his own. From the corner of the room, he selected a thick, five foot wooden dowel rod with multiple attachment points. Using a pair of black adjustable nylon cargo straps, he attached it to two points on the ceiling. Then he pushed the spanking horse into the center of the room under the suspended bar. After a final cleanup of the dungeon, he left the house to run some errands. He stopped by his favorite trendy market for groceries and returned home to relax for the rest of the afternoon. His thoughts naturally turned to Monica. Their relationship was certainly unusual. I've never heard of a couple who meshed together so quickly and easily, he thought. No doubt there would be problems of some sort ahead, but he had a distinctly optimistic feeling that they would be able to work out every difficulty that came up. He knew from his observations in the Seattle SM scene that kinky couples did not have a very long half-life. About six months, he estimated. Like highly radioactive elements, they seemed to dissipate their energy rapidly. Except for a few stable couples, people in the scene moved from partner to partner trying to find some elusive qualities that they felt they needed to be happy. One of the biggest reasons for breakups was the custom of playing with others. At play parties and in private, people would often try to play with as many others as possible. This allowed them to sample the erotic wares of many people. Being human and vulnerable to temptation, many a bottom left their Top in search of a better SM experience. Tops left their bottoms to pair off with a sexier looking new partner or one who could take more pain. Sometimes a bottom would suddenly get tired of bottoming and become a Top, usually just in time to hook up with a bottom they found attractive. Another problem he was aware of occurred when someone selected their long term partner simply because they were sexually compatible. After they had lived together for a while, the ordinary differences would become apparent and the couple would dissolve. Some couples tried to avoid this by not living together. Being single and having a kinky lover was quite popular in the scene. Cole thought this might be a possibility for him and Monica, but somehow it didn't feel very satisfying. In late afternoon, he started to think about dinner. They had neglected to make plans. Would she eat before she came over? Just then, the phone rang. It was Monica. "Hi Howard, I was wondering if I could cook dinner for you tonight at your house?" "Of course, Monica. Should I pick up anything at the store?" "Nope, I've got it covered. See you at seven?" "Sounds great, I'll see you then. By the way, the dungeon is ready," he said to press her buttons a little. "Oh Howard, I'm going to be really ready. Is it OK if I'm in role while I cook dinner?" "Sure it is Little One, just don't spill any hot liquid on yourself, that would be non-consensual," he said with a grin. "I'll be very careful Master." After hanging up the phone, he reflected on the coincidence that she had called just as he was thinking about her. They certainly seemed to be on the same wavelength. He busied himself with some routine work in his office, then shortly before he expected Monica, he showered and dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt. Monica arrived right on time. She was wearing a long coat that was appropriate for the damp, cool weather outside. After placing her grocery bag on the kitchen counter, she turned to Cole and said "Master, will this be all right to wear while I fix dinner?" She removed the coat to reveal only a sexy red bra and panties. She was already stepping out of her white running shoes. He raised one eyebrow and said, "How could I object to such a beautiful Chef? I'll just watch from the bar stool over there so I can tell you where to find things in the kitchen." They approached each other in the center of the kitchen and after a slight hesitation, gave each other a long hug. This certainly feels right, they both thought. He sat at the small breakfast bar so that he could watch her every move. She proceeded to fix a quick, healthy dinner while he watched the nicely toned muscles in her legs as she danced around the kitchen. Just before she was ready to serve the meal at the dining table, he ordered her to remove her bra. The sight of her full, pouting breasts hanging delicately over the table while they ate was most pleasing. The menu consisted of shrimp cocktails, a Thai chicken salad and a bottle of Washington State Semillon-Blanc. Cole explained that he would have only one glass. "I don't like to drink and play," he said. It was hard to keep his eyes off her breasts. The nipples were getting hard again and he knew she was thinking about what he might do to her shortly. The fact that she was wearing only a pair of bright red panties seemed out of place, yet deliciously appropriate. Once again, Monica started breathing heavily. She had a hard time raising her eyes to look at her master. Displaying her breasts at the table for her master's pleasure had elicited that delicious feeling of embarrassment and loss of control. She was barely able to finish her meal as she felt his eyes devouring her body. When they were both finished, Cole announced what they would do next. "That was an excellent dinner, Little One. I'm very pleased. Before I show you the dungeon, I'd like to relax for a while. Come with me into the other room." She followed into a comfortably furnished room with a sofa, television and several well filled bookshelves. He had her sit on the thick carpet beside a large overstuffed leather chair and handed her a soft pink blanket with satin trim that reminded her of her childhood. She wrapped herself in the blanket and put her head against his knee while he picked up the Seattle Times and began to read. She noticed a slight odor of sweet tobacco in the room. Perhaps Master occasionally smoked a pipe? Monica felt an unusual sense of security, a feeling of things being right. Sitting at her master's knee while he read the newspaper seemed like the most natural thing in the world. She allowed her thoughts to drift and images of her childhood came into her mind. Her father had been away on business during much of her childhood, she recalled. She remembered a long forgotten scene that included herself at age twelve, waiting patiently for her father to return, then being told that he had been delayed indefinitely. In a flash of understanding, she realized that Cole was providing a strong male presence that she had been missing. She wrapped her arms around his leg and held on, simply enjoying the feeling of being safe and protected. Twenty minutes later, she asked for permission to use the bathroom and her master said "Of course. Please put on a little more of that perfume, if you have it with you. What's the name of it?" "It's called Anais-Anais, Master" She pronounced it correctly, "Ahna Eeess, Ahna Eeess". "I see. It's very nice," he said in a pleasantly seductive tone. She returned smelling quite delightful and resumed her position on the floor. After another ten minutes of reading, Cole said "Well, I think I'm about ready for a visit to the dungeon. How about you Little One?" "Yes sir, I'm very ready." "Good. Come with me and bring the blanket. It looks nice on you." She followed as he opened the door to the basement and they descended the carpeted stairs together. She kept the blanket wrapped around her like a large towel leaving her shoulders bare. Underneath she had only her sexy red panties and her Anais-Anais. Her body shivered slightly with anticipation, though the air was quite warm. She was surprised at how large the room was. It seemed to take up the entire area under the house except for a small bedroom and bathroom just at the bottom of the stairs. The ceiling was easily nine feet high. It was also unusually warm for a basement. The main room had an attractive hardwood floor which was the only thing that kept her from thinking of it as completely cozy. She looked around to see how much dust was on the smooth, polished floor only to find it perfectly clean. Something else to ask him about, she thought. Perhaps he had a housekeeper. There were speakers mounted on the walls in each corner of the room. He had touched a switch somewhere as they entered and now some mysterious and sensuous music was playing. She couldn't identify it, but wondered if this is what her on-line friends had referred to as dungeon music. There was a slight smell of incense or perfume, perhaps scented candles. Except for a spill of light from the stairway, the main room which he called the dungeon was dimly lit by one small lamp in a corner. He had Monica sit on a straight wooden chair just inside the room while he buckled on the soft black leather wrist and ankle cuffs. When he turned out the stairway light, there was just enough light for him to guide Monica to the center of the room and they stepped up onto the platform supporting the spanking horse. Cole positioned her with her hips against the rounded top of the horse and her feet outside the bases of the two upright supports. The suspended wooden bar was just before her at waist level. He fastened the ankle cuffs to the recessed hooks in the platform which held her legs widely, but comfortably splayed. Then he asked her to hold her hands out near the bar so that he could attach the wrist cuffs to eyescrews that were set into the bar, about four feet apart. "Hold them still, Little One. Be a good slave for me." As she held her arms out, it became apparent that the pink blanket was wrapped securely enough to stay up by itself. When her wrist cuffs were attached to the bar she had just enough freedom of movement to grasp the bar with her hands. It helped to support some of her weight as she bent part way over the horse. Cole bent to kiss her neck and pretty bare shoulders. The gentle stimulation made her quiver with anticipation. He smelled her perfume again and felt his cock harden slightly. Reaching around to where the pink blanket was tucked in on her right side, he loosened it, then pulled it free with a dramatic flourish. The red panties were still there, but the color was subdued in the dim light. Quickly retrieving an inch wide leather belt, he buckled it loosely around her waist and pressed her forward over the padded pedestal. Then he attached one end of a short cargo strap to a metal ring at the center of the belt and the other end to the platform directly below. "This is going to pull you down now, don't fight it Little One." Pulling on the free end of the strap removed the slack along with Monica's freedom to straighten up. She was now bent over the horse in a classic punishment position except that her wrists were attached to the hanging bar. He walked over to the wall and turned the control for the two overhead spotlights. She was suddenly bathed in warm light that created dramatic shadows around her body. Her ribs were sharply defined and her upper back now showed the muscles that resulted from her hard work in the gym. Her well shaped hips, nicely arched back and widely spread legs invited him to use her. Monica was thrilled at the vulnerable position her master had orchestrated. Her bottom was displayed nicely for spanking and she thought there was a distinct possibility that she could be penetrated from behind if master was the right height. The bar allowed her to support her torso reasonably well, so she felt like she could hold this position for a while, especially if her master asked it of her. The submissive part of her personality was being fulfilled in a manner that she had dreamed of since adolescence. Giving up control to someone she trusted was the ultimate aphrodisiac and the need within her was increasing with each passing minute. What Cole noticed most was the way that her sensitive breasts dangled beneath her like perfectly ripe fruit waiting to be exploited. Her chest muscles were nicely stretched by the extended position of her arms along the bar and it did mischievous things to the sexy shape of her slightly tanned tits. Kneeling on the platform beside her, he reached up to fondle her chest. He began to delicately trace the curves and brush against her nipples. "Hold still for me, little slut girl." he said. Her back became slightly more rigid as she fought the desire to wiggle away from his hands. "I love your tits. I could do this all night. You wouldn't mind would you?" "No Master. Please do it as long as you like." She did love it, but her bottom and sex were tingling with the anticipation of more attention. His hands gradually began to grasp her more roughly, twisting and squeezing her delicate flesh. Reaching into his pocket, he took out two wooden clothespins and deftly placed them onto her sensitive nipples. Monica's eyes opened wider. "Those have really strong springs!" she thought as the stinging changed to a warm glow in her breasts. "Oooh, Master, those are very tight!" "Yes I know, Little One. I enjoy hurting you and I enjoy seeing you in this position. You look very beautiful. It's time to move on, though. Are you ready to take some real pain for me?" "Yes Sir, I'll accept anything you want to do to me." She hoped that would include a serious spanking, since their previous session had only given her a taste of what she wanted. Cole moved around behind and gazed down at her flawless hips and her ass with its well developed muscles beneath a thin layer of sexy padding. She'll be able to take a lot of punishment, he thought. The lacy red panties now stood out brightly in the spotlights and he started stroking the satin material. He pressed his still clothed groin against her ass and reached around to run his hands along her ribs and abdomen. Some of her beautiful brown hair was hanging down below, so he gathered it up and placed it reverently on her back where it reached over half way to her waist. Monica felt herself slipping into the same strange mental state that she experienced the last time they played. She desperately wanted to make herself available to her master in any way possible, but he had chosen this vulnerable position for her and there were no decisions to make. Her ass, tits and cunt were firmly positioned for her master to ravish at will. She felt her master begin stroking her already eager pussy through the satin panties and the familiar feeling of swelling sexual desire in her private parts grew stronger. He cupped her vulva and gently squeezed repeatedly. Suddenly, he slid the panties down her thighs, then ripped them away, leaving her totally exposed and defenseless. He knelt down and blew a stream of cool air onto her hot cunt. "Please Master, fuck me now!" She desperately wanted him to touch her again, but he stood up and took a step back. The spanking of her naked buttocks began slowly. Cole alternated light and moderate slaps with gentle fingernail scratches and kisses. The intensity built up slowly for over 10 minutes. He had learned the night before that a hand spanking had a very limited effect on her, so he stepped over to a low table and selected a leather strap from the pile of kinky toys. The strap was eighteen inches long and almost two inches wide with a six inch wooden handle. His first stroke went straight across both buttocks just above the lower crease. His aim proved to be excellent and she inhaled sharply with the shock of this new stimulation. A two inch wide red rectangle appeared on her delicate skin. "Breathe, Little One. I'll give you some time between strokes. I don't want you safewording before I've had my fun," he said with a lecherous grin. Cole proceeded to strap her adorably rounded bottom with gradually increasing vigor. Both cheeks became a bright cherry red as he carefully distributed the strokes over the entire surface. Monica was breathing hard and making little short moaning sounds in a way that he found very appealing. He stopped the strapping for a few minutes to gently probe her smooth, nicely displayed cunt. He was not at all surprised to find that she was very wet. A minute of labia pinching and clit rubbing was all it took to drive her into a pre-orgasmic thrusting. With her hips held firmly down against the padded top, she could barely move and she had to accept whatever he wanted to do. "Please Master, can I come now?" she begged. In a calm, comforting voice he said "I'll bet you'd like to Little One, but not right now. Your Master will decide when you can come." He teased her clitoris just enough to keep her on the verge of coming for another few minutes, then removed his hand from her sensitive button and resumed the strapping. She was panting now and she felt as if her body below the waist was burning and pulsating in time with her heartbeat. She longed for her master's touch on her clit and the feel of his hard cock inside her. Applied slowly and at regular intervals, each lash of the heavy strap propelled her into a higher state of arousal. The timing of the strokes was perfect and she had a mental image of herself as a girl on a swing, with the height of her travel increasing each time her helper gave her another push. After a total of about twenty strokes, faint purple lines began to appear where heavy strokes had overlapped. He decided that this was enough. His own sexual arousal could not be ignored much longer. "You've taken twenty good strokes of the strap, Little One. I'm very proud of you. I have something else in mind now. Cole moved around in front and seized the free ends of the black cargo straps supporting the bar. Pulling on the two straps carefully, he hoisted the bar toward the ceiling. Her arms were pulled upward and slightly backwards, lifting her torso until the waist belt allowed no further movement. Her upper body was now in a position somewhat akin to a swan dive, but her lower body was still firmly pressed against the small spanking horse. The change in position caused a tingle of pain in her nipples, where the forgotten clothespins were still firmly clamped. "Oh God" she gasped. Her nipples seemed to have a direct connection to her clit and the burning sensation of the clothespins was duplicated there. This was her first experience with serious breast play and she found it highly stimulating. She could tell that she was no longer thinking clearly and her vision seemed to be fogged by her desperate need for an orgasm to relieve the burning tension in her body. The spotlights now illuminated her torso as if it were a Greek statue made of fine marble. Her muscles stood out all along her shoulders and abdomen. Best of all, thought Cole, her breasts were thrust out in a most provocative manner. If it weren't for the clothespins, she would be a fine copy of a hood ornament he had once seen on an antique luxury car. He removed his jeans and shorts while he gazed at the beautiful piece of living erotic art fixed helplessly in the spotlights. "I'm going to hurt you again, Little One. You know how I enjoy that." he said in his soft seductive voice. She was so aroused that she couldn't reply for a moment until her mind cleared slightly. "I need it Master. Just let me come soon, please?" Ignoring her plea, he said, "Here, Little One, we'd better take these clothespins off. This will hurt for a minute." He reached up and swiftly removed both clothespins from her nipples which had now been firmly compressed for almost 30 minutes. As the blood rushed back into the abused nipples, twin bursts of pain flared and were again relayed to her clitoris. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to scream. Cole placed his hand firmly over her mouth to save his eardrums and succeeded in reducing the volume considerably. He waited about thirty seconds for the pain to become more tolerable, then he began delicately licking the now hypersensitive nipples. The intense stimulation was more than Monica could take. Only the leather restraints kept her from pulling away. Her overloaded brain tried to channel the input into an orgasm, but her master would not provide the proper touch that would allow her to climax. All she could do was accept what he wanted to do to her. As her foggy brain realized this, she sank into the deepest state of submission that she had yet experienced. Instead of pulling away, she now thrust her breasts forward for her master's pleasure. She looked down at him and realized that he was getting great pleasure from this too. A feeling of great clarity and satisfaction settled over her. In a sudden insight, she realized that this was the role she was born to play. When he tired of the gentle touching and licking, he gradually got rougher, pulling, twisting and squeezing her delicate breasts. He loved the soft texture of the skin and the way they returned to their pretty, curved shapes when he released them. Her distended nipples were places where strong inputs could be sent directly to her brain. It gave him an arousing feeling of power and control. "I want you to accept one more thing, Little One. Have you ever had your tits whipped?" "No Master. Would it please you?" "It would please me very much, my little sex toy." Then he picked up a small whip with tresses about a foot long. It was made of inner tube rubber cut into about fifty one-eighth inch strips. Standing back for a good aim, he began to whip her helplessly hanging breasts. Not too hard, he thought. Not too soft either. There, that's just right. He could make each breast bounce in a most lascivious manner while leaving just the right shade of little pink stripes. Monica found the peculiar combination of sting and thud most intriguing and she couldn't resist pushing her chest out for more. It didn't hurt nearly as much as the clothespins, she thought. She was more concerned with the burning tingle in her cunt that was crying out for immediate penetration. Cole amused himself with the whip for a few minutes until her tits glowed with delicious red heat. Then he dragged his fingernails over the hot, sensitive skin. Monica responded with a gasp. "Time to reward this horny little slut with an orgasm," he said. He moved around behind her and began to rub her pussy with his right hand while holding his now rampant cock in his left to judge its firmness. It was so hard, he was momentarily afraid that it might break. With her legs held apart by the cuffs and the waist belt forcing her to bend over the horse, Monica's impatient vagina was at exactly the right height for him to fuck her from behind. He congratulated himself on positioning her with the perfect pelvic tilt for vigorous thrusting. First he allowed the head of his cock to slide up and down her wet cunt until she was begging for penetration. Part of him was also begging for release. It was a very large and hard part. It took all his willpower to keep from entering her immediately. He paused for one more instant to appreciate her amazing physical beauty. He noted that her well flogged tits were still thrust forward and her arms pulled up and back as if she were a piece of erotic performance art. "Please, Master. I need it now!" "You are such a greedy slut! Well, if you just can't wait." He slid into her with a mighty thrust and immediately had to begin his mental exercises to delay his orgasm. His timing was being overwhelmed by the sheer erotic energy that he was absorbing from Monica. The energy that he had so carefully put into her was taking them both to a critical point. To delay his orgasm just a little longer he tried to think about anything that would divert his attention. His mind turned to a scientific analysis of this overwhelming burst of sexual energy whose output seemed so much greater than the input. The term "breeder reactor" flashed into his mind and he started to laugh at the various comic implications. That's when Monica screamed as the tension that had built up within her body was released in a frighteningly intense orgasm. She strained against her bonds and her vaginal muscles contracted like a fist around his cock. Cole accepted the inevitable. He reached around to cruelly grasp her tortured breasts, took a huge breath and enjoyed the feeling of overwhelming pleasure as his hot fluid was pumped into the helpless woman. His legs strained involuntarily to force his shaft deeper into her body. Just as his orgasm was fading, Monica began her second climax and her internal muscles began gripping his still sensitive cock in a rhythmic pattern that seemed to suck more semen straight from his balls, reintensifying his orgasm and preventing him from moving a muscle. CHAPTER SEVEN After releasing Monica and helping her over to a low futon bed in the dungeon, Cole joined her and covered them both with a large quilt. Sleep came instantly and he fell into a near coma. Waking refreshed the next morning, they elected to go out for Sunday brunch at a restaurant in nearby Kirkland. Sitting at a table with the remains of a delightful meal before them, they started to seriously discuss their relationship. "Things are developing a lot faster than I expected," he admitted. "I've never been in a relationship like this one before. What do you think of it?" "I agree it's been fast, but I'm not complaining. I feel like I've been waiting a long time for this." She reached her hand across the small table to touch him. "I suppose my girlfriends would tease me for being involved with a lawyer, though." "Oh, yes. I forgot to tell you about that. Glad to see you figured it out. Do you mind? Some people think we're a lower form of life." With a relaxed chuckle she said, "Howard, I don't think you're anyone's idea of an average lawyer. Did they teach you how to be sexually dominant in law school? I've never met anyone who understands it as well as you." "I'm flattered that you think so, but I don't think anyone really understands it completely. It's a very complex subject." As he spoke, he scanned the dining area and noticed the nicely dressed, almost prim and proper clientele. What would they think if they knew what he and Monica were discussing? He decided to bring up something that might be a touchy subject. "Monica, how are you feeling about our age difference?" "To tell the truth, Howard, I don't think about it at all when we're together. It just seems very natural." "I feel the same way, but I'm a little worried about what other people will think. I've seen men my age suddenly appear with a sweet young thing on their arm. Everyone immediately assumes that it's just a young bimbo that he's acquired to help him through his mid-life crisis. It wouldn't be fair to expose you to that kind of pressure." "Hey sweetie, didn't I tell you that I've been dating guys older than me? I know exactly what you're talking about and it doesn't bother me a bit. Who cares what other people think? Eventually they'll see that we're happy together and good for each other. The ones who can't see past that first impression aren't worth worrying about." She decided to move on to a different subject. "Howard, our play this weekend has helped me learn some things about myself. Do you want to hear about it?" "Of course Little One... I mean Monica," he grinned. "Well, Master Howard," she said with a touch of friendly sarcasm, "I've been thinking about whether I'm a sub or a bottom. That was always a big topic of discussion in my on-line groups. At this point, I'd have to say I'm both. Just thinking about SM play makes me feel subby and the more submissive I get, the more I crave the spanking, the clothespins or whatever." While she spoke, she played absentmindedly with a strand of her adorable brown curls that framed her face. "That certainly makes sense to me," he responded. "It took me a while to find out that I was a dominant who liked psychological play as well as a sadistic devil who liked to spank pretty women" He noticed how her eyes sparkled as he spoke. "Maybe I just like making them give up control." When she thought about giving up control, Monica's eyes lost their focus for a moment and she visualized what had happened to her last night. With an effort, she snapped herself back to the conversation. "Yes, I wonder if it all comes down to control?" "It's as good a theory as any. If I can change the subject slightly, how do you think our relationship will effect you at work? I wouldn't want you slipping into subspace at work like you did just now." "You noticed that? Hopefully it won't happen at work. I'm actually pretty dominant when I have to be. You should see what a bitch I can be sometimes!" She said it convincingly, but was glad he hadn't noticed her stiffening nipples. It was going to take some time to avoid slipping into those erotic daydreams. "I can imagine you wearing spike heels and black leather, swinging a long bullwhip around the office." Giving her best Betty Page smile, she said, "that's me, Mistress Monica." "I hope you aren't Mistress Monica with me. I tried having a relationship with a Femdom and it didn't work out." "You? With a dominant woman? Do you mean a professional, uh... Pro-Domme?" "Oh yes, Nikki is a pro all right, a good one. Her working name is "Mistress Valeria". The reason it didn't work out was that we were both dominant. She's a great person and fun to be with, but we had no sexual chemistry. Put two dominants together and what you get is a vanilla relationship. We thought it was quite funny at the time." "Oh, too bad. I was imagining you being beaten and verbally abused by some bossy bitch in a Dominatrix costume," she teased. "I'm afraid it wouldn't do anything for me, but if you're interested I could contact her and see if she'd like to play with us sometimes. She likes sexy little subby girls like you." He watched as Monica looked thoughtful for a minute. "You once mentioned that you were a little bisexual, right?" "Yes, maybe more than a little. But I don't know if I want to be dominant or submissive with another woman. Maybe just vanilla." "Sounds like another fun avenue for us to explore. I'm certainly willing to participate if you're interested." She looked down and said shyly, "I'm interested, just nervous. Will you help? Maybe you could surprise me sometime." "I'll keep it in mind," he said casually. It sounded like the sort of scene that would be spoiled if he talked about it too much. "Why don't you tell me how you got that beautiful tattoo? I'll bet it was expensive." She laughed, "You won't believe it! My college roommate and I decided that we wanted to get tattoos, but we didn't have much money. So, we found out about a friend of a friend who would do us for forty dollars each. This guy was supposed to be an art student with a lot of talent, so we decided to take a chance. When we went to his place, you could barely see through the haze of marijuana smoke. We almost backed out when he insisted that he needed to have a few drinks in order to do his best work. I was really scared, but I love the final result. Later we found out that these were his first tattoos. I can't believe how lucky I was." Cole's eyes went wide, "His first tattoos? Yours looks like it was done by a real professional. Damn, you were really lucky!" When Monica stopped laughing, she asked, "Howard, how come it smells like pipe tobacco in your office? I've never seen you smoking anything." "Oh, that," he said, waving his hand, "I like the smell of some pipe tobaccos, so I use the stuff to give my office a nice masculine scent. I'd never smoke the stuff!" He made an unpleasant face. "OK, how about those photographs in your house, did you take those?" "Sure did. Those are from my landscape period, before I discovered the joys of photographing naked perverts doing naughty things," he grinned. "I haven't photographed a mountain in years." They sat there in their own world as the mundane people of Sunday morning Seattle moved around them, somehow kept apart from them as if by an invisible barrier. They held hands across the fine linen tablecloth and looked into each other's eyes like any ordinary pair of lovers. CHAPTER EIGHT For the next few months, their relationship grew steadily closer. The fact that it was impractical to see each other during the week had both good and bad effects. On the good side, they both built up tremendous amounts of sexual energy, which they channeled into amazing weekend performances. They spent enough pleasurable, quality time together that they began discussing the possibility of marriage. The bad side was that the limited time they had together was a barrier to the further development of their relationship. They both felt that they had found their life partner, but it was going to take some adjustments to make things work out. The first order of business was for Monica to move into Cole's house. They agreed that it would be best to live together as a further test of their compatibility. Unfortunately, with Monica working downtown, that would create the need for a very unpleasant commute. Until she could find other employment, they would have to continue their current arrangement. Sitting in a small theater one evening, they waited for a foreign film to start. Monica told Cole about her current work situation. "Things have been deteriorating at work lately, Howard. The board hired a new general manager about two months ago and things are getting a lot more stressful. Mr. Weber thinks that terrorizing the employees is the best way to generate maximum productivity. You know things are getting bad when there's a sudden increase in the number of Dilbert cartoons being passed around," she said wryly. Reaching out to hold his hand, she continued, "I don't know why he's on my case so much. My three clients are the happiest customers we have." Cole replied mischievously, "I think I'm your most satisfied customer." "You know what I mean," she responded with mock indignation. "My favorite client is a medium sized software company in Redmond. I have a hunch that they might be interested in having me work as their employee rather than going through the agency. I'm going to ask around next week and see how they feel about the idea. It would be an easy commute from your house, lover," she said softly, close to his ear. Monica met with the personal director of the software company that week. She was responsible for the highly successful marketing campaign that had launched their new voice-activated medical software. It turned out that they were definitely interested in her services and she entered into a gradual negotiating process with the company management. In the meantime, Cole and Monica enjoyed each other whenever they could. He began to introduce her to his friends, one or two at a time. Mostly, he introduced her to his kinky friends. He thought that they would be more accepting of their unusual relationship than his vanilla friends, since they themselves often had unusual lifestyle arrangements. As she absorbed the never ending stream of scene gossip, Monica was amazed at what interesting lives the scene people led. It was better than any soap opera she had ever watched. She was always happy to listen when one of Cole's old friends filled him in on the latest developments. By avoiding scene events, he fell behind on the current status of many people and their relationships, so he always asked his friends for an update One weekend, he introduced Monica to his friend Ron, a very dominant gentleman with whom he had shared many secrets over the last few years. Ron had even been something of a mentor to Cole, explaining the mysterious art of psychological D/S play. Ron had one belief that Cole found rather discouraging. He felt that it was unfeasible for a couple to have a strong D/S relationship within the confines of a healthy marriage. It was impossible, he said, for the spouses to effectively share the responsibilities of running the family while the dominant partner was controlling the submissive partner. This seemed reasonable to Cole, but he was pretty certain that he and Monica could find a sensible compromise. Ron didn't have much going on in his life outside his play relationship. With no job or marriage to maintain, he had plenty of time to think up the most fiendish, but safe, torments for his deeply submissive partner. To Cole, he represented both the dark side and light side of BDSM. He was a classic example of someone who became so wrapped up in their D/S play that they allowed their other interests and responsibilities to languish. There was a definite chance that people could become addicted to that dominant or submissive headspace that they craved. On the other hand, Ron was always an advocate of carefully negotiated, mutually rewarding and above all safe, kinky play. People often referred newcomers to him, because they knew that the newbies would be in good hands and get good information to start them off. When Cole had first entered the Seattle scene, he was initially impressed with the general atmosphere of healthy openness and acceptance. People who had openly admitted that they were kinky somehow seemed emotionally healthier than the average person who feared to admit that they fantasized about something unusual. After a few years of contact with the same group of people, he began to realize that the scene folk were just as messed up as everyone else, maybe more so. It took a long time, but he eventually learned the hard way that scene people were not to be trusted any more than non-scene people. A popular topic of conversation was how many of the submissives had a history of abuse. Many of the female subs had been abused in childhood and many of the male submissives had been abused in earlier relationships. Not all of them, by any means, so that no theory ever seemed to apply to everyone. It made for some great email wars on the internet along with the perennial favorite, 24/7 relationships and TPE. TPE, the abbreviation for Total Power Exchange, was used for couples who agreed that the dominant partner would have total control of the submissive partner at all times. 24/7 referred to a related concept where a couple would stay in dominant and submissive roles twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. There were always some couples who claimed that they lived such a lifestyle and there were always novices who eagerly asked questions about how they could find that sort of bliss for themselves. Many D/S couples put a great deal of thought into their arrangements. It was popular to have a written contract between the two partners describing, sometimes in great detail, which rights and responsibilities each partner would have. The contracts were legally worthless at best, but it made a great topic for endless discussion. In reality, the number of couples who were able maintain a relationship of this type was extremely small. Almost invariably, the requirements of maintaining one's job and family prevented them from achieving their goal for more than a short time. The more intense the D/S, the quicker it burned itself out. Cole and Monica talked about this on several occasions. Monica seemed to crave submission more than Cole needed to dominate. Perhaps it was just his greater age and maturity helping him to moderate his inner urges. They rejected the idea of attempting a 24/7 lifestyle relationship. There was just too much going on in their lives to think that such a venture could be successful. They both had demanding careers and of course they were trying to build a strong healthy relationship that would hopefully lead to a successful marriage. Simply indulging their kinky desires whenever they both felt like it seemed like the most practical approach. Because of their age difference, Cole felt a responsibility to allow her to live her life with as much freedom as possible. He made sure that she had time to visit her friends and to stay in touch with her family in Idaho. Unfortunately, her family was not pleased with her selection of a man so much older. Most of the time they had little to say to each other. Monica usually had her weeknights free, so she always managed to see her friend Jennifer at least once a week. They would meet at a bar downtown or relax and chatter endlessly in each other's apartments until midnight or so, when they remembered that they both had to work the next morning. Jennifer was a secretary in one of the giant office towers downtown. She frequently complained that she was hired for her exotic looks rather than her abilities, which were considerable. The two women were at least a little bit in love with each other. Perhaps because of her own poor body image, Monica was attracted to Jennifer by her very thin body. Occasionally they would tease each other with a little kiss or a hint of future lovemaking, but they also discussed their mutual need to submit to a strong, caring man. Jennifer had grown up a bit confused about her goals. Her father's Chinese relatives expected her to marry a nice Chinese boy and have many babies. Her mother's French relatives who had migrated from Quebec several decades ago, felt that she should follow her heart. She believed that she had received a double dose of submissiveness from her parents. Her father was influenced by the old fashioned male dominant Chinese culture that his own parents had practiced. Her mother must have been naturally submissive, because she seemed to thrive in that culture and always deferred to her father. Two years older than Monica, at twenty eight, Jennifer still hadn't had a satisfying relationship with a man. The Chinese-American men she had dated were shocked when she hinted that she might like to be put over their knee and spanked. It was very embarrassing. The white guys she went out with wanted to treat her like a little princess and wouldn't even think of getting rough in the bedroom. It was very frustrating. Her envy of Monica was strong, but her delight at seeing her friend find happiness was even stronger. She could hardly wait for their weekly dates to hear the latest details of the rapidly developing romance. Finally, she was invited to meet Howard. The three of them arranged to meet for dinner one Saturday night at his house. Jennifer arrived at seven o'clock and found them cooking dinner together in a most domestic fashion. They did not seem to be in role at all, she thought with some disappointment. She did find Cole attractive, perhaps conditioned by Chinese culture to accept older men. Perhaps it was just the fact the she knew he was dominant sexually. He was actually quite fit and handsome, if you liked the beard and mustache. She noticed that he had a hint of gray in his dark beard and she could see the love in his eyes when he looked at Monica. Cole was impressed with Jennifer. She seemed very intelligent, but he could see why she might have been hired for her looks. Her face was a very exotic combination of European and Asian qualities. Her large exotic eyes and sexy jawline combined with her silky black hair to create an eye-catching, delicate beauty. The only thing that spoiled the effect for him was her lack of womanly curves. She wore a loose fitting sweater and baggy jeans that did nothing to enhance her small figure. After an excellent dinner and a few glasses of wine, she worked up her courage and asked politely if she could see the dungeon. Cole and Monica looked at each other with slightly raised eyebrows. "Do you think she's ready for that?" he asked. Monica looked closely at her friend and asked, "Jenny, are you sure? You'll have to promise not to tell anyone else." "I promise. Please, I'd really like to see it. It's something I've been thinking about for a long time." They led her down the stairs and allowed her to explore the dungeon as long as she wanted. She asked several questions about the specialized play furniture, which Cole answered as honestly as possible. She seemed to know what the bondage gear and various striking instruments were for. When she had seen enough, she simply said, "OK, thanks, it looks really great." They went back upstairs and chatted for the rest of the evening. After Jennifer had gone, they both noted that her behavior was a bit strange. As they straightened up the kitchen, Cole said, "She was certainly feeling some kinky urges downstairs. Did you notice her sniffing the leather play furniture? "I didn't see that, but I could sure feel some erotic energy when she bent herself over that spanking bench. I guess we're really lucky to have each other. There must be a lot of people out there who don't have anyone to share their kinky secrets with." That night, they held each other a little longer than usual before drifting off to sleep. CHAPTER NINE The rainy winter weather prevented them from sharing an activity that they both loved, hiking. The best they could do were some long walks on urban trails within the city. They made plans to go on longer hikes in the Cascades when summer arrived. The weekend play sessions mellowed somewhat. They were getting to know each other's responses and knew how to turn each other on with an easy comfort. If they had been out late, they would typically come home to snuggle in the big bed and enjoy nice warm lovemaking. Not that they were vanilla or anything! Cole still loved slapping her tits and ass before he held her down for a nice slow ravishing. Monica still liked to have him get rough and dominant before she was ready for penetration. As they had agreed earlier, they spent several Friday evenings watching foreign films and arty films by American directors. Monica watched the entertainment media carefully to see when the most promising films would be released. Her knowledge of non-mainstream films was astonishing. She managed to enjoy films that put Cole to sleep. Sometimes only the good photography kept him awake. He could appreciate good cinematography, even if the plot was incomprehensible. None of it really mattered, since he was with Monica and he was in love. The other part of their early agreement was that he would teach her to shoot. Specifically, handguns. This was not quite as easy as going to the movies. Monica had absorbed a fear of guns from the general culture that she was immersed in during her school years as well as the sophisticated urban environment that she entered after graduating from college. Fortunately, she had read some feminist literature that urged women to buy guns and learn to use them skillfully for their own empowerment. Another thing that encouraged her was the fact that guns were everywhere when she was growing up in Idaho and she associated them with masculinity. Seeing Cole handling a firearm like he respected it and knew how to use it, made her wet and subby. On a cold and misty Saturday morning at the outdoor pistol range, he taught her to use a .38 caliber revolver. She turned out to be pretty good at it, although there was still a voice inside her head that made her feel guilty for learning. Cole was a good shot with the .38, but he preferred a .45 semi-automatic. She was stunned to see him produce a flurry of rather large holes in the small vital areas of the cardboard silhouette targets. After the lesson, when they were sitting in a warm restaurant, he explained that he often carried a pistol when he went into areas that he considered risky. "I've had a permit for years. It's nothing unusual these days," he said. "Any adult citizen can get a concealed weapon permit if they're willing to go through the process. I had to have my fingerprints taken and wait for a background check, of course. They look for any history of mental illness or criminal activity. It takes a couple of months." Monica seemed a bit surprised. "I didn't know it worked that way. I thought you had to be someone special, like a politician or something." "When I lived in L.A., only the lawyers and the rich people were given permits. I like this system much better," he said. Leaving the restaurant, they returned to the house for an afternoon of unusually intense lovemaking. One weekend, they agreed to schedule a serious play session in the dungeon. Monica prepared herself by shaving every hair from her svelte body below the neck. Cole prepared by putting up the leather sling in one corner of the dungeon. The sling was suspended from the ceiling at waist height and was designed to allow someone to lie face up on it with their weight comfortably supported. Except for their arms and legs, that is. The limbs were typically raised and spread, then fastened with leather cuffs to the four chains that suspended the sling. In the bedroom, he slowly undressed her and kissed every square inch of her smooth skin. He put the comfortable leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles. After a period of rough kissing and fondling, he led her down the stairs to the dungeon and helped her onto the sling. When he raised her legs to fasten them to the support chains, she was quite surprised to see how her ass and cunt were hanging just off the edge of the leather platform. She had never quite felt such a feeling of exposure and vulnerability. Her wrists were soon attached above her head. He knelt down between her spread and upraised legs and began to lightly kiss the area around her clitoris. Then, he started pushing gently on the sling to make it swing backwards and forward just a few inches. He placed his lips in position at the farthest point of travel and waited for her moistening cunt to come to him for more little kisses and nibbles. Reaching for a soft blindfold with an elastic band, he kissed her mouth softly for a few moments before placing it around her head, cutting off her vision. She detected a slight hint of her own natural scent on his lips. She could not see him look at his watch. "Do you trust me, little subby girl?" "You know I do darling... I mean Master." she said in a dreamy voice. "That's good, Little One, because we're going to move a step forward tonight. You must trust me now. There's nothing to worry about. I have good reason to think that you're going to enjoy this and I know that I will. I expect you to remain calm and accept whatever happens. Will you do that for me?" "I'm fine Master, go ahead. You know I love surprises." "I think I have a good one for you this time. I'm going to go upstairs for just a minute to get your surprise. Don't run away." He quickly went upstairs and found his old friend Nikki, AKA: Mistress Valeria, waiting outside in her car. Seeing him wave from the front door, she hurried in and gave him a big hug. Following their plan, they went quietly downstairs to where Monica was waiting in the sling with her legs held apart and her cunt wide open for all to see. Blindfolded, Monica had no way of knowing who had entered the room with her master. She tensed briefly, until she smelled a woman's perfume. Then she heard a sexy female voice that was both seductive and dominant. "Hell-o, aren't you the sexy little slut. Do you always hang around with your cunt available to everyone? Call me Mistress Valeria, accent on the second syllable. Your master has given you to me for the next hour or so." "Mistress Valeria! I've heard my master speak of you. Your perfume is very unusual. What is it?" "Patchouli and Poison. Be quiet now, I want to put you through some tests. If you speak without being told to do so, you will be punished." Still blindfolded, Monica drifted into a relaxed state that she knew would help her endure any kind of SM play that the good Mistress Valeria might wish to inflict upon her. She trusted her master to have things under control and in fact she could hear him moving nearby. Mistress Valeria placed her small toy bag on the table next to the various instruments of pain and pleasure that were already present. She quickly surveyed the tools that were available to torment the beautiful slave Monica and from the depths of her bag selected a Wartenburg Pinwheel. Attached to a six inch stainless steel handle, the wheel was about an inch in diameter and had sharp spikes along its rim. It was originally designed to help Neurologists locate areas of skin that were numb due to nerve damage. It was also a favorite toy of the SM crowd. Valeria approached Monica's well displayed, defenseless form and stood beside her. "I want you to hold completely still, you little hussy. This test will continue until I'm satisfied that you are submitting to my wishes. You are not allowed to speak. You are not allowed to come." She placed the small spiked wheel gently against the inside of Monica's right wrist and gradually moved it down the arm, passing the inside of the elbow and making a strong impression on the sensitive, perfectly shaved armpit. Monica moaned involuntarily and her muscles quivered with her effort to hold still. There were faint marks where the spikes had pressed into her skin. She heard her master speak now. "I love it when she tries to hold still." From the tone of his voice, she could tell that he was very much into his dominant role now. "She's a beauty, Master Cole," she heard her sexy smelling tormentor say. The intense sensation of the wheel gradually moved up and down her body from wrist to ankle and side to side. Only her head, nipples and genitals were spared. Her captive position on the sling made it impossible for her to hide any part of her body from the demanding woman who was completely in charge. All she could do was twitch and moan. The suspended position was quite comfortable and the sexy torture seemed to go on forever. She felt herself slipping away from reality and into a state of erotic torpor. After a long time, Valeria noticed that Monica's cunt was getting nicely lubricated. "You're wet, wench." The comment woke Monica from her trance and generated a rush of embarrassment that caused her to blush in some very unladylike places. Her entire body seemed like it had been sensitized by the wheel and she realized with some alarm that the feeling of anything touching her skin would now be amplified. "She does respond nicely", Valeria said, looking over at Cole who simply grinned. Setting the spiked wheel aside, Valeria put on a pair of latex gloves and turned her attention to Monica's naked cunt. Spreading the already open outer lips, she gathered some of the slippery fluid and carefully spread it to all the sensitive areas. Then she began a long massage of Monica's inner and outer labia, carefully avoiding the clitoris. Monica's little moans soon turned to grunts and pelvic thrusts. "Hold still, you nasty little slut. I'll tell you when you can come." Monica obeyed the order as long as she could, then the stimulation was too much for her and she started wriggling frantically to bring her clit into contact with the teasing hands. "Aren't we the little wiggle worm. You'll get six cane strokes on your pretty ass for disobedience. Don't say I didn't warn you." Monica was more distressed by the fact that the astoundingly talented hands were removed from her cunt. However the burning lines that appeared one at a time on her unprotected and lewdly stretched buttocks quickly made her want to obey. "Let's try this again. Hold still this time!" The hands returned to her slippery cunt lips, sliding up and down, pinching and stretching. Monica was nearly catatonic from the long period of unrelieved sexual stimulation. After a terribly long time she heard, "I think I've had enough of that little amusement and I doubt if you can take much more. Have you been depriving her of sex, Master Cole?" Valeria moved forward and carefully removed the blindfold, leaving Monica blinking in the soft light of the dungeon. She looked up to see who had taken such complete control of her and saw a handsome woman with long, raven black hair and a skimpy leather outfit that displayed an alluring figure. "Hello, Mistress Valeria," she said softly. "Please don't stop." "Don't worry, I'm not done with you yet. Just relax for a minute while I put on a condom. Have you ever been fucked by a woman?" "I don't think so," she said uncertainly, not quite understanding the meaning. Was Valeria a man? It didn't seem possible. "Well, you're about to be fucked. Now, where did I leave my cock?" she said absent mindedly as she turned to the toy table. Monica watched in fascination as Mistress Valeria removed her leather outfit revealing a perfectly normal female body. No penis visible anywhere. Her pubic hair was nicely shaved too, Monica noticed. Valeria reached into her black toy bag and pulled out a large strap-on dildo that was a perfect replica of an erect penis. Even the texture and flexibility of the pink plastic was correct. Using the leather straps, she fastened it around her body so that the artificial cock was positioned perfectly. Then she ripped open a small foil packet and quickly rolled a condom down the shaft. What Monica could not see was that there was a small extension on the rear of the dildo which would provide Valeria with intense clitoral stimulation. Lying helplessly in the sling, Monica was feeling very submissive as she anticipated the feeling of the plastic cock fucking her overheated sex. Having a beautiful woman take charge of her was very stimulating, but she felt like she was really doing it for her beloved master. She looked over at Cole and wondered if he was proud of her for demonstrating her obedience. Monica looked at Mistress Valeria approaching between her spread and upraised legs. Even without her exotic leather outfit, the woman was still very sexy. She admired the long black hair and pretty breasts. Valeria used her hands to move the latex clad cock up and down Monica's swollen, red labia. When she felt that Monica was about ready to burst, she slid the cock carefully into the well lubricated passage. Gently stroking in and out, Valeria was being stimulated herself, by the action of the dildo against her own center. Her helpless victim, however, was still deprived of clitoral stimulation. "I'm glad I didn't use any lube," she said in Cole's direction, "your little slut is really wet. She's quite a treasure, you know." "I know she is," Cole said as he moved closer to stand near Monica. He reached out to touch her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples in the way that he knew she liked. "I'm very proud of you, Little One. Allowing your master to give your body to another is an important step in your submission." Cole could sense that Monica's mind was far away in a pre-orgasmic fog. Judging by the hardness of Valeria's nipples, she too would soon give in to the repetitive clitoral stimulation that was provided by the ingenious dildo. He moved behind Valeria and gently reached around to cup her breasts, which he had always admired. While Valeria was working herself towards a climax by fucking his little slave girl, he provided a bit of extra stimulation. His goal was to make them both come at the same time. He remembered that she liked a slow pulling of her nipples and he gradually worked them into stiff peaks of pleasure. She responded by pushing her chest out to encourage his efforts. In a way, he was serving her, but he was also controlling her. A bit confusing, but lots of fun, he thought. Valeria was the first to come. As she began to quiver and shake, Cole moved to Monica's side and reached down to stroke her neglected clit. Within seconds. Monica was wracked by her own massive convulsions of ecstasy. They each let out a loud scream of pleasure that seemed to encourage the other to greater heights. He absorbed the intense sexual energy from the two passionate women. He could feel it in his own body, but knew he'd have a chance to satisfy himself later. He hoped it would be soon. Very soon. When their energy was spent, he helped his dominant friend to a pile of pillows on the floor and covered her quickly with a blanket. Then he moved to release Monica, who seemed to be comatose. Within a few minutes, they both recovered and started chatting about their experience. Their conversation quickly turned to the fact that Cole hadn't come yet and the three of them tossed out ideas for providing him with satisfaction. They decided that Valeria, who Cole had started to call Nikki, would recline on a soft pad with her knees spread wide so that Monica could be taught the art of cunnilingus as practiced by the famous Mistress Valeria. Cole would kneel behind Monica and fuck her while she worked. Monica learned fast. Whenever Nikki/Valeria felt that she was doing something incorrectly, she would wave a hand in Cole's direction and he would stop his doggy style thrusting until Monica was doing it right. This was great fun for a while, until he said in a strangled voice, "Dammit Nikki, I can't hold back any longer!" She quickly responded, "Fuck it man! Go ahead and come! Shoot a big load into your pretty little come receptacle." He certainly did. His vision blacked out from the intense pleasure of coming inside the tight slippery tunnel that his lover offered him. Then he was the one who collapsed on the floor while the women continued their lesson. Shortly, when he appeared to be asleep, they both looked at him, then smiled at each other knowingly. Nikki, left an hour later after lots of hugs and kisses all around. Monica turned to him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. "She's really special. Is she the one you had a relationship with?" "Yes, that's her. One of a kind. Do you want to play with her again sometime? I'd say she enjoyed herself enough to be interested in a rematch." Monica hesitated, "I'm not sure right now. I just adore her as a person, but I don't think that submitting to a woman is what I need. I was really doing it for you, you know." "I thought so. Well, it's not important. Since we both like her, we'll see more of her socially, I'm sure." CHAPTER TEN The level of trust they had in each other set the tone for their relationship, which became warmer and deeper as the months passed quickly. Their sexual activities always involved very hot, but loving, dominant/submissive play. Monica derived a great deal of satisfaction from simply serving him. Sometimes it was in small ways, like bringing him his coffee and sitting at his feet for a while. At other times, they would engage in semi-formal training where Cole would show her how to dry him after he stepped out of the shower or how to pose herself in the sexiest positions for his visual enjoyment. Above all, they were deeply in love. It was not a complete fantasy world, however. They each had important responsibilities that demanded a great deal of their time. Their dominant/submissive relationship fulfilled some basic inner needs, but it also provided a form of escape from the daily stress of life in the business world. Monica was becoming an expert at changing roles when she left work. It was becoming quite natural to be forceful and assertive by day, submissive and loving by night. She felt a sense of balance in her life that had never existed before. Cole became a bit wrapped up in major contract negotiations involving a new method of programming traffic computers to regulate the flow of traffic on city streets. His fee would be substantial if he could arrange the kind of terms that he was hoping for. When the contract was signed he estimated that his planned retirement date had been moved up by at least a year. Monica had also finished a major marketing project and they felt like they needed to take a little time off. Sitting in the living room with glasses of Johannesburg Riesling, they discussed travel possibilities that could be arranged on short notice. Considering the limited time that was available, they decided to vacation someplace within a day's drive. "Have you ever been to Victoria?" he asked. "It's only about three hours away by ferry. We'll need to check the ferry schedules." "I've heard a lot about it, but haven't been there myself," Monica replied. "In fact, I've never been on any of the ferries. I'd love to go there!" The Canadian city of Victoria was isolated from the mainland on Vancouver Island and was only accessible by air or by ferry. A fleet of passenger and auto ferries plied the waters of Puget Sound to provide the vital transportation links. They made reservations for three nights at a quiet hotel in Downtown Victoria. On Thursday, Cole removed the center seat from the minivan to provide a large empty space inside the vehicle. In the wee hours of Friday morning, they loaded their bags and drove North to Anacortes. At 7:30 AM they parked in the waiting line at the ferry terminal. They watched from dockside as the sturdy ship maneuvered for docking. The huge hydraulic ramp was deployed from the dock to match up with the great door in the stern. The smell of salt water and the cries of the seagulls blended with the manmade odors of machinery and the sounds of automotive engines. Monica counted seventy cars and trucks racing up the ramp from the vehicle deck and stopping to wait again at the U.S. customs terminal. When they were allowed to drive onto the ferry, Cole was pleased that the minivan had been allocated a parking place in one of the darker corners of the vehicle deck. They would have over three hours to kill while the ferry made its way through the narrow channels of the San Juan Islands before arriving at the Canadian port of Sidney. As soon as people parked their cars, they all went upstairs to the passenger decks for coffee and sightseeing. Cole and Monica waited until the deck was deserted, then moved into the rear of the minivan. A pile of blankets and pads covered most of the floor. They undressed quickly, then got under a soft down comforter. The rocking motion of the ship indicated that they were underway and Cole pulled a set of their favorite leather wrist cuffs from under a nearby pillow. He used the wrist restraints and some spring clips to attach Monica's hands to the base of the bench seat at the rear of the minivan's cargo compartment. Protected by the nearly black windows, he spent the next half hour seeing how close he could get Monica to coming without actually letting her climax. His favorite technique was to simply lick her clitoris until she started to wiggle her hips. Then he would stop for a while and kiss his way up her perfect tummy to her delightfully protruding nipples. The throbbing of the ship's engines easily covered her happy noises. When he felt like he was nearing his own limit, he unfastened her restraints from the base of the seat and they moved up onto the seat itself. Cole sat down first, then ordered Monica to service him orally. Kneeling on the floor between his knees, she demonstrated a natural, but not fully developed, talent for fellatio. He had to stop in just a few minutes, as he could feel his orgasm already starting to develop. "You're getting too good at that, my little slut girl. Come up here with me now, I have plans for you" "Let's hurry Master, I need you inside me now!" "Kneel on the seat with one knee on either side of me. That's right. Lower yourself onto my cock... God that feels good!" Feeling his manhood engulfed in her soft warmth was an exquisite sensation. Before he could lose himself in this sensual bliss, he reminded her to clip her leather wrist cuffs to the hooks that he had installed along the ceiling where normal people would hang clothing. This position placed her delectable breasts right at Cole's mouth level and provided Monica with leverage to raise and lower herself on his ironhard phallus. When she rested all her weight on him, the seat cushions were compressed and the throbbing vibration of the ferry was transmitted deep into her body. She also found that she could rub her overheated clit on Cole in a most satisfying way. "Oh Master, that feels so good! I can feel the vibration way up inside me!" "You may come whenever you want, my dear." He took great delight in fondling and punishing her breasts for as long as possible. With her arms extended to the corners of the minivan's roof line, her breasts were displayed in just the manner he liked. He pinched the sensitive nipples and slapped her firm globes to watch them jiggle. The moderate pain in her mammary erogenous zones soon combined with the vibrations in her womanly core to launch the first of several massive orgasms. "I'm coming Master!" she cried out. Cole was thankful that the sounds of her guttural screams and grunts were absorbed by the noisy environment on the ferry. He held out as long as he could, but when he discovered that the springy seat cushion would allow him to thrust and withdraw to suit his own inner rhythm, it was all over. His uncontrollable muscular exertions lifted and dropped Monica repeatedly, forcing her to climax again. When they were able to speak again, they laughed together at the steamed up windows, then noticed that it was growing cold inside their private play chamber. Cleaning up and dressing in warm clothes, they left the minivan and went upstairs to join the other passengers. They huddled close together at the rail as they watched the forested islands slip by, so close they could almost reach out and touch them. The clean, chill breeze soon drove them back inside for coffee and a warmer observation point inside the main cabin. Several passengers remained at the rail to watch for killer whales. Shortly before noon, they arrived at Sidney, on Vancouver Island. Driving off the ferry, they waited in line for the Canadian Customs agents to ask the usual questions of all the drivers. The cuffs and other toys were hidden from view, since they had been warned by friends that kinky toys were sometimes confiscated at the border. Cole had been very careful to leave his handgun at home. The Canadian government didn't even trust its own citizens with guns and they were certain to come down hard on any barbaric American who might dare to defy their laws. He noted the familiar sign he had seen before at the customs station which read "NO OFFENSIVE WEAPONS". He had once asked a customs agent what might constitute a defensive weapon, but the only anwer he got was an hour long search of his vehicle. This time the only surprise was the fact that pepper spray was banned in Canada and Monica was relieved when she remembered that she had left hers in another purse. Apparently self defense was not supposed to be an option for Canadians. They made the half hour drive into Victoria and checked into their hotel around one in the afternoon. Although the English style shops and buildings were interesting, the usual cloudy weather made Victoria somewhat dreary looking. Monica announced, "Aren't the English supposed to be famous for their tea? I could sure use some right now." "Funny you should mention that," Cole said, "I was just going to suggest that we have high tea." Walking a few blocks to a busy, crowded tea shop, they ordered the shop's version of high tea, which included a large plate of tiny tuna and cucumber sandwiches as well as various biscuits with jam. The tea itself was served at the perfect piping hot temperature and was brewed to the ideal intensity. Feeling fortified and wearing their favorite walking shoes, they set out on foot to explore downtown Victoria. Monica was thrilled at the English atmosphere as they passed numerous shops selling souvenirs and imports from Mother England. That evening, they dined at a restaurant which replicated old English culture from the Shakespearean era. In the courtyard out front, there was a set of antique wooden stocks that reminded them of their kinky friends back home. In their hotel that evening, they realized that loud sexy noises would not be appropriate, so they snuggled in the comfortable bed for a while, then happily engaged in quietly dominant and silently submissive sex. They fell asleep in each other's arms and didn't awaken until late the next morning. They spent Saturday exploring the area by car, visiting a fort, a lighthouse and the famous British Columbia Museum next to the Parliament Building. Something about Victoria was making them terrible horny, because they returned to their hotel room and fucked like bunnies whenever they could. They returned home on Monday, sore from too much sex. In order to be ready for work on Tuesday, Monica needed to return to her own apartment that night. "I sure wish I could stay here tonight, Howard," she whined seductively. "I wish you could too. We're going to have to do something about that soon." CHAPTER ELEVEN It was a lazy, rainy Sunday afternoon in Seattle. The weather was typical for April, cool rain instead of cold rain. Cole and Monica had played heavily the night before and it felt good to just sit around the house and talk. Their conversation turned to Cole's experiences in the scene and his previous play partners. Monica believed that she could get to know him better by finding out more about his past. She delicately maneuvered him into discussing how he came to have so many kinky friends. "Tell me about the women you've played with Howard, were they all gorgeous?" "Not all of them, by any means. You don't need to be beautiful to be submissive. People in the scene come in all shapes and sizes." he paused for a thoughtful moment, "Maybe it would be easier to show you." Cole got up from the sofa where they were chatting and went into his office for a moment. He took what appeared to be a large professional sized photo album from a locked cabinet and brought it back to the living room. "I didn't know you had that," she exclaimed. As they looked through the photo album, Monica asked just the right questions to draw out the story of his kinky explorations. She watched his eyes intently and listened to him explain how it all started. "When I first understood that I was turned on by SM, it was still considered a form of mental illness." he began. "Then, when I found the Seattle SM scene, I guess I went through all the usual stages." Cole's first club meeting was a revelation. Realizing that there really were other people in his city who had the same forbidden desires was a major discovery. The fact that they felt good about it was stunning. "I was very impressed with the constant emphasis on safety and personal responsibility, since it matched my own philosophy. I went to a few monthly meetings before I felt comfortable enough to start talking with other people and discussing my own preferences." "My primary kinky interest at the time was photography. I had always enjoyed looking at well produced bondage magazines and videos." He was also an excellent semi-professional photographer and had recently moved into a custom built house with a basement photo studio. "My first attempt at sharing my kink with others was an offer to take high quality pictures of anyone who wished to pose for SM photos. I didn't really expect any responses, but it made me feel like I was participating in the social activities of the club." To his surprise a woman came up to him after the meeting and wanted to discuss her interest in being photographed in various bondage positions. Her name was Donna and she was a classic California blonde with large firm breasts on a tall, skinny frame and very long, straight blonde hair. Donna had discovered the scene a few months before Cole. She was a single mother, around thirty, and was looking for chances to explore the secrets that she had kept inside herself. They agreed to a time for the first photo session and she politely refused his offer to have her bring a friend to act as chaperone. Using the soft portrait lights, they arranged various bondage poses. She was attached to the ceiling, spread-eagled on the floor and tied to a chair in classic bondage magazine style. When he printed the photos, the results were surprising. They both agreed that their favorite shot was a simple pose that showed Donna kneeling with her wrists bound by a bright red satin scarf. It wasn't just the fact that her blonde hair and tanned breasts were so sexy. The one vital element was the appearance of submission. The other poses turned out well too and Donna was happy to share them with others at the club meetings. She and Cole became good friends. They attended some private play parties together and tried to find what they were looking for in each other. It didn't take long for them to realize that they weren't sufficiently compatible to create a serious relationship, but he would always remember her fondly as his first playmate. It took more than a shared interest in bondage to make a viable couple. As a result of those first photographs, other scene people approached him to photograph them engaged in their particular types of fetish activity. Although he personally preferred female submissive themes, he learned to create attractive photos of many types of kinky scenes. The photo studies of tattoos and piercings were particularly artistic. Shooting the Femdoms with their submissive male partners was more difficult, but turned out well after a little practice. His favorite sessions involved maledom/femsub couples, who would sometimes engage in hot play while he looked on through the viewfinder waiting for just the right second to capture the energy and erotic joy of the moment. Cole would often leave them alone for a while when he was done shooting. He enjoyed seeing them come up the stairs later with big satisfied smiles. As Monica leafed through the large portfolio, she pointed to one picture and asked, "Who's this woman with the long hair? Is she one of the pro-Dommes?" "Yes, that's Mistress Kitty. Very nice woman on the surface. Unfortunately she likes to collect men. She has a perfectly good submissive husband, but the poor bastard has to live with the fact that his wife prefers the company of her various lovers and slaves. There is something about becoming a pro-Domme that has a bad effect on many of the women who do it. I suppose it has something to do with being worshipped by too many men who are willing to pay for the privilege." "I can see how that might bring out the dark side of someone's personality," Monica said. Cole went on to explain that he created an extensive collection of bondage and fetish photography. When he photographed his scene friends, the agreement was that he would retain one or two nice prints of the session. The negatives and all the remaining prints were given to the person or couple who posed. It seemed like a mutually rewarding arrangement and it helped Cole meet a large number of people who shared at least some of his feelings about sexuality. He looked over her shoulder as she continued to scan the kinky images. The people in the photos were not all beautiful. Some were thin, some fat. Some were very attractive, although he knew that his artistic skills were partly responsible. He told her a little about each of the people and the circumstances surrounding their photo session. Monica could see that some of the couples were having a very intense erotic experience. She was impressed with the quality of the photos, but a little jealous when she realized that all these people had shared her master's life before she appeared. "Master, how do I compare to all these women in the pictures? Am I attractive enough for you?" "Don't worry, Little One. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." "Thank you Master," the subby tone in her voice was obvious. "I've thought about photographing you like that and I'm sure you're very photogenic, but there's something that keeps me from doing it. It's taken me a while to figure it out. I think that I took many of those pictures so that I could have something to hold onto after those people were gone. It's different with you. I know that you'll always be here for me to pose any way I want, to tie up, to fuck, to spank, to snuggle with. Rather than reach for a photo, I just reach for you. See what I mean?" "Yes Master." Her irregular breathing signaled her arousal. "I hear that, Little One. Looking at these pictures makes me horny too. Do you want to go into the dungeon?" With scented candles and good music to create the proper atmosphere in the dungeon, Cole announced that he would be giving Monica a lesson on proper felatio technique. He had noticed that she was a bit inexperienced and that was not acceptable. They used the low futon bed that was covered with a black linen sheet. Lying nude on his back, he instructed her to begin softly stroking his half erect organ with her fingertips. He guided her to the most sensitive spots and told her how she would be punished if she gripped him too hard or allowed her teeth to touch him while she was giving him pleasure. When he was almost fully erect, he told her to take his penis entirely into her mouth and apply as much suction as she could. This immediately made him completely hard and he had to turn his thoughts elsewhere for a moment to prevent himself from becoming too aroused. She performed the licking and kissing tasks perfectly, running her tongue along the underside and gently kissing the head. He showed her how to grab his balls with just the right amount of force to pull the skin tighter on the penis and enhance the sensations. She only hurt him a little in her enthusiasm to perform well. When he reached the limit of his willpower, he announced, "You have done reasonably well, Little One. I'd say you've moved up to Felatrix Second Class. You only let your teeth touch me twice and you pulled too hard on your Master's balls once. Bring me the cane so that you can receive three strokes. You will kneel on the bed with your ass up." She seemed to prance across the wood floor with the cane held before her in both hands. After presenting the instrument to her master, she knelt on the edge of the low bed and bent forward so that her head was touching the mattress. Her ass was offered up in the perfect position to receive a caning. "Arch your back more. Let your nipples touch the bed as lightly as possible." Standing to her left, Cole sliced her buttocks three times with the rattan cane and listened to her inhale sharply and moan sweetly with each stroke. "Hold that position," he ordered. Moving directly behind her, he trapped her ankles between his knees and reached down to finger her cunt. He was not surprised when his fingers felt like they were sucked into the wet opening. Damn, she's tight, he thought. He did not understand how she could be so tight and so wet at the same time. Most women loosened up when they were wet and aroused, but not Monica. He used his hand to guide his virile organ into her and began the slow in and out movement that would bring him to orgasm. He could tell that she was going to climax before he did, but when he was feeling this dominant, he didn't care about anything except using her for his own pleasure. Of course, that was just the way Monica liked it. To increase his own arousal, he reached around to pinch her hard nipples, which had the unintended result of putting her over the orgasmic edge. He had to hold onto her hips desperately with both hands to keep his overheated weapon from being dislodged. When her wild pelvic motions partially subsided, he was able to remove his right hand from her hip and brought it down with great force on her ass. "Stop moving slut! I'm going to come in you and I want you to hold still for me. Give me your hands" "Yes, Master." Keeping her head down, she placed her hands together behind her back and he grabbed her wrists as if they were reins. With a flurry of quick thrusts, he allowed the hot sensation in his cock to spread farther into his balls and then throughout his body. When he came, he felt like the end of his erupting phallus was disintegrating in a fireball of lust. Lying in bed together later, Monica brought up something that she had been thinking about for some time. "Howard, do you know what I miss?" "What's that, my dear?" "Your pro-dom career. It was one of the things that I found most attractive about you and you haven't seen any customers since we got together." "We've been pretty busy with each other," Cole said, "but maybe it's time to get back in business. I haven't posted any ads in months, but I'm still getting email from women who are interested. Apparently, they're hearing about me from previous customers. I've been telling them about you and they don't seem to mind that I have a partner now. In fact, they seem to prefer it that way." Monica sat up and started massaging his back. "Master, do you think I could be your assistant, like we talked about a few months ago?" Face down on the bed, Cole answered, "I'd love it and I think our customers would too. Oooh, rub that area some more." After a minute of contemplation, Cole said, "I did have a request from someone new recently, but I've been putting her off. She's very interesting, let me tell you about her." CHAPTER TWELVE Striding through the Seattle-Tacoma airport in her blue aircrew uniform, Captain Amanda Sumner moved through the crowd like Moses parting the waters. Seeing the serious look on the tall pilot's face, people moved out of her way without question. They assumed that she was probably on her way to command one of the long range 747-400's waiting at one of the many gates for a flight across the Pacific. In actuality, she was an instructor pilot, who simply hitched a ride to Sea-Tac in the jumpseat of a regular flight from Minneapolis. There wasn't a pilot in the air who wouldn't offer a professional courtesy ride to the attractive and impressive Captain Sumner. Indeed, many of them had been her students at one time or another. Her aristocratic features were nicely framed by her auburn hair that she kept at slightly less than shoulder length. When she was working, she often pinned it up to look more professional, but then her delicate neck was revealed which at least partly defeated her purpose. Her six foot frame moved with an unusual grace and beneath her uniform was an attractively lean figure which on several occasions had caused her to be mistaken for various woman athletes. A small suitcase trailed behind her on a collapsible cart as she made her way to the rental car desk. The clerk at the rental counter responded like a well trained soldier as she snapped out her orders. "I need a mid sized car with a full tank and I need it now, if you please." She tossed her car rental card onto the counter and waited silently while the clerk conversed with his computer. "Why don't you wait right here, ma'am?" the clerk said. "I'll have the car brought up to the door so you don't have to wait for the shuttle bus." Her car appeared at the door within five minutes and she was soon immersed in the Saturday afternoon madness of Seattle traffic. She drove North on Interstate 5 and turned right at Southcenter to follow I-405 along the Eastern shore of Lake Washington. Her driving demonstrated an uncanny precision as she instinctively calculated the safest position in the traffic stream. She took the Parkway to an upscale neighborhood of large houses nearly hidden in a forest of evergreens. Finding the one she was looking for, she pulled into the private driveway and parked her rental car near the front door. Retreiving her suitcase from the backseat, she carried it to the front door and rang the bell. The door was instantly opened halfway by a stunningly beautiful woman with long curly brown hair who looked like she spent half her life maintaining her hairstyle. The woman peered around the door to examine the visitor. "Hi, I'm here to see Master Cole." As they made eye contact, the woman said warmly, "Hi, you must be Amanda. Please come in and follow me." Amanda followed her in and immediately noticed that the woman was wearing a most unusual dress. Her breasts were completely exposed in the style of ancient Minoan women and her skirt was divided up the back all the way to the waist. Amanda's nearly photographic memory immediately made the connection as she remembered the dress from "The Story of O". The women of Roissy had worn dresses like that to make themselves available to the men at all times. If Amanda was right, the dress would also be slit to the waist in front. This has got to be the famous Monica, she thought, as they made their way to one of the bedrooms. When they entered the spacious guest room, Monica turned around and Amanda could see that the dress was indeed slit up the front to reveal her smooth pubis. On Monica the dress wasn't the least bit tacky, she looked like she had been born to wear it. "Welcome to our home, my name is Monica and I'm to help prepare you for your appointment later today." "Nice to finally meet you. Love the dress," she said shyly as some of her professional demeanor slipped away. "Master Cole was lucky to find you. And I'm lucky that he's still available. You have no idea how much this means to me." "I think I might have some idea," Monica said with a sly grin in her voice. "Let's get started. You have about two hours before your appointment and we need to get you all cleaned up and relaxed. Put your clothes over there and I'll take care of them." While Monica filled the large tub, Amanda undressed, already feeling slightly submissive. She allowed Monica to take her by the hand and guide her to the large triangular tub which was almost filled with hot water and heaps of bubbles. She entered the water slowly and was told to sit with her back to the room. She was handed a razor and told to shave herself in whatever manner she preferred. Monica pulled up a small stool, sat down behind her and started massaging her shoulders. After several minutes, while Amanda was shaving her legs, Monica turned a knob which started gentle jets of hot water pulsing and shifting under the surface. Amanda left her pubic hair untouched. The short auburn patch was soft and inviting, more a decoration than a hindrance to access. "Master Cole hates the smell of cigarette smoke and you have a little in your hair. Lean your head back and I'll wash it for you." Amanda was becoming more and more relaxed as she let Monica take charge. When the bath was over, Amanda was told to stand still while Monica toweled her dry. A small hair dryer was used to dry her straight auburn hair while Monica used a comb to curl a little shape into it. Monica complimented her as she worked, "Your hair is such a pretty color, I love that light auburn. It's very striking with your blue eyes." When they were finished, Monica told her to lay face down on the bed and buckled a pair of leather cuffs on her wrists. They were locked behind her back with a small padlock. Monica took a moment to study Amanda's figure. Although she had an athletic physique, Amanda had very pretty hips which were slightly narrow and well formed breasts that were just a bit small for her tall body. Her stomach was lean and hard from untold hours of exercise and her long, athletic legs didn't have an ounce of extra weight. With her height, she could have been a fashion model, but her facial features, while pleasant, were not classically beautiful. Monica noticed distinct areas of paleness from a conservative swimsuit, which she found rather charming. Covering her with a sheet and blanket, Monica told her warmly, "You have an hour to rest now. You can sleep if you like, I'll wake you at the right time." Lying on her left side, warm, naked and with her hands locked behind her, Amanda felt quite safe and secure. She drifted off into a light sleep marked by short dreams from her past. Amanda Sumner spent her childhood as a military brat with one younger brother. Both of her parents were Air Force officers and her life was in constant turmoil. They never stayed in one place for more than three years and on one occasion, they moved twice in a single ten month period. Many of the normal experiences of childhood were missed. Amanda had to grow up largely on her own, taking responsibility not just for herself, but for her parent's reputation. She knew that her parent's chances for promotion depended to some degree on their ability to keep their children from causing trouble on the base. Unfortunately, this did not always offset her headstrong nature. The family still loved to talk about the three years that they had been stationed at an airbase in Southern England. Amanda's parents took advantage of the opportunity to send their somewhat rebellious daughter to an English private school for girls. They had hoped that the strict discipline would help their daughter mature faster and in a way it did. She still dreamed of the day when she had been given the option of being reported to her parents or receiving a spanking. What could have been merely an embarrassing memory turned into a serious relationship with a much older man. Contradicting the stereotype of the abusive male teacher, he turned out to be a warm and caring friend. She was almost eighteen when she graduated with the equivalent of a high school diploma. Her parents sent her back to the states alone to attend college. In many respects, Amanda was forced to assume adult responsibilities before she had a chance to enjoy being a child. When she graduated with a Bachelor's degree in Aeronautical Engineering, she applied to the Air Force and was accepted for pilot training. When she left the Air Force six years later, she was one of the top rated pilots of C141 Starlifters. She loved flying the massive military transports and would have continued, but she was starting to realize that she needed something that was not going to be available to her there. Something in her genes or in her childhood development caused her to crave sexual domination by a man. At age thirty three, her current job as an instructor pilot was only making that need worse. Riding herd on a class of egotistical student pilots required her to maintain a dominant attitude full time. If any of her students smelled the slightest hint that she was submissive, it would cause serious problems. She was particularly wary with the foreign pilots, who had little respect for women in general and deeply resented being under the control of a woman instructor. Fortunately, as a civilian she had considerable freedom to explore on her own time. Taking to the internet, she discovered an online forum for people interested in dominance and submission. It didn't take long for her to understand that her need to submit was tied in with her desire to be a little girl again. It seemed to be a fairly common combination of fetishes. She had no trouble meeting eligible men on-line, but after meeting with and sometimes trying to submit to an endless series of potential partners, she had not found anyone who met her high standards. Three months ago, she heard about Cole from a friend who told her of a man who was a professional dominant for women only. She quickly contacted him by email. He explained that he had recently found his submissive soulmate and was not available at the moment. When she received an email indicating that he was now available with his beloved Monica acting as his assistant, Amanda was extremely excited. She hoped that his professional services might help fill a very large emptiness in her life, at least for a little while. She had done enough checking to feel safe and finally meeting Monica had allowed her to fully relax and enter the submissive mental state that she so deeply desired. Their play session had been planned well in advance and she trusted Master Cole to carry it out safely. Amanda awoke to a hand gently shaking her shoulder and Monica's soft voice calling her name. Monica was now wearing a businesslike outfit of dark slacks and a beige blouse. Amanda waited a moment while Monica unlocked the wrist cuffs, then rose from the bed and stood perfectly still as directed while Monica dressed her. The outfit consisted of a short plaid skirt over plain white cotton panties and a simple white shirt. In short, a schoolgirl's uniform. Amanda took the pair of white knee socks she was offered and pulled them up over her long, smoothly muscled calves. The leather cuffs were replaced and fastened behind her back again. Still without shoes, she was led down the hall into an office, where Howard Cole sat behind a large desk. Monica made the formal introduction as she handed him a folded piece of white paper. "Headmaster Cole, this is Amanda Sumner, the girl who has been causing all the trouble. Here is a note from her teacher, Mrs. Krebbins, describing her offenses." Amanda stood before the desk and took note of Cole's sinister look, which was created by the well sculpted dark beard and mustache. He was wearing a dark suit and looking directly into her eyes. The effect was exactly what she imagined it would be like. She looked at the floor and trembled as he read the note. "Well, well. It looks like you've really done it this time, Amanda. Mrs. K says you've been smoking in the girls lavatory again, is that true?" "Yes, Sir, but I only did it a few times!" "And... she says that you were caught cheating on the biology test this morning. Is this true also?" "I'm sorry sir, I can't afford a bad grade this term." "As you well know, you've been punished for both of these offenses before, so your punishment today will have to be most severe. Are you prepared to submit yourself for punishment?" "Yes, Headmaster, I'll take whatever you think I deserve. Just don't tell my parents, please." She was beginning to shiver with anticipation. "You will follow my assistant to the punishment room immediately. Please prepare her to receive the most severe chastisement, Miss Martinet." Amanda meekly followed "Miss Martinet" down the stairs and into the dungeon. On its hardwood floors were several well used pieces of sports equipment and it now resembled a small school gymnasium. They passed a pair of uneven bars used by gymnasts and walked up to a vaulting horse with a smooth, uninterrupted leather top. It appeared to be quite real and very old. She was told to stop with her hips pressing up against one end of the vaulting horse and Monica unfastened the padlock that held her cuffs together. Amanda's freedom lasted only a few seconds, as the cuffs were swiftly attached to rings in the far legs of the horse. This forced her to bend along the length of the horse, which had, oddly enough, been set at the precise height for her to accomplish this with her toes still in contact with the floor. Amanda did not offer the slightest resistance. The compelling nature of her fantasy forced her to go through the steps as if she were a marionette. She moved her hips to allow Monica to slide the white cotton panties down her legs and obediently lifted one foot at a time so that they could be removed entirely. She imagined what she must look like, in her school uniform, with her bottom covered only by her skirt which could be raised at any moment. A thrill shot through her body that made it hard to breathe for a moment. It seemed that she was back in her girlhood, magically reliving an intense moment from her past. She was determined to savor every second of it. Another pair of the ubiquitous leather cuffs was placed on her ankles and they were swiftly attached to the legs of the horse, forcing her feet well apart. Her little plaid skirt rode up in the back, exposing most of her long, athletic thighs. Beneath the white knee socks, her calves were stretched into a delightfully curvy shape by the extension of her feet to reach the floor. Lying over the fragrant leather platform, Amanda could feel herself becoming aroused as her fantasy became reality. It was like being in an erotic dream. She heard the Headmaster, Mr. Cole walk up to her holding the bent handle of a traditional English school cane. He spoke to her in a very stern tone. "Amanda, you've been warned about this sort of behavior before. You've been punished several times by Mrs. Krebbins and once by myself. Yet you persist in ignoring your responsibilities. We don't allow that here, you know." "I know that you're an old bastard who likes hurting helpless girls! You should be ashamed of yourself," she cried out while struggling against the invincible leather cuffs. "Now you've done it, you little tramp," he said angrily, "I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget, but first we need to keep that naughty little bottom from wiggling around too much." The Headmaster picked up a long leather belt with a sturdy buckle and wrapped it completely around Amanda and the vaulting horse. Positioning it at her waist, he pulled it tight and secured the buckle. Amanda's potential for movement was now limited to making futile head motions. Her body was held rigidly in a perfect position for severe punishment. She could feel the cool air on her pantyless hindquarters as her plaid schoolgirl's skirt was slowly raised and laid gently on her back. The Headmaster stood to her left and placed the rattan cane across her pale rounded bottom to measure the distance. The tan lines from her swimsuit helped him align the cane for optimum impact. He selected a spot just above the moist slit of her womanhood where the plump bottom flesh could absorb the hardest stroke. The bending position stretched her legs and buttocks, which would increase the effects of her punishment. Amanda took a deep breath and tried not to grin. I haven't been this turned on in years, she thought. The only warning she received was the whoosh of the cane through the air as it exploded on the lower curve of her ass. The pain was intense, but a bit less than she had remembered. She almost cried out in happiness, but the next stroke had already been delivered and it traced a line of fire across her posterior, slightly higher than the first stroke. She sucked in a large breath and let it out with a groan. The next dozen strokes drew perfectly parallel lines across her white buttocks and each line was made up of a set of twin red welts. The pain was beginning to make itself felt as a warm tingling in her exposed cunt, which was barely covered by her downy soft pubic hair. She wondered if the Headmaster could see the wetness between her forcibly parted legs. "Is that the best you can do, old goat?" she yelled over her shoulder. "I'd say that sounds like a challenge, you insolent little trollop! Let me get something that might create a little more respect," he said angrily. "Don't go away," he added in an oddly pleasant tone. He returned in a moment bearing a straight cane that was nearly four feet long. It was made of a white material that looked like plastic. Amanda was not impressed. The Headmaster took his position to the left of her striped bottom and said in a friendly voice, "Let's try this pretty white cane, shall we? Perhaps you'll learn to address me in a more appropriate manner." She tried to look behind her to see him swing the unusual white cane, but her range of movement was insufficient. She heard a rather quiet rush of air, much less dramatic than the rattan cane. Suddenly, both hemispheres of her proud bottom felt like they had burst from within and blown themselves to pieces in a white hot blast. She was unable to suppress a shrill scream that tore itself from her throat. "Ah, I see that got your attention. Let me tell you what's going to happen next, Amanda." He moved around so that he could speak directly to her face and placed a firm hand on her back. She could feel the warmth through the white fabric of the simple shirt. Her eyes were still wide with shock and she felt a bit stunned. She thought vaguely of trying to free herself but had no strength to attempt an escape. He was almost whispering now, "Amanda, I'm going to cane you like a naughty, rebellious schoolgirl until you agree to submit completely. I will not stop until you say that you'll do anything I ask of you. When that moment comes, I will no longer consider you a schoolgirl. You'll be a mature, submissive woman and I expect you to prove it. I plan to ask you to engage in a sexual act that will require great trust and total submission from you." She watched him stand up and return to his post at the end of the vaulting horse. The next stroke of the terrible white cane landed high on the upper curves of her abused bottom. The pain was excruciating, but she was not about to submit to the Headmaster's evil demands. She screamed louder with each blow. After each one he asked, "Are you ready to submit?" After ten of the agonizing slashes, her will was broken and she began a quiet sobbing. The Headmaster dropped the big cane and came around to speak with her again. "Are you ready to submit, Amanda?" "Yes sir, I submit," she whimpered wetly. "I expect you to do whatever I say. You must trust me completely." "I do sir," she nodded her acceptance and waited patiently while Monica and Cole unfastened her from the vaulting horse. Her badly bruised bottom limited the positions that she could assume, but it wouldn't matter for what was coming next. They supported part of her weight as they helped her to one corner of the room where a leather sling was suspended from the ceiling by four heavy chains. Following instructions, Amanda leaned back onto the sling and allowed it to support her weight. Her legs were raised so that the ankle cuffs could be attached to the vertical chains above her hips. She saw that her legs were held almost straight up, but spread far apart. Then they fastened her wrist cuffs to the other chains above her shoulders, so that her arms lay comfortably beside her head on the leather sling. The shock of her dramatic punishment was starting to wear off and Amanda now felt an endorphin rush more powerful than any she had experienced before. This must be what morphine feels like, she thought. She was starting to feel relaxed and broke into a big smile. Monica was the first to make contact with her, slowly stroking Amanda's breasts until her nipples stood at attention. Cole sat on a chair between her legs. He had latex gloves on both hands. Amanda could feel that the sling had positioned her with her bottom hanging completely off the lower end. If not for the restraints holding her legs upright, she would have fallen off instantly. She was grateful, at least, for the fact that her damaged buttocks were not touching anything at all. Amanda tried to imagine how her exposed genitals must look in this position. Her most sensitive and erogenous parts were just hanging there, suspended for Cole's attention and she remembered that her anus too, was available for him to use in any way he pleased. She was fully prepared to endure anything that he asked of her. Her promise of complete submission had been sincere. As Cole began to slowly stroke her outer lips, he spoke softly to her, "Amanda, you have a very beautiful cunt. You don't look like a schoolgirl to me. You are a mature woman who happens to be submissive. I'm going to prove to you that you can submit totally. I want you to follow my instructions as closely as possible. You may wish to have an orgasm or perhaps several. It would please me very much if you did." As he spoke he was applying a water based lubricant to his latex clad fingers and allowing them to warm up. Using both hands, he began a sensuous massage of her inner and outer labia that caused the blood to flow into the area, creating a warm, swelling sensation. Monica contributed to the sensual symphony by providing a breast massage that was more erotic than anything that Amanda's pretty breasts had ever felt before. Amanda gave herself up to the warm, insistent touch of her two playmates. She could feel the affection and concern that they both had for her. After about ten minutes of the arousing massage, she began to flex her legs, which caused a slight rocking motion of the sling. It let Cole know that she was ready to be penetrated. "Do you want my fingers inside you Amanda? I'd like to hear you ask for it when you're ready. You may address me as Master Cole now." "Please, Master Cole, I'm ready to feel something inside me. Please put whatever you want in me." He carefully slipped two fingers of his left hand inside her relaxed and well lubricated vagina. As Amanda increased her writhing motion, he massaged her g-spot for a time, then began stroking her clitoris with the fingers of his gloved and lubricated right hand. Monica was now running her warm hands softly over Amanda's entire torso, so she could feel the muscle contractions that signaled the approach of the first orgasm. She traded glances with Cole, who nodded for her to continue. Amanda took notice as Monica suddenly switched from a soft stroking to hard nipple pinching and fingernail dragging across her sensitive breasts. The additional stimulation forced Amanda over the apex of lust and into a full, heartfelt climax. She could feel the delightful sensation of her own vaginal muscles contracting on Cole's fingers as she came. Before her orgasm had completely dissipated, Cole began moving his fingers again with an instruction, "Relax for me now Amanda. See how nicely filled you are? I want to see how much more you can take for me." She felt her vagina being stretched wider. Since she had already had an orgasm and there was abundant lubrication, she felt no discomfort. There was only a feeling of greater stretching and fullness. Another orgasm would be approaching soon, she knew. She pushed her hips slightly forward to offer herself more fully to Cole. Monica stopped touching Amanda's breasts and belly, but soon reappeared beneath her bottom, reaching up to delicately tease Amanda's anus with a gloved and lubricated finger. Monica reminded her to relax, as a slippery finger stimulated the sensitive lining just within her lower opening. The brief distraction allowed Cole to slip more of his hand into Amanda's gaping vagina. He used his free right hand to pour additional lubricant onto the latex covered left hand that he was slowly working into Amanda's body. He had all five fingers inside and was holding his hand in a pointed fashion with the thumb held in against the palm. He asked Amanda to start breathing deeply as she tried to relax. "I want to fill you even more Amanda, you're not done yet. Relax and accept. Open yourself for me." Amanda was beginning to experience significant pain as her womanhood was slowly, but forcibly stretched. Lost in her own dreamy world, she had been looking up at the ceiling and was not really sure how much of Cole's hand was inside her. The only important thing to her at this moment was to relax and allow him to fill her as full as he desired. There was a small change in the quality of the internal pressure and she was unexpectedly launched into a series of almost continuous orgasms that blocked out all sights and sounds around her. Her only contact with reality was the hand that was invading her love passage and demanding her complete surrender. She was a large framed woman and was built well for fisting. The orgasms allowed Cole to gradually achieve full penetration of his gloved hand. Monica now held Amanda's head up so that she could see what was happening between her legs. The astonishing sight of Cole's wrist disappearing into her stretched cunt caused her to feel an emotional bond with him that was more intense than any sexual experience she could remember. He slowly began to twist and gently flex his fist inside her body while saying, "One more orgasm for me please, Amanda. Submit and give me what I want." His right hand reached up to stroke her still sensitive clitoris. The delicate touch was just enough to touch off the largest orgasm yet. Amanda screamed and made strange animal-like grunting noises that echoed off the walls of the large room. Her internal muscles squeezed Cole's imprisoned left hand unmercifully and he winced in pain. Cole knew when to give his playmates a rest. Amanda fell into a relaxed state of total satisfaction that allowed Cole to slowly withdraw his aching hand. With Monica's help, he extricated Amanda from the sling and placed her on the bed in the opposite corner. Amanda made happy snoring noises as they covered her. Cole gave her a kiss on the forehead and Monica kissed her on the cheek. Holding each other in bed, they laughingly realized that they were too tired to make love. Pro-domming was a lot of work! They took advantage of the opportunity to talk. They discussed their scene with Amanda for a while, then the topic turned to their own relationship. "Just lying here with you makes me feel subby," Monica breathed in his ear. "Is there anything I can do for you?" While fondling her breasts, Cole brought up a subject that he had been thinking about for some time. "Monica, there is something that would make me a very happy dominant. I'd like to exhibit you publicly as my slave." "If it would please you Master," she said warmly, feeling a thrill travel through her body and lodge teasingly close to her clitoris. The sudden awareness of her own genitals reminded her that the thought of being displayed as a slave was a substantial trigger for her erotic feelings. "But what if someone recognizes me?" "It would have to be at a play party, of course. I don't believe in startling the vanilla people. It seems non-consensual to me," he said. "Oh, I see. As submissive as I'm feeling now, that sounds pretty hot. What kind of play party did you have in mind? "Let me tell you about my friend Michael," he said. "Michael and his wife dina are a very interesting couple. I'd say they come closer to a full time master/slave relationship than anyone else I've met. They don't attend many scene functions anymore, but they do have regular play parties at their place." Cole went on to explain that the parties were limited to Maledom/femsub couples, which had earned Michael the animosity of the pan-sexual community. At one time, Cole would have been reluctant to attend for fear of antagonizing his scene friends, but that was no longer a concern. He decided to get in touch with Michael and see if he could arrange an invitation to the next party. CHAPTER THIRTEEN Cole was able to contact Michael easily by email. Michael told him that the next party was planned in three weeks and about five to seven couples were expected to show up. Cole and Monica would be welcome. The two men discussed some ideas and agreed to cooperate on Monica's first party scene. The party rules were a bit more strict than the ones Cole was familiar with. Limiting the participants to people with a certain sexual preference was a new experience for him. People were not allowed to arrive late and a high degree of social courtesy was expected. Typically, the men would remain fully dressed, while the women would be displayed in various stages of nudity. At the most recent party, they were told, the men ate dinner at a large table, while the women, or slave girls as they called themselves, sat on the floor next to their masters and were fed by hand. Monica thought this was really hot and hoped she would be able to experience it someday. As the date of the party approached, Monica agonized over what to wear. The maledom party sounded like a great opportunity to prance around more or less naked in front of an appreciative audience. Although she sometimes pretended to think that her body was not attractive, she took a great delight in showing it off. When she couldn't make up her mind, Cole finally told her that she would wear a black corset that just barely hid her nipples, plus high heels and deep red panties. He packed a small suitcase with numerous kinky toys that might be useful at the party. Like most Maledoms, he subconsciously followed the Boy Scout motto of "always prepared", so the bag was very heavy. On party night, Monica took hours to get ready. Cole simply dressed in black slacks and sport coat with an open white shirt. They finally left when Cole said they had to go, since latecomers would not be admitted. He drove through the downtown tangle of freeways, crossing various bodies of water and out to the suburb where Michael and dina lived. The parked some distance from the large house and walked along a damp driveway through a stand of tall fir trees. The rain had stopped and the damp cold air was brisk with the scent of evergreen forest. Monica was glad she had put a long coat over her corset. When they knocked at the door, it was opened by a very slim woman. It was dina, dressed in a lacy black costume that looked totally appropriate for a slave girl. Up close she appeared to be about thirty and had very intelligent eyes. A man who was certainly Michael appeared behind dina and Monica responded politely as Cole made introductions. Michael was wearing black jeans and a black leather vest over a white shirt. To Monica's relief, he was obviously a very friendly fellow, not the stern ego-dom type that she couldn't stand. After putting down his heavy suitcase full of toys, Cole took her by the hand and led her farther into the house. As they went into the living room, she saw that several couples were already there. Monica's corset made her small waist look even smaller and her medium sized breasts appeared larger. She bathed in the stares of both the men and the women as Cole displayed her as his private property. Monica's immediate desire was simply to be as beautiful and submissive as possible in order to make her master proud of her and to make the other masters jealous of him. She followed Cole submissively as Michael introduced him to some of the couples he didn't already know. They sat in the living room and chatted with another couple for a while. Actually, the men did most of the talking, as the women were deeply into their subby roles. Monica was primarily soaking up the supportive atmosphere, which made her feel particularly good about her submissive needs. Three of the other men made a special point to compliment Cole on how beautiful his slave girl was, making sure, of course that Monica could hear. In spite of their masterful attitudes, they knew that the party was as much for the women as it was for them. Cole noticed that the energy at this party was much stronger than what he had experienced at pan sexual parties. He had a sudden flash of understanding about the same sex parties that were often held by the gay and lesbian SM groups. Those people are always ahead of the curve, he thought approvingly. When Cole was ready, he guided Monica over to one corner of the living room where there was a tall metal cage. It was just large enough for one person to stand within. He placed her inside and fastened the door with a lock that was hanging there for that purpose. Monica was held in a rigid, upright position with very little freedom of movement. "Pull your elbows back," he ordered. Cole slid a padded rod through the bars, guiding in between her back and her arms, trapping them behind her in a manner that thrust her breasts forward. The feeling of being held captive while on display triggered a wave of submissive sensation that washed over her body and left her trembling with closed eyes. The feeling was not particularly sexual, but it was felt at the deepest level of her soul. Cole moved around the room, socializing and sampling various snacks. Each of the other men and two of the sexy slavegirls complimented him on how beautiful his slave looked in the cage. He avoided paying any attention to Monica for several minutes, to see if she could maintain her subby headspace alone. He wanted to get a better feel for the play customs of this group before he started his planned scene with Monica. He released her from the cage and led her to the basement play area. She was in such a deep level of submission that she had to be guided down the stairs one step at a time. In the spacious play area, a tall, heavyset master was ordering his blonde slavegirl to assume different positions that exposed and displayed her charming assets. Cole sat in a comfortable overstuffed chair and told Monica to sit at his feet. Bending down was not easy in her stiff corset, so she carefully knelt, then lowered her bottom sideways to make contact with the floor. They watched the couple performing for about fifteen minutes or so. The tall woman was naked except for a red leather collar and numerous piercings. Her large breasts were decorated with heavy gauge gold rings through her nipples and more gold rings hung from her labia. Her master struck her lightly with a riding crop to correct her position. Monica noticed how quickly the woman responded, as if she were concentrating completely on fulfilling her master's slightest whim. She could also tell that the woman took great pride in both her appearance and her obedience. When the play area was clear, Cole ordered Monica into the center of the room. With his help, she removed the corset, then her panties and shoes. She noticed that several more people had gathered in the large playroom. He told her to lie down under a pulley which was mounted to an overhead beam. He carefully attached his superbly crafted suspension cuffs to her wrists and a similar pair to her ankles. A three foot metal spreader bar was fastened between her captive ankles and a steel cable from the overhead pulley was clipped to an eyebolt in the center of the bar. Monica felt another wave of submission wash over her naked body and she wondered if she was blushing. Two of the men were pointing at her tattoo and shaved pussy while whispering intently to each other. From his toy bag, Cole produced a mass of pink plastic clothespins which were connected to each other with a strong cord. "Are you ready for the clothespins, Little One?" "Yes, Master." He slowly pinched small folds of her skin and attached the little inch long clothespins to her body. One string of fifteen was attached in a line from her right armpit, around her firm right breast and down along her stomach. An identical string of clothespins was attached in the same fashion along her left side. She noticed that the springs were quite strong and cruelly bit into her sensitive flesh. Cole moved his hand in a cranking motion while looking at Michael, who was standing next to a hand cranked winch mounted on the wall. Slowly, Monica's legs were lifted off the floor until her back almost lost contact with the carpet. Cole then clipped the wrist cuffs to the bar, leaving her in a completely exposed and vulnerable position. She heard the winch being cranked again as her body was completely lifted and suspended face up by her wrists and ankles. She was only lifted about two feet off the floor, but she still felt a distinct loss of control as her body swayed and slowly spun around. There were now a dozen people in the room, watching her, seeing her private parts prominently displayed and appreciating the exquisite pain of the clothespins. They could also hear her start sighing in little panting breaths as her feeling of intense submission began to trigger her sexual arousal. Kneeling between her widespread knees, Cole began to lightly stroke and tickle her already aroused cunt. Her outer lips were each repeatedly pinched and the inner ones were pulled out slightly to reveal their swollen state. Her humiliation seemed almost too intense and she nearly panicked before her master calmed her by running his loving hand along one perfect thigh. Just as she was beginning to feel the moisture drip between her shamefully open cunt lips, he reached into his bag and displayed some more spring loaded clips of various sizes and colors in his large right hand. He held his hand out to some of the other slavegirls who had been watching from their places on the floor. After lightning fast negotiations with their masters, three slavegirls approached and each took two of the clips. A healthy looking short haired brunette, who was wearing only a leather bra, approached Monica's breasts with two large metal carpenter's clamps that were at least four inches long. Fortunately, the metal jaws were plastic coated, because they bit into Monica's nipples with nearly unbearable force. Then the tall blonde approached and put two oversized wooden clothespins on Monica's inner labia, eliciting a groan of pain, but also of acceptance. She was followed by a petite redhead who put two more of the large wooden devices on Monica's outer labia. Everyone withdrew for a moment to see how she would react to the sensual torment, except for Cole who stayed to whisper in her ear. "I'm very proud of you Little One. Everyone can see what a delightful slave you are." "Thank you, Master. I'm doing it for you." She smiled, but her eyes were slightly unfocused. "I know you are subby girl, now I have more surprises for you." Monica caught her breath for a moment while Cole whispered something to Michael. She hung in her leather restraints, with her legs spread wide and scores of small areas of pain and pressure distributed across the surface of her curvaceous torso. One of the men was admiring the well developed musculature of her thighs and calves, while another seemed to be most impressed with her long wavy brown hair which was hanging down almost to the floor. Looking between her own raised legs, Monica saw dina approaching on her hands and knees. She stopped with her face inches from Monica's cunt, which was throbbing from the strong clamps on her labia. Monica looked right into dina's sparkling, mischievous eyes and felt an immediate bond with the slender slave girl. She also felt a thrill of forbidden perversion, since dina had a definite feline air about her that lent a hint of bestiality to the proceedings. Dina reached up with both of her small, delicate hands and deftly removed the first two clamps from Monica's outer labia. Monica closed her eyes and moaned gently at the sudden wash of sensation through her pelvic area. Dina pulled on the clamps attached to Monica's inner lips and spread them apart, revealing the pink inner surfaces as well as a telltale quantity of slippery moisture. Releasing the clips, dina leaned forward and started applying her small darting cat-like tongue to Monica's pink, pulsating labia. Monica began trembling and gasping from the expert stimulation. The two other slave girls who had helped with the clamps moved in with thin rigid rods and began tapping lightly at the clamps on her nipples and the twin lines of clothespins that ran along her torso. Each time they tapped, a small jolt of pain added to Monica's rapidly increasing load of erotic energy. After a few minutes, Cole put his hands on the large spring clamps that were crushing her nipples. Simultaneously, he released the pressure and pulled them both away. For the first time, Monica screamed. She also began thrusting her hips toward dina's busy mouth as far as her limited freedom would allow. The two slave girls dropped their sticks and each began to suck one of Monica's outraged nipples, which drove her into a frenzy of groaning, thrashing and heavy panting. Cole looked down at the pretty slave girl between Monica's legs and said simply, "dina, it's time." Dina moved her lapping tongue directly onto Monica's swollen, throbbing clitoris. After a few seconds, Cole picked up the strings that connected the two rows of clothespins and motioned for the two helpers to move aside. Michael chose that moment to begin methodically striking dina's small buttocks with a short single tailed whip, which left a thin red welt with each stroke. Monica could sense dina's pain traveling from her tight little bottom cheeks through her lithe body and onto the tip of her tongue, where it was converted to intense pleasure and transferred to Monica's burning clitoris. She began to feel the convulsive contractions of her muscles that signaled the irresistible arrival of her orgasm. Just as Monica reached a devastating climax, Cole pulled hard on the two strings, which neatly ripped the rows of clothespins from Monica's body like opening a zipper. The sudden addition of more pain, combined with the fact that dina had thrust two fingers into Monica's dripping vagina, forced her to the highest possible level of orgasmic flight. She came and came and came. When Monica awoke, she was no longer in bondage. Someone had wrapped her in a blanket and placed her on a sofa in the playroom. Her head was in someone's lap. Of course, it was her beloved master, Howard Cole. When he saw that her eyes were open, he encouraged her to sit up and drink some cold fruit juice, which she gulped down eagerly. When he was satisfied that she was all right, he asked dina to come over and sit with her while he went upstairs to socialize with the rest of the group. Monica and dina made an immediate connection. Since they both already knew each other's biggest secret, they felt like they had nothing to hide. When Cole returned an hour later to tell Monica it was time to go home, it was almost impossible to separate them. He had to remind her that it was now 2 AM and they had a rather difficult drive home through Seattle. CHAPTER FOURTEEN By summertime, Monica's negotiations with the software company had resulted in an excellent contract. In addition to a substantial salary and lots of creative autonomy, she would have some control of her hours and be able to do part of her work at home. She gave her old employer a month's notice, since the new job wouldn't be ready until then and she announced that she would take her accumulated two weeks of vacation immediately. Her loathsome boss was in no position to protest, since she was the only one who could train her replacement. Cole and Monica agreed that when she left her job downtown, she would move in with him to further test their compatibility. If they could live together happily for six months or so, they believed that marriage should be the next step. They decided to use part of her vacation for hiking. Cole cancelled some of his appointments and rearranged others to make time. It was a three hour drive along curvy mountain roads to the small resort town of Leavenworth. They decided to take her car, since the weather was perfect for riding with the top down. Monica drove the little sports car like a professional, drifting it around curves and passing slower traffic at just the right moment. She refused to tell Cole where she learned to drive that way. They arrived shortly after noon and looked around the unusual town before checking in at the luxurious bed and breakfast. Most of the buildings in Leavenworth had been modified and decorated to make the town look like a traditional Bavarian village. Even the supermarket and the fast food outlets joined in the Bavarian theme. Playing tourist, they wandered through dozens of small shops offering imported German products and local crafts. Each day they would see how hard they could push themselves on the steep hiking trails that led to waterfalls or alpine lakes. Being younger, Monica could hike faster, but Cole, with decades of hiking experience, could go just as far when allowed to set his own pace. The weather was spectacular and the usual insects seemed to have gone elsewhere, so they enjoyed themselves immensely. Each evening, they would make the short drive back into town and eat at one of the excellent German or Austrian restaurants. Neither of them had ever eaten so much wienerschnitzel and strudel. One night they tried a restaurant that was styled in the Bavarian beer hall tradition and sampled the sauerbraten with sauerkraut and excellent German beer. Fortunately, their daily exertions in the surrounding mountains made up for the delicious, but heavy meals. On the last hiking day, Cole told her that they would play. "I've selected a trail that should be nearly deserted, so we'll be able to enjoy ourselves," he said as they left the bed and breakfast. Arriving at the trailhead after a 15 minute drive, they noticed only one other car in the small parking area. Cole began to give her orders. "Leave your bra in the car, subby girl." With Cole carrying a daypack, they walked up the pleasant trail, enjoying the ideal hiking conditions. "I want you to stay a few steps behind me. Listen carefully and obey all my commands." After a few minutes he said, "I want to see your breasts now. Raise your T-shirt and keep it up as we hike. If you let it fall, you'll be punished." The idea of exposing herself in public to fulfill the orders of her master was extremely hot. As they hiked, she fell deeper into the familiar submissive headspace. "I'm the beautiful slavegirl, following my master on the trail to some distant land," she thought to herself. An elaborate fantasy took shape in her mind as they hiked. In her fantasy, her body was perfect, something that she normally couldn't perceive. Cole loved to watch her full breasts bounce as she hiked. Their firmness and perfect rounded shapes were still fascinating to him. He had to be careful not to trip when he looked back at her. Playing like this made him feel extremely dominant and since his playmate was his beloved Monica, he was getting very horny too. "You still have the finest pair of tits I've ever seen, Little One." "Thank you, Master. Perhaps you'd like to use them later?" "Yes, I can think of several good uses right now. I just hope I can hold out till we reach the meadow." Of course, the T-shirt fell down on several occasions. He decided that the punishment must fit the crime, so he picked a thick handful of foot long grass that grew in huge clumps by the trail. Forcing her to thrust her tits forward, he flogged them vigorously with the stinging strands of grass. This was great fun for him, but Monica complained that her breasts were now itching. "I bet they are, you disobedient slut. Just make sure you keep that shirt up," he ordered. As they continued the hike, she held her shirt up with great diligence. Just before they reached the scenic meadow at the end of the trail, another hiker appeared coming toward them. Cole told her to hold her shirt up until the last second. She finally covered herself, but they were sure that the man had gotten a good look. Laying out a blanket in the sunny meadow, they ate a delicious lunch prepared by a bakery in town. Then they lay on the blanket for a while, soaking up the sun and listening to the sensuous sounds of the surrounding forest. Before they started back, he told her, "I'm going to flog you again. Partly because I enjoy it and partly because it would be a shame to waste such a secluded setting." Since the meadow was deserted, he simply ordered her to remove her clothes and lie face up on the blanket with her arms and legs spread. With a fresh whip made from a bundle of long bunch grass, he proceeded to flog the front of her body from her breasts to her thighs. Of course he gave special attention to her tits and cunt. The harsh strands of grass left little red lines on her beautiful skin. She gave herself up to his ministrations as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He stopped when the urge to penetrate her became too strong. They coupled there in the meadow under a perfectly blue sky with the wind whistling softly through the trees. The rugged face of Mt. Stuart looked down on them serenely as if to give its approval of the act. After Monica's orgasm, he moved up to straddle her chest and produced a pocket size tube of slippery lubricant. He placed a small amount in the valley between her perfect globes and laid his still painfully hard cock in between. Grabbing her wrists, he roughly moved her arms so that her elbows were touching in front of her face and her hands were folded back near the top of her head. Then he proceeded to slowly fuck her beautiful tits. Her breasts were still pink and very sensitive from the flogging with the irritating strands of grass. Using his strong hands on the outer surfaces, he pressed them together to form a tight tunnel for his overheated phallus. He stroked himself in this manner for some time. With his hands, he could feel his hardness moving through the delightfully soft flesh and found the sensation quite erotic. It would have been easy to come, but his dominant state of mind allowed him to control his own orgasm quite effectively. Monica could feel every tiny ridge of his aroused organ as it slid along the irritated skin of her hypersensitive breasts. This only increased her arousal and she held her elbows tightly together to give her master the best possible use of her body. "Use me Master!" she cried out. When Cole was about ready to come, he shifted his grip on her abused tits and grabbed each of her nipples with great force between thumb and forefinger. Pulling them brutally together increased the friction on his shaft to the point that his orgasm was triggered by the next few desperate strokes. The extreme stimulation and emotional connection to her climaxing partner caused Monica to come in great spasms that threatened to buck Cole off into the grassy meadow. They hiked most of the way back to the car in a dazed state before they had recovered mentally and physically from their erotic exertions. That night, they were too exhausted to do anything but sleep in close, loving contact with each other under the big down comforter that protected them from the cool mountain air. CHAPTER FIFTEEN The lovely summer weather continued in Seattle after they had returned home. They were both excited about the prospect of living together and they decided that Monica should start moving some of her things into the house. Removing both rear seats from his minivan converted it into a passable moving van. Over a period of days, they used it to transport various items of furniture that would no longer be needed in her apartment. As the end of her downtown job came closer, they began to make plans "Since Friday is my last day, I'll have to clean out my office," Monica said. "Do you think you could come down after work and help me with some boxes and stuff? There are a couple of big potted plants that won't fit in my car." She asked him to meet her at her car at 7 PM. He could help her carry things down in the elevator and his larger vehicle would easily carry anything that wouldn't fit in her Miata. After loading up, they would drive both cars back to her Capitol Hill neighborhood, where a trendy new restaurant had recently opened. It was reputed to have the best exotic Asian food in the city. They made reservations for 8:30. They both grew more excited as they counted down the days. Having a great new job and living in a wonderful house with her dominant soulmate sounded like heaven to Monica. Her only worry was that something would happen to end what seemed like a wonderful dream. Cole thought that having her with him every day and snuggling together every night would be the perfect life. Neither thought much about the kinky sexuality they both shared. They took it for granted that this was a basic part of their lives. Their concerns at this point were exactly the same as those of any vanilla couple in the same situation. The final day at her old job was a Friday. She went through her files and discarded large quantities of old papers. Several documents and books were given to her replacement, who had the new responsibilities added onto his existing job. There was the usual little office party with a supermarket cake that tasted like cardboard and shortening. Everyone signed a going away card and a few people said they envied her for being able to leave. At 5 PM, she started a major effort to pack her personal items into several cardboard boxes. Cole called her from his office at 6:15 and told her that he was on his way. He would look for her Miata in the garage and meet her there at seven. As he drove into downtown Seattle, he noticed that the area around the tall office towers seemed to be nearly deserted on this Friday evening. No doubt the office workers couldn't wait to leave and start their weekends, he thought. It was a beautiful, warm early August evening that he hoped heralded an equally nice weekend. He drove into the seven floor parking structure and pulled a ticket from the machine that demanded his attention with an obnoxious buzz. The yellow crossbar lifted and he proceeded up the ramp with his eyes scanning the parked cars. The garage was well lit as a security measure, so he had no doubt that he would easily spot Monica's car. Cruising slowly, he drove quietly up to the second floor, then the third. He noticed that the parked cars became less numerous as he went higher. The fourth floor had only a few cars. Still no sign of the little Miata. The fifth floor was also nearly deserted. As he neared the area where the only cars were parked, he suddenly noticed something in the traffic lane that would require him to slow down and maneuver around it. The object appeared to be a cardboard box of the type that was used for storing documents. A common sight around any office building. The top had fallen off and some of the papers were strewn across the dirty concrete. Perhaps someone had placed it on top of their car and driven off? The vehicle nearest the box was a large sport utility wagon with no sign of a driver. Moving slowly up to the fallen box, he could now see past the large vehicle and noticed the rear of Monica's little sports car parked with its nose against the wall. Something inside him suddenly sounded an alarm and he stared intently between the cars looking for movement. There, on the driver's side of the sports car, a man stood between the two vehicles. He was looking down at something with his back to Cole. The minivan rolled forward just a little more and it was possible to see that someone else was down between the vehicles against the concrete wall. Fighting for calmness against an adrenaline surge, Cole allowed his van to roll back several feet before putting it in Park and stepping out with the keys in his hand. He pressed the lock button on the remote and moved forward to confront the unknown man. Walking up quietly, he could see that the person on the floor was Monica. She was terrified. The man had completely ignored Cole's approach and was talking to her. There was no way to make out what he was saying, but the tone was obviously threatening. Cole stopped several feet away from the parked cars. He realized that he needed to get the man away from Monica and out from between the vehicles. "Hello!" no response. "Hey Buddy, whatcha doing back there?" he shouted, in a non-hostile voice. Finally the man turned around and looked at Cole. He saw a bearded guy dressed in an expensive suit and wearing little round yuppie glasses who did not seem to be a threat. But, "he could call the police and spoil my fun", the man thought. He turned away from the cowering woman and stepped out to meet the meddling stranger. Cole saw that the man was in his twenties and powerfully built. Stepping back slowly, he drew the man farther away from Monica. "That's close enough," he barked in his command voice. "The fun's over. Get lost before I call the cops." Although he was under the influence of various street drugs, the man realized that he may have misjudged the wimpy guy in the suit. This would call for stronger measures, he calculated. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a folding combat knife with a five inch blade and displayed it to frighten his intended victim. Cole's vision centered on the knife and he knew he had to act quickly. Before he could consider his options, his hours of practice came into play and his pistol appeared in his hand as if by magic. He took another step backward to maintain a safe distance from the knife wielding thug. He knew that a man with a knife could deal him a fatal wound if he was allowed to come within roughly twenty feet. The assailant could cover that distance in the time it took the brain to make a decision and send the proper instructions to the trigger finger. He was prepared to fire if necessary. Monica was safely on the cement floor between two parked cars and the rest of the parking level was deserted. His voice was calm and coldly rational, "If you come within twenty feet, I'll have to kill you. Why don't you leave now while you still can?" The man hesitated for a moment, then took one step forward. He blinked and shifted his eyes from side to side as if trying to clear his vision. Cole noticed that the man was too well dressed to be a homeless vagrant. Fresh haircut, clean blue jeans, white running shoes and a T-shirt with a baseball team logo. Perhaps someone who works in the mailroom of a company in the area, Cole speculated. In a macho, hostile tone, the man said, "You won't shoot me, sissyboy. You wouldn't dare." Cole replied quietly and precisely, "Do you want to bet on that? At this range I can put a forty five slug through each of your eyes before you can blink. Just think of all the nice recreational drugs you'll miss out on. You can't do drugs when you're dead." Cole watched every detail with hyper-alertness. He saw the knife being shifted in the large, meaty hand and the film of sweat on the man's face. His vision narrowed to a tunnel focused on the assailant, his hearing excluded all unimportant sounds and time seemed to slow down. Something must have penetrated into the man's brain and changed his plans. The sissyboy's bearded face seemed to have taken on a distinctly devilish appearance. The would-be killer's attitude changed from one of hostility to fear. He backed away for several steps, then turned and ran for the stairway. Cole returned his pistol to its holster inside his waistband and rushed over to Monica. She was already standing up and reaching out for him. "Thank you," she said before bursting into tears. His senses were now returning to normal and the sudden reorientation was a most peculiar sensation. He forced himself to calm down and think about what he should do next. He comforted Monica for a minute while keeping watch for the possible return of the thug. There was no way of knowing if he might have some friends to act as reinforcements. He made a quick survey to see if Monica had been injured. The jacket of her expensive gray business suit was missing. Her white blouse had been ripped completely open and there was a long tear in the front of her skirt. He breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of serious injuries. He checked to make sure that her car was locked and led her over to the minivan. After she was safely inside, he picked up the fallen box and papers, which he placed on the floor behind the driver's seat. He briefly considered calling the police, but the assailant would be long gone by now and it seemed more important to get Monica home where she could recover emotionally. Continuing to keep a tight rein on his own emotions, he drove quickly and precisely home. Safely at home, Monica got undressed and checked to see if she was injured. The only casualty was a skinned knee, which he offered to bandage after she showered. She stepped into the shower while Cole fixed her a strong Irish coffee in the kitchen. Relaxing in bed later, she was able to recount the events that happened before Cole arrived at the scene. The man had entered the elevator where she was struggling a bit with a heavy box of papers. She thought he was drunk or high. When she refused his offer of help, he followed her to her car, then grabbed her purse and pushed her down on the floor of the parking structure. Unsatisfied with the contents of her purse, he proceeded to threaten her with various types of harm including rape. As the endless minutes wore on, it became apparent that rape had become his primary desire. The thought that Cole would arrive soon and that he would probably be armed helped keep her from collapsing completely "Why couldn't the building management provide a little security?" she asked. "They installed video cameras last year, but I guess they aren't being monitored. I guess the appearance of security is what really counts. As long as we feel safe, that's the important thing," she said bitterly. "Welcome to the nineties, Monica. Feelings come first. Look who we elected president," he said with a raised eyebrow. Then she told him the one thing that bothered her the most. "I don't know if I should tell you this, but when I realized that I couldn't escape, I started to feel submissive. I guess it's my natural state or something. Even though I was trying to remember those self defense classes, some part of my mind kept telling me to let him do whatever he wanted. I was ready to give in and let him rape me without a fight... I might even have enjoyed it," she sobbed. "Don't worry about it Little One, it sounds pretty normal to me. You've had a big emotional shock and you probably aren't thinking too clearly right now. Let's talk about this some other time." Her tears flowed freely, as her words spilled out rapidly, "You don't understand Howard, When he started ripping my clothes, I got turned on. I couldn't control it. What if it happens again? I'm such a slut I can't even take care of myself." "Here, finish your drink, you earned it. I think you were very brave and I'm proud of you for holding him off until I showed up. We'll go back and get your car tomorrow. If you want, we can call the police then. Maybe those security cameras recorded something and they can catch the guy." When her mug was empty, he tucked her into the large bed and got in beside her. Monica was asleep in minutes, but he stayed awake most of the night, replaying the events in his head over and over. CHAPTER SIXTEEN They drove downtown again the next day, recovered her car and some more boxes from her office, then drove to the police department's downtown precinct. Saturday afternoons didn't seem like a busy time for the Seattle police and the large building seemed half empty. They spent two hours filling out forms and waiting on hard plastic chairs before they were given any advice. The obviously overworked detective didn't feel that there was much point in taking any further steps. Hundreds of men would match the description that Cole and Monica had given. The detective called the building security office and it turned out that the security cameras were inoperative that week, so there would be no pictures of the assailant. Returning to the house in her own car, Monica put the remains of her ruined suit in the trash and decided to get on with her life. Moving the last of her possessions into the house she now shared with Cole helped to occupy her thoughts. She was a little paranoid for the next few days, but by the time she reported for work at her new job, she appeared, at least on the surface, to have recovered completely. The job turned out to be everything she hoped for. The concentration that was required to bring herself up to speed helped her put the frightening episode almost entirely behind her. Aside from an heightened interest in security and a sudden increase in trips to the gun club, the only lasting effect was an inability to feel submissive. Even when she and Cole would engage in their sexy D/S games, the lovely feeling that she had once craved was absent. It was as if she wanted to deny the existence of that part of her personality. Figuring that nature would take its course, Cole simply waited. He believed that someone as naturally submissive as Monica would have to return to her normal personality eventually and he was a patient man. He was also very much in love and knew that he would accept whatever form of sexuality she happened to display. Even without the spark of dominance and submission, their sex life was still an active one. They both had healthy libidos and living together gave them plenty of opportunities to enjoy each other. Cole allowed her to take the initiative and determine when they would run for the big bed and dive under the covers together. He rather enjoyed the chance to explore this new area of her sexuality. She was comforted by the knowledge that he still loved her even when she was unable be submissive. Snuggling in bed on the first rainy night of the Northwest Autumn, he felt her warm, dry skin and inhaled her healthy, slightly perfumed scent. He decided to ask her how she was feeling about her submissiveness. Holding her spoon fashion with his right arm wrapping around beneath her narrow waist he asked quietly, "Have you had any kinky feelings lately?" "It's hard to describe, lover. I can tell that my subby feelings are still there, but when they try to surface, I just push them back down and wait for them to go away," her voice contained a subtle tension that revealed the magnitude of the problem. He snuggled closer, cupping her breast tighter. "That's sad. Does it bother you very much? "Yeah... it does, but I don't know what to do about it. Maybe it will take a long time. I'd love to be my old subby self again. I'm just too scared of it. I can't seem to relax and let it come back." "According to the Master's Handbook, I'm supposed to give you a good spanking, then fuck you in the ass, but -- being the wimpy Master that I am -- I'm willing to wait as long as it takes." They both chuckled at the thought, knowing that he would never attempt to force her into submission. "I suppose you could see a therapist, but I can't imagine what they would say when you tell them you want your submissiveness back," he smiled. "Maybe you should start all over like you were just discovering the scene for the first time." "Hmmm... I think you're onto something there," she said as she reached back to grab his cock beneath the covers. As he enjoyed her gentle stimulation he thought out loud. "Maybe it's time for us to attend some scene events. One of their primary functions is to make kinky people feel better about their sexuality. Sounds like just the sort of thing you could use right now." She rolled over and began to engage in one of her favorite activities. Taking her lover's manly organ into her mouth, she licked, kissed and sucked in all the ways that she knew would drive him completely crazy. "Slow down, my little felatrix. I'm still thinking about scene events. Why don't we go to a meeting of our local kinky group this Thursday? The announcement on the net said they were having a caning demonstration. Hey, that's enough!" Monica pushed him down on the bed and mounted his rock hard shaft. He normally did not like positions that cast him in the submissive role, but seeing her delicate bouncing breasts so close to his face overcame his reluctance. They both had a very adequate climax and went to sleep feeling satisfied. During the night they slid their bodies together several times for more semi-conscious cuddling and closeness. On Thursday, they both arrived home around five thirty and ate a quick dinner. By the time they made the drive into downtown Seattle, the traffic was light. Cole watched her for signs of nervousness, but she seemed calm. He had explained to her that the meetings were designed to be strictly informative and non-threatening. She was still a bit worried that she might meet someone she knew from work. He explained to her that there was no need to worry. If you met someone you knew, they had as least as much to worry about as you did. They were not going to cause you any trouble because you could do the same to them. He told her that this was a variation on the old cold war strategy of mutually assured destruction and it was a foolproof safety system. Many people avoided the meetings because they were afraid that they would find themselves in a room full of dangerous perverts. Although Monica had heard several benign descriptions of the meetings, she was still a bit worried. She was also nervous because the meeting site in the Capitol Hill district was the closest she had gotten to the place where she was attacked in over a month. They finally found a place to park in a residential area about four blocks from the meeting hall. Monica stayed close to Cole as they walked along the dark wet street. The group met in a building that contained several public meeting halls which could be rented for a small fee. In a nearby room, another group appeared to be holding a church related conference. Monica grinned as she wondered if they knew what kind of perverts were gathering next door. The room looked like it had once been a classroom. There were about fifty plastic chairs in neat rows and some well worn folding tables at the front. Just inside the door a pleasant looking redhead in a tight black dress collected a few dollars from each person and handed out a small newsletter containing event announcements, articles and personal ads. Everyone was given a stick-on nametag and people wrote whatever name they preferred to use with a blue marking pen. They sat down in the back row and she tried not to stare at the twenty or thirty people who were already there. Like Cole and Monica, most of them looked like they had just come from work. There were a number of men in suits and sportcoats, some with pagers or cell phones on their belts. There were a few sexy women that drew most of Monica's attention. She wondered if they were pro-Dommes. The room gradually filled with exceedingly normal looking people, about half male, half female. Monica studied them carefully, while trying not to be too obvious. Less than ten percent showed any overt signs of kinkiness. She noticed several leather jackets and a few people who obviously had a piercing fetish. Monica had never before seen someone with a piercing through the bridge of their nose. She asked herself, "Wouldn't those little silver balls be visually distracting?" Before she had time to inspect everyone in the group, a friendly fellow stood at the front of the room and called the meeting to order. It was obvious that he was enjoying himself, leading the group, and he began to read a series of announcements. "There will be a meeting of the kinky writer's group at Mistress Selena's house at seven PM next Tuesday." "The women's welcoming committee meets every Wednesday at The Edge Cafe. All women who are interested in learning more about the scene are welcome. See Joan if you have any questions. Stand up so we can see you Joan." One of the more attractive women, with very long black hair stood in the front row and waved at the group. Monica noticed that she had a nice body and was wearing little earrings that looked like floggers. "Please notice Joan's column in this month's newsletter about negotiating a scene. Extra copies of the newsletter may be purchased for three dollars if you need another one for a friend." When the club president was finished with the announcements, the next item of business was an opportunity for everyone to give an introduction. Each person who wanted to participate was allowed to stand up, give their name and say a few words about their kinky preferences or experiences. The technique had been copied from a successful group in Chicago and it was intended to make the members feel better about their particular fetish or sexual preference. A harmless looking fellow in a rumpled sport coat stood up first, "Hi, my name is John, I've been in the scene six months and I'm a bottom." "Hello everyone, I'm Mistress Kitty, I'm a Top and I've been a member of this organization since it was first founded two years ago and I guess you all know me pretty well by now." "Hi, I'm Mark and this is my wife Sandy. This is our second meeting and we're just exploring. We think she's a Top and I'm a bottom." "My name is Leslie, I like to be spanked." "Hi, my name is Frank, I'm an obsessive-compulsive cunnilingist." The introductions went around the room in this fashion until a man in this twenties stood up and said, "Hi, My name is Joe and I'm an alcoholic." The room burst into laughter as they all suddenly recognized the parallel with AA meetings. Cole was not really surprised, since the similarities had been obvious to him for a long time. People who struggled with the fact that their form of sexuality was not accepted by society needed a support group. When it was their turn to introduce themselves, Cole politely passed and let the next person speak. The meeting had been going for nearly an hour when the announcements and introductions were finally finished. A presentation on caning was the scheduled highlight of the meeting. Some of the chairs were pushed back to make more room at the front and a quilt was placed on one of the long folding tables. The speaker was a fellow named Conrad who resembled a slightly disheveled elf, with a long beard and a flowing lavender satin shirt. His enthusiasm for SM play was highly infectious. As he discussed the various aspects of playing with canes, the audience loosened up further and joked easily with him. When all of the technical and ethical topics had been exhausted, a pre-chosen volunteer came forward. She was a shapely woman in her thirties who was well known as a "heavy bottom". That is, she played the bottom role and liked to be hit hard. Clad in bra and thong, she climbed onto the now padded tabletop and assumed a face down posture to present her nicely curved buttocks as a target for the cane. Conrad continued to talk as he began gently caning the woman with light tapping strokes. Most of the audience stared intently at the unfolding tableau, wondering how far the caning would go. Many of them had never seen anything of this type before and their eyes betrayed the intense thoughts that were flashing through their aroused minds. The warm up lasted for more than twenty minutes. The cane gradually tapped harder, until there was a pause, then the cane was raised higher and decended with a loud swish of air to land with an audible impact on the already pink bottom of the sexy volunteer. She let out a happy sounding "Ahhhh", much to the relief of those who thought briefly that something had gone wrong. Monica started to grin as she realized that the volunteer was enjoying herself just like she had on several occasions. Cole had seen it all before. In fact, he had played with the woman himself. He knew she could take a lot more. Not wanting to seem bored, he casually looked around the room to see how many faces he could recognize. Sitting in the very back of the room, where she had escaped Monica's notice, was her friend Jennifer. She didn't realize that he was looking at her. He studied her face for several minutes as she watched the caning and he observed the telltale vague stare that indicated she was in some kind of submissive headspace. Before anyone could notice that he wasn't watching the presentation, he turned around again to see how things were developing on the table. By this time the caning had progressed to very hard strokes with a suitably long interval in between. Conrad was still lecturing happily about the different kind of strokes and the audience was unable to look away. Cole was starting to be impressed. The strokes were slightly harder than what he was usually willing to do to his own playmates. The volunteer however, was in endorphin heaven. She was moaning in a very sexy manner with each stroke, then breathing in short puffs when each impulse of pain arrived at the pleasure centers of her brain. Cole vowed that he would play harder with her if they ever connected again. Eventually, the demonstration ended, and the group stood up to leave or chat with each other. Cole caught Monica's attention and pointed at Jennifer. Monica was just about ready to call out to Jennifer when he shook his head slightly to signal that this was not a good idea. Perhaps she did not want her name called out in front of all these people. Instead, they hurried out and caught up with her as she went down the corridor to the main doors. "Hey beautiful!" Monica called out. Jennifer turned and her eyes widened when she realized that she had been spotted by her best friend. "Hi guys. I didn't know you two were in there," she lied. Monica responded warmly, "We didn't see you either. It's still early, let's go to that place with the great chocolate desserts and chat for a while. You know, Dilettante Chocolates, It's just down the street." Jennifer could hardly refuse, and they all walked several blocks to a small restaurant that was famous for it's chocolate decadence cake and mocha drinks. When they had ordered, Monica politely questioned Jennifer about her attendance at the meeting while Cole looked around at the other diners and out the window at the damp Seattle night. "So, Jenny, is this the first meeting you've been to?" she asked. "No, I've been to four or five," she said as she looked down at the table. "I didn't want to tell anyone." "You naughty girl! You know you can tell me anything." "Sorry I didn't mention it. So, this was your first meeting, right? What did you think of it?" "It was a good experience for me. I liked seeing so many other people around me who are just as perverted as I am. You sorta feel better about yourself. But I got the feeling that a lot of them are looking for partners." "Yeah, I guess that's why I'm there. You've found a great guy for yourself and it reminds me what I'm missing. I'm pretty tired of being single, but you know what problems I've had with men. They just don't seem to understand what I need. I was hoping that I could find someone in the club, but so far no luck." Monica looked thoughtful for a moment, then started to speak slowly, "Jenny, maybe you could play with us. Ever since I got attacked last month, something has been missing from our chemistry. I guess I just can't submit right now. In fact, I've been feeling pretty dominant." "Play with you two? Do you think you'd both be willing to dominate me? That sounds pretty hot," she dropped her eyes again, "but I don't think I'd be a very good player." They both looked over at Cole, who had been quietly observing the conversation. "I think we could work something out," he said without sounding very enthusiastic. He was not strongly attracted to Jennifer because of her lack of womanly curves or perhaps it was just the way she dressed to hide her small body. Still, it might still be fun to engage in psychological play. He knew that Monica found her attractive and he was willing to go along. "Jenny, you have email, don't you?" he asked. "Sure, doesn't everyone?" "Well, why don't you write up your favorite kinky fantasy and send it to Monica? We'll go over it and see what we can translate into reality for you." Her beautiful eyes widened and she spoke rapidly, "That sounds really great. I hope it works OK. I'll send you my idea in the next few days. This is getting really exciting already. I'm so naughty!" Her small mouth widened into a big grin as she looked back and forth between her two friends. "One more thing," he said. "If we play sexually, which is what you seem to be needing, you must have some tests first. I can tell you the best place to go for that, but it will still take almost a week to get all the results back." "I can do that. Let me write down the information." She pulled a pen and small notebook from her purse. The clinic address and phone number were recorded quickly in her small, precise printing. The two women chatted as they walked Jennifer back to her car, which was not far from theirs. They discussed how happy Monica was in her new relationship and job. They also discussed the problem she was having accepting her own natural submissiveness since the attack. Arriving at the car, the two women hugged there on the sidewalk, then Jennifer came over to Cole and offered him a hug too. He happily accepted and gave her a friendly pat on her small bottom to propel her toward the car. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN For the next few days, Cole and Monica engaged in animated conversations about the local SM scene and about their upcoming date with Jennifer. Monica commented on how scene people treated each other versus the way they dealt with outsiders. Among themselves, the scene folks easily discussed the most intimate and secretive things. When around someone whose preferences are not known or who is known to be sexually conservative, they maintain a strict silence about their kinky activities. This could lead to a feeling of having a dual personality, but for most people, it was the best alternative. In her small apartment on the 14th floor of a fashionable downtown residence building, Jennifer thought hard about what she wanted to get from her adventure with Cole and Monica. She knew that she trusted Monica completely and the thought of submitting to her sexy girlfriend was very exciting. She had been envious of Monica since they first met, initially because of Monica's curvy body and later because of her relationship with Cole. There was also an element of competition. She wanted to show that she could be as submissive as the women whose stories she had read on the internet and in the numerous erotic books that waited under her bed like old playmates. She knew that her friends would never hurt her. The most daunting prospect was the thought of being naked in front of them and being forced to engage in what would surely be shameful sexual acts. At least she hoped so. She was very shy about her body, especially around beautiful women like Monica. Just the thought of being forcibly exposed made her wet; she just wasn't sure if she could go through with it. She was also hoping that she could experience what it meant to serve someone as a slave. Many of her favorite fantasies involved serving a man who owned her completely. It wasn't the sort of thing you could admit to anyone unless they shared a similar fantasy. The email that Monica received from Jennifer proved to contain a fantasy that she and Cole both loved. Jennifer wanted to be hired and trained as a sex slave for a wealthy businessman. She suggested using the name of a handsome Japanese investment banker that she had a bit of a crush on. Since she didn't really have time in her life to be a genuine slave, the first 24 hours of "captivity" would do nicely. Obviously, some serious training should take place on her first night. It took two more weeks to iron out the details, but eventually everything was settled. Jennifer would have two safewords, one to stop whatever activity was taking place at the time and another to stop the play altogether. Since she wanted the feeling of giving up control completely, no acts of sexual dominance were prohibited by their agreement. The only hard limits were that Jennifer had to be able to go to work Monday morning and she did not want any permanent marks. She would be picked up outside her building at Noon next Saturday and would stay overnight until Noon on Sunday. All she needed to bring was a bag with some extra clothing. As they had promised each other, Cole and Monica discussed their sexual activities in advance. He was a bit surprised when she encouraged him to plan for sex with Jennifer. His sex life with Monica was completely satisfying and he did not feel the need for another partner. However, Monica now knew him well enough to know that his libido would be stimulated by dominating a willing woman. She wanted to be certain that her best girlfriend would have the erotic time of her life. Since he did not have a long standing familiarity with Jennifer's kinky needs, he wanted to be ready to do whatever seemed appropriate in the heat of play. He started giving Monica daily lessons with the cane and flogger in case it seemed more appropriate for her to deal out the needed punishments. Standing in the dungeon next to a table of kinky toys, he held out a whip with many short tresses. "This of course, is a flogger, not to be confused with a cat o'nine tails. The flogger has soft flat tresses that can create a range of sensations without doing serious damage. A cat is a much nastier whip, with braided tresses that hit a lot harder." "A flogger can be cut from many different types of material. Leather is most popular, but you'll also see rubber, plastic and rope, among other things. This one is made of thin suede. A very special woman in the scene made it for me a few years ago. It's much too light to use on backs or butts. It was designed for breasts. Here, let me demonstrate." She pulled up her T-shirt and held still while he gave her pretty breasts several strokes. The light slapping sensation was quite delightful. He handed her the flogger and showed her how to practice on pillows. For the next half hour, Monica wandered around the house, stalking pillows to attack with the little flogger. When she mastered it, he gave her a longer, heavier one which was made from thin smooth cowhide. "You must be careful not to let the ends of the flogger wrap around your partner's body. When the tips wrap around, they strike with a lot more force and it's in a place they aren't expecting. It's the mark of an amateur top and something to be avoided." The heavier flogger made a more satisfying thump when she whacked the naughty pillows, but it still had a large safety margin when used on a playmate. He also showed her how to use one of his lighter rattan canes. She discovered that the flexible nature of the shaft made it difficult to hit a target precisely. After practicing a few times, she decided that she would only use this cane lightly, if at all. Cole brought out one of his black carbon fiber canes, which was slightly lighter than rattan, but almost perfectly rigid. Monica then felt much more confident about her accuracy. When they were finished practicing with the impact instruments, they sat down together to work on their plans. Cole began, "Since Jennifer hasn't engaged in hard SM play before, I don't think we'll have to use any heavier instruments. My general theory of SM play is that you should play within your partner's limits so that they will always want to come back for more. Now here's something I want you to start practicing with." He showed her a rectangular box about six inches long. When opened, it revealed a straight razor suitable for professional shaving. As the day drew closer, they were both becoming more excited. Cole prepared the dungeon for the training of Jennifer. They were very confident that the SM part of the plan would work well, but the D/S play would be more difficult. Their plan was for Monica to be the first to dominate Jennifer. As Jennifer became more comfortable with her submissive role, she would find herself under the control of Cole, in his role as "Trainer". There was no guarantee that it would work, of course. They simply planned and hoped for the best. They had explained to Jennifer their feeling that BDSM play was really a game. It had to be fun for all parties involved or there was no point in doing it. On Saturday morning, Cole inspected his car, which was parked in the garage next to the black minivan. It was a large silver Mercedes sedan that he had purchased as a collector's car. It was thirty years old and in perfect condition. The rear windows were shielded by gray curtains and the seats were covered in soft gray leather. He placed a few important items in a storage compartment on the back of the driver's seat, then went into the house to change into his costume. Cole dressed in an old fashioned black suit that might have been worn by a chauffeur earlier in the century. A classic chauffeur's hat and a pair of dark aviator sunglasses completed the look. He inspected himself in front of the mirror and allowed his face to assume an expression of disinterest. The beard and sunglasses made him look quite unapproachable. Monica put on her sexiest black cocktail dress. This one was short and had a low neckline, which provided a perfect setting for a long pearl necklace. She spent a great deal of time in front of the mirror, making sure that her makeup was just right and putting her long brown hair up into a rather severe bun which perched haughtily on the back of her head. Pausing for a delicate kiss and a swat on her lovely behind, they went to the car. Cole was now in his chauffeur role and held open the heavy rear door for her. She entered the cavernous passenger compartment and sat on the glove soft leather of the rear seat. Getting behind the wheel, he started the old German engine, which turned over with barely a sound. On the trip to Jennifer's apartment building, they didn't speak except for Monica's comment about the amazing quiet inside the old car. No conversation was needed, as their plans had been made and finalized during the preceding week. It was a cool autumn day with light cloud cover and just enough hazy sunlight to be slightly uncomfortable without sunglasses. The traffic was heavy and got heavier as they came closer to the downtown apartment building where Jennifer lived. As they approached the building, Monica used her cell phone to call Jennifer and tell her to come downstairs. They pulled up to the curb and waited about thirty seconds before she appeared at the front door and walked out to the car. In her hand was a small overnight bag. Cole leapt from the car and held open the rear door without acknowledging her in any way. The dark sunglasses he was wearing prevented her from making eye contact as he took the bag from her hand and waved her into the car where Monica was waiting on the left side of the bench seat. Jennifer was wearing a simple green dress with white buttons, black stockings and black shoes with low heels. Her waist length black hair was tied back to form a long ponytail. As she sat down on the right side, she brought her hair around over her right shoulder. Monica asked, "Are you Jennifer Lee?" "Yes." "I am Monica, the Assistant Trainer, you will address me as Ma'am." "Yes, Ma'am." Her exotic, almond shaped, hazel eyes were cast downward. "Do not attempt to speak to the chauffeur, he is forbidden to respond." "Yes, Ma'am." "What are you wearing under that dress?" "Just a bra and panties, Monica. And these stockings." Her slight Asian accent was a bit stronger than normal. As Jennifer looked around the interior of the car, she noticed the curtains that created almost complete privacy in the large rear seat area. Then she looked in the mirror to see that the chauffeur was looking back at her. Or was he? The dark sunglasses and old fashioned hat made it hard to tell. From the shape of the beard, she knew it was Howard Cole, but this cold, mechanical fellow in the uniform did not seem like the Howard she knew. She decided to simply think of him as "the chauffeur". Monica held out what looked like a legal document on a clipboard and offered Jennifer a pen. "This is your contract. You'll find it to be exactly as we agreed. One hundred thousand dollars for one year of service to Mister Toriuchi. You must sign it before we can proceed. If you wish to change your mind, we'll take you back to your apartment now." "Here, I'll sign it," she said, reaching for the clipboard and pen. When she handed back the signed contract, Monica spoke in a businesslike tone, "Your training begins immediately. You will be addressed simply as "slave" and refusal to obey any and all instructions will be punished, as stated in the contract." "I understand." Jennifer looked ahead as the silent automobile was entering the freeway, but instead of heading North, which was the shortest way to Cole and Monica's, the chauffeur was going South. "You haven't been addressing me properly, slave. That's your first mistake. We'll see about your punishment in a moment. Remove your dress." Jennifer felt a thrill of fear and pleasure course through her slender body. It seemed impossible to take her eyes off the floor, but she forced her hands to begin unfastening the buttons on the front of the green dress. Starting at the top, she slowly worked her way down. "When I give you an order, I expect you to obey immediately!" The sharp tone startled Jennifer into rapid action. She quickly finished with the buttons, which left the dress open almost to her knees. Monica had never seen her friend undressed before and decided to prolong the show for a while. She and Cole had planned to take an hour driving to the house. "Stop. Leave your dress on for a moment. Open it a little so that I can get a look at you." Monica loved the perfect light brown skin that was set off nicely by the white satin bra and panties. She saw that Jennifer's breasts beneath the bra were small, as expected, and her ribs were sharply defined. For the next several minutes, Monica ordered Jennifer to slowly undress, gradually revealing more of her body. When the dress was safely in Monica's hands, she paused for a minute to study the little slave-girl-in-training. The prominent hipbones and concave stomach seemed appropriate for a fashion model. Jennifer had, in fact, considered a modeling career, but she was only five feet two inches tall and did not have the height preferred in the fashion industry. Jennifer briefly raised her eyes and saw the chauffeur looking at her in the mirror. Even with the sunglasses she was sure he was looking and the sudden embarrassment caused her hands to move quickly to cover herself. Monica reacted instantly. "Put those hands down! Slide forward to the edge of the seat. Put your hands behind your back. Now!" With practiced skill that she had learned from Cole, Monica slipped a pair of chrome police handcuffs onto Jennifer's tiny wrists, then shoved her against the seat back. "That's your second mistake, slave girl. You're not doing very well so far. I don't think we can delay your discipline any longer. Hold absolutely still. You are not permitted to make any noise whatsoever. Disobedience will be punished severely." Monica removed a small pocketknife from a compartment on the seatback and turned to the handcuffed Jennifer. She opened the folding knife and reached for the top of the left shoulder strap of Jennifer's lace trimmed white satin bra. The sharp blade of the little knife slid easily through the strap, which was then allowed to drop and hang limply over Jennifer's breast. After a short pause for Monica to savor the moment, the right strap met the same fate. After gently stroking Jennifer's skin between her breasts, Monica used the knife to cut slowly through the fabric between the cups, then roughly pulled the ruined bra away and dropped it on the floor. She was rather surprised to see that Jennifer was not flat chested. There was a pair of small, pretty, and sensitive looking breasts with relatively large brown nipples set perfectly within small areolas. Jennifer looked down at her exposed breasts and saw her nipples growing larger in spite of the warm air inside the car. Then she looked up to again see the chauffeur watching in the mirror with that strange detached expression. She whimpered and bent forward to hide her nudity, which triggered Monica into action. Grabbing Jennifer's hair, she pulled the smaller woman back into an upright position. "That's it. If you can't obey, you'll pay the price." Monica pulled a silver chain from the storage compartment. On each end of the foot long chain was a small metal clip. She held Jennifer's head back with her right hand and used her left hand to attach one of the clips to each of Jennifer's hard nipples. Jennifer's chest rose and fell rapidly with her frightened breathing, but she did her best to hold still. The tight, mildly painful sensation of the nipple clips was quite erotic and it gradually calmed her into a more submissive state. Monica released Jennifer's silky black hair and slipped a soft padded blindfold over her head. "That's a good little slave girl, calm down now. Everything is going to be OK. You have a very beautiful body." "Mr. Toriuchi will be very pleased if we can get you properly trained. Let's leave those little white panties on for now. They make you look more naked," she said with a greedy smile. As the old Mercedes drifted smoothly along with the traffic flow, other drivers studied the unusual vehicle carefully. One or two managed to catch a glimpse through the front windows, noticing the professional looking chauffeur, then the two people in the rear seat who appeared to be engaged in very interesting activities. Cole maneuvered gently to keep anyone from seeing too much. For the remainder of the scheduled hour, Cole drove the car carefully around the Seattle area, gradually working his way closer to home. Monica enjoyed herself thoroughly, touching and stroking Jennifer's delicate skin and occasionally tugging lightly on the chain attached to the sensitive nipples. She found that pulling back on Jennifer's hair caused her body to arch into a particularly inviting position. With her right hand holding the beautiful long black hair, Monica's left hand was free to roam and it gradually found it's way to Jennifer's satin covered crotch. Gently stroking up and down, Monica felt the wetness slowly penetrate through the white panties while Jennifer whimpered and moaned with arousal. With Jennifer's head pulled back, her throat was exposed in a most inviting manner. Monica leaned over to kiss it, then licked up and down from chin to collarbone. By the time they reached the house, both women were breathing hard and trembling with the hot lust that had ripened within their bodies Cole parked in the garage and waited for the door to close behind them. Then he stepped out and opened the rear door on Monica's side. They helped the blindfolded and handcuffed Jennifer into the house and deposited her on the living room carpet in front of the fireplace. She was still wearing her white panties and the nipple clips. Cole flipped the wall switch that activated the realistic gas fireplace and stood back to look at the delectable submissive woman who sat awkwardly on the luxuriously soft carpet. Jennifer felt the heat from the fire take away the chill from her body and heard the two trainers moving about the room. She did not know what was going to happen next, but the submissive thrill that had started inside her during the trip was still there. Her nipples were throbbing from the pressure of the clips, but she was nowhere near using her safeword. She had felt more pain than this during her self explorations. She was delighted with the way the session was working out so far. There was enough trust to allow her to submit, but there were also enough unfamiliar elements to make the scenario believable. She could actually feel herself submitting and the thought of serving the mythical Mr. Toriuchi was a compelling goal. This was proof, if she needed it, that her basic nature was submissive. Seeing her friend Monica in the sexy dress and being dominated by her had been one of the biggest sexual turn-ons that she could remember. And Cole made a very authentic kinky chauffeur. His behavior was chilling, almost menacing. She felt like he was capable of anything, which was a highly arousing thought. Her envy of Cole and Monica's relationship threatened to flare up, but her attention was drawn to the sound of someone walking toward her. The unseen person stepped behind her and removed the blindfold. It was Cole and he had changed into a casual outfit of white dungarees and a black T-shirt. He was no longer playing the part of the Chauffeur, but still had that menacing air. "Good afternoon, little slave. I am the Trainer and you will address me as Sir, is that understood?" "Yes, Sir." "My job is to prepare you to serve Mr. Toriuchi. As you recall, your contract states that my approval is required before you can be considered fit for duty in the Master's household. I expect you to obey all my instructions without hesitation. Your first instruction is never to speak unless you are spoken to. Do you understand?" "Yes, Sir." "Your friend Monica had a very important job today. She was supposed to make you obey all the usual rules on the ride here. Unfortunately, you broke some of the rules. You did not address her as Ma'am, you tried to cover yourself and you failed to hold still when ordered to do so. It was Monica's job to punish you immediately for all of those violations. Unfortunately, she was overcome with lust and spent her time fondling you instead of punishing you. For that reason, Monica is going to be punished. You will watch and you will be totally silent. Your punishment will occur when I'm ready. Don't make it any worse." He signaled for Monica to come forward. She was completely naked except for a pair of black heels and a pair of large golden earrings. Her hard nipples betrayed her arousal. In both hands, she carried a wide leather strap with a short wooden handle. Kneeling gracefully before Cole, she offered it to him with her eyes averted. He took it in his right hand and caressed the soft heavy leather with his left. Monica draped her curvaceous body over the back of the leather sofa with her hands on the seat. Her pleasingly rounded hips seemed large compared to Jennifer's tiny form and her ass was nicely presented for punishment. He looked over his shoulder to see Jennifer watching with eyes wide. The first stroke rang out with a loud crack. Monica took the punishment stoically, with only a little grunt or moan with each stroke. After the fifth stroke, Jennifer was obviously in emotional distress, her small chest heaving. On the eight stroke, she burst out, "Please, Sir, don't punish her any more. It was all my fault." Cole looked her way and said, "I told you to keep quiet, little slave. Your punishment will be increased to reflect your disobedience." He stopped strapping Monica after two more strokes. Unknown to Jennifer, this was very mild play by Monica's standards. Cole told Monica to sit on the sofa and watch. Then he turned to face Jennifer who was cowering in her white panties and handcuffs. Her eyes were watching him with obvious apprehension. Stepping behind her, he reached under her hair and placed his strong right hand on the back of her neck. He squeezed just enough for her to feel the power, no more force than one might use for a massage. The nutmeg and cinnamon smell of her cologne was suddenly very noticeable. Jennifer calmed down and relaxed in response to the controlling hand on her neck. "You are a very beautiful little slave girl, but you are so disobedient," he said calmly. "Yes, Sir," she said quietly as she trembled slightly before him. He was quite frightening in this role, but somehow she also felt strangely safe and secure. His hand on her neck was both controlling and reassuring. "I want you to admit that you've been a naughty little slave girl and tell me that you'll accept your punishment." "I've been very naughty, Sir. I'll accept whatever punishment you think is appropriate." She trembled in a most charming manner. "Good. I'm going to remove those handcuffs, then I want you to assume a kneeling position." He moved easily behind her again and unlocked the handcuffs, then stood back to give her room to move. Jennifer knelt with the tops of her feet flat on the carpet and her hands on her hips. Her shoulders slouched forward revealing the fact that she was self conscious about her breasts, which were still adorned with the nipple clips and silver chain. She was shivering slightly in spite of the warmth from the nearby fireplace. Cole spoke to her in his deep, forceful voice. "Get your toes under your feet, then sit on your heels. That's right. Now place your hands on your thighs with your palms up. Straighten your back. Eyes down." With her back straight, her small breasts were proudly displayed. Her hips also had a more nicely rounded shape than Cole had expected. He used both hands to stroke her silky black hair and shape it into a ponytail that draped down her back all the way to her waist. Then he massaged her shoulders for a few minutes to help establish a bond with his delicate new playmate. When she seemed more relaxed, he announced, "It's time for your punishment now. Hold still for me." He reached around and quickly removed both nipple clips. Before she could react, he grabbed her arms just above the elbows and held them tightly behind her back. Kneeling behind her, he couldn't see her face, but he heard the sharp intake of breath, then an agonized scream as the pain exploded in her suddenly released nipples. She struggled to tear her arms free so that she could cup her abused breasts with her hands, but Cole held her in a vice-like grip. Monica, who was watching from the sofa, was able to see Jennifer's tightly shut eyes and wide open mouth. It took a few minutes for Jennifer to stop wailing and trying to pull free. Her extremely hard nipples were still throbbing painfully in time with her rapid pulse. "If you can keep your hands at your sides, I'll let you go now, little slave." "OK, sir, I'm ready now." She stayed there, kneeling on the carpet, looking down at her abused flesh and savoring the submissive rush that washed over her. In her current state of mind, Cole could have done anything to her and she sincerely hoped that he would. "The next phase of your punishment is also a test. All you have to do is hold still while I touch you. Come over here and sit on my lap." Cole moved to the sofa where Monica was sitting and sat down with a few feet between them. Then he motioned Jennifer to sit on his lap facing him with her knees straddling his legs. Her lovely little breasts were directly in front of his face. He could feel the warmth emanating from between her legs, but he resisted the urge to touch her there. He ordered Jennifer to clasp her hands together behind her back and hold as still as possible. Delicately, using only the tips of his fingers, he slowly stroked Jennifer's swollen and sensitive nipples. The sudden sensation caused her to jerk herself back. "Monica, would you mind holding our little slave for me? She isn't very well trained yet, I'm afraid." Monica rose and stood behind the little Eurasian woman, then she seized Jennifer's arms and held them in a wristlock behind her head. The restraint was as rigid as the strictest bondage. Jennifer could hardly move a millimeter. She was barely able to look down and see Cole's hands moving towards her breasts. Whatever happened next was inevitable and Jennifer felt a thrill of fear that seemed to be centered deep in her womanhood. Cole proceeded to stroke, pinch and suck her now super-responsive nipples. He enjoyed seeing her pretty little breasts bounce and jiggle. They looked like small ripe pears, waiting to be eaten. All Jennifer could do was tremble and gasp. After a few minutes of this pleasant sport, he put one hand down between her legs to check her arousal status and found that her panties were soaked. "My dear Assistant Trainer, please take our little slave into the bedroom and give her a good flogging, then get her some dry panties. We'll have a little break before we introduce her to domestic service training." Monica helped Jennifer into the bedroom and pushed her down onto the bed. Picking up the light suede flogger, she proceeded to lash her submissive little friend over most of her body. She took great delight in ordering Jennifer to display her dainty round breasts to the stinging leather instrument. When she had thoroughly covered Jennifer with the sensuous strokes, she allowed her to use the bathroom for a few moments and drink some cold water. With fresh panties, a pink pair this time, she seemed refreshed and ready to proceed. She wanted to say something to Monica that would convey how grateful she was for the chance to experience this kind of submission, but she was afraid of spoiling the convincing illusion that Monica was now her superior. Once more in the living room, Jennifer was taught the proper way to carry a tray and serve coffee or tea to her Master and his associates. They started first with an empty tray and Cole coached her on the art of moving gracefully. It was different when you were naked, she found. Next, she carried an old coffee mug on the tray and was told not to let it slip off, even if someone touched her in a way that would normally be offensive. Unfortunately, the first time that Monica pinched her sexy little bottom, Jennifer was startled into dropping the tray, which landed on the carpet with a thud. Cole ordered her to bend over the back of the sofa with her hands on the leather seat cushion, just as Monica had earlier. With her nicely feminine pink panties still on, she received three medium strokes of the heavy leather strap. The pain was intense, probably the worst she had ever experienced, but she was able to hold her position. She kept her eyes closed for a moment after the last stroke and waited for the fire in her buttocks to cool. Then they continued her training. The difficulty of the task was gradually increased. More cups were added to the tray. Monica took great delight in running her hand up the inside of Jennifer's thigh when she least expected it. She was punished again, four strokes this time, for letting two of the cups hit the floor. After more practice, water was poured into the cups and she learned how to pour more liquid from a pot in a very elegant manner. Jennifer felt a great pride at being able to perform for her two trainers. Twice more, she earned strokes of the punishment strap before Cole declared that her household servant training was over for the day. Jennifer was taken into the bedroom again. This time she was thoroughly bound with soft white rope in a hog tie position. With her wrists and ankles firmly attached to each other behind her back, she was left on the soft bed to relax and think. She struggled a bit against the ropes, but it only intensified her feelings of sensual restraint. It was actually quite relaxing to lie there with nothing to do, no decisions to make. She did not sleep, but she fell into a dreamy state where she imagined herself serving a harsh master who wielded a nasty leather strap. It was now early evening and Monica fixed a quick dinner. When she and Cole were finished, they went to free Jennifer. With an amazing lack of stiffness from her bondage ordeal, she walked into the kitchen expecting to sit at the table and eat. Much to her surprise, Cole produced a pet bowl filled with a sweet dry cereal and another filled with milk. Placing both bowls on the kitchen floor, he explained that she was to eat and drink without using her hands. He was impressed with her enthusiasm. He had expected to restrain her hands, but there was no need. She ate her cereal and milk like a good little pet. Her pink panties and black hair made a nice color combination with the pink and black pattern in the vinyl floor. When she was finished, he told her that they would be going to the dungeon. "This will not to be a training session," he announced. "It is a test of your ability to allow yourself to be used sexually. You must allow yourself to be handled, hurt or used in any manner. If you fail to submit in any way, it will be noted on the evaluation that we are preparing for Mr. Toriuchi. In the dungeon, Jennifer was struck by the warmth and cozy feel of the large room. She recognized the smell of scented candles from her previous visit. She was ordered to sit on one end of the leather massage table while various leather cuffs and straps were prepared. Lying on her back, she waited calmly while her wrists were attached to the far end of the table with leather cuffs and lengths of chain. Cole picked up her legs and held them while Monica applied soft leather ankle cuffs which were rapidly drawn apart and up toward the ceiling with black nylon straps. Jennifer watched as her legs were spread wide, leaving only the soft pink panties to protect her most private parts from public view. Then a leather strap went around her waist and she found herself firmly strapped down to the table. Her bottom was positioned right at the very end of the table so that she hung over the edge slightly. It did not seem like a coincidence. Cole approached her with a pair of scissors and she hoped that he was not as dangerous as he looked at that moment. Moving slowly, he slipped the scissors under the side panel of her panties and gradually cut through the thin fabric. One more cut and he was able to pull the panties away, leaving her exposed to his lecherous gaze. Jennifer's eyes widened in fear and anticipation as she looked at his face between her widely separated knees. She felt herself trembling as an inner voice urged her to give up her body to the dominant man who controlled her and was now in a position to do anything he wished. "Nice bush," he said. "Too bad it will have to go. Mr. Toriuchi likes all his slaves to be clean shaven." He pulled on her pubic hair just hard enough to hurt, then used it like handles to pull apart her labia and inspect her pink inner flesh. "Monica, bring the shaving equipment. I'd like you to take care of this, please." Jennifer could only lie there and experience the intense sensations. First Monica placed a hot wet towel on Jennifer's pubic area. After a minute, it was almost too hot to stand. Jennifer was breathing rapidly in short gasps by the time the towel was removed and scented shaving cream was applied to her body with a soft brush. The heat had not only softened the hair, it had also sensitized her genital area so that every tiny touch caused a wave of erotic sensation to flow from the site. Cole stood beside Jennifer and slowly ran his hands over her torso as if she were a beloved pet. She found it very calming, which was fortunate, considering what was next. Monica produced a large shiny straight razor that would have frightened a strong man and proceeded to carefully remove every last one of Jennifer's pubic hairs, even a few that sprouted near her little brown anus. Each tiny scrape of the razor felt like it was going straight to the pleasure centers of her brain. The dual sensations of fear and sexual arousal caused Jennifer to begin panting and she stared straight up at the ceiling. It took all of her willpower to hold still, but it was essential to avoid a nasty cut. She focused on the comforting feeling of being owned that was produced by Cole's talented hands gently stroking her breasts and stomach. When Monica was finished, she announced, "That's it Sir, she's completely bare now." Cole explained to Jennifer what would happen next. "You did very well little slave, we're going to test your sexual responses now. I'll be noting everything for the final report that I'm preparing for Mr. Toriuchi. Just relax and let yourself react in the most natural possible manner." He instructed Monica to perform cunnilingus on Jennifer's now completely exposed cunt. Monica brought a chair up to the end of the table so she could sit with her face in the perfect position between Jennifer's helplessly spread legs that were still firmly attached to the ceiling. Cole specified that all stimulation was to be external, nothing inside the vagina without his approval. Cole made notes on a clipboard and occasionally checked Jennifer's feet to see if her circulation was adequate. It was hard to ignore how pretty her shaved cunt looked, but he played the role of the detached observer perfectly. Jennifer felt a strangely erotic sensation, as if she had been reduced to a simple sex object and was no longer a free woman who was responsible for her own feelings and actions. At the same time, she felt her inhibitions slipping away. Since she had given up control to someone else, she was now free to fully experience sexual stimulation and arousal. After a few minutes of sensual explorations, Monica's talented tongue found Jennifer's clitoris and began to stroke it ever so gently. She stopped after a short time and used her fingers to massage and pinch Jennifer's plump outer labia. Returning to the hard clit, Monica again used the gentle little licks that brought her victim close to coming. Cole noticed Jennifer's fast breathing and dilated pupils. "Stop!" he ordered. "Use the towel now Monica." Monica suddenly placed a very cold wet towel on Jennifer's overheated cunt. A sudden scream of shock and disappointment tore through the room, then died away, as Jennifer's orgasm died before it could blossom. Cole made some more notes on his clipboard then instructed Monica to begin again. The insistent tongue started with the inner labia and very, very slowly worked its way back to Jennifer's unfairly treated clit. Monica was having a great time tormenting her girlfriend. Having Jennifer's pretty cunt all to herself was like a dream come true, but her own orgasm was going to build soon and she wasn't sure how much longer she could continue. Cole stroked Jennifer's chest and gently pulled and pinched her nipples, which brought a nice reaction from the aroused woman. He made sure that she was looking his way before writing some more notes. He spoke as if to himself, "Grade three nipple response, very nice." After about ten minutes, she was again building up to an orgasm. Cole let her get just a little bit closer than the last time before ordering Monica to apply the cold towel and bring the process to an icy halt. Jennifer screamed again, this time more in frustration than shock. The entire process was repeated a third time and Jennifer was begging for release. She was totally into her role as the slavegirl-in-training. "Please Sir, I have to come!" she cried. Cole answered in a firm voice, "You insolent slut! You've been doing well until now. Remember, you weren't supposed to speak. You'll have to be punished before we can proceed." He picked up a light rattan cane, then pulled Jennifer's shapely little hips another inch farther down, so that her ass was hanging completely off the padded table. "You'll receive six strokes for disobedience. Don't let it happen again." The first stroke across her stretched buttocks burned like a hot poker applied to her sensual light brown skin. As he applied each stroke with equal force, she felt the pain spread through her entire pelvic area, then it slowly faded to a warm comforting sensation. She was a bit surprised to see that the warmth was rekindling her arousal. Cole noticed the increased wetness forming on her beautiful cuntlips. With her legs held so far open, there was no way she could hide it. "Now that we've taken care of that little business, you'll be happy to know that your next test involves penetration by a man." Jennifer immediately started breathing more deeply as she imagined what it would feel like. Monica had told her that Howard was large, but she remembered that she had been given no promise of sex. Perhaps this would be another one of their frustrating tricks to test her responses. Cole removed his pants and ordered, "get me hard, Monica" He tried not to think of her as his lover and friend, but as a slave and Assistant Trainer. It did not take long to create a large erection. Monica's oral talents were considerable and her extreme state of arousal lent an added urgency to her efforts. Jennifer was able to watch the process by turning her head and she was certainly impressed. The Trainer's organ was of average length, but considerably thicker than any of the men she had been with before. She wondered if it would hurt. The thought made her shiver and lubricate even more. Her cunt seemed to be throbbing in anticipation. Monica tore open a foil packet and slid a condom onto her lover's manhood. Her own cunt was dripping freely now as she thought about what Jennifer was obviously feeling. Sharing this kind of erotic game with a third person was proving to be very exciting and Monica hoped it would go on a long time. Cole stood at the end of the table between Jennifer's widely separated legs. He allowed his stiff latex clad cock to lightly brush her labia, then slowly forced it into her tight passage. It was hard to tell if her natural lubrication would be enough. She was extremely tight and Cole suspected that she hadn't had sex in a very long time. Eventually, he did reach full penetration and started stroking slowly in and out. Her swollen cunt lips seemed to grip his cock at the farthest point of withdrawal and pull it back inside. He was careful not to make contact with her clit. He didn't want her coming just yet. His own orgasm was not far off, so after a minute or two of enjoying the tight pressure, he withdrew from her greedy little cunt mouth. Jennifer cried out at the unfairness of it all. Cole ordered Monica to stand between Jennifer's legs and bend forward so he could enter her from behind. Stripping off the condom, he plunged into Monica's well lubricated pussy. The stimulation of his naked cock was so good as he thrust in and out with his muscular hips that he knew he could only last a short time. Monica was bending forward with her mouth close to Jennifer's breasts, so she began to lick and suck the already highly aroused nipples that were so conveniently presented to her. Cole reached around to squeeze Monica's lovely tits, which combined with her already high level of arousal to trigger her climax causing her to breath in short, hard puffs and thrust her ass back against him. She was not even aware that she was biting and sucking Jennifer's left breast. As Jennifer moaned in agonizing frustration, Cole felt himself spurt hot jism deep into his beloved Monica. He groaned and strained against her for what seemed like an eternity. As the overwhelming sensation faded, he collapsed forward and pinned Monica down with his hard cock still inside her. For a moment, they ignored Jennifer while they recovered from their intense orgasms. Slowly straightening up, they moved away and sank to the floor in each other's arms. Lying on a black quilt and a pile of pillows, they held each other for a long time before they were ready to deal with Jennifer again. It had been one of the hottest sexual experiences of their entire relationship. After a time, they released Jennifer from bondage on the table and reminded her that she was still a slave-in-training until Noon tomorrow. "Perhaps if you're a really good slave, we'll let you come in the morning," Monica teased. Although it was only nine o'clock, they decided to head for the master bedroom and make an early night of it. They were all completely naked, except that Cole still wore his black T-shirt. Before stumbling into bed, Cole and Monica put another set of wrist and ankle cuffs on Jennifer and ordered her to lie on the floor at the foot of their bed. They connected the two ankle cuffs to each other, then fastened the two wrist cuffs to a length of chain that was attached solidly to the lower corner of the elaborate modern bed frame. Jennifer was left bound and naked on the carpeted floor, feeling somewhat sorry for herself. They covered her with a thick soft blanket and climbed into the big bed. The snuggling went on for some time, interspersed with giggling and wrestling. At one point Monica said, "Maybe we should call her Kitten. She's such a cute little pet." Cole responded, "Kitten it is. Maybe the mysterious Mr. Toriuchi will let us keep her. In the morning, lets make her come. If she's good, that is." Jennifer experienced an odd sensation. Instead of being angry or frustrated, she felt as if she belonged. It was pleasantly warm under the blanket and she drifted off to sleep feeling like someone truly cared for her and understood her need to serve. It was impossible to masturbate effectively without the use of her hands, so she decided to simply go to sleep. The possibility of an orgasm in the morning kept her aroused and she dreamed repeatedly of being taken by an assortment of strong, dominant men. Cole awakened first and got out of bed right away to head for the bathroom and see to his morning preparations. A hot shower worked wonders. When he was fully dressed, he woke Monica and waited until he was sure she was fully awake before he went off to fix breakfast. Monica waited a minute to collect her thoughts, then got out of bed and went directly to the sleeping Jennifer. "Wake up Kitten. You sexy little slave girl. You still belong to us for another four hours. Get up and come into the shower with me." Monica unfastened the restraints and Jennifer reached up for a hug. They held each other for a minute, then Monica pulled her into the bathroom. Both women got into the large shower stall and Monica adjusted the water to a nice steaming temperature. She ordered Jennifer to perform the servant's task of washing the Mistress. Jennifer loved soaping and fondling Monica's breasts the most. They seemed so large and sexy compared to her own. When Monica was clean, she did the same for Jennifer, ordering her to assume various humiliating positions and not allowing her to move when her sensitive parts were pinched and spanked. They were both terribly horny by the time they went into the kitchen where Cole had prepared perfect blueberry pancakes. Monica was wearing a red velvet robe and Jennifer was allowed only a pair of skimpy black panties to hide her shaved pubis. Everyone noticed that Jennifer's nipples were hard in spite of the warm air in the house. Jennifer was ordered to sit at the table and her hands were restrained behind the chair. Cole and Monica took turns feeding her from their plates as if she were their special pet. Occasionally, when the urge struck, they would stroke her hair or breasts. After a satisfying breakfast, Monica and Cole retired to the living room while Jennifer silently took care of the breakfast dishes. She didn't mind a bit. In fact, she relished the chance to serve in a useful way instead of simply soaking up erotic energy from her dominant playmates. When she was finished, she joined them in the living room, sitting down on the floor like a well mannered puppy. Cole told Jennifer to kneel on the floor in front of him and he massaged the back of her neck rather forcefully with his right hand and reached around with his left to caress her breasts. This had the effect of intensifying her submissive feelings and in a few minutes, she was ready to do whatever he asked of her. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Monica had slipped her hand inside her robe and was apparently stroking herself surreptitiously. "Time to take our little pet into the dungeon. I think I know what she needs," he said with a knowing smile. This was not a moment too soon for either of the women who were both feeling almost irritable from their intense sexual need. Cole placed a narrow leather collar on Jennifer's small sensuous neck, then attached a leather leash and led her down to the dungeon with Monica following. He turned on the spotlights that illuminated the center part of the room and guided Jennifer under the lights. Unsnapping the leash from her collar, he moved back to look at her and plan his next move. "Place your hands on the back of your neck, keep your chin up and your eyes down," he ordered. He studied her form, taking in the beautiful long hair and the delicate jawline which was nicely set off by the black collar. The strong lights accented her exotic features and petite, but nicely rounded figure. Monica moved against him and he could hear that she was already breathing a bit harder than she should be as she also studied their sexy friend. Jennifer felt like she was in a dream. She hadn't spoken a word since the night before. The delicious torment of being stimulated, then forbidden to climax left her in an almost impenetrable mental haze. All her submissive fantasies seemed to lead up to this moment. Standing before her dominant friends in a collar and black panties seemed the most natural thing in the world. Her posture invited them to use her in any way that they wished. "Monica, go kneel in front of our little pet and pull down her panties very slowly." Jennifer shivered when she heard the order. She was already looking down, past her own swollen nipples. She saw Monica take her assigned station before her and reach up to stroke the lovely dark skin above the black panties. Jennifer struggled to keep her hands on her neck as she felt the delicate fingers hook into the waistband and start the panties inexorably on their way down. She closed her eyes as the panties descended past her bare pubis and small, shapely bottom. Cole noticed that both women had their mouths open and their eyes closed. He simply waited and enjoyed the show as Monica slid the panties down ever so slowly. When the panties reached the floor. Monica said, "step out of them Kitten." Then she placed a soft kiss just above Jennifer's throbbing clitoris. He spoke in a deep, official sounding voice, "OK ladies, it's time for our little slave-girl-in-training to undergo the final test. We need to determine how many orgasms she is capable of having. She needs to be blindfolded please, Monica. Then bring her over to the sling." Jennifer could see the black leather sling attached to the ceiling in one corner of the room. The thought of being suspended there helplessly while she was used made the slick moisture gather on her delicate cuntlips which had been tingling insistently for hours. When the padded black leather blindfold was held in place by its elastic band, she was no longer sure who was touching her. Someone helped her onto the leather sling and lifted her legs so that leather cuffs could be placed around her ankles to keep her legs inalterably raised and spread as widely as possible. Cole placed a pair of leather cuffs on her wrists, then tenderly maneuvered her arms behind her back beneath the sling. When the cuffs were clipped together and attached to the underside of the sling for support, Jennifer had lost all freedom of movement. Her shaved pudenda was displayed in an obscenely open fashion. Anyone could see that her damp, quivering vagina was begging for penetration and release. At a nearby table, Monica was preparing the instruments of torture, or perhaps pleasure. Her own latex gloved hands were trembling slightly with arousal, but she completed her task swiftly. She brought a chair up to the sling, sat down and kissed Jennifer's cunt as if to say hello. Then taking a small quantity of jelly-like lubricant, she delicately began a circular massage of Jennifer's tight brown anus. Cole massaged Jennifer's breasts and stroked her firm belly with his fingertips as he watched the intimate proceedings below. Jennifer was trembling and jerking slightly from the stimulation. If she had been capable of rational thought at this point, she would have felt a lubricated finger enter her virgin ass to prepare it for further invasion. After taking a long time with the lubrication, Monica guided a thin white vibrator with a small T-handle slowly into Jennifer's bottom hole. A wire led to a battery box on the floor. Then she stood up and strapped on a double dildo that she had recently purchased. The two identical pink cocks were made of realistically stiff silicone. With one thick plastic cock lodged inside her and her hands shaking from the wanton lust, it was all she could do to unroll a condom on the artificial phallus that now protruded from her crotch at a realistic masculine angle. Monica felt her vaginal muscles beginning to squeeze the dildo in a rhythmic pattern. She had to take a deep breath and calm herself before turning her attention to Jennifer. Squatting before the helpless victim, Monica began to lick and nibble at Jennifer's extremely sensitive labia. There was no shortage of natural lubrication. In fact, it was starting to flow everywhere. Cole moved to avoid a potential safety hazard by placing a thick towel on the hardwood floor below the sling. Within a few minutes the normally shy and reserved Jennifer was screaming to be fucked. So much for her slave training, Cole thought with a big grin. He noticed that Monica was not making contact with Jennifer's clitoris and Jennifer was desperately trying to thrust her hips forward to find the stimulation she craved. Eventually, Monica gave in and thrust the big dildo slowly into Jennifer's wide open cunt. Reaching out with her foot, Monica pressed the switch that activated the anal vibrator. Jennifer started coming immediately, with loud grunts and fierce muscular contractions that involved her entire body. Cole tried to count the orgasms, but it was a hopeless cause. Monica was able to keep thrusting the dildo into her little friend as she came herself in a long series of satisfying climaxes. When she could no longer stand up on her own, she reached up to grasp the two chains that supported the end of the sling and hung there, totally spent. Without the vigorous thrusting of the thick dildo, Jennifer's amazing convulsive performance started to diminish. At that moment, Cole slipped a large bullet shaped vibrator from his pocket, switched it on and applied it directly to Jennifer's swollen, but until now ignored, clitoris. Gasping for breath, she started climaxing again, almost shaking Monica loose from where she was hanging onto the chains. The double dildo she shared with Jennifer held her up by her cunt. Now Monica was on the receiving end of the powerful phallic thrusts and she was forced into another orgasm herself. Eventually, they managed to separate themselves and Cole unfastened Jennifer while Monica lay face down on the floor, barely breathing. He lifted Jennifer's light body and carried her over to the futon bed where he covered her with a blanket. He managed to slide a pillow under Monica's head and cover her with a quilt before slipping out of the room. It was over two hours before the women staggered upstairs, wrapped in robes, to find Cole typing intently at his computer. He looked up grinning from ear to ear, "Scene's over ladies. Everyone's back in normal headspace I hope. Any ill effects?" They were obviously in good condition, because they proceeded to hug and kiss him without mercy. "Howard! How do you manage to do that to us?" Monica exclaimed. "I don't think I'll need sex for a month," observed Jennifer. Then she added with a shy smile, "Can we do this again?" "Sure, Kitten," Cole said. "You're our little pet now. I'm sure we can arrange something when everyone is in the mood again." The two women went off to the living room to chat about their experience and what they wanted to do next time. Jennifer admitted her feeling of envy that Monica had found the perfect dominant man for herself. She knew that she would never be that lucky. At noon, they all got into the Mercedes and took Jennifer home. She stood on the sidewalk for a long time, waving as they disappeared into the heart of Seattle. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Their play date with Jennifer had several effects on Cole and Monica. The first was an increase in libido, which kept them extremely active in the bedroom. The second was a realization that dominance and submission was truly the key to their sexuality. Monica's inability to feel submissive was rapidly becoming a crisis. Something vitally important was missing from her life. She envied Jennifer's ability to submit and experience the erotic depths that Monica could only remember now from her past. Cole could feel her deep distress and was somewhat disturbed himself, since the play with Jennifer had reminded him of his need for sexual dominance. His love for Monica, however, was not in question. They had bonded with each other in a way that was more important than their sexual preferences. As Fall turned into Winter, they fell into a routine of leaving for work at the same time and coming home to each other every evening. With access to a large kitchen, Monica developed her natural cooking skills and prepared healthy gourmet dinners on nights when they weren't going out to foreign films and unusual restaurants. She joined the same athletic club where Cole worked out and continued to maintain her devastating figure. Monica continued her friendship with Jennifer, who would occasionally join them for dinner at home or in the city. Unfortunately, Monica began to feel a bit threatened by Jennifer, who had reminded Cole of how much he desired dominant sexual play. No further play dates were scheduled, but the idea was left open for possible future discussion. They continued to discuss ways to help Monica regain her submissiveness. In early December, they found out about an SM play party that was going to be held on New Year's Eve. This was to be a pan-sexual event and about one hundred and fifty tickets were available. Monica had never been to a pan-sexual play party and was immediately curious. Her reassuring experience at the meeting of the local SM club made her feel better about attending kinky public events. They decided that exposure to a group of happy, playful sadomasochists certainly couldn't hurt Monica's chances for recovery. A few days after hearing about the party, Cole had a long lunch with a dominant friend who was currently without a partner. They met in an Italian restaurant that was an old favorite for them both. Jason Lederman was a 32 year old CPA who had been active in the Seattle scene since the time that Cole was heavily involved. He was medium height with a slender build and long prematurely gray hair that women loved. At play parties, he needed only to wear his sexy black leather outfit and he would be deluged with play offers from numerous women and several men. Jason explained that he was tired of the musical partner game that was standard in the scene. He estimated that he had averaged one serious partner every six months for the past five years. He was ready to settle down with one woman and was even ready to consider marriage. Unfortunately, after playing with some of Seattle's most desirable kinky women, his tastes had become somewhat jaded. With the aid of a nice bottle of Chianti and plates of excellent Tagliatelle alla Bolognese, they analyzed Jason's past partners and constructed an imaginary woman who would fill his needs. As they went along, Jason wrote down the list of characteristics on a paper napkin. She needed to be reasonably intelligent and physically attractive. In fact, she had to be drop dead gorgeous. Hair color was not important. He liked petite women with long hair and a nice tan or a naturally dark complexion. Most of all, she had to be sexually submissive. It would be nice if she were already in the scene, but Jason was sure he had checked out every eligible woman in the Seattle scene as well as in Portland and Vancouver, BC. Holding up his wineglass and looking through the ruby liquid, Cole decided that Jennifer might be just the person that Jason was looking for. "Jason, I think I might be able to help, but it's going to cost you." "Tell me what it's going to cost me first. I know better than to trust a lawyer," Jason said, grinning broadly. "Here's the deal. I'll introduce you to someone who meets the description that you have written on that napkin. If you hit it off and stay together for a month, then you buy us both front row tickets to a Sonic's game and all the beer we can drink. How does that sound?" "You gotta deal, shyster. When do I meet Miss Perfect?" "Not so fast, bean counter. You need to get to know her a little first. Why don't I give her your email address and you can see if you're compatible first? If you decide to meet each other, Monica and I will act as chaperones so that Miss Perfect will feel safe." They shook hands to seal their agreement and they both went back to work. Cole wasn't able to accomplish anything useful after drinking three glasses of wine, so he went home an hour early to relax and wait for Monica. He was quite pleased with himself. As much as they both liked Jennifer, she needed more time and attention than they were able to give. He wanted more time to devote to his relationship with Monica. If Jennifer and Jason's relationship flourished, they would make an excellent pair of kinky couple-friends to go out with or stay in with. When Monica arrived at home, carrying two large bags of groceries, he explained his plan for Jason and Jennifer. She thought it sounded promising enough to contact Jennifer, so they wrote her an email which included Cole's glowing description of Jason and his dominant talents. They sent it to Jennifer and logged off to pursue their usual evening activities, dinner and sex. Monica went to the kitchen and prepared an elaborate Mexican dinner that filled the house with the wonderful spicy smells of cumin and cilantro. Later, in bed, Monica struggled to let her submissiveness return, but again she failed. Instead of having sex, they lay together in bed and snuggled quietly until she fell asleep. Cole played with her beautiful brown hair and ran his hand along her warm curves until sleep overcame him too. Jennifer and Jason warmed up to each other immediately. They traded D/S fantasy stories and talked about their ideal relationship in a veritable flood of email. Within a week they knew they had to meet. Monica was getting frequent updates from Jennifer and Cole was kept informed by Jason. It was Monica's idea for the two potential lovers to meet for the first time at the New Year's Eve party. Fortunately, Jason had purchased a pair of tickets when they first went on sale, so he had an extra one for Jennifer. Cole and Monica concocted a plan to present Jennifer to her new friend in the most dramatic way. Jennifer would attend the party as their submissive. At the height of the party, she would be handed over to Jason who would no doubt be in his most dominant headspace. They decided to keep a few small details from Jennifer to heighten the dramatic effect. Hearing of the plan from Monica, Jennifer responded, "Oh, man. That's so hot! You got the idea from that fantasy I told you about last year, didn't you?" "Mmm... maybe," Monica grinned slyly, "You'll do it then?" "You knew I would, Monica. How could I resist?" she asked emphatically. On New Year's Eve, Cole and Monica picked up Jennifer at her place and drove through the dark Seattle streets to the site of the party. Cole was dressed in a black tuxedo with black tie that he traditionally wore on New Year's Eve. Somehow, it seemed quite appropriate at play parties. Monica was wearing a black leather jacket over a black corset, black stockings and four inch black heels. Cole's silver police handcuffs dangled at her waist. She was sending an obvious message that she was dominant, at least tonight. Jennifer was wearing a long black trench coat which concealed the fact that beneath it, she was wearing only her sexiest lingerie, a leather collar and a pair of bright red pumps with three inch heels. The party was held in a building that was owned by a Swinger's club and rented to an SM group for large play parties. Entering the reception area, they showed their tickets and signed a waiver which indicated their understanding of the safety rules. A woman wearing a red sash was introduced as one of the dungeon monitors who made sure that all participants obeyed the rules. Just inside the inner door, Cole snapped a leash onto Jennifer's collar and led her into the party area with Monica following. They had chosen to arrive after nine o'clock, so the building was already crowded with people in various stages of undress. Some were already playing and some were talking intently with each other, apparently negotiating a scene to come. It was usually easy to tell who was the Top and who was the bottom by how they dressed, but in some cases there was no way to tell. There were three large rooms with various types of nightclub decor. One room had pool tables that had been covered with plywood sheets to create bondage tables and another room offered an open dance floor that was used for free standing bondage furniture or suspension from the high ceiling. Since Cole had been to several parties here before, he showed them around, guiding the collared and leashed Jennifer in a dominant manner. She wasn't saying much, just looking around curiously and Cole could tell she was already in a mild subspace. Monica felt slightly ill at ease seeing Cole in control of Jennifer. However, she knew it had been her own choice to decline his offer to play as a couple and attend dressed as a dominant. Several people waved at him and came over to introduce themselves to the two women who were unknown to most of the kinky folk. Jennifer, who had been forbidden to speak, was introduced simply as "Number Fourteen". Monica was amazed at how many people seemed to know Howard. Some of the women spoke fondly of times past when he had played with them. The former playmates, who were generally quite attractive, seemed just a bit intimidated by the two ladies who accompanied him tonight. Observing the crowd, Monica realized that she and Jennifer were attracting a lot of attention. People were sizing them up, wondering what sort of performance they might be planning and trying to decide if it would be worth changing their plans to watch it. She was also aware of a special kind of social energy that seemed to pervade the group. It was a feeling of acceptance and approval of each person's unique sexuality. Here, in this place, they could be themselves and enjoy their sexual fantasies that were not acceptable in society as a whole. She felt herself relax and join with the group as she reached out to hold Cole's arm. Speaking up over the sound of some odd electronic music, he explained some scenes that were already in full swing. On a plywood sheet atop a pool table, a naked, dark haired woman was bound in a spread eagle position. Her Top was a muscular shirtless man clad in work boots and blue jeans, wearing a welder's leather cap and dark protective goggles. In his hand was a device that Cole described as a Violet Wand, which produced a dramatic purple light inside a six inch glass tube that was bent in a right angle like an arc welding gun. The man moved the bright buzzing rod close to his partner's body. From the end of the glass tube a bright electrical discharge jumped the short gap to the woman's left hip bone. She reacted with a happy writhing and moaning and her Top proceeded to apply the delicious torment to various areas of her attractive body, gradually working his way closer to her genitals. Cole explained the principles. "The Violet Wand produces only harmless static electricity. It's completely safe as long as you keep it moving to avoid overheating a single spot on the skin. It was invented originally as a magic cure-all device for sale by medical charlatans. Some people love it as an SM toy. It creates a mildly painful tingling sensation." Looking around the room, Cole pointed out several men and a few women who seemed to be acting simply as voyeurs. They usually weren't dressed as provocatively as the players and most had no partner. Monica asked, "Why are they allowed to attend a play party if they don't intend to play?" "That's easy", he said. "Many, if not most, of the players here tonight are exhibitionists. In order for them to have a good time, someone has to be watching. Since the players are often busy with their own scenes, there could be a problem finding someone to watch. Therefore, it's helpful to have some people who are dedicated watchers." It was a perfect symbiosis and she appreciated the elegance of the solution immediately. As they moved from room to room, Monica found the number and variety of kinky scenes fascinating. There was a naked man on his knees, tied to a wrought iron stair railing, being flogged by his mistress who was dressed in a dramatic red leather jumpsuit. In another area, a group of women were carving elaborate designs into each other's skin under reasonably sterile surgical conditions. Next she noticed another bound man in a woodland camouflage uniform who was blindfolded with what looked like a green military scarf. He had his very large cock hanging out through the open fly of his pants. His male Top had tied him with his back to a structural support post and placed a clear plastic cylinder with a thin rubber end cap around his erect organ. The Top was industriously pumping out the air from the cylinder with a small hand pump, which was causing the bound man's shaft to expand into the vacuum. The victim was obviously in some emotional distress. He had been told that his penis would explode if the vacuum was made too strong. Monica could not hear what they were saying, but it appeared to be an interrogation scene. After several minutes of pumping and verbal threats, the Top suddenly punctured the rubber disk in the end of the tube, which produced a loud bang and a shock to the suffering bottom's quivering shaft. Monica was startled by his blood curdling scream, but was relieved to see that his beautiful long cock was undamaged. The crowd that had gathered around the scene broke into applause and the Top untied his happy bottom. Moving into another room they watched for a while as an attractive blonde woman was strapped to what looked like an electric chair. Her male partner hooked evil looking electrical devices to her breasts and genitals as if she were going to be executed. Again Cole had to explain that the devices were quite safe. The voltage and frequency of the electrical impulses had been carefully selected for safety. The degree of stimulation could be varied from a mild buzz to a moderately painful shock. At the moment of her mock execution, the woman appeared to have an intense orgasm which suitably impressed the spectators. Amidst the dramatic scenes, Monica noticed a heterosexual couple that seemed a bit familiar. They didn't quite fit in with the other SM players, she thought. Instead of trying to impress the other partygoers, they appeared to be completely wrapped up in each other. The dominant male was dressed in black leather and the very slim woman was wearing what could only be called a slave girl costume. Although they were not engaged in any flamboyant activities at the moment, there was something special about the way they acted with each other. It was visible in their body language. Monica moved closer to the couple until she suddenly realized that she had seen them before. Their names were Michael and dina. They were the couple who had hosted the only other play party that Monica had ever attended. Her curiosity satisfied for the moment, she turned around to find Cole and Jennifer in the crowd. Monica followed as Cole led the leashed Jennifer into the room with the large dance floor. It strongly resembled a seventies disco, with a rotating mirrored ball, mirrors along one wall and a booth for a disk jockey. The ceilings must have been over twelve feet high, Monica guessed. Cole had picked out a spot where he wanted to stage the planned scene where Jennifer and Jason were to see each other for the first time. Unfortunately that end of the large room had been completely occupied by a large, bulky fellow who had rigged an elaborate system of climbing ropes to suspend his charming red haired girlfriend. Cole did not know the man personally, but had been told that he was an ego-dom from Portland who tended to monopolize the play space and alienate the other players. They waited while the man whipped his slightly built partner into a screaming frenzy, then released her with lots of hugs and giggling. When the ropes had been moved, Cole slid a large, sturdy table into one corner of the room and asked Monica and Jennifer to wait there while he went to talk to some friends. The plan was for Jennifer to be sold as a slave to the highest bidder. Cole gave several of his friends chocolate coins covered in gold foil, but made sure to reserve enough for Jason to outbid all the other buyers. Jennifer was the only one who did not know that the bidding was rigged. He met Jason in another room and gave him a brown suede bag filled with the shiny chocolate coins. Jason, who had never actually seen Jennifer, was wearing his full leathers, including boots and a small whip hanging from his belt. His leather jacket was unzipped to show off his flat stomach and his muscular chest covered with an even layer of sexy gray hair. He waited while Cole returned to the room where the women were waiting. Under Cole's direction, Jennifer pulled her arms inside the trench coat and held them out to allow Monica to place small leather cuffs on her tiny wrists. Both women climbed up onto the table and Monica reached up for a thin cord that went through an eye bolt in a beam along the high ceiling. On the end of the cord was a small snap link, which she used to secure the wrist cuffs together. Then she buttoned the trench coat, skipping one button at waist level to leave an opening for Jennifer's hands. Standing on the table with Monica behind her, Jennifer was in a truly altered state of mind. The thought of being sold to the highest bidder was making her feel incredibly submissive and terribly horny. She was already getting wet and she was glad her black high cut panties would not show a wet spot. There seemed to be a real possibility that she might faint or that she might have an orgasm in front of the crowd that was now starting to gather in the large room. The cord attached to her leather wrist cuffs prevented her from lowering her hands below waist level. She appreciated that now, since it prevented her from giving in to a strong urge to touch herself. The sleeves of the trench coat hung limp at her sides, making the garment resemble a gray cape. Jennifer noticed Cole return from his mysterious errand, making his way through a crowd of curious onlookers that now numbered at least forty people. There were only one or two familiar faces that she recognized from meetings of the BDSM club. The rest were total strangers and she would soon be exposed before them. She had agreed to be sold to the highest bidder in an auction for a local AIDs charity, but she still did not understand how Cole could be certain that the successful buyer would be her email friend, Jason. She wished now that she had asked Cole and Monica for more specific details. Unfortunately, there was no way she could back out now without great loss of face. Even if she could find a graceful way to escape, her submissive mind set at this moment would not permit it. Cole stood in front of the table and faced the crowd. "Ladies, Gentlemen and Others, as you may have heard, we are conducting a slave auction tonight. Payment will only be accepted in the form of gold coins, so those of you who are not carrying any gold this evening will not be allowed to bid." He motioned toward the two women on the table, "May I present my lovely assistant Mistress Monica?" Monica simply nodded her head in a serious manner and began running her hands along Jennifer's shiny black hair. This displayed the beautiful hair to the crowd while simultaneously having a calming effect on the nervous Jennifer. "And of course, our lovely offering, who is known simply as Number Fourteen. Since her capture three months ago, she has been partially trained by experts in the field. She will not be permitted to speak during the auction. Whoever buys her will have a very lovely slave for as long as they wish to keep her." A few people standing in the rear chanted briefly, "Fourteen, Fourteen, Fourteen." "Who would like to start the bidding?" A mild mannered gentleman with a large belly and gray beard shouted, "I bid one gold coin!", he held up one of the gilded chocolate coins. "Thank you, Tom," said Cole, pointing his finger at Jennifer. Monica saw the hand signal from Cole and unfastened the lowest button on Jennifer's black trench coat. In the front row of the crowd, muscular woman with a crew cut, wearing a tuxedo held up her hand and announced, "I bid two gold coins!" Monica unfastened the next button. The three remaining buttons surrendered one by one as the bids climbed higher. Then a slim woman with waist length black hair, wearing a mesh body suit called out, "I'll bid six gold coins if we can see what she looks like under that coat." Jennifer closed her eyes and shivered in anticipation for a few seconds before Monica finally pulled away the long coat with a matador's flourish. Cole had moved over to the wall, where he held in his hand the heavy cord that led up to the eyebolt in the ceiling. Pulling on the cord caused Jennifer's hands to be hoisted up above her head, nicely displaying her petite body clad only in red shoes, black bra and panties. Below her deeply defined ribs, on her concave, light brown stomach, in black letters three inches tall, was the inscription "14". The crowd seemed nearly out of control as some applauded, some whistled and others began fondling themselves or their partners. Jennifer opened her eyes and searched the crowd desperately for anyone who met the description of Jason. Things did not seem to be going quite the way she had imagined. They are taking this a bit too seriously, she thought. The rough animal energy of the crowd added to her own nervous exhilaration. When the bid reached eight gold coins, Monica started snipping Jennifer's bra straps with a large pair of scissors. At ten, the bra was pulled away to reveal her delicate little breasts with nipples already hard from the almost unbearable excitement. The crowd quieted a bit as a man stepped forward. He simply looked at Jennifer and said nothing. She realized that the handsome face, long silver hair and black leather outfit could only belong to Jason. She found him so attractive that she immediately felt a strong heat inside her slender body. There was a rush of weakness and she had to let the wrists cuffs take part of her weight for a moment. Monica chose that instant to begin planting several firm slaps on Jennifer's shapely buttocks, which were almost completely exposed by her high cut panties. The sharp cracks of hard palm meeting firm ass startled the crowd and they were briefly quiet. Cole looked over the crowd and said, "I think it would be worth eleven gold coins just to see what Number Fourteen looks like without those sexy black panties, don't you?" Jennifer stared directly at Jason and stood up as straight as she could while thrusting out her breasts and cocking her hips at a sexy angle. She was worried by his lack of bidding and thought that perhaps something had gone wrong. If the bidding went no higher, she would go to the last bidder, who was the muscular woman with short hair. Jennifer felt a rush of hope when she noticed that the woman had unwrapped one of her gold coins and was eating the chocolate. She must not be a serious bidder after all. In fact, the coins weren't even real! Howard must have arranged this whole thing, she thought. Jason looked at Cole and said in an actor's stage voice, "I have fifteen gold coins. Expose the wench completely and I'll consider raising the bid to fifteen." The audience was totally silent. Monica put her hands on Jennifer's hips from behind and slipped her fingers inside the waistband of the black panties. She slowly slid them down about two inches over Jennifer's rounded hips, then suddenly jerked them down all the way to Jennifer's ankles, revealing her nicely regrown pubic triangle. The crowd erupted in shouts and whistles, then calmed down after a minute to allow Jason to speak. "I bid fifteen gold coins!" Since Cole had handed out the coins, he knew that nobody could outbid Jason and he shouted, "Sold, for fifteen gold coins, to the gentleman in leather. Please step forward and claim your property, Sir." Monica unfastened Jennifer's wrists and helped her off the table where Jason took her in his arms. He pulled her head back by gripping her long black hair so that she was looking up at him and kissed her on the lips. Some form of non-verbal communication passed between them and they walked together out of the room to find some privacy. Handfuls of gold coins were tossed in the air and the crowd dissolved in a chocolate eating frenzy, leaving Cole and Monica sitting on chairs together at the edge of the nearly empty room. Cole was obviously quite happy about how things had worked out, but Monica seemed lost in serious thought. Seeing Jennifer and several other party guests enjoying their submissiveness reminded her that there was an aching gap in her life. Dressing up as a dominant had been fun, but she knew that her real joy and fulfillment came from submission. She looked up after a few minutes to see a familiar couple enter the large room. It was Michael and dina. They laid out their kinky toys next to a cage of vertical steel bars that was just big enough for one person to stand in. Monica was certain that it was the same cage she had been locked into at the earlier party. The memory of her intense submission caused a strange feeling to develop within her. Monica could see that the petite woman, dina, was dressed in a skimpy slave costume. It was apparently supposed to look like rags, but was actually put together with rather expensive red, black and gold silk scarves. Monica could hear the woman addressing her partner as "Master". Something about the couple caused Monica to stay and watch when Cole excused himself to find the refreshments. She moved a bit closer to them and observed the play. Michael placed his subby partner in the cage and began poking her with various implements. The cage was pressed so tightly against her that she couldn't move, especially after her master slid padded rods through the bars to immobilize her limbs. He pulled away the costume, leaving her naked and revealing a tattoo across the top of her buttocks that read "SLAVE". The slave girl could be heard saying "Please, Master!" and "I promise to be good Master!" Michael tortured and teased dina for a long time, which was not at all unusual at a BDSM play party. What Monica noticed however, was the loving energy that passed between the couple. She could tell that he would never hurt his little slavegirl. Well, Monica thought with a happy grin, not unless she needed it. As Monica continued to watch, she started smiling and a feeling of elation crept over her along with a sudden attack of goose bumps when the hair on her arms and neck tried to stand up. She realized what was happening just as Cole returned and sat down next to her. "You look like you just saw a ghost. Here, have one of Margaret's truffles." He handed her a round topped lump of chocolate about an inch and a half in diameter. She bit through the thick chocolate coating into the rich bittersweet center that tasted distinctly of Grand Marnier. The delicious intensity of the taste was a surprise and she felt like she was being rewarded for the decision she had just made. "Master, I need to tell you something," she said in a low, sexy voice. Cole's attention was immediate. He knew what that voice meant. "What's on your mind, dear heart?" She held his arm with a strong grip, "I think I'm subby again, Sir. In fact I'm sure of it. When can we go home?" "Well, I just checked on Jason and Jennifer. He's taking her home tonight," he paused, "Let's leave right now." CHAPTER NINETEEN Monica clung to Cole's arm as they drove home. Once in the bedroom, they undressed quickly, leaving their party clothes in heaps on the carpeted floor. They slid under the warm covers and held each other for a while to replace the winter chill with sensual body heat. Cole was planting delicate kisses down her lovely spine, when she decided it was time to speak up. "Master, I know what I need now." "I think I do too, Little One. Are you thinking the same thing I am?" "Yes, Sir. I desperately need to be spanked and fucked in the ass." Simply saying the words gave her a powerful erotic thrill. "That's almost exactly what I had in mind. There's just one other thing you need -- an enema." "Master, I've never had one of those before," she whined in a little girl voice. He responded in his deep, dominant tone, "Well, you've never been fucked in the ass before, have you? There's a first time for everything. Come with me into the bathroom." Cole placed a thick towel on the floor of the bathtub. Monica was now naked and he ordered her to kneel on the towel, then bend over with her bottom held high. She held that position for what seemed like hours while he pulled various items from the cabinets and assembled an enema apparatus. Looking over toward the sink, she watched as he added a bit of mild soap to enhance the cleansing effect. She was trembling and breathing in fast, shallow little breaths as he approached her with the swollen red rubber bag. She seemed to be frozen in the undignified position, on all fours with her ass in the air for her Master to control. "Spread those gorgeous legs for me, slut girl. You know you need this." He placed a small dollop of cool lubricant gel on the pretty rosebud of her anus and slowly worked it in with one finger. When her opening had relaxed enough to easily admit the finger, her reached for the white enema nozzle on the end of the long rubber tube. The nozzle slid smoothly inside her to the full extent of its four inch length. He held the bag above her beautiful hips and released the valve on the rubber tube. Monica groaned as she experienced the strange sensation of being filled with warm water. After she had taken a bit over a quart of liquid, he shut the valve and slowly removed the nozzle. "Hold your water now, Little One. Let me know if you have a problem." She held her position for another five minutes, clenching her bottom cheeks frantically before the urge to expel the water became unbearable. "Master, I have to go NOW!" He allowed her to sit on the toilet, but she was quite humiliated when he simply stood there and watched. For a moment she wasn't sure if she would be able to release the mounting pressure, but eventually nature took its course with a loud, embarrassing noise. She was even more humiliated when he ordered her back into the bathtub for a second enema. This time, while she crouched on all fours with her belly full of warm water, he fondled her breasts and clit until she begged for his permission to leap onto the toilet. Leaving her to sit there for a minute, he turned on the shower and stepped into the tub. She joined him soon and he supervised her soaping and rinsing until he was satisfied that she was as clean as a princess. Then he ordered her to kneel and wash his hardening phallus. After a thorough rinse, she tested her ability to take him deep into her throat, thinking all the while of the special place that the rigid organ would be invading soon. Monica stepped out of the tub first to towel her thoroughly dampened long hair and twist it into a compact shape that would not interfere with her duties. When her master stepped out of the shower to join her, she had his large towel ready. Moving to the large bed, she was placed face down while he secured her wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed frame using ropes with soft leather cuffs for safety. By the time he finished stroking her smoothly shaved genitals, she was pulling hard at the bonds that held her captive. He massaged her back and the large muscles in her buttocks for several minutes, then returned to her quivering nether lips and inserted two fingers inside her slippery wet vagina. When he sensed her orgasm building, he withdrew the tantalizing fingers and began to spank her firmly muscled buttocks. It certainly wasn't the hardest spanking he'd ever given her, but it might have been the most sensual. He spanked in a slow rhythm, making sure to cover her every square inch of spankable surface. There was just enough light in the room for him to watch the progress of the light red blush across her soft, warm skin. She could have taken a lot more, but he decided it was time to move on. Straddling her glowing hips, he reached forward to massage her back. His erect organ slid back and forth in the crevice of her perfect ass and seemed to soak up the heat from the spanking. He wanted her to be relaxed, so he pressed his fingers into the strong muscles above her shoulder blades and worked out the tension. As he ran his fingers along the muscles he could feel a slight crackling sensation that told him she had been lifting weights. When she was completely limp and pliable, he turned his attention to her sensitive anal bud. Using a large quantity of the jelly-like lubricant, he gradually worked first one finger, then two into her tight rear orifice. The spanking and massage had paid off nicely. Her sphincter was relaxing easily and Monica was feeling more submissive than she could ever remember. Giving up control of her most private and delicate opening created a tangible aura of submission of such great depth that she knew she would do anything for her beloved master. "Relax now, Little One," he said as he stroked his rampant manhood with more of the slippery gel. "It will probably hurt some at first, but I want you to relax and keep breathing. Do you understand?" "Yes, Master. I'm so desperate to please you now. I'm ready for you to take my virginity," she pleaded. "I feel guilty for receiving so much pleasure without giving!" Positioning himself between her widespread legs, he placed his well lubricated shaft at her inexperienced entrance. Pushing gently, he felt the head of his cock slip rather easily past her sphincter. "How are you doing Little One?" "I'm fine, Master. It hurts, but it feels good too. I can't describe it. Please use me, Master!" With that, he began thrusting slowly inside the clean, lubricated passage. He knew that some women enjoyed having their G-spot stimulated through the rectum, so he made sure the large head of his organ pressed firmly against the likely pleasure area. As he felt the warmth and pressure inside her, he could also feel the special emotional satisfaction that he got from dominating a worthy partner. The strong muscles in Monica's arms and legs began to contract involuntarily as she strained against the leather cuffs. Cole could feel an orgasm building up in his tight testicles. The slight burning sensation was working its way up the urethra inside his rock hard cock. He wanted to hold back a little longer, but Monica suddenly started screaming and bucking as her own orgasm began. The contractions of her sphincter seemed to suck his organ deeper into her body just as the pre-orgasmic sensation reached the end of his shaft. Cole's world exploded in a blinding flash of light and uncontrollable thrusting of his hips. The relentless stimulation combined with his dominant mind set caused the orgasm to go on forever. When he opened his eyes, he was still on top of his beloved Monica and they were still joined by his slowly softening penis. He slid out of her and reached for the towel. Monica seemed to be sleeping, so he released her from the restraints and rolled her into a side by side cuddling position. He gently stroked her smooth skin and rearranged the beautiful profusion of wavy brown hair. He noted that she was breathing deeply before he fell asleep beside her.

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