Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Prologue: A Sincere Petition Catherine woke feeling weary. Her mouth was flooded with the stale taste of dinner from the night before even as the bulk of it rumbled low in her midsection. She slithered reluctantly out of bed and lumbered into the bathroom. On the other side of the mirror over her sink she could see a pale, disheveled ghost make a run for its own toilet. She wondered how long the ghost could go on eating General Tso's Chicken and hot curries before its thirty-year-old ghost stomach finally gave out. She wondered how many more nights the ghost could sleep alone and not go crazy. Catherine pitied the ghost. Even her morning shower didn't do much to revive her spirits. She had the day off from the clinic and there was nothing to do. She dragged herself, still dripping, into the library and turned on her computer for the first time in a month. She had at least a hundred messages, that the online service had saved anyway. The filters caught most the Spam, but she still had to dump a few that had gotten through. That left 111 E-mails. She read though a few applications and stories by wannabees before getting too depressed. Any message with a subject header that was a jumble of acronyms - SWM ISO GS & CBT - she dumped. Ten messages left. There were four from Dommes she knew online who were concerned about her or just wondered what she'd been up to. She held off on deleting those in case she felt more human later in the day. The last five were applications by men at least smart enough to put together whole words. One caught her eye, and stirred mixed emotions: "a sincere petition." She liked the word "petition", but hated the "sincere" part. In her experience if it said it was sincere, it usually wasn't. She saved it for last. She read the other four. Three were the usual tripe: I'm looking for - I want this. One at least was promising and came with a GIF of the sender in the nude; a rather fetching dark-haired young man, with an impressively sized penis. His words were very smooth, very flattering. Just her type. She had begun seriously considering the boy when she finally got around to reading the last message. The E-mail read: To: P.t.altaic@******.com From: MikeR0172@******.com Subject: a sincere petition, humblest of greetings, oh Beautiful Mistress Catherine. Please forgive my arrogance in contacting you so brazenly, but i have long been an admirer of your many postings and stories and could keep my silence no longer. my name is Michael R-. i am twenty-five years old and a virgin. i have always been powerfully drawn to Women of strength and intelligence, Women like You. i have been submissive to such Women - to all Women, really - my entire life, always putting their needs ahead of my own. Now i wish to take the next step. i wish to become a slave. Specifically, i wish to become Your slave. What can i offer You to grant such a boon? It is easy for me to write words like faithfulness and obedience; to pledge to obey Your every command and indulge Your every whim, but my words are no less true for the ease with which they come. As for any talents i may possess, i regret there is only one of note: i have some faculty with drawing in pen and ink. i would be happy to send You samples of my work; and even if You do not choose to accept me as Your slave, i would always be willing to accept commissions from You for no charge. For myself, i ask only for the opportunity to learn and to serve at Your feet. It is not that i have no specific desires of my own, i do, but my strongest desire is merely to please You in any way that i can, no matter how trivial or mundane. Should any of my other needs be met in the process, then i shall consider myself thrice blessed. There is one thing You should know: i am not a masochist. As i stated, i have read Your many wonderful writings and am fully aware that You are a sadist, first and foremost. Such a pairing may not be preferable to You, yet, again i say that my chief desire is to serve and to learn. i am prepared to endure whatever hardships may incur from such servitude, taking comfort in the knowledge that my discomfort brings You pleasure. i have never been more serious about a thing in my entire life. i am deeply appreciative for whatever consideration You have given me thus far, and for whatever thought You may yet give. i await whatever reply You see fit to send, with baited breath and bent knee. i am, and shall remain, humbly Yours, Michael R- Catherine sat back after finishing the message. She read it again. She wished she'd made coffee first; she always thought better with coffee. Finally, she leaned back in to the keyboard and began to type. Dear Michael... Chapter One: Michael's Number Thursday Night. I must have jumped off the sofa a hundred times before midnight finally came. With each sound out in the hall I leapt into position: face flushed, hands trembling. Of course, I knew rationally that she was the sort that when she said midnight, she meant midnight. Not that I harbored any illusions that our clocks would be in perfect sync, mind you; just that it was unlikely they'd be an hour to an hour and a half off. It didn't help that I was bouncing around the apartment naked. It made me feel just the way it was supposed to: embarrassed, vulnerable, and incredibly nervous. Still, the discomfort I felt from that was child's play compared to not being logged on to my computer. It was the first thing I did after getting home from the gym at night; and I'd sometimes stay up till well past four, hoping to catch a glimpse of the screen name that had ruled my world for the past two months. Sometimes she logged in, and sometimes she left me dangling. But after midnight, I'd no longer be able to hide behind my machine again. By 12 A.M. my pulse was racing like a jackrabbit. Exactly one minute and thirty-five seconds later, it stopped altogether as I head the click of a key at my door. I'd mailed it to a P.O. box she used for snail mail three weeks ago when we'd finalized the details of this night. My interview. My audition. I barked my shin against the coffee table by leaping into position: feet spread wide, shoulders back, sweaty-palmed hands clenched together at the small of my back, and my eyes shut tight. I wasn't unaware of the risk I was opening myself up to. I knew her only from her words on a computer screen, and it could be anybody behind that door about to see me exposed and relatively helpless. Some snarky teen-aged boy could quickly snap a Polaroid and take off running, bragging at leisure to his buddies about how he'd pulled one over on a "freak." But I'd thoroughly, maybe obsessively, researched everything she'd posted on the net - every story and rambling discourse about sexuality - and as she'd said herself as she laid out the terms of our meeting, "You have to jump in the water if you want to learn how to swim." The door opened and cold night air washed over me. A chill ran down my spine, distinct and separate from the nervous shakes that had been wracking me since 10:30; and my nipples and cock, already hardened by anticipation, began to throb. I prayed fervently that none of my neighbors had taken their dogs out for a late night walk and were just getting in. She entered and closed the door behind her. I was disappointed somewhat by the sounds she made - or rather didn't make - as she moved. I'd expected the creak of leather or rubber, or at least the click of heels on the floor. The latter being a bit much, I admit, since my apartment had carpeting. Instead she moved quickly and quietly. The only way to mark her passage being the whisper of what I pegged to be jeans and the subtly shifting air as it wafted across my trembling, alert body. With that air came the scent of herbal shampoo underscored with a touch of Chanel and a hint of lilacs. "Good evening Michael," she said in a soft, silky voice that certainly did not disappoint. "Good evening, Mistress." "I'm not your mistress yet, Michael." That shook me. I had always addressed each E-mail to "The Beautiful Mistress Catherine" without any complaint from her. Then again, it suddenly occurred to me that there was a world of difference between someone who was a mistress and someone who was your mistress. "Then what should I, uh..." "You may refer to me as 'Your Ladyship' for now." "Yes, of course, My Ladyship." "Not 'My Ladyship,' Michael, 'Your Ladyship.' You might become my slave, but I will never be anything that belongs to you. Do you understand?" Damn! Damn! Damn! After all that dreaming and planning and waiting and I was already screwing myself over! My face felt so hot I pictured it lighting up the room with a pulsating red glow. "Of course, your Ladyship! Please forgive me, your Ladyship!" By the sound of her voice, she was halfway to me by now. She didn't say anything or make a sound for a minute, leaving me to twitch and writhe from the suspense. Finally, she broke the silence by saying, "Well, you certainly weren't being modest, were you?" The subject of her remark started to droop morosely, while the pit of my stomach sank. A shooting pain began to build behind my eyes and at my temples, putting the fear in me that I might very well stroke out under the pressure. She closed the rest of the distance between us and, with a soft rustling of fabric on fabric, sat on the sofa. She must have been sitting at the edge, as I could feel her breath as she exhaled. It blew across the aching skin of my cock, like a warm and gentle caress. Immediately the blood rushed back, swelling it back up again to painful fullness. She made a rueful tch-tch sound and said, "Modest and with a mind of its own. My, my." My hands, still behind me, now clenched into fists; my teeth ground together. I'd spent every free minute I had at the gym; from the instant I worked up the courage to contact her openly, up through the last, frantic three-week period where I'd nearly worked myself to death just to get my body into shape for this tete-a-tete. For her. And now the whole thing was falling apart over the one fucking thing I couldn't change. Fuck her! I didn't need this shit. I wanted to snap my eyes open and take a good long look at HER. Just how pretty was she, anyway? How big were her tits? How long were her legs? Before I could resolve to do anything, she broke into laughter. "Oh, Michael, relax," she purred, drawing out the "X" sound into one long sibilant draft across my cock. "It's not as if you were ever going to stick it into my body. Not my pussy..." She lingered on the "S" again. "Certainly not my mouth." She was close enough to me now that the slightest twitch from me would have belied that statement. Upon finalizing the date of our first meeting, she'd ordered me to abstain from masturbating completely, and in the state I was in after three weeks of denial, any contact would have provoked an accident of Biblical proportions. "Not even up my ass. I'm afraid the only use I'd ever have for it would be to use it to hurt you, Michael. And I'd certainly never let you stick in someone else." She paused. "Unless..." She stood up, pressing her unbearably warm body against my side. I could feel her breasts pushing against my arm through the sheer cotton of her shirt. She ran one hand across my midriff, gently stroking my hair with the other. "Tell me Michael, have you ever thought about having sex with another man?" My gut twisted violently. I'd never considered myself homophobic, and I'd had gay friends throughout high school and college. But I viewed the act itself as something akin to eating snails or jumping out of an airplane: it was fine if you enjoyed it, but it made me queasy. "Not even a little Bi? A special friend in college?" All I could do was shake my head "no." Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her lips as close to my ear as they had been to my prick. "Well, then we'll have to find you a nice, pretty one. A sweet soft sissy that'll help ease you into it. And when you're a little loosened up, we'll find a big, hung stud to break you in back here!" she hissed, swatting my ass, making me jump. The hand on my abdomen clenched, driving her nails into my skin. Her other hand swung back up and clutched a fistful of hair. "And you'll do it, too." She released me violently, striding away across the room. "Because while we'll play our share of games, your servitude to me is not among them. There's only one punishment, and that's you being kicked out on your ass. Understand that when I hurt you, it's because I get off on watching you being hurt. Not because you were 'naughty.'" She hadn't drawn blood, but the wounded flesh still burned with astonishing intensity. "Speaking of which," she said with a low, sexy chuckle, "time to see if you've been a good boy for me so far." I heard the rip of a zipper - her purse I guessed - and then she moved back in front of me. "Hold out your hands," she ordered matter-of-factly. "Like you would be playing 'One Potato, Two Potato'." "Yes, your Ladyship." My hands came out from behind my back. "If I remember correctly," she said, "you are a southpaw..." She stopped, breaking into a giggle as she perceived some sort of pun in that. "Yes, your Ladyship." She opened my right hand and pressed something cold and hard and cylindrical into it. At first I thought it was just a cup, but there was the faint sensation of painted lines along the outside. She'd handed me a beaker. She started to move my hands and arms around the same way I had once twisted and bent my old GI Joes into various "action poses." She opened op my left hand and lowered it to my hip. Without actually touching my penis herself, she closed my fist again, over the root of my cock. At the same time, she moved my right hand into position so that the beaker was poised at the tip of my cock, ready to catch whatever was about to issue forth. "I don't know exactly how much you should have," she said, tickling my balls with the tips of her nails; causing my back to twitch and my heels to briefly rise up off the floor, "but clearly, Michael, it should be quite a bit." She moved away from me and sat back down on the couch. "Well?" she asked, snapping her fingers. "GO!" For the first time in three weeks, I began to jerk off; for the first time in my life with somebody watching! Not just watching; I could sense her observing me, studying me as my hand slid rapidly up and down the length on my circumcised organ. It was creepy, yet exciting as all get-out. I was embarrassed, not just by the whole situation, but also that there wasn't something... more... to what I was doing: just jerking back and forth. I was already running hot, and it only took a minute for my cock to fill up with another sort of heat. I came with an almost mellow grunt, and shot copious amounts of fluid into the beaker. I continued to pump myself, allowing spurt after spurt to add to what I hoped was enough semen to satisfy her. After the last, modest squirt, she suggested I run my index finger along my urethra to milk every last drop I could. I thanked her, and did just that. I heard her rise up again and she took the warm beaker from my shaking hand. She made thoughtful, humming noises as she examined it. "That looks like enough," she said, suddenly grabbing my hair and yanking it backwards. "Back it goes!" The rim of the beaker banged against my teeth as she dumped its repulsive contents into my mouth. It filled my mouth and didn't so much have a taste as a feel - it felt slimy and horrible! I had to either swallow, spit up all over myself or choke. I swallowed my seed in one disgusted gulp. She let go of my hair and pulled the beaker away. I heard strange, squeaking noises even as the insidiously salty aftertaste began to slowly assail my tongue. "Still a few drops left." she said as the squeaking continued. "Open your mouth, Michael." For an instant, I considered rebelling, but I wanted this, I needed this, I'd dreamed of this - of her - for months. The salty taste in my mouth had snowballed to an unbearable intensity, yet, through the scrunched-up mask of revulsion I wore on my face, I opened my mouth. She stuck a scum-coated finger inside. "Clean it off." I sucked her finger clean. When she seemed satisfied that her skin was cleansed of all my issue, she withdrew the digit and strode over to my kitchen to wash out the beaker. Not knowing what to do, I merely placed my hands back behind me, and steeled myself for whatever came next. "You're having second thoughts, aren't you?" she asked upon returning, echoing my thoughts with uncanny precision. "You probably want to know what you get out of this. Well, the fact is I couldn't tell you, and what's more, I don't care." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was this the woman who'd written all those posts, espoused all that philosophy that I'd read with such care and devotion? "I get what I want, and if you don't get something from giving it to me, then you're wasting both our time. Didn't you say as much in your first letter to me?" I had, but still I had thought there'd be something more; something like... "You want to say something?" "What about love?" She skipped a beat, then broke into incredulous laughter. "Christ! You are a virgin to this, aren't you? What about it, Michael?" I considered my reply for a good long minute. "You wrote once about pony training. You thought that it was so popular as a fetish because the Domme-slave relationship was fundamentally similar to a horse and rider. One calling the shots, the other bearing the brunt of the effort, but both eventually learning to establish a rhythm, forming a bond, working together towards an ultimate goal." She didn't say anything for a while. I was convinced I'd totally shot my last chance. When at last she spoke, she startled me by the plain, unaffected quality of her voice. "You're pretty cheeky, using my own words like that to seduce me." She lapsed into another long silence. I was growing tired and sore from holding my stance so long. The muscles in my back were beginning to feel the strain, my calves were stinging, and even my penis began to flag again. "Those were old posts you dug up, Michael. Most of the Dommes I've met since then tend to view their subs as just another trapping of their fetish; as faceless and interchangeable as a whip or dildo or table. "I guess I expected that; but so damn many of the subs were that way to - worse even. They'd mouth off about worshipping you and the like, but deep down it's just lip service to get what they want. Hell, they don't even need us, they could do it to themselves if they weren't so gutless. All they need one of us for is to strap 'em down and give 'em a few whacks until they're ready to cry 'Safeword' and then it's run along home to jerk off in private." "I wouldn't..." I blurted, "I don't need a safeword." "Why," she asked, bemused. "Don't you have limits?" I didn't know how to answer. I wanted to say or do anything so desperately to impress her, yet I knew full well that if my mouth wrote checks my butt literally couldn't cash, we'd both end up bitterly disappointed. Luckily for me, she bailed me out. "Bullshit! Everyone has limits, Michael. That's where the real sensuality of it all lies. Exploring, searching, finding those limits out. A good Domme will know how to skirt the line, sometimes, maybe, even take a step or two over it. And a good sub trusts his Domme to know what she's doing, not cry 'Safeword' when his dirty little fantasies get all too real." She finished with a long, heavy sigh. An eternity passed before she said anything more. "All right, Michael. I was wrong earlier. I would like to know what you want out of this." For an instant, I was living that age-old nightmare: called upon in class to give an answer you weren't quite sure you knew. At least in my dreams I had on my jockeys to give me some modicum of dignity. As I tried to form some kind of coherent response in my mind I thought back to the analogy of the horse and rider. That, in turn led me to a notion that in my own mind summed it up nicely. My mouth was bone dry by this time, and my voice cracked and hurt my throat as I started. "I want a number, your Ladyship." I'm fairly certain she wasn't expecting that. It took her a moment to recover. "How do you mean?" I took a deep breath, and began. "When people buy a dog, a lot of the time they make a mistake and don't establish complete dominance over it right from the start. Puppies are cute. People love puppies and nobody wants to be 'mean' to one. "But just because they're smart and have personalities, doesn't mean they're little humans. They're animals with their own behavior patterns. When dogs meet they immediately establish a hierarchy. Each one has a ranking within the pack, a number. They define themselves as individuals by the role they occupy in the group. It lets them hunt efficiently, which is good for the pack, good for the survival of dogs as a whole. I'm not saying they understand all that, but they do get something from being a part of it. Comfort, strength, maybe. Joy. "By comparison, human behavior appears chaotic and insane. There are only two positions in our society: Number One and trying to be Number One; and people can't imagine anyone being satisfied with anything less. Let alone happy. "Of course, we see dogs as being subservient to us, but owners make mistakes in how they express it. They're inconsistent, inattentive or just don't understand. The dog gets away with jumping on the bed, but not the sofa. Some days they get to lead, others you yank the chain. A sock with a knot in it is a chew toy, a sock without one isn't. It's not that those people can't be kind and loving, but by inadvertently messing up the dog's sense of order, what they're really doing is negating the dog's very sense of self. He doesn't feel like part of the family, because there's nothing to be a part of - just one big, constantly churning mess. Without that sense of belonging, they feel isolated, confused - grow despondent over time. "That's how I feel around other people. I'm just so tired of trying to puzzle every fucking thing out. I want a number. I want to know my place and fulfill my role. And by knowing it, I hope, more than anything, to reach that 'Ultimate Goal' of yours." The end of my soliloquy was met with utter, terrifying silence. I felt drained, both mentally and in an all-too-literal sense, physically; like I'd been running a marathon instead of standing in place all this time. In spite of the dead calm, I didn't hear her move. I barely caught a strong whiff of herbs and Chanel before soft, sweet lips were pressed to mine in an all-too-brief kiss. The next sound I heard was the door to my apartment opening. "Tomorrow morning, Michael, you will receive an E-mail. It will contain an address. You are to go to that address immediately after you get off work in the evening. Do you understand?" "Yes, your Ladyship." "Oh, and... michael?" The way she said it: "michael." "Yes, your Ladyship?" "From now on you will address me solely as 'Mistress'." "Yes, Mistress." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun William Shakespeare Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Two: Steppin Out With My Baby Friday Afternoon It was about a ten minute walk from the strip mall where Mistress Catherine had ordered me to park my car, to the subdivision where She lived. i was dressed, as per Her explicit instructions, in my finest suit, which no longer looked good on me, considering all the weight i'd recently burned off at the gym. Between the warm Spring afternoon, the heavy wool of the suit, and my own wild sexual arousal, i was feeling awfully warm by the time i arrived at Her front porch. The house, located in one of the nicest neighborhoods in town, was situated midway down a steep hill. From the front approach it appeared to be a modest, two-story building, and my instructions were to go right up to the front door and proceed directly inside. i paused only long enough to admire the long front porch and the old-fashioned hanging bench, before entering into the Mistress' domain. The interior layout of the house was skewed so that the middle, "ground," floor was actually off to one side, stacking the upper story directly over the basement. Directly to my left was a small closet and next to that a table and mirror. To my right was a large, sunken living room, delineated from the "hall" by an iron railing. If i were to walk straight ahead, i'd eventually enter the kitchen, and just before that, again on my left, were two sets of stairs; one going up, one going down. i opened the hall closet and began to strip off my clothes as my morning E-mail from Mistress had specified. i hung my suit up next to a variety of plain, ordinary overcoats; and put my shoes - socks balled up in one, underwear in the other - down among Her winter boots and galoshes. What impressed me most about my surroundings, what i could see of them, was an incredible sense of austerity: bare, white walls, white carpet and very little in the way of furniture. The only decoration i could see anywhere was a print hanging in the living room, above a plain, off-white sofa. It was a Nagel, and depicted a woman either crawling or stretching languidly. She had no top on, but her arm was positioned so as to strategically cover her breasts; and she wore skintight pants with an tiger print. On the table next to the closet was a pink nylon dog collar with a bone-shaped plastic tag. The tag read "michael." i put it on. i was supposed to wait in the living room, so i went over to the break in the rail and stepped down into the room. The sofa was bracketed with two end tables and there were two easy chairs against opposite walls, and that was it. No television or stereo, and nothing on the walls except the Nagel. As i studied the picture, something soft and furry tickled my ankle, causing me to start. i looked down to see an orange-striped tabby peering back up at me. "Hi little fella," i said, squatting down to scratch it behind the ears. It began to purr. "She likes you." i nearly jumped again as Mistress' voice came from behind me. i started to stand. "No, wait," She ordered, "I like you this way." She walked past me and sat down on Her sofa, crossed Her legs, and dangled Her left foot in front of my face. It was the first time i had ever seen Her and i knew immediately that i was out of my league. But then, i suppose every slave believes their Mistress to be the most beautiful woman in the world. She had pale skin, hair the color of wine, and was dressed all in black to match Her dark eyes: black jeans, black tank top, and even the sides of Her sneakers, which looked well worn, were made of black canvass. She sat quietly for a moment or two, drinking in my awe of Her, before asking, "So, michael, what do you think of my home?" "It's, uh, it's not quite what i expected..." Storm clouds crossed Her features. "That's because it's the LIVING ROOM and not the dungeon, you stupid shit!" i swallowed hard and stared at the floor. "I should have known you wouldn't appreciate the honor I'm bestowing on you. Most my slaves enter only from the back door, directly into the dungeon. They're never allowed to see this part of the house!" "Please Mistress," i begged, "i am honored! i'm honored by everything you do for me!" "Then why, michael, have I been offering my foot for over a minute and yet it's still not clean?" i quickly stuck out my tongue and ran it across the sole of Her sneaker in a long, full stroke. Her shoes weren't especially filthy, but they weren't especially clean, either. The taste of the dirt that came off them wasn't nearly as bad as the way the individual granules scraped against my teeth. After the first few long sweeps across the whole shoe, i began to concentrate on the individual whorls and valleys formed by the tread. i tried to keep the residue on the back part of my tongue and away from my teeth, swallowing frequently. my mouth rapidly began to dry out; and the grit began to scratch up the back of my throat. At some point i must have gotten Her left sneaker clean enough as She re-crossed Her legs, forcing me to crawl around to the other side. She watched dispassionately for a few minutes as i went through the same routine, then pulled Her foot away from me. "All right michael," She said, " Enough. Get on your knees for Me." i awkwardly shifted my position, glad to be out of the crouch. Even so, there was still a tremendous strain on my thighs as i labored to keep my upper body straight. "Hands." For a moment i stared at Her blankly. Suddenly getting it, i quickly moved my hands to the small of my back, as i had the night before. She nodded and got up off the couch. "Stay," She commanded, touching the top of my head with the tip of Her finger. She walked away, and from the sound of it, proceeded to take the stairs leading down. i held my position, more than a little nervous. The cat brushed up against my leg, and i heard it "meow" inquisitively but i didn't even dare move my head to look at it. Straining my eyes, i could just make out the arch of its back and the long, lazy sweep of its tail. "Good kitty," i said, trying to sound friendly. Four tiny fishhooks raked the tip of my penis in reply. It was really more a playful pat than an attack, but the distinction was lost on me at the time. i sucked my breath through my teeth as my nerves down there lit up with pain; my reaction causing the cat to leap backwards out of fright and begin hissing at me in return. i had to look down and see the damage. It wasn't bad - just four thin scratches - but it hurt like wildfire, and tiny beads of blood began to well up along their track. The cat crept forward on its belly, eyeing me cautiously for any further signs of attack. i've always liked animals, better than people usually, but at that moment all i wanted to do was swat that little fucker across the room. However, smacking Mistress' cat around hardly seemed to be the best way to ingratiate myself, so i resisted the urge as best i could, and watched it as it stalked me, wondering if i could endure a second attack with retaliating. The cat, however, had other plans. It raised itself up off the floor and, once certain that i wasn't going to do anything, began to lap at the freshly drawn blood; its sandpapery tongue scraping harshly across my most sensitive of flesh. "Well," Mistress called out behind me, startling me even worse than the first time, "You haven't been here twenty minutes michael, and twice now I've caught you playing with another pussy!" Before I could sputter a reply, I heard the snap-hiss of a camera and the room lit up with the flash. Forgetting myself, I turned my head around to look at her, surprised and a little angry. "Just a souvenir, micheal, she said tauntingly, as she shook the developing picture. She moved around again, putting the camera on an endtable and scooping up the cat as she sat back down on the couch. She studied the photo for a few seconds. "You really are a stupid shit, you know that michael?" she finally asked, sounding almost as if it were a rhetorical question. i didn't know how to answer that, so i just sat quietly and hoped that it was. "Most slaves I've known would've been content to come in their little entrance, do their thing and go home, but not you. You want more. You want all of it, maybe. "Well, nobody will probably ever get all of me michael, but you needn't concern yourself. You'll have more than enough on your plate to keep you busy. Painslut, domestic, and yes michael, to some extent even boring old vanilla 'boyfriend.' My slaves before you only had to worry about performing in a single category. You'll have to perform, and perform well, in all three." "Now," She said, standing. "If you'll excuse me, I have to get dressed. My boyfriend is taking me out to a very expensive restaurant for dinner." my heart skipped a beat until i realized She was talking about me. "There's a phone on the end table. You have my permission to use it to make whatever arrangements are necessary. Then get yourself dressed again. If you get done before I return, you may go downstairs and have a little peek at my little playroom." She swept passed me. "One last thing michael: now is the time for you to go overboard to try and impress me." And then She went up the stairs. i stood up, glad to be out of that crouch. The cat was now splayed out on its back on the sofa, but i knew better than to join it. The beast took a few playful swings at the cordless phone as i removed the device from the cradle. Praying softly that my dad picked up, i dialed the number of my parent's house. "Hi... Mom?" my body convulsed with Oedipal discomfort. "Are you guys still members of the S- Club?" * * * * After the most uncomfortable conversation of my entire life, i went to the closet and put my suit back on. i dressed quickly, but i wasn't certain what to do about my collar, so i opted to keep it on and just drape my tie around my neck and leave the top few buttons of my shirt undone. After that, i loitered a bit at the foot of the stairs until curiosity got the better of me. The steps down into the basement were steep and narrow. i made it about halfway down before i had to stop and catch my breath. The dungeon was amazing. The room itself was a twenty-by-twenty foot square, with an extra little kink jutting off beside the stairs. The floor was all done in gray linoleum and the walls, what exposed patches i could see, were covered in black, egg carton-style foam rubber; to deaden the noise. The walls were further covered by peg boards which were themselves festooned with every kind of device and implement you could ask for: whips, clamps, lead sinkers, plastic spatulas and elaborate strap-and-buckle affairs whose purpose i could only guess at. There were two small chipboard wardrobes in one corner, and a large cage, known as a "crate" to dog trainers, in another. The ceiling was at least twelve feet high and the plaster had been stripped off, revealing the heavy beams underneath; which in turn had eyebolts sunk into them at various intervals. The rich, heady smell of leather filled my nostrils and i had to sit down on the steps and savor it. my dick became as hard as i ever remember it becoming in my life, and i was sorely tempted to begin masturbating in my pants right on the spot. Then i saw the cameras. Two were small, boxy security type models, mounted up in the far corners of the room. The third was a large camcorder mounted on a tripod in the small niche alongside the stairs. At long last, i stood up and strode reverently down the last few steps; entering Mistress Catherine's dungeon. A tiny flash of red light caught my attention and i turned toward the alcove. The camcorder was on. i immediately went over to check if there was a tape in the machine, but there wasn't. Instead, several cables streamed out of the back of the unit, and snaked along the floor and into the wall. She was watching me. i was all at once very glad i hadn't played with myself after all, even though my cock was now screaming for attention worse than ever. And there was no place to look, nothing to focus my attention on in that Stygian wonderland that could ease the erotic tension that so completely enveloped me. i fixed my gaze upon what seemed to be a wine rack made of black, lacquered wood; but when i removed one of the "bottles" i saw that the object was rubber, veined, and possessed a prominent glans. "One of my slaves made that." i fumbled over myself to try and put the dildo back into its slot. "The rack, I mean." She'd put Her hair up and dressed in a simple, but elegant sleeveless evening dress - black of course. The neckline was conservative, and the hem kissed the floor. Much to my surprise, but not necessarily disappointment, She was also wearing glasses. They made Her inky eyes look like two gaping mouths, swallowing everything that fell under their gaze. She smiled at me with unsettling warmth, and began towards me. The tips of Her sneakers peeked out from under Her dress as She moved. "You have good instincts," She purred, pressing Her smoldering body to mine. i thought we might kiss, but Her hands found my throat instead; undoing the buckle of my collar. "Only I may release you." She withdrew with the collar in Her hands and i took the opportunity to hastily do up the remaining buttons on my shirt and fix my tie. When She returned, She offered me Her arm. "Shall we?" * * * * We took Her car. She drove. It was worth the eventual astronomical bill just to see Her reaction when i gave Her the address of the restaurant. She didn't believe me until we were actually inside and the maitre d' asked us to wait in the lobby while our table was made ready. Frankly, i had a hard time believing she'd never eaten there before. The S- Club was the most elite restaurant in town, members only; and i couldn't believe that none of their our-shit-don't-stink clientele didn't wallow in some serious depravity. Unlike pure middle-class me. While we were waiting for the table, i pointed out a yellowed, blurry photograph of my great grandparents on the wall honoring the club's founding members; thus giving Her the explanation She had wordlessly been demanding since we entered. We were seated by the large plate glass windows overlooking the lush inner courtyard. She had the steward bring us a bottle of an Austrian Sauvignon Blanc with a tongue-twister name and an eye-popping price tag. When i politely declined a glass, She gave me a funny look and asked, "What's the matter, michael, don't you drink?" "No, Mistress." "Well, I know you don't smoke. My goodness, michael, don't you have any vices whatsoever?" "Aside from being your... 'painslut,' Mistress?" She smiled and took a long drink of the golden, sweet-smelling wine. "Touch." When the waiter showed up to take our order, Mistress ordered the Alaskan king crab for herself and a dinner salad for me. i thought it was because She knew of my tendency to put on weight, but when the food arrived, She gave me a toothy smile. "There's only room for one carnivore in our relationship, wouldn't you agree, michael?" "Yes, Mistress." She must have kicked off one of Her shoes, because each time She would split open a piece of shell with a bone-jarring snap, Her bare foot would sneak up into my lap; gently rubbing against my crotch. The agonizing crack of rending carapace quickly became associated in my mind with extreme pleasure. Once or twice - just to tease - she'd pop open a segment without the accompanying footsie; eliciting soft, piteous groans of disappoint from me. i scarcely ate a thing. Halfway through the meal, She took me by surprise by asking, "So tell me, michael, what movie are we going to see tonight?" i blanked. my jaw dropped open stupidly. "It is customary for a boyfriend to take his gal out for dinner and a movie?" She giggled at "gal." "His sweetie?" For the life of me, i couldn't think of any movies that were currently playing. i'd filled my whole life for the past three months with work, getting into shape, and the humiliating, sometimes painful, acts of 'cyber-training' Mistress Catherine had demanded of me. i could only think of two films, and both struck me as equally poor choices. i thought about stalling until we got to the theater, but i could see in Her eyes that She required a decisive move on my part, and fast. The two movies refused to release their hold on my thoughts and make way for more appealing candidates. One of the two was Howard Stern's film. Unfortunately, i was the only person i knew who was indifferent about Stern; and i desperately didn't want to find out Mistress hated him the hard way. Yet, the other movie seemed worse: much, much worse. "michael?" She asked, signaling my time was up. "Have you, um, have you seen Empire Strikes Back yet, Mistress?" i couldn't have gotten a more astonished response, short of saying, "Tonight, why don't you be the one who crawls around on the floor like a dog, 'kay babe?" She let me stew while She took careful measure of my response. i wanted so badly to beg Her to choose whatever movie She wanted, any movie. But i also knew i was being tested. i was getting used to that. She watched me with catlike concentration. The tension began to ease out of my muscles as i accepted whatever consequences my choice might bring. She finally graced me with a wry smile. "Not since college, michael." * * * * The movie went over better than i could have hoped for. When the snow creature swatted Mark Hamil, Mistress Catherine jumped, clutching at my arm. A few scenes later when he's hanging from the ceiling, She gave my arm another, more playful squeeze. As the film progressed, She rested Her head on my shoulder. Midway through She broke into hysterical laughter during the scene where Luke tries to convince his new "master," Yoda to take him on. He boasts, "I'm not afraid," and the diminutive creature growls, "You will be.. you WILL be..." Mistress carried on so loudly that we began to get dirty glares from the other patrons. An usher passed by and scowled at us. She sank into Her seat, a helpless mass of giggles. When at last She recovered, She began to tug at my coat, which i'd removed and draped over the back of my seat. Obliging Her, i leaned forward so She could have it. She played with it for a second, wrapping it around and around in Her arms, before setting it back down in my lap. i was wondering what the point of all that was, when i felt something nuzzle up against my crotch. i glanced down and saw Her arm disappearing down underneath the coat. She laid Her head back to rest against my arm again, and slowly, click by click, undid my zipper. i made a gulping sound in my suddenly parched throat, and surveyed the theater nervously. We were near the back and, thankfully, the few people who had sat near us had moved after Mistress' outburst. On the screen all was sturm and drang as ships rocketed through asteroids and blasted the hell out of one another. The noise was phenomenal Her hand slipped into my pants, and immediately brushed past my penis. Instead, She began to fondle my scrotum, manipulating it carefully until She had both testicles in Her grasp. Then She squeezed. At first the pressure was soft, but firm; and the sensation it brought forth was one of intense stimulation rather than outright pain. Then She squeezed again, longer and harder than before. i don't know exactly why, but as She was doing this, i put my arm around Her; my hand coming to rest squarely on Her breast. When She squeezed again, i did too: my actions a tender mirror of Her increasingly rough ministrations. She had on some kind of underwired bra, so i could feel Her nipple harden as i massaged Her; pleasuring Her even as She tormented me. my balls tried to shrink away from the pain, but She kept them locked in a fearsome grip. i pinched Her nipple lightly between my fingers, undulating my palm against the whole broad surface of Her tit. She collapsed Her hand into a fist, sending a tidal wave of howling agony throughout my body, yet i could give it no voice. She buried Her face into my shoulder, biting me. A spasm passed from Her to me and She bit me again: a savage, bruising chomp. Her hand compressed so tightly that there seemed no room left for anything else. i felt crushed, castrated. i don't know if She actually came, or just stopped short lest She make another scene. Abruptly, She went limp, the whole weight of Her upper body slumping against mine. She withdrew Her hand from my pants and made a disgusted face at the slight smear of pre-cum along Her index finger. With a low snarl, Mistress mashed the afflicted area against my lips. "Lick," She whispered sternly, and I did. My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun William Shakespeare Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Three: Patterns of Force Friday Evening The rest of the movie passed uneventfully. When it had ended, Mistress commanded me to walk out of the theater ahead of Her. She'd forbidden me to pull up my zip, and thanks to my unabated erection, i had to walk through the lobby with a noticeable patch of my underwear sticking out the front of my trousers. Several of the employees pointed and laughed and one sweet woman tried to tell me what i already knew by making a zipping motion down the front of Her skirt. i just shrugged like an idiot at her and walked on out to the car. Mistress didn't say anything on the ride back to Her house, and when we parked in the drive, She waited for me to get out and open Her door. She got out of the car and proceeded to shove me up against the hood. Standing on the tips of Her toes, She pressed Her body to mine and gave me an aggressive, wet, probing kiss; Her hands grabbing at my ass. She pulled back; Her eyes glittered with erotic heat and cold mirth."Time for you debut, my little painslut." i started to follow Her towards the house, but She gently pushed me away. She reached into Her purse and got out something. "Open." i opened my mouth as instructed. She reached up and put a key inside. "The slave's entrance is in the rear, michael." Approaching the house from behind, the ground sloped away so dramatically that the building seemed huge. Even in the dark, i could tell the backyard sprawled out to cover an impressive amount of land for a residential area. Beyond that were thick, ominous woods. There was a concrete patio by the basement door, and i promptly removed the key from my mouth and opened the door. i entered a small mud room which had only a heavy-duty Rubbermaid garbage can in it. my collar hung by a hook by the door and i took it and began to undress myself again. The can was clean, and basically symbolic, but i was still uncomfortable dumping my best suit into it. On the wall beside the opposite door was a sampler. Its borders were all done up with hearts and bunny rabbits. ABANDON ALL HOPE, it read, ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE. Cute, i thought to myself, also wrong - though i wasn't about to mention that to Her. The door led into a narrow hall which in turn led to two more rooms to the side before opening up into the dungeon proper. One of those additional rooms had its door shut. The other, closest to the dungeon, was a cramped bathroom, complete with bathtub. The lights were off as i padded into the dungeon in my bare feet. i knelt down in the dark at the bottom of the stairs and awaited the arrival of Mistress. The drama of it all was not lost on me as She descended from the bright lights above into the darkened realm below. But it was when the silhouette effect diminished that i gasped aloud. Long ago, in one of our earliest chat room sessions, She'd asked me to list the three items of clothing and/or fetish gear that i found most arousing on a woman. my answers had been simple: a short leather skirt, long leather gloves, and though i was submissive, a bright red ball gag. It had been such a minor thing, and so early in our relationship that i was amazed when She came down the stairs dressed in those things, the gag worn as a necklace of course, and nothing else. "Tell me what you want, michael." "i... i want to please you Mistress. i want to give you pleasure. Please, take this flesh, use it to give yourself pleasure!" "Any way I see fit, michael?" "Any way, Mistress." She turned on the lights and ordered me to cross the room, on my knees, naturally, before having me sit on a padded little stool. She retrieved a few items from one of the wardrobes. The first was a big leather sleeve, which i had to somehow put on my arms while they were behind my back. When i got it more or less right, She made a few adjustments and then pulled the laces tight until the muscles in my chest began to feel the strain. Mistress' words from the night before suddenly echoed through my mind: "A good sub trusts his Domme to know what she's doing, not cry 'Safeword' when his dirty little fantasies get all too real." Well, reality was crashing in around me. i was now a prisoner, helpless; the only things between me and grievous harm a mere word, and the conscience of a self-proclaimed sadist. She didn't even notice the onset of my panic; just went right on to the next item which happened to be a pair of six-inch spike heels. She began to painfully smash my size twelve feet into the size eight shoes. They were narrow where my feet were widest, and impossibly narrow where my feet were thin. If it weren't for the buckles and snaps, they would've shot right off my agonized feet. Lastly, She took off the gag, kissed the bright red ball, and popped it into my mouth, pulling the strap tight. She ordered me to my feet, and i experienced a whole new wave of pain as the entire weight of my body pushed my feet further down into the shoes; my metatarsal arch smashed deeper into the unyielding point of the toe. With my center of gravity even higher up than usual thanks to the heels, my six-foot frame wobbled uncontrollably as i took tiny, baby steps to follow Her. To add to my worries, the shoes had negligible surface area, and zero traction on the slick linoleum. i had terrifying visions of breaking my ankles. She ordered me to stop and hold still while She dragged a small stepladder next to me. She'd also gotten a coil of thin, silk rope. She started twining the rope around my balls, separating each testicle and tying them off with a sharp, quick jerk. Then She closed a tight loop around the base of my scrotum and another around the base of my cock. Mistress took the other end and climbed up on the stepladder, feeding it through one of the eyebolts set in the overhead beams. She pulled it taut and secured it like that with a complex knot. my whole body was trembling as She climbed back down. i began to whimper behind my gag, but She merely smiled at me, gave me a toodle-loo wave, and skipped away, going back up the stairs. my ankles began to buckle, my calves cramped up. Through the haze of fear and pain, i picture Mistress merrily skipping into Her bedroom. i imagine a big, soft four poster bed and a huge home entertainment center: three televisions, one for each camera. i see Her kicking off Her skirt and crawling into bed; gleefully snatching the remote from a bedside table. One screen, the largest, is a close-up of my face: red and quivering. Drool runs from the corners of my mouth, tears from my eyes. Another camera has a full-body shot from the rear; the third closes in on my trembling behind. In the depths of my fevered visions, i fancy Her absently toying with the same breast i had fondled earlier. With Her other hand She reaches over and takes a vibrator from a drawer. She watches me intently, waiting for some sign; a twitch or spasm that will tell Her the time is at hand. The vibrator begins to hum. She places it between Her legs. my own legs collapse from under me; the vibrator slides home. my entire body is hanging by my genitals; my feet scrabble frantically for traction. my ears are filled with the muffled sound of my own screams. Somewhere, Mistress begins to moan. My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun William Shakespeare Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Four: The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers Saturday Morning i woke, cold and stiff, in the steel pan of the training crate. i was only mildly pleased that my dick had regained its ability to harden sometime during my fitful sleep. She'd left me tied to the rafter for the longest hour of my life. It became an endless blur of slipping, swinging and struggling to regain my footing, only to lose it again moments later. By the time She returned i was ready to scream my safeword loud enough to wake the neighborhood. i wanted to get the fuck out of there and never look back. Then i saw Her. She was flushed, Her hair was out of place and Her naked body was covered in sweat. i wasn't an expert, but She smelled like sex. A rapturous smile beamed from Her features. She was so beautiful that She was painful to behold, and all thoughts of my safeword fled me as She removed the slimy gag. She untied my tormented genitals, and i stumbled backwards. She guided my fall so that i landed hard on the little padded stool. Before i knew what was happening, She was on top of me, straddling me. Her mouth fixed to mine, hungrily sucking the breath from my body. Warm droplets fell on the tender flesh of my bruised and useless cock. It was over too soon. She climbed off me and for a second more our lips were connected by a thin filament of saliva. She unbound my arms, but left the hateful, grinding shoes on. "I like the way they define your calves," She explained with a malicious twinkle in Her eye. She led me to the crate and ordered me to crawl in. There wasn't nearly enough room to stretch out, so i had to fold my cramped, aching body into a fetal ball. She closed the gate and fastened the latch, not bothering to lock it. There wasn't enough room inside for me to turn around and get at it. Before shutting off the light and leaving me there for the rest of the evening, She said, "By the way, michael, you have my permission to masturbate if you like. Only," Her voice grew stern, "I don't want to see a single drop of spunk in the morning, you get me?" i nodded weakly. "Yes Mistress." i remembered how my semen had tasted when she'd forced me to clean Her hand at the movie. my stomach churned at the prospect of having to lick up any more. Besides, my penis hurt so much the last thing i wanted to do was touch it. i had my doubts it would ever work properly again. The dungeon had no windows, and with the door at the top of the stairs closed, i had no way of knowing what time of day it was. As i laid in the cold and the dark, i began to halfheartedly stroke my sore cock. It was hard for me to imagine that twenty-four hours earlier i had been jerking off under the steaming rush of water from my own shower; fantasizing about this very moment. i'd wisely gone to the bathroom repeatedly before leaving work the other day; but even so, i hadn't been since, and the pressure in my bladder was mounting painfully. The lights came on with an audible snap, and i writhed in my cage, temporarily blinded. When my sight returned, She was staring down at me through the bars of the crate. i gaped at Her with dumb astonishment. She was dressed like a cheerleader, Her fuzzy sweater and short, pleated skirt all in orange and black. A tiger logo was embroidered on the sweater, and Her hair was all done up in a ponytail. Lastly, She had on a pair of new Air Jordans, the kind with the broad bands of black patent leather; and i couldn't help noticing that they did, in fact, reflect up. She undid the latch on the crate and as i slowly crawled out backwards, She rocked up and down on Her feet. i gathered myself into a pile of human flesh on the floor and gazed up at Her, expectantly. "What's the matter, michael? Not fetishy enough for you?" "It's just not the fetish i..." "Well - F - U - C - K - Y - O - U!" She cheered, forming the each letter as She went. "This morning I feel horny! Horny! Horny! Horny!" She cried out, leaping into the air. She stopped suddenly and cocked Her head to one side, giving me a quizzical look. Again, She seemed to read my thoughts with unsettling accuracy. "No, michael, I am not on drugs! It's just when I get all horny like this, I get... bouncy." "Like Tigger," i said with a weary, but understanding smile. For one wondrous moment the frenetic, sex-kitten facade dissolved, leaving in its wake the most warm and genuine smile of pure delight i had ever seen. "Exactly." She studied me for a minute, Her face lit up like a child who'd discovered their new toy had a feature they hadn't known about. It hadn't been that much of a guess for me really. i'd already suspected She liked tigers. Her screen name, P.t.altaic, was a compacted version of the scientific name for the Siberian tiger: Panthera tigris altaica. "Who was your favorite character, michael?" She asked intently. "Uh, Eeyore, i guess..." "Mistress," i added quickly. She laughed. "I should have guessed." "Well, michael, I'm sorry if this isn't what you were hoping for," She indicated Her outfit, "but the fact is that I do get bouncy when I'm all excited. And when I get like this I like to move. All those Dressing for Pleasure sorts of outfits are lovely to look at, but they're confining as hell. "Still," She added thoughtfully, "it doesn't quite seem fair to you, does it? I'm sure your head was filled with all sorts of visions of hobble skirts and corsets and studded bustiers. And..." Her grin turned evil. "Lovely, lovely high heels." She ordered me to my feet and took me to the wardrobes. There, She pulled out a satin corselette. She had to set it on the floor so i could step into it, and then She hefted it into place and began puling mercilessly at the laces. i couldn't help but think of those giant snakes that kill their prey by wrapping around a victim and then tensing up their muscles every time the poor animal breathed out. The compression of my torso almost proved to be more than my strained bladder could bear. "Mistress, please," i grunted. "Is something wrong, michael?" "i have to use the bathroom, Mistress." "My, how thoughtless of me. Well, come along my pet." She tied up the laces, leaving my body with just a hint of an hourglass figure; then took me by the hand and led me to the john just off the dungeon. Because of the bathtub, the room felt incredibly cramped. The toilet was small and low to the ground. Instead of leaving me to my business, Mistress sat down on the edge of the tub and batted Her eyes at me. "Well?" i'd always been shy about using public rest rooms, and to make matters worse, the corselette held my body in a straight vertical line while my stiff penis jutted out from my body at a right angle. If i were to go, it would shoot right over the bowl and splatter against the wall. i tried to relax, let my mind drift. "Would it help if I told you that if you spill anywhere but the bowl, I expect you to clean it up?" There wasn't any toilet paper. "Thank you, Mistress." i tried again to calm down. i thought about work and all the things i'd have to get done on Monday. "Still feeling self-conscious?" "Yes, Mistress." "Look up." i did. There was a camera in one of the corners. Bitch! Bitch! Bitch! She laughed. "All right, michael, I'll let you make pee-pee in peace." She stood and leaned in close to me, whispering, "I can always catch it on instant replay." She handed me a strange belt with metals rings set into the leather. "Put this on when you're done." Even after She left me, it took a while for me to get soft enough to aim my piss into the toilet. i was almost finished when some of it accidentally spattered on the rim. i swore loudly, but there was nothing i could do. i had a devil of a time kneeling down. i licked swiftly and with my eyes closed; as if it would somehow make the act less repellent if i couldn't see what i was doing. It was even harder to stand back up again, and i practically had to climb the toilet to regain my feet. Once i was up, i turned to the task of putting on the belt. Actually, it was more like three belts. The thickest obviously went around my waist. The other two started out as a single, broad flap connected to the first and the forked off into two thinner ones. The rings were set in the flap, which i began to realize was supposed to come down over my crotch. The thin belts then ran around the cheeks of my ass to connect up again with the thick one. i held no illusions as to what the rings were for. That whole part of my body was already one giant bruise, yet, grimacing, i threaded my soft cock through the largest hole. It hardened instantly and painfully. my testicles were worse, though. They were as soft as they were going to get, and i had to squash them brutally to force them through their holes. the whole region throbbed in agony. Crying, wobbling, i went back into the dungeon. Mistress was standing by a sawhorse with a padded leather cover. She waved me over. "Took you long enough," She chided, but She was still smiling. She inspected the belt thoroughly, giving each afflicted element its own nasty little squeeze. "Is it too much, michael?" i couldn't lie. "It is very close, Mistress." She must have been a formidable poker player. Her expression was completely unreadable. "I'd intended to gag you again, and strap you down pretty good. You'd better decide now if you can't go much farther." i remembered the way she'd looked coming down the stairs the night before; the way She looked when i caught the "Tigger" reference. "Please Mistress. Please use this body to please yourself." She nodded curtly and then knelt down beside me. She attached padded cuffs to each of my ankles and in turn locked the cuffs to the legs of the sawhorse, thus spreading my own legs wide apart. She made me put the sleeve back on, and when i had that done She gently pushed me forward over the horse. It was fixed to a circular wooden base, and i could see that sunk into that base was another eyebolt. She took a leather lead and snapped one end to my collar. Forcing me to bend even further, stretching all my muscles to their limits, She snapped the other end of the lead to the metal loop. She showed me what looked like a rubber cup with straps attached, only as She turned it i could see a big, fat penis sticking out of the center. She didn't say so, but i think She held it out like that to give me one last chance to back out. In Her other hand She had a squirt bottle with what appeared to be urine in it. "It's not piss," She explained, squirting the penis in the gag liberally. "It's much worse than piss." She let me see the label before shoving the gag into my mouth. It was bitter apple extract; used to discourage dogs from chewing on themselves or the furniture. It tasted like a dead skunk's ass. She moved around to the rear of my gagging, writhing form and tenderly put Her hands on my ass. The soft warm skin against my cold, tense flesh felt unbearably good. She began to massage me: my ass and thighs and lower back. Nothing i had ever done to myself could ever hope to compare with the pleasure She was giving me. my body was used to thinking of pleasure as only stemming from one place. Whenever anything sensual had happened to me, the signals were instantly rerouted to my groin. But now all the nerves in that area were busy: lit up with wave after wave of excruciating pain. i felt a rush of epicurean warmth deep in my anus that i had never thought possible. "Do you know why I chose you?" She asked. Not that i could answer. Not that i wanted to answer and disrupt the feeling growing inside my body. "Out of all those E-mails I get daily, what could have possibly moved me to respond to yours? Hmmm? Haven't you wondered?" i had. Obsessively. But it hardly seemed to matter now. "It's because you're a virgin, michael." That actually surprised me enough to break my reverie. i'd agonized over putting that fact in my initial message, but i knew when the time came i wouldn't be able to fake experience i didn't have. i was convinced it would be the one thing that sent Her scrambling for the DELETE button, but i also felt that honesty was about all i had going for me. It was a shock to hear that for once i was right. "All we do here, all the games we play, michael, are all really about power; and power, for a man, translates as his manhood." i heard the snap of a rubber glove. "I do what I can to strip them of that. I degrade men, dress them as women and deny them their cock, but it's all symbolic. I can't really take away the one experience that really makes them a man. You don't have that experience, michael. Your body is mature, but you're not a man, and as long as you're my slave you never will be." Her gloved finger began to play with my asshole, smearing some cold, slimy lubricant around it. She slipped it in me a little bit and out again. In and out, playfully spreading the jelly. i could hear Her peel the glove off and drop it to the floor. Her hands grasped my hips firmly. "Can you imagine how excited that makes me? How hot I get knowing that you're sacrificing your manhood? That its very existence is in my hands? Just to please me." Cold, hard rubber poked at my hole. i felt the tension building in Her through Her hands as She prepared to ram it home. "I'm very pleased." Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Five: Tribute Saturday Afternoon For the first time, i understood. i'd known i was a submissive and that to pursue that would doubtless entail enduring some pain; but i had never dreamed i could enjoy it. To relish and desire it. Not until that day. Not until She had finished. i could do little more than hang by my fetters, savoring the strong, pulsing burn deep inside my violated body. i knew it was pain; that it should FEEL like pain, but it didn't. It felt good. Pain was what was happening to my cock and balls. Pain was the feeling that they would turn black and drop off. Pain was the feeling that it would be a relief if they did. The torment there in some way helped throw the voluptuous glee i now took from my stretched and battered rectum into sharp relief. They defined one another; almost needed each other to exist. Mistress Catherine must have noticed the drugged-out look of rapture in my eyes, for She became extremely concerned and quickly tore the penis gag away. "michael? Are you all right?" "Yes Mistress," i replied, my voice soft and dreamy. i don't think She was convinced, for She began to hastily extract me from my various bondage devices, but when She got to the "jockstrap" i cried out in protest. "Please Mistress, no!" She pulled away, astonished. So, i explained the way my body felt at that moment, and how i desperately wanted it to linger as long as possible. my words then weren't nearly as polished as they are now, but She eventually understood. And She was very pleased at this, too. Much to my great disappointment, however, She still refused to remove the shoes. As She led me across the room, She commented on my tottering gait. "We simply must teach you how to walk in those one of these days." She sighed. "But you're just so cute like this. Like a little newborn foal trying to stand for the first time." She smiled at me wickedly. "And maybe someday my sweet little foal will grow up and become a nice, strong pony for his Mistress. Wouldn't that be nice, foalboy?" "Yes Mistress." She snapped Her fingers. "Come along foalboy. Follow Mistress." On unsteady feet, i did. She led me to the one room of the dungeon that had been closed to me upon my initial entry. It turned out to be a sort of second living room. Like the bathroom, it had more crammed in it than the room seemed capable of comfortably holding. The biggest piece of furniture was a sofa sleeper, with a small refrigerator, such as you might find in a college dorm room, next to it. There was another of those cheap, department store wardrobes and a few tall, thin, matching bookcases as well. i also saw the first television in Her house. It was mounted over a VCR, on a high tray with casters. There were candles everywhere, sitting on just about every available surface. On the walls hung several posters by the Swiss artist H.R. Giger; whose most well known work to most Americans was designing the acid-bleeding xenomorph that had chased after Sigourney Weaver in three, shortly to be four, "Alien" movies. Each one was a swirling mass of blue-gray chaos, with subtle touches of the erotic and obscene. They were as sinisterly arousing in their complexity as the Nagel had been coldly sensual in its simplicity. The most obvious of the lot featured a nude woman standing in an "At Ease" position, eerily similar to the stance i'd been ordered to hold during our first meeting. There was some... thing completely enveloping her head. i turned away. On Her bookshelves, A. A. Milne and Tolkien rubbed shoulders with Gloria and William Brame, Anne Rice (as A.N. Roquelaure) and Doris Kloster. "This is my part of the dungeon, michael," She explained, curling up on the sofa. She was looking at me expectantly, as if She were waiting for me to make the same sort of intuitive leap as i had with the Tigger reference, but this time i couldn't. "i don't understand, Mistress, doesn't this whole house belong to you?" She gave a disappointed little sigh. "Yes, michael, I own this house, and all the things in it, but the room out there, all the gear and the whips and the like, that room isn't really for me. It's for you. " 'You', meaning my slaves in general," She added with a quick wink, "I wouldn't want you getting too full of yourself." "What I do out there is usually hard work for me, and my rewards are seldom swiftly forthcoming. Tying all those knots, whipping, even butt-fucking; that's all strenuous exercise, michael. And you wouldn't believe how hard it is to masturbate and cane someone's ass at the same time - at least, doing both of them well, that is. For a time, I had other slaves do all the grunt work for me." Her voice trailed off, sounding very sad and far away. "That's why I now have all those cameras set up in there. I can give myself freely to the energy of the moment and when I'm done I can go upstairs, or come in here and take care of MY needs at MY pace. "Since I don't like people- like slaves- in the other parts of my house, this is the place where I can go and relax with them. Where I can be me AND be a Domme. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mistress." i cast my eyes about the room again, taking in everything in a new light. For the first time i also noticed, leaning up against the bookcase, that there was a pad of 14 by 17 inch Bristol board. Next to it was a pack of mechanical pencils and a hard white eraser. i looked to Mistress and She gave me a slight nod. "I believe," She said, "you still owe me in the way of proper tribute." i nodded back, but first i got to my knees and begged politely that She remove the genitorture device. The wonderful sensation in my ass had faded into a faint, pleasing glow; while the ache in my genitals had dulled to a distressing sort of numbness. The belt was hard to get off. i could only get semi-soft, and the metal ring scraped the tenderized flesh of my cock terribly as She carefully pulled it free. The removal of the belt brought with it a whole new rush of sensations, all of them bad. While i sat on the floor, trying to recover, Mistress opened the mini-fridge and poured herself a glass of red wine. While She sipped at it, She put on Her glasses, and picked up a tattered copy of The Tempest. The Bristol board was just within arm's reach of where i was sitting, and i used it to drag the rest of the supplies over. i began to sketch. i'd always been a doodler, and in college i'd studied art and graphic design. The plan had always been to be the next Todd McFarlane, and write and draw my own comic books, but reality had a way of whacking you on the nose. So, i ended up with a moderately fulfilling job at a moderately successful ad agency where i hardly ever used my drawing skills at all. To keep in practice i'd sometimes do the inking on a local underground comic put out by some college buddies who'd remained true to their dreams. They even let me write an issue, which turned out to be one of their best sellers. Again, thanks to the lengthy feeling-out process we had gone through over the internet, "Sub Voir Dire" She called it, She knew all of this about me already. She'd asked a lot of highly specific questions concerning the kinds of material i preferred to use, so it wasn't really that much of a shock now that they had turned up. Actually, my work on the comic was proving detrimental to my preliminary drafts of Mistress' portrait. John, who did the layout and pencils, patterned his style in the Rob Liefeld - Jim Lee camp; which meant that all women had long lean torsos, even longer legs, and almost ridiculously oversized breasts. in short: a creature that did not exist outside of the fantasies of twelve-year old boys and comic book artists. my initial efforts mirrored this style, and the results of transposing Mistress' features onto such a body, while aesthetically pleasing, definitely did not achieve the effect i was going for. She certainly wasn't posing for me, and Her sweater effectively concealed all of Her upper body; making my ability to translate Her image to the board accurately all the more difficult. And it was crucial to my own sensibilities that i get it right. i thought back to the way She'd looked the night before. i was tempted to draw Her exactly as She had appeared to me that night; but that outfit, simple though it was, had been MY fantasy, not hers. i reflected on the way She prized Her freedom of movement, and started in on a sort of imitation of the Nagel piece upstairs, with Mistress naked and sprawled out on a big tiger skin rug. i worked diligently for several minutes, but when i stopped to examine how the piece was shaping up, i was struck by the spuriousness of the image. The last place She would probably choose to luxuriate herself would be atop the dead carcass of one of the animals She loved so dearly. i began to erase so violently that She glanced up from Her book and fixed me with an inquisitive glare, but said nothing. Finally, i settled upon an imitation of the kind of pinup pose like you'd find painted on the noses of old World War Two aircraft. She was on Her knees, but not in a servile sort of way, and Her hands here up teasing Her long hair. She looked playful and fun: Mistress as coquette. Curled up around Her, like a living sofa, was a tiger in repose. i added a rough circle around the whole image to reinforce the 'nose art' image, and then put down my pencil. Mistress put down Her book. "Finished?" i nodded. She reached out and i handed Her the pad. She licked Her finger and turned down the corner of the page She was on and promptly chucked the book at me. "Read," She commanded, inspecting the picture thoroughly. i took a deep breath and cleared my throat and started at the top of the marked page. "Um, Ferdinand, 'No, noble mistress, 'tis fresh morning with me when you are by at night..." i stumbled a lot at first because i kept splitting my attention between the text and Mistress; trying desperately to gage Her reaction to my work. After i tripped over the same line twice, She gave me an exceedingly dirty look, and i refocused all my attention on reading the play. i actually began to ease into it. i'd affect a mild soprano when Miranda or Ariel was to speak, and dropped my voice into a low snivel for Caliban's lines. i was so wrapped up in my reading that i almost didn't catch it when She spoke, for Her voice was extremely quiet. "It's very beautiful, michael. Thank you." She put the picture down, let out a heavy sigh and began to slowly loll Her head around. "It's times like this, michael, that I most regret not taking more than one slave at a time. I do so love a good back rub while being read to." "Perhaps, Mistress, i could..." She laughed. "Do two things at once? As well as you did just a minute ago?" i didn't have an answer for that, so i just sat silently until She commanded to pick up where i'd left off, which was close to the end, anyway. When it was finished, She stood and unfolded the bed from the sofa. "Come here, michael," She said, patting the edge of the bed. i sat down and She at long last began undoing the buckles on those hateful pair of shoes. The pain was staggering as blood finally rushed back into my smashed feet. She ordered me to go dim the lights and my walk was nearly as unsteady free as it had been in the shoes. She began lighting many of the candles and by their flickering light, She pulled Her sweater off, and unzipped Her skirt. We stood there, with the bed between us. Now clad only in Her panties and sneakers, She climbed on top of the mattress, and for a second vamped in an homage to my portrait. Then She swung Her legs around out in front of Her and began wagging Her feet at me in a familiar manner. "michael, would you be so kind as to remove my shoes?" i got down on one knee, but as i reached for one of the laces, She slapped me away. i looked at Her, confused, and reached out again. Again, She slapped away my hand. i then dropped to both knees, to better stabilize myself, and, opening my mouth, leaned in towards Her feet. She slapped my cheek hard and i tried to pull back, but She grabbed a fistful of my hair. "Sorry michael. you have the right idea, I just couldn't help Myself!" i tentatively moved my head forward again, gently closing my teeth around the end of one of Her shoelaces. Tugging gently, i got the bow to come undone. Then in dipped down to the first "X" made by the laces crossing, carefully bit down on one lace and pulled, loosening it. i worked my way down the front of Her shoe. When it was time to pull it off, i craned my neck around so that my head came up under Her heel. i didn't want to get teeth marks in the soft, foamy rubber of the sole, so i wrapped my lips back over my teeth and then tried to wrap my jaw around the heel of Her shoe. i slipped twice, but finally bit down hard enough to get a good grip and wriggle the sneaker free. i repeated the procedure with the other shoe. Next came Her socks. i pressed my lips gently to Her upper calves and gingerly pulled the sock down Her leg to Her ankle. Then i took the toe end in my mouth and removed the whole thing with a mild tug. When i had bared both feet She stood up and thrust out Her pelvis at an odd angle. "Panties." Treating Her skin as if it were the most fragile of porcelain, i took the elastic band at Her side with my teeth and dragged it down of the swell of Her hip. The i did the other side. Her panties slid down the rest of the way on their own. She stepped out of them and crawled back into the bed, stretching out languidly on Her stomach. "Put them on," She commanded, indicating Her underwear. "I don't want you smearing that little prick of yours all over my body and spoiling a perfectly good back rub." i did as i was told, the elastic waist digging painfully into my flesh; and cautiously climbed into bed with mistress, rearing up on my knees. i began the massage at the nape of Her neck. i was a little surprised at just how tense She was; but it suddenly occurred to me that She had been taking as much of a risk all this weekend with a stranger in Her house as i been going there. my hands glided across Her skin: up Her neck and then down to Her shoulders. my grasp was firm, my strokes were even. i rubbed Her deltoids and drifted further down along Her triceps. As i began on Her upper back, i could feel the muscles begin to relax. i slid down Her back; my thumbs and the heel of my palm working the sides of Her backbone, while my fingers applied gentle pressure to the backs of Her ribs. i eased my hands around Her torso, wedging them between the sheets and Her body so that my hands could caress the meat on Her ribs. i was careful never to actually touch Her breasts. By this time Her body had acclimated itself to my touch, so i went back and did Her neck and shoulders again, my hands a littler stronger this time. i quickly retraced my route down Her back before slowing as the base of Her spine. She let out a short, stale little fart, which i took as a compliment. It meant that Her muscles were loose and Her mind was drifting. i kneaded the cheeks of Her hard, muscular ass until they were like pillows in my hand, and then made the final sprint down Her legs. i used both hands on each one, and when a calf was done, i bent it back at the knee and massaged each foot. They were heavy in my hands, and i had to lower them gently back to the bed. Usually this was where i stopped, but She slowly began to spread Her legs apart, opening up Her ass to me. i timidly began to put my had up Her crack, but She tensed and murmured "No!" i hesitated. my palms began to sweat. i repositioned myself so that i was lying between Her legs, and nervously i crawled forward, positioning my mouth over Her asshole. First i began to play softly with the crenature of skin around the hole. Pushing it this way and that with the tip of my tongue. i kept my hands on the backs of Her thighs; primed for any sudden tensing of Her hamstrings that might indicate i was doing something wrong. i eased my tongue into Her. The muscles inside Her ass were extremely tight. i had to slide my tongue in even further to get better leverage. i began to push against the walls of Her rectum, trying to meet the resistance i found with an equal amount of pressure. i swung my tongue around inside Her in stiff lateral and up and down movements until at last the lining of Her rectum began to loosen up and i could roll my tongue around in one continuous, circular motion. She gave a long, gratifying sigh and i slowly withdrew from Her, still poised to move back in if She so indicated. But She was sated. Her body lay still on the bead, breathing in long deep breaths. i reared back up on my knees and waited for further commands. The taste of Her filling my mouth. In a slurred voice, She said, "bathroom... permission... masturbate..." "Thank you Mistress," i said, not entirely sure i'd heard what i thought i had. She made a feeble waving motion to signal that it was okay, and i climbed out of the bed and hobbled into the next room. Supporting my weight with my left hand against the wall, i angled my body so i would shoot directly into the bowl. It was a nuisance getting the panties off. my cock almost hurt too much to touch, but my foray into analingus excited me to the point that it only took three or four painful jerks until i came with a powerful spurt of semen. It hit the water with a loud plop, and in spite of the tenderness, i kept milking my cock for a minute or two afterwards. i wiped myself clean with my hand and then washed it in the sink. Returning to Mistress' side, i knelt down on the floor and waited. Her eyes were closed and She was actually drooling out of the side of Her mouth. For a while i took pleasure in watching the results of my labors. As time wore on, my knees began to hurt. After an hour or so i grew sleepy as well. i caught myself nodding off several times. But as my chin sunk to my chest, She lashed out and slapped the head of my cock hard. my eyes snapped wide open. She had shifted onto Her side in a reclining position, studying me as intently as i'd studied Her moments earlier. "You've done this before, michael." There was a suspicious quality to Her voice. "Yes Mistress, in college. Except the ass part. i'd give back rubs occasionally to female friends of mine." "And then they would go home all relaxed and be with their lovers. Wouldn't they michael?" i couldn't meet Her eyes. "Yes, Mistress." She laughed cruelly. "Ahh, poor little misunderstood sub." She sat up and ordered me to go get dressed and wait for Her on the patio. i did as She said and a few minutes later She came strolling around the side of the house dressed much in the same way as when i had first seen Her, a little over 24 hours before. It was nearing sunset, and She took me for a walk in the woods behind Her home. She pointed out one small clearing lined with moss covered bits of broken concrete which She called Her "Faerie Ring" and told me the story of how She'd been stumbled upon by a neighbor while playing a dark-tinged game of "Titania and Bottom" with a slave. At last we came to a small pond and sat where the ground dropped away to sharp slope into the water. She rested Her head on my shoulder. We watched the sun set. Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Six: Catherine Monday Morning Catherine woke feeling tired and a little sad. The sun hadn't risen yet, and in the dark, still gloom of the early morning the house felt even emptier than usual. Knowing full well how early she had to be up for work, she'd sent michael home the night before. It hadn't helped much; she kept going over the tapes repeatedly, rewinding her favorite bits over and over. She'd studied the way he reacted to her ravishing his ass; watched with laborious breath as a slow, dewy look filled his eyes. Then she'd see herself quickening her own pace, driving for her own orgasm and Catherine would turn away angrily. She'd only ever brought a man to "orgasm" without his penis once before, and she'd stumbled into it by accident. michael impressed her as being sensitive enough for her to repeat the experience, and she was pissed that her own greediness had ruined her first, best chance. When next she looked at the clock, it was one in the morning and she only had four hours left for sleep, maybe five if she rushed herself later. She'd thought -hoped, really - that her experiences with michael would change the patterns of her dreaming, but the old dream returned. She knew she was dreaming as it happened. She knew it was The Dream; but She couldn't escape the emotions it stirred up because she also knew all too well that it was a memory, too. She was in a bed, not Her bed, but a nearly perfect replica; in the house she'd made her slaves rent when the stable too big and too unwieldy for her own home. Melrose East, She had taken to calling it. kelli was at her feet, licking and sucking her toes; and Catherine was trying to push back the overwhelming guilt she was feeling at just that moment and say what needed to be said. All She could think of were cliches: no more room at the inn, last hired - first fired. It didn't help that She'd brought the girl in against her better judgment; that she knew she was already spreading herself too thin. If it had been anyone but Caresse who had asked, She would have said "no," but Caresse - Goddess Caresse, formerly of Paris, France (though once when they were drunk, had admitted she was born in Lyon and had only been to Paris "once or twice") - was Catherine's best friend in the scene. The more Catherine got to know kelli, the more uncomfortable she grew with the whole situation. For one thing, Catherine could never really enjoy herself with female submissives. She had two other women in Her stable, but they were both quite strong willed and self assured. Laura the Amazon was a switch and Gina, who Catherine had picked up club-hopping one night, was in it mainly for the camp and drama. Catherine let the Cuban girl's irreverent attitude slide because she was simply the hottest dance partner the mistress had ever known. kelli, on the other hand, was weak and full of self-loathing. She had a lot of serious rape fantasies, and once told Catherine, proudly, about the time her boyfriend hand made her bend down in the middle of the park and eat a pile of dog shit in front of a dozen spectators. What made it worse was that the girl couldn't understand the revulsion and pity she elicited from Catherine when she told those kind of stories. Gina had told Catherine a little later on that kelli had confessed to her that the boyfriend had actually tried to break up with her the night before, and that kelli'd locked herself in the bathroom and threatened suicide until he gave in. It was his idea that the girl go into "that S&M shit" and Catherine guessed he had suggested it in large part to get away. kelli was everything Catherine hated about subs and Dommes, and she wanted her gone. She'd been bracing herself for kelli to throw a similar tantrum after Catherine dismissed her, when the door to her room flew open violently and Gina came running in, wild eyed and screaming. A world away from that time and place, Catherine shook her head sadly and crawled out of bed. She padded into the bathroom on bare feet and stopped to look at herself in the mirror. The ghost looked exhausted, but happy. Her eyes were sunken and looked bruised. She'd catch shit for that at work. Not that She usually minded the ragging, She even encouraged it most times. She was completely open about her lifestyle at the office and it delighted her that her male coworkers were either so stupid or so ignorant that they believed she was joking. It was amazing to her that these men could swallow the letters printed in Penthouse as fact, yet laugh off her detailed descriptions of real-life encounters. She relieved herself; the act of defecation reminding her of the way michael's tongue had felt inside her. She'd been surprised overall how professional a job he'd done with the whole massage. Most subs tried to make it an erotic act: planting little kisses, groping her breasts. And while michael had poked her once or twice through the panties, she'd dealt with enough subs "accidentally" rubbing their cocks against her to know that in michael's case it had been genuine clumsiness. She finished her business, flushed, brushed her teeth, gargled mouthwash, spat and smiled to the disheveled haridelle in the mirror. Just another glamorous day in the life of a Domme. michael had no idea how close to her heart he'd hit with his analogy about dogs. In Catherine's estimation, all men were dogs; only some were more German Shepherd and others more Irish Setter. michael was definitely more Working Group than Toy, but then again, she grinned, slipping into the shower, they were all toys to Her. She felt better after her shower, she always did. She wrapped one towel around her body, a second around her hair, and went back into the bedroom. Bast, the cat, had jumped up on the bed and was licking herself. She'd already made a good sized stain on Catherine's satin bedcover. "Damn it, Bas, get off!" The cat continued to lap at itself, oblivious. Catherine undid the towel across her torso and teased it into a rat's tail. She snapped it, with precision accuracy, directly above the indolent creature. Bast stopped, glared at her, and hissed. "I SAID GET OFF!" She barked. The cat began licking itself again. Catherine sighed. "Bitch," she muttered. She went over to her vanity. She loved cats, but at least men were trainable. By the time she was done drying her hair, the first rays of the sun were peeking through her blinds. She went to the dresser and picked up the pair of cotton underwear that had been neatly folded on top. They were michael's, and they were probably the cleanest pair of men's underwear she had ever seen. If it weren't for the faded tags, she'd have sworn they were new. Given the disorderly condition of his apartment, she hadn't expected it of him. Unfortunately for michael, the pair of panties she'd swapped them for hadn't been nearly so clean. That reminded her, and she hastily pulled on the jockeys, tying a knot in the side so they'd stay up, and hurried over to her upstairs library, where she kept the computer. It was getting close to the time he'd be waking up and checking his messages. She could check when each message was read, and quickly learned his patterns. She'd sometimes wait a few minutes until she was sure he'd come and gone and then send him a very important, highly detailed notice. michael had gotten to the point where'd he check his mail three of four times before going to work. She hoped he'd check today; she was pretty sure he would. As she typed her instructions, she began to wish she had a camera in the mud room as well. She wanted so much to have seen his reaction when he retrieved his clothes and found his underwear missing, replaced by panties she'd recently used to wipe herself, front and back. The whole body of her E-mail read: Wear them to work today. Wear them all day. She pictured him sitting in the locker room of his gym after work, stripped down in front of all those men, wearing messy panties. She began to get hot. Biting the inside of her cheek, Catherine turned off the computer and rushed through the rest of getting dressed. She tugged the waist of the underwear high up her midriff, above the waist of her pants so she could cover the knot in the side with her blouse. She was running way behind at this point, and flew downstairs to make herself a quick breakfast of eggoes and orange juice for her, and a tin of overpriced cat food for Bast. Not for the first time did she reflect on how nice it would be to have a slave to help her through all the mundane little tasks of the day. But that would mean letting them in parts of her house that she still wasn't comfortable with anyone going. Not since Alex. She bit down on the inside of her cheek hard. It was bad enough that he had to haunt her dreams every night; she got furious when he wasted her waking moments, too. Especially now that she was trying to seriously start her life again. She'd studied enough psychology to know that extreme hatred almost always stemmed from another, equally extreme emotion, often love. Catherine hated Alex with every fiber of her being. She gulped down the last of her juice, gave Bast's back a friendly scratch, and sprinted for the door. In spite of all her dallying and daydreaming, she still got to the clinic before 7:30. There were already a few mini vans in the visitor's parking. Catherine parked hers behind the clinic next to the other employees, entered through the back door, and put on her white coat. Mistress Catherine became Dr. Catherine, DVM. It was going to be a long, boring, shitty day. Monday mornings were the second busiest day of the week. Saturdays were the heaviest, when people finally decided to make time for the animals they'd brought into their homes. Catherine and her three partners in the practice had a standing rule: If you wanted Saturday off, you had to go Monday morning alone, barring emergencies. As much as she dreaded carrying the load alone until noon, she knew from long experience not to even kid about wanting an emergency. The Fates had a way of making you pay for such idle thoughts. What made the day even shittier, however, was the fact that she had no plans to see michael that evening. That had been all her decision, and she was regretting it. But she'd had a few other promising relationships go sour by spending too much time together initially; learning too much too quickly and then growing bored before there was any chance to grow. Besides, she reasoned, if a Top couldn't control Herself, She had no call to control anybody else. Catherine bade a brief good morning to Mandy and Amy, the two assistants working the early shift. The young women said hi back and when she'd left the room, gave each other a knowing look about the dark circles under her eyes. Unlike Catherine's fellow veterinarians, the women in the office knew the score. She'd even invited Mandy, who was into piercings and "occasionally getting tied up," to the munch/birthday party Catherine's fellow Dommes had thrown her two years back; but that was as far as it went. Catherine didn't believe in shitting where she ate. The doors were unlocked at precisely seven-thirty. Catherine always made sure that the doors opened exactly on time when she was in the building. It was Spring, and that meant a lot of paw-biting and butt-dragging as allergies began to kick in for the four-legged set. There were ear infections and fleas and a few old-timers who were feeling the first pangs of arthritis. There was a woman, reeking of cigarettes, who couldn't fathom why her cockatiel was so prone to respiratory infections. Catherine tried to be as tactful and professional as she could, but the lady refused to believe that she was the cause of all her pet's problems. The woman left the office muttering irritably about how it was all a scam by the vets to keep her coming back for more expensive medication. Catherine gave the bird four months to live. Actually, Catherine had found that most owners of exotic pets were far more conscientious about their animal's well-being than the average Joe who owned a dog. You had to be, really. Exotics were exotic for a reason: they evolved in very specialized climates and natural conditions and it was folly to think you could just plunk them down in an alien environment and expect them to thrive. It would be like taking a kid off a farm in Iowa and dropping him down in the heart of Manhattan. Good owners did everything in their power to adapt their environments to suit their pet's needs. Bad owners expected the animal to adapt to them. Most died of stress, instead. At 9:15, just when things should have been dying down, a woman came barreling in with a broken and bloody Black Lab in her arms. Mandy was on the phone in a flash to get someone else in to cover while Amy ran interference with the owner, trying to calm her down and get the full story. Catherine didn't need the story. Dog vs. car, it was simple as that. She scooped the silent, trembling form into her arms - seventy pounds of dead weight - and carried it to one of the exam rooms, setting it gently down on the stainless steel table. Her white coat was smeared with blood already. She could tell just by looking at the animal what was coming next. She fought the urge to go to the sink and throw up. She gently stroked the fur on its head, spoke soothing words into its vacant, unseeing eyes. When Mandy ducked her head in the door, Catherine ordered her to stay with the dog while she went and had The Talk with the owner. Catherine hated The Talk. She hated a world where such a thing was even necessary. Amy glanced up and saw the look in her eyes and backed away quietly. "Is he going to be okay?" the woman asked, her voice barely more controlled than her earlier frantic wailing. "Ma'am, I can't lie to you. Your dog is seriously injured." "Oh God!" "He'll need surgery." "Surgery?" "There's no chance he'll even survive," her voice caught in her throat. Her eyes began to water up. "And if he did.. he might never be the same... but he might," she added forcefully. But it was too late, she could see the wheels already turning. "How much would this cost?" the woman's voice was soft and she sounded lost. Catherine's hands were balled into fists. Her nails were sinking deep into her palms. She told the woman. "Oh, Christ!" "I know it seems like a lot," Catherine's voice was plaintive, begging almost. But in her heart she knew. Some dogs recovered. Some ended up as frisky as ever and full of life. These were her Angels. She had pictures of each one on her office wall and she sent them Christmas cards every year: addressed to the dogs themselves, not the owners. She loved her Angels, each and every one. But the dog in the other room was bleeding out of his ears. The dog in the other room wasn't making any sounds. And his owner was looking at car payments or the mortgage, or little Bobby's orthodontia. No Angels for Catherine today. "What... what else can you do?" The tears began to run down her cheeks. "We can make it painless." The woman looked into her eyes, found more understanding than she had possibly expected to. She nodded. Catherine reached out and gently stroked the woman's shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze. They were both covered in blood so stains didn't seem to matter. She got up and went into the back. Mandy saw the expression on Catherine's face. She nodded grimly while Catherine got the shot. Catherine always wanted so desperately to be the one to cradle the animal's head. To stroke its fur and speak calming, reassuring words until the end. But state law required that only a doctor was allowed to even hold the shot, so Catherine was always the executioner. The dog was already deep into shock and died without even a whimper. Catherine stood there for a long while afterward, running her hands along the animal's flanks, telling him what a good boy he'd been. What a brave boy he'd been. She couldn't stop crying. Eventually Mandy had to come in and take her out of the room, to her office. She sat Catherine down, ran her hands through Catherine's hair and told her over and over that it would be all right. When Mandy finally left her, Catherine sunk her head down onto the desk. She wanted Alex. She wanted Alex to hold her and kiss her and make love to her. But Alex wasn't an option anymore. She had no options anymore. michael might never be an option. She had only herself. She felt cold. "Wow, that bad, huh?" She looked up to see Pete in the doorway. Catherine had three partners in the clinic, all male. Two she knew from Vet School. Peter she knew from kindergarten. He was short and stocky and had a voice at twenty-nine that sounded like he'd been drinking Wild Turkey since before he left the womb. "Christ almighty you look like shit," he said. "Fuck you!" He smiled. "Look, Katie," he was the only person besides her father she'd ever let call her Katie, "I'm here now and I can get Ron in here by noon..." "Damn it, Pete, no!" "Will you stop being such a hard ass all the time? And don't give me that 'a deal's a deal' crap, either. Take the rest of the day off. Please? Doctor's orders!" "You're a veterinarian, Pete." "And you think you're the world's largest cat." "Actually, most big cats outweigh me by..." "Will you shut up and get the fuck out of here!" He smiled as he said it. She managed a small one in reply. * * * * She went to Barnes & Noble because they had in abundance the two things that calmed her most: coffee and books. She did a quick reconnaissance of the store, gathered up an armful of promising candidates, got a big steaming mug of Irish Cream, and curled up in one of the big, comfy chairs by the door. Reading was her one great passion in life; books were her addiction. In her library at home she'd stuffed the shelves of her bookcases two deep. There were enormous piles of books on the floor, like snowdrifts; great towering stacks of them that reached the ceiling. It had gotten so bad that she'd been contemplating moving the computer downstairs to the living room just to make more room. The managers at Barnes & Noble didn't mind if she spent an afternoon reading in their store because they knew she'd buy twice as many books when she was done as she'd finished there. She read everything: pet care books- naturally - books on biology and astronomy, psychology, sex, Eastern philosophy and witchcraft. She devoured mysteries by the ton, particularly Lilian Jackson Braun, and loved fantasy and horror. Anne Rice, of course, spoke to something deep in her soul, but she especially enjoyed the twisted, repressed, dehumanized sexuality of H. P. Lovecraft. She could blow a month's pay in one weekend, all on books. By contrast, Catherine spent virtually nothing on her D&S lifestyle; with the notable and rankling exception of the downstairs tub. The vast majority of her whips and cuffs and vibrators had come as "tribute" from subs who, not coincidentally, had always fantasized about being tied up with "X" or whipped with "Y" or fucked with "Z." Most of her "Domme outfits" had been gifts from her fellow Dommes at the birthday party she'd taken Mandy to. Caresse had explained that "We're tired of always seeing you looking like Death, chéri." Catherine hadn't caught the reference and had been highly offended. She began to sulk when Mandy explained that 'Death' was a character in a comic book who usually dressed the same way Catherine did; or at least the same way Catherine was dressed that night. The others had assured Mandy, who had only ever seen her boss dressed for work, that Catherine's outfit that evening was sadly typical. michael was into comic books, she mused. Perhaps she'd ask him about 'Death' sometime. The tub, she had spent money on. It had been her intention to remodel the whole dungeon, putting in a tub AND a kitchenette in the mud room, so slaves could prepare her meals; but at the time she'd had a slave who was heavy into golden showers, so she'd gone with the tub first. Three months later, after shelling out half-again the estimate, the contractors still hadn't finished installing it, and her dungeon was torn to pieces. She had to fire them and bring in new contractors, who virtually had to start over from scratch. Meanwhile, the slave who had prompted all this had moved on to more golden pastures. She'd gotten her revenge, though. She'd invited him over to "inaugurate" the new tub, had tied him up, stuck a snorkel in his mouth and then filled the tub with a weeks' worth of urine she'd saved in used water cooler drums. She'd meant to leave him like that all weekend, but she relented after the first two hours when the smell began to drift upstairs. When she went down to release him, however, she saw his incredibly swollen hard-on, and left him there for the full two days, anyway. The stink by the second day was unbearable. She put down a carpet of paper towels between the tub and the back door, untied him, and ordered him to dress and leave without the chance to dry off first. In retrospect, it had probably been the biggest erotic thrill of his life, and she'd been stuck airing out her house for a week afterwards. Big revenge, she thought glumly. She wondered if michael had a thing for watersports and if she was really interested in training him. Still, it never hurt to have a well-rounded slave, and it would be so delicious to see the look of shock and betrayal in his eyes. The glorious thing about michael, she'd decided, was that he was still in that twilight world between reading about things and experiencing them. He knew what was coming, but could still be as shocked by the acts as he was by his own enjoyment of them. She began to get a yummy sensation in her belly as she daydreamed about pissing on michael; the lovely whimpering he'd make as he tried to comprehend why his beautiful Mistress degraded him so. She was getting really hot and bothered when she caught something at the periphery of her vision that made her heart skip a beat. She turned suddenly, but the man was already through the doors. She twisted herself around 180 degrees in the chair, staring intently through the plate glass window, but she couldn't see him. michael, she thought with a shudder, michael was here! In the parking lot a car was pulling out of its space. She watched miserably as it turned the other way and headed away from the store. She was mad at herself for making him park so far away Friday night, for not getting to see his car; but the maddening thing was that he had told her what kind of car he drove and she couldn't now remember it at all. Not that it would have mattered much: she knew nothing about cars, she barely knew the male and model of her own. They all looked alike to her. Still, she ran over his story over and over, hoping for some clue. He'd had it for a year, a year before the company that made it hired his firm. That was important to the story because he'd already dreamed up the commercial for his own amusement that would end up causing such a big stir at his company. She never watched TV, at least other people's TV, but apparently the commercial relied humor to make the car's main weakness seem like its best selling point. She sighed angrily. She hadn't been paying attention. He'd seemed very proud of his little triumph, so she'd let him go on at length. The car turned out of the parking lot and disappeared. She turned herself back around and dropped back into the seat. "Fuck!" People looked at her, startled. She suddenly realized that she'd said it aloud and, cheeks burning; she tried to fold herself up and stuff herself deep down behind the cushions of her chair. Catherine considered it for a little while. Had he been following her? No, she decided, michael wasn't the type. She looked at her watch. 12:48. He could have been out on lunch. It must have been a coincidence. But... what if he had seen her? What must he be thinking? The warm glow began to fill her again. What if he imagined she was stalking him? She smiled, intrigued. She'd saved every communication between them, and she was certain that somewhere he'd told her the name of the gym he used. The idea had... possibilities. True, staying apart for 24 hours had been her idea, but hadn't someone told her "No 'deal's a deal' crap?" Doctor's orders, she thought, breaking into a wicked little smile. Catherine wanted to be certain, so she got up and left her books in her chair, so nobody'd take it, and strolled over to the registers. She smiled at the cashier, Monica. Catherine knew everyone who worked there, so she had no trouble approaching her. Monica was one of those bubbly, eternally optimistic types who most people found annoying. Catherine, who split her time between sick animals, gothic Dommes and masochists, enjoyed talking to her. "Morning, Monica." "Good morning Doct... oh Jesus!" Catherine followed the line of the frightened girl's gaze and saw for the first time that the dog's blood had seeped through her coat at one point and left a large, red blossom over her left breast. The blouse had been silk, new and expensive. Now it was ruined. "Been a bad day," Catherine said slowly. Monica nodded silently. Catherine tried to calm her down with a reassuring smile. "Listen, Monica, did you get a good look at the man you just rang up?" Monica shrugged. "Not really." Catherine tisked irritably. "Not at all?" "Not really. He seemed pretty average, I guess. Nondescript." That sounded like michael. "How did he pay?" "Cash, sorry." Behind her, someone "humphed" at Catherine. She looked over her shoulder to see an elderly, overweight woman waiting behind her. "Thanks, Monica," she said moving away from the counter. "No problem, sorry. I hope you have a better day!" Catherine smiled weakly. "Me too." She got back to her chair when it occurred to her to ask what it was he had bought, but there was a line forming, as the woman who had been in such a hurry now fished around in her purse for her checks. Average. It could be michael's middle name. Not that he wasn't attractive in a plain, uninspired Midwest kind of way. He'd make a great spy, she reflected, taking a sip of her coffee, he'd fade away in a crowd with no trouble at all. It bothered her that that bothered her so much. The problem was that Catherine was used to the James Bond type of spy: dashing, charismatic and beautiful. Even kelli, who'd been such damaged goods, had been a lovely thing to look at; and Alex had been, was still, the most beautiful being Christine had ever seen in her entire life. Beautiful bodies, she thought glumly, ugly souls. She wondered if it worked in reverse, but then again, she'd never found Hitler an attractive man. She wondered if michael had a beautiful soul. She wanted him to. In a part of her psyche she refused to acknowledge, she needed him to. Regardless, she intended to find out, and soon; before she let herself get too attached. She intended to drive him hard and fast, to test him beyond all possible doubt. And if he stumbled? Faltered, shied away or "threw a shoe," as it were? Then she'd cut him loose, hard. If he got hurt, if he was damaged... she couldn't concern herself. She'd told him, she was out to get what she wanted. Mistress always got what She wanted. Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Seven: Workouts Part One: Monday Afternoon. Normally i'd hit the john and change into my sweats with five minutes or so left to go before the end of the day. That Monday, i waited until five minutes after, making sure the office had cleared out. On top of the bruises, i now had a rash covering my genital region thanks to Mistress' wet panties. It itched mercilessly. The elastic waist band had sliced deep into my midriff and people had begun noticing a faint odor about me by after lunch. "Mexican food," i tried to explain with a laugh, but the smell was much pissier in nature. By contrast, my gym sweats hung on my body like a tent. i had to take the string in my pants and make yet another knot. Part of it was the fact that i hadn't eaten more than a few bites since Thursday morning. i'd been too nervous for lunch; afraid i might vomit under the stress i knew i'd be facing that evening. A similar sense of queasiness kept me from eating at all on Friday, and Mistress Catherine did not exactly serve meals in Her dungeon. When i'd gotten home late Sunday afternoon, i'd immediately went to the bedroom and collapsed, sleeping in till the alarm went off the next morning. And i'd taken my lunch break that day to make a quick trip to Barnes & Noble to pick up something i'd thought of in a rare flash of inspiration. For one second i thought i'd actually seen Mistress there, in the mystery section of all places, but i wrote it off to wishful thinking. It had been a terrible strain all day to keep Her edict about my not being able to masturbate. Still, i knew i couldn't break it and get away with it. Her eyes looked straight into me. That night would go murderously slow by myself in that apartment. Which was another reason i was in little hurry to get out to the gym that night. As i slouched out through the reception area, i was surprised to see Lindsey, the receptionist, still at her desk. The consensus among my fellow workers was that Lindsey had to be a lesbian because she A: had three piercings in one ear, and B: had somehow managed to resist the charms of every guy in the office who had asked her out. By my count, that was all of them except me. It had become customary on Monday mornings to stand around the "water cooler" (which was really a coke machine) and make up all kinds of filthy stories about Lindsey's wild, concupiscent weekends. Because i wouldn't play, there were a few nasty stories told about me as well. "Night, Lindsey," i said, making a B-line for the door. "Uh, Mr. R- ?" she asked. "Yeah?" i turned to look at her. "Could I, like, say something?" "Uh, sure Lindsey." We hardly ever said more than four words to each other a day. "Morning!" "Good Night!" and brief exchanges when she had to transfer a phone call to me. i always tried to be friendly and courteous, in part to make up for the cretinous behavior of my fellow employees. "It's just... I hope you don't get, like, offended or something?" "Uh huh?" "But it's just... you really need to buy some new clothes. I mean - that's a good thing, y'know?" "Yeah, you're probably right about that." "I mean, if you had some clothes that fit, you'd look pretty, I don't know, good, you know?" "Really?" i asked, genuinely curious. She rolled her eyes. "Oh jeez!" she moaned. "I didn't mean - I wasn't - it's not that..." "Whoa, easy there," i said, trying to calm her down. "It's just, I like you and all, you're really nice to me, but it's not like..." "You just want to be friends." "Oh jeez! I hate that!" i laughed. "Usually I do too, Lindsey. But this time, for once, it's not that bad a thing." She looked at me, slightly astonished. "Really?" "Really," i said smiling calmly. "I just thought, you should, like, know - about the clothes and all." "Like I said, you're right about that. I guess I've had a lot going on in my life recently to worry about my wardrobe too much." "Yeah, you could tell," she said, nodding. "Oh could you?" "Oh, yeah! Like, last week you were the biggest spas. I thought somebody was going to throttle you, and now today you came in here like, I dunno, Michael Jordan or something." i looked at her blankly. "You know... cool." "Oh," i said in a soft, surprised voice. "Thank you." Of course, i was standing across the room from her, and she probably would've taken it back if she could've smelled me, but it still meant a lot. "Yeah," she said again, smiling warmly at me. i smiled back at her. i drove to the gym with the word "cool" still reverberating in my ears. i'd always been the nice one, the safe one, never the cool one. When i parked my car, i took a moment to check myself out in the rearview mirror. Some idiot, trying to look cool, stared back at me. i checked in at the front desk and climbed up the stairs to the main weight room. i didn't get three steps in before i froze, my heart seizing up in my chest. She was there. She had on a black Lycra leotard and powder blue shorts. Her hair was back up in a pony tail and She was chatting, no, flirting with a small group of resident stud muffins who had gathered around Her like pigs to a troth. She looked over at the stairs, saw me and grinned triumphantly. She'd said, the night before, that the earliest i could hope to see Her again would be Tuesday. i wondered if this was still another test; if She was expecting me to approach Her or not. i decided to go with my initial instructions and not make contact. i got my card, and had intended to go through my usual routine. There was a smiley face drawn on it in pencil, along with a capital "C." According to my schedule, i was supposed to work on my upper body, so i went over to the butterfly machine. Next, the curls. Next came the bench press. i slid myself under the bar and began to go through my usual series of two sets of fifteen reps. When i was up to the tenth rep of the second set, i felt a shifting of weight at the front of the bench. i looked up; She was sitting at the edge. Her knees touched mine and our legs were pressed together all the way down our shins. She planted Her feet on top of mine, and our thighs made a diamond shape with a sensual no-man's-land in the space inside. People began to stop and stare. "Don't let Me bother you," She said. "Um, actually i was nearly finished, Mistress." "Nonsense, michael, I won't hear of it. Do continue." Not knowing what else to do, i finished my set and began another one. my arms and chest began to tire. "It was very rude of you not to say hello to Me when you came in, michael." "i... wasn't... sure... Mistress." my words came out between deep breaths. The weights seemed to grow heavier with each lift. "It's very intimidating coming to a strange place and being all alone, michael." i almost laughed at "all alone." i finished my third set and let go of the bar. She pressed down on the tops of my feet with Her own, and i took the bar up again to do a fourth set. my muscles were really aching now. i was grunting with every lift. Halfway through the set, She leaned in so close that the top of Her head almost touched the bar. She pushed my sweatshirt up my torso and lifted the waist of my pants, craning Her head around to get a good look inside. One of the female spectators gasped at Mistress' boldness. She pulled herself back into an upright position and smiled broadly at me. "Well, I guess I can forgive you just this once." The smile suddenly turned into a frown. "Jesus!" She said crossly. "Aren't you EVER going to be finished with that?" We went down to the juice bar after that. People pointed and whispered as we passed by. She was skipping along like a schoolgirl, leading me by the hand. She stopped short at the glass counter. She looked to me and asked, "What do you like, michael?" i pointed to a bottle of flavored sparkling water. "Cherry?" She scanned my face for any hint of sarcasm or irony. There was none to find. "Okay, what flavor don't you like?" "Uh," i scanned the counter until i saw one that made me grimace. "Peach, Mistress." She turned to the teenager working the register. "One cherry, two peach, please!" We sat at a table and She pushed the two bottles of peach towards me, twisting open the cherry and taking a long swig. "you must be terribly thirsty michael, drink up!" i took big long gulps, trying to get the unpleasant water past my taste buds as quickly as possible. She finished Her bottle and gave me a long penetrating stare. "I wish you wouldn't look at Me that way, michael." "Mistress?" "you look as though I could puncture you with a needle and a thousand questions would come rushing out at once. It's very annoying. I don't appreciate being bombarded with questions, michael, even if they are unspoken ones." "Forgive me, Mistress," i pleaded, casting my eyes down at the table. "I'm well aware I'm breaking My own orders by being here, michael. I have My reasons. If you feel, however that this makes Me somehow untrustworthy then you are free to end this relationship now. Or..." She waited until i looked up and met Her gaze again. "We could go back to My house now. Which would you prefer?" We took separate cars back to Her house. Before we left the gym, however, She stopped me at the door with a hand on my chest. "You don't think I'm letting you into My home all sweaty and disgusting like this, do you michael?" "But, Mistress, i usually take my shower when i get home." She laughed. "Of course you do! I can imagine how being naked in front of all those men who are so much bigger than you are," She glanced down at my crotch, "must be extremely humiliating. But I'm afraid I must insist, My sweet. You can either take a warm shower here as a prelude to an evening with Mistress, or a cold shower by yourself back at your apartment." Actually, being modestly endowed was the least of my concerns. By the time i got into the locker room, most of the guys there had been present at Mistress' show. Those few that hadn't had been brought up to speed, so when i entered the room, an eerie calm settled over everything. The one mollifying thing about the whole experience was that, of those who had seen Mistress, i got as many envious looks as contemptuous ones. i tried to pick a relatively deserted corner to undress; nearly impossible considering that i was the center of attention. When i got my pants off, a murmur ran through the room. i thought i was going to have to cut Mistress' panties off of me. The waistband had dug a trench around my equator. i finally wormed my body out of them and ran a finger along the sore, red line bisecting me. Guys took one look at my afflicted crotch and moved out of my way wordlessly. i didn't have a towel, so i used my sweatshirt instead, returning to the parking lot in just my T-shirt. It had taken an act of will greater than any i had ever known to put those panties back on again, but it was worth it. Mistress was leaning up against the trunk of Her car, waiting for me. She checked. Before we left, She did a strange thing. She insisted i point out my car to Her, and then gave me a very odd look once She had seen it. i wondered about that the whole drive to Her place, but given Her expressed displeasure over my curiosity, i forced myself to let it go. i parked along the side of the road. She had gotten there ahead of me and was standing on the lawn. When i walked over to Her, She gave me a warm wet kiss and said, "Wait on the patio for about ten minutes." Then She giggled and ran back up to the house. i stood there, letting the kiss linger in my mouth. She tasted like cherries. i suddenly remembered something i'd left in the car, so i went back to get it before proceeding to the slave's entrance. i cooled my heels for the requisite ten minutes, then entered, going through the same routine as before: strip, garbage can, collar. i put the item from the car on the top of the pile, so i could easily retrieve it later. i walked into the dungeon and stopped. i made an inarticulate sound of awe and pleasure. She was dressed only in a pair of tight-fitting leather pants that laced up the sides. She was beautiful. i fell to my knees. She walked to me, Her pants making an incredibly exciting creak as She moved. She took my hand and laid it on Her hip. my palm rested on the warm, diamond shaped high relief of flesh formed by the laces; my fingers on the cool, smooth surface of leather. She eased my hand down to Her knee. i whimpered ecstatically. She ran my hand back up to the swell of Her hip. i whimpered again. "There now," She said in a seductive, hypnotic voice, "you've had your dessert early tonight. Now it's time for the main course." She had hooked up a sort of trapeze to the ceiling and it was just high enough that i could reach it if i stood on my toes. She pulled over Her stepladder and commanded me to do just that; and then locked my hands into place with police cuffs. She got down, put soft padded cuffs around my ankles and hooked a big wooden rod between them; spreading my legs terribly wide. i was now practically putting all my weight on my big toes. i tried to just hang from the bar, but the muscles in my arms were tired and sore from all those extra bench presses. The whole thing was really more tiring than sensual for me, and my penis started to loll about in a semi-soft state. Mistress circled me, and held up an object for my inspection. It was made of dull red rubber and the only purpose i could imagine for it was as a butt-plug of elephantine proportions. It was as wide as my biceps at one end and thinned only to about the width of my wrist at the other. Sticking out of the rubber, and spaced evenly around the sides like points on a compass, were four white, plastic cylinders. There was a tiny hole at the "thin" end, and a wide one at the thicker. A shoelace had been threaded through the holes. "Pretty, isn't it, michael?" "It's beautiful, Mistress," i lied, mortified at the thought that the monstrous thing would be invading my body. "I'm glad you like it. I designed it myself. My... friends and I have a little social club and we get together infrequently to.. you know... talk, show off our latest acquisitions and play a few party games. "One of those games was to see who could design the best homemade Teeth of Kali, and I won. Do you know what Teeth of Kali are, michael?" "No, Mistress." But it sounded bad. "Why, you're looking at one now, silly! May I demonstrate?" i was shaking badly. "Please do, Mistress. Please show me your wonderful device." She moved, not to my ass, but to my cock. She took the bit of string at the wide end and tied it sharply, just underneath the glans. Then She pulled at the other end of the lace, sliding the whole rubber contraption over me until my whole cock was inside and the chubby end was pressing against my pubic bone. She finished by tying a bow at the thin end to keep it fast against my body. Inside, it was a tight, but not unpleasant, fit for my still flaccid, stretched-out member. The interior was actually a rectangular tunnel made of hard, smooth plastic; probably the same kind as the mysterious cylinders. As my penis hardened a little, i could feel dozens of tiny holes in the surface of the plastic, and my flesh began to slowly expand into them. Mistress held up something that looked a little like a plastic flashlight, only with a thinner handle. The face looked more like a shower faucet, lined with holes, and there was a white dot in the center. Mistress pressed down on the dot. The face slid backwards with the creak of rusty springs. Through the holes appeared dozens of little plastic spikes. "oh god," i groaned. The first tiny pinpricks began to ripple across the surface of my trapped manhood. "You see," She chirped like an infomercial, "the string holds it in place until you're hard and then the spikes do all the rest." i closed my eyes, moaning. my fear made me hard. my hardness brought me pain. my pain made me afraid. "Not bad for a dog toy, four meat tenderizers and an old shoelace, eh, michael? And the best part is that the blood comes right out this hole in the tip!" That did it. i began to cry incoherently, thrashing in my bonds. She slapped me across the face. "I'm kidding! Calm down! Those spikes aren't nearly as sharp as you think they are, michael, and you're not thick enough to drive them all the way in!" She caught my chin and pointed my face directly at hers. "Do you understand?" i nodded, whimpering in a completely different way than before. "All right, then. I was going to gag you; I know how much you get off on that. But I think for both our sakes, I'd better leave your pretty mouth open just in case you need your safeword. This," She thumped the rubber with Her finger, "is only the beginning of our session tonight, do you understand, michael?" i nodded miserably. "I need to hear you say it." "i understand, Mistress." "Understand what?" "This... thing.." "Teeth of Kali, michael." "This... these Teeth of Kali are only the beginning." "And do you want more?" No. i nodded yes. "Say it, michael." "Please, Mistress. Please give me more!" Despite what She'd said, my prick had swollen to fill the entire cavity; at least in width. The spikes sunk deep into my most sensitive flesh. A sheen of sweat broke out across my freshly-showered body. "I thought you didn't like pain." "i want to give you pleasure, Mistress!" "How very noble of you." "Please!" i practically screamed, "i NEED to give you pleasure!" "All right, michael," She said very softly. "Thank you." Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Seven: Workouts Part Two: Monday Evening. She went over to Her racks of toys, leaving me to twist and tremble in unspeakable agony. When She returned She had a girlish look of mirth on Her face and something behind Her back. She pressed close to me, extremely close. "I've noticed that your sweet little plums have a distressing tendency to run away from Me when I want to play with them, michael," She said, reaching under Her "invention" and tenderly grasping my balls. She wasn't hurting me - there - but i made a keening sound, a pitiful wailing, in dreadful anticipation. "You see?" She said, tightening Her grasp and pulling them gently downward. My words word have sounded a bit like this: "Owowowowowowowowow!" i was virtually howling. "And you don't hang very low to begin with My sweet, so I'm going to have to start training you." She held up a leather device that was as meaningless to me, yet as sinister, as the Teeth Of Kali. There were laces up the front, like the sides of Her pants, and a chain dangling underneath. "This is called a parachute spreader," She explained, awkwardly tugging it over my scrotum. "You see?" She asked, pulling at it roughly. "If they dropped lower, it wouldn't be this difficult!" She did up the laces. The stretching sensation in my groin was unbelievable. "And what we do," She said, holding up a small metal cylinder with a hook on the top, "is this." She hooked it to the chain. My balls weren't just being pushed away from my body, now they were being dragged away by a full pound of weight. "A pound doesn't seem like very much, does it michael?" i was gibbering mindlessly. She snapped Her fingers in front of my face. "MICHAEL!" "i don't know, Mistress," i groaned. "It seems like so much to me!" "Well, I think you can take another pound," She said sternly. "And if I'm wrong, you can always use your safeword and we'll clean up the mess later." Clack. Another pound. They clattered like castanets from the violent shaking that wracked my body. All the jostling awakened new waves of torment inside the Teeth Of Kali. She surveyed me like an artist taking in the full effect of their work. "Clamps, definitely." i hardly even felt them as She clipped a pair of baby alligators to my nipples. The sensations just had too much to compete with. "Well, michael," She said at length, "you do remember what I told you yesterday, don't you?" i sobbed in reply. We'd spent most of the day in the dungeon's den. Saturday night, i'd slept chained spread-eagle to the sofa sleeper and spent the morning at Her feet, lapping at Her soles and suckling Her toes while She had coffee and read the Sunday papers. With an hour or so before She'd dismiss me, we went into the dungeon and She had me lean against the punishment horse - "assume the position" as they say in cop shows - and had given me a firm, but moderate spanking. It hadn't really hurt that much, and i told Her that truthfully when She asked. "This is just to get you used to it," She informed me. "Next time you are here I intend to give you a proper beating." Next time had come much sooner than i had anticipated. She had positioned me from the start to stand facing the pegboard where She displayed Her weapons. She walked over and began to pick through the bullwhips coiled like snakes, the crops and canes and broad wooden paddles. She selected an arm-length, leather-wrapped shaft with a flap on the end. "What do you think?" She asked, displaying it proudly. "It's a beautiful crop, Mistress," i replied. "It's a QUIRT!" She snapped, smacking it squarely across my testicles. i nearly blacked out. My legs turned to jelly and all my weight fell to my straining arms and shoulders to bear. i couldn't even cry out, i just dropped with a soft puff of escaping breath. "You've been dreaming of this for how long, michael? And you still don't know the proper terminology?" "Mistress, please," i grunted, "forgive me." "If you were to display this kind of ignorance amongst company, it would reflect badly on Me as a Mistress, michael. It'd take a lot more that 'Please, Mistress' to assuage Me then. A lot more." Her eyes burned into mine. my balls tried to pull up out of fear, with disastrous results. It wasn't the threat of "A lot more," it was the threat of "Company." "Fine. It's My duty to educate you. You don't know the difference between a crop and a quirt?" "No Mistress." Smack! This time i did cry out. "Obviously! A quirt, My dear, has this leather tongue on the end. Do you see?" i nodded. "Open wide and I shall slip you the tongue." i opened my mouth and She stuck the end of the quirt in it. She rubbed it around the roof of my mouth and back and forth over my tongue. my mouth filled with the taste of the leather and i began to feel the first real stirrings of sinful pleasure course through my ravaged body. "Poor michael," said Mistress as She French-kissed me with Her whip. "How hard it must be for you. All your fetishes and desires so neatly wrapped up together in this twilight realm, yet inextricably linked to all those things you hate and fear. Genuine desire forever conjoined with genuine suffering." She pulled the quirt from my mouth. "You'd probably be better off with a hooker, My sweet. You could indulge in everything you want and not have to worry about all the nasty bits on the side." "Not everything Mistress," i blurted through the pain. She raised Her eyebrows in surprise. "Why you little brown noser! Do you mean Me?" She laughed, lifted Her arms up and twirled around. "You have a Catherine fetish now, is that it? My, that IS serious." She pulled back and hung the quirt back in its place. "Let's see, michael. I've given you a taste to sate your anal fetish, and I've given you a taste to sate your leather fetish." She smiled at me malevolently. "Would you like Me to give you a taste to sate your Catherine fetish?" "Please, Mistress!" She selected a paddle from the wall, only it wasn't actually a paddle. i'd played tennis and squash in college, and it definitely looked like a racquet of some kind. The frame was wider than a tennis racquet, and the handle was much shorter. She'd covered the whole thing in black leather; and judging by the way She hefted it, She'd replaced the strings with something heavier. She displayed one side to me. It was covered in small metal studs. "Naughty," She explained. She flipped it over. The other side was smooth. "Nice." She began to play with the racquet; to spin and twirl it and flip and catch it. She was incredibly deft with it. "This is Catherine's favorite paddle, michael," She explained. "Do you know why that is?" "No, Mistress." Crack! She smacked the "naughty" side against my ass and held it there, grinding the studs against my skin. "Don't be stupid! Of course you don't. I haven't told you yet. Would you like Me to tell you?" "Oh, please, Mistress," i cried. Crack! The "nice" side this time. "Such a sweet slave." Like before, She kept the paddle pressed against me, rubbing it against my cheeks. This time, however, the sensation of the leather against my tenderized ass was intensely arousing. Given where my cock was at the time, this proved a decidedly mixed blessing. She began to circle me as She talked. Whenever She wished to emphasize something, the paddle would come crashing down on my ass like a corporal exclamation point. "This racquet is directly responsible for My First Time, michael. Not My first time having sex!" Crack! "My first time having sex was hardly an event I'd wish to commemorate!" Crack! "Actually, I was quite old when I lost My virginity. Not as old as you are, of course! But old by comparison with My..." Her voice seemed to trip over itself. "My peers!" She hit me with the studded side on that one. "I never was much interested in dating, but on some level there is an almost inherent D&S aspect to the relationships between teenage boys and girls. Or at least, there used to be." She sighed. "I couldn't even say the experience was... interesting. It didn't last long, and frankly, wasn't even as painful as I'd heard it described." In spite of everything, i had to fight to suppress a smile. Only She would consider something like pain to be an added bonus. "Once I got to college, that changed. Boys now wanted to be men and take all the power for themselves. Inexplicably, the women actually ceded it to them! Now I understand that it's like that even in high schools, which is a terrible shame. Girls have SO much power over boys when they're young, it's inconceivable to Me why they give it up for something stupid and nebulous like 'security'! I've provided for myself far better than most the girls I knew who gave up control of their lives to some... man!" She'd landed three more blows during the course of Her statement. my ass was beginning to glow. "The point is that once I arrived at college, My interest in 'dating' which had always been tenuous at best, evaporated entirely. I had friends, some of whom were eminently fuckable; and I did attempt to try having sex again, but it was only marginally more satisfactory than the initial time. I was not unaware of what it was that I sought, but I didn't really understand all that much about it, being a 'good' little Catholic schoolgirl from the Midwest." "Then, in the second half of My Freshman year, I took a psych course and for the first time heard the word 'Sadist,'" She whacked me with the "naughty" side, hard, "used in a sexual context. I don't know, michael. Can you remember the first time that all the diffuse, vague longings and half-understood desires finally coalesced into something coherent, something you could put a word to?" Actually i couldn't. It had never quite been like that. It was more an organic evolution for me rather than a single revelatory incident. i said so, and She seemed saddened by it. "Well, for Me, michael, it was like waking up. Like My libido just stopped dreaming one day and woke right up! "Unfortunately, I was still woefully ignorant about a lot of the 'Facts of Life,' if you will, when it came to dominance and submission. I actually thought that I would be in the position most subs face; having to deal with incredibly stiff competition just to get a decent partner. I couldn't imagine that subs outnumbered Dommes the way they do. It feels contrary to human nature almost, that people would rather be beaten than do the beating." She punctuated this with a series of lightning swift strokes across the inflamed skin of my ass and the backs of my thighs. My chin was to my chest at this point an rivulets of sweat cascaded down my body. i was listening to every word She said, but it was in a kind of fugue state. "I had a friend. A very dear male friend. He was very much like you, michael, sensitive and unassuming, even submissive in a way. But he went about expressing that submissiveness in the wrong way: he would constantly date shrewish, mean women who treated him like shit. He would follow them like puppies and they'd just abuse him. He confused mean with strong, do you understand?" She slapped me back to attention. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND, MICHAEL?" "Yes, Mistress," i rasped, nodding feebly. "It would have taken no effort on My part to make him My lover. Does that strike you as arrogant, michael?" She was poised to strike me Herself. i thought of the way the men at the gym had clustered around Her. "No Mistress! Men throw themselves at you Mistress!" She smacked me with the smooth side. "Sweet boy." i could hear Her kiss flesh, and She gently pressed Her hand to my stinging skin. "I tested him a bit, tried to gage his reactions to the idea of bondage and pain and the like. Sadly, he was also from a 'good' Midwestern upbringing and he found the ideas, well, unpleasant at best. It was easier for him to have his ego ground down by continuous mistreatment, than to suffer a whipping from loving hands. As I said, I was still quite inexperienced myself, and I thought I understood his motivations at the time." "Two or three times a week, we'd get together and play racquetball. I became very good at it and I enjoyed both the exercise and the competition. I finally fixed on an idea that would give Me the opportunity to stretch out My wings as a Domme. I brought him to My room one Friday night and told him all about Me. All about what I desired. He was terribly shocked and deeply troubled by it all, I guess proving that My ability to feel him out had been more subtle than even I had given myself credit for. I offered him a deal. "We would play a match in the morning. If I lost, I would become his lover for the rest of the semester. That was still a good two months, mind you, and I intended to go the whole way, do the whole doting girlfriend bit. If he lost, he was mine for the next twenty-four hours." She paused, looked into my eyes. "That game was the biggest sexual rush of My entire life. And he played his ass off!" She stopped, smiled at me, twirled Her racquet around on Her palm, smiled again with Her entire face. She went back to the pegboard and hung the racquet up. She strode towards me and unlocked the cuffs. Somehow, i managed to stay on my feet, teetering. She removed the various torture devices. The Teeth of Kali came off with a struggle, and my prick was pockmarked with ugly purple dimples. i swooned. Finally, She undid the ankle cuffs. i hadn't been instructed to count, but i took at least twenty lashes in total. "Storytime is over, michael, now I wish for My massage." She gently took my aching penis in Her hand and led me to Her dungeon den. The bed was out, and on it lay what looked to be a pair of thin, rubbery underwear. i was about to ask permission to go to the mud room and get my surprise for Mistress, when She began to speak. "Go to the bed. Pick it up." i did. It was heavier than i'd thought. i looked inside and saw a metal tube. It wasn't underwear. "I'm afraid, My pet, that, small as you are, My panties still didn't hold you in enough to keep from spoiling what was otherwise an exceptional back rub. That is a chastity belt. Quite a charming little toy, don't you think?" "It looks... serious, Mistress." "That's understandable, michael. It is an... educational toy after all," She purred. "That's neoprene over strips of stainless steel. It's designed for long term usage." My stomach flipped. Long Term. "Put it on, michael." In many ways, it was set up like the CBT belt i had worn on Saturday, only my penis went through the tube instead of a ring, and was forced to point straight down. Once the final straps were pulled around the cheeks of my ass, i would have to piss siting down, and masturbation was out of the realm of possibility. The cruelest irony of all was that the waist of the belt came right up into the line sunk into my waist by the panties and the rubber chaffed the raw skin there. "You do remember all those measurements I made you make a month ago, don't you? What did you think they were for?" "I guess I didn't know," i admitted. "I was supposed to have it yesterday," She explained, sounding a little irritated, "but the man who makes them is a bit of a perfectionist; and he refused to hand it over until I could confirm you'd gotten it right, so I had to go and break out the tape measure." My jaw dropped. i gaped at Her in utter confusion. "By the way," She giggled, "you make the cutest sound when someone touches you while you're sleeping." She walked towards me, swaggering Her hips. "I believe you know this part already," She said, thrusting Her pelvis towards me. i got to my knees and took the end of one of the laces in my mouth. The smell of the leather was mixed with the slightest touch of Her perfume. i undid the bow. Removing Mistress' pants with my mouth proved to be a painstaking task that left me charged with phenomenal heat. Again, that feeling of sensuality was only partly welcome as my cock endured new torment within its unforgiving metal tube. When i was done, She climbed into the bed and lay face down, awaiting me. "Mistress?" She turned Her head towards me, taken aback. "What is it michael?" "May i... i... i have brought something that may help me in this endeavor. May i please go and retrieve it? Mistress?" Her eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. "If you must." "Thank you, Mistress!" i ran out to the mud room. The moment Her eyes fell upon the walkman, you could almost see the plumes of frost upon Her breath. i was suddenly very comforted by the knowledge that my privates were safely behind a strip of steel. "I'm not stimulation enough for you, michael?" She growled menacingly. i'd been rehearsing my speech since the moment the idea occurred to me that morning in the shower. It was still very hard to get the words out right. "You told me before that a good slave trusts his Mistress, Mistress. Now i ask you to trust me." She turned away from me angrily. "If you NEED it, michael," was all She'd said. i climbed into bed with Her. i knew i'd be naked - or a reasonable equivalent thereof - so i'd affixed the walkman to a nylon strap back at home and now had it slung across my chest. i twisted it around so it was up against the small of my back and wouldn't drop down and bother Mistress. It was clear She was furious. Her body no longer just looked like marble, it felt like it, too. i pushed PLAY and began to slowly, easily work Her rock-hard neck muscles. "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit," the voice on the tape said. "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit," i echoed aloud. Her whole body shook as She suddenly realized what was happening, and then, to my great relief, the tension slackened. And thus did i "read" to Mistress, and give Her a massage; all at the same time. Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Eight: Challenge It was a night for firsts. With my ass still smarting from my first beating, i massaged Mistress, giving extra consideration to Her arms as i figured they might be especially tired. i was finishing up with my tongue in Her ass, as i had before, when She slowly turned over onto Her back. my face was centimeters away from Her most private of regions. i'd never noticed before, but Her pubic hair was a much lighter shade of red. "Lose the walkman," She commanded. i quickly discovered that all those half-remembered cutaway pictures of a woman's vagina i'd seen in health class did not do the real thing justice. Nor did it give me much of a road map to work with for my first time performing oral sex. i found Her clitoris, as much by luck as design, and began to work around it; teasing it. i began to time my strokes to be in sync with Her breathing, as it was impossible for me to differentiate Her heartbeat from the pounding in my own temples. She began to buck Her hips and i went in for the "kill." Aside from the hard, steady rasp of Her breathing, She was very quiet. Suddenly She arched Her back and let loose a low, undulating moan. Her whole body dropped back down and seemed to almost deflate a little. i tried to pull away, thinking i was finished, but She grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me back in. i went back to work, sliding my tongue into Her, mindful to always keep in contact with Her clit as i did. She was tossing Her head from side to side, whining in a soft, plaintive tone. my tongue had been going nonstop for several minutes now and was beginning to tire, and my face was slathered in Her sticky juices, yet i was in a state of pure bliss. Her cries went up an octave and She grabbed at my hair again, pulling at me as if to drag my whole head into Her; to consume me utterly. And then it was over. i still hovered at Her crotch for a second or two more, just in case, but She was breathing slowly and restfully, paying no mind to me whatsoever. i turned on my side and laid my head down against Her thigh, like a pillow. i could have died completely fulfilled at that moment. my nostrils were full of the smell of Her, my mouth was full of the taste of Her and my ears were filled with the thunderous roar of Her femoral artery. my dick was locked away and useless, yet i could have died completely fulfilled. Sadly, my rapture was short-lived as She soon kicked back Her other leg and gently shoved me away with Her foot. She sat up and got out of the bed, snapping Her fingers at me. "Come on, you!" i followed Her into the bathroom. She sat on the toilet and ordered me to sit on the floor and wrap my legs around the cold porcelain. my chin was to rest at the edge of the seat and i had a perfect view as She relieved Herself. A few stray droplets spattered my already sloppy face. When She was done, She slid forward, pressing Her sopping pussy into my face. "Clean," was all She said. To be honest, Her urine wasn't half as bad as the peach-flavored water She'd forced me to drink earlier. She gave me a towel to clean my face, made me pee with my new chastity belt on while She watched and then we went back to bed. She pulled my arms around Her, just below Her breasts, and we lay there for a long time in the quiet darkness of the night. i thought She'd even fallen asleep, when She surprised me by asking, "You were going to use your safeword back there, weren't you?" "i... thought about it," i answered. "Several times, unless I miss my guess." "Yes, Mistress." She sighed heavily. "But i didn't Mistress!" i pleaded. "I know, michael, and that's what bothers me." "But... you'd said..." "What I don't like, michael, is when a slave is an asshole and abuses his safeword and wastes my time. Otherwise, it's as important a tool for me as it is for you. I need you to be honest with your reactions or else things could get terribly out of control and then we BOTH lose!" "you're not an asshole, michael," She said, gently stroking my forearms. "Don't act like one." "i'm sorry Mistress. i'd... i'd never be anything BUT honest with You." "Then why didn't you use your safeword?" i had to think about that one. "i... i remembered the way You looked Friday night when You untied me from the ceiling. i thought about the way Your body felt in my hands when i rubbed your back, the way the pants and Your skin felt together. i thought about how badly i wanted to experience all those things again..." "And you endured," She said softly, finishing for me. "Yes, Mistress." She didn't say anything for a while after that. Again, i began to be lulled into a state of semi-consciousness when She snapped me out of it by asking, "michael, do you think if you had known I was going to let you make love to me with your mouth; do you think you might have been able to endure... more?" She looked back at me over Her shoulder. Her eyes glittered somehow in the darkness. "Yes," i said without hesitation. She mulled this over for a bit longer. "Then let me ask you this," She began. "Suppose you were to... say... flip a coin. And if it were to land one way, I would gratify you in a sexual way. Give you a hand job, let's say. BUT... if it landed the other way, I would be able to push you far past your limits and into the realm of your worst nightmares. Would you flip that coin, michael?" i had to think about that. i looked around the room and my eyes fell on one of the Gigers. Nightmares had a special resonance in this place. "i'm not sure i could, Mistress," i answered truthfully. She turned her body round in my arms. i could feel her soft, warm breasts pressing achingly against my chest. She smiled. "So, you do have an instinct for self-preservation after all. I'm glad - you had me worried for a second." "All, right," She said, looking deep into my eyes, "I'll concede a few points. I wouldn't kill you, obviously, or cripple you or cut anything off!" She tugged at my nipples, but i knew what She meant. "I wouldn't do anything that would render you unable to function in the world if we should part ways, but beyond that... beyond that ANYTHING would go. Would you take that chance then, michael?" i looked into Her face, so expectant and hungry, and i knew i was doomed. "In a heartbeat, Mistress." Tuesday Morning We slept, entangled in each other's arms. i woke before She did and spent my time softly caressing Her hair and reflecting back over my life. How many times in college had i vowed to "do anything" for the love of some girl? At least a dozen times - and a dozen times the offer was rejected: sometimes politely, sometimes tearfully and sometimes with more cruelty than even Mistress seemed capable of. Now someone was calling my bluff, forcing me to make good. She'd spent two full months picking my brain, worming hundreds of minute details from me in order to create a complete mosaic of who i was. By comparison i knew virtually nothing about her; only what'd i'd gleaned from studying two dozen disparate postings to an eclectic array of newsgroups. That, and She was beautiful, She was demanding, and that I loved Her. She began to fret in her sleep. i tried to hold Her tightly and clam Her, but She moaned and pushed away violently. She woke with a start, not certain of Her surroundings for an instant, and then slowly recovered Her bearings. "Mistress?" i asked worriedly. "I'm all right, michael - what's the time?" She asked, suddenly concerned. To me, it was still pretty early, but She began to move around in an agitated state, all but pushing me out the door. There was an awkward moment when i hesitated, not able to bring myself to ask about the belt. She finally seemed to get my concern and said, "That stays on for now, now go!" i drove home with the sun only just beginning to rise and had plenty of time to shower and take care of my bodily needs. i just had to do the latter sitting down. It didn't seem likely that She'd send me an E-mail so soon, but i checked anyway, and to my surprise She had. Get off work at 3:30, it read, you will change into casual clothes and meet Me in My garage. It is time for you to start living up to your promises. i was fairly uncertain how ducking out early would play with my boss. my wunderkind status had been steadily eroding as more time passed between my "hit" commercial and my follow-up. The clients were still delirious with what we'd given them, which bought me some slack, but it was rapidly becoming "put up or shut up" time at the office. It was crunch time in my life all around. Still, i couldn't help but feel a little cocky walking into the office and seeing Lindsey give me a big smile from behind her desk. i thought about tossing my hat onto the coat rack, like Sean Connery always did when he saw Moneypenny, but as i didn't have a hat, and the office had no coat rack, the idea died a quick death. She gave me a playfully irritable look, and i glanced down at my oversized clothing. "Working on it," i said. By the time i got to my office, all that daydreaming about James Bond had given me an idea. i brushed off all the toys and bric-a-brac from my desk and pulled out a green legal pad. A lot of us used odd colored legal pads for writing because it helped establish just whose ideas were whose. The idea went like this: Two spies (Guys in Black w/ bad German accents, i wrote) are hiding in the bushes by a parking lot. There are two cars in the lot: our client's (OUR HERO) and an expensive British sports car (Whatever the HELL James Bond Drives!) The "spies" are chortling to themselves because they've planted a bomb in "Race Sterling's" car and won't their "Master" be pleased - that sort of thing. Anyway, "Sterling" comes out of a building all decked out in a full tux and - surprise! - gets into OUR HERO and drives off, honking the annoying little horn and waving at the stunned master criminals. Suddenly, from another building emerges a bald guy holding a white cat (BLOW-FELD or something). HE gets into the other car and cut to the thugs looking on in horror as their boss gets blown to bits. A voiceover says, "Sometimes flashier isn't ALWAYS the way to go!" and then they show the company logo. i took my rough draft straight to Mr. Christian's office. i knew he wouldn't like it; he'd hated the first one. Just about every guy in the office hadn't thought much of it, but the rep from H- had been a woman, and had about died laughing when she got to the "Sometimes faster isn't always better" tag line. Mr. Christian wanted to know who the hell "Race Sterling" was ("I made him up, sir. You, know, a James Bond type!") as well as "Blow-feld." ("He was like, the bad guy in two or three of the films, sir. The guy with the cat?") In the end he gave his reluctant nod to doing up a full proposal for the client. That actually boded ill for my chances of getting off early, and i almost didn't ask. "Uh, sir, i was wondering if i could have the afternoon off." He looked at me as if i'd just stepped out of a UFO. "Why?" "Well... it's, uh... I kind of have a big date tonight." "On a Tuesday?" i shrugged. "She's not your ordinary woman, I guess," i tried to explain. "She?" he asked, intensely curious. As i mentioned, i was not unaware that that office gossip turned my way once and a while. i nodded. "Oh, yes sir," i said, trying to sound manly. "She's a hell of a woman!" He thought it over for a minute. "You think you can have this idea of yours up and running by Friday?" As far as i knew, i might be spending the next week strapped down in Mistress' basement. "Yes, sir!" "Well, then, hell, son! Take a long lunch and get yourself ready for that date of yours!" He winked. i winked back. It occurred to me upon leaving Mr. Christian's office, that with his hairless pate and his beady little eyes, Mr. Christian could easily play the Blofeld character. Frankly, if he had a cat, i'd half suspect him of being Blofeld. i spent the rest of the morning typing up several more drafts, and even went online to check the spelling of Blofeld's name. To celebrate the break in my creative blockage; and to reward my patient, shrunken stomach, i decided to gorge myself at Pizza Hut. i went clothes shopping after that, which might not seem like such a bright idea, but i liked my clothes a little loose, too. Years of not having that option had definitely made it seem more desirable now that i did. i wondered idly if Mistress had ever been overweight. i doubted it. As i was being fitted, the tailor could feel the belt underneath my pants. i merely gave him a "what can you do?" look, and he didn't make mention of it again. It helped mollify him that i went all out and had myself fitted for a suit as well; for the next time Mistress got a taste for Alaskan king crab. i had a lot of time to kill, so i went to the gym and burned off a little of my lunch. Being not even 2:00, the sparse crowd was thankfully different than the one that had witnessed Mistress and i the prior evening. Afterwards, i went home, took a shower and dressed in a new pair of blue jeans and an old T-shirt. i drove to Mistress' house. The garage door was open and inside it looked like... well... a garage. She was standing next to a riding mower, dressing in an off-white silk blouse and long, black cotton pants. She looked very professional, and not for the first time did i wonder what Mistress "really" did for a living. "Those pants are new," She said with a satisfied smile. "Yes, Mistress." "Take off your shirt." Spring was still toying with our town, alternately going from 60's to 30's depending on some unknowable whim of the Gods. Of the God-Desses, i corrected myself. That day it was back in a warm phase, but i still hesitated to do as She asked. Some reflexive sense of shame from the way i'd looked before kept me from wanting to expose myself in so open a place. Nevertheless, She moved towards me and roughly pulled my shirt off my body. "you've worked very hard to achieve this," She explained, running her hands over my chest. "I don't see why you should be so embarrassed to show it off." She shoved me towards the mower. "Assume the position." i did as She commanded, painfully aware of how visible we were from the street. She ran Her hands over my ass, grabbing and kneading and cooing. "Do you know how you feel about my body in leather, michael?" "Yes, Mistress." "Well, I feel the same way about a nice, firm ass in tight jeans. It really is your best feature, michael." i was trembling. Pride and embarrassment raced around in my head. "All right, enough play." She said, pulling away. i turned to look at Her. i was afraid She'd pull out a coin. If She did i was going to make damn certain it wasn't two-headed or something like that. Instead, She said, "Do you remember your very first E-mail to me? That you said, and I quote, 'my strongest desire is merely to please You in any way that i can, no matter how trivial or mundane.' Do you remember that michael?" i was breathing very hard. "Yes, Mistress. I remember." "Good!" She said, swatting my ass hard. "Now mow my fucking lawn!" i spent the rest of the daylight doing yard work. i mowed Her front yard and raked the leaves in Her huge backyard. i did it all without my shirt on, which got more and more embarrassing as Her neighbors started getting home from work. i was sweaty and tired by the time She waved me in from the "slave's entrance." She had me strip down, except for the belt, of course; and led me to the bathroom. i was ordered to sit in the tub while She "got something." The tub had no shower faucet. She came back lugging a small Rubbermaid wastebasket filled with steaming water. She doused me with it, and four more. The water was just hot enough to sting and i yowled each time She soaked me. Then She dragged me out of the tub by my hair and made me stand while She dried me off. She gave particular attention to the parts of me She'd beaten the night before; all but burning the skin in Her frenzy. She led me back to the mud room and ordered me to dress, including my collar. "Come along, michael," She said, slipping out the door. "We're going out to dinner." She explained to me in the car that we were going to Her favorite restaurant in town and that i shouldn't worry because the owners knew Her quite well and allowed Her to bring pets inside. We had to drive East from Her house to get to the West side of town. She pulled into the parking lot of a large Chinese restaurant, picked a space that seemed unusually far from the building and killed the engine. She got a leash from the glove compartment and clipped it to my neck. The walk across that blacktop was the longest in my life. The restaurant was located off of one of the busiest streets in town and easily a hundred cars sped by each way while Mistress led me unhurriedly to the door. Once we got inside, an elderly Chinese woman looked up from the hostess' station and broke into a happy cry. "Hong Mao!" "Lin Me!" Mistress cried in return. The two women embraced and began talking very excitedly in what i could only assume to be Chinese, though which dialect was way beyond my capabilities. Finally, Lin looked over at me and asked pointedly, "So this your new friend, hah?" "Yes he is," Mistress said proudly. Lin studied me intently. She didn't look impressed. "Be nice, Lin, he's been very good to me so far." Lin shrugged as if to say "It's your call" and led us to a seat in the middle of the main dinning room. "You want the usual Hong Mao?" Lin asked Mistress. Mistress nodded and they both looked to me. "Uh," was all i could muster. "Order what you like, michael. They know how to prepare it here." That struck me as an odd thing to say, but i ordered the cashew chicken anyway. Mistress told Lin to just bring me a glass of water with Her wine. While we were waiting, nibbling at the little bits of fried something from a bowl on the table, i forgot myself and asked, "Hong Mao?" She dipped one of the little strips in hot mustard, bit down and grinned. "Steel Tiger," She said. i looked at her skeptically. She laughed. "It means 'Red Cat,' are you happy now, michael?" "Yes Mist..." my words were choked off in a startled gulp. Mistress turned around to look at the doorway. Lindsey was there. She was still dressed from work and i was actually kind of surprised to see that her dinner companion was a woman. She was looking straight back at me, her mouth wide open. Mistress broke into a huge smile and waved them over. Lindsey walked over to us briskly, seeming to recover from her initial shock. Her friend, her girlfriend, tagged along behind; looking for all the world like an older, blonder Wednesday Addams from the movies. "Umm," Lindsey began nervously, "Hi Michael." "Hello, Lindsey... this," i indicated Mistress. "This is, uh," "Catherine," Mistress said, extending her hand. Lindsey shook it. "I am michael's Mistress." "Yeah, I can see..." Lindsey said, following the leash as it laid across the table and ran up to my collar. Suddenly she seemed to remember her friend and introduced her as Betsy. Betsy gave a barely civil grunt. She looked even more tense and unhappy than i felt. "Would you care to join us?" Mistress asked, indicating the two empty seats at our table. Lindsey gave me a quick glance, but Mistress said, "michael's wishes in this matter are My own, aren't they, michael?" "Yes, Mistress." Lindsey turned to talk it over with Betsy, who mostly grumbled "dunno" and "whatEVer" and finally they sat down at our table. Betsy sank into a funk that she never got over throughout the whole meal. i was in for still one more shock once Lin returned with our drinks and broke into a similar sort of excitement over seeing Lindsey, who she kept calling "Little girl!" Lindsey explained that she'd been coming to the restaurant since before the place had moved to their current location and Mistress said She had too. The two began to talk animatedly about the old building and compare notes as to the quality of the food over the years under different chefs. They'd both been coming since they were children with their parents, though Mistress had the longer record, having dinned at the grand opening when She was just six. Mistress was very curious as to why She'd never noticed Lindsey before and Lindsey sort of ducked the question and said that she was usually with her parents, even these days. i didn't mind being ignored nearly as much as Betsy seemed to, but eventually the conversation turned around to me and Lindsey mentioned that the office had been buzzing about my new idea. Mistress made me explain the whole thing, acting out the bad German accents and all, and She and Lindsey both laughed and agreed it was "cute." Lin returned with the drinks for the newcomers, and took thier orders. Betsy just wanted won ton soup, and Lindsey ordered spicy wings. Lin also brought another bowl of fried strips. Mistress took one and dipped it in the mustard again. "So tell me, Lindsey," She said, taking slow, crunchy bites, "does my michael behave himself at work?" "Oh, yes, ma'am. He's always been a perfect gentleman. You've trained him quite well." Mistress laughed. "I'm afraid our training has just begun! But it is nice to know that my new pet has good breeding." She smiled wickedly at me. Betsy muttered something under her breath which earned her a dirty look from Lindsey. Lin brought out all our food at once with the help of a busboy. Lindsey seemed interested in Mistress' food, which was chicken in a very hot, golden sauce. "General Tso's" Mistress explained. my cashew chicken was delivered sans chicken. Like Mistress had said, they knew how to prepare food for Her slaves there. Mistress and Lindsey talked and ate. They had several cups of tea. A little too much of the conversation was about me for my comfort, but Mistress didn't go into too many embarrassing details. She did mention the chastity belt i was wearing, which even got a rise out of Betsy. Mistress asked a lot of questions about Lindsey's piercings. It turned out she had a lot more than anybody at the office even suspected. Occasionally, Mistress would sigh and give me a pointed look that spooked me greatly. Lindsey figured out what was going on quickly; and patted my arm reassuringly. "It really doesn't hurt all that bad," she said. i quietly ate my cashews and watercress and hoped that the conversation would drift into less unsettling waters. When Mistress told Lindsey that our first "date" had been to see The Empire Strikes Back, Lindsey broke into laughter and told Mistress that my desk at work was littered with "those toys!" Mistress grinned broadly. "My little slave does love his toys," She sighed. By the end of dinner i was beginning to feel pangs of jealousy myself. i was glad when the subject of the check came up, but apparently Mistress had some standing agreement with Lin and nobody had to pay anything. Lindsey was extremely vocal about her envy over that, but Mistress whispered something in her ear that seemed to explain it. my jealousy was mounting by the second. i was therefore relieved when Betsy more or less demanded to go back home and we had to split up. Mistress and i rode back to her place in silence. We entered the house through our respective doors, and i took up my position at the base of the dungeon stairs. She came down dressed in the outfit She'd worn to my gym the day before. She had a large, gift wrapped box in Her arms and i could not conceal my curiosity. "Poor, ignored michael," She said, mocking me. "Perhaps this will make up for my want of attention." She set it down in front of me. "Mistress, may i open it?" i asked. She didn't reply. She began to walk around me in circles. "Your friend is quite attractive, isn't she?" my cheeks burned. "Yes, Mistress." "I assume the two of you have never dated before." "No, Mistress." "But I bet you've thought about it, haven't you michael?" "Yes, Mistress." i wondered where She was going with this, though i had a chilling sense that i already knew. "You've pictured her while masturbating, haven't you?" The humiliation was unbearable. i had a horrible sinking feeling that this would get back to Lindsey and she'd always consider me just another asshole from then on. "Yes, Mistress," i moaned. "Tell me, michael - tell me honestly - would you like me to bring her in as my slave? Would you like to have a little playmate to split Mistress' harsh attentions and to have fun with when Mistress was away? Would you enjoy that michael?" "No, Mistress," i said somberly, "i would NOT." She sat down on the steps and looked me squarely in the eyes. "you do realize that who I take as a slave and how many I choose to take - that's entirely my prerogative. you do realize that, don't you michael?" "Yes, Mistress," i replied miserably. i couldn't look at Her. i stared at the package in front of me. She'd wrapped it with paper covered in little, colorful dinosaurs; like a birthday present for a seven-year-old. "Look at Me, michael." i looked up. Tears were running down my face, but i was determined not to let it get any worse than that. "I am glad that you said no." my jaw swung wide open. i managed a grunting sort of "huh?" "I have my reasons not to want her, michael. One of them is your feelings on the matter, but I assure you, that's a very small consideration for me. Still, it would have... complicated things, had you said yes." "Thank You, Mistress," i said softly. "I told you it wasn't about you." "Thank You anyway," i said, not flinching from Her gaze that time. "To be honest michael, I did enjoy her company. I wonder if you would be equally adverse to our spending time together in a strictly social setting." "No, Mistress. i.. i'd like that, too, i think." She nodded. "Good boy. Now open your present." i carefully unwrapped the box and opened it up. Inside lay a racquet similar to the one She'd used on my ass the night before; only it still had its strings and looked brand new. There were goggles, too, and a small pile of Lycra, which i realized were supposed to be pants. i gave Her an inquisitive look. "Did you know, michael, that they've built a new health club out near here?" i shook my head 'no.' "Well, they have. And unlike YOUR gym, this one has racquetball courts." She stopped, searched my features for understanding. "Do you remember my little story last night? About my first time?" "Yes, Mistress." A slow, fuzzy sort of comprehension began to overtake me. "Do you remember our discussion afterwards? About flipping a coin?" "Vividly, Mistress." my mouth began to dry up. The cool air in the dungeon caused my skin to break into gooseflesh. "Well, we're not going to flip a coin, michael. If you want release, you're going to have to earn it the hard way. And I mean very hard. I told you I was extremely good at racquetball in college, have you ever played?" i told Her i'd played squash and tennis in college. "Then here is what I propose michael, and you can always say 'no' if you like; though I can't promise that it won't hurt My estimation of you. I propose that each Saturday afternoon we go to our new club - oh, I've already taken the liberty of signing us up! - and playing a match of racquetball. That's usually two games. If you win, I gratify you in rising increments. First that hand job. Beyond that, I'm a little conflicted at the moment, but we'll get it straightened out when the time comes. Anyway, for your fourth victory I CAN promise you this: We will go upstairs, to my bedroom, my REAL bedroom, and I will make love with you. I assure you, I won't just be lying there; I intend to get as much out the experience as you do, my pet. "Think about it michael, four wins. your manhood could be as little as a month away." i thought about it. my pulse was racing. "If you lose you must submit, completely submit, to the torment of my devising. It may last that night, or all weekend. You may ONLY use your safeword if you are absolutely, one hundred percent certain that you are about to suffer serious injury." i was shaking. i was sweating. i knew i'd lose at least the first game, probably many more before my first win, let alone my fourth. A huge vista between a paddling on the ass and maiming and death opened up before me. If i agreed, She'd be routinely dropping me in between, with no recourse save to end the relationship altogether. i pictured Her bedroom, Her bed, Her sheets, Her body - warm and alive against mine. i was so frightened i nearly soiled myself right then and there. Instead, i said, "i agree, Mistress." Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Nine: First Loss Saturday Night We drove home from the health club in absolute silence. The fatigue in my muscles was matched only by the dread building in my chest. Not that She'd gone easy on me over the remainder of the week. She'd spent most of Wednesday evening attaching hemostats to my body before flicking them off again with my friend, the quirt; and just the previous night, Friday, i'd received my first authentic whipping. i'd had other duties as well. Both those nights i'd come straight from our new gym and in the half an hour or so before darkness, work in Mistress' garden, planting rose bushes and the like. Thursday i had to tend to Her leather "Domme" outfits, cleaning them with saddle soap and then applying mink oil to keep then supple. Most of Her rubber garments were in really sad shape: dried out cracked. She ordered me just to pitch them. i spent the rest of Thursday night chasing a rubber ball down the hallway on my hands and knees. A small cat-o'-nine-tails with a dildo handle was rammed up my ass as a "tail" and i was only allowed to say the word "woof!" and then only on command. But the "highlight" of that evening came a little past midnight, when Mistress decided it was "din-din" time and produced an enormous bowl full of stale kibble. i was starving, but the little chunks were like rocks. Mistress noticed the trouble i was having chewing and asked, "Is it too hard for the puppy?" The puppy whined and nodded. "Then let Mistress soften it up for you," She said; and to my horror, squatted right over the bowl and released a jet of urine directly into it. "Now be a good boy," She said, walking past and ruffling my hair, "and clean your plate for Mistress while She goes and cleans Herself off!" This whole scene took place in the dungeon proper and the cameras got every last second of my degradation as i cleaned my plate like a good boy. The one constant element was the massage, usually followed by either my reading to Her; or She'd pick a topic and ask me to talk about my opinion on it. She revealed very little of Herself in these "discussions" and it was disconcerting to have to go on about things like religion and politics while receiving precious little feedback. Naturally, She'd been intently curious about how Lindsey had reacted to our dinner together. As i told Her, to my surprise, i found myself hedging a little - not outright lying - but rather neglecting to mention certain details. Lindsey'd entered my office at the 10:30 break on Wednesday, and shut the door behind her. She had an impish grin on her face. "Well, well, well," she said. "My dad always used to say, 'Still waters run deep.' I wonder... it'd be a terrible shame if Mr. Christian found out what a little perv he had working in his nice, clean office..." "Lindsey!" i blurted out, genuinely shocked. Before she could go on, she was seized with a sudden fit of hysterical laughter. "I'm sorry," she squeezed out through guffaws. "The look on your face..." "Ha, ha." i muttered irritably, turning back to the rough storyboards for the new commercial. "You know," she said, regaining her composure, "if it had been anyone else around this joint..." Her words tapered off and she gave me a telling look. "I, uh," i stammered, "I mean, thanks, I guess." "Actually, Michael, I wanted to thank you." That sense of jealousy, of wanting Mistress all to myself, rose up in me again. "For what?" "Well, actually, I HAD seen her there before. A lot, actually. I mean, not so much recently but, like, a year ago she was in there all the time and I always... wondered. I mean... she's hot, y'know?" "Yes. She said you were, um, good looking yourself." "Really?" Her eyes sparkled. "I mean, it wasn't just that, I mean, a lot of the reason she seemed hot were the guys she was with. They'd come in wearing collars and act all passive and do whatever she told them to do, y'know? And, like, I always wondered what that was all about. "And there was this one guy," she moaned dreamily. "Oh Christ! He was GORGEOUS! I mean, I'm pretty certain, y'know? About preferring women? But, Jes-Us! He made me think it over!" "gee," i groused. "thanks." She suddenly seemed to remember who she was talking to. "Oh, Michael, I'm sorry! It's not that... It's just... Aw, fuck! I mean, he was just really... something. Sorry." "That's okay," i mumbled, not feeling okay about it at all. i thought that was the end of it, but Lindsey lingered at the door, chewing at the end of one of her fingertips. "She really... she really thought I was good looking?" Lindsey asked. i sighed. Mistress' words loomed up before me: "You might become my slave, but I will never be anything that belongs to you." i sighed again. "I believe Her exact words were 'quite attractive.'" Lindsey contemplated on that for a bit. "I... I dunno. I'd hate to get between something going on with you two..." i swallowed hard before i spoke. "It's not my place to decide who my Mistress accepts as slaves. It's Her... prerogative." Lindsey really had to think on that. Finally she said, "I still don't think so... I don't think I could hack it." She smiled sweetly at me. "Still, I wanted to thank you for dinner, and apologize for Betsy, I guess. She can be such a pill!" "I kind of knew how she felt," i admitted. Lindsey held her hand up to her mouth and blushed. "I'm sorry!" "That's okay." She still loitered by the door as if trying to bring herself to say something. "Yes?" i asked, hoping to pry it from her. "Could I like... touch... the belt?" i stood up and held out my arms. Hesitantly, she moved towards me and gingerly pressed her hands to my crotch, pulling away quickly. "Oh, Jesus!" she said, turning an even brighter shade of red. "I REALLY couldn't hack it!" * * * * i told Mistress everything but the part about Her "gorgeous" dining companion. i'm not sure if i was more afraid She'd refuse to tell me about him, or that She would. To be honest, by Saturday i was wondering how much more i could "hack" of the chastity belt myself. i definitely knew i wouldn't be able to play worth a damn in it. Luckily for me, Mistress slipped me the key as we entered the health club and i was able to find an empty stall in the bathroom and take the hateful thing off. Even though i was in a room full of men, i still found myself pumping my cock almost out of reflex and had to force myself to stop. Removing the belt didn't really help much. i had played squash in college, but my whole body had undergone a radical metamorphosis since then. i'd gained forty pounds, lost sixty, and added ten in muscle mass since those days. What memories my muscles did hold were geared for a game with a longer racquet and lighter, faster ball. The racquetball ball was equal parts sponge and brick and constantly dropped sooner and lower than i expected. We ended up playing two matches total, one practice and one "for keeps." i was so beat by the final game i never even won the serve, let alone any points. my one "consolation" was that She told me i didn't have to put the belt back on when i showered and changed; but in my heart i knew this was for Her convenience down the road and not out of any thoughts for my comfort. We drove home from the health club in absolute silence. When we got to Her house, i had to go around to the slave's entrance as usual. When i arrived naked and collared to the dungeon, i found Her still in Her workout clothes. She had a handful of silk rope. "Lie down on the floor, face up," She commanded. i did as She ordered and She began tying a rope to each wrist and ankle. Apparently there were bolts or cleats or something set in the floor at the corners of the room, because She soon had the ropes pulled tight and tied off; leaving me spread-eagled, pressed flush against the cold floor. She finished by tying a black silk scarf around my eyes. In the cold and dark i laid naked and helpless. A cold sweat began to break out over my body. i began to shiver. "michael?" "Yes, Mistress?" i was already whimpering out of fear. "I promise you, there won't be any pain tonight." i heard Her footsteps trail away, back towards the mud room. i was more terrified than ever. The door back there opened, allowing a draft of cool night air to drift over my exercise-heated body. i heard a voice. A man's voice. my whole body began to shake in earnest now. Had the time come for Her to make good on Her promise to see me have sex with another man? If so, She'd picked a rather odd position for me to be in: my ass was squashed solidly to the floor, and without a cock-ring my penis had shriveled up almost into my ribcage. Something, probably hard plastic, thumped against the floor; just at the entrance to the dungeon. Something metal clinked. Two people, trying to keep quiet, walked up the stairs and closed the doors behind them. my heart sank. What if that were "Him?" the slave Lindsey had spoken about. It had been incredibly naive of me to think that i was the only one. She could have fifty - a hundred slaves as far as i knew. i might soon just be relegated to "one of the pack;" ironically reduced to the very thing i had once spoken so eloquently about, now that i'd been "broken in." i began to imagine Her upstairs, making love to some impossibly handsome man while i, Her feeble and lowly slave, had to wait and wonder in the darkness. "There won't be any pain," She'd said. The torment was beyond endurance. In the darkness, not five feet from me, something moved. The pounding of the blood in my temples had drowned it out until then, but it had gotten too close. Imagine the sound of an uncooked steak being dragged across a kitchen counter. It let loose a raspy, croaking, hiss. Many times had i thought back to the two months worth of E-mail and private chatrooms; to the endless stream of questions She'd asked of me. Some seemed inane: which sports do you enjoy watching? Some seemed to have some larger significance: who did you vote for in the election, and why? And some seemed all too on target: what scares you? i suppose i could have been "crafty" and answered with things that sounded good, but didn't really bother me - closed spaces, open water - but i'd been truthful. Heights and snakes. It had moved close enough to me that i could feel the minuscule disturbance in the air every time it flicked its tongue. By the sound of its movement, it was big. Oddly enough, the size of it was the only thing that kept me from dissolving into a shrieking panic. Mistress had never thought to elaborate, but the fact was that big snakes didn't frighten me half as much as little ones did. If She had let loose a box of utterly harmless garter snakes onto my chest i would have snapped like a twig. Not that i wasn't scared nearly out of my mind as it was - i WAS tied down, alone, and effectively blind; but the thought of that huge, slow animal was far less chilling than a heap of small, fast, wriggling ones. It pushed its snout against my ribs. i'd had a friend in college who raised big snakes - thankfully he'd kept his collection back at home - so i knew quite a bit about them. i was probably safe from its main avenue of attack, which would have been to wrap itself around me and constrict its muscles slightly every time i breathed out. my back was all but sealed to the vinyl flooring. Still, it might have tried to swallow a hand or foot or - Christ! - my head! i slammed the back of my skull hard against the floor and pressed it there. i gripped the ropes with my hands to present a single, unbroken line. my feet were stuck sticking up, and there was nothing i could do about them. The snake began to push itself up, over my midriff and onto my hot, sweaty, trembling chest. i could feel the ripple and play of its muscles as its soft, cool, underbelly groped my ribs for purchase. It began to dawn on me that as a cold-blooded animal, the snake would naturally be drawn to the warmest spot in the room: me. It hissed again, clearly unhappy that its chosen resting spot was so unstable. The coils of its body began to mass upon my sternum. It weighed probably thirty pounds, at least half of which was already pressing down on me. my shivering, combined with my sweat, caused the snake to constantly adjust its position. With mounting horror, i felt the trailing part of its body slide along my abdomen. Behind my blindfold, i shut my eyes tight and began to wordlessly pray, but it did no good. The lower third of the snake dropped between my legs. Bile rose in my throat, burning the roof of my mouth. The snake now had to drag the remainder of its tail over my hip and then across my groin. Alien muscles massaged my penis and balls. i mewled like a kitten. After an eternity, the snake finally had its whole weight heaped upon me. It didn't need to coil around me to slowly squeeze the breath from my body. In a way, it fed off me, absorbing the heat my body pumped out for its own. i slowly began to regain my wits. The more at ease i got, the more relaxed the snake got. i even tried to match my breathing to its, but its languid, reptilian metabolism allowed it to breathe in once for every three i needed to take. Still, i eventually grew so clam i began to drift. i was nearly asleep when i heard footfalls coming towards me. The snake's weight suddenly lifted, and an unfamiliar male voice said, "Okay, girl, that's enough fun for today!" i heard the man put the snake back in its carry case and engage Mistress in a brief conversation, the details of which escaped me. i heard one set of footsteps head away to the mud room. Mistress' bare feet slapped against the floor as She approached me. She didn't remove the blindfold; just sat down on my chest where the snake had previously rested. i don't think either of us expected my reaction to the sudden sensation of Her warm, bare crotch pressed against the gelid flesh of my chest. i came suddenly and violently; accidentally spattering Her back with a few droplets of semen. She yelped in surprise and jumped off me again. my trembling returned with a vengeance. i was still tied down and totally exposed to whatever punishment She might inflict. She retreated to the bathroom and returned shortly, accompanied by the rustle of a towel against Her body. She dropped it over my crotch and took up a position standing directly over my head. "Very naughty of you, michael, cumming without my permission. I thought you didn't like snakes. First pain, now this; what else have you been fibbing about, michael?" "i..." She lowered Her wet, musky sex onto my face. "I think the least you can do is to reciprocate..." She clamped Her thighs around the sides of my head as i rose up to eagerly meet Her. "...Fourfold." Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Ten: In Concert (Second Loss) Friday Mistress allowed me only two visits over the next week. i'd made some phone calls on Monday, and by Wednesday night, i had my next surprise for Mistress well in hand. Unfortunately, before i could set the stage, She had me participate in a particularly humiliating new "game." Like so many of Her "games," it started pleasantly enough. She actually gave me the massage for once, concentrating on my neck and shoulders. Twice i tried to ask Her about Her plans for Friday, but She shushed me, and by the time She was finished, i felt so completely relaxed i actually forgot. She climbed out of the bed and left the den. i lay there for a while, luxuriating in my somnolent state. Mistress returned and moved in front of me. In Her hand was a nasty looking toy that resembled a two-headed dildo, stuck through a wide leather strap. One end was shorter and thicker and the other was long and highly detailed. i had a moment to look at Her in shock before She shoved the fat end in my gaping mouth and pulled the strap tight around the base of my skull. i now had a seven inch penis sticking out from my face. Mistress crawled back into bed, spread Her legs wide and made it very clear what i was to do. "you didn't think I softened up those muscles of yours out of the goodness of my heart, did you?" She purred. i was lucky She had; bobbing my head in and out between Her legs became a taxing job for my neck after only a short time. The whole gag was pushed deeper into my throat with each forward thrust. After She had come several times; She made me keep the gag in for an intolerably long period afterwards. i even had to massage Her with it on. When it came time to tend to Her asshole, She chucked a small packet of lubricant at me and i had to smear it liberally over the dildo and my face before fucking Her ass to another orgasm. When She finally removed the filthy thing, i took a minute to massage my jaw. "Mistress?" i asked, making wide yawning motions. "Yes, michael?" "Have you made any plans for Friday yet?" She gazed at me curiously. "Not as yet, michael. Why do you ask?" "i... i'd like that to be a surprise, if you don't object, Mistress." i managed a sly smile. She returned it. "I've come to like your little 'surprises' michael. Consider me free on Friday." That just left Lindsey. i entered the office Thursday morning and instead of slinking off to my own little hidey-hole, i strode instead boldly up to Lindsey's desk. There were a couple of guys loitering in the lobby, and they suddenly stopped gabbing and began to watch me intently. "Morning, Lindsey!" She looked at me askance, but with a hint of a grin at the corner of her mouth. "Why, good morning, Mr. R-." "Say, I don't suppose you'd be free Friday night around eight, would you?" "Why..." her eyes darted to the slack-jawed gawkers, "...yes, I believe I would be." "Great!" i slipped her a plain white envelope. "I think you should find all you need in here!" i turned on my heel and walked right past my troglodytic coworkers. Ten minutes later, Lindsey erupted into my office, throwing her arms around me and showering me with kisses. "Oh My GOD!" she cried. "You're a God!" "I do my best," i demurred, trying to act cool with a beautiful woman slathered all over me. "How did you get these tickets? She's been sold out for weeks! God, I LOVE her!" i thought about being a shit and not telling her unless she told me what Mistress had whispered to her at the restaurant, but it was kind of difficult to be an asshole with her pressed up against me like that so i spilled the story. "I have an aunt who works in the front office for the City Symphony. Since they're practically married to the auditorium she knows all the guys who work in the ticket office. So... I pulled some strings..." "La Familia," Lindsey said, joking. i shrugged. "Front row, though?" she asked, still amazed. i just nodded. "So, does Betsy like her as much as you do?" i asked. "Oh," she said softly. i'd included a second ticket. "Um, we're kind of... not... right now." "Oh, I'm sorry. Is there... I mean you can bring whoever..." She handed me the second ticket back. "Everyone I know who wants to go is already going... with somebody, y'know?" i felt that pang of possessiveness again. Even though both Lindsey and Mistress had separately indicated they weren't interested, i still didn't like the idea of it just being the three of us; chiefly because my fear was it would end up just the two of them. But i'd already committed. Still, i handed the ticket back to Lindsey. "Just in case," i said, smiling. She kissed me on the top of my head and the dashed out the door as dramatically as she'd entered. A small crowd had gathered outside. i winked at them and they scattered like billiard balls after the opening break. Friday night seemed to take forever to arrive, and when it finally did i drove to Mistress' house around six-thirty, walked up to the front door and rang the bell. She opened the door still dressed for work, smiled, and invited me in. i was still as struck by the sterility of the mid-level of Her home as i had been before. She gave me a long, soulful kiss. "Now michael," She said when She had finished, "what have you got in store for Mistress tonight?" i handed Her one of the two tickets i still held. She examined it thoroughly before gazing up at me with wonder in Her eyes. "Tori Amos?" She asked. i nodded. "How did you... how did you know?" i thought that a bit of an odd question. "You, uh, you posted a couple of times to rec.music.tori-amos," i said. She shook Her head. "Not with THAT account." She sounded uncertain. i nodded. "P.t.altaic@******.com," i confirmed. She scrunched up Her face in concentration, trying hard to think back. "Jesus! I must be getting really sloppy. What else have you dug up about me that I didn't know was out there?" i began to feel guilty. "Uh, several posts to talk.politics.animals, a couple to alt.religion.wicca." "And you read all of those?" She asked with awe in Her voice. "Well, the wiccan ones were kind of hard to follow, but yes." It was one of those moments i'd come to live for. For a second all the collars and leashes, all the whips and dildoes and snakes, all faded away and left the woman. The beautiful, beautiful woman. "Wow," She said, effectively summing up my feelings as well. On the drive to the auditorium i told Her i'd gotten tickets for Lindsey as well, as it seemed like as good a "social" situation as any. Mistress seemed even more pleased than before. i also explained in a little more detail than i had with Lindsey about my aunt, and Mistress had a similar sort of reaction. "you're proving to be a surprisingly resourceful young man, michael." "Just lucky, i guess." She grinned at me. "It's NEVER about luck, michael, remember that." We arrived at the auditorium early enough that parking was merely bad as opposed to horrendous. As cities went, we lived in a fairly smallish metropolitan area, but we had several major burgs within an hour's drive so the concert ended up being packed. We waited outside for Lindsey to show up. The weather had turned again and it was cold and drizzly. As we scanned the crowd, i noticed a young woman with brown hair and large glasses peering intently at Mistress. "Doctor K-?" she asked, a little hesitantly. "Doctor?" i asked, astonished. Mistress rewarded me with a hard slap. The woman hung back, nervously, but Mistress smiled at her. "Hello, Mandy, I should have expected to see you here. michael," She said turning to me, "this is Mandy S-, a woman I work with. Mandy this is michael, My slave." Mandy didn't look too shocked about that. On closer inspection i noticed she had a stud in her nostril and her ears were even more decked out in jewelry than Lindsey's. "Is Jeffery here with you?" Mistress asked. "No," Mandy said angrily. "He was supposed to meet me, but I bet the son of a bitch has gone off somewhere with his buddies to get high!" i was only moderately following the conversation when i felt a tug at my sleeve. i turned and saw Lindsey. "Hey," she said, looking a little shy about interrupting. Mistress noticed her and introductions were made all around. "Isn't Betsy joining us?" Mistress asked and Lindsey went over that again, finally admitting that she hadn't been able to find anybody else for the remaining ticket. "Mandy," Mistress asked, "where are you sitting?" "Mezzanine, fifth row." Mistress had a twinkle in Her eye. "Not anymore." * * * * Everything i knew about Tori Amos came from a pair of badly dubbed tapes a female friend at college liked to listen to. Seeing her in concert was a revelation. Seeing her pour her passion out on the stage, i couldn't help but be reminded of Mistress in Her dungeon - they even had the same shade of red hair - and i, quite boldly i suppose, put my arm around Her as the concert went on and held Her tight. Even though i enjoyed it, i was still sort of glad when the concert ended. my hearing had always been incredibly sensitive and even when listening to music i loved, i kept it down. Front row seats were a little too much for me. We all left the auditorium feeling as though we'd been drained. The experience had been intense, cathartic. Mistress sent me off to fetch the car while She and "the girls" waited in the relative shelter under the marquee. When i pulled around in Her car, i saw Mandy writing something on the envelope i'd given the tickets to Lindsey in. Mistress ordered me to drive them to their respective cars, which were both blocks away on opposite sides of the auditorium. Good-byes were said by all and eventually i drove Mistress and myself back to Her home. For the first time, She went around to the back with me, pulling me along by the hand. She dragged me all the way to Her den with my clothes still on and tore off Her pants. She still had enough energy left from the concert to pull my head down between Her thighs, and i still had enough, barely, to satisfy Her. * * * * i spent the rest of that night and most of Saturday experiencing heavy bondage for the first time in our relationship. my legs were bent back to my buttocks, shins strapped to my thighs; and my wrists were cuffed to their opposing ankle so my arms formed an "X" behind my back. Lastly, a latex hood completely covered my head, with a thick ball gag built into the inside lining jammed into my straining jaw. She left me on the floor like that for nearly eighteen hours: cold, cramping and alone. At six o'clock She released me and allowed me a half-hour to stretch out and limber up before we headed out to the club. We had to inconveniently go by way of my apartment, as i hadn't thought to bring my gear with me to the concert. Again, She gave me the key to my chastity belt only upon our arrival, and i had to find a vacant toilet stall in the men's locker room to take it off in; smuggling it back out to my locker in a gym bag. i also re-experienced that uncontrollable urge to masturbate once i was freed, but again i got control of myself in time. i hated the way my hands flew to my groin the instant the belt came off. It made me feel like an animal. We hit the ball around a few times in practice, and then got down to business. i played better the second time around; which was to say that instead of losing 15-3 / 15-0, i lost 15-7 / 15-3. When it was over, Mistress put Her hand on my arm and informed me that for the second time i didn't have to put my belt back on in the locker room. That made me very, very nervous. It was dark out by the time i'd finished showering and changing. Mistress was waiting in the lit parking lot by the trunk of Her car, which for some reason was open. As i drew near, She held up a piece of severe looking headgear. i looked around the lot frantically. There were a few people about, but no one seemed to be noticing. "Put it on NOW, michael," She warned me sternly. It had a padded blindfold, a fat, pear shaped plug for the mouth and even little rubber projections which went into the ears while leaving most of the outer cartilage exposed. i pulled the straps over my head and carefully eased in the various plugs. Mistress pulled the buckles tight and i could feel a lock being snapped into place. With a shove, i tumbled into the trunk and the jolt of it slamming shut rattled my body. Being in the gear itself was a bit like being out on a moonless winter night when it's snowing and there's no wind. In spite of my deep sense of isolation, or perhaps because of it, i was acutely aware of the way my body would be pulled one way or another as Mistress made turns. The pattern didn't seem to correspond to the route i remembered leading back to Her house; but if not there, where were we going? After a while the car stopped and the trunk opened, causing a flood of cold air to spill over me. She hauled me out of the trunk and i got my footing. Taking me by the waistband of my pants, She led me across a paved surface and up a slight stoop, which tripped me up. We entered a room that was incredibly hot and stuffy. It smelled like a continuous war had been waging between the heavy stink of animals and the noxious fumes of disinfectants. A cacophony on vibrations assaulted me as if dozens, maybe hundreds, of dogs and cats were all barking and crying at me at once. She led me into another room where the air was very still and the smell of disinfectant had clearly triumphed. my clothes were peeled from my body. i felt another vibration in the air from across the room. Someone was talking, and it wasn't Mistress. Mistress pushed me forward and a second pair of soft, but unyielding, hands took hold of me. Together, they hefted me up onto a freezing steel table. It was only about a third my length, and felt unusually high up off the floor. my hands were tied up above my head and my legs were pulled down and backwards over the sides of the table and strapped into place, leaving my privates totally exposed. A final, seemingly superfluous belt was strapped around my ribs, holding my torso firm against the frigid metal. What transpired next was a conversation i experienced entirely as sensation against my skin. i could identify each participant by their position and the unique "feel" of their voices as they spoke. There were in fact two other people in the room besides myself and Mistress; and i quickly decided they were both women, which only relieved me slightly. Mistress stood just to left of me, and the other who had helped Her get me on the table stood at the right. She, the other, began to tenderly massage my straining chest and i was powerless to conceal they physical manifestation of my... gratitude. The third woman took up the position Mistress had been occupying. She began to talk, and to play with my left nipple. Initially i thought there was something odd about her fingers until i realized, after it was too late, that she was wearing surgical gloves. She was tugging and twisting the little knob of skin, coaxing it to harden. Suddenly, something metal and unforgiving clamped down on it. The stranger who'd been comforting me withdrew one hand and began to pull the clamp taut. A wet cotton ball was swabbed around the trapped nipple and for a second it went all tingly. i actually enjoyed the electric sensations as they shot through my chest. i guess my nipples were atypically soft for a man's, because the needle slid right through my left one before my mind could even register what had happened. The pain hit me all at once and i convulsed wildly. my body tried to thrash and buck but that "superfluous" strap held me down. Inside my gag, i screamed. There was a lot of excited talking going on, with Mistress' voice coming across as a solid, unwavering force that impacted on my body and sapped all hope of resistance. In a deft move, the needle was removed and what felt to be a ring was emplaced. The cotton ball, or one just like it, was reapplied to the area, and this time it stung. Then the two women, the fondler and the piercer, switched sides. The padding of my blindfold absorbed my tears as i began to cry. The right nipple was so much worse because i knew what was going to happen. Despite the fondler's best efforts, my body was tensed up from the roots of my hairs to the tips of my toes. Where i hadn't even noticed the first needle until it was through me, the second felt like a skewer being methodically shoved through my tender, screaming flesh. The second ring was put in, and the blood was wiped up. Apparently i was so frightened, my pulse went through the roof which made me a "gusher" in Mistress' words. The piercer withdrew and seemed to get into a heated argument with Mistress, who ended it with such a formidable bark of command that i began to shiver. The fondler continued to try and soothe me, speaking soft, comforting words which i read as warm, gentle breezes across my mortified flesh. Not that anyone noticed, but i moaned like a man condemned when she cupped her hand around my genitals and began to lift them away from my body. The strong sobs that wracked me must have been apparent, though. The piercer returned and started to pinch and play with - not my privates - but rather the ridge of tissue just behind them and in front of my asshole. Again, confusion and curiosity on my part helped distract me until the deed was done and the hurt was upon me. Later, looking back on the experience, i was amazed at how a part of my body i'd scarcely even been aware existed could suddenly feel so excruciatingly alive. A tiny set of "barbells" was screwed into place down there. i thought that might be the end of it, but the last piercing was the worst, in spite of its banality. There was a snap-hiss loud and distinct enough for me to hear through the plugs; accompanied by a monstrous tearing sensation in my left earlobe. i howled in my mask like a maddened beast and whipped myself against my bonds so savagely that they actually gave a little. The piercer and Mistress began talking in low, hushed tones and left the room. The fondler took the opportunity to plant a small kiss on the top of my head. i caught a whiff of familiar perfume, and inside my gag gasped - "Lindsey?" - and then she had left the room too; leaving me in the cold and the silence to languish in fresh pain with every beat of my heart. Eventually Mistress returned for me and undid the straps and ropes. She led me - still naked - through the discordant room filled with animals and back out across the parking lot where i was dumped unceremoniously into the trunk and driven back to Her home. The headgear stayed with me every step of the way as She guided me through the house and into Her den, where She left me to stand quietly for a few minutes. Then She returned and brought me to the bathroom and gently, but firmly, eased me into a tub filled with warm water. The heat in the water seemed to leach away the pain and calmed me greatly. The lock on the buckles clicked and Mistress removed the straps and plugs as tenderly as i had put them on. i kept my eyes closed at first, opening them cautiously to deal with the sudden influx of light; but She'd seen to that as well. The bathroom was dimly, but comfortably lit by a handful of candles strewn about on the sink and the toilet tank. In their flickering light, i timorously glanced down and inspected the changes that my second loss had wrought. Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Eleven: Libations Sunday That Sunday was the best i'd ever had. True, my ankles were chained to the frame of Mistress' sofa sleeper bed, but i didn't have to wear the chastity belt, and Mistress, amazingly, waited on me hand and foot all day. She even went so far as to go out to Hardee's and buy me the breakfast biscuits i liked so much. i had ice cream for dinner. i felt like the kid who'd just had his tonsils out. i was apparently supposed to have some sort of antibacterial goo applied to my piercings three times a day, which meant that three times on Sunday She took my genitals in Her left hand and held them softly while She tended to my wound. Of course, not an hour went by that She didn't at least once shoot me a cautionary look that told me all i needed to know: Do NOT get used to this. Still, i had a grand old time even with the lingering pain to remind me of the previous night's activities. By mid-afternoon something seemed to be bothering Her. i was very much afraid that i was tiring Her out or She was just getting bored with me, so shortly after finishing my ice cream i voiced my concerns and told Her i didn't need Her to take such good care of me if She didn't want to. She just laughed at me in a tired sort of way and said: "That's very sweet of you michael, but not everything in My life revolves around YOU." i wondered what She meant by that, but i let it drop. Despite Her flagging energy, She'd even gone to my apartment- She still had the key - and brought me clothes for work so i could just leave directly from Her place in the morning. i wasn't sure how to react around Lindsey the next day. i wasn't one hundred percent SURE she'd been there, and i wasn't sure how i felt about it if she had. i went back to my usual smile and nod and then ducked into my office. i was also moving swiftly to avoid anyone noticing the stud in my still angry and reddened earlobe. When Lindsey went on break she slipped into my office and put her arms around me gently, kissing the very spot the "fondler" had Saturday night. She had the same perfume too. For a moment we looked into each other's eyes as we accepted that the other knew and understood. Then she said in a quiet, humble voice, "Thank you, Michael." "I don't think you should thank ME, I probably wouldn't have... I mean..." She looked at me askance. "God, that thing on your head really did cut you off from the world, didn't it?" i nodded. "Why?" i asked. "I wasn't thanking you about being there while you were pierced," she said, giggling a little, "I was thanking you about Mandy!" i gave her a look of utter blankness and confusion and she REALLY burst into laughter. "But.. I thought she..." "You mean Jeff? Jesus, I met him! He was a real catch, let me tell you!" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "God, you're impossible to figure out, Michael! One minute you're, like, so damn.... Midwestern and the next minute..." her voice trailed off but she smiled at me wickedly. "Cool?" i ventured. She doubled over in laughter. While she was trying to control herself, and apologize profusely for trashing my ego, something she'd said about the headgear clicked in my mind. "Wait... Mandy was there too?" She had to wipe away tears. She nodded. "She's the one who did it! That's WHY I got to go." My thoughts were bouncing around in my head like a racquetball in play. "Her brother, like, does it for a living and she helps out on her off hours. She was very professional about the whole thing. Too much so in a way." "Why?" "Well, she and Catherine were really going at it. It really, really upset Mandy that you couldn't talk or speak on your behalf." "It's probably for the best she couldn't hear me," i admitted. She was gazing down at her foot, twirling it around on the floor nervously. "Well, I kind of told her, assured her, y'know? That it was okay with you." "Hey! Where do you get off speaking for me!" Now she looked genuinely upset. "Um, I mean, you were, like, eating at a public restaurant with a dog collar on, for God's sake! I mean, I guess... Catherine sort of explained the deal with playing the game and I guess..." She couldn't talk for a minute. i realized she had only been trying to help me, but it still bothered me. "WOULD you have done it? If you'd had the freedom to choose?" she asked, meeting my gaze a little defiantly. i thought that over. "Maybe. Yes, probably. Not that much at once, though. And NOT with that fucking thing at the end!" i added emphatically, rubbing my sore ear. "The gun?" "Whatever it was." "Like I said, Mandy was the total professional. Catherine wanted her to use the gun for ALL of them!" i tried to imagine that. my mind balked at the prospect. "I mean, they REALLY went at it! God, when it came time for the guiche..." i had to ask her what that was. She pointed. "Anyway, Mandy didn't want to do it because Catherine's got you wearing the belt, right? And it's like really, really important you keep that area clean. And Mandy kept saying how she was nervous that it would be hard to keep clean with the belt on, y'know, really belaboring the point?" i nodded. "And Catherine, like, blows it and screams 'I'll lick the fucking area clean every fucking night myself!' " "I remember Her raising Her voice, I think..." i admitted. "Well, if it were me, I'd hold her to that!" she said with a wink. i quickly switched gears and asked, "Was it me, or was that a vet's office?" She went shoe-gazing again. "Ummm... can't tell you." "Why not? I mean, I was mostly curious why it would be in a place like that?" "Autoclave." She had to explain that to me too. * * * * When Lindsey went back to work, i didn't. Instead i pulled out the phone book and began to root through the ads in the yellow pages for veterinary clinics. One, the W- Animal Hospital, had a Dr. Catherine K-, DVM listed along with three other male vets. Notably, the address was just a few blocks down the road from Her favorite Chinese restaurant. At lunch, i drove out there, parked in the lot of a Long John Silver's across the street, dashed over to the other side, and snuck into the rear - "employees" - parking lot. Her car wasn't there, but there was a beat up gray compact that looked a LOT like Mandy's. i wished i'd paid more attention when we'd dropped her off after the concert. The car had several stickers in the window for "Phish" and one with dancing teddy bears; and had a bumper sticker that read: MY OTHER CAR IS SLOW TOO! There was a backdoor with a concrete step. i quickly tried to pace out my route to a hypothetical car trunk from it. It felt right. When i got back to the office, Lindsey told me i had a message. She looked upset, so i didn't know what to make of it when i read the note she handed me. PATIO MIDNIGHT "Is everything okay?" she asked. "Yeah, why?" "She sounded... bad I guess." "Mad?" "No, bad. Sick." i wanted to take off work right then and go to Her, but the note said MIDNIGHT. * * * * For the second time in a month, midnight took forever to arrive. Twice i jumped out of the skin when my phone rang. One was a telemarketer, the other was mom, checking up on me. The drive to Her house was nerve-wracking. i remembered how She'd seem to wane as Sunday had gone on. At 11:56 i jumped out of my car and sprinted across Her lawn. She was waiting on the patio, dressed in Her jeans and T-shirt combo. Her skin didn't seem pale in the moonlight, it was pallid. She was gazing at the sky and didn't even acknowledge me at first, except to say in a dreamy voice, "Full moon tonight." i didn't know what to say. She led me inside, moving very slowly and deliberately. i was boling over with concern, but She merely ordered me to strip in that same sluggish, out-of-it voice. In the close confines of the mud room i noticed something else: a smell. A stink, really; an organic, yet unfamiliar stink. It was coming from Her. She led me into the dungeon and ordered me to get two sets of cuffs linked by long chains. When i turned around again with them, She was leaning heavily against the doorjamb for support. Her face was scrunched up tight and i could now make out a sheen of sweat across Her face. "Mistress?" i asked, horrified. "M'okay," She slurred, "Didn't want to take drugs, want to keep m'head clear." "Drugs for what?" She snapped Her fingers and turned slowly on Her heel. She led me back to the mud room, and, to my nervous surprise, opened the door and led me, naked and collared, into Her back yard. At the far end of the yard, at the edge of the woods, was a single-piece picnic table. She ordered me to find the little hooks set into the underside of the table. i looped the links of the chains to the hooks and then She ordered me up on the table to lie on my back. She fastened the cuffs to my ankles and wrists. i was lying face up and spread-eagled under the open night sky. "Full moon," She said again, tying a black silk blindfold over my eyes. "In pagan times the full moon was considered a time of great power. Female power. Sacrifices were made to it. Sacrifices of blood. Virgins." The air was so cool, but that wasn't why i was shivering. i heard a "zip" and the rustle of denim. "Libations to the Goddess." The table rocked and the wood stressed out beneath me as she climbed on. The table was straining to stay upright as She stood up on it. She stepped cautiously until She was directly standing over my head. That smell, that stink, was overpowering. "Are you prepared to worship your Goddess?" She croaked, Her voice giving up on Her. As i opened my mouth to say "Yes, Mistress," a single DROP fell into it. The TASTE i knew, had known from sucking on countless cuts and suffering numerous school yard altercations. i had just never smelled so much blood before. "Worship me," She said through the cloud of Her pain as She squatted down. "Eat of my body, drink of my blood." Straining my mouth to reach Her bloody cunt, i did. * * * * Saturday It took Her a couple of days to recover from Her period. By the time we got to the gym She was still pretty weak and i'd offered to wait a week until She was feeling better; but She'd have none of it. Given the delicate situation with my own body, i suppose we were on a somewhat level playing field after all. The belt had gone back on Tuesday, but every night She'd removed it and carefully cleaned and applied ointment to my wound. She did NOT, however, make good on Her promise to Mandy and regrettably i lacked the courage to call Her on it. She spanked me a few times over the week, but mostly we just talked. Again, it was impossible for me to tell when She was merely playing devil's advocate to goad me on and when She was really defending Her beliefs. The game that Saturday was sluggish and sloppy. We went into our fist match game tie breaker and when the final rally was over and the ball hit the floor, i had won. We were both wasted by the experience, yet i could see something in Her eyes that bothered me. There was a stubborn resistance there, a desire not to want to acknowledge the outcome. But, fortunately, at least that night, She was far too exhausted to act on those impulses. There were tiny red stains on the front of my shirt, and i was bleeding from the guiche as well. i changed, showered, and met Her at the car. She hadn't said if i should put the belt back on or not, so i'd erred on the side of caution and had. There was a new tension between us as we rode home, different than the one usually generated by my fear and uncertainty. When we arrived, i was ordered through the slave's entrance as usual. Before She dismissed me, She asked about the belt and when i told her, She said to remove it as well as my clothes. i met Her in the dungeon. She still had on Her workout clothes. She led me to an "X" frame in one corner of the room and for a moment i hesitated. "Tonight is yours, michael," She explained wearily. "But you are STILL my slave!" She strapped me to the frame, walked away and turned out the lights before going upstairs. In the dark, the night certainly didn't feel like it was mine. It took a while for Her to return, but God was it worth the wait! The smell of the leather reached my nostrils before the supple, sensual creak and groan of it reached my ears. Heels clicked on the floor. The light snapped on, blinding me for a second, and when my vision cleared i could make no sound but a single, inarticulate moan of pure pleasure; the equal to the one i had made that first night upon that first vision of Her as a Domme. She was wearing a leather catsuit, a leather catwoman suit to be precise; no doubt meant as an homage to my oft-spoken of fondness for comic books. my body shook and bucked in the frame more violently than it had in all our previous sessions combined; but this time it had nothing to do with pain or cold or fear. "Do you like this, michael?" She sad, twirling around, modeling it for me. The word "Yes" was beyond me, all i could do was whimper like a puppy starving for affection. My fuses were blowing and She hadn't even touched me yet. When She wrapped Her gloved hand around the base of my cock i cried out. The sensation was more intense than anything i had ever known. my body twisted and turned as Her hand made the short trip to the head of my penis. She squeezed when She got to the rose-colored tip. i screamed. i was blubbering, crying. It took Her only three such languid pulls before i shot. She didn't try to move away as my semen hit Her square in the chest, leaving long milky streaks against the black leather. She milked me for a moment or two afterward, and i came again! This time the cum didn't so much shoot out as bubble up from the tip and ooze all over Her gloves. She got a towel and wiped Herself off, wiped me off and wiped up the floor. i hung on the frame limp and literally drained. "Do you understand now, michael?" "Yes Mistress." "Good. Because the pleasure you have felt tonight is nothing compared to what you WILL experience should you win again? Understand?" i nodded. "Just as the torments you have faced so far are but trivial annoyances compared to what you will yet endure. The reward will always be commensurate with the risk you face. Remember that." She turned off the lights again, and left me strapped to the frame for the night. What i remembered most, however, was that look on Her face when She lost. Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Twelve: The Mummy of Damocles Friday Night We battled that night like two ships from an old pirate movie. The courts thundered with the sound of our volleys. Each of us was determined to win and we were banging off the walls ourselves every bit a violently as the hapless rubber ball was. In the end it went to another tie breaker. She'd switched days and we'd both just come from work; which added to the fact that by the time the tie-breaker started i was played-out and barely keeping my feet. After tying the game six-all, it began to slip away from me at last, and in the end She won 11/ 6. A crowd that had gathered just outside the court burst into applause as the ball finally hit the hardwood and the game came to an end. The two of us wobbled on our feet like a pair of drunkards. As i headed for the locker room, She grabbed my shoulder and in a weary voice said, "Fuck it! Just get your stuff and meet me at the car!" "But..." "Going to YOUR place tonight," She said. "Don't give a fuck how sweaty you are!" A short drive later we were in the elevator up and leaning against one another for support. The first thing She did upon entering my abode was to flop on my couch and let loose a long, weary sigh. "you're getting better," She observed. "Thank you, Mistress." "Drinks," She ordered. "uh..." She managed a wan smile. "Water would be fine michael. Get whatever you like for yourself." i went to the kitchenette and filled two glasses with ice. i put one under the faucet in the sink, the best i could do, and poured a tall glass of coke for myself. i fully expected Her to switch the glasses once i rejoined Her. Instead, She picked up the water, craned Her head back and held the cool, dew-covered cup to Her throat. "michael?" "Yes, Mistress?" "Does my glass have a... smurf on it?" "um..... yes, Mistress." She gave a fatigued little laugh and then suddenly seemed to snap back awake. "OH SHIT!" "Mistress?" i asked as concern washed through me. "Damnit! I left something in the car!" The butterflies began to take flight in my gut. After all, i HAD lost. "It's in the trunk," She said handing me the keys. "Only thing in there, 'sides the spare, so you'll know it when you see it." "Okay," i sighed, wrenching myself up off the soft couch. "Calm down, michael, I'm not a machine, you know." i looked at Her curiously. "Just want to go over some ideas for tomorrow," She explained, interrupted by a yawn. i trudged down to the car and popped the trunk. Inside there was only a magazine with an airbrushed drawing of a terrified young woman hog-tied on the cover. THE ART OF BISHOP, the title read. i leafed through it on the ride back up to my apartment. It was filled with airbrushed and pen-and-ink drawings of comely young women in a variety of extreme and often disturbing bondage: ideas for tomorrow. i thought Mistress was asleep when i came back in the apartment, but She roused Herself slowly and patted the cushion next to Her, inviting me to sit. We leafed through the book, each of us going through our drinks quickly. She picked out some poses She liked and had me identify those that particularly excited me, out of both fear and lust. Her yawns were infectious and soon i found myself blacking out and waking with my chin on my chest. After the third time She finally relented and said, "Okay, we'll deal with this tomorrow. Got some ideas, probably should call it a night." i escorted Her to the door and just before She left She turned and planted a soft, quick kiss on my lips. "What was that for.... Mistress?" She smiled coyly. "Do I need a reason, michael?" "No, Mistress." "Good." "See you tomorrow, Mistress." She had a strange smile on Her face. "Not if I see you first," She said, a little TOO coyly. i waited until She was on the elevator and closed the door. i lacked the energy to give Her words and actions a second thought. i was so tired i scarcely noticed the odd taste in my mouth left over from the soda; and what thought i did give it was to chalk it up to not having brushed my teeth. i barely made it into the bedroom and crashed flat onto the mattress like a felled redwood. Sleep came a second later. * * * * That night my sleep was troubled by a weird and terrifying dream. Mistress was a barker at a carnival freak show (though She was dressed more like a circus ringmaster) and the "freaks" were all people in the kinds of extreme bondage She'd shown me from the book. i only remember two now. "One" was really a pair of young women, twins i guess, whose bodies were severely strapped together face to face. Mistress went over to them and in a voice reminiscent of Jack Palance in his Ripley's days, said, "Behold! Truly never were there such DEVOTED sisters!" She pulled an "X-ray" screen over, revealing that the two women were impaled at their mouths and vaginas by two-headed dildoes. The nameless sisters squirmed and made faint, grunting sounds. The second "freak" was much more vivid in my mind. "His" - for somehow i just knew it was a male - body was wrapped in bandages like a mummy and he was "seated" astride what looked for all the world to be the peaked roof of a doghouse. Weighted balls, like a convict's, were chained to each ankle, so that he was slowly being split in two by the "roof." One of the weights was pitch black and the other was a bright gold. "Behold the saddest denizen of our twilight menagerie!" Mistress cried. "The Mummy of Damocles! Forever being pulled in twain by conflicting wants and contradictory needs. TORN!" She yelled, tapping each weight as She spoke, "between the carnal delights of the dark and the simple, wholesome pleasures of the light!" She leaned "in" close and Her eyebrows arched sinisterly. Only something about the image was wrong. i realized i wasn't watching this all from the perspective of the spectators - i was watching it from the point of view of the mummy! "And if you listen close..." She whispered into my wrapped ear, "you can still hear him screaming!" i woke doing just that. The sensation of being torn apart carried into my waking existence as well, as my guts threatened to rupture upon waking. i flung the sheets off my body and staggered at full speed into my bathroom where my bowels erupted in a massive torrent of liquid shit. By the time that had passed, my sluices had backed up and i had to fling myself to the floor, stick my head into the disgusting bowl, and let forth an equally explosive projection of vomit. i dimly became aware of a deep-seated pain throughout the entirety of my body before my intestines were churning again. i careened back and forth, from siting on the toilet to heaving into it, for ten minutes. Finally, my insides were exhausted and i was able to crawl into the tub like a dying animal off the side of the road. i lay there for a minute, gathering my strength to turn on the water. She'd poisoned me. That had to be the only answer. She'd slipped some poison into my soda while i was fetching Her magazine from the car. Now i thought about that odd taste in my mouth; now i contemplated Her words and actions. Why She had done it was beyond me, but before i could go any further, the phone began to ring. Obviously the psychotic bitch was checking to see if i was still alive! my face twisted into a horrible mockery of a grin, i dragged myself out of the tub and across the floor of my apartment to the phone. It was luck or God or some power beyond those of mortal men that caused my eye to fall upon the caller ID before spewing a tidal wave of obscenities into the mouthpiece. The number was that of my work. "Hello?" i croaked. "Michael?" Lindsey. "Jesus... are you okay? You sound horrible!" "Sick," i replied, "stomach flu maybe." my own words gave me pause. i'd said stomach flu because i'd come down with that once in high school and the symptoms had been almost identical. That got me to wondering. How did i know that WASN'T what i was suffering from? i'd ran myself ragged the night before, and it was entirely possible my system had been depressed and vulnerable to a viral attack. Jesus! I thought about what i'd been on the verge of saying to Mistress. What had i almost done? Lindsey had kept oddly silent through all of that. "You sure that's what it is?" She asked. "Yes," i replied, certain of it. "So... I should tell Mr. Christian you're not coming in today?" "Why the fuck should he care! It's Saturday!" Long pause. Long, long pause. "Uh... Michael? It's MONDAY!" **** Monday i went through another spell of being violently sick after hanging up on Lindsey. When i was done i slithered back into the tub. For the first time i noticed a film of grayish, waxy, congealed sweat covering my skin. i worked the shower controls with my feet and spent a long time under the hot water, washing every last speck of filth off of me. By the end of my shower i was feeling well enough to try and stand on my rubbery legs. Using halting, cautious "baby-steps" i worked my way out of the bathroom. my destination had been the kitchenette to try and get some water or juice into my system, but i halted halfway through the living room. There was a package on the coffee table. It was wrapped up in the same paper She'd used for my "gift" of the racquet and it had a card on top. Shaking, i staggered over and opened the envelope. She must have scanned the image from the magazine and made the card on Her computer. The picture on the front of the card was a piece of artwork by Bishop, the man whose works She'd shown me "last" - Friday - night. A woman was sitting astride a peaked punishment bench, not unlike the roof of a doghouse. She had a noose around her neck and bricks tied to her ankles; she seemed to be swooning from the pain. Inside, in fancy script, it read: Thinking of you. C. i was really shaking as i opened the package. Inside there was a video cassette. All that was written on the label was a pair of dates: Saturday's and Sunday's. i didn't want to put it in the VCR, but somehow i had to know. The tape began with a mechanical whine and i watched with mounting dread as the image of a man appeared on the screen. He was clad, head to toe, in rubber, save for an opening at his crotch which exposed his genitals. His arms disappeared behind his back and he was seated upon the top of a punishment bench exactly like the one from the picture and my dream. Each leg was attached to a large, round freeweight, and each testicle was tied off separately and pulled down the sides by smaller weights. It was hard to tell with the rubber, but his stomach looked somewhat distended, like he had eaten a full meal or something. my guts rumbled in sympathy at the thought of "or something." His penis was encased in a "cock cage" and there was a clear plastic catheter sticking out from the tip; the tube stretching away to a point out of the view of the lens. Ominously, a second clear plastic tube ran from "off camera" to the subject's mouth. The time/date stamp at the bottom corner read midnight, Friday. He was trussed up so well you could hardly discern movement. i hit the scan button. Only the fast blur of the numbers indicated any passage of time. The figure being split upon the bench was as motionless as a statue. The tape was broken up into three-and-a-quarter minute segments for each half hour of "real" time that passed. A sudden blink of activity caused me to stop and rewind. A jet of gold had issued from the man's penis and disappeared down the tube for a moment. You could faintly hear the play of some primitive pump, and then the fluid reappeared, streaming down the pipeline directly into the poor bastard's mouth. i was sitting on the couch as i watched and at the sight of this, fell over onto my side. An idea, a horrible impulse, seized my mind. i began to jack up the sound on the TV until the green bar was all the way across the bottom of the screen. And if you listened close, you could hear me screaming. * * * * i waited in my car, parked on the other side of the street, with the lights off. i watched her pull into the driveway, kill her own lights and get out. She had on the same black slacks and silk blouse combo as i'd seen her in after work a few times before. She walked to her front door with the same blithe arrogance that marked everything that she did. i slipped out of my car and ran across the road and up the lawn, keeping my body low. i hit her right as she was opening the door and shoved her through, slamming it shut behind me. She spun to face me, furious. She suddenly realized who it was and for an instant, lost her composure. i forced her up against the wall, clamping my hand around her throat. "What did you do to me!" Her eyes locked mine coolly. She pulled free from my grasp as if it had been nothing. "You drugged me you bitch!" i hissed. "Yes, michael," she said as if she were talking about the weather. She turned and began walking away from me, towards the kitchen. i lumbered after her. She opened the fridge and got out a wine cooler and took a sip. "Bitch!" "Stop using that language in my home michael." "Fuck you! You fucking drugged me!" She nodded and walked out through the other doorway into the small dinning room. She sat down and took another drink from her bottle. "It's called Rohypnol, michael. It's very popular amongst college boys who can't be bothered with a little thing like consent when they wish to have sex." "Oh, and that gives you the right..?" "YOU gave me the right, michael." "FUCK THAT!" i slammed my fist down on the table. "FUCK THAT!" "I'm curious as to where all this anger is coming from." "You're.... curious? I don't believe you!" i slowed my voice to a drawl, enunciating each word. "You.. fucking.. drugged.. me!" "You were never in any danger from the drugs, michael. I assure you I know how to properly administer medication. The dosage was exact for you build and weight." i gaped at her in disbelief. "You don't get it? You really just don't get it, do you?" "Frankly, I don't. I've done this many times before with my other slaves and they never reacted the way that you are. Most of them beg me to do it again." "WELL I'M NOT LIKE YOUR OTHER SLAVES!" i screamed at her. "I'm aware of that." "Don't I know you are! Don't you think I've read all those stories of yours? How your slaves are always so fucking perfect and.. and flawless and so fucking beautiful? There hasn't been a day that's gone by that I don't feel judged by their standards." my voice trailed off morosely. "You've compared quite well," she said in a barely audible voice, "until now." i had to sit. My gut was still twisting and turning. i felt like throwing up again. "You went too far," i said weakly. "michael, put your fist in your mouth." i looked up at her, confused. "Put your fist in your mouth." "Why..." "PUT YOUR FUCKING FIST IN YOUR MOUTH!" she barked, blowing her unnerving calm for the first time. i balled up my hand and put in my mouth. "I'm sorry, michael. I don't keep any ball gags in this part of the house, and I doubt you'd let me put one on you, anyway, in the mood you're in." She was right about that. "Now say your safeword." i gawked at her for a second longer, then mumbled my safeword. "Say it again michael. Listen to the way it sounds." i did. "I've been doing this for quite a while, michael. I could even carry on a conversation with a gagged slave if I chose. Like a dentist, I suppose. I know what your safeword would sound like, and I'm telling you that the whole time you were here, you never used it. "I know, michael, because I was there; the whole time. I didn't leave your side for more than fifteen minutes total, the whole weekend. I slept on the floor, in a sleeping bag, right there beside you, not upstairs. You were never in any danger and you never used your safeword. I doubt you even really knew what was going on. Most slaves experience it as a kind of horrible, erotic dream." "Can't you see," i moaned, burying my head in my hands, "that's the whole point!" "No, michael, I don't see, but I wish you would explain it to me. I never intended to provoke this violently negative a reaction from you." "i just... i just can't stand this... not remembering! This... HOLE in my mind! It's just what... it's just like...." "Just like what, michael?" i sobbed loudly. "Just like what always used to happen to my father!" She didn't say anything for a while after that, just let me sit there and cry. Finally, She said, "Your father is an alcoholic." It was more a statement than a question, but i moaned "uh huh!" from the depths of Her table top. "And he suffers blackouts?" i pulled myself back into a sitting position. my cheeks were bright, arterial red and soaked with tears. "He used to." i said. "He used to come home and say... say all kinds of things. Vicious things, mean things. About me... about mom... about how the whole fucking world was against him. But the WORST of it was when you'd try and avoid him the next day... or maybe express your anger or resentment, he'd look at you all surprised because HE didn't remember any of it! So... must not have happened." i swallowed hard. "And then one day... one day he was driving and the all of a sudden 'woke up' in the hospital. Didn't know what had happened. Didn't remember the man and woman on their way to their doctor to check up on their baby. Didn't remember crossing the center line. None of it. "He stopped drinking after that... but to this day- TO THIS DAY - he's convinced that since he doesn't REMEMBER swerving and killing them, that it must not have happened that way! That it must have all been THEIR fault! You can't say or do anything to change his mind; and if you try you're just persecuting him! He's convinced of his innocence because he doesn't remember it any other way! And i swore, I SWORE i'd NEVER be like that! i'd never wake up and be left wondering 'what the fuck happened?' 'What did i do?' and you... you TOOK that from me!" i couldn't meet Her gaze. my words broke into meaningless sobs. "Oh my God," She said softly, Her voiced filled with mournful comprehension. "You were in the car, too?" i wouldn't look at Her, merely nodded through the tears. She stood up and walked over to me. She touched my shoulder and i jerked it away. She took my hand from off the table and gently pulled me to my feet. She led me into the living room and eased both of us down onto the couch. She lay behind me, pressing into my back. She began to tenderly stroke my hair, caress my side. We lay there in the gloom of the evening and She told me again and again what a good boy I was for Her, what a brave boy i had been. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "I've noticed that when we play games with girls, you get captured a lot." Calvin "Some of us are just irresistable." Hobbes Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Thirteen: Fuckup Saturday Night Something was going on. Somewhere in town there must have been a concert or new movie or SOMETHING, because as we pulled into the parking lot of the health club there was scarcely a car to be seen. Inside it was even more deserted, and by the time i got into the locker room i was entirely by myself. i still slipped into a toilet stall, just in case, and undid the lock on my belt. As always, my hand slipped around the base of my cock and this time.... this time there was no one else in the room. This time i had the memory of Mistress' "gratification" still relatively fresh in my mind after only two weeks; and had the prospect of more dancing about in my dreams nightly. This time i jerked off wantonly and uncontrollably. It only took a minute and a half to reach orgasm; and as i spurted my semen into the toilet the full gravity of what i had done began to sink in. my face turned beet red and my heart began to beat erratically. i had broken Her orders, disobeyed Mistress! my initial impulse was to cover up what i had done. i wiped the head of my dick with toilet paper furiously and ran my index finger along my urethra, hoping to milk out any semen that might still be "hiding." i had to do that twice because every time i thought i was done, more cum would start to ooze out. i knew i was starting to take too long, so i wiped over everything, scrubbed everything, and pulled my clothes on, hurrying out the door as fast as i could. When i got to the courts i thought i must not have taken as long as i had feared, as She was just arriving as well. She seemed curious as to my flushed condition, but i lied and said i'd had to pee and that i'd rushed after that, not wanting to keep Her waiting. We hit the ball around a few times in practice, then started in on the first rally of the game. i was playing terribly, but at least i imagined i'd gotten away with my trespass. Then, as i went for the ball during the third rally of the game, She swung Her racquet into my groin with all Her strength. i doubled over from pain and shock and my feet slipped out from under me. i tumbled sideways into a wall and slid down onto the hardwood floor. "I TOLD YOU NO!" She screamed, flinging Her racquet at me. i deflected it with my arm, only to leave myself open for a vicious kick between my legs. "I TRUSTED you, you SON OF A BITCH!" She was hysterical. She ran from the court, slamming the door behind Her so hard the glass wall rattled ominously. As my body slid further down from a sitting to a prone position, i could just barely discern the source of Her anger: a small, telltale stain of tardy semen had formed at the crotch of my shorts. * * * * i had to walk all the way back to Her house to retrieve my car. At least She hadn't trashed it. Her own car wasn't even there, and the lights were all out. i left Her racquet and the chastity belt on Her porch and drove home; never expecting to see or hear from Her again. i'd decided, somewhere between scraping myself off the floor and dodging traffic on the walk over, not to beg for mercy or grovel. i'd known the rules, agreed to them and i'd fucked up. It seemed like such a minor thing, but God only knew what She'd do. i made a note to drop my online account and change the locks on my apartment as soon as i could; and, fastening the chain, took a long, hot bath to soothe my battered genitals. i woke the next day feeling incredibly depressed. After waging a lengthy argument with myself, i decided check my E-mail. There was a message from Her. Trembling, i read it. If you wish forgiveness, it said, be at My house at eight P.M. sharp. C. i was torn. i wanted so badly to be with Her again, to be forgiven.... but what if it were a trap? Again, God alone only knew what She'd do to me once She had me naked and tied down in Her soundproof basement. What if this were just Her attempt to kick me around some more before dumping my sorry ass for good. Was it worth the risk? my mind screamed "NO!" at me, but at seven-thirty i was in my car and headed for the west side of town. There were two cars parked in front of Her house when i got there: Hers and another that was parked where i usually did, so i had to drive a little past it and back up into position. It didn't look like Mandy's OR Lindsey's and the sight of it had me mightily worried. When i entered the mud room, i was surprised to find a woman's clothes in the garbage can already. For a second, i thought She might be expecting me to put on the short, red dress, but it was clearly far too small a size to even have a chance of fitting me. The belt was there as well as my collar, and reluctantly i pulled my accouterments of submission back into place. i entered the dungeon at eight 'o'clock on the button, and was stunned by what i saw. Mistress was there, standing imperiously in the center of the room with Her arms folded under Her bare breasts; waiting for me. She had on the skirt and gloves She'd worn for our first "session" together. Yet as stunning as She looked, my eyes were inescapably drawn to the dark-haired beauty that was cowering at Her feet. She was a short, lithe, muscular woman of Latino descent; and She wasn't cowering from Mistress, but rather from the sight of ME. "Que tonto! " the woman said, trying to hide behind Mistress' legs. "Comportate bien," Mistress commanded her sternly. Not speaking Spanish myself, i could only stare at them blankly. "Mistress?" i asked nervously. "I realize, michael, that what happened last night was as much My fault as yours," She said. "Your fault, Mistress? No!" She waved me off angrily. "It was foolish of me to give you a taste of sexual pleasure and expect you to behave yourself after that." "Los Hombres son unos perros! " the stranger said. "No hables, solo actua asustado, " Mistress replied sharply. The woman wailed in sudden fear. "Mistress," i asked, feeling very, very nervous. "Don't worry about this little slut! She was one of my former slaves." Mistress grabbed her by the hair. "You know your place, don't you?" "Ay! Eso duele! " "I said, you know your place, DON'T YOU?" "Si! Si, Gato!" Mistress released her roughly. "You see, michael, since you cannot be trusted to control youself, I am giving you this little slut to slake your beastial urges with!" "No!" the girl cried. "Now get over here," Mistress commanded, suddenly struggling with the new slave, "and help Me tie this bitch down!" i held my ground, my stomach suddenly beginning to churn. "NOW MICHAEL!" Mistress screamed, fighting with the panic-stricken woman. i felt like throwing up as i helped Mistress wrestle the poor, screeching girl onto a low padded bench and tied her down to it. Mistress insisted that her legs be tied wide open and to add to my growing nausea, the fear and excitement had made the struggling captive wet. "No!" she wailed miserably. "No!" i took a quick back from my handiwork, wondering just how much further this was going to go. From Her "rack" Mistress produced a strap-on on unbelievable length and thickness. "Se ve esto muy grande!" the slave girl said. "What... what is THAT for, Mistress?" i asked, very nervous. "Why... it's for YOU michael," She replied coyly. Before i could quite process what She meant, She had already begun strapping it onto the front of my chastity belt. She pulled the strap that ran up the crack of my ass tight, and suddenly i was "gifted" with an enormous erection that was wholly not of my body. It was the most humiliating feeling i'd ever experienced in my life. In spite of all the straps back there, the cheeks of my ass were still exposed and She landed a hard slap against them. "Well? You're the one who can't control himself? Get to work, asshole!" "Mistress, please!" i moaned. She slapped me across my face, spun me in the direction of "our" bound victim and gave me a swift kick in the ass that sent me sprawling on top of the shrieking, shaking woman. i pulled myself off her and stood for a moment between her splayed thighs. Tears began to run down my cheeks. "Please," i whispered, "forgive me!" "Nooooo!" she screeched back at me plaintively. Mistress smacked my ass hard again and, shutting my eyes against the ugliness of my own actions, i slid the huge dildo tentatively into her quivering body. She howled like a dying animal. She bucked and thrashed against her bonds and secretly i prayed they'd break, but they didn't. "Is that all you do when you fuck, michael? Just stick it in and hold it there? I'm glad it's not me having to put up with your ineptitude!" Bile rose to the back of my throat as i slid the false cock deeper into her flailing body. Her cries were beyond enduring. i pulled out and just as the bulbous glans began to emerge, Mistress slapped my ass hard again and miserably i penetrated the helpless woman again. i was raping her. i had become a rapist. By the end she stopped screaming, and that was the worst of it. She just lay there limp and crying. i couldn't take it anymore. i pulled out and turned an ran past Mistress straight to the bathroom; belching up a cascade of hot vomit into the bowl. A second eruption swiftly followed the first, then a third. i was heaving dry into the fetid bowl when Mistress' shriek rattled me to the bone. "MICHAEL GET YOUR ASS IN HERE NOW!" i withdrew from the toilet reluctantly, pulling myself to my feet with tremendous effort. i staggered back into the dungeon and teetered at the doorway. my heart stopped altogether. Mistress was standing over the girl's limp, athletic body. She'd undid the ropes and now the young woman's body lay on the floor. The slave's entire lower torso was drenched in a vast pool of crimson; it dripped lugubriously from the end of the bench. She wasn't moving. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" Mistress screamed at me. "me?!?" i felt another wash of puke rise up my from burning gullet. She crossed the room in a flash and hit me with the back of Her hand. "DON'T YOU DARE YOU FUCK! YOU..." Whatever She was about to call me or accuse me of died on Her lips, however, as Her tirade was interrupted by a stream of uncontrollable... giggles that rose up from, and shook, the "corpse" fiercely. i gaped at the boisterously laughing figure. my horror sank to a new level as i gazed into Mistress' fathomless, remorseless eyes. my "victim" was now rolling around on the floor, clutching at her stomach and wallowing in her "blood" as she laughed and laughed. "Go back to the bathroom, michael. I'll deal with you later." i stumbled back to the lavatory in a stupor. The room stank. i sank to the tiled floor and curled up in a ball, pulling my knees to my chest and crying quietly. In my confusion and misery, i'd left the door ajar; and i could hear them in the other room. "Thank you, Gina," Mistress said coldly. "Sorry, Gato," Gina replied, her voice still choked with giggles, "but I mean, how far were you planning on taking that anyway? Have the poor shithead bury me in the backyard?" "I had my purposes, you needn't have concerned yourself." "What is this shit anyway?" "Kayro syrup and food coloring." "Mmmm! Tastes sweet! You're one sick bitch, Gato, I'll tell you that much!" "I had my purposes," Mistress reiterated. "Yeah? All that just because the poor asshole played with himself? Jesus! We used to get away with a lot worse than that, I mean Alex..." The voices in the other room stopped suddenly. Eventually Gina spoke up again, though this time it was barely audible over my soft crying. "Sorry, Gato, I didn't mean..." "I was lax before. I paid the price for that. But I will NOT make the same mistake again! I... I think you should leave, Gina." "Yeah. Sorry." A few moments later i heard someone stop at the door, look in and softly whisper "Jesus!" Gina left and i lay alone on the cold tiles, alone with the stench of my vomit, alone in the despondent pit that had once been occupied by my soul. Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Fourteen: Bottom Rail On Top Sunday i lay there for a long time. i heard Her footsteps as She entered the bathroom; heard Her flush the john and put the seat down. She sat down and began to speak to me; trying to explain what She'd done. i heard without listening. Finally, i said my safeword. She blinked at me in confusion. "What?" She asked. i repeated it; sat up and looked Her in the eyes. "Get the key to this fucking belt," i said, and then said my safeword again. Slowly, as if in a daze, She stood up and walked out into the dungeon. She returned a moment later and handed me the key; Her hands shaking. i'd already removed the collar and dropped it on the floor. i stood, we were less than an inch apart, face to face. i unlocked the belt and let it drop to the floor with a heavy thud. Without saying a word i turned and walked out the door, dressed, and drove away. It was hard to say just how i was feeling over the next two weeks. It wasn't quite depression so much as it was an all-consuming weariness, a tremendous sense of burnout. Ironically, the car makers loved the new add and i was enjoying real professional success for the first time in my life. i also took some time and mended some rifts between my friend Brad and me. He wrote the comic my other buddy John drew and there had been some tension brought on by ego after an issue they'd let me write drew more positive feedback than any other in their short run. We met at a Mexican place he really liked and i showed him some sketches for an idea of my own. i started going back to my old gym, my membership was still good for months. Whatever memories of the show Mistress had put on there had dimmed to the point where they mostly remembered Her, if they remembered any of it at all. i even got a few curious and admiring glances from some of the young ladies, though at that point that was the LAST thing on my mind. Friday night Lindsey asked me out for dinner with her and Mandy and we ate at another Chinese restaurant on the east side of town. There was apparently some tension between them, which only seemed to be worsened by the way Lindsey carried on, doting on me. Mandy, on the other hand, refused to even look at me. i began to suspect that some of what Mistress had done had leaked out. When Lindsey excused herself to go to the bathroom, i took the opportunity to confront Mandy. "I don't know what you're thinking, but Lindsey and I are just friends, you know." She sighed. "Look, I know that. It's just..." She trailed off. "No, what? It's just what?" She looked at me for the first time that evening. "It's just that I'm in a really fucking awkward position, okay? It's not that I agree with what Doctor.... with what Catherine did to you - I think it was pretty shitty! - but Lindsey wants me to... I don't know! Bust her in the nose or quit my job in protest or something! "And it's not just that I need my job, I LIKE my job, y'know? And it's pissing me off to have to keep arguing it with her over and over." "I'm sorry." She sighed and shook her head. A second later Lindsey rejoined us. "Uh... Lindsey?" i began. "Yes Michael?" she replied, still forcing herself to sound cheery. "Look, your friendship means a lot to me..." Lindsey narrowed her eyes and gave Mandy a sudden, sharp look. "And it feels good to know somebody cares, you know? But I'm not a little kid and you're not my big sister. Heck, you're what? Five years younger than me?" She shrugged. "My point is that I made my own decisions, and it's not worth fucking up what you have to get upset about how things turned out, okay?" She looked down at her food. i looked at Mandy and gave her a slight nod. She took Linsdey's hand. "Okay?" i asked again. "Okay," she said softly. * * * * To Her credit, Mistress didn't come begging for forgiveness either. In the two weeks after i'd left Her dungeon, She left exactly one message on my answering machine and two sent me two E-mails. The tone for all three was identical: cool and conciliatory, but not weepy or especially apologetic. The Friday following my dinner with Lindsey and Mandy, i was feeling tired and alone. One of the two E-mails had come that day, and in a moment of weakness, i wrote back. Meet me at the juice bar at the club tomorrow afternoon at six, i wrote, Neutral ground. i spent the rest of the evening watching TV and reading; not doing a particularly good job with either. Before going to bed, i checked my mail. There was a message from Her. Okay, it read. * * * * Saturday i was uncertain as to my motives or emotions as i parked at the club. What She had done to me, especially after the incident with the Rohypnol and the tenderness that had followed, seemed excessively cruel; but then again, what the fuck had i the right to expect? Hay rides and long walks along the beach? She was already there and had a table in a far corner of the room. i noticed She was wearing Her workout clothes and for an instant our eyes met. I was wearing one of my new pairs of jeans and a T-shirt. Instead of going right to Her, however, i went to the counter instead and bought a bottle of water. She seemed disappointed about something as i sat down opposite Her. "So..." She said. "So?" i replied. "If you're expecting an apology..." "Frankly Catherine, I don't know what I'm expecting." She looked up, surprised that i had referred to Her in so casual a way. "I do know that I'm very hurt and angry by what you did," i continued. "I think I've borne up to the punishments you've dished out pretty well, and I think I could handle more, but ONLY if you were honest with me! I NEED to be able to trust you in there, and what you've been doing lately.... it's been like lying in a way, cheating. It's totally eroded whatever trust we'd built up between us." i took a deep breath. "And if I can't trust you, then there's no point in us going on, is there?" It was Her turn to sigh. "I guess you've already made that decision, haven't you?" She asked morosely. i hadn't thought i'd made any decision of the kind, but as i was staring at Her, bewildered, i noticed the gym bag next to Her feet. Specifically, i noticed the handle of the racquet poking out of it. "Oh for Chissakes! You've GOT to be kidding!" i exploded. She nodded sadly, picked up Her bag, and began to leave. As She walked past me, i found my hand shooting out, almost of it's own volition, and grabbing Her arm. She looked down at me, Her eyes teary, yet curious. i sighed. "Give me fifteen minutes to get my stuff," i said wearily. * * * * i drove back to my apartment as quickly as traffic would allow, grabbed up my gym clothes in a hurry, and dashed back to the club. i rushed through changing in the locker room, half afraid She wouldn't be there when i got done, but She was. She'd gotten a court already and had been hitting the ball around. On the bench outside, a pair of resident Romeo's sat and watched with mute resentment. When they saw me heading to the door, one of them said, "Lots 'a luck, stud!" and the other one laughed. i went inside. She was in the middle of a volley and i suddenly reached over and caught the ball mid-flight. She turned and gave me Her full attention. "First of all," i began, "no more drugs. Not ever." "Are you dictating terms to me now, is that it, michael?" "I'm telling you what I will and WON'T do, even for you. If you don't like it..." i pointed my racquet at the door. She stood Her ground. "Secondly, no more lies or head games or anything like that. If you want to do something, tell me." She nodded Her head halfheartedly. "Anything else?" "Yes. No more belt." "Now wait a minute..." "If you want me to abstain from masturbating, fine. I'll do what I can. If I slip up, I'll tell you and we can go from there, but I'm NOT letting you lock that fucking thing on me again! If I serve you, it will be because I CHOOSE to serve you, not because you MAKE me, understand?" She nodded reluctantly. "One more thing. After tonight THIS shit," i spread my arms to indicate the court, "ends as well. I like playing, and if you want to continue, great. But after tonight, we play for pride only! Like I said, if there's something you want to do, some way you want to push my limits, we'll talk about it." "Why not start tonight?" She muttered glumly. i had to think about that. "I don't know, exactly... except... except I THINK I'm sensing something from You. Like, You want one last chance to prove you can be trusted, something like that?" There was amazement in Her eyes. Dreamily, She nodded. "Yes..." i sighed. "Okay, then." i took up my position and She took Hers , and then i tossed up the opening serve. We ripped into each other. Lions and antelopes battling for survival went at it with less fervor than we did that night. All the pain and lingering resentment tore wide open on that court. Rally after rally would go by with only the change of service to mark any progress. The score crept along with a placidity that belied the fury with which it was generated. She won the first game, 15 / 13. In the second game, She went for the quick kill, which spent what reserves She had left early. i got the serve back at 7 / 1 and began to steadily make up ground until i'd surpassed Her and had begun to make a grab for my own victory. She got the serve back for a two-point run, but the rest was all me. i won the second game 15 / 9. In the tie breaker, it became clear that my body had finally acclimated itself to the game of racquetball. In addition, the past three months at the gym had combined to give me for more stamina than She. i would later learn that She'd just come from a full Saturday afternoon at work, so it was really no surprise when i began to pull away. i won the tie breaker, 11 / 4. We stood there for a moment, allowing what had happened to sink in. i don't think either one of us had really been thinking about what a victory for me would mean exactly; and i wasn't sure, as tired as i was, that i was really in much of a mood for anything at that point. "Double or nothing," She said. "What?" "I want to play again!" She said between gasping for breath. " Double or nothing!" i just stared at Her in naked astonishment. "You have GOT to be fucking kidding me!" She couldn't spare the oxygen to respond, so She shook Her head "No!" "What the hell does that MEAN, anyway? If you don't want to make good on the bargain, just say..." "No! Double or nothing!" "Then what's the point? What the hell do you mean by 'nothing'?" She had to really gather up Her energy to speak. "I mean... if you win we go home and go upstairs and we... we do what you've really wanted out of this all along! If I win, I mean we go DOWN stairs and go back to the way things were.... I don't do anything special, just the way things were before." i had to really think about that. She looked in far worse shape than i did, but She had that stubborn look to Her eyes again and this time there'd be no backing off until She got what She wanted. "No," i said. She looked crestfallen. "ALL or nothing!" She gaped at me in utter confusion. "How do you mean, michael?" "If you win, fine. We go back to the way things were like you said. If I win, we ALSO go downstairs. And for, say, a day... twenty four hours... you will be MY slave! To torment or fuck or do whatever I want to do!" She blanched at the thought. Frankly, it was a bluff on my part. Mostly i just wanted Her to back down and let us take a step back and think things through. A part of it also was that i didn't want to get through another game, win, and have Her try and raise the stakes yet again. It was all or nothing. i was so certain of how She'd respond that i'd even turned and headed for the door. There was no knob on our side; you had to fish out a little metal ring from a groove. i had that ring in my hand when i heard Her say, in a very small, faraway voice, "okay." i turned and looked at Her in utter amazement. Still, i recovered quickly enough to toss Her the ball and take up my position. She gazed at the little blue sphere in Her hand. "Loser gets first serve," i reminded Her. * * * * Sitting on the stoop created by the sunken living room, i teased the cat with an odd bit of string i'd found in my pocket. i checked my watch for the fifth or sixth time; and just when i was about to give up, the doorbell rang. i answered it and smiled at the Chinese kid who looked at me with obvious surprise and suspicion. "S'okay," i said, "Dr. K-... Hong Mao, is in the little girl's room. I got it." The kid reluctantly handed me the large paper bag and then deferred when i tried to pay. "Free delivery, too?" i asked and he nodded. Even so, i slipped him a ten dollar tip which seemed to evaporate the vast majority of his concerns. He wished me a good night and i asked him to send Hong Mao's warmest regards to Lin. As i started towards the door to the downstairs with the bag of dinner in my hand, the cat began to rub against my leg persistently and "meow" quite loudly. "What's the matter... you?" It occurred to me that i didn't even know her name. "You hungry?" "R'ow!" i altered my course and led the little fuzzball into the kitchen, setting my own dinner on the counter. "Okay, now," i said, rummaging through the cabinets, "where's your mommy keep your food, huh?" The cat jumped up on the counter, but didn't provide any useful answers. i had to go through several cabinets before finally locating a stack of little tin cans. "Mmmmm," i said, doing my best imitation of Homer Simpson, "Fancy Feast!" i opened the can. Not finding any specific bowl for the cat, i retrieved a small plate from the cupboard, and shoveled the food out with a fork. The lump of goop didn't look particularly fancy, nor did there seem enough to constitute a feast. i decided to stick with my own food; and gave the cat a friendly scratch on the head before heading back downstairs. She was waiting right where i'd left Her - as if She'd had any other choice: She was hanging by the same bar She'd cuffed me to several times before. i'd dressed Her in a black leather waist-cincher that came just up to Her breasts and dropped down low enough to hang garters on. Clipped to those was a pair of milk-white stockings, and i'd put six inch heels on Her feet. As She could barely get Her toes to touch the ground, the spikes themselves were largely inconsequential. And of course, completing the image was a lovely red ball gag wedged deep into Her mouth. Her eyes, still defiant and proud, went right to the large, grease-stained bag in my hands. i hadn't seen fit to tell Her just why i'd gone upstairs. Now i sat down in front of Her, just a little beyond kicking distance, and opened the bag. She grunted angrily as the first hints of smell touched Her nostrils. i removed all the little cardboard cartons and arrayed them around me like a little wall, opening each one wide open so that the scents of the food within could reach Her better. i'd ordered enough food for three people, but i started with the General Tso's, Her favorite; picking several large chunks of chicken out and dropping them playfully into my mouth. i ate with my mouth open, making noisy "naum! naum! naum!" noises as i chewed. On an impulse, i dipped a finger into the golden sauce and pulled myself off the floor. i walked to Her and smeared a little "mustache" onto Her upper lip. "How's that, kitten?" i asked mockingly. i'd been calling her "kitten" since we first got back from the club. Behind Her gag She mumbled something, and to my surprise i realized She had been right earlier: i COULD almost understand what She was saying. i arched my eyebrows menacingly. "Oh, I'll pay for this, will I?" i asked. Her eyes went wide with terror, telling me i'd been dead on. "Well," i said, dropping my voice to a malevolent whisper, "you're probably right about that. I don't doubt that sometime soon you'll have me all trussed up and helpless- just like you are now - and then I WILL pay. And You WILL make me suffer. I can picture you making me endure tenfold for every indignity, every torment or petty humiliation, every twitch of discomfort or millisecond of real pain." i looked deep into Her frightened eyes. "Won't you?" She released a sudden, explosive gush of piss. i yelped in surprise and amusement and leapt backwards. i quickly rushed to the bathroom and brought back a few towels, but instead of mopping up, i just built a small dam around Her feet so that She had to stand in the thin puddle of Her urine. i sat back down by the food and watched Her twitch and spasm as i finished my meal. When i'd stuffed myself, i wiped my face with the back of my hand, stood up, and began to inspect the various pegboards for a proper instrument with which to whip Her. i couldn't find any i liked. Even using her favorite paddle on Her somehow left me cold. It bothered me that i had to rely on HER dungeon, HER restraints and HER whips. i hardly felt like i was in control at all. i had a habit of hooking my thumbs into the loops of my jeans as i thought, and the act of doing that gave me a sudden burst of inspiration. Turning to face Her, i undid the buckle of my belt and slid it slowly from my pants. She looked on with mounting fear as i bent the leather double and pulled it taut, though i did it poorly and the snapping sound was less than impressive. Even so, She was making some genuine noise within Her gag as i moved behind Her and took up a position over Her ass. She didn't make a sound as i brought the belt down over Her pale, firm cheeks. The welt seemed like a splash of blood against snow. i hit Her again, harder. This time She grunted in pain so i kept the blows at that strength, raining three or four more before circling around to check on Her. She was crying, but when She saw me, Her dark eyes turned to steel. i shrugged and smacked the inside of Her thigh. She screamed. i beat Her without mercy, striping Her body with broad, red marks. i worked Her thighs, front and back, Her ass, and Her breasts. i whipped Her until She stopped making sound and just hung from Her fetters like a sack of meal. When i was certain all resistance had been beaten out of Her, i undid the cuffs on Her wrists. She dropped like a stone, ass-first into what was left of Her "accident" and then toppled over onto Her side. i then quickly straddled Her like a police officer, pinning Her hands behind Her back while She was still out of it, and cuffing them together. Then i scooped Her limp body into my arms and carried Her into the bathroom; dropping Her unceremoniously, but carefully, into the tub. i peeled off much of Her outfit. The shoes i put on top of the toilet tank; the piss-soaked stockings got dumped in the sink. The leather ensemble was merely tossed onto the floor. With Her gag and cuffs still on, i tracked down the little wastepaper baskets She'd used on me and took them upstairs, filled them with steaming water from the kitchen sink, and then hauled them back down again to give Her a rough "shower." She cried and sputtered and kicked furiously, but i wouldn't stop. After dousing Her enough times to be certain She was "clean," i picked Her up again and took Her to the den. This time She was really struggling with me. i'd already pulled out the bed, and upon entering the room, i flung Her onto the mattress. She lay on Her stomach, facing the foot of the bed. i stripped down to my underwear and crawled into bed. i got one arm around Her waist and, pulling and kicking, wrestled us into a sitting position: She on my lap. i undid the buckle of the gag and pulled it free, loosing an impressive quantity of saliva with it. i gave Her a moment to work out the cramps in her jaw muscles. Then She looked into my eyes, anxious, yet curious. i knew what She was expecting. Instead, i said, "Tell me about Alex." Her eyes went wide with shock. Trembling, She said, "No!" "OKAY!" i bellowed, shoving Her forcefully off my lap and back onto the mattress. i crawled on top of Her back, forcing Her legs apart. "We can talk or we can fuck! Your call, bitch!" It was for the best that She lay face down, because if She could have seen me at that moment, seen what was going on inside my jockey's - or rather, what WASN'T - She'd have realized what a bluff it was. Actually, i was TRYING to will myself into hardening, but it wasn't happening. She began to cry softly. i crawled off Her and dropped onto my side, next to Her. "Jesus!" i muttered forlornly. "I don't... I don't fucking believe you! You'd rather that I rape you than reveal any part of yourself to me!" i shook my head sadly and rolled off the bed. i walked over to the pile of my clothes, and as i pulled my jeans up She suddenly turned to face me and cried, "WAIT!" i stopped, looking at Her intently. Slowly, haltingly, She began to speak. * * * * She'd met him at a munch... a party of sorts. She described, in painstaking detail, his body, his face, his cock. He was simply the most beautiful man She'd ever seen. She ended up "stealing" him away from another Domme; and right from their first night together he'd shared Her bed. She'd never done that with any other slave, before or since. She had other slaves too, at that time - a lot; Her stable, she called it. She ended up with so many that She made them rent a house, rather than try and cram them all into Hers. There was a lot of tension between them all, and She relished it, encouraged it. She made up all kinds of "rules" and encouraged Her slaves to spy on one another and rat each other out. Informants got "rewards," which often included being the instrument of punishment for the offender. They all competed for Her attention; the lines of conflict being as palpable and strong as the chains and rope. And She sat back like a big, greedy spider at the center and luxuriated in it. But it was clear to all that Alex was Her favorite, and any who informed on him was a likely to BE punished as do the punishing. And then one day, while She was relaxing with one of Her few female slaves, Gina, the girl i had "raped" came charging in to Her bedroom, screaming about a fight. She'd rushed to the dungeon and found Alex there, beating the shit out of some other slave. His name was Benjamin; and given Her descriptions of the two men's respective physiques, you'd have thought that he - tall and muscled like a professional weightlifter - would be the one trashing Alex - lithe and wiry like a dancer. But Benjamin's strong body harbored a very gentle soul, while Alex seemed to burn calories with just the heat of his passion. So, it was Benjamin who was on his knees; his whole front slathered in the blood gushing from his freshly broken nose. She told me how the sight of so much blood, which had always excited Her in tiny quantities, now sickened Her. She charged in between them, shouting angrily, demanding to know what the hell was going on even though She THOUGHT She knew. Alex refused to answer, but Benjamin couldn't lie to his Mistress. She had another slave in Her stable, a female switch named Laura. Laura was about to go out on her own and become a Domme. The men had been fighting to see who would get to go with her. She had looked into Alex's eyes and where She had thought She'd seen love, She found only bemused contempt. She turned on Her heel, walked out of the dungeon, gathered up Her few belongings in that house and left, never to return. Until two weekends ago, She'd never spoken to ANY of Her former salves since. She tried to put into words the sense of humiliation, betrayal and shame, but couldn't. Instead, she began to cry, to really wail and sob. i sat back down on the side of the bed and unlocked Her cuffs. i tried to pull Her to me, but she fought. She shoved and pushed and sank Her nails into my skin to try and get away, but i wouldn't let go. Finally, something seemed to give inside Her and Her limbs went limp. i folded my arms around Her and held Her tight, rocking Her softly as She wept; and telling Her, over and over again, that it wasn't Her fault, and that i would never, ever, hurt Her again. i held Her like that till long after the sun had come up, and She was my slave no longer. Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Fifteen: Amok Time Part One After that night, things began to change. Most notably, i was allowed, encouraged, to spend time in the middle part of the house, away from the dungeon. Largely this was so i could clean and vacuum Her living room, take care of the cat, and prepare meals for Mistress. i didn't really know how to cook, but, as i'd proved to Mistress on several occasions, i could follow directions; and soon the kitchen counter was covered in newly-purchased cookbooks. In fact, once i'd prepared a meal two or three times i'd feel confident enough to improvise a little, and as the weeks passed my culinary skills showed dramatic improvement. The upstairs was still verboten, however, and we had yet to truly make love with one another; but all in all it was a happy period in our lives. i stayed over most nights, sleeping on the sofa sleeper in Her dungeon den; with usually just an ankle chained to the leg of the bed as a token of my enslaved status. In fact, Her den - the part of the dungeon She had once described as exclusively "Hers" - was rapidly becoming a second apartment for me, with my own residence serving as little more than a place to shower and store my things. There was some tension over that. i didn't like having to hang my clothes over the door to the wardrobe where She kept Her "Domme outfits" and She began to show signs of resenting the loss of Her inner sanctum. Yet at the same time, She grew steadily more and more unhappy each time i had to go back to my apartment for whatever reason. Lindsey was NOT happy about my going back to Mistress, and we didn't see much of her socially. Instead we mostly did things like any other young couple: movies, concerts, long walks in the park, long walks through the woods behind Her house. Spring was moving along nicely and there was a great deal of rain during those weeks, but Mistress enjoyed that. One of Her favorite things was to go to the edge of the lake in the middle of a thunderstorm and watch the skies overhead roil and flare. The invitation came in the mail a little under three weeks after the night She had been "my slave." It came in a large, bulk envelope, though the invitation proper was in a delicate little one inside. The script on the card was gothic in style and read: The Delta Of Venus Society cordially invites, Mistress Catherine K- (and any attendant submissives) to their third triennial GALA (Grand Domme, Mistress Elizabeth B- of Detroit, MI.) There was more; it was to be held a week from that Saturday, at a convention center north of where we were. The rest of the larger envelope was crammed with thick, legal-looking forms. Mistress sat on the couch in Her living room, with me at Her feet, reading the invitation over and over before curiosity finally got the better of me and i asked about it. She handed me the card without saying a word, and seeing it for myself only filled me with that many more questions. Still, i held my tongue and eventually, after we'd finished the dinner i'd prepared for Her that evening, She led me back to the living room and after gathering Her thoughts over coffee, finally began to explain. "Ummm, I don't really know where to begin," She began, "you DO know what the 'Delta of Venus' is, don't you?" "Ah, a constellation?" i asked. She laughed merrily, then took my hand and guided it to the correct answer. i blushed deeply and looked away. She sighed, but it was a bemused, contented sigh. "Okay, I guess the best way to explain would be to give you the history. See, about seven years ago this guy upstate, he built one of those theme restaurants, you know - the medieval kind? Suits of armor and faux stone walls? Torches on the walls, all that sort of tripe. "I guess the Midwest just wasn't ready for that sort of thing, or maybe he should have built it a little closer to a major city, whatever the reason, the place was failing miserably. The only steady customers he had were either the SCA types, or the goths. Of course, the irony was that while they were a pretty loyal bunch, they tended to scare away the 'straights,' you know? The 'normal,' 'decent' family crowd. "Anyway, there are a lot of us Dommes into either the gothic scene or SCA, or both, so it kind of became a hangout for those of us in the surrounding areas. Even so, the owner realized he couldn't make a go of it after about six months, so a group of us decided that it would be a pretty cool place to have all to ourselves. We were all professionals, financially well off, and we formed The Delta Of Venus Society as a consortium to buy the place and run it as our own little clubhouse. "Initially it was a Femdom exclusive sort of club, hence the name, and once we'd finalized the deal, we threw a huge bash at the place to celebrate. I mean, this was not your typical munch - if there be such an animal - we really went all out and drenched the thing in fantasy and melodrama. Really camped it up." She smiled softly at the memory. She seemed to lose Herself in the past, and after waiting for a moment, i asked, "So, why is this one being held in the convention center?" She sighed. "Well, it turned out to be more work keeping that place up than we had anticipated. The taxes alone ate us alive, so eventually we sold out too; and the new owners demolished the restaurant and put up a Day's Inn or something. "The point is that initial party really stayed in people's minds, and everyone began asking when we were going to put on something like that again, so we sort of began to develop the idea of The Gala." "Why triennial, Mistress?" She grinned at me. "Why michael, don't you know anything? It's to honor the sacred trinity: The Mother, The Daughter, and The Holy Gynous." i looked at Her blankly and She broke into laughter. "God! You really DON'T know anything, do you michael?" All i could do was shrug. She kept laughing. After She'd calmed down a little, She explained the Holy Trinity as it was more usually understood by the Catholic Church. To be fair, i HAD explained to Her several times before that my parents had more or less let me grow up without any sort of religious indoctrination; which explained my woeful ignorance on that particular point. When She had completely regained control of Herself, She explained, "Honestly, I don't really remember anymore why every three years. It IS a huge pain in the ass to put on, a hell of a drain on the Grand Domme in terms of time and money. I think we picked three because of 'Delta,' as in triangle, having three sides and all." "Um, that was something else i was meaning to ask..." i hemmed. "About the Grand Domme?" She asked. i nodded. "Okay. The Grand Domme is the woman selected right after The Gala to be the... host, if you will, for the next one. Like I said, it's an enormous undertaking, and part of it is that, in going along with the heavy fantasy involved, The Grand Domme sort of gets to be Queen for a day. Technically, ALL the slaves at The Gala 'belong' to her, and even the other Dommes are subject to her whims." "They go along with that?" "Well, the idea was that if somebody was being an asshole our just doing something to bring people down, The Grand Domme could either punish them, or they'd be shown the door. You might find it hard to believe," She said teasingly, "but there are a LOT of Dommes out there that are major divas! "And there are a lot of Dommes, too, who enjoy switching every now and then, but don't usually get to." She winked at me, but i wasn't so much thinking about what had happened between us. Rather, my mind went to Laura, the sub who'd 'turned' Domme. She held up the thick ream of forms that had accompanied the invitation, displaying them to me. i saw the words "Waiver Of Liability" written large across the top of the first page. "As you can see, we have our fair share of lawyers in the society, too!" She giggled. Her merriment died away shortly after that. She sat quietly, staring at the forms, looking a million miles away. "Do You not want to go, Mistress?" i asked. She let out a deep breath. "I don't know, michael. It... I wouldn't want you getting the idea that this is the way we behave when we usually get together..." "That's not it," i said gently, but insistently. "No," She said sadly, "you're right. I AM concerned he might show up. I... I met him at the last one, you know. When I was..." She trailed off. i didn't want to push Her, so i kept my questions to myself. Her hands began to shake. Her face scrunched up in a look of intense ferocity. i took Her hand in mine, tried to clam Her down. "Fuck him!" She spat. "God I HATE him for making me feel this way!" "That mean we're going, Mistress?" i asked, smiling gamely. She looked up at me, fiery and proud. She returned my smile and brushed away a stray lock of my hair from my face. "You bet your ass we are!" * * * * i hadn't appreciated just how used to my nakedness i'd become, until i had to be naked in front of hundreds of strangers. The Gala only lasted from Saturday afternoon through the early hours of Sunday morning; but a lot of people attending, including Mistress, booked rooms at the Hilton, which connected to the convention center by a skywalk, for the entire weekend. The convention center itself had been made using a lot of glass, and the organizers had painstakingly covered the rows upon rows of windows with black sheets. The local Fire Marshal had forbidden the use of real candles, so the place was lit up with fake, electric ones that still managed to flicker and cast everything in an eerie, hellish glow. To catalogue the variety of subs and Dommes i saw that day would be impossible. Dress was whatever you did - or often didn't - feel like. While flesh, and lots of it, was a common theme among the subs; saying that the subs were "largely in the nude" would be an injustice to the myriad of jewelry, tattoos, collars, straps and other devices one saw wherever one looked. The Dommes, despite being fewer in number, were even more diverse and outrageous. Some paraded around in little more than a pair of sandals; exuding power from their pride in their bodies. i saw a Domme at the other end of the spectrum completely covered from head to foot. She had on a nun's habit, with a veil hanging down from the wimple. Mistress and i were fairly "middle of the road." She had on a short, black leather skirt, a black silk blouse, "biker" jacket, Her worn out high tops and a pair of mirrorshades. For my part, i had my old, pink dog collar and Mistress had decked out all my piercings in new rings. The nipple rings had little jungle bells on them, so i sounded like a catnip ball when i moved, and She'd attached a leash to the thick ring set in my guiche. Actually, i'd asked if i could perhaps wear my chastity belt for the occasion, but She laughed at me and said, "Oh no michael! you had your chance at that! Besides," She purred, taking my penis in Her hand, "I intend to finally get some use out of this little thing! It'll be the perfect barometer for what turns you on and what scares the shit out of you!" The convention center was a rat's nest of passages and rooms; some were small and cozy while others stretched out like airplane hangers. Somewhere there was a giant auditorium where tractor pulls and wrestling matches were usually held. On this day it would be used for several "pony" races, a "dog show," and a few other "entertainments." We wandered from room to room. Each one had a theme. Some, like the "public restroom" involved a specific act, while others, like the "medieval room" were about more generalized fantasies. We'd go into a room, look around at what was being done to whom, and Mistress would examine my reactions carefully. i could tell She was filling up a mental notepad with an enormous "to do" list. We were passing through the "Persian room" when a voice called out Mistress' name and She turned and cried happily, "Caresse!" As Mistress spun around, She nearly yanked the ring from my lower regions. Goddess Caresse, as she preferred to be addressed, was a an attractive woman a few years older than Mistress, and a few inches taller, too. She had a mane of jet black hair and spoke with a vaguely foreign accent. For the occasion she had on a tight fitting leather dress. The two women embraced. Behind Caresse, and looking for all the word like a bizarre clone of his mistress, was her slave. If it weren't for the fact that the corselette he had on stopped just below his chest, i'd have been hard pressed to guess his gender. "Caresse," Mistress said, tugging me forward, "this is michael." Caresse inspected me thoroughly and silently. Her eyes lingered on my penis for an uncomfortably long time. "Not quiet your usual type, eh cheri?" my face turned red with embarrassment. i began to gaze at the floor. "I think I like him better," Caresse finished, causing me to look up in happy surprise. Mistress slipped an arm around me waist. "Me too!" There was an unoccupied couch or sofa or some such thing, festooned with big tasseled pillows in one corner of the room and the two Dommes moved towards it. Suddenly a pair of hands covered my eyes and a familiar feminine voice shouted "Boo!" in my ear. Before i could even say anything, Lindsey'd spun me around and thrown her arms around me, planting a friendly, very friendly, kiss on my lips. Mistress hadn't been paying attention, and the leash jerked again, causing me to yelp. Mistress turned to see what the holdup was, saw Lindsey, and the two women coolly eyed one another for a moment. Goddess Caresse looked pretty curious as to why a strange woman was hanging on Mistress' slave so boldly; but Mistress just walked back to us and gently laid the end of my lead in my hand. "We'll be just over there when you're done talking with your friend," She said. She kissed me on the cheek, but Her eyes never broke from Lindsey's gaze. "Thanks a lot," i said once Mistress was out of earshot. "Sorry," she said, sounding sincere. "I just saw you and wanted to say 'howdy.'" i took a good look at her. Actually, she was dressed a lot like Mistress usually was: black jeans and T-shirt. She had a chain connecting the ring in her nostril to one of the hoops in her ear, and her hair was... "Your hair is purple," i said. She laughed, but she blushed as well. "Yeah, well, I just... oh hell, I don't know what I was thinking!" she admitted. "I didn't even know if you'd be here," she continued. "Which brings me to my next question..." i said. "Haven't you been to the piercing room yet?" i shook my head no. "Well, Mandy and her brother are in there, y'know, giving out free piercings to subs and stuff. Actually Mike... his name is Mike, too, he's doing the all the needle work while Mandy sort of plays Mr. Wizard to the crowd and explains everything, y'know? Stuff about gauges and healing times and all that stuff." i nodded my head. "Well, I should probably let you get back to her," the temperature seemed to drop when she said "her." "I really didn't mean to get you in trouble! Please don't let that bitch..." "Lindsey..." "Sorry, Michael. Just don't let her... hurt you, because of me, please?" "i won't." She smiled. "Good." She gave me another quick, defiant kiss and then turned and bolted out of the room. i returned to Mistress. Caresse's sub got to sit on the sofa, curled up next to his Goddess; but i was ordered to kneel next to Mistress on the floor after handing Her back the leash. They talked for a while and then were joined by a third Domme, whose female salve was entered into the "dog show" later on, and seemed determined to play the part to the hilt. In fact, the "bitch" was an astonishingly beautiful young brunette, and i could not conceal my admiration for her looks, which caused Mistress to send me over on my hands and knees to "greet" the "new dog." We had to circle each other and sniff the other's ass. Hers smelled like baby powder; mine didn't, but at least it was clean. i returned to my kneeling position at Mistress' side while the new Domme sat at the far end of the sofa. She produced a small rubber ball with a little bell inside it, then tossed it to her "doggy" who yipped and pounced and played with it like the genuine article, her shapely ass waggling ecstatically the whole time. i began to get very hot watching her play; and whenever she saw me looking at her, she'd get a mirthful look in her eye, growl, take the ball in her teeth and shake it violently. i was only vaguely aware of what the Dommes were talking about. Apparently, the Grand Domme of the Gala had stirred up some controversy by inviting some male "masters" - gay and straight - to the event. As i sat there on my knees i began to feel relaxed, at ease with my surroundings. It was a good feeling and it began to lull my mind into wandering. Because of my daydreaming, i didn't notice the conversation die out suddenly. It was only when a shadow fell across me that i looked up and suddenly could feel the tension in the air. Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Fifteen: Amok Time Part Two If you went by body language alone, you'd have mistaken who was in control and who was the sub. It didn't help that she was so much shorter than he, or seemed to be partly cowering behind him. She was attractive in her way, the same mousy, uninspired way i was I suppose; but he was incredible. He was six-two, with a thatch of strawberry red hair that made it look as though his head were wreathed in flame. He was whipcord thin, but his muscles were well defined, just not bulky. His skin, though pale, exuded a healthy glow and his blue eyes were as cold and hard as ice. His penis was thin and long and hard; curving up along his abs, and his face was the epitome of 80's style androgyny: alien and beautiful. His pitiless eyes went from Mistress to me and then back again. There was a faint smile at the corners of his mouth; contemptuous and mocking. Of course, i'd always hated him - on principle. You couldn't read the descriptions of him in Mistress' stories, though She'd given him another name in them, and not feel resentful and jealous. And when She'd told me what he'd done to Her, how he'd made Her feel so stupid and worthless, my hatred had ratcheted up a notch into the personal. But to see him in person, to see the way he regarded She and i like bugs beneath his feet, that was the moment that i truly began to hate Alex. "Hello, Deirdre," Mistress said coolly. "Why Catherine!" the small Domme said, sounding catty from the first word. "We were afraid you weren't going to make it this time! And that would have been SUCH a shame, considering what a marvelous job you did as Grand Domme last time..." "Deirdre..." Caresse said in a threatening tone. She didn't take the hint. "And I see you've found a new slave as well! Well, how marvelous for us both! Of course," she added, practically wrapping herself around Alex's torso, "Alex isn't exactly new to you, is he?" "He's not very well trained," Alex opined, speaking for the first time, glaring right into Mistress' eyes, "is he?" Mistress reluctantly prodded me forward with Her foot. "Greet Mistress Deirdre, michael." i crawled over and began to lick the sides of Mistress Deirdre's boots. She looked down on me with obvious disgust, but let me continue for a bit before eventually shoving me away with her foot. i scurried back to Mistress. "Didn't do a very good job," Alex said, breaking into a grin. "Alex, please..." Mistress said, but Deirdre interrupted Her. "DON'T TALK TO HIM!" she screamed, "I'M THE DOMME!" Mistress calmly switched Her gaze to Mistress Deirdre. "Fine," She said softly. "I appreciate that you may still be upset about what happened three years ago..." Mistress Deirdre laughed bitterly. "But it wasn't meant to be personal..." Somehow, even to my ears Mistress didn't sound entirely convinced Herself. Instead of acknowledging what She had said, Mistress Deirdre began to inspect her boots. "You're right," she said to Alex, "it didn't do a very good job." "Almost as if," Alex said 'helpfully' "she wanted to insult you... again." Deirdre's eyes seemed to catch the malevolent spark that burned in her sub's. "Yes..." she said thoughtfully. "I DO feel insulted!" "Deirdre, please..." Mistress almost sounded like She was begging. "I THINK," Deirdre began, ignoring Mistress' plea, "I'll go to the Grand Domme and inform her that I intend to seek redress for this grievous slight! Yes..." her voice dripped with malice, "It just wouldn't be the Gala without at least one round of sport, wouldn't you agree?" she asked Mistress coldly. "I can't stop you," Mistress said softly. "Good! Let's see how YOU like it, bitch!" Deirdre hissed and the stormed away, her "slave" right by her side. There was a lengthy silence after that. i worried terribly about what was going to happen to Mistress. Then, i became aware of an unsettling sense of being... watched. i craned my head around and saw that everyone on the sofa was looking not at Mistress, but staring intently at ME. "What?" * * * * We stood in a deep crevasse formed by the split of two mammoth seating sections in the main auditorium. The pony races had been run and there were a few stragglers in the stands, as well as several of the losing "ponies" still on the floor, running lap after lap as punishment for not coming in first. In the middle of the floor slaves were setting up a pair of eight-by-eight foot square platforms, standing five feet off the ground. There was roughly five feet between them as well. Another crew of workers came trudging out dragging several old, beat up gym mats behind them. i watched this activity with a growing queasiness. "Those platforms seem... high," i said hesitantly. Horror dawned on Mistress face. "Oh God michael! I forgot!" "Last time," Goddess Ceresse spoke up behind us, "they were TEN feet up!" "Stop it!" Mistress snapped at her. "Why'd they change?" i asked, suddenly relieved to have missed out on 'last time.' "Caresse!" "Well, one poor bastard hit the mats the wrong way when he got knocked off and ruptured his appendix." "CARESSE!" Mistress screamed. "michelle asked," Goddess Caresse said innocently. Mistress put Her hand on my shoulder and looked deep into my eyes. "Please, michael, please believe that I am so sorry for this! This is all my fault and it's not fair to ask you to pay for it!" "But..." i began, but She cut me off. "No! I know what you're thinking and the answer is NO! Look, when you get up there the Grand Domme will give you a chance to use your safeword. I want you to take that chance. I ORDER you to use your safeword!" "I don't get it? If it's that easy to get out of, why were they so jazzed to start it up?" "That's not important," Mistress began. "Because it will reflect poorly on Catherine as a Domme if you do," Caresse explained. "GOD DAMN IT CARESSE!" "Reflect poorly? But wouldn't it be me..." "That doesn't matter!" Mistress cried. Tears were running down Her cheeks and Her hands were trembling. "Please, PLEASE, just do what I say! It doesn't matter if I look bad..." "Pretty bad considering how fond you were of issuing challenges yourself..." Mistress began to break down and scream at Caresse. i'd had enough. i took Her face in my hands and held it still, looking down into Her fearful dark eyes. "Okay," i said. "Okay. Just go and get some seats, okay?" She sniffled, but nodded. i let Her go. She took my hand and squeezed it, mouthing 'please' one last time. Then She and the others drifted back down the tunnel, leaving me to gaze out at the now completed arena and ponder. People began to file in above me and find seats. "Think fast, mon ami!" a voice called out behind me. i spun and Goddess Caresse threw a six foot long staff, tipped at the ends with heavy pads, at my chest. i tried to catch it, but the giant Q-tip bounced off my torso and dropped through my fumbling hands to clatter on the floor. Goddess Caresse shook her head sadly. "Here to give me another pep talk?" i asked, picking the heavy wooden shaft off the slick concrete. "Here to tell you that he's NOT gonna try to rupture your internal organs or break your bones," she replied. "How do you know that?" "You see that box they got set up there in the stands, all fancy?" "Yeah?" i assumed - correctly as it would turn out - it was for the Grand Domme. "Look just below it. On the floor." "Those stocks?" i asked, really noticing them for the first time. "Those the ones, michelle," she said. "See, he ain't gonna try and hurt you up there. He gonna try and take you down as quickly and cleanly as he can. 'Cause if the loser ain't hurt too bad, he gets drug over and put in those stocks. And THEN," she said, looking directly at me, "the winner, he gets to... how you want to say? Claim his prize?" i felt my stomach fold itself into origami. "oh," i said weakly. "i would have like to have known that." "See, Catherine doesn't want to tell you that, 'cause she figures you gonna do what she says like a good boy and she don't want to upset you any more than she already has." "And you don't think i'm going to do what She says?" She laughed. "Mon ami, I seen a lot of things in my life! And the one thing I know it the way a man look when he is in love. And I found there ain't nothing so stupid or foolish in the world like a man in love!" "Maybe..." i said. "I was GOING to..." "Listen here!" she snapped. "I didn't go telling you this to make you afraid so you'd go and back down! I wanted you to know that when you're up there, he ain't going to be seeing you in front of him there - he going to be seeing you locked down and helpless, your little hole just trembling right before his big nasty prick! He going to be seeing Catherine in the stands, weeping and humiliated. I want to you know this so YOU'LL be seeing him that way too! Beaten, helpless, suffering for every thing he put that girl through. Remember that, michelle! I want you to beat that smug little smile of his right off his face for good!" "Yeah," i said, awkwardly trying to get a good grip on the pole. "You... you ever done ANY fighting like this before?" she asked, her confidence wavering. "Uh... saw 'Amok Time' like twenty times." Goddess Caresse stared at me blankly. "Ah... you know... the Star Trek where Kirk and Spock battle to the death?" "No," she said looking at me oddly, "I don't know." Whatever i was going to say next was lost as a recorded blare of trumpets went out over the P.A. system. "Good luck, Captain Kirk," Goddess Caresse said solemnly. i felt hands take old of my arms and when i turned i saw a pair of the champion ponies, a male and female, still decked out with their bits and leather helmets complete with plumes. They began to pull me towards the platforms. "Uh..." i turned around to say one last thing to Goddess Caresse, but she had already left. "Kirk lost." With an escort on each arm, i stepped out of the shadows of my concrete canyon and onto the open floor of the auditorium. At the other end Alex was being led by a similar pair. He held his staff with the same confidence that i'd seen Mistress handle Her racquetball racquet. The crowd didn't fill the stands, but there were still more people out there than in the graduating classes of my high school and college combined. i also got my first look at Mistress Elizabeth B- of Detroit, Michigan, the Grand Domme of the Gala. She looked to be in her forties, with several streaks of silver running through hair that was otherwise as black as Goddess Caresse's. She had on a conservative business suit, and was attended by a bevy of attractive slaves, men and women. i wondered if they had all been hers to begin with, or if she'd taken advantage of her privilege and "appropriated" those she liked. Alex and i were led up a small flight of steps at the rear of the platforms, and turned to face the crowd. Our guides then beat a hasty retreat, leaving us alone in front of the masses. The Grand Domme stood up and moved to the front of her boxed area. She must have been miked, because her words carried throughout the cavernous auditorium. "Slaves," she began, her voice rich and strong, "you stand before us tonight as mere pawns in a game of your betters." i almost laughed at that. It was clear who called the shots in Alex and Deirdre's relationship. "As you know, the foundation of The Delta Of Venus Society is based on the principle that all our actions must first and foremost be conducted in a way that is safe, in a way that is sane, and most importantly, a way that is consensual. Yet, what you are about to do clearly reaches the farthest limit of these beliefs. "Though," she added quickly, looking directly at Alex, "I trust not TOO far!" In fact, i slowly became aware that all eyes were on Alex. i was the chump, the no-name who got slated to wrestle Hulk Hogan or the AFC team in the Superbowl. "I won't, Grand Domme!" he called out cockily. i felt intense anger rise up in me. "I won't either, Grand Domme!" i yelled, causing a ripple of surprised chatter to go through the crowd. Alex merely glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and smirked. It took the Grand Domme a minute to recover. "So be it. Still, if either of you has reservations concerning the predicament your Domme has placed him in, let him speak his safeword now, or accept the consequences." Alex turned his head slightly to get a better look at me. An eternity seemed to pass as a hush blanketed the entire auditorium. Even so, i couldn't hear Her, but others assured me that Mistress gasped aloud at my silence. "Then let it begin," the Grand Domme said. i'd expected a salute or something; but suddenly the business end of Alex's staff came hurtling at my skull. i yelped in fright and got my own weapon up in the nick of time to block his shot. The impact of the blow traveled through the wood and directly into the bones of my hands, causing me to cry out in pain, but i didn't drop the staff. He swung again and i countered. The weapon was incredibly heavy and hard to swing around. i observed how he was holding his and tried to quickly adjust my own grip, which almost gave him the opportunity to clock me. Offense was clearly out of the question. i knew enough to know that with one poor swing, i'd be off-balance and vulnerable to attack. my only hope was to rope-a-dope and pray he got tired swinging all that heavy wood around. As i finalized my strategy, he feinted and i fell for it. His follow-through was to heave the pole up between my legs. The crowd, as one, groaned. It may sound crazy, but i didn't really feel it. There was just this sudden blackout as all my circuits switched off for the blink of an eye. i recovered just in time to hear the whistling of the approaching blow as he landed one directly against the side of my head. i staggered backwards. The crowd held its breath. i felt the back of my heels as they pressed over the edge of the platform. Somehow, i fought to keep my balance. i was a far away from Alex as i could get, though if he'd really wanted to over extend himself, he could've finished me. But, being the arrogant prick that he was, he stood back instead, and waited for me to drop. i didn't drop. i tried to shake my head to clear my vision, but Alex still seemed to have six eyes swirling around his head, making him look like some villianous spider. To the complete surprise of everybody, i charged. Alex was caught off guard and tried to bring his weapon up, but i wasn't aiming for his body. Instead, i smashed the wooden shaft down over his hands. He bellowed in outrage, but the staff dropped from his hands, hit the platform, and rolled off with a clatter. We stood for a moment like statues, facing each other. Like an idiot, i hadn't drawn my staff back yet and he suddenly lashed out and grabbed the other end. We engaged in a furious tug-of-war; the bells on my nipple rings jangling like a sleigh ride through hell. The look of triumph in Alex's eye telegraphed his move the nanosecond before he let go. i seemed to hurtle backwards, undone by my own tenacity. Suddenly, my left leg shot out ramrod straight and my foot hit the wood of the platform with a report like a rifle. i swung with all my might at the blurry form before me and caught him in the sternum. All the air in his body escaped in one agonized breath. i'd been aiming for his scrotum. He dropped like a stone, but he fell on the platform, not off it; rolling just to the edge before stopping. i looked to the Grand Domme helplessly. This was too much! Was i expected to have to jump over and finish him off? What if he were counting on that and lying in wait? But even as i tensed myself for what was sure to be the final rally - God, or the Fates or just dumb luck took over and he began to slide ever-so-slowly over the side, landing on the mat below with an unspeakably satisfying thud. The crowd roared with applause. i felt the last reserves of energy drain from my body, and i collapsed onto the deck, inflicting the most serious wound of the battle to myself by cracking my coccyx. The ponies returned. This time the females climbed the platform together to fetch me, while the males picked up Alex and began to drag him towards the stocks. my set of escorts lifted me to my feet and turned me to face the crowd again, so that i might receive their thunderous applause. Then they led me down the steps, and across the floor. By the time we got there, Alex was locked up and had regained consciousness. He didn't beg or cry or fight the restraints, just hung there, resigned to his fate. The Grand Domme looked down on me approvingly. i cast my eyes up at her and said my safeword. Since there was only one person in the entire crowd that knew what that was, a low, curious rumbling rose up from the masses. The Grand Domme frowned at me in confusion. i said my safeword again, this time adding, "My safeword, Grand Domme." Then repeated it a third time. "I do not understand. The day is yours, what need have you of your safeword?" she asked. "i... i don't want... ANYTHING to do with... him," i explained haltingly, indicating Alex. "You don't wish to claim your spoils as the victor?" she asked, incredulous. "No - uh.. No Grand Domme!" "But... surely you must know that were your positions reversed, he would show you no such mercy." i smiled weakly, sighed. "That's what makes me better than him." * * * * She met me halfway down the canyon that led to the tunnel that led to the corridor that led to anywhere that wasn't the auditorium. She exploded onto me like a shotgun blast, wrapping her body around mine, and planting a slew of ferocious kisses upon my lips. A smallish crowd of supporters shuffled in behind Her. Lindsey was among them, grinning from ear to ear. "You're an idiot," she said, patting me on the shoulder anyway. "What were you thinking?" i caught Goddess Caresse's eye. "Some wise person once told me there ain't nothing so stupid or foolish in the world like a man in love!" She smiled back at me. "Thought you said Kirk lost, mon ami." * * * * The rest of the Gala was both wonderful and difficult. Wonderful, because Mistress sat on my lap and held me fiercely, constantly kissing me and running Her hands through my hair. Difficult, because i didn't want to mention the growing pain at the base of my spine and ruin the moment for Her. i was also fairly nervous about how all the other subs at the Gala would react to me after that. i harbored childish notions of Old West gunfighters, looking to make a name for themselves by taking down the new champion. Instead, the men would come up and shake my hand or high five me, while women would sneak up when Mistress' head was turned, and steal a quick kiss. Alex was not well loved by his peers. By the time we lumbered into our hotel room, i was exhausted. i tumbled face first onto the bed. Shortly thereafter, i felt Mistress' warm, supple hands begin to massage the cheeks of my ass. i moaned into the mattress, but spread my legs apart anyway. When She penetrated me with the strapon, it was much like before: the pain from my tailbone helping to define the sensation in my rectum as something pleasurable. She took Her time, moving slow and deliberately. Despite my exhaustion and aching, i could feel the pleasure build in me as well. She quickened Her pace. i groaned with delight. my muscles were incapable of resistance as She pumped harder and harder into my accepting body. Then, without warning, a shudder passed from Her body to mine. i came so hard and so fast that ejaculation seemed almost an afterthought. She pulled out of me, undid the strapon, then collapsed on to top me, Her hot, sweaty flesh pressing onto mine. We drifted off like that, and slept the sleep of the just. * * * * Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Sixteen: The Gift Freely Given By Sunday morning the pain from my tailbone had grown too great for me to ignore. We went to the emergency room and i had a hell of a time trying to convince the doctors that all i needed looked at was my butt. Of course i'd forgotten about the bruises and the little ring hanging down there and was utterly humiliated when they were discovered. Even so, the episode was even more stressful for Catherine. i wasn't "supposed" to know She was a doctor, but Her frustration at leaving me to the ministrations of others was clear on Her face. In the end, all they could do for me was give me some painkillers and an inflatable doughnut to sit on while the fracture healed. Not that they didn't WANT to do other things - they badgered me without mercy over running tests to see if i'd suffered a concussion - but in the end, between Mistress and i, we managed to get what we'd come in for and bail. Not surprisingly, i called in sick on Monday. Much to my disappointment, Mistress informed me She absolutely had to be at work, and suggested it might be better in general if i stayed at my apartment, which had by that time become little more than a mausoleum for my previously materialistic life. i spent the day going through my dust-covered possessions, marveling at just how few of them i really needed, or even wanted. As the day wore on, i became anxious to hear from Mistress. i guess i was hoping She's baby me like She had before, yet no call came and the pager remained silent. i began to seriously worry as the sun went down and the hours rolled by. i began to envision dark, twisted scenarios where Alex came back for revenge. my fear was such that i was on the verge of calling the police when, at last, the phone did ring. Caller ID showed it was from Mistress, and i breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "I'm sorry michael," Mistress' voice assured me. "Something's come up unexpectedly." Her voice sounded tense. "Are you... okay?" i asked fearfully. "Can you talk?" She laughed. "Honestly!" i distinctly heard Her speaking to someone else in the background, who then laughed, too. It was too faint for me to determine gender, but the very fact that there was someone else in Her home, while i languished by myself, hurt me. Her voice grew soft, secretive almost. "Forgive Me, michael, I promise you will understand - and appreciate - everything by tomorrow night. Please," She whispered, "trust in Me." "Always," i replied, waiting till after She'd hung up to gulp. Lonely, and decidedly unhappy, i switched on the television, and promptly managed to add 'bored' to the growing list as well. * * * * Needless to say that when you call in sick and show up at work the next morning with the side of your head looking like rotted hamburger, people tend to be curious. As it happened, Lindsey had spent most the previous day spreading a story around the office that the she and i'd been out on a date and i'd saved her from being mugged. Given the impressive bruise on the side of my head, few of the guys saw fit to doubt her. Actually, most of them regarded me with a mixture of surprise, awe and envy. Oddly enough, the strangest looks i received that first day back came from the one person who had actually seen what had happened herself. There was clearly something on Lindsey's mind, but i had a backlog of work to catch up on, and frankly, i was a pretty out of it from the drugs as well. Whatever was going on with my young confidant would have to wait for another day. When i went out to the lobby for some coffee on my afternoon break, i was a little surprised to find a temp at Lindsey's desk. i asked around, but the general tone of the responses i got was "She's your girlfriend, you tell us!" Mistress' pager went off precisely at five o'clock; much to my combined relief and apprehension. Driving was a chore, especially since my little seat pad added an inch of height within my already vertically challenged car, but i still made good time through rush hour traffic. There weren't any cars parked at Mistress' house, other than Her own of course, and i was faced with a sudden dilemma. Should i go barging in through the front door and find out what the hell was going on; or was it perhaps best for me to act as if everything were normal and go in through the back. i opted for the back. As it turned out, there was a small envelope taped to the back door with my name written on it in Mistress' handwriting. Eagerly i tore at it and ignored the Hallmark sentiments printed on the card it contained; focusing instead on the message She'd left scrawled on the inside. Dearest michael, Long ago you were first drawn to me by the power of my words alone, yet now I find myself inadequate to the task of describing the pride I now take in you, or the joy which you have given to me. I never knew just how strong you could be until this weekend, how strong you could be for me. How can I let such strength, such courage, such devotion, go unrewarded? I must be strong, too. Tonight you are not my slave. Tonight, you are my champion. And I have seen to it that you will have a champion's reward. Know that this is NOT a test, not a game or a trick. It is a gift, freely given from me to you, and long overdue. I ask you, beg you, and if I must, order you, to enjoy it to the fullest. And please, michael, whatever you do, DON'T OVERTHINK! Humbly, C. i read the note twice, making sure i understood Her meaning as best i could. In a few spots the ink had smeared, as if She'd been crying, but whether those were tears from happiness or sorrow, i could not tell. In the end, i got tired of all the bugs flitting around me and went inside. There were two distinct signs in the mud room. my collar was not on its peg, and the garbage can had a lid on it. Apparently, despite what you saw in Conan movies and the like, champions did not have to go around bare-assed naked. i started down the corridor, but didn't get very far at all. The door to the den was closed, and a red bow made from ribbon had bee taped to it. Ready for anything - i thought - i turned the knob and entered. If i'd been watching these events on a movie screen, i probably would have turned to the person next to me and said, "I bet it's Lindsey." Since that other person would probably be Mistress, i'd doubtless have gotten a nipple severely pinched on a testicle badly crushed for my trouble. Lindsey was on her knees in the middle of the bed. She had a leather cuff around one ankle, connected to the frame by an extremely generous length of chain. Aside from my collar, and another red ribbon, worn as a sash, she was completely naked. She smiled at me. "Hey," she said sexily. "What kept'cha?" "Lindsey, what the hell is going on?" She purred and dropped to all fours, waggling her ass high in the air. "You're a big boy, Michael, you can figure it out. Or...would you prefer to be called... Mr. R-." i started massaging the bridge of my nose, something i did when i felt a massive headache coming on. "This doesn't make any sense!" Lindsey sighed, but at least she dropped the nymphet act when she spoke. "She said you'd try and think too much!" "I'm sorry, was I just supposed to tear of my clothes and jump on top of you?" She sighed again and rolled onto her back. "Guess we figured SOME-thing like that!" "We." Now THAT made me angry. "Jesus, Lindsey, what are you getting out of this anyway?" She laughed. " 'S funny! That was Her attitude, too! Like She was FORCING me to have sex with you!" She rolled onto her side. "Maybe this is something i want, didja ever think of that?" "i've never.... done... a man before Michael," she continued. "Never found one i could stand - let alone like enough - to even want to try. Until you." i laughed. i mean, i really laughed. i staggered, holding my belly; and with nowhere else to go, stumbled to the bed and sat down hard at the edge. "Hey!" she barked, sounding understandably upset. "I'm sorry!" i managed through the tears. "It's just...." i had to take another minute to recover. Finally, i explained, "It's just I have this friend, Brad, who has this... THING about lesbians! He's obsessed with them. Like he feels their existence is a challenge for him to try and, I dunno, convert them or something! Just too fucking ironic, is all!" "I am NOT some 'challenge' and you did NOT 'convert' me!" she snapped angrily. She pulled away to the far corner of the bed. When i turned around to look at her, i could tell she was upset. She'd curled into a ball and was staring off into space, rocking herself gently. "Hey, I'm sorry, Lindsey, I really didn't mean..." "i know you want me," she said almost defiantly. "She told me you want me. You can't tell me you don't!" Unfortunately, i'd pitched a tent at my first glimpse of her, which kind of undermined any protest i might have made. "She SAID you could, you know?" she continued. "That was like the thing, the deal." "What deal?" my tone must have startled her, because she suddenly couldn't meet my gaze. "Lindsey, what deal?" She looked up at me, her whole body beginning to shake. "i... asked Her... i mean, after the gala i knew i really wanted.... so yesterday i, like, called Her and we went to this bar and i, like, asked, begged, if i could be Her slave... too." She looked away again. "Both your slaves, actually. Er, slave. And... She said i could, but only if i agreed to let you... fuck me... whenever you wanted to." She laughed again, a little bitterly this time. "Like i said, like She thought She had to, you know, MAKE me!" She seemed to suddenly regain her composure, and rose up off the bed. She circled around, careful to keep the long chain at her ankle from tangling; and knelt before me, between my legs. "Please," she said softly, reaching in to pull down my zipper, "let me pleasure you.... Master." i looked down into the bluest eyes i had ever seen, then she took my cock in her mouth. God... it felt good: warm and soft and wet and... alive. Her cheeks collapsed as she began sucking gently; her tongue sloshing around my shaft, massaging and teasing. Slowly, oh so slowly, she pulled her head back, increasing the suction as my cock tried to slide back out. When she got to the end, she kept her lips wrapped around the glans, while she nibbled delicately on the end. She released me, smiling; a thin trail of precum dangling from her lip. Her mouth opened wide as she prepared to take me in again. But even as she moved forward, i scooted my hips backward, pulling my penis away. At the same time i leaned towards her, putting my hands gently on her shoulders, holding her still. Her trembling eyes, full of confusion, hurt and fear, searched mine for answers. i kissed her gently on the forehead and rose up off the bed. Tucking my dick back into my trousers, i walked past her and out of the room; fighting the overwhelming urge to look back with every step. i took the stairs up two at a time, my heart racing. The door at the top wasn't lock, and i eased it open and hesitantly eased into the upstairs hall. She was in the living room, curled up on the sofa and She was weeping inconsolably. "Catherine?" i asked, forgetting myself completely. She looked up in surprise, Her deep red hair spilling all over Her face. "Th... that was fast, even for you," She said, trying to sound tough. "Nothing happened," i said, stepping down into the room towards the couch. "michael, NO!" She cried in anguish. "PLEASE don't do this!" "Already done," i said softly, kneeling before Her. "But... you deserve it, please!" "Oh, i don't doubt i do," i said cockily. "I thought you WANTED Lindsey!" i sighed. "i did... once. That was a long time ago." i took Her hand in mine and kissed it. "Now i only want to be with you." "Then... why didn't you take me when you had the chance?" i stared at Her blankly for a moment, then it hit me. "You... You wanted me to take you... like that?" i asked incredulously. She turned Her head away and sobbed. "God, no! But... you've waited so long... I don't understand why you didn't." i smiled wistfully, kissed Her hand again. "Because i love you, Catherine." She looked at me, those eyes of Hers twinkling out from a tear-soaked, hair-strewn face; the most beautiful woman i'd ever seen. She practically shot off the couch, attacking me in Her need to be held. Her arms and legs wrapped around me like bands of steel, and both our bodies shook from the force of Her sobs. * * * * Lindsey wasn't at her desk Wednesday morning. i was beginning to get concerned, because she hadn't been in the den when we finally went downstairs to talk sometime later Tuesday night. Mistress hadn't locked the ankle cuff, and we found my collar back on a peg. She told me Lindsey had parked in the same strip mall i had upon my first visit, so that i wouldn't have spotted her car and known what was afoot. By noon, i was starting to get concerned. i was feeling pretty guilty, too. Mistress and i had finally come to a major decision the night before, and i hated the thought of having Lindsey find out what was going on secondhand. Just as i was getting ready to got to lunch, the phone rang. The temp informed me i had a call and i was surprised, and relieved when i heard Lindsey's voice ask nervously, "Pizza Hut?" "Sure." Ten minutes later i parked next to her car and wove my way through the crowd to the booth where she was sitting. Her eyes were red, and there were heavy bags underneath them. "I'm glad you called," i said, trying to sound positive. "I... I saw you last night. I went upstairs and I saw you together." "Lindsey, I'm so sorry. I... I guess this is my turn for the 'let's be friends' speech." She laughed and reached out for my hand. i took hers. "Please," she asked, her voice thick with emotion. "Friend," was all she could choke out. i nodded and squeezed her hand. i also began to feel very, very guilty. "Lindsey, uh, there's something I need to tell you. This is a bad time for this, but I want you to hear it from me, okay?" She nodded, but whimpered in anticipation of the worst. "I'm quitting. The agency." "NO!" People began to turn and stare. "Hey," i said softly but sternly, "I'm not saying we won't see each other anymore. It's just... we... Catherine and I..." i sighed. i tried, as best i could, to explain about Brad and John and their comic book and my own dreams. Catherine made good money, and could afford to carry me for a while, and Brad had already shown a strong interest in the sketches i'd shown him for a second comic for their makeshift "company." Lastly, i tried to make her understand that more and more i felt like i was prostituting myself at the agency, that this was my chance at my dreams and that i couldn't walk away and be able to ever look at myself in the mirror again. By the end she seemed to understand and even accept it a little. Since i was quitting anyway, it hardly mattered if my lunch ran long, so i encouraged her to talk about herself, let her vent about the fallout with Mandy. i'm embarrassed to admit it, but every time she put a piece of pizza in her mouth, i experienced a strange, uncomfortable feeling, knowing that my penis had been in there. i wondered how Mistress could ever stand to eat with me. By the end of the meal, she wasn't exactly happy or laughing, but she'd calmed down a great deal, and had backed away from the edge. She asked me timidly, if she could be there when i handed in my resignation, to see the look on Mr. Christian's face. i was happy to agree. We left the restaurant, hand in hand, and before we got in our cars she turned and planted a kiss on my cheek. "I'm not saying I'll be waiting by the phone," she said, squeezing my hand, "but if you ever..." "Hey," i said softly, and hugged her, kissing the top of her head. * * * * That evening, i began to pack up my apartment. my lease was up in a few months anyway, and i'd spoken with my landlord on the phone after work. i also already had a line on selling my computer, which was only six months old, and with surprisingly few exceptions, the rest of my stuff was headed for Goodwill. my collection of comic books made the cut, as did my toys, some books and some video tapes. i joked about giving away all my clothes, too, but Mistress said i WOULD be needing them, so i loaded up a suitcase full. The only furniture that didn't come with the apartment was my drafting table, and i was definitely keeping that, as well as all my art supplies. And that was it. Two carloads full, and a small car at that. i'll never forget the way Mistress looked, standing in the doorway of what was no longer to be Her den. She looked so hurt, so frightened, as a significant piece of Her domain was lost. i wondered why She'd chosen to give up that particular room, given its significance to Her, but when i'd suggested taking one of the upstairs bedrooms, She'd flatly rejected the idea. i still hadn't been up there, and i was dying to know what could possibly have been of more importance to Her; but when i began to speculate, Her words loomed up hauntingly: "No one will ever get all of me." That hadn't bothered me at the time, i'd been so hopped up on adrenaline just being in Her presence; but it disturbed me upon reflection. We had not made love the night before, in spite of all the emotion; and a part of me was starting to have regrets about not taking Lindsey up on her offer. At least just once. A lot of Mistress' belongings were being displaced into the dungeon proper, and we mostly succeeded that night to make a huge mess. We had to camp out on the living room carpet upstairs. That morning, the first practical problem of our new living arrangement arose: where was i to shower? Of course, i still had my apartment for the time being, as She quickly pointed out, and then She ducked the issue by saying we would somehow find a way to resolve it when the time came. When i strode into work, i gave Lindsey a quick nod and together we went into Mr. Christian's office. She made some pretense about needing to find a file from his personal cabinet, while i just came right out and told him that i was quitting. If Lindsey had come for a floor show, she wasn't disappointed. His eyes bulged out and his skin went white. The new commercial had just finished shooting, and as before, the client was ecstatic. In fact, Lindsey would later tell me that they dropped by the next day, just to meet me. Christian really freaked then. i was sorry i missed it. Still, he was pretty impressive with me. He railed and ranted, veered between offering a gluttonous raise and threatening to blacklist me. i calmly informed him that my decision wasn't about money, and so long as the weather in hell stayed warm, i wasn't about to get into advertising again. Since my part of the new commercial was pretty much done, and i wasn't about to start on a new project, he waved the final two weeks, and by 10:00 i was happily cleaning out my crowded little cubicle. It was kind of sad, but beyond Lindsey, i realized there wasn't anybody else in the office i felt the need to say good bye to. Whistling a happy tune badly, i strolled out the door with a box under my arm, and headed towards my new life. Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Seventeen: Nicole Monday i was at my drafting table in my new room when She entered; ghostlike in both Her silence and Her pallor. i looked up at Her, greatly concerned, but She merely kissed me on the lips, pressed Her forehead to mine, and kept it there for several long, confusing moments. Finally, She asked me to "Present myself" upstairs in half an hour's time and then slipped away every bit as quiet as She'd come. An infinite number of reasons why She should make such a request flashed through my mind. Mostly they had to do with Alex and some sort of revenge on his part. She had specifically said, "present yourself" which i took as meaning in full slave mode; so i peeled off my underwear and the ink-stained T-shirt i was wearing and waited. Walking through the darkened dungeon, i jumped at every shadow i came across. When i reached the top of the stairs i had to pause for a moment and catch my breath. Arrogantly fancying myself ready for "anything," i opened the door and stepped into the hall. There were two sudden gasps of astonishment, only one of which was my own. For the briefest of instants i could've sworn i was seeing double. They were sitting at opposite ends of the couch and both looking at me intently. Yet, the two women were dressed quite differently, with Mistress in Her familiar work clothes and Her uncanny double in a short green dress. The more i looked at the newcomer, the more telling differences i began to notice. She was thinner than Mistress and looked like she'd be taller standing up. Her breasts looked almost ridiculously oversized, causing me to instantly suspect them as being fakes. She wore her dark red hair differently than Mistress, too, and she looked a few years younger. "michael," Mistress said, "this is My sister, Nicole." Nicole looked more embarrassed with my naked and battered condition than i was. "Oh, Jesus!" she said. "Nicole, this is My slave, michael." "Slave! Christ, Catherine." Mistress motioned me forward, and nervously i stepped down into the living room and approached the couch. i knelt at Mistress' feet and bowed my head. "So... so THIS is what's been more important to you than your own family?" Nicole asked bitterly. "Have a care, Nicole. It's not michael's fault I withdrew, and I won't have you blaming him. Frankly," Mistress took a deep breath, " it was because of you." "Oh right! Just blame me as always! It's all my fault!" Nicole was practically in tears. "It's always been my fucking fault, hasn't it!" "Stop it!" Mistress snapped. "I'm sick to death of this 'poor victimized me' shit! You've been doing that since Mother died and I won't stand for it anymore!" i looked from one woman to the other. Mistress stared directly at Nicole, who could no longer meet Her gaze in return. "I didn't even know michael two years ago. I simply got tired of constantly taking your snide little comments and pitiful attempts to 'show me up' at every family gathering by parading around your latest hunk of white trash. As you can see, I've never had trouble finding male companionship, and your attempts to make me 'jealous' of you would have been laughable, were they not so sad. It just so happens that the sorts of men I've been involved with weren't exactly the kind you could bring to Thanksgiving dinner to meet Nanna." "Yeah," Nicole snarled, looking directly at me. "I can see." "No you don't. It's precisely BECAUSE of michael that you're here. I'm sorry it took as long as it did. If..." Mistress' voice broke and Her eyes began to water up. "If I'd known... I'd..." Her voice trailed off quietly. Now it was Her turn to look away while Nicole glared. "I just think we're going to need each other to get through this," Mistress finished softly. "Yeah," Nicole growled, "You've always been such a big fucking help!" Mistress turned to face Her sister with a look of pure anguish and shock. "I was ALWAYS there to help you!" She cried. "No!" Nicole barked, pointing her finger at Mistress. "You were always one step ahead! Always stirring up the shit and leaving me behind to flounder in your wake!" Mistress shook Her head sadly, but Nicole continued. "Every year, every fucking year, I'd have to go into class and hear the teacher go on and on about 'how smart Christine was' and what a fucking 'delight' it had been having Christine! And the whole time I knew they were sizing me up expecting me to be the same fucking genius you were!" "That's because I applied myself, damnit!" "And the boys... oh Christ! They'd pull my pants down in the cafeteria of stuff condoms in the vents of my locker and they'd always shout at me in the halls - 'Hey Nikki is your cunt as frozen solid as your sisters?'" Spittle flew like venom from her lips as she screamed. In a cold, calm voice, Mistress said, "And so you fucked them all to prove it wasn't. Is that it?" Nicole muttered "Fuck you!" and turned to bury her face in the armrest, sobbing. Mistress sat quietly. She gathered Herself up and began to speak solemnly. "I'm sorry, Nicole." Nicole looked up briefly, then turned away again. "I tried to be there for you when Mother died, but I wasn't Mother. I guess that my mistake was to try and be too much like her. You're right. After that I got resentful when you rejected my efforts and I lost myself in other things. I cut you loose. I spend so much time dealing in pain: easing it... inflicting it," She looked at me pointedly, i looked back full of questions. "Yet I was oblivious to the pain of the person closest to me. "No, not oblivious.... I didn't want to see your pain. I blamed you for bringing it upon yourself and couldn't be bothered to stick with you because you were pushing me away, even though that's when you needed me the most." She looked down at me and smiled softly. "I've learned better since then. I want you to know all about me. I want you to understand. I..." She had to stop and gather Her thoughts. "I wish I could go back and point to one thing, some childhood trauma, and say 'That's why I am the way I am!' but I can't. Mother's death, the fact that Johnny G- was an inadequate lover or that his car smelled like rotting food... but it doesn't work that way. I've always known, in some way, that I was... different - even before Mother died. It took me a long time to get it all together, exactly, and when I did I believed in my heart that this was something you and Father would NEVER understand, so I kept it from you. "I guess in some ways we all keep certain things private, but this went beyond just sex, this was about how I wanted to live my life and that made it hard to talk to you about so many things. "In college, I took a class on psychology," She looked at me. "I learned about a lot of things. My final paper was on Multiple Personality Disorder. People who have it usually suffered through some kind of heavy trauma as a child and were unable to deal with it. So, they 'create' separate personalities, personalities that CAN handle it, that can deal with a given situation. They're really extensions of the patient's own personality, aspects of it exaggerated and ultimately developed until they really are different people. "And I thought: What if I could do that? What if I could make three 'Me's', as it were. The good daughter, the efficient student and..." Her voice trailed off as She paused. "And the dominatrix. The sadistic bitch." "I mean we ALL do it! We all play different roles in different aspects of our lives, but I thought if I could separate them, isolate and nurture each aspect on its own... that I could deal with the demands of each role without there being so much friction. Only, in the end it created MORE friction. "It created more friction, because, basically, the Domme Catherine was having a much better time than your sister Catherine was. It was more rewarding. Neither really interfered with my job as a vet..." She caught my eye. "I am a doctor of veterinary medicine, michael." "i... know, Mistress." She gave me a curious look, but let it slide for the moment. "But together, maintaining all three began to be a drain. So I decided to shed that Catherine which seemed to be giving me the least rewards and called for the most effort. I walked away and stopped being a part of the family." She fell silent. For a long time all that could be heard was the sound of all our breathing, and the occasional jingle and meow from the kitchen as the cat played with a ball. "And then..." Her voice broke, "And then... one day about a year ago, my life, my carefully constructed and cleverly executed lifestyle... it all came crashing down around me. And... I... I felt like I had burned all my bridges with you and there was nowhere I could go. It's kind of funny, no, ironic I guess is a better word. michael," Nicole looked at me. She still radiated hostility. "michael has often spoken about how in college his desire, his NEED not to be alone sent out signals to people, to women, causing them to stay away from him." She locked Her gaze with Nicole, who suddenly turned red and looked away. "With me," Catherine laughed bitterly, "it was always the opposite. I liked being left alone. I enjoyed solitude. Yet people seemed to pick up on this, too, and were DRAWN to it. There was always some boy waiting in the wings trying to get my attention. I always hated it... until... until one day there wasn't anybody and I really was alone. "No!" She snapped angrily. "I WASN'T alone! I FELT alone, but I wasn't. I had my friends at work. They cut me SO much slack, gave me the time I needed to put myself back together again. It's ironic again that the one part of my life that mattered least suddenly became the one that saved me." She looked into my eyes, past my eyes, into my soul. She smiled the purest, most beatific, honest smile i had ever seen. my eyes began to tear up with emotion. In that moment i loved Her more than life itself. i've never stopped since. "And then I met Michael." Michael. The way She said it. "And Michael, slowly, clumsily, and painfully at times," Her eyes crinkled as She smiled a little wider, "Michael showed me that I can have it all. That I can be whole. And now I want to be whole." She took Nicole's hand. Nicole was crying. "I won't lie, Nikki, and say I was ready for this. I.. I thought I'd have more time. But I'm close enough, close enough to be ready to show you this. To try and make you understand, if you'll let me. I am so sorry it took this long, but you're my sister, and I'm going to...." Catherine began to cry. "I love you and I'm going to NEED you to get through this." She took my hand too. "Both of you." We all cried together. * * * * The three of us spent a long time like that, crying, consoling, holding. Then Catherine asked - asked! - me to go downstairs and get dressed. There was someplace we had to go. The ride was very quiet, with Nicole still sniffling and Mistress looking more focused and determined than I could ever remember seeing Her in any of our "sessions." I couldn't help but feel a little tense as Catherine's car pulled into the monolithic parking garage affixed to the hospital; it was our second visit there that week. At least this time we were going in through the front, "visitors" entrance. We took the elevator to the fifth floor. Nicole seemed to know her way around and a few nurses even greeted her by name. We stopped outside a room and the two women took each other's hands. With an eerie shroud of silence over us, we entered the room. The old man lay in the bed, hooked up to a obscene amount of medical devices. The laborious rattle of his machine-assisted breathing drowned out the more familiar beep of the heart monitor. His hair was pure white and his face was dark and creased. He had a good amount of powdery stubble on his craggy cheeks. What little of his body that could be made out under the sheets looked emaciated. Catherine let out a agonized gasp as She looked upon Her father. At first, I didn't see any real resemblance, though his advanced deterioration could account for some of that. But when Catherine cried out, his eyes, like specks of fresh coal, opened. "Katie?" he croaked with cancerous lungs and ravaged throat. "'That you?" At first She couldn't speak, merely nodded, tears streaming down Her face. She rushed to his side and dropped to Her knees, taking his hand and crying openly and loudly. Nicole, still by the doorway with me, began to sob too. "Here, now," he said in a gentle, if gravely, voice. "You stop that, now." Catherine tried to compose Herself, but broke down again in tears. Her father spoke soothing words, forgiving Her for whatever wrongs She may have felt she'd done; running his hand through Her hair as best as his faltering strength could manage. After a while, he happened to look up and spot me. "Who's this, then?" he asked. Catherine lifted Her head up and took a second to gather Herself. "Daddy... this is Michael. My... fiance." I'm not sure who was more shocked: me or Nicole. Her father, however, seemed to take it in great stride. He smiled, which softened the effects of disease and age upon his features. "'Lo, Michael," he said warmly. "Hello, sir," I replied, the sadness of the moment leavened by the unexpected sincerity of his acceptance. "SIR? I like this one," he said, beginning to laugh, though regrettably it broke down into a tremendous coughing fit. He fought his way back, angry at himself and annoyed by the frantic concern he's stirred up in his daughters. Finally, waving his arms about, he said, "Go! Get out for a moment you two! 'Wanna speak to Michael alone for a second!" The women gave me sudden, probing glances. Catherine seemed merely surprised and curious, while Nicole had that look of jealousy and resentment in her eyes again. Catherine gave Her father a quick kiss on the cheek and then the two women left. I was still hovering nervously by the door, and the old man made a motion that I should draw nearer. "Ain't catchin' if that's what's worryin' you," he said, trying to sound good natured about it. "Lessin' you smoke. You smoke, son?" "No sir." I said, moving to take the chair by his bedside. He nodded. "Smart boy. What... what happened to your head there, son?" My hand instinctively went to the yellow-green-blue melange that still lingered. "Uh... long story." He nodded again. "S'okay. So long as it isn't always like that..." I couldn't help but smile. "No sir. I'm hoping it's a one time deal." "Good. You, uh, you get that over Katie?" I thought about that. Finally I nooded and said, "Yeah, kind of." His smile grew a little broader. He winked at me. "Protectin' her?" "Yes." "Good. She may not look it, and she sure as anything doesn't ACT it, but she NEEDS someone to look out for her. The strong ones always do. She's always been so caught up in taking care of everybody else, never thinks to look after herself. Always wanted to save the world..." His voice faded out for a moment and his eyes got a hazy, faraway look to them. "You know? You know that even as a little girl Katie always wanted to save the world?" He started to chuckle, but stopped at the first sign of another fit. "Every year, for about five years as I recall, she always dressed up as the exact same thing for Halloween! Wonder Woman!" He managed a rheumy laugh. "Can you believe it?" I returned his chuckle and his smile with interest. "Oh yeah!" We both laughed. He didn't say anything for a while after that. Just lay there and studied me intently. Finally, he broke the silence by saying, "Good." He extended his right hand and I took it. We shook. "Good to meet you, son. I can tell, you'll be good to my Katie." "Yes, sir." "All right, you go now and take care of her. Knowing her, she's probably all busted up inside. You tell her I always believed she'd come back before it was too late. Meant a lot to me that she did." I stood up and headed for the door. "Will do, sir." "Oh.. and son?" I stopped and turned around. "Yes sir?" He sighed. "Katie has her ways and Nikki has hers. She ain't going to feel right unless she can hover over me and fret until the end, so you send her back in here, okay?" "Yes sir." "And, uh, don't tell her I said that, okay?" I smiled. "No sir." There was a small area by the elevators, just in sight of the nurse's station, with chairs set up for family and friends to wait. They were sitting there, huddled together: Nicole a sobbing mess and Catherine trying Her best to look stoic and strong. I told Nicole her father had asked for her to stay with him, and then took her seat next to Catherine. She was staring off at the floor, but I couldn't guess at what Her eyes were actually seeing. I put my arm around Her. "So..." She began in a voice slowed by introspection and sorrow, "what did you two talk about?" "Hmmm.... a couple of things. Something about Wonder Woman?" She laughed out loud. "Oh Christ! Not that! Not the 'Katie wants to save the world' routine again!" "Well, I didn't say anything, but I think you really just liked tying up the boys with your golden lasso!" She began to laugh, She began to cry. I pulled Her to me and held Her. I noticed a sudden flurry of activity around Her father's room - doctors and nurses running in and out and held Her even tighter. The activity died down and the hairs were standing on end on the back of my neck, when Nicole stepped out of the room. Her face looked drained of every drop of blood. "Oh God," I whispered softly. Catherine looked up form my chest and saw Her sister. She got up and walked to her and they embraced, crying for all they were worth; holding on to one another for dear life. * * * * Nicole stayed with Catherine for several days after the death of their father. Catherine didn't say as much, but I got the feeling they needed some time to be by themselves, and stayed at my dust-covered and ill-kept apartment. I didn't see Catherine again until the visitation on Thursday and then the funeral on Friday. Sunday afternoon She called my apartment and gave me a rather curious command, all things considered. I was to come to the dungeon and make myself presentable again. I had no idea what She was up to, but when I arrived at the house, Nicole's car was still there. I did as She ordered, stripping down and putting on my collar. Then I took up a position kneeling at the foot of the stairs. The door opened a few minutes later. I knew better than to look up, but the sound of two sets of feet descending the staircase was almost too much for me to ignore. One had the familiar slap of rubber soles, while the other had a intriguing click that I associated with high heels. "Michael," Mistress said, giving me tacit permission to lift my gaze. My jaw dropped like a stone. Mistress was dressed more or less the same as She usually was: black jeans, black T-shirt and Her favorite pair of old sneaks; but Nicole was astonishing. Catherine had dressed her in almost the exact same outfit I'd chosen for Her the night She'd been my "slave." Without any support, Nicole's ample breasts hung over the top of the waist cincher at an unnaturally alert angle. Presumably the stockings were new, but they were identical to the pair Mistress had ruined, and of course, she had the heels. The one major difference was that Nicole was also wearing a pair of white cotton panties. Her hair and makeup had been done, too, presenting me with virtually the exact Domme of so many sub's deepest fantasies. The only thing wrong with the picture was the look of unease on Nicole's face, but Catherine had that oh-so familiar determined look about Her; and I, for one, knew better than to question Her motives. "I want you to greet my sister, Michael," She said. "Properly!" I moved forward so suddenly, that Nicole took a step back out of fear. Catherine caught her arms and held her still. I began to thoroughly lick every inch of Nicole's shiny black shoes, ever so careful not to let my tongue touch her stockings, lest the saliva make a stain. When Mistress was satisfied, She ordered me to get up and walk over to the suspension bar. I was facing them when I got there, which apparently was the wrong way; so She barked at me to turn around which I hastily did. Nicole came over to me reluctantly; gingerly taking each hand in turn and cuffing them to the overhead bar. Then she stepped back quickly. I heard Mistress pick something up; heard the swoosh of air as She gave whatever it was a few good swings. "Is that... bamboo?" Nicole asked. "Rattan," Mistress answered. "Bamboo is too brittle." I felt a lump build in my throat. Caning was one of the few things we'd yet to do. "Now hold it like this," Mistress explained, sounding exactly as She had when She'd taught me racquetball. "You best angle is here," She continued; and out of the corner of my eye I could see Nicole take up a position at my side. "Now, just pull back and swing!" As She said "swing" Nicole did just that, landing a relatively soft blow against the cheeks of my ass. It was still something of a shock, and I made a slight cry and flinched. "Damn!" Nicole shouted and I heard the cane hit the floor. "Careful! Got to keep a firm grip or it'll sting your hands like that!" "I just... I mean he..." "Michael, tell My sister what your safeword is, please." "Falcon, Mistress!" "Um, why 'Falcon?'" Mistress laughed. "Because we saw Star Wars on our first date!" "Uh... actually it was The Empire Strikes Back... Mistress!" "Is... is he ALLOWED to talk back to you like that?" Nicole asked. Catherine sighed. "Only when he's correct." "Now," She continued as I could hear the rattle of the cane being picked off the floor. "Try it again. If he wants you to stop, you now know what he'll say." "Okay," Nicole said uncertainly. Out of my periphery, I could see her taking up her position again. The cane hit my ass again, MUCH harder. I grunted out of pain, but Nicole ignored me this time, landing another. Three blows, four, five. The pain from the rattan was worse than most anything else Mistress had used, with the exception of a few of the more serious whips. Six, seven. My ass was starting to glow. I had to shut my eyes. Eight, nine. I was grunting loudly with each stroke. Suddenly, I saw Nicole move in front of me, and before I could say or do anything, she'd landed a hit right across my testicles. I howled in pain and twisted in my manacles. I could see her drawing back for a second blow, and even as the word 'Falcon' sprang to my lips, Mistress caught the end of the cane and pulled it out of Her sister's grasp. "Enough." She said. Nicole was sweaty and breathing hard, but she didn't look tired. Instead she was flushed and had that smoldering glimmer in her eyes that I recognized all too well. Forgetting herself, she slipped one hand to touch the front of her panties. "Oh God," she panted, "Oh Jesus! Now... now what?" Mistress entered the field of my vision. She had an exceptionally large dildo in Her hand and She gave it to Nicole and then took Her sister's free hand and led her to the den. For a moment as I hung there... well... I'm not sure WHAT I was thinking, but Mistress came back by Herself a second later. "Thank you," She said, running a hand along my chest. "Of... of course, Mistress." "Oh Ho!" She cried in mock surprise. "ENJOYED that did you?" She leaned in close. "Maybe you'd like it this way ALL the time - serving both of us, hmmm? You must be pretty sure of yourself to think you can satisfy two mistresses, eh Michael? Do you honestly think you can? Is that really what you'd like?" "What I want," I said looking right through Her eyes, "is to please YOU. The idea of serving both You and Your sister... well... it's certainly not UNappealing! But I would only WANT it if You so desired." The mockery and attitude lifted from Her features like a morning fog giving way to the sun. She smiled. "I know," She said and, standing on tiptoe, kissed me. "And I DON'T want that!" She continued. "For one thing, I don't think I could bear to see you with another - especially my own sister! You think I'm competitive with you on the racquetball courts!" She laughed. "Besides, I don't think she'd want to anyway. I was surprised when she went for your balls. I mean, I am sorry she did that, but it also pleased me, too." "You see, Michael," She said with a sigh, "My sister is easily the most submissive human being I have ever met. I mean, she can be a hellraiser, but get her with a man and - BOOM! - complete docility!" She shook Her head wearily. "I love Nicole, but like I said, part of the reason I sort of dropped out of the family was I just couldn't stand the human excrement she kept dragging home with her. I mean, these... men - for lack of a better word - would sit in our house - our father's house! - would sit around and snap their fingers and expect Nicole to go scurrying around and fetch them a beer or food or whatever the hell they wanted! "I hated that! I hated the way she would eviscerate her sense of self just to have a vaguely warm body to wake up next to! I think that's why I've never much cared for female subs: they all remind me, one way or another, of Nicole. "That's why it means so much to me that you let me... you let her do this. I wanted her to see, I wanted her to understand, to learn that there are men out there who are willing to sacrifice the power. I mean, I don't expect her to be shopping from Ataraxia from now on, but maybe, just maybe, the next time she'll be comfortable SHARING the power with a man, think twice before giving it all away so easily." She dragged Her stepladder over to me. I thought She was going to release me, but instead She climbed up until we were face to face. "Thank you," She said again, and this time REALLY kissed me. Nothing Like The Sun By L.Corvidae Chapter Eighteen: Ceremony Friday, July the Fourth. I stood in the kitchen, my feet wobbling due to the heels, and turned myself to and fro; checking out how I looked in the full-length mirror She'd brought downstairs. Nicole was there too, ostensibly to help me get prepared, but mostly she just stood around and said over and over how she "couldn't believe" what was going on. We'd seen a lot of her since their father's death, she came for dinner two or three times a week; always calling ahead when she was bringing someone so we would "act normal" and not embarrass her. Still, even in our "normal" mode I did all the cooking and serving. The first few guys she brought over were the sorts of losers Catherine had told me about, but , shortly before the eve of our big "event," Nicole came to dinner with a guy I actually knew from high school. I'd always remembered him as being a pretty good guy, and you could tell Catherine agreed, as She treated much more warmly than She had any of the others. Nicole was really excited to be with him, and for the first time since I'd met her, there seemed to be a sense of hope in her words, a sense of pride in her features. Unfortunately, knowing the guy like I did, only made what was coming next all the more awkward and embarrassing. Catherine had wanted to do it in June, to capitalize on our four month anniversary, but that was much too short notice to get everything ready; and we both agreed it was too soon after the funeral for Nicole to accept it. "This is crazy," Nicole said. I looked at her. "Why? Why is it crazy?" "I just don't understand." I sighed. "Look, maybe there ISN'T anything to understand. This is the way your sister and I are. This is how we want to live our lives. I mean, I've seen a lot of 'vanilla' couples in my time, and to be honest, I don't see where what we do is any more weird or unhealthy than a LOT of the things they do." She nodded glumly, still not quite comfortable with it. I returned to looking at myself in the mirror. So far I hadn't really needed her help, but that would change soon. I'd done the straps at the tops of my thighs first; making sure the little d-rings went in the back, then put on the knee pads. It's been a struggle to pull the calf-length boots with the six inch spikes onto my legs and lace them up, and that was as far as I'd gotten. The cock cage had gone on the night before, by Mistress' hand. The little bands came right up to the barbell stuck through my relatively recent frenum piercing. The rings with the little jingle bells had been put back into my nipples for the occasion as well. Now I asked Nicole to help me with the saddle. It was as light as we could get, and like the rest of the outfit, had been specially made for the occasion. There were shoulder straps so I could wear it standing up or, more importantly, keep it on at a sharp incline with a passenger. The cold metal stirrups hung against the sides of my thighs, just below the thigh straps. She couldn't bring herself to insert the butt plug, so I had to do that myself. I slid it in and did up the straps so that only the threaded socket stuck out of my ass. The gloves went on next. Technically, they were gloves as they went on my arms, though they ended in another pair of high heels. There were grips inside the shoes for my hands, and I stood patiently as Nicole tightened up the laces. She hesitated before putting the headgear on me. She couldn't look at me directly, but gazed into my eyes via the mirror. "You really love my sister, don't you?" "With all my heart." She suddenly leaned in and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. The straps went over my head. It was very similar to other devices I'd worn before, except this time there was a bit gag instead of a ball or penis, and there were reigns which had to be draped down my back. My eyes were completely covered. Except for the metal parts, the rivets and rings and so forth, the entire outfit was white. It had been hugely expensive for Her to have it all made, but She had insisted. "I can't think of anyone who's earned the right to wear white more than you, Michael," She had explained. Between the straps of the saddle pulling down on my shoulders, and the unfamiliar weight of the shoes on my hands, it was hard to get my arms up. I managed as best I could, and Nicole dropped the wedding gown over me as best she could. It was from a plus sizes store to accommodate the saddle, and when she was done zipping it up, Nicole draped the veil over my already covered face. That was it. She was supposed to leave me on my own at that point. I'd been practicing for weeks, spending a day or two with each new piece of the outfit as it came in. I heard her walk to the stairs and then go down. Then, carefully taking the exact number of steps I had measured out for myself, I moved to the top of the stairs. I was supposed to wait for the music to begin before starting down. Catherine had been coy about just what She'd intended to play. I'd narrowed it down to my two best guesses: "White Wedding" by Billy Idol, or perhaps the traditional "Wedding March" played backwards. But as the bold blare of trumpets assaulted me, the 'smile' forced upon my mouth by the bit became a genuine one. The music was "The Throne Room," the fanfare that accompanies the final scene of Star Wars. I let the music sink in for a second, the carefully took my first step down the stairs. As I said, I had practiced quite a bit, but the walk down those narrow steps on those heels was nevertheless still quite a challenge. For one thing, the train of the dress dragged, and for another I was unable to steady myself without the use of my hands. The music actually helped me, though. I knew it by heart and was able to time my steps and establish a rhythm to my gait. I made it to the dungeon floor and took exactly five steps forward, turned ninety degrees to the left, and then took five more paces straight ahead. Looking back at the tape, I know I didn't quite hit my mark exactly, but I was close, and everyone was set up downstairs to give me a little room for error. The music stopped suddenly. I could smell the breath and mingled perfumes of the guests. There were only two males in the group, Goddess Caresse's doppleganger (who was as powdered and perfumed as any of the ladies, if not more) and Nicole's new boyfriend - my old buddy. At the time I had other things on my mind, but it was hard for me to watch the tape for a while afterwards; until one day he and I had lunch together and he told me how "cool" he thought the whole thing had been. Lin Me was there too, and Mandy and Lindsey; though they could clearly be seen on the tape as maintaining their distance from each other. And there were a few other people I didn't know. Mistress was dressed for a day at the hunt. She had on a new, red jacket with tails and tight, white riding pants. She stepped up to face me, with Lindsey and Nicole taking up positions at my sides. Mistress began to recite the poem She'd written for the occasion, inspired by one of Her favorite books: Across a sea of light, came he to me With words to touch my soul. And in the darkness did we first meet And speak of 'Ultimate Goals.' Then traveled we together until we came upon tonight; We came upon tonight... At the second "We came upon tonight," Lindsey and Nicole took hold of my skirt and hiked it up to my waist, exposing my cock. Mistress unscrewed the barbell and began to careful insert a golden ring through the hole so that it encircled my penis just beneath the glans. The ring was slightly smaller in diameter than the width of my cock, and would keep the tip of it engorged and sensitive from that day onward. As She emplaced the ring, She finished Her poem: With this ring I claim him mine. By this ring he minds me. With this ring I claim his soul, And in the darkness bind he. With the ring in position, and Her poem completed, I turned around. She undid the zip on my dress and it fell to the floor in a heap of snowy lace. Stepping out of that pile was the hardest part of the ritual up to that point, and then, slowly, gently, I eased myself onto my hands and knees. Lindsey and Nicole had one more task, to take my legs and bend them back to my buttocks, hooking up the little clasps that dangled just above the swell of my heels to the rings that were affixed to the straps around my thighs. Lastly, Mistress screwed a long "tail" into the socket that peeked out of my asshole. She took a step back, to allow everyone a good view of me in my state of total servitude. I swallowed hard, anticipating what was coming next. She hadn't let me practice this part with Her, so I'd gone out and bought a forty pound bag of dog food and clomped around with that tied down to the saddle. As She settled Her weight down upon me, I began to appreciate how much of a difference eighty pounds could make. She slipped Her feet into the stirrups, the bulk of Her weight pressing down over my straining hips; while I tried to distribute what I could to my unsteady new pair of "feet." For all intents and purposes, the ceremony, at least the public part of it, had ended. I'd hoped to take off right away to the next "phase," but She lingered, chatting idly with this person and that. There was a standing invitation for all the guests to dine at Lin's, all expenses paid in lieu of a proper "reception," and I kept waiting for everybody to clear out and take advantage of their free meal. By the time the last guest left, I was really straining, my trembling body bathed in sweat. She picked up the reigns and touched Her heels to my sides. My eyes bugged out beneath the blindfold. The bitch had spurs! Slowly, steadfastly, I began to crawl forward, retracing my steps and heading for the stairs. She steered me and used Her spurs to pick up the pace. She jerked back on the reigns hard to indicate the first step. Straining mightily, I lifted on "foot" and put it down on the step. With my second step, I really had to stretch, dragging myself along with every ounce of strength my upper body possessed. The stairs were so narrow that my "forelimbs" had climbed up three steps before my knees had to begin the ascent. That was the hardest, heaving and wrenching that first leg onto the stairs with Mistress' weight bearing down upon it. I grunted loudly with the effort, but Catherine just applied the spurs again, and I somehow scraped my remaining knee up onto the step. Inch by inch, up the steep incline I crawled. The straps over my shoulder dug into me mercilessly as Mistress was pulled backwards by the force of gravity. I began to fear that I might topple backwards and spill us both down the stairs. My entire body was quivering with the strain. Every muscle in my body was pressed into the effort to scale the steps. My groans became piteous moans. I'd counted the steps over and over in my previous run-throughs, but I soon had lost count of where I was. Only the thought of our destination, and the occasional kiss of the spurs, kept me creeping along. Then, suddenly, miraculously, the floor leveled out as we reached the ground floor. I began to cry, but I still wasn't finished, She jerked the reigns to the right and I began to crawl towards the short flight of steps to the upper floor. I hadn't been allowed to climb them in preparation, but I'd seen them enough. Six steps. Six wide, plushly carpeted steps. I was whimpering like a child as I took the first step. Then another. Then I had to heave my first leg up, then the second. She began to talk to me. To whisper soothing words of encouragement and sexy promises of what was to come next. I was biting down hard on the bit, every step ripping another agonized grunt from me. And then, again with a wonderful sense of suddenness, we were upstairs. She had to take a much more active role in guiding me along the hall. I was on the verge on near collapse as She gave the reigns a sudden, hard jerk to the right. "I love you, Michael," She said. Straining, trembling, crying, I crossed over the threshold to Her bedroom, and took the first step towards our "Ultimate Goal." Epilogue: Honeymoon One Week Later, Off The Southern Coast Of Australia The Indian Ocean stretched out before me like a vast, roiling field of lapis lazuli, sparkling in the early morning sun. I felt like throwing up into it. It wasn't just the rocking of the boat or the heat inside my wetsuit, or even the nauseating stench of the chum that made me ill; it was the pair of LEXAN cylinders bobbing up and down just beyond the rail and the huge, gray shape that would occasionally glide by them. Behind me, Mistress was admiring another of the clear, bulletproof tubes; asking our guide where one could purchase them and how much they ran. She was dressed in an orange skin diving suit, with black stripes; Her pale, exposed arms and legs heavily sunblocked. She came up behind me and wrapped Her arm around my waist. "Well," She said, "I know what I'm asking Santa for Christmas!" "They're awfully... narrow," I muttered nervously. "I know," She sighed dreamily. "Like a big old test tube! I love it!" "I mean... what if we jump in... and... miss?" I gulped. She looked at me intently. Her dark red hair billowed in the salty sea breeze. "Then I'll erect an eternal flame in the backyard in your memory, Michael." She laughed, I didn't. "What happened to your spirit of adventure?" She asked me earnestly. "I think it got transferred to the wrong plane back in Hawaii," I said. "Look, Michael, they've never been able to keep one of these alive in captivity; and at the rate they're killing them off down here, this may be the last chance we get to see one, ever." She studied my reaction carefully. I still wasn't convinced. I'd seen it bite at the hunk of meat lashed to the side of the boat, and that seemed good enough for me. She took my hand. "Tell me Michael, do you really feel that much more afraid than that first night when you sat poised to send that first E-mail to me?" I looked deep into Her dark eyes. "Not that much more I guess." "And if you could do it all over again, would you?" I smiled. "In a heartbeat, Mistress." She squeezed my hand, and together we took the plunge. THE END My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, then black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks, And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound. I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress when she walks treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare. William Shakespeare March 19 - May 10, 1997 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "I've noticed that when we play games with girls, you get captured a lot." Calvin "Some of us are just irresistable." Hobbes