Archive-name: Bondage/email.txt Archive-author: Archive-title: E-Mail We had been corresponding for quite a while, always electronical- ly, you and I. Each of us had started out curious about this "bondage" stuff; at first, it was just something we had seen hinted at in the movies. Then we had sought out more explicit films, more detailed stories. And our private lovemaking seemed fresher, newer, more exciting. So, independently, we had each turned to this forum, to "flesh out" our fantasies, and see others doing the same. Being newcomers, neither of us had developed the cynicism that comes with routine. And so when I naively asked for a "pen pal," with whom to exchange ideas (and later, directives), you had naively responded. Oh sure, there was the initial trepidation, the fear that somehow our colleagues would find us out, the worry that our correspondence was being shared with the rest of the world, but each of us stayed with it. And before long, each of us was hooked. In fact, now we look upon those days and recog- nize the heightened anxiety for what it was: raw sexual arousal. We were just too timid to admit it to ourselves at the time. At first, we just shared the tidbits of little fantasies, embel- lished personal descriptions, and the like. You told me about the night your then-lover blindfolded you for the first time, and simply ordered you to lay still as he had his way with you. How you ached for the physical restraints that would have made your bondage easier; and that sudden exquisite terror when the door opened: had he left? Had someone else come in? It was a mark of strengths you had yet to discover that you laid there, motion- less, while someone dripped something on you, cool enough to make you jerk, but not enough to make you resist. As he licked it off your breasts, your firm tummy, and finally from your dripping pussy you smelled the chocolate. And you recognized his beard. But he didn't know the thrill you felt from imagining my presence there. Then I told you about the time I took my lover to dinner in a slinky gown, pearls, and heels - and nothing more. How she had endured my innuendoes with the waiter, the brief shock and rapid return to a professional, polite smile when I pinched her nipple while ordering escargot. How I had used a fresh carrot - ordered from the kitchen - to bring her, silently. And how she had eaten it, slowly, relishing her own juices, and smiling evilly at that same waiter. In this way, our correspondence flourished. We shared more and more of our fantasies and experiments, never really being sure which were which. We discovered the turn-on's we had in common - exhibitionism, physical restraint, and creative uses of food - and those we didn't - your love of spanking, mine for butt plugs. Our next step was to send instructions to each other, to be carried out precisely, then reported upon in great detail. Sometimes they were favors to be done for our lovers of the moment; other times they were instructions to be carried out in public. And as each message arrived, we would feel the building anticipation of what was to happen next; what strange and excit- ing situation would we find ourselves in this time. Sometimes, although less frequently, we would report of excursions that we had initiated ourselves; the one thread which ran through all of these was the fantasy we shared of the other watching, unseen by anyone else. It was this secret presence which added the extra spice to our hormonal excursions, and kept our partners wondering at our intriguing and unexpected ideas. We kept a pact that started off implied, yet soon became explic- it: we never shared photos, we never shared addresses, we never even spoke to each other. Despite the fact that either of us could have easily tracked the other down, no contact beyond the electronic mail was ever made. What had been a desire for priva- cy quickly turned into a boon for fantasy: now we had the other as we imagined them: no less, and how could it be more? (to be continued) =============================================================== OK, OK, I said "Part 1 of 2" last time. Looks like this is "Part 2 of 3". But not more than 4. Really. --------------------------------------------------------------- Standard disclaimers about sex. Consensual for the moment. --------------------------------------------------------------- One day, though, things took an unexpected change. The day you sent me that terrifying - and thrilling - command. Of course I had to comply; and here is what happened... As we often shared some of the smaller details of our lives, I had told you that I would be in San Francisco on business for a long weekend. You had questioned me about that in a little more detail than usual, but I didn't pay too much attention to it: I knew you were from the other coast, and your explanation of it being one of your favorite cities certainly matched my appraisal of it. So I was truly caught by surprise when you told me that you had something special planned for me, but that I would have to promise to go along with it before you would tell me; no hedging allowed. I agonized over my response for hours. I knew that if I were to say yes, and I didn't follow through, that you would find out. Somehow. I didn't know how I knew this, but my gut was wrenching overtime. So, naturally, I wrote back a single, simple message: "Yes, mistress." Your directives were there in minutes - you must have been watch- ing the mail, waiting for my response. I got just that much more excited realizing how much anticipation you must have been feel- ing. Perversely, I wished for a moment that I had waited a bit longer to respond. Then I dove into your message. "I have a friend in San Francisco," you had written, "who I trust explicitly. She was my mentor - and occasional lover - many years ago. She will have a message waiting for you at the Saint Francis. Follow her wishes, serve her completely, and tell me the story on your return." Fear and erotic anticipation filled me simultaneously; my suspicions had been correct. I fired off a repeat of my first message, and logged off. I spent the rest of the week barely able to concentrate; fortu- nately, my cohorts all ascribed it to my excitement over going to San Francisco. If only they knew how right they were! Finally, Friday arrived, and I boarded my flight with a million fantasies racing through my head. Fortunately, I had no neighbor in the seat next to me, since I had to keep shifting to keep my erection under control. I thought about just jacking off in the toilet, but I didn't dare. I knew it would be breaking the rules. Finally, with thoughts of how I would repay you for this present - both in the beneficent and perverse senses - I drifted off to erotic dreams. When I checked in at the St. Francis, sure enough, there was a message waiting for me. "7 PM, front lobby. Coat and tie, green handkerchief in your pocket. Anne." Green handkerchief? Where in the world was I supposed to get a green handkerchief? Wor- ried, and a little exhausted, I stumbled into my room, unpacked quickly, then went back down to the concierge. Sure enough, she could direct me to an, ahem, appropriate store. A couple of hours later I returned, with a green handkerchief and tie, and retreated to the bar. On impulse I had picked up a single rose corsage, pink and green. Two hours to go - a stiff gin and tonic to relax me, and all would be well. To be repeated ad nauseum, until it worked. Naturally, I was ready on time. Never one to be late, now I feared being too early, so I returned to the bar at 6:45 to wait out the final moments and arrive precisely on time. I even went so far as to find a time and temperature recording to get my watch set just right. I made my entrance at exactly 7PM, and waited. And waited. And worried - had I been the victim of a hoax? It was 7:30, where was she? At 7:45, now a worthless wreck, the bell boy came over to me, "Excuse me, sir? Are you waiting for Anne?" "Yes!" I blurted out, betraying my impatience. "Then this is for you, sir," was the blase' reply, and I found a sealed envelope discreetly pressed into my hand. Before I could reply, he was off on another page. Sitting down in one of the plush chairs, I quickly - and carefully - tore open the envelope. "I'm in the restaurant, at the Smith table, with a friend. Don't delay." I was off to the glass elevators in a flash. Arriving at the top floor, I took a moment to check my hair in the mirror, drew a deep breath, and approached the maitre d'. He directed me to the "Smith" table, where two women sat in elegant dress and quiet conversation. As I approached, my mind raced: which one was Anne? The woman facing me, in a flowing, V-necked floral-patterned dress, hair cut short in tight curls, with two posts in each earlobe; or the other, with shoulder-length brown hair, an open-back black dress? Taking a cue from the way the first nodded to the second after catching my eye, and the way the second did not turn, I bowed slightly to each, and presented my corsage to the second. "Anne, I presume?" I said in my smoothest tones, hoping my pounding heart would not reveal itself in a shaking hand or quivering voice. With the slightest smile, and the merest nod, she accepted my offering and confirmed my guess. I sat down between them and drew a deep breath. The game was on. "Jacques, allow me to introduce you to one of my dearest friends, Mary. She'll be joining us for dinner, but then I'm afraid she has other, um, obligations." "The pleasure is mine, I assure you." That's it, I thought, keep it formal, get the lay of the land. What was going to happen? What had I gotten myself into? "Jacques, Ellen has told me all about you, and intimated that you would be a most promising, er, student. I know the assurances you have given her, and I would not disparage her by offering you the chance to slight her. So I want you to know that, by your presence here, you have consigned yourself to my whims for the weekend. Is that clear?" "Very clear, Anne. What form of address would you prefer?" "Good, Jacques. Good. You may address me as Lady Anne, and Mary here simply as 'Miss'. Any other questions?" "No, Lady Anne. I appreciate your confidence in me, and will do my best to make you proud of Ellen's recommendation to you." Ye gods, this was starting to sound archaic! Perhaps it would just turn into some kind of Gothic romance novel, punctuated by sexual innuendo, and culminating in a brief, albeit kinky, night of lust. A quiet voice warned me that this was not likely. Lady Anne quickly validated that tiny, terrified voice. "Jacques, there are two primal tests of obedience, the first of which I consider to be over-rated: to delay orgasm until in- structed by your Mistress. The second is, to my mind, much more telling: to have an orgasm on command, when conditions are, let us say, adverse. Based on Ellen's recommendations, I will now put you to that test. Miss Mary and I have ordered some arti- chokes as appetizers, and we happen to enjoy a topping of semen to bring out all the flavor." My face must have gone completely pale, as my penis convulsed in bewilderment between erection and flaccid retreat. "Hmm. I appreciate your dilemma, given the unusual nature of my desire. I am not inclined to go without, but I do think I can offer you a little assistance. Just be sure to have the topping ready before the waiter arrives. Mary?" 'Before the waiter arrives?!' When had the order been placed? How could I cum in one of the fanciest restaurants in San Fran- cisco? What the fuck was I doing? Confusion reigned supreme; some other part of me noticed Mary smiling sweetly and handing me a small container. She calls this 'assistance'? Retrieving it automatically, I placed it in my lap and quietly unzipped my pants, looking around nervously for signs of discovery. My cock had decided on erection, fortunately, and quickly sprang out of my boxer shorts. When my glance next settled on Mary, though, I saw what Anne had meant. There was Mary, calmly sliding her hand into her dress and re- trieving her left breast. Without apparent regard for exposure, she began tracing the outlines of her bosom, paying particular attention to her nipple. Soon it was erect, and after a few firm pinches to extend it further, she dipped her thumb and forefinger into the small dish of vegetable dip, then thoroughly coated the no longer tiny nipple with the sweet concoction. That was all my swollen prick needed. After a quick couple of passes over the head to pick up all the pre-cum I could (and there was plenty), I began stroking as quickly as I could, trying to maintain the delicate balance between discretion and rapid delivery. Soon I was feeling that fuzzy sense of orgasm creeping up from just below my balls, and part of me knew I was at a critical moment: a few more strokes and I'd be irrevocably committed to orgasm; any untoward interruption, however, and all would be lost. Anne chose that moment to decide my fate; perhaps she saw the glaze in my eyes, or noticed the change in my breath- ing. In any event, she did a quick reconnoiter of the room, then leaned over and licked the dip from Mary's nipple. =============================================================== "Part 3 of 4". But not more than 4. Really. --------------------------------------------------------------- Standard disclaimers about sex. Consensual for the moment. --------------------------------------------------------------- Before Mary could discreetly dry her breast with her napkin and safely tuck herself away, they had their topping. Most of it in the container, even! Basking in the most bizarre afterglow I had experienced in a while, I noticed the waiter approaching. Just in time, I thought. "May I take your order?" "Yes, please," Mary replied. "We'll each have your artichoke appetizers, while we settle on dinner." Then, quietly turning to me, "Just a little safety margin the first time around. Next time, you may not be so lucky!" The rest of dinner passed uneventfully, or at least, that's the way it seemed to me. Mostly I was caught in a daze of fantasies about what would happen after dinner, my mind - and body - racing between intense arousal and terror. Two moments do "stand out" in my mind, though: the first early on, the second at the end. That first event took place as the waiter brought the artichokes. As he was placing them in front of us, each peeled back like labial lips, Mary handed the container, full of my now-congealing jism, to Anne, who smiled a polite "thank you" and began spooning it onto her artichoke with her dessert spoon. At the waiter's discreetly raised eyebrows, she said, ever so sweetly, "A hand- made topping - from a friend!" and continued, oblivious. She then passed the container to Mary, who, after anointing her artichoke, passed the container to me. "Finish it off," Anne ordered, "and be sure the container is quite clean before you return it to Mary!" While it was not the first time I had tasted cum, it was the first in many years, and never before had I consumed some that had been, as it was, standing for so long. It really didn't do much for me, and in fact it turned my stomach a bit, especially when I had to clean the container with my finger, but I performed as directed. Naturally, neither Anne nor Mary had any comment; in fact, they conducted themselves through dinner as if I weren't there. There conversation had little to do with anything partic- ularly of interest to me: local politics, a book they had read, etc. Every now and then one or the other would turn to me, smile patronizingly, and caress my hair, or beard, or occasionally pinch my ass or balls, but mostly I was ignored. They ordered a Caesar salad for me, and a glass of mineral water; to keep me from getting too full, they said. Soon, it seemed, they were ordering dessert. As the waiter left, Lady Anne reached into her purse and pulled out a cock cage. A study in elegance it was: leather with silver studs, along with a rubber cock ring that looked a size or to too small. "Do you know what this is?" she asked. "Yes, my Lady," I replied, my heart pounding, "it is a cock cage." "Describe for Miss Mary how one wears it." "Yes, my Lady." As I turned to Mary, I saw her eyes widen a bit with anticipation. "Miss Mary, first this rubber ring is stretched over the cock, and pulled close to the base. Then this longer thong is clasped around the root of the cock, on the other side of the balls, as tightly as possible. Finally, this shorter thong is passed below the cock, between the balls, through the ring, and back, and again snapped tightly. This ensures that the balls are separated, the cock is held straight out, and the erection is maintained for long periods. Does that satisfy you, Lady Anne?" "A good explanation, Jacques. But what will satisfy me - for the moment - is to have you go into the men's room and put this cage on. Oh yes, and bring back your boxers to me - you won't be needing them any more tonight. Be back in, oh, less than five minutes." "Yes, My Lady," I hastily replied, and excused myself from the table, stuffing the cock ring in my pocket. As I hurried to the men's room, I tried to will my erection away; putting on a cage like this in such a short time would be difficult enough without a raging erection to make matters, ah, harder. When I got into the men's room, Murphy struck. There was not a stall free; all the doors were closed and locked. There was no one at the urinals, though, and so with barely a thought to what I was doing, I dropped my pants, stepped out of my boxers, and stepped back into my pants. I managed to get the ring on and first thong snapped before the door to one of the stalls opened up. There I was, bare-assed, my hands on my cock, my boxers on the sink. The man in the suit wasn't pleased, and rushed out of the room. The one good effect was that I had quickly lost my erection; getting the last thong attached was easy. But by the time I had got my pants up, the unusual friction had restored my hard on; by the time I exited the men's room, boxer shorts in pocket, my caged cock was making quite a spectacular tent of my pants. [to be concluded] ============================================================== Part 4 of 4. --------------------------------------------------------------- Standard disclaimers about sex. --------------------------------------------------------------- Glancing at my watch as I approached the table, I was pleased to see that I had made it under the deadline. But my pleasure vanished when I saw Lady Anne's face: a study in disgust and disapproval. "You are making a spectacle of yourself with your adolescent hormones," she spat out. "Look at the mess you have made of your pants!" And sure enough, another supply of pre-cum had produced a wonderful dark spot at the apex of my "tent." I hung my head in shame. "Forgive me, my Lady," I cowered. "Forgiveness must be earned," she hissed. "I am leaving. When you can comport yourself appropriately, you may come to my room and try to earn that which you may never deserve. 1717." And she left, Mary in close pursuit. I collapsed, mortified, in the chair. Soon, I knew, I would have to go and face the music. But first I would have to change my pants. Gathering my courage, I left the restaurant as quickly as I could, conscious of all the eyes upon me. Hurrying up to my room, I formed a plan as to how I could get back to Lady Anne's room without another "spot." Once inside my room, I tore off my clothes, got out a different outfit (I knew it wouldn't be good to arrive in unmatched clothes), and slipped a condom over my cock. Unlubricated, of course - that ought to deal with the stains. Then, after a quick glance in the mirror, I headed up to room 1717. All in all, it had taken less than ten minutes. When I arrived outside her door, I knocked gently. "My Lady Anne, your miserable servant is here, and begs your permission to pay his penance." God, I hope nobody hears me now! "Wait" was the only reply. Which I did. The cynical part of my brain figured she was hoping for another spot to form. While I was still quite hard, I figured I had that one licked, so to speak. After a seemingly interminable wait, I heard her voice again. "You may come in now," she said, "but leave your clothes outside. Except the cock cage." My face must have turned beet red - it certainly felt hot enough! But this was too far gone by now to quit. Furtively glancing up and down the hall, I got out of my clothes as quickly as I could, dumping them into a small, if untidy, pile. Just as I was about to go in, I glanced down at the rubber. Better lose it too, I thought, and quickly disposed of it. Then I entered the room. The room turned out to be a suite, occupied by Lady Anne, Miss Mary, and a severe woman sitting deep in an overstuffed chair. Lady Anne was replete with leather: long gloves, high boots, choker, and (the only time I have ever seen this) a leather pushier. This last was a piece of art. It ended just above her crotch, where her thick fuzz began, seeming at first glance to be attached lace. Above, her breasts were raised up, her nipples just peeking over the top edge. In her hand she held a riding crop; her eyes were fiery. My cock twitched at the sight. Miss Mary was in stark contrast to Lady Anne. Dressed in a soft, billowy peasant's dress, her shoulder length hair held in place with a cloth head band, her head bowed ever so slightly in a fashion which transmitted submission. And the enigma in the corner: her black, straight, hair pulled back into a bun. Dark grey suit, or so it seemed in the dim corner. Straight out of some kinky Alice in Wonderland. "Don't stand there gaping, you insolent twerp! Don't you have something to say?" Jarred back to the moment, I immediately dropped to the floor. "Please forgive me for the weakness of my body before, Lady Anne. It was thoughtless of me to subject you to such a public dis- grace. I am resolved to earn your forgiveness; give me my pen- ance, and I will execute it faithfully!" I kept my head bowed, and waited for her response. "You have not yet earned the right to perform your penance. First, you must tend to my faithful servant; then, if you satisfy her, I will consider your request. Miss Mary, he is yours." And with that Lady Anne took a seat on a simple wooden chair to watch. Mary came over to me and said, quietly, "I want to explore. Please don't come." To which Lady Anne replied, "Show more spunk, girl!" But clearly it was out of Mary's nature. She pointed to a mat which was laid out next to the bed and said, a bit more loudly, "Down on all fours, and don't move!" I dashed over, got on all fours, facing the two seated women, my cock dripping with pre-cum. After a brief glance into their eyes, I thought better of it and lowered my head. For the next half hour, Mary did as thorough a cataloging of my body as I imagine is possible. She caressed, licked, and nibbled every part of me, beginning with my hair, and moving slowly down my torso to my sensitive feet. Her tongue pressed on to and into everything: tasting my ears, pressing against my closed eyes, running across my lips, down my spine, probing briefly at my asshole, circling my balls, running down the backs of my legs, exploring between my toes. Her hands stroked every surface: the lines between my chin and neck, the ridges on the back of my ear, the soft hair on my chest, the quivering of my arms as they remained steady, holding me up, the ridges of my spine, the little depression just at its base, the goosebumps on my thighs, the narrowness of my calves, the boniness of my ankles and feet. Then she turned to Lady Anne. "I'd like the toys now, My Lady!" Lady Anne went over behind the bar and retrieved something; I dared not lift my head to look. Another rustle of fabric as Mary returned. "I've always wanted to try this," she said, mostly to herself. I watched with some trepidation as she took a nipple clamp and placed it on my left nipple. I could not keep from flinching as it grabbed hold; all the while, Mary was watching my face intent- ly. I reacted a bit less to the second clamp, but my eyes must have widened a great deal when I saw her move back and prepare to clamp my balls, already aching from their continued confinement in the cock cage. I hissed inward to control the pain as each clamp was applied, but otherwise maintained my composure. Then Mary took for weights, and hung one from each clamp. I was in agony now, and my body started to shake. "Control yourself!" Lady Anne barked, and with an effort of will I quieted my body. Then Mary continued with her explorations. After gently batting the weights back and forth on my nipples, she moved next to my ass. Reaching around, she gathered up some of my pre-cum from my cock - I was like a leaky faucet, now - and slathered up my asshole. Then, slowly, deliberately, she started working something into my ass; a dildo, by the feel of it. Further and further in it went, twisting, probing, and then withdrawing. Soon she started fucking me with it, and I prayed that she wouldn't touch my cock, otherwise I would surely cum. Finally, just before I felt certain I would shoot my load, she stopped, withdrawing it, and caressed my asshole with her finger- tips. Then she moved to my cock. It was hard, wet, and throbbing. Anyone could tell I was on the verge of coming. Would she spare me Lady Anne's wrath, or not? With a firm grip, she reached down and grabbed a hold of me. "Stand up," she declared, "I wish to taste your juices. But don't cum!" With that, she pulled me upright, as I stumbled a bit from being on my hands and knees for so long. The weights bounced around viciously as I got up, and the pain helped hold back my orgasm. Then, as I stood motionless before them, she got down on her knees and licked my cock clean. She smiled as she did so, never taking me into her mouth. I had been spared. When Mary was done, she turned to Lady Anne and said, "Thank you, My Lady. He is an interesting creature," and stepped back. "Are you sure you're satisfied, Miss Mary? Has he serviced your needs sufficiently?" Mary's head bowed, her face reddened. "May I have him..." "Of course!" "And would you hold me, My Lady?" "Certainly, my dear." With that began the scene I never expected to witness. Lady Anne got on the bed, sitting with her back to the wall, cushioned by the massive pillows, legs spread wide. Then Miss Mary climbed on the bed, laying down with her head in Lady Anne's crotch, her legs and arms outstretched. Lady Anne reached down and held Mary securely by her shoulders and arm pits. Then she said, "Jacques, come here and lift Miss Mary's dress. Then you may kneel before her and bring her to orgasm with your mouth and tongue." Gently I raised Mary's dress above her waist, revealing her slender legs, her lush bush, and her inflamed, moist pussy lips. Not wasting a moment, I settled in to providing Mary with the most exquisite pussy licking I knew how to give. I was a little sorry not to be able to use my fingers as well, but I knew I could put my nose to good use without raising any objections. I started by lightly tracing the outside of her labia with my tongue, then licking more broadly and firmly across her clit. As I snuggled down into her fragrant snatch to suck at her opening, I used my nose to press and manipulate her clit. Then the long, slow licks which started inside her, gradually withdrew, coursed up to her bush, and stopped. She was not long in responding; soon she had her knees bent so she could thrust her pelvis against me. I kept the pace slow, but began sucking and toying with her clit more. Soon she was moaning, and writhing exqui- sitely. I looked up briefly as I completed one of my long licks, and saw a delicious sight. There was Mary's head, pressed firmly against Lady Anne's twat, twisting and grinding away. Lady Anne was clearly enjoying it: her eyes were closed and a soft, ecstatic smile was on her lips. Not daring to tarry too long on the view, I returned to my efforts. Soon a second set of sighs began; Lady Anne was getting off. Mary was struggling against her grip, and I was doing everything I can to prolong the experience. I knew it would be worth my while to have Lady Anne cum as well. So as Mary seemed close to coming - her pussy walls would start to throb - I would withdraw my mouth, kiss her thighs, anything to help her back off. Then, when I felt it was safe, I would renew my ministrations. The final moments seemed to be upon me when I heard a third moan join the chorus; this time from the austere woman behind me. I desperately wanted to see what she was doing, how she was manag- ing to pleasure herself, but I knew that would be fatal. So I pressed onward, nibbling, sucking, and licking, now determined to bring Mary as quickly as I could. It didn't take much. Suddenly her hips raised off the bed, and my head was locked between her thighs. I could feel the whole bed shake as Mary and Lady Anne let loose with their orgasms; I hoped the mystery woman was too, although I could hear very little. When I was about to despair of ever being able to breathe again, Mary abruptly released me, and collapsed. Looking up, I saw that Lady Anne had cum as well; she was listing to one side, her hands now idly caressing Mary's breasts through the dress. Still, I dared not turn around, but merely waited pa- tiently for my next instruction. Eventually, Lady Anne got up off the bed, leaving Mary to lie in peace. "You have earned your right to penance," she said. "Get back on the mat on all fours." I scrambled off the bed and resumed my earlier position. A blindfold was placed over my eyes, the weights clamped to my nipples and balls were swung for good measure, and then Lady Anne spoke again. "If you successfully endure this punishment, I will consider taking you on as a student. I will also be reporting your per- formance to Ellen. Any questions?" I shook my head no. "Very good. I want you to endure the punishment for as long as you can. You will signal that you are through by achieving orgasm. Oh yes, please stay as silent as you can." There was an awful pause. Then the dildo was suddenly at my asshole, demanding entry. I relaxed my muscles as much as I could, and allowed it in. After a few moments of fucking, it was withdrawn, and replaced by a larger butt plug. I gasped as it was inserted deep inside me, and fastened with some kind of strap. I heard Lady Anne's voice, "Yes, place the receptacle underneath him. Good. Now, let us begin." With that, I felt two things simultaneously: someone grabbed hold of my cock, and I was stropped across my ass. I recoiled from the pain, but quickly regained my position. Another blow, and the hand began pumping. There was an odd syncopation to the two sensations; the strokes bringing me closer to orgasm, the blows initially pushing me further away. I knew I would not be able to endure this for long, and was glad that I had not been ordered to refrain from coming. Soon, that low growl started to emerge from my throat, and I knew that orgasm was imminent. The blows and strokes continued until my first glob of cum streaked out; then the blows stopped. My body was wracked with shudders as spurt followed spurt. The weights were flying back and forth, pulling mercilessly at my nipples. I heard a voice say, "Milk him dry." The strokes continued, squeezing every last bit of fluid out from me, until I was in pain from trying to produce more. Finally whoever was milking me stopped, and I heard some- thing removed from beneath me. I struggled to keep from collaps- ing on the mat. "Stand up," were Lady Anne's next words. I did so, the cock cage started to slowly slide off my now withering cock. Hands reached round to unsnap and remove it; otherwise, everything kept quite still. Finally, the blindfold was removed, and everyone was back as I had seen them; Lady Anne imperiously presiding over every- one, Miss Mary standing demurely to one side, and the mystery lady sunken into the chair. "Your penance is now complete. Leave us now." And with that, she turned her back on me. Staggered by the bluntness of my dismissal, I stumbled through the door. A quick glance back drew a hiss of disapproval; momen- tarily mindless of my naked state, I bolted into the hall. There were two women, not more than a yard from me, heading toward the elevator. As they shrieked, I grabbed my clothes and ran into the men's room. After dressing as fast as I could, I poked my head out of the door, and satisfied that the coast was clear, I headed toward my room. Once back, I took a long, hot bath and tried to understand what I had done. Already, it seemed like a bizarre dream. I only have one question for you now, Ellen: which woman were you? ******************************************************************************* personal ad I am a Dominant Male always looking for female slaves to train. Race/color not important. Just your willingness to submit. No experice req. Mail mahmed@nyx.cs.du.edu for more info ******************************************************************************** --