It was a strange kind of contract, but a contract nevertheless. He had agreed to
give up control of his body to the woman who stood in front of him so that she
might sate her lust in its abuse. In return she would absolve him of his worldly
cares, allow his mind to visit a place as far removed from his day to day
existence as it is possible to be.

To the outside observer it might appear to be a very mismatched agreement, the
woman seeming to gain great advantage from the trade. She would be able to take
her pleasure from him in what ever way her fancy took her. She would be free from
the normal constraints which restrict and control the interaction between two
people, her sole aim being the exploration of her own deepest and darkest
desires. The contract conferred this right upon her. She need only consider her
partner in so much as how his body and mind would ultimately serve her own
selfish desires.

The man, on the other hand, had no rights any more. In making the contract he had
given up the right of self determination, both physical and mental, and placed
them in trust to the woman before him. He knew full well that she would abuse
that trust, taking cruel pleasure in inflicting pain and humiliation upon his
bound and helpless body. But then that was the essence of the contract, she would
gain the power that she craved and he would revel in its absence. Both would be
released from the inhibitions of society and the myriad controls that it placed
upon their shared lives.

In order to re-enforce the terms of the contract both parties wore the uniform
appropriate to their role. She, the mistress, wore a boned leather corset,
stitched from the softest hide, thin leather straps passing over her shoulders
held the garment in place, suspender straps attached to the underside stretched
down her thighs until they grasped the tops of the stockings which covered her
legs. Below her waist she wore black leather panties which preserved her modesty
from the eyes of her slave. On her feet she wore the obligatory black patent
leather stiletto shoes, and currently the focus of the man’s fetishistic
attention. With the exception of the short leather skirt, which now lay discarded
in another room, this was the outfit that the woman had worn to the restaurant
where they had eaten a mere hour earlier.

For the man, the slave, modesty was a luxury denied him. He was naked. His only
garment, apart from the heavy leather cuffs encircling his wrists and ankles, was
a black leather hood covering his head. The hood, made of supple leather, was
laced tightly at the back, large holes were present in the mask for his eyes,
nose and mouth. Despite being his only piece of clothing, the mask had an
important role to play in the execution of the contract. For without the mask he
was still the man that she knew at the dinner table, the person she had talked
and laughed with as an equal. Wearing the mask he was now a faceless slave, his
humanity covered and denied to him by a thin layer of black leather, someone she
could abuse without mercy, a stranger.

As well was being naked he was also bound. His bondage, like his apparel, was
symbolic of that which he had given up as his part of the contact. The thick
straps around his wrists and ankles bound him upright to a heavy wooden St
Andrews cross, his legs and arms spread wide. Heavy chains attached the cuffs to
the extremities of the beams, the shackles were far heavier than they needed to
be, their purpose being to impress on their guest the utter helplessness of his
situation and the impossibility of escape. Bound in this position the man had
never felt more exposed or vulnerable, but for the woman this humiliation was not
enough. Her desire to dominate him was strong, she wanted him to realise in every
fibre of his being that he now belonged to her and that her control over him was
absolute.

After binding him to the cross she had proceeded to force a red rubber ball gag
and bit between his teeth, strapping it tightly to his face. She had now removed
his ability to communicate, she could still hear him moan and cry out, but he
could now no longer talk or reason with her to end his torment. The faceless
slave was now without voice. She then took chains and attached them to D-rings
fixed to either side of his hood. The other ends she locked onto fastenings
attached to the cross, taking time to adjust the tension until she was satisfied
that she  had denied him his one remaining freedom of movement, the ability to
bow his head in shame. A hot flush passed over him as he was forced to gaze on
the woman who was orchestrating his degradation and humiliation. His arms had
begun to ache, and with what little movement he had left, he shifted position to
try to ease the pain. But soon even this would be denied him.

The final indignity came from a movable pad fixed to the centre of the cross and
which was currently pressing into the man’s back. By its adjustment the woman
could force her captive’s torso out and away from the cross. Each turn of the
wheel would arch his body back a little more and tighten ever so slightly the
chains binding his hands and feet to the cross. She began to operate the device,
gradually what little movement he had left was taken from him as his legs and
arms were stretched taught against the chains which bound him.

Just as he thought his feet were about to be lifted from the ground she stopped.
He was now spread before her, his body arching back towards the extremities of
the cross, his sex thrust forward in mute offing for her to take pleasure in his
humiliation. In this position both man and woman gazed at each other as the woman
considered how she would honour the terms of he contract, whilst in her had she
fingered a short many stranded whip.

Outside of the room the hubbub of London life continued, but for the man and
woman this was now a very long way away. The meal that they had eaten together
was a distant memory to them both, indeed, their world outside the confines of
the room had almost ceased to exist. As she looked at him, she could feel the
desire take control of her, she swung back her arm and brought the whip down hard
across his naked body.

Beneath the gag the man cried out, more in shock then in pain. He suddenly felt
more helpless than ever before in his life, he struggled against the leather and
steel which bound him to the wood of the cross. For more than a minute he fought
against his bonds, crying out against the indignity into which he had placed
himself. But the cross was well made, there would be no escape. Indeed he was so
tightly bound to the cross that it was impossible to move his body more than a
few inches in either direction. He would remain there until the terms of the
contract had been completed and the woman returned his freedom to him.

For her part, the woman brought the whip down on the man’s body almost without
thinking, but his reaction to the lash brought home to her, in the most shocking
of ways, the power she had over him and his utter helplessness in her presence.
It was true that the build up to this point had left her moist with anticipation
for what was to follow. The action of first stripping him and then chaining him
to the unyielding cross had been for her a very erotic act. More than once she
allowed her hand to explore his most intimate places uninvited, enjoying the
man’s embarrassment at his own involuntary reaction. But despite this, he had
still been the same man that had entered the room with her and she had  still
been his companion. But now something had changed fundamentally between them. The
shock of seeing him cry out and struggle helplessly against his bonds brought
home to her more fully than she could have thought possible the transformation
that had just occurred. His struggles and cries were not those of a modern man,
but something more primitive. He was no longer the strong intelligent companion
that she had dined with earlier that night, he was now nothing more that a naked
and faceless slave chained to a cross, powerless to prevent whatever degradation
her pleasure demanded.

She was not in a hurry, indeed, she had all night if she so desired, it would be
a pity to burn out her lust so early in the evening. She wanted to savour the
power that she had over him, to incite his own lust, to arouse and torment him
with her most delicate touch. She looked at him. He looked so open and
accessible, his body straining towards her inviting to be touched. How could she
refuse such an offer.

She walked up to him. His body although stretched over the beams of the cross was
far from immobile, the muscles in  his legs and arms flexed continuously as they
tried to fight the shackles which held him prisoner. His breath came from behind
the gag in short gasps. She reach out her hand , letting it gently brush the
inside of his thigh, she heard his breath quicken as slowly she moved it up his
leg. Finally a moan escape from behind his gag as she cradled his scrotum and
then let her hand caress the shaft of his erect penis. She could feel the man
trying to pump his pelvis against her, to increase the sensation she was
generating, but the bonds where too tight. He could only move his body a fraction
of an inch. She looked up at his face, he had forced his head back and his eyes
were tightly shut in a vain attempt to deny the hash reality of his bondage. She
laughed.

"Open your eyes slave and look at me"

He obeyed. It was now his turn to comprehend the transformation that had taken
place between them. Before him stood a scantily clad woman, the very stereotype
of a male fantasy. Her garb of leather corset, stockings and stiletto shoes would
arouse any man. She was the perfect picture of a male plaything, dressed to
please her man. But this was the irony of the situation, she was not the
plaything, he was. The tightness of his bondage would not let him forget for an
instant the complete helplessness of his position. His legs and arms spread wide
apart and his pelvis thrust crudely forward made him feel more naked and exposed
than he had ever felt before in his life. And the knowledge that she knew that he
craved this abuse more than anything else in the world sent a fresh wave of
humiliation coursing through his body.

He suddenly desperately wanted her to touch him again, to feel her cool hand on
the hot flesh of his penis. Beneath the gag he began to beg, but only garbled
grunts could escape past the plug of rubber filling his mouth, he began to rock
his pelvis desperate for her to know his need. He looked at her. She knew only
too well what his need was and he feared that she would use it to torment and
humiliate him over the course of the night. The cruel smile forming on her face
reinforced this, but if she would only touch him now it would give him some
respite.

Not taking her eyes off him for a second, she reached down between his legs. He
could feel her wrist brushing against his penis as her fingers gently caressed
the sensitive skin between his legs. His body felt strange, as if his body was no
longer part of him. The severity of his bondage and the unnatural position forced
upon him were beginning to play tricks with his senses. His inability to move or
stimulate by touch his skin in any way meant that he was now totally dependent on
his mistress to supply physical simulation to his body. The absence of sensation
was slowly causing his skin to become hyper sensitive, and when she did touch
him, his body magnified the sensation a thousand fold. And now, as she stroked
him, every nerve in his body seamed to connect with that small patch of skin, the
target of her delicate caress. It was maddening in its intensity. Slowly her
middle finger began to explore down into the crack between his legs, he could
feel nothing else, it was as if his whole body was numb with the exception of the
few square centimetres of skin at the centre of her exploration. He strained his
head down, fighting against the chains which anchored his mask to the cross,
trying to maintain the eye contact with his mistress, desperate to impart to her
the sensations that he was feeling. He moaned as her finger brushed against his
anus, he could feel her nail probing it, sending waves of pleasure flowing
through his body. Slowly she pulled her hand back from between his legs, gently
cupping and caressing his scrotum, and then drawing slowly back along the shaft
of his penis.

He was in heaven, his whole being focused on the sensation emanating from her
hand as it stroked and caressed him. But the time it lasted was all to short, and
after what seemed like only a few seconds she removed her hand leaving him
desperate for its return. He tried to plead with her to continue her caress but
the garbled sounds which emitted from behind the gag shamed him into silence.

She was not in a hurry, after all he was not going anywhere, and she had all
night if she wished to take her pleasure from his bound and naked body. But first
she wanted to savour a little more the sense of power and dominance that she had
over him before she gave in to her more base desires.

Champaign and caviar. They had bought them both at great expense from Fortnum and
Masons in Piccadilly that afternoon. He had paid of course. She remembered him
standing there in his expensive Nicol Fari suit looking nonchalant as he signed
the credit card slip, at the time she thought this was an excessive extravagance,
now she accepted it as no more than her due. As she began to open the Champaign
she looked back at him, he looked very different now, no longer the urbane young
gentleman. The confident look in his eyes had gone, he was no longer the master
of the situation. The whiteness of his skin contrasted with the dark colours of
the room, his penis which was much darker than the surrounding skin and almost
painfully erect told her that despite his obvious fear he was also very aroused.
She poured the Champaign into the glass and brought it to her lips, the Champaign
was good, very good. It was chilled but not so cold as to mask the taste, this
was without doubt the finest Champaign she had ever drunk, and if it were
possible, the glass she drank from enhanced the flavour still more. It was
Venetian crystal, the antique dealer had said it was made in about 1850, and the
beauty of the design was quite stunning. For a few seconds she admired the deep
colour of the crystal and the delicate workmanship that went into the its
construction. The gold leaf that once defined the patterns etched into the glass
was now faded and almost gone, but that did not matter, if anything it added
history and character to the timeless elegance of the piece.

She looked back at the man, now still on the cross. "A good choice, if I might
say. It is a pity that you can’t share my appreciation of it." She laughed.

"I am afraid my bound and naked slave, it looks like you have a long night ahead
of you"

She walk slowly back towards him, holding the glass in one hand and letting the
other caress her own thigh,  tracing the line dividing the black leather of her
underwear with the white flesh of her leg. She smiled inwardly as she watched his
erect member bob up and down, she knew the effect she was having on him and
wondered for how long she could sustain his arousal. It would be fun to find out.

Standing close to him she sipped from the glass letting her fingers trace
invisible lines across his torso. Beneath the gag his breathing became more
rapid, every few seconds he would let out a gasp or a moan as his body reacted to
her touch in ways that he could not control.

"Do you like it when I humiliate you?" She whispered, her hand reaching down to
lightly stroke his penis.

"Do you like it when I make you moan, when I make you admit to me you most secret
desires?"

Beneath the mask the man felt the humiliation wash over him, he had not only
given her his body but his soul as well, she had not merely stripped him of his
clothes but of  every social barrier and defence that society had given him. He
had no choice but to answer truthfully , to try to lie would be an even greater
humiliation. He nodded his head. A moan escaped his gag as she pulled back the
foreskin of his penis.

"I have bought you a present my hot little slave, another little token to remind
you that you belong to me. So you don’t forget that you are my property, to use
and abuse in what ever way my perverted little mind desires"

She took another sip from the glass.

"I had it made especially for you, it was very expensive, I even paid for it with
your credit card. Would you like to know what it is?"

She placed the glass carefully onto the rug and went over to the cabinet at the
side of the room. The man tried to follow her movement with his eyes, but the
chains locking his hood to the beams of the cross halted his progress before she
had reached her destination. He could hear her opening the door to the cabinet
and retrieving something from its confines. When she came back into view she was
carrying an oblong box some eighteen inches long. The box itself was black but
around it, and tied on top with a bow, was a wide yellow ribbon.

He had no idea what it could be. He had seen an unexpected bill on his last
credit card statement for well over five hundred pounds, but when he had asked
her about it she had merely smiled and said "Wait and see." The company, R&G
Designs Ltd., gave no further clue as to what it could be. He had considered
finding out their telephone number and calling them, but thought better of it. He
had given her the credit card as part of the contract. He trusted her that she
would honour the terms of it.

She placed the box on the floor and began to untie the ribbon.

"Do you remember my gay friend Frank?" She asked.

It was an unexpected question. He did indeed remember him, they had met him a few
months ago when they had gone as interlopers to the Gay Pride festival. He was
the classic gay leather man, and obviously heavily into sado-masochistic sex
himself. What possible connection could he have with the contents of the box.

Surrounded by tissue paper lay his present, it appeared to be some kind of dildo.
Carefully she removed it from the box and brought it up for his inspection. It
was indeed a dildo, black, and fashioned as a large male phallus and very
realistic. But that was only the start. Attached to the base of the dildo was a
thick stainless steel rod which itself disappeared into a large metal box, on top
of the box were a number of switches.

The man looked blankly back at the woman, trying to gain some insight into what
was about to happen to him.

"It’s a fucking machine, my poor helpless slave, and you are going to be fucked
by it." She flipped a switch and the man watched as the dildo began to slide in
and out.

"I told Frank about you penchant for humiliation and he was more than happy to
make a latex mould of his penis, in fact I think he rather got off on the whole
idea. Do you like the result, she let her hand stroke the end of the dildo as it
continued to pump slowly back and forth. "He is quite a big boy isn’t he."

The very thought of the mechanical rapist invading his body horrified the man, it
broke though his most basic and primitive taboos concerning his sexuality. He
had, he thought, no homosexual leanings and the idea of a mans prick, even a
latex cast of one being forced into his anus, repulsed him. In futile desperation
he struggled against his chains, ignoring the impossibility of escape, pleading
with her from behind the gag not to do this to him.

"So you see my poor little slave you are not only going to be fucked by me but by
Frank also"

As his struggles subsided amid the crushing weight of knowledge that he was
utterly powerless to prevent his further degradation a fresh humiliation swept
over him. He wanted this to happen to him. For an instant he had a vision of
Frank being in the room with his mistress, and the two of them together taking it
in turns to abuse and rape his bound and spread body whilst the other looked on
and laughed.

Much later, when thinking back at what happened, he did not believe that his
sexuality had been fundamentally changed by these events. Rather that the
cocktail of fears, desires and emotions that she had set off had allowed his mind
to contemplate ideas that would have never made it past his emotional
conditioning present in his normal existence.

But those thoughts were still in the future, the present allowed no time for such
elegant post rationalisation. In the present he was naked, bound and spread wide
on a heavy wooden cross, the helpless plaything of a woman whose desire to
dominate and humiliate him was all consuming.

"I can see that my idea is turning you on" She said, looking at his still erect
penis. His total inability to hide any desire, however perverted, from his
mistress’s gaze shamed him still further.

"Maybe next time I should invite Frank along, he said he would like to rape you.
He told me he would like to have you bound on the floor with you mouth forced
open by a ring gag so he can alternate between fucking you in the arse and
ramming his prick down your throat and making you suck him off."

The vision at once sickened and thrilled him, he could not comprehend how such a
depraved act could arouse him so much, but it did. He was her slave, and as such
would respond to her in anyway that she wished, he had no choice, she had
stripped him of every defence that he possessed. He had submitted to her more
fully than he could have thought possible and in return she had filed his soul
with emotions more powerful and intense than he had ever experience before. He
started to cry, not out of fear or sorrow, but because it was the only way he
could release what was inside of him. For a brief instance his mind left his body
as it was carried away on the swirl of emotions. But the escape was all too
short, he caught sight of his mistress staring at him, and was brought back to
earth with a jolt. A fresh wave of humiliation mixed with desire washed over him.
In her hand she held the device, the dildo now shiny and slick with lubricant.

"Lets see how you enjoy your present shall we"

She walked behind him, letting her oily hand catch hold of his penis as she
passed, causing him to moan in response. For what seemed like an eternity nothing
happened. He could hear the sound of nuts being placed onto bolts and tightened,
he guessed that she must be fixing it to some kind of base, but he could feel
nothing. Then, just as he was thinking that something must have gone wrong, he
felt the end of the dildo push ever so gently between his buttocks. Within a few
seconds he saw his mistress return to her station in front of him.

But what of his humiliation, he did not understand why she had not forced the
device deep inside of him so that it might fuck his prone and helpless body as
she watched the spectacle of his degradation. She stood close to him, letting her
body press against his, in her hand was the crystal goblet. She took a sip of the
Champagne, her face inches from his own.

"You look puzzled." She let her hand stroke the leather of his mask.

"You are wandering why, at this very instant you are not being raped by Franks
prick. You will be, don’t worry, but we don’t want the evening to end too early
do we."

With that she turned and walked back to the table, refilling her glass with more
of the decadent liquid. For several minutes she stood at the table, her back to
him, as she lavished herself with Champagne and caviar. The man could do nothing
but wait. Once, as she was eating, he let out a moan from behind the gag, a
desperate attempt to draw her attention back to him. Without even bothering to
look at her bound captive she snapped back.

"You will be whipped for this interruption, do not dare disturb me again."

Without making any further sound he tried to shift his body to easy the dull pain
that was in his shoulders and arms. As he moved he realised that the dildo was
now closer, brushing against his anus. The realisation dawned on him that it was
not fixed, but moving very slowly and in a few minutes it would begin it slow
inexorable invasion of his body. His whole conciseness was now focused on the
dildo as the gentle brushing sensation slowly became a continuous pressure which
gradually built in intensity. His mistress seemed unaware of what was happening
as she continued to indulge herself with the Champagne and caviar.

The progression of the dildo was unstoppable and maddening in the slowness of its
passage. The man was powerless to alter its course, the chains and leather with
bound his naked form to the cross allowed him almost no movement, at best he
could raise or lower his pelvis an inch or so. The little movement that he
possessed was if anything worse than total immobility, for each movement that he
made, however small caused his sphincter to expand and contract as it moved
against the advancing invader. The sensations that flowed through his body were
as powerful as anything he had experience up to now. He could not help himself,
his body jerked and spasmed as the maddening device slowly entered him. He shut
his eyes tight, trying to find some defence against the torment he was being
subjected to. But it was futile, his mistress knew him too well,  there would be
no escape from the uncontrollable emotions coursing though his body.

He opened his eyes, before him stood the woman, she was staring at him, her legs
placed wide apart, and in her hand once again was the short many stranded whip.
Another wave of humiliation washed over him as thought of the spectacle he must
have presented to her; A naked and bound slave, spread wide and utterly helpless,
writhing uncontrollably as he was raped by a machine. At this moment he would
submit to anything if only she would stop what was happening to him, he would
gladly humiliate himself for her, crawl naked in public behind her, anything,
providing in return she would release him from this erotic, maddening  torment.

"You see, some things in life are worth waiting for." She let the strands of the
whip drag though her hands.

"And that’s just for starters, I haven’t finished with you by a long way let. But
first there is the little matter of your punishment, but don’t worry baby, you
didn’t really spoil my enjoyment of the caviar. I enjoy inflicting pain on you,
if you hadn’t had interrupted me I would have found some other excuse to whip
you"

She let loose the whip on his body and the man cried out as the leather strands
struck his flesh. He could not help but pull again the chains which tethered him,
he felt the dildo move and slide within him. But something had changed. Instead
of the dildo being almost stationary, relying on the movement of the man for its
effect, it had now begun slowly pumping inside of him with a life of its own. The
whip struck again, and again, the initial sting was now being replaced by a
burning sensation as the blood rushed to the surface of his skin. Through his own
haze of pain and desire he could see that mistress had now lost her earlier
composure as her own sexual desires were fired by his torment. With one hand she
continued to flail the whip back and forth across his body while with the other
she had pushed back the leather covering her own sex and was using her finger to
arouse herself still further. Beneath the gag he cried and moaned, free of all
inhibitions, letting his body jolt and spasm in response to the sting of her
whip.

His own body was now on fire, his mind burning with lust and desire. A strange
euphoria took hold of him, heightened still further by the endophens pumped into
his system in response to the pain she inflicted on him. Both mistress and slave
were now lost in their own private worlds of dominance and submission feeding off
each other to fuel the burning desire that consumed the pair of them. If she
wanted to she could end the contract here, fling herself on his bound and
helpless body, rape him, bring them both to the climax that they craved.

But that would be too soon, the symphony that she was orchestrating around him
had one more movement left to perform. She would resist her desire and let him
suffer a little longer, but when the time came she would strip him of his last
ounce of pride, make him beg and plead for the release that she knew he craved
more than anything. Before that she would sate her own lust, revelling in the
absolute power she had over him. Only then, her own need satisfied she would
watch calm and collected as she brought her slave slowly to the climax she knew
he wanted more than life itself. As she did so she would mock and laugh at him as
she forced him to lay bare his deepest needs and most humiliating desires to her.
Finally she would take pity on him and grant her slave’s greatest desire, to be
allowed to cum in the presence of his mistress, and so the contract would be
honoured.

She stopped. The man hung limp from the cross, his chest, stomach, and sides
glowed red where the whip had struck him. She flung the whip to the ground and
strode forward, grasping his balls in a vice like grip which sent a jolt of pain
searing though his body.

"If you do that again I will hang weights from your balls so heavy you will beg
me to cut them off to end the pain, how dare you not stand erect in my presence."

His whole body ached, his shoulders and arms in particular as they had supported
much of the weight of his body. His hands now were almost completely numb, the
cuffs having restricted the blood into them. But with an effort he pulled himself
up with his arms letting his feet once again take their share of the work in
supporting the weight of his body. He had no doubt that if he did not do so she
would carry out her threat.

By the time he had recovered himself, she had returned to his side, once again
sipping Champagne from the crystal goblet. She let her hand run down his back
allowing it to make a detour as it reached the pad pressing into him. Its final
destination was his right buttock where she allowed her hand to cup and fondle
it. All the time he could feel the continuous and incessant motion of the dildo
as it moved inside of him. They stood there in silence, mistress and slave, her
body pressed gently against his. He could feel his erect member rubbing gently
between soft flesh of her thigh, whilst her hand absently stroked and caressed
him between his cheeks. After several minutes of silence broken only occasionally
by the gentle sound of his mistress sipping her Champagne she spoke.

"I think that you have had enough of Frank for the moment"

With that she lent down, her face pressing against his chest, as she reached
further behind him, there was the faintest sound of a switch being thrown and the
dildo stopped its motion inside of him. It did not leave his body however, and
its presence still remained a constant reminder of his humiliating role in the
contract.

Her Champagne finished, she returned the glass to the table. They stood once
again facing each other. He could consider no other state now that to be her
slave. While he was bound to the cross his cares outside of the room had ceased
to exist, his job, the mortgage, were as nothing to him. The only thing that was
important in his life stood now before him. She had stripped him of every ounce
of his social conditioning, pride, and inhibitions, leaving only a raw primitive
sexual need which only she could satisfy. Without her he was nothing, the only
emotions he had were those she permitted him, the only sensations he experienced
were those she fed to him by the touch of her hand or the lash of her whip. His
naked body, stretched and spread wide could do nothing, not even rub itself
against the wooden beams of the cross. The pad forced into his back, arching his
body away from the heavy beams, forbid him any stimulation not sanctioned by the
leather clad domatrix standing scant feet away.

For an eternity they faced each other he could feel the tension building inside
of her. Then with a brief flick of the hand she let one strap and then the other
fall from her shoulder. It was a simple movement, but with a significance that
caused the man, her slave, to moan and struggle against the chains which bound
him in fearful anticipation of what was to come.

She would wait no longer, she had humiliated and abused him fanning her own
flames of desire in the process, now she would quench them by impaling herself
upon him. She would take what she wanted by force, revelling in her domination
over him, and when she had spent her lust on him she would orchestrate his final
humiliation. She wanted to be naked, to feel with every nerve in her body his
uncontrolled desire as she raped him. She would fuck him as he stood, clinging to
him like a limpet, forcing herself against him so that she might feel his body
strain and twist against hers in desperate passion. Then with her own desire
spent she would dismount him, remove his gag, and then listen to his desperate
pleadings as she brought him slowly to climax.

Without apparent haste, she began to strip in front of him. She knew how to
arouse him, and she used her knowledge to tease and torment him as he stared
helplessly on. First the shoes. Then, letting her hand stoke and caress the white
skin of her inner thigh, she unclipped and then removed first one stocking and
then the other. A gentle pull on the knot that tied her panties around her waist
was all that needed to send them sliding to the floor. Beneath the corset he
could see the mound of dark hair covering her womanhood, she let her hand run
though it, knowing full well the effect that it would have on him.

Finally the corset. Standing close to him so that he could see her every move,
she began to undo one by one the fasteners running down the front of the garment.
Gradually it parted to reveal more and more of the milky flesh beneath it, until
she released the final fastening and the corset fell lifeless behind her. She
stood before him, as naked as he. But her nakedness was not that of a slave, it
was brash, proud, and confident, and the hunger in her eyes terrified him. She
moved yet closer, he could feel her nipples brush against his chest. Suddenly she
forced herself against him, he could feel his prick rubbing against her cunt,
driving him wild with desire. But she was not interested in sex just yet, she
wanted to taste the sweat on his body, to feel something of the passion she had
instilled in him, to mark him with her teeth as her own. For minutes she gave in
to these desires, licking and biting him with wild abandon, rubbing her body
against him, his cries of pain and arousal merely spurred her on.

This though, was merely a prelude to the final movement, she rose from her knees
from where she had been exploring between his legs with her tongue. She was calm
once more, although the same hunger still burnt in her eyes. She took oil from
the table, and standing so that her slave might gaze fully at her nakedness, she
began to rub the oil over her body. Slowly she began to glisten and shine as her
hands roamed ever wider across her smooth skin. She allowed herself to become
aroused by the touch of her own hand letting it slide in and out between her
legs, bending her knees and letting her body gyrate in response to her own
caress. The voyeuristic gaze of her mute slave, as he stared at his now fully
aroused mistress, inflamed her passions still further as she continued to work
her fingers deep inside her. She wanted to tease him for a while with her own
obscene display, to inflame his own desires but leave him helpless satisfy them.
She squatted down, spreading her legs wide apart, with one hand she continued to
finger herself whilst with the other she pulled and kneaded her breasts, all the
time fixing him with a gaze of pure unadulterated lust.

She allowed the erotic exploration of her own body to continue. She let herself
imagine that she was now the slave, being forced to perform in front of her
master. She closed her eyes and sank to her knees spreading them wide as if
offering herself to any man that would take her. She allowed her mind to conjure
a slave collar locked about her neck and chains on her legs and arms, a symbolic
enslavement, but nothing that would interfere with her erotic dance. For minutes
she let her own hand tease her, moaning freely at each new sensation she
generated within her, but eventually she opened her eyes and the spell was
broken. She stared at her slave who was now straining on the cross in helpless
arousal, this was better she thought, the absolute power that she had over his
mind and body was the strongest aphrodisiac of all.

She was ready for her slave now. Slowly she advanced towards him, her body
language leaving him in no doubt as to what his mistress desired. She began to
rub the oil into his chest, quickly widening her attentions so that soon, like
her, his whole body glistened with the oily liquid. Her touch was more than he
could bare, the sensation of her hand gliding without friction across his now
super sensitive body was driving him insane.

He heard her laugh, as if at some private joke that he was excluded from, and
then her mocking whisper "I think we need Frank again.". She squatted down in
front of him, letting her mouth tease and tempt his cock, as she reached behind
him to activate the switch. As she rose again to her feet he could feel the
phallus inside of him start pumping again, fucking him, adding to his ever more
desperate state of arousal. The time had come, her slave was now prepared and
ready for her. She climbed onto him.

To allow her to mount him, she had stirrups fixed to the wooden beams of the
cross and some twelve inches above the ground into which she could place her feet
and which were strong enough to support the full weight of her body. Other
handholds and rings bolted higher up on the cross allowed her to hold herself
against her slave and control her movement. She stood in the stirrups her body
towering over him, her legs enveloping his hips. He could not resist her, even if
he wanted to, she forced herself on to him and burying his face between her
breasts. Grabbed the rear of his hood, she jerked his head back against the
chains that bound it to the cross, forcing him to look into her eyes

"Don’t disappoint me" she hissed.

Holding onto the cross with one hand, she allowed her knees to bend, letting
their bodies slide against each other as she lowered herself onto him. With her
free hand she grasped his penis, guiding it into her. There was a moments
resistance and then it sunk inside of her. For a brief moment he saw her
dominance over him slip as she let out an involuntary gasp as he entered her, but
it lasted only an instant, and once again she was his mistress. Slowly and with
great skill she began to work her body against his, sometimes pressing her whole
body hard against him, letting her nipples rub against the hairs of his chest. At
other times holding herself away, the only contact being where his sex entered
her body. But always with her eyes locked on to his face watching every detail of
his enslaved passion. They were now bound together on the cross, he by the
leather and steel  which held him its prisoner, she by her own force of will as
she thrust herself against him

Beneath the mask the man continued to be tormented by his own arousal and his
utter helplessness in directing its course, behind his gag he let forth a stream
of sounds, in a desperate attempt to tell his mistress of his need. Time and
again she brought him close to his own orgasm but whether by design or her own
selfish need she would never let him reach that point of no return. Deep down he
knew that his time would come later, but in such a way as to allow his mistress
to take yet more pleasure from his humiliation. His role in this was clear, he
was her slave and had no choice but to squirm and beg for her touch, to debase
himself before her so that she might take pleasure from his chained and tormented
body.

And what pleasure she took from him, her face was a masked of wanton lust as she
let their bodies slide together, her every motion designed to sustain and
increase the waves of pleasure flowing through her. Gradually, though, the rhythm
of her movements changed as she felt her body came closer to its climax. Her
movements became more erratic and violent. Then without warning she flung her
head back and let out a succession of cries as the orgasm hit her, she continued
to thrust hard against him for another thirty seconds as wave after wave of
sensation flowed through her. But finally even she could take no more, she lifted
herself off him and stood down from the cross. Her hair, wet from the oil and the
exertion of her love making, was plastered to her head. For several minutes she
just stood there as she recovered her composure, more than once her body spasmed
uncontrollably as the after-shocks of her orgasm rushed through her. At last she
spoke to him.

"Now my little slut it’s your turn, I want to see you perform for your mistress.
I want to hear you beg for me to let you cum"

She reach forward and removed the gag from the man’s mouth.

For the first time since his ordeal began he had the power to speak and
communicate his burning desires to his mistress, but he could not bring himself
to do so. With the gag forced into his mouth he could moan and beg freely,
knowing that whatever sounds came out would be garbled and unintelligible, the
uncontrolled reaction of a slave to his mistress’s touch. But now she had given
him back his voice, he could no longer pretend that he was the helpless victim of
his mistress’s depraved desires. He knew that she would not release him, either
sexually or physically, until he had used his full powers of communication to beg
her to humiliate him and to plead for the touch of her hand on his body. That
would be the greatest humiliation, to be forced to admit in the most unambiguous
of terms that his greatest desire in the world was to be her slave.

In a voice, no louder than a whisper, he said "Touch me. Please touch me
Mistress."

This was power, she thought, to bind a person naked to a cross, then turn him
from a cultured, intelligent man to a naked slave in heat who would humiliate
himself totally in front of you just so that you might deem to touch him. She let
her hand run up the out side of his leg, then moving across his torso. She could
feel his muscles twitch and jerk as if shocked by an electric current.

"Tell me where you want me to touch you" She wanted to force from him his deepest
and darkest desires, to watch his shame as he was forced to beg for his own
humiliation.

"Please mistress, touch my prick, let me cum."

She let her hand slip down, moving effortlessly against his oiled and slippery
skin, until it came to rest between his legs, lightly brushing his scrotum. With
her other hand she reach forward holding onto the shaft of his erect penis,
letting it run slowly up and down its length. She watched as her slave closed his
eyes in response to her caress.

"Open your eyes slave, look at your mistress. Tell me who you are and what you
want from me."

He forced himself to open his eyes, his whole being was focused on the pressure
building up between his legs. The twin action of his mistresses hand and the
dildo sliding in and out of him was drawing his body nearer and near to its
climax. His arms found hidden reserves of strength and fought against the chains
that imprisoned him, trying to move his body in unison with his mistress’s hand.
Through the haze of his mounting passion he saw the mocking smile of the woman
and once again felt the raw heat of his humiliation. He was helpless in her
presence, he would do anything, humiliate himself in anyway that she wished, just
providing she promised not to stop.

"Please mistress, don’t stop." He gasped. "I’m your slave, don’t stop, please
don’t stop"

He could not believe to what heights of terrible ecstasy she was taking him, he
could not endure the pressure building inside of him. More than once he felt he
was about to orgasm, only to feel it slip from him, to be replaced seconds later,
by a state of arousal even higher than before. His head pulled in desperation
against the chains which held it, and from his mouth came a stream of words
begging her not to stop.

Without warning something within his body changed, his mistress sensed it also,
kneeling down in front of him she pumped his penis with increased vigour. The
moment of his climax was terrible in its intensity, he had lost control of his
body, he went rigid as the orgasm hit him and the jet of semen shot from his
body. His mistress did not stop as she was hit by the hot sticky liquid, but kept
on pumping his penis forcing every last drop from his body. Only when the knees
of her slave buckled, his body spent of passion, did she finally stop.

Through his exhaustion he saw his mistress standing before him, his sperm running
down over her breasts. Fearful of her anger he forced his legs to once again take
the weight of his body. In a whisper he said.

"Thank you Mistress."

Reaching up, she released the chains attached to his hood, he could at last move
his head freely. She turned her attention to the dildo which was still in
continuous motion inside of him, there was a few seconds delay and then the
humiliating invader retreated from his body. She reappeared at his side, the
cruel smile replaced by one more gentle, she spoke to him again.

"There is one more task that you must carry out slave, before I give you back you
freedom. You will lick my body clean of this." She said, as she gazed down at the
semen that covered her breasts.

She stood in the stirrups, their bodies once again locked together, her breasts
and nipples inches from his face, but their passion had gone now, replaced by a
gentle warmth towards each other and a sense of calm serenity. With one hand she
unfastened the laces and straps which held the hood about his face, with a final
tug she pulled the mask from his head and let it drop to the floor. She allowed
her hand stroke the hair of his head as they stood in silence, their bodies
pressed together. He had never felt so spent and exhausted in his life, but she
had honoured her part of the contract and in gratitude he gently kissed each
nipple in turn before letting his tongue attend to the needs of his mistress.