Nothing Like The Sun: Nine (F/m)
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."