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Hetero Male Dominant, 41,  Florida
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What is it that I seek... a connection with a special woman who is highly energetic and loves to please... One who desires attention, affection, stucture, discipline and control... a little masochistic streak wouldn't hurt either. ... smile.

I will nurture, guide, and care for this special one... you will be eager learn me and to fill all my needs and desires.

Together we will grow through everything we explore and all the things we do. I have an enormous passion for life and I hope you do as well... for there are many activities in and outside of this realm we will share.

I will delight in the things that bring a smile to your face... and you will find completeness in the pleasures you bring me...

I have been down this road before... so I know what I seek and will settle for nothing less.

If you'd like to know more then just contact me. You should be able to provide pictures as well








Last Online:


 Dominant Male







Actively Seeking:

Submissive Female

Sub/Sub Couples

 Lives For:







 Electrical Play


 Genital Punishment

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Journal Entries:
9/11/2009 11:43:24 AM

I came out on deck by the forward pool and took a deep breath of the fresh morning air. Checking that my handlers were with me, it was time to get down to business. There were probably twenty young women in the forward pool area, most lying out on deck chairs tanning and hoping I would appear. By now, most of them probably would have recognized my face even if my unique "swimwear" hadn't given away my identity.

All eyes were on me now as I made my selection. They had all been instructed not to rush me or mob me; they had been told to keep going about their business, but that wasn't realistic to expect. Some were trying to stand out from the others, wetting their lips or pretending to suck one of their fingers like a dick. I actually had had more bad experiences with the overzealous ones, so that kind of thing usually reduces your chances of being selected. Unless, of course, they're really good at it. Fact is, there really isn't any formula to ensure that you'll be selected, and I very explicitly don't promise that everyone will be. But I do get to a lot of girls over the course of a four-day cruise; if you're young, hot, and visible (that is, spending a lot of time in places where I'm likely to run into you) there's a good chance you'll get your turn. It helps to have red hair, too, but the word has somehow gotten out about that so now I see a lot of bottle reds at my appearances. Since you can dye the hair but you can't reproduce the skin tone, it's usually only real reds that benefit from this particular preference of mine.

That morning, however, my eyes quickly locked on to a young skinny blonde with long straight hair. She was lying face-up in a deck chair, wearing a blue string bikini, one leg bent and one leg straight. I liked the definition of her abs; her moderate breasts appeared much larger by contrast with her flat stomach. I walked over to the side of her deck chair and asked for her ticket. She hadn't expected to be selected, and wasn't really ready, but she knew she might not get the chance again and didn't want to pass it up. She had tucked her ticket into her swimsuit, as many do; she pulled it out and handed it to me.

As soon as I took her ticket my handlers were there with the privacy screens—four medical folding screens that can in seconds completely seal off the area from outside viewing. Once we were "in private," I pulled the release on the modified kilt I wear for easy removal and, as instructed, she stroked my dick a few times and then began to suck it. matter how many girls a day I fuck, I'll never get tired of that sensation when a new girl first takes me into her mouth. I could see now that she was very young, probably just over the minimum age restriction, and that made me harder. I reached for her suit to liberate the nearer of her tits and began playing with her nipple. She was sitting up now, legs on either side of her deck chair, looking up at me while she sucked my dick. This one shouldn't take long at all.

In case you just dropped in from Mars or something, I guess a little explanation is necessary. I am the last fertile man on earth. The great Kurt Vonnegut once wrote a novel in which the human race went extinct in one generation because of a virus that destroyed women's eggs; he very nearly proved prophetic. The only difference is that the virus actually invades and becomes dormant in the cells that produce sperm. Infected men's sperm counts drop, but the real problem is that the virus causes sperm to be produced with crooked flagella, rendering them for all intents and purposes immobile, and sperm that can't swim don't fertilize eggs. By some accident of genetics—one that scientists are feverishly trying to understand—I am resistant to the virus. So far, I am the only known human male with this resistance—thus I am the last fertile man on earth. Sure, once in a while someone else still gets his wife or girlfriend pregnant, but for that to happen the egg has to chance into the sperm rather than the other way around. In vitro fertilization is still possible and is practiced, but unless it's sperm that I have provided these "test tube babies" are all be susceptible to the virus (while in theory, at least half of the children I father should be resistant). To control the frequency of the practice while also generating revenue, the government has introduced high tariffs on in vitro fertilization, making it prohibitively expensive for most. All in all, the birth of a baby is front-page news in all but the largest of cities nowadays.

While lawmakers around the globe try to figure out how to plan for a million-fold decline in population in the next 50 years, it is it my duty to try to preserve our species by fathering as many children as possible. The government agrees, and has passed all kinds regarding "fruitful males," protecting me like an endangered species and exempting me from many laws. I can legally have sex in public in any state of the union, for instance, and am immune from paternity obligations. But the fact that there are millions of women that want children in the United States alone and just one of me presents a distribution problem. So we have had to come up with novel ways of allowing me to come into contact with large but manageable numbers of women that want to have children, and further (since my resources are limited) to maximize the likelihood that intercourse results in conception. Sex cruises like this one have been one of the most successful methods of distribution; records show that I have fathered up to 30 children on just one four-day cruise. I'm just doing my part to save the human race; it just so happens that my part means I have to fuck as many women as physically possible.

In one of Mel Brooks' movies, the King of France famously said "It's good to be the king." He was right.

What the blond lacked in oral sophistication she made up for in raw energy; she sucked with a simple, straightforward in-out motion, but at a very arousing tempo. I was ready for intercourse, but she wasn't; caught off-guard, she was thinking about sucking me hadn't even thought to start masturbating. Rather than waste precious time getting her aroused, I called for my personal assistant, Jill.

Jill is tall and thin, with long red hair, subtle freckles, and impressive tits. Hotter than a smelting furnace, Jill is my girl Friday, always close by and ready to lend a hand—literally, if necessary. You might say she's my right-hand man, but I prefer to call her my left-hand girl, because as long as she's around I never have to resort to using my left hand, if you know what I mean. She's always around to do whatever is needed facilitate my population maintenance efforts, whether it be warming up a prospective mother that isn't ready for sex, or extracting samples for artificial inseminations.

Jill came in to the screened area and knelt between the blonde's legs. We gently guided her to lay back on the deck chair; I moved so should still suck while lying down, while Jill pulled aside her bikini bottoms and began to lick her pussy. You might expect there to be some objections to having a woman provide cunnilingus, but its one of the many things prospective mothers agree to in their pre-boarding waivers packet. Besides, in taking this cruise they are hoping to get the chance to have sex with a man they've never met at a moment's notice; a little girl-on-girl action on the side is a drop in the bucket.

Thanks to the assistance of Jill's tongue, the blonde was starting to get wet. I pulled her other nipple out of her suit and played with it, letting her keep sucking me. I looked over at Jill who gave me the high sign—she was ready. I pulled out of the blonde's mouth, then knelt on the foot of the deck chair. She pulled her legs up to her chest. I put my hands on the armrests while Jill, helpful as always, lined up my dick with the blonde's snatch. I felt a soft wetness at the very tip of my cock and Jill letting go, so I must be in position. I pushed forward and my dick sunk easily into the young girl's pussy.

Propped up on the arms of the chair, I looked at the blonde's face—was she really 21? She looked like she could still be in high school. Well, she had to prove her age to get on board, she must be. I kept pumping her, scanning further down her body. Her breasts were nice, her legs arguably nicer. She had her eyes closed—most girls do, maybe its unsettling to look up at a stranger fucking you. She was also biting her lower lip as I thrust into her.

I have to say, one thing I do miss when I'm doing my duty like this: between the emphasis on timeliness and the fact that we are complete strangers fucking, I almost never get to see a girl have an orgasm anymore. Sometimes I'll take Jill aside just for fun and lick her copper box until she cums, but since I fuck all day long I usually want to do something other than fuck in my down time.

I decided that I wanted the girl to put her legs on my shoulders. They were quite nice and shapely since they were so skinny; I kissed one of her calves as it lay on my shoulder, pumping her the whole time. Peering between her legs at her face, I could see that she was actually starting to get into it now. I often catch girls unprepared at first, but once my dick has been pounding her pussy for a while a lot of them eventually get into it.

She was so skinny, I suddenly thought, I bet she could do the splits. I had her grab her legs just above the ankle, then spread them as far to the side as she could without bending them. Wow...she was flexible. Her legs looked a lot more like a straight line across than like a letter 'V' when she spread them. I grabbed her hips, and started fucking her intensely. She was so light, I could easily pick her whole bottom up off the chair and hold it into just the right position to fuck. She was starting to involuntarily make noises now, and opened her eyes to look at me; her expression was a combination of wonder and surprise. Whoever she usually fucked must be pretty vanilla, I thought, because her expression seemed to indicate she didn't know sex could be like this.

But her getting into it was really sexy to look at, and suddenly I knew the orgasm was about to hit. I stopped thrusting, instead pushing myself as deeply into her as I could, so that my penis was right up against the cervix when I ejaculated. I felt the familiar tightening of my balls, followed by the pleasurable waves as my dick unloaded into her pussy. With any luck, she would conceive.

I pulled out and stood up; Jill was there with a wet towel and dry one and helped me clean up my junk. Other handlers escorted in a young man, who dropped to his knees and started licking the blonde's pussy. A woman's orgasm helps suck the sperm into the uterus, so we encourage significant others to lick their woman to orgasm after I have delivered my seed. They are prohibited from having sex with her themselves for at least 24 hours, or risk undermining my fertilization.

Trying not to disrupt the activity on the chair, Jill snapped an orange wristband around the girl's ankle, indicating that I had already fucked her. When I take a girl's ticket, it provides both a tracking system, together with the orange wristband, ensures that I don't fuck the same girl twice (unless, of course, I want to. It's good to be the king). It also gives her the right to refuse if she doesn't want to have sex at a particular time and place, but since I make it clear that I'll only be able to service about half of the women on board during the course of the cruise, almost no one ever does for fear they won't be chosen a second time.

I put kilt back on and put a huge clock hung on a chain around my neck. We have learned that it works best to give me at least an hour of refractory time between fucks. Sometimes the Coolidge effect would permit me to perform sooner, but experience has shown that fucking again too quickly results in low sperm counts and low probability of fertilization. The clock around my neck acts as a countdown timer until the time I will again be looking for a partner. Between the kilt and the clock, I guess I must look kind of like a white, Irish Flava Flav. I don't care—when you've got what most women want and no one else can deliver, it doesn't matter how you look. In fact, I understand that kilts like mine are becoming a fashion statement in New York, as men try to convey to prospective mates an air of virility they only wish they still had.

After the blonde, I had donated sperm to a brunette with big tits, another blonde, and a very young-looking, skinny Asian girl. It was now after lunch, time to do my duty again (darn!), and I was back out on the deck to select the girl I would do next.

My, there were a lot of beautiful women. Not surprising—prospective mothers are required to submit a photo when they apply for a berth on this cruise, and my staff screens them. I'm not gonna pick a fat ugly girl; it just seems cruel to even get her hopes up by accepting her cash for the cruise.

Most women fight for the seats where they are most likely to be seen. But way in the back corner, I thought I saw a glimpse of red. I headed that way, looking over the ladies and waving politely, and as I got closer I saw that way back, in the last row of chairs, was a spectacular natural redhead sitting next to a boyfriend or husband. She was looking at me anxiously like most girls do; I didn't look at him, but I sensed that he was scowling. I moved closer to confirm, and as I did I saw her pale skin against her jewel-green bikini, and wonderful freckles covered her flat belly. I picked her.

I walked up to her and asked for her ticked. Excited, the reached into her suit to pull it out. I started to take it, then I heard a sour voice behind me say "You've really got a nice racket going her, don't you."

"Roger, we've talked about this," she redhead hissed. "Stop it."

I half-turned to the man seated in the chair next to the redhead. "Excuse me?" I asked.

"You say you just want to ensure the survival of the human race. Then why don't you just donate your sperm, instead of using it as an excuse to sleep with another man's wife?" he said bitterly.

"As it happens, I do donate my sperm," I told him, "and you can't afford it. So I offer couples like other ways to try to have children. But if you don't want my help, there are plenty of other women here that do." I threw the ticket back at the girl and moved on.

I heard her yell "Goddamn it Roger, this was our only chance at having a family! DEAL WITH IT." Then, in violation of the rules, she ran after me, grabbed my hand, and pleaded with me. "Please, don't turn your back on me because of what my husband said. I really want to have a baby."

I looked at her, and saw that she was on the brink of tears. My handlers came up, prepared to remove her for breaking the rules, but I raised my hand telling them to hold off.

"Madam," I addressed her formally, "it seems clear that you and your husband are not on the same page with regard to the issue of parenthood. I am not willing to send a child into a family situation like that."

"Roger is a good man, and he'll be a great father," she pleaded. "He knows he can't father a child, and he's fine with raising any baby of mine. It's just...the having sex with you part he's having trouble with. You have to admit, not that long ago an arrangement like this would have been unheard of."

"That's the way the ship runs, and you agreed to those rules before you signed on," I replied.

"I do agree to those rules," she pleaded, pulling out and trying to give me her ticket. "I gave you my ticket...oh, maybe I should have just left Roger home..." She was fighting back tears.

She had agreed to fuck me, I'd turned her down because of what her husband had said. And she was a smoking hot redhead, my favorite flavor, so I was still interested in doing her. But I couldn't fuck her here and now; she was breaking the rules and if I rewarded her rules infraction by relenting I'd be mobbed by pussy next time I came on deck—and every woman on the ship it seemed was intently watching the drama unfold.

I called one of my handlers over, and whispered to him "Offer her Fantasy Room 2 at 8:00 tonight. Explain to her what will be expected, then tell her to take it or leave it."

The handler took her aside and started whispering in her ear. I saw her eyes get wide with fright as I walked off the deck and into the lower floors. Walking around below decks, I found a sandy-haired cutie with huge knockers and fucked her instead.

I have a couple of special fantasy rooms—as in fulfilling my fantasies—on board the ship. The only time I make appointments during sex cruises is when I'm going to be using one of them.

Fantasy Room 2 is the bondage dungeon. Every now and then I like to tie a girl up and fuck her in the ass. If the redhead was going to get the sperm she wanted, she was going to have to earn it the hard way.

I was relaxing with Jill in my private quarters after dinner, waiting to hear if the redhead actually showed up; only about half of the girls I invite to the dungeon do. Truth is, I'm not into hurting a girl, I just like the feeling of being in control while she's restrained. But they don't know that, and a lot of them are too afraid to keep the appointment, even if it means giving up on perhaps their only chance at conception. This one must have been serious, though, because just after 8:00 there was a squawk on the ship's intercom to my room announcing that she had arrived the handlers were getting her prepared and into costume. Excellent, I thought to myself.

Jill turned on the closed-circuit TV in my room for me so I could watch. They were just bringing her in. She looked real good in the dungeon outfit: her fiery red hair cascaded loosely around her head, contrasting starkly with the leather slave collar with a single iron ring in the middle. She was given bracelets and anklets to match the collar, making it quite easy to restrain the wearer in any number of positions. She was wearing black fishnet stockings with black, clunk heels—sorry if I disappoint, I just like them better than boots. For now she was wearing a short, loose black PVC skirt, which would soon be easily removed using its full-length zipper. Her pale, flat belly and its cute little freckles suggested an innocence incongruous with her serious bondage gear. And to top it off, she had on a black leather cupless bra, which held up her pale breasts and their fragile pink nipples so that they jutted out proudly. I could see that if I used the crop on her, it would leave big red welts that would ruin the almost ethereal paleness of her skin. Eh...I'm not that big on the crop anyway.

"Ask them what her name is," I said to Jill. She raised an eyebrow slightly; usually I didn't care. She relayed the message anyway, then ducked into the bedroom to change into her outfit.

"Erin," came the reply a few minutes later. Of course...a beautiful redhead, named after Ireland.

Erin was led over the large, wooden "T" frame in the center of the room. She held out her arms at her sides while my handlers attached the iron rings of her anklets to the frame. Then they chained her ankles to its base, and left her there to wait for me.

I watched as her eyes, wide with fright, surveyed the implements in the room. Hanging on the walls of my dungeon are some truly frightening implements of torture—none of which I would in a million years actually use. But she doesn't know that, and the sicko in me likes to let her stand there for a while, looking around the room and growing ever more frightened that I will really hurt her.

I watched her gaze, knowing roughly what she could see depending on where she looked because I was so familiar with its layout. I decided that she must have no experience with bondage and could not fathom the purpose of most of the devices in the room. She would learn.

I called down on the intercom, telling my handlers to put on the blindfold. I watched as they re-entered the room, strapped a leather blindfold over her eyes, and left again. Jill came out now, dressed to do her part: black leather bustier, skin-tight black leather pants with zippers that permitted full access to her genitals if desired, black knee-high leather boots, and her hair tucked into a black motorcycle cap. With that I turned off the TV—it would take me about five minutes to walk down to the dungeon. I think by then she would have waited enough.

She could hear the door open and slam shut, then perhaps our footsteps as we walked up to her. I stopped in front of her, Jill to the side. We both stood there silently for a minute, watching as she strained to hear what she could not see. She should have felt my presence, but she had no idea what I was doing and what was taking so long.

Finally I touched her. I barely brushed my finger against her cheek. Then I ran my fingers downwards from her shoulders. When I reached her breasts, I gently touched the soft skin until the nipples started protruding. Once they were big enough to grasp, I grabbed each between my thumb and index finger, pulling just hard enough to be slightly uncomfortable, and twisting them until they were fully erect. Not expecting the sudden change, let out a small squeaking noise and tensed up, steeling herself for pain that didn't come.

Her nipples were wonderful, long and very pale pink in color. I licked one a few time before putting one in my mouth, sucking it, then gently biting it. Then just as suddenly I left her standing there, taking my seat in my heavy wooden throne chair. Jill knew this was her cue to remove Erin's blindfold. She saw me sitting in the throne, wearing black leather chaps and boots and nothing else, and tried not to be obvious when she gulped.

Jill unchained Erin from the T-frame, locking her hands together behind her as if she was handcuffed. Then she grabbed her by the arm and marched her up to my chair.

"So Erin," I said with disdain, "I take it you have worked things out with...Roger?"

She nodded, yes.

"You acknowledge that I am your master, and you will obey any command that I give you?" I continued.

She gulped again before nodding affirmatively.

I continued "The safe word is 'childless.' Should you fear for your safety and wish to end the scenario, say 'childless' and we shall stop. Of course, if you stop the scenario, you won't be getting what you came for, now will you? Do you understand?"

Another nod. I like using childless as a safe word, it reinforces the fact that that's what they'll be if they use it, and it makes them think twice before they do.

"Good, because I require some services from you."

Jill produced a leash, which she attached to the iron ring on Erin's slave collar and handed the end to me. Then she pointed to a spot right in front of the throne and told Erin to kneel there, which she did. Jill then chained her wristbands to the base of my throne and her ankles to two iron rings in the floor. Erin was now chained down on all fours, strategically placed with her face right in front of my crotch.

"Suck!" I commanded. Erin expected this, she kissed my cock, which wasn't yet hard, and licked it until it started responding. Then she took it into her mouth and started to suck on it. I held the leash in my hands; with it I controlled how far she could lift her head. For the moment, I gave her enough slack that she could have expelled my dick if she wanted. But she knew what she was here for, and the sooner I came the less of anything else she would have to endure, so she was doing her best to suck me off. And she was doing a pretty good job of it, too.

I gave Jill the secret sign. She retrieved a small box from its hiding place and took her position by Erin's posterior. I watched her work while Erin sucked me the best she knew how. The first thing she retrieved was a small vibrator, which she turned on and used to stimulate her clit. With a little effort, she penetrated Erin with two fingers—the holes in the fishnet were plenty large to allow them through—and when it started to get wet, Jill stuck the vibe in her pussy and left it there.

Next out was the lube. Jill took a little bit of lubricant and massaged it into the crack of Erin's ass. Then she took a little more and gently probed her ass until she was able to stick her finger into it. It was now ready for the ass plug—a shaped wedge that could be inserted into the ass and kept there to stretch the space in preparation for penetration.

I let Erin's leash go slack, grabbed her lustrous hair, and pulled it so that she had to let go of my dick and arch her head backwards. This was self-preservation; I didn't want my dick in her mouth when the first anal intrusion caught her by surprise. Seeing my dick was clear, Jill stuck the plug in her ass. Erin was indeed surprised, and made a sort of gurgling sound. I got in her face and said "Relax, slave, or it'll hurt a lot more. Now get on with your work." I stopped pulling her hair and instead pushed her head down onto my dick. She resumed sucking, working even harder now to try to get me to cum quickly and get this over with. I let her suck me for a while, watching the red mane bob up and down with her efforts. By design, her breasts were in easy reach; I squeezed them in my hands while she sucked.

Without warning I pulled her hair to get her off me again, then stood up and announced simply "The Sawhorse." I stood in the corner while Jill got her in position. She removed the leash first, then unchained the wristbands, again locking them together behind her back. Last she unlocked her ankles, then said "Stand up."

Jill led her over to what was basically an oversized sawhorse. She had Erin stand in front of the sawhorse, spread her legs, then chained the anklets to rings in its base. She chained her wristbands to rings at the far sides of the device. Then she attached a chain to the slave collar; it had a winch on the other end that allowed me to set the length of available chain, and in the process the angle at which she could stand. Jill cranked down so that the highest that Erin could lift her torso was perpendicular to the floor. Then she backed away and left her to me.

I came up on Erin from behind. In this position, about all you could see of her was her ass. I grabbed one of her cheeks under the skirt and squeezed it. Then I gave it a smack—enough to start to get it warm, not enough to actually cause damage. It was satisfyingly firm, so I smacked the other side. I lifted up her skirt so I could see better, then I smacked each cheek three more times. Reaching for the zipper, I removed the skirt entirely and threw it aside. I smacked each cheek once more, then grabbed the fishnet stockings and tore the middle open so that her crotch and ass were now in the open. I wiggled the butt plug slightly to get a feel for the amount of resistance, then walked around to the other side so I could grab Erin's tits and stick my dick down her throat some more.

Jill took over, spanking Erin lightly with what amounted to a ping-pong paddle, careful not to be hitting too hard lest Erin accidentally bite me. I let Erin suck me, again doing the best she could to try to get this over with quickly. Every time she took me in, I reached as far into her esophagus as I could reach. Her mouth was soft and warm on my dick; she looked up at me with green eyes while my dick stretched down her throat. It wasn't too before I was ready to violate her ass.

I stepped back and out of reach; I moved around to her backside on Erin's left while Jill stepped to the front on her right. Jill cranked the chain a little tighter, so she was having to bend down. Then she came around to me, helping me lube up my dick. Now ready, I stepped up to Erin, pulled out the ass plug, and quickly replaced it with my dick. Erin flinched and tightened up when my dick penetrated her, but the chains kept her from moving very far. It was screamingly tight at first, but after the first few strokes she relaxed a little, and I was able to get all the way in and fuck her ass. I grabbed her cheeks and watched my dick disappear into her tiny little hole. In and out I thrust, feeling that strong muscle squeeze me all the way up and down as I went. Again, her ass was satisfyingly firm as it responded to my thrusts into her rectum. I reached around and held her soft breasts in my hand while mauling her ass over and over again. The pale skin of her butt cheeks turned pink in response to my collisions with it; that made me even harder, and I fucked her more forcefully.

Erin was in a rather uncomfortable position, and not just because my dick was buried in her colon. She was also getting worried; she came her in the hopes of getting pregnant, and obviously if I came in her ass that wouldn't get the job done. As I said, I'm not about hurting a girl, I just like to be in control. So I said to Jill "sling" and pulled out.

Jill worked quickly, unchaining all five restrains. Then she brought Erin over to a hammock-like web of straps hanging from the ceiling. She had Erin sit in the sling, the chained first her wrists then her ankles to rings near the top of the sling. When she was finished, Erin was lying face-up in the sling, her arms and legs up in the air chained to support straps, and her crotch wide open and on display. I came over to Erin, pulled out the vibrator, and fucked her pussy for a while. Her pussy was pretty inviting, I had to admit. She had partially shaved her red pubes as directed, but there was a little copper crown of hair sitting above her crotch and it was very cute—especially when my dick disappeared into it. Erin was funny; she wanted me to cum in her box, so she made a point of being lively and responsive when I was fucking her there. Too bad--I wasn't done with her ass yet. I did want to cum in her pussy, though, and wanted to make sure I could re-enter it quickly when the time came. Having the vibrator in there all this time, she was plenty wet and I had no trouble penetrating her.

Satisfied I could change orifices when needed, I pulled out of the top hole and once again shoved my dick into the bottom one. Hanging in the air, strapped to the sling, she was all but powerless to do anything but take what I was giving. I fucked her ass while she was face up, but I worked her clit with my thumb to make sure she didn't dry out all of a sudden. I looked at Erin while I worked her; her face was apprehensive and damp, although I couldn't tell if it was from sweat, tears, or both. But her tight ass felt wonderful gripping my erection, and I gleefully slid it in and out of her poop chute. Then I noticed that her nipples, perky little troopers that they were, were still erect and quite fetching strapped in to the sling. I reached for one and played with it; I think it liked me. It was pink, pale like the rest of her skin. I kept fucking her ass, but now I noticed that she even had little freckles on her tits. I held her nipple more firmly in my finger now and fucked harder; her tits were bounced just the right amount in response. I looked up at her pretty face; she had close her eyes now, her red hair tossed back and hanging down out of the straps of the sling. She was curling her tailbone up slightly so that my dick was penetrating her butt more efficiently. She was fucking beautiful.

Then I felt my scrotum start to tighten up. I grabbed Erin's hips in the sling and fucked her ass hard for about a dozen strokes. Then, just when another stroke would have triggered my orgasm, I pulled out of her ass and stuffed it back into her pussy. She opened her eyes now and looked at me; I thing she could feel that the moment of truth was about to arrive. It took a couple of minutes inside her pussy to build back up to that point again, but this time when I reached it I let my self go. I felt my dick get extra-hard. I grabbed Erin by the waist, pulling her torso towards me while simultaneously stretching my dick as far as I could. With my dick as far into her as I could manage, my orgasm arrived and I deposited my seed deep into her belly.

I stayed inside for a few seconds after I finished, in case there was a late spurt—I wanted to get as much sperm into her as possible, that's what she had come for (no pun intended). She was looking at me with a jumble of emotions; happiness that I had given her my seed, trepidation at whether I had more in store for her, and between my dick and the vibrator, at least a little arousal. I touched her wonderful breasts gently, then stoked her cheek; still strapped in, I could have done anything to her I wanted. But I had already done what I wanted, so I pulled out and began to undo her wristbands. My master persona was gone; now I was just plain old me.

"I'm sorry if that was a little rougher than you're used to," I told her. She was still quivering. I touched her face gently, which mostly just confused her—what kind of guy was I really?

"Jill, can you get me an assurance card please?" I asked. Jill made a sign in the direction of the closed-circuit camera, and in a few minutes one of my other handlers entered the room with a red card that he handed to Jill and she handed to me.

Erin was unstrapped now, sitting in the sling like it really was a hammock. I had taken off her slave collar and handed her the card while Jill started removing the ankle restraints. "This is an assurance card," I explained to the still somewhat frightened but now also confused redhead. "It is my assurance that I will do everything in my power to ensure that you get the baby you desire. We will be tracking you to see if you become pregnant after this cruise. If you do not, you have a special passcode on this card. You can use it to obtain one free vial of sperm that you can use to attempt artificial insemination.

She stopped shaking now as she held the card carefully in her hands, intently listening to my instructions as to what it was for.

"If you don't want to take a chance with artificial insemination or can't afford the cost, you can also use this card to get into any of my future fertilization events, free of charge. That means you could take another cruise, or attend one of our traveling weekends—as many events as you want until you become pregnant. And, as an assurance card holder, you are guaranteed to receive at least one insemination attempt at each event."

A minute ago she was frightened of me, afraid I would hurt her, and sure I was a jerk. Now, I was giving her a virtual guarantee that she would have the child she desired, even if it took multiple attempts to accomplish. Everything she thought she had figured out about me suddenly seemed to be wrong. "I...I don't know what to say..." she stammered.

"You've earned it," I said, giving her butt a playful tap, "we'll do everything we can to get you that baby you want."

My other handlers now entered the room, bringing Erin's regular clothes with them. Jill and I left them to finish helping Erin take off the bondage ensemble and return to her business.

As we walked down the hall to my quarters together, Jill said "You're turning into a softie. You gave her an assurance card, you weren't even rough with her." Since selling sperm was a major source of the income needed to keep my organization afloat, part of Jill's job was to make sure I didn't give too much of it away for free.

I looked at her as I put my big clock on and said "I know, but I felt bad for her. Maybe because she reminded me of you." I winked at Jill, my left-hand girl and secretly my lover.

Jill took off her hat, allowing her gorgeous red hair to cascade down on her shoulders. "I knew something was up when you asked for her name. You really are a sucker for redheads."

"You would know that better than anyone, now wouldn't you?" I smiled. "Fear not, my dear—in every possible way, you are truly irreplaceable."

She gave me a little smile, then pushed her bustier down to reveal her own substantial, pale, pink-nippled breasts. I stepped over to her and began to kiss her, gently stroking her left nipple in my right hand at the same time. It was beginning to look like the 10:00 show would be a private screening...

9/9/2009 10:26:29 AM

 paid the cab driver and turned to walk into the shiny, glass-encased office building. The bright southern California sun blinded me, and since I hadn't needed them when I boarded the plane at LaGuardia at 6AM I hadn't thought to bring sunglasses. I was momentarily snowblind when I entered the building. As my eyes adjusted, I saw a reception desk in front of me emblazoned with the emblem "Better Bonds, Inc." There was a young, tan, very attractive woman in a business suit wearing a headset looking at me expectantly. Her hair was bleached almost white from sun, although it might have been some shade of blonde to begin with. Her blouse didn't actually show as much cleavage as its first impression made you think it did because the neckline was accentuated by a tight choker around her neck.

I stepped forward and began "I'm Jack Edwards..."

"Of course, from Affirmative Investments," she interrupted efficiently, "I shall inform Mr. Bower that you're here."

"Thank you," I said. Of course, I expected that everyone would be exceedingly polite to me—my company had just bought out BBI, and I was leading the team in charge of assimilating our business operations. In other words, I would be deciding who got laid off and who was retained.

In a few minutes another tall, beautiful woman came from the back. She was tanned, with brown curly hair, a very short skirt, and bare legs in pumps. The blouse she wore under her jacket was cut exactly at hem-level, so that if she moved to either side an enticing strip of flat, tan belly peeked out. A blouse like that was too racy for the financial district in New York, but perhaps things were different in LA. She came to me extending her hand, which caused the tiny strip of flesh to peek out momentarily. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Edwards," she said in a husky voice, "my name is Ellen, and I'm one of Mr. Bower's personal assistants." One of? How many did he need? "I'm to take you wherever you wish to go."

"I'd like to start with HR, please," I replied. I'd been able to see most of the company's financials on the plane, since it had been part of the due diligence. I hadn't seen anything about the staff. It seemed a strange situation; Morris Bower had started Better Bonds from scratch twenty years ago and had built it into a multi-million dollar investment firm. At a time when the market was stinging from the collapse of junk bonds, he stepped in and started buying investment-grade bonds at high interest rates. He had grown a reputation for knowing a worthless bond from a golden one. Then about three years ago, Better Bonds bottom line suddenly started shrinking. Operating expenses seemed to keep increasing at a much faster rate than profits. With the stock market becoming volatile, Affirmative wanted to increase its presence in the bond market, and made an unsolicited offer for BBI. Their board turned on its founder and sold out while it was still just barely profitable. He would be all right, though—he owned enough stock to clear probably 300 million from the sale, on top of the fortune he'd made when he took the company public in the first place.

I was set up in a conference room and was given access to the company's personnel files. I began going through them. I paid no attention when Ellen excused herself momentarily. At first glance that staffing levels seemed about right, but the expenses still seemed so high... I started looking at individual employees, and what? What's this? A position classified as a special assistant to Mr. Bower—presumably a personal assistant—but making $200,000 a year, plus stock options? That's as much money as I made—that would have to stop, I thought. And then...what? Another one?

"I'm Morris Bower," said a voice behind me. I stood to meet the founder. He was silver-haired and thin on top, but also tan and appeared fit for a man of 60.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bower..." I began, shaking his hand.

"Looking through the personnel files, I see?" he asked. Ellen appeared in the doorway behind him.

"Yes..." I said sitting down.

Morris gave a nod in Ellen's direction. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

"Don't worry about me," he said jovially, "if Affirmative wants me to stay I can, but I'm also quite prepared to retire."

"OK," I replied. The bosses back east would make that call, not me.

"Perhaps you've already noticed that we have a few...special assistants on the payroll..." he said evasively.

"Yes, I had...just how many of them are there?" I asked.

"Four," he answered, "and it might seem that they are rather well compensated..."

"Uh, yeah," I replied sarcastically. I'd never seen anything like it.

"Mr. Edwards," he began formally, sitting down. "I've run this business for a long time. I know what's the going rate for various jobs, or I wouldn't have stayed in business this long. Now I expect that when you see special assistant you think secretary, and if that's the way you look at it then they're way overpaid. But let me assure you that each of the special assistants is much more than an administrator."

"Oh? How so?" I asked patronizingly.

"That," he smiled mysteriously, "is something that you will have to see firsthand. My special assistants would like to remain employed here, and have asked if I could arrange for a forum where they can demonstrate why they have been so valuable to BBI."

He talked about them like he owned them somehow. "Oh? And how will they do that?"

Mr. Bower now stood up. "Let's just call that a little L.A. secret for now. I'm playing golf with guys from 12th National Bank this afternoon, but I'll send my private car to pick you up say, around 3:30." I hesitated, but before I could protest he interrupted "Great. I'll look forward to seeing you again this afternoon." On cue, Ellen opened the door and he swept out. I sighed. What on earth did he have planned for me? They wanted to show why they were worth their outrageous salaries—but they couldn't do it at the office? That didn't make any sense. For a minute, I thought that perhaps something outrageously improprietous might be going on, but thought the better of it. Even in L.A., that kind of thing only happened in cheesy porn movies, I thought.


Yup, there were four all right. Ellen Majors, my guide. Cherie Crawford, the receptionist at the front desk. And two others I had not yet met, Joy Peijing and Shana Flanagan. With stock options, a million bucks for four support staff. My mind couldn't keep thinking about what their special talents might be that Morris wanted me to know about, and the only thing my mind kept coming back around to was that porn-plot thing. Cheesy soundtrack porn soundtrack music kept running through my head, becoming so insistent as to be distracting by the time 4:00 approached. I wasn't real happy about Morris' rendezvous, but I had to admit I was pretty tired—my day had started at 1AM local time, so I guess it wasn't unreasonable to knock off a little early.

I was stifling a yawn when a girl came to tell me Mr. Bower's car was here for me. It wasn't Cherie, and while she was cute she wasn't dressed anything like Cherie had been—more normal, I would say. The fact that I was slightly disappointed by this surprised me.

"OK, I'll be right there," I said, shutting down my computer and packing up the papers I was planning to take back to the hotel. She waited quietly and then showed me out.

Mr. Bower's private car turned out to be a vintage 1950s Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud. A chauffeur stood by the door, waiting to open it for me. "I hope this isn't a company car," I remarked as I sat inside. A car like this was worth, what, maybe a half-million?

"No sir," he answered dryly, "this is Mr. Bower's personal car."

I have to admit I was impressed. The damn thing was as quiet as a Prius as we rolled down the boulevard. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"Mr. Bower's mansion, in the hills," he remarked. Of course—where else would we go? The cheesy soundtrack playing in my head became deafening, especially with the car generating no noise of its own to counteract it.

The car pulled up in the circle drive of a classic Beverly Hills mansion. This was too much. If there was an orgy in progress inside, I told myself as I walked up the steps, I'd laugh in their California faces and leave, calling a cab if I had to. I hadn't counted on Kitty.

Passing between the massive columns flanking the entry, I rang the bell, expecting perhaps a butler would answer the door, given the chauffeur. Instead the door was opened by one of the most spectacular women I have ever seen. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair and California tan. But what took my breath away was her outfit—she wore black leather halter top with matching black leather Daisy Duke shorts and platform black mules. Her tan was uniform, even in the exposed space between her impressive breasts, which made me think that perhaps she had no tan lines—anywhere. The massive gold-and-diamond rings she wore on her left hand seemed somewhat incongruous with the rest of her look. "Hello, you must be Jack. I'm Kitty," she purred in a deep, sexy voice. Of course you are, suddenly feeling the need to adjust the position of my trousers. "Kitty Bower, Morris' wife," she continued, "please come in."

Wife? Morris, you old crafty bastard, how did you land yourself a piece like this? Never mind, I just got a ride in your Rolls—I know damn well how you managed it.

"I...I didn't know..." I stumbled, unable to construct a coherent sentence because I had to censor myself from saying virtually every thought in my head.

"Morris doesn't usually tell people about me ahead of time," she announced. Clearly she'd seen this reaction before. "He says its easier if people just meet me rather than trying to explain me. Follow me please—Morris is waiting for you in the solarium." Her shoes clicked across the marble floors as she led me into the house. I gulped as I watched the finely toned symphony of muscles from her butt to her ankles working together as she glided across the floor in those impossibly high heels. With her back to me now, I did quickly adjust myself, giving my sudden erection some breathing room.

I followed Kitty, staying far enough back to appreciate her walk while trying not to be obvious that I was staring at it. It took some time reach the solarium at the back of the house. The solarium was a glass-walled room that overlooked the sunken pool outside. There were a number of thick, sturdy columns holding up the roof in-between, matching the ones by the front entrance. Morris was standing facing the pool, barefoot, wearing a golf shirt and khaki pants that still had a few specs of grass on the cuffs; apparently he wasn't lying when he said he was playing golf. He turned when he heard Kitty clicking up behind him.

"Mr. Edwards is here," Kitty announced matter-of-factly.

"Thank you, dear," Morris said, then reached up to kiss her—he wasn't very tall to begin with, and with those sky-high platforms she was a good two inches taller than he. She bent over to give him a quick kiss—but at the same time he slipped his fingers under her halter and tweaked one of her nipples. I couldn't decide if he was trying to hide his little feel, or whether he was trying to make sure that I saw it. "Please stick around, we may need your help."

"Yes, dear," she said in a tone devoid of emotion.

"This is quite the house you have here, Mr. Bower," I said with due awe.

"Thank you," he said proudly, "I have quite a nice life these days. I see you've met my wife..." He nodded in her direction.

I nodded, not sure what to say. What do you say when the man whose company you just took over turns out to be married to the hottest piece of ass you've ever seen? Nice going?

"Well, suffice it to say it's not always been this way, but I didn't bring you here to bore you with stories of how I clawed my way to the top," he continued. That's good, because I was expecting that was precisely what he meant to do. "I promised my trusty assistants that I would give them the opportunity to show you why they are worth the salaries that they receive." My thoughts had been so thoroughly sent off-track by the sight of Kitty, I'd forgotten why I was here in the first place.

"Ah, yes," I answered, remembering—but I didn't see them anywhere. "What do they intend to do?" I asked guardedly.

"Why don't you ask them yourself?" he replied, "they're right out here." With that he went to the wall of windows and opened the glass door to the pool area. He stood there holding it open, waiting for me to walk through. I paused for a second to see if Mrs. Bower would walk through, but she was waiting for me, too. Bowing to social pressure, I went through the door next. Kitty followed.

I stopped just the other side of the door, not knowing where to go—I didn't see anybody. Morris walked forward, just past one of the columns. "Now this is Shana—you've not met her yet..." Shana? I'd read the name in the books, but...was she invisible?

Confused, I took two steps forward and now saw Shana, and understood why I'd not seen her before; she was tied to the column. Her were fully extended overhead and tied to ropes that ran around the column itself. Her ankles were likewise tied to the column, and in the middle ropes wound around her torso, holding her closely pressed against it. A cloth gag covered her mouth. She had beautiful, flame red hair, with pale skin and freckles. She was dressed in a blouse, short-skirted business suit and heels like I'd seen Ellen and Cherie wear. Kitty stood behind me, but was thoroughly nonplussed by the site of a beautiful woman tied to the column as Morris. "Now Shana...she's Irish in case you can't tell, from Boston originally..." As he talked, Morris was toying with her as if he were posing a doll, first adjusting where her hair fell then pulling the tied-down suitjacket so that it was out of the way and her blouse showed. She watched him as he touched whatever part of her body he chose, but her expression belied neither fear nor surprise. Clearly, she was not tied here against her will. "She's got this lovely skin, but we have to make sure she's not in the sun too long, or she'll burn like a lobster. Right?" She nodded her head the little bit she could tied to the pole. As this was going on, Morris was nonchalantly unbuttoning her blouse. I was frozen as I watched Morris unbutton every button on her blouse, then pull the flaps of the blouse to the side, where pressure from the ropes kept them in place.

"Plug her in, would you dear?" he said, addressing Kitty as he pulled a small knife from his pocket. I turned away for a second to see her head back to the house, and when I looked back Morris had cut through all of the straps on Shana's bra and was now pulling its remains free from the ropes. In no time her breasts were free and exposed. They had the same delicate skin and soft freckles, with pale pink nipples. Morris tweaked Shana's nipples to make them erect. Part of my brain was screaming this was very wrong and I should leave, but instead I found myself rooted to the spot, shocked and fascinated by what I saw. Fact is, I love redheads, and Shana was about as beautiful a redhead as I had ever seen—in my book, she'd give Kitty a real run for her money.

Kitty returned, carrying a wooden box. She set it down in front of Shana, and got down one knee to open it—and I thought her ass looked dynamite when she was walking. Kitty took what was clearly a vibrator out of the box, only it was attached to a small black belt. Expertly, Kitty reached up under Shana's short skirt, and tightened the belt around her left thigh, just below her short skirt, so that it now stayed put. Then she carefully positioned the vibrator; I guessed she was making sure it touched the clitoris. Shana eyes closed momentarily, after which Kitty stood and picked up the box again. Apparently she'd found it.

While I was watching Kitty place the vibe I'd lost track of Morris. "Now this is Joy—I don't know that you've met her, either." I looked up and saw him standing two columns down. I felt I should talk but had nothing to say. I found myself stepping over towards where he and now Kitty stood in spite of myself. "Joy is of Asian descent, as you might have guessed, and is from San Francisco..." he narrated as he began to arrange Joy to his liking. She was a shortish and slight Asian girl, with long dark hyper-straight hair. Her hands and torso were tied to the column like Shana had been, but unlike the redhead she was standing on one leg, while the other was bent at the knee and tied so that it pointed upwards—greatly increasing access to her crotch. She was wearing a dress instead of a suit, and Morris was opening it down the front as he spoke—but I was too rapt in what I was watching to hear what he was saying. Her dress opened completely down the front, allowing him to push it to the sides like Briana's, except Joy was exposed from top to bottom. He didn't need to cut her bra off, it clasped in the front and so he simply pushed it aside like the dress. Her breasts were small to fit her slender frame, but their brown nipples were huge. She was wearing a thong, which I realized was a stripper's thong when Morris reached for the tiny clasps on the sides. A click here and a click there and the thong was easily removed and tossed aside. She was shaved completely bare between her legs. Kitty now brought a vibe up to Joy's crotch and began to work against her pubic bone. She turned it in circles, pressing against the folded lips there, until they began to gave way. She didn't stop until the barrier became sufficiently receptive, at which time she buried the vibe almost entirely inside her pussy and left it there.

Just beyond Joy's column there was a curving set of concrete stairs that led to the pool area itself. Morris was already halfway down them when he started talking again, saying "now I know you've met Ellen..." I lingered for a moment, taking in sight of the pretty Asian with her leg tied up and the vibrator buzzing in her box. Then I followed at double-time to catch up to Morris, by now quite interested to see how Ellen would be, um, displayed.

I skipped down the stairs and found Ellen tied face-down to the low diving board by the pool. She was actually kneeling on the cement, one leg straddling each side of the diving board, but her hands were tied to the board at their maximum reach. This position was obviously designed to highlight Ellen's tight ass. Morris had already pulled up her skirt and pulled down her thong. He was rubbing and playfully slapping the cheeks, watching the ripples in the tight muscle.

Kitty clicked by me and knelt behind her. Producing a tube of lubricant, she began to work it around and into Ellen's smaller hole. Morris meanwhile reached under her to unbutton her blouse (her jacket had disappeared somewhere along the line). When it was all the way unbuttoned he pulled the sides free and reached under—her body wasn't tied as tightly as the other girls' had been, but the way her knees were bound to the diving board, she wasn't going anywhere. Kitty had inserted one buzzing vibe in Ellen's pussy and now was working another into her upturned ass. Morris was playing with her tits underneath; apparently she hadn't worn a bra at all. When she turned her head sideways, I saw that she wore a ball gag.

When the second vibe nestled comfortably, if that's possible, in Ellen's backside, Morris turned and walked towards the corner of the pool deck, saying "and last but definitely not least, we have lovely Cherie." I don't know why I hadn't noticed her before, except perhaps that that corner of the pool deck was now in shadows. There was a shaded alcove tucked under the veranda by the solarium, and like any good pool there were reclining deck chairs lining the deck. Cherie was tied to one of them. It was laid fully flat; Cherie's thighs were tied to the armrests and her ankles were tied together with a rope that ran under the chair, forcing her legs wide open. With her short skirt, her prominently visible thong was the focal point of attention even before Morris began to, um, arrange her. Her wrists were secured to the top of the chair with two sets of handcuffs, and she wore a ring gag. Morris was talking again, but I wasn't hearing him, I was just watching as he undid the clips from her thong—also the stripper variety—and tenderly stroked the hairless mound revealed. Then he deferred to Kitty as she inserted a vibe into her pussy while he unbuttoned her blouse, lovingly kissing the large, full breasts revealed underneath. I looked at Morris, and at Cherie, and it was clear that both were quite comfortable with their roles in this scenario—porn movie plot or not, it was pretty clear what these girls' special talents were. I had to admire Morris' skill with a rope if nothing else, these girls were tied down but good—and then I remembered the stray grass clippings. He'd been golfing...Kitty must have been the one tying the other girls up. I gave her a sidelong glance; what else was she capable of?

Morris kept talking, but rapidly and with purpose undid his belt, dropped his pants and tossed them over another deck chair. Underneath he was wearing black leather shorts, too—the masculine equivalent of those worn by his wife you might say, and like her I had yet to see a tan line. It seemed very odd to see a man his age in bondage shorts—and even weirder when he whipped his rod out of them, straddled Cherie's face, and stuffed his dick into her throat through the opening in the ring gag.

I was almost paralyzed by an internal struggle. On the one hand there was my male nature, chomping at the bit to go on a rampage with all these beautiful women tied down in ready-to-fuck positions. On the other hand there was my inner executive, screaming at me to get the hell out of here. My discomfort watching Morris face-fuck Cherie turned the balance in favor of the executive, and I was about to bolt when Morris played his trump card. He turned to look over his shoulder and said to his wife, "Kitty, do help Mr. Edwards get in the mood, would you dear?"

"Yes, dear," she said in monotone. wait a minute...this was Mrs. Bower... My mouth started to stammer, but now my inner Neanderthal took over as the tan, blonde goddess marched up to me. She struck a sexy pose, then nonchalantly pulled sides of her halter top back so that her breasts spilled out. They were large and round, possibly augmented but if so expertly, and perfectly tan right up to the nipple. I was spellbound by them. It occurred to me that just because she hadn't reacted didn't mean Mrs. Bower hadn't noticed my admiration of various aspects of her, um, talent.

She stood there for a moment, and when I didn't move, she gently reached for my arm and guided it towards her breast. She moved my hand until it was brushing her nipple, then she moved her nipple back and forth against my fingers until I could no longer hold back my desire to feel them. I lifted my other hand to her other breast, tweaking both nipples with my fingers. They were large and firm yet soft and pliable at the same time; they were exquisite to the touch.

"Please touch them harder, Sir," Kitty murmured, "I like it rough."

I gulped and looked at Kitty's face, pulling a little harder on her nipples than before, but she wasn't looking at me; her eyes were focused on my crotch, and her hands had no difficulty finding the outline of the bulge within. She stroked my through my pants while I played with her nipples. Well, technically she's not an employee...I thought. Suddenly her eyes were looking at me, intense and fierce. I was frozen for a moment by them, but she cracked a hint of a smile, and before I'd even realized what she was doing she had my belt undone and my pants were falling to my ankles.

Her hand wrapped around my penis and stroked it with practiced expertise. I gulped again and stammered "I...I..." Then quick as a flash, Kitty was on her knees, and my dick was disappearing between her ruby lips. Aaaahhhhh was all I could think, it felt so good when Kitty caressed me with her tongue. No surprise, this girl KNEW how to suck dick. She swallowed my entire length almost effortlessly, using her tongue and the roof of her mouth to great effect along the way. Involuntarily, I exhaled "Oooohhhh...."

"That's the way, Kitty darling," Morris commented, "Daddy's got something for you later." For just a second, her face cracked a hint of a smile at his promise/threat, then [schlup] my dick disappeared into her throat again.

Morris pulled his dick out of Cherie's mouth and walked up next to us, as if standing next to your wife while she sucked another man's dick was the most natural thing in the world. He patted her head affectionately, "Ah, dear Kitty...she sure does suck a mean dick, eh? Suck a golf ball through a garden hose, that one." She smiled at the compliment. He bent over and slapped her on the ass—and I don't mean gently, I mean HARD. She responded by sucking me with even greater urgency.

"All right now, looks like you're in the spirit..." he said cheerfully. Kitty spit my dick out and stood up. "Pick anywhere you want—just unplug the vibrator and plug away for yourself. Me, I'm intrigued by the predicament Ms. Joy finds herself in..."

"But, Mr. Bower...," I said plaintively, "that would be harassment." Standing on the pool deck with my flagpole pointing at 11:00 just didn't seem to put me in a strong position to be arguing about harassment.

"Is it?" Mr. Bower suddenly challenged, his demeanor completely changed. "What do you know about harassment? Do you know what it takes to constitute harassment?"

I was caught off-guard, literally with my pants down. I guess I didn't know the precise legal definition.

"I thought so," he said when I didn't answer right away, "everyone is so quick to judge when they don't even know what they're talking about. Come here," he added, motioning that I should follow him. I hastily grabbed my pants, only having time to clasp the hook to keep them from falling as Morris strode back up to where Shana was tied. "One...repeated actions of a sexual nature that are unwelcome and persist in spite of requests that they cease," he quoted matter-of-factly as he strode up to Shana. With purpose, he strode up to her and pulled her gag out of her mouth. "What is your name?" he demanded.

"My name is Shana, master," she replied.

"Do you want me to untie you, Shana?" he demanded.

"No, master," she replied. He replaced the gag and held out his hand expectantly, like a surgeon awaiting the nurse handing him the implement she knows he will need. Kitty had somewhere picked up a riding crop, and put it into his hand with a soft [smack].

Morris appreciatively ran his fingers along the redhead's breasts, making sure the nipples were erect. Then suddenly [smack] he slapped the riding crop across them. A little more rubbing, then [smack] again, followed [smack] [smack] [smack] by belts down her torso. Each left a white line that only very, very slowly faded to red.

Morris pulled down her gag again, and asked "Shana, do you want me stop hitting you?"

"No, master," she replied.

"Do you want me to untie you?"

"No, master."

"Do you want me to remove the vibrator under your skirt?"

"No, master."

He replaced the gag again, slapped each of her tits once with his bare hand, and stormed off in the direction of Joy.

"Mr. Bower, I have no doubt that these women are here of their own volition," I pleaded, "but the repeated and unwanted clause need not apply if the situation is sufficiently intense. How much more intense than this can you get?"

"Aha, so you do know a little about harassment," Morris said with a little satisfaction, his demeanor softening slightly "but you are forgetting the all-important qualifier—IN THE WORKPLACE. Are we in the workplace?"

"No, not now, but..."

Morris now removed Joy's gag. "What is your name?" he demanded.

"My name is Joy, master," she replied with the same serious tone as the others.

"Do you want me to untie you, Joy?" he continued.

"No, master," she replied.

"What do you want, Joy?"

"I want to be your servant, master."

He pulled the dildo out of her pussy. "I'm going to fuck you now, is that all right, Joy?"

"If that's what pleases you, master," she replied.

Morris shoved his dick into her pussy—I'd gone soft during this argument, but it seemed to make him even harder than he had been.

"Have I ever had sex with you before, Joy?" he continued as he plunged his dick into her well-oiled snatch.

"Yes, master," she answered.

"Have I ever had sex with you on the premises of Better Bonds, Incorporated?" he persisted.

"No, master," she answered.

"Have you wanted me to have sex with you on the premises of Better Bonds, Incorporated?"

"Yes, master."

"What do I do when you tell me you wish to have sex while we're at work?"

"To meet you in your private office at lunch."

Morris now turned to me, still fucking Joy with her one leg tied up in the air. "Because they are on the payroll, you just assumed that I did this on the job too, didn't you? I didn't just fall off the apple cart, you know. I personally rent an office on the seventh floor of BBI's building. I never, ever have sex with anyone on BBI property—not even Kitty."

I had to admit I had made that assumption. "But still...if one of them changes her mind, she could make the case that performing sexual favors was a condition of employment..."

Morris pulled out of Joy with a smile on his face. He stood at a 90-degree angle to me so that he didn't poke me with his erection and put a fatherly, patronizing hand on my shoulder.

"I like you Jack, you think things through before you act on them. That's the mark of a smart businessman. But you just don't get it yet, do you? Come here..." and he walked back down the stairs toward Ellen, who was tied ass-up to the diving board. He knelt down by the board and pulled the ring gag out of her mouth.

"What is your name?"

"My name is Ellen, master," she answered.

"Do you want me to untie you, Ellen?" he asked.

"No, master."

"What do you want me to do then, Ellen?"

"I want you to fuck me up the ass, master."


Louder, she answered "I want you to fuck me up the ass, master."

"I'm sorry. I don't feel like it."

"Please, master?" she pleaded.


"Please, master? Please fuck me up the ass!"

"Say that again?"

"Please, master, fuck me up the ass!"

He replaced her gag and stood up, addressing me. "Now, my hearing might not be what it once was, but I'm pretty sure I just heard her beg this old man to fuck her up the ass." I nodded in agreement. "Don't you get it—that's not the kind of thing that you turn on and off! Being whipped and then ass-fucked doesn't get you off one day turn your stomach the next! This is goddamn INBRED in these girls—they're never gonna change. I don't know how, I don't know why, but these girls—these are the real deal. REAL submissives. To the core. That's the special talent that they have, one that you can't fake. The only thing that makes them happy is if they make their master happy, and the more depraved they have to be in order to succeed, the better it makes them feel afterward. These girls are NOT gonna suddenly turn on you and cry harassment. These girls are happy as a clam, because I give them the two things they really need in life—a comfortably living, and a domineering master. They are not just consenting—they are APPRECIATING adults. You can see it for yourself—if these girls can't convince you with their words and their actions, I don't know what can. Now if you'll excuse me, Ellen's been very productive today, and I'd like to reward her." With that he whipped the dildo out of her ass, tossed it aside, and plunged his erection into her rectum. I could see just a hint of a smile on Ellen's face as her anus stretched to accept Morris' dick.

I watched Morris ream Ellen for a few minutes—she may have been tied down to the diving board, but clearly she was enjoying it. But it felt awkward watching Morris buttfuck Ellen, and I wasn't willing to indulge myself. I started wandering slowly back up the stairs and towards the house, head spinning. This was the exact opposite of everything they taught us in business school...and yet, I had found it impossible to refute Morris' arguments. He wasn't a dirty old man...scratch that, he was, but he wasn't JUST a dirty old man. He had thought this through thoroughly before proceeding. And the benefits...I was just passing by Joy, and she was totally open and inviting. I turned my head away quickly and continued to head slowly towards the door. My little head and my big head were engaged in a battle royale, and the big one was just barely holding the edge. I trudged past one column, and then the next.

I heard a small jingling sound to my right. I turned towards the sound and found Shana looking at me—in my inner state I'd momentarily forgotten she was there. But what struck me was the look in her eyes. Her eyes were lovely green, a perfect compliment to her red hair—and there is no doubt, red hair is my weakness. She was simply gorgeous—but her eyes, they were so sad. They looked at me like someone had just run over her puppy. And the way they fixed on me, it seemed to be telling me that it was me—either my leaving or my ignoring her—that was making her sad. I averted my eyes, and as I did I saw the light welts on her fine porcelain skin that had been left by the crop. I don't know why, there was just something surreal about them. I found myself slowly reaching my hand towards the welt across her flat belly, wanting to touch it to see if it was raised on the skin or merely discoloration. I just barely touched it, ran my finger along it as gingerly as if it were a knife blade. Yet I could not help but feel how smooth her fine, pale skin felt.

I started to withdraw my finger, when suddenly I noticed something. Shana's nipples, which had been more or less at half-mast, had suddenly snapped to full attention. What the hell—had her nipple gotten hard just from the gentle touch of my finger on her belly? Seeking to understand the meaning of this, I looked back at her face, and discovered that the expression in her eyes had changed. Where before they had conveyed sadness, they now seemed to be begging me, "please touch me." I looked back at those rock-hard nips and Morris' words about not being able to fake this kind of submissiveness rang through my head. I studied her face intently while slowly reaching for one of them...

Expressively, she closed her eyes briefly with pleasure as I touched the tender pink nipple. Then she re-opened them, and they still seemed to be saying the same thing: please touch me, please do whatever you want with me. I gulped and pinched her other nipple with my other hand. She responded in exactly the same way.

I was completely drawn in by those eyes. I was now pawing her delicate white breasts like a hungry lion, but those eyes locked in on mine. It seemed like they were saying "I'm here to serve you. I'm only happy if my body make you happy." I don't know which was more infectious—the feeling of her breasts in my hands, or the siren's call of her eyes. All I know is I completely lost track of my surroundings, and thoughts of harassment and appropriate corporate conduct slipped further and further back in my consciousness. All I could think about was the feeling of her breasts, and the way her eyes invited me to explore further. She may have been the one tied to the column, yet she was a Venus flytrap, and I was a fly helplessly caught up in her spell.

I was so wrapped up in this silent dance I didn't notice Kitty approaching until I heard a metallic sound ringing very close to my ear. Startled, I saw Kitty standing behind the column, wielding what I would call a machete. I panicked for a second as she raised it again, but her swing landed on the marble of the column with another metallic [clang]. As the same time, Shana started to rapidly wriggle her wrists, and the ropes that bound them started to come free. I realized Kitty was using the knife to quickly cut through the ties binding her to the column just as there was another [clang]. I realized that she had been unobtrusively watching my every move; having seen me respond to Shana, she quickly came by to ensure that I could be properly served. Kitty may look and dress like a porn star, I thought, but I made a mental note to myself to NEVER underestimate what she was capable of.

Just then Shana's hands came free, and the ropes around her torso fell away. With the ties still on her ankles, she dropped to her knees and reached for my waist. My pants were still held up just by the one hook I had hooked in my earlier haste to follow Morris. Before Kitty's last swing had even cut through the ropes on her ankles, my pants had fallen to my ankles and Shana was caressing me in her mouth.

Shana wasn't quite the dick-milking machine Kitty was—but it wasn't for lack of trying. Her gag reflex was just more sensitive, and she couldn't swallow quite as much of me at once. But she was eagerly stimulating me with her tongue, and Kitty didn't have natural, flame-red hair for me to gently hold on to while her head bobbed up and down on my cock.

Next thing I knew those green eyes were looking up at me again—only this time, she was watching my face to see how I reacted to various oral stimulations. She took her hands off me for a moment, still sucking, so that she could remove her jacket and blouse. Tossing them aside, she held the base of my penis in her hands and stroked me up and down in counterstroke to the movements of her mouth. I gulped yet again—perhaps I was wrong in my initial assessment that wasn't as effective of a dick-milking machine as Kitty!

My steadily building arousal reached a plateau when Kitty returned, standing very near to me. She knelt behind Shana and began to do something with her ankles. She didn't just pull away the now loose rope, however—she replaced it with leather ankle restraints. Apparently this was a well-practiced drill, for no sooner had Kitty slipped the second anklet off that she let go of my dick with one of her hands and held it behind her at a right angle. When she switched and did the same with the other hand, I was that she now wore a matching wrist restraint. When that was on, Kitty gently reached below Shana's chin and wrapped a slave collar around her neck, buckling it snugly around her neck but making sure she didn't interrupt Shana's oral activities. Finally, she unstrapped the vibrator from her leg.

Then Morris appeared, walking up the stairs. He had a big smile on his face now. "So it took Shana to break down the final wall, huh? Let me guess—you've got a thing for redheads." I flushed slightly and shrugged sheepishly, but mostly I was entranced by this amazing blowjob. "Nothing to be ashamed of, and besides, even if you weren't Shana is still quite the looker, eh?" I said nothing, but she somehow seemed to smile when she heard this in spite of her mouth being stuffed full of my dick.

"Stop, Shana!" Morris suddenly said sharply, and she froze in mid-suck. "She's good, ain't she?" He said to me now. "If I didn't stop her she'd have sucked your load right out you, and you wouldn't have a chance to try out the rest of her." Now to her again, he ordered "Shana! Deck chair!"

Without a word, she stood and began slowly walking towards the stairs and pool level. Morris put his arm on my shoulder—a very strange experience, considering we were both sporting full erections—and he said "Come, now that you're getting started, see just how special these girls really are." We walked after Shana down the stairs.

When we got back to the pool level, Shana was standing next to the first deck chair, facing out towards the pool. She reminded me a little of a soldier at inspection, except of course that she was topless and wearing slave restraints. "Sunny side up, or over easy?" Morris quipped.

It took me a second to realize he was asking how I wanted Shana to lie on the deck chair. "Uh, sunny side up" I said once I'd figured it out. Shana immediately lay on her back on the flattened deck chair, holding her hands up over her head—perhaps to allow me to chain them to the chair if I wanted, like Cherie.

I was still pondering this when Morris interrupted "you can't fuck her like that—tell her to open her legs!"

"Uh, open your legs?" I said hesitantly. It came out sounding like a question rather than an order. She parted her thighs a few inches.

[Smack] Morris playfully punched me in the arm. "Not like that, you dolt, like you're a drill sergeant. Or like she owes you money!"

"Open your legs!" I repeated with much more conviction, and added as an afterthought "and pull up your skirt." She reached for her skirt and pulled it up to her waist. Then as she put her hands back over her head, she drew in her knees and parted her thighs as far as possible.

"There you go," Morris said approvingly, "now give her what she deserves, the dirty slut. You know she wants it!"

I was not used to this rough stuff, but my dick was still so hard from having been THIS close to cumming in Shana's mouth that sheer lust took over. I nailed her with such lust that I swear the deck chair lifted off the ground on the up-strokes. She loved it—the pale skin of her neck and above her breasts flushed pink with excitement.

I was fucking her like a madman when I became cognizant of Morris standing closer to me than he had been. I looked his direction; now that he had my attention, he handed me a tube of lubricant. "You might like to know that Shana loves it up the ass—even more than Ellen does."

I glanced down at Shana below me; her face was a combination of slight embarrassment with a variation of that earlier look of invitation. She had a look like a little girl that had been caught doing something very, very naughty, and the only way out the tight spot she was now in was to do it again. All right...I'm game, I thought. I wasn't sure just how to go about lubing her butthole...then realized I didn't have to.

"Shana!" I ordered, holding out the tube "lube your ass!" She sat up for a moment to take the tube, poured out a generous amount, then positioned her legs on the chair so that she could lift her butt. She then worked the lube around her butt crack, then pressed first one finger and then two into the tight hole.

"Are you gonna flip her around?" Morris asked. He had retreated to Kitty's side; I noticed she her hand was inside her pants, masturbating, and Morris had his hand slipped under the halter and was playing with her tits.

"Shana! Grab your ankles!" I commanded. She immediately pulled her hand out of her own butt and grabbed her ankles, spreading her legs wide. "I really prefer them sunny-side up," I commented to Morris as I repositioned myself between her thighs. Then I helped her roll her legs up a bit more than she had them, curling her spine and thus making her ass more accessible. I lined up the shot and sank it—I was hard as an iron rod, and thanks to the lube even the tightness of her sphincter could not deter my penetration. I made a few tentative strokes, feeling my way around, plumbing the depths you might say, before once again letting it rip.

Shana's breathing became labored as her excitement grew. I was about as excited as I could get already, fucking the ass of this beautiful redhead. I slowed for a second, pulling back to watch my dick disappearing into her butthole. My attention was diverted by her pussy, however, which had gone from a delicate pink to and almost angry red as her excitement increased. It was sitting there, dripping wet and gaping, but unused. It seemed a damn shame, so I decided to do something about it. I moved my hands to her the bottom of her thighs, then thrust each thumb out towards the middle. The met up right on either side of the clit. Pushing gently, I had her clit lightly pinched between my thumbs. Now when I went back to fucking her ass full tilt, I simultaneously twitched my thumbs back and forth on her clit. Shana was going fucking nuts, and I loved it. She let go of her ankles, but I didn't mind. She put her feet on the armrests of the deck chair and held her ass up to better accommodate my penetrating. I saw her gulp, roll her head, close her eyes. She was fighting to not make noise, but a few squeaks escaped. I've never been so turned on in my life.

Goddammit, you hot little slut, you are GONNA cum, I thought. I was just about there myself, but held off by concentrating on my thumbs working her clit. "Come on, you little slut, cum! Cum for me!" I growled, still relentlessly pounding her ass. Shana looked at me with eyes as big as saucers. She swallowed hard once, and then a few seconds later her thighs locked up, lifting her torso even higher off the chair. With an "ungghhhhh," her body was rocked by orgasms. My dick could feel the spasms racking her body from its position deep in her colon. The whole chair seemed to shake from the little earthquakes inside her. The glow in her face made her even more beautiful.

"That's right, cum for daddy," I snarled. I was surprising myself with just how into this I was getting. She returned to her previous position to receive my thrusts, but I rolled her over onto her side. I shoved my dick back into her ass, with one hand on her butt cheek and the other cupping a breast. It didn't take very much of that before I was the one tensing up, filling her ass with spurt after orgasmic spurt of semen.

"Shana...cleanup on aisle three!" I heard Morris say from somewhere to my right. Quick as a flash, Shana sat up and tenderly cleaned all of the juices off of my dick with her mouth and her tongue. I became aware of noises to my right, and found they were coming from Kitty, who was standing but bent over, holding on to a different deck chair, shorts now down around her ankles. Morris was standing on a low drink table, putting him at just the right height to plow his wife from behind in her heels. From the angle of his attack, I guessed he was driving the Hershey Highway, too.

I was soft now, spent from my intense orgasm, but Shana dutifully continued to suck me. I'm not sure why, but I couldn't help myself; I grabbed her red hair, pulled her head away from my dick pressed my lips against hers. I thought perhaps she would reject my kiss—maybe because that's what like the girls in the porn videos do, and that was my closest point of reference for what was happening. In reality, fact she kissed back strongly; I guess that if the master wants you kiss him, you kiss him.

I heard Morris grunt, and I knew he must be dumping his load into Kitty's rectum. There were some other deck chairs that were folded up into a sitting position; I let go of Shana and sat in one. For someone that tends to not even like locker rooms, it was strange that I wasn't uncomfortable sitting next to Mr. Bower's pool without any pants on. A few minutes later Morris was sitting in a chair next to me.

"I suppose you're wondering how BBI came to employ these girls," Morris mused. The thought had occurred to me. "It all started with Kitty, and a little misunderstanding. She was looking for a bondage supply store that had a similar name and looked up our address by mistake. We had been looking for an administrative assistant for eight months and had two openings on staff. I happened to be at the front desk when she came in, looking perplexed and mumbling that she had the wrong address. I was recently divorced at the time, and I was all to eager hire a beautiful secretary for the wrong reasons. It depends, I asked, are you looking for investments? Or perhaps a job? She told me that's not why she had come here, but she was in need of a job. I interviewed her right then, and she turned out to be adequately capable and of course she looked like a million dollars, so I hired her." At that point Kitty returned, shorts now back on, carrying two drinks on a tray. "Ahh, thank you Kitty. I hope gin and tonic is all right?"

"That will be fine, thank you," I answered, taking a hearty sip as I was thirsty after all that physical activity. It must have been damn good, expensive gin, because it made my head swim right away but was smooth as butter going down.

"A few months later," Morris continued, "as I became more comfortable with her, I asked her what she had really come here looking for that day. She asked, if I really wanted to know? The way she asked the question, well I started getting a rise right then and didn't even know why. I said sure. Next day she asks to work late. After everyone else but me left, she comes into my office wearing the tiniest skirt I'd ever seen, with slave collar and cuffs. I didn't even know there was an LA bondage scene, or I'd have named the business something else. But I soon learned that Kitty was part of it and that's what she'd been looking for that fine day. At first we just role played, then she wanted me to be her regular master. I relished the part, and within months I married her—but that left me without a secretary again. That's when Kitty suggested she could recruit a replacement from among the girls in the bondage scene if the price was right. I ended up hiring Ellen as her replacement. Word got out that beautiful submissives could get a good job AND the discipline they craved working at Better Bonds. We didn't hire every applicant, of course, but we created positions for those that left a lasting impression. At the moment there are four special assistants, although there have been as many as six."

"Unbelievable," I said, and meant it.

"And yet it's true," Mr. Bower countered. He snapped his fingers, and suddenly two girls appeared, dropped to their knees in front of our chairs, and began trying to arouse our dicks from their naps. Joy was sucking Morris, but having noted my preferences, Shana remained assigned to me. I watched and smiled a little at the lovely redhead again caressing my penis. Briefly, our eyes made contact, and she flashed her eyebrows at me as if to say "That was awesome. You are SO the man. Please do that to me again." But she quickly turned her attention to servicing my member, and Morris continued "So, have you decided what to do with our special assistants?"

"That's not quite so simple," I answered, "you've convinced me of their value, but in order to keep them on staff we'll have to get it past my boss, too. He'll be even harder than I to convince, but I think I know the way to do it. It'll have to be a bit different than this setup. Here's what we do..."


My boss' name is Jack Thurston. Because it's confusing to have two Jacks and just too military to call us Thurston and Edwards, everyone calls me Jack but my boss J.T.

"Hey J.T., it's Jack," I said into the receiver of my crackberry from the offices of BBI the next day.

"Oh, hi Jack, how are things coming at BBI? Have you figured out why their expenses are so high?"

"Some of it, and that's why I've called you, J.T.," I replied. "There are four special advisors on staff here; they make a lot of money, but in talking with Mr. Bower he's got me coming around to thinking that maybe their special talents are worth keeping in spite of their salaries. But it's going to look weird on the balance sheet, so I want you to come out here, meet with them and decide for yourself."

"Meet with them? Can't you just arrange a conference call?" J.T. retorted.

"No, you really should see what they do firsthand," I said evasively, then pulled on the string I knew he couldn't resist. "Plus, you should know it's 30 degrees warmer here than in New York, and Mr. Bower is a member of the Beverly Hills Country Club..."

"All right, all right, you convinced me," he grunted. It was no secret among higher-level managers that you could get J.T. to travel almost anywhere if there was 18 holes waiting for him on the other side. The 4 x 3 = 12 other holes that would be available to him would be a complete surprise. Fortunately, we had spent a lot of time on the road together, and I had a pretty good idea what he liked in that realm as well.

I hung up while J.T.'s secretary worked on arrangements. In the meantime, I went up to the seventh floor, and Mr. Bower's personal office, which he had been nice enough to lend me a key for. When I had passed the front desk on the way in that morning, Cherie had passed me a note. In it was a hand-drawing of a woman that looked a lot like her bent over a conference table and getting reamed by a guy that looked a little like me. I decided to take her up on it.


Three days later Mr. Bower and I were both at the airport to meet J.T. when he arrived. I made the introductions and walked with them to Mr. Bowers' Rolls, but after making sure everything was loaded I left them to go play golf. I would hail a cab and head out to the Bower Mansion.

"You're not coming along?" J.T. asked.

"No, you know I'm not big on golf J.T.," I answered. "I'll see you at Mr. Bower's house later, and you can meet the special assistants."

I went to the mansion, knowing I'd have about six hours before they'd be back. I swum a bit and lay out by the pool, naked, next to an equally naked Kitty. She was amazingly hot, but I left her alone. I didn't think I should fuck Mrs. Bower with Mr. Bower being here to give permission. Besides, I'd have plenty of chances to get my rocks off before the day was out.

The other girls arrived about three hours before I expected J.T.'s return. I carefully instructed them in the choreography of the scenario I thought would be too much for J.T. resist. With extra time to kill, I then dumped a load between Shana's legs and another up Ellen's ass.

I was sitting in the huge sunken living room when we heard the front door open and two voices in the distance. Kitty quickly got up to intercept them—she was wearing a tiny black leather miniskirt, a black leather bra, and knee-high bondage boots.

"Hi honey," I heard her say, not in her flat, slave-taking-orders voice but like any wife might welcome her husband home if she was glad to see him.

"Hi sweetie...J.T., this is my wife, Kitty" I heard Morris say. I had to fight to keep from busting out laughing as I imagined him standing there, mouth open and unable to speak as I had been when first meeting Mrs. Bower.

"Kitty darling, would you get us some drinks while we talk?" I heard.

"Yes dear." I heard the clicking of her boots fade in the distance, while Morris and J.T. now appeared in view around a corner. I was sitting on the far left side of the couch, shuffling papers. Looking up, nonplussed, I asked "So how was golf?"

"Great," Morris said equally nonchalantly, "your boss is quite a player." J.T.'s eyes were big like deer in headlights; he was trying to mouth something about Kitty, but I continued to act as if this were completely ordinary.

"Here, come look at this," I said, picking up the papers next to me and opening the middle seat for J.T., "it's the personnel papers on the special assistants. Head still somewhat swimming, he sat next to me, as we had hoped he would, and Morris bookended him on the couch.

He started to look at the first file when the clicking sound returned, and Kitty returned with a tray of drinks. As she passed them out, I commented "the papers don't really tell the story, though. You really need to meet them; they're down in the west wing, but let me see if any of them can hear us. JOY? ELLEN? CHERIE?" I shouted.

That was Cherie's cue. We heard her heels clicking on the marble floors in the distance. Gradually she appeared. She was dressed much as when I had first seen her—in a colorful business suit with a skirt that was north of appropriate but south of scandalous, bare tan legs, pumps. Her look was actually pretty common in L.A. Morris was telling J.T. about her, while I was doing my best to secretively watch his reactions. I saw him raise one eyebrow slightly and his eyes ran up and down the length of her legs, but there wasn't anything particularly unusual about her—yet.

"Did you see any of the others?" Morris asked.

"Yes, I saw Ellen, she was just coming in from the pool. I can go get her." Cherie answered.

"Please do," he replied. We all took long hits on our cocktails as the sound of her heels receded in the distance. J.T. gave me a quick eyebrow-nod, guy-code for "did you see that?" I pretended not to notice the sign—I knew he hadn't seen anything yet.

The sound of Cherie's heels now got louder again as she came with Ellen. Ellen looked like she had just come in from the pool—her curly brown hair was damp, and she wore a half-shirt over a bikini top that was still wet. Consequently, the half-shirt stuck to the wet bikini, producing a result reminiscent of a wet t-shirt contest, except that there were too many layers of fabric to clearly make out the outline of her nipples. She also wore Daisy Duke shorts and flip-flops, displaying her mile-long legs. Her tan, toned belly provided stark contrast to the silver ring in her navel.

Ellen came forward, apologizing about just coming in from the pool, while Cherie lingered behind and nonchalantly pulled up next to Kitty, who was standing off to the side. Morris started talking about Ellen's strengths—I had to hand it to the old man, he could bullshit with the best of them. But as he pratted on, the real show was just beginning. Kitty silently began to rub Cherie's back, then played with her hair. Suddenly, Kitty began kissing her, and in no time the two were exchanging tongues.

J.T. had been staring at various aspects of Ellen's tan, but eventually he noticed Kitty and Cherie out of the corner of his eye. He did a double-take, looked at Morris, who was pretending to be oblivious, and elbowed me in the ribs. I looked up, and he nodded with his head in their direction to call my attention to them. I made a point to look in their direction, then smile politely and nod like this sort of thing happened all the time, and went back to my papers.

Kitty meanwhile had just about finished unbuttoning Cherie's blouse and was sticking her hand underneath, obviously feeling her breasts. Cherie, in turn, was reaching for Kitty's crotch under her micro-mini. J.T. turned back to look, the forced himself to turn away lest he draw attention to it. He looked at Morris again, who continued bullshitting, to see if he saw what was happening. Then he turned to me, but I was pretending to be engrossed in paperwork. He thought he was the only one seeing this happening—he had no idea that this entire scene had been carefully choreographed. Kitty had both her hands under Cherie's jacket now, and Cherie had her finger under Kitty's skirt. J.T. and I had been on a lot of business trips together and consequently at least a few gentlemen's clubs. One of the two things I knew he seemed to like based on those experiences was girl-girl action, and so in spite of himself he couldn't stop watching the two girls lez out.

Just then Joy burst in, as planned. She was in fact coming in from the pool, still wet, wearing a bikini and a too-small towel wrapped around her waist.

"Oh, Joy," Mr. Bower called her over, "come here and meet Mr. Thurston."

"But I just came in from the pool..." she protested.

"It's all right, you can dry off in a minute. Just come over here and say hi," he coaxed.

She played the shy Asian very well, pretending to be embarrassed by her state of undress. Since the first time I'd met her she had her legs tied open and dildo in her cunt, her embarrassment was all acted. Morris began to bullshit about Joy. Ellen, no longer center stage, wandered over to Kitty and Cherie. J.T.'s attention was diverted to Joy for a second, but when he peeked back over in the girls direction, Ellen had joined them. Kitty's leather bikini top had been loosened, and Cherie and Ellen each had a hand groping one of her breasts. At the same time, Kitty's one hand was still in Cherie's blouse, while the other was rubbing her crotch through her shorts.

J.T. elbowed me again, hard. He nodded in the girls direction, more insistently, frowning. I looked over again, then shrugged nonchalantly. But J.T. was looking at me funny now—it was not the Jack he knew that would be unphased by this display.

"You know J.T.," I began, "Mr. Bower has been in this business a long time, and he knows an awful lot of ins and outs in great detail. I've already learned a great deal about municipal bond trading. And other things too—you know, sometimes it's right there in front of you, and yet you still can't see it until someone points it out. Take sexual harassment, for instance—I was always taught that it's a real general thing and almost anything can get you in trouble. In fact, it's a very precisely defined thing. To be harassment, one of two conditions must be met. One, advances of a sexual nature must be unwanted, persistent, and the individual involved must be given warning of their unwanted nature."

Right on cue, Joy walked right up to Morris. "Mr. Bower, sir, may I please suck you now?"

"What? Not now Joy," he pretended to protest.

"Please, sir? I really want to suck your dick now," she pleaded plaintively.

"But Joy," he whispered as if we weren't there, "our guests from New York are here!"

"I don't mind, they can watch if they like," she answered, "I just really need to taste you right now."

He didn't say yes per say, but he didn't say no, so she dropped to her knees and in no time her dark Asian hair, still damp, was bobbing up and down in his lap.

"Now, see, nothing Morris just did qualifies as harassment—in fact, as defined in the law if anyone was harassing, it was Joy," I continued. "Now there's a second condition—if the harassment is severe enough and it threatens one's continued employment. That's where Morris was such a genius. No matter how badly they beg, he never touches any of his employees on company grounds, and their employment is not dependent on their consent—they do that just because they want to. If one of them really wants a little discipline on her break, he simply takes them to an office he rents in his own name."

As I was talking, the three girls stopped groping each other long enough to walk back to the space in front of the sofa. Cherie laid down on the floor, bending and parting her legs so that we could see right up her skirt to her thong, while Kitty and Ellen gently unbuttoned her blouse. When they were done, they peeled the sides away and each began to suck on one of her tits. Cherie laid her arms over her head and closed her eyes with pleasure.

"Your man, Jack, he's good," Morris said while Joy continued sucking his dick, "looking out for the company all the time. He thought of all kinds of reasons why we shouldn't be doing this—as if I hadn't thought of them all myself. I finally convinced him that I've been around for a long time, and I wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't sure it wouldn't come back and bite the company. Even after I convinced him, he still was ready to walk away. There was just one thing he couldn't resist..."

"And what's that?" J.T. asked, half-sourly, half-angrily.

"Shana!" Morris called.

Clicking sounds came from down the far wing of the mansion. After a time, Shana appeared in view. She was wearing a three-quarter length green-and-black strapless corset with matching thong, and a slave collar, bracelets and anklets. The second thing I knew that J.T. had a weakness for was redheads, just like me. It had made it easy at strip clubs when we were on the road; one of us bought a lap dance from the best redhead in the joint and the other got the benefits of the show. I saw J.T. gulp when she appeared in view—she was stunning, and he was frozen by her appearance.

Shana's stilettos stopped clicking right by Cherie's head. Kitty and Ellen now turned their attention to her. They began by running their hands up and down her smooth calves, and then thighs. Kitty's fingers disappeared under the thong for a second, but then reappeared. Both girls slowly stood as their hands worked their way now over the strip of flat belly showing under the corset, then higher up. Eventually Ellen's hand disappeared under the cup in the corset, playing with Shana's breast, while at the same time locking lips with her and swapping tongues. Kitty, meanwhile, pulled the cup on her side down and out of the way, flashing the breast teasing it with her tongue, fully in our view.

"Ah yes, Shana," Morris sighed, "beautiful, isn't she? And if redheads are your thing, see that lovely white skin?" J.T. nodded in spite of himself, drawn like a moth to a flame. As Morris talked, Cherie quietly got up from the ground to her knees, came over to me, and without a word loosened my fly and began sucking my dick. "When she first came to work for us, she was black and blue from neck to ankles. This master she had—he was beating her senseless. This beautiful creature, and he was beating her so badly it was leaving permanent marks." Kitty and Ellen cooperatively undid the stays on the subject of the conversation's corset until it fell to the floor. Ellen continued to soul-kiss her while gently pinching her nipples, while Kitty pulled aside her thong and her fingers disappeared into Shana's Brazilian-waxed crotch. "I have no doubt that if she hadn't come to work for us—giving her the financial independence she needed to break free and find a better master—she would have been at minimum permanently disfigured, perhaps even dead. You see—these girls—we only hire them if they're TRUE submissives, not just play-acting. These girls NEED to be ordered around." Then, as if to demonstrate, he ordered "Joy...clean Cherie's asshole."

Joy dutifully moved over Cherie, on all fours. J.T. did a quick double-take when he realized she had my dick in her mouth—he hadn't noticed her come over to me—but I remained nonchalant. Joy lifted Cherie's skirt, pulled her thong down to her knees, pulled her ass cheeks apart, and began rimming her sphincter clean. "You see...I'm doing these girls a favor. They're damn near helpless—if someone tells them to do something, something inside them MAKES them comply. The world is fucking DANGEROUS for someone like that. I make it possible for them to get on in life...and of course, they do favors for me in exchange for the favors I do for them...Joy, suck me again." She started to crawl back over. "And take off that wet swimsuit," he added as an afterthought.

Joy paused by his knees, reached behind her to untie her top, then at the sides untied the bottom. Tossing both aside, she swallowed Mr. Bower's cock, naked as a jaybird. Morris then poked J.T. in the ribs, saying "Watch this." Then he grasped hold of Joy's head firmly with both hands. Then he thrust his hips forward while simultaneously pressing down on her head, forcing his cock deeply into her throat. As he forced himself down her gullet, she looked up at him, eyebrows raised, with a face that showed no alarm but rather seemed to say "how can I better please you, master?" All at once her gag reflex triggered, and she bent forward to expel the offending object. Morris let go of her head and allowed her to spit him out and catch her breath—which took maybe five seconds. As soon as the gag passed, she swallowed him again, trying to force him down her throat on her own, looking up at is to say "I'm sorry master, please pleasure yourself with my throat again." Morris grabbed her head again and pushed until his balls were touching Joy's lower lip. Then her gag triggered again, and he let her go again. This time when she re-swallowed him, he grabbed her hair, not gently but not aggressively either, and pushed her head up and down. She understood she was to resume sucking him, which she did.

"You see," Morris explained, "you can't fake that. This isn't a porn shoot where she's got to put up with it to earn her paycheck; she's letting me gag her with my dick just because I want to, and whatever I want she wants. You have to have a mindset where you're only interest is to satisfy your master, and any pain or discomfort you endure to achieve that just makes it that much more satisfying when the master is successfully pleasured. Oh, I supposed I could use a lot more chains and restraints and stuff," he continued, tenderly caressing Joy's straight black hair as she continued to administer a first-rate blowjob, "I just don't need to." Then as if to prove it, he said "girls...chain Shana down please."

Ellen moved to pick up a nearby ottoman while Kitty fetched handcuffs and rope from a drawer. Shana got down on all fours over the ottoman, butt facing the sofa. Kitty and Ellen proceeded to cuff her wrists to the ottoman, then tied her thighs to the other legs, immobilizing her.

"Kitty, show Shana who's boss," Morris commanded. Kitty picked up a riding crop and began to swat Shana's upturned cheeks. Her thong disappeared into her butt crack like a strand of dental floss, providing no protection whatever from the blows. J.T.'s mouth started to move, but no words came out. His gaze was transfixed by beautiful Shana's being spanked. I knew exactly how he felt.

Morris let Kitty swat Shana for several minutes, until there was a fine zebra-like pattern of red stripes showing against her pale, white porcelain skin. "OK Kitty, Mr. Thurston needs a little help getting into the mood."

"Yes mas...I mean, yes dear," she monotoned. She put down the crop and began to kneel before J.T.

"Ellen, please reward Shana for her suffering," Morris further commanded.

"Yes master," she replied flatly.

J.T.'s face took on a look bordering on panic—did Morris just command his wife to suck his dick? It was one thing, I suppose, to let another girl suck his dick while your wife watched, but the thought of sitting next to a man while his wife wrapped her lips around his dick was just too freaky.

I put my hand on his shoulder gently, saying "Don't worry, she doesn't work for BBI anymore."

On the other side Morris elbowed him again, half-whispering "Just wait... you won't BELIEVE how far she can deep-throat you!" Then he gave him a friendly smile and a wink, and nodded in Kitty's direction.

J.T.'s mouth moved up and down like a muppet, but no words came out. Kitty, meanwhile, had already undone his belt and just finished undoing his zipper. She paused for a second to pull her bikini top over her head and toss it aside, allowing her generous breasts to hang freely. Then she reached into his pants, having no trouble finding the fully-grown monster inside. Even though J.T. wasn't doing anything to assist her, she nonetheless took mere seconds to free his dick from his boxers—she was well-practiced at the art, I was sure. No sooner had she freed it than, slurp, it was gone, tenderly ensconced in the warm wetness of her mouth.

"Aaahh," he said in spite of himself as he felt her tongue rubbing the sensitive underside of his meat. Finally he adjusted his sitting position to allow more of his dick to be reached, and [shlup] she swallowed the rest just as effortlessly.

"You'll have a hard time getting that one to gag, right honey?" Morris asked. She looked up for just a second, raising her eyebrows in acknowledgement, then turned her eyes and her attention back to her work. Morris lovingly stroked her hair, then ran his hand along her cheek, neck, and down to her breast. He held the breast he could reach in his cupped hand for a moment, gently pinching the nipple between his first to fingers and rubbing them to tease it. "Mmmm, her breasts are so smooth. Go ahead, feel one!" Morris offered.

J.T. was still hesitant, even with Kitty's lips wrapped around his dick, but they were awful enticing hanging there, and in spite of his reservations slowly reached for one. She looked up for just a moment when he touched her breast, then refocused her eyes on his knob. Once he touched them, it was as if his hand were glued to it, for he would not let it go, kneading it in his hand and tweaking the nipple. His posture noticeably relaxed; he was resigned, now, to receiving this blowjob.

"Good work, Ellen," I now said. I knew J.T. had lost track of Shana, and that he would like watching what was going on. He looked up to find the Ellen had pulled Shana's thong down to her knees and inserted a vibrator into her pussy. With her thumb, she rolled little circles right on top of her clit, under the vibe. At the same time, she gently kissed the stripes left behind by the crop.

In my peripheral vision, I could see J.T.'s eyes lock in Ellen's thumb and Shana's pussy. Even from where we sat, Ellen's thumb glistened with moisure from Shana's secretions. He was so drawn in that although he still held Kitty's tit in his hand, he'd stopped moving it. She peered up at him for a second to encourage him to resume feeling her up, but he didn't even notice. She gave up and continued with her work.

"Ellen, please lube and prep her, then untie her," I commanded. Ellen nodded. The tube seemed to appear out of nowhere, and Ellen expertly squeezed out an amount and began to work it around Shana's butt. Once the outer surface was slippery, she pushed one finger and quickly a second into her sphincter, darting it in and out to expand the opening for penetration by a larger object.

When the two fingers met minimal resistance, she pulled the vibe out of Shana's pussy and began to push it against her anus. It was gently tapered along it's length, perfect for gradually stretching the opening. She stepped up the circling of her thumb against her clit while pushed the vibrator against and increasingly up into her ass.

Not without some reluctance, I pushed against Cherie's forehead, indicating that she should stop sucking my dick. She pulled back and knelt upright, knowing where I was headed. I slid off the couch and positioned myself behind Shana's tied-open thighs. I decided I wasn't even going to visit the pussy, I was diving straight for her ass—of course, they didn't know that a couple of hours before, I'd already spent plenty of quality time inside that vagina.

"That's the way, Jack," Morris encouraged, "you know how much she loves it up the ass. Right, Shana?"

"Yes, master," she breathed, sounding nearly orgasmic already.

I pulled out the vibrator that was sticking out of her sphincter and quickly shoved my dick into the space before it closed up. Her anus gripped me tightly, satisfyingly. I began to thrust in and out; her butthole gripped me, but she was well-lubricated and could not repel my repeated, forceful insertions even if she had wanted to.

"Cherie, come here and masturbate for us," Morris commanded.

Cherie stood up and walked around behind the ottoman where I was ass-fucking Shana, knowing that she should not walk within the sight lines—J.T. was watching intently, and seemingly hadn't blinked for five minutes. She sat on the floor behind Joy and next to Ellen. She tossed aside the suitjacket, allowing her blouse to freely fall open as she leaned slightly back. She rubbed her own nipples between her thumb and index fingers, then lifted her skirt up past her hips. She slid her thong down to her ankles with the smooth practiced grace of a stripper, then pulled on leg out of them while leaving them sexily but pointlessly dangling from the other. Spreading her legs wide, she leaned back on one elbow while rubbing her smooth vulva with the other. She rubbed her own clit, then started to force her labia apart with her fingers like a centerfold model, giving the men on the sofa something to watch. Morris' attention was split between the two shows, but J.T. probably didn't even know she was there, for all he could watch was Shana. I half-stood over her, not necessarily the most comfortable fuck position but one that allowed J.T. to see under me and view Shana's dripping snatch, tragically underutilized as I plunged into my dick into her ass.

Ellen, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, was in the meantime carrying out the last of my orders. She had unlocked Shana's cuffs, to which she responded by propping herself up slightly on folded elbows. One side effect, intended I would bet, was that her breasts hung free and J.T. could just see their sides as they rebounded back and forth in response to my penetrations. It was somewhat harder to try to untie her thighs, and after some trying she got smart—she simply lifted the ottoman and slid the ropes down and off the legs of the furniture. This in turn made them suddenly slack. I paused for a second as Shana slipped the ropes off like old kneepads, then she bend over the ottoman again and I re-penetrated her ass.

"J.T., you really should try it. I know you like red hair as much as I do," I commented, running my fingers through the long red hair lying on her back for emphasis. She turned her head slightly, a small smile on her face, as it seemed she always did when she received a compliment with regard to her fuckability.

"But...I..." he stammered. It still felt wrong to him, but the mere fact that he was now able to find words told me that, as I would have expected, that was what he really wanted. And since I had already clearly crossed that line...

I pulled out, and said, "go ahead, just lie down." Kitty responded by stopping her sucking but removing J.T.'s shoes for him. Shana, still on all fours, turned around to face him, giving him one of those pleading, "please give me your dick, master" faces I found myself unable to refuse. Kitty gently pulled on his arm, and he slid to the floor.

"Just lie on your back, she'll take care of you," I instructed. Tentatively he lay on his back parallel to the sofa, and as he did Shana pounced on his cock like a cat on a mouse. Her green eyes looked up at him with that bewitching gaze. He returned her eye contact, watching as his penis disappeared into her pretty face. Right next to his right ear Cherie, who had masturbated herself into a frenzy, was now engaged in an intense sixty-nine with Ellen, but he was oblivious to it, so rapt was he by Shana. I let her get a good start on his dick, then I came up to her from behind again. She had left her thighs wide apart while she sucked J.T., leaving the backdoor open you might say. I was careful not to fuck her too intensely, as I didn't want to hinder her ability to blow my boss, but I nailed her ass nonetheless.

I peeked around Shana's head at J.T., and the look in his eyes told me he was close to getting off. So I yet again pulled out, ordering "Shana, sit on Mr. Thuston." Without a word, she raised up her head, placed one of her heels on either side of his hips, and squatted herself down to lower herself on this erection. With a minimum of aligning, she easily impaled herself on his cock. She lifted herself up and down, kind of like modified squats, to fuck his dick with her pussy. He was so turned on by now, though, that he couldn't help but forcefully push back against her—so hard, it was knocking her off the precarious balance she maintained on her ultra-high heels. So she moved to her knees instead; now her movement were more like sliding than up and down, but J.T.'s frenzied thrusting more than made up the difference. She bent over slightly, running her hands lightly on his chest. He returned the favor, only his touch wasn't so light as he grasped hungrily at her tits and their pale pink nipples.

I sat there, masturbating, watching Shana and J.T., then Cherie and Ellen. Morris now gently brushed Joy away so that his wife could deep-throat him. She went over to make the girl-girl gropefest into a threesome. I could have called her over to service me, but didn't want to interrupt and delay the imminent climaxes.

As I watched Shana slide back and forth on J.T.'s prick, though, I had an idea. I moved right behind Shana, balancing on my feet in a deep knee bend like she had done moments earlier, so that I wouldn't make guy-guy contact with J.T.'s legs and freak him out. I touched her back gently to hold her still for a moment while I re-entered her ass for the fourth time. I peeked out from behind her head for a second, quipping "share and share alike, J.T." It was an inside joke—we often spent time in sports bars after hours while on the road, and if one of us would see an exceptionally attractive woman we'd point her out to the other. We'd argue over who'd get to fuck her, to which J.T. would always say "share and share alike—you take the bottom and I'll take the top." Of course the only double penetrating that ever took place was on the pay-per-view movies back in our rooms later. Now we were doing it for real, except he was on the bottom and I was on the top.

"Aaaahhh...oooohhhhh," Shana sighed in spite of herself was I pushed past the sphincter. Once I was in, J.T. and I both let it rip—and Shana went insane. She arched her back, holding her hips in place while we each separately fucked her respective holes. She had to stay still so that neither of us slipped out of our orifice, but that didn't mean it wasn't mind-blowingly pleasurable. The position she held to accommodate us both caused J.T.'s dick to rub against her clit on every in and out like a bow on cello. Her red hair cascaded down her arched back, and her breasts were thrust outwards, making them appear even larger. J.T. pinched her nipples between his fingers and refused to let go as he fucked her box. Her eyes were open and pointed roughly towards the ceiling, but she was paying no attention to what she might be seeing—she was overwhelmed by pleasurable sensations racing up her spinal cord. Her pretty mouth hung open, as she was too rapt to notice and close it. I had to admit, it made me feel pretty studly to make a girl feel that good, and I wasn't even on the side that could see her face.

With sensations so intense, and after so much stimulation already, none of us could not hold back our orgasms much longer. We actually came in waves. J.T. came first, filling Shana's box from underneath. Feeling his dick ejaculating inside her, combined with my pounding of her ass, made Shana climax; she nearly screamed with pleasure as her body was shaken to the core by intense orgasm. And feeling those shudders from the inside while buried in her colon pushed me over the top. I quickly reached around, grabbed her tits, and held her while my dick pulsed again and again, filling her backside with even more semen. She responded by reaching back behind her blindly and touching the back of my head, holding me in place as much as I did her until my ejaculations ceased.

As my senses returned to the world around me, I realized we had an audience—everyone else in the room was watching us double-penetrating Shana, and it was getting them all off. Kitty was perched on Morris' lap, with his dick up her own ass. He must have blown his own wad, for Kitty stopped pumping up and down on him, but he kept furiously rubbing her clit with both hands wrapped around from behind until she began to shudder. And the other three girls were all in a line, rubbing themselves furiously as they watched us damn near split Shana in two.

I collapsed on the floor, while J.T. remained on his back and Morris on the sofa. But without needing orders, as soon as Kitty's orgasm passed she was up and fixing a new round of drinks. When she's around, Kitty does seem to usually end up on the receiving end of Morris' little fishies, I thought. End is the right word, too—as many loads as he dumps into her butt, she must shit milky white!

When Kitty came back with the drinks, the girls all got up, telling us to meet them down in the rec room in five minutes. When we got there, all four of them were naked, on all fours, with their asses freshly lubed up. J.T. and I did them in a line, fucking one ass for a while then moving on the next. J.T. ended up dumping a load in Shana's other hole, while I filled Joy's bunghole with jizz. Morris didn't take part—he lay Kitty on her back on the pool table, and was fucking her senseless while she held her ankles high over her head. Which of her holes he was fucking, I couldn't tell you. J.T. took one more spin yet that night—I had mentioned offhandedly that poor Cherie was the only girl that hadn't taken a load up the ass (counting Ellen's reaming before they'd arrived), and he, quipping that all employees should be treated equally, made sure that she too received her allotted buttload of cum.

It was late by the time that was done, and even though we'd paid for hotel rooms, we agreed to stay in Morris' mansion that night. That meant that in the morning we got breakfast in bed, and then some, from the special assistants, all wearing maid uniforms...well, maybe I'll tell that story some other time. The bottom line was that wiley old Mr. Bower had accomplished his goal—he had demonstrated just why his special assistants were well worth the salaries they earned. We were convinced.

In the end there were layoffs at BBI of course—a lot of customer service functions were now duplicative of our own staff. I left Mr. Bower in charge the BBI L.A. headquarters, though, because in the end he was still a pretty damn good prognosticator. As for the special assistants, well, we found ways to justify keeping three of them on staff L.A.—all except Shana. J.T. and I decided that the harsh California sun was too hard on Shana's fragile and easily sunburned skin. So rather than keep her at BBI, we're paying relocations expenses to move her back east—where she will begin her new career as a special assistant to J.T. and myself at Affirmative Investments in New York.

7/17/2009 10:38:37 AM

She is over my knee, naked save her collar. I am still in my work clothes, shoes, tie and all. I haven't had time to shower yet. My pattern was disrupted when I came home and found my sub breaking the rules.

M, my pet, gets off work thirty minutes before I do. We have established that she has plenty of time to come home, shower, start dinner, and be waiting for me, naked but for her collar, on her knees inside the front door. Sometimes I need to be sucked off when I first walk in the door, other times I just pat her on the head and send her into the kitchen. Once in a while I'll have her bathe me, or strip me and give me a tongue bath (only in those instances when I'm feeling particularly demanding and evil).

But when I came home she was on the phone with her friend.

When I entered she looked at me, her eyes wide. She was sitting on the counter, legs crossed at the ankle. Her legs were smooth and pale white, very nice. Her body was supple and freshly scrubbed her pubic area cleanly shaven. She had her shoulder length hair back in a loose ponytail on the back of her head. As per my household rules, she wore no makeup. I allowed her to paint her nails every other day, a new color on her fingers and toes (they always had to match), but she only wore makeup when I instructed her to do so.

"I've got to go, Cindy," M said quietly. "Ok, I'll call you later. Bye."

None of M's friends knew how she liked her sex life. She kept it a secret that she needed to be used, to be owned and treated like property. On some level it embarrassed her, but on another level she needed it, couldn't be satisfied without it.

She hung up and sunk to the floor, sunk to her knees, and her eyes sunk to my feet. Her shoulders trembled a little, as she slid her hands behind her back and locked her fingers.

"I'm sorry, sir," she whispered. "I was waiting for you, and the phone just rang. I must have lost track of…"

I grabbed her by the ponytail and pushed her face to my shoes. She kissed them and pleaded for mercy.

It was bullshit. But the begging was part of the fun. Well, most of the fun if I'm being perfectly candid.

"Over here, bitch. NOW!" I barked, and walked away. She crawled after me, dogging my heels, still whining. "And shut your slutty mouth."

"Yes, sir," she murmured. I have always instructed her to call me 'sir' instead of 'master'. I used to rely on 'master' for my pets until I acquired a black subby. Call my politically correct, but it made me a little uncomfortable to have her call me 'master', especially when I was whipping her, so from then I switched to 'sir' and never looked back. I find there is a stigma of distance and respect that is instilled in our usage of the word.

I pulled my belt out of the loops and sat on the loveseat. I patted my lap, as if summoning my dog. Looking sheepish, M crawled up onto my lap and thrust her ass up into the air.

I whipped her ass until it was glowing and red. She made whimpering noises deep in her throat; my favorite. I set the belt down and used my hand, pausing to admire my red handprint in between strokes. Finally, after a dozen sharp slaps, I felt her chest start to heave. She was reaching her limit.

I pulled her thighs apart and stuck my finger into her twat. She was gooey, oozing enough juice to drown the little man in the boat. I pinched her thigh, twisted it, and pulled her legs farther apart. She had to rest on her hand to keep her balance, as I pulled one leg off the floor to leave her sopping pussy wide open and exposed.

Then I smacked it. She yelped. I smacked it again.

"Who do you belong to?" I asked quietly.

"You, sir. I belong to you."

"You are my property."

"I…" her breath hitched, "I am your property. Body and soul, yours."

I grabbed the knot of her hair and jerked her head back.

"Say it again."

"I am your property, sir."

I let her head go, and traced her red ass. I wrote words on it with the tip of my finger.

"Maybe this weekend I'll finally take you in and have some work done. Would you like that, pet?" I teased her. It was a constant threat, something I held over her head. "I'll take you to the tattoo parlor and we'll get 'PROPERTY OF N' (full name withheld) inked across your ass. I still need to think of something for the other ass cheek, but we'll wait another month for that."

She moaned. I pushed her off my lap. She landed in a heap, and quickly scrambled back into proper position. I scratched her head lovingly.

"Or maybe…" I touched her lips, and she opened her mouth like a good pet. I pinched her tongue and pulled it out. "Maybe its finally time for you to get your tongue pierced. I think you owe that to me, at least."

Her eyes were wet; with fear and excitement. They always went hand in hand with my sweet M. "Yes, sir," she half cried. "Whatever you desire."

"That's right, M," I said sweetly. I grabbed her chin and raised her eyes to meet mine. Such pretty eyes, especially when wet with tears. "Whatever I desire, is what you will do. And tonight, as part of your punishment, you don't get to come."

Her eyes got even sadder.

"This is fair punishment, is it not?"

"I'm so sorry, sir," she lowered her head again, and kissed my shoes. "Please don't do that. I'll do anything."


"Anything, sir!" she cried.

Oh, what a lovely dance it is.

"You'll suck my ass, tongue fuck my hole?"

"Yes, sir."

"You'll be my urinal?"

She paused, scared. We'd never actually gone that far before. "Yes, sir," she said finally.

"Interesting. Well, pet, if you do as told and are a very good girl maybe I'll let you come later."

Relief washed over her flushed features. Her eyes glittered.

"Now undress me."

She untied my shoes with her mouth, kissed my sweaty feet when they were bare. She used her hands to undress me fully, and then put them behind her back.

"Now do what you do best, slut."

She opened her mouth and sucked my cockhead between her full, warm lips.

"Wait," I pushed her forehead away. "Go and get your lipstick. The red."

She crawled into the bedroom, and came back a moment later with a tube of red in her mouth. I took it from her, and she got back on her knees.

"What is it you do best, slut?"

"Suck your cock, sir."

"What are you, M?"

"I'm your cock sucking whore, sir."

"Good girl," I cooed. I held her chin steady, and thickly applied the red lipstick. I smeared it, coated it generously. "Now get to work."

I held her hair loosely as she began to lick and suck. I got hard almost instantly, and pulled roughly on her hair to jam my cock down her throat. She gagged, but quickly recovered. Pulling out, she let loose a thick wad of bubbly saliva that ran down the side of my dick. I face-fucked her, jerking on her hair, for a few minutes, then let go of her hair and let her work. She was good. Damn good. Maybe the best cocksucker I'd ever had. She was worth keeping around, I had long since decided. Maybe one day I would tell her as such.

As she sucked, I let my mind drift to the evening to come. She had broken the rules, and unfortunately for her I was feeling a certain devilish ingenuity coming over me. I thought about all the things I would make her do for me: fuck her ass with a dildo as I watched; writing on her with lipstick and maybe even black marker (laying out designs for future brandings, perhaps); her food and water coming out of a dish on the kitchen floor at my feet; having her play end table as I set an ashtray and a cold beer on her back, and leaving her as such as I watched television; a round or two with the riding crop; and a long session with her tonguing my asshole.

As for her rimjobs, I find them pleasant feeling, but not as spectacular as watching her work. She despises doing it. I keep myself clean, of course, but she finds it the most degrading thing of all. Sometimes she will cry as she does it, and this always pleases me to no end.

My mind came back to the present, as M throated my cock time and again, over and over, until I felt the end coming. So did she; and she sunk lower on her knees, tilted her head and opened her mouth wide so I could watch myself spurt deep into her mouth. The jizz pooled up under her tongue and around her bottom teeth. She looked at me pleadingly. I let her look for a few moments.

"You may swallow," I nodded to her, and she did.

"Thank you, sir," she murmured, feeling sexy and looking it, as well.

"Now you've had your dinner, it's time for mine. Go and fetch it."

She hopped to her feet and busied herself in the kitchen. I relaxed for a few minutes, watching her pink ass sway as she prepared my food, and then got up to go into the shower.

It was going to be a hell of a night.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror and slipped into my new dress shirt. It didn't look too bad – maybe I wasn't the conventional ladykiller type, but for a certain type of woman I was attractive. The shirt was adorned with dancing red flames and devil's forks, over a black backdrop.

"What do you think, pet?" I asked M.

She was kneeling on the floor next to me, watching me with big, sad eyes.

She was, of course, insanely jealous that I was going out tonight. She grumbled a response, and I laughed at her.

"Look at me," I said to her. She looked up, and I spit in her face. "Don't be a bitch. Tell me what you think."

Her lower lip trembled. Sticky clear ooze shined from her thighs. She didn't move to wipe off her face.

"You look very handsome, sir," she whispered.

"Thank you," I said with a smile. "Now go fetch my black shoes."

As she crawled away I admired the new tail she had, and smacked her ass. The week before I had found a lovely buttplug at the adult superstore, a thick black plug with a long braided tail attached to it. Every night since I had made her wear it for me. She still found it acutely humiliating, which of course made it intensely enjoyable.

She crawled back out of the closet with my left shoe in her mouth. She sat it down in front of me and went off to get the other one.

Last month I had played a similar game with her. I had gone out drinking with some friends of mine. Before I left I sat her in front of the mirror told her to sit still. I put a plastic pig snout over her nose, and cute little clip on pig ears in her hair. In black marker I wrote PIG WHORE across her chest (letters reversed, naturally, so she could read it properly). I sprinkled baby powder all over the carpet around her, another trick of mine. Bondage is all well and good, but I prefer actual mental control over physical restraints. When the powder is laid out, I will see if she moves or gets up. There is no way to move and not make a mark in the powder, so she is forced to sit still or face the consequences.

And when I am disobeyed, I do the only thing she can't handle – tell her to leave. No matter what degrading thing I do to her, it still makes her wet, still presses her buttons. Threatening to never see her again is what really frightens her.

When I came back late that night M was still in position, still looking at her piggy self in the mirror. I took her into the bathroom and had her squat in the shower and piss into a bowl.

"Who's my cute little pig whore?" I teased her. She flushed red.

"I am," she said.

"Does my cute little pig whore want to have hot piggy piss dumped over her head?"

She couldn't respond, but nodded slightly.

"Then ask me nicely," I said.

"Please, sir," she said. Her voice cracked a little, and her eyes got wet. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please dump piggy piss on me."

"Since you asked so nicely," I said, and dumped the bowl over her head. I had her sit there in the shower for a few minutes, urine dripping from the ends of her hair and beading up around her pig snout.

But that was then. Tonight was an entirely different game. I tell you, trying to find new ways to humiliate and humiliation slut is a taxing chore. If you repeat yourself too much, if it gets redundant, they stop enjoying it quite so much.

M sat at my feet and put my shoes on me, lacing them up just the way I liked. Then I brushed my teeth and spritzed on some Obsession.

"I'll be gone for a few hours. Going to go out with the boys and drink some beers. But I was thinking later you and I could do something."

She perked up a little. She hated being left alone, even for a night.

"I want you to clean the bathroom. Scrub it, every inch." I told her sternly. She nodded. "And when you get done with that, do your nails. And then you can put on make-up. I won't tell you what to wear, but make yourself look nice. However you want to do it. Your hair too, make it look nice. Then find something pretty to wear – no work clothes, something kind of slutty, but pretty. Can you do that for me?"

She looked a little confused, but happy.

"Yes, sir!" she said brightly. "I'll make myself so pretty for you."

"Good girl," I said, patting her head. "I'll see you later."

And I left. I paused outside the window, and heard her talking excitedly to herself. She rushed into the closet, and I heard her pulling out dress after dress after dress. She was so excited.

I met my friends up at a local bar, and we ordered several pitchers of beer and shot a few games of pool. I don't go out as much as I used to, but always had a blast when I did make it out on the town. Before long the beer started weighing heavily on my bladder, so I started drinking a little more slowly. I had to pace myself, after all.

Around midnight, we decided to call it quits. All of us had girlfriends these days, except for my buddy J, who had a wife and kid. None of us partied like we used to, but then again, there wasn't any reason to. You get older, you realize there are other, more exquisite, pleasures in life.

Like M.

I rushed out to my car, needing to piss so badly I could barely keep from stopping and pissing right on the curb. But that wouldn't have been much fun, now would it?

A few minutes later I was unlocking my front door. M was waiting for me in the middle of the living room. She had her hair up, except for a spit curl trailing down each of her lovely cheeks. She had used a little make-up, just to accentuate her features, not to look whorish. Her nails were my favorite shade of purple, and matched the black and purple strapless dress she wore.

"You look gorgeous," I said honestly, and took her in my arms. I kissed her deeply. She wrapped her arms around me – and her hug almost pushed my poor bladder to the limit. "I do love you, M."

I had never told her that before. Her face softened, and she kissed the side of my neck.

"I love you, too, N," she said, using my real name (which was a rare occurrence, but in this case entirely expected and welcomed)

We held each other for a few more moments, just enjoying the words we had spoken.

And then….

"Ok, come here," I said, grinning at her mischievously. I took her hand and led her into the bathroom. She was so happy that she never expected what was coming next. "Now get on your knees in the bathtub, pig whore."


"Do it!" I snapped. I slapped her ass. She gave me a pleading look. "Tonight is a very special night, pet. We're going to another level between us. Don't you want that?"

She nodded dumbly and did as told. Her chest was already starting to heave.

"You look so beautiful, baby," I said sweetly, and pulled out my cock. "I've never pissed on such a beautiful face before. Now open your mouth."

She started crying. She sobbed and sobbed, and could barely hold her mouth open. I reached in and spit in her mouth, and yanked it open with my fingers. She closed her eyes and held her mouth open.

"That really is a pretty dress," I told her, as I let my mighty stream of beer-piss go right across her made-up face. I aimed between her lips, but didn't expect her to swallow it. She struggled to keep her lips from slamming shut, and started bawling, gurgling yellow from the corners of her painted lips. "Open your eyes. Look at me!" I told her.

She did as told, and I continued to empty my bladder across her mouth.

By the time I was finished, her dress was soaked. Her lipstick and eyeliner had started to smear and run. Her shoulders were slumped, and she looked broken.

"Who's my cute little piss whore?" I asked her, my voice jovial.

"I am," she whispered.


"I'm your piss whore, sir," she repeated. And then she leaned forward and licked the last drop off the head of my cock, and kissed it. "All yours."

I put my cock away and went to the door.

"Good girl. Now get naked and clean up. I want you collared, clean, and greased up in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"Pet," I told her, "I think maybe tonight I might let you cum as much as you can. You have been a good girl."

"Thank you, sir," she said, licking her lips.

And I left her to her cleaning. I stripped down and crawled into bed, and thought about what game we should play next.

"Please can I cum?" she begged, kissing the top of my shoe. She was on her hands and knees, her big ass in the air, whimpering at my feet.

"You are so adorable when you beg, pig," I chuckled, ruffling her hair with my free hand. I had a cigarette in the other hand, and the ash was getting long. "Open wide."

She tilted her head up to look at me, and with a grimace opened her mouth. I tapped my ash off on her tongue. Her eyes got watery.

"Quit being such a baby. I didn't burn you, did I?"

She shook her head. Her hair bounced off her cheeks.

"Do you want me to have to get up and go get an ashtray?"

She shook her head again, eyes still tearing up. Now her red lipstick was smeared with gray ash.

"So what is your problem, crybaby?

"Thank you for using me as your ashtray, Sir."

"You don't seem really thankful," I said slowly. "Now what were you saying about cumming?"

"Well, Sir..." she stuttered. "Last night you told me you would make me cum if I... if I..."

"If you what, pig?" I sighed, acting ignorant.

"If I peed in my dish and lapped it up."

Her dog dish, what she used to eat her meals and drink her water when I wanted to watch her crawl. Which, to be fair, was most of the time.

"Did I say that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Let's check the tape and find out," I said with a playful wink. I grabbed her hair and turned her around, so she was facing the tv on the other wall. "You really are a dirty whore, you know that? You're not even a woman, you're a thing."

"Yes, Sir," she said, head bowed. "Thank you for letting such a pig be your slave, sir."

"Take off my shoes." I said, turning on the power and rewinding the tape. She knelt back down to my feet, and used her teeth to untie my shoes. She grabbed the tongue (of the shoe) in her mouth and pulled it down so I could slip my foot out. Then the other. "Continue, pig."

She used her mouth to pull off my socks. She started to lick my toes and feet. I reached down and smacked her ass hard enough to make her yelp.

"Did I tell you to give me a tongue bath?"

"No, sir."

"I know, pig... you just cant help yourself."

"I thought you would want..."

"Shhhhh. when I want your whore mouth on me, I will tell you. Until then, you are a filthy little slut who should be happy I let her be my ashtray." She opened her mouth again, and I tapped my ash. "Oh, the movie is starting."

The movie was just a short five minute clip.

She was in the kitchen, next to the sink, squatting over her metal doggie dish. I was taping it, and laughing at her as she flushed red and let go a heavy stream of piss. It filled up the dish almost to the rim.

"Are you thirsty, pig?" I asked her from behind the camera.

"Yes, Sir," she squeaked, not wanting to anger me.

"Well then be a good little slave and ask my permission."

She started weeping, tears rolling down her face. It wasn't the first time she had done it, but the videocamera was new, and seemed to heighten her humiliation. Something about me having a permanent record of her debasement.

"Ma...may I... p-p-please have a drink, master?" she whined.

"Of course, pet," I say on the tape.

She lowered her face to the doggie bowl and started to lap at the yellow. Her mouth is contorted in a grimace, her eyes watering, and she gags a little bit.

There is a tight zoom in close-up showing her tears splashing in the piss. It's almost poetic.

Sitting at my feet, watching herself drink piss, she has turned pink from head to toe with embarrassment. Her lips are pressed tightly together, her cheeks burning, but she knows better than to look away.

"Enjoying the movie, my little porn star?" I ask with a laugh.

Back to the tape -- at this point she is gagging too much to drink. My hand comes in from off camera and dunks her face in the urine.

"Finish your desert, piggie, and I'll make you cum," I coo.

At that moment, I press pause. The tape stops, with two crying eyes looking up at the camera, while her mouth and nose are submerged in the doggie bowl.

"What do you know," I say, stopping the tape and turning off the tv. "You were right. I did say that. And did I make you cum?"

She shook her head, without looking me in the eye. She had never seen herself in action before, and its effect on her is dramatic. If she weren't a broken humiliation slut before, she certainly is now.

"I didn't? But I could have sworn I fucked you," I said, teasing. I love playing with her emotions, making her squirm. "So then tell me what happened."

"You tied my hands to the headboard."

"I remember that."

"You fucked my ass but wouldn't touch my pussy. Then you pulled out and came on my face. I tried to swallow it like you like, Sir, but you squirted it all over my face. Then you rubbed it around, under my nose and on my cheeks."

"That was fun. I should have taped that. What next?"

"Nothing," she whimpers, looking at the floor. "You left me like that all night."

I grabber her chin and yanked it up so she looked me in the eye. Her mascara has run, and now her piggy face is dripping with thin black lines. I love that look, so slutty and whorish, which is why I always make her wear mascara and eye liner.

"You mean I left you tied up so that you couldn't touch yourself? With the smell of my cum on your face driving you crazy?"

"Yes, sir. I'm so horny. I'll do anything."

"Don't embarrass yourself. You'll do anything, you'll do everything. You're already a spittoon, a community cum sucker, and a toilet." "Yes, Sir," she whined.

"And of course I had to tie you up. I didn't want you playing with your cunt without my permission. And a filthy little cum pig like you would have done just that."

"Yes, sir," she whimpered again. "I am your property. I belong to you. Thank you for training me, or for tying me down so I couldn't" she paused to gulp air and sniff back tears "so I couldn't disappoint you."

"Oh, look at the little crybaby. How bad do you want to cum?"

She got off her knees and onto her belly, stretched out on the floor with her face at my feet.

"Please, please, master, your worthless fuckpig will do anything to be able to cum."

"I don't know," I hemmed and hawed. "You've had a bit of an attitude lately."

"Oh please," she wailed, kissing my feet. "Please, sir. I'll do better."

"You better, because if you don't... "

I don't bother to make a threat. I don't have to. The last time she pissed me off, she got nothing to eat for a solid week other than dog food. One can a day. And by the third day she had to bark and beg for it like a hungry dog.

"Okay, pig I'm in a good mood today. I think you've earned a little release."

I stood up and stripped off my pants and shirt. My cock was already hard, just from watching her bawl and weep. I sat back down, grabbed her hair, and pulled her up into my lap. She came willingly, like a love-starved puppy.

"Get on," I snapped. "You better fuck me good, bitch."

Her face lit up. She straddled my lap, lowered her juicy, dripping bald snatch down onto my thick cock. She grunted even as the tip brushed her soft folds, and when she settled down so my nine inches is buried in her, she started to moan.

"You call that fucking?" I shouted. She looked at me, and I spit in her face. Saliva ran down her cheek and over her fat, puffy cocksuckers lips. I slap her tits, one after the other. "Fuck me harder, whore!"

She rocked back and forth, moved up and down.

As I predicted would happen, she came in about thirty seconds. Her spine straightened, her shoulders slumped, and she cried out in pleasure. Her body went slack for just a moment before she caught her breath and resumed her movements.

"Good girl," I said, patting your head gently. "Get off."

"What?" she asked.

I slapped her face and pushed her onto the floor. She looked up at me, momentarily confused.

"I didn't say you could cum ten times, just the once," I said coldly. "Maybe next time you'll worry a little more about my pleasure and a little less about yours."

From the look on her face, I might as well have gut-punched her. I know how much my pleasure means to her -- after all, if it didn't mean that much she wouldn't keep herself shaved and naked, crawling on the floor and performing for my amusement -- and this rebuke hits her where it hurts the most.

Standing over her, looking down at her pretty, simpering face, I put one foot on her chest to keep her flat on your back. I started working my cock with my right hand, masturbating with the thick slippery cuntslime she left on it.

"Fuck my ass, master. Let me please you with my mouth."

"No, no," I said, making the 'tsk tsk' sound. "You had your chance. You can't get me off with that selfish attitude of yours. Always worried about your precious fucking orgasms. I'll just do like you did, and take care of myself."

She started crying again, tears rolling down the sides of her face. She lives to be my fucktoy, would do anything to please me, and now must sit and watch as I please myself. It's a slap to the face of everything she prided yourself on.

"I'm so sorry, sir. Please forgive me. S-s-s-so s-s-s-sorry."

It takes a few minutes, but the sounds of her pleading and longing help get me off. I aimed carefully and sprayed my cum all over her neck and face. She held her mouth open, tongue wagging, trying to lick up as much cream as she could.

"Now go make me some dinner, pig. Unless of course you can only make enough for yourself."

Then I sat back down and turned on the TV, as if she wasn't there at all.

She crawled into the kitchen. I could still hear her crying as she cooked my dinner.

I smile to myself, and start flipping channels.


6/19/2009 6:04:47 AM

Kat watched the limousine purr down the driveway and around to the garages at the back of the house. The chauffeur had been silent, efficient, but a little sinister and forbidding as he drove from her apartment, across town and out into the countryside, until they had drawn up to the gates of this secluded house, no mansion, about an hour and a half later. Her suitcases, holding enough clothing and personal necessities for her first month here, were still in the trunk. She only carried a light jacket and a purse with a lipstick and compact of foundation, her cell phone and a handkerchief inside.

The door swung wide and Charles, the butler and personal assistant to the master of the household smiled warmly at her. With a courtly gesture, he ushered her through the great door and into an echoing, stone-flagged hallway. Closing the door, Charles gestured for her to follow him along the hallway and into the master's study. The door opened on silent hinges and Charles showed her into a brightly lit room, lined with bookshelves reaching to the ceiling. A huge bay window looked over the gardens and a large, leather topped desk almost filled the bay.

James, the master of the house, rose from behind the desk and strode briskly towards her. He smiled, genially, displaying slightly crooked teeth and lighting up his pale blue, piercing eyes. His hand was firm and slightly rough, warm and dry, as he shook hers. She felt his fingers linger a little as he brushed a fingertip across the inside of her wrist.

Kat could smell the subtle spice of his cologne, light and lemony. The English cut of his suit emphasised his slender athletic build and the breadth of his shoulders. James spent a long moment looking her over, inspecting her minutely, as though she was a particularly expensive purchase. She felt her face redden as he gazed at her chest, covered by the heavy silk of her blouse. She drew a deep breath and felt the points of her nipples harden and prickle against the silk of her bra. She looked into his eyes and, for a moment, felt as though her every thought had been poured out for him to study. Her throat tightened and she could not find the voice or breath to speak.

James smiled, a hint of foreknowledge in the easy curve of his mouth, and Kat wondered how it would feel to have those lips pressed against her skin, to feel the caress of his kiss on her mouth, or her nipple. A rush of moisture stained the silk of her briefs and she was sure that he had smelt her arousal.

James crossed the room and opened the door to the hallway, gesturing politely for her to precede him from the room. Kat passed by him, catching another hint of his cologne and, beneath, a breath of his maleness.

"Now, my dear," James said, "Let me show you to your quarters."

With long, loping strides, James led her along the corridor, the only sounds their breathing and the swish of their footsteps through the plush of the carpet. The pale wooden panelling on the walls seemed to stretch forever in front of them and Kat began to wonder how big the house really was. She had to quicken her usual pace to keep up with James and her breasts rose and fell, pushing against her blouse, as her nipples brushed against the smooth silk of her bra. James was describing the house, gesturing to the left and right, as he indicated each room that they passed. Kat was starting to feel dizzy and disorientated when James stopped, so suddenly that she almost ran into the back of him. Opening the door he gestured for her to step into the room.

She stepped into a light, airy sitting room, with a wide bay window looking out over the fields behind the house. An open doorway led to a luxuriously appointed sitting room with fitted closets and a large chest of drawers. Kat could just see a doorway in the far corner of the bedroom, leading to a private bathroom and shower. The sitting room contained an entertainment console, a large couch and a leather chair with high arms. Kat stood in the centre of the room and slowly surveyed the room in the bright sunlight. Between the couch and the chair a large occasional table supported a vase of perfect roses and, against one wall was a modern bureau with a cupboard beneath.

James watched her surveying the room, waiting, his expression almost predatory. Kat felt his eyes on her and blushed at the intensity of his gaze, wondering if he could see the hard points of her nipples pressing against the fabric of her bra and blouse, or smell the dampness on her panties. She swallowed, a little nervously, and opened her mouth to speak. James raised his finger and shook his head, indicating that he wished her to remain silent. Then he closed the door and turned the key in the lock. Kat's eyes widened a little, as she realised that they were alone and that she had seen no sign of any other staff. The room was eerily silent, not even the ticking of a clock to be heard. James stepped closer, his eyes locked upon hers like lasers.

"These will be your quarters while you serve me." James told her, "I trust that they are satisfactory."

"They're very comfortable and I am most impressed." she replied.

"Good," he continued, "I shall expect you to be punctual, precise, efficient and obedient."

"Obedient?" Kat repeated.

"Yes, do you have a problem with that?" he asked.

Kat looked into his eyes and wondered what sort of obedience he meant. The thought of surrendering herself to him and becoming enslaved to his whim brought a hot flush of desire to her body, making her belly flutter. She felt the silk pressing against the smooth mound of her sex clinging moistly to her skin as sweet nectar seeped from between her tender lips. Her throat dry, and her heart pounding in her chest, Kat nodded mutely, then shook her head.

"No Sir." she murmured, hoarsely.

James did not speak in reply; he just reached out and, using just the tips of his fingers, unfastened the button at the collar of her blouse. Kat lifted her hand, as if to push his away, but then let her it fall to her side. James' hand moved lower, to the next button, and his fingers deftly unfastened that one as well. Slowly, he slid his fingertips under the cool, slick material of her blouse and brushed them lightly against her skin. Button by button, James unfastened her blouse, pushing the fine silk aside to expose her ripe breasts, cradled in the lace cups of her bra. Gently, James slid the silk out of the waistband of her skirt and pushed the blouse off her shoulders, letting it tumble to the floor around her ankles. Kat knew that the hard points of her nipples were thrusting against the flimsy material of her bra and she blushed as she realised how obvious her excitement must be.

James reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out a small, gleaming clasp knife. Opening the blade, he reached out and took hold of the narrow strip of lace between the cups of her bra and sliced through it. Kat shuddered as the cold blade slid over her skin and the front of her bra fell open, spilling her lush breasts out of the cups. James curled his fingers, cupping the tender globes in his palms and brushing the balls of his thumbs across the sensitive hard points of her nipples. Kat whimpered in the back of her throat as the sparks of pleasure shot through her body. James slid his hands down the curve of her belly and rested them on her waist, holding her still. Leaning forward he brought his mouth so close to her ear that she could feel the caress of his breath against her cheek.

"You're doing very well, so far." James murmured, "Are you afraid?"

"No Sir," she replied, "Well, a little."

"You have nothing to fear," he continued, "provided you are obedient."

Kat just swallowed and lifted her head a little. The silk of her panties was sodden with fragrant juices from her oozing pussy. James slowly circled behind her and, a moment later, she felt his fingers unfastening the waist of her skirt and easing the zipper down. The skirt dropped to the floor in a pile of material, around her ankles and Kat felt the back of his clasp knife against the skin of her hip as he sliced through the waist of her panties. The damp material clung to her shaven mound as James slowly peeled it down dropping the scrap of silk onto the carpet in front of her. Kat blushed furiously as she felt the slick droplet slowly snaking down the inside of her thigh as her pussy oozed copiously. She knew that she would do whatever he wished now, that the very thought of her enslavement had her trembling with lust. James stepped away and ran his gaze from the shining cascade of her hair, over her breasts with the hard points of her nipples jutting at him, down her legs, still sheathed in the sheer silk of her stockings.

Opening the bureau, James took out two thin leather bands and then stepped back in front of Kat. Reaching up, he passed one band around her throat and buckled it snugly. Kat shivered, her whole body trembling, as she felt the coolness of the collar against her skin.

"Kneel." James ordered her, curtly. Kat dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands folded demurely in her lap and her head bowed. James stood in front of her, slowly removing his jacket and tossing it onto the couch. Kat heard the faint rattle of a buckle, as James unfastened his belt and lifted her eyes fractionally. She saw the swollen bulge pushing at the front of his trousers and immediately lowered her gaze again, swallowing nervously. There came the soft stutter of his zipper being unfastened and a rustle of cloth as he pushed his trousers and briefs down to his ankles.

Kat felt his hand grabbing her hair and lifting her head, then the velvety tip of his cock, slick with an oozing pearl of pre-cum, brushed against her lips. His hand twisted in her hair and she gasped as her eyes watered. James thrust his hips forward, sliding the head of his cock between her lips. Kat closed her mouth around James' cock and felt the head sliding over her tongue. His grip on her hair slackened as she slowly swirled the tip of her tongue around the head of his cock, teasing the foreskin back to expose the sensitive glans. Lifting her hands, Kat cradled the tight sac of his scrotum, as she guided the length of James' cock into her mouth and, over the back of her tongue, into her throat. James released his hold on her hair, feeling the ripple of her muscles, as she gulped the tip of his cock into her throat.

Kat sucked slowly, tasting the salty-sweet tang of his cock, and slurped sluttishly on the swollen, sensitive head. She could feel the throbbing beat of his pulse as his cock swelled in her mouth and she opened her lips wider, grazing the delicate skin of his shaft with the edges of her teeth. The smell and taste of his cock excited her and she could feel the lips of her tight pussy gummed together by the sweet juices oozing from deep inside her.

James stepped back, sliding his cock from between her lips with a loud plopping sound, as she sucked harder to try and keep the head inside her hot mouth. Kat moaned softly, in disappointment, as she saw his cock, still hard, slide glistening, out of her mouth. When James spoke, his voice was blurred by the rough edge of his lust.

"Well, you are an educated and most talented little slut, aren't you?" he said.

"Thank you, Sir." Kat simpered.

"Now go and sit in the chair." James ordered her.

Kat rose to her feet and sat carefully on the edge of the leather chair, her hands clasped in her lap. James kicked his feet free of his briefs and trousers, moving quickly behind the seatback. Catching her wrists in one hand, he used the second leather strap to fasten her wrists together, behind her back, before pushing her back against the upholstery. Kat looked trustingly up at him as stood in front of her, his thick cock pointing towards her breasts. In a single, smooth sweep, James hooked his hands around her ankles and lifted her legs so that they were spread wide, her calves draped over the arms of the chair.

Satisfied that Kat was helpless; James crossed the room to the bureau and opened the cupboard. He returned with a fur palmed glove, a large balloon glass, with a generous measure of very old Armagnac in the bowl, and a long thin wand, no broader than a pencil, that would vibrate gently at a touch of a switch in the handle. Kat watched, wide eyed, as he knelt in front of the chair and pulled the glove over his right hand. Slowly, his eyes holding her gaze locked upon him, James ran the soft fur over her bare belly. Kat felt her skin rise in myriads of tiny goosebumps as thousands of tendrils caressed her body. Her nipples were hard, swollen points and a low moan slipped from between her lips.

James' lips curved in a knowing smile as he leaned over her spread pussy and kissed the bare skin of her mound. The touch of his lips was electrifying and her back arched, thrusting her swollen clit towards his mouth, as the fur slid over her aching nipple. Reaching up with his bare hand, James pinched Kat's bare nipple, pulling and twisting until dark sparks of pain mingled with the jolts of pleasure shooting down to her belly.

Kat mewled softly, like a kitten, as James alternated long slow strokes of his gloved hand with harsh pinches from the finger and thumb of his other. Kat felt the slick nectar oozing from between the lips of her puss to make them glisten wetly as his fingers drifted over her skin. Tiny gems of sweat gathered and ran down her forehead, stinging her eyes as she opened her mouth in a low, trembling moan.

She sobbed as James slipped the glove from his hand and laid it to one side. Her lips formed an almost soundless plea as her body, taut as a bowstring, arched, trying to press her breast, her belly, any part of her, against his diabolically knowing fingers.

James picked up the balloon glass and tilted it over Kat's breast, watching the deep amber liquid collecting into a drop on the rim. The swollen droplet clung, bulging, to the glass and then fell, almost in slow motion, to splash against Kat's erect nipple. The impact of the droplet seemed to ignite a fire in her belly as the liquid spread over the dark circle of her aureole. Slowly, he tilted the glass over her other nipple, watching the spirit collect on the rim of the glass and then fall to splash against her tender flesh. Kat groaned as the liquid felt like fire and then ice on her sensitive tissues.

James leaned forward and gently lapped at her swollen nipple, tasting the dark spirit mixed with the tang of her excited sweat. The hard point jutted up from the dark circle and James gently nuzzled it between his lips suckling gently and drawing the hard nub into his mouth. Panting and moaning, Kat thrust her breast upwards, trying to force more of her nipple into his mouth, to feel him suckling on her swollen teat.

Releasing one nipple, James brushed his mouth across Kat's swollen globes, until he had the other spirit-moistened teat between his lips. Nipping gently at the hard point with the edges of his teeth he held fast to the hard bud and lashed the tip of his tongue against the tender flesh. Kat groaned and writhed beneath him as he nibbled and suckled on her aching aureole, his tongue slithering over her skin like a devious snake. Kat's pussy gushed wetly onto the leather under her ass and she could feel her lips clinging together. Her breath rasped in her throat as she tried to plead with James to undo her hands, that she might at least touch her clit. James ignored her pleas but released her nipple from between his lips and blew gently onto the hard point.

Kat groaned as she felt James' fingers gently opening the lips of her pussy and drawing the hood of skin protecting her clit down the tiny shaft. His other hand tilted the glass over the hard, swollen pearl and he poured a thin stream of the fiery spirit onto the sensitive kernel. The splash of the liquid almost drove Kat to orgasm but, just before the sensation became too much to bear, James tilted the glass back and halted the stream of liquid. Then, bending over her, he lapped gently, so as not to excite her any more, just to keep her at her current state of frustration, licking every drop of spirit from her clit and pussy

James picked up the long narrow wand and flicked the switch in the base, setting the rod vibrating with a hum, almost too low-pitched to be heard. Reaching forwards, James touched the tip of the wand to Kat's breast, just on the edge of the puckered, tender aureole. Kat yelped as the buzzing made her swollen, aching nipple throb and she opened her mouth to plead with him again.

Before she could speak, James moved the tip of the rod a little, pressing it lightly to the hard point of Kat's nipple. Kat arched her back and screamed as her pussy gushed wetly over the top of her thighs. Spicy fragrant liquid ran from between the lips of her pussy, seeping between the clenched cheeks of her ass, and her thighs vibrated as she flung herself into the air. The hard nub of her clit peeked from the hood at the top of her pussy, like a slippery pearl as Kat fell heavily back onto the cushions. James moved the rod lower down her body, sliding it easily between the lips of her pussy and teasing her slit open with the slender tip. Gently, he pressed the end against the base of her clit and then quickly whipped it away, before her excitement became too great. Kat sobbed chokingly, as her body betrayed her again, gushing hot slick juices over the tops of her thighs and down the cleft between her rounded buttocks.

James moved the tip of the wand along the wet slot of her pussy, easing it between her buttocks until the buzzing tip danced against the dark ring of her anus. Kat gasped, her eyes widening into an astonished stare as she felt the hard tip of the rod slipping into her asshole. The vibrations seemed to fill her body, making her clit and nipples swell and ache. Before the sensations could build further and tip her over the edge of a climax, James moved the rod away from her body.

"Oh God, don't!" begged Kat, sobbing in frustration, "Please don't stop now."

"What is the matter with you, my dear?" James whispered.

"I want, no I NEED to cum." she whimpered, "Please, make me cum Sir."

"And how would you like me to do that?" James asked, tormenting, "You have to tell me, to ask for what you need."

"Please, Sir, fuck me, fuck me until I cum." she begged.

James reached out and ran his fingers along the smooth skin on the inside of Kat's thigh, until his fingertips were gliding along the cleft between the cheeks of her ass. Kat lifted her ass from the leather seat, leaving a dark patch of wetness beneath her. James pressed the tip of his finger into the dark opening as her trembling legs collapsed, impaling her tender opening on his finger. Kat threw her head back and screamed as she felt his finger probing deeply, stretching her tight ring.

James moved his finger back and forth a little, stretching her ass gently. Kat's breasts glistened in a sheen of sweat as she squirmed under his caress. Unable to relieve the pressure herself, she turned pleading eyes to James' face, her breath sobbing in her throat as he plunged another finger into the sodden crack of her pussy.

"Please," she begged, "Let me cum. Fuck me hard."

"Are you ready to cum for me, my sweet?" he taunted.

"GOD YESSS!" she screamed.

James stood, leaning over her, and grasped the base of his thick, hard cock in his fist, slowly feeding the swollen head between the lips of her pussy. Kat could feel the tip of his cock stretching her pussy slowly, filling her dripping pussy with his hard manhood. Kat arched her back to take James deeper inside her pussy, feeling the head of his cock probing further and further inside her. Taking a deep breath, James tensed and then rammed his cock hard into her pussy, driving the tip hard against the mouth of her womb.

Kat felt as though her pussy were exploding, wave upon wave of sensation crashing through her shuddering body. She screamed until her throat was sore and her voice hoarse, then collapse, almost exhausted. James held her pinned to the leather of the chair as she shuddered and bucked against him throes of pleasure wrenching her this way and that, until she was swooning beneath him. Gently, slowly, he pulled back, sliding his still hard cock out of her bruised and tender pussy.

Kat groaned as she saw the thick rod of his cock still hard and his tight balls still full and heavy. She tried to protest, to offer him her mouth to cum into, but he ignored her and swivelled her around, so that she was laid across the arm of the chair, with her tight ass lifted high. Kat tried to shake her head, to deny him, as she felt his fingers parting the cheeks of her ass and dipping into the tight ring of her anus. She panted hoarsely as James slowly worked his finger into the hot, dark opening, probing gently deeper and deeper. Kat grunted as James thrust his finger firmly into her tight back passage, pushing back against him. She could feel her anus stretching over each knuckle as his finger sank into her rear entrance. James drew his finger out of her bowel, watching her face as she felt the cool air on her open asshole. Resting his other hand on the base of her spine to keep her still, James slowly pushed two fingers together into her puckered ring. Kat groaned quietly as James' fingers slid slowly into her tight asshole, opening her wider.

"Please, fuck me Sir." Kat pleaded

"Patience , my dear." James counselled, "I want my cock to slide right into your ass."

"Please, sir, I'm ready for you any way you want." Kat begged.

Even as she spoke, the memory of James' thick, hard cock filled her mind and she shivered, as she imagined him forcing it roughly between the cheeks of her ass and into her bowel. Her stomach churned, for a moment, and she opened her mouth to plead with James to be gentle as he took her. She felt his hands gripping her hips tightly as he lifted her ass higher and she lowered her head further.

Kat gasped as James used his fingertips to spread her tightly puckered anus and guided the head of his cock between her cheeks, pressing it firmly against the opening to her back passage. Kat pushed back, feeling her anus opening to grip the bulbous head of James cock. James grunted and thrust harder, looking down between Kat's buttocks and watching the head of his cock stretching the dark ring of her rear entrance. Kat whimpered as the rim of James' cockhead reached the tight ring. James paused, teasing her with his hard cock, and then gripped her hips tightly as he lunged forward, ramming his cock deep into her ass.

James' cock slid easily into her ass, slick with the juice that had run from her pussy between her ass cheeks. Kat moaned and James growled deep at the back of his throat as his slick manhood sank deeper into her bowel. Kat's belly churned as she felt his cock piercing her, his fingers sinking into her soft flesh and pulling her back onto his cock, until his balls slapped wetly against the backs of her thighs.

"Oh god yess!" Kat moaned, sobbing, "Fuck me, sir, fuck my ass."

"You are a dirty slut, aren't you my dear?" James crowed.

"Yes Sir, I'm a dirty slut and I only want to please you." Kat replied, meekly.

James held her tightly and began to thrust his cock in and out of Kat's ass. She could feel the burning friction of his cock diminish as she relaxed and allowed his cock to slide through the tight ring of her anus. Juices rained from her clammy pussy as she felt waves of pleasure, rippling through her belly, concentrated on the tightly stretched ring of her ass. James' cock swelled and stiffened and he grunted like an animal on heat as he drove his cock hard into her ass, pinning her to the leather of the seat. Her sweat-sheened skin stuck to the hide, rubbing painfully as he worked his cock in and out, then stopped, his cock buried deep in her bowel.

Kat moaned his name as she felt his cock swell and jerk in her ass and she screamed, softly, as she felt stinging jets of his cum splattering inside her rectum, filling her and oozing out around his cock before they slid between her buttocks and onto the tops of her thighs.

"Yes, Kat!" James growled, "Feel my cum in your dirty ass, you slut."

"Fill my ass, Sir," she begged, "Fuck me until you finish cumming."

"God yess, Kat." James ordered, "take my cum deep in your ass, you dirty whore."

Kat felt his cock spit and squirt oceans of his thick, gooey cum into her tender ass and smiled to herself as she felt the first drops oozing down to cling to her dripping pussy. She squealed as she felt the head of his cock sliding out of her anus and a sudden draught of cool air caressed her sensitive cleft. James turned her onto her back and swivelled her around, so that her feet could rest on the floor while he straddled her heaving breasts. Kat looked down her trembling sweat-stained body and saw his cock, still large and thick but now limp and his balls shrivelled and drained. James took his cock in his hand, guiding it between her breasts, and wiped it clean of the mixture of cum and filth from her ass, leaving creamy brown streaks on her milk-white skin.

James stood upright and moved over to the clothes piled on the floor. Dressing swiftly, he allowed her a few moments to compose herself and recover from the shattering orgasms that had wracked her body. Kat moved gingerly, her nipples, pussy and ass aching and throbbing. James fastened his trousers and, tucking his shirt into the waistband turned to speak to her. "Dinner is in forty-five minutes." he informed her, sternly, "I shall expect you in the drawing room ten minutes beforehand. And you shall be on three months trial. If you prove satisfactory at the end of that time, I shall be offering you a permanent contract."

Then he unfastened her arms, leaving the collar around her neck. Obediently, she knelt, her eyes on the floor, until she heard the door click shut behind him. Smiling to herself, she rose to her feet and headed to the bathroom, wondering if she would find all of her service to James as intensely pleasurable as her introduction.

6/3/2009 10:43:22 AM

It had been decided that a dinner party would be held. Her Master would be introducing her to some of His friends for the first time. She was nervous at meeting them, but she knew that her Master would not let any harm come to her. All day she had been preparing the menu He had selected. In an hour he would be home, the guests due to arrive two hours after that.

She checked the pots once more, then went to the dining room to lay the table. There were to be 6 guests tonight and the seating had been arranged according to her Master’s wishes. She used the good china and cutlery, the best crystal glassware. Candles were placed in silver holders down the length of the table. There were four chairs and four stools even spaced around the table. After a last glance toward her work, she turned and went down to the wine cellar. There was to be white and red wine tonight. She carefully placed the white wine in the fridge and set the red to one side. They would be decanted 30 minutes before the guests were to arrive.

Glancing at the clock she saw that there was 15 minutes left before her Master was due home. She hurriedly went to the bathroom to make sure it was clean and tidy. From the linen closet she removed to clean bath sheets and placed them on the warming rack. Next she placed the plug in the tub and ran the water. It was hot and steaming. Experience had taught her that it would be at the right temperature by the time her Master was home. Lighting the candles that were placed throughout the room, and turning off the taps as the water was at the right depth she left to wait by the door.

As she did every night, when she heard the car arrive she assumed her position on the floor. This nightly ritual of greeting her Master this way pleased her, and she was glad to do it. He entered the house and stroked her hair. His hand raising her face, and motioning her to stand. This too was a ritual performed on his homecoming. After He was seated in His chair with a drink, He gave permission for her to continue with the preparations for the dinner.

After making sure that the dinner was on time, she returned to the bathroom. Testing the water with her hand to ensure it was the right temperature, she smiled. Tonight she would have the joy of bathing her Master in a leisurely manner. Going back to her Master’s side she knelt at His feet waiting for Him to rise. This he did in a matter of moments. As he began to walk away he spoke only one word, and at this she too stood and followed Him to the bedroom. There he turned and waited for her to undress Him. Her hands quick and deft as she removed His clothing. Her fingers soft and warm where they brushed his bare skin. After folding the clothing neatly, she went into the bathroom, knowing He was behind her. As she walked he placed a hand on her bare ass and caressed it for a moment before smacking it. She jumped at the smack but continued on. He laughed low and smacked her again.

Once inside the bathroom He instructed her to bend over the toilet seat with her bottom in the air. She did so willingly. He came close and smacked her again, harder this time making the cheek sting. Then a smack to the other side. Back and forth He hit until He was satisfied that her bottom was very red. Then He took a wash cloth wet it in the bath and ran it over her reddened ass. Soothing the sting a little. He commanded her to stand and turn, again she complied at once. When she was facing Him, he turned and stepped into the water. She moved forward and knelt at the side of the bath. As he lay back in the water she picked up the wash cloth and soap and began to bath her Master.

She started on His chest, washing with firm soothing strokes, feeling the tension start to leave Him. She moved the cloth lower down his belly, across His hips down to His groin. Then lower still to wash His legs and feet. Moving upward once more, she quietly requested that He lean forward so that she may wash His back. With a smile at her polite request, He leaned forward. Washing his back from neck down, she admired his body. This man meant the world to her and He had been kind and loving to her, firm and forceful and so much in between. She indicated she has finished his back and He returned to a supine position. There was one more place to do, but this was often done last. It was the most exciting part of the bathing, it was time to wash His cock and balls. The routine sometimes changed but tonight His acquiescence to how she washed was evidence that he wanted this to be last.

Making sure the washcloth was wet and soapy she reached below the water and began to wash His cock. Despite the water he was hard, she could feel the heat of Him through the cloth. As always when she did this her breathing shallowed, her nipples hardened and her pussy got very wet. As she glanced to His face she saw a smile there, He looked almost boyish with His eyes closed and His face relaxed. She wanted to reach up and stroke His face, but resisted the urge. The strokes with the cloth got firmer and her hand encircled his hardness. A low moan escaped His throat and encouraged her to continue. She ran her hand down the length of Him and then up again, then down till she was touching his balls. She washed them, squeezing gently, then resumed stroking His cock. The head was out of the water and she licked her lips in anticipation. Raising up on her knees she lowered her head to lick the tip. Pre cum was oozing out of the top and she greedily licked it off, savouring the taste.

Her head lowering again she took the head in her mouth and began to suck and lick it. He placed a hand on her head encouraging her, his other ran over her back, bringing gooseflesh at the sensual touch. She stroked harder and took more of Him into her mouth, sucking with long pulls of her mouth. His moans of pleasure increased, He softly called her name. His hips beginning to thrust, she let his cock slide from her mouth, and masturbated Him faster, her hand moving up and down bringing Him to the release He wanted. He cried out and sperm shot from the end of his cock, it went over her face and hands. His breathing ragged he still her hands with His. She went to wash the cum from her face, but He told her not to, but to kiss Him. She moved upward and leaned down for the kiss. To her surprise and delight He licked His cum from her cheeks, then brought her face closer still for a kiss. It was a long passionate kiss and she could taste Him... she shivered with delight.

He broke the kiss and she sat back on her heels. He rose from the tub and she quickly placed a towel around His waist and proceeded to dry Him. Without warning He lifted her and placed her in the bath. "Wash yourself my pet," He stated, "Then come to our room and dress me for dinner." "Yes master," she replied. She watched Him walk away as she hurriedly washed herself clean. Getting out of the bath she wrapped a towel around her and emptied the water. Drying quickly, she went to the bedroom ready to dress Him...

... still wrapped in the bath towel, she went to the closet and removed the suit her Master would be wearing for dinner, from the drawers she took a clean white shirt, a bow tie, and socks. From the shoe rack she removed the dress shoes he always wore on formal occasions. Each item she placed carefully on the bed or beside it. Then going to her master she made sure he was completely dry before she began dressing Him. At a glance from Him she dropped the towel she was wearing. He liked her to be naked as she dressed Him.

Taking up the shirt she walked behind Him and slipped it over His arms and sliding it onto His shoulders. Her hands lingered for a moment before she moved in front of Him to button the shirt. Her hands trembled slightly as she did up the pearl buttons. Looking up through her lashes she saw He was watching her with that intense look He sometimes got on His face. She flushed a delicate shade of pink and quickly lowered her eyes again. The shirt buttoned she reached for the socks and kneeling she put them on Him. Standing she removed His pants from the hanger and then held them so He could step into them. She pulled them up his strong legs and over his rear. Settling them in place over His hips she quickly zipped Him up and then did up the buttons.

As she turned to retrieve His shoes from beside the bed He grabbed her by the hand, swinging her back to face Him. With a gentle touch he traced the features of her face, his hand running down the column of her neck, lower to a breast. It was a light touch that raised the skin and puckered her nipples. Her eyes half closed as she shivered slightly. It was always like this, the merest touch from Him and she felt herself tense, not from fear, but pure pleasure. His palm rubbed across the now hardened peak of her breast causing a soft moan to escape her lips. He head bowed down to capture her mouth in a searing kiss, His tongue probing the inner recesses of her mouth, at the same time his hand closed over her breast and squeezed it. Not hard this time, but more of a lover's caress. He knew how to play her body like a fine instrument, knew what to do to arouse her senses. A look a touch and He knew she would always be His.

He deepened the kiss as His hand slid lower, down her smooth belly, around her hip to caress and squeeze her ass cheek, pulling her closer to Him as he did so, crushing her breasts against His shirt. He could feel her hard nipples pressing against Him and His mouth smiled even as he prolonged the kiss. His hand let go of her ass and ran down the crack of her ass, reaching between her legs from behind. He bent her forward slightly making the tops of her thighs part and his finger ran along her very wet slit. Breaking the kiss he gave a small chuckle. It delighted Him to know that she was always ready for Him. Straightening he released His hold and turned her around. "Bend!" was all he said. She did as he bid bending down, her legs spread, presenting Him with a view of her ass and open pussy. She placed her hands on the edge of the bed and waited. Within seconds she felt Him probing her hot wet pussy with His finger, one then two, then three. Sliding them in and out, hearing her gasp each time he thrust them inside. Her knees began to tremble her legs to shake. He widened her stance to give more balance and continued probing her pussy with His fingers. He thrust a fourth inside, she cried out at the tight feeling of having four of his fingers inside her. Each time He did this she was sure that He would split her open, but He never did, He knew how to widen her without causing damage. For sometime He had been wanting to fist her and tonight He was sure was the right time. As He continued pumping His fingers in and out He leaned down to place kisses and small bites across the cheeks of her ass. She gasped at the feel of his teeth, it was not painful but very erotic. Her legs widened more, she wanted more. Her breathing was erratic and the sensations building inside her was approaching the point of no return. Her hips pushed back against His hand inviting more. A heartbeat was all it took and then He pushed His thumb inside her too. She cried out this time in pain, His hand felt too big for her pussy. She felt Him closing his hand inside her and all thought fled. The initial pain was receding and her body adjusted to His fist being inside her. Just as she relaxed He began moving His fist in and out. Slowly at first, making sure that it would move easily and that he did not tear her. The pain was a bonus for Him, He had known it would hurt but he did not want to cause permanent damage. He could hear her crying, soft sobs than soon turned to moans of pleasure. He smiled and continued fist-fucking her pussy. With his other hand He reached around her body to rub her clit. It was a hard nub and each time he touched it he felt her jump, her legs shake. He rubbed harder, listening to the change in her breathing and moans, knowing that she was close to cumming. The inner muscles were tightening around His hand and He debated whether to give her release or to leave her on the brink.

She began pleading and begging with Him, asking for release. Her hips thrusting back harder, pressing herself against both His hands as they continued to work her pussy and clit. His decision made, he leaned closer to her ear and whispered, "Cum for Me my pet." With a gasp she came all over his hand. Her juices flowing freely, her body shuddering and shaking, her mind a complete blank. She would have collapsed forward onto the bed if He had not been holding her. Barely able to speak she gasped, "Thank You master for allowing Your slut to receive pleasure." He kissed the nape of her neck as He slowly removed His fist from her pussy. "You are welcome my sweet," He replied. Looking down He noticed that the cuff of His shirt was soaked with her juices. He raised it to His mouth and licked, smelling Her on His shirt. She levered herself from the bed and turned, noticing the stain on his shirt cuff, she started toward the dresser to get a new shirt. His on e word, "NO!" stopped her. Looking back at Him quizzically she wondered what she had done wrong. Seeing the smile on His face she realised that He did not want to change His shirt, that He wanted to wear this one smelling of her.

She changed direction and picked up His shoes, returning to place them on His feet, her walk still a little unsteady, her breathing almost normal. She took up his bow tie and put it on Him, standing on her toes to tie it. Then she picked up his jacket and slipped it on Him. With a soft touch to her face He said, "Dress for dinner my pet, I will see you downstairs." He left the room and she could her Him descending to the lower level. Releasing a small breath she turned to the closet to dress for dinner...

She went to the closet and removed the outfit He had chosen for her and laid it on the bed. Going to the dresser she sat and carefully applied her makeup. Then she put her hair in an upsweep, tendrils left to brush her neck and cheeks. Rising she opened a drawer and removed a garter belt and stockings. She rolled the sheer hose over her legs and secured them to the belt. Satisfied they were secure she went to the bed and taking up the dress slipped it over her head. She wore no jewelry tonight apart from a diamond-studded choker that her master had given her. It was not a collar as such as He had yet to bestow that honour on her. Sliding her feet into the 5-inch heels she took a quick look in the full-length mirror to make sure everything looked perfect. With a small nod of her head she left the bedroom and went down stairs.

Peering into the sitting room she noticed that His drink was almost gone, so quietly entering she knelt at His feet and waited until He held out His glass for a refill. His hand reached to touch the choker at her neck, "Ah my pet I see You are wearing my gift," He said. "Yes master, as You commanded," she whispered. He raised her chin and bestowed a smile on her, seeing the pleasure in her eyes at his look of approval. He glanced at His watch and noted that there were scant minutes left before the guests were due to arrive. There was no time for another drink and rising, taking her by the hand, He led her to the kitchen to check that her preparations were in accordance with His instructions. Lifting lids, and peering into the oven, He noted that she had followed each of His instructions to the letter. He sniffed appreciatively at the aroma of the food. "You have done well, I am pleased," He commented, and then leaned to place a gentle kiss on her lips, careful not to smudge her lipstick. "You shall be rewarded later." "Thank You master," she said blushing slightly at His praise and His promise.

At that moment the doorbell chimed, and with a gentle push in her lower back, He indicated she was to answer it. Her hips swayed gently as she walked, her dress moving with the motion. He admired her backview, noting that the choice was a good one. The dress was opaque, giving a teasing glimpse of the treasure beneath without revealing all. He was sure His guests would be pleased with His property, not that He needed their approval, but it was so much more pleasurably when His friends approved of His choices. He slowly followed behind her, feeling a stirring in His manhood at the thought of what was before Him, of the plans He had for her this eve.

He could hear her polite greetings to His guests, then the sound of their footsteps as she led them to the sitting room. In a soft voice she announced each guest in turn. First was his old friend Robert and Robert's latest submissive, Miriam. Next to arrive was Theda. Theda was a Mistress He had met some years ago and He remembered her fondly from other parties they had attended together. Tonight she had bought her long time slave Anthony. Lastly Damien arrived with his slave Tatiana. Tatiana was an exotic beauty from the Ukraine, and Damien had found her two years ago cold and starving in a doorway. The change in the girl was incredible, now she glowed with good health, and her beauty was stunning. Ironically Tatiana had no idea of how she looked or her affect on others. She was content to be with Damien and to do his bidding.

Robert and Damien were dressed in the same manner as the host, formal dinner suits of black. Theda had dressed in a figure-hugging gown of red, her cleavage threatening to burst from the top of the strapless gown. As she walked a split in the side of the skirt revealed her long legs, stockings and little else. She knew how to tease and please the visual senses. On a chain around her neck was a silver key, and it nestled between her breasts. The slaves were dressed according to their owner's tastes. Miriam was dressed in a short black dress, the tops of her stockings showing beneath. She was petite, with small upthrust breasts and a small behind. The dress caressed her body tightly as a lover's hand would. Anthony was more traditionally clad. He was dressed in tight shorts of a gold material, he had on his body a leather harness complete with collar and chain. Tatiana was dressed in a similar manner to Anthony, with leather strips covering her body, but showing most of her flesh.

As the guests entered and sat on the furniture, the Host's pet quietly asked what each wanted to drink, and once told she went to the bar to mix them. The sound of quiet chatter registered in her mind as she prepared the drinks. Placing the glasses on a silver tray she returned and offered them to the guests, the last one to her Master. He signaled his approval with a small squeeze of her hand. After putting the tray back on the bar she came back to sit on the pillow at her Master’s feet. The other submissives and slaves were silently waiting. Leaning down to whisper in her ear her Master said, "Take my guests' pets with you to the kitchen. I will call when we are ready for the dinner to be served." Rising from her pillow she motioned to the others and silently they followed her.

Once they were in the kitchen they introduced themselves to each other. None had met each other before and were curious. They kept their conversation low so as not to disturb the guests in the other room. His pet made sure that the first course was ready to be served before joining in the talk. All were curious as to what had been planned for the evening. They asked about the food and oohed and ahhed as she first told then showed them what was to be served. Then she heard His call, it was time for dinner to begin. She gave each of the slaves a tray with the entree on, each was to serve their Master or Mistress. On her tray were not only an entree but also two bottles of wine, one red and one white. All four entered the dining room and after placing the food before the seated guests, took up their positions on the stools. She also placed the wine in front of her Master and waited for His nod to indicate she should pour. At the sign she took up both bottles and moving around the table poured wine according to the guests preferences. When she was done she sat on her stool and waited. The conversation was lively and she allowed herself a small smile hoping that it was a sign that the guests were pleased.

Each of the guests fed their slaves from their plates, and offered them wine from their glasses. Her Master had told her that this was a normal practice at dinner parties as this so she was not surprised. As the evening wore on and the courses were served, the conversation grew more intimate. Touches between guests and their slaves grew bolder, a touch of a breast here, hands running over the body and down between legs. All that is except her Master. She began to think there was something wrong as He had done little more than caress and squeeze her neck and bare shoulders. She looked over the clothing of the other slaves and then at her own and thought that maybe she was not dressed correctly after all. In her ear she heard her Master whisper, "Pet you are dressed as I want. For tonight I wish to keep your charms a secret awhile longer." He kissed her cheek and turned her face to Him, and then gave her a soul-shattering kiss, full of passion and promise. It seemed to go on for a long time and just when she thought she would faint from it he released her mouth. The kiss had hardened her nipples and they could be clearly seen through her dress, her pussy had gotten wet and she detected the musky odour that was her scent. Colouring slightly, she lowered her eyes.

As the meal was finished she rose from her stool and cleared the table, the other slaves rising to assist, leaving only the candles on the table. When they returned they brought back brandy balloons, and a bottle of brandy. This was placed beside her Master’s elbow ready for Him to pour. With a clearing of his throat her Master stood. "My friends," he began, "dessert!!" With a hand movement to her, she stood and then climbed onto the table, standing in the centre. "Remove your dress!" He commanded. With a deft movement of her hands she undid the clasps at her shoulders and the dress slithered down her body to pool at her feet. Underneath she was naked save for the heels, stockings and garter belt. There were murmurs of approval from the guests. "Lie down!" He stated, and she did as He complied, laying face down on the table. He opened the bottle of brandy and poured some of the liquid into the small of her back. Then leaning down He licked it off. She shivered at the feel of the brandy, then his tongue. She bit her lip to suppress a moan of pleasure. With a wave of His hand he invited His guests to copy his action. Before she knew there was more brandy poured over her back and three tongues licking at the liquid. It was a pleasant sensation and her body shivered slightly.

She felt hands on her hips raising her ass into the air, and a small pillow being slid under her. Her legs were spread wide and she felt vulnerable as she lay there, exposed to the view of all. The next thing she knew there was brandy being poured between her ass cheeks, running down over her slit. Then a tongue licking at it. A moan escaped her mouth, she realised that she was dessert and waited with breath held for what was to come...

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