by Laurie Mann
I collapsed into a heap of ooh’s and aarrgh’s before opening my eyes and felt Rock’s drew mine like magnets.
“Finished, have you?”
Nodded, unable to speak with tongue stuck and so afraid I’d failed him. Didn’t mean to, just couldn’t help it. He’ll understand. Won’t he?
“That’s the last time. Has to be earned in future. You may urinate, then time for bed.”
Rushed to toilet. Urgent, very urgent. Wobbly legs like jelly. How they got me there I don’t know. Slumped onto seat, legs wantonly splayed for all to see but no time for door and even less time to care.
Agony subsided as the golden river flowed, soothing body and mind. As the pain left so the reality returned. The enormity of the evening scared. Rock, never touched, no need as just his words and eyes caused pussy to rampage, oblivious to my need to obey. Pussy knew I mustn’t but didn’t care. Likes me hurt and in trouble, especially in trouble. Time for bed, at last Rock’s bed after I’ve waited so long and dreamt such sweet dreams, finally ...
“Francesca!”
Jerked senses back when he called my name. Rushed, grabbed panties in haste before remembering I was naked. Empty room created panic, he had to be upstairs, in the bedroom, so quickly scampered after him. Rock, on his side, head resting in hand. Muscled and lean, beard looked longer without clothes and pussy purred at his rod, thick, hard and waiting. Waiting for me. At last. Pussy impatient, wanted to be filled, stretched and pounded. Greedy to drink his juices and absorb his lust. Oh! Such wanton thoughts of lust from me, a demur business woman.
“On your knees. Hands behind your back.” He twitched mere inches from my nose. Couldn’t take my eyes from him. Pussy was more than ready.
“Touching your owner is a privilege, as is being used by him. Privileges must be earned. Tonight you may touch with lips and tongue only.”
I leaned forward as my lips parted to allow entrance to his bulb. Tongue caressed and cheeks pulled to increase pressure. Encouraged by his moans but I still don’t like it in my mouth. Pussy felt ignored and needed him more than my mouth. Hard keeping hands behind back. Back ached, breathless. Head bobbed as tongue and lips enticed the sperm from his balls and I was grateful for Madam’s exercises. Soon settled into a rhythm and felt his hips grinding to meet my thrusting mouth, to bruise my throat. Not my favourite pastime. First time I hadn’t felt like retching, though, and I wanted his sperm so much, needed to show him how good I was. Madam had ensured I was good and I craved to be best he’d had. I could feel his hardness, growing, pushing jaws wider, felt it coming, rising through his manhood, hot and sticky in my throat as I swallowed and gratefully gulped it down. Pretended to enjoy? No need, Rock’s seed was inside me at last. No need to pretend. My turn now, pussy was ready, been ready ages. Please Rock and he’ll please me.
“You may sleep on the rug at the foot of the bed.”
Devastated, pussy screamed frustration. Remember. He has my orgasm. When will he give it back? Crawled to rug, eyes weeping and pussy dripping. Dark. Couldn’t sleep, too horny with an imagination that wouldn’t rest. A slave’s place at the foot of the bed. Only allowed on bed to be used, then discarded. Rock’s slave. Exciting. No need to think while he’s away. I know.
Sleep approached slowly, weakened resolve and precipitated fingers’ uncertain but inexorable creeping towards pussy. Knew I mustn’t but pussy was clever, waited until too tired to resist before beckoning fingers. Felt so good. Hips pushed against fingers and I couldn’t stop my gentle moans. Wonderful, breathing too loud. Mustn’t wake. Didn’t care, pussy was winning.
Bathed in light and Rock’s shadow appeared through my squint. His hands roughly rolled me as my hands were wrenched behind and tied tight. Rolled back again which hurt hands on the hard floor. Rough hands on pussy. Ooh yes. Now it really was happening. Felt it coming. Rock hadn’t forgotten pussy’s need. Here it is. Here it is. Arched back. Breathed hard. Yessss!
Fingers gone. Pleasure held suspended. Squirmed, rubbed pussy against fresh air. Had to make it happen. Force it, beg, plead. Do anything.
“I told you. I decide when you have your pleasure.”
Rock had gone. Back to bed. Dark. Couldn’t reach pussy. Rubbed against floor. No good. Wouldn’t subside. Rock snored. Did he dream of my plight? Hope so. Rock controlled. I liked. Pussy even more desperate. Madam would have whipped my disobedience but Rock’s lesson was so much more cruel.
Sunbeams, too bright for tired eyes, drew an end to the night’s frustration. Could only watch Rock from my rug now rumpled by my wriggling. Listened to the cascading shower and watched Rock dress while he ignored me. Wanted to speak - forbidden. Get up - forbidden. Alone again and thinking I was being ignored much too much this New Year. Smelt toast and the inevitable coffee. Footsteps on stairs alerted pussy, worried mind. What next?
Led by elbow to shower and hosed down before taken downstairs still wet and hands still tied. Forced to kneel before plate with scraps of toast and saucer of coffee. Remember. Slave’s can’t use furniture. Furniture a privilege. Privileges had to be earned.
Breakfast difficult. Balance hard. Coffee horrible, black, bitter and far too strong but I willingly accepted my fate. Humiliating, though, eating from the floor. Rock was testing, I know it.
Hauled to feet. Hands untied. Pins and needles made fingers clumsy and dressing slow, even if it was just my dress. Nothing else, where were my undies? Remembered. Rock said blue dress. Didn’t mention anything else.
In Rock’s arms, held tight with his lips pressed hard to mine, his strong tongue exploring, devouring. Slumped into his arms and let my tongue lovingly, eagerly wrestle his. Couldn’t breathe but so what? His kiss left me gasping and limp. Dress felt slippery, sensual. Arms around his shoulders - heaven. Pussy demanded attention. Ignored.
“Be wise with your decision, Princess.”
“I’ve made my decision, Rock.”
“Think about it again. Then again. Once you decide there’s no going back. It’s the most important decision of your life. It will be easier when I’m away.”
“Distance doesn’t mean we’ll be apart, Rock.”
Back home, journal. First stop toilet, had to hurry, bladder bursting. Decision made. Want to be Rock’s. In three weeks, when he’s home I’ll be his. Ready for training far more important than school or university. Pussy knows, wants Rock too. Will he know of pussy’s deceitfulness when he’s not here?
Checked with the office. No problems so I could take a few days off. Needed the time and space more than ever. Postman delivered invitation from Madam. Car on Sunday, it said. No need for R.S.V.P. as Madam’s invitations cannot be refused. Madam’s invitations excite more than I can tell. How can I tell Rock about Madam? What will he do? What if he forbids me seeing Madam? What do I then tell Madam? What when Madam exacts her revenge? Doesn’t seem so important now I have Rock. I told you that I’d get him. Didn’t I?
Make him my Master. Become his slave.
***
Monday 18th January
The week seemed to last an age. Rock’s away, won’t be home for at least two weeks and I long for his return more than ever so I can tell him my decision. To tell him I’m his. Suspect he was particularly strict to put me off, but he’s had the opposite effect and besides, he can’t really think anyone would believe all that talk about controlling bladder and orgasm. Appearance yes, and with love, but bodily functions? Not even in my dreams. Don’t understand, he said. Well, I do. He’ll see.
It was cold as I paced impatiently waiting for the car. I know the routine well by now, church bells, car, blindfold, hands tied, the mounting excitement, knowing Madam’s at the journey’s end. The familiar gravel drive then with heart thumping I was taken from the car, through the drizzle and into the house to hear another’s breathing, excited like mine. Whose?
Footsteps on the bare
floor but not Madam’s. Lisa’s? Why did I think of Lisa? Gentle hands released mine, then undressed me. Eyes were kept dark, though, wide bands tightly circled my wrists before locks snapped shut and secured them behind. A wide collar kept my head high and a strap drew my elbows close until I felt my breasts jutting and vulnerable. More straps, tramlines separated by milky flesh, made my arms a splint before a loud snap and something dangled to kiss my sensitive orbs and tummy, which excited pussy. The blindfold’s removal revealed a large woman in a white uniform with flat shoes and I could only squint at her as she brushed my hair.
Another girl, not Lisa, with the same black leather straps and inquisitive, but not fearful, eyes inspected me, as I did her. Nervous knowing smiles were exchanged, but no words, we both knew Madam too well for that.
A door creaked open on ancient hinges. Madam. Tall and graceful with her porcelain face tantalisingly silhouetted by a black lace fan, its delicate, pretty fabric stretched between ebony rods. So elegant, so mysterious, such imagination in her ways of concealing her identity. Her gown shimmered as she floated with breathtaking ease. Oh, journal, such beauty, such ruthlessness, such excitement. So enthralled I didn’t even notice the couple who followed.
“Madame, monsieur, - Wanda and Francesca. Wanda is the more experienced but I’m sure your choice will be perfect.” Madam’s voice had lost its hard edge as she introduced us.
The short fat man and a dumpy woman with crooked nose and nasty eyes prowled, prodded and caressed before peering into my mouth and eyes. Their fingers probed pussy and bottom, accompanied by disdainful mutterings in a foreign tongue. Wanda looked blank while I could only try, unsuccessfully, to do the same.
“I trust you find them acceptable.” Madam broke what was becoming an embarrassing silence.
“Acceptable is certainly more accurate than desirable.” The fat man replied in his heavily accented acerbic tones.
“Certainly not the quality your tariff suggested.” The equally brusque woman accused Madam. I hated the way she spoke to Madam and Wanda blanched - loves Madam too?
“Perhaps a contest will make the choice easier?” The fat man’s tone allowed only one answer and pussy was suddenly more interested.
“Too expensive. A contest may be entertaining though, since we are here.”
“Of course, a race. We can dine while it’s organised.” Madam was forced onto the back foot. Bad news. Her eyes glared through slits cut in the delicate lace of her fan and the pitter patter on windows only added to the misery.
I studied Wanda while the big white uniform ensured our silence in the cold confrontational atmosphere. I could feel Wanda’s steely eyes trying to defeat me before we even started. Determination versus dejection. Allies, now bitter foe. The waiting grew intolerable. How much can anyone eat for lunch?
January’s no time to stand, bound and naked on a rain lashed portico. Searched the grounds, beautiful in kinder circumstances and saw the numbered flags. Six souvenirs to be collected and, Madam’s words ‘don’t either of you come second’ frightened. One of us must come second. What souvenirs? How to carry them with arms bound?
“GO!”
No time to worry as I half ran, half stumbled down the concrete steps to the lawn to slip and slide down the skiddy, sloping grass with my stiff arms denying balance, making my shoulders roll and breasts pendulum. Wanda’s bottom jiggled as I tried to keep up but she was so fast.
First flag. I could only wait with wet feet and bedraggled, sticky hair. I was mesmerised by the long whippy cane, which made Wanda’s cheeks wobble as it left six scarlet weals. Despair enveloped as her lead extended while I stood shivering, waiting for each of the six parallel lines that blazed across my frozen skin. It took an age as Wanda disappeared into the distance. I had to catch her, couldn’t come second, but at least I now knew how to carry the souvenirs.
Off in pursuit, feet slipping and rain stinging but at least I gained some ground and almost caught her as she waited. Then she was off again and it was my turn to wait before squirming onto the plastic fist that stretched pussy so full. The elastic straps nipped and then I chased again. Pussy revelled in my plight as every splayed, ponderous step meant more agony. Had to be strong if I were to catch her, let alone beat her, but then she stumbled. I took my chance and closed the gap while she awaited the third souvenir/torture.
Crocodile clips bit her nipples and her eyes rolled as I knew mine would. Felt my pain, watching her agony as her nipples swelled and were stretched by the weighted chains. Stood waiting, watching her back while searing heat engulfed my nipples as the sharp teeth punctured and the millstones stretched. Remembered the mad scientist and the way he’d made my ‘tits,’ as he called them, look like blue cheese. Couldn’t bear to look, I had to focus if I was to catch Wanda. I implored my legs to hasten as the millstones swung and teeth bit, but it was so hard. My feet slipped, my breasts swung agonisingly and I couldn’t even see properly with my eyes full of tears and rain. Hair whipped and stung my face while all the time pussy hummed. The next flag seemed to be getting no nearer and my legs ached as I pushed forward as Wanda maintained her distance. More effort had to be found from my legs and lungs and all the time, pussy was sucking my strength for own pleasure. It was the fear of coming second that drove me onwards in Wanda’s footsteps.
Undergrowth snapped at my legs and stones tormented my toes as the lawn gave way to trees. Hooray. Wanda’s gone. She slipped, then tripped and crashed winded into a tree before floundering in the mud and I gratefully took the lead. Sympathy? Forget it, winning was more important. My head reeled as I scrabbled and gasped but I built a lead. Every step produced new agony for bursting lungs and plugged pussy while every slip and trip bounced the millstones that savaged my breasts but, at last, I reached the next flag.
Pussy purred as my sphincter gripped the plug, too tight for my straining bowels. I was corked front and back, far too full for my legs to move until Wanda’s closeness provided the panic that overcame the pain and propelled me forwards. Desperate to keep my hard won lead I ignored the tears and freezing rain as I pounded my legs towards the next flag. I hurt so much, my legs and chest, the lines of fire that were re-ignited by my stretched buttocks, but still I strove forward through the pain while pussy’s excitement grew with my hurt. Be strong, must be strong. I checked over my shoulder and stumbled, a timely reminder to concentrate and forget Wanda. Why did I run to more torture? Because Madam decreed, that’s why.
Stood, breathless and trembling while my breasts exploded six times as the venomous cat lashed. My knees felt weak and I could hear Wanda’s breath as my muscles cramped and imprisoned. With Wanda’s scent on the breeze, it was panic that once again drove me across the lawn to the last flag with the house in the distance, high on the slope. The slippery grass reminded me that I was only in front because Wanda had fallen and I worried about doing the same as the heavy, freezing rain and wind seemed to cut through my tired, exposed body. I dreaded more beatings as a crop was produced when I reached the flag, but instead it was thrust between my teeth, to be carried to the end. My lungs were further deprived but at least I could see Madam, waiting on the portico and I found new strength with the end of my ordeal in sight. All I could think of was delivering the crop to Madam.
My legs felt leaden and my shoulders rolled, swinging my stretched breasts, while the dildos tortured but it didn’t matter. My lungs felt fit to burst as my jaws cramped around the crop and my hair clung to my mud splashed face, but, so what? Wanda was far behind so I only needed to relax and be careful, I was so near to winning and pleasing Madam.
Pussy sensed, though, and pussy’s cunning. Waited until my guard dropped and then attacked. I was helpless as Vesuvius bubbled and boiled towards the inevitable eruption of ecstasy, which ravaged my tired body. My knees buckled and my breasts and nose were squashed against the muddy grass. Worse still, I lost the crop and tears and rain mingled
as my despair overcame the euphoria. I remember sensing Wanda as I scrabbled but it was impossible to regain my feet with my arms helplessly stiff against my back. Time and again I thumped into the ground, I couldn’t breathe and panic reigned but I found the crop. At last I could scramble up the slope to Madam. Inelegant, so what? All that mattered was reaching Madam first, even the agony of the weights dragging the ground as I slipped didn’t matter so long as I got there first. I gave my all, until, finally with my face muddy and tear stained I lay at Madam’s feet, gasping for breath but oh so elated before I realised ...
There - waiting - Wanda. Despair.
Madam’s and fat foreigner’s eyes penetrated while Wanda’s gloated. I could only stare up from the ground, totally exhausted and devastated as all the hurt in the entire world devoured my body and soul.
“We’ll use the winner. I assume you will arrange shipment. I suggest further training. That is, if you want our continued patronage.” It was the first time I’d heard Madam spoken to in that and it didn’t seem right.
“Of course. She’ll not disappoint.” Her eyes told Wanda that she wouldn’t. What fate awaits her? Couldn’t be worse than mine. I’d let Madam down.
Watched them go as I was left on the portico, wet, mud streaked and desolate in the rain. Freezing, bound and corked I could only sob and Rock’s thousands of miles away.
“I’ll deal with you next week.” Madam spat before turning her back. “Get rid of It.” Two burly apes roughly dragged me to my feet, untied me and dumped me into car. It was hard, dressing as the car swayed and my limbs were little help, they were so stiff and sore. My heart ached. Madam to deal with me. How? Harshly, guaranteed.
Minutes seemed like hours, hours like days and Sunday still so far away. No problems at work but Rock’s still miles away, ‘over the water,’ as he says. Nothing to distract my mind from the increasingly impending doom that Sunday will surely bring. I long to tell Rock my decision and rehearse how to tell, over and over again but still Sunday intrudes. Pain and humiliation, likely worse than anything Madam’s decreed to date. Maybe even disowned with the subsequent ruination. What then? The streets? Rock? Oh, journal, my despair continues to find new depths.