The Story of “A” by Len Farlow

The Story of “A” is a work of fiction by Len Farlow, who retains all copyright privileges and rights to the story. If you want to profit from it, contact at for consultation


The relationship began, by accident, as a cyberspace lark. What follows is what did happen and what will happen and what should happen. The reader will have to decide… and the interested reader may confirm his or her suspicions directly with the principal character of this novella. She may be reached at


1. First Meeting

I went to see Angela in NY; it was our first in-person contact. She met me at my hotel and she was very nervous. I kissed her and held her in my arms for a minute; told her we’d have lunch first. She seemed surprised, but picked up her purse and we took my rental car and drove to my favorite Italian restaurant. Other than her leaning over and kissing my neck when I made her laugh, there was no physical contact.

While we were eating, I told her where we were going after lunch: to a leather shop on 51st street. She was very curious, or feigned it, and kept trying to coax me into telling her why we were going there. After lunch, during which we talked mostly about her home situation, we drove to 51st. Very quiet place, carpeted and soft music coming from recessed wall speakers. The walls were completely covered with whips, paddles, leather gags, leashes, collars, leather wrist and leg bracelets with short chains dangling from them and even rubber suits. One wall display of various clamps caught her eye while I talked with the shop owner. I told him what I wanted and he called a female clerk to his desk while I collected Angela. Told her she was to be fitted for a special belt. She grinned and asked if it was a chastity belt. I just smiled back.

The shop girl came for her and started to lead her to a fitting room. Angela stopped and looked at me, her eyes asking if I were coming with her. I nodded for her to go on. She hesitated, but followed the shop girl through a curtained doorway.

While she was being fitted, I made a couple of purchases and found myself in conversation with the male half of a couple who had been browsing when we came in. She was a blonde, with a ponytail and short-shorts. Turned out he had known her for several years. In the course of our chat, he mentioned matter of factly that she was extremely well trained. They, too, were tourists, staying at a hotel near ours. We exchanged hotel names and room numbers, planning to get together sometime over the next few days. The female clerk appeared, with Angela in tow. Her walk was still sexy, but she did seem to be moving a little gingerly.

Of course, she would eventually get used to her new article of clothing, a thin leather belt around her waist. From the front of the belt, a triangular piece of copper dropped across her pussy and at the lower point, hidden between her legs, a leather thong was attached that rose hidden between her ass cheeks and was attached to the belt at the back by a small padlock. The entire belt apparatus fitted very tightly, a necessity since it held a hard rubber dildoe inside her pussy and a thinner, more flexible one in her rectum. The only opening in the copper plate was a series of small holes at the top, big enough to allow her to pee, too small to allow any meaningful contact with her clit. It was unnoticeable under her tight fitting jeans, unless one pushed against her crotch to feel the metal front panel. I paid for the purchases and the owner handed me a shopping bag with a box in it, and the female clerk handed me a small key. He winked at me, said, “have a great day” and looked at Angela knowingly. Realizing he knew what was under her clothes and why, she blushed.

Angela made no comment about it until we had driven a few blocks toward the hotel. Then she pointed out teasingly that she wouldn’t be able to satisfy me “with this thing on”. I assured her she’d manage. I also told her that Joe, her husband, was never to see her wearing it and that it was her responsibility to firmly reject any advances that might come from him while she wore it. She assured me that it was not a problem; she did not sleep with him anymore. I reminded her that she couldn’t allow him to see her in it in the shower, when she changed clothes or at any other time. Her last question was more of a statement: “you mean I might have to wear this when you’re not around?” Before I could answer, the full impact hit her; specifically, how would she go to the bathroom?! That question was vocalized immediately, this with a little panic. “That’s very simple, you’ll probably have the key”. Her relief was such that she didn’t try to pin down the “probably”.

As soon as she fell silent I told her, intentionally abruptly, to take off her jeans. Although she immediately reached for her belt buckle, she then hesitated and pointed out that we were in broad daylight and only a few minutes from the hotel. I repeated “take off your jeans”. She glanced out the window doubtfully. We were stopped at a traffic light with a truck in the lane next to us. Because of the edge in my voice the second time I told her, she slowly wriggled out of them, ducking as low in the seat as she could. I reached between her legs and tried to get a finger on her clit and then tried to get under the panel from the side. Not possible. Access to her genitals was completely blocked. When we were in the underground parking garage, she reached over to feel my cock. I let her rub it from outside my pants for a few moments and then told her to get out of the car and stand facing the now closed door. I used the key to remove the belt and then told her to put her jeans on. She complied much more quickly to this order.

In the room, I told her to strip and get in the shower. I watched her undress, enjoying seeing her body for the first time. Her nipples were spectacular… very large and very hard. She got into the shower and I joined her. We spent 20 minutes playing in the water. It was my first manual sampling of her large breasts. I played gently with her nipples. She appeared to enjoy the gentle fondling, but also tried to signal her wishes by thrusting her nipples hard against my hand. When my touch remained light, she whispered “pinch them harder”. I ignored her “command”. Instead, I put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her to her knees. Her mouth was very soft, very practiced and accommodated most of my cock.

I watched her working on me for a few minutes and then, not wanting to come yet, lifted her up and turned off the shower. I backed her against the shower wall and, with my lips glued to hers, masturbated her until she slumped contentedly into my arms.

We dried each other and moved to the bedroom. To her dismay, I put the belt back on her. She was about to sit on the bed, but turned to me instead and announced in a small voice “I need to pee”. I said, “okay, I’ll watch”. Looking down at her belt she said “how?” “Just sit on the toilet and do what you always do”, I told her laughingly. She did, and without sign of concern that I was lounging against the door jamb watching. Automatically, she tried to wipe and was momentarily startled by the feel of the hard copper panel, but made no comment.

Back in the bedroom, I made her turn around. She stiffened a little, not knowing what was coming, but did so immediately. She was relieved when she realized I was unlocking and removing her belt. She preened a little, knowing that I was enjoying this first look at her fully naked body. When I told her to lie down on the bed, she instinctively touched her pussy, checking for lubrication. She bounced onto the bed and giggled expectantly, a throaty giggle, much more sensual than her cyber “teehee”. I said, “lift your legs”. She did so immediately, bending them with her heels on the bed waiting to be mounted. “No, I said, “lift them off the bed and wrap your arms around your knees”. “Good”, I said, “now spread them apart”. She did so, saying, “Yes Master” as she complied with the order. She now clearly realized that removing her belt did not signal the end of dom-sub play. I went to the TV and turned it on. Then I reached into the shopping bag, put the box on the desk and removed a riding crop. It was a straight, braided leather crop, but instead of tassels at the business end, sported a small flat leather tab, about 3 inches long and 2 inches wide. Her eyes widened when she saw it.

“Angela, when I tell you to do something, I don’t want you to hesitate, question my reason, or point out what you think are flaws in my orders”. “No, no, I wouldn’t do that”, she assured me. As I walked to the bed and stood over her I said, “in the car, when I told you take your jeans off, you did nothing. When I told you the second time, you coupled following my order with an unnecessary notification to me that it was broad daylight and we were nearing the hotel.”

“I’m sorry”, she said. “I know that was a mistake”.

“Yes it was”, I agreed, “and you are making a second mistake”.

“Second mistake?”she said, honestly puzzled.

“Yes, a big mistake; you are misreading the fact that I treat you lovingly and with softness as meaning that I am unlikely to enforce the rules you must live with as my slave”. She tried to interrupt with a denial, but raising my finger to my lips, signaling her to be silent, I told her that by the time the 5:00 PM news was over, she would never again make that mistake.

I sat on the bed next to her and, grasping both her wrists in one hand, raised them above her head on the sheet. Then I started to tap her left breast with the crop, striking a different spot each time and working methodically around it. The flat piece of leather at the end was the only part of the little whip that touched her, but after less then a minute, the entire boob was pink, but the whip had never touched her erect nipple. She twisted her head from side to side, but made no sound. I did the right one the same way, carefully watching her face and the color of her big breasts. I said nothing, but bent over to kiss her, which did elicit a moan. When I sat up from the kiss, I felt her pussy and, as expected, found it very wet.

She was now anticipating the pattern of the strikes, and so was jolted when I struck the nipple for the first time. She cried out, more in surprise than pain. I continued punishing only her nipples, which hardened still further. Her hips and ass were now thrusting up and down slightly as the stinging of her breasts and nipples increased. I continued to whip her nipples and noted that she was increasing vocal- moans and little “yips” escaping frequently, but drowned out by the TV. I shifted lower on the bed and ordered her to open her legs wider and to wrap her arms around her knees again. She did so and began begging “Master, Master”, without completing the request. I shielded her clit with one finger and began gently punishing her pussy, on the outside of the lips. After the fourth stroke, her arms slipped away from the grip on her knees and her legs fell to the sheet. Realizing she hadn’t permission to lower her legs, she raised them again. Before she could return to grasping her raised legs, I ordered her to open her pussy lips. Her eyes widened in fright, but she obeyed. Noting that her nipples were still hard – a certain indication that the stinging of her breasts and pussy lips was increasing rather than stopping her sexual excitement, I began to tap her lightly inside her pussy lips… letting an occasional stroke connect with her clit. Her eyes were now half closed, tears streaked her cheeks, and she was moaning steadily. Her hips were writhing and her nipples were fiery red in arousal. “Oh, oh” replaced the moaning and with hips thrusting wildly, she began to come. I dropped the whip on the floor and mounted her. It was time to satisfy my own excitement, buried deep in my new slave.

Night had fallen. The TV now off, we rested on the bed. We would both need it during this first day of our vacation together. The Cheshire cat smile as she lay arms and legs spread wide in exhausted abandon, seemed to suggest that Angela was content with her new role. But, of course, the night was not over. Nor was the test.


2. The Next Morning

The next morning Angela was still sleeping when I finished my shower. I turned on the TV news, which didn’t rouse her. I tossed my wet towel on her and she came to life. I told her to get moving, that we had an interesting day ahead. She smiled and dashed into the bathroom.

“Do I need this”, she asked, holding out her belt?

“Not today”, I said, bringing a smile to her face.

Angela didn’t ask where we were going. She was content to be out, with me, on a beautiful day. Yesterday, I had contacted Tom (whom I’d met at the leather shop) and spoke briefly with him and Helen, his blonde companion. I was intrigued by the special party he described that was going to be held at a private club in the Philly suburbs, and agreed immediately to his invitation to join them. We decided to take our car.

As I drove to their hotel I told Angela that we were going for a ride today, and that Tom and Helen, neither of whom she’d met, would be joining us. She was puzzled until I told her they were the couple we’d run into when we bought her belt. She frowned fleetingly, knowing that where I had met them meant they would draw immediate conclusions about our relationship. Angela was still not at ease with others knowing that she belonged to me in a dom-sub pact. We met them in the lobby, and went to the coffee shop for a quick bite. The girls disappeared into the ladies room almost immediately, a welcome development because Tom and I wanted to talk privately about the plans for the day.

During breakfast, I could see that Angela was very anxious to speak to me in private. When Tom and Helen left the coffee shop to check out, she immediately launched into an expose: did I know that Helen wasn’t Tom’s sub at all? Did I know that he was “training” her for someone else? She was incredulous. “How incredibly embarrassing for Helen”, she said. We added their luggage to the trunk and set off toward Philadelphia. Tom sat up front with me and Angela and Helen, who seemed to have hit it off reasonably well, picked up on their earlier chatter about dogs. Seemingly out of the blue, as we had agreed, Tom asked me if I ‘owned’ Angela. The conversation in the back seat stopped. I said, “well, that’s for Angela to say”. She smiled and said, “yes indeed”.

Tom turned to the back seat. “Does he spank you”? I could see Angela blush as she answered truthfully, “well, once”. I laughed and Helen, who did not know Angela was a new sub, joined in. Tom, who knew the situation said, “you must be very obedient.” Angela flushed further, but didn’t elaborate further.

“And I understand that you’re educating Helen for someone else, Tom”. “Yes, he said, but more of an advanced course; she’s been a sub for several years.” “How come she still needs training,” I asked? Tom said, “tell him, Helen”. “I just can’t seem to enjoy it the way I’m supposed to when I have to make it with girls”, she replied immediately.

I could see in the mirror that Angela, who had found open discussion of dom-sub matters uncomfortable in the first place, was not enchanted about finding herself in the back seat with a girl who she now knew is expected to perform with other females. Tom turned to the back seat and addressed Angela: “lift up your shirt”. Angela stared at him in surprise, but made no move to follow his order. Several moments passed, Angela looked at me questioningly. I looked at her in the mirror, but gave her no signal.

Finally, she looked at Tom and said simply, “no, only Len can order me to do that”. “Good for you”, Tom said approvingly. “I told you she was a quick learner”, I laughed. Angela, too, smiled and was obviously relieved that she’d gotten through another little “test”. Shortly after, I pulled off the highway into a picnic area rest stop. It was deserted at the moment. Angela and Helen made immediately for the ladies room, and Tom and I stood by the car stretching our legs and chatting. Back in the car, I drove to the very far end of the picnic area and pulled into a shady clearing in a heavily wooded area. It was entirely natural, except for a rusty barbecue pit and two picnic tables. Tom and I got out and opened the doors for the girls. They joined us, Helen bouncing out, Angela more warily.

Tom turned to Helen and said softly: “your position… on the fender”.

“Yes, Master” she said, as if Angela and I were not there. She walked to the fender, pulled her shorts and panties down to ankles, clasped her hands behind her neck, and bent over the fender with her breasts and cheek pressed against the car. Across the backs of her upper thighs and her ass, several faded crimson streaks were clearly visible. The abruptness of this change to a sexually charged atmosphere surprised Angela. She said nothing, but took hold of my arm for reassurance. I kissed her lightly on the cheek. Tom had pulled his belt off and folded it in half. He advanced to Helen, bent over the fender, and proceeded to strike her, not very hard, a half dozen times across her ass. She rose, turned and faced him, her hands still clasping her neck and her clothes still draped around her ankles. She said nothing and kept her head slightly bowed, staring at the ground. Tom held his belt out to her. She kissed it once and softly said “thank you”. The ritual over, Tom looped the belt back onto his pants and lit a cigarette and Helen pulled her clothes up. The entire scene had lasted less than 5 minutes. Her shorts back on, Helen behaved as if nothing had happened in this clearing in the presence of strangers. Angela, on the other hand, had been affected. She was still clenching my arm and her breathing was heavier than usual.

“Len”, she confided, “I think that turned me on”.

“Oh, you’re probably just relieved that it wasn’t you “.

“No, Len, really, I’m serious. I’ve never seen anyone, well you know, whipped before. I can feel I’m very wet. When can we drop them off and go to bed?”

“Cool off, honey, you’ll have what you need soon”.

As we continued toward Philly, Angela and Helen continued their whispered conversation, most of the talking being done by Angela. I could not hear much of it, but did hear Angela ask “does it hurt when he….”.

After an hour, we pulled off at an identical picnic area and again searched out a secluded spot. This time, there were scattered picnickers about. Again Tom issued the cryptic command: “your position, on the fender”. Helen swiftly obeyed and as she was bending over, I told Angela to join her. She immediately obeyed, knowing now what was expected of her. She had taken a position as far away from Helen as possible on the fender. “Next to Helen”, I added. With her shorts and panties around her legs, she hobbled closer. “No, next to her… right next to her”. Moments later, Tom and I were treated to the sight of two pretty girls, their bare asses presented for our pleasure and their arms gracefully wrapped around their necks, helplessly awaiting our next move.

I was moved by Angela’s leggy beauty and her wonderfully rounded butt. This time, I took off my belt and approached the girls. Angela’s face was turned so that she could not see me. “Are you ready”, I asked. “Yes, Master”, Angela replied in a little girl voice. I proceeded to spank Helen, not Angela… harder than Tom had. Toward the end, she was whimpering slightly, letting out soft “oohs” with each stroke. The belt never touched Angela.

I told Helen to get up. She did so and we concluded the kiss-the-belt ritual and she pulled her panties and shorts up and ran to Tom. I told Angela to turn around. She did so, her condition immediately apparent from the moisture present on her thighs and the dampness of her lower pussy hair. “Get dressed, we’ve got to get back on the road”. As Angela wriggled into her shorts, two teenagers appeared from the trees and applauded her. Red-faced, she made it into the car first, this time into the front seat. I was guessing she’d ask within ten minutes. It took less than one: “why did you only spank her”?

Ignoring her question, I said out loud “are you about ready to get laid”? “Yes, God yes” she replied, making no effort to keep our back seat companions in the dark regarding her wishes.

At the next stop, to gas up the car, we switched to the back seat and Tom drove. When we were less than an hour from our destination, assuming no further stops. I signaled Tom that it was time. Angela was sleeping with her head between my neck and shoulder, my arm around her and my hand cradling the bottom of her heavy breast from the outside of her shirt. I gently shook her awake. “Angela, it’s time to tell you where we’re going and why”. “Okay”, she said, still half asleep.

“We’re going to a party… a very special once-a-year party. It’s graduation day for Helen, here… and your first real test of belonging to me completely.” She was fully awake now and said matter of factly, “I belong to you completely”. Tom snickered. Angela bolted up. “Listen, Tom”, she began, “I don’t why you keep needling me but you don’t have any right…”

Tom interrupted obviously truly upset. “Len, with that mouth she will never leave the party alive. I am not sponsoring you guys… I’m sorry the trip was for nothing… they won’t let you in unless someone vouches for you and I’m not going to. Forget it pal”.

“Cool it, you can’t expect her to be as well trained as Helen”, I said. “Angela’s total life experience as a sub is less than a year, less than a week in person. If she slips, she’ll pay for it, but I can assure you she’s not stupid… she won’t take chances, especially after we tell her what this kind of party is… I haven’t been to this one, but I have been to the big one in Atlanta many times.”

I turned to Angela before Tom could reply. “You are going to have the single most memorable experience of life shortly. It is like nothing you can imagine. After I tell you about it, you’ll have a chance to use the safe word and, of course, it will then be off. In this case, sadly, we will also be off.”

“Wait a minute, whatever you want me to do, I will..” she began. But I shushed her. “Don’t talk, listen.”

“Yes, sir”.

“This is a party for members and invited guests. No one can buy his way in… and bigshots have tried. Every person at this party is a dom or a sub. Every person, even the bartenders and waitresses. There are no singles, only dom-sub couples. There will be every kind of person from stockbrokers, bankers and politicians to laborers and bikers. And they will all be there for one purpose only. Doms will be vying to prove how well they’ve trained their subs… and to have a ball doing it. You passives will be there to provide pleasure to your owners.”

At this, the now mollified Tom added: “and it makes no fucking difference if you subs enjoy yourselves”.

I said, “yeah, Tom’s right. This is different from our basic relationship. Here, your pleasure is irrelevant. If you enjoy what’s going on, fine; if not, your consolation is that I will enjoy it… which is a major purpose in your life since you willingly surrendered control to me. Clear?”

Angela didn’t show it, but she was not pleased that her “commitment” to me seemed to be being questioned. I saw it in her eyes, but her mouth said, “yes, Master, it is very clear.”

I began by telling her “Okay, now there are some rules at these parties that are beyond strict. Breaking one can change your life forever… and not pleasantly. First of all, you will see everything you can imagine taking place, and plenty none of us could imagine. You will surely be invited to join in, but I am telling you in advance that you may never accept. Instead, if you want to participate, you will find me and ask for permission. Sometimes you’ll get it; sometimes you won’t; and sometimes I won’t be available and that’s an automatic no”.

Tom broke in again, but this time Angela realized even advice from Tom could be well meaning. He said, as if reading from a memorized list, “and remember this, if any dom sees any sub break any P-rule, that dom may punish that sub in any manner he chooses”. Angela spoke up, “Tom, what’s a P-Rule”

“It’s a Party Rule for all subs and they are in addition to any orders Len gives you.”

“Like you can’t wipe anything off you”, Helen contributed. “I mean if you have come in the corner of your lip, don’t touch it with your hand”. “Or”, she added, if any dom tells you to “show”, it means the dom is demanding to see (but not touch) whatever’s in your mouth or pussy or ass. There’s a whole list of P-Rules when you sign in. Oh, yeah, there’s also Helen’s rule: stay away from Bluebeard”.

Angela turned to me. “I understand. I’ll follow any rule of yours or the Party’s.”

“Well, it’s not that easy”, Helen said. “You can’t be sure all the time who’s a dom and who’s a sub.”

“Good point”, I said. Your mouth is nearly always the source of your punishments. Don’t go complaining or wisemouthing to another ‘sub’; she might be a dom.”

“Just to be on the safe side, I won’t open my mouth for any reason”, Angela said to me with a wicked grin.

During these first few days of her training, I had subjected my love slave to a lot of punishments and with many degrees of discomfort. But I’d never slapped her, until now. She put her hand to her cheek, tears formed immediately and like the tears, the hurt in her eyes was from betrayal, not pain. “I’m sorry master. I know I did something wrong and you corrected me, but please tell me what it was so I don’t do it again”. This was one of the reasons I loved her so much: she managed to sound appropriately contrite with her formula-ized bullcrap answer, while making her point that what I did was “not fair”. Tom and Helen both understood what she had done and looked at me for an appropriate response. It came immediately.

“Wrong answer, Angela. Give me your bra”. She took off her shirt, undid the bra, handed it to me and sat there naked from waist up… perfect sub behavior.

“Master, can I pee before you punish me.”

“Go ahead”


“Wherever you want”.

“No, I mean, can we stop, master”?

“No, Angela”.

Angela had been through withholding of bathroom privileges before and knew her choices were limited. She decided she couldn’t hold it for much longer so the other option she’d considered was the best. Crouching as steadily as she could in the car, she pushed her clothes down and took an empty soda can from the plastic trash bag, put it under her and did her best to aim the rushing stream into the can through the small opening left when the tab was pulled. She had as much success as I would have guessed, and quickly pulled her wet panties and shorts back up.

“No, take them off”.

She did. Now Angela was naked in the back seat. “I might as well screw you now. Lay back”, I said with absolutely no affection in my voice. She did as ordered, and I climbed onto her, my cock hard and ready. But as I started to push against her lips, I knew right away that she was, for her, very dry. I lifted myself off her, and propping myself up on one elbow, I took her nipple in my other hand and began pulling straight out from her body. It stretched a great deal, but not without pain and the reaction I sought. Her pussy started to lubricate. I pushed my cock into her easily this time and, despite the two people just inches away from her, Angela fucked back with abandon, grunting and groaning as pleasure swept over her. It took longer that usual for her to come, but the shuddering climax arrived and her spasming vaginal walls coaxed more white juice from me. Christ she was tight when she contracted.

I got off her and she started to get up, now modest again with her hands covering her chest.

It was more humiliation time for my sweet Angela. “Tom, do you want a round with her, I said intentionally crudely.” “Sure he said, I’ll pull off at the next side road”. Angela squeezed my wrist urgently signaling “no”, then realized that my asking him the question was the same thing as ordering her to do it. She let go like she’d burned her hand. I didn’t call her on the mini-rebellion because she’d corrected it herself so quickly and because I knew her ordeal was just beginning. I reached into the small box on the floor, the one I’d acquired at the leather store. The small bottle had a shaker top, I twisted it and sprinkled a generous portion of powder into each bra cup. Holding the bra so the powder would stay in it I handed it to her, advised her not to spill anything and told her to put it on. She bent down, lowering her breasts into the cups, and reached behind her back to hook it on.

Almost immediately, the irritation started. She rubbed the bra where it contacted her nipple to try to stop the discomfort, but of course it had the opposite effect. “Master”, the voice had gone soft, “it’s hurting my nipples”. By the time Tom had steered us off the highway and into the parking area for an abandoned roadside vegetable stand, Angela was begging quite loudly to stop it from hurting, and rubbing her bra hard over the nipples even though she now knew it wouldn’t help. “Please.. oh please, this hurts so much”… I got out of the back seat and Tom took my place to exercise the right to Angela I’d given him moments earlier. Her nipples were so irritated now that it superceded her consternation at being fucked by someone she didn’t want, and in front of me, too. She lay back and opened her legs as far as the back seat confines would allow. Tom was two inches taller than me, and was uncomfortable trying to mount her, even with the back door open. Presently, he sat up, and roughly lifted her onto his lap, facing him. Angela automatically reached between them and guided his prick into her pussy, already wet from both her juices and mine. He began to lift her up and down on his cock and she had no place to push off from in order to help. Her arms were around his neck, holding on as he continued to bounce her up and down like a rag doll on his cock. She came more quickly this time, her cries fairly loud and uninhibited. Tom kept her in motion until he too came.

Helen had remained kneeling on the front seat watching the show in the back seat. From outside the door, I motioned Helen into the back seat as Tom climbed out. I handed her the strapped dildoe from my box of goodies and Tom and I, both growing hard again, watched as Helen pushed Angela onto her back again and fumbled the rubber substitute into Angela’s now overflowing pussy. Helen pumped her hips, much faster than a man would unless he was near climax. The speed of her strokes obviously generated considerable heat as Angela, no longer conscious of the great constant stinging pain in her nipples, went into a rolling orgasm, contraction after contraction racking her entire body.

Helen’s training with females must have been working, because her “fucking” of Angela had driven Angela higher into the clouds than mine or Tom’s had, and as a result of watching, both Tom and I were ready again. We were alone, so we draped the two of them over “their” fender and I fucked Angela from behind while Tom did his trainee in her ass. I was impressed to hear Helen screaming her orgasm with nothing touching her pussy and her ass filling with come. Moments later, Angela moaned and spasms, weaker now, rolled over her again.

Her naked body slumped to the ground. Angela, Helen and Tom had just come; I placed exhausted Angela on her knees, on the ground, pressed her cheeks together to signal I wanted her mouth open and stroked my cock rapidly an inch from her mouth. With her eyes closed, her nipples aching again and her pussy drippings forming a puddle on the ground between her , I let go a stream of come into her waiting mouth.

When we checked into the roadhouse/motel where the party would begin the following afternoon, both girls stayed in the car, their clothes and makeup totally disheveled and the aroma of come emanating strongly from both of them.

We took two rooms. I put Angela into the tub and washed her, nipples first to end their torture. I helped her dry off and carried her to the bed. After I showered, I found her dozing naked in the bed where I’d deposited her, trying to wait up for me. I climbed into bed naked, turned her so I could cuddle with her spoon-fashion. My last waking thought was that this had been a helluva day of firsts for my slave of one week: first fucking by a woman, first fucking by a man she didn’t desire but whom I’d made her submit to, first time watching another women whipped, first seeing me with another woman, first punishment of her nipples by artificial means. I wished I could tell her how proud I was of her. What a thrill to control another person, not out of force as with real slaves, but with the loving consent of a slave who wants to be owned by her master. Pride and thrill, but Angela could not know of either until her first party ordeal ran its course the next day. And it would prove to be a very long day, indeed… for all of us.

3. Party Rules

In the morning, Angela was nervously excited, babbling about her concern that she might say or do something to anger me or break party rules, unintentionally. She kept reassuring me that she will be on her best behavior. I was amused, too, by her worry that two faint lines left two days ago across the backs of her thighs might mar her “look”. The motel was full, all rooms filled with party attendees. The formal party didn’t start until six that evening, but given the attendees, it was obvious that the atmosphere would be sexually charged from the beginning of the day. And it was.

While we were getting dressed, I told Angela that we’d pick up the so-called P-rules at breakfast, but that I wanted to go over a few things with her first. She was all ears.

“Because of your looks, you are going to be constantly approached by doms. Remember the purpose of this party. They will know what you are, and that you know what they are. You are free to flirt, talk, whatever with anyone you want before the party, when I’m with you or when I’m not”. She interrupted, “when you’re not”? “Angela, you are not going to be glued to my hip every second. I might go to the bathroom; I might want to talk to someone else without you there; you might be visiting with some people and I might find the conversation boring and move to another group”. She said “oh”, rather doubtfully.

“You will not have sex of any kind with anyone before the party unless you ask and receive permission, or unless I tell you to.”

“I understand”.

“You understand what?”

“I understand, master”

“You will wear your belt and you will have a key if you need it for non-sexual reasons.”

Then I asked her to show me what she would like to wear during the day. I made a couple of revisions and we left for breakfast with her wearing a short-sleeved top, a short denim skirt and sandals. Except for her jewelry and her belt, that’s all she was wearing.

When we walked into the restaurant, it was crowded with people. We waited in line and Angela was listening avidly to conversations going on in the line. Suddenly, she whirled around to glare at the guy who had just fondled her ass. Only it wasn’t a guy.

“Hi, I’m Sandy”, she said. Turing to a petite brunette standing with her she introduced her to Angela. Having recovered from her surprise, Angela said hello, her initial anger dissipated. “Is she yours”, Sandy asked me, gesturing at Angela? I nodded and asked her the same question about the girl with her. She said “yeah, but I’m putting her in the auction tonight”. At this, the little brunette looked down, shaking her head glumly. Sandy appraised Angela with an undisguised leer. “You putting Angie up”? I told her no, and we turned to move forward to the front of the line.

Suddenly, Angela whispered urgently to me to “look at that table!” At one table near the front, two men were eating breakfast with their subs. Both subs were dressed for the party, even though it was 8:30 in the morning. One wore a Cat Lady costume, a shiny black outfit resembling a “teddy”, with spike heels and a rhinestone collar. The collar had a leash attached to it, the other end of which was attached to the leg of her chair. The other sub wore an evening gown. She also had a collar, the leash of which lay loose on the floor. Neither had any food in front of her, and both looked wildly out of place at breakfast.

As we sat down at our table, a guy at the adjacent table said to the girl sitting with him “what the hell are you looking at?” She said “nothing, Sir” and then yelped when he reached under her skirt and corrected her somehow. He looked over at me, shrugged and said, “this one can’t go five minutes without screwing up”.

I smiled back, “I know what you mean. Only, with this one (I gestured toward Angela), a little pinch doesn’t do the job”.

“Is she a deep sub”?

I shook my head no. “Is yours?”

He said, “yes, believe it or not”.

We broke off the conversation when our waitress arrived. After we placed the order, Angela started with the questions she had stored up. “What kind of auction was the woman talking about”? I shrugged, dismissing the question. Angela didn’t like the non-answer, but knew better than to pursue it.

“What’s a deep sub”?

“A deep sub is a passive who has either given herself totally to her dom or who has been forced into becoming his sub”. Angela did not really understand the implications of being a deep sub from my brief answer and announced: “I’ve given myself completely to you, so I’m your deep sub, and I’m glad I am”, she smiled.

“No, Angela, you are not a deep sub you wouldn’t want to be and I wouldn’t want you to be.” My answer was given out of the “role”, so Angela just asked normally, “I don’t get it. You have me completely, why am I not your deep sub?”

“You are my sub in a sexual way. But you have a life outside it. You have family, you have career, you go to a movie when you want. Your real life is not interrupted. That girl, gesturing to the one at the table next to us, has no life other than him. She may spend her days chained to the bed while he’s at work. She may not be allowed any friends. All she does during her waking hours is serve him.”

“Why does she do it”?, Angela wondered out loud, stealing a glance at her for some hint from her demeanor.

I told you. Many deep subs have been forced into it: kidnapped, then their will broken completely; or drug addicts literally trading their lives to feed the habit.

Angela continued to look around the room, occasionally making eye contact while doing so. Some commotion across the room stopped all conversations: the crash of a waitress’s tray hitting the floor was followed by her loud apologies being offered to the manager who was approaching her menacingly. “He just squeezed my boob hard when I was starting to put the dishes on his table”, she explained excitedly to her manager, backing away from him with her hands outstretched protectively. The manager reached her, grabbed her arm and steered her a few feet to an empty table. He pushed her against it and pushed her neck down so that she lay draped across the table. Holding her down with one hand, he lifted her skirt and tucked it into the belt of her uniform so that it stayed up. He then began spanking her, hard, without bothering to remove her panties. The laughing guests watched approvingly, some shouting encouragement and suggestions. Apparently inspired by the impromptu show, the man we had spoken to at the table next to ours had turned his chair sideways and pulled his deep sub across his lap. Immediately, her shorts and panties were thrown on the floor next to her. She was being spanked very hard, but made no sound or significant movement.

The atmosphere in the restaurant had changed from happy anticipation to a sexually charged one. Some doms, their subs in tow, left quickly going back to their rooms. Other couples were kissing. As I stood up, left some money on the table and herded Angela to the door, we passed Sandy and her sub. Sandy was standing, leaning slightly against her table and her little brunette was on her knees in front of her, her head hidden under Sandy’s skirt.

As was the custom at the party, couples leaving their doors open were announcing that others could watch, or even come in the room and, if asked, join in. I told Angela about that as we made our way to our room past open doors. She took it all in, holding back at doorway of a room where two men were pressed against a girl lying on her side on the bed. Although we were not close enough to be sure, it looked like they were both in her, one from the front, one from, and in, her rear. I could see Angela’s breasts rising and falling as her heavy breathing betrayed her excitement. “Wait”, I told her, and I crossed the small courtyard to a room opposite the one where I had left Angela…who willingly remained intently watching the show through the open door.

I knocked on the closed door and Helen, dressed only in her bra and panties, opened it and ushered me in. I wanted Tom’s help with something that night and we talked for a few minutes. While we talked, Helen had sat down on the floor next to the bed Tom was sitting on and was kissing his bare leg and feet. He paid little attention to her, occasionally stroking her hair absently as if she were a dog. Their entire “thing” was very mechanical. Helen showed no signs of enjoying what she was doing. It was like they were performing their roles in a ritual they had both acted out many times… which of course they had. There was no affection at all between them.

When I came out and looked across the courtyard, Angela was gone. I trotted across the courtyard and walked into the room where I’d left her watching the threesome. She wasn’t there; I declined the offer to join the little group, and started off to look for Angela. There was no doubt in my mind that when she made her entrance at the party tonight, it would not be two barely visible lines from the last time I whipped her that would show. In my current mood, she would be whipped from her back to her ankles with the knotted crop. But I had to find her first. Where the hell could she have gone? I walked quickly to our room, unlocked the door and, of course, she wasn’t there. She didn’t even have a key. After making a complete circuit of the motel, peering into all open rooms, I checked the restaurant and even the large hall, the “ballroom”, where the party was to be held. No Angela. I went back toward our room where I now found her standing in front of our door, crying. I ran to her, my emotions oscillating between relief and anger. I unlocked the door, closed it and held her, waiting for the crying to lessen. As it did, between sobs, she started to blurt out her story. Two men had walked up to where I left her and joined her in watching the girl in the room getting it from two men at the same time. Almost immediately they had told her bluntly they wanted to fuck her. They told her to follow them. Angela looked up at me and said, “Master, I swear to you….I mean, Master, I swear I told them exactly what you told me say. I said, I need permission to do anything and that you would be back soon”.

“In other words, Angela”, you were turned on and would have asked for permission when I got back”. “I don’t know, well, maybe yes”, she admitted, “unless you would have wanted me alone then”.

“Ok, then what happened”? Her sobbing had ceased, but she didn’t respond immediately. I knew instantly that she had done something wrong. “Well”?

“They seemed satisfied with my answer, that I had to speak with you first. They understood. They seemed so nice, so when they asked me to have a cup of coffee with them back in the restaurant, and told me that I could see this door from a window table, so I’d know when you returned for me, I thought it would be okay. I mean, you told me to wait for you, but you didn’t tell me where I should wait… right?”

“What happened”?, I said, not hiding my rising anger with her.

“Well, we started to walk toward the restaurant, but they stopped at a door with no room number. It had a sign about “laundry” and “guest services”. One of them unlocked the door and they pulled me into the room and locked the door. I was scared out of my mind and tried to scream. The tall one grabbed me from behind, put his hand over my mouth and told me to shut up or else. The other one pulled my shirt up and squeezed me, so hard I thought I’d pass out. When he let go he asked if I was going to be quiet. What could I do, Master? I nodded that I would. The one who was holding me let go of my mouth and reached in front, opened my belt and pulled my pants down. When they saw the belt, they got angry and tried to get it off. When they saw there was no way to get to me, the short guy said they should leave and pick another girl. The tall one told him to go find one alone and to bring her back here. He said that he wasn’t leaving empty handed. After the one guy was gone, Mr. Tall made me take off my shirt. Then he told me to get on the pile of laundry dropped on the floor; on all fours. He took his pants off and started playing with his prick. It was pretty big. When it was fully hard, he put it in my mouth and told me to suck him. I didn’t want to, but I didn’t know what else to do. He only had me suck him for a minute. Then he pulled it out and jerked himself off. When he was ready to come, he pushed me down flat onto the laundry pile and came on my back and ass. Then he got dressed and left without saying anything. I put my clothes on and ran back here. I was so worried that I shouldn’t have gone with them… that I disobeyed you. Please, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t hurt at all; I was so upset because I knew you’d be angry. Master, I know I need to be punished. Please get it over with and then make love to me”.


4. Between Her Cheeks

Angela was beginning to use code she wasn’t even aware of. In my week with her I noticed that when she was wildly turned on, her inhibitions (and she has many) slipped away and she wants “to be fucked”. Only when she was afraid she’d disappointed me or was feeling particularly insecure did she beg for me to “make love to her”. I would have enjoyed taking her at that moment, but with the party coming up, she needed to be very conscious of her need to obey, no matter what her wishes were. So, she didn’t get made love to.

Instead, I told Angela to take her clothes off. She obeyed instantly. I took the key from my wallet and opened the small lock at the back of her belt. It and the belt ended up with the pile of her clothes in the middle of the floor. I told her to bend over and went to the frequently opened box of equipment from the leather store. I had intended to whip her with the knotted whip, but having calmed down a bit with the relief of having her safely back, I tool the small rubber hose instead. Because it was rubber, it rarely left marks. To be sure, and to increase the severity of her punishment, I would administer her punishment between the cheeks of her beautiful ass. Angela was bent over, submissively awaiting what was to come. As always, I had not let her know what was coming and the dreaded anticipation was a significant part of her punishment.

“Spread your cheeks apart”, I ordered. Hoping that she was to be entered rather than punished, she complied quickly with a “thank you master” tacked on to remind me what a good slave she was. I began using the piece of rubber on the tender area between her cheeks. She gasped at the first stroke, more from surprise than pain. After three more strokes I let her rest, telling her to stand up. She did so immediately, rubbing her cheeks in a useless attempt to stop the stinging. Then I told her she would get ten more, which she was to count off, and that I hoped the stinging she would take with her to the party would serve as a reminder that orders were to be followed faithfully, and that there were always consequences when they weren’t. When I finished telling her the rest of her punishment, she – without being told – bent over again and putting her fingers into her crack, spread her cheeks wide apart, revealing the small circle between them.

But, after five strokes, I could see that Angela was properly corrected and that it was a tremendous struggle for her to keep her cheeks apart. She was crying, but trying to keep me from hearing. I couldn’t let her think her tears would work as a way to avoid or minimize punishment, so I gave her the other five, but quickly and so lightly that they could not have increased her discomfort.

When it was over, Angela dropped to her knees and put her arms around my legs and hugged them hard. “Thank you, master… thank you”, she said, the words muffled because her mouth was pressed against my thigh. It was an exhilarating moment for both of us. Angela had taken pleasure in ceding control of her being to another out of love… a situation she had craved from childhood.

I would have taken her to bed after the stinging from her punishment subsided, but a telephone call from Tom changed my preference. He had offered to arrange for Angela and me to take part in an invitation-only event in the room of one of the couples: the breaking in of a new sub. While this would normally not seem to be particularly significant, it was in the case. The 23-year-old sub was a virgin, an exceedingly rare situation. I told Tom I’d get back to him, and sat on the bed with Angela. She was fully recovered and in high spirits knowing that her slate was clean and that her dom adored her. “We’re invited to an unusual get-together.” I told Angela what was offered and that I would attend. I tried very hard to make clear that whether or not she came with me was truly up to her… that she should not say she wanted to come because she thought that was the answer I wanted. She immediately said she wanted to come with me. I really wanted Angela to understand that, in this instance, her presence was optional, that she could – in a limited way – make some decisions even though she was my sub. “I will be with other women during this. Are you sure you want to be there? You can wait for that possibly jealousy-inducing ‘new experience’ until the party tonight… at which I will frequently be involved with other subs”. She considered for a moment and then announced firmly that she wanted to go with me anywhere I would let her. I wanted to kiss my beautiful slave without any dom-sub… just put my arms around her and kiss her like any man who loved the woman he was with would do. But I couldn’t just yet. We had already reached a very critical part of her training, and I couldn’t release her from her role, even for a minute, at this time.

“Okay”, I said curtly, “take your shower and get dressed. Shorts, no bra or panties, no belt.”

She ran into the bathroom and I heard the shower come on. I called Tom back and questioned him closely about who else would be at this private pre-party party. I was satisfied, and told him we’d meet him and Helen at the designated guestroom. Angela had chosen an extremely short skirt and heels. She looked gorgeous, but I had some doubt about whether I wanted her to knowingly dress for maximum provacativeness before the party… although that was how I was going to dress her for the party itself. I decided to say nothing and we left to meet Tom and his sub. They were waiting for us. Hearty hello’s were followed by friendly kisses all around. I was particularly interested to see Angela offer her lips to Tom, a man she didn’t particularly like and yet who had been inside her not long ago. We went into the room together. There were five couples in the small suite, filling the couch and chairs, and some standing and talking. On the bed, a stunning redhead lay bound spread-eagled on the bed and dressed in a short nightgown. Her pussy hair peeked out from below the hem of her nightgown and her nipples were clearly visible through the transparent material of the nightgown. She was blindfolded. Her dom sat on the bed next to her, chatting amiably with another dom and idly fondling her breast through the nightgown. Once we’d come in, apparently the last of the invited guests, the dom removed her blindfold. She looked up at the roomful of people all looking at her, and quickly closed her eyes. Her dom laughed and told her to open them. He began to move his finger around in small circles on her clit. Surprisingly he spoke to the audience to set the stage. “Shelly’s been with me for more than five months. We’re married. I’ve been training her every day and have only used her mouth and her backside. I wanted to use this party as graduation, where I’d take her cherry and give her the opportunity to prove she is a full-fledged sub.” If the redhead was embarrassed by the revelations, she gave no sign of it, smiling and sighing as he fingered her. Soon he was on top of her and slowly penetrating her pussy. She cried out once, and then slowly raised her hips to meet his strokes. We all saw the red stain develop under her. “She was a virgin alright,” Angela whispered to me. Strangely, I thought, the sight of the stain seemed to excite her a great deal. We were sitting on a couch and I noticed her hand creeping up her leg. I moved her hand away before she got to her pussy. I let her squirm for a minute or two, and then put my hand under her skirt and began to play with her pussy lips. Then I put two fingers together into her pussy, and finally let my thumb rest on her clit. Her head back, Angela could no longer see the spectacle on the bed, nor did she seem to care. Instead, she had put her hands on mine and was guiding me to the spots she most wanted stimulated. I allowed her this bit of control and her rotating hips and grunts soon announced her climax. The action on the bed had also climaxed. As he got off her, it was clear that he had come; we could only speculate about her. The dom got out of the bed, wrapped a towel around his waist and then asked that all the subs leave. Only Angela was shocked, probably because she was the only one who hadn’t been told what was coming. She looked at me for directions, and I nodded for her to join the other subs outside on the walkway. One of the remaining doms, closed and locked the door.

Outside, Angela found herelf alone with four other subs, glad that Helen – who she at least knew – was there with her in this strange situation. From the sounds coming from the room, the girls all knew what was happening inside, and were less than enthusiastic about being sent outside. And, of course, they understood that their men were having the redhead. The five women started talking and the subject turned to the party, now only hours away. Helen and another sub had been to the party the previous year and were therefore the recognized experts… sharing their knowledge of what took place with their three wide-eyed companions. Helen advised that they all “stay as far away as possible from Bluebeard”. Angela remembered Helen saying that in the car, and asked her what the story was with him. “He is supposed to be really weird”, offered the other girl experienced with the party…” I never spoke to him, but I saw him many times. He’s huge, like seven feet tall and he’s a biker.” Helen nodded, “he is, and last year he brought like 5 girls to the party”. The other girl spoke up again, “and I did talk to some of his subs… they were definitely weird… acted like they weren’t there at all, like in a trance or something.” Helen took the floor again: “look, stay away from him; I’m telling you he is dangerous, I know”. Before any of them could question Helen further, the door opened and three of the doms, including me, came out and claimed our subs.


I took Angela for a cup of coffee. Helen remained behind because Tom had not come out yet. The restaurant now resembled a fraternity house after a party. Most of the couples were involved in necking and petting. Most hands were under the table, and many of the women looked embarrassed. Angela kept looking at her watch, wanting to be sure I left her enough time to dress for the party. I had decided only on one part of her “look” for the party. Said nothing about it to her. I took this opportunity to tell Angela that her two laundry room lovers turned out to be doms who’d snuck onto the grounds, having been refused entrance. They were now long gone and, if they’d found a better victim, we’d never know. I told the head of the party committee that under the circumstances, we would not pursue the matter.

Angela was now receiving appreciative looks from many of the doms seated around the coffee shop. Those doms not involved with their subs at the table were perusing the other subs, making mental notes for follow-up at the party. For the most part, Angela did not meet the eyes of the predatory doms, but there were exceptions. When we returned to our room to relax and dress for dinner, Angela began her fashion show, trying to get me to “pick” between various options. I had finally decided on her final look, but told her to wear whatever made her feel most attractive. Before dressing, she held out the belt, her head cocked in inquiry. I said simply, “no., tonight you need to be very accessible.” Angela was clearly dying to ask “to whom?”, but correctly held her tongue.

We walked to the “ballroom”, really little more than a very large meeting room, decorated for a party. At the entrance, the line developed and moved ahead fairly slowly. In line, I reminded Angela of my rules, and she read the card supplied to us while in line that listed the P-rules, most of which we already knew. As we approached the front of the line, I reached under her dress to see if she was more excited or frightened; her wetness made clear it was the former. Once inside the door, we were ushered to a small cubicle with a black curtain at the entrance and exit of the small area. It was here that Angela’s real test began. The cubicle was for last minute costume changes, makeup adjustments, etc., for partygoers who didn’t want to give away their entire look before their grand entrances. Once inside the dimly lit cubicle, I said to Angela: “Take off your dress”. She looked surprised, but did so immediately. She wore no bra or panties, hence she stood there naked in her high heels. I withdrew her new eveningwear from my pocket. She stared nervously at my hands as I attached a set of very special nipple rings directly to the base of each erect nipple. Angela sucked in her breath hard as I attached each one; they gripped much harder than the makeshift ones she had used on herself before giving herself to me. When they were both on, she could not help giving out a long “ohhhhhhh, they’re tight aren’t they?” “They’re supposed to be”, I said. She started to reach down for her dress, when I gestured her back up. She stared down her breasts in confusion as I attached a golden colored chain to each clamp. Their added weight brought another ohhhh from her lips. Then, kneeling in front of her I took first one and the other pussy lip and attached a clamp to each. From her reaction, raising first one foot and then the other, I judged the ones she’d used on herself were far more forgiving. Finally I attached the thin chains dangling from her nipple clamps to those on her pussy, and adjusted it so that when she stood almost straight, there was no “pull” between her nipples and her pussy. But if she stood too tall, or arched her back………!

Angela understood the situation and asked for help getting dressed. Her situation became very clear to her when I answered, “you are dressed”, and, affixing a collar and a leash to her neck, led her naked except for nipple clamps connected to pussylip clamps, and high heels, into the large room filled with people wearing costumes!


5. In the Restaurant

It was quite an entrance. Angela is small, only 5″5″, but has breasts and nipples sized for a taller girl. With her black hair and flashing eyes – the latter unusual for a sub – her striking good looks and clamps-only outfit, she drew eyes like a magnet. At first, she looked straight ahead as I led her to a small cloth covered table where a couple sat in front of a computer terminal. I identified myself to the man at the table; he pressed a few keys and looked up at me. “Is your sub aware of our Party rules?” I answered that she was. Do you have any additional requirements for her that could be in conflict with Party rules? I told him that there were indeed some conflicts, and that where they existed, my requirements were to take precedence. He looked at me doubtfully, turned to the man sitting next to him and said “is that ok”? His table partner looked at Angela and nodded assent. More keys were punched. He had a few more questions about Angela, but all were addressed to me. She realized that she had no part to play in this “registration” process, even though she was its subject; so she began to steal glances around the room.

The huge room was haphazardly separated into many sections, with 3 foot, office like dividers seemingly placed at random. The confused look of the room was matched by the divergent activities of the partygoers. Near us, two girls lay on the carpet playing with themselves, eyes closed, heads turned toward each other. Both were dressed, with their skirts pushed up. Above them, their doms laughed and joked with each other and the onlookers who stopped occasionally to urge on their slaves. Angela unobtrusively drew my attention to the scene and mouthed the words “a competition”, her eyes smiling with the reference to a word that had caused her some concerns since we met.

While Angela seemed to find little erotic in the tableau of the two women masturbating, (or pretended not to), there was no mistaking her interest in the area adjoining it. That area included part of the ballroom wall. Attached to the wall, at varying heights, were six-inch rings. And, along the length of the wall, eight women were individually chained to the rings, their arms held far above their heads by the chains. Three were secured facing the wall; the other five had their backs to it. As we watched, four of the women were bearing strokes from doms, crying out as each blow fell. Two others had obviously just been disciplined, and doms appeared to be comforting them, with gentle touches and whispered words. One girl, her back to the wall, stood chained to the wall facing away from it, a look of brave independence on her face, and no dom in sight. Her large breasts rose and fell slowly, and from time to time she tried to blow wisps of her long hair away from her face.

I folded Angela’s leash several times, severely limiting the distance she could move from me as I led her away from the registration booth and into the party area. “How do you feel”, I asked her as we walked. “Fine, Master”, she replied in her now practiced slave voice, but, she added that the stinging from the clamps on her lips was now severe. “It’s because you’re not used to wearing them there”, I said. “You’ll get used to pressure on your pussy lips”, I added. She smiled, but said nothing.

I saw Tom standing in a small group of men, a mass of women’s hair surrounded their knees as they conversed. On the floor in front of them, their slaves knelt, their mouths pressed to their masters’ crotches. Tom saw us and gestured for us to join them. We did, and as Tom introduced me to the other men, Angela sank to her knees and I felt her hand glide to the top of my fly and pull the zipper down. Moments later, her warm lips closed gently around my currently smaller, non-erect cock. Under the circumstances, I intended to keep it that way.

When the conversation turned to the auction, I pulled Angela to her feet, pushed my now hardening cock back into my pants and said goodbye, intending to lead Angela to a particular partition. We were intercepted, however, by a dom who stopped Angela and said to her simply, “show”. Since all doms at the party had this right, I said nothing and nodded to Angela to do what she had been told. Looking frightened, but having seen this happen with several other women as she watched from the registration booth, she knew what she was supposed to do. She moved to the nearest empty chair, sat down, slid forward on it as far as possible, and then raised her parted legs. Carefully, she parted her clamped lips so that the stranger could peer into her pussy. “Hey man”, he said to me, “it doesn’t look like anybody’s shot in there… what’s the deal?” I laughed and said that it was early in the evening yet. “Check you later” he said to Angela, and walked off into the crowd leaving us to wonder whether that was an informal goodbye or a pun. “That’s really humiliating”, Angela said when he was out of earshot. “Why do we have to do that”? Wanting to keep it light, I said, “We don’t have to that… you do, and who are you to change P-Rules?” Angela grimaced.

Music had started, obviously recorded, and many doms drifted toward the dance floor with their subs. “Oh, let’s dance”, Angela suggested happily. Then, not sure she was allowed to suggest activities, she added “if you would like to, master.” Instead of answering, I told her to put her hands behind her neck. She obeyed instantly, expecting no doubt, some form of punishment for her audacity in suggesting what we do. Instead, I slowly removed her nipple clamps. We had a significant group of onlookers, male and female, for this simple operation. The reason was that Angela, whose breasts usually draw attention bare or covered, become breathtaking when putting her hands behind her neck thrusts them even further forward. When the clamp came off, a sharp “ohhh” escaped her lips and she doubled over at the sharp sensation that accompanied the return of blood to the now swelling nipple. After giving her a brief rest, I removed the other one, with the same results again. She kept her hands locked behind her neck until I told her she could put them down. They went directly to her nipples, rubbing them in an effort to relieve the sharp pain flooding them. I felt her pussy, which was dripping wet and decided that I definitely needed her now. Pulling her leash, I steered us through the crowd to the partition area I wanted her in earlier. When we reached it, its purpose was clear. Scattered about were air mattresses on the carpet and several padded rolls perched on legs that looked very much like the pommel horses found in gyms. Without a word, I bent Angela over one of the horses, dropped my pants and grunted as she reached back and guided my cock into her welcoming body. I made no effort to hold back, going for my climax immediately. Despite the absence of any affection from me, or any attempt to make sure she came, Angela came, too, making no effort to keep her cries of pleasure low despite the presence of several other nearby couples doing the same thing. For all practical purposes, Angela’s modesty was gone. She had reached the point in her training when she was able, at least at this moment, to give up all control of her body. Being naked, ordered about, sexually humiliated and treated as if her desires did not matter, no longer mattered. Again for this moment at least, being a slave had set her free to follow her innate nature, that of a purely sexual being. Angela was enjoying the party.


Afterward, she reached for one of the many boxes of wetnaps, the same ones offered in barbecue restaurants, that spotted the area. She used one to clean my cock, and then several to remove the signs of our lovemaking from her pussy as well as she could. When she finished, I pointed to her thighs. She got another cloth and wiped the moisture for her thighs, this moisture having been produced not by me, but by her. As she finished, and was checking her lipstick in a mirror (for whatever good that would do her, since she had no purse or makeup with her), an announcement came over a loudspeaker that the auction would begin in ten minutes.

I looked at my watch and told Angela that it was 9:00 PM, that she was to go back to the changing room, get her clothes from the shelf, get dressed and go to the registration desk. There she was to sign out and leave the ballroom. “Without you”, she yelped? “Please let me stay with you”. I whacked her ass hard with my hand and told her do what she was told. She winced, but faced me defiantly. “When you leave, you can go to the coffee shop, wander around the grounds and take in the activity in any of the rooms with open doors, go back to our room… whatever you like after you leave here. I want you back at the registration desk at 10:30. Okay?” “Yes Sir”, she said rather glumly, clearly in a pout.

By the time Angela was back in the courtyard, it was 9:20, and she had a little over an hour to deal with her conflicting emotions. She knew she had done pretty well so far… no big problems at the party, didn’t trip and fall on her rump during her grand entrance, avoided breaking anyone’s rules (well, almost), and the attention paid to her when she came in and when her clamps were removed pleased her and, she could tell, me as well.

Also on the positive side, she realized that some of the changes her master wanted had come very easily… especially the tiny one of my not wanting her to wear a watch She had no idea why the first couple of times she dressed for me, I had her remove the watch. Now she didn’t put it on at all and, after a lifetime of it hanging on her wrist and controlling much of her day, she found relief in letting someone else keep track of time and get her where she needed to be. Angela giggled to herself as she walked down the path toward the rooms: “there’s a concept, my dom as my personal assistant”. After a moment of enjoying that turnabout, she decided to keep that non-sexual thought to herself. But there were negatives, too. Some of the changes were not as easily assimilated. She knew that my sex life was not exclusively devoted to her. Even though I had not required her to be “faithful” either, in the sense of limiting her sexual activity to only me, she thought she might have preferred that to living with the reality that she would certainly end up present when her love made it with someone beside her. And she knew me well enough to understand that I would not be satisfied with her merely not showing any sign of jealousy. No way; I would insist that she enjoy the sight. Could she?

She also was conflicted about often being kept in the dark. Yes, she admitted to herself, it was sometimes exciting not knowing what was coming next or being shocked when there was a sudden twist. Like my undoing her carefully planned wardrobe at the last minute. That was no whim; I planned to spring her no-clothes-at-all wardrobe on her at the last minute… and she would have to confess that going into a roomful of strangers dressed only in her leash and shoes was a mind-blowing experience for her. On the other hand, what the hell was she doing on the outside of the party, alone? Why didn’t I want her with me? Why did I kick her out just before the “auction”? Why no explanation of what the auction was?

As she reached the swimming pool, empty now with its fenced gate locked, the sight of the water reminded her she needed a bathroom… and the small building for use by bathers was just ahead. She ducked into the ladies’ room and when wiping herself was reminded again, when her hand brushed her pussy lips, that they hurt like hell now. Her master had removed her nipple clips and told her to dress. Surely he meant for them all to come off, as he had put them on her as a set. Not certain, she finally decided it must have been an oversight and gingerly removed them from her lips. They had been on a long time, and removing them brought tears to her eyes and down her cheeks. She lightly touched the skin where they had been applied and even that butterfly-light pressure caused sharp pains to shoot through her. “My God”, she thought. “I will not be able to take him or anyone else fucking me. It hurts too much just touching my pussy.” As she came out of the bathroom, she found herself face to face with the dom who’d introduced her to the embarrassment of “show”.

Instinctively she glanced around for a chair, knowing what was coming. Instead, the dom said hello, as if he were a friend coming upon her by accident at a movie ticket counter. “Hello” she responded and added “Sir” just in case. While waiting for his next words, Angela frantically searched her memory for the “rules” on contact with other doms. She must respond pleasantly and with some respect, but was not required to have any physical contact with him, unless she wanted to, beyond being punished by him if he was aware of her breaking a P-rule. Angela relaxed a bit and gratefully accepted the cigarette he offered her. He had lit two, and they stood in the quiet evening sharing the light of the cigarettes’ glowing tips, both aware that wild and often violent sex was taking place on both sides of them, in the ballroom and in the guest rooms, while they stood in the calm eye of that sensual hurricane. “Why are you alone?”, he asked gazing idly at a door opening to one of the nearby rooms. “I, I was not needed”, she replied, immediately regretting her ridiculous, whiny response. Her companion raised an eyebrow quizzically, but said nothing, just nodded. He looked straight at her now. Angela suddenly was very nervous. “I mean, I don’t know why he sent me…”. Her voice trailed off miserably. He continued watching her, and it got to her. “Look”, she said with an unintended edge to her voice, “I’m sorry… I don’t know why I said that… I mean your question took me by surprise”. The edge gone from her voice now, replaced by a trace of pleading for understanding she said “have I said something wrong?; I’m sorry if I did”. He said, “don’t worry about it, I guess”. Angela got no comfort from it. Here was that damned dom-sub uncertainty again. What was the “correct” thing to do now? What fucking rule covered this? Maybe I’m supposed to Story-of-O him, a blow job for his silence… no, that can’t be right; I don’t have to obey this dom or not look above his knees. When she’d given up her intense internal debate and focused her eyes again, he was gone.

She hurried into the coffee shop, checked the clock on the wall, and decided she better get back to the registration desk and wait. Her heels tapping quickly on the sidewalk, she hurried back to her assigned waiting post. She arrived just in time for the spectacle. The roar of engines outside subsided and the enormous guy in biker gear, who could only be Bluebeard, strode into the building, a lot of girls hurrying behind him like small fish swimming in the wake of a whale. The guy behind the desk obviously knew who he was and asked no questions at all. When he began to wish the giant a pleasant party, Bluebeard turned and walked away in mid-sentence, his subs taking up the chase again. “Rude prick”, Angela thought to herself, very happy that no one could hear her thoughts. From behind her, I said, “isn’t he”. Angela whirled around in panic. “How could you possibly…” she began, and then realized I might have been guessing her thought was “wasn’t he tall” or some other observation rather than his rudeness. “Never mind”, she said, putting her arms around me happily and telling me she was so glad to see me again. As we stood at the desk, I lifted her chin, and bent to kiss her, a long, probing kiss, at the same time dom-like hard and romantically tender. When I released her, and she came off her toes back to the floor, Angela’s breathing was fast and her pussy was releasing its dew, unmistakably signaling her desire.

It crossed Angela’s mind as I led her purposefully toward a distant enclosed section. While her eyes and ears had been inundated with sex since before they party, and she had “suffered” much sexually charged humiliation, so far this party had produced not nearly as much penetration-to-orgasm as she had expected. In the future, Angela would look back upon this conclusion as the most premature one of her life.

When we reached the partitioned enclosure, I stood behind Angela, put my arms around her waist and hugged her to me while she looked at the three strange objects evenly spaced within the enclosure. They looked like large oil drums that had been split in half vertically, with the resulting flat surface on the carpet and a semi circle spanning it, a small version of the metal Quonset hut buildings often seen on the outside of airports. At its peak, the apparatus was about two feet from the carpeted floor. Rising from the center of the thing was what looked very much like a very large, erect cock. From the back of the machine, an electrical cord snaked away to end in a wall outlet. A few moments inspection was all Angela needed to figure out the purpose of the three units. “Hmm, fucking machines. Might be fun”, she added, privately, “at home.”

“Would you like to watch?” She started to nod her head, but stopped the movement and said instead,

“whatever you wish”.

“I think not, Angela; you’re signed up to ride”.

“Me”! Angela was incredulous. “Master, this is too… public”. The truth was, though, that Angela was ready to come, and neither the method nor the absence of privacy meant much to her at this point in the party. A man entered the enclosure and called out three names, alphabetically. A very large crowd had gathered. Word was out that both the new 5’5″ sub with the big boobs and one of Bluebeard’s subs were entered. I took her shoulders and whispered to her urgently, “don’t come, honey… try your hardest not to come.” At the “judges'” gesture, another owner and I brought our women to one of the machines; Angela to the center one. The third woman walked to hers alone, rather forelornly. It was only as I undressed her, the crowd offering comments and suggestions while I was doing it, that Angela realized her lips were still very sore and that the discomfort would surely work in her favor; the pain that she knew was to come might prevent her from orgasming. I also saw, of course, that her pussy clamps were not in place. Well, that matter would be settled later.

The judge told the girls to straddle the cock, but not lower themselves onto it until he gave the signal. He told them that they must end up with their knees on the ground, the cock all the way in and their bottoms resting on the machine. I took off her leash, winked at her and moved back into the crowd. The other dom joined me. Angela looked spectacular, completely naked, her nipples rock hard and her long hair flowing freely. Both her “competitors” were much taller girls and both were blondes, one a real blonde. I felt most eyes were on Angela’s breasts, rising and falling slightly with each breath, the big nipples straining toward the audience. I started to get hard just looking at her crouched over the make-believe 8″ cock.

The moment the judge gave the “down” signal, the audience noise grew even louder, many bets being offered and taken as the three girls lowered their bodies onto their staffs. I saw Angela wince as the cock pushed her punished lips apart. Only after the three of them knelt on the machines, knees resting on the floor and their pussies impaled by the mechanical cocks, did the judge gesture for silence. He then turned on the machines.

The intriguing part of this from the audience point of view was that they could not see the cock thrusting inside the girls; they could follow the progress of the sport only by the looks on the girl’s faces and by looking for telltale ripples in their stomachs.

I expected Angela to be the first to come. She always came easily and was capable of multiple orgasms. To my knowledge she was very weak in the “delaying orgasms” department. But it was the unaccompanied girl, whom we now knew to be Bluebeard’s, who came in less than 90 seconds. There was no way to miss her climax. Her moans turned to yips and then to a string of “no’s”, followed by “stop it; please stop it… no more…it’s hurting”… and finally, “oh god, I’m sorrrrrrry”. With that, the muscles in her abdomen began rippling in final reaction to the very powerful, very fast thrusts from the larger and much thicker-than-real-world cock pumping inside her pussy. Her head rolled back and forth. She slumped forward, held in place by the strap across the tops of her thighs that prevented her from standing up to escape the mechanical stimulation. The judge stopped her machine.


6. Angela Wins and Loses

I rarely took my eyes off Angela. After a while, both she and the remaining blonde sub showed the telltale signs of impending climax. Angela was wrenching herself side-to-side trying to escape the thrusts. Without the restraining strap she would have thrown herself off the cock no matter what the consequences. Like overstimulating a clit, or the head of a cock, the pleasure eventually turned to pain. Her competitor’s stomach muscles were clenching in a prelude to the uncontrollable ripples. Both girls’ pussy hair was so matted with juices that if you only saw that part of their bodies you would have thought they’d already come. Angela’s nipples looked as if they might burst. Both girls were crying, desperately trying not to come, but both realized that they were about to. Finally, Angela was incapable of warding off her explosion. Her abdomen and leg muscles began to shake visibly, her moans rose in volume and pitch and sounded like a siren. At last she screamed once, a clear fluid squirted from her pussy and she lurched forward, momentarily unconscious. As the judge was turning off her machine, the remaining girl orgasmed in a nearly identical manner. A yellow stream followed from both of them, though neither of them were aware of this final humiliation. The other dom and I walked quickly to the girls and released their restraining straps and lifted them off the now silent machines. There were traces of red on the blonde’s machine cock. Thankfully, that was not the case on Angela’s. I had sat down on the carpet next to the machine and held the sleeping Angela until her eyes opened. “Master, I couldn’t help it… I beg you, please forgive me… I tried so hard to obey you”… tears and sobs followed and she could not stop, despite my repeated assurances that no sub had ever held off her climax for as much as six minutes and that she and the blonde were both well into their fifth minute when the body stopped obeying the mind. She had done wonderfully and I kept repeating that I was very proud of her. Finally, the sobs subsided. She was too weak to dress, so I dressed her.

We had come to a critical point in her training and our relationship. Every rational approach demanded that Angela not be physically punished for having removed the clamps from her pussy. I had not been specific about my wishes. Besides, I loved and admired her so much at that moment, that it would be easy to let her “get away” with this one. I simply didn’t have the heart to whip her now. But, for the sake of her training progress, I had to punish her. Fate intervened in the person of Tom appearing from the crowd. I had my answer instantly.

With Angela listening as she stood shakily at my side, I told Tom I needed a favor, one I was sure he would enjoy. “Sure thing, pal”, he said, “watcha need?” I want you to take Angela to your room. I want you to spank or whip her, front and back, and then fuck her any way or ways you want. Start without me and I’ll join you very soon to watch.”

“Why, master, why? Oh my God, you are angry that I came. Master you told me that I did well, please, don’t punish me…this way.” I knew she meant “with Tom”.

“Angela, you were wonderful then, but not when you took off the clamps without permission”.

“I knew it; I knew it”, she said to the air around her, and the fight went out of her. “I understand, Master”, she said with resignation. I handed the leash to Tom, who took it gladly and led Angela across the room toward the exit. She looked back twice in case I was just testing her and might call her back. I went quickly to the bar to meet, as agreed earlier, with another dom.

As they walked down the sidewalk to Tom and Helen’s room, Angela asked, “will Helen be with us when you, uh, punish me, Sir?” “Nope, she’s not with me any more; she went in the auction”. He tugged on her leash and led her the rest of the way to his room. Once there, he closed the door, prompting Angela to say to herself, thank God for small favors. He told her to take a shower, flipped on the TV, and flopped onto the bed to watch. As she showered, Angela wished Tom had gotten it over with right away. The time she spent taking a shower was additional time to worry about what he was going to do to her, and whether her master would get there before Tom started. Above all, she did not want to be in this situation without me there.

When she came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her and her still wet hair pulled back into a ponytail, Tom turned off the TV, sat down on the bed and motioned her to get over his lap. Still in the towel, she did so and since she was going to get it anyway, risked a question. “Tom, what exactly happened to Helen. Did somebody sort of ‘buy her’? Tom already had the wide strap in his hand, and pulled the towel up to her waist so that her ass was exposed. “not sort of bought her, actually bought her. Helen’s a deep sub and has no choice in who her dom is or anything else for the matter”. “Is she still here”?, Angela asked, noting that her punishment was being postponed while she kept Tom talking, and wondering if this would work with me. He said, “I don’t know, probably. Bluebeard probably has her in one of the hell rooms.” At that, Angela turned partly over on his lap so she could see Tom. Pushing herself up and resting her weight on one elbow she said “you mean that weird biker has Helen? She warned me to stay away from him. She must be scared out of her wits!” Tom shrugged his shoulders and prepared to push Angela back down on his lap.

“Can I ask you one more question before you start, she pleaded”. “Yeah, go ahead Angela”. “When he came in, there were a lot of girls that seemed to be with him, maybe 10 or 11 of them. How can he, well, take care of so many subs”?

“Well, I guess you could say they’re all his. Most of the girls in his motorcycle club ride with other guys, but since he’s the honcho of the club, I guess you could say they’re all his, when he wants them”. Angela nodded and wondered about those girls, when Tom added: “What Helen told you, about avoiding Bluebeard, was good advice. I think nearly all the girls you saw are deep subs, that’s why they usually end up in one or more hell rooms at the party each year”.

“What’s a hell room?”

“You don’t want to know, Angela. Now let’s get on with this.”

“Please, Tom, just one more thing”.


“Will Helen be okay”? As she asked, Angela realized with some surprise that she was concerned about this girl she barely knew, considered a ditz, but had been through some wild “firsts” with.

She was surprised to see Tom’s face soften. “I hope so. Bluebeard’s girls are grouped according to his interests. I’ll give you an example”, he said warming to his “teacher” role. “One of two of his girls are always pregnant… because he likes milk, fresh from the tit”. Angela was shocked speechless. “The brats are always dumped, adopted out I guess. Some of the girls are kept because he likes fucking them in their butts, exclusively. They have zero pussy-sex, ever. Others he puts to work as hookers in whatever town the club is in at the moment. Anyway, you’ve got ten of these coming, front and back”, he said showing her the short, wide belt he was going to punish her with. “Get back down.”

As she settled herself across Tom’s lap again, I came in. “Perfect timing”, Tom laughed, and brought the strap down across both cheeks of her ass. “Ow!”, Angela cried out, not expecting it would sting that much. Holding both her wrists together at the small of her back, Angela was unable to move much in any direction. Nine more followed, evenly spaced lines appearing across her bottom and down the backs of her thighs to the back of her knees.

When he turned her over, this time on the bed rather than across his knees, Angela met my eyes, hers flashing pain and pleasure and love. Her emotions were at a high pitch, and telltale wetness glistened on her pussy hair and inside her thighs. After the first stroke, the only sounds she made were soft moans.

Because of the nature of the targets, her boobs, stomach and the fronts of her thighs, the strokes Tom applied to the “front” were much lighter. That they stung a great deal, however, was obvious. After the final blow, Tom stood up, took off his clothes quickly and mounted Angela, whose response was much different than the first time he’d had her in the car. Angela’s eyes were closed in private thought, her lips were open and she moved her legs wider apart as she felt him lowering himself onto her. This time she participated, fucking back as he moved up and down on her. Her arms were wrapped tightly around him and she was pushing up to meet his thrusts when they both came. He rolled off of her and I studied her stripe-marked body, still shuddering slightly and damp with perspiration. My clothes were soon on the floor and I climbed into the bed and onto my slave. Her legs spread wide and she grabbed my throbbing cock to guide it into her. Despite the lubrication from her own juices and that of Tom’s come, her pussy was tight as she contracted her vaginal muscles with perfect control.

I fucked her for a long time, delaying my orgasm so that I could stretch out the period of buildup. Building on her original orgasm with Tom, Angela had come again shortly after we began, and was now urging me to “come in me master”. At her words, my ability to hold off my climax disappeared, and with a yell I shot my come into her dripping pussy. There was no question about it; this was a very special sub.

Meanwhile, Tom dressed and left, saying he’d see us at the party. I propped up a pillow at the headboard and shared a cigarette with Angela. For obvious reasons, she was pretty tired… more so than I. She stretched like a cat, grinned and running her finger along a stripe across her breast said “I’m not going to be able to hide these unless you put me in a nun’s habit”. I chuckled and told her that Angela the Nun didn’t compute.

When she asked if she could take a shower, pointing wryly at signs of lovemaking on and all around her crotch, I told her to go, but to make if fast… I wanted to get back to the party. She was quick with the shower, but I found myself impatiently waiting for her to finish blow drying her hair. Even a dom doesn’t have much luck getting his girl to dress quickly.

“What should I wear”, she asked, returning naked to the bedroom. It had turned cooler. “Sweater, skirt… not too short, just above your knee is fine, nothing under your clothes but your belt”. Her face registered disappointment at the last item, but while I watched from the bed, she dressed as ordered. When she finished, she came to me and held out the key. I put it in my pocket, and we returned to the party. Dressed in non-sub clothes, with only the tight belt covering her crotch as a reminder to Angela that she was not an independent agent, she could have been any off duty nurse strolling around the ballroom and taking in the sights with her boyfriend. Even the marks of her whipping were hidden from the other partygoers. I stopped at an empty couch and sat down. Angela started to sit down next to me, but I told her to go to the bar, have a Coke, and then bring me a Coke in fifteen minutes. She said, “yes sir” and walked confidently into the crowd of people milling about. Many eyes, beside mine, were on her pretty ass swaying under her skirt as she moved.

I could tell that Angela believed the “test” that the party represented was nearly over, and that she had “passed”. If so, the only word that applied to her assumption was “clueless”. The fact was that it hadn’t even begun. But the beginning was underway.

I strolled a few yards from the couch, picked a luscious redhead and ordered her to “show”. She returned with me to the same couch I’d just left, pushed her slacks down to her ankles, sat down and kicked them off. She spread her legs without embarrassment and raised them as high as she could to make her pussy maximally visible. As I spread her lips I asked her where her dom was. “Somewhere in the room”, she said. “What rules has he given you regarding other doms who want to have sex with you?”, I asked, inserting my finger into her pussy. After a sharp intake of breath as my finger drove all the way in, she answered that she was to accept any dom who wanted her, but that she couldn’t leave the room. That was perfect for my purposes.

I told her to finish undressing. She stood up, unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off. Although she hadn’t worn panties, she was wearing a bra, which she removed. Since I had not started to remove my own clothes, she assumed that she was to suck me and gracefully fell to her knees in front of me. I opened my fly, took out my cock and with my hand on her head, pulled her mouth to my hardening cock.

Meanwhile, Angela’s search for the bar produced some sights that shook her earlier blasé attitude. In particular, an excited repulsion swept over her as she saw Bluebeard sitting on a chair with one of his subs sitting on his lap, her back to him. As she drew nearer, Angela could see that the girl wasn’t sitting. Her mini-skirt did not cover the reality that she was moving slowly up and down on his cock as Bluebeard talked with several people standing next to his chair. Palpable fear swept over her as she openly stared, like a deer caught in the headlights of an onrushing car. Not only was that huge cock in the girl’s ass, but glinting from the center of her nest of pussy hair were four gold rings, each holding her pussy lips together and each an inch below the previous one. The girl’s pussy was loosely sewed together by these gold threads. Tom’s words – “They have zero pussy-sex, ever” – reverberated in her mind. Angela learned something about herself in that moment. The sight of the terribly pierced deep sub with Bluebeard produced a feeling of revulsion, but inconceivably, standing in the middle of a crowd of strangers, her knees went weak and she began to come, hard. As the first shudder began, Bluebeard suddenly snapped his head in her direction and their eyes locked.


Meanwhile, I said to the redhead kneeling on the floor in front of me, “enough”. I did not want to come yet and thinking of Angela’s next couple of hours, together with this girl’s energetic efforts to suck everything out of me, was bringing me to the brink. She made no move to disengage, so I reached down, grabbed a handful of her long hair, and pulled her face away from my cock.

Without letting go of her, I pulled her onto the couch next to me. “You don’t follow orders very well”, I chided her. She replied that she was sorry, but that she was just trying to complete the last one I had given her. “Cute answer”, I thought to myself, but since I really didn’t care how well someone else’s sub behaved, I looked at my watch and told her to put her clothes back on, except for her bra. When she started to button her shirt, I shook my head and said, “leave it”. Moments later, she was back on the couch with me, dressed but with her bare melons on display through her open shirt. I turned to her, pulled her slacks down just enough to provide access for my hand, and began to tease her clit with my finger. Her legs parted immediately and she leaned her head back against the back of the couch.

By the time Angela appeared carrying a can of Coke, I had worked three fingers into her pussy. Angela stood in front of us, head down, studiously avoiding looking at the girl’s pussy with much of my hand buried in it. The look on her face was not one of lust. With slow deliberateness, I withdrew my fingers and brought them to Angela’s lips and commanded that she open her mouth. Angela hesitated, obviously weighing the consequences of action vs. inaction, and then parted her lips slightly. “Wider”, I said sternly. She slowly complied. Then putting them in her mouth I told her to “clean them off completely”. She did as I had ordered, without enthusiasm, and then sat looking at her knees awaiting the next development. I curtly told the redhead to take off and put my arm around Angela.

The small show of affection emboldened Angela who began in a small voice, “master, I wish I…”. Her voice trailed off and she silently continued to hang her head. “What?”, I asked. “I wish I was enough to satisfy you”. I laughed. “You may be, but if I decide to use a prop of some kind to add to my pleasure, you are to accept that gracefully… even if the prop happens to be another girl”. “Yes, Sir”, she replied. I turned her face to me. “Are you sure you understand, Angela? You belong to me now and your role is to serve me in whatever manner I choose”. The reminder that she belonged to me seemed to help her over her unhappiness. “Yes, master, I’m glad I belong to you. I will always do what you wish.”

“Good”, I said, “because I’m giving you to one of the doms for a while”. “Giving me”?, she asked immediately, her face clouding over. “That’s right, temporarily. You will obey him as you do me”. She replied, “yes master, whatever pleases you”.

With that I rose and, taking Angela’s arm, led her to the punishment wall. Her eyes widened, not unhappily. Although I made no indication that she was to undress, Angela seemed to know that she was about to experience the wall. She watched the two girls chained to it being whipped for a moment, then asked “am I to be punished?”. I nodded. “There is no room in our relationship for jealousy on your part, girl. You are to please me, period… and take pleasure in doing so. A few minutes ago, you displayed a bad case of jealousy, and you hesitated when I offered you my fingers to lick off”. She nodded and said in what seemed to be a relieved voice, “yes master. Should I strip now?”

“Just your sweater.” She removed it quickly. I took her to the far end of the wall. There, suspended from the ceiling was a small winch, the kind one sees in auto repair facilities for moving heavy engines into and out of cars. At the end of the chains hanging from the winch were two heavy leather, fleece padded cuffs. I buckled them onto her ankles and then threw the red switch on the wall. As the winch began to raise the chains, I lifted Angela into my arms and carefully steadied her as the chains rose, bringing her feet up with them. Soon she was hanging upside down by her ankles. I adjusted the height until she could steady herself with her hands on the floor. This way, she could remove the tension from her ankles, if she wished, by bearing some of her weight with her arms.

Gravity had caused her skirt to fall below her waist and she made a beautiful picture, suspended by her ankles, her breasts helplessly exposed, and the copper plate covering her pussy catching and reflecting the room lights from between her widely spread legs. If her position left any doubt about the nature of our relationship, the still fresh stripes across her breasts and stomach made it clear.

I used the crop with the small tab on her stomach and breasts, this time with many, many light taps… my purpose being to create an increasing, wide spread stinging sensation rather than to bring tears to her eyes. One of the doms watching her advised “harder, man”. Of course, I paid no attention to his suggestion.

After a few minutes, I lowered her to the floor and removed the cuffs. Dutifully, and lovingly, Angela said “thank you master”. Christ, I loved this girl.

After her dizziness passed, we walked around the ballroom for a while, Angela happily clinging to my arm and now really enjoying the sights and sounds, once whispering “will you be doing that to me?” When I answered “what do you think?”, my newly sophisticated sub actually blushed!

In the dining room for a late dinner, I told her to let her skirt ride up as if accidentally, and we both enjoyed the attention she drew in a room in which several other girls were topless. Over dessert, I handed Angela a room key and told her she was to go there and let herself in. The question I expected came immediately: “will you be there master?”

“Just do what you’re told”

“Yes master”.

“You will submit to whatever is required of you”.

“Yes master”.

“Go now”, I told her and watched her over the rim of my coffee cup as she stood up uncertainly, looked to me for reassurance, and then walked to the door. As I watched her move along the sidewalk looking at room numbers, I experienced doubt for the first time since we arrived at the party.

Angela found the room and shakily inserted the key into the lock. She was apprehensive; at least when Tom had her, he was a known quantity and I was with her the whole time. She decided that I must have sent her to another dom as part of the test she assumed she was undergoing at this party. A radio was playing and the only light in the room after she closed the door came from under the bathroom door. The sound of someone peeing was followed by a toilet flush. There were no suitcases or clothes visible in the darkened room. Angela stood nervously, wondering what the next hours would bring, her heart pounding in her chest.

Suddenly the bathroom door was flung open, and Angela stared in horror at the hulk highlighted in the doorframe. Bluebeard, standing there in his underwear said, “come over here, bitch.” She stood rooted to the spot, unable to move had she wanted to. Earlier warnings, the picture of the gold-ringed girl riding his organ, and my “betrayal” careened through her head.


7. Fight or Flight?

“Did you hear me or are you deaf?” his voice reverberated through the room and Angela knew she had only moments to decide what to do. The ‘fight’ choice of ‘fight or flight’ was a non-starter; her choice was submit or flee. The former was my instruction to her, the latter was fortified by instinct. The outcome was preordained; as Bluebeard casually strode to her, Angela’s decision was made for her. She was unable to move toward him or the door. Instead, she stood trembling in the dimly lit room, praying only to survive. Bluebeard put his large paws under her armpits and lifted her up to his eye level. “Say something”, he demanded. Angela tried to speak, but only a hoarse “ah” came out.

He tossed her onto the bed where she landed in a sitting position and bounced twice. Bluebeard walked to the door and locked it. Her skirt had climbed up her legs from the bouncing, and she quickly smoothed it back down. “Modest, huh”, he laughed. With that, he moved to the bed, grabbed her sweater and jerked it from her body in one motion. Her fright mounting still higher, Angela instinctively put her hands over her breasts for a moment and then, realizing the futility of the gesture, dropped her hands into her lap and sat unmoving on his bed, heavy spheres heaving and her stomach knotted with dread.

“Okay, cunt, you can’t talk. Can you suck?” He pulled off his shorts and stood next to her on the bed, then grabbed a fistful of her black hair and pulled her face to him. Bluebeard’s cock was large and, at the moment, soft. She felt it pressed between her chin and his body. Finally an age-old woman’s adage rose into her consciousness…. If rape is inevitable, lay back…etc. She knew there was no way out of this. I had given her to him, he was not a nice guy from home who knew what ‘no’ meant, and there was no cavalry to save her. She opened her mouth, bent down to reach the tip and took it into her mouth.

Hoping that maybe a blow job would satisfy him, Angela began to run her tongue over the rim; surprisingly it tasted good; he obviously had showered shortly before she arrived. Although the size remained the same, she could feel his tool begin to harden. Instinct took over again. Angela knew that she was very good at this and began to hope that if she provided what he wanted, she might at least escape the pain of his anger. Soon her head was bobbing up and down as she energetically began riding her lips up and down his cock, taking as much of him as she could on each downstroke. Bluebeard inched closer to the bed and, putting one hand behind her head began to pressure her mouth further and further down his cock. Angela tried to relax her throat; she had seen a porno queen swallow cocks like these in a movie and dimly remembered hearing the trick was accomplished by relaxing the throat muscles. It didn’t work; she gagged and felt panic rising at the thought that he would cut off her air supply. Bluebeard ignored her gagging sounds and pulled her head hard toward him. Her lips brushed against his curly pubic hair as she sat frozen on the bed, his cock buried to the hilt in her mouth. Instinct took over once again, and Angela began breathing exclusively through her nose. The panic subsided and she responded to the signal of him pulling her head slightly back and slightly forward. She began to move up and down on his cock, holding him with her lips and her throat.

“Yeah, he said, that’s better.” When he began to rock on the balls of his feet, matching his thrusts to her motions, Angela’s nature took full control. She felt the wetness appear on her thighs and she felt her fear being slowly replaced by excitement. Her confidence building, Angela pulled back so far that his cock left her throat and was just in her mouth. He allowed it, no pressure on the back of her head forcing her to swallow it all again. She pulled further back and began to tease the head with butterfly flicks. Then, she began to move down the shaft again, slowly and deliberately, past the entrance to her throat and with a final push past the gag reflex point, pushed hard again and felt her lips mash into his hair. Elated that she had been able to do that on her own this time, Angela shifted her position from a sitting one to a kneeling one so she could perform the act more comfortably. She reached up and cradled his balls with one hand. They felt full, but remembering what she had seen at the party, she could not imagine why.

Bluebeard began to rock faster and she could hear his breathing become louder and more labored. He was approaching climax. That realization caused a jolt of pleasure at her center. She moved her head faster and seized his cock above her mouth and began stroking it in time with her head movement. When he put both his hands behind her head, she knew what was going to happen and the realization caused her to a thrill of anticipation. But she had only a moment to concentrate on her pleasure, because Bluebeard again pulled her head toward him hard and held her, with her lips pressed to the base of his cock, as he began pumping streams of come into her throat. She swallowed hard in an attempt to keep that airway potentially open. But again she was forced to breathe through her nose, as he refused to withdraw any of his organ from her throat. Jet after jet spurted into her. She kept swallowing. Finally, he withdrew all but the head from her mouth. As she began running her tongue around the head again, licking up the sperm her tongue found there, she felt two more spurts into her mouth. Again she swallowed. He backed away from her and stroked his now softening cock a few times. Angela sat down on her heels and licked away the strands of come she felt on her lips.

Angela remained seated, not knowing what she was supposed to do and not wanting to risk anything that might anger this now softened giant. A wave of need to pee swept over her. She said nothing while he sank into a chair and regarded her with curiosity. Finally, she decided to risk it, even though she was not sure how to begin. “Master, may I..”

“Oh, so you do talk”, he interrupted. “And I’m not your master”. That’s all the help he gave her.

She began again, “Sir, may I use the bathroom… please?” Bluebeard nodded indifferently as he picked up the phone. She dashed into the bathroom, closed the door and pulled the seat down, making it just in time. She flushed and washed her hands. Then scooping up water with her hands, she did her best to rinse her mouth. From the bathroom, she heard Bluebeard tell someone to send Carla over.

A feeling of dread rose from her stomach. Adjusting the clothes she still wore, Angela came back into the bedroom to find him stretched out on the bed. She stood there, uncomfortably and worried about why Carla was being sent for. Moments later, there was a knock at the door. He got up, unlocked the door and let in a pretty girl with an expressionless face she had seen with him earlier in the bedroom. He picked her up and sat her on the desk. Then he sat on the chair in front of her and watched while she pulled her halter up. Neither of them had said a word; he leaned over to her, grabbed her nipple with his lips and began loudly sucking her tit. After a couple of minutes, he switched to her other nipple. Angela saw traces of milk around the nipple he’d abandoned.

“Shit”, he said, “you’re practically empty”. With that, he slapped one boob very hard in disgust. “Beat it”. The girl pulled her halter over her swollen breasts, looked sorrowfully once at Angela, and let herself out.

Bluebeard remained in the chair and Angela continued to stand awkwardly in the center of the room. He regarded her with what seemed to be curiosity. “Turn around”, he said to her. Angela turned slowly until her back was to him. “Nice ass”. Angela said nothing, but the fear started rising again. She wanted to get out of there badly; so far she was no worse for the experience than a sore throat she was now very aware of each time she swallowed.

Finally, Bluebeard spoke again: “get those pants off”. Angela opened her belt and pushed her shorts down. She stepped out of them and remained standing with her back to him. Soon she heard the chair creak as he rose out of it. Then his large hands were on her ass. He pulled on the back of her belt, testing its strength. Angela felt a flash of anger again as she wondered where her master was and why he’d put her into this dangerous situation…alone in a room with Bluebeard. Her heart started pounding again as he reached around her and seized a nipple. He squeezed it so hard that, despite her intention to show no fear, she screamed. He reduced the pressure a little and then released her nipple altogether. She sighed with relief and overcame the urge to massage the still aching nipple. Again she felt him pull on the back of her belt. For the first time since I’d put it on her, Angela felt happy for the protection the belt offered. . She wondered idly if he would be able to get it off her without hurting her. She had no doubt he’d get it off if he wanted to.

She felt him fumble with the small lock and tensed herself for the powerful jerk she expected, like that when he tore her sweater off her body. Surprise and anger again surged through her as she heard the sound of metal on metal, a soft click and the belt fell to the floor. “My God”, she thought, “he has the key!” Bluebeard spun her around, facing him. He easily lifted her straight up until they were face to face. His kiss was rough and his beard scratched. A hard pole was pressing against her leg as he continued to hold her suspended at his eye level. She knew she was about to have it inside her, but not her mouth this time. Fear outweighed any sexual excitement that might have been there; Angela knew that she was dry, a very bad situation if he chose to ram it into her suddenly. That fear was quickly replaced by terror as she remembered how she’d last seen Bluebeard. The girl with the ring-closed pussy was being fucked in her ass by his big cock. This was an activity in which Angela had very little experience and she understood that if that were his preference now, she was going to literally be torn. “Stay away from Bluebeard, he’s dangerous” was the warning she’d had several times. “Great”, she thought, “how do I do that”?

He leaned against the desk, at the same spot he’d put Carla. He again took her nipple between his fingers, less painfully this time. Watching her face, he began to twist and pull on it. Then, standing and positioning himself between her open legs, he grasped the other nipple with his other hand and was now treating both of them to rough but bearable handling. Intermittently he would release them and flick his finger against them causing a painful sting. Then he took them between thumb and index finger again, twisted them and finally pulled them straight out and held them there. Angela’s moans now reflected pain and arousal. She felt wet again, for which she was very thankful, because he had now lifted her onto the desk and pulled her forward so that her ass rested on the very edge. She felt his cock at the entrance to her pussy, and her muscles tensed involuntarily against the painful entry she knew was coming. He did not ram it in with one shove, however. She felt the head push past her lips and stop. She had cried out against the severe stretching. He waited while the pain subsided a little as her pussy lips adjusted to the thick intrusion. Then he began to work the head back and forth a short distance, keeping the penetration minimal. Angela did not expect such consideration from this fearsome dom. She was thankful, and realized with a start she had actually spoken the words “thank you”.

He slowly pushed further into her, and Angela could feel her vaginal walls stretching and the muscles protesting as he impaled her further. Now he was fucking her with long strokes. Angela felt sure he had reached the end of her vagina. Certainly no one had penetrated her this deeply before. What frightened her was that although he may have reached the end of her, he hadn’t reached the end of him. Their bellies had not met, so she knew that as his excitement grew, he would ram still deeper into her until his entire cock was buried in her small pussy. Suddenly, he jerked her off the desk and carried her, still impaled on his cock, to the bed. He remained in her as he grabbed a pillow, moved it to the center of the bed and then lowered her ass onto it. Now she lay on her back, her legs wrapped around him, and her pelvis elevated to make even deeper penetration possible.

After a few long strokes, he rammed it all the way in. Through the pain, Angela was aware that she was coming, too. Excruciating pain and pleasure washed over her at the same time. Soon the pain subsided and Bluebeard began to fuck her with increasing power. She came again and began uttering bursts of words: “yes, yes…God, oh, fuck, fuck, help, oh yes, no, no, yes, oh ugh”. Now he was fucking her violently. He grabbed one breast and squeezed it hard, then slapped it sending jots of pain through her body. Now he was pounding into her so hard that each time his hard stomach crashed into hers, it knocked her breath out. He pumped faster. She was having trouble getting air in as the breath taking crashes against her abdomen were coming so close together. The dimly lit room now seemed to be getting darker… Angela was dimly aware that her moans and screams must be being heard back in the ballroom… she was aware of another presence getting into the bed with them….Bluebeard emitting a bloodcurdling yell and nearly pulverized her pubic bone as his orgasm began. None of her thoughts were able to crystallize as Angela went into a state of intense shuddering explosions that lifted Bluebeard an inch or two off of her. Through the pain, fear, excitement and wracking orgasms, nature took over and Angela passed out.

She regained consciousness, aware of pain throughout her lower body. She was sitting on Bluebeard’s cock, her breasts and face pressed against his chest, and something big and hard had pushed past the ring of her ass and was slowly inching deeper into this rarely used passage. Angela cried out in pain, but the insistent pressure continued in her ass. At last, she felt balls slap against her upturned cheeks. Then both cocks began pumping her. Bluebeard’s hands were holding her by the hips, moving her back and forth and up and down in synch with the thrusts in both her holes. The now familiar pleasure-pain combination intensified, again driving her to higher levels of ecstasy and again causing her to lose consciousness in the throws of orgasming.

Angela’s eyes fluttered open and I offered her a glass of water, raising her head and shoulders off the bed so she could drink. After a few sips, her head fell on the pillow and she looked at me accusingly. “Master, how could you have sent me to him… he… he…he hurt me”. “Did, he,” I asked?

“Yes… I mean, well, I guess I’ll live, but my throat hurts, and my pussy and my ass… God, I hurt everywhere”.

“Did it feel good, Angela, I mean.. did you come”?

Angela gave a weak smile. “Oh, yesss… yes Master I did”. “But”, she said accusingly, “you left me alone with that monster, he might have killed me, or worse”.

I chuckled. “I was with you, slave. Blame your sore bottom on me”. But you need to know this. “You have been wonderful through this entire party initiation. Really wonderful; I’m very proud of you.” Clearly, Angela felt pride, too. “But master, I hurt everywhere; I don’t think I’ll be able to fuck for a week”.

“Not true, pussycat. You’re going to right now”. With that I rolled onto her and pushed my cock into her extremely lubricated vault. She locked her arms around me, pressed her lips to mine, and I fucked her long and slowly, building to a mutual orgasm that left us both totally drained.

After we showered, I had Angela dress for the end of the party in the same outfit she wore at the beginning. I walked a few paces behind her, giving her a long leash, as we returned to the ballroom, enjoying the sight of her swaying hips moving her bare ass provocatively as she glided forward on her high heels, the tinkling sound of the chains connecting her nipples to her pussy lips chiming softly in the quiet evening. I was very satisfied. The sub who belonged to me was unique in all the world, a perfect match of sensuality and intelligence. And I loved her. The swagger in the walk of this little package of dynamite spoke volumes. I knew that she felt loved, and owned, and proud, and confident in her subjugation. Once inside the ballroom, my beloved slave turned to me and said, “Master, without thinking I shared a cigarette earlier this evening with a dom by the pool. That’s against P-rules for a sub”.

With that she turned and walked toward the punishment wall


8. Epilogue

When we were in the car on the way back to NY, I had Angela pull her skirt up and pull her panties down so I could enjoy her clit while I drove.

I also told her the rest of the story of Bluebeard. First revelation: I had known him for 10 years. I laughed at the look of shock on her face. Yes, it was a strange bond indeed, the respectable stockbroker and the sociopath biker. I told her how my brother and I had slid off a mountain road on the way back from Lake Tahoe… how the car had rolled several times and come to rest upside down, halfway down a snowy ravine… how I lay trapped with a broken arm and rib, hearing my brother screaming and being aware that the car was burning… how other cars had stopped on the road above to look, but fearing that the car would explode at any moment, no one tried to help… except one nutcase who scrambled down the steep mountainside, somehow got the passenger door open, pulled me out and dragged me a few yards through the snow before the car exploded and knocked us both flat. My brother died, but I have no doubt Arnie – Bluebeard’s real name – would have gone back for him next if the car hadn’t gone up.

During the two days I spent in the hospital, Arnie was in the room most of the time and we did a lot of talking. I learned that we were both doms, that he was an engineering dropout who had fallen in love with the freedom of the biker world. He volunteered that he knew that the outlaw freedom had led to excess in his sex life, that he was a wacko and would remain so until they put him away or killed him. He was happy with his life and had no regrets, not about the girls he treated so badly or anything else he did.

I told Angela that none of that altered the fact that if it were not for him, I would have died in that car. I explained that he wouldn’t let me thank him in any tangible way. He didn’t need any money, he didn’t need a job, he did not want to settle down anywhere. He said that when he pulled me out of the car, he never thought for a moment what a problem that was going to be for him. I told him I didn’t understand and he said that now he felt “responsible” for me, so that he wanted to know if I’d give him my phone number so he could call me once in a while to make sure I was among the living. We both laughed and both remembered reading about some civilization in which saving a life made you responsible forever for that life. He kept refusing anything I could think of to do for him or give to him to thank him. When I checked out of the hospital, he was sitting at the curb on his bike, twenty or so more bikes lined up behind. He got off and came over to shake hands. I tried once more to come up with some way to thank him. He told me I had nothing he wanted, but that if he ever thought of anything he’d let me know.

Every few years, I’d get a call from Arnie. He was never in the same place; in fact, once it was from Columbia. When I was chatting with Tom, in NY, and he mentioned the party, he also mentioned that Bluebeard – who was a legend at these parties – would be there.

I told her I was sure she could guess the rest. When Arnie saw you at the party, he took me aside and said he’d thought of something I had he wanted. I don’t really know how serious he was, if he thought I’d really give you to him, or if he was just testing the water. But I laughed and told him that was one thing I would not give to him or anyone else, but that I would be happy to loan you to him. He was very pleased with that and said that squares us. We laughed and I told him that there was one very serious caveat… that he must do nothing whatsoever to really hurt you, and that if he did, I’d end up repaying his saving my life by killing him. Arnie actually looked hurt, insulted. He said that he knew you were no deep sub, and that even if you were, since you belonged to me you were part of my life… for which he “still felt responsible”.

Angela listened attentively to the story, and placed her hand over mine, guiding it to move just the way it made her clit feel best. Then she purred and said, “I understand Master; you were right. Eventually I will learn to accept without question. I know you will help me to do so”. I leaned over to give her a quick kiss. As usual, it was difficult to tell if she was mouthing this sub litany facetiously as a safe tease, or meant it. As I moved away, she put her head back on the seat, opened her legs wider and said contentedly, “thank you, master”.

The End