Dance

Helen took her cat’o’nine tails in hand and approached her new slave. Holding it to his mouth, she said her whip had a personality all its own and that she’d given it a name. “Kiss and lick Charity, slave, and tell her that you want her to put her marks on your ass. Do it.”

“Yes, Mistress. Please, Charity,” he pleaded to the whip between kisses, “please have Mistress Helen use you to mark my ass. Please hit it 15 times as punishment for not smoothing Mistress’ gloves on perfectly.”

At the end of his plea, George licked the whip.

“You’ll get your 15, pet, and five more because I want to whip you. Turn around and bend over.”

When George complied, he felt her gloved hand reach between his legs. He was stimulated when she fondled his balls and stroked his penis. But Helen wasn’t doing him any favors. She simply liked seeing cocks hard and stiff.

“Count the lashes, slave, and thank Charity after each.”

The first blow landed dead center on his upturned ass. “One,” he said. “Thank you, Charity.”

Five more strokes, relatively easy since Helen didn’t yet know what this slave could take, then a pause to fondle his cock and balls again. His dick was still hard, giving her the go-ahead to put more emphasis into her flogging. Four more at medium strength had him moaning nicely.

“That’s it, slave, “ she said, “let me know you’re hurting. Charity and I like hurting you. Whine a little. Gasp for us.”

He was letting out little choked groans that threatened to become even louder. Helen stopped just long enough to get a gag and say, “I love the way your ass is coloring up, slave. And I love the sound of Charity slamming into it. But the neighbors might take exception. Open your mouth.”

She jammed the little ball gag between his lips and tied it at the back of his neck. Walking in front so he could see her, she ran her gloved hand over his cheek. “Do you still like being my slave? Before you answer, remember you’re tied up and very much at my mercy.”

His response was in the affirmative as he bobbed his head up and down.

“Good,” she said. “Are you ready for the remaining ten?”

Again, he nodded.

“So am I, slave. In fact, now I can really whip you since you’ll be screaming into my gag. You don’t mind if I let myself go, do you?”

“Uuughh,” he replied.

Helen took up a position behind him and let him have his final ten lashes in rapid order. She loved whipping a slave without giving any consideration. Her heart pounded and her pussy was soaked.

When he’d had the full 20, George’s fair skin showed the results. Pink and red welts were all over his upper thighs and ass. Up front, his cock had receded considerably but another moment of fondling and rolling it in her palm had made it spring back to an urgent life in Helen’s hand.

She opened her closet door and, taking a leg separator, attached the ends to each of his ankles. George didn’t know it yet but his legs were now spread wide enough for Helen to satisfy herself. The next thing he saw was his new mistress removing her skirt and panties, then taking something in her hand that looked like cow horns. A moment later, as she applied KY jelly to it, he realized what the device really was. Panic set in.

Helen inserted a portion of the double-ended dildo into herself, then approached her strung-up slave. She smoothed the petroleum jelly all over the skin at his anus, spreading it evenly on the dildo intended for him and said, “Bend over, slave. You’re about to get fucked.”

George tried begging around his gag, somehow letting her know that he’d never been used in that manner. “How nice,” she said. “I’m getting a virgin. Bend over. Lean your head against the wall. You’re going to get fucked.”

She was pleased that her new slave, while a quivering mass, bent and followed her order. She moved her hips close to his rear end, used both hands to grasp his hips, and teasingly caressed his bud with the hard dildo. Moving closer, she took one end of it in her hand, aimed, and gently slid the rubber cock - slowly - into George’s ass. His buttock muscles clenched tight.

“It’ll be easier on you if you relax, “ she said.

He tried, and the six-inch dildo slid in to the hilt. Helen began thrusting, making her slave the object of intercourse. As reluctant as he’d been, her softness and her approach soon had the desired effect. He was moaning and shifting his lower extremities just the way a female might. Helen was overjoyed – the stimulation of fucking a slave while the dildo worked its magic on her allowed her to pump with a sexual vengeance.

The orgasm overwhelmed her.

She stepped back, the dildo slipping out of him easily. Removing it, Helen lay on the bed recuperating while George continued leaning against the wall, collared, gagged, arms bound, legs spread and his cock erect.

Helen needed only a few minutes before getting up and approaching him. She had him stand, leaned close to his ear and whispered, “You belong to me, slave.”

She unhooked his leash from the wall, removed the separator, then walked him to her bed where she sat. He bent his head, nuzzling his face against her calves. Smiling gently, she untied his gag, told him to lick her shoes and to thank her for his discipline and his fucking. Complying immediately, George began licking and told her how grateful he was that she had taken the time to use Charity on his backside and that she’d used him to reach gratification.

Helen balanced the pump on her toes, heel extended. “Suck it, slave. Suck it just as though it were my lover’s cock.”

His lips wrapped around the heel, his eyes closed. The feeling he put into it gave Helen all she needed to know. this one was into leather, heels and feet. Now, whenever she wanted him excited all she’d have to do would be to put his tongue to work while he knelt. “I like the way you do that, slave. I like having you on your knees after I’ve whipped and fucked you, seeing you suck my high heel. You, too?”

“Oh yes, Mistress. I love your shoes and feet.”

“Don’t get too amorous with them yet, slave. I’ve got more in mind for you.”

She released his hands and re-connected the shackles at the front. Taking him by the leash, Helen led George to the bedroom doorway. On the wood above the door’s mid point, there was a hook imbedded. Using a chain, she connected his wrists overhead, hanging him by his hands facing into the bedroom.

Helen visually teased her new slave by putting her panties and skirt back on, then going to her dressing table. Sitting before the mirror, she laid Charity on the counter and began brushing her hair. Through the mirror she could see him squirming on the hook, his balls nicely tied. Helen made sure to accentuate her brushing so that her breasts rose and fell provocatively within the bra in motion with her brush strokes.

What a picture she presented to her slave/fetishist!

George had a double view through the mirror, catching all the subtlety of her facial features, her neck, her breasts, the leather skirt riding up, exposing her thighs over the stocking tops in the reflection. He could also see her perfect back, the bra strap across it, the ass of her leather skirt, the seams of her stockings, and her high-heeled feet strategically placed on the floor, one slightly ahead of the other. Helen knew her breasts forced upward provided compelling viewing. And she played her posturing for all it was worth.

George started to ask something but she cut him off quickly, angrily jumping to her feet. “You know the rules, slave. No talking unless I allow it. And I didn’t.” She approached him rapidly, took his balls in her hand and squeezed. His face cringed in pain as his mistress twisted, tormenting George’s family jewels. Helen thought it was time now to step up his training anyway and his outburst provided the perfect opportunity. “You will say nothing unless you’re asked a direct question. Do you understand that, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he squeaked.

She stood back and looked him over. Slowly reaching for the zipper on her skirt, she lowered it and then stepped out of the garment. Slave George now had another good look at her garter belt, panties and stockings. Helen picked up Charity and the gag from the dresser, walked over to her strung-up slave, tied his gag back on, squeezed by him into the hallway, and – without hesitation – whipped him soundly. She made sure the whip covered every square inch of his flesh, flogging him cruelly from just above the back of his knees to the top of his back. Helen let herself go. When she’d finished, his back, ass and thighs were a mass of redness and welts, just the way she wanted him. Leaving him hanging where he was, she again squeezed by, giving his cock a few jerks. She wanted it up. And her thrashing had the effect of reducing both his resistance to her and, unfortunately, his erection. That wouldn’t do for Mistress Helen.

Her attitude had always been, since she had discovered domination, that when she worked a slave she included small kindnesses. From time to time she would, depending on the occasion, encourage him to take greater pain by using her most beguiling tone of voice, or would give him a breather by allowing him a drink. Just about any kindness, she knew, almost always reinforced her domination because it was she - his tormentress - who provided it. But Helen knew, too, to always make sure her slave was either restrained or in a humbling position before she offered any solace. This time was no different.

Releasing him from the hook, she had him crawl to her at her stool by the dressing table. Gently stroking his face, brushing aside his tears and, essentially, loving him up, she asked, “Was mistress too hard on your poor back and ass, slave.?”

George melted as his mistress posed the question. “No, Mistress. At the time it was hellish but I feel better now.”

She reached for her whip. “You feel better, do you? Perhaps Charity and I should whip you some more.”

Please, Mistress, you may do as you wish but please give me a short break.”

You know I’ll be doing as I wish, slave. But I am not an inconsiderate mistress. Would you like a drink of water?”

His affirmative response brought him a new treat. Helen told him to stay where he was, on his knees, and she went to the kitchen. Returning with a saucer of water, she put it on the floor and ordered, “Drink, slave. Lap it up like the dog you are.”

He bent to the task, lapping the water like a huge St. Bernard might. All the while, she held his leash. She’d filled the saucer to the brim and, when he brought his head up indicating he’d had enough, there was still almost half the contents remaining. Putting her shoe over the back of his neck and using the spiked end of her high heel, Helen pushed his face back to the dish. “Lap it all up, dog. When I give you a present I expect you to enjoy it.”

George finished it all as she sat yanking the leash and digging her heel into the back of his neck. when the saucer was dry, she allowed him to kneel back up again.

By then, it was well into the early hours and she’d decided to wind thing down for the night. Whether he knew it or not, this lave was staying over as her “guest”. She had him put his mouth back to work on her shoe again and, as he licked and kissed, she playfully used Charity over his shoulders and back. The idea was to get that cock of his up again, not punish him. This whipping was strictly sensual.

“Is my slave all hot and bothered by Mistress?”

“Yes, Mistress, I am.”

“I’d like to see how hot you are. Here, I’ll use my gloved hand to tease your cock. While I’m doing that, lick your way up my stockings. Don’t touch my skin, just the stockings.”

She grasped his cock and began the milking process, squeezing just hard enough, moving her hand on the skin of his penis up and down, up and down, up and down, piston-like. It didn’t take long before her ministrations caused his pre-cum juices to appear at his cock’s tip. Helen knew that her slave was only a second or two away from orgasm so warned, “Don’t even think of cumming unless I give permission. What do you think might happen if you ejaculate now?”

The question wasn’t meant to be answered, it was purely rhetorical. And he knew it.

Helen stopped wanking him, spread her legs and told him to worship the crotch of her panties. He licked for all he was worth, her keeping him at it until she came for the second time that night. In the final throes of her ecstasy, she whipped him and pulled on his leash with all her strength. The worm suffered, and Helen loved it.

Recovering, she reached again for his cock, jerking, pulling, squeezing, and teasing. It didn’t take long. His cum erupted in a series of geyser-like spouts all over her glove. Holding it to his mouth, she had him suck the leather dry and swallow his load. She further embarrassed him by saying, “Since I didn’t give permission for that cum, slave, you’re in for another round of discipline. This time, it won’t be much fun for you. I know how painful Charity can be when she’s making her special kind of love to the rear end of a slave whose sexual involvement has been extinguished. Turn around, face on the floor, ass in the air.”

Ball gag once more in place, Helen whipped hard, fifteen brutal lashes to his ass. He was jumping all over, trying to avoid her precious Charity.

Leaving him writhing in agony, she dropped her whip onto the vanity table and found the longer leash in her drawer. She exchanged it with the smaller one, snapping it onto his collar. Taking the end, Helen hung it over the hook in the wall. Getting him up on his knees, his eyes red from his tears, she undid his wrist shackles and re-connected his hands behind his back. Adding the ankle cuffs, she used a length of chain from them and also slipped the end over the wall hook.

Her slave had some slack and could move a bit but he was just out of reach of his mistress’ bed. Throwing him an old pillow, she said, “Make yourself as comfortable as you can, slave. You’re sleeping on the floor tonight. If you have to go to the bathroom, forget it. Just hold it until I wake up tomorrow.” From that moment on, she ignored him. Helen took off her remaining clothes in a semi-strip tease before slipping into a see through black nightgown. She exchanged her pumps for high-heeled slippers, walking past him on her way to the bathroom.

Returning a few minutes later all set for bed, she stopped and looked down at her new boy. He looked up at his mistress, still teary-eyed, and tried to move closer to her. Helen took pity, gave his head a little hug as she drew him to her thigh, and said, “Before we go to sleep, slave, give my feet a kiss good night.”

He bent to the task, clearly respectful and worshiping, as he kissed the insteps of both her feet. Helen went to bed with no further thought of him. Soon she was in a deep and luxurious sleep.

Saturday morning and up at the respectable hour of nine o’clock, Helen looked over at her new slave. George’s eyes were wide open and he had a pained expression. “Good morning, animal,” she said. “Do you have a problem?”

“Good morning, Mistress. Yes, please let me go to the bathroom.”

He had been good not to awaken her, she decided, and now was the time to be a gracious mistress because she wanted him to be even more in love with her. Besides, her plans called for his Saturday to be a long one. Releasing him from his bonds, Helen directed him to the two-piece bathroom off the hallway. He stumbled as he went, his limbs getting used to the fact that they were no longer restrained.

While he was gone, Helen went to her shower and spent the better part of half an hour in it. She’d decided that if slave George wanted to leave, now was a good time for him to beat a hasty retreat. But she wasn’t surprised when, upon entering the kitchen, she found him awaiting her naked and on his knees near the table with a pot of fresh coffee in his grip. He poured her a cup, put the pot back in the coffee machine and returned, kneeling and saying good morning to her feet with his lips and tongue.

Helen said, “You had a rough night, slave. You may relax for a few minutes and join me for breakfast. Pour yourself a cup, too.”

Helen and George were enjoying toast and coffee when she turned and asked, “When you went to that dance last night, did you have any idea you might end up as a woman’s slave?”

“No, Mistress, I didn’t. But I knew the moment I saw you walk into the room that I’d do anything for you.”

“Have you been a slave before?”

“Yes, Mistress. A girlfriend at the place I used to work put two and two together based on my behaviour and our conversations. She became my mistress. After we broke up, I’d sometimes go to a proDomme.”

“I gave you a chance to leave while I was in the shower. Why didn’t you take it?”

“I want to stay with you,” he said, “for as long as I can.”

Helen nodded, then said, “In a few minutes, after we’ve finished eating and maybe had another cup of coffee, I’m going to snap my fingers. When I do, I’ll want you back down on the floor, your lips pressed to my slippers.

“Yes, Mistress Helen.”

“I’m glad we understand each other. Now, just so you know, I went to the hotel last night looking for somebody like you. I’ve been through the usual relationships and they don’t satisfy me. I know I need a max sex toy, a slave who’ll take my abuse and worship me all the more because of it – a man who’ll be my slave because he wants to serve femininity, particularly mine. I like whipping men. And I specifically enjoyed whipping, humiliating and teasing you. Unless you decide to leave within the next couple of minutes, I’m planning on using Charity and some of my other toys on you... a lot.”

George didn’t respond, he simply nodded his head in comprehension. While he poured them both a second cup, Helen told him that her girlfriend and she would be going shipping in a little while. She said she and Brenda had no secrets, including the fact that Helen’s overnight guests were slaves. She said Brenda must be treated as a mistress, too.

“In fact,” she said, “she’s become quite the Domme herself. Don’t feel anxious about your nudity when she comes in. I want you to greet her the same way you would me, on your knees and respectful. Am I making myself clear?”

He acknowledged that she was.

Helen snapped her fingers and said, “Your moment of equality is over, slave. Follow me into my bedroom and help me dress.”

George jumped from his place at the table, fell to his knees and pressed his lips to her high-heeled slippers, then crawled behind her to the bedroom.

Helen chose a fresh set of black undies and had her slave hold the panties as she leaned on his shoulder, stepping into them. Handing him the front-clasping bra, he held it as she slipped first one arm and then the other through it, then turned for him to do up the catch between her magnificent breasts. George was good. He didn’t try for a feel.

Taking the slave collar, Helen had him kiss and lick it before putting it around his neck. He stayed on his knees as she put on a sweater and pair of lacks. Slipping into spike-heeled boots, she clipped the walking leash onto his collar and led him into the living room to await Brenda. Helen put him to work licking her boots, giving him full rein. He did first one, including the sole and sucking the heel, before she offered him the other. Helen said she needed them nice and shiny because she didn’t want Brenda to look better than she did.

George was just completing the side of her second boot – his erection complete – when there was a knock on the door. Helen looked down at slave George and said, “Slave, get over there and let Brenda in. Stay on your knees and keep your head down. Don’t look her in the eye. When the door’s closed, I want you to press your lips to her foot and tell her who you are.”