The Long Weekend Ch. 02

They left the store and walked downtown toward the Village. All he could think about was his undergarments. He could feel them with every step he took.

"Were you afraid back there?" she asked.

"Yes, I was," he replied.

"And what were you afraid of, baby?"

"Someone coming around the corner and seeing me there...like that."

"You disappoint me," she answered, shaking her head. "Do you think I would allow that?"

"No...."

She shot him an angry glance. "Do NOT lie to me...ever!"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Yes Mistress what?" she demanded.

"Never lie to you, Mistress."

"And....?"

"Yes...," he stammered, "Yes Mistress, I thought I would get spotted."

"You mean you thought I would allow that to happen."

"I couldn't see how you could stop it. Anyone---"

She stopped and put her hand over his mouth. She then pushed him backwards against the brick wall of a building. Looking both ways for other pedestrians, she leaned close to him and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Now hear this: just because you can't see my control doesn't mean that I'm not in control. Cheryl and I are friends and she manages the store. I asked her to have her assistants give us some privacy for a little while, and warn us if any customers headed for that part of the store."

His chin fell to his chest, and he blushed. He could not look into her eyes, and he couldn't find anything to say to her. A feeling of panic began to well up in him. Had he committed a fatal error? Would she dismiss him for having so little faith in her?

She grabbed his chin roughly, pushed his face up until her eyes looked into his, and kissed him long and deep, as the vibrating egg buzzed in his anus.

"Never make that mistake again," she said ominously, switching off the egg. "Now, let's get home. It's time to feed my pet."

They arrived at her place, and she made him take off his street clothes, leaving him in the new corset with stockings and panties. She stripped naked and lay on the bed with her beautiful long legs dangling over the edge. First she let him drink from her pussy, and his thirst made him drink eagerly and greedily. Then she said "Eat me", and he sucked and licked her pussy until she had come so many times that she was sated. She finally used her legs to push him away.

"I need a shower...come attend me, my hungry little pet."

In the bathroom, she had him kneel with his arms extended, with a bath towel draped across his arms. He waited in that position while she stepped into the shower. After his faux pas at the BDSM store, he dared not do anything else. He was terrified that he had come close to losing her. Where else could he find another woman like her?

In the shower, she was smiling. Everything in the BDSM shop had gone according to plan. His humiliation was complete, and compounded by his fear that he might be dismissed by her. She had seen that fear in his eyes when she had confronted him on the street. Doubt her? Of course he had worried about detection. She knew that being seen by Cheryl had mortified him. She had counted on his doubt to allow her to put him into a very submissive and docile frame of mind. There was more to come. She planned to make him very malleable, and to do that she needed to soften him up completely.

She stepped out of the shower, grabbed the towel, and wrapped it like a turban around her hair. Then she looked at him and said, "Dry me with your tongue, slut."

On all fours, he started licking her feet and between her toes. Then he worked in longer strokes with a wide open mouth and fully extended tongue from her ankles to her knees, and then her thighs, her crotch and belly. He rose to lap at her breasts, and gently cupped them in his hands to dry the underside of each tit. He elicited moans from her as he ran his tongue over her shoulders and neck, and her ears. He then worked down her back. He had saved her ass for last. After drying her ass cheeks, he used his hands to spread them and slipped his tongue between them. When he reached her anus, he lingered there with a repeated slow stroke that made her breathing faster and more audible. He switched to a circular motion around the rim that caused her to begin to gently sway as she stood there. Finally, he slipped his tongue inside her anus as far as it would go, making her groan loudly and cry out, "Yes! Oh yes, baby!" He slowly pulled his tongue back a little more than half way, and then pushed it back in. He did this repeatedly, fucking her ass with his tongue.

She used her hands to play with her own nipples, and then one hand slid down to her clit, and she began masturbating. After her orgasm, she reached around, grabbed his hair and pulled him up and around facing her, and into a crushing, passionate embrace. She kissed him deeply and roughly, pinching his nipples and squeezing his balls. He stood still, his hands lightly massaging ass cheeks.

Looking deep into his eyes, she said, "I love your sweet, slutty little mouth." She kissed him one more time, ending it by tenderly nibbling on his lower lip.

"Now," she said, almost out of breath, "get back down on all fours."

He nodded and assumed the position.

She went left, and returned quickly with a black leather collar which had four large, sturdy rings embedded into it. She lovingly slid the collar around his neck and fastened it.

"Can you breathe?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Good," she said, attaching a chain leash to the back ring of the collar. She snapped it taut and led him to an old-fashioned cast iron radiator. She slipped the handle of the chain around a rung of the radiator and locked two of the chain links together with a very small padlock. She then snapped a handcuff on each of his wrists, and attached the other end of each cuff to a side ring on the collar. This left him on his knees and elbows, facing the radiator to which he was tethered.

He knelt there, his nose just inches from the bathroom floor, his knees and elbows already aching from contact with the cold, hard tile. He heard a cabinet door open and shut, and then the sound of running water. There were a few other noises he could not identify, and then an ominous moment of silence. He whimpered a little as she pulled the thong string from the crack of his ass and cut it with a scissor. A minute later, she spread his ass cheeks and he felt something small inserted into him.

She examined the rubber tubing connecting the enema bag hanging from the top of the door to the nozzle she had pushed into him. When she was satisfied that her equipment was ready, she opened the little valve in the rubber tubing about half way.

His body jerked and he groaned as the salty water rushed into him. His reaction was repeated when she opened the valve to full. When the bag was empty, she closed the valve and slid the nozzle out from his rectum.

"Hold it!" She sternly commanded. "If you leak a single drop onto my floor, I'll make you lick it up!"

He gave a small nod, restricted by his bondage. He felt full, very full, and he whimpered as he knelt there, waiting for the cramps he knew would come.

She sat on the toilet lid, and played with her nipples as she watched him, waiting for the first cramp. She had only used a quart of warm salt water. She wanted to make it relatively easy for him...this time. Of course, if she decided to keep him, she would gradually increase the volume and his retention time until he was trained to hold two quarts for at least fifteen minutes...or longer. She liked to watch her victims writhe and weep as the cramps became stronger and more urgent. The tight corset he wore would accelerate and intensify the process.

The first cramp hit him. She smiled as his eyes suddenly shut and his teeth clenched. His ass began to wiggle, and she could hear him taking quick, shallow breaths through his teeth. She began rubbing her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, and felt herself get wet at the sight of his struggle.

The second cramp hit him, and this time his eyes bulged and he gasped. He desperately wanted to speak, to beg for mercy, but he couldn't. He suddenly realized how being forbidden to speak had robbed him of a vital human quality. He was now reduced to her speechless animal, only able to communicate with her by facial expressions and his grunts, groans, moans, sobs, cries, or screams....

He wanted to be brave. He didn't want to cry, but as the third cramp hit and he struggled not to defecate, he began to sob, soft and steady at first, but quickly becoming louder and more uncontrolled as the tears began to stream down his cheeks.

She leaned over to pet him like a dog.

"How nice to hear you cry again," she said in a soft voice. "My good little pet remembered that Mistress loves hearing her pet cry like a little girl, right?"

He nodded desperately. She got up and raised the toilet lid. She unlocked the little padlock holding the chain leash to the radiator, and used the leash and a handful of his hair to yank him up and onto the toilet seat.

"Not yet," she said, and made him hold it while she licked his tears, and then took the cuffs off his wrists. Finally, she stepped back and snapped an order: "Evacuate!"

He continued to sob as he let go.

He found wiping himself under her lustful gaze humiliating and yet strangely exciting. As he washed his hands, she came behind him a grabbed two handfuls of his ass, digging her nails into his skin.

"You have a cute ass, missy," she whispered.

She decided on a second enema to rinse out his bowels. This time, as she sat on the lid, she had him kneeling in front of her, sucking on her toes and licking her feet as the cramps racked him. When he was done the second time, she grabbed a white terry cloth robe off a hook and wrapped it around herself.

"Clean my bathroom," she said. "You'll find everything you need in the linen closet. When it's ready for inspection, find me."

After inspecting his work in the bathroom, she ordered him to shower and to shower, shave, and put back on the corset, collar and stockings, "but no panties".

A half-hour later, he found her in the kitchen, still wearing the terrycloth robe, but with the bottoms of high-heeled boots showing just below the robe. She had prepared a large tuna salad plate with wedges of tomato surrounding the tuna. He looked at it hungrily. It had been almost twenty-four hours since he had ingested anything but her pussy juices and urine. She placed the plate on the tablecloth that covered a round table. She sat down, and quietly said, "Your place is under the table, between my legs."

He crawled under the table. She put her hand blow the tablecloth and silently pointed to her pussy. He began to slowly stroke the length of her outer lips with his tongue until her lips began to part. Then he increased the tempo of the licks and started moving the tip of his tongue deeper into her, being rewarded with juices he lapped up and swallowed.

He felt one of her fingernails tap on the top of his head. He looked up to see a tomato wedge held out in her palm. Using his tongue and lips, he scooped the tomato off here palm and chewed hungrily, then resumed feasting on her.

She finished eating, and put the plate on the floor on the side of her chair and pointed to it. On all fours, he eagerly scampered from under the table and began eating the leftover morsels of tuna and a few more tomato wedges. He ate using only his mouth, wordlessly knowing what she expected of him.

"Lick it clean," she said, "then put it in the sink and join me in the bedroom."

A few minutes later he entered the bedroom. He noticed she had set up a folding sawhorse in the middle of the room. Four leather restraints were already attached to each leg at the bottom. He looked at the sawhorse and then her standing next to her dresser, and she smiled.

"Come hither," she said, beckoning him with a finger. She removed her robe as he approached her, revealing that she wore a black corset identical to his, and a pair of black high-heeled boots that went over her knees and halfway up her thighs. When he got to the dresser, she picked up a tube of dark red lipstick and began applying it to his lips. He did not resist. He was beyond resistance...past acceptance...and was beginning to enjoy his transformation.

She turned him to face the mirror over her dresser to see the lipstick, then turned him back to her and kissed him. He noticed that the lipstick made his lips moister, and they slid across her lips more smoothly. When she was done, she touched up his lips and hers, and then took his hand and walked him over to the sawhorse.

"Assume the position," she said, and he slowly bent over the sawhorse like an inverted U. She secured the restraints to his ankles and wrists, covered his head with the rubber hood, and inserted an O-ring gag into his mouth. She next adjusted the height of the sawhorse with a cushion between his belly and the top of the device, which forced him to stand on tip-toes. Next he felt her fingers on his balls, and then the sensation of some sort of metallic link chain noosed around them. Her fingers withdrew, the chain went "clink", and a sharp pain shot from his balls. He cried out in surprise, and then quieted down as the pain subsided into a persistent dull ache.

He could feel her fingernails tracing a pattern over his bound balls. The hood blinded him, and made sounds sound distant and indistinct. His calf muscles were also beginning to ache from being extended, and blood was rushing to his head. The O-ring in his mouth made his exhales sound like a dog panting.

Suddenly, he felt her face near his inverted and hooded head.

"Are you ready to be used by me, bitch?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Are you sure, baby?" she taunted. "Just shake your head 'no', and I'll release you and you can go home."

He lay there as still as he could. He wanted it. He didn't know what exactly was coming next, but he knew he wanted it. He knew he was being trained and tested. He wanted to pass her tests. He wanted her to see him as worthy of her

She walked back around to his rear, and cupped his bound and stretched balls in one hand, gently enough not to diminish the downward force of the small weight she had attached to the small chain. With her other hand, she pressed the nail of her middle finger against the inside of her thumb, and flicked it against one testicle, and then the other, in a slow, deliberate manner. She was rewarded with a sudden jerk of his body and a helpless groan at each stroke. She then took a wooden tongue-depressor and began using it to smack his testicles, first lightly, and progressively harder. His grunts began to become small screams, and she stopped after the third scream. She leaned over and gave each ball a long tender kiss, and his screams transitioned into a long moan of pleasure.

She started on his ass, first running her palms over his cheeks, then scratching them with her nails, harder. When his ass began to twitch, she began to slap them with her palm, first softly and slowly, but gathering speed and strength with each stroke. The harder strokes made his legs jerk a little higher, and his moans and turned to small whelps.

It was getting painful, but he tried to stay as quiet and still as he could. In spite of the pain, he loved the feel of her flesh on his, and did not want it to stop. The pain no longer mattered...only her touch, her attention, and her arousal mattered.

She stopped, went to the dresser and pulled out her digital camera. She took a few pictures, including close-ups of his reddened ass and bound and stretching balls. After the weekend was over, if she decided to keep him, she planned to e-mail a different photo to him each day to remind him of where he had been, and where he was going.

She used a small, soft flogger on him next. She began on the back of each thigh not covered by the stockings, and then worked her way back to his butt, increasing the force and tempo as she had with her bare hand. He began to grunt and groan and wiggle on the sawhorse. She paused a moment, and began using a lighter stroke on his imprisoned scrotum. He cried out with each stroke and his panting became sobbing. She stopped, walked around the front, and sat next to his head.

"Are you crying for me, missy?" she asked. He nodded.

"Mmmmm, you know how that excites me," she said, reaching over to stroke his nipple.

He nodded, and moaned in pleasure.

"I'm going to give you another chance to quit," she said, still stroking the nipple. "Just shake your head 'no', and I'll release you."

He remained motionless.

"Are you ready to continue to serve me as my pain slut?" she demanded.

He nodded weakly.

"Good girl," she said, and got up and returned to his rear. She selected a wooden dowel, about an inch in diameter, and began rubbing it against his sore thighs and butt.

He moaned, knowing that worse pain was coming. His heart was racing, his breathing was quickened, he was dizzy and disoriented, and his mind was slipping into sub-space. He began to feel detached, and in his mind's eye he could visualize himself bound to the sawhorse, wearing a collar, corset and stockings, his balls stretched by the cruel chain and weights, the woody thing massaging his ass, getting ready to strike. He was afraid, but wanted it, was waiting for it, and if he weren't gagged he would have begged her to beat him, beat him into deeper submission, beat him until she shaped him into the slave she wanted to keep.

The cane cracked down across his ass. His tenderized skin, already burning, was hyper-sensitive. The pain was blinding. His body shook with it, and he involuntarily screamed. The second stroke was worse and the third stroke harder. She worked downward to his thighs, and back up again. His screams subsided into a steady sobbing by the time she stopped to examine her work, and take a few more photos.

Wordlessly, she went back to her dresser and put on her strap-on harness as she listened to his subsiding sobs. She lubricated it, but was intentionally less generous with the oil than she had been the first time. She walked behind him, put the head of her cock partially inside his helpless anus, and then grabbed his thighs and pushed in with one strong thrust. He trembled and a gasp escaped from his gagged mouth. Her fingernails dug into his flesh as she developed a rhythm and methodically fucked him. She could feel him try to push into her forward stroke even as his squeals were escaping through the gag. She fucked him until she climaxed, and then suddenly withdrew, leaving him trembling, panting and unsatisfied. She removed the strap-on harness and put it aside.

Leaving the hood on him, she released him from the sawhorse and forced him to the floor, face up, with his arms extended over head. She sat on him, this time facing away from his crotch, and removed the O-ring gag. She rested her hands on his extended arms, pinning them.

"I'll bet you're thirsty," she said, and he nodded. She slid her pussy over his open and eager red-framed mouth and watered him. After she finished, he began cleaning her without prompting. She smiled. He was learning. After he had licked her clean, he began sucking on her clit as he had been taught last night. This excited her even more. He sucked her deep into his mouth, and she climaxed almost immediately. It was a deep and satisfying orgasm, caused by his willing submission as much as his lips and tongue.

When she was done, she removed the chain from his balls and re-inserted the O-ring into his mouth, attached the leash to his collar, and led him back to the bed on all fours. On the command "up!" he climbed onto the bed, and was told to lay on his back. She restrained his wrists and ankles to the bedposts in a spread-eagled position, removed her boots, and sat on the bed near him.