A Day in the Life at Theo's

As it turned out, my ass was safe. He came up close behind me and reached for my breasts from this new vantage point, again working my nipples from the bottom up with gentle, well-oiled fingers. His rock-hard penis was flipped up against his abdomen as he pressed up behind me, and lay in my asscrack, moving gently back and forth but not probing for any holes. I tried to clench my not-very-ample buttocks around it to give him a better experience, and it seemed to work. He started sliding up and down my asscrack and his breathing became faster and deeper.

Finally he stopped for a moment, took a cloth from the pile and wiped the massage oil off his hands. He substituted lube, parting my labia so he could rub it liberally around and inside my vagina. He didn't just dab it on -- he slowly massaged my inner lips and then my clit, intensifying my nascent orgasm by orders of magnitude. I began to moisten heavily, but it wasn't my body betraying me. My body and my mind were right on the same page with this one.

Then he reached up and peeled the tape off my lips. This meant that I could breathe heavily through my mouth, and more important, could release my orgasmic moans rather than just grunting them through my nose. Then he slowly slipped in his cock and began long, steady thrusts.

I was in heaven. Aside from a few I'd given myself to release pent-up stress, I hadn't had an orgasm in months, maybe years, and I was looking forward to this one as it slowly built.

At last the orgasm washed over me, and I threw back my head and let out a loud "Aaahhh," somewhere between a small scream and a cry of joy. Them he gave a final big thrust, and the load he'd been building up all evening flooded into me. He held his cock in for a minute or two, then eased it out. He already had a cloth in his hand, and wadded it against my vulva to catch most of the cum that started to ooze out.

When he was satisfied that he had caught most of it, he tossed the cloth in a bin, took another, and wiped up the little trickles he'd missed. Then he cleaned himself off, put on his clothes, gave me a long, lingering kiss on the lips, and released me from all four cuffs. Most guys just walk out and leave Jake or somebody to get you out of whatever restraints he's left you in, but this guy actually seemed to take almost as much pleasure in releasing a woman as in tying her up in the first place.

As I walked back to quarters, I felt in a warm glow. I wasn't sure I wanted to take my usual post-shift shower -- most of the oil had soaked into my skin, so I wasn't sticky, and I didn't want to lose the residual glow. On the other hand, a little bit of late ooze was drying on the insides of my thighs, and I wanted to get rid of it. I compromised on a good wash of the sticky bits with a washcloth and left the rest of my skin alone for the time being. I wanted to savour this feeling as long as I could.

I knew that I would sleep well tonight.

3. Slave Four: Stephanie

As the first guy came in, I immediately recognized him as Gentleman Bob. I had been with him a few times before, but he seemed to like variety and often tried out new women, or at least new to him. This meant that I didn't get him nearly as often as I would have liked.

When he selected Grace and walked out with her, I was happy for her. She deserved a break. However, I couldn't help noticing that she seemed to get more than her share of the nice ones. (Or at least the reasonably tolerable ones. Genuinely nice guys don't fuck slaves.) I, on the other hand, must have developed a reputation for being able to take punishment, since I seemed to get more than my share of the nasties. I couldn't fault Grace for this -- she had no control over when she was staked out or who would choose her next. But I couldn't help feeling that it wasn't an accident. I couldn't figure out how Theo was stacking the deck, but the whole pattern seemed to have his fingerprints all over it.

The next two guys selected other slaves. There was a pause as Theo wiped down the empty poles and then brought out three more women to fill them and keep the variety up.

I was beginning to get really tired of standing around with a steel rod up my coochy. My knees were starting to tremble slightly, and my feet hurt from the ridiculous shoes. However, I didn't have to wait much longer.

The next guy who came in seemed vaguely familiar, although I couldn't place him right away. As he went up and down inspecting women, he stopped in front of me, and rather than spending most of his time assessing my body, he looked deeply into my face, or the part of my face that he could see over the tape. Finally he reached up and ripped off the tape -- "peeled off" didn't really capture the small violence of the action -- and looked again. A little smile came to his lips: evidently he recognized me. He got the hex key from Theo, pulled out the dildo, unfastened the spreader from the cuffs, and started down the hall with me.

As we started to walk, I had a sudden flash of recognition -- the guy who had so enjoyed stretching me on Theo's in-bed rack when I had freshly arrived at Theo's. Oh. Shit. He was one of the ones who most seemed to enjoy hurting women. I remembered being suspended, flogged on my nipples and pussy, having my nipples stretched in nipple clamps, and finally having my arms nearly pulled out of their sockets on a rack built into the bondage bed. This was not good.

Interestingly, he seemed to be over his shaving fetish. The first time I had been with him, I had had some pubic hair, and he took great pleasure in shaving it off. I had never grown it back, preferring the smooth, clean feel of a bare pussy. But this time he had selected me over some other women who were much hairier than I was. I didn't like to speculate on what new fetish might have taken its place.

When we entered Room One, he passed up the suspension pullies that had so fascinated him the first time, and instead pushed my back against one wall. He undid my wrists from each other and clipped them to the wall, holding my arms in a forty-five degree spread-eagle. Then he picked up first one leg, then the other, got the stilettos off, then crouched down and fastened my ankles to the wall, also in a broad spread.

This again. I couldn't tell you the number of times I'd been cuffed to this fucking wall in exactly this position. But at least it was better than being lifted off the ground by my wrists.

I braced myself for having my nipples and pussy flogged again, but he didn't seem to want to go there. He did use the nipple clamps again, but he pinched up some areola along with my nipples and clamped them over the whole part. That's the approved way of using nipple clamps, and it hurts a lot less than having them directly on the nipple by itself. Also, he didn't add extra weights the way he had the last time. He did add some bells, which pulled on my nipples a little and also jingled whenever I moved, but they didn't drag my nipples down as much as those damned weights had, Maybe he's mellowing, I thought, or is just getting a bit tired of hurting people.

Instead, he seemed to have moved on to a love of inserting things. He started with my mouth, which was no longer tape gagged. He inserted a huge ball gag, then covered it with another wide strip of microfoam tape. Microfoam is wide enough and sticky enough that there was no need to wind it around and around my head like some guys like to do, and he didn't bother, although he did make sure it covered my face from ear to ear. I knew that the ball gag would show in outline behind the stretchy tape, a look that a lot of men seemed to find super sexy. Something about being able to have visual evidence that the woman had something stuffed in her mouth, I guess.

Once he had my mouth stuffed to his satisfaction, he moved on to my asshole. He stood at the shelf of butt plugs for a while, finally selecting a large, but not monstrous plug. He lubed it up, and reached between my legs to lube my asshole. Then he inserted the narrow end of the plug and started to work it in. He wasn't exactly gentle, but he didn't ram it in with one violent and excruciating motion like some guys seem to enjoy doing. He twisted it back and forth, keeping steady pressure on it while it forced my sphincter wider and wider. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but thanks to years of anal training, it didn't particularly hurt either. Soon it got to the sudden narrowing at the neck, and my sphincter sucked it all the way in up to the safety flange.

He stood back to admire his handiwork so far. I wondered what he intended to do with the one hole he had left. I didn't have to wait long to find out. He went to another shelf and came back with a dildo -- again, pretty big but not a monster. He lubed it and me, and then started pushing it into my vagina. Since I wasn't remotely ready for it, it hurt some, but not nearly as much as some of the things he had done to me the last time. It looked as though he really had moved on, at least partly, from his pain fetish.

He began thrusting slowly with the dildo, making the bells on my nipples jingle, and then the other hand started massaging my clit. It seemed as though he was genuinely trying to pleasure me with it. It wasn't exactly working -- like most women who are in the process of being raped, I certainly didn't feel sexually aroused, but he seemed to want to feel as though he was somehow in control of my mind as well as my body, so I obliged him with a gradually increasing series of fake orgasmic sounds through my nose from behind the gag.

Finally I had had enough of being pummelled with a dildo, even though he wasn't really hurting me with it. I let the orgasmic noises build until I finally arched my back, stiffened, and threw my head back and let out as loud a fake orgasmic scream as I could muster under the circumstances. As I had hoped, this seemed to be what he was going for. He stopped thrusting and pulled out the dildo.

He unfastened me from the wall and started leading me over to the bondage bed. Oh god, what now? Maybe I should have stuck with the dildo. I remembered what had happened on that bed the first time: he fastened the spreader bar between my ankles to a chain that he cranked tighter and tighter until my shoulder sockets were in agony, as tight as he could until there was a sudden "kkkcctttt" as Theo's safety release kicked in and he couldn't get it any tighter.

Instead of attaching chains to spreaders between my wrists and ankles, this time he just clipped four chains onto my wrist and ankle cuffs to pull me into a spread-eagle similar to how I had been standing at the wall. Good, I thought -- no rack this time.

I shouldn't have thought that. He reached down and started turning a crank at the side of the bed, and the chains on my ankles started moving outwards, gradually spreading my legs further and further apart. Jesus, I thought. Theo's always adding something new. I guess he has to keep his place fresh so clients don't get bored with the same old ways of restraining and hurting people.

Thank God I do a lot of yoga, I thought. My hips are pretty flexible, and although they hurt as my legs were pulled into almost a 180-degree split, I didn't feel as though they would dislocate. A woman who wasn't as flexible as I am would be in total agony by this time.

This seemed to be his one major nod to his old self, the one that liked to hurt women before fucking them. I didn't want him to think that he wasn't accomplishing his mission in case he thought of something else that was worse, so I started letting out muffled screams behind the gag.

Finally, I heard the welcome "kkkcctttt" that meant a safety rachet had kicked in, allowing the client to pull my legs apart so far but no farther. I could feel my pussy stretched obscenely open, my vagina almost gaping from the pressure on my pelvic muscles. But that seemed to satisfy him. Finally he shucked off his clothes, knelt between my legs, and put his cock in my vagina.

I didn't feel any need to fake pleasure sounds this time. He didn't seem to be trying to pleasure me in some weird self-flattery about how he could force a woman to come even when she was being tortured and raped. He just thrust hard and deep, consumed by his own pleasure. He seemed to take forever to come -- maybe he had difficulty getting off, and that was why he needed the additional stimulation of a bound and gagged victim. But finally he grunted, shuddered, and blew a load of cum into me.

He pulled out, washed up, put on his clothes, and walked out without so much as a "Thank-you Ma'am." He just left me lying there with cum puddling between my legs. Fortunately it wasn't long before Theo came in and released the ratchet on the leg spreader. I put my legs back together gingerly, as my hips hurt when I moved them back into a normal position, but I was glad not to be a human wishbone any more. He unfastened my wrists and ankles, and I peeled off the tape, unbuckled the ball gag and pulled it out of my mouth, and gently worked the butt plug out of my asshole. Theo handed me a cloth, and I did a basic wipe-up on the cum that was all over my pussy.

It wasn't exactly a pleasant experience, but it was certainly improved from what he had done to me the first time. Maybe hurting people sometimes just gets old after a while, I reflected as I limped carefully back to quarters for a long post-shift shower.

4. Slave Fifteen: Rasheed

After reading Theo's introduction, I must admit to being flattered by the "Hindu goddess statue" comparison. Of course, my Pakistani family is Muslim, not Hindu, and I'm personally more or less an atheist. But Islam is a monotheistic religion without an assortment of gods and goddesses, and in addition it traditionally adheres to the "no graven image" precept, so there aren't any Muslim goddess statues around. If Theo wanted to find an artistic comparison to say that I have great tits, I guess he had to go outside my culture.

Not that my tits were on display as much as usual on this particular day. After having stood around naked for a while, four of us were abruptly un-dildoed, un-cuffed, and sent back to quarters to get some clothes on. I guess the next guy up had a clothes-ripping fetish. My usual soft shapeless outfits were obviously not going to fill the bill, but I had several sets of "real" tops and skirts in my closet. None of them was very expensive -- Theo has a shopper who frequents thrift stores in search of sexy but cheap women's clothing for the sole purpose of being ripped off, cut off, or otherwise terminated. I put on a bra and panties, but not the usual sensible but boring ones I usually wore. Theo issues us bras designed for maximum support, trying to help us stave off the inevitable droop that women with even medium-sized breasts eventually start to suffer. For today, though, I treated myself to a lacey red number that was designed more for sexiness than support, and matching skimpy bikini panties. I then selected a satin sleeveless top in a red solid and a knit skirt in a matching red pattern. It always had to be a skirt or dress so that the dildo pole could disappear up inside.

As we walked back to the showroom, Theo intercepted us to brief us on what was coming. "As you have no doubt guessed, the next guy likes to indulge his rape fantasies, including ripping off clothes. If he picks you, you're to go with him to the entertainment suite, and as soon as he closes the door, try to get away. He likes a full-on struggle, so feel free to kick, scream, punch, and do anything you would normally do if you were being raped in a back alley. My only stipulation is the same one I give my clients: no serious damage. Don't kick him in the balls, gouge out his eyes, or inflict any other serious injuries. And try not to win. By the end, he should genuinely have raped you, even if you make him work for it."

This is going to be fun, I thought to myself. I've had to submit to so much shit since I've been here that it will be great to let loose my desire to fight back for once, without fear of punishment.

I had only retaliated once before, and it hadn't gone well. Quite a few years ago now, a particularly obnoxious client had me spread-eagled on the floor with my wrists and ankles tied to floor loops with rope. He had slapped me around way more than necessary, and made some very nasty racist remarks besides. I was beginning to hate him so much that it was all I could do to contain it.

As I laid there, pulling futilely on the ropes, I suddenly felt one ankle come loose. Evidently he wasn't very experienced at rope bondage and hadn't tied the knot very well. I didn't do anything about it until he picked up the biggest dildo I'd ever seen, with big studs on it to add to its fearsomeness, and started trying to shove it up my asshole. That did it. I shook my ankle free of the rope and brought my knee up into his groin, as hard as I could manage it. He screamed like a stuck pig, dropped the dildo, and lay curled up on the floor clutching his balls.

Theo and Jake were in the room in seconds. Jake cut the rest of the ropes and yanked the gag out of my mouth, and they both started half-marching, half-dragging me down the corridor. We came to a door marked "Room C," and they dragged me inside. It was a small concrete cell, totally bare of any furnishings, with not even the usual toilet and sink. The only features were some short chains hanging from the wall. They pushed my back against that wall and locked my wrists in metal shackles attached to two of the chains -- the only metal restraints I've ever seen Theo use -- so that they were held out and up at about a forty-five degree angle. Then they chained my ankles in a spread position and, without saying anything else, wanked out and shut the door.

I stood there in the dim light, my naked back against the cold concrete wall, and had nothing to do but worry, and try to quell panic. I knew that Theo was right royally pissed, and that beneath his nice-guy exterior there was a viciousness that could come out if provoked. Was he just going to leave me chained to the wall for a while, or did he have anything worse in mind?

I had no way of telling time, and it seemed like I stood like that forever, but it was probably only half an hour or so. The door suddenly opened, and Theo appeared silhouetted in the bright light that spilled in from the corridor. He had some apparatus in his hand that I couldn't make out very clearly.

He walked around in front of me and started explaining the situation to me in a voice so icy that I hardly recognized it as Theo's. "You know the rules," he said. "No fighting back, no talking back to clients, and especially, especially no hurting clients. You've not only cost me his $2000 fee, but also probably some repeat business and reputation. If word gets around that I let a slave hurt a client that badly, what do you think is going to happen to my business?"

He picked up the apparatus and started to untangle it, and I could see that it was two big metal dildoes, each with a wire attached to it leading to a small box. He reached between my legs and shoved one of them up my asshole and the other one up my vagina. They felt as though they had a bit of lube on them, but he shoved them in so roughly that they both hurt like hell. Then he buckled a belt around my waist and pulled a narrow strap that was attached to it through a loop at the blunt end of each of the didoes, attaching it to another buckle at the front of the belt. He pulled the end of the strap good and hard so the strap was sunk deeply in my pussy and asscrack and the dildoes were forced tightly up into their respective holes. Then he plugged the box into an outlet on the wall.

"You're going to feel a lot of AC voltage pass between your ass and your cunt. It will feel like you are going to die, but it won't pass anywhere near your heart, which is what kills you when you're electrocuted."