Mastering Submission Ch. 15bysdbnnc©
In the manner of Gregory Maguire, who provided us with a version of the childhood standard The Wizard of Oz through the eyes of the "wicked" witch, I have re-written my favorite BDSM story, Both Master and Slave, written by Martin Sharpe (published in 2001 by Silver Moon Books in Great Britain), from the point of view of the submissive, rather than the Master, who was Mr. Sharpe's narrator. I hope that fans of the original book will accept my version for the tribute that it is meant to be.
I had been with Master for eight months of my twelve-month contract when Master informed me that it was time for him to give me an inspection. Master was positively gleeful when he added that having Sally present would make the whole thing more of an occasion.
My inspection took place in the Music Room, Master explaining that the location was chosen because he could not give a slave a proper inspection without a little screaming going on. Master put a silver ice bucket on the bench by the window. Then Master drew all the curtains, quietly stating that he did not want me getting distracted by the outside world or glancing at my own reflection in one of the mirrors. Master added, "What is to follow is for me alone to enjoy; Meat's role is to suffer; the Assistant Cunt's job is to help as instructed whilst keeping her eyes down."
Soundproofed against the traffic in the street, the room was silent except for my breathing, shut away from the ordinary world, a focus of primeval sexual energy. Already the air smelled of cunt.
Sally was dressed as a candlestick: silver high-heeled sandals, glitter stockings clipped to a silver suspender belt, silver nail polish, and silver lipstick on her mouth and nipples. Silver bells on her passion flaps tinkled when she moved. She had a steel ball-gag between her teeth, held in place by a silver ribbon tied behind her head. And she was holding thick white candles in her bare hands. With her firm breasts and shapely haunches she looked like an Art Deco figurine.
Master had me posed there, standing before him completely naked for once, the expression on my face peaceful, reflecting my docility, my happiness to be used. Whenever I was in the Music Room, I knew what was expected of me, slipping into the familiar role like a comfortable gown.
"You're looking particularly good tonight, Meat," Master told me grudgingly.
"Thank you, Master," I quietly replied. Sally held the candles out for Master to light, and Master turned off the electric lights. The flames put a glow on my naked body, making huge shadows swirl across the curtained walls.
"Stand up straight, Meat," Master told me, "eyes forward; arms behind your back." I stood with each hand grasping the opposing elbow, Venus de Milo with no arms to defend herself, the pose of the true submissive. All that time Master had spent twisting my arms behind my back had not been just for fun: it had made me flexible. I shivered. From fear: the room was pleasantly warm.
Master snapped his fingers. "Assistant Cunt," Master said sharply. "Bring the flames up to Meat's face."
Even without the use of mirrors, I knew I looked like the younger sister of the woman Master had first beaten the previous November: relaxed, self-confident, blooming the way a woman in love should. The crow's feet that had been barely visible round my eyes were fading away, and the beginning of a frown-line between the eyebrows had vanished altogether. I knew that my whole face was glowing with happiness.
"Lower," Master ordered, and Sally dipped the candles to nipple height. My small flat buds had changed under Master's attentions, growing thicker as well as longer, tweaked, tugged and yanked into splendidly obscene tits that would leap into erection at the touch of Master's finger. Master took a clothes peg from his pocket and opened the little jaws, holding them on either side of the straining teat.
I gave a little gasp.
"Watch, Meat," Master crooned. "See how your nipple juts out to welcome the pain, sticking out like a chapel hat peg. Shall we hang something on it? Or shall we wait?"
Master glanced to the side, suddenly aware of Sally breathing heavily through her nose and around the metal gag. Sally moaned. Master looked down to see that Sally had dribbled hot wax down the side of one of the candles and scorched her knuckle.
"Not paying attention, Assistant Cunt!" Master snapped, "too busy looking at that delicious tit, you little pussy licker. Head clouded with dyke desire. Well, do it. Go on."
Sally looked at Master questioningly.
"Do the one thing you're desperate to do," Master instructed. "Move the flame closer to her breast." Sally tried to respond to Master around the edges of her gag, that she hadn't been thinking of that at all.
"Don't argue, Assistant Cunt," Master persisted. "Do as you're told."
There was pity and concern on Sally's face as she moved the candle forward, but it was mingled with lust.
"Hold the flame closer," Master ordered, "and higher."
As the heat took hold, I began to feel desperate. I tried to keep steady, but I was shaking, my heels drumming on the floor. I started to breathe heavily, desperately, and then to moan.
"Scream if you want to," Master told me generously.
Under Master's guidance and training, even my screams had improved: they were louder and lustier than the ones Master had wrung from me when the training started. It only goes to show that everything gets better with use.
Sally cried out a muffled moan that sounded something like "Tokyo," her own safe word.
"You're not in pain, Assistant Cunt," Master snarled, and slapped her. And then I was weeping, and Sally was weeping in sympathy. Master ordered Sally to move the flame away.
Master picked up an ice cube and rubbed it on the sore tit. "No point in damaging the bitch is there, Assistant Cunt?" Master asked with a smile.
Sally shook her head.
Master had told me many times how much he loved using candles on slaves: fucking them with candles or making them wait with burning candles rammed into their cunts and arseholes while flames creep closer and hot candlewax drips onto tender flesh. "Up on that stool, Meat," Master ordered fiercely, pointing to a stool he had placed in front of the curtained windows. I obeyed, bringing my cunt up to Master's level. Master had previously explained that it would never do for a Master to bend or kneel in front of a slave.
As Master helped me climb on the stool, Sally moved closer.
Master had not beaten me for over a week, at least not with anything that bruised, so my buttocks were barely marked. They were firmer than ever. Is it possible that something can improve with abuse? Master firmly believed that it was. Master's premise is that a human body is not an object, but a process. It can be made firmer with exercise, plumped out with food, ravaged by starvation or disease. Mild damage will be replaced with new flesh that is younger and firmer. It was Master's belief that, if he struck, scratched, pinched, and whipped a beautiful woman he made her even lovelier. Master spread my buttocks, and motioned the candles closer.
In the glow of candlelight Master began commenting on the results of his inspection. "I'm not saying your arsehole has actually been improved by repeated buggery, but it is unharmed, and sexier to look at; less virginal, more of a pouting, welcoming mouth."
As I felt the wave of warmth flushing up from my breasts into my face, Master continued his commentary, "Your love lips quiver in dewy splendour. Like your nipples, Meat, they have been lengthened by loving manipulation."
I heard the sound of heavy breathing again. It took me a minute or two before I realised it was Master, not Sally.
"Not enough light in the cunt area," Master said curtly. "Stick a candle between her legs. Let's have a better look." I winced, but Master was merciful, moving Sally's hand away after a few seconds, savouring the smell of scorched pubic hair.
Master shoved two fingers roughly into my vagina. It was tighter than ever, but the tightness was born of training and use. Under Master's training, my cunt had become capable of spreading to engulf a hand, yet still able to hold a cock snugly and milk it of its sperm.
I felt like Galatea in the Pygmalion myth, awed by the majesty of the amazing Master who had "created" me.
"That's enough," Master said sharply. "Put the candles down, Assistant Cunt. Then turn the lights on and fuck Meat for me while I watch. You'll find a new strap-on dildo in the equipment case. You'll love it," Master told me. "It's a real monster."
The next Friday was a big night for all three of us, but particularly for me. I was wearing nothing but stockings and suspenders, standing beside Master as he lay on his back on the bed, ready for anything Master had in mind. "Tonight we're going to have a sandwich-fuck," Master told me. "And who do you think is going to be the meat?"
I smiled and lowered my cunt onto Master's throbbing prick, resting my body along Master's, legs drawn up and spread either side, making my bum hole as available as possible.
When Master made me wear a strap-on dildo to fuck Sally, it made me feel awkward and embarrassed. But Sally took to it like a duck to water, wielding one as if it had been growing out of her groin all her life. As I rode up and down on Master's cock, Sally strutted around the room, rubbing lubricant on the dildo that jutted out in front of her, telling me just how hard and how deep and how many times she was going to ram it in.
"Are you ready Bitch?" Sally almost spat the words.
"Yes, Assistant Cunt," I replied. "Give it to me. Right up the arse."
Sally clambered onto the bed and knelt between Master's legs. "Relax, you tight-arsed whore," she shouted hoarsely, giving me a slap on the thigh.
I gasped against Master's neck as the dildo penetrated my bowels. I must have been holding my breath waiting for the moment my anus opened up and welcomed its pink plastic visitor. Then Master's cock twitched as the dildo slithered smoothly past it. The patient hours Master had spent fucking me that way were paying off for all of us.
Master reached out and put his arms round Sally, pulling her towards him, hugging both of us and crushing the breath out of me until I murmured a protest.
"Shut up, Meat!" Master told me. "OK, Assistant Cunt, let's see what you can do. Fuck away with all your strength!"
"Fuck me, both of you!" I shouted. "Fuck me till I bleed!"
Sally did most of the work, laying into me with such ferocity it made my hips buck and the tight walls of my vagina slide up and down on Master's cock. At the same time the movements of the dildo in my bowels stimulated Master. The enthusiasm with which Sally thrust and plunged into my bum was frightening. Master watched Sally's face and mine; occasionally Master reached round my body to tweak Sally's nipples or tug at my hair.
"Faster, whores," Master shouted, "and harder -- show me what sluts you really are!"
After a while Sally slowed down, and we fell into a natural rhythm, two strokes of the dildo to each one from Master's cock, the twin pistons moving in and out of me like some piece of industrial machinery. I could feel the frown lines on my forehead, a reflection of my concentration on the sensations of having both my holes filled and fucked so relentlessly. The fact was I was enjoying every moment.
"Cunt and arse together," Sally was shouting. "What does it feel like to be doubly fucked, you little bitch? Is it really enough for a whore like you? Don't you need another cock to give your mouth something to do?" All the while fucking away until I was, almost literally, nothing more than a piece of meat being pounded to pulp.
My heart swelled with pride. If I could stand this, I could take anything.
This wasn't making love. This was crude fucking: an inexorable process in which every thrust of Master's cock, every movement of the dildo in my anus, took me a step deeper inside myself, stripping away the sophisticated human to reveal the raw animal inside. In a sense we were one big writhing creature, but in another sense I was on my own, suffering more humiliation, reveling in being the centre of all that obscene attention.
As Master's climax began approaching he started to shout, drowning my moans and Sally began to call out her obscenities even louder, cursing me as a whore and a dog-fucker. Then it happened: all three of us came together and collapsed in a sweating mass, none of us able to move.
The sound of ragged breathing filled the room.
Then Sally pulled her plastic dick out of my arsehole and got to her feet. She pulled me to my feet by my hair and pushed my head between Master's legs.
"Master's all messed up thanks to you, you juicy bitch," Sally said. "Lick him clean while I go downstairs and get him a drink."