Results of the New Arrangement

Daphne gave me a flinty look as I served her some merlot, and stood there, trembling. "What kind of a satyr are you, Darniel, that you can't help from toying with your dick at your age? I'm afraid and horrified that you are actually the President of our son's PTA. It could be dangerous for little girls, all the groping, you know." But she smiled as she said this.

"Darling" I said midly, "With the level of teasing that you put me through, it's a miracle that I'm not jerking off every hour." I couldn't believe it, but my dick was lengthening once again, at the sight of Daph's cleavage inside of her gown. "You act as if you're a bastion of self control, Dannie, but it's really all the harsh whippings that keep you doing well."

Daphne noted that my dick was peeking out of my robe, and she idly began stroking it as she questioned me. "I know you enjoy those weird chastity belt sites on the Internet, and your paper porn, the magazines and such are always caught up with that stuff..." Daphne's fingers stroked my pulsating cock internably.

I breathed through my nose as Daphne's light fingertips stroked the frenum under my cockhead as she continued speaking. "Do you really think you could take being locked up all the time, with my teasing you, sweetest?"

Daphne's wrist pulled my cock a bit as she continued. "Because I'd still be teasing you all the time, Danny, and locking you up again, I'm certainly not going to listen to you begging for a release every three days." I was well aware of that, Daphne hadn't let me cum more than once a week for months.

But what could I do? I was enthralled by the idea of Daphne chastizing me with a device..and I knew I couldn't control myself. But a fortnight later, when Daphne locked the CB-2000 chastity belt on me for the first time, I began to wonder if the thrill was all that...and three months after that, when she allowed me to jerk off for the first time, she practically had had to corall me to lock it back on again!

And it had been eight long years of mostly orgasm-less chastity since then...and now I had Tanner to focus on...he'd taken my wife! I was trying to keep a straight face, while holding onto the string in my teeth as Tanner alternately toyed the scissors along the string, playfully threatening to clip the string, thus doing away with my oh-so precious orgasm...and then of course, he was necking with my darling Daphne! I was trying not to look angry, gritting my teeth around the string, when Tanner got pissed off. "I hate the way he looks at me." he said to Daphne irritatedly. "Look at him, he's not a fucking submissive at all! He's jealous, still that I'm sucking face with you! What a disobedient slave-boy!" Tanner stared at me. "I really should clip this string, you little bastard...but I'm too nice!" Tanner left the bedroom and slammed the door, and I gazed up at Daphne helplessly.

"Think of how much good Master Tanner's done you, Daniel. Why aren't you more grateful?" Daphne said to me reproachfully. "And in only two years! The last year of training here in the house, but then all that important work at the Ranch that he helped you with...you were such a sissy-boy...do you remember when he met you? What a mess you were? Jesus, I recall what a basket case you were on your first trip to the Ranch."

November 2003

I looked nervously at Daphne as we pulled up to the forbidding gate of that weird farm out Route 105. A man came out of the little hut to take a look at us in our expensive Mercedes, and Daphne smiled at him. I was quite disgruntled, in the driver's seat, as I'd never been here before. "Yeah, we're here to see a woman called Pratt?"

I used my most officious tone, as I was used to hicks like this. He was wearing a coverall with THE RANCH on the left breast. "Ayeh, Miss Pratt will be right pleased t' meetcha." He gave a toothless grin, and winked at Daphne.

"This yer candidate, Daffy?" I was appalled as Daphne smiled at the old man. "That's him, Clematis. Our slave Daniel." I coughed and spurted in my Giorgio Armani Le Collezione Linen Navy Suit.

"Good God, Daphne, don't tell the dolt at the gate that kind of thing!" I whispered harshly in Daph's ear, and she smiled and blew a kiss to Clematis. "Oh, Daniel, Clem's an old friend...and a great fuck for an old guy." I slumped, and hit the gas when the old reprobate waved me in the big gate.

As we drove up the path, Daphne giving directions, I passed a cowbarn, and was horrified to see a nude man running out of it, chased by an obese woman in suede. Continuing on, I listened to Daphne's instructions.

"There, go right. See those two? That's Marisa and Kyle, there, they're hulling rice, poor Marisa, she's gotten the lash all over her bottom. I really think it's bad of Miss Pratt to keep them naked at this time of year outside at least...there's Marjorie Gudger, one of my favorite of the Trainers...Hi! Yes, this is him!

Hope you can lash him a little, Marge, keep driving up,Daniel...there's the smokehouse...there's Anker Berschinski, the international financier, curing meat inside.

The keys to his chastity belt are kept here at the Ranch and he flies here from Dusseldorf every three months for training and if he's lucky, an orgasm...there's the dairy, Mr. Stringel's getting a whipping by the milk-churner. Don't gasp so much, Daniel, you'll get it worse, I wager."

I was in shock. Josiah Stringel of Cunningham and Stringel, the largest banking house in our city was bent over the churn while a Japanese woman lashed him! "Yes, that's Mistress Takamitsu.

Miss Pratt calls her our most recent import. Wields a lash, doesn't she?" I gaped as I passed cotton fields, with men and women in the nude struggling to plow, while a black woman in white seersucker on a horse oversaw them with a whip.

"My God, one man is driving the plow and another is pulling it!" I was so surprised I almost drove off the road. "Yes, that's right, and the slaves pay a thousand dollars per weekend for the privilege to work here."

Daphne noted with satisfaction. "The cotton and other Ranch products generally are sold and the proceeds go to benefit Unicef, but they're top quality, let me tell you!" Daphne pointed a long nail.

"See, there's your lawyer Herschel Schary, he's fixing the cotton gin with the supervision of Mistress Elyssa...oh stop staring at her bazooms, Daniel!

"There's the rice mill, and some slaves carrying bundles of rice. Oooh, there's Myron, giving them the lash!"

Daphne laughed. "What? A male master?" I was horrified. "They pay to be dommed by a guy? Are they gay?"

Daphne gave me a casual look. "No, they're heterosexual, most of them, but these men know they have to learn to obey everyone, male and female masters, Dan. And Master Myron also runs the blacksmith shop, where they make Prince Albert Rings...I might get you one, if you're not good.

Drive up here past the winnowing house and the sugar mill, we're almost there... I see you checking out the ass of that female slave outside the oak grainery. Watch it, bub. Drive past the greenhouse and see there's your old friend Tim Kleindschmidt working outside the corn shed. Remember Lady Merola from the Scourge Club?

She works here on weekends, as supervisor of the pig pen...yes, pigs AND slaves are in the mud, isn't that a riot? There's the fishpond, and behind that is the area where we have quail hunting." I grinned.

"Well I'd enjoy that." Daphne gave me a freezing look. "No, slaveboys don't get to hunt, though they participate in the hunt in other ways, dear."

Finally, I drove around the apple orchard and up to the main house, a rather gloomy looking mansion. I braked and got out. "Daphne, are you sure we really need to do this, honey?" I appealed to her as she firmly took my arm and led me to the porch.

"I think we really take too much of our life in the bedroom and rub it around too much. We're private people, aren't we?" I looked earnestly at my wife of eighteen years. Daphne looked back at me steadily.

"You're a slave-boy, Daniel, or so you say you want to be...but really you're just a dilletante...a wimp. You want to be the tough slave-boy, but truly, you're pathetic.

You spend nearly a thousand dollars a year on various magazine subscriptions and expensive porn sites, and are always coming home with various leather doodads for me to use on you...this is what you want, and I want it too, but not with such a whiny boy.

"You can't take any kind of punishment, and heavy cleaning seems to bring you down, somehow." I sighed. "I own a company and am very busy during the week, Daphne, and I just don't have time on the weekends to clean the house up. I am more in favor of token cleaning, just to prove my subservience...really, as you have so much time during the week, you should clean!"

"That's it! Your goddamned whiny attitude." Daphne said as she looked at me angrily. "This is the other reason you need re-training, and I'm sick of it, Daniel. Take off your jacket, right here, and pull down your pants!" I looked at Daphne, horrified. "Here?" Two passing nude men grinned at me, as did the lady in red leather walking behind them.

"Absolutely. Right now. Your sulking and posturing is too much for me. Now!" Daphne opened her handbag and pulled out a coiled Razor Strop. Jesus.

She's still using that thing. A few weeks before, at Bloomingdales, we'd gotten in an argument about how many dresses she was buying, and Daphne had taken into one of the dressing rooms and pulled down my pants and thrashed me with the strop, until I'd stepped out weeping, to the amusement of the salesladies.

"Daphne, this is going too far!" Daphne grabbed me by the ear. "Take off your jacket NOW." She said between her teeth. I gulped, and unbuttoned my jacket and took it off dropping it, as she dragged my ear down.

"Good, now I'll take care of the pants. You can keep the vest on." Daphne let go of my ear and undid my pants and pulled them down, as well as my silk boxers. "Don't whine about the cold, two thirds of the people on this ranch are nude, even if it is November."

Daphne pushed me over the railing of the antebellum porch. She lifted the razor strop. "Now, I want you to promise not to whine any more." WHACK! WHACK! "Oh, please it hurts so much." I whined immediately. And it did. It felt like I'd just been burned with sparklers. "That's whining, goddamnit!"

Daphne lifted the strop again, landing it on my bare buttocks five more times. Two more slaves came by, and stopped to clap before being whacked themselves, and urged on to the hayfields by their Male Master.

For twenty minutes, Daphne whacked my poor buttocks with the razor strop, and at the end I was blubbering and weeping, and Daphne was hard pressed to stop, as of course she was going to stop when I'd quit whining, but she couldn't get me to quit whining and blubbering while she was whipping my ass!

Finally the door to the mansion opened, and a short, somewhat plain young woman in circular spectacles came out.

When she got to the top of the step, I could see through my teary eyes that she wasn't all that plain,but certainly understated with her mousy hair in a bun and a snug but deathly black dress. "Mmm! I came out to see what the ruckus was, Daphne....who's the slug howling with his pants down?"

Daphne looked up from where she was slamming the strap for the 150 th time. "Oh, this goddamned husband of mine, Prattsie...I'm so sorry to disturb you, and I'd hoped to put all this off until we got inside."

The mousy woman leaned down and looked at me. "You there, all your screaming is disrupting my Ranch. All the slaves have come to watch this. How dare you piss your wife off to the point that she has to discipline you. Pull those pants up and zipper them, and blow your nose. I'm Miss Pratt, and you'd better get it together."

I wiped my nose and pulled my pants and underwear up, and buckled them, as Daphne looked at me disgustedly. "Jesus, what a shame. I could have a nice, manly slave if I'd gone looking,but I married a crybaby instead." Daphne rolled up her strap and put it in her purse.

"Come on in, folks" Miss Pratt smiled as she ushered us into the mansion. "We'll go into the drawing room." We walked into a handsome room where there was a desk, a large chair behind it, which Miss Pratt sat in, and then two other chairs.

Daphne sat down in one chair, and I was about to sit in the other when Miss Pratt held up her hand. "No, no...I don't want whimpering slave-boys sitting in my chairs. You can take off your clothes right here, and fold them up, and then you can kneel next to your wife's chair."

I balked. "Look here, I'm paying for this business at the Ranch, and I think I have a right to sit down." I frowned at Miss Pratt in my most threatening manner, a steely glance that had frozen company vice-presidents, and Miss Pratt began to laugh.

She laughed so hard that she had to take off her spectacles and wipe them. Daphne just looked irritated and embarrassed by me. "You're absolutely right, Daniel." Miss Pratt said in a friendly tone. "Not only should you get to sit down, by God, you should lie down if you like."

She picked up the phone and spoke into it, and then hung up, and looked at Daphne. "Ever since I expanded my city practice to this Ranch, I have had no end of entertainment!"

Daphne, however was not amused. "You see what I have to put up with? Between his posturing and his whining I never get a rest. You'd be amazed that he's a slave at all!"

Miss Pratt looked at me. "I think he is. We'll see how he does lying down." The door opened and a cute little honey blonde walked in, carrying a small briefcase and a bendable cane. She looked at Miss Pratt and nodded her head at me. "Yes, this is our boy!" Miss Pratt beamed. "Veronique, put him at rest!"

The young woman turned to me. "Please to remove your clothes?" In a thick European accent, no less. But I was so mesmerized by her breasts, in a tight green baize top. I smiled politely. "I want to learn more about the Ranch before we get into the sexual shenanigans, hon."

Veronique gave me an angelic smile. She took the straight end of the cane in her lower hand and swacked the crooked end between my balls, and I keeled over. "You will remove your clothes now?"

Veronique asked again. I was nearly blacked out, but I took my clothes off while coughing on the floor, and stood up again, stark naked. Veronique opened her briefcase and took out a small piece of steel, about four inches wide and six across, with two holes in it.

"What's that?" asked Daphne, interested. "Well, Daphne, these are thumbcuffs" Miss Pratt said. "Veronique prefers them to handcuffs, she thinks they're more painful, and you can move the sub around a bit." Veronique bent over my suffering form, and locked my thumbs together behind my back, and then whacked the cane against my buttocks until I rose, screaming.

"Now we will relax you, yes?" Veronique said, as she breathed in, and sighed, making her boobs shake. "One...this is strike one!" WHACK! The cane came across my nipples in a vicious arc, and I fell down howling, and crying. Veronique helped me up. "One more, and you will truly relax, yes!" WHACK! This time I went down, my nipples feeling like French Fries, and I stayed there, huddled and weeping.

"I must go see to Dr. Rabinowitz, Madamoiselle Pratt. Mistress Zelda and Princess Lisbeth are at work,but they need my help, no?" Veronique curtseyed to Daphne and left.

I continued to lie on the floor and weep, and Daphne turned to Miss Pratt and began speaking to her as if I wasn't there. "You have to understand, I've taken him to various houses of domination, I've tried all sorts of dommes, and he just can't seem to be anything but this whining, pathetic butterball."

"What are your main goals for Daniel?" Miss Pratt asked pleasantly, as she looked over her desk at me. "I want him to take pain silently. I want him to lose fifty pounds. I want him to not whine about my infidelities, as he is supposed to be a submissive. I want a real submissive. I don't know if there is a domme here who could work with Daniel!" Daphne said, looking earnestly at Miss Pratt.

"Well, perhaps not a woman. Let me read you a letter from an old friend who may be moving up here to work at the Ranch. His rates are high for here, but really reasonable for where he is domming in San Francisco." My head came up. "He? I don't want a man." Daphne looked down at me. "When we get home you are going to get such a thrashing, young man."

"Don't worry. He's getting his!" Miss Pratt said cheerfully. "Now listen to this letter:

Dear Prattsie:

So long since we last met, when I was living with my eighteenth-century-poetry professor slave-girl, Myra! It was fun having you as a house guest. I appreciated your comments on Myra's house, yes the huge glass wall overlooking the canyon was nice, especially when I was whipping her bare ass in front of it, and then it was quite a spectator sport for various rock climbers and bungee jumpers.

I recently left Myra's domicile for a better offer, from Jules Dorsman, do you remember him? He is on the board of Pain Village, a facility just outside Sausalito, about five miles from San Francisco. I have been training errant kittens of both sexes there, and recently quit to live at Jules' full time as his "houseguest", and it's been quite the adventure.

You've met Jules, and he's quite a forceful businessman--owns five shopping centers throughout Frisco, Tamalpais, and Marin County. I had been aware that he was a sexual masochist, but I got the impression that it was just a light thing, he just wanted an ass-whipping now and then, as Myra had, and that he would, as local Republican Party head and Stanford MBA , have utter contempt for my eighth grade education and half-Indian heritage.

We did start out with my giving Jules mild ass whippings, first just with a wooden spoon, and then I moved to a leather scourge. It's a helluva charge getting him out of that power suit, you know, and ordering him to lie his big, bulky body on the bed and larruping him with the scourge. Jules, an ex-Marine, is quite stoic, but it didn't take too long before I had him yelping.

But then Jules ran for the local City Council, full of law-and-order nonsense...and after he won, it seemed as if he became more and more submissive. When I get in at night, Jules is kneeling by the front door with a chilly martini in front of him, and I pick it up and he follows me on his knees to the dining room, where he's made dinner. Usually I can't find much fault with it, but sometimes he reversed the salad forks, and I give him one hell of a whipping for it!

And he sucks me, Prattsie...suuucks me on and off for hours! Jules is locked in a Prince Albert cock ring, and it's marvelous, because I can tease and torture his cock and balls without unlocking him at all. At this point he's been without an orgasm for nearly seventy-two days, and he weeps and cries in frustration when I toy with his poor rod, locked as it is in a bow...

So one night I informed Jules that we were going to have a party for his "birthday". He was so excited! "Really, Master, do you mean it, Sir?" Jules looked at me with brimming eyes.

It had been so long since he'd been allowed to have an orgasm, and other than heavy discipline, he'd not been given much lovin' don't you know. I'd taken over his house, reduced Julesy to living in a closet on the third floor of his mansion, and had only seen him for disciplinary purposes.

The night of the party, Jules came out wearing a turtleneck sweater and lounge jacket, and I looked at him. "What the hell are you dressed like that for?"

I asked Jules angrily. "But Master, it's a party for me, I thought I could be dressed and act normally for our friends." I withheld a grin and looked very seriously at Jules. "Jules, it's a sex orgy. This is a reward for all your faithful service, for all the marvelous oral attention you've given my cock, and all the monetary gifts.