I did, and she laughed some more. Everything I had ever said to Debbie she had remembered; how I had told her my desire to eat Mary Lou’s great ass, everything.
“Take this,” and she handed me a small bag. “A pair of panties I’ve prepared for you, and believe me—I was as dedicated in preparing these as Debbie—maybe even more so, he, he. Go back to your Mistress now, and I’ll see you next weekend when Debbie has broken you in totally. I look forward to inflicting much pain and humiliation on you. And you’ll taste my ass, slave; believe me, you’ll taste my ass,” and she turned and laughed aloud heartily.
As I walked back, my humiliation and slave-lust deepened. My cock was ready to explode; serving Mistress Mary Lou was a nightmare come true, and if she hates me that much, oh how deep the session will be!
“Sit, slave,” my Mistress said as I returned.
“Mary Lou isn’t the only one I’ve brought into our Mistress/Slave relationship. The others you’ll learn of when I’m ready to reveal them. Give me the bag; that’s for next session with Mary Lou.”
I handed her the bag, and as I sat there I couldn’t wait for the others to be revealed. I experienced little thought; my attention and focus was completely on what she said next.
“From what she told me, this pair of panties is a full meal, he, he. She really, really doesn’t like you, so when I told her my plans for you and asked her to join in—she didn’t hesitate a second. As we discussed what we would do to you, I discovered her intensity --and her ideas are amazing and exremely cruel. She convinced me that what you and I had done before was mere play and that I should go at this as real as possible; I think today’s mini-session has shown you that—right, slave?”
I nodded yes.
“Okay, good. Mary Lou has ridden horses all her life and has six riding crops. She told me I could have one for you when we leave next weekend. Oh, when I told her how you thought she had a great ass, she laughed and said she wanted to control all the anal play we have --and that you’d get to know her ass intimately. She has a box of surgical gloves for that play, and I bought her a strap-on harness with the largest dildo, black, of course, they had; you’ll pay for all of that also, slave.
“Today’s session is almost over until we get to your place later; not much traffic today, so we’ll probably leave at 1 PM. Now, I am on my way to the ladies room and you should go and remove the panties. Place them back in the bag and zip it closed for later—then return here for one last little bit of humiliation.”
With that she took a small jar from her bag and walked away. I wandered over to the men’s room and took out the panties as ordered. I returned before her and sat and waited. It was all happening so fast—everything I had hoped for --and more. I was stunned.
When she returned she handed me the jar; it was moist and warm on the outside and filled with a familiar yellow liquid. “Just sit there and hold that,” she said as she turned --and brought back Mistress Mary Lou. They stood next to me.
Both giggled as I sat and stared at the jar of my Mistress’ piss. “Well, open the jar! Now slowly sip the contents, savoring every drop’s taste.”
My hand had gone to my erection in my pants. “Look, he’s still turned on,” Mistress Mary Lou said.
“Obey me, slave,” Debbie whispered.
I began to sip the warm, salty and sour liquid and they laughed as I slowly finished the contents. When I finished, Debbie said, “Now recap it and give it to Mary Lou,” she said to me and turned to Mistress Mary Lou, “Can you fill it for him?”
“My pleasure,” she said as I handed it to her. She left immediately.
“Watch out for what you wish for…” she said abstractly, and I didn’t respond but only sat feeling queasy as hell.
A few minutes passed in silence and Mistress Mary Lou reappeared. She handed me the jar.
“Now, open and sip it contents, slave,” Debbie whispered.
I obeyed her, and half way through I began to get sick, so I guzzled the remaining piss.
“Oh, no, you now got to start over,” Debbie said as I stood, holding my stomach.
“I’m going to throw up,” I said weakly.
“Go to the men’s room now,” Debbie said.
Just as I entered the stall I threw up; the liquid shot out of me, and as soon as I finished I felt better, almost normal.
When I returned, she was shutting down the booth; Mistress Mary Lou was back at her stand, so I joined her. And in silence, we shut down the booth.
Part Four: The Session
As I put the keys in the ignition, she began to speak: “Just listen; I have a lot to say. Our friendship is over; all we have now is the Mistress/slave relationship. We can continue the flea market activity, and I will only call you—unless it’s vital you call me—and I mean REAL important.
“The two or three times before that we played Mistress and slave, I came away feeling empty; I know you said it was quite good and that anything I did was okay by you, but I knew it was not what you wanted or needed. We just played at it! And I quite frankly received nothing from those times; but not today. Today was not play; I intended to humiliate you, and watching you gobble panties and drink piss turned me on and convinced me of two things—first, that you deserve all the punishment and humiliation I can inflict on you, and second, I lost all respect for you as a human being—you are now just a slave to me in every meaning of the word. Mary Lou also convinced me that I should not hold back on mean and cruel treatment, but take you as a true slave; she intends to be as rough and cruel to you as you can stand. And all I care about is your obedience; obey me or hit the road. Do you understand that?”
“I understand, Mistress.”
“And you’re okay with everything I’ve said and done, slave?”
”I am your complete, obedient slave, Mistress, and whoever else you tell me to serve. My only limit is not to be injured, Mistress.”
“Yes, you said that before, over and over; all I can promise is not to intentionally injure you, but in the heat of a session—anything is possible. Do you accept that risk, slave.”
“I understand, Mistress and accept those terms.”
“Remember what you told me your therapist had said: that beginning this decent into masochism is a one-way trip leading to a need for greater and greater pain and humiliation to make that little dickie of yours hard?”
“I recall telling you that, and I am aware of the danger, but it’s what I desire, Mistress.”
“Good because both Mary Lou and I want you to fall into complete slavery. Then I will guarantee you sessions filled with what you desire,” she said and retrieved the bag the panties were in. “Put these back in your mouth, slave.”
I obeyed and pulled onto my street.
“Drive up on the curb, open my door and let me in; then you go and park and when you enter, remove all of your clothing and kneel immediately and await my directions, slave.”
Kneeling naked in the living room, my cock as hard as a rock, I could hear her in the bathroom. She walked in completely naked except for the boots—and in her hand the cat-o-nine tails whip. Her beautiful face was scarred with a menacing, intense scowl and her naked pussy shone with wetness. The sight of her naked in boots overwhelmed me; my cock almost exploded right then and there, but before I could imagine anything she took action.
A hard rubber ball-gag she shoved in my mouth as the panties tried to go down my throat, and she then turned me around and from the sofa, got the handcuffs; she cuffed my hands behind my back, turned me around to face her. She held my bottle of Rush to my nose and I took a hit; the drug rushed through me as she applied nipple clamps with adjustment screws; the setting was mild, at first, but then she turned each one down until I bent over from the pain.
“Stand up straight, slave; this is only the beginning.”
Over to the sofa she led me and pushed my head down on the cushion so my ass was up in the air. I could hear her putting on rubber gloves; she came around and placed a handkerchief soaked with Rush under my nose. And she applied lube to my asshole; inserting a finger, two, three, four fingers! Slowly, in and out she fucked my ass with her hand up to her knuckles as I inhaled the Rush. Then, I could feel her thumb --and the pressure increased; I winced and screamed into the panties as my sphincter stretched to its maximum to engulf her whole hand. Very slowly she made a fist, she pushed forward as far as her hand could go, and then reversing, pulled back, gauging her thrusts. Fucking me in a steadily increasing rhythm…until my body shuddered and my cock exploded; but she just increased the rhythm as load after load erupted…until finally I was spent.
I collapsed sideways and her hand withdrew as I hit the sofa and then the floor.
My next conscious awareness was her boot tapping the side of my face as I lay on the floor. “I didn’t give you permission to cum, slave. You must be punished for that and severely. Now, sit up, slave!”
I hesitated and she grabbed my hair and yanked me up. She undid the ball-gag and had me spit the panties into the bag. “Now, suck up your cum from the floor,” she said as she pushed my face into it. Most went on my nose and mouth, and with her forefinger she scraped it off my face. “Suck it off my finger, slave,” she said as she pushed the digit into my mouth. “Yeah, suck my finger like it was a cock. I know how much you love to suck cock—and don’t bet against me having you suck my cock later. Oh, yeah, I have something special planned for you in that department.” Never in my life did I suck any harder or enthusiastically on any cock as did on that finger.
The rest of my cum she scraped off the floor with her finger and had me suck her finger clean. “Yeah, faggot, suck off the cum from my finger.”
Then, the cum stains on the floor she had me lick at. “Over here, faggot, you missed a drop or two; that’s it --suck it all up like a good faggot.”
Finished, she undid the cuffs and she sat on the sofa. “Time for a cigarette—and time you began licking my boots clean, but first turn around with your ass facing me. That’s it,” and she placed her boot toe against my asshole and tried to shove it in.
“Lean back, slave; that’s it,” she said as she pushed the boot’s toe up my ass as far as she could get it. Then, she did the same with the other boot.
“Turn around and lick these clean while I finish my smoke. And do a good job or else, slave.”
She held her boot up and I softly cradled it in my hand at a level that I could gaze at her pussy as my tongue licked it clean; then, she raised the second one and I cleaned it thoroughly.
“Stand up, slave,” she said as she determined I had cleaned her boots enough. “Well, I see your twig is getting hard again. The taste of your own ass on my boots made you hard. Bring in that large fruit pinch bowl you bought from me last week, slave.”
I returned with the bowl.
“Kneel and hold the bowl under your chin,” she ordered as she picked up the bag with the panties. She dumped the panties into the bowl and had me position the bowl between her legs, making sure the bowl remained under my chin. She began pissing into the bowl and as droplets of her piss splashed up onto my mouth --my tongue automatically licked them. Her stream stopped.
“I see your taste has improved already, slave. I think I should piss right down your throat; do you agree, slave?"
“Beg for it, slave.”
“Mistress, please, allow me to be your toilet. Piss in my mouth.”
“You can do a lot better than that, slave.”
“Mistress, please, allow me to be your complete toilet slave. Piss in my mouth. Let me savor your Golden Showers, let me absorb part of your superiority. Humiliate me with your piss, your shit. I am but an ass-wipe, a toilet slave. Let me suck your shit from your asshole; let me replace your toilet paper.”
“Are you prepared for that, Shiteater."
“So be it, Shiteater.”
Gingerly, she picked up the rubber glove she used to fistfuck me and got it back on her hand. She sat on the sofa’s edge and had me scoot over before her. “Now, close you eyes, Shiteater, and open your mouth real wide.”
I could smell the shit-covered glove under my nose as her fingers came and rested on my tongue. “What am I doing?” I thought. But she spoke and another glow took control.
"Now, close your mouth—that’s it; now suck my fingers clean. Oh, yeah, Shiteater, just think it’s a big black cock in your mouth; good, good. Eat it all—yeah, now these—yeah! Okay, I can’t hold it any longer. Lay flat on your back…put your hands up by your head—palms up—that’s it.”
On my hands she stood as she lowered her ass above my face; her pussy was less than an inch from my mouth. “Open your mouth wide, Shiteater. I’m going to piss down your throat—no throwing up! And what spills out on your rug you will suck and lick up.”
Her stream hit right in the back of my throat and I attempted to swallow it all, but much spilled out of my mouth. It seemed to go on forever.
When the stream stopped, she stood: “Just lay there, Shiteater.”
She went to the bathroom and returned with a ball of toilet paper; she again assumed the same position and began wiping her pussy very thoroughly. “Open your mouth...that’s it...now eat this,” she said as she stuffed the toilet paper ball in my mouth. “Chew and swallow, Shiteater. Good little boy—mommy so’s proud. Sit up and bring the bowl with the panties to me on the sofa.”
I mindlessly obeyed her. She had me set the bowl on the floor and then she stood and cuffed me again.
“Kneel and open your mouth wide,” and she put on the rubber glove and picked up the soaking panties. “Tilt your head back…further, that’s it,” --holding the panties above my open mouth piss dripped down my throat as she held them there until the dripping almost stopped, and then she slowly lowered them into my mouth, pushing them in as far as they would go before applying the ball gag.
Stand up. She had a wooden twelve inch ruler in her hand.
“My, oh, my, look at this little dickie of yours; it was never this hard when you tried to have sex with me –or for that matter, Chris either, I bet. I think you may need some Rush for this next exercise.”
She held the bottle under my nose and had me take three deep hits. I was wheeling and staggering slightly from the poppers when the first blow from the ruler hit my cock’s head. My body winced from the blow, but my cock jumped up and back like a defiant child, defying her to do it again, begging her to do it again, and she did—over and over for a dozen blows. She stopped and inspected my cock.
“Only a little swollen head so far; I think he likes it, slave. What do you think? Should Mommy continue whacking your dickie with this ruler?” she asked me, staring me straight in my eyes. Instantly, my head affirmatively and enthusiastically bobbed up and down—as did my cock, jumping and throbbing painfully before her. “Why do I even ask? You’re an absolute masochist; you’d let me beat this black and blue with blood blisters until it enlarged to a man-size cock—wouldn’t you? Yeah, shake your head yes, I know, I know now just how deeply sick you are. So be it….”
My eyes were closed awaiting the next blow; my cock was so hard I thought it would burst. All I wanted was that ruler to whack my cock again and again; she had my number, but she guided me to a large padded chair with a high back and wooden arms and had me kneel; my head rested on the chair’s back. She tied my ankles to the chair’s arm with rope she had me get weeks ago, and then spread my legs and tied rope about each knee, running the rope under the chair and pulling extremely tight. A dog collar about neck with a bungee cord attached was stretched back under the chair and attached somewhere behind me. She placed a rubber band several times about my ball sac. Around she came to the front of the chair; she was putting on fresh rubber gloves. My line of sight was straight down at the floor, so I could only see her boots.
“So far I have been warming up, slave, and now it’s time to get serious. I hope you feel helpless and vulnerable—and afraid. You should be because having you helpless like this really turns me on, and the more turned on I am the more pain I want to inflict on you.”
She had me take three more hits of Rush and then she immediately began tapping my ball sac in an upward motion with the ruler. The rhythm was fast but not nearly as hard as when she did my cock—no need, the pain from the light taps was intense. My body was trying to double up as my balls tried to escape from their predicament without any hope as the ruler rained upward and swiftly and steadily on their sensitivity. I truly was immobilized and totally helpless to my tormentor. If she asked me if she should continue—I would’ve said that’s enough; but all I could do was scream silently into the panties-ball gag as my balls ached beyond description.
I could hear her laughing and that was the last sense impression I had before my mind became totally the experience of pain. How long she tortured my balls is a mute question because suddenly the tapping stopped but not the pain, lingering in a suspended sensation of pain in my balls and running up into my gut.
Finally, a familiar smell entered me and a sense of reality returned; it was the smell of Ben-Gay, and from the hinterland of reality behind me I heard her say: “This is extra strength and I thought you’d enjoy the sensation, slave, so prepare for the ride of your life.”
When her gloved hand touched my cock head, I realized I was still as hard as a rock. She spread the cream over its head, squeezing it and rubbing her hand up and down the shaft, covering it completely; and within thirty seconds the flames started. When she reached my balls and slightly cupped them as the cream covered them, I almost fainted from the pain. The cream she spread over the entire area until she reached my ass, and over it she applied a thick coat of the cream and, also, down the back of my thighs. Until—“I need a break and so do you, slave.”
The fire she set under my rear end blazed, and I knew, unlike the ball torture, it wasn’t going to end soon. I helplessly struggled to free myself as I heard her light a cigarette. Then, she began talking to someone else; she had made a phone call.
“Yeah, it’s me…He’s tied up on a chair…feeling the pain of Ben Gay over his dick, balls and ass…Yeah, earlier…yes, almost immediately…He begged for it…a rubber glove I had used to fistfuck him…yeah, like a starving man…yeah, a true Shiteater…The best day would be Wednesday for me…Sure…I could get him to pick me up after work and we could be there by 7:30…He, he, he…Yes, oh, yes…Two hours with us would be all he could take…Okay, sure…Later.”
In front of me she stood; her pussy right in front of my face. She was slowly fingering her clitoris. I felt the cat-o-nine tails’ strands very slowly being dragged over my ass and up my back and slowly again. She held her finger under my nose: “Smell this, slave. The odor of pain because as long as it makes me wet, you’ll be whipped. This is what I have been truly waiting to do to you, slave,” she said softly as she continued to drag the strands over my flesh. “This is the exact fantasy I used to masturbate and was the deciding factor in deciding to use you as a slave. It brought powerful orgasms, and today it is even more potent as a turn on. I have no idea how long I will whip you; I’ll stop when I have had my fill. This is what you lusted for, so take a deep breath.”
I knew I was about to pass into severe pain; fear was a present and real factor throughout my body and mind. She did this several more times—and then paused. “I hope you’re ready—who cares what you are—you’re my whipping boy now, and I am going to whip the shit out of you --and there’s nothing you can do but take it. He, he, he!”