Female Led Relationships

I had my first real spanking from my girlfriend not long ago. I was interested in what a real one “over the top” really felt like.

I remember being 5 or 6 and being spanked with a paddle.

The sensation was totally overwhelming. After my first experience with my girl, I was even more interested. I found myself saying anything, lying, and begging for her to stop. When she was done, I had not really had that overwhelming experience.

At this point, I really wanted it.

We agreed that she would tie me bent over a pile of pillows over the side of the bed. She used real rope and made it tight and secure so I could not struggle much or move my bare behind to avoid her. She then brought out a ball gag she bought on line. She stuffed her panties in my mouth and secured the gag.

Now I could not lie, beg, or talk my way out of anything. I was going to have to take the whole thing.

She assured me that I would have my experience. She put on some latin music, lit some candles and began by touching me and being sexual with me. She said if I took my punishment well there would be a reward.

She next took out a 3/8” think oak paddle (on line too I guess)and she said “now I want yo to think of all the ways you have been neglecting me, and how you are going to be better in the future”. She began paddling me pretty hard right off the bat. One swat after another before the sting from the first stopped.

While she was spanking me I tried to plead etc, but could not. She spoke calmly and said ” that sounds like you are trying to lie to me”. She calmly suggested ways I could be a better boyfriend and kept on spanking.

I think she too two short breaks of only a few seconds, throughout the spanking. There were a lot of spanks. It was pretty much way over the top. My bottom was bruised for about two weeks afterward.

I hated it when it was happening, but really felt better afterward.

We had great sex afterward, although I had to improvise for a while, because I couldn’t get a hard-on for a little while after she was done. She was really turned on. We will be doing more of this.

I once served a very large woman, 60 years old and over 300 pounds. She was a true sadist. Some say that large women aren’t sexy, not true. Carol loved to swing the strap, and she let you know it. The first time we met at a nice restaurant, all she could talk about was what she was going to do to me once I was naked in her basement.

Not once did she ask me what I wanted. Not once was I ever allowed to cum. It was just understood, that I would show up and I would be at her mercy.

She loved it. She was simply a huge, older woman who loved to torture naked men.

Everytime I found myself naked and strung up in her basement, I knew it was going to be an erotic experience. Everytime my hands were secure and she knew I was helpless, I could see her face light up. Understand, this was not vanilla. Carol loved the strap and she knew how to use it.

No love taps, this was full force sadistic strapping. Across my back, my ass and across the thighs. That strap would wrap around and the tip would snap my front. Carol would let go. She would move to the front and strap my chest.

Often all you could hear was the swish of the strap, the slap across flesh, my moans, and above it all I could hear Carol laughing. She was having a blast.

Understand Carol was not a professional, she did it because it was fun. She was one of a kind. Often times I would watch her. She’s be swinging the strap with one hand, and would have her other hand between her legs fingering her clit.

One time I got there at 10:00 she met me at the door with. Get your clothes off and get to the basement. I’ve been thinking about this all morning and I can’t wait to get started.

Back to the topic. One of Carol’s favorite activities was using me as her toilet. Once she had another lady there and throughout the morning the ladies would say. “I need to pee” I would be taken down and was used as their toilet.

Both of them used me as their toilet a couple times. When I left the house, my stomach was full of pee. I loved it.

Carol actually had a toilet constructed with a clear plastic bottom. I would lay under the toilet with the funnel in my mouth, and I could look up, see her huge pussy, and watch the pee hit the clear funnel and watch as the pee went into my mouth. As trange as this may sound, I took great pride in being her toilet.

Carol was one of a kind. In all the times I was in her basement, she never apologized for anything she did or was planning to do. (She never went too far and I trusted her completely.) In all that time, I was allowed to eat her to orgasm, but not once did she seem concerned about me. I was never allowed to cum.

I’d go home and it would hurt to sit down for a week. She was amazing.

Their bodies glistening with some kind of scented oil, his captors walked over to him slowly, sensually, the nipples he had sucked nodding with every step. Bending down, Lottie took his member in her deep cleavage and began, to give him ‘mammary masturbation’. The feel of her lush satiny orbs quickly stimulated him to a fierce erection. She then dropped to her knees on a thickly piled rug and began to fellate him. But despite her oral expertise, Derek’s pleasure was largely offset by his fear of Andrea, who had moved round behind him and was insinuating two slender gloved fingers round his arse. After a few seconds she stopped and, straightening her body to its full height, began to press the rubber ‘penis’ between his buttocks.

At this, his feelings of shame and humiliation turned to masculine rage. Twisting his head round he tried to butt her. Instantly pain shot through him as Lottie gave his balls a sudden squeeze and wagged a warning finger at him. Then she resumed her ‘deep throat’ activity. Derek was helpless, a victim of two lust crazed dominatrixes and their deviant, devilish desires. Andrea stood back briefly in order to adjust the band around her hips. Then she stepped in close and slowly guided her weapon into him. He tried to clench his sphincter muscles but it was no use. Tears welled in his eyes and he gave a gag stifled moan as the intruder teased his anal passage. There was great, hot pressure, as the rubber seemed to reach into his very core. Andrea withdrew slowly, then thrust in again and again. To Derek’s surprise and relief, the pressure eased gradually. The ‘prick’ was not hard, rather it had the supple firmness and pliancy of a tumescent penis. And it was thickly coated with Vaseline. As the discomfort in his nether regions receded, the ineffable fusion of stimulation and pleasure became a series of rapturous sensations.

There were no sound in the room except low sucking, slapping noises, and the older woman’s heavy breathing. Lottie’s lips and tongue continued working skilfully on his prick, her latex sheathed legs and cruel, spurred heels gleaming and glinting in the light. Behind him, Andrea’s hips pumped steadily like a man’s, her hands clutching his chest, her balloon-like breasts, nipples erect, pushing invitingly against him.

It was a bittersweet situation for Derek. Although his body throbbed with carnal delight, he longed to be able to respond, to kiss, to fondle, and to screw. Feeling his excitement mount, Andrea’s thrusts became more vigorous.. Her lips kissed and nuzzled his neck and throat. Her hands stroked his muscular trunk. Her passion-hardened breasts caressed his back. Her booted thighs slithered over his. As his orgasm approached his head lolled from side to side. Bliss. Then his entire frame shuddered., and but for the gag he would have cried out. For several seconds of exquisite agony his come gushed. Gradually, as his body relaxed, his captors ceased their ministrations.

Lottie stood up, Andrea withdrew the anal intruder and, unfastening the rubber band, let it fall to the floor.

But their voracious sexual appetites were far from satisfied. Arms around each other, they stepped across to a rug and slowly sank down on it, kissing hungrily. Lying face to face, limbs entwined, they worked themselves into a frenzy of lesbian lust, sucking each other’s breasts, probing each other with darting tongues and slim fingers, even kissing each other’s rubber and leather clad thighs.

After a few minutes Lottie abruptly stood up and left the room. Andrea lay back, hands working at her crotch. When the younger woman returned she was carrying a dildo or, to be exact, two dildos – their bases joined together at a slight angle and complete with imitation testicles. Lying side by side, the two licentious Amazons inserted the dildos into their eager vaginas and began to rock back and forth, kissing and fondling with each plunge. As he watched, fascinated, this display of rank, unbridled passion, Derek’s prick began to rise again. He could see that John’s big organ was already as stiff as a stalk.

As the worming, writhing lovers reached a peak of pleasure they began moaning softly, the creaminess of their splendid torsos contrasting with the sleek blackness of their legs and arms. Lottie, her hip movements becoming more frenetic, gripped her partner fiercely. Then she gave a sudden low scream and her body shuddered and squirmed as a shattering orgasm consumed her.

After a while she reached over and pushed her fingers in Andrea’s vagina as the latter continued to screw furiously on her dildo. This double stimulation was enough to push Andrea to an ecstatic climax. She cried out as a series of spasms shook her, her hands clawing at Lottie’s back.

Eventually she uttered a long, deep sigh and her body relaxed.

Their ferocious passions seemingly spent, the two women embraced tenderly, kissing and sighing.

After a while they removed the dildos and got up and left the room, without a word or a glance at their captives.

“What next?” Wondered Derek, dazed at their sheer kinkiness and depraved sexuality. Yet again he asked himself: is this really happening? Why had they not bothered with his friend? Was he next? And there was the disturbing thought that he tried to push to the back of his mind: he had actually enjoyed what Andrea and Lottie had done to him.

Minutes passed. Almost half an hour had gone before the women returned. They had put their leather and rubber underwear back on. This time John was the target of their rapacious desire.

The pattern was the same: passionate ‘foreplay’ followed by naked simultaneous oral and assault. The only difference was that Lottie did the screwing. Although her patent court heels added several inches to her height, she had to fold a thick rug to use as a ‘platform’ in order to accommodate herself to John’s long-legged height. Fascinated, Derek watched the action, his prick stiffening. John kept his head down and his eyes closed. It was only when he ejaculated that he gave a muffled moan.

Afterwards, the two women gave another torrid performance of lesbian sex. They then left.

When they returned – still minus their leather and rubber bras and briefs – there was another shock for their captives’ ravaged senses: each was carrying a leather whip. Andrea moved round behind Derek; Lottie did likewise behind John. Derek tensed, waiting for the blow. Then he heard the swish and his body jerked as the thongs seared across his back.

He gave a stifled gasp. Another blow followed, and another.

Both women wielded their whips expertly and cruelly. Derek could hear John’s low moans as Lottie’s vicious thong raked his back. Through a blur of torment he found himself counting the strokes. Andrea must have been counting too because she stopped at 20. So did Lottie. When they left, their victims’ backs and buttocks were a mass of flaming pain. Tears stung their eyes.

Another half-hour passed before their gaolers returned. This time they did not approach the boys, but instead, walked up and down. Bare hips and breasts gyrating and swaying; stilettos clicking, the two masked mistresses of sin flaunted their bodies in front of their bewildered and brutalised captives. After three or four minutes they stopped and, while Lottie paused briefly to adjust one of her long latex stockings, Andrea stepped across to a small alcove, where she took something from a shelf. Both women then walked over to Derek.

“Oh no, they’re going to poison us,” he cried to himself in terror, when he saw what Andrea was holding. It was a phial of orange coloured liquid. As she held it to his lips, Lottie unfastened the gag and began trying to force his jaws apart. He was determined to resist and clamped his teeth together. But his defences soon collapsed as a rubber-gloved hand grabbed his balls and a needle-like boot heel stabbed his instep. His head was jerked back and the sweet tasting juice flowed down his throat, causing him to gasp and splutter. The gag was replaced and the women then turned their attention to John and repeated the procedure.

‘We’re goners”, thought Derek as the sound of footsteps died away. His mind was a turmoil of images. Had it all really happened? Really? A few minutes later he began to lose consciousness.

He opened his eyes as John shook him awake. His body felt sore and chilly, his mouth dry and uncomfortable. They were at the side of a narrow road, fully clothed. Memories of their ordeal came flooding back. Again and again and again he asked himself: did it really happen? He could see the pain in John’s eyes. The sun was coming up but the air was cold. A car passed.

“Any idea where we are?” asked Derek, getting to his feet and heaving a sigh of relief. At least he was still alive.

“I haven’t a clue” replied his friend, who was rummaging in his rucksack. Derek began to do likewise. All his gear was there including passport and money. There was also a large envelope. Inside it was a magazine size colour photograph. It was Lottie and Andrea, full frontal, wearing nothing but eye masks, fishnet stockings and suspenders and ox blood high heels. There was also a 500-mark note and a hand-written message. Derek read it aloud.

‘Dear John and Derek, we hope you enjoyed your encounter with us as much as we did! You are such splendid performers! You are probably thinking of getting revenge. Well, we think you should know that our little ‘domination’ game was all filmed. If you try to seek us out your family and friends may receive some very interesting pictures in the post – you should not carry address books around with you, besides, we think you would have great difficulty finding us, the Ruhr is a very heavily populated region. We have left you at a spot a few miles out of Bochum. Love and kisses, Andrea and Lottie.’

“If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get those bloody, crazy bitches” said John.

Derek was admiring the photo.

“Andrea certainly has a colossal pair of knockers,” he remarked.

“For God’s sake,” cried his friend, “we’ve been abused and humiliated by two depraved Amazons and all you can talk about is the size of their tits”.

He grabbed the photo and tore it up. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at another woman again.”

“All right,” replied Derek, “we’re legal men…. let’s try to look calmly and clearly at our predicament. Assuming we’re now near Bochum.

Where do the two women live? Dortmund? Assuming that they had it planned in advance – they’ve probably done this sort of thing before – do you really think that they’d tell us the truth? Why did it take us so long to get there. They probably headed for Dortmund at first and then turned off for some other place… Dusseldorf, Essen, Duisberg.. there’s a cluster of cities and about 15 million people in the Ruhr area. And remember we were asleep for most of the journey, and it was dark when we arrived. And what about the blackmail threat?”

“Stop putting up obstacles,” shouted John. “Or maybe you enjoyed that kinky sex session?”

“Don’t be absurd, I didn’t enjoy it any more than you did.” But in his heart Derek knew that he was not being truthful. John continued ranting. At last Derek interrupted him: “I don’t know about you, but I’m heading for some town.”

Despite his stinging back – the women had applied some disinfectant salve to it – he pulled on his rucksack and began walking. His friend followed, still muttering about “revenge if it kills me.”

As he trudged along, Derek knew that his experiences at the hands of Lottie and Andrea had wrought an irrevocable change in his physical and emotional relationship with the female sex. The exotic byways beckoned strongly.

Panic-stricken, he looked around. He found that on either side of him was a metal pole set in the floor at an angle. Totally naked, he was secured, in a standing, forward leaning position to the poles. The leather straps that bound him were set in grooves so that he could neither raise his feet nor lower his arms. Closing his eyes, he thought:

“This must be a fuckin’ nightmare.” But when he opened them again he knew he couldn’t deceive himself as to the reality of his position: about 14 feet away, John was tied up in a similar position. Both of them could only move their heads and give muffled grunts.

Derek’s thoughts raced. Where were Andrea and Lottie? Then he remembered their fondness for leather and rubber gear and their laughing reference to ‘domination’. “Christ, they must have drugged us and carried us down here!”

As they were both strong, fit women the task would not have been an impossible one. Did they intend keeping John and himself captive? Hardly, too risky. Did they intend torturing them? Were they going to use them as playthings in some degenerate orgy?

The room was warm and well lit. Derek assumed it was a cellar because there was no sign of any windows. It contained gymnasium equipment and there were rich, heavy rugs and carpets scattered around the floor.

After a while he heard a door opening behind him and the tap tap of approaching high heels. It was Andrea and Lottie. In boggle eyed amazement he watched as they walked to a point about 10 feet opposite him. Then they turned and stood facing him, silent, impassive.

Andrea was wearing latex bra and briefs and thigh length leather boots. Lottie’s bra and briefs were leather and her legs were encased in long grip-top latex stockings. They were both wearing ‘evening gloves’ – Andrea’s in leather, Lottie’s in latex. Eye masks and rowelled ‘cowboy’ spurs added a further kinky touch to the taut, jet-black, shimmering outfits. Again and again Derek’s eyes travelled over the six-inch spike heels, the vicious looking spurs, the leather and rubber encased legs that contrasted with the creamy upper thighs, the richly rounded hips and proud pudendas with their skimpy triangles of material, the big bulging breasts sitting half exposed in their cups, and the tempting, ruby lips, offset by the menacing masks.

After a few minutes the women walked over towards him slowly, almost coquettishly, hips rotating with sexual promise. Their demeanour was so sinister and bizarre, yet at the same time so erotic and sensual, that Derek, despite his apprehension about their intentions, could feel his prick beginning to rise.

It was soon erect and rampant as they threw themselves on his body. Kissing, licking, fondling, kneading, their soft lips, lascivious tongues and practised hands explored every naked inch. Their smooth arms coiled round him. Their luxuriant curves and long legs pressed sensually against him. The increasingly wanton embraces of two concupiscent women and the lubricious feel of rubber and leather sliding over his skin was a new and erotic sensual experience for Derek. His body tingled with pleasure, his loins grew hot with desire. He longed to return their caresses and kisses.

Suddenly, after several minutes of ‘foreplay’ they stopped their explorations and stepped back. They then turned and left the room, leaving Derek with his body highly aroused and his mind highly confused. Why bondage? Why the silence? Surely they would get much more pleasure if they allowed him to respond? Their way-out gear was all right with him -in fact, he thought it looked great – but he had never given much consideration to bizarre sex. As the minutes ticked away and his loins quietened he began to grow fearful. What would they do next? So far, they had ignored John.

The door opened again and Lottie walked in. She had taken off her bra and briefs, But it was Andrea’s entrance a few seconds later that sent a shiver of fear up his spine. She had also discarded her bra and briefs, but encircling her hips was a band of rubber between three and four inches wide.

Attached to the groin section was a protrusion shaped like a large erect penis.

“Oh God, no,” cried Derek to himself. “The bitch is going to tuck me with that gadget.” He wanted to cry out. His brain whirled. Could this really be happening?

To Be Continued …

A Tale of Two Beautiful & Sexy Mistresses

The receptionist looked coldly at their rucksacks and rain gear.

“Yes, we have one double room available. One hundred and eighty marks a night. Payment in advance.”

Even though it was almost mid-September there were a lot of visitors around and Derek and John had failed to find accommodation in any of the cheaper hotels. So, tired and wet, they eventually found themselves in the swank lobby of the Adler in Koblenz’s Mulderstrasse as darkness fell. Luckily, the Adler accepted travelers’ cheques.

“What I need now is a long, hot bath,” Derek sighed as they stepped into the lift.

Later, as they carefully chose a meal from one of the hotel menus, John joked. “We’ll have to go on bread and water for the next few days.”

The rest of the diners looked an ordinary lot, except for two women, dressed in expensive, body-hugging sweaters and slacks, which stood out – literally – from the rest. They had the sort of self-confident urbanity that goes with money. And the sort of mature figures that promise hours of pneumatic bliss. As he eyed them, Derek could feel his loins stirring. He had often heard it said that the best bed partner was a raunchy older woman.

It had been six months since he had had any sex. Rugby and law studies had taken up all his time. And he and John had spent the summer slaving 12 hours a day, six days a week, in a fast food joint. They were now in the second week of a month long hitchhiking holiday before returning to college for their final year.

“Fancy them,” smiled John, as the two blondes stood up and walked out to the lobby, their stilettos clicking seductively.

“You bet,” replied Derek. “If they’re half as sexy as they look they’d probably devour half the men in the hotel.”

As it was still raining rather heavily the boys decided there was no point in venturing out to look for local nightlife. The bar, like everything else in the hotel, was expensive, so they set themselves a three-beer limit. Half through their second drink, John muttered: “watch out, it’s the Big Four.” Derek looked up to see the two women from the dining room seating themselves at a nearby table. “This looks promising,” he thought, as one of them gave him a friendly nod.

A few minutes later, as John folded away his large-scale map, she suddenly asked: “Are you American?”

“No, English.”

“Oh, I spent some time in England. At a language school.”

“Really? Where?”

“London.”

Anxious to keep the conversation going, the boys introduced them-selves: John and Derek, students at Cambridge.

The women did likewise: Lottie and Andrea, from Dortmund, on a business trip.

Lottie, the younger of the two, had lovely, regular features, long hair and a stunning figure. Her companion was plainer and rather severe looking. But her curves were even more generous and she exuded a strong, earthy sex appeal. The poise and overall ap-pearance of both women suggested membership of high-class health clubs. They would command attention in any company.

They had very good English and the talk ranged over travel, food, prices, and even politics. But the conversation -and the evening – took a very definite turn when Andrea, leaning towards Derek, asked: “Do you have girl-friends in Cambridge?”

Half an hour later the four of them were seated at the same table. By 11 o’clock they had ‘paired off’ and, much to the disgust of the two bar staff, were holding hands and kissing. They made a handsome quartet – with just one thing on their minds: Sex.

Several hours later Derek was try-ing to force himself to sleep. His mind was a jumble of erotic images and salacious thoughts. His loins ached. What a night! What a pair of nymphos !

They had all gone up to the women’s room. Andrea had switched on the light – because “we like to see where we’re going” – and, without any preliminaries, pulled Derek over to the nearest bed where she immediate-ly wrapped him in a passionate embrace. Her tongue darted, her fingers groped. Her pudenda pressed against him wantonly. Gripped by a raw, uncontrollable desire, their caresses grew wilder and fiercer. Tearing off their clothes, they ex-plored each other’s naked fevered bodies with hot mouths and searching hands.

Lottie and John, already stripped, were thrashing about on the other bed. Andrea, rolling on top of Derek, wormed her way downwards, her soft, moist lips tracing the contours of his sinewy frame. Bracketing his stiff, swollen prick with her great, big breasts, she massaged it between them. His rapture multiplied as she took it in her mouth, nuzzling it and rolling her tongue round it.

Meanwhile, John and Lottie were entwined in a torrid tangle of bare limbs.

His face was buried in her crotch, his tongue lapping skilfully, while she sucked greedily, her full, heavy breast pressing against his stomach.

Derek, taking the initiative, pushed Andrea on her back. His hands cupping her succulent orbs, he nibbled and kissed her hardening nipples. Moving slowly over her body, his hungry lips ranged over her waist, her navel, her hips, and her silken thighs. His fingers roamed her wet vagina. As his probing tongue found her clitoris, she uttered a low cry of delight. After a few seconds her hips began to flail wildly and she moaned: “Now, liebchen, now,” her breasts rising in anticipation.

It was sheer bliss as he drove his rampant weapon into her warm, welcoming scabbard.

Her legs locked around his. Her hands clawed his back. Her breathing was hot and sharp. She covered his neck and face with kisses and love bites. With each thrust of his hips she would grasp his buttocks, pressing them hard, and grinding her pelvis fiercely against him. Responding to her febrile demands, he pumped harder and faster. As his orgasm approached, his hip movements became more vigorous, his breath coming in gasps. Then a shudder went through his body and he cried out. His semen shot from him in great spurts and for several seconds a seething wave of almost unbearable pleasure engulfed him. Gradually the tumult in his loins died down.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” panted Andrea, writhing furiously beneath him.

He continued lunging into her and a short time later his efforts were rewarded as her vaginal muscles began to contract. She clutched him fiercely, her nails dug into his back and her voluptuous body trembled in a paroxysm of ecstasy. Her eyes closed. Her head rolled from side to side. Her breasts heaved against him. After a while she gave a long contented sigh. Then she relaxed and, taking Derek’s face in her hands, kissed him gently, languorously.

“My beautiful English liebchen, you are the best.”

Meanwhile, John and Lottie were close to a peak of sexual excitement.

Astride him like some magnificent Teutonic goddess, she plunged up and down frenziedly while his hands fondled her rocking hips and swaying, pendulous breasts. At last her lover, his face contorted with passion, gave a long, low moan. Lottie cried out, “Ich Komme, Ich Komme.” Her back arched and several spasms shook her body. Then she quivered and slowly sank forward on his deep chest.

For several minutes the room was quiet as the lovers lay in each other’s arms, kissing and murmuring. But the women were as randy as they were uninhibited and before long’ the air was filled with sounds of carnal delight. They changed partners back and forth. They pushed the beds together and had sex in a variety of positions and combinations. As John would put it, they screwed their way “through the book.”

It was sometime between 1.30 and 2am when the man in the next room finally lost patience and pounded on the wall.

“The poor fellow is probably masturbating,” laughed Andrea.

The four of them had just completed a bout of “daisy chain” sex:

Andrea lay on her back, legs apart, and fellated John as Lottie’s practised tongue caressed her love bud; Lottie, in turn, was being screwed by Derek, kneeling behind her. Four orgasms -two of them almost simultaneous – in the space of a minute, were bound to cause a lot of noise. The four of them reached such an intense peak of pleasure that it left them spent and exhausted.

Derek looked at his watch: 11.37. “We’ve really fallen on our feet, or to be precise, our backs,” he thought, memories of the previous night’s capers still whirling round in his head. He and John were sprawled in the back of Lottie’s Big BMW. They were heading for Dortmund having accepted an invitation to spend a few days there. As it was a warm, sunny Saturday,

Andrea said they would make a stop in Cologne to allow the boys to see some of the sights.

The women were obviously used to wild bouts of late night sex. They looked ravishing. Andrea was wearing a hip-hugging, short black leather skirt and white silk blouse. Her friend’s skin-tight outfit consisted of black, wet-look trousers and a dark red sweater.

After a tour of Cologne’s extensive Old Town they all went into a restaurant where they had a long, leisurely meal during which the boys consumed several beers.

“We will pay”, Andrea insisted. “You are our guests.”

In view of their heavy expenditure of the previous day, the young lovers did not put up too much resistance.

The place was fairly crowded and, not surprisingly, the women attracted a lot of attention, particularly from a group of camera-laden Japanese, at least one of whom was clearly a high heel fetishist. As the four lovers were leaving, Lottie, who was last – she had settled the bill – wiggled her bottom tantalisingly. This evoked several bawdy comments and a couple of wolf whistles from around the tables.

Andrea took the wheel and they headed north out of Cologne. It was early evening.

Judging by what they had told himself and John, Derek guessed that Lottie was in the 3640 age bracket, with Andrea six or seven years older. They had said that they shared a large house and were well off; that they each had been married twice and had no children; that they were in the fashion business; that they moved in a swinging ‘free love’ set and were familiar with the sex club and orgy scene; and that although they were ‘sex mad’ neither had a live-in lover at present. They also said, laughingly, that they “liked to dominate.”

The area through which they were driving was not very interesting so, after a while, Derek lay back and closed his eyes. The rich food and drink, combined with his exertions of the night before, had already sent John off to sleep.

“Sleeping beauties,” whispered Lottie, glancing in the rear view mirror. Reaching across, she squeezed Andrea’s hand. Things were working out nicely….

When Derek woke up it was dark. The car was halted at a big junction with several sets of traffic lights. It was coming up to eight o’clock.

“God,” he muttered, “I must have been asleep for ages.”

“Then you won’t need any sleep tonight, darling”, laughed Andrea. “We’re in Dortmund” said John, who had woken up a few minutes earlier.

They turned left and passed up a long suburban street. Turning left again into a long tree-lined avenue, they pulled into a wide driveway.

“Home,” said Andrea, as the engine died. While she put the car in the garage, the other three carried their luggage into a large, semi-detached house. It was luxuriously furnished and carpeted and spotlessly clean.

‘We have an excellent cleaning woman,” said Lottie, as she laughingly showed the boys “their rooms”.

After pointing out the two large, well-appointed bathrooms, she went down to join Andrea in the kitchen while they headed for a shower and a shave. There was male shaving gear and toiletries, and even men’s clothing, in some of the closets. And in a press in John’s room there was an assortment of sex ‘toys’ and manuals.

“They must have a fantastic sex life,” he remarked to Derek as they went downstairs.

After helping the women set a table and prepare a meal, they settled into elegant drawing room chairs, listening to tapes of Mozart and drinking a ‘Black Forest’ brew that, Lottie said, had strong aphrodisiac qualities.

Then she and Andrea went upstairs to change and shower.

Forty minutes later the door opened and the boys stared in astonishment as the women advanced slowly into the room. They were sheathed in clinging, plunging knee length dresses. Made of black latex, the glossy skin-like outfits moulded and accentuated every swaying, seductive contour. Heavy make-up, expensive jewellery, seamed stockings and ‘skyscraper’ stilettos completed a picture of unrestrained raunchiness.

‘Well lover boys, how do we look?” smiled Lottie. “Dazzling, fantastic,” gasped John.

“Very, very sexy,” said Derek.

As he eyed the deep cleaved, swelling expanse of bosom, the latter wondered how women could combine so much uplift and exposure without ending up topless. Maybe the secret lay in their bras. Well, he would have a chance to find out soon enough….

“Christ”, he thought, as his loins stirred, “I’ll shoot my bolt before the action starts.”

It was almost 10.30 when they had cleared away the dishes from the large dining room table. Returning to the drawing room for coffee and liqueurs, they ‘paired off’ on two plush sofas. There was kissing and cuddling, but the women didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get down to the serious business of sex – although the voluptuous feel of their ripe, rubber clad bodies had the boys in a very horny state….

Suddenly Andrea stood up. “There are some terrific Danish blue movies upstairs,” she told John. “I’ll get them. Lottie, you get the video recorder.”

Lottie disentangled herself from Derek and followed the older woman from the room. Watching their well-rounded buttocks pumping provocatively against the slinky material of their dresses, the slits in the back revealing several inches of seamed thigh that tapered into shapely, dark-stockinged legs and ankles and patent spindle heels, Derek called after them:

“It’s not blue movies we want, it’s you.”

“Soon, darling, soon,” laughed Lottie from the doorway, blowing him a kiss. ‘you’re dead right,” said John to his friend. “With gorgeous sexpots like that, who needs porno?”

Derek didn’t reply. For some reason he was feeling drowsy. Lying back, he gave himself up to salacious thoughts. A few minutes later he was asleep. So was John.

When Derek woke up he felt he was emerging from a deep slumber. Shaking his head to try and clear it, he found that he couldn’t open his mouth. It was gagged. He tried to move his hands and feet. They were tied.

To Be Continued …

What a predicament: I was naked, wet from a long bath, and in the hands of Stella and her three daughters. They were in no mood to show any leniency for my earlier offenses. Ordered to bend and touch my toes, I did so reluctantly, but eldest daughter Nancy pressed down on my shoulders to keep me there.

Stella was stroking my bottom with the thick leather paddle. “This is going to take a while,” she told her daughters with a smile. “An hour, maybe? I don’t think I’ve ever given anyone here as many as a hundred.”

“No. But he deserves it,” Claudia said angrily. “He spied on me, didn’t he? And he plays with himself, all the time.”

“Oh, do you know that for a fact?” Stella inquired.

“No, but I bet he does. He has that look about him, wouldn’t you say? Sneaky, guilty?”

Her two older sisters nodded in agreement. “Oh, doesn’t he?” Suzanne giggled. “Like he needs a good wash. A typical wanky boy.”

Stella raised her paddle, and propelled it with great force. The crack of the leather on my wet, bare skin echoed around the small tiled room. I’m sure passers-by in the street could hear it clearly too. I gave a sharp grunt of surprise, then a little moan.

“Oh, dear me. If you’re going to make that much fuss over the first one, think what you’ll be like before I finish,” Stella teased, running her hand over the reddened patch where the paddle had struck. “Please, this isn’t the amateur dramatic society.”

“Yes, don’t be such a baby,” Claudia scowled.

Another sharp swat made me twitch.

“Run some more warm water, Suzanne,” Stella instructed. “I’m sure we’ll need to soak him again before we use the cane.”

I tried not to count how many strokes I’d been given, but the blows never ceased for a moment. Stella hit me hard, working steadily from the upper curves of my buttocks down to the sensitive skin where they join my thighs. Whacks to each side of my cheeks alternated with blows to the center. My backside was on fire when I head Stella comment: “Phew, this is hard work! I need a rest. I make that sixty.”

“May I?” asked Claudia, reaching for the paddle. For a small girl, she hit very hard. “No dirty language, you!” she insisted, as she brought a semi-articulate yelp from me with a hail of harsh blows. “Or, we’ll have to wash your mouth out again!”

I was whimpering by the time the paddling was over.

“Wipe your face, and get back in the tub,” Stella ordered. It was a relief to clamber in to the hot water. The bathroom was quite chilly now. She looked at her watch. “Oh, we’ve got plenty of time left,” she smiled. “Now, what did we say? Three dozen, doubled to six, with the cane?”

“Yes,” the two older sisters grinned.

“Make it eight dozen, mummy,” Claudia piped up. “Please?”

“You must have noticed how sore he is,” Stella advised, peering at her youngest daughter with doubt in her eyes. “He’ll be black and blue in the morning.”

“Good!” Claudia said, in triumph. “So, let’s make sure.”

“My word, you are so spiteful!” Suzanne admonished.

“So what?” Claudia pouted. “We’ve got him. Let’s punish him.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Stella sighed, combing her hair back. “Eight dozen, rounded up to a hundred. But we’ll stop before then, if we make him bleed.”

Stella turned to me, cringing low in the tub. “Up you get, Roger. Time for the cane.”

I didn’t submit voluntarily, but allowed myself to be helped from the tub by Suzanne and Nancy, and held tightly by them in the bent-over position Stella wanted. My legs were spread wide, and my ankles pinned by their legs. My backside was raised and tilted to meet her. The cane hissed through the air like a demented bumblebee, and I let out my first loud yelp of pain.

“Quiet, Roger. The neighbors will hear, and wonder what has happened to turn you into a silly girl.”

I bit my tongue, but it was hard to keep quiet as the cane took its toll. She was working with great care, trying not to overlap the strokes on her first run across my buttocks, but make close parallel rows, then carefully interlace them at an angle on her return.

“We’ll stop at fifty,” Stella announced. “And sit his bottom in a bowl of cold water. Claudia, go get the old enamel bowl from downstairs.”

“If we had a fridge, we could use ice cubes,” Nancy offered.

“But we don’t have a bloody fridge do we, Miss Fancy Pants?” Stella retorted. “Don’t think you’re completely beyond the age where I can put you over my knee, girl!”

By the time Stella had finished, the bowl of cold water had arrived. It looked quite inviting as Claudia perched it on the floor by the toilet pedestal. “In you go,” her mother snapped. “Don’t expect us to do every damned thing.”

Immersing my aching backside was a great relief, but only a brief one. “We don’t want you getting numb,” Stella said, showing her cunning. She roughly prodded my genitals with a finger. “Not even these bits.” And with that, I was bent over again, and the vicious caning resumed.

“You’ll have some beautiful marks,” Stella told me, stroking my back, as if in regret to not be applying the cane there, too. I sobbed helplessly, unable to move, with both sisters gripping me hard. Now she was seeking to make a pattern with her strokes, I realized. The pain when welts intersected was acute. Around eighty strokes, Stella called a halt. “I think we’re going to split the skin quite badly if I don’t stop,” she said sadly. “Still, there’s always another day, isn’t there? Even after you’ve gone back home, Roger, you’ll still want us to keep your secret, eh? You wouldn’t like me to tell your Mum about the way you expose yourself and play with your penis, would you?”

“That’s blackmail,” I groaned.

“Don’t be nasty, Roger,” she retorted. “Or I’ll just keep going. Well?”

“Alright,” I gasped. “Whatever you say.”

“That’s better,” she smiled. “I think you should stop by once a week for a proper spanking, don’t you? It’ll do you good. Make a man of you.” I nod, doubtfully.

“I want to teach the girls how to use a paddle and cane, Roger. It’ll come in useful as they get older, I’m sure.”

Suzanne and Nancy simpered at each other, obviously having heard this piece of conversation before.

“Let’s say every Thursday, at 7, shall we?” Stella suggested. The sisters grinned at me, and nodded their acceptance of the arrangement.

“Good, now we need to deal with this dirty willy of yours,” Stella grinned. “So, sit astride the edge of the tub, and let’s see what we can do.”

Awkwardly, I straddled the edge of the bathtub, hearing the water gurgling down the drain.

“Hands on your head,” Stella ordered. “Pass me that scrubbing brush, Claudia.”

And before I could protest, I was tightly grabbed by the other two sisters, and Stella began a vigorous penis scrubbing, roughly jiggling my balls in her frenzy to brush me. It was very uncomfortable, in fact, painful. My sincere cries of alarm made her stop in a minute or so. “Bring a chair,” she told Suzanne. “One from your bedroom.”

When Suzanne reappeared with a high-backed wooden chair, I was shoved into it. And within seconds, Stella was roping my ankles to its legs. Next she grabbed my penis, and began to loop a long football lace around the root of the shaft. Within a less than a minute, I was snugly tied, with my cock pressed flat on the hard wooden surface of the chair’s seat.

Skillfully she rolled my foreskin back, commenting to the two older daughters: “Oh, look at this, now. If we didn’t have proof that he was a wanker, what more would we need?”

“None at all,” Nancy agreed. “Wankers can always pull their foreskins back without any fuss, can’t they, Mummy? Just smell it! There’s no use hiding it, is there?”

“Oh, poo!” Claudia added, wrinkling her nose, but bending very close.

“Shall I get the ruler?” Suzanne grinned.

“That’s the one,” she was told.

They clustered round, grinning happily. Stella had the initiative, and began smacking me first, paying particular attention to my glans, but beating a merry drum roll up and down my shaft as well. Inevitably, this only made me harder, to their communal glee.

“I think he’d squirt if we kept on,” Nancy commented, to which Stella replied sharply, “Oh, and since when did you become an expert on that subject?”

“Oh, I’m just guessing, looking at his face,” Nancy evaded glibly.

Stopping suddenly, just in time to avert a fountain of semen, Stella clapped her hands. “We’ll finish up with a chase. Nancy, tie his hands behind his back, nice and tight.”

This done, Stella told her daughters, “Now go and find yourself a nice leather belt or something similar. Tag time. We’re going to chase him until he surrenders.”

I stared, mystified, until both Stella and Nancy doubled the belts in their hands and lashed out viciously at my bare chest and back, striping the skin. Recoiling, I took my cue and rushed out on to the landing. Hot on my heels, Claudia snapped off a shot at my calves that sent me tumbling downstairs.

Whooping and laughing, the four women pursued me around the house for about thirty minutes, not missing any opportunity to thrash me viciously when cornered. I was on my back in the hallway, under a rain of blows from all four, when Pa appeared with a vague expression on his face, and his mug of tea in hand.

“Ah, girls will be girls,” he remarked.

These girls were trampling me underfoot, whacking me with their belts, slapping and kicking me. When Stella finally called a halt, I was trapped in a corner, covered in welts and stripes, but too exhausted to get to my feet. Partly from relief, I burst into tears.

“What a mess,” Stella smiled. “Well, we’ll say you fell off a ladder picking apples, and landed in a bramble bush. Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” I pouted.

“Good,” she smiled. “I’m pleased to hear it. Let’s hope it stops you misbehaving. Because, if it doesn’t…”

I could hear the new girl walking up behind me and then, into my view. She was taller than Mistress Scarlett, with long red hair and sparkling green eyes with long legs that ended with spike heels. Her body was covered up, though, in frumpy sweat clothes, so, I couldn’t detect anything remarkable about her. That is, until she quickly doffed-off her top and bottom and tossed them over my head. Before my view was cut-off, though, I saw a skimpy leather bikini with fabulous breasts bulging out at the top. That vision caused my still-burnt dick to start throbbing itself up to a raging hard-on, out of my control once again.

Image by Bernard Montogueil

“Uh-uh,” this new girl said. “You don’t get to peek,” she said, with a laugh.

“Looks like he already got an eyeful,” Mistress Scarlett remarked. “Look at that worthless cock!” taking note almost as quickly as I did of the revival of life in my dick.

“Slave, this is my friend, Megan MISTRESS Megan to you, of course,” she ordered. “She is the manager of our workout place, the manager I would’ve gone to to get your ass kicked-out for sexually harassing me tonight.”

At that last statement, I turned my head in her general direction, since I couldn’t see with the sweat-clothes over my head, and let out an “Ohhhhh-nooo…”

This caused Mistress Megan to break out in giggling. “Yes, slave, when Scarlett called me from her car phone tonight and told me what happened, I thought ‘well, we don’t need to kick you out, but you do need to be taught a lesson.’ We have a lot of you pervies that frequently stare at a lot of the women, and they ALL get pissed about it and bitch to me about it. Tonight, you’re going to receive just desserts for your lack of respect for women. If I can help prevent one less guy to stare at us while we’re working out, that’s a good first step,” she finished. “Just desserts?”, I thought to myself. “What ELSE was going to happen to me tonight?”, though, I was getting a good picture of what more was awaiting my body. I felt the clothes being removed from my head to see the two Mistresses more fully.

Mistress Megan had a fucking awesome body. She apparently had worked-out just prior to coming over to Scarlett’s because her hair was a bit wet and I realized my face was wet from the sweats as well. I sucked in my breath at her strong and well- defined legs and calves, and, yet again, soaked-in the view of her bulging breasts. My dick was pumping up and down, dying for attention.

Mistress Megan ignored me, but stepped over for a look at my dick. She had a curious look on her face, then looked up at Mistress Scarlett and observed the still unlit cigarette in her hand. Mistress Megan wrinkled her nose a bit and chuckled to say “Hm. Looks like ya’ll have been having a bit of a wienie roasting!” she said, clapping her hands with delight. Mistress Scarlett broke-up at this one, quite amused.

Mistress Megan reached out to touch my dick, and I moaned, not exactly in pleasure, but at the pain of her touch on my extremely sensitive foreskin. She tapped all around the circumference, even lifting up the throbbing member to observe the crushed-out butt below my sore dick. “Nice,” she observed. Then, she looked at how my hands were tied above my head, followed the rope up to the pulley, then down to…she stepped around my body to get a better look at my balls.

“Have you already dealt with these,” she asked Mistress Scarlett. “They look nice and blue.”

“I’ve kicked them a couple of times, but, nowhere near what he deserves,” Mistress Scarlett answered. I felt Mistress Megan poke them behind me with her fingernail.

“Hm. Kinda cold. Are you tying them up, waiting for them to fall off?,” Mistress Megan asked.

“Nooooo that wouldn’t be any fun. I want him to feel more punishment. Cutting off his balls would prevent us from having fun far into the future. Maybe I need to loosen them up,” Mistress Scarlett said, stepping behind me as well. I could feel her hands rustling around on my balls and their bonds and then she released them from being under tension. She lifted up one of her booted feet and lightly tapped the underside of the sac and remarked, “we need to wait until there’s some blood back into these babies. I want to make sure he feels everything fully.”

“I agree,” Mistress Megan said.

When the tension was released from my balls, the tension was also released from my arms and they sank down as well.

“Maybe we should give him the opportunity to stretch a bit, too. I want him to suffer, believe me, but, only as far as his mid-section is concerned. After all, I’m not a sadist!”

Mistress Scarlett exclaimed, laughing loudly. She untied my hands and instructed me “Get up slave. Walk around a bit, stroke your cock and balls to make sure blood gets back into them, but DO NOT beat yourself off. If there’s going to be anyone cumming in here, it’s going to me a female, not you. Got it?” she asked sharply.

“Yes, Mistress Scarlett,” I said, grateful for the opportunity to remove myself from that very cramped position. It took me a few minutes to figure out how to get up and walk slowly around.

Meanwhile, Mistress Scarlett and Mistress Megan walked over to a corner of the room to whisper about my fate.

I was gingerly manipulating my ball-sac, spreading the skin a bit to return it to its normal red color when Mistress Megan called out from across the room, “Uh-uh, slave. Don’t be messing around with those balls too much…that’s MY responsibility!

I weakly answered her, “Yes, Mistress Megan,” and left them alone, still walking around, stretching out my legs. After a few minutes of hearing hushed whispers from my two tormenters, I heard Mistress Scarlett say to Mistress Megan, “Okay, good idea. I’ll call her now.”

At this, I wondered who “her” was, thinking that two women were going to be more than a challenge enough, but a third? A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and my groin area caused my dick to deflate at this thought. Mistress Megan came over to me, well-balanced on her spiked high heels and showing incredible leg. My dick began to rise as she approached.

“My, you really are a pervie, aren’t you,” Mistress Megan asked me sharply. Mistress Scarlett was dialing the phone and, hearing Mistress Megan’s comment, walked over with the portable phone to see what was going on in my corner of the room. As she walked, my eyes rested on her still-naked, bouncing breasts.

“I gave him 25 demerits before when he did that. I guess he’s got a tough time learning how to be respectful of his superiors,” Mistress Scarlett observed, in a bitchy tone. “I think we should double that for you…he should be learning SOMETHING by now. IF he continues to disregard our lessons, we’ll keep increasing the punishment until he gets a clue.”

“Yeah, I see that. Fifty sounds fine to me, but, maybe the problem lies in the execution of him working off the demerits. How do you have that structured?”, Mistress Megan inquired.

“Well, I figure each kick counts as a minus one. Each cigarette also counts as a minus one, regardless of how long it takes for the punishment to occur. So, so far, he has worked off 2 demerits, leaving him with 23 for his disrespect of my body.”

Mistress Megan nodded, apparently in agreement with how the demerits were to be worked-off. “Well, with my 50, and your 23, that should leave us with a lonnnnnng time and a lot of opportunity to teach him good, long lasting lessons,” Mistress Megan said. “Seventy-three demerits. YUMMY!”

I just opened my eyes wide at the thought that a kick to the nuts would count the same as 10 minutes of cigarette torture. I opened my mouth to protest with “But I —-”, and I didn’t get a chance to say anything when Mistress Megan’s demeanor changed suddenly with ferocity and she raised her right foot and promptly kicked me in the crotch, perfectly nailing my balls with the toe of her red pointy spike heel.

I sucked in breath and sank immediately to the floor from the kick, unable to do anything except moan in agony from her kick. So much for my input into the discussion.

“Oops! You spoke too soon, Megan!” Mistress Scarlett exclaimed, going back to punching in digits for her phone call.

“Yes, I did.” Mistress Megan said. “Pardon me…72 demerits, or, does the asshole have anything to add to this,” she said, looking down at me.

I was looking up at her, aghast at the change in her demeanor, and groaning with the shot she had delivered. I shook my head vigorously and answered her, “No-no-no-no, Mistress Megan. I’m so sorry for speaking out of turn before,” I got out of my mouth before a convulsion of pain shot through my gut again and caused me to curl-up in a ball.

“Oh, that’s okay, slave. You’ll learn. And, you’ll learn that I can be a very….very…inspirational teacher,” Mistress Megan finished. She stepped towards my prostrate form and placed her right foot, the one that socked me, in front of my face. “Kiss the toe of my shoe, slave. Kiss it and thank me for taking the time to properly instruct you. Thank me for displaying my regard for your worthless body and deep interest in making sure you learn respect for women,” she commanded me.

I quickly complied, kissing the toe of her shoe reverently, and saying over and over again, “Thank You, Mistress Megan…Thank You, Mistress Megan” Mistress Scarlett, meanwhile had apparently connected with her friend because I overheard her say, “Yes, yes….oh, Carmen, that’s a great idea to add to our party!…yes….yes…um-hmmm…… okay…”, she said, checking her watch. “Oh. Okay…then, we’ll see you at about 9:30 tonight?…Great! Oh, don’t bother knocking… just come on down to the playroom in the basement…uh-huh….okay… can’t wait to see you either!” Mistress Scarlett said, clicking off the phone.

“Carmen was SO happy to hear from me, and she jumped at the chance to join us tonight. She’s been bugging me for weeks about her idea to convert that unused bathroom into a closet, but, now we’ve decided that we could likely use it as a real bathroom, complete with a built-in MALE toilet!” Mistress Scarlett finished with a huge smile on her face.

“Oh, really?,” Mistress Megan answered her, getting the inference with a smile that lit up her face. “Ohhhhh that’s a perfect use for this dog,” she said, motioning to me on the floor.

Meanwhile, the “dog” on the floor, me, had racing thoughts about what Mistress Scarlett had said. “Toilet?”, I thought to myself. “Surely she was joking…” I hoped to myself. “Well,” Mistress Scarlett said, checking her watch again. “We have about 45 minutes before Carmen arrives. I think we need to start with his schooling again. Which ‘end’ do you want,

Megan?” “I want those puny balls. I want to cause him so much discomfort that he thinks twice before getting a hard-on in my presence again,” Mistress Megan said, harshly.

“Oh, goodie! That means I have more fun with dick-and-head here,” she giggled, taking note of her own pun. I just groaned at what was in store for me.

“Get up slave….or don’t. Crawl back over there so we can get you properly restrained and your lessons begun,” Mistress Scarlett ordered.

I said “Yes, Mistress Scarlett,” and proceeded to shuffle my knees and half-walked, half-crawled back over to the stocks device. Without even being told, I immediately stuck my limp penis into its designated hole and set myself to receive whatever I was going to be dealt with from these two beauties.

Mistress Megan came walking over, un-hooking her leather bikini top and letting it fall. She gave me a small smile and said “Okay, slave, you’re now allowed to get a hard-on for me. In fact, if you DON’T get a hard-on for me, I’ll consider it a personal insult and deal with you harshly for disobeying me.”

Lucky for me, I didn’t have to try too hard to get it up. Her undulating breasts and erect nipples contributed greatly to my penis-driven mental state and swoosh! Dick arises. Girl should now be happy…even though, I knew my hardness was the exact reason why I was about to face more punishment at their hands.

(Small-minded and weak, but, aren’t men amazing?)

Mistress Scarlett walked back over to me and, instead of tying both arms above my head, as she had before, she took each wrist and secured it on either side of me, below my waist. She took another length of rope and tie my body firmly to the wooden face, which served to make sure my dick was fully inserted into the hole. My legs were prodded apart from Mistress Megan behind me, and I was then properly positioned for them.

“What do you need, Megan?” Mistress Scarlett asked.

“Ummm got a spoon handy?” Mistress Megan responded.

“Oh, yes,” Mistress Scarlett responded, in front of me, smiling.

She walked over to the cabinet and slid open a drawer to retrieve several wooden spoons. She turned and walked back, reaching to hand the spoons to Mistress Megan behind me. She then reached down to retrieve her cigarette, lighter, and plopped down into her chair to once again face me.

I felt Mistress Megan behind me as she reached down to locate my balls and pulled them out behind me, stretching them so that they were tight against the bottom of the sac. I felt her poke my sac with one of her sharp fingernails, which caused me to flinch slightly.

“Oh, Sweetie, if that caused you a bit of discomfort, just wait until the real lesson begins,” Mistress Megan said, with a small laugh.

In front of me, Mistress Scarlett flicked the lighter and the flame wicked-up, engulfing the cigarette she held in her sexy mouth. The cigarette lit up with a red glow…a red glow I was all too familiar with. She sucked in a breath and blew it up into the air above me. As she did that, her beautiful breasts jiggled a little bit, causing my dick to immediately throb even harder. At that moment, Mistress Megan behind me delivered her first blow to my balls with one of the spoons. SMACK!

I gasped at the shock of the blow. She didn’t hesitate at all. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! I shouted in pain. I squirmed, but couldn’t squirm anywhere, due to my restraints. Mistress Scarlett took another drag on her cigarette in front of me, and, with her inhaled breath, peeled back some more hot ash that needed to be dumped somewhere.

She leaned forward and, while looking directly into my frightened eyes, her breasts hanging down to expose wonderful cleavage that I only quickly looked down at, she held the cigarette right above the softest part of my dick, the head, and expertly flicked the cigarette to dump glowing ash right onto it’s unprotected surface, causing me to scream “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!

NO! NO! NO! PLEEEEEASE STOP!”

I was in complete agony from the burning pile of hot ash resting on my throbbing penis head. I tried to fling it off but it just laid there. Mistress Scarlett snickered at my attempts.

Meanwhile, as if there wasn’t enough pain occurring on my body at that moment, Mistress Megan, behind me, had shifted her tempo and was whaling at my balls with increasing frequency, counting each smack into my worthless sac of sperm. At each jolt of connection between the head of the spoon and my nuts, I screeched out an “AH!” “AH!” “AH! AH!”

This continued for about…I don’t have any idea how long, but to me, it was an agonizingly slow hell. Mistress Scarlett continued her ash-flicking torture, changing her focus this time to raise my dick with one hand while laying hot ash right below it with the other, and pressing my dick firmly right back on the ash, thus allowing the burn to go deeper into my tortured penis.

When she got tot the end of the cigarette, this time she finished her cigarette off by applying the lit end firmly into one side of my dickhead and holding it steady with the other hand, slowly rotating the cylindrical hot ember and pressing it into my penis flesh. Tears were flowing freely from my eyes as I screamed from the pain. During this time, Mistress Scarlett watched me, grinning evilly at my predicament. I caught this look at one point as I was struggling to reconcile the pain with my mind, and those ice-blues bore into me, mercilessly. Without pity. In fact, those eyes were reflecting simple, cruel delight.

“Thirty-one … thirty-two!” Mistress Megan was calmly counting out loud behind me, delivering smacks harshly, and each one, full force to my balls. Between the two sources of pain, I couldn’t discern which was worse. I started to feel like I was passing out from the pain. I wished I had done so by that point, anyway.

Mistress Scarlett asked, “Well, I’ve finished with one cigarette over here. Should I light up another one, or, do you want to switch hit now?” she asked Mistress Megan behind me. I was still crying profusely, and making all sorts of pained noises, but when I heard the question about “switch-hitting”, I just groaned at the thought of this torture continuing with Mistress Megan in front of me, and Mistress Scarlett behind me, smacking my balls. I passed out from the thought, and didn’t get to hear Mistress Megan’s response.