The Unseen Master
by Paul A.

Chapter I
Arrival


Closing the door behind her, she entered the small foyer. On the table was
a leather blindfold, lined with fleece. She knew what she was to do. She
picked up the blindfold, walked to the frame opposite, placed the blindfold
over her eyes, and dropped her wrists into the semicircular cutouts of the
frame. No sooner had her wrists settled into position than the remote-
controlled upper bar descended, holding them fast. Her submission had
begun.

She wriggled expectantly, awaiting His appearance, but all was silent.
"Master?", she called, but there was no response. Her head was a jumble of
thoughts and emotions -- eager anticipation, fear, sexual excitement,
wonder. Where is He? Can I handle this? Should I ever have come here?
Who is this man? What is going to happen to me?

She thought back on the events that had brought her to this place. She
remembered her first tentative explorations of the electronic networks and
the sexuality group that had so intrigued her. At first she stayed in the
background, watching but never revealing herself. Then came her first
hesitant forays into posting her own messages, usually shy comments on
what someone else had said. It was not long before He responded - so
politely and courteously, yet with a subtle firmness, self-confidence, and
sense of humor she found irresistible. Soon they were sending each other
private messages, and soon after that they agreed she would come to Him.
For their time together she would submit to His every wish without
reservation. She agreed, too, to His special requirement -- that she was
never to see Him.

The flight across the country gave her an odd feeling of reassurance mixed
with foreboding. He had sent her a bondage chain and lock, and despite her
concerns, passing through airport security with the chain irretrievably
fastened around her neck had not been a problem. He had arranged
first-class tickets for her, and the deference with which the airline
personnel treated her seemed incongruous with the pain and utter
subservience she knew awaited her.

The taxi ride from the airport took over two hours. As the taxi left the
interstate, followed two state highways and then a succession of obscure
country roads, they both wondered whether they might get lost, but His
directions were explicit and detailed, leaving no possibility of error.
"How much like Him", she had thought to herself. The mountainous scenery,
so unfamiliar to her, was stark but breathtakingly beautiful - a portent,
it seemed, of what was to come.

The taxi turned into the driveway and she first saw His house, isolated and
surrounded by woods. No neighbors would hear her cries, she knew. Its
attractive exterior and clean but warm design gave no hint of what lay
within, but the cloudy afternoon and the cold wind that brushed her hair as
she walked to the door seemed to reinforce her awareness, even now, that
she could expect no leniency at His hands.

As He had specified, she was wearing skin-tight jeans -- Lees were His
favorite kind -- and the cabbie's stare at her back reminded her of how
very sexy they were. The whitish worn spots on the seat highlighted the
center of each buttock, an effect reinforced by the way the material
conformed to the crack between. She had had these jeans for several years
and their seductiveness seemed only to increase as they aged.
Complementing the jeans, her clingy turtleneck sweater highlighted
her breasts. He had insisted that she wear no makeup whatsoever, and her
face felt naked and vulnerable.

After five minutes of suspense that seemed interminable, she heard Him
enter the room. "Welcome", He said. "Your time with Me has begun.
Until you leave this house you are My property, to do with whatever I
wish. I shall do you no permanent harm, but except for that I shall
indulge My every fantasy upon your heart, body, and mind. And especially
upon those lovely buns of yours." And with that He let loose upon the very
center of her bottom a single swift, forceful stroke of a wooden paddle.
"OWCH", she screamed as she leaped up and nearly lost her footing, but the
frame held her fast.

"Excellent response, wench!", He said with evident glee. "But too noisy
for My taste, I'm afraid." And with that He forced a gag into her mouth
and buckled it behind her head. It was made of leather with a round rubber
mouth insert. "Please don't spank me so hard, Master!", she tried to say,
but all that came out was a muffled "Plllsh. Mrrghh." He produced a large
pair of shears and with two swift series of strokes cut straight up each
side of her sweater and down the sleeves. The sundered garment fell to the
floor.

"What a perfect target you've given Me", He said, aiming a second, even
harder, stroke of the wooden paddle at the whitish spots at the center of
each cheek. A muffled cry of pain came forth. Reaching around from
behind her He gave a hard squeeze to each nipple, then unfastened her jeans
and let them drop to her ankles. A moment later they were off, along with
her shoes and socks. She was now stark naked except for the locked chain
around her neck.

Even after just two strokes, she felt the beginnings of a warm tingling in
her bottom. Tenderly He planted a kiss first on each face cheek, then on
each bottom cheek. "You have given Me the most precious gift you could
have given Me -- yourself", He said. "For Me not to take full advantage of
that gift would show a lack of appreciation of it. While you are with Me I
shall spank you to the very limits of your endurance -- and then spank you
again. That lovely backside of yours shall be the object of My endless and
devoted attention. I have no need to use punishment as an excuse for what
I do. The sheer pleasure of whipping you suffices." A third hard
stroke of the paddle, deliberately placed at precisely the same spot as the
first two, added emphasis to his words.

"I'm not going to neglect the rest of you either. Your mouth, your pussy,
your breasts, the rosebud at the center of your bottom -- all are mine to
do with as I wish, and I shall not neglect any part of you. I shall bring
you exquisite pleasure as well as exquisite pain, but only in the manner I
wish and at the times I wish. You are an adult and you have consented to
give yourself over to Me."

"You have the right at any time to end your submission to Me, but if you do
so You must leave My house immediately. I do not expect you to exercise
that right. Except for that right, you cannot refuse Me anything I wish no
matter how much pain you suffer. No matter how desperately and devoutly
you seek release, I shall not release you otherwise until our time is
done." Slowly and silently she nodded her assent.

As He spoke He began to caress her in her nakedness. He gently stroked her
hair, brushing it back from her face. He touched her nose and her cheeks.
Removing the gag and coming up in front of her, He kissed her lips and
thrust His tongue within them, exploring with intense passion her tongue
and the backs of her teeth. She felt a hot throbbing and a fierce longing
for her unseen Master. She tried to speak, but His mouth pressed against
hers, preventing a single word from coming out.

Replacing the gag, He continued to explore her body. He ran his fingers
gently over her breasts, her stomach, her back. He stroked her fingers and
her arms, even producing a fit of struggling laughter when He tickled her
armpits. Letting His sensual hands wander downwards, He outlined with
special interest the contours of her buttocks, allowing His finger to
meander down the crack and gently prod at her rosebud.

Coming up the other side, He carefully placed each pussy-lip in turn
between His fingers and rolled it gently. His fingers explored her vagina
and for a few unbearably tantalizing moments played with the very seat of
her sensations. She felt ready to explode, but His hands moved onwards,
denying her the relief she felt ready almost to die for. He stroked her
hips, her thighs, her calves. He gently massaged her feet, slowly and
deliberately wiggling and manipulating each toe. Although she would
ordinarily have taken great pleasure in being touched so, the frustration
at not having gotten relief made His touch painful rather than pleasurable,
a measure of the deeper pleasure He had so purposefully refused to allow
her.

Despite her frustration she was beginning to feel relaxed from His gentle
caresses when a sharp handspank shocked her to attention. "Now for your
first serious spanking", He announced. He placed a cuff on each of her
wrists and with the flick of a hidden switch released them from the frame
that all the while had held them. He clipped the cuffs to her neck chain.
With her hands in front of her neck and her elbows bent, one might have
thought she was praying -- and indeed, she was.

He attached a leash to her neck chain and led her, stumbling, through
another room and a corridor until they reached a stairway. Grasping her
hips, He carefully guided her down to ensure that she would not lose her
footing on the stairs. As they reached the bottom she could smell the
slight dampness that confirmed she was in the cellar of the house. A few
moments later she was in His dungeon.

She trembled as He brought her over to the spanking horse, partly from
anticipation, partly from fear, and partly from the slight coolness of the
air. "I know you're a bit cold, My dear", He said, "but you'll find
yourself quite warm enough very soon."

The horse somewhat resembled a large sawhorse. On either side were
adjustable padded knee rests. The front had a padded leather bar that
served as a shoulder and chest support, the rear a U-shaped hip support
designed so that the spankee's pussy was fully exposed. Both of these
supports had heavy leather restraining belts attached to them. Wrist
restraints were fitted to the front legs of the horse. All of these parts
were mounted on removable plates whose positions could be adjusted, thus
enabling the diabolical device to be fitted precisely to the dimensions of
its unfortunate occupant.

She resisted slightly as He positioned her on the horse and carefully
arranged the fittings, but his grip was firm. "Just perfect for you", He
said as He cinched down the hip restraint and completed His task. "What a
luscious rump you have, My dear", He said, gently patting and rubbing the
projecting roundnesses. The raised hip support forced her back to arch,
emphasizing and elongating the curvature of her provocatively poised
behind. Since there was no support between the shoulder rest and the hip
rest, her breasts hung helplessly exposed beneath her.

Despite or perhaps because of her fearful anticipation of what was to come,
her pussy-juices began to flow. Noticing it, He placed his finger in that
warm hidden place, withdrew the finger, and savored the taste of her
juices. "Glad to see I'm bringing you such pleasure", He said with a tone
of deliberate irony, and gave a painful squeeze to each nipple. She
twitched and emitted a short, sharp gasp.

Without haste He reviewed His extensive collection of spanking implements.
A light warmup would make it easier for her to adjust to the pain, but He
decided that her first spanking should leave an immediate and lasting
impression. He picked up one of his longer and more flexible canes, a
rattan one about 3/8" in diameter and 40" long. Carefully He rested it at
the precise vertical midpoint of her provocative and helpless bottom, the
tip just beyond the point where the further cheek began its curvy descent
towards her hipbone.

He tapped the cane lightly against her cheeks to check His aim, pulled back
His arm, and swung with great force. Shhhwzzzzt! The cane whistled and
shrieked through the air and struck, leaving two long, closely spaced
red lines from one side of her posterior to the other. She let out a loud
yelp of pain and fright, struggling against the bonds, but the gag muffled
the sound. "This is too much", she thought to herself, hoping that the
sight of her struggles and the sound of her desperate cry would persuade
Him that perhaps He should not be so hard on her after all.

But it was not to be. "I'm glad you enjoyed that so much", He said with
just the merest hint of sarcasm, and skillfully placed another pair of
marks just half an inch below the first. She struggled and screamed even
more fiercely, but the bonds that held her did not yield. A third stroke
of the cane, placed just above the first, brought her to tears. She began
to cry and struggle continuously, not even waiting for the next stroke.
The burning and stinging in her buttocks were unbearable, yet she had to
bear it. Never before had she experienced such intense pain and sensation.

"You seem to be having a bit of difficulty, My dear wench", He said.
"Don't worry, I won't deprive you of your full measure of strokes." That
was, of course, the last thing she was worried about. "But I wouldn't want
you to have an embarrassing accident. So we'd better take precautions."

Without further warning He forced a large but well-lubricated butt plug
straight into that tiny pink rosebud that sat waiting between her burning
bottomcheeks. As the intruder pried open and stretched her most intimate
orifice, she felt an overwhelming sense of vulnerability, invasion, and
loss of privacy. She shrieked again from the pain of her suddenly streched
sphincter, but He did not relent as the sphincter opened wider and wider
against her will, then closed down on the narrow lower shaft of the plug.

What was happening to her was the stuff of which her fantasies were made,
but the reality seemed unendurable. The fierce stinging in her posterior,
the burning sensation in her newly stretched rosebud, and the knowledge of
her utter humiliation and vulnerability combined to bring deep sobs from
her throat and tears to her eyes. "I can't stand it!! I just can't stand
it!! You've got to stop!! Please, stop!! Please, please stop!!!
Please!!!", she screamed through the gag. Whether He could make out any of
her pleadings she did not know, but if He did hear them, He paid them no
regard.

The cruel strokes of the cane continued without letup, one every twenty
seconds, each just as hard as its predecessor. The intervals between
strokes did not come as a relief for her, but instead added to her dread
and fearful anticipation. It seemed to her that the sting of one stroke
was just beginning to fade when it was replaced by the sting of the next
one.

Struggling with her agony and feelings of utter wretchedness, she became
aware of an exciting undertone of sexual arousal. She felt as though she
was about to burst. Something had to yield. She couldn't stand it. But
nothing yielded and her thoughts and sensations continued to churn in their
wild, mad gallop.

She received from Him a total of thirty carefully placed hard strokes of
the cane. Held fast by the bonds, she could not even shift to a less
uncomfortable position or make her buttocks a less provocative target. By
the time He was done, her cheeks were crisscrossed with angry red welts and
her bottom burned and stung unbearably. She had not stopped screaming and
struggling for a moment since the third stroke had landed. When surcease
came at last she was utterly, totally exhausted.

"That was excellently done, My dear", He said. "You are a most responsive
wench and truly deserve the pleasures of the whipping I have just given
you. It makes Me most happy to see how intensely you partook of this
experience. That you wanted Me to stop so badly in no way diminishes your
superb performance in My eyes; indeed, that increases it."

He released her from the horse, removed the gag, and held her close to Him
as she continued to sob uncontrollably. He stroked and soothed her, gently
rubbing ointment into her red, swollen bottom. She felt comforted by His
strength and his soft, gentle caresses. "You realize we have just begun,
you and I", He whispered to her. "I have only started to taste the
delights of your utter submission to My will and desires. Great pleasures
still await us both." But she was not so sure. The heady mixture of fear,
excitement, and sensuality overwhelmed her as she collapsed and almost
fainted in His arms.


Chapter II
Cleansing


The sting of her most recent spanking -- perhaps the sixth one in less than
twenty-four hours -- was just starting to ease when He announced to her
that He was ready to cleanse her. He led her again to the spanking horse,
but this time He had another purpose for it. As always, she was
blindfolded.

"No gag for you this time", He told her, "unless you make too much noise."
He contemplated her bottom again, savoring the black and blue marks and
thin red welts overlaid on a deeper pink background. Her rosebud lay
within, the cheeks spread open to reveal its tiny creases and the small
dark orifice at its center. The pinkish area around the rosebud
was perhaps an inch in diameter, the color slowly fading towards its outer
perimeter.

He felt and prodded her rosebud gently, taking the measure of it. "I'd say
you should be good for about three quarts", He remarked almost offhandedly.
"With just a bit of soap to make sure you get some cramps." The thought of
the cramps dismayed her.

She heard Him leave the room and then heard the sound of running water. A
minute or so later He was back with a large red enema bag filled to the
brim with warm, soapy water. The ordinary plastic tube from the enema had
been extended with a soft, flexible eight-inch nozzle with four outlet
holes at the end. He hung the bag from a nearby hook and placed a catch
tray on the floor, directly under the helplessly waiting rosebud.

"This calls for appropriate music", He said, starting up the disc on the
audio system. The soft, sad strains of Henryk Gorecki's Third Symphony
filled the room. He gave her buttocks two short, sharp strokes of a riding
crop. She gasped but did not cry out. "Just can't resist", He said
with a laugh. Carefully He lubricated the nozzle and pressed its tip
against the rosebud. It slithered off slightly to the side. For an
instant she thought, to her relief, that He might not be able to get it in
after all. But a moment later she felt the soft rubber press directly on
her sphincter and slide past. He continued to feed the rubber tube past
her sphincter until the full length of the nozzle was within.

"Have you ever had an enema before?" He asked her. "Not since I was a
child." "An enema has four phases", He explained. "Insertion, retention,
expelling, and cleanup. You are about to become an expert on all of them."

He released the clip on the enema tube, allowing the pressurized liquid to
flow through the nozzle and into her bowels, spurting invisible but rapidly
from the large outlets at its end. At first the warm water gave her a
pleasantly comfortable feeling, but soon the pressure began to build up.
She moaned as the first cramps hit her. He smiled with satisfaction.

The rising and falling strings of the symphony seemed to follow the rise
and fall of the pressure in her bowels. One wave of cramps would abate,
only to be followed several seconds later by another. She tried to squeeze
down on the tube with her sphincter to halt the flow of the liquid into her
painfully distending belly, but no matter how hard she squeezed, the flow
continued. She writhed and wriggled on the horse, seeking with increasing
desperation to obtain relief from the pressure and cramping. "I so love to
see you suffer", He said, stroking her back and behind lightly with his
fingertips. "Your struggles make you so beautiful in My eyes."

At last the sac was emptied, but the cramps continued unabated. "I can't
hold it in!" she cried. "You'll have to let me up!" "No, My dear", He
said. "You must retain the fluid until the symphony is over, which should
be in about twenty minutes or so. If I see any sign of leakage, you shall
receive fifty hard strokes of the cane." She tightened her sphincter,
fully aware that she could not afford to relax it for a single instant.

"It is a delight to share this symphony with you, My dear", He said.
"Gorecki wrote it to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the German
shelling of Danzig, the event that started the Second World War. It is a
piece of ineffable sadness. Listen closely and hear its sorrowful beauty
along with Me. The second movement, which we have not yet reached" -- she
groaned at the thought -- "is marked tranquillissimo. So very peaceful.
The soprano in the longer third movement" -- she groaned again -- "sings a
mournful Polish folk song. A perfect accompaniment to your cramps."

He continued to stroke her, His fingers moving now over her pendulant
breasts, now to her clit, arousing her yet again. She tried to resist the
arousal, fearing it might distract her from her titanic effort to keep her
sphincter clamped against the terrible, insistent pressing of the liquid
within. Any leakage, she knew, would unleash the most ferocious beating
yet upon her sensitive buttocks. Cramps and spasms coursed through her
belly, subsiding and then swelling again in time with the music. She
writhed and moaned in pain as each one rolled through her, concentrating
intently on the need not to release a single drop of fluid.

At last the final reflective notes of the symphony faded away. He paused
for a moment, then spoke. "In just a few moments, My dear, you may have
your relief. But until I give you the word, you must continue to hold it
in." He ever so slowly helped her off the horse, guided her to the toilet
in a nearby bathroom, and placed her on the seat. Walking was even more
difficult than staying in one place.

She sat on the toilet, waiting desperately for the word. At last He spoke.
"You may expel now, My dearest slave". It took her a moment to relax
before she could release the flood. Splaaat! Pfffft! Spssssh! Bmmmmph!
The thick, noxious brown slurry gushed forth, accompanied by a cacophony of
farts. It stopped, then started, then stopped again. He stood nearby,
flushing the toilet frequently. She felt a deep sense of shame and
embarrassment at having Him witness her in this most intimate and lowly
act. It took almost twenty minutes before she felt she had emptied
herself. Even then her sphincter twitched reflexively and a faint sense of
pressure in her belly remained.

He led her to the bidet. Soothing warm streams of water caressed her
bottom, her rosebud, and the upper part of her legs, washing away
the sticky brown fluid and bits of solid that still clung to her. He
raised her up, wiped her with a soft soapy cloth, and placed her again on
the bidet to complete her cleansing. Soon not a trace of soil remained.

"A little warmup and then it's time for your ride on the Devil's Stallion",
He said. He let her to the frame, fastened her spread-eagled, and applied
forty slow, hard strokes of a heavy leather paddle to her helplessly
exposed and vulnerable rump. She shrieked with fear and pain at each
stroke, but He did not relent. Yet the burning and stinging that suffused
her bottom was less on her mind than the worried anticipation of what the
Devil's Stallion might have in store for her.

She felt herself being unfastened from the frame and being led firmly up a
small stepladder. Her hands were placed on a pair of gripper bars and her
wrists cuffed and fastened to the bars, leaving her leaning forward much
as though she was riding a bicycle. She felt his strong hands on her hips.
The next thing she knew she was firmly planted on a tiny seat with a thick
ridged dildo pointing upwards. She let out a yelp as the slippery dildo
entered her now thoroughly cleansed bowels, each ridge forcing open the
sphincter anew. The seat felt unsteady beneath her.

He pulled away the stepladder, allowing her weight to rest on the seat and
plug. He completed His preparations, fastening her feet into a pair of
stirrups mounted on a crossbar on the shaft supporting the seat and
encircling her waist with a belt that was fastened below. As a final
touch, He attached a pair of clamps to her nipples and connected them to
the waist belt.

He savored the awkwardness and discomfort of her position. She could rise
up from the stirrups and nearly stand on them, but the waist belt kept her
from escaping the dildo stuck up her rump. If she accidentally
straightened her back, the clamps would pull cruelly on her nipples. She
could either hang onto the gripper bars or let go of them, but she could
not move her hands anywhere else.

The steel shaft under the seat of the Devil's Stallion was an inch in
diameter and held in place by two rings. The rings, one near the top and
the other near the bottom, were mounted on horizontal rods extending from
another, thicker support shaft. Both rings were an inch wider than the
shaft within them, the deliberate looseness of the fit causing the
unsteadiness she had noticed earlier. The bottom of the shaft consisted of
a hemispheric steel cap which sat on a solid rubber bumper. A
variable-speed motor drove a reciprocating rod that in turn moved the
bumper up and down. The looseness of the shaft and the sliding of the
shaft's rounded bottom all around the bumper produced a jiggling, bouncing
motion of the seat and dildo upon which the unwilling rider was
uncomfortably perched.

He rotated the knob that controlled the motor and the seat began to move up
and down slowly. She tried to follow its motions, bending and
straightening her knees to keep the dildo from moving in and out, but the
irregular jiggling action made it difficult. At one point she did not move
down quickly enough. Her sphincter held the dildo at its lowest ridge for
a moment and then it dropped down, the shaft bouncing against the bumper
and slamming the dildo back into her. "Ooohh", she cried out.

Surveying his extensive music collection, He selected a particularly bouncy
and lively Vivaldi violin concerto, L'Estro Armonico No. 6. "Music to ride
by, My dear", He chortled. He turned on the sound and rotated the control
knob of the device to near its full clockwise position, the rise and fall
of the shaft keeping time with the music.

"No! No! Stop! Please stop! Pleeeease! It's too much!" She screamed and
wailed as the dildo furiously pumped in and out of her, wiggling and
jiggling in its wild random motions. She was hanging desperately onto the
gripper bars, her knuckles white, no longer able to keep pace with the
unstoppable probe that thrust rapidly in and out of her aching, burning
rosebud. She bounced up and down, back and forth, trying to keep her
balance as the shaft of the Devil's Stallion slipped from side to side. As
she struggled, the chain from her waist pulled sharply at her nipples,
making her wince.

"Shhh! You're drowning out the music", He warned her. "More of that and
I'll have to punish you really severely." Great tears welled from her
eyes, but she managed to keep from crying out. Now and then He gave her
bouncing rump a playful slap with a short crop.

He slowed down the machine for the second movement of the concerto, a
lovely Largo. By this time her legs were too tired to keep pace even with
the slower tempo. She groaned as the relentless probing continued, her
sphincter straining and then relaxing as the ridges of the dildo passed in
and out. The last movement, Presto, was even faster than the first, and He
had to turn the knob to its highest setting to keep pace with it. With
intense pleasure He followed the wild bounce of her buttocks as the
merciless device tossed her about.

When He heard the final cadence of the Vivaldi, He turned off the machine,
dismounted His weeping and quivering slave, and brought her back to the
spanking horse. "No more, Master, no more! I cannot take more of this
dreadful punishment!", she pleaded, as He bound her yet again. "Oh, My
sweet wench, there is so much more to do", He answered with a wicked laugh.
"All this is just what you've been dreaming of. Far be it from Me to
deprive you of the full realization of your lifetime fantasies."

And with that He let loose on her provocatively upraised posterior yet
another fusillade of strokes, the rounded globes issuing their involuntary
but so delightful invitation to be spanked without mercy. A hundred with
the heavy leather paddle she got, another hundred with the riding crop, and
a final hundred with the wooden paddle. The fire in her buttocks mingled
with the faint spasms that still shook in her belly and the burning itch in
her rosebud. She screamed, she wept, she trembled. Her mind could think
of but the one word PAIN. It was unendurable, and yet she had to endure
it.

At last He was done with spanking her. His hands caressed her all over.
He kissed her up and down and licked her with His tongue. He massaged her
breasts and gently played with her tortured nipples. He produced a
vibrator and ran it up against her clit. As He played with her, her sorrow
became transformed into a radiant glow and sweet passion for Him
overwhelmed her.

But He had in mind for her the ultimate cruelty. Inserting His now bulging
cock in her from behind, He began to thrust. She bucked and heaved in her
rapture, the tension of her orgasm building up. His cock tickled and
teased her, the tiny variations of pace and pressure arousing her.
And then, deliberately depriving her of the relief she so desperately
sought, He came inside her and pulled out. "Oh, no!" she cried. "I'm
almost there! I've got to come! Please do it!" But the only response she
got was another round of spanks from the riding crop. He would let her
come, eventually, but only when He had tortured her sufficiently and was
good and ready for it.

Chapter III
Party

All afternoon He had been busy in the kitchen preparing the evening's feast
for their guests. She was perched on a high stool in a corner, blindfolded
as always. Whenever He had felt like it He had pulled her off the stool
and over His knee to apply a brief handspanking to her irresistible buns.

Now all the advance preparations were complete -- except for one detail.
He led her into the living room and fastened her into place, fully naked,
her wrists linked to the eyebolts in the ceiling and her ankles bound to a
wide spreader bar. She was to be exhibited to His guests as soon as they
arrived. She awaited the experience with a mixture of fear and nervous
anticipation. Being exhibited had long been one of her fantasies. She
could feel a trickle of moisture in her pubes.

"Dearest Master", she said. "There is something I want to tell you. Part
of our agreement was that I had the right to terminate my submission and
end my sojourn at Your house at any time. Though I have suffered
unbearable pain at Your hands, I have not for a moment considered using
that right. Serving and pleasing You has brought me great joy."

"But it is more than that. Only when the pain became truly unbearable can
I fully surrender to it. And only then can I reach the profound state of
bliss that the surrender brings me. By continuing to spank me no matter
how much I resist, You give me a precious gift. No matter how desperately
I want You to stop, in my heart I rejoice that You do not. The more You
make me suffer, the more deeply I appreciate and exult in my submission.
When You set my bottom aflame, you bring me in touch with my innermost
soul."

"I like knowing that You spank me for the sheer pleasure it brings You, not
because I've done something wrong. I want to please You in every way, and
should I fail to do that, it would sadden me."

He stroked her hair affectionately. "And Master, the stinging in My bottom
that never abates brings me special pleasure, for it constantly reminds me
of Your Mastery and of my submission to it. I bear with delight the marks
You leave there. Yes, I do dread the fearsome whack of the cane. I
shudder at the very thought of it. But its fiery kisses transport me to
rapturous surrender. Thank you, my dearest Master. Thank you, O kind and
generous Sir."

A knock on the door announced the arrival of the first couple -- a
submissive man and a dominant woman. He welcomed them warmly. "Rachel!
Mario! So good to see you! It's been quite a while. Look at what a treat
I have here for us!" He gestured at His slave. "She's a real beauty and a
true submissive. I've been having a marvelous time with her. There seem
to be no limits to what she can take as long as I don't injure her. Of
course", He chortled, "she hasn't had much choice in the matter." A sad
moan came from His slave. "But I don't intend to keep all the pleasure to
Myself." He handed the wooden paddle to Rachel, who gave His slave's
posterior a resounding whack. "Guess who did THAT, My dear", He said
teasingly. The blindfolded slave had no idea. "Or THAT", He said, giving
her another sound swat Himself.

A few minutes later the second couple, Michael and Ellen, arrived. They
were both enthusiastic spankers He had known for a long time before He had
learned of their shared interests. Michael and Ellen were switchable,
seemingly in an endless, affectionate competition to see who could take the
most and who could give the most. "Come in! Come in!", He greeted them.
Have a look at those marvelous buns!" He patted and rubbed His slave's
rump affectionately and swatted it a couple of times with the riding
crop. She gave a short yelp and winced.

"We'll be putting her to full use later. Just samples for now." Michael
looked at the neat row of implements laid out on the table, selected the
three-fingered tawse, and gave the suspended slave's rump a fast, very hard
swat. She screamed at the unexpected severity. Then, before she could
recover, Ellen struck her from the other side with a backhand stroke of the
cane. She tugged at the eyebolts and kicked against the unyielding
spreader bar. Her Master rewarded her protests with two more strokes of
the riding crop.

"Come, let's have some music before dinner", He announced genially to the
company. He unfastened the slave from the eyebolts and spreader bar. "On
your hands and knees, wench", He commanded her. "I need a seat while I
play." As she moved on all fours, He guided her into position in front of
the harpsichord. It was a double manual instrument, custom-made for Him by
the great German builder Skovronick himself. He sat down on her, her back
straining under His weight. "Explore My wench as I play", He invited them.

The notes of Antonio Soler's Fandango cascaded from the harpsichord as His
friends probed and prodded at her. As He played, unseen fingers touched
her everywhere. The angular chords and biting rhythms of the piece seemed
to reinforce the prodding. Someone thrust a finger into her rosebud,
pulled it out, and then thrust it into her mouth. She winced but did not
resist, knowing the consequences all too well. As the music continued, she
felt her breasts being patted and poked, her nipples being pulled, her clit
being played with roughly.

"Time for dinner!" He would have had her serve the dinner, but that would
have meant removing the blindfold. So instead He led her, still on her
hands and knees, over to her feeding bowl as usual. She kneeled in front
of the bowl and He clipped her wrists to her ankles. She bowed her head
and placed it in the bowl. Her meal was the same as always: a mixture of
brown rice, yogurt, celery chunks, and orange chunks. She had to lap it up
with her lips and tongue. As she struggled with the healthy if unsavory
slop, He and His guests sat down to their feast.

The appetizer was Scotch salmon with a lemon-caper sauce. It was followed
by steaming bowls of matzoh ball soup. The rich broth was enlivened by dill
and parsley, the matzoh balls accompanied by chunks of carrots and
parsnips. A fresh green salad followed the soup.

The main course consisted of chicken filets supreme, served over a bed of
rice and accompanied by freshly steamed asparagus. He had carefully
pounded out the filets and sauteed them, then cooked them in the sauce.
The sauce was based on a mixture of heavy cream and sherry and prominently
featured the morel mushrooms He had collected in the upper peninsula of
Michigan the previous summer. A dash of nutmeg added a subtle accent to
the sauce. The wine was a 1979 St. Julien.

The lively, genial conversation was punctuated by occasional slaps on the
hapless exposed posterior of the feeding slave, applied sometimes by Him
and sometimes by one of His guests. She never knew who, of course. Her
profound feeling of humiliation at being forced to eat slop out of a bowl
on the floor was made all the more acute by knowing what a fine repast all
the others were enjoying.

He brought out the dessert, a homemade apple pie, and passed out the
servings, topping each one with a generous scoop of butterscotch ripple ice
cream. "Almost ready for you, wench", He called out to His slave. She had
long since finished her slop. Almost involuntarily she wiggled her
toothsome buns in anticipation of more spankings soon to come. All through
the meal she had been thinking about the whippings that she knew awaited
her when it was done, and the moment was now near at hand.

First she was to be spanked alone, then together with a partner. The
Master gagged her and returned her to her position at the eyebolts, the
spreader bar again forcing her legs to spread wide, her pussy exposed and
her bottom bulging outward as she almost reflexively leaned forward. First
Rachel gave her a solid fifty with the hairbrush, then the Master himself
followed up with another fifty with the riding crop. Fifty more from
Michael with the tawse and a final fifty from Ellen with a thin switch
completed this portion of her submission. She moaned and twisted as the
blows landed, wondering all the while who was on the other end of the
implement. Was it her Master or one of the others? Was it even a man or a
woman? She was not to know.

"Your turn, Mario", said Rachel. Mario grinned nervously and took off his
clothes, leaving only a G-string that highlighted the shape of his
buttocks. Traces of red indicated that Rachel had played with him
not so long ago. Rachel and the Master then hung a padded quilt from the
eyebolts in front of His slave and fastened Mario on the other side of it.
Mario was blindfolded and his ankles attached to the same spreader bar.

"Now for some group therapy", joked the Master. Rachel and Ellen stood
behind Mario, the Master and Michael behind the Master's slave, each with
an implement in hand. The Master nodded and all four began to spank at
once. Mario and his unwilling partner pushed against each other as the
blows landed. Each could feel the presence of the other's body, but the
heavy quilt between them denied them the sexual stimulation that closer
contact might have brought. When Mario got an especially heavy stroke he
thrust forward, forcing his bondage mate's rump outwards into the swats and
making them even more painful. And her forward thrusts similarly
forced Mario into the path of the strokes. The quartet of spankers laughed
with amusement as the two submissives battled to avoid being the one
to be pushed into a more vulnerable and provocative posture.

After fifteen minutes of this entertainment, He decided it was time for
something new. He patted His slave's posterior affectionately. "You'll
get a little rest now, My dear", He said. "It's Michael and Ellen's
turn."

Mario was helped down from the eyebolts, his cock bulging through his
G-string and his buttocks a bright shade of red. He put on his clothes and
they all adjourned to the dungeon in the basement, with Him leading His
slave by her neck chain. He bound her to the spanking horse to await
further discipline. While the others played she was to anticipate her
turn.

"Now you can take your clothes off", He told Michael and Ellen. As soon
as they were undressed He positioned them on a wide bench
facing in opposite directions and bound them to the bench with heavy
straps, leaving their hands free. They were both bent over, their bottoms
exposed. He handed a paddle to each. "Go to it, folks."

And with that Michael and Ellen let loose at each other. At first they
spanked each other slowly and not too heavily, but then Michael landed a
particularly heavy swat across Ellen's lovely posterior. Ellen returned
the favor and the race was on! Ever more furiously they swatted at each
other, able to apply the paddle but not to avoid it. At one point Ellen
paused, feeling she had had enough, but Michael did not let up. Then, when
Michael was ready to stop, Ellen was going at full tilt. Finally, half
laughing, half crying, they both dropped their paddles at once.

Now it was His slave's turn for the climactic spanking of the evening. He
rubbed and caressed her in her position on the spanking horse, stroking her
breasts, gently pinching her nipples, touching her clit and bringing forth
her juices. He wished her to be thoroughly aroused for what was about to
happen. "Soon you shall have your first taste of the HyperStrap, wench",
He warned her. "I want our companions to see how well you respond to it.
I have great faith in you." She trembled at the thought of the unknown but
fearsome implement.

As the others watched, He first resensitized her rump with a hundred smart
strokes of the wooden paddle. He tightened her gag and rechecked all the
bonds, then picked up the HyperStrap from its place of honor on His
implement rack. The HyperStrap was a heavy rubber strap two feet long, two
inches wide, and 3/8" thick at its thinner "business end". "Five strokes,
My dear", He announced.

He carefully aimed the strap at the center of her provocatively projecting
buns and swung hard. "One!" A river of stinging, burning pain swept
across her bottom and seemed to penetrate to her very depths. She shrieked
in agony at the intense, searing fire. A faint red stripe the width
of the strap stood out on her buttocks, deepening in color at the point
where the end had landed.

He waited for all of thirty seconds between strokes, allowing her to feel
the full effect of the dreadful implement. The pain was abating very
slowly. "Two!" The HyperStrap crashed down again, broadening and
deepening the hue of the red stripe. She reacted with an even more
desperate shriek. Tears came to her eyes and she began to sob. She
strained against the bonds, her bottom aching unbearably. The guests
smiled.

"Three!" Her sobbing intensified to a continuous intense cry as she
struggled and tossed, the red stripe now a deeper hue. "Four!" She was
terrified now. The awareness that nothing she could do would make her
jutting behind a less attractive target swept over her. She wished she
could pass out, but she could not. She had to experience the full impact
of the spanking her Master was now deriving such pleasure from giving her.
She was crying now as loudly as she could, but the gag muffled the sound.
Her Master smiled as He prepared to deliver the final stroke.

"Five!" She could not believe He could hit her even harder, but He
did. The broad red stripe now ran from the outside of her left cheek to
the outside of her right, lightening only slightly at the curve where the
cheeks descended to the rosebud within. The aching, burning, stinging
sensations raged through and across her bottom, the unbearable fire making
her feel she was about to burst.

And then she felt the vibrator on her clit. Almost instantly the pain
became transfused into pleasure, the heat of her bottom concentrating
almost magically at the seat of her passion. She felt the tension rising
within her, the ecstasy of her orgasm almost within reach.

Then, at the very moment she was about to come, He stopped. "Not yet, My
dear", He said. "The evening is not over yet." She moaned in frustration.

The party resumed upstairs in the living room. The evening was growing
late and soon it would be time for the guests to leave. As His slave hung
in her usual position from the eyebolts, consumed by the sexual tension
that would not leave her and the fierce stinging in her bottom, Michael and
Ellen took their violins from their cases and Rachel brought out her cello.
Together they played the Bach C Major Trio Sonata for Two Violins, He
playing the continuo part on the harpsichord, Rachel doubling the continuo
on the cello. Mario was an appreciative audience, but the swaying slave
was in no mood for a concert.

The sonata over, the guests put down their instruments. He walked over to
His waiting slave, removed her gag, and began again to apply the vibrator
to her clit as the others took turns spanking her. She felt the wave of
excitement sweeping over her again, carrying her higher and higher, the
tension building, her muscles tensing. She moaned and writhed, the renewed
swats to her bottom intensifying her rapture. In but a few moments she
exploded in release, her loud, wordless cries of passion resounding through
the entire house. "Thank you, Master. Thank you. Oh, thank you so very
much, my Lord, my Master." Tears of relief flowed from her eyes as at last
she relaxed.

He bade His guests good evening, gave her an affectionate pat on the bottom,
and took her down from the eyebolts for the night.



Chapter IV
Adieu


It was their last day together, and He was determined she would never
forget it. He whacked at her jutting rump as she awkwardly tried to
gobble down her last bowl of slop, the strokes making it difficult for her
to lap up the contents of the bowl. He continued until she had cleaned the
bowl with her tongue and made it spotless.

"Your final spanking shall be the BunBlaster", He told her. "It is the
most intense whipping I can safely inflict on you. It will please Me
immensely to see how much I can make you suffer from it. I can give you no
better gift for your departure." But He did not elaborate on just what the
BunBlaster consisted of, and she dared not ask.

First He brought her to the living room for a gentle warmup, taking her
over His lap and alternately caressing her and spanking her with a short
paddle. Although the spanking was not very intense, her buns were
extremely sensitive from all that had gone before and she winced at each
blow.

Then He tied her to the eyebolts, her legs bound to the spreader bar. She
was not gagged. "I wish to test you", He said. "I shall give you fifty
strokes of the wooden paddle, and you are to present your bottom to Me for
each stroke. Each time you break position or cry out, the count shall be
increased by five."

"I shall start the metronome and you are to do the counting for Me,
starting at fifty and counting down. I expect a count from you every
eighth tick." He set the metronome to a leisurely pace of 75 ticks per
minute and started it. She stuck out her rump as He had commanded.

"Fifty, please." "Forty-nine, please." "Forty-eight, please." The hard
blows landed inexorably. Tears came to her eyes, but she held her position
and remained silent except for the counts. At 37 He interrupted her. "You
moved a bit", He said. "The count is back to 42." "But I didn't move,
Master!", she protested. "Back to 47 for speaking", He responded grimly.

The counting and the spanking continued as she wept silently. At 32 He
heard a whimper and brought the count back to 37 again; at 17 it went up to
22 and then, when she shook her head, up to 27. She began to feel that
this spanking would never end.

"Six, please." "Five, please." "Four, please." She thrust her rump up
rigidly, giving Him the best possible target, fearful that He would raise
the count again. Her fears were realized. "You were slow on counting
four. Back to nine." When she counted nine, it was back to fourteen.
Painfully she worked her way down again, the solid thwacks torturing her
aching bottomcheeks. At the count of one, He raised it to six. Back down
again to two, then up to seven. By the time He allowed her to complete the
count, the fifty swats had become more than a hundred.

Now it was time for her last visit to the dungeon. He led her down the
familiar stairs and to the Devil's Stallion. No enema this time -- she
would have to ride with full bowels. Up the steps again, down on the tiny
seat and its slippery dildo, and away she went. This time it was the
Bach's Fourth Brandenburg Concerto that accompanied her, a longer piece
than the Vivaldi her rump had danced to the first time but one with the
same fast - slow - fast structure of its three movements.

She moaned and wept, hanging on to the handgrips for dear life as the shaft
bounced and jiggled, thrusting the cruel dildo in and out of her protesting
rosebud again and yet again. The tiny seat jostled her about and slammed
into her tender posterior, the fullness of her bowels accentuating her
discomfort. The sound of the recorder soaring exultantly above the strings
in the third movement and the turmoil of her ride together gave her a
feeling of no longer being anchored to the earth.

Her ride done, He led her to the padded table and bound her to it face up,
her arms and legs spread wide. The next activity was to be accompanied by
the Mozart Oboe Quintet. He had a particular fondness for the oboe, having
played it at one time.

Through the sounds of the violins she heard Him strike a match and a
moment later felt the first drop of hot wax directly on her navel.
Meticulously He traced a spiral of dots on her belly, radiating outward
from the navel. As each drop landed she recoiled from the sharp, almost
needle-like burning sensation that seemed to start not as the drop
landed but an instant later.

Having thoroughly waxed her belly, He moved upwards to her breasts. He
worked from the outside in, saving the tender and swelling nipples for the
very last. She winced as the drops slowly moved inward from the creamy
body of her right breast to the darker aureole at its center. She shuddered
and let out a tiny yelp as the final two drops landed on the very nipple
itself. He repeated the delicious torture on her left breast as she
trembled in anticipation.

The moment was now at hand for the most severe ceremony of her submission,
the BunBlaster. Almost tenderly He brought her from the table to the
spanking horse, snugging the bonds and tightening the adjustments. He
worked the gag into her mouth and buckled it tightly. Instinctively she
caressed the rubber insert of the gag with her tongue.

"The BunBlaster consists of fifty strokes, each of great severity", He
explained to her. "I shall start with fifteen strokes of the cane you
experienced on your arrival here. That shall be followed by twenty strokes
of the Hyperstrap. I shall conclude with fifteen additional strokes of the
cane. You can expect no mercy whatsoever from Me. No matter how much you
protest, I shall not relent in the slightest." She shuddered in fear of
the ordeal she was about to undergo.

One final preparation remained. He caressed her and brought the vibrator
back to her passion seat. A few minutes of manipulation brought her to a
heaving orgasm. She was to receive her final, dreadful spanking in the
tristesse that followed her orgasm.

The provocative curve of her buttocks issued its silent invitation. Though
He knew every square inch of those buttocks by now, they had not ceased to
delight Him. He felt her up, his fingers running up and down the crack and
pressing lightly on the rosebud within, then wandering for just a moment to
the pussy exposed beneath. He ran his fingers along the crease at the
bottom of each cheek, then up along the side. He wished to savor the
texture of that most provocative and vulnerable backside before He let
loose his unbearable bombardment.

"Thwwaaack!" He gave her the first stroke of the cane, the path of its
landing traced by the closely-spaced parallel red tracks that appeared
across her rump. He applied the strokes slowly and very deliberately,
allowing a full half minute to elapse after each one. She bucked and
heaved, wailing and weeping in her misery. The fire in her bottom became a
conflagration, the sensation concentrated on the narrow path traced by each
carefully placed stroke. He was proud of his ability to control the
implement and have all the strokes land with equal weight.

The night of the party she had received five strokes of the HyperStrap. On
another memorable occasion she had received ten. She did not know how she
could possibly survive twenty. He put down the cane, its first fifteen
strokes accomplished, and took up the HyperStrap.

"Whuuuumph!" The first blow struck, leaving its red ribbon of fire.
"Whuuuumph!" The HyperStrap struck again. She shrieked in a continuous cry
of agony which even the rubber insert of the gag could not completely
silence. No matter how hard she struggled, her curvy rump continued to jut
out as provocatively as ever. She tried to pull it in, then stick it out,
vainly attempting to lessen the stinging, burning impact of the whacks that
penetrated to her very bones. He observed with pleasure and satisfaction
her tiny, vain motions, the little variations in the angle she presented to
Him making the beating even more interesting to Him.

After the eleventh stroke of the HyperStrap she seemed to subside a little,
as though despite the fire that wracked her she no longer had the strength
to resist even in her mind. The sixteenth stroke brought her the
exaltation of utter and total surrender to Him and to the unbearable pain
He was forcing upon her.

Though she wailed and heaved for the last four strokes of the HyperStrap
and the final fifteen strokes of the cane, the intensity of her struggle
seemed to have gone out of her. She felt almost a kind of peacefulness in
her surrender despite the impact of the strokes that continued to descend
on her rump. The concentrated fire of the cane contrasted with the more
diffuse and deeper stinging effect of the HyperStrap.

Her bottom was a swollen mass of reddish-purple bruises by the time He had
applied the final stroke. The central part of each cheek was a
particularly deep color from the Hyperstrap. The long welts left by the
cane stood out from the more diffuse coloring of the rest of her buttocks.
The untouched whiteness of her back contrasted with and emphasized their
redness. He looked at the results of His handiwork with satisfaction,
particularly pleased that He had managed to achieve such a dramatic effect
without ever drawing a single drop of blood.

Then, without warning, He took her right there on the spanking horse, his
cock thrusting upwards into her exposed pussy. He held her breasts as He
moved in and out, now rapidly, now slowly. He rested for a moment, His
cock deep inside her, then resumed. She moaned again, this time with a
different kind of sensation as the delicious teased feeling in her passion
button became more intense.

Keeping his cock inside her, He unbuckled the gag. "Oh Master! Oh
Master!" The burning intensity of the severe spanking she had just received
had not much abated, but it became transfused into a feeling of wild
ecstasy that joined in sweet mixture with the tingling, teasing, hot
feelings that suffused her pussy and reached their single intense point of
concentration at her clit.

His wordless cries mingled with hers as He pumped His member furiously into
her. "Ooh! Aaah! Oooh! Ohhh!" Their sounds reached a crescendo as they
came at the very same instant. His juices erupted from the volcano of his
cock, the hot lava seeming to scald her very center, Her hips and rump
heaving in one great glorious moment of mutual climax.

* * * * *

She left the house through the same foyer by which she had entered it.
Taking off the blindfold, she blinked and rubbed her eyes at the
unaccustomed brightness. She had not seen a thing since her arrival. She
laid the blindfold on the table and dressed, wearing the same tight sexy
Lee jeans she had worn for her arrival. He had replaced her sundered
sweater by a new, even nicer one. She opened the door and walked to the
waiting taxi.

He watched her through a window from a darkened room, observing her swollen
rump wiggle provocatively through the jeans. The marks He had left on
her would be gone within a few weeks, but their memories would be with
them for the rest of their lives. His feelings of pride and pleasure in
His accomplishments mingled with sadness at her departure. He could not
see the tears that trickled from her eyes as she entered the taxi and was
gone.

==> Copyright 1994 by Paul A.