Pink Ribbon

Jude Mason

PINK RIBBON

BY

JUDE MASON www.VenusPress.com

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PINK RIBBON

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. PINK RIBBON Copyright © 2006 by Jude Mason ISBN: 1-59836-361-1 Cover Art © 2006 by Dan Skinner All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America. For information, you can find us on the web at www.VenusPress.com

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Jude Mason

Dedication:

To Brenda and Nancy, who both seemed incredibly interested in pink ribbons for some reason.

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Chapter One

Rick knelt in his cage. The bars running from front to back dug into his knees and shins, but he was used to that. Even the cool air didn’t bother him like it did the first few times she’d sent him into the punishment room and locked him in. What did bother him was why. His knees hurt terribly, but he dared not move. Cass, his lovely sweet Cass, would be upset, and he knew she watched him sometimes. He didn’t even dare raise his eyes to see if the camera’s little red light was on or not. He’d learned not to do that, months ago, when she’d caught him masturbating guiltily, while she watched from the comfort of the living room. He shuddered at the memory. She’d been upset with his dinner preparations that evening, the gravy had been lumpy, and the salad warm and wilted. So, angry at his lack of attention, she’d sent him to his cage. He’d gone willingly enough, thinking it would be an easy way out of some punishment he knew he deserved. He’d thought nothing of stripping down, and crawling into the four-foot square steel cage. When she’d locked the door, and reminded him to behave, he’d smiled and replied, ‘Yes Mistress’. She’d no more than walked out the door and closed it, than his hands were reaching for his privates. Never mind the rules, or that he hadn’t asked permission to touch himself. What did that matter? She wasn’t there. She’d never know. He’d lain on his back, stretched his legs up the bars on the opposite side, and was madly pumping away at his erection when he’d heard the door. He was too far gone to stop, or so he’d thought. The bucket of ice water had changed his mind, instantly. “Slave,” she’d roared. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Shivering, frustrated, he’d lumbered around until he got his knees under himself, and his head bowed respectfully. Dripping wet, freezing cold, he’d tried to come up with a reply that wouldn’t make it worse. “Mistress, I…I,” he’d stammered, his mind racing. He knew he had to answer with something, but his mind was blank. Finally, he’d said, “Mistress, I was thinking of you and…well, one thing led to another. I’m sorry. I didn’t—” 5

Jude Mason “Stop, right there. Not one more word.” Her tone left no question as to her indignation. “You dared think of me in that manner? And then you masturbated, stroked that puny, little cock and no doubt, fingered your balls, without asking my permission to do so.” Rick hadn’t been sure if he should answer or not. His erection had still strained from between his legs; his balls pulled up tight to his crotch. The excitement of being caught, plus the attention of his lady and his own exhibitionistic tendencies had all conspired to keep him painfully hard. He’d decided to keep his mouth shut, and to quickly comply with whatever she said. Wrong decision. “I asked you a bloody question, slaveboy,” she growled. Rick remembered how he’d cringed and the reply he’d made didn’t help matters. “Yes Mistress. I’m terribly sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. You’re so lovely. I just couldn’t keep my mind off you. It’s been over a week since I came, and—” “Shut up!” she’d cried, and he’d immediately shut his mouth. He’d been worried then. She’d never seemed so angry before, and he wondered what kind of punishment he’d have to endure. As it turned out, he was wise to be concerned. “Dinner was horrible,” she’d said. She paced around his cage, her stiletto heels doing a light tap, tap, tap, as she leisurely circled him. “And you have the balls to complain about not coming for a few days.” Something had struck the cage behind him, and he’d nearly cried out. He’d blurted, “No, Mistress. I mean, yes, Mistress.” Confused, he’d clamped his mouth shut and prayed for it to end. Prayed she’d just punish him and get it over with. “Yes mistress, no mistress. Damn, you don’t even know what you’re trying to say, do you?” Cringing, he’d opened his mouth to answer, knowing he was going to say the wrong thing, but also knowing he was supposed to reply to a question she directed at him. Luckily, she didn’t give him the chance. “Never mind.” She returned to standing in front of him, and said, “Keep your eyes downcast, but lean back. Put your hands on the floor behind you.” Rick quickly got into the position she’d requested. The bars grated against his knees, even more so against his shins, but that didn’t deter him as he’d maneuvered his long lanky frame into the desired pose. He made sure to keep his eyes focused downward along the length of his body. Hairless, at her command, his chest and belly 6

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rippled with muscles that he’d worked hard to maintain. His erection pointed accusingly at him. “Spread your knees,” she’d said, and again, he’d complied eagerly. He vividly remembered the feeling of his balls dangling between his widespread thighs—how defenseless he’d felt, how excited and horny. The cool air and cold water made each testicle shift closer to his body. “Now then, it’s lesson time,” she’d said and reaching down, unlatched his cage door. He’d known better than to move, but the temptation was definitely there. Instead, he’d gritted his teeth and remained still. The tension had mounted in him. When he’d thought he couldn’t take the silence, the anxiety, and the excitement another moment, she spoke again. “Keeping in position, come out of your cage.” It was awkward, and it took a little time, but finally, he’d emerged from the cage on his knees and hands. His shins ached where the bars had dug into them, but the minor pain was acceptable. “Here,” she’d said, pointing to a spot in front of the chair she’d crossed the small room and settled into. “Hurry up, I don’t have all day.” It had taken him some few minutes to get to the spot she’d picked, but again, he didn’t complain. When he’d stopped before her, he’d been extremely apprehensive, but more than willing to take the punishment he knew was coming. “Push your hips up, show me what you’ve been diddling,” she’d said in a voice as sweet as liquid honey. He’d pushed his hips upward, displaying his rampant erection and his tight balls. His stomach muscles strained, the backs of his thighs tightened, and moments later ached from the forced posture. He felt his inner thighs quiver with tension. Beyond his erection, he saw her seated in her soft, blue easy chair with her legs crossed, and a high heel dangling off her toe. He couldn’t see her face, and at the time, he was glad of it. But, he’d been so close to orgasm that seeing just her lower body was more than enough to keep him excited. Actually, she made sure he got a good glimpse of more than her legs. After deftly swinging her shoe from her toe for several moments, making sure his attention was fixed, she dropped the shoe. He’d thought she was going to ask him to retrieve it for her, but she did no such thing. Instead, she’d extended her foot, easing her legs apart, and flicked her toe under his balls. 7

Jude Mason He hadn’t dared to move, or speak. He’d hardly breathed as she moved her toe around his sack, pushing his testicles to one side then the other. With the flat of her foot, she’d pressed his balls down, forcing the skin to stretch. He remembered moaning, not so much with any pain she’d caused, but with that fear any man would get when his balls were being handled less than carefully. Yet, he’d remained in position, and his erection had pulsed with pleasure. Cass kept toying with his balls, pressing on them, nudging at them until he’d groaned piteously and begged her to stop or he’d come. She continued, and continued until he’d sobbed and his hips had thrust wildly, uncontrollably into the air, as he’d shot off all over his belly and his chest. Just as his cock had begun to throb and spew its long ribbon of white cream into the air, she’d pulled her foot back, refusing to allow him to stimulate himself on her. So, he’d come, without permission and without so much as a touch to give him pleasure. He’d been humiliated and embarrassed, but he’d also remained almost as hard as he’d been before he climaxed. “Now you’re in trouble,” she’d said, and he’d cringed. Not only had he masturbated without permission, he’d then followed it up by coming without asking, right in front of her. “You just don’t seem to get it.” She re-crossed her legs, again making sure he got a glimpse of the tops of her stockings, and the creamy white flesh above. “I’m beginning to think you’re not taking this seriously. Big boss during the day can’t seem to let go and be the slave at home—even when it was you who asked for it.” “Please, Mistress, I—” he’d tried, but she’d leaned forward in her chair and with no more than a flick of her finger to his tender ball sack, had silenced him. “I didn’t ask, and you should know better than to argue or speak to me when I haven’t asked you a direct question.” He knew he’d just made it worse. It seemed he was destined to be punished that day, and unless he kept his mouth shut, it would go very badly for him. “You’ve got both Saturday and Sunday off this weekend, am I correct?” she’d asked levelly. “Yes, Mistress. Tomorrow is my last day of work for two days,” he’d replied softly. He’d planned to go fishing, and perhaps encourage Cass to go along with him to their cabin. She didn’t fish, but she’d always loved the outdoors, and he tried getting away with her whenever possible. “Excellent.” She got to her feet and sauntered around him. The tapping of her shoes matched the beating of his heart, and he’d wondered at that. She stopped when she stood behind him; her feet placed one on each side of his head. Again, he dared not raise 8

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his eyes. “I’ve decided to invite a woman to help me with a couple of training sessions while you’re off work.” He’d almost protested, almost. He’d opened his mouth and the words were there, ‘how dare she make plans for him,’ ‘who did she think she was?’ ‘What about the plans he’d already made?’ ‘Training sessions, for crying out loud, she could train him, couldn’t she?’ He’d shut his mouth, but he’d been angry and frustrated. She’d laughed. “The sessions will take place at home, or at least they’ll begin here, that may change, I’m not sure. It will depend on how you behave and what we decide. You’re to make sure you have nothing planned that might interrupt.” She’d tapped her toe beside his head as if punctuating her command. “Do you understand?” He’d been quick to reply, “Yes, Mistress.” Even though he’d wanted to protest, to argue that his time off should be his to decide what to do with, he’d given in, eagerly. And, as soon as he’d said it, he realized it was exactly what he’d like to do more than anything he had planned. His thighs were trembling, the muscles strained to keep his groin presented as she’d requested, his arms and chest quivered, but, to his surprise, he was still erect. “Dinner sucked, right?” she repeated. “Yes, Mistress,” he’d replied, feeling ashamed of how he’d messed up. “You weren’t given permission to play with yourself, am I right? “No, Mistress, I’m really sorry.” “You only think you’re sorry. I’ll make sure you remember why.” He’d been surprised at her rebuke, and wondered what she had in mind. He’d find out soon enough. “You also came without asking permission. You showed lack of control and disregarded my wishes.” She hadn’t seemed angry, but she had sounded determined to teach him a lesson. “Please, Mistress,” he’d said, and stopped. He was sorry, he regretted his misbehavior and wanted to do better, but how to ask or tell her that. “I’m sorry, really sorry. Please, Mistress, will you punish me? Would you please help me to be a better slave?” “Yes,” she’d replied. Nothing else, just that single word and he’d been thrilled. She’d left him there, arched like some eager crab with his pecker waving in the air. He’d thought about relaxing for a moment, letting his sore muscles rest, but didn’t. It had been torture. His calves cramped and he groaned with pain. He’d tightened one 9

Jude Mason and moved his foot, clenched his toes, anything to try to ease the cramp without actually changing position. The muscles in his stomach had burned and rippled as the minutes stretched endlessly out. He’d breathed and sobbed, until finally she’d returned. “You’re flagging,” she said calmly. “Push up, higher.” With the last bit of his strength, he’d arched his back pushing his groin high into the air. What she had done next still made him blush. Moving back to her chair, his lovely raven-haired wife sat on the edge and reached for him. In one hand, she held a two-foot length of brilliant pink, satin ribbon; in the other, she soon held his balls. Her warm fingers slipping beneath them made him shudder, and he was never sure if that was from excitement or fear of what she had planned. When her grip tightened, he’d gasped, but otherwise kept still. His heart had been beating so hard he was sure she could hear it. She’d pulled gently on his still wet sack, urging his testicles into the bottom of the loosening skin pouch. He’d wanted to squirm, to push her hand away, but he gritted his teeth and bore her touch. When she was satisfied, she’d brought the ribbon down between his legs and wound it around the neck of his sack, trapping his balls down even further. Cass took her time, making sure the ribbon lay flat and the knot was in the right place before she continued on to the next step. Balls bound in pink, she flipped his erection out of the way and slid the ribbon around the base. Twice she’d circled his prick, each time ensuring the ribbon lay properly flat before going on. When she’d finished, she forced his prick down over his balls and tied a knot in the ribbon. Then, with a flourish, she’d tied a bow. “You’re not to remove this unless I tell you to,” she’d said as she tidied the ends and made sure the bow was snug and positioned just so, at the top of his cock. Throughout the process, Cass had leaned forward more and more, until her face was mere inches from his groin. The blue peasant blouse had slipped off her shoulders and halfway down her arms. Her breasts were the only things keeping it up. Every so often she’d glance up at him, her dark eyes flashing behind feather-like lashes, and the smile she’d given him made his blood boil. When she looked up at him that last time, he’d seen his cock bounce as his pulse raced. “Understand?” She smiled, knowing he did, but wanting to hear him say it. He took a deep breath, and felt his face grow suddenly warm. “Yes, I understand. I won’t remove it until you tell me to.” “Good,” she said, and leaning down, gave the vein running along the underside of his cock a kiss. “Hold still for just one more second.” 10

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He’d been helpless to disobey, and held himself as still as he could while she did something he couldn’t see, but felt in the most intimate of places. On the underside of his sack, she fiddled and nudged, then came a tug. A moment later, it was clear. She’d snapped a slender, black leather leash to the ribbon. “Now kneel.” It took him a moment to get his muscles to move. At first, he’d just sagged and let his butt hit the floor. His calves had cramped and his thighs felt as if someone had used a baseball bat on them. For a moment, he’d just sat rubbing his arms and legs. He got onto his knees, as quickly as he could, and made sure his back was straight before placing his hands, palm upward, on his thighs. His heart had been pounding. The ribbon was tight and held his penis and balls lewdly out from his body. His cock, which had begun to loose some of its stiffness, was again filled with blood and stood out proudly. “I’m going to give you a choice now,” she’d said as she sat back in her chair, the end of the leash left to dangle over the toe of her shoe. “You can either have fifty strokes of the paddle, or be denied an orgasm until following your training.” Again, he’d wanted desperately to say something, to argue or explain how impossible either of those choices were. It had already been more than a week since she’d allowed him to come; well other than that little accident he’d just had, so add another week, and he wasn’t sure he could manage it. The alternative was ludicrous. The next day was a workday. He sat at his desk in an office. If he were paddled, that would be impossible. “Mistress, please, may I speak?” he’d tried. “You may answer, that’s all. I’m tired of your excuses or complaints. Just give me a decision.” “Denial, orgasm denial,” he finally blurted. “I don’t think I could take fifty strokes and still go to work.” “Enough,” she said sharply. “I don’t care what your reason is, just that you’ve decided.” She reached down and took the end of the leash. Holding it firmly, she’d used it, and him, to ease out of the chair. The pain had made him wince. Kneeling and unable to lift his eyes, he’d watched, transfixed by the sight of his privates being pulled and jerked, until she was on her feet. “Follow me, don’t rise,” she’d said, and without waiting for him, she’d left the room. 11

Jude Mason He’d scrambled after her, on his knees. She hadn’t given him permission to rise, and he was beginning to realize the control she demanded. Thankfully, she didn’t take him far, and the carpeting in the hallway had made his progress much easier. When they entered the kitchen, and he spotted the remains of his disastrous dinner, he’d felt his apprehension rise. She stopped in the center of the room, and he resumed his position, sitting back on his heels with his knees spread wide, his back straight, and his hands on his thighs. “I’m going to have a glass of wine,” she’d said sternly. “By the time I’m finished, you’d better have dinner ready for me.” “Yes, Mistress,” he’d said. “Get up.” As he climbed to his feet, Cass reached into a nearby drawer and opened it. From deep inside, he’d watched her pull out one of her vibrators. Aghast, he’d stood quietly, as she slid it between his thighs, right up close to his testicles. “Hold on to that.” She’d laughed when he’d inadvertently, clamped his legs tightly around the soft plastic toy. Stepping around behind him, she’d reached down and turned the base of the vibrator. He’d shuddered as the cool shaft quivered and sent diabolically sensual sensations into his perineum. His erection pulsed. “Don’t let it drop,” she’d said, and patted him firmly on the ass. “I’ll hear it if it does, and you’ll be in it. Don’t climax either. You’ve made your choice.” With that, she’d gone to the wine cooler and poured herself a glass of wine. She’d ignored his squirming, and left him there. When she’d gone, he’d scrambled to get something for her dinner. He knew she’d take about a half hour to drink her wine, so he’d decided not to get fancy, just to do it right. The vibrator had nearly driven him crazy. Every hobbling step or turn moved the torturous device, bending down to get into lower cupboards or drawers, left him gasping with need. His hands trembled, and his breath came in short shuddering moans after no more then a few minutes as he prepared the simple meal of pan-fried salmon fillet with a dill sauce and steamed vegetables lightly tossed with butter. When he’d bent to get the vegetables out of the fridge, he’d nearly dropped the vibrator, as it pressed hard against his tightly bound testicles. Twenty-five minutes after Cass had left him in the kitchen, he wiggled his way into the dining room, with her dinner. From the living room, she called, “Did you touch your prick?” 12

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He’d felt himself blush, as he replied, “No, Mistress.” A moment later, while he stood waiting beside her chair, she’d entered the dining room. He’d been nervous. Arousal had made him anxious to please her, but he knew she wasn’t going to let him come. He’d already messed up enough to ensure his frustration; it was time to find out how much frustration he’d have to endure. “Looks acceptable,” she’d said, and stepped closer to her chair. He’d waddled around behind the chair and pulled it out for her. The vibrator’s hum added to his embarrassment, as did his bouncing erection. Unbelievable that he’d come less than an hour before, he was feeling that heavy, full feeling of desperation already. Knowing he’d be denied made the desire rise even more. “You remember that little black butt plug I had you buy last month?” she’d asked as she settled into her chair. “Yes, Mistress,” he’d replied with some trepidation. The plug in question was small, but reached a spot that nearly drove him crazy. It vibrated, and that function could be, was always, remotely controlled by her. “Get it.” He’d immediately turned and waddled off, the slim vibrator held firmly between his thighs as he made his way to their bedroom. The stairs took forever. Up was torture; and once he’d reached the top, it took all his willpower not to take hold of himself to soothe the growing ache. He’d moved across the hall, and thanked his lucky stars that their room was just at the top of the stairs. A few moments later, he was back at the top of the stairs, wondering how he’d get down. He’d hopped, perhaps the dumbest choice he could have made, but it was faster. His erection had beat against his belly and thighs, each step sending it flailing in another direction, and jarring his balls along with it. At the bottom, he’d stopped, gritted his teeth and let the air in and out of his lungs while he’d silently chastised himself for his stupidity. When he could move again without fearing he’d climax uncontrollably, he made his way into the kitchen and through to the dining room, where Cass sat quietly eating her dinner. She looked up and smiled. “Took you long enough.” He’d almost responded angrily. He still remembered that feeling of frustration, and anger flared when he’d seen her sitting so casually, while he’d been nearly dying of frustration. His cock head oozed pre-come. When he’d followed her gaze to look at it, he saw a long strand dangling towards the floor. “You just came. I can’t believe you’re that desperate again already.” She held out her hand, and he’d placed the four-inch long plug and its little black, rectangular, 13

Jude Mason control box in her palm. “Oh, by the way, dinner was much better this time around. A little bland, you forgot to add salt, but acceptable.” “Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.” “Spread your legs, slowly, let me get that vibrator out of there.” With a huge sigh of relief, he’d eased his legs apart while she’d retrieved the insidiously tormenting vibrator. His relief was short lived though and a moment later, she’d said, “Turn around, and bend over.” He’d immediately done as she’d asked, presenting her with his bottom. “Hold yourself open.” Again, he’d felt a blush warming his face and neck, but he’d complied, reaching back and pulling his cheeks wide. Something cool touched his anus, and it didn’t take him many seconds to realize she’d brought lubricant to the table while he’d been upstairs. Her fingers circled his tight pucker then eased inside, pushing lube into his hole. He’d shuddered and moaned, but was careful not to move away from her hand. When she slipped the plug in, his trembling had increased tenfold. The slender part went in easily, but when the fatter part pressed against his sphincter, he’d automatically tensed. Cass had continued with the pressure, refusing to allow him to deny her access, until with a gasp, the plug had suddenly popped in. She’d then twisted it, making sure the end hit that spot he’d dreaded, before tapping the base with her finger. The tiny tap had sent a sharp, frustrating jolt to his prostate. “Stand up.” Her tone was a little sterner when she’d said that. He’d quickly straightened. The plug moved inside him, nudging, dragging itself over his prostate, tantalizing the hard nut, and he was powerless to do anything but endure the amazing feeling. He’d kept his hands on his buttocks, spreading them as she’d directed. She’d said stand up, that was all. He was learning. He was also covered in sweat. She’d laughed, and he’d smiled. “There might be hope for you yet,” she’d said, and patted him on the bottom. “Turn around and spread your feet, about eighteen inches apart.” Without the vibrator held between his thighs, he’d moved smoothly around, and in a flash stood facing her. His erection throbbed. The ribbon around his testicles felt tighter than it had when she’d first tied it, and he worried about it a little. Too tight and there might be complications. But, the stretched flesh covering his balls had felt warm; his testicles still tingled and ached, so he was pretty sure he was all right. 14

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The control box for the butt plug dangled between his knees. The two-foot long cord brushed his thighs when he moved. He shuddered when she reached down and grabbed the controls. “Going to behave and do as you’re told?” she’d teased, and held the box out for him to see. Her thumb rested on the dial, the numbers from one to five glaring at him— one would tingle, five would have him dancing. “Yes, Mistress,” he’d assured her hastily, dreading the test he knew she was going to put him through, but also craving the sensations she’d give him no choice but to endure. “Good.” She’d turned the dial to one. “Keep still. Don’t move a muscle.” He’d managed to keep still, although he’d had to clench his fists to keep them from grabbing hold of his erection. Pride made it possible. He may be her slave, but he was proud and stubborn, and swore he’d obey her. He loved what she was doing, and straightened himself a little more. “Clear the table,” Cass had said, and placed the control box in his hand. “Don’t touch the dial.” She eased it up to two. “Yes, Mistress,” he’d groaned. Every move, every twist and turn, every bend or shuffle, had proven a torture of sensation, but at least, he no longer had to pry his buttocks apart. He’d held the control box, not daring to touch the dial for fear he’d lose the battle for control he so desperately clung to. The table cleared and her dishes put in the dishwasher, he returned to her, his mind a jumble of lustful thoughts and excitement. Taking the control box from his hand, she held it up again, and turned the dial to three. That’s when he’d begun to moan continually. His cock throbbed to the beat of his heart, and reached out towards Cass, as if straining for relief. “Just because you have to abstain, doesn’t mean I have to,” she said. She’d gone into the living room, the control box still gripped firmly in her hand. He’d stumbled after her, lost in a world of frustration and pleasure. She’d settled into her easy chair, a big overstuffed rocker that matched the rich gold and orange décor of the room. In front of her chair was a matching footstool, which she nudged a little further away. “Sit,” she’d said, and gave the controls a tug. He’d perched on the edge of the stool, and shuddered when the plug eased a little deeper inside. He couldn’t close his legs, the tingle and ache made that impossible. Cass had pulled off her panties and handed them to him. “Smell,” she urged

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Jude Mason He’d eagerly pressed the woman-scented cotton to his nose and mouth. Inhaling deeply, he’d felt his erection bounce even more. If his balls had been free, he was sure he’d have come, without even touching himself. “Enough—drop them.” He’d gazed at her confused, drunk with her scent, and at first, reluctant to do as she demanded. But after taking a deep breath, he dropped her panties and forced his hands to his sides again, afraid to leave them free. “Here.” She’d handed him the control box and smiled. “Turn it to number four.” He’d looked at her, aghast. Shaking his head, he took the box. His fingers were slippery with sweat and shook as if gripped by some palsy. “Do it.” And he had. A steady pulse of ecstasy tortured him. He fought, he moaned and squirmed, but still it tormented him as he sat facing Cass. The ribbon tied so tightly around his genitals was all that saved him, he was sure, but he found his hips slowly thrusting anyway. No matter how he fought to keep still, his body refused to obey. “Now, eat me,” Cass said casually, and lay back in her chair. He’d scanned down her body, over the soft swell of her breasts beneath the loosefitting dress, over her slightly rounded tummy, finally coming to rest on the rucked up skirt around her thighs. She spread her legs and lifted them, one at a time, placing them over the arms of her chair. Her aroma surrounded him, tormented him, as her lightly furred cunt bared itself for his viewing pleasure—almost too much pleasure. His hips gave a lurch forward; his erection throbbed. Groaning, he’d bent forward, hoping to shield his climax if it happened. The tip of his cock brushed against his chest, and it was all he could do to keep from clenching and thrusting, rubbing the crown over his sweatslick skin. When he’d touched her with his outstretched tongue, they’d both groaned. “Yes,” she’d hissed, and took hold of his ears. She’d pulled and guided him to where his tongue and teeth felt the best. Her clit was stiff against his tongue, and he’d automatically lapped at it like a cat after cream. The more he’d licked and sucked, the more nectar she’d coated his tongue with, and the hornier he got. He loved the taste of her, he always had, and he loved the way her inner labia swelled in his mouth as he suckled gently, then more firmly as her excitement grew. His ears took a beating, and his cock ached horribly, but he reveled in the pleasure he gave. He’d nipped at her labia, plucked at her clit with his lips then flicked it with his tongue until she’d ground his face against her. 16

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Cutting off his air didn’t slow him for a few moments, but when his lungs had screamed for air, he’d struggled to pull away. He’d shifted his face to the side, and she’d grabbed his hair and dragged him back against her. His tongue slithered down towards her anus, and she tightened her grip even more. Circling the tightly puckered star, he’d dragged his tongue back along her perineum and plunged into her pussy. Convulsing with pleasure, dragging his face up and down, he’d pressed his nose hard against her clit. She’d screamed and sobbed, gasping with pleasure as she climaxed. He’d thought he was going to drown in her, suffocate in the damp wetness of her sex. His heart raced, his blood pounded, and he wanted nothing more than to clamber on top of her and sink his engorged, angry cock into her depths. From somewhere he heard her moan, “Yes, ah yes. There, my pet, yes!” The words flowed from her, softly like the cowing of a bird as he continued to lap and nibble at her. Her hands had loosened the strangle hold they’d had on him, finally. He breathed long, deep inhalations of woman-scented air that filled his oxygen-starved lungs. His face was wet from her, his lips were sore, and the base of his tongue ached. She’d held him there, gently licking her, while the last vestiges of pleasure sent shivers through her. Finally content, she released him. “Sit up,” she’d said in a breathy, satisfied voice. Rick had straightened, the controls to the butt plug still gripped in his hand. His back creaked, but his erection was as up-thrust and needy as ever. Cass had lain sprawled in her chair. She hadn’t moved, except her face had turned up to look at his. “It’s late,” she’d said. “I’m going to bed. I want you to remove the plug, shower, and then join me. Bring the plug with you, cleaned and re-lubricated.” When he’d croaked “Yes, Mistress” she’d laughed.

17

Jude Mason

Chapter Two

The rest of that evening had been a blur of frustration. He’d showered as she’d directed after removing the butt plug, and been afraid to touch his ribbon-strangled cock or balls for fear of spewing against the shower wall. Just the jets of water driving water against his glans had him gritting his teeth. He’d thought that by removing the plug, he’d have time to gather himself, but the water had simply been a different form of frustration. He’d cleaned, re-lubed the plug, and shuddered, knowing his torment wasn’t over yet. Once he was dried and had taken a moment to gather himself, he hurried to their bedroom. “Mistress, will there be anything else tonight, or may I lock up?” Opening the door, he’d peeked around it, and saw the room was dark. “Lock up,” came her muffled response. She’d sounded close to asleep. He remembered thinking perhaps his torture was over for that day. He locked the doors, and made sure the coffee was set for the morning. Returning to their room, he’d crept in and, for a moment, had wondered if he was supposed to actually join her, or wait. “You have your butt plug?” she asked. She’d been waiting, obviously, and he replied, “Yes, Mistress. Lubed as you requested.” “Good, slide it in yourself.” He heard the bedclothes rustle as she moved. His eyes had become accustomed enough to the dark so he’d seen her turned on her side facing him, watching him. “Yes, Mistress,” he’d said, and with his heart beating wildly, he’d bent forward to insert the plug. “Turn around so I can see what you’re doing first,” she’d instructed. He’d turned, the tail end of the ribbon brushed his thighs and he shivered at the chill. Still damp from his shower, he’d wondered if she’d have him remove it. Facing away from the bed, he’d spread his legs and reached back making it easier to slide the well-lubricated plug into his anus. He took a deep breath as the widest part stretched the 18

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muscles, then sighed when it popped in easily. It settled, and he shuddered again when he straightened up causing the rounded tip to nudge against his prostate. “Climb into bed.” Her voice had regained some of the stern tones he associated with her dominant side. “Yes, Mistress,” he said, and carefully climbed under the covers. He held the control box in his hand, not sure what to do with it. He needn’t have worried. A moment later, he felt her hand slide across his belly and take it from him. “Hold up your wrists.” Again, he complied and an instant later found his hands cuffed. The cuffs had been tied to the headboard, thus ensuring he’d be unable to touch himself or deter her in any way. “Go to sleep,” she’d said. He’d tried. But every time he got close to that blissful stage where sleep was a mere breath away only to be brought wide awake when Cass moved, and pulled on the cord connected to the plug, or she deliberately turned it on. He’d spent the night repeatedly going from near comatose slumber, to wide-awake and horny enough to fuck the crack of dawn. It must have been close to morning when he finally dropped into a deep, blissful sleep, only to be jarred awake by his alarm clamoring for attention. He automatically reached for it. A rattle and the sudden tension on the cuffs stopped him cold. Eyes opened wide he glanced up, and it all came rushing back, along with the sudden ache in his groin and the pressure in his ass. His predicament hit him when he realized he was alone in the bed. His erection throbbed. He knew he couldn’t have been hard all night, but it felt as if his balls were going to explode if he didn’t come soon. Just then the door opened and Cass peeked in. “Ah, finally,” she said. Opening the door wide, she’d entered. She was already dressed; the dark grey business suit she wore told him that she’d been up for some time. Unceremoniously, she unfastened his cuffs. “Remember, don’t touch the ribbon and don’t touch this,” she said, and reaching beneath the covers, gave his cock a gentle caress. Too soon she pulled her hand out, and straightened up. “I’ll see you at dinner.” She’d left him there, hard, aching, and ready to explode. Her bottom jiggling just a little more than he thought was natural, her silky brown hair like a skullcap, still slightly damp from her shower. He’d rubbed his wrists and thought to go after her, to beg her for some relief. Wisely, he decided not to. 19

Jude Mason He’d showered and shaved, valiantly ignoring the way his erection bobbed and swayed when he moved, and how it bounced on the counter as he brushed his teeth. Dressing, his shorts were too snug, so he’d dug out a pair of boxers Cass had bought him as a joke. A size too big, at least they gave him room to breathe. Socks, a pale blue button-down shirt and then came the fun of trying to find a pair of slacks that wouldn’t make him look like a pervert. He’d finally found a pair of charcoal gray pleated slacks that he at least had a jacket to match. Grabbing a tie, he’d downed a cup of coffee and headed to the office, briefcase in hand. As one of the senior partners in the law firm, arriving late wasn’t going to get him into trouble, but the enormous bulge in the front of his slacks could have. Awkwardly, he made his way through the halls, and rode the elevator with his briefcase held in front of himself. “Good morning, Mr. Sebastian.” His secretary, Felicia, said as he entered his office. “Good morning, Felicia.” His reply was a little sharp; his entrance had unnerved him more than he cared to admit. “Any calls or mail?” “Just a note about the meeting you’re supposed to have with Mr. Jenson this afternoon. He’s had to cancel, seems he’s got some investigator breathing down his neck.” “Fine, I’ll contact him myself.” He’d escaped any questions, and closed his office door behind him before she could start her usual morning gossip. It was a huge relief to just be alone, even if he had a day of frustration to look forward to. For the most part, he’d managed to shuffle most of his workload onto his assistants. Cass had phoned at around eleven and teased him about pink being his color, and he’d smiled even though he’d ached to be out of there. “On your way home, I want you to stop at our favorite sex toy store and pick up a new toy,” she said. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, immediately, eagerly. What would she choose, he’d wondered, and his belly had tightened with anticipation. “I’d like you to pick out a flogger,” she’d said, and his next breath caught in his throat. “Yes, a flogger— not too big though— something that will fit my hand. Feel free to ask for assistance. In fact, I think you should ask one of the female attendants to help you out. If she asks, tell her your Mistress has been displeased and commanded you to provide a suitable flogger for your punishment.” “Cass, I—” 20

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“Don’t you dare argue.” Her voice had been harsh, and he’d instantly regretted opening his mouth. “No, Mistress,” he’d hurriedly replied. “I’m terribly sorry and won’t do it again. I’ll do exactly as you say.” She’d laughed then, loudly, and he’d wondered if she was alone. “Good boy. I’ll see you at home then.” He’d opened his mouth to reply, but the phone went dead. He spent the rest of the day in a haze of anxiety, anticipation, as well as excitement. His erection had waxed and waned, then sprung up outrageously whenever he concentrated on what might happen when he got home. By the end of the day, he was ready to chew wallboard. The sex shop he’d stopped at was one Cass and he had visited many times before, but even so, he wasn’t recognized when he walked in. Thank heavens, he’d thought, still trying valiantly to hide the large lump in the front of his slacks. He’d taken off his jacket and draped it in front of himself, but he felt so self-conscious, he was sure it was a dead give-a-way. “May I help you?” asked a blonde-haired, twenty-something woman. Her outfit screamed dominant, black, high-heeled boots and a leather corset over a short, red satin peasant dress. The leather cuffs and collar added a touch of fetish that had made him blink and tighten his grip on his jacket. She was gorgeous, and for a moment he dreaded what he knew he had to do. Cass’ command came back to him, ‘ask for help, and tell the girl what it’s for’. “Uh, yes, I, uh, need to look at your floggers,” he stammered. The woman had looked at him and smirked. Had she known he was going to be punished? How could she? She turned and walked down the aisle closest to the wall. At the end, she stood looking at an assortment of whips, paddles, and floggers that hung in rows along a good ten feet of the wall. “Here we are.” She nodded to the arrangement, and asked, “Any particular style? Is this for you or someone else?” “Uh, something to fit a woman’s hand,” he’d replied, and couldn’t meet her eyes. “It’s for my Mistress.” He gulped, and felt himself trembling. “I’m to be punished.” His face grew suddenly hot, and he knew he’d blushed. “Oh, punished,” she’d laughed and asked in a very loud voice, “Why are you going to be punished?” Rick glanced nervously around. There was only one other person in the store, thank heavens, another woman, perhaps five years older than the blonde serving him and also wearing fetish gear. She gazed back at him, a stern look on her face. 21

Jude Mason “I misbehaved. Ruined dinner, and…and…” He couldn’t go on. How could he tell a stranger, a woman, he’d been told not to masturbate and had been caught doing so? “And…and?” The woman urged, a mischievous look on her face. She reached up and took down one of the smaller floggers—woven black handle, about eight inches long, with a dozen braided strips of leather dangling from its end, each with a tiny red bead threaded onto the end, it was a beautiful piece. Rick couldn’t take his eyes off it as she ran the strands through her hand. He gulped, and said, “I…uh, was told not to…uh—not to touch myself, and I did.” The last came out in a rush, and he’d closed his eyes, too embarrassed to look. The laughter that followed only added to his humiliation, and incredibly, to his arousal. His balls felt as if they were going to explode at any moment, and he had no way to soothe the frustration. He pressed his jacket more firmly against his crotch, hoping neither woman would notice. He lifted his eyes to the blonde, and realized she’d seen him. His heartbeat raced. “I would imagine you’ve been given some kind of instruction for today, right?” she asked, and crossed her arms over her chest, the flogger dangling from one hand. “Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted grudgingly. Inside he was praying for it to be over. “I also assume you’re not supposed to ‘touch yourself’ right?” “That’s right, Ma’am.” His face got even warmer, and he lowered his eyes. “Then what was that all about?” For all of ten seconds he debated whether he should play innocent, but a quick glance at both women told him he’d better not. “I…uh, I rubbed myself. But, I didn’t really touch anything. Just rubbed a little.” Even to his own ears, it sounded lame, and he stopped before he made any more of a fool of himself. “Just rubbed, just a little bit,” she said in a singsong voice. The other woman came from behind the counter and joined them—one woman stood on each side of him. He’d felt trapped, but in a very good way. “What’s up with this guy, Lady Sabine?” The newcomer asked, eyeing him up and down. Rick had felt even more ridiculous, but there was no escape. All he could do was stand there and hope both women would take pity on him, let him get on with his purchase, and then let him go. “Guy wants to buy a flogger,” replied the blond easily. She held out the one she had in her hand, and asked, “Do you think your Mistress would like this one?” Rick glanced up at the flogger and nodded. “Yes, I’m sure she would.” “Did she tell you to do anything, or ask anything while you were here?” asked the newcomer. 22

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He thought for a moment “I was to ask for assistance from a female clerk, and make sure the flogger would fit a woman’s hand. I was also to explain what it was for, if asked.” “All right, but were you given permission to rub yourself?” Sabine asked. The embarrassment just seemed to get worse and worse, but his cock throbbed eagerly as if it had a life of its own and relished the public teasing. “No, she didn’t actually say anything about rubbing,” he countered, desperately. “I was not to touch myself.” He couldn’t believe he was actually having the conversation. “I think I’ll just write a note to your Mistress and let her know what you did,” Sabine said, and headed to the counter, flogger in hands. “Please, don’t,” Rick blurted. Sabine stopped, and glanced over her shoulder at him, as if he were some ugly creature who’d just asked for a kiss. “You’re asking me to let you get away with something—to lie to your Mistress?” Shaking her head, she carried on until she was behind the counter. The flogger lay across the marred Plexiglas top as she busily wrote a note. By the time he got up to the front of the store, she had inserted the note into an envelope and had licked it, and sealed it closed. “What’s your phone number?” the older woman asked from behind him. “Uh, five, five, four, six, two, one, four, why?” “I’m going to phone in about half an hour to make sure you give this to your Mistress, unopened.” Rick felt as if the walls of some dungeon were closing in on him. Who were these two? Why had he allowed them to get the better of him? But even as he asked himself those questions, and more, he knew why. Cass wanted him to, and he loved the rush it gave him. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied. “Put your hands at your sides, let’s have a look at what you were ‘rubbing’,” suggested Sabine. The other woman chuckled, but otherwise kept silent. He’d taken a deep breath then let his briefcase hang at his side. He knew what he must look like, and instead of embarrassment, he felt a certain amount of pride. His prick had throbbed, and he knew the front of his slacks was tenting out with the force of his erection. Cass had always loved it when he showed off, but until that day, he’d never felt really comfortable exposing himself. “Can’t see what all the fuss is about,” the older woman said, as she peered at his crotch. “It’s nice, but it ain’t all that.” 23

Jude Mason Rick had thought he was beyond being belittled in that manner, but her words made him cringe. He knew he was adequately endowed; he’d showered in enough gyms to know he had nothing to be ashamed of. Still, her words riled him. “You paying for this with cash or credit card?” asked Sabine. Jarred from his self-absorbed pity, he blurted, “Credit card.” He fumbled for his wallet and dug out the card he needed, handing it over. A moment later, he stood holding a bright red bag with his purchase inside. “Better get a move on,” the blond said. “You don’t want to keep your Mistress waiting.” Dismissed, Rick turned and fled the shop. Confused by how he’d obeyed a stranger, he hurried to his car. He’d never been submissive to anyone but Cass before and he couldn’t quite comprehend why. He looked at the note she’d given him, and for an instant thought of reading it, but decided not to, and tossed it into the bag. The ride home flew by. Before he knew it, he was in the driveway and getting out of the car, the red bag clutched in his hand. His heart hammered against his chest and sweat ran down his back, making his shirt stick to him. The bulge in the front of his slacks seemed even more pronounced, and he prayed none of the neighbors were watching. Once inside, he took a deep breath and was about to toss his jacket on the chair when he spotted a note taped to the back of the door. He dropped his jacket and briefcase, and then reached for the note. ‘Your training begins now. Take off your clothes. Everything except the ribbon. Make sure you fold them. Lock the door and kneel. Take the flogger out and lay it across your knees. You know the position I want you in.’ Rick had thought he’d at least get to have a drink and relax before ‘things’ got going, but evidently he’d thought wrong. A deep breath was the only transition time he got, and then he stripped out of his business clothes. Slacks and shirt folded as neatly as he could, and then placed on the chair. His tie rolled and stuffed in his jacket pocket. His socks rolled, his boxers folded and each lain on top of the small pile. By that time, his erection had resumed its rampant glory, thoughts of what had happened, and what was going to happen, had it pulsing in a gentle upwards arc from his groin. The ribbon, still brilliant pink, tied at the base of his cock and around his balls, was looking a little worse for the wear. The bow was creased and ragged, but it still held him tightly. For an instant, he’d thought of rubbing his balls. They ached, and he was sure that just by cradling them, the ache would lessen. But he’d refrained, and simply laid the 24

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new flogger across his legs, just above his knees. He’d then placed his hands palm upward, one on each thigh. Then, he’d waited. His knees had grown sore, his back stiffened and his ankles, which he’d been sitting on, grew numb, but his cock remained as hard as granite. Finally, he’d heard a noise coming from the dining room, and he lowered his head, but furtively peered that way as footsteps approached him.

25

Jude Mason

Chapter Three

“There you are,” Cass beamed. “Let me see what you’ve brought me.” She stopped in front of him; her stiletto-clad foot an inch from his knee, the silky black stockings disappearing up her leg and out of his view. He’d seen no skirt. His erection throbbed noticeably. She bent down, and he managed to catch a glimpse of her as she picked up the flogger. Her tightly waved hair hugged her head like an ebony helmet, and accentuated her cheekbones and the line of her jaw. She hadn’t worn a skirt. In fact she wore very little, a black satin slip dress and a red corset that cinched her waist impossibly tight. A swish of leather close beside him had made him tremble. “Did you touch yourself today?” Cass asked pointedly. “No, Mistress,” he’d replied in a rush. “Did you ask the clerk in the store for help?” Rick felt his face heat up and knew he was blushing. “Yes, Mistress. Well, not exactly, one of them asked me, and I said I needed help.” “Excellent. What did the clerk look like?” “Blond, very pretty. She wore a lot of leather. Her name was Sabine. The other clerk called her that.” “There were two clerks there?” “Yes, Mistress. The other one was a little older.” “And did one of them try the flogger?” The heat in his face grew even hotter and traveled down over his chest. “Yes, Mistress, and I told her it was for my Mistress. She gave me a note for you.” “She did, where is it?” “In the bag the flogger was in.” Cass retrieved the bag and pulled the note out, but didn’t read it. “You did well.” She stepped back and said, “Lean back, hands on the floor, push your hips up.” A moment later, the rumpled ribbon dangled from her hand and she’d dropped it to the floor. His cock and balls were free for the first time in a day. He desperately 26

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wanted to rub himself. His testicles moved upwards, itched so much that his inner thighs twitched in sympathy. “I want you to have a shower now, and make sure you’re shaved.” Cass flicked the tip of his erection with a finger, and laughed when it twitched from side to side. His scrotum puckered, and his balls itched even more. “But, make sure you don’t masturbate. I’ll pop in sometime during your shower to watch. If I catch you playing with yourself, you’ll get both a flogging and be denied an orgasm.” “Yes, Mistress,” he’d replied. Cass got to her feet, and added, “On your feet, but keep your legs apart.” Rick had climbed to his feet. He’d curled his fingers into fists to keep them away from his crotch. The frustration mounted even higher when he’d made his way to the bathroom. His genitals swayed, the air wafted around his balls. He’d showered and shaved, paying special attention to his genitals. Even just being able to touch and pull at the skin eased his torment somewhat. Not enough though, and by the time he’d finished, he was as horny as he could ever remember being. The anticipation of what was going to happen was the culprit, and he tried not to think about what Cass had planned. But the more he tried to concentrate on something else, the more his mind refused, and came back to the days ahead. Cass had come in, and sat on the toilet watching him as he shaved the stubble around the root of his cock. Running the safety blade over his balls, he’d pulled and stretched the skin, ensuring a clean shave. She chuckled when he groaned, and even offered to help him with his bottom. He’d turned off the shower, re-lathered and bent forward for her, and tried desperately to hold still while she ran the blade carefully between his cheeks. Done, she’d left him trembling and told him to make sure he rinsed well. While he stood toweling himself, he’d heard the doorbell chime. His stomach tightened. Could he go through with it? The bathroom door had opened. It was Cass, smiling, eager. “Now is your last chance to stop this. Once I take you out of here, you’ll obey me or be punished.” His mind had been numb. Excitement and apprehension warred for a moment while he stood trembling on the white tiled floor. “Kiss me,” he’d croaked. For that moment he’d felt vulnerable and alone, but when she came into his arms, his world felt complete and wonderful. She was his soul mate, his lady, and the only person in the world who understood him. She went into his arms, hers wrapping around his neck and pulling his lips to hers. It was his turn to take control, if only for a few 27

Jude Mason moments of sheer bliss. Bodies melded to each other, tongues twined around the others, and breath mingled as they lost themselves in each other. Too soon the kiss ended. Neither moved for the longest time, but then it was as if a signal had been given. Rick looked deep into his lady’s eyes, and said, “Yes, I’m ready, Mistress.” Cass pulled out of his arms and took a deep breath. The bodice of her slip dress showed how erect her nipples were, and her chest above the silk dappled with a flush. “Heel me,” she’d said, and turning, left the bathroom. Rick hastily hung the towel over the rack and rushed after her, their visitor for the moment forgotten—but only for the moment. When he entered the living room, it came back in a flash when he saw Sabine standing, looking through the large picture window. He stopped, unsure of whether he really did have the courage to go ahead. Sabine was lovely; her blond hair flowed over her shoulders like a waterfall of spun gold. The outfit she’d worn in the shop had vanished and replace with leather from head to toe. Naked arms and a daringly low-cut back that nudged the curve of her bottom, her hips swelled magnificently and her legs seemed much too long until he realized she wore heels that were insanely high. When she turned to face him, his breath caught in his throat. Her bosom was more than half-revealed, and her nipples barely covered by the leather cups that molded to her. “Did you see the note he brought home?” Sabine asked suddenly. “Yes. He told me about it as soon as he was naked and on his knees to me.” “Excellent. Do you think he read it?” “I didn’t ask,” Cass replied then asked him, “Well, did you read the note?” “No, Mistress, I was told not to.” He’d lowered his eyes, aware of how he must sound—big, important man, well muscled and tall, and in obvious good health, bowing to a woman’s requests. It thrilled him. It also had his cock dripping from the excitement and denial he’d suffered for the past day. Cass had joined Sabine in front of the window, and together they talked, totally ignoring him for the moment. He’d stood quietly, impatient for the evening to begin. Anticipation was killing him. He’d wanted ‘it’ to begin, not even knowing what it was. Standing, naked and erect, while the women were both clothed and ignoring him, was driving him crazy. Finally, just when he thought he couldn’t keep his hands off himself for another second, the two women had turned around, facing him. He had the urge to cross his hands in front of himself, but luckily managed to control that reaction. He’d done it once and paid for it. Mistress liked to look at her slave, or so she’d said. 28

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“Kneel,” Cass said sternly. He immediately dropped to his knees and was thankful the floor was carpeted. Easing his legs apart, he placed his hands on his thighs and straightened his back. “Yeah, acceptable,” Sabine admitted, and approached him. He dared not raise his eyes as she walked around him. She stopped behind him, said nothing, but his nerves were so shot he couldn’t stop a groan. Frustration, excitement, perhaps even a touch of fear, all warred inside. “You said he wore a ribbon today when he visited the shop?” “Yes, a pink, satin ribbon.” Cass could hardly keep from laughing, and Rick’s stomach lurched. “Rick, where was the ribbon?” Sabine looked directly at him and smiled. “Answer her, slaveboy,” said Cass. “Yes, Mistress,” he replied, glancing at her before turning his attention to Sabine. “Mistress Cass bound my genitals with a pink ribbon and instructed me not to touch it.” The lovely blond laughed, and when Rick felt his face heat up, she laughed even more. When she’d pulled herself together, she asked, “Did you touch it?” “No, Ma’am.” She chuckled, and asked Cass, “Is that pink ribbon still around?” “Yeah, it is, but it’s getting a little ratty.” She headed out of the room. “Hang on just a sec. I’m sure I’ve got more.” While she went in search for more ribbon, Sabine continued her inspection. Behind him, she suddenly ran a finger across his shoulder and down to a nipple. Pinching it, he gasped, and she chuckled while twisting and plucking at the tiny nub. His erection bobbed, eager for a touch, jealous of his nipple and the attention it got. Suddenly, her fingers slid through his hair, and grabbed hold. His head pulled back, his body arched lewdly displaying him; he came very close to tearing free. “Here’s the ribbon, I knew I had more,” said Cass, entering the room. The sound of her voice steadied him, and he allowed himself to bask in the excitement of his submission. She stopped when she got in front of him, and smiled down at his exposed position. “If you’ll hold him there, I’ll show you how I had the ribbon tied before.” “That’s exactly what I hoped you’d say.” Sabine’s fingers tightened as if she’d sensed his moment of unease. He’d lost sight of Cass when she squatted down in front of him. Then her hands were on him. Lifting his cock, pumping it to make sure he was fully erect then wrapping the silk around its base. The feel of the soft material sliding around him focused his attention there, and he almost forgot the hand in his hair, and the woman watching. 29

Jude Mason Closing his eyes, he fought to keep his hips still, to keep from thrusting into her hand. When she’d tightened the ribbon, he couldn’t stop the groan that whispered into the air. Her fingers fumbled beneath his cock, bumping into his balls. She lifted them, and it all began again—the fondling, the gentle tugging of his sack and the precious balls within, until he bit his lip to keep from begging her for more. She wound the silk around them, forcing them down and away from his body. The final wrap brought the strands of silk up to the top of his genitals where she created a bow. “What do you think, Lady Sabine?” Cass asked as she tidied the bow, making sure it sat just so on top of his shaft. The ends of the ribbon dangled, ticking his thighs. He shivered. Goose bumps raced up his chest, his nipples puckered. “He sure seems to like it,” she answered. He’d thought she’d let go of him then, but she didn’t. Instead, her free hand had slid over his chest towards his belly. His stomach quivered as her fingers trailed over the ridges of muscles and dipped into his navel. His breath caught, and another groan escaped when her hand traveled along the line of tendon connecting thigh to torso. Even though he couldn’t see what she was doing, he saw her face, and the wicked pleasure she was getting from the torment she caused him. “Yeah, he’s a sucker for this kind of thing,” Cass replied, and gave his cock a slap, which sent it careening into his thigh. He grunted, not so much in pain as surprise. While his cock waved back and forth, Cass got to her feet and looked down on him. “Tell Lady Sabine how much you like to be teased, slaveboy.” It took him a moment to comprehend what she wanted, but when it clicked, he replied, “Yes, Mistress.” Without being able to move, he couldn’t face Sabine, but he addressed her, “Lady Sabine, I love being teased like this. It was me who suggested to Mistress Cass that she dominate me, deny my orgasms, or punish me if she didn’t think my behavior was appropriate.” Each word dragged him deeper into the depths of his submission, and he’d loved ever moment of it—her teasing touch, the way his cock throbbed and swayed between his thighs, the feeling of need that grew in the pit of his stomach. Sabine moved to one side of him and Cass to the other. With his hair still firmly in Lady Sabine’s grasp, both women slid the tips of their fingers along his inner thigh. The muscles twitched, his cock throbbed. “And how long has it been since you climaxed, slaveboy?” Sabine’s voice was a purr at his ear. Her fingers moved towards his genitals. 30

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“Only since yesterday,” he replied, embarrassed by how turned on and desperate he was in such a short time. A day, it felt more like a month. Sabine laughed, perhaps thinking the same thing. “A day. Oh my, you do seem desperate. I thought you’d been denied for weeks.” Someone slid a finger around the base of his cock, the other focused behind his balls, on that sweet spot that drove him wild. “What? You’re such a weak male, you can’t hold out for an entire day without begging to come? Or, maybe you’re just oversexed?” The tormenting fingers just went on and on, trailing around the base of his cock, but ignoring the pillar of flesh pulsing above. The other wound its way down to his anus, where it also teased and added to his frustration with its gentle tickling and pressing into the opening of his more than willing back door. “Yes, Ma’am,” he blurted, then rapidly added, “No, Lady Sabine. I mean, please, I can’t think straight.” Suddenly, both women rose, leaving him kneeling and bent backwards. His stomach muscles rippled with the attempt to stay as he’d been left. His glutes flexed, and his anus clenched trying to regain the sensation so quickly withdrawn. “I think it’s about time slaveboy prepared dinner for us.” Cass brushed her hands together, as if brushing them clean. “A salad and the small steaks you’ll find in the fridge.” He’d knelt there, confused and more excited than he’d ever remembered being, trying to get it through his head that he had a chore to do. Tightening his muscles, he pulled himself to a kneeling position. He was about to get to his feet, when he stopped and waited. Cass chuckled again, and said, “Yes, you may get to your feet. You’re learning. Another second and you’d have earned yourself punishment.” “Thank you, Mistress.” “Oh, and for the weekend, you’re to obey Lady Sabine as if she were me. Got it?” A tremor of excitement shook him. Two ladies to serve, two Mistress’ to please. Would he make it? “Yes, Mistress. I understand completely and will do my best to please you both.” “We’ll see that you do.” Cass slid her arm around Sabine’s shoulders and together the women went deeper into the living room and sat on the couch. Dismissed, Rick climbed unsteadily to his feet, and taking great care not to allow his hands to touch the ribbon or himself, he headed into the kitchen. The steaks had to be 31

Jude Mason barbecued, it was how they always prepared them, so the first thing he had to do was drag the barbeque away from the side of the building and light it. He was glad the deck off the kitchen was as shielded as it was, and it took him just a few moments to scamper out, position the barbeque, and light it. While he waited for it to heat up, he pulled out the salad makings and the steaks from the refrigerator. His frustration mounted each time he moved, and his cock slapped something, his thigh, his belly, or the counter he worked on. Pre-come hung in a long ribbon from the tip, and left a trail from one place to another while preparing a large green salad for his two ladies. Again outside, he put the steaks on the hot barbeque, the heat on the crown of his cock made him gasp. The cool air, and the sudden heat, made him desperate to squeeze his shaft. Furtively, he peered around and through the window to the dining room. Seeing no one, and fairly sure he was unobserved; he gripped his cock and squeezed. The sheer bliss of that squeeze was nearly too much, and he had to increase the pressure. Even that wasn’t enough, and he pinched the tip of his cock to keep from climaxing. Just then, the door opened and Cass poked her head out. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked frowning. His hands flew to his sides, and he blurted, “No! I mean…I’m sorry! Please, no. I’m sorry, Mistress. I couldn’t…I’m sorry.” “Shut up and don’t burn our steaks.” The door slammed shut, and he was left alone, his flagging cock still dripping precome, and knew he was in trouble. He chuckled, looked nervously around, and then chuckled again. She’d asked him if he was enjoying himself, and he most certainly was. He couldn’t imagine how he could have enjoyed it more. He flipped the steaks, both small strip loins, and his mouth watered. There’d been two steaks, not three, so he wasn’t sure when or even if he’d be fed. Pressing the fork into the nearer of the two steaks, he judged that it was done and lifted it onto the waiting plate, then added the other. One last look around, to be sure he was unobserved, and then a quick dash to the door. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and scurried inside. He’d set the table, wine glasses and the good china along with a small dinner bell he thought might amuse the two. Salad bowl and two kinds of dressing placed in the center, bread and butter plates with knives across the top sat to the left of each plate, the steaks placed convenient for them to reach. A final glance at the table, then he went and stood at the entrance to the living room, head bowed, hands clasped behind him. 32

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A moment later, Cass asked, “Is dinner ready?” He raised his head just enough to be sure his voice would carry. “Yes Mistress.” “Good,” she replied and got to her feet. “Sabine, let’s see if he has at least obeyed me with dinner.” He heard the leather clothing she wore slide across the material of the couch as she rose. “He can’t seem to keep his hands off himself, that’s for sure. He’d better have prepared our meal properly or he won’t be able to sit down for a week.” “Rick,” said Cass, “you’ll kneel between us. If we need something, you’ll get it. Be careful, obey quickly, and don’t argue. You’ve already insured a punishment of some kind, don’t add to it.” Embarrassed by her easy discussion of his masturbation, he felt the heat rise on his face as he replied, “Yes, Mistress.” He quickly followed them into the dining room and knelt in the place she’d indicated. The ribbon pulled at his flesh, forcing his testicles out and his cock up. He thought he must look ridiculous, but the women both seemed to like what they saw. At least they smiled when he was settled, hands firmly positioned on his widespread thighs. “Serve us wine,” Cass said. “The red, in the cooler. You may rise to serve us.” He climbed to his feet and went into the kitchen for the requested wine. Returning, the bottle nudged his cock, and he groaned. He was so close to coming he was afraid he’d shame himself, and his mistress, if he wasn’t very careful. “You said he’s a lawyer? Hard to believe, he serves so well. He could get a job as a waiter,” said Sabine, watching him pour her wine. Bowing low, he took a step closer to Cass and reached for her glass. A hand cupped his balls, and he nearly dropped the glass. Steadying himself, he poured the wine as one of them, Sabine, he thought, toyed with his tightly bound testicles. “Yeah, he’s a lawyer, one of the senior partners as a matter of fact. Big important man, humph.” “I’ve dealt with a lot of submissive men, and you’d be surprised at how many hold important positions in their day-to-day lives. Seems they need an outlet from all the pressure of decision-making. They do make exquisite slaves.” “Well, this one needs training. He can’t keep his hands off his cock.” The hand on his balls tightened, and he grunted at the sudden pain that shot into his belly and down his legs. If he hadn’t had a bottle of wine in his hands, he was sure he’d have grabbed them. As it was, he fought to keep from retreating, and adding to his punishment. 33

Jude Mason “I’m sure we’ll be able to curb that behavior, and any other you’re having trouble with.” She released him, and he quickly dropped to his knees between them, out of range of any further torment. “That’s why I asked you to dinner, Lady Sabine.” Cass pushed a small piece of steak into her mouth and chewed, a thoughtful expression on her face. When she’d swallowed, she asked, “How many slaves or submissive, have you actually helped train?” “Let’s see. Probably not as many as you think.” She took a sip of wine and glanced down at him before going on. “A dozen maybe, not more than fifteen. Usually, it’s not just a weekend. I’ll visit a couple every weekend for months, until the lady is satisfied with her male’s behavior.” “Really? That long?” “Yes, although this one seems to be fairly well behaved.” She nodded toward him. “His only real problem is that piece of meat poking out from between his legs. He can’t seem to keep his hands off it.” Cass laughed. “Yeah, I know. I can’t believe he’s as desperate as he seems to be. I mean, he did come less than twenty-four hours ago. You’d think he’d be fine.” Rick was totally humiliated by their talk, but the more they went on about how he couldn’t control his libido, the more excited he became. One fed the other, and as he knelt awaiting further instructions, his cock remained either ramrod stiff, or semi-hard. “More wine, slaveboy,” Sabine said sharply. He hopped up and went for the bottle again. He tried to keep his genitals from being noticed, but she was obviously waiting for him. The instant he’d begun pouring, she’d grabbed hold of his shaft and slowly worked the skin up and down. His trembling began as soon as her fingers wrapped around him. The neck of the bottle rattled on the rim of her glass; the wine sloshed and came precariously close to spilling over. “Look at this, can’t even pour wine without messing up.” Sabine’s voice held a note of humor, but her fingers never eased up. “I know,” Cass replied mock seriously. “He just seems to be going to pieces.” Finished pouring the wine, Rick straightened up. He wanted to kneel, to get away from her tormenting hand, but she held him. Sweat poured off him. He was so close to coming, he clenched his teeth to keep from crying out, or begging for her to stroke harder, faster. His hips trembled and he clenched his buttocks. She released him. Gasping, he knelt so fast his knees slammed to the floor. Spreading his legs wide, he fought to control himself, taking deep breaths and forcibly relaxed his muscles. He 34

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thought of his last case, the research he’d have to get done, anything but sex and the need for a second more stimulation. “At least he prepared dinner properly tonight,” Cass said as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “Yes, it’s actually very good. Does he make the dressings?” “He made one, the red wine vinaigrette. The other’s a commercial brand.” “Excellent.” The two ate and chatted, while he finally got himself under control. His erection waned, and he thanked whatever god’s or goddess’ were on his side, but his respite was short-lived. “That was an excellent dinner,” Sabine said as she finished the last of her dinner wine. “Now, to business.” She wiped her hands on her napkin and pushed away from the table. Turning her chair to face him, she said, “You’ve misbehaved once since I arrived. Touching that cock is against the rules, and you know it.” With the toe of her stiletto, she nudged his balls. He shuddered, but was determined to keep still. “This is the second time you’ve been caught touching what doesn’t belong to you. So, I think double whatever punishment we decide on feels right.” Her toe slid under his balls and lifted both them and his raging hard on. “Get the flogger you bought today. Don’t rise, and don’t touch it with your hands.” Rick glance up at her face, surprised at her command. When he saw her smile, he lowered his gaze and replied, “Yes, Lady Sabine.” He knew the flogger had been left on the couch when the two women got up for dinner, so that’s where he crawled. He felt their eyes on him the whole way, and that added to his excitement, which he really didn’t need. His thighs rubbed against his balls, his cock tapped on his stomach as he crept forward. The couch seemed incredibly far away, but the journey gave him time to clear his thoughts a little. He was almost there when he realized he might be able to tease the two women—a kind of torment in reverse. Perhaps he’d earn himself some brownie points, a lessening of punishment, maybe even an orgasm before the weekend was over. Easing his knees apart as he crawled, he felt his genitals swing more freely between his thighs, his buttocks spread a little, exposing himself more fully to them. Even the grinding of his knees seemed less as he got to the couch and leaned across it to pick up the flogger between his teeth. He twisted his hips and eased up on one knee, which spread his legs wider apart, as if he couldn’t quite get hold of the leather handle. 35

Jude Mason Finally, he clamped his teeth on it and realized his prick was rubbing against the soft material of the couch. He shuddered, and his hips gave an involuntary lurch. Quickly, he pulled himself away. He didn’t dare let either of them see him rub against anything. He was in enough trouble already, and he was much too close to climaxing without adding any stimulation. Clenching his jaw, he turned around and crawled toward the dining room. He’d made it to the center of the room, when Cass said, “Right there, stop.” Instantly, he stopped. Nothing happened for a few moments. He could hear the two women talking softly, but couldn’t hear what they said. Then there were footsteps approaching, both of them. One stopped on either side of him. He wanted to fidget. The tease was done, his attempt at attracting some kind of favorable attention forgotten as he held his position, and hoped the punishment wouldn’t be too outrageous. A hand reached down for the flogger, and he willingly let it go. He was nervous, not frightened exactly, but apprehensive. They’d never had someone else join them, and even though they’d talked, doing was a totally different thing. The excitement was immeasurable. “Put your forehead on the floor, hands stretched out behind you on the carpet, palms up.” The voice was stern, Sabine’s, and she meant business. He wasn’t fast enough, and she gave his butt a none-to-gentle swat with the flogger. He grunted, but quickly dropped his forehead to the floor and stretched his hands back towards the couch. His ass automatically rose, and he felt the heat of a blush when he realized the display he was putting on. “Now,” said Sabine, from his right side. “I will now punish you for your misbehavior. You’ve earned yourself quite a session here, touching yourself when you were told not to, is the least of your crimes. Knowing you were disobeying your mistress, and repeating the transgression, that’s big.” She let the tendrils of the flogger tickle his back as she spoke, trailing it over his ass, sliding it down between his cheeks and up along his spine. It was as if she used it to focus him on what was going to happen, as if he needed it. “You will not yell or make any kind of noise, except to thank me or ask for more. Do you understand, slave?” He’d cringed, unsure of his ability to remain quiet if she truly used all her strength with the flogger. Another slap on his haunch urged his reply, “Yes, Lady Sabine.” Said before he was sure he could manage it, his permission was given, and he knew he’d have to try. 36

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The first swat caught him by surprise, and took his breath. Thank heaven. A swath of fire, laid precisely across the full roundness of his left butt cheek, sent his mind reeling. Its mate followed when he’d thought he could safely take a breath. An instant of the soft purr of leather strands flying through the air was all the warnings he got, and it was never enough. Each following blow dragged a soft grunt from somewhere deep inside him, but he didn’t howl or beg, or plead for mercy. He’d managed to draw breath, only to have it forced out in a long, hot whoosh as another lash of the flogger struck the back of an upper thigh. His genitals swung free, his erection slapped his belly, then his thighs. He worried that she’d miss and hit his balls, but didn’t dare say anything. He shifted slightly though, and earned himself a very hard swat that covered both cheeks of his ass. “Be still, don’t you dare move again,” came his Mistress’ admonition. “Yes, Mistress,” he’d grunted, clenching his hands and jaw to keep from moving, or crying out if Sabine missed her target. The flogging went on for an age, until he thought he’d collapse from the tension, and his back and bottom felt as if someone had thrown vinegar onto raw wounds. Her panting told him that Sabine was growing tired, so hopefully it would all end soon. His jaw ached. His erection had waned and his puny cock, still ribbon-bound, flailed about like some demented worm. The flogger landed beside his face when Sabine finally stopped. She just tossed it down, and as it bounced over the carpet toward his nose, she laid her hand on his lower back, as if testing him for heat. Her hand was slick with sweat, and if he’d had any cuts or torn flesh he’d have been in agony. Luckily, his skin was whole, but until that moment he’d been sure it was torn. “Well, aren’t you going to thank me for your punishment? Don’t you have any manners at all?” chided Sabine breathlessly. She ran her sweat damp palm over his cheeks and the back of each thigh. At first she tormented him with soft touches, but when he seemed to be able to handle her caress, she’d progressed to light pinching. “Yes, Lady Sabine, I’m very sorry, Ma’am,” he’d yelped and fought to keep still. “Thank you for punishing me. I’ll do my very best to improve my behavior.” At that moment, he was sure he’d have promised her anything, if she’d just leave his abused flesh alone. But, when her fingers were joined by his lady’s, from the other side, he thought he’d surely lose his battle for control. With Sabine pinching and lightly scratching him, and Cass slipping her fingers below to tease his prick, he was in turmoil. Pain and pleasure sent warring signals to nerve endings already overloaded with 37

Jude Mason sensation. His body shuddered, and no matter how hard he fought to be still, it did no good.

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Chapter Four

“Now slave, I think Lady Sabine and I would like some entertainment,” Cass said as she continued to tease his slowly rising member. “First of all, I’d like a glass of wine. Would you care to join me Sabine?” “Yes, I’d love that. And, I don’t see why you and I should do all the work here. After all, it’s him that needs training. His turn to show us if he’s learned some control.” Cass laughed. Her fingers grew even bolder, the fingers of one hand working the skin of his prick, while her other moved to the bulge just behind his balls. With excruciating slowness, she rubbed that bulge, while he laid panting and praying he’d survive the next few minutes without losing his sanity. When he was near delirious with sensation, both women, as if signaled, stepped back. His prick had regained its erection, and he wanted nothing more than to grip it and masturbate to completion. His balls ached, the ribbon adding to their frustrating fullness. “Where’s his favorite butt plug, Cass?” Rick couldn’t believe his ears. They wouldn’t? He couldn’t, he thought desperately. For a moment he thought to protest, to call foul. But, lowering his head, he knew he really didn’t want to. Chuckling, Cass said, “Hang on, I’ll be back in just a second.” He watched her from the corner of his eyes as she hurried off to their bedroom. His pulse pounded while he waited, untouched. When she returned, she had the black plug he often used. Unlike the one Cass had used on him the day before, this one was just a plug, no remote, it didn’t vibrate, but he knew from experience that it would hit that spot whenever he moved. With a wide, flat base, there was no danger of it slipping out. The tapered end gave way to a much wider middle. It had taken weeks of persistent practice before he’d finally been able to push it past his sphincter. He shuddered when Sabine said, “Reach back and pull your cheeks apart.” The whimper seemed to come from somewhere else when he took firm hold of his abused buttocks. When he felt something cool touch his tightly puckered anus, the whimper became a moan. A finger inserted, pushed lube inside. Sabine’s, he was sure, 39

Jude Mason and his embarrassment soared. She moved her finger around, urging the muscles to loosen. When the outer muscle lost some of its strength, she eased another finger in. “Ever thought of bringing in another man?” Sabine asked. Rick’s heart stopped, and he clenched tight around her fingers. That was a line he couldn’t, wouldn’t cross, and Cass knew it. “Thought about it, but won’t.” Her voice was firm. There would be no crossing that line. “He’s submissive, but only to women.” “Yeah, a lot of men are that way.” Her fingers worked to relax him again, and as soon as he realized he wasn’t in danger of servicing some man, he loosened up fairly fast. “Shame though. He’d look good stuffed with a cock.” “He does accept a strap-on, and that’s better for me.” Cass squatted down beside him, and a moment later, her hand slid over his shoulder and across his back. “But not today, hold still Rick.” He felt something, the dildo, sliding between his buttocks towards his well-lubed hole. The intruder didn’t immediately enter him. Instead, it was dragged over and around the target before she eased the tip inside. She toyed with him, easing it in and out, reaming his eager hole until his anal muscles were rhythmically clenching around it. A little deeper, then more teasing had him moving with her. He gently swayed backward and forward, trying to steal more of the toy into himself. When he was nearing the widest part, she whispered, “Do you want it?” Long past any shame, he croaked, “Yes, please, fuck me. Please, Mistress. Please.” “Tell me how much you want it?” Without any hesitation, Rick replied, “Please, fuck me. I want it so bad. I want to feel the dildo slide in. Fill me, please. I beg you. Fuck me.” Cass continued to tease him. The dildo eased in and out, the wide middle section teased the muscles with a pressure he ached to feel. “I’ll do anything, just please, push it in.” The words had barely left his lips when she plunged the dildo in all the way. He gasped as it stretched him then sank in. For a moment, he couldn’t draw a breath, his vision blurred as pleasure spread through his body. Blind, his mouth agape, he reveled in a wave of bliss. He felt her tap the base, the vibrations sending a new jolt of pleasure to the sweet spot buried inside him. “Rick,” he heard Cass say from a million miles away. “Rick, get up. On your feet. Now.” 40

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His hands dropped to the carpet. Focusing on her voice, he slowly eased his way onto his knees. Straightened, the dildo moved, and he groaned. There it was—that rubbing sensation deep inside. His ass burned from the flogger, but it only added to the sweet torment. “Wine, the bottle’s in the fridge,” Cass said, and as if dismissing him, she turned to Sabine. “Come and sit down. I’ve got a couple of questions to ask.” She slid her hand into the blonde’s, and together then moved toward the couch. Nearly mindless with pleasure, Rick staggered into the kitchen. Every step was an agony of frustration. The tip of the dildo rubbed against his prostate. He’d heard that for some men that didn’t do a great deal, and at that moment, he’d wished he were one of them. But he wasn’t, and he struggled desperately to keep from giving his cock a few strokes to ease the discomfort, the tormenting ache. He couldn’t get his mind off his lust. Opening the fridge for their wine, he rubbed against the door like some sex-crazed beast, and the blast of cool air across his sweat-covered body made him shiver. The cold door against his prick was just one more sensation that his mind was long past being able to decipher. Bottle in hand, he went in search of clean glasses. Ribbon-bound cock and balls lead the way, his dripping penis once more brushing against tables and counters as he reached for glasses on the top shelf. Back in the living room, he heard the two women talking, but couldn’t hear what they said. Besides, when he got nearer to them, the conversation stopped and both women watched him approach. “Kneel, and pour us each a glass of wine,” Sabine instructed. He knelt in front of them both and handed them a glass each. Then, easing his legs apart, he pulled the cork out of the bottle and leaned forward to pour them wine. His cock dragged across the carpet. Eyes widening in shock, he raised his ass just enough to clear the carpet. His butt clenched, which in turn pressed the dildo tighter against his prostate. Both women broke into laughter. “Seems the entertainment has already begun,” cried Sabine. Holding their glasses out, they waited while he shakily poured the pale liquor. “Yeah, he’s eager, for sure,” laughed Cass. Settling back against the cushions, they each sipped at their wine while he eased back on his heels. He put the wine bottle on a small table beside Cass, and noticed his hands were shaking. Taking a deep breath, he tried to slow his heartbeat down. 41

Jude Mason “Now, for the real entertainment.” Sabine smiled down at him. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. He felt more like he was on some kind of menu, merely a morsel to satisfy their appetites. “Legs wide apart.” She said, and took a sip of wine while he spread his legs even more widely apart. The inside of his thighs felt strained, the tendons stretched to the limit. “Oh, that’s nice,” purred Sabine. Rick’s eyes darted towards her. He watched her take a sip of wine then dip a finger into the half full glass. When she ran that finger over her lips, and took it into her mouth, he couldn’t breathe. His pulse raced, and his imagination took hold. How would it feel if instead of a finger, it was his cock? He’d come in an instant for sure. She ran her tongue around her finger, and his cock lurched. “Hey, Rick,” Cass’ voice drew him away from his daydream. “You’re the entertainment. Remember? Okay, we’ve decided that because you need to learn how to control your orgasms, we’re going to watch you masturbate. You’re not allowed to come, but you have to keep on masturbating.” He couldn’t believe his ears at first, but when she snapped her fingers several times and said, “Did you hear me?” “Yes, Mistress,” he replied instantly. “Right,” she chuckled, and added, “If you stop, or we don’t think you’re getting into it enough, you’ll be punished immediately. Understand?” She barked. He blinked at her, flabbergasted, but answered, “Yes, Mistress.” She settled back into the cushion and smiled wickedly at Sabine, then nodded at him, “Well?” He gulped and moved his left had to his cock, thinking if he used his left hand, he’d be less likely to find the right speed or rhythm, and more chance he’d be able to last. “Ahem.” Cass cleared her throat and scowled at him. “You don’t use your left hand to play with yourself. Nice try, but use the right one.” Inwardly he’d cursed, but he quickly changed hands as instructed. The instant his fingers wrapped around his shaft, he knew he was in trouble. The familiar pulse of the vein running along the side of his cock and the throbbing of blood trapped by the ribbon binding him, had him leaning into his fist—eager for the pleasure he had to deny himself. With his fingers barely moving the skin, he prayed he’d be able to hold off. He prayed they’d tire of their game and let him either come or ease off. “Come on, slaveboy, entertain me,” chided Sabine, lifting her glass in a mock toast. 42

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He glanced at her, looking for some sign that she’d relent, there was nothing but the look of lust in her eyes—shiny brown eyes that hungered for control. He also hungered for control, but in a hugely different way. He tightened his grip, and his butt clenched. Bad move, he groaned and relaxed his glutes. Even tied, his orgasm was close, but his need to please both women was paramount. Carefully, he eased the skin up his shaft, but stayed clear of the rim before pulling it down. At the base, he stopped for an instant and gloried in that small success. “You’re sure slow at obeying your mistress,” Sabine said. The threat in her voice was not something he couldn’t ignore. “I’ll try harder, Ma’am,” he whispered. His throat was dry. Sweat trickled down his cheeks. “Squeeze your balls, maybe that’ll encourage you.” His hand moved automatically to obey. Tightly bound testicles gripped in his other hand, he squeezed. Pain struck, and his erection throbbed, wilting just enough to let him continue masturbating. Without the fear of coming too soon, he slowly manipulated his prick trying to keep from becoming too excited, too fast. It worked for a few short minutes, but when Sabine trailed a finger around her nipple, that’s where his eyes strayed. Once there, he couldn’t look away, and his cock responded a few moments later. And of course, he squirmed, which sent a jarring thrill to the sweet spot in his anus. In a matter of minutes he was back to being as excited as when he’d begun. He took a deep breath, and then tightened the fingers of his left hand, squeezing his testicles until a slight pain raced from his groin and into his belly. A balancing act ensued. His right hand excited, while his left delved out just enough pain to keep him from spewing a load of come. The women sat and watched, or chatted, ignoring his frustrated grunts, or sighs of bliss as he stroked and teased himself for their amusement. It had felt like hours, his performance, but later he realized that it was much less. Little more than a sitcom’s worth of diversion for his two Mistress’, but a lifetime of strain and denied lust for him. Covered in sweat, he couldn’t stop the tremors that shook him like a palsied old man. Each stroke was a torture, one he craved slavishly. He couldn’t concentrate or think of anything but not coming. He pinched the head of his cock to keep the rising flow of come from erupting. His balls squirmed and twisted in the tight bonds, but even that wasn’t going to stop him for much longer. “Please,” he finally blurted, but still his hands moved. One crushed his aching balls, while the other teased the underside of his shaft. 43

Jude Mason The women, who at that moment had been discussing something together and ignoring him, looked down and scowled. Cass asked, in a level, deathly sweet voice, “What? How dare you speak when you haven’t been given permission? How dare you interrupt us, your Mistress’!” He’d torn his attention away from his crotch and gazed up at the women he was desperately trying to please. Interrupt? Had he spoken that word—begged to stop— pleaded for mercy? He couldn’t remember. “Please, My Lady.” His voice was so hoarse it was hard to understand what he’d said, but he couldn’t keep going. “Please, may I speak?” He’d finally remembered to ask properly. “Yes, what is it?” snapped Cass. A sob precluded his plea, “Please, if it pleases you both, may I come?” The desperation in is voice was palpable. With a smile of sheer wickedness, she replied, “No, of course not. You’re not going to climax until sometime tomorrow, or maybe even Sunday.” He was so close to tears that he couldn’t speak. All of his concentration returned to his erection, and the ache that had steadily grown in his mid-section. Pre-come coated his hand and made the slide more luxurious, more sensual, and he silently cursed its abundance. His knees ached, the inside of his thighs ached, but nothing seemed important except denying his need. Each inhalation dragged a soft moan from deep inside him as he fought for the last ounces of control he had. The ribbon binding him was covered in pre-come and brushed his inner thigh each time his hand slid to the base of his cock. Tight, excruciatingly tight, the silk did little to slow the rising tide of excitement. Come crept up the shaft, tickling its way to the crown. His other hand gripped hard around aching, tortured balls, each second was a triumph of control. But he knew he’d lose that control at some point. When he knew that one more stroke would take him over the edge, the groan that escaped held all the frustration and desperation he felt. “Stop.” He heard it, but for an instant couldn’t understand the word. So lost in his inner battle, focused on the task set by his two Lady’s, he nearly missed their command. Hands dragged away, breath held, every muscle in his body tensed while sweat trickled down his chest, and his cock throbbed with the beat of his heart. The bulbous, plumcolored tip shone with pre-come. “Hands behind you, on the floor,” Cass commanded sternly. “Raise your hips.” 44

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His eyes flashed to Cass’ face, and the smile she presented him with only added to his desire to please. The lust in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks, had him wanting to please her even more. He put his hands behind him and lifted his hips. The carpet burned his shins as his legs skidded just a little in his effort to rise up high. It didn’t matter, nothing did, but obeying his lady. The dildo inside him ground against his prostate. Looking down over his body, he watched as another pearl of clear pre-come oozed from the tip of his cock, elongated then hung in a glistening ribbon toward his belly. His stomach was already shiny with pre-come, and when his cock throbbed and bounced against its slickness, he felt as if that tiny sensation was going to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. His balls churned, and if it hadn’t been for the ribbon holding them captive, he knew he’d have shot his load. “Nice, I wonder if he can make it dance for us?” Sabine asked. Her wine glass was empty, and when Rick looked at her more carefully, he realized she was a little tipsy. “Let’s see, shall we?” Cass replied, and glared wickedly down at him. “You heard Lady Sabine. Let’s see you make that thing dance for us.” Shocked, but thrilled at her lewd suggestion, Rick tensed the muscles in his lower stomach and watched his cock bounce. It swayed to one side. He tensed again and it shot off to the left, the ribbon of pre-come sent flying onto his stomach. The dildo moved every time he clenched his belly muscles, and it turned out that his dance did nearly as much to excite him as his masturbation had. The women watched, spellbound, for a few minutes as he strived to make his cock dance for them. Then suddenly, Cass clapped her hands. She rose from the couch and slowly circled him, clapping to some inner tune that seemed to rev her engine. She dipped and swayed, her body nearly touching his, as she paraded around him. Sabine joined her, not as enthusiastic at the onset, but she soon got into the swing of her dance. Rick thought he’d go crazy from the excitement. His entire body hummed with it. As quickly as the women had begun their dance, it stopped. Both of them simply stood at his head and looked down at him as he continued to flex and relax his lower abdominal muscles. “Enough,” Sabine said. She yawned and took Cass’ hand. Pulling his lovely lady close, she leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. “Cass, my lovely lady, I’m exhausted. You’re slaveboy has been beautifully entertaining, but I’m afraid I’m going to call it an evening.” “Aw, Sabine,” pouted Cass. “I’d hoped you’d stay longer.” “I know, but I’ve been up since six and it’s now almost ten, it’s been a long day.” 45

Jude Mason “You’ll come tomorrow?” “Of course I will.” Sabine pushed a strand of hair off Cass’ forehead then leaned forward and kissed her gently again. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” “Good,” she glanced down at Rick, who was valiantly trying to keep the show going. No one had told him to stop. “I’ll expect your call then. Oh, if I’m not here, you’ve got my cell number?” “Yes, I’ll call that if I can’t get you here.” She drew Cass toward the door, and got her coat from the small closet. “Thank you for the evening. I’m looking forward to tomorrow already. Oh, and don’t let him climax.” Cass laughed and said, “I hadn’t planned to.” Rick heard the door open and close, then there was silence for a few moments.

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Chapter Five

When Cass returned to the living room, Rick was close to tears from both the frustration he’d endured as well as from muscles strain. His belly ached, his balls churned uselessly in their swollen sack. He wanted to beg again for release, but managed to bite his tongue to keep the words from coming. “You did well this evening. Sabine was impressed.” She sat on the couch right between his legs and faced him. “You couldn’t resist rubbing yourself though, could you?” “Mistress, I’m so sorry. I tried so hard not to.” He thrust his hips up higher and groaned when the dildo dragged over his prostate. His cock flailed across his belly. “I’m so horny!” “Yes, I know you are. That’s the idea.” “Yes, Mistress. I’ll try harder.” Reaching out, she ran her fingers over his inner thigh, from his knee to just under his testicles. Bound, they couldn’t pull in, but they tried. Surging up, the sack moved upward as her fingers neared. “I know you’ll try. I’ll see to that.” She flicked a single finger at his balls, and he groaned in pain when it connected. A light flick, but felt to his toes. “Yes, Mistress,” he gasped. Inside he begged, “Touch me, fuck me. I need to come so bad.” “It’s time for bed,” she said, and rose. Tall, beautiful, at that moment he’d have done anything for her. “If you’re hungry, get yourself something to eat, then join me. Leave the ribbon. Don’t touch your cock.” Relieved, Rick lowered his ass to the floor, and immediately cringed. Still sore from the flogging, he rose up a little then settled much more carefully. “Thank you, Mistress.” His voice was still hoarse with passion. “Rick,” Cass said, and her tone had changed. He looked up at her and smiled, the roll had changed that simply. 47

Jude Mason “Yes,” he replied, and eased himself into a more comfortable position, legs crossed, Indian fashion. “I love you, baby. Was it all right for you? Did we push too far?” She moved closer and held her hands down to him, offering to help him to his feet. Taking her hands, he rose awkwardly; his ribbon-bound cock wagged at her all the way up. “No, you didn’t go too far. I loved every moment of it. You and Lady Sabine are such wicked women together.” “Yes we are.” She stroked his chest, and pulled him closer. Taller than her by nearly eight inches, her face came to rest on his damp chest. She kissed him, took a nipple between her puckered lips, and teased it with her tongue. “Cass,” he moaned. “Please.” Laughing, she drew her head away and looked up at him. “I’m going to bed. Are you hungry?” “Not for food.” He winked at her and pushed his crotch forward. “Don’t even think about it. It’s only Friday night, you’ve still got a least one full day of denial.” Her voice had taken on that edge he loved to hear. It was driving him crazy, but that special ache was what did it for him. The control was what did it for her. “Yes, Ma’am.” He smiled down at her and reaching around her, cupped her bottom in his hands. “Mm, Mistress has a very sexy ass.” She reached around him, slid a finger down the crease of his ass, and tapped the plug still buried there. “And slave had better behave, or the torment can go on for awhile longer yet.” He’d groaned, and after giving her ass a healthy squeeze, he dropped his hands to his sides. “Yes, I know. I’ll behave.” She turned and headed down the hallway to their room, calling back, “Coming?” “No, just breathing heavy,” he muttered, and followed her. **** He’d slept without the ribbon that night, but she’d cuffed his hands to the bedposts to make sure he’d sleep and not masturbate. He’d rolled around and tried rubbing himself on the sheet and against Cass lying beside him. Once, she’d woken up and in mock anger, used the flogger on his still sore bum. Helplessly, he’d thrashed around, trying to evade the slender stands of leather as they struck. “Now, go to sleep and quit rubbing all over everything. I’ll wrap it in bandages if you can’t stop.” She’d rolled over and drifted back to sleep. 48

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For him, it took a little longer. His ass burned with a deep warmth that added to the overall heat in his groin. His thoughts kept returning to the evening’s events. When he finally sank into a troubled sleep, his dreams took him to a world of painful pleasure that left him breathless with desire. Finally, he’d drifted into a deep sleep and didn’t awaken until sunlight streamed in the window. He woke with a start and rolled toward where Cass should have been, only to discover an empty bed. The hollow in the pillow, where her head had rested still smelled of her shampoo, and he’d inhaled it hungrily. He’d groaned, and reaching down, rubbed his crotch. He’d come fully awake then, realizing his hands were free and he was alone. The temptation was incredible, and it took every ounce of willpower he had to pull his hands away. From the doorway behind him, Cass said, “Good boy.” He’d rolled over and faced her, smiling. “It wasn’t easy, believe me.” Cass, dressed in her short blue housecoat, stood leaning against the door jam, arms crossed and a smile on her face. Her hair was mussed, she had no make up on, but she was incredibly beautiful to him. “If it was easy, it wouldn’t mean anything.” “I know that, too,” he said, and sat on the side of the bed. The covers fell away, revealing the morning erection sprouting from his middle. “You know, it’s almost noon.” He’d glanced at the alarm clock, and grinned. “Yup, I guess I slept in huh?” Cass chuckled and said, “Yeah you did. You missed Sabine’s call, too.” He perked up at the mention of her name. “Is she coming over soon? Should I get showered?” He rose as if to hurry into the shower, but Cass held a hand up. “No, I’m afraid she won’t be joining us today. She’s had an emergency call from her mother and won’t be in town for a few days.” Rick sagged. He’d been looking forward to serving the two women again more than he’d realized until then. His bladder, however, told him it was time to go to the bathroom, even if it wasn’t for the shower and the promise of more fun. “Disappointed?” Cass asked, and slapped his bottom when he walked past her. She’d obviously seen his disappointment, but wanted to hear him confess it. “Yes, I am,” he called from where he stood over the toilet. His erection made peeing a challenge, but finally, it relaxed and the flow began. “Just because Lady Sabine isn’t going to be here, doesn’t mean your training will be let go.” 49

Jude Mason Listening, Rick let his hope soar, and when he walked back into the bedroom, was overjoyed to see Cass standing in the middle of the room with the handcuffs dangling from her fingers. He stopped as soon as he saw her face, the determination and lust making her eyes shine and her cheeks flushed. “Yes, Mistress,” he said, falling easily into his submissive mode. And that’s how he’d wound up in his cage the first time. She’d ordered him to his knees. Then, while she explained that even though Sabine wasn’t able to be present, she’d given her an idea or two on disciplinary measures that might prove helpful in his training. “Time to try out the cage,” she’d said, and Rick’s heart had raced. The erection that had waned, allowing him to urinate, filled with blood, stiffening between his thighs. “I see you like the idea.” Cass’ voice was again stern, forceful. “Yes, Mistress,” he’d confessed, and eased his legs apart as little more. “Then I suggest you crawl into the punishment room and present yourself properly.” “Yes, Mistress.” He’d gone to his hands and knees, and hurried from their bedroom. The journey didn’t take long, but by the time he’d made it to the punishment room, his knees were sore. Cass had followed, her naked feet barely making a sound as she paced him. “Now, last night you woke me, several times actually.” She walked around him, nudging his legs wider apart, stroking his shoulders and chest when she chose, even leaning down and masturbating him cruelly. “I’ve decided that because of your selfishness, you’ll be caged for the afternoon.” She opened the cage and waited while he crawled inside. Then, while he tried to get into some kind of position where it didn’t hurt too badly, she locked the door. “Kneel, hands behind you through the bars.” “Cass, please—” “Now!” she’d snarled. “This isn’t for your pleasure, it’s for mine.” “Yes, Mistress.” He’d quickly got into position, and groaned when his knees ground into the bars that lined the floor. The cuffs were fastened around his wrists, on the outside of the cage. “I’ll visit you later. Until I return, it might do you some good to think about why you’re here.” And that’s exactly what he’d done. For hours, knees and legs growing cramped then dead beneath him, his back ached, his wrists burned from his pulling at them a time or two. He thought of her, and why he’d been caged, and he’d come to realize what his slavery meant. How he’d given himself to her, begged her to enslave him, but until that 50

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moment, it had seemed like such a game. It wasn’t, and when he understood that, he let his body relax and quit fighting the cuffs, allowed the pain of the bars beneath him to take him, become a distraction for only a moment or two. Later, he’d been taken out, and he’d been permitted to masturbate for her again. And still later, she’d told him to come while she’d used her strap-on on him, and he had—gloriously crying out his love for her. Now, he knelt and remembered that time. How he’d learned, how the lesson had come in a rush of acceptance. This time she’d simply told him to strip and enter his cage. No reason was given—no time was set for his release. He obeyed, and crawled to the cage where he knelt in position awaiting her appearance, wondering what he’d done wrong, if indeed he had. Footsteps approached, the door swung open and she was there. Glorious in her nakedness, she stood looking down at him, smiling. “I’ve been watching you. You never once touched yourself or broke position.” “I know,” he replied, and felt a sense of pride that he’d made her smile. “Mistress, may I speak?” She cocked her head, and looked at him. “Yes.” “I love you.” She chuckled, but stopped after only a few moments. “I love you too, Rick.” She unlocked the cage door and swung it open. “Crawl out and assume position for inspection.” He went onto his hands and knees, and eased himself out of the cage, thankful that his legs still worked, albeit slowly. Once he’d cleared the door, he stretched, but made sure not to rise. His limbs creaked, but soon he was able to kneel properly—legs wide, hands on his thighs, palms upward. Careful not to look her in the eye, he eased his legs as wide apart as he could, and smiled. “A choice today, because you’ve been such a good slaveboy—would you like to be bound?” She held up a length of ribbon. Standing close to his side, she ran the ribbon over him, down his chest and waving it across his cock. He shuddered. Her teasing was getting more intense by the day, and he loved it, loved her. How he wanted to please her. Would she allow him to give her pleasure with his mouth, or his fingers? He could only hope so. This weekend was nearly over, he’d make love to her soon, but for now, he ached to give her whatever pleasure she desired. “Mistress, if I may, I am bound; I have always been bound—bound by my love to you.” He glanced up into her face and saw her smile. 51

Jude Mason “Slaveboy, Rick, we are bound together.”

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About the Author

Jude’s imagination frequently leads her astray, and she eagerly follows while trying to keep out of trouble. For those of you who know her, you’ll know that’s not always easy. A picture, a smell, an unexpected glimpse of flesh, or a load of soil in the back of a pick-up, are all fodder for her writing. If you’d like to keep up to date with her publishing successes, visit her website. Jude’s short story, "And There Were Beasts", was recipient of #10 Best Short Story Romance at the Preditors & Editors 2005 Poll. Also available from Jude Mason and Venus Press… And There Were Beasts Playtime Friday Night The Deal Another Deal An Acquired Taste

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