It was a strange kind of contract, but a contract nevertheless. He
had agreed to give up control of his body to the woman who stood in front of him
so that she might sate her lust in its abuse. In return she would absolve him of
his worldly cares, allow his mind to visit a place as far removed from his day
to day existence as it is possible to be. To the outside observer it might
appear to be a very mismatched agreement, the woman seeming to gain great
advantage from the trade. She would be able to take her pleasure from him in
what ever way her fancy took her. She would be free from the normal constraints
which restrict and control the interaction between two people, her sole aim
being the exploration of her own deepest and darkest desires. The contract
conferred this right upon her. She need only consider her partner in so much as
how his body and mind would ultimately serve her own selfish desires. The man,
on the other hand, had no rights any more. In making the contract he had given
up the right of self determination, both physical and mental, and placed them in
trust to the woman before him. He knew full well that she would abuse that
trust, taking cruel pleasure in inflicting pain and humiliation upon his bound
and helpless body. But then that was the essence of the contract, she would gain
the power that she craved and he would revel in its absence. Both would be
released from the inhibitions of society and the myriad controls that it placed
upon their shared lives. In order to re-enforce the terms of the contract both
parties wore the uniform appropriate to their role. She, the mistress, wore a
boned leather corset, stitched from the softest hide, thin leather straps
passing over her shoulders held the garment in place, suspender straps attached
to the underside stretched down her thighs until they grasped the tops of the
stockings which covered her legs. Below her waist she wore black leather panties
which preserved her modesty from the eyes of her slave. On her feet she wore the
obligatory black patent leather stiletto shoes, and currently the focus of the
man's fetishistic attention. With the exception of the short leather skirt,
which now lay discarded in another room, this was the outfit that the woman had
worn to the restaurant where they had eaten a mere hour earlier. For the man,
the slave, modesty was a luxury denied him. He was naked. His only garment,
apart from the heavy leather cuffs encircling his wrists and ankles, was a black
leather hood covering his head. The hood, made of supple leather, was laced
tightly at the back, large holes were present in the mask for his eyes, nose and
mouth. Despite being his only piece of clothing, the mask had an important role
to play in the execution of the contract. For without the mask he was still the
man that she knew at the dinner table, the person she had talked and laughed
with as an equal. Wearing the mask he was now a faceless slave, his humanity
covered and denied to him by a thin layer of black leather, someone she could
abuse without mercy, a stranger. As well was being naked he was also bound. His
bondage, like his apparel, was symbolic of that which he had given up as his
part of the contact. The thick straps around his wrists and ankles bound him
upright to a heavy wooden St Andrews cross, his legs and arms spread wide. Heavy
chains attached the cuffs to the extremities of the beams, the shackles were far
heavier than they needed to be, their purpose being to impress on their guest
the utter helplessness of his situation and the impossibility of escape. Bound
in this position the man had never felt more exposed or vulnerable, but for the
woman this humiliation was not enough. Her desire to dominate him was strong,
she wanted him to realize in every fiber of his being that he now belonged to
her and that her control over him was absolute. After binding him to the cross
she had proceeded to force a red rubber ball gag and bit between his teeth,
strapping it tightly to his face. She had now removed his ability to
communicate, she could still hear him moan and cry out, but he could now no
longer talk or reason with her to end his torment. The faceless slave was now
without voice. She then took chains and attached them to D-rings fixed to either
side of his hood. The other ends she locked onto fastenings attached to the
cross, taking time to adjust the tension until she was satisfied that she had
denied him his one remaining freedom of movement, the ability to bow his head in
shame. A hot flush passed over him as he was forced to gaze on the woman who was
orchestrating his degradation and humiliation. His arms had begun to ache, and
with what little movement he had left, he shifted position to try to ease the
pain. But soon even this would be denied him. The final indignity came from a
movable pad fixed to the centre of the cross and which was currently pressing
into the man's back. By its adjustment the woman could force her captive's torso
out and away from the cross. Each turn of the wheel would arch his body back a
little more and tighten ever so slightly the chains binding his hands and feet
to the cross. She began to operate the device, gradually what little movement he
had left was taken from him as his legs and arms were stretched taught against
the chains which bound him. Just as he thought his feet were about to be lifted
from the ground she stopped. He was now spread before her, his body arching back
towards the extremities of the cross, his sex thrust forward in mute offing for
her to take pleasure in his humiliation. In this position both man and woman
gazed at each other as the woman considered how she would honor the terms of he
contract, whilst in her had she fingered a short many stranded whip. Outside of
the room the hubbub of London life continued, but for the man and woman this was
now a very long way away. The meal that they had eaten together was a distant
memory to them both, indeed, their world outside the confines of the room had
almost ceased to exist. As she looked at him, she could feel the desire take
control of her, she swung back her arm and brought the whip down hard across his
naked body. Beneath the gag the man cried out, more in shock then in pain. He
suddenly felt more helpless than ever before in his life, he struggled against
the leather and steel which bound him to the wood of the cross. For more than a
minute he fought against his bonds, crying out against the indignity into which
he had placed himself. But the cross was well made, there would be no escape.
Indeed he was so tightly bound to the cross that it was impossible to move his
body more than a few inches in either direction. He would remain there until the
terms of the contract had been completed and the woman returned his freedom to
him. For her part, the woman brought the whip down on the man's body almost
without thinking, but his reaction to the lash brought home to her, in the most
shocking of ways, the power she had over him and his utter helplessness in her
presence. It was true that the build up to this point had left her moist with
anticipation for what was to follow. The action of first stripping him and then
chaining him to the unyielding cross had been for her a very erotic act. More
than once she allowed her hand to explore his most intimate places uninvited,
enjoying the man's embarrassment at his own involuntary reaction. But despite
this, he had still been the same man that had entered the room with her and she
had still been his companion. But now something had changed fundamentally
between them. The shock of seeing him cry out and struggle helplessly against
his bonds brought home to her more fully than she could have thought possible
the transformation that had just occurred. His struggles and cries were not
those of a modern man, but something more primitive. He was no longer the strong
intelligent companion that she had dined with earlier that night, he was now
nothing more that a naked and faceless slave chained to a cross, powerless to
prevent whatever degradation her pleasure demanded. She was not in a hurry,
indeed, she had all night if she so desired, it would be a pity to burn out her
lust so early in the evening. She wanted to savor the power that she had over
him, to incite his own lust, to arouse and torment him with her most delicate
touch. She looked at him. He looked so open and accessible, his body straining
towards her inviting to be touched. How could she refuse such an offer. She
walked up to him. His body although stretched over the beams of the cross was
far from immobile, the muscles in his legs and arms flexed continuously as they
tried to fight the shackles which held him prisoner. His breath came from behind
the gag in short gasps. She reach out her hand , letting it gently brush the
inside of his thigh, she heard his breath quicken as slowly she moved it up his
leg. Finally a moan escape from behind his gag as she cradled his scrotum and
then let her hand caress the shaft of his erect penis. She could feel the man
trying to pump his pelvis against her, to increase the sensation she was
generating, but the bonds where too tight. He could only move his body a
fraction of an inch. She looked up at his face, he had forced his head back and
his eyes were tightly shut in a vain attempt to deny the hash reality of his
bondage. She laughed. "Open your eyes slave and look at me" He obeyed. It was
now his turn to comprehend the transformation that had taken place between them.
Before him stood a scantily clad woman, the very stereotype of a male fantasy.
Her garb of leather corset, stockings and stiletto shoes would arouse any man.
She was the perfect picture of a male plaything, dressed to please her man. But
this was the irony of the situation, she was not the plaything, he was. The
tightness of his bondage would not let him forget for an instant the complete
helplessness of his position. His legs and arms spread wide apart and his pelvis
thrust crudely forward made him feel more naked and exposed than he had ever
felt before in his life. And the knowledge that she knew that he craved this
abuse more than anything else in the world sent a fresh wave of humiliation
coursing through his body. He suddenly desperately wanted her to touch him
again, to feel her cool hand on the hot flesh of his penis. Beneath the gag he
began to beg, but only garbled grunts could escape past the plug of rubber
filling his mouth, he began to rock his pelvis desperate for her to know his
need. He looked at her. She knew only too well what his need was and he feared
that she would use it to torment and humiliate him over the course of the night.
The cruel smile forming on her face reinforced this, but if she would only touch
him now it would give him some respite. Not taking her eyes off him for a
second, she reached down between his legs. He could feel her wrist brushing
against his penis as her fingers gently caressed the sensitive skin between his
legs. His body felt strange, as if his body was no longer part of him. The
severity of his bondage and the unnatural position forced upon him were
beginning to play tricks with his senses. His inability to move or stimulate by
touch his skin in any way meant that he was now totally dependent on his
mistress to supply physical simulation to his body. The absence of sensation was
slowly causing his skin to become hyper sensitive, and when she did touch him,
his body magnified the sensation a thousand fold. And now, as she stroked him,
every nerve in his body seamed to connect with that small patch of skin, the
target of her delicate caress. It was maddening in its intensity. Slowly her
middle finger began to explore down into the crack between his legs, he could
feel nothing else, it was as if his whole body was numb with the exception of
the few square centimeters of skin at the centre of her exploration. He strained
his head down, fighting against the chains which anchored his mask to the cross,
trying to maintain the eye contact with his mistress, desperate to impart to her
the sensations that he was feeling. He moaned as her finger brushed against his
anus, he could feel her nail probing it, sending waves of pleasure flowing
through his body. Slowly she pulled her hand back from between his legs, gently
cupping and caressing his scrotum, and then drawing slowly back along the shaft
of his penis. He was in heaven, his whole being focused on the sensation
emanating from her hand as it stroked and caressed him. But the time it lasted
was all to short, and after what seemed like only a few seconds she removed her
hand leaving him desperate for its return. He tried to plead with her to
continue her caress but the garbled sounds which emitted from behind the gag
shamed him into silence. She was not in a hurry, after all he was not going
anywhere, and she had all night if she wished to take her pleasure from his
bound and naked body. But first she wanted to savor a little more the sense of
power and dominance that she had over him before she gave in to her more base
desires. Champaign and caviar. They had bought them both at great expense from
Fortnum and Masons in Piccadilly that afternoon. He had paid of course. She
remembered him standing there in his expensive Nicol Fari suit looking
nonchalant as he signed the credit card slip, at the time she thought this was
an excessive extravagance, now she accepted it as no more than her due. As she
began to open the Champaign she looked back at him, he looked very different
now, no longer the urbane young gentleman. The confident look in his eyes had
gone, he was no longer the master of the situation. The whiteness of his skin
contrasted with the dark colors of the room, his penis which was much darker
than the surrounding skin and almost painfully erect told her that despite his
obvious fear he was also very aroused. She poured the Champaign into the glass
and brought it to her lips, the Champaign was good, very good. It was chilled
but not so cold as to mask the taste, this was without doubt the finest
Champaign she had ever drunk, and if it were possible, the glass she drank from
enhanced the flavor still more. It was Venetian crystal, the antique dealer had
said it was made in about 1850, and the beauty of the design was quite stunning.
For a few seconds she admired the deep color of the crystal and the delicate
workmanship that went into the its construction. The gold leaf that once defined
the patterns etched into the glass was now faded and almost gone, but that did
not matter, if anything it added history and character to the timeless elegance
of the piece. She looked back at the man, now still on the cross. "A good
choice, if I might say. It is a pity that you canât share my appreciation of
it." She laughed. "I am afraid my bound and naked slave, it looks like you have
a long night ahead of you" She walk slowly back towards him, holding the glass
in one hand and letting the other caress her own thigh, tracing the line
dividing the black leather of her underwear with the white flesh of her leg. She
smiled inwardly as she watched his erect member bob up and down, she knew the
effect she was having on him and wondered for how long she could sustain his
arousal. It would be fun to find out. Standing close to him she sipped from the
glass letting her fingers trace invisible lines across his torso. Beneath the
gag his breathing became more rapid, every few seconds he would let out a gasp
or a moan as his body reacted to her touch in ways that he could not control.
"Do you like it when I humiliate you?" She whispered, her hand reaching down to
lightly stroke his penis. "Do you like it when I make you moan, when I make you
admit to me you most secret desires?" Beneath the mask the man felt the
humiliation wash over him, he had not only given her his body but his soul as
well, she had not merely stripped him of his clothes but of every social barrier
and defense that society had given him. He had no choice but to answer
truthfully , to try to lie would be an even greater humiliation. He nodded his
head. A moan escaped his gag as she pulled back the foreskin of his penis. "I
have bought you a present my hot little slave, another little token to remind
you that you belong to me. So you don't forget that you are my property, to use
and abuse in what ever way my perverted little mind desires" She took another
sip from the glass. "I had it made especially for you, it was very expensive, I
even paid for it with your credit card. Would you like to know what it is?" She
placed the glass carefully onto the rug and went over to the cabinet at the side
of the room. The man tried to follow her movement with his eyes, but the chains
locking his hood to the beams of the cross halted his progress before she had
reached her destination. He could hear her opening the door to the cabinet and
retrieving something from its confines. When she came back into view she was
carrying an oblong box some eighteen inches long. The box itself was black but
around it, and tied on top with a bow, was a wide yellow ribbon. He had no idea
what it could be. He had seen an unexpected bill on his last credit card
statement for well over five hundred pounds, but when he had asked her about it
she had merely smiled and said "Wait and see." The company, R&G Designs Ltd.,
gave no further clue as to what it could be. He had considered finding out their
telephone number and calling them, but thought better of it. He had given her
the credit card as part of the contract. He trusted her that she would honor the
terms of it. She placed the box on the floor and began to untie the ribbon. "Do
you remember my gay friend Frank?" She asked. It was an unexpected question. He
did indeed remember him, they had met him a few months ago when they had gone as
interlopers to the Gay Pride festival. He was the classic gay leather man, and
obviously heavily into sado-masochistic sex himself. What possible connection
could he have with the contents of the box. Surrounded by tissue paper lay his
present, it appeared to be some kind of dildo. Carefully she removed it from the
box and brought it up for his inspection. It was indeed a dildo, black, and
fashioned as a large male phallus and very realistic. But that was only the
start. Attached to the base of the dildo was a thick stainless steel rod which
itself disappeared into a large metal box, on top of the box were a number of
switches. The man looked blankly back at the woman, trying to gain some insight
into what was about to happen to him. "It's a fucking machine, my poor helpless
slave, and you are going to be fucked by it." She flipped a switch and the man
watched as the dildo began to slide in and out. "I told Frank about you penchant
for humiliation and he was more than happy to make a latex mould of his penis,
in fact I think he rather got off on the whole idea. Do you like the result, she
let her hand stroke the end of the dildo as it continued to pump slowly back and
forth. "He is quite a big boy isn't he." The very thought of the mechanical
rapist invading his body horrified the man, it broke though his most basic and
primitive taboos concerning his sexuality. He had, he thought, no homosexual
leanings and the idea of a mans prick, even a latex cast of one being forced
into his anus, repulsed him. In futile desperation he struggled against his
chains, ignoring the impossibility of escape, pleading with her from behind the
gag not to do this to him. "So you see my poor little slave you are not only
going to be fucked by me but by Frank also" As his struggles subsided amid the
crushing weight of knowledge that he was utterly powerless to prevent his
further degradation a fresh humiliation swept over him. He wanted this to happen
to him. For an instant he had a vision of Frank being in the room with his
mistress, and the two of them together taking it in turns to abuse and rape his
bound and spread body whilst the other looked on and laughed. Much later, when
thinking back at what happened, he did not believe that his sexuality had been
fundamentally changed by these events. Rather that the cocktail of fears,
desires and emotions that she had set off had allowed his mind to contemplate
ideas that would have never made it past his emotional conditioning present in
his normal existence. But those thoughts were still in the future, the present
allowed no time for such elegant post rationalization. In the present he was
naked, bound and spread wide on a heavy wooden cross, the helpless plaything of
a woman whose desire to dominate and humiliate him was all consuming. "I can see
that my idea is turning you on" She said, looking at his still erect penis. His
total inability to hide any desire, however perverted, from his mistress's gaze
shamed him still further. "Maybe next time I should invite Frank along, he said
he would like to rape you. He told me he would like to have you bound on the
floor with you mouth forced open by a ring gag so he can alternate between
fucking you in the ass and ramming his prick down your throat and making you
suck him off." The vision at once sickened and thrilled him, he could not
comprehend how such a depraved act could arouse him so much, but it did. He was
her slave, and as such would respond to her in anyway that she wished, he had no
choice, she had stripped him of every defense that he possess. He had submitted
to her more fully than he could have thought possible and in return she had
filed his soul with emotions more powerful and intense than he had ever
experience before. He started to cry, not out of fear or sorrow, but because it
was the only way he could release what was inside of him. For a brief instance
his mind left his body as it was carried away on the swirl of emotions. But the
escape was all too short, he caught sight of his mistress staring at him, and
was brought back to earth with a jolt. A fresh wave of humiliation mixed with
desire washed over him. In her hand she held the device, the dildo now shiny and
slick with lubricant. "Lets see how you enjoy your present shall we" She walked
behind him, letting her oily hand catch hold of his penis as she passed, causing
him to moan in response. For what seemed like an eternity nothing happened. He
could hear the sound of nuts being placed onto bolts and tightened, he guessed
that she must be fixing it to some kind of base, but he could feel nothing.
Then, just as he was thinking that something must have gone wrong, he felt the
end of the dildo push ever so gently between his buttocks. Within a few seconds
he saw his mistress return to her station in front of him. But what of his
humiliation, he did not understand why she had not forced the device deep inside
of him so that it might fuck his prone and helpless body as she watched the
spectacle of his degradation. She stood close to him, letting her body press
against his, in her hand was the crystal goblet. She took a sip of the
Champagne, her face inches from his own. "You look puzzled." She let her hand
stroke the leather of his mask. "You are wandering why, at this very instant you
are not being raped by Franks prick. You will be, don't worry, but we don't want
the evening to end too early do we." With that she turned and walked back to the
table, refilling her glass with more of the decadent liquid. For several minutes
she stood at the table, her back to him, as she lavished herself with Champagne
and caviar. The man could do nothing but wait. Once, as she was eating, he let
out a moan from behind the gag, a desperate attempt to draw her attention back
to him. Without even bothering to look at her bound captive she snapped back.
"You will be whipped for this interruption, do not dare disturb me again."
Without making any further sound he tried to shift his body to easy the dull
pain that was in his shoulders and arms. As he moved he realized that the dildo
was now closer, brushing against his anus. The realization dawned on him that it
was not fixed, but moving very slowly and in a few minutes it would begin it
slow inexorable invasion of his body. His whole conciseness was now focused on
the dildo as the gentle brushing sensation slowly became a continuous pressure
which gradually built in intensity. His mistress seemed unaware of what was
happening as she continued to indulge herself with the Champagne and caviar. The
progression of the dildo was unstoppable and maddening in the slowness of its
passage. The man was powerless to alter its course, the chains and leather with
bound his naked form to the cross allowed him almost no movement, at best he
could raise or lower his pelvis an inch or so. The little movement that he
possessed was if anything worse than total immobility, for each movement that he
made, however small caused his sphincter to expand and contract as it moved
against the advancing invader. The sensations that flowed through his body were
as powerful as anything he had experience up to now. He could not help himself,
his body jerked and spasmed as the maddening device slowly entered him. He shut
his eyes tight, trying to find some defense against the torment he was being
subjected to. But it was futile, his mistress knew him too well, there would be
no escape from the uncontrollable emotions coursing though his body. He opened
his eyes, before him stood the woman, she was staring at him, her legs placed
wide apart, and in her hand once again was the short many stranded whip. Another
wave of humiliation washed over him as thought of the spectacle he must have
presented to her; A naked and bound slave, spread wide and utterly helpless,
writhing uncontrollably as he was raped by a machine. At this moment he would
submit to anything if only she would stop what was happening to him, he would
gladly humiliate himself for her, crawl naked in public behind her, anything,
providing in return she would release him from this erotic, maddening torment.
"You see, some things in life are worth waiting for." She let the strands of the
whip drag though her hands. "And that's just for starters, I haven't finished
with you by a long way let. But first there is the little matter of your
punishment, but don't worry baby, you didn't really spoil my enjoyment of the
caviar. I enjoy inflicting pain on you, if you hadn't had interrupted me I would
have found some other excuse to whip you" She let loose the whip on his body and
the man cried out as the leather strands struck his flesh. He could not help but
pull again the chains which tethered him, he felt the dildo move and slide
within him. But something had changed. Instead of the dildo being almost
stationary, relying on the movement of the man for its effect, it had now begun
slowly pumping inside of him with a life of its own. The whip struck again, and
again, the initial sting was now being replaced by a burning sensation as the
blood rushed to the surface of his skin. Through his own haze of pain and desire
he could see that mistress had now lost her earlier composure as her own sexual
desires were fired by his torment. With one hand she continued to flail the whip
back and forth across his body while with the other she had pushed back the
leather covering her own sex and was using her finger to arouse herself still
further. Beneath the gag he cried and moaned, free of all inhibitions, letting
his body jolt and spasm in response to the sting of her whip. His own body was
now on fire, his mind burning with lust and desire. A strange euphoria took hold
of him, heightened still further by the endorphins pumped into his system in
response to the pain she inflicted on him. Both mistress and slave were now lost
in their own private worlds of dominance and submission feeding off each other
to fuel the burning desire that consumed the pair of them. If she wanted to she
could end the contract here, fling herself on his bound and helpless body, rape
him, bring them both to the climax that they craved. But that would be too soon,
the symphony that she was orchestrating around him had one more movement left to
perform. She would resist her desire and let him suffer a little longer, but
when the time came she would strip him of his last ounce of pride, make him beg
and plead for the release that she knew he craved more than anything. Before
that she would sate her own lust, reveling in the absolute power she had over
him. Only then, her own need satisfied she would watch calm and collected as she
brought her slave slowly to the climax she knew he wanted more than life itself.
As she did so she would mock and laugh at him as she forced him to lay bare his
deepest needs and most humiliating desires to her. Finally she would take pity
on him and grant her slave's greatest desire, to be allowed to cum in the
presence of his mistress, and so the contract would be honored. She stopped. The
man hung limp from the cross, his chest, stomach, and sides glowed red where the
whip had struck him. She flung the whip to the ground and strode forward,
grasping his balls in a vice like grip which sent a jolt of pain searing though
his body. "If you do that again I will hang weights from your balls so heavy you
will beg me to cut them off to end the pain, how dare you not stand erect in my
presence." His whole body ached, his shoulders and arms in particular as they
had supported much of the weight of his body. His hands now were almost
completely numb, the cuffs having restricted the blood into them. But with an
effort he pulled himself up with his arms letting his feet once again take their
share of the work in supporting the weight of his body. He had no doubt that if
he did not do so she would carry out her threat. By the time he had recovered
himself, she had returned to his side, once again sipping Champagne from the
crystal goblet. She let her hand run down his back allowing it to make a detour
as it reached the pad pressing into him. Its final destination was his right
buttock where she allowed her hand to cup and fondle it. All the time he could
feel the continuous and incessant motion of the dildo as it moved inside of him.
They stood there in silence, mistress and slave, her body pressed gently against
his. He could feel his erect member rubbing gently between soft flesh of her
thigh, whilst her hand absently stroked and caressed him between his cheeks.
After several minutes of silence broken only occasionally by the gentle sound of
his mistress sipping her Champagne she spoke. "I think that you have had enough
of Frank for the moment" With that she lent down, her face pressing against his
chest, as she reached further behind him, there was the faintest sound of a
switch being thrown and the dildo stopped its motion inside of him. It did not
leave his body however, and its presence still remained a constant reminder of
his humiliating role in the contract. Her Champagne finished, she returned the
glass to the table. They stood once again facing each other. He could consider
no other state now that to be her slave. While he was bound to the cross his
cares outside of the room had ceased to exist, his job, the mortgage, were as
nothing to him. The only thing that was important in his life stood now before
him. She had stripped him of every ounce of his social conditioning, pride, and
inhibitions, leaving only a raw primitive sexual need which only she could
satisfy. Without her he was nothing, the only emotions he had were those she
permitted him, the only sensations he experienced were those she fed to him by
the touch of her hand or the lash of her whip. His naked body, stretched and
spread wide could do nothing, not even rub itself against the wooden beams of
the cross. The pad forced into his back, arching his body away from the heavy
beams, forbid him any stimulation not sanctioned by the leather clad dominatrix
standing scant feet away. For an eternity they faced each other he could feel
the tension building inside of her. Then with a brief flick of the hand she let
one strap and then the other fall from her shoulder. It was a simple movement,
but with a significance that caused the man, her slave, to moan and struggle
against the chains which bound him in fearful anticipation of what was to come.
She would wait no longer, she had humiliated and abused him fanning her own
flames of desire in the process, now she would quench them by impaling herself
upon him. She would take what she wanted by force, reveling in her domination
over him, and when she had spent her lust on him she would orchestrate his final
humiliation. She wanted to be naked, to feel with every nerve in her body his
uncontrolled desire as she raped him. She would fuck him as he stood, clinging
to him like a limpet, forcing herself against him so that she might feel his
body strain and twist against hers in desperate passion. Then with her own
desire spent she would dismount him, remove his gag, and then listen to his
desperate pleadings as she brought him slowly to climax. Without apparent haste,
she began to strip in front of him. She knew how to arouse him, and she used her
knowledge to tease and torment him as he stared helplessly on. First the shoes.
Then, letting her hand stoke and caress the white skin of her inner thigh, she
unclipped and then removed first one stocking and then the other. A gentle pull
on the knot that tied her panties around her waist was all that needed to send
them sliding to the floor. Beneath the corset he could see the mound of dark
hair covering her womanhood, she let her hand run though it, knowing full well
the effect that it would have on him. Finally the corset. Standing close to him
so that he could see her every move, she began to undo one by one the fasteners
running down the front of the garment. Gradually it parted to reveal more and
more of the milky flesh beneath it, until she released the final fastening and
the corset fell lifeless behind her. She stood before him, as naked as he. But
her nakedness was not that of a slave, it was brash, proud, and confident, and
the hunger in her eyes terrified him. She moved yet closer, he could feel her
nipples brush against his chest. Suddenly she forced herself against him, he
could feel his prick rubbing against her cunt, driving him wild with desire. But
she was not interested in sex just yet, she wanted to taste the sweat on his
body, to feel something of the passion she had instilled in him, to mark him
with her teeth as her own. For minutes she gave in to these desires, licking and
biting him with wild abandon, rubbing her body against him, his cries of pain
and arousal merely spurred her on. This though, was merely a prelude to the
final movement, she rose from her knees from where she had been exploring
between his legs with her tongue. She was calm once more, although the same
hunger still burnt in her eyes. She took oil from the table, and standing so
that her slave might gaze fully at her nakedness, she began to rub the oil over
her body. Slowly she began to glisten and shine as her hands roamed ever wider
across her smooth skin. She allowed herself to become aroused by the touch of
her own hand letting it slide in and out between her legs, bending her knees and
letting her body gyrate in response to her own caress. The voyeuristic gaze of
her mute slave, as he stared at his now fully aroused mistress, inflamed her
passions still further as she continued to work her fingers deep inside her. She
wanted to tease him for a while with her own obscene display, to inflame his own
desires but leave him helpless satisfy them. She squatted down, spreading her
legs wide apart, with one hand she continued to finger herself whilst with the
other she pulled and kneaded her breasts, all the time fixing him with a gaze of
pure unadulterated lust. She allowed the erotic exploration of her own body to
continue. She let herself imagine that she was now the slave, being forced to
perform in front of her master. She closed her eyes and sank to her knees
spreading them wide as if offering herself to any man that would take her. She
allowed her mind to conjure a slave collar locked about her neck and chains on
her legs and arms, a symbolic enslavement, but nothing that would interfere with
her erotic dance. For minutes she let her own hand tease her, moaning freely at
each new sensation she generated within her, but eventually she opened her eyes
and the spell was broken. She stared at her slave who was now straining on the
cross in helpless arousal, this was better she thought, the absolute power that
she had over his mind and body was the strongest aphrodisiac of all. She was
ready for her slave now. Slowly she advanced towards him, her body language
leaving him in no doubt as to what his mistress desired. She began to rub the
oil into his chest, quickly widening her attentions so that soon, like her, his
whole body glistened with the oily liquid. Her touch was more than he could
bare, the sensation of her hand gliding without friction across his now super
sensitive body was driving him insane. He heard her laugh, as if at some private
joke that he was excluded from, and then her mocking whisper "I think we need
Frank again.". She squatted down in front of him, letting her mouth tease and
tempt his cock, as she reached behind him to activate the switch. As she rose
again to her feet he could feel the phallus inside of him start pumping again,
fucking him, adding to his ever more desperate state of arousal. The time had
come, her slave was now prepared and ready for her. She climbed onto him. To
allow her to mount him, she had stirrups fixed to the wooden beams of the cross
and some twelve inches above the ground into which she could place her feet and
which were strong enough to support the full weight of her body. Other handholds
and rings bolted higher up on the cross allowed her to hold herself against her
slave and control her movement. She stood in the stirrups her body towering over
him, her legs enveloping his hips. He could not resist her, even if he wanted
to, she forced herself on to him and burying his face between her breasts.
Grabbed the rear of his hood, she jerked his head back against the chains that
bound it to the cross, forcing him to look into her eyes "Don't disappoint me"
she hissed. Holding onto the cross with one hand, she allowed her knees to bend,
letting their bodies slide against each other as she lowered herself onto him.
With her free hand she grasped his penis, guiding it into her. There was a
moments resistance and then it sunk inside of her. For a brief moment he saw her
dominance over him slip as she let out an involuntary gasp as he entered her,
but it lasted only an instant, and once again she was his mistress. Slowly and
with great skill she began to work her body against his, sometimes pressing her
whole body hard against him, letting her nipples rub against the hairs of his
chest. At other times holding herself away, the only contact being where his sex
entered her body. But always with her eyes locked on to his face watching every
detail of his enslaved passion. They were now bound together on the cross, he by
the leather and steel which held him its prisoner, she by her own force of will
as she thrust herself against him Beneath the mask the man continued to be
tormented by his own arousal and his utter helplessness in directing its course,
behind his gag he let forth a stream of sounds, in a desperate attempt to tell
his mistress of his need. Time and again she brought him close to his own orgasm
but whether by design or her own selfish need she would never let him reach that
point of no return. Deep down he knew that his time would come later, but in
such a way as to allow his mistress to take yet more pleasure from his
humiliation. His role in this was clear, he was her slave and had no choice but
to squirm and beg for her touch, to debase himself before her so that she might
take pleasure from his chained and tormented body. And what pleasure she took
from him, her face was a masked of wanton lust as she let their bodies slide
together, her every motion designed to sustain and increase the waves of
pleasure flowing through her. Gradually, though, the rhythm of her movements
changed as she felt her body came closer to its climax. Her movements became
more erratic and violent. Then without warning she flung her head back and let
out a succession of cries as the orgasm hit her, she continued to thrust hard
against him for another thirty seconds as wave after wave of sensation hit her.
But finally even she could take no more, she lifted herself off him and stood
down from the cross. Her hair, wet from the oil and the exertion of her love
making, was plastered to her head. For several minutes she just stood there as
she recovered her composure, more than once her body spasmed uncontrollably as
the after-shocks of her orgasm rushed through her. At last she spoke to him.
"Now my little slut it's your turn, I want to see you perform for your mistress.
I want to hear you beg for me to let you cum" She reach forward and removed the
gag from the man's mouth. For the first time since his ordeal began he had the
power to speak and communicate his burning desires to his mistress, but he could
not bring himself to do so. With the gag forced into his mouth he could moan and
beg freely, knowing that whatever sounds came out would be garbled and
unintelligible, the uncontrolled reaction of a slave to his mistress's touch.
But now she had given him back his voice, he could no longer pretend that he was
the helpless victim of his mistress's depraved desires. He knew that she would
not release him, either sexually or physically, until he had used his full
powers of communication to beg her to humiliate him and to plead for the touch
of her hand on his body. That would be the greatest humiliation, to be forced to
admit in the most unambiguous of terms that his greatest desire in the world was
to be her slave. In a voice, no louder than a whisper, he said "Touch me. Please
touch me Mistress." This was power, she thought, to bind a person naked to a
cross, then turn him from a cultured, intelligent man to a naked slave in heat
who would humiliate himself totally in front of you just so that you might deem
to touch him. She let her hand run up the out side of his leg, then moving
across his torso. She could feel his muscles twitch and jerk as if shocked by an
electric current. "Tell me where you want me to touch you" She wanted to force
from him his deepest and darkest desires, to watch his shame as he was forced to
beg for his own humiliation. "Please mistress, touch my prick, let me cum." She
let her hand slip down, moving effortlessly against his oiled and slippery skin,
until it came to rest between his legs, lightly brushing his scrotum. With her
other hand she reach forward holding onto the shaft of his erect penis, letting
it run slowly up and down its length. She watched as her slave closed his eyes
in response to her caress. "Open your eyes slave, look at your mistress. Tell me
who you are and what you want from me." He forced himself to open his eyes, his
whole being was focused on the pressure building up between his legs. The twin
action of his mistresses hand and the dildo sliding in and out of him was
drawing his body nearer and near to its climax. His arms found hidden reserves
of strength and fought against the chains that imprisoned him, trying to move
his body in unison with his mistress's hand. Through the haze of his mounting
passion he saw the mocking smile of the woman and once again felt the raw heat
of his humiliation. He was helpless in her presence, he would do anything,
humiliate himself in anyway that she wished, just providing she promised not to
stop. "Please mistress, don't stop." He gasped. "I'm your slave, don't stop,
please don't stop" He could not believe to what heights of terrible ecstasy she
was taking him, he could not endure the pressure building inside of him. More
than once he felt he was about to orgasm, only to feel it slip from him, to be
replaced seconds later, by a state of arousal even higher than before. His head
pulled in desperation against the chains which held it, and from his mouth came
a stream of words begging her not to stop. Without warning something within his
body changed, his mistress sensed it also, kneeling down in front of him she
pumped his penis with increased vigor. The moment of his climax was terrible in
its intensity, he had lost control of his body, he went rigid as the orgasm hit
him and the jet of semen shot from his body. His mistress did not stop as she
was hit by the hot sticky liquid, but kept on pumping his penis forcing every
last drop from his body. Only when the knees of her slave buckled, his body
spent of passion, did she finally stop. Through his exhaustion he saw his
mistress standing before him, his sperm running down over her breasts. Fearful
of her anger he forced his legs to once again take the weight of his body. In a
whisper he said. "Thank you Mistress." Reaching up, she released the chains
attached to his hood, he could at last move his head freely. She turned her
attention to the dildo which was still in continuous motion inside of him, there
was a few seconds delay and then the humiliating invader retreated from his
body. She reappeared at his side, the cruel smile replaced by one more gentle,
she spoke to him again. "There is one more task that you must carry out slave,
before I give you back you freedom. You will lick my body clean of this." She
said, as she gazed down at the semen that covered her breasts. She stood in the
stirrups, their bodies once again locked together, her breasts and nipples
inches from his face, but their passion had gone now, replaced by a gentle
warmth towards each other and a sense of calm serenity. With one hand she
unfastened the laces and straps which held the hood about his face, with a final
tug she pulled the mask from his head and let it drop to the floor. She allowed
her hand stroke the hair of his head as they stood in silence, their bodies
pressed together. He had never felt so spent and exhausted in his life, but she
had honored her part of the contract and in gratitude he gently kissed each
nipple in turn before letting his tongue attend to the needs of his mistress.
End.
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