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I knocked on the door, lightly, hoping against hope that it would not be answered. Cindy greeted me, smiling sweetly, with a typically unaffectionate kiss on the cheek, then took my coat and placed it in the closet. She turned back to me and smiled again, but this time it was one of her phony half-smiles that were always trite and contrived. She was wearing a medium-length, tight- fitting, jet-black skirt, with four inch slits on each side, and a long-sleeved, white, cotton blouse with the three top buttons undone to reveal more than a little of her lacy bra cups which were more than amply filled.

Besides being well built, she was pretty and had a sexy air about her that attracted attention from men and women alike.

“How are you today, BethAnne?” she asked with a honey-dewed drawl.

“I’m fine, thank you,” I replied curtly. I didn’t reciprocate with the formality of asking how she was. I was “on loan” so to speak from Darlene, my Mistress, having disobeyed her one evening (I don’t even recall my infraction, but it was serious enough, in her estimation, to require a weekend “correctional visit” to Cindy’s “Playroom”). To say the least, I was not looking forward to this weekend, knowing Cindy’s reputation for cruelty, and felt more scared without Darlene’s presence as a buffer if things should get out of hand.

She approached me from the closet like a tiger stalking its prey, then, upon reaching me, raised her hand to my chin and pulled my lower lip down, as if she were a mother about to discipline her teenaged daughter. My lip quivered at the touch. I know she could sense my fear.

“I promised Darlene a changed woman come the end of the weekend. When I am through with you,” she continued, her eyes like hot embers staring into mine, “you will know the meaning of obedience, which you seem to forget from time to time.”

I gulped. Trying to swallow when your mouth is completely dry is impossible. She then moved both hands to the sides of my shoulders, still looking directly into my eyes. “I think it is wise to begin your discipline sooner than later,” she said with a wicked smile. “Are you ready, BethAnne?”

Afraid to answer lest I begin sobbing, I nodded affirmatively, my heart beating a thousand beats a minute. She massaged my shoulders, gently, almost soothingly, as her eyes trailed down the yellow sun dress I was wearing, pausing at my slightly heaving chest to examine the tight bodice. Since I wasn’t wearing a bra (Darlene had ordered me not to wear one), my nipples poked out defiantly from the inside the thin cotton.

“I’ve always liked your body, sweetheart. It’s nice and compact, jutting out in just the right places.” Without warning, she moved her hands from my shoulders to the sides of my breasts, cupping them, then used her thumbs to brush my nipples into erection, reflexively, beneath the soft material. I closed my eyes, feeling the pleasure of the moment despite my growing trepidation.

“A girl with firm breasts like yours doesn’t need to wear a bra,” she husked, as she softly squeezed the conically shaped pears in the palms of her hands.

Satisfied that she had aroused me slightly, she moved her fingers until her thumb and forefinger from each hand was tweaking my now turgid nipples. At first the sensation was pleasant, as she twisted each nubbin between her fingers, but soon she increased the pressure along with the twisting and my face began to contort in obvious pain.

“Does that hurt?” she asked, squeezing both nipples tightly.

“Yes!” I blurted, inhaling sharply as she pulled the nipples outward. I tried to turn my face away from her.

“This is too easy for you!” she exclaimed. Undo the front of your dress!”

The sun dress was a button-up-the-front type, from hem to neck, and I wasted no time in fumbling with the buttons in order to obey her quickly, knowing I did not want to give her any more reason to be cruel to me. In a moment, I was undone to the waist. Cindy boldly reached inside the split halves of the top of the dress and spread the bodice from side to side, exposing my bare breasts.

“Very nice,” she said. “No sag. They just stand there, nice and proudly!”

She had seen my breasts before, but never when we were alone. She leaned over slightly and took my left nipple between her pursed lips. At first she suckled it, running the tip of her tongue over the fleshy protuberance, finding nerve endings that made my body shiver uncontrollably. Soon, however, the suckling turned to nibbling, and finally to biting, softly at first, but then increasing in intensity until I cried out in pain.

“QUIET!” she ordered, pulling her head a few inches away from my already swollen nipple. “If you can’t take a little hurt now, what will you do when things really get going. Do you want me to gag you?”

“No, please don’t,” I answered with a faint sniffle.

As she continued to bite my nipples, taking turns from side to side, she pushed the sides of the bodice over my shoulders and half-way down my arms, then left it there, pinioning my arms to my side. The torture lasted perhaps five minutes, but it seemed like hours. I held back, with all my might, and didn’t utter another sound, save some heavy breathing, despite the suffering I was going through. When she finally finished, my nipples were sore and swollen, but they continued to tingle pleasurably as soon as the pain dissipated.

She then pulled my bodice back over my shoulders, leaving my breasts exposed, but freeing my arms. “I think we need a little closer ‘inspection’ of that sweet little body before we get on with the formalities. Go into the living room and stand there for a moment,” she said, pointing to the center of the room.

She left my blouse wide open, my breasts naked and crudely exposed. I moved into the living room, fearfully, having no idea what to expect from her. She followed behind me, then sat down in a high-back, velvety-cushioned arm chair, facing me. She crossed her legs, slowly and purposefully, and noted, I am sure, that my eyes glanced furtively at the action, catching a nice glimpse of her long, sleek, prettily stockinged legs.

“What is there about you that gives you such a sexy look, BethAnne? Even without your tits hanging out like that you look so enticing. I’m really looking forward to this weekend. Clasp your hands behind your head–I want to see those breasts poke out some more.”

Moving my hands in back of my head made me feel even more exposed. I wanted to crawl into the soft carpet beneath my feet and disappear. I never minded displaying myself for Darlene, as she often made me do, but Cindy’s calculated and cold manner only heightened my feeling of nakedness as I stood before her, staring over her head, afraid to look into her eyes. I felt her staring at me for what seemed like an eternity. My fingers fidgeted nervously all the while, wondering what might happen next. I soon found out.

“Such a gorgeous body. I want to see more of it. Unbutton the rest of your dress and loosen the belt,” she commanded.

My face flushed as I moved my hands first to the thin leather belt, nervously fumbling with it until it came undone, then leaned over slightly to take care of the three remaining buttons on the lower half of the sun dress. Without being told, I straightened back up and clasped my hands once more behind my head.

My light, cotton dress was now opened from top to bottom, although, thankfully, for at least a moment, my actions had moved the top halves of the dress over my breasts. I was glad I had worn a half-slip and pantyhose; their presence made me feel less revealed to her lustful stares, though I knew it would not be long before Cindy would soon find a way to eliminate what little humility remained.

She was being slow and deliberate, making my humiliation all the more unbearable. “Mmm, the more I see, the more I like,” she said softly. “But I think things would look even more pleasant without the slip. It gets in the way of your pretty legs. Take it off, BethAnne, and give it to me.”

My face reddened once more as I drew the silky white material over my hips and, bending over, lifted each leg, in turn, to whisk it completely off. This time I looked right at her as I moved forward a few feet and handed her the garment. She smiled appreciatively as she took it from me and folded it neatly over her lap.

Remaining near enough to her that our toes were almost touching, I resumed my position, this time knowing the front of my pantyhose and most of my legs were pretty well exposed to her unending stares. Somehow, I felt more humiliated than if I had been standing there stark naked, which I assumed would soon be the case anyway. Without a word, she leaned forward and thrust her hands inside the split halves of my dress, placing her fingers over my hips.

“Your body is perfect, BethAnne,” she said thickly, squeezing her fingers, gently kneading the area close my upper buttocks, over the top of my pantyhose, before moving her hands all the way behind me to test the resiliency of my ass. I looked down at the top of her head. Her short, dark hair was right next to my tummy. Her skirt had ridden more than half way up her pretty legs, all the way, in fact, to the darkened circle near the top of her stockings. Had she been leaning back, or had I been standing further from her, I am sure I would have had a pleasant view all the up her slightly parted legs.

Despite my predilection for submission, I am also a lesbian; I guess I always have been and I know I always will be. I was not offended in the least, therefore, when Cindy stood straight up, wrapped her arms around my back, still inside my opened dress, and plastered her warm body against me. Reflexively, willingly, without reservation, I returned the kiss she began giving me with an equal amount of passion and conviction. I wanted her to be close to me, even right at this highly embarrassing moment, more than anything else in the world.

When her tongue sought my mouth, I accepted it greedily, playfully fought it with mine, then moaned softly as she moved her pubic mound seductively back and forth across mine, grinding herself into me. I dropped my hands from behind my head and embraced her warmly, pulling her closer. Surely she felt my passion, my desires, my needs.

She broke the kiss long enough to husk, “Give me all of your tongue, you little whore!”

I pressed my tongue past hers, as deep into her mouth as it would go. I was purring like a kitten now, flowing along subconsciously, getting ever deeper into the abyss she was creating for me. In the back of my mind, perhaps, I thought that the weekend might turn into a prolonged bout of female to female delights, which I would have readily accepted. Perhaps that is why gave myself so freely to her, drifting further and further into her spidery web.

I felt her sliding my dress over my shoulders. It fell silently to the floor behind me. “Take your pantyhose off,” she whispered, and we broke our embrace long enough for me reach inside the elastic top of the hose and push it down, over my hips, then down my legs. When I stood up, I was left with only my tiny, white, bikini-styled undies.

“My panties, too?” I asked timidly, hoping inside she would agree.

“Yes, BethAnne, be naked for me,” she husked.

In seconds I was standing there in my birthday suit, and she drank in my nakedness only briefly before we resumed holding and kissing each other. Our bodies seemed to meld together, and I wanted nothing more than to feel her warm skin rather than her clothing against mine. Her fingers roamed all over my back, down to my buttocks, then back up, then back down, scratching lightly, kneading gently. I could feel the warmth inside my loins growing with each passing moment. The juices were beginning to flow freely now, and I wanted so badly to feel her tongue or finger–or anything–inside me.

It was too good to last long, and it didn’t. I had been sent to Cindy’s for “correction” and, to my dismay, she was merely “warming me up” for her own lustful desires. She broke the embrace abruptly, then stood back, looking flushed from the experience, but she had an almost wild look in her eyes.

“Did you think you were sent here for pleasure?” she asked with a sneer.

I came quickly out of my reverie. “No, mistress,” I haltingly replied.

She sat back down in the chair, then ordered me to turn, slowly, in a circle before her. I had never felt so naked in my life. I was afraid to look at her. My heart was pounding inside my heaving chest. My face was crimson in color, and the hue seemed to drift down my entire body. I am a blond–a natural blond–and my pubic hairs, though somewhat sparse in growth, are only a shade darker than the long, straight hair on my head. She made me stop turning when I was once again facing her, and she seemed to be completely fascinated with my pubis.

“Beautiful. . .just beautiful,” she said softly, staring intently at my lower abdomen. Once more, I wanted to crawl into the floor. She made me keep my hands clasped behind my head the whole time, though I wanted so badly to cover myself with my arms and hands.

Cindy leaned forward and ran her fingers through my pubic hair, at first only at the very top, but then ordered me to open my legs wider. I looked down and watched momentarily as her hand foraged between my open legs, beneath my sex, before I closed my eyes in fear. Had she inserted a finger between the puffy lips of my pussy, she would have found a completely soaked entrance to my house of pleasure, the result of our recent but too soon interrupted foreplay. Instead, she merely brushed her fingertips along the length of my sex, feeling the silky softness of the hair which adorned it.

“Your pussy is so beautiful! I think this is going to be a real fun weekend,” she sighed.

She played with the pussy hairs for several more humiliating moments, never once doing anything other than lightly grazing over my burgeoning clit and never, unfortunately, insinuating a finger into my steaming vagina. She seemed content to play finger music only on the golden curls while I waited, even hoped, for the penetration of my sex which never occurred. Instead, having had her fill of my downy-soft curls, she withdrew her hand from between my legs and bade me turn around to display my posterior.

I am not one to brag, but I am proud about rather nice behind. Those who have seen it, just as Cindy was doing now, have expressed their compliments over its perfectly sloping curves; its firm, muscular feel; its alabaster whiteness; its perfect roundness. Because I know how nice it looks to others, I often wear clinging jeans or cut-offs to show it off, and I delight in watching heads turn– male and female–when I walk by someone on the street or in a shopping mall.

In short, I have a beautiful ass, and Cindy was not unmindful of that as she leaned forward in her chair to examine it even more closely–first hand, so to speak. She moved her left hand around to the front of my body, resting it flat against my abdomen, just above the pubic curls, and brought her fingers to my right buttock. I shivered reflexively as she scratched the area lightly with her fingernails, from top to bottom, and then in a delicious semi-circle that sent chills all the way up my spine.

I love to have my ass played with, to be scratched lightly, just as Cindy was doing, to be massaged firmly, even to be spanked…and, yes, I must admit, or whipped. It has always been a very sensitive part of my body, sometimes even more so, believe it or not, than my clit or nipples. I’ve never gotten off having someone play with my ass like Cindy was doing now, running her fingers up and down lightly inside the dividing crack, but I have found such gentleness to be a highly erotic stimulant during foreplay, and I’ve always let my lovers know, by word or gesture, that I enjoyed any and all attention they might bestow on my posterior.

When Cindy leaned down even further and planted a deliciously tender kiss on my right buttock, I gasped out loud. She seemed to know, intuitively, just what to do and just how to do it. “I like your ass, BethAnne,” I heard her whisper. “I can see why Darlene leaves it unmarked.”

She was right. Darlene loves to whip my behind, and I love her to do it, but she is always careful to use methods, while still painful (sometimes extremely so!) that leave no permanent damage to the skin surface. No matter what was to happen this weekend, I knew Cindy would honor that, even as I felt her begin to knead the firm fleshiness with her fingers, at first almost soothingly, increasing the desires building to a crescendo in my loins. The gentleness soon gave way to more incessant, and finally more painful squeezing as she dug her fingernails into my ass and made me cry out in pain.

I knew the time had come for her more serious plans. She ignored my cry and slapped her palm hard–really hard!–over the already reddened area. I cried out again, only to receive just as painful a blow to the opposite side, and I soon realized that my cries of pain were the driving force behind her loudly cracking spanks. With all my might, I held back my cries, despite the nerve- wracking pain, and the blows softened commensurately. They didn’t cease altogether–she reddened my entire ass as well as my hips and upper thighs until her hand become tired–but my stoic silence kept me from getting anything as hard as the first two blows.

Cindy finally sat back in her chair, quietly surveying her handiwork. My buttocks felt like they were on fire. The skin on my ass tingled all over. It was, to tell you the truth, not as unpleasant as it might sound. The afterglow of a good spanking or a whipping has always given me warm sensations, making the pain worth the pleasure. I prefer my spankings over someone’s lap (that is Darlene’s favorite position for me as well), maybe because the skin over the ass is made more tight, and thus more susceptible to pain. Cindy had done more than an adequate job, however, and with each deep breath I reveled in the delightfully sweet tingles of the nerve endings.

She broke my reverie once more, like a thief in the night, robbing me of my pleasures. “Drop your hands down and spread your cheeks!” she ordered.

With only the slightest hesitation, one that fortunately went unnoticed, I reached back to my glowing buttocks and opened myself up for her, exposing my pink, crinkled anus, my tiny ‘O’. She slumped down in the chair to get a better view of my most private area, but soon became unsatisfied with her vantage point.

“Bend over more!” she commanded, her voice as thick with lust as it had been the entire evening.

Opening my legs even wider to gain support, I bent over at the waist and, still holding the lower ass cheeks apart, gave her a totally unobstructed view of my tiny rosebud. She studied it as I raised my head up and looked forward, eyes wide open, mouth agape, wondering when she might do something with the grossly exposed opening.

“You’re not opened enough!” she exclaimed, and I used my fingertips to expose myself to the limit, stretching the anus, almost opening it for her.

“That’s still not good enough,” she said. “Go over to the coffee table and lie down on your side.

I released my hold on my ass cheeks, straightened up, and moved gingerly to the bare, mahogany-colored table in front of the sofa. I felt awkward, using my arms for support in sitting, and then reclining on the cold, hard wood. To accommodate the table’s small size, I curled up the fetal position, knees bent toward my chest, with my bare ass conveniently facing the light-blue sofa.

Cindy stood up and moved next to me, standing just in front of my head. Her tan colored stockings were just inches from me, creamy smooth in texture. I can remember thinking just how nice it would be to turn my head and look up her dress, but I knew that such boldness on my part would be rewarded with harsh pain later, so I closed my eyes and waited, scared a bunny rabbit, for her next move.

She leaned over and had me curl my hands inside over my chest, and pulled my legs closer to my now curled hands before moving past me and seating herself on the sofa behind me, right in the center, behind my naked, defenseless ass. In this position, I knew the entire length of my puffy slit was plainly visible, so I didn’t know what she had in mind. She waited a few agonizing moments for my tension to build, then placed on cool hand on my still glowing buttocks.

“Hold still, BethAnne. I’m going to inspect your anus.”

Her words fell like a tiny bomb in my mind. I turned a thousand shades of red as I felt her prying me apart with her fingers. I imagined what I must have looked like to her, my cheeks spread, my crinkled rosebud so crudely displayed. My opening there is sensitive, and I enjoy being touched or even entered there with a finger, or, most enjoyably, with a tongue, but I have never liked someone, even Darlene, looking closely at this most private area. I cringed as Cindy used her fingertips to surround the tiny button and spread it open, literally, so she could almost see inside me.

I could not stifle the gasp of pleasure that I felt as she lightly scratched her fingernail over the fully stretched anal aperture. In a instant I had given away my dignity as well as my innermost secret, and I could almost feel her mind begin to whir with the endless possibilities that existed once she realized that I was anal-erotic.

“You like that, don’t you?” she whispered as she pressed the tip of her index finger into the very center of the diminutive rosebud.

I still couldn’t control myself, hissing loudly at the exquisite touch. Despite the cruelly extreme embarrassment of being naked and alone, in the fetal position on a table in front of Cindy, my ass spread so wide I thought she might split it apart, the sensations she was giving me were wildly exotic. “Yes!” I blurted, then inhaled deeply and loudly as the fingertip invaded the opening without warning.

She needed no lubrication to penetrate me. The elasticity of the sphincteral wall was no match for the hard digit, and it passed through the opening with consummate ease. Once inside my rectum, she relaxed her hold on my ass, letting my anus reflexively seek and grip the invader as she teased me. Only the fingertip was inside me, but it was enough to send shock waves through my loins.

All of a sudden, I wanted my ass to be taken and I didn’t care how. I couldn’t convey my desires directly to Cindy, but I knew she sensed my pleasures as I gently churned my ass around the sweet invader. Before long, she was journeying further into the warm, dark abyss, seeking new territory with each passing second, her free hand resting languidly on my hip. There was no higher ecstasy than this, no thrill that could surpass, deep inside me, the sweet pleasure of anal penetration. By the time she was ensconced to the second knuckle, I was using my anus to grip her tightly, relaxing and contracting it along with her steady, almost circular rhythm.

“Squeeze harder!” she demanded, and I did, trying to draw her whole finger deep inside my ass.

I could feel the beads of sweat on my brow. When Cindy increased the pistoning motion, I went berserk. I knew I did not have permission, but I couldn’t help it–I came, almost violently, my whole body feeling like it was spasming around that one finger sweet finger now fully sheathed inside my rectum, gently teasing the soft surrounding walls as the shock waves of pleasure literally consumed me.

She kept her finger inside me, almost unmoving, as I slowly came down from my exquisite high. She had learned a mystical secret about me that heretofore only Darlene had known, and I had no doubt that having, discerned my hidden desires, she would find cruel ways to explore it before the weekend ended.

Satisfied that I had come all the down, though my body every once in a while compulsively spasmed, Cindy withdrew her finger from my rectal orifice. Her words shocked me back to reality. “So the little girl came without permission. So naughty!” she taunted.

“Please, Mistress,” I whimpered, letting out a final breath of pleasure. “It felt so good; I couldn’t help it.”

“You could have asked,” she said.

“I was afraid you would deny me,” I pleaded.

“That’s irrelevant. You know that coming without permission is a punishable offense.”

“Yes, ma’am. I know that,” I admitted, my voice almost choking on the words.

“Turn around, BethAnne. Face me.”

I turned awkwardly on the hard surface of the table, but in a few seconds I was now reclined on the opposite hip, still fetally positioned, my knees close to my chest. Cindy moved to the near end of the sofa, near my head, and, too my pleasant surprise, made no effort to close off the enticingly beautiful view straight up her jet-black skirt. The crisp whiteness of her panty crotch, snug against her sex, contrasted beautifully with the dark skirt. She was not wearing a s lip. Her garter belt held the stockings up. I stared at the offering, as she knew I would, and reveled in the obvious round, wet spot in the middle of her panty crotch that surrounded her vaginal opening.

She looked down at my fixated eyes. I glanced furtively at her, then realized my mistake and shut my eyelids to the exquisitely pretty sight. “It’s okay, BethAnne,” she whispered hoarsely, “if I didn’t want you to look, I wouldn’t have asked you turn around, and I wouldn’t have left my legs open for you like this.”

Smiling inwardly, I opened my eyes once more, just in time to see her legs part even more, stretching the pure white panty crotch across her moistened pussy. The broad, dark circle at the top of her stockings highlighted the soft delicate whiteness of her upper thighs above the stockings. Tiny, dark curls peeked shyly from either side of her splayed crotch.

“Do I get a turn?” she whispered softly, moving her hands under her raised skirt, pushing it even higher in the process. She pressed her hands against the soft flesh of each thigh, above the dark circles of her stockings, in order to emphasize the moist spot that was now the center of her desire.

I wanted her now more than anything. I slid off the table, pushing it back slightly, as I knelt between her opened legs. She grasped my head between her hands and drew me toward her steaming sex. To accommodate me even more, she raised her feet off the floor and placed them on the edge of the sofa cushion, as my lips came to rest, pursed and ready, right over the clitoral area. She smelled of cuntiness, of womanly lust, of pure sex, and she hissed loudly as she felt my lips surround her clitoris.

I found the hidden hood beneath the panty crotch with the tip of my tongue, and teased it lightly. Cindy gasped and threw her head back in pleasure as she increased the pressure of her hands upon my head, trying to draw me even more tightly into her. I was in heat as much as she was, and needed no coaxing to tease her sweet love button into full erection. She churned her pussy into my face, moaning and purring, and I shook my head back and forth between her tightly squeezing legs, tasting on my tongue, for the first time, the pungent, tangy flavor of her juices which were now mixing with my saliva.

All of a sudden I felt her hand move past my forehead, and before I knew it, she had drawn the crotch of her undies all the way to the side, exposing the crisp, dark hairs of her sex. I looked at the display of thick curls long enough to see the thin, pink line of her slightly opened slit. As I stared in wonder, she used her fore and middle fingers positioned in an upside-down “V” to spread the puffy lips at the upper part of her pussy. Between the spread lips was a huge, pink clitoris, maybe as large as the tip of my pinkie.

It didn’t take me long to figure out what to do with the lovely morsel. I pursed my lips over the engorged nubbin and began sucking it, like a baby at a bottle. She gasped loudly, then opened her legs wide and thrust her cunt into my face. When I nibbled lightly on the clit with my teeth, she went wild, bucking up and down, pulling my face into her crotch, moaning and babbling. When I used the tip of my tongue to play some soulful music on the protuberance, she screamed out, as if in pain. My own clitoris was extremely sensitive to such stimuli, but it was nothing in comparison to Cindy’s wild reaction.

The more she undulated her pussy in front of my mouth, the more avid my tongue and lips became. When I went for the vaginal entrance, spreading it open first with my fingers, then delving quickly into the steaming tunnel, Cindy was breathing so hard and so fast I thought she was having a heart attack. She took to my tongue like iron to a magnet. He legs shook violently and her moans soon became cries of ecstasy. It was the quickest I had ever made a member of my own sex come, and I enjoyed every last drop of her copiously flowing juices.

I rested my head along the inside of Cindy’s thigh, listening to her come down from her high, staring at the still swollen nubbin that peeked out shyly from between her dark curls. When I finally looked up to see her, I was surprised to see her blouse undone and her tits bared. The bra she was wearing unhooked from the front, and the cups lay off to the side. Without being asked, I slithered up her warm body and buried my head between her creamy-white, ultra-smooth breasts. I lay there, curled up like a kitten in Cindy’s arms.

Cindy sighed. “You’ve got a beautiful tongue! That was really nice. I needed that more than you realize.”

I smiled and whispered, “I wanted to be good for you.”

“You were,” she said softly.

It was an affectionate moment, one that I hadn’t expected. Every once in a while her body would spasm slightly, a reflexive action of her recent orgasm. She brushed my hair away from my brow and kissed me lightly on the forehead. Her breast was soft as a pillow against my ear. I could sleep and dream there forever if she would only let me. She brought her hand to my left breast and cupped it before kissing me once more.

“I promise you more chances to be good the rest of the weekend. If you’re lucky, I might even do you!”

Her thumb brushed lightly against my turgid nipple and I shivered uncontrollably. I raised my head and looked deep into her steel-gray eyes. I opened my mouth slightly, in silent offer of my lips, and she bent her head down and drank the residual honeydew of her own sex from my mouth. Our tongues fought for territory in each other’s mouths. My loins were on fire; I needed release, badly, but being a true submissive, I knew I could not ask.

I could only accept what was offered, in whatever way it was offered. Pain or pleasure. It was Cindy’s choice, not mine. Maybe that is what I love so much about my inner submissiveness, and why it is hard for someone who is not like me to understand. I had let Darlene, and now Cindy, take complete control of my mind and body. They could do anything they wanted to, and I would always be happy. Pleasure in pain? How can I explain it?

Cindy broke the kiss. Her body spasms had long ceased. I was on borrowed time and we both knew it. “Don’t get too comfortable, young lady. I made Darlene a promise.”

“I know,” I said nervously, the look of fear returning quickly to me eyes.

“I have a little surprise in the Playroom. Stand up.”

Without a word I stood, then watched Cindy reach between her still opened legs and pull the panty crotch back in place. She then stood up and filled the white, lacy cups of her bra with her voluptuous breasts before hooking the garment in front. She left her blouse open as she took my elbow. In silence, she led me downstairs, naked and scared, to her infamous “Playroom.”

She opened the door and turned on the light. I followed closely behind and stood in awe at the unbelievable variety of paraphernalia scattered about the large, well-lit room. There was a velvet-cushioned saw horse; an “X” frame on one wall; a wide variety of whips along another wall; ropes hanging down from a pulley; “D” rings implanted in the furthest wall; a specially made spanking ottoman; dildos of all shapes and sizes; several enema and douche bags; a thickly cushioned arm-chair; a few full-length mirrors, one of which was on wheels for mobility. She must have spent thousands of dollars for all the equipment.

“Stand here, BethAnne,” she ordered, then went to wall of whips and brought back leather- covered, velvet-lined ankle and wrist cuffs which she immediately attached to their appropriate places on my body. Next came a black two inch collar with chrome studs and an eight inch chain which she placed around my neck, letting the cold chain hang limply between my breasts.

“The room is sound-proofed,” she said, “so don’t be afraid to scream. It sometimes helps. And if it gets too loud for my delicate senses I have a few different types of gags to muffle the sounds.”

My heart was pounding so loudly inside my chest I would have thought she could hear it. My chest heaved with each breath, thrusting my naked breasts further out. I stood silently as Cindy walked to a long, red curtain just to my left and pulled it to the side, revealing a strange looking chair, made of dark solid wood. It looked much like an electric chair one might see in prison, with two-inch wide metal bands, opened and waiting, for ankle and wrist restraint. My view of the chair was from the side. Its high, solid, wooden arms prevented me from seeing its seat.

Cindy moved to the side and wheeled the full-length mirror directly in front of the contraption, then smiled. “It’s brand new!” she said excitedly, like a kid with new toy. “I had it specially made for occasions like this.”

I wondered why she had put wrist and ankle cuffs on me when the chair was so equipped, but soon found out. She returned to me side and led me to the back of the chair. My movements were not steady as we neared it, and I sure she sensed my trepidation. She moved me directly behind it, facing the mirror which reflected my nudity. The back of the chair came up to about my belly button.

When I looked down, my mouth gaped open and a startled gasp escaped my lips. In the middle of the wooden seat was a thin, glistening, chrome dildo, perhaps six inches long, sticking ominously straight up. It appeared to be seated in a well that would permit changing the dildo, if necessary, to accommodate the desires of the user.

Cindy witnessed my surprise and laughed derisively. “I’d be scared, too, I guess. It’s set now for anal penetration, which we’ll try first, but the sides fold down and the dildo is changeable, so when I want vaginal entry the girl can straddle the chair, facing front or back, and lower herself on it. The neatest thing is that the dildo is wired for electric, so I can heat things up, so to speak, providing mild shocks, heat, or vibration. Or if necessary,” she laughed, “all three!”

I had never seen anything like it. It was as scary a device as I had ever encountered. “You’re kidding, of course,” I said nervously.

“Not at all, my dear. I think it’s just perfect to unwind in after a long, trying day! First, though, I need to warm you up a bit. We don’t want to rush into anything this delightful!” Her sarcasm did not escape me.

Without a word, she knelt at my feet and used the chains from my ankle cuffs to chain me to the chair legs. She then had me bend over the back of the chair, its hard wood digging painfully into my tummy, and stretch my arms all the way to the front of the chair. In moments my wrists were chained tightly as well, prevent little if any movement of my body. To complete my immobility, she pulled my neck chain down and fastened it to a removable screw-in ring located in the back of the chair. This last action brought my head down so I was staring directly at the top of the chrome phallus that I knew for certain would soon invade my body.

She left me for a few moments, chained and helpless, while she fetched, I would soon find out, several different types of whips and paddles. My position was awkward as well as painful, and movement was all but impossible. My breasts hung limply from my chest, swaying back and forth with each slight body movement. I could only wait for whatever she had in mind. She returned and I complained, mildly, about the tension of the chains and the wood cruelly pressing into my stomach, but she explained it was too late to place a cushion along the top of the chair back.

“Besides,” she said thickly, “the pain in your tummy will feel good in comparison to other parts of your body by the time we’re through. This is the first part of your correction, BethAnne. You would not be here now, in this position, had you not disobeyed Darlene.”

I felt her run her fingernails from the bottom of my left buttock to the top, scraping lightly, waking nerve endings beneath the taut skin. She then did the same thing to the other cheek, preparing me for the first instrument she would use on my defenseless behind–a two-inch wide leather paddle.

I braced myself, and sure enough, I heard the tell-tale sound of the wind whistling through the holes in the quarter inch thick, semi-hard leather, and the loud crack broke the stillness of the room. The blow landed right smack in the middle of my proffered ass, directly on the crack dividing the globes. It was followed immediately by blistering heat and a sharp, stinging pain that radiated in all directions from the epicenter.

“AHHHHHHH!” I cried.

She didn’t wait for the burning pain to subside before striking again, this time in an upward pattern that caught my lower ass, right where the rounded cheeks meet my upper thighs, and I screamed once more in pain. I would come to learn that Cindy was an expert in wielding her instruments of suffering. She knew just how to deliver the right blow at the right time, in just the right place, calculated to generate distress to any part of the body she deigned eligible for her sadistic pleasures.

In less than five minutes, my entire ass, my hips, and the backs of my thighs felt like they were on fire. She ignored my pleas for clemency and delivered several more strokes which fell unmercifully on areas already stinging sharply.

>When she finished, she ran the cool palm of her hand over my burning buns. “Mmm,” she said softly, “they’re getting nice and warm!”

“It hurts!” I cried.

“Yes, of course, BethAnne,” she said as she continued to soothe the radiating heat. “Can you count to ten?”

I was afraid to answer, but had to. “Yes,” I whimpered.

“If you lose count, we start all over again. And when we reach ten, you thank me helping you learn to be a more disciplined young lady.”

“Please,” I begged.

“I can’t hear you, BethAnne.” Her voice was a soft as the morning, belying her intentions.

I calculated my answer to assuage her. “Please whip me,” I replied, listening to my words echo in my mind like a bee in a bottle.

“Because you’ve been a bad girl,” she said.

“Yes,” I whimpered. “I’ve been a bad girl.”

“So very, very bad…” she whispered.

I didn’t know she was holding a short, multi-stranded whip in her free hand at the time she was rubbing my ass so gently. I didn’t even hear it make any sound before it bit into my left cheek with a sharp crack. This was ten times worse than the paddle, and how I remembered to shout “ONE!” despite the unbelievable pain I’ll never know. She was not holding back at all. My cuffed and chained ankles and wrists were no match for the solid chair, though I strained at my imprisonment for freedom. My scream filled the room.

“Oh, that was a good one! I think we have the nerve endings right where we want them. The paddle really prepared your buns for this.”

Hardly had she finished her sentence when she flicked her wrist and delivered the next stinging blow, this one across the right ass cheek that caused me to shriek loudly before yelling “TWO!”

I was almost delirious now, and the whipping had hardly commenced. The many strands of the whip felt like jagged razor edges as they dug into my bared flesh. In my mind I could almost see the red streaks forming over the pink-hued globes. She sent eight more lashes my way, each expertly aimed to inflict just the right amount of pain and anguish, alternating the timing of the strokes to prevent me from completely bracing for them.

At the tenth lash I cried out, “TEN! THANK YOU MISTRESS!”

I was breathing raggedly. My ass was more on fire than it had ever been. Once more I felt a cool hand on my burning behind, and this time it was coated with a soothing, almost cold salve that strangled the flames almost immediately. Sweat poured from my brow onto the chair seat next to the ominous looking phallus.

“We’re almost done,” she said softly.

“Please, I can’t take any more!”

“You can, and you will. You’re paying for your disobedience the hard way. Maybe you will learn a lesson from this.”

“I promise I’ll be good. I promise! Please don’t whip me any more.”

Cindy laughed derisively. “You will not only be good, my dear, you’ll be better. I have five more little surprises for you, and then you can get better acquainted with that unused dildo. I think, in fact, you can become quite good friends with it!”

It was almost a minute later, with the cooling salve still quenching my pain, that I heard the whistle in the air. She had saved the worst for last–a tightly braided, long and single-stranded hummer that not only bit into me like a sharp knife, it wrapped around and dug into the flesh on my hips as well. Darlene, in all her madness, had never wielded so painful an instrument.

I cried out, long and loud, my screams lasting half a minute, my breaths coming in quick, short gasps. Ten seconds later it came again, in the middle of one of my agonizing screams which now went on incessantly through all five unbearably painful lashes. I thought I was going to faint, and if I had I would have been spared the cruel treatment, but I took all of it, everything she had to offer, and somehow felt better for it.

Cindy stood back and stared at her handiwork. My beleaguered ass was streaked like a road map with lines that would disappear in days, but my memory was imbued with feelings that would last a lifetime. I had never been more painfully whipped, and as I felt her loosening the chains at my ankles, I wondered how I had survived intact, mentally and physically.

She stood and freed my wrists and undid the chain that held my head down. I stood up, silently, and ran the palms of my hands over the white-hot welts and streaks. Cindy smiled, the proud kind of smile that told me I had tolerated her punishment well. I closed my eyes, knowing only that I had survived only the first round of a battle that would last for two more days.

I was still rubbing my buns when Cindy left and returned with a tube of K-Y jelly. I watched in disbelief as she squeezed some jell on her fingertips and spread the greasy substance over the top of the chrome dildo. Finished her duty, she wiped her fingers on a tissue and turned her attention to me.

“You won’t need these cuffs when you’re sitting on the chair,” she said as she removed both the wrist and ankle cuffs from my body.

“Do we have to do this?” I asked in a pleading tone.

“It won’t be as bad as you think. Get down on your hands and knees. It’s enema time–we don’t want to soil the brand new dildo, do we?”

An enema! Who was she kidding? Even Darlene, who could dream up exotic forms of humiliating treatment when she was really upset with me had never even suggested doing something as degrading as an enema. I couldn’t even remember the last enema I had, though I sure it was when I was a young girl.

“Are you serious?” I asked with more than a hint of nervousness in my voice.

“Quite serious. And if you are not in position in ten seconds you will be a very sorry young lady.”

“I can’t do it,” I cried. “Please don’t make me do something like that!”

She looked at me, surprise etched on her face. She hadn’t expected disobedience from someone being disciplined for the same infraction. She said, sternly, “Come with me, BethAnne!” and grabbed the chain hanging from my collar. She dragged me, whimpering and pleading, to the sawhorse, then let me stand in front of it while she retrieved a riding crop from the wall of whips. She returned to my side, holding the crop ominously in her right hand as she slapped it into the palm of her left hand, making me cringe at the thought of having the painful device applied to my already abused backside.

“Bend over it!” she shouted.

I did as I was told, immediately, knowing that the penalty for recalcitrance would be a sharp lash to my already hurting posterior. I knew I was in for it, when she shoved a red ball-gag into my mouth and tied it firmly behind my head. Tears streamed down my face as she knelt behind me, forced me to spread my legs apart, and fastened my ankles to the legs of the horse. Cool air inside my slit was ample evidence that my widespread position had really opened me up. I am sure Cindy had a worm’s eye view of the pink-colored tissues which ran the length of my gash.

She moved in front of me and chained my wrists in the same manner as my ankles, then drew a wide leather strap over my lower back, cinching it tightly in order to prevent even the slightest of movements.

“The gag is punishment for your protests!” she yelled. “I don’t like hearing someone say ‘No’ when I tell them to do something, especially someone who is being punished for disobedience. I can see why Darlene sent you here. You have too much spunk inside you, young lady, and by the time the weekend is over, you will have thrown that nasty word out of your vocabulary! I’m going to give you that enema, whether you like it not, but first we’re going to make you beg for it.

Looking back between my widespread legs, I watched in horror as Cindy pulled a red, vinyl- covered enema bag with a long, white hose out of a drawer. She disappeared into a side room for a moment and I heard water running. She returned to the “Playroom” holding the bag and letting the hose drag along the floor. She stood behind me and attached the bag to a ceiling chain, leaving only a short length of the hose with its thin, short nozzle visible to me. I could hear the water slosh in the bag as she adjusted it to her satisfaction.

“When you feel like you really need the enema, I want you to move your head up and down three times in quick succession. That will be the signal that you have begun to see things my way. In the meantime, we’ll conduct a few ‘behavior modification’ routines designed to help you change your ways.”

My heart was pounding. I had made the wrong choice in not obeying her immediately, despite my apprehension and embarrassment. After all, I was still going to get the dreaded enema, but now I was going to suffer through some agonizing “preliminaries” on the road to it. Why can’t I learn to be completely submissive? Maybe I really needed this weekend to rearrange my perspectives. If Darlene wanted a true submissive, and I really desired to be one, I would return to her a changed person, with Cindy’s help.

She knew my ass couldn’t stand too much more of a working over, at least not this soon after what she had already done to it, so, at first, she merely “warmed me up” by spanking me with her bare hand, slowly increasing the intensity of the licks until I began to moan in pain. My ass was already inflamed, and now she was adding insult to injury. The sounds of the spanking and my accompanying moans reverberated throughout the room. She gave me twenty, perhaps thirty licks before she finally stopped.

Fire leaped from my buns. The tingling continued for a long time afterward, even as she knelt behind me and brought the handle of the riding crop between my legs. I looked at her, wide- eyed, shaking my head “NO” as she pressed the end of the handle between the opened petals of my pussy and smiled wickedly.

“You’re wet as a lake!” she exclaimed as she toyed with the glistening inner lips of my pussy. “And I thought I might have to use some of the K-Y to get the crop handle inside your sweet little vagina. What turned you on the most, honey, the whipping I gave you or the thought of a forced enema?”

Cindy laughed as I moaned behind my ball gag. I felt the end of the handle enter me and I wanted to die right there. I was wet because of our earlier lesbian activities, not because of her cruelty. Or was it? As the braided black leather drove deeper into me, she moved it just enough for the both of us to hear the familiar gushing of my copiously flowing juices. With her brow furrowed, she watched the handle go further and further inside the warm, dark passage, all the way to the cervix!

For the next few minutes she moved the handle in and out of me, sometimes coming almost all the way out before plunging it deeply into the pit as I moaned half in pleasure, half in humiliation. I was surprised by how much of the crop I was able to take inside me. I thought for moment that I might come if she kept up the incessant pistoning motion, but this exercise was for punishment, not for pleasure, and when I reached the edge she stopped, abruptly, leaving the crop sheathed deeply as she stood up.

“Such a pretty sight!” she said of the device sticking obscenely out of my pussy. “Later we’ll have to try one of my favorite strap-on dildos. I bet you’d be a good little fuck! You’re hot, BethAnne. I’d give anything to steal you away from Darlene, but I am too good friends with her to do something like that. But I will ask to have you back every once in a while. I’m sure that will be fine with her. For now, it’s time to pay the penalty for disobeying me, and at the same time I can make sure your tiny little asshole is big enough to accommodate anything I might want to put inside it.”

My eyes widened again as I tried to beg her for leniency just by my facial expressions. She laughed and left me for moment. When she returned, she was carrying an elongated, balloon-like object, with the air deflated, made of shiny black rubber, with a thin, black hose, about two feet long, extending from one end. At the end of the hose was a smaller, round black ball, this one fully inflated, with a chrome spicket. At first I thought it was a whip of some type, but Cindy soon convinced me otherwise.

She knelt behind me as I looked at her from between my opened legs. Holding the deflated balloon in her hand, she said, “This is a Bardex device, BethAnne. Have you ever seen one?”

I shook my head as I stared at the strange looking thing, my eyes opened wide. She laughed again. “I wouldn’t think Darlene would have anything like this around the house. Watch.” Cindy squeezed the rubber ball several times in quick succession, and I watched the more elongated ball begin to inflate in her hand, little by little.

“Try to picture this ball getting bigger and bigger inside you, BethAnne, stretching the inside your lovely ass nice and big. I bet it will feel real good!”

“Mmmm…Mmmm…Mmmm,” I cried behind my gag, shaking my head in a vain protest.

“Don’t worry,” she said tauntingly, “It looks much worse than it feels.”

I watched in horror as she greased the tapered tip of the Bardex device, making the black vinyl bag look even more shiny. She arose from her kneeling position and stood behind me, moving one hand to my lower ass, her other hand on my hips. When the cold, hard tip of the Bardex touched my tiny anus, my whole body jerked reflexively. I knew there was nothing I could do to avoid being anally penetrated by that damn thing, but I moaned loudly behind my gag, hoping that my wordless pleadings would not be ignored.

Instead, Cindy gave my defenseless ass a loud, hard, stinging slap and she hollered at me for making too much noise. Tears began streaming down my cheeks as I held my moans in check, but by now she had risen to a standing position, bent over my back, and was urging the Bardex into me slowly but surely. I tried to tighten my anus to avoid the intruder, but she sensed my action and said, “If you don’t relax, young lady, it will hurt all the more. Quit being a baby. Let it happen.”

I relaxed my sphincter and was surprised by the ease the thing began entering me. It was not a comfortable feeling, by any means, especially once she began shoving the balloon part of the device into my rear opening. “I like the way it looks disappearing into you like that,” she husked.

She hadn’t even inflated the Bardex, but I began to feel bloated already as the four or five inch monster kept going deeper and deeper into my rectum. It was a feeling I would never forget– the horror mixed with increasingly pleasurable sensations as the device moved past my super- sensitive anal opening.. I felt my asshole contract around the tiny black tube as Cindy whispered, “There, it’s in. Was that so bad?”

Behind my ball gag I muttered a sarcastic “MMMMPH.”

“Unfortunately, my dear, that was the easy part. Now we need to turn things up a notch, so we are going to play a little game. I am going to take the gag out of your mouth, primarily because I need your tongue. You did quite well when you took care of my sex earlier, but you better be a good little ass-licker, honey, because if you’re not up to it, that thing in your ass will start feeling like a telephone pole.”

She walked around in front of me, after hanging the tube and inflating ball over the top of the saw horse, within reach from the front. I could only picture in my own mind what I must have looked like with that thing sticking out of my behind. She grabbed a handful of my hair and forcefully raised my head until I was looking straight at her.

How could someone so damn pretty be so cruel? Her eyes were on fire.

“I’m going to take the gag out of your mouth. If you make a lot of noise, I’ll give you a whipping you won’t soon forget.”

She undid the knot behind my head, then took the ball out. I felt relieved to be able to move my mouth and to breathe normally. “Do you like doing rim jobs?”

“Sometimes, Mistress,” I replied.

“Well, you are going to do mine now, BethAnne. I’ve always been anal-erotic. A good tongue can get me off in minutes. A great tongue… Well, let’s hope you have a great tongue, for your sake, because the longer it takes you to get me off, the bigger that Bardex gets inside your ass. When I come, I stop inflating the balloon. It’s as simple as that. Isn’t that a fascinating game???!!!”

“Please don’t hurt me,” I pleaded.

She turned her back to me and husked, “It’s up to you, BethAnne. Good luck!” I watched her bend over in front of me. Her ass filled her jet-black skirt perfectly. She backed up to me and thrust her buns right in front of my face. With my wrists bound to the front legs of the sawhorse, I had only my mouth to work with. “Give it a little kiss,” she whispered sexily.

I waited until she backed up a few inches more, pushing her voluptuous buns into my face, forcing my nose into the crack of her ass through the cotton skirt. I kissed what was presented to me as best I could, while Cindy churned her buttocks concentrically to give me access to her ass. “Mmm, that’s nice,” she sighed as she brought her hands to the backs of her legs and began inching the skirt up, slowly, bunching it beneath my lips which continued to kiss the proffered derriere. She reached higher, and soon I was kissing the back of her silky white undies and smelling the muskiness of her womanly odors.

“Oh, Cindy, that feels so good!” she sighed as I buried my lips between the cheeks of her ass and tongued her anus through the thin material of her panties. She was bent over pretty far and her legs were wide open to provide balance. The delicate undies were soft and becoming more and more moist as I dry-rimmed her as best I could.

Finally, she arose to a standing position in front of me, holding her skirt up around her waist with one hand while I continued to kiss her bikini-styled panties. She back with her free hand and began lowering the undies until, with just a little effort, they circled her thighs. Obviously, I had a super close-up view of her delectable buns which were as nice to look at as any I had ever seen, to include Darlene’s. I kissed one baby-soft cheek, and then the other, then paused to watch goose- bumps form all over her ass. Her whole body shivered uncontrollably with my kisses.

“Do you like my ass?” she asked, her voice thick with lust.

“Yes,” I replied meekly.

“I think you are going to get to know it very well in the next few moments.” She reached back and grabbed the inflating ball for the Bardex that was still deeply ensconced in my rectum. She tightened the chrome spicket with her thumb and forefinger, then bent over again, really far, still holding the inflator in one hand and her raised skirt in the other.

“This is when it gets real interesting,” she said. “Your job is to make me cum before you pass out with pain. Only a few girls have been able to win this game. It’s a game that’s fun for me to lose, but it’s just as much fun watching you squirm around when the ball starts getting bigger in your ass.”

“Please…” I begged.

“I hope you do well,” she said, ignoring my plea. “I’ll give you a 60 second head start.”

I wasted no time in devouring the pink, crinkly nubbin that Cindy had offered to me. I wet the orifice with as much saliva as my almost dry mouth could muster, then laved the morsel with long, wet swipes that caused her to moan immediately. I shook my head from side to side, attempting to work my lips deeper into the lower crevice of her ass, and, upon succeeding, pursed my lips and began sucking on the anal ring.

“OH, YES! That’s so good, BethAnne! You are good! Give it to me good, Honey!”

I flicked the tip of my tongue over the anus, running it back and forth, varying the speed, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Cindy churned her ass in response to my tongue-job, moaning and hissing in delight. She was really getting into it, and I knew I didn’t have much time before the pain would begin. In fact, it was more than a minute when I felt the felt the first twinge inside my ass. The little bitch had decided not to give me any warning, but it was becoming quite obvious that the balloon inside my ass was starting to expand.

At first it was only a bit more uncomfortable, feeling the ball getting bigger. Just the thought of it expanding my rectal canal was enough to make me redouble my efforts to make her cum, so I began pistoning the tip of my tongue in and out of her asshole, as fast as I could, as if I were fucking her with it. My efforts were rewarded with long, loud groans of pleasure, but it seemed the closer she was getting to orgasm, the larger the balloon was becoming. I pressed my face into the crack of her ass and shoved my tongue as far into the orifice as I could. She screamed with pleasure and simultaneously gave the inflating ball several quick squeezes that sent me over the edge as well. I came so hard I thought I would faint. Over and over and over…

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