Aztec Art - The Path to Submission

"Owned and dominated Chester...owned and dominated..." She laughed and faced the camera as Chester jerked and let out a turgid moan through the gag, his cock pulsing out wads of semen in trance of pure and unadulterated ecstasy, his orgasm rich and masochistically wholesome in his utter defeat. Kay prolonged his luxuriant spend with cynical laughter and a final sneer before he passed out.

"Owned, dominated... and hanged, Chester."

The next morning, Chester sat obediently next to Kay as she drove him downtown, he having made the call to his boss. He sat silently staring forward as she steered the car up a faceless row of small office businesses, she smiling contentedly as he clutched a bag of soon to be developed films. She pulled the glaringly bright red and white De Soto over, almost bumping into the weathered Oldsmobile in front of it in her excitement.

"Today's the day Chester... the day you hand your soul over in a marriage of servitude to womanhood forever. You've been living a lie, and now you'll be freed from it... and enslaved in bliss by its consequences. The girls here will be so enthralled at providing that service... bring the films Chester." She got out of the car and bustled on her heels across the sidewalk, the broad arse and figure of the redhead, looking superb in her tight business dress, Chester erecting at the sight, and following helplessly and obediently whilst made to carry the evidence which would crush his social life, unable to defy her and depart with it; such was her power and his weakness for dominant femininity... and oh how she knew it. She grinned spitefully as she held the door of Diana Publications open for him, without looking back, knowing he'd follow in servitude.

Chester swallowed hard as the door closed behind him, and a smiling receptionist picked up a phone on recognising her immediately.

"Kay Parker's here Lois, and it looks like she has some work for us." Chester's cock bulged in the loose pants that Kay had chosen for him, as he watched her red lips pout and squeeze out the words as if in slow motion, he knowing each step took him closer to masochistic oblivion, and her eyes giving a friendly smile at Kay before intensifying to a surly sneer of pleased contempt on surveying him. She simply gestured to a door which Kay knew all to well, and Chester feasted masochistically on those splendid cheeks and long legs once more, as she led him up a marbled stairway, his cock boning as though he were being led up the gallows to be hanged. She strutted across to a glass faced office, the female occupants waving her in before closing the blinds to signify an engagement in process.

Chester's cock pulsed rigid as he panted in irregular breaths, the two mature women opposite, showing their obvious pleasure at seeing him cower, knowing any male in this particular client's company would be well and truly owned by her, rather than the theatrically inclined submissives they saw more often with their feminine agents. Both were visually attractive to Chester, both dressed as per Kay and emanating a certain power in their tight business dress, both sporting those pointy bras so popular now; their breasts prominent in their blouses and emphasising their womanly authority. One of them, the Lois who'd answered the phone, smiled enthusiastically at him as she rolled her chair to one side of her desk, giving him a clear view of her entire body as she sat cross-legged in it and showed him the appeal of her broad thighs.

"Well Kay, what do we have here?" Chester sensed that she already knew most of the circumstances of Kay's visit, but wanted to enjoy to the full as Kay took a seat and left him standing on display.

"Put the bag on Madam Carter's desk Chester, then come and kneel on the floor next to me." The other woman, Sandra Dean, a director of this risque enterprise as per Lois, gave a sigh of genuine pleasure as she watched the unerring obedience of Chester imposed on him by the redhead. She held the bag under her breasts with both hands, excited, and not quite getting enough of seeing him knelt in servitude, the bulge in his pants betraying his pleasure at being owned. Kay smiled with satisfaction, underestimating herself, the warm level of arousal which the scenario was awarding her, far beyond her expectations.

"This is Chester Harman, you'll soon be familiar with his face... it's so prominent and recognisable on the footage and shots in that bag. Chester has my permission to sign his permission to your use of everything there... he's been told it's what I want, and what's necessary to have him live his life correctly..." She sneered down at him as he fidgeted under the enthusiastic eyes of the two women, the atmosphere of her controlling dominance expressed before them, already having him yearning to be locked in that room at her house and masturbating as promised.

"What was that term we used Chester... what is it that's to happen to you?" Lois now fidgeted in her chair, squeezing her thighs, and Sandra moved closer, lifting one leg to sit on the edge of the desk; the sharp angle coming in very useful, both women now already wet as he looked to them with the response ordered.

"I'm... I'm to be 'outed' Mistress... outed publicly." Sandra edged herself, sliding her crotch on the desk and sighed again, Lois now lifting the stiletto of the crossed legs high, feeling the tingling of her cunt; they were used to the quality of Kay's contribution's, but this really was a turn-on, even for women in the business of producing covert and explicit sexual material. Kay had previously broached the idea with them, but they never dreamed it would materialise; the buzz they both got now a male was there on his knees, agreeing to be shamed, put an instant lustre on both women's libidos.

Lois took a staggered deep breath and rose from her chair, conscious that she was getting a little too excited, and anxious to see this wimp sign to have his shameful perversions exposed. She peeled one of the regular disclaimer forms from her desk, and had Chester reel off his name and home address, then offered it to him with a curt sneer.

"You'd best read this before you sign it... once you have, there's no going back, and I'll have the greatest pleasure in making Kay's always popular efforts readily available to my many subscribers." Kay laughed at her professional business manner.

"Just sign it Chester... immediately. You'll have your pleasure Lois... and so will so many other people." Sandra already had her hand on the door which led to the development rooms, as the two stood over him and watched him quake as he obeyed his betters and signed, Sandra disappearing through the door with the bag. Lois grinned as she placed the signed sheet behind her on the desk, then continued to stand over the kneeling Chester with Kay, loving the way it felt to be instrumental in something so novel and erotic. She saw the look of mixed emotions in Chester's eyes as he looked up... defeated, but the bulge in his pants stood hard, revealing his pathetically masochistic excitement, and incurring the pleasure of her contempt in him.

"We'll have copies of the film and magazine editions in the safety deposit boxes and luggage lockers of our wealthier clientele by mid afternoon, as well as editions and copies with or trusted 'under the counter' retailers... oh yes Chester, we run a very efficient service here, you'll soon be famous." Kay's cunt was nicely wet too now, delighted with her triumph over him.

"Kiss her feet in gratitude Chester, thank her for allowing you to appear in her magazine." Kay could sense the thrill the whole thing gave her as Chester bent and placed his lips against her shiny stilettos, then meekly offered his thanks for the service which guaranteed his humiliation.

"You and some of your girls might want to pay Chester a visit when you've seen that footage... you have my address, he'll be glad of any female company other than mine over the next four days... won't you Chester?" His bulge pulsed as he saw the look in Lois' eyes at the prospect, wondering how his submission would take her pleasure.

"Yes Mistress."

"... because Chester's not going anywhere over that time, we want him to savour the shame that'll be echoing through his world and ripening ready for his release... to have him enjoy the full force of it... don't we Chester?" Chester knew he'd have to return to his home, if only to pick up clothes and check up on his property - if only to put it up for sale and hope the woman he'd inevitably become enslaved and dependant on, would offer some sort of obscurity elsewhere, away from those he'd socialised with, as they'd make his Ife a nightmare... and then there was his job...

"Yes... yes Mistress."

"... and now I've done with him as my special pet, he'll be grateful to be sampled by as many women as possible while he remains under my control... which won't be for long if I can help it... I'll want to focus on acquiring a suitable replacement." Lois was now more than keen to take up Kay's offer, the servile obedience of the male at her feet made her feel supreme, bringing the bitchy spite she always sought out in her fictional productions, out from her personally... and that would be sweetly reinforced when she viewed what Sandra was viewing now. She screwed her face into a sneer as she poked at his bulge with her heel.

"It's been a while since I thrashed a male, Kay... and I dare say I'll need a break after today. I think I'll come and see you tomorrow Chester, about two in the afternoon when it's nice and sticky... you make sure to be waiting just as you are now, on your knees, but naked... I want to see that cock salute me."

That afternoon Barney Rogers made a covert trip to his bank before he went home to the very suburb that a certain Mr Harman also had a residence at. A phone call to his office in the late afternoon, in which a sultry female voice gave him a straightforward message about a delivery, prompted an instant erection, and his reason for diverting to the bank. The voice had a copy of the key to his box, along with several others, and in the privacy of the vault, certain gifts were left for those who were members of a select circle; the boxes serving no other purpose. Barney opened the box and pulled out a package at which he erected again at the feel of a magazine and two reels of film.

He spent the evening in a somewhat impatient state, wishing his wife to bed, and covertly eyeing the clock in the hope she'd not want to watch any re-runs of Peyton Place, relieved when at last she said she was going up. Barney made some excuse about staying up to complete some work, and as she departed, he made for his den and locked the door behind him. His impatience was tried again as he fumbled with the projector, his hasty movements antagonised by the title on the reel tin: 'The Wimp Dominated in Rubber.' The screen flickered and he stroked his cock to the beautifully shaped woman in black latex, her authority superb with the whip as she cracked it, and redhead's, oh redhead's, they always did it for him... he stopped his stropping mid-stroke, dumbstruck at what he saw, and what the crackly voice confirmed. He let out a bemused laugh...

"Chester Harman... Chester? You lucky bastard! Over the initial shock, he stropped vigorously, edging many times... and rewinding to hear Kay's mocking laughter as Chester the Wimp spurted... unable to hold back any longer, he spent liberally, then re ran it several times again and had himself another orgasm. Sated, he then phoned a confidant.

"Hey, you'll never believe this, keep it under your hat but..."

Lloyd Garner made the most of his wife's absence, bedding a slender young typist in the very place where Joyce slept, gave him an extra thrill as he offloaded his seed into the pleasingly tight cunt of the younger woman below him, her face uncomfortable as she sought the satisfaction she knew he wouldn't offer.her. As he pulled himself up from the young woman who had to try hard to hide her disgruntlement, he felt a little tetchy as he sat on the bed. She'd been gone three days now; he'd hoped she'd come in when he'd been fucking the typist, that would have shown her, he thought. ...and where was the bitch anyhow? No contact from her whatsoever; he'd give her something to think about when she came back. The girl rose from the bed, meekly covering her breasts with the sheet. Lloyd looked at her indifferently.

"Get dressed sweetheart, I'll call you a cab." She pouted and looked at him disappointedly.

"But I thought... I thought we were going to dinner?" He puffed his chest and sighed nonchalantly.

"Oh... yeah... but I forgot, I.. err, have some business to attend to.". She retained her dignity as she stepped to the bathroom, already wary of his volatility, which was well known on the typing pool, leaving him to pick up the phone and whirl in the numbers. He deftly squeezed her soft arse as she departed down the steps, a leering cab driver giving him the sort of knowing smile that's given when a shapely young woman departs the home of more mature male; Lloyd forced a grin back; he'd call another cab company next time. He poured himself a drink and turned on the radio, catching the Wilson brothers and co. singing ''Surfin' USA'... he switched channels, grunting contemptuously.

"They won't last... sound like a bunch of girls." He sat and sipped, annoyed at his loss of control over something he considered he owned... where was that bitch?

Jennifer Astor was always left looking in from the outside by the local social clique of women, though she was of course invited to their gatherings, in the leafy suburb where Chester Harman had recently been divorced by his wife; a rich source of gossip for them, even several months after it had become old news, such was the excitement it caused in such an otherwise staid and mundane neighbourhood, in which Jenny was deemed a little 'square', even by their standards. Plump yet shapely, she never quite managed to keep up with the fashions that her counterparts followed avidly, choosing appropriately sombre dresses which gave her look a certain strictness, befitting a woman who'd had a pretty soulless marriage, more arranged by sets of parents for convenience than it had been through true romance.

Her overweight husband's premature demise at an early age through heart failure, had almost been a convenience too; if it wasn't for her loss of the carnal episodes that their otherwise estranged relationship had developed, but he'd left her very comfortably off with a large house and healthy bank account, and nicely independent.

The women always commented amongst themselves on how clinical her abode was, when gatherings were held there, then consoling her face to face regarding her lonely life without a man to 'look after her' and always trying to match her up with a suitable replacement. It always made her smile to herself when they left, thinking about the excitement which brought about her husband's departure; she only had desires for a certain kind of male, and what her socialite pseudo friends saw as shyness, was in reality a contempt for all they valued, and a quiet lust for something else.

Jenny had her horse riding session earlier than usual that day; something which had been highlighted on the national news that week, was to occur at a designated hour later in the day, and she wanted to be in the comfort of her home when it happened. She loved horse riding, dressing herself in tight jodhpurs, boots, and wearing no bra under a silk blouse, the donning of the whip and the solid rhythm of her cunt on the saddle had her in a state of permanent arousal.

She would keep a stern look on her face as she passed walking males on the paths and in the dunes, as she received the gratifying smiles from them, she always on the lookout for that cloaked expression of sexual desire at seeing a woman in the way her sexual desire favoured. Often she would build up her arousal as her plump arse bobbed and ground her cunt to the saddle, and finding a secluded track, she'd ride herself to a satisfying orgasm. But not today; her pleasure would come at the appointed hour.

She arrived home in her car, and sauntered across the lawn, whip in hand, and her generous arse moving delectably in the tight jodhpurs; a sight viewed with some gratitude by the husband of one of the women, with whom he'd often concurred automatically about her opinions that Jenny was dull and unattractive to men, his cock stiffening to a fine erection at what he saw.

Moments later, Jenny closed the curtains to her bedroom, and reaching into a drawer where many of the local woman, being over conscious about security due to inflated gossip, would keep a gun... and retrieved a large and supple dildo. She sat on a soft towel placed across the end of her bed, still wearing the silk blouse she'd ridden in, her jodhpurs over a chair and wet at the crotch, the whip beside her on the bed, her eyes on the clock as she nursed her sweaty cunt with the firm and rewarding phallus.

The news all week had been about a convicted murderer and rapist; upon the hour, after being sat in the gas chamber, strapped down and helpless, he would be deservedly executed for his crimes, the moment the appointed hour was reached. Jenny edged and sighed as the second hand moved up toward where the morbid deed would be exacted. On it reaching the promised mark, she lifted her broad thighs high, and thrust the dildo deep and hard against her clitoris, imagining the male suffering and struggling in vain against his bonds, as the cyanide carried out the justice he fully deserved. She moaned in pure ecstasy, the dildo slipping and diving between her labia as she wet the towel, her mind running riot as she saw herself strapping him in naked, his cock rising erect as she smiled down and flicked the lever to send him to his death.

She sighed with satisfaction as her pleasure ebbed, then lapsed into a little despondency. How she wished she had a male to lick her clean, the way her husband used to. She thought on how lucky she'd been in some respects; the lack of romance between them meant that they were distant in everyday dealings, but sex, when they had it together, was raw and unadulterated by affection. He had readily admitted his mild kink for submission, and she remembered how he loved to sniff at the crotch of her jodhpurs, while she teased him with the whip. He'd not bare the stroke though, and her satisfaction was sated by his oral service, and he allowing her to queen him when full penetration was desired.

Neither were really in control of the other, but she always felt the strong and desirable need to be. Their sessions grew rarer as he indulged in rich food and drink, their last resulting in the pains which took him to the hospital from which he never returned. Her melancholy mood was extinguished by the ring of the phone. It was Martha Banks, the local queen of gossip, who seemed to know everything before anyone else did, Jenny sighed at first on hearing her voice

"Hi Jenny, you must come over for coffee at three... have I got some news!" Jenny confirmed she would; it was unusual to get a direct request straight from Martha's mouth - she normally got invited second hand, not being considered one of the top ratings in the clique - and she seemed particularly excited. Jenny showered and put on a nice loose dress.

If Chester thought his days of enforced imprisonment by Kay were to be indulged in solitude, he was refreshingly mistaken. His only opportunity to masturbate whilst wallowing in a tense mood of self pity intersected with anxious thoughts about his future, had occured on his return from Diana Publications. His almost immediate spend in submissive honour at the thought of the two stern ladies he'd met there, and the promise of a visit from Lois the next day, was followed by a visit that very afternoon by Sandra, whose cunt was licked to satisfaction on several occasions between bouts of haughty domination, via verbal authority and the weight of her hand, her sexual appetite invoked to an inspiring level by what she'd seen, and the cruel secondary purpose of the visual pleasure it offered.