Seeking New Intensity

"'Elephant 'is all you need to know, do it now or it will be worse for you."

His face colored, and he slipped off his coat and sports jacket, then his tie. He stepped out of his shoes, and peeled off his socks before he unzipped and slid his pants down. He looked at her, with a slight pause, and then pushed his underwear down and off. The gray metal chain hung between his thighs, with the dangling tag, and his cock shrank in the cool air. He kept his white shirt on. She reached between his legs, with her wrist brushing his cock, to turn the purple metal tag over and check his number. "Ok Slave, toss your clothes in the car and slide in just as you are, pull up the shirt so your bare ass is on the leather seat." She wasn't laughing or smiling but was very matter of fact. He scrambled for his things and slid into the car, with the cold metal tag against his skin as he sat back and they drove off.

When the car stopped again, they were behind a large red brick house in the wooded upscale neighborhood where the city's doctors and brokers lived with their fashionable wives and photogenic children. The drive was a sort of paved service yard, between the house and a garage and pool house, with hedges and tall trees. The day had turned colder, as the woman opened the door and he slid out, wearing only his shirt. His bare legs and swaying cock were chilled when he stepped into the back hallway. Two women slaves were already in the hall, both naked except for the chains and tags like his that they wore. One was a woman from his training class, #1, a slender woman in her thirties with short hair and high, small breasts and narrow hips. Her dark pubic hair was still stubble, from their trimming, like his. The other female was older, perhaps 40's, with full breasts and large nipples and a bit of a belly over her wide hips. They looked at him with no expression, as he slipped off the shirt, seeing him as a much older man with a strong chest but a large stomach, and a chain draped around his hips.

The young woman from the car moved among them, frankly exploring them with no words, her hand between their legs, cupping their breasts, brushing back their hair. "I suppose you three will have to do. Put these kilts on, it is the house colors here." She handed each of them a pleated wool kilt in a green and gray tartan, with a complicated leather belt, and she gave them low heeled black shoes, including his in a large size. All three of them were topless, and the woman used a dark lip gloss to accentuate their nipples, including his. Unlike their training at Ms Sonnet's, there were no masks.

10.

"You can start by serving the drinks, and then I am sure they will find some other uses for all of you. Remember your training, you have nothing to do except follow instructions. You won't be needed overnight, so we will take you back later in the evening." She led them into the kitchen, and handed each of them a silver serving tray with drinks or small pieces of oriental food. They didn't look at each other as she directed them to the main part of the house.

When he stepped through the swinging door, following the two female servers, and balancing his tray of wine glasses, he saw they were in a luxuriously furnished living area, looking out over the pool and garden, with late afternoon sun slanting in. The women in the room seemed to be those trophy wives of the local executives, fashionably and a bit too formally dressed, with carefully done hair and obvious, expensive jewelry. They were sitting and standing, chatting brightly, when the servers arrived. He saw one of the older women; a blonde with big hair and a bright wrap dress by an expensive designer look up with a small smile. She seemed to be the hostess of the party, and enjoying the surprised hush that fell on the group as chatting slowed. Apparently half-naked house slaves were the newest accessory, to top your peers in this group.

He held his tray level, moving among the women to offer sparkling wine, trying to ignore the fact that he was bare-chested, in a manly kilt, but wearing low heels and with a red gloss on his nipples. No one spoke to him, and he saw the female servers circulating ahead of him in the group of 8 or 10 women. The blond owner stepped closer as they served, and stopped the shorter server to cup and hold one of her breasts, getting the attention of her guests as they saw the female slave accept her touch without comment, and stand holding the tray as her breast was hefted and bounced, and the nipple squeezed. She released the woman, smiling at her friends.

"A friend of mine has a specialty, training these people who love this kind of thing. Did you know that each of these three paid her $300 for the training, to become something with no personality and no rights, here just for our amusement? They may not be the most attractive servants, but they are very compliant at least, and as you see from their markings they now have just numbers, not names." She turned to him as he came closer with his half-full tray, and put her hand on his chest. "She trains them to accept anything, and then she tags them. Isn't that right, #4? Are you happy to be serving us here? Show them your tag."

"Yes, ma'am. " He bent to put his tray down on a low table, and then lifted the front of his kilt a bit to show the tag dangling between his thighs on a gray metal chain. She reached over and took the hem of the kilt from him and lifted it to his hips, to show the chain between his legs and around his waist, and his hardening cock. As he stood there, displayed and humiliated, he looked across the room and recognized one of the women in the group, the wife of a client he had met at some bank investment seminar or reception. Sarah? Sylvia? He hoped she did not recognize him in this setting.

The blonde woman next to him spoke up to the group. "I thought it would be interesting today to have these serving slaves, and to have Marie, who has been showing us the lingerie and toys she sells today, to do a demonstration. I am sure # 4 and the others, # 1 and # 8, will be happy to help. Marie?"

The woman who stepped forward was dressed like the others, in fashionable and expensive party clothes, but with a darker edge and wearing high-heeled boots and a dress that went with her dark hair. "As you may have heard, men can have an orgasm without actually having a release, with the right kind of massage, which can be an interesting way to keep them attentive, with less of a mess." She chuckled, and the women laughed. "#4, get up on this low table, on your hands and knees, so everyone can see. She slapped his rear and led him to the polished table in front of a long patterned sofa, positioning him with legs apart and flipping his kilt up over his back to expose his rear. The table was hard on his knees, as he held his head up like a show dog on display.

"We need him harder and more excited for this, so #1, get in front of him and offer him your nipples to suck while you touch his chest. # 8, hold onto his cock, but just til it gets harder." The slender woman in her kilt leaned closer in front of him offering her small high breasts to him and rolling his nipples in her fingers. He tasted the lip gloss on her nipples, and the sweat on her body as she urged him on. The hand on his cock rubbed lightly and he felt himself thicken and harden.

"Fine, keep on that way, while I use our slim anal probe on him, the key thing ladies is to get it just behind the prostate, not too deep, and use the vibrations there. In just a moment, you can see him orgasm, but produce only a little fluid, not the relief he is expecting. #8 here will catch his release in this crystal glass, watch and learn." He had never had his assed used, until his training, or been displayed and ignored in this way. He felt her warm hand on one side, as she eased the hard probe into his ass and slapped him lightly, to keep his head up. He focused on the nipple in his lips, working his tongue around it and sucking harder on it. When the vibrations switched on, he felt the hum as a generalized buzzing inside his body, and then felt harder arousal as it focused on the wall so close to his prostate, something he had never felt. He was trying to keep the feelings separate, the sucking, the use of his nipples, the hand lightly on his cock, and the vibrations and penetration, when without warning he felt the tension of orgasm in the back of his legs and his body bucked and shook. He lost his grip on the slave's nipple, and arched his back as the wave of feeling hit him, and his body tried to pump and failed. He was shaking, as he pulsed again, and it was only with difficulty that he could force some dribbling juices through his still-hard cock.

As she slid the probe out, he felt the calm after orgasm, but the frustration of not having cum. The lip of the glass was cold against the head of his cock, as the slave collected the pre-cum he had produced, He was sweating now, and shaking a bit as his body relaxed. The woman, Marie, pushed the two slaves away, and pulled his shoulder so he was kneeling up on the low table, with his legs wide and cock still hard, as the kilt fell back down. He was not really surprised when he felt the cold rim of the crystal glass on his lips, and he tilted his head to swallow as she poured his own musky juices into his mouth.

"Now that that's out of the way, we can use #4 for other things, and he won't be distracted with his own needs. #4, show your appreciation to the female slaves while we watch, be generous about it." She rolled him face up on the table, and led the shorter woman, # 8, to straddle his face, He used his tongue deep, swirling and licking, sucking when he found her hardened clit, lapping her and tasting her. Before she was allowed to cum, Marie pushed #1 into her place and he continued his licking as he felt her different shape on his tongue and tasted her flavors.

Marie pulled her away, moved him to stand up, and lined them up. All three of them were sweaty and disheveled now, and his face was coated with two women's drying juices. Women from the party gathered around Marie, discussing their purchases, holding up bits of lingerie or toys from her display in the corner. Their blond hostess came over, and got them moving. "Slaves, back to work, enough pleasure or use for you today, we need another round of drinks here, and some fresh snacks."

As they separated to find their trays and head back to the kitchen, he felt a hand on his arm, and turned to face the woman he had recognized before. When she spoke, he felt his face go hot, even more embarrassed than he had been as he was displayed and used. "David, how interesting to see you here, like this. You do remember me I think, from that bank investment reception at the club? I'm Sarah, George Culp's wife, we live in the neighborhood here." She was smiling but with a calculating look. There was nothing he could think of to say, to have any kind of normal conversation as he stood here with a serving tray, bare chested in the tartan kilt, wearing women's low-heeled shoes.

Sarah watched him closely as he tried to react, and his eyes went down her body, noticing the slight cleavage in her silky print wrap dress, the curve of her breasts and hips, then back to her blue-gray eyes and short dark hair. "David, this can be our secret now, I'm sure the people at the bank think you left for some important meeting this afternoon, and your secretary is taking messages and handling the email. You can tell me sometime about this training you did, the how and why, but let's be clear about this: now I own a share of "Slave #4", whenever that might amuse me, and you have nothing to say about it." She leaned closer, to show him her I Phone screen, with well-lit photos of the demonstration and his outfit, nicely framed to show his face clearly. "Email can be such a practical thing, so easy to send photos and notes to just about anyone. I have your card, from the meeting where you were doing the selling, so think of this as just a different level of client relations. I will contact you and you will come running, right?" All he could do was to nod, it seemed out of place to have any conversation now. She patted his rear, smoothing the pleated wool kilt, and then turned away.

11.

It was just getting dark as the party broke up, and he and the two women servers were dressed and bundled together in the car, to be dropped off in the city. None of them spoke, or caught each other's eyes. There was no happy camaraderie in having been humiliated and used together, and no romance in the contact they had had.

His daily life seemed to fade in his mind, as his awareness of his new role increased. He was conscious, all the time now, of the chain he wore, and the tag dangling between his legs. He kept his body shaved now, which was less uncomfortable than the itchy stubble. His nights were full of darker imaginings, as he recalled the mention of piercings and rings, and the promise of more use. When the call from Ivy came on his special phone, he did not recognize her voice at first.

"So, David, I should say #4, are you on the road to that intensity now? Sonnet tells me you did well enough in the training, and she has already used you for one of her assignments. What are you feeling?"

"I think I have learned something about myself in this; I do need to give up other feelings, and I do respond to having to deal with situations that take me out of my old life."

"We will see how much more you still have to learn, I think. Come to me this weekend, go to the same place you met Sonnet's driver; Diane will pick you up. Show me the best of what you have learned."

Friday afternoon, he left work early, too distracted to focus, and by dark was waiting in the station parking lot. The car this time was very ordinary, a small gray Japanese sedan in need of washing. Diane, the round-faced woman he had met the first time, waited while he got in and drove off without speaking. He had tried to dress in casual style, and had tossed a small bag into the back seat. She didn't speak or touch him, and clearly did not want a conversation with him. They drove for half an hour, with only the classical music from the car radio.

The house this time was down a country road, a sort of English-looking farmhouse set back amid a grove of trees, with a warm glowing light in the windows. It was dark, with light snow on the ground, and very cold. Diane ignored him and led the way to the door, so that he had to rush to find his bag and catch up. She had already unlocked the door as he came up the step. They walked a few steps into the hall, when Ivy appeared. Like the first time, she wore a leopard print down vest, this time over a black shirt dark skirt and high boots of rippling soft leather. It was a fashion look, not fetish wear, and he was struck by her casual attractiveness for an older woman.

"#4, we meet again. That is your only name now, correct?" She caught his eyes, and he fumbled for words. "Diane, help inspire some feeling in # 4. Take your top off, now."

The smaller, younger woman flashed her eyes, then caught herself and without comment slipped off her coat, then her sweater, blouse, and bra as the watched. In a moment, she was standing topless, her breasts still marked by her bra, her nipples crinkling in the cold air in the hall. She looked straight ahead.

His involuntary reaction was to become aroused, seeing the contrast of her half naked and the others dressed for a cold evening, in the warm glow of the hall. He watched her face, but his eyes went down to her bare breasts, and he saw her annoyed look.

"#4, your turn now. It is very rude for a slave to be dressed like an actual person, get everything off now.'

He looked back at her and quickly shed his coat and fumbled with his clothing, not certain if he shoud focus on quickness or neatness. In a moment he was standing naked in the hall, bare feet on the cold stone tiles, holding his folded clothing, and wearing only his waist chain and tag. Diane moved closer, taking the bundle of clothing and shoes from him. He had just straightened up when he felt a hard slap, as Ivy took a step to him and slapped him hard, on the face, spinning his head part way.

"Pay attention #4. This is not a punishment, it is just because I enjoy your pain. Kneel here, beg for my attention without using any words, and do not look at me either. You are late, and probably worthless, but I may find a use for you. Certainly, I want you to be properly marked this weekend."

He went to his knees, forehead to the floor, his belly folded awkwardly under him and his ass high. He saw only the toes of her boots, as he focused on using his body to express a feeling, of giving and wanting.. He shifted his knees apart, so the tag dangling between his legs was visible, swinging on its short chain. He held the pose, until her foot came under his chin and lifted his face. "Diane, take this one to the work room, get him ready. We don't have a 'play room' here # 4, you need to work for what you get out of this."

He stood slowly, joints creaking, and glanced at Diane's swaying breasts before she pushed him ahead of her, down the hall to the back of the house. They went down one step, and into a side room with a bare, dusty wooden floor and only one high window. The bondage frames he saw were rough and simple, with thick wood and heavy iron hardware, like primitive gymnastics equipment. She led him to a crossbar between two posts and spread his arms wide along it. Heavy leather cuffs placed on his wrists were cuffed to rings, so he was standing naked with arms wide, exposed front and back. She left him there, waiting, until Ivy walked in. The first touch he felt was soft leather strips, sliding slowly down his back. She circled him and he saw a flogger in her hand, with leather strips and a braided purple handle.

"This one is gentle, #4, at least compared to the others and the cane, and the belt. I like to see you jump and beg, but we will start easily. Did I mention I enjoy seeing your pain? Diane's too, actually, it is just how I am. Kiss it, first."

She held it to his lips, and he pursed them and kissed the raw leather, and when she reversed the handle and held it to his lips he sucked it automatically. She started with his upper arms, striking them as they lay against the beam, and then worked her way over his back, and his ass, and the back of his thighs. He felt the stinging but was careful to say nothing, and when she came around to his front, she began with his chest, then his cock and balls as he hardened. When she was done, his skin was stinging and flushed and he found himself more aroused than before.

"Now that I have your attention, 4, I should tell you that in addition to her other skills Diane is a trained piercing technician, with a certificate and everything. She is one of those women doing pierced ears for small girls at the mall, and I have her do other things here. I have thought about you, and while the chain and tag are a nice start, they are still too rough and temporary"

His mind snapped back into focus, as he realized he was immobilized and unable to object. His eyes went wider as he saw Diane walk into his vision, still topless in her skirt but carrying a tray of medical tools. "Diane, I want the usual for this one; nipple rings, a bar in the cock head, and lacing rings."