Submitting To Stuart Ch. 04

I could not believe it when my Mistress led me down into Master Stuart's dungeon. It was the most beautiful dungeon I had ever seen - not decked out with dark wood and chains which was so common and yet distasteful. Instead, the walls were covered in lush red velvet, the floor was covered in steel grey carpet, and the furniture was either red leather or white.

Master Stuart called to his slave, tied against a pole on one side of the room. I allowed my eyes to flick in that direction and was astounded to see none other than Sasha, my ex-girlfriend, was the slave in question.

It had been years since I had seen Sasha. We had been together when I was still vanilla - our sex life had been unbelievable, but we had parted ways because our worlds were poles apart. I was becoming very focused on my career, and she was still finishing college, and partying really hard. We certainly pushed ourselves to the limit, but we never contemplated any form of bondage or discipline - never even talked about it! For my own part, my descent into a state of submission had been like going down a rabbit hole. I would never have guessed that Sasha was out there somewhere on a parallel path.

My Mistress had me crawl on my hands and knees over to a wall opposite to where Sasha was bound. It was so hard for me not to let my eyes drift towards her in order to stare at her and the state she was in. I wanted to examine her face – see if she recognised me, see if she was as surprised to see me as I was to see her.

I should have been paying more attention to where I was being led. My Mistress commanded that I stand up and I did so immediately, coming face to face with an enormous black leather phallus fixed to the wall. My heart began to race because I knew she intended to mount me on that thing and I did not wish to be humiliated in that way in front of Sasha. But I had no choice – my Mistress was my wife, and my single aim was to please her in every way. When she commanded, I obeyed, and this instance was no different.

I turned my back to the wall and held my hands high while Master Stuart buckled my wrists into cuffs attached to chains and a spreader bar over my head. He held my ass-cheeks apart while my Mistress lubed my arsehole with gel. It was cold and forbidding, but her touch was comforting and I attempted to calm myself down in preparation for what was about to take place. With every muscle in my body tense – mounting the phallus would cause damage and severe pain (well more severe than necessary) and could possibly cause me to lose my composure, the thought of which I could not bare.

I stepped up onto the wooden mounting block and allowed my Mistress to guide me as she impaled my arse on the phallus. The cold hard tip of it nudged against the tight ring of my anus, but my Mistress did not pause as she forced me down onto it. The phallus plunged up my arse and white stars appeared before my eyes as the searing, burning pain took hold of my body. It hurt! My anus was extended far beyond what I considered could be natural, and the feeling of the phallus accommodated in my rectum was invasive almost to the point of violation. I began to breathe in short stilted breaths, concerned that any movement would cause me to tear my arse right up to the top of my crack. I prayed that I was safe – but I trusted my Mistress implicitly and knew she would never put me in harm’s way.

She bent before me and moved my feet off the mounting block and positioned them with my heels leaning up against the wall so that I was forced to stand on tiptoe. It was uncomfortable but necessary – if I did not stand that way, the phallus would be forced two or three inches further up my arse, which I was convinced, would be the end of me.

I settled myself, thanked my Mistress, and was pleased that she chose not to blindfold me on this occasion. I kept my eyes glued to my Mistress as she wandered over to Sasha on the other side of the room. I listened as Master Stuart explained to my Mistress that Sasha had been bound thus, and therefore missed the dinner upstairs, because she had been disobedient. I was not surprised when my Mistress offered to punish her, but I couldn’t help feeling concerned for Sasha – I had seen my Mistress be incredibly brutal with unruly slaves in the past, and I worried that Sasha was in for the beating of her life. My Mistress went over to a dresser, and left my view of Sasha uninterrupted.

She was wearing a cream coloured dress, which looked, like one of her work outfits. It was buttoned through the front to the waist, and the buttons had all been undone and the dress pulled open to expose Sasha’s beautiful little breasts. I had always appreciated her breasts when we were together – they were firm and perfectly round and seemed gravity defying to me. They had no droop or sag, like some tits did. Standing or lying down, Sasha’s tits looked just ‘so’. The nipples were a dark pink colour, the areolas small and round. I had chewed on those nipples, quite often to the point of almost breaking the skin. Sasha had told me they usually peeled two days later. Back then I thought that was the ultimate experience in pain I could give a girl.

Sasha’s dress was hitched up to her hips under the ropes that bound her to the pole behind her back. The white nylon rope had been looped around her waist five times, then threaded around her back and over each of her shoulders so that it almost looked like a harness. Hers hands were drawn behind her back – I could not see how they had been fastened but it caused her breasts to protrude forwards even more. My eyes drifted from the ropes down to the bare flesh of her mons, which had lost it’s shock of dark red hair that I was so used to seeing there. Instead a thin line of hair remained, trailing down between her legs, a poignant reminder of the many times I’d had my head between her legs and had sucked insistently at her clitoris until she came, whispering my name, “Thomas, Thomas, Thomas…” as she did.

My wife, my Mistress, returned to stand in front of Sasha. In her hand was a set of nipple clamps connected by a silver chain. My Mistress took Sasha’s left outer labia between her fingers and applied one of the two clamps. I couldn’t help it – I flinched because I imagined Sasha would object to the pain. But when I looked at her face, her eyes were unmoved and her cherry lips were firmly closed. My Mistress threaded the chain around behind Sasha’s hips then fastened the other clamp to the labia on the other side. The flesh was instantly peeled back, and from where I stood I could clearly see Sasha’s clitoris, pink, swollen and no doubt throbbing with fear.

My Mistress and Master Stuart exchanged some words. Then my Mistress raised a wooden spoon above her shoulder and brought it down, smack! Hard against Sasha’s clit. Every muscle in my rectum contracted on the phallus forced up my arse. I was so startled by the slapping sound that I jumped just a fraction and was immediately punished by a jarring sensation right up my colon. I forced myself to stabilise my position again – I could not risk drawing attention to myself, let alone slipping in my precarious position. I focused, returned to that almost Zen state of stillness I’d previously achieved, then looked again across the room at where Sasha was being whipped with a wooden spoon.

She flinched with every blow now, but neither her Master nor my Mistress attempted to stop her or force her to be still. As the little moans she emitted from her mouth began to grow louder and louder, I realised that Sasha was not in discomfort at all. I knew those moans and they were moans of pleasure. My Mistress was beating Sasha to the point of climax and she was enjoying it! Without warning, my own cock began to grow hard at thought and within seconds was standing to full attention. I gazed down at the purple head of my penis and watched pre-cum begin to ooze out. I wished my hands were free to grip my cock and stroke it vigorously – but then I remembered I was not allowed to masturbate without permission anyway.

Master Stuart stepped forward and stopped my Mistress from delivering the final blow. It was not a pleasure, I heard him say, and when I looked at Sasha’s face I could see that not being allowed to come was causing her total agony. I wished I could rush over there and tantalise her poor punished clitoris with my willing tongue. I wanted to finish the job, I wanted her to achieve her release. I wanted to see that look on her face that told me she was satisfied – but then I remembered: she was not mine anymore. She was a slave and I was too. Our bodies were no longer our own to command. My heart sank. I knew the night had only begun for Sasha, and I would be made to stand by and watch.