The Challenge

    
Chapter One: The Challenge

Part One: A Day in the Life

Thursday June 4, 1998

    When Janet finally awoke, Stephanie was gone from her bed.  
Stephanie's bedroom was nicely furnished with a large bed, 
dresser, small desk and chairs, and an attached bathroom.  
Stephanie had used Janet the previous evening, first in the 
library then the bedroom.   Janet lay beneath the sheets, which 
were a mess from their lovemaking.  Feeling her skin, Janet was 
sticky from her sweat and juices from herself and Stephanie, and 
she desired a hot bath.

    Around her neck was locked a leather collar, with matching 
bracelets on her wrists and ankles.  The collar was chained to a 
ringbolt set in the wall above the bed, so Janet would not be 
going anywhere until she was released.

    Janet fingered the stripes on her naked body, remembering how 
during the last week that they had been administered by both 
Stephanie and Camille.  She traced the red marks, wincing when she 
found a tender spot.

    Today was the seventh day of her service to Stephanie, 
Monday.

    "Good morning, Mistress Janet," greeted Camille as she stood 
in the doorway.

    "Good morning, Camille," Janet answered.

    "Your week is up, Mistress," stated Camille, "time to release 
you.  Your vacation is over."

    Janet stood up from the bed, and Camille first released the 
collar chain.  Then she unlocked the collar, wrist and ankle 
bracelets.  For the first time in seven days, Janet was free of 
the instruments of slavery.  She rubbed her wrists, and looked at 
herself in the mirror.

    Naked, her body was clearly marked from her week in slavery 
to Stephanie.  She saw the marks that the whip and crop had left 
behind.  Her breasts, stomach, thighs, and bottom all bore the 
marks that she had been used again as a slave.

    "Your bath is waiting, Mistress," said Camille.

    "Thank you, Camille."

    Janet followed Camille to the bathroom, where she had already 
drawn a steaming hot bath, with soapsuds floating in the water.  
Gingerly, Janet stepped into the bath.  She winced at the hot 
water, but gradually lowered herself into the steaming bath.  The 
hot water made her wounds sting and smart, but it felt good and 
sensual in the scented water.  She lay back in the tub, almost 
ready to go back to sleep.

    "Ahh, that feels good, Camille, thank you," said Janet as she 
sat back in the steaming tub.

    "You have a busy day planned, Mistress Janet.  And Mistress 
Stephanie is waiting downstairs with breakfast," pointed out 
Camille.

    "Yes, thank you."

    Janet was bathed and pampered by Camille.  Her sweat was 
washed away, her skin treated for the marks of the whip.  Her hair 
was washed and set, her nails trimmed and polished.

    Then Janet was dressed for the first time in a week, having 
worn only the collar and bracelets.  She put on her panties and 
bra, and applied perfume between her breasts then behind her ears.  
Janet then put on a blue business suit, and finished by applying a 
red lipstick and a light rouge on her cheeks.

    Janet looked at herself in the mirror.  While she had been a 
slave just an hour before, she now looked like any career woman.  
Except she wondered just what most people might think of her 
career!

    "You look very nice, Mistress Janet," complimented Camille.

    "Thank you, Camille.  It was a pleasure being here for my 
vacation, and being used by you and Mistress Stephanie.  Except 
that next time, you can use the crop on me more firmly.  I won't 
break," advised Janet.

    "I'll remember that next time, Mistress.  Breakfast is 
waiting."

    Janet led Camille downstairs, and they went into the dining 
room.  Stephanie had a glass of orange juice in front of her, 
along with an open copy of the Times.

    "Welcome back, Mistress Janet," said Stephanie, rising as she 
kissed Janet on the cheek.

    "Thank you, Stephanie," replied Janet as she kissed her 
friend back in return.

    "Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, Mistress," stated 
Camille.

    "Thank you," replied Stephanie.

    "Pour yourself some juice, Janet.  So, did you have a nice 
time here on your vacation?" Stephanie asked.

    "Yes," answered Janet as she poured a glass of juice from a 
tray on the table and seated herself, "I was just telling Camille 
that she could have used the crop on me a little stronger."

    "You certainly have a strange way of taking a vacation, 
Janet.  I know of no other Domme who asks to be a slave for a 
week.  I may ask Blanca to use me sometimes, just so that I don't 
forget what the whip feels like.  But to be a slave again for a 
whole week!  Sometimes I think that you enjoy being a slave more 
than a Mistress!"

    "Really," Janet answered, "I'm sure that my slaves would beg 
to differ, the way I use them."

    "Just so long as you enjoyed yourself," said Stephanie.

    Camille, who had prepared a breakfast of omelets, home fries, 
bacon, toast, and coffee, interrupted them.  She served the two of 
them, then withdrew to the kitchen.

    "Mmmm, I'm hungry," said Janet.

    "Yes, getting used does wonders for the appetite," observed 
Stephanie.

    "I lost five pounds this week, Stephanie.  You really should 
run a diet center," commented Janet.

    "That's an idea, except I wonder if any of the commercial 
diet centers would let me use a riding crop," laughed Stephanie.

    "I don't think that the FDA would approve," replied Janet.

    Janet and Stephanie both broke out in laughter together.  For 
a week, Janet had served Stephanie as her slave, in all of the 
often solemn and serious aspects of slavery.  But now Janet was 
again free, and they laughed and chatted like two good friends.

    They made small talk as they ate, consuming breakfast 
quickly.  Just yesterday, Janet had been serving Stephanie.   
Today, she was restored to being a Mistress again.  It felt a 
little strange wearing clothes once again!

    Janet drank one cup of black coffee after another, enjoying 
the hot bitter taste as it went down her throat, warming her.  It 
was nice, Janet thought, to be served, and not have to serve.

    "Thank you Camille," said Janet when they finished, "that was 
very nice."

    "You're welcome, Mistress," answered Camille as she began to 
clear away the dishes.

    Both women rose from the dining room, and Janet followed her 
friend into the library.  Stephanie seated herself behind the 
desk, and Janet took a chair.  How often the two of them were in 
the library together.

    "How does it feel to be leaving?" asked Stephanie.

    "Great.  Ask me that when I get home," Janet answered.

    "What has Tina been doing for the last week while you were 
here?"

    "Entertaining her parents.  I paid for them to fly in, gave 
them a tour of New York City, a Broadway show, and so on, so Tina 
has been very busy," stated Janet.

    "That's very good of you," said Stephanie.

    "Thank you.  Tina is now my assistant so I think that it's 
the least I can do for her, don't you agree?"

    "Yes.  I'm sure that they might have a different view of you 
if they knew how you used their daughter," laughed Stephanie.

    "Quite," Janet answered.

    "What else is on the agenda?"

    "Paperwork, interviews, reports.  Plus I have a report due at 
my job, so I want to get that done today," stated Janet.

    "Janet, I don't know why you want to work," pointed out 
Stephanie.

    "I want to keep busy, I don't just want to be one of the idle 
rich.  No, my job gets me out of the house, gives me something to 
do, something to look forward to."

    "Just so long as you like it," answered Stephanie.

    "Well, I have to be going," said Janet as she looked at her 
watch, and rising from her chair, "thanks again for the vacation."

    "Any time," Stephanie answered.

    Janet and Stephanie both rose, and walked to the foyer.  
Stephanie handed Janet her purse and car keys, then opened the 
front door.  It was June, and already quite hot, so even a light 
jacket wasn't necessary.

    "Have a nice day, Janet," said Stephanie.

    "Thank you," said Janet as she kissed her friend.

    Janet's Miata convertible was waiting at the landing, and she 
got the keys from her purse.  She opened the door, seated herself, 
started the car and drove off.  Revving the engine, Janet enjoyed 
the sound of the exhaust.  Stephanie opened the gate for her, and 
Janet drove out into the street.

    'Why go home?" Janet asked herself, 'I've been in chains all 
week, I want to drive!'

    Janet pulled over to a parking lot and removed a scarf from 
the glove compartment, and tied it over her hair.  Inside was also 
a pair of sunglasses, and then she removed her cell phone from her 
purse.  She called Tina to say that she was going for a short 
drive, and to hold lunch.

    "Okay Mistress," Janet said aloud, "let's drive!"

    Pulling out of Greenwich, Janet found her way onto a country 
road where she could open the car up, and she enjoyed the sound of 
the exhaust and the wind blowing onto her face.  Never breaking 
the speed limit (in her position as a Domme, the last thing she 
wanted to do was to call attention to herself) Janet drove fast 
and hard.

    The car, a red Mazda Convertible, had been a gift from one of 
her slaves.  Jessica had recommended a friend of hers, Helen, to 
Janet two years earlier.  Janet had trained her, but she was never 
sure if the woman had even liked being a slave.  Until one day 
when the car was delivered to her house!  Janet had accepted the 
car, and kept it registered for only six months during the year.  
It had displaced the Toyota in the garage, which now stayed 
outside.

    After enjoying a nice drive, Janet aimed the car for home.  
It would be nice just to keep driving, without a care.  But Janet 
Davis, Dominatrix, had responsibilities to fulfill.  Just as 
Stephanie would now be sitting down to her paperwork, Janet would 
have to attend to hers. Tina would have her complete schedule.  
Slaves to be trained, reports read, interviews.  Janet had 
discovered that the life of a Domme was a busy one!

    Tomorrow, Janet and Jessica would be attending a fundraiser 
in Greenwich for a new cultural center.  Janet, being a member of 
Greenwich society, had made a contribution, and was now expected 
to make an appearance.

    To give Janet a cover in Greenwich, Jessica had arranged a 
part-time job for her at one of the companies that she owned stock 
in at their corporate offices at a nearby office park.  Janet was 
now a woman of means, who owned an estate, and had a job also.

    Actually, Janet thought to herself, it was good putting a 
suit on again, and going to work a few hours each week.  She had 
an office, and a secretary, and put to use the skills and 
experience that she had gained from her own work experience.  
Janet had remembered the advice that Erica had given her, and had 
taken it.

    Janet swung her car into her driveway, and punched the button 
for the gate.  She drove inside, and up to her landing.  While 
Janet may have been on vacation, she didn't have any bags when she 
was serving Stephanie as a slave.

    "Mistress Janet," greeted Tina as she opened the front door.

    "Tina."

    "Did you have a nice time at Stephanie's?" asked Tina.

    "Yes, Tina," Janet answered as she entered the foyer, and 
Tina closed the door behind her.

    "Your schedule in on the desk in the library, Mistress."

    "Thank you, Tina," said Janet.

    On top of the printed schedule was a greeting card, Janet 
opened it, and found it was a thank you card from Tina's parents.  
When Janet looked up, she saw that Tina had entered the library 
and was looking at her.

    "Did you and your parents have a nice time?" Janet asked.

    "Yes, Mistress, thank you.  We had a wonderful time.  But how 
did you get those tickets to that show?  They've been sold out for 
months," said Tina.

    "Let's just say that someone in that theatre happens to be my 
slave, Tina."

    "Thank you, Mistress," Tina walked over and gave her Mistress 
a hug and kiss.

    "You're welcome, Tina."

    "Mistress, can I show you something?" asked Tina.

    "Sure."

    "During your vacation, I was cleaning the paneling here in 
the library, and I found something," said Tina.

    "What was that?"

    Tina walked over to the wall, and began to knock at the wood.  
She banged away, until a section sounded different than the 
others.

    "It's hollow, Mistress.  Like there's something behind the 
wood," suggested Tina.

    "You're right, Tina," said Janet.

    Janet banged away at one section at a time, and established 
the boundaries of the open area within.

    "Interesting," mused Janet, "in the movies, there's usually a 
catch somewhere."

    Janet pressed away at one spot and another, and finally her 
efforts were rewarded when the paneling clicked open.

    "Hmmm," said Janet, "success!"

    "I wonder what's inside?" asked Tina.

    "One way to find out," said Janet as she opened the panel 
further.

    "A safe!" said Tina.

    Janet tried the handle, and found it was securely locked.  
She turned the combination lock a few times, and the door still 
stayed closed.

    "Locked. Damn!" exclaimed Janet.

    "Perhaps you should call Mistress Blanca," suggested Tina.

    "Not a bad idea," Janet answered.

    Janet picked up the cordless phone, and punched in Blanca's 
number.  She was surprised to find her lawyer on the other end.

    "Janet, what can I do for you?" asked Blanca.

    "I'm glad to get you in the office."

    "Just back from court, what's up?"

    "Found a wall safe in the library, that's locked.  Did you 
know if Erica ever had a safe?"

    "No, but it wouldn't surprise me," answered Blanca.

    "Any ideas on how to get it open?" asked Janet.

    "Sure, Sing-Sing is just over the border," laughed Blanca.

    "Remind me to spank you when I see you next."

    "Sorry, couldn't resist.  Anyway, let me go through my 
rolodex and I'll find someone in Greenwich to help open 
it......There we go."

    Blanca gave Janet the name of a company in Greenwich to call.

    "Thank you, Blanca."

    "Glad I could help, have to go.  Clients coming in," said 
Blanca.

    "Bye," said Janet.

    Janet heard the connection cut on the other end, and she 
replaced the phone on its cradle.  She looked at the number she 
had written down on a notepad.

    "Are you going to call, Mistress?" asked Tina.

    "I don't know," Janet answered, looking at the safe, "can I 
be alone Tina?"

    "Yes, Mistress," replied Tina.

    Janet sat down in the chair, after Tina had closed the doors 
behind her.  She stared at the paneling, suddenly full of fear and 
apprehension.

    "Damn you, Erica," said Janet to herself.

    It had been two years since Andrea had written Janet to say 
that Erica had died in a traffic accident.  Janet had learned that 
the name of her Mistress had been Sharon Taylor, from the 
newspaper article that Andrea had sent her at the time.

    Or was that really Erica's name?  Janet sat back in the 
leather-covered chair and realized that the name that Erica had 
died using might not have been her real one either.

    Erica Riken.  Alana Peters.  Sharon Taylor.  Janet wondered 
just how her Mistress had known just who she was at any one time.

    Now she stared at the safe.  The smart thing to do, Janet 
thought, would be to close the panel, and forget that it was even 
there.  But Janet had always wondered what other secrets that 
Erica had kept from her.

    Janet remembered the haunted look that Erica had when she 
last saw her, when she was driven away by Mistress Monique years 
ago.  A look of impending doom on her face, of fatalistic 
acceptance of something.

     "I shall not pass this way again, Janet.  I just have to go, 
I'm sorry," Erica had said.

    Remembering Erica's last words to her brought chills up 
Janet's spine.  She had only seen a person look that way when they 
had been diagnosed with a serious disease, knowing that they were 
going to die.  Was that what Erica had been keeping from her, and 
why?

    Suddenly, Erica's stated reason for her giving her estate to 
her two slaves, that she was getting married and starting a new 
life, seemed pretty hollow, which Janet did not question at the 
time.

    But now, two years after Erica's death, and after having 
established her own reputation as a Dom herself, Janet looked at 
the safe and knew that she would have to open it.

    Janet picked up the phone and pressed the buttons for the 
number.

    "Hello, my name is Janet Davis, I live in Back country 
Greenwich.  I have a problem, I need a safe opened........."

    After a brief conversation, the locksmith said that he would 
be over shortly.  Janet replaced the receiver on the cradle, and 
stared at the safe.  She wondered just what Erica had placed 
within.  Would she find dust, papers, money, or something else?

    It was the unknown that was what worried Janet the most.  For 
the first time in years, of having lived her own life as a Dom, 
Janet now wondered if Erica could reach out from beyond the grave 
to affect her life somehow.

    "Mistress, are you all right?" asked Tina.

    "Sorry, I was lost in thought, Tina.  I'm fine.  Good thing 
you're wearing a normal outfit, we're about to have guests.  
Someone to open the safe.  Said they'd be right over."

    "Have you read the interviews yet?" asked Tina.

    "No, I was lost in thought."

    'Worrying about the contents of the damn safe,' Janet thought 
to herself.

    Janet attended to paperwork for a short time, then the gate 
buzzer sounded.  Janet hit the button, and a truck drove up to the 
landing.  A man in a uniform got out of the truck, and Janet 
greeted him at the door.

    "Someone called about a safe?" he asked.

    "Yes, that's me," Janet answered.

    "Where is it?"

    "In the library," said Janet, as she directed him inside the 
house.

    He looked at the safe, turned the combination lock around a 
few times, and turned to Janet.

    "Can you open it?" Janet asked.

    "Sure, just have to get some tools.  Have it open in no 
time," he smiled.

    Janet watched from her desk, pretending to read her papers as 
he set up his tools then managed to open the safe in less than a 
half-hour.

    He showed Janet how she could reset the combination, told her 
about the manufacturer, and she wrote a check for him.  Janet was 
again left alone in the library, except the safe's open door both 
attracted and repelled her at the same time.

    Taking a deep breath, Janet finally looked inside.  The 
safe's door gave no indication just how big the interior really 
was.  There were two shelves holding the contents.  On one were 
some manila folders & envelopes.

    But on the other, in chronological order were a series of 
date books, neatly beginning in 1980 and continuing to 1992.  
Janet removed the first volume, and opened it.  There, in Erica's 
distinctive handwriting, was her diary.

    The Diary of Alana Peters 1980

    Janet's blood suddenly ran cold.  Here was the answer to the 
question that she had posed to Stephanie a few times in the last 
couple of years.  Would she ever know Erica's secrets?

    Now Janet knew that the name that Erica had used when she had 
been in submission to Janet years ago had been her real one.  A 
chill went though Janet as she suddenly wondered what else she 
would discover about Erica.  If the first page contained a 
bombshell like Erica's real name and identity, what else did the 
Diaries contain?

    Years ago, after Erica had departed, Janet had asked 
Stephanie if she would ever know Erica's secrets.  Now she held 
Erica's diary in her hands, feeling as if Erica were again in the 
library with her.

    "Be careful what you wish for in life," Janet said aloud, 
"you just might get it."

    Janet closed the diary, her hands shaking.  She felt like she 
was actually holding Erica in her hands, and she wanted to cry.  
Janet realized that she still loved Erica, or Alana, and always 
would.  She clutched the book tightly in her hands, her skin 
turning white from the effort.  

    Replacing the book inside the safe, Janet decided that it was 
not time for her to read Erica's Diaries.  No, that would have to 
be done in the quiet of the evening when she could be alone.

    Even so, she looked at the spine of the book dated 1992, and 
another chill washed over her.  For that was the year that she had 
asked her friend Sally to enliven her dull sex life, and had been 
introduced to Mistress Erica.

    Janet resisted the temptation to reach out, and open the book 
and read what Erica might have written about her.  How Janet had 
worshipped Erica!  Erica had placed Janet into submission, used 
her body under the lash, and taken her sexually.  But had never 
hurt or humiliated her, all the while teaching her how to be a 
proper Dominatrix, readying her for the competition with Tiffany.

    Then Janet removed the Manila Folders, and found them full of 
Medical Records!  Janet had expected bonds, or stocks.  But 
Medical Records?  She tried to read the doctors handwriting, but 
couldn't.  

    'Why can't doctors write like normal people?' Janet thought 
to herself.

    Janet was startled by a sudden knock on the library door, and 
she looked at her watch.

    "Enter," Janet directed.

    "Lunch, Mistress?" asked Tina.

    "Thank you, Tina, yes."

    "In the kitchen, Mistress?"

    "Yes, we have some reports to discuss.  May as well make it a 
working lunch," suggested Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Tina.

    Janet replaced the records that she had found back in the 
safe, and locked the door, spinning the combination and double-
checking that the safe was indeed locked.  Erica's secrets were 
safe, for now.

    Tina had prepared a lunch of salad, sandwiches, and they ate 
together at the kitchen table, making small talk together.  Tina 
told her of entertaining her parents in New York, and the fun that 
they had.  Janet in turn told her of serving Stephanie, how her 
body was now again marked.

    "Did you enjoy yourself?" asked Tina.

    "Yes."

    "During my 'lease period' to Stephanie, I found her to be 
quite an exciting, sensual Mistress to serve," commented Tina.

    "I'll tell her you said that," answered Janet, "perhaps you 
might want to be used by her again."

    "Only after you use me first, Mistress Janet," replied Tina 
with a smile on her face.

    "That can easily be arranged," Janet answered, a smile on her 
face.

    In spite of their eating together, Janet and Tina did not 
discuss the reports, which remained unopened.  Instead, Janet was 
glad to be home again, in her own house, with Tina.  They 
discussed Tina's trip to New York, her caring for the Mansion, and 
other things.

    "What was in the safe, Mistress?"

    "Just some papers, Tina.  Mistress Erica's papers."

    "Are you going to read them?" asked Tina.

    Janet pursed her lips together, her emotions raging.  She had 
managed to contain them when she had locked the safe, but the 
thought of knowing more about Erica!

    "Perhaps later.  And for being such an insolent, curious 
slave I can guarantee that you'll be used today, Tina."

    "Thank you, Mistress Janet.  I've missed you for a week," 
said Tina, as she rose to clear away the dishes.

    "And I've missed you too, Tina."

    The kitchen clock chimed, and Janet saw it was 2PM.  The day 
was just wasting away, and she wasn't getting anything done!

    "Tina, I'm going to go into the library and work on that 
company report that's due tomorrow.  Hold all my calls, please?" 
asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet rose and removed a can of soda from the fridge, then 
adjourned to the library.  She opened her briefcase, and removed 
her papers, then started working.  She was in charge of sales for 
a company department, and it was her job to co-ordinate the 
various campaigns.  Her part-time status was made possible because 
she was really just assisting.  But still, Janet was determined to 
prove that she could do her job, and she had asked everyone's 
advice both above and below her in the company.  She wanted to 
show that she really earned the sizeable paycheck that she was 
getting, not that she was there just because of Jessica.

    She had started one year ago, and Janet finally knew her way 
around.  Janet learned what her job was, and her suggestions were 
received and finally having an effect.  It was gratifying to see 
the sales figures improve, how the others now welcomed her ideas.

    Janet smiled when she thought of how strange it really was.  
No doubt the company gossip was that Jessica and Janet were 
lovers, and that Janet had merely been brought in because she was 
bedding the largest stockholder.  Instead, she wondered what the 
company's gossips would think if they knew the truth that Jessica 
would be naked, and bound, with a ballgag in her mouth, at Janet's 
feet in submission to her!

    She worked, writing down ideas, checking one company report 
after another, finally making her decision.  Then she turned on 
the computer, and really started working, typing out her report.  
Janet was completely lost in thought, and didn't even see how the 
time passed.

    Finally, the report was done.  She transmitted a copy to 
work, since the meeting would be tomorrow, saved a copy both on 
the hard drive and 2 disks, then printed out a couple of copies on 
regular paper.

    Janet realized that she had not even changed out of her 
business suit that she had donned at Stephanie's, that she could 
have worked in a jogging outfit.  Or nothing at all.

    "Mistress?" asked Tina from the doorway.

    "Yes, Tina."

    "Dinner is served," announced Tina.

    "Thank you, Tina, your timing is excellent," said Janet as 
she glanced at her watch, "six o'clock!  Why didn't you tell me 
earlier?" demanded Janet.

    "Mistress, you were so involved in your work I didn't want to 
disturb you.  Besides, you said that the report was due tomorrow, 
so I waited until you were finished."

    "Thank you, Tina, you're right.  Are we having a barbecue?" 
asked Janet.

    "No, Mistress.  Look outside," directed Tina.

    Janet had been so wrapped up her work, so deep in 
concentration, she had failed to see that what had been a bright 
sunny day was now dark with storm clouds.  A sudden gust of wind 
came through the open window, rustling some papers on the desk.  
In the distance, Janet saw a flash of light and seconds later, the 
sound of thunder.

    "What's for dinner?" asked Janet.

    "Fried Shrimp, Mistress."

    "That will be quite nice," Janet answered as she closed the 
library windows and locked them, "and you shall be the dessert."

    "Yes, Mistress," replied Tina.
    *            *        *        *        *

    Janet had dressed herself in one of the other bedrooms in a 
simple leather bra, skirt, and a pair of modest heels.  
Stephanie's marks would take some time to fade, and Janet 
remembered just how she felt when her friend had administered 
them.

    Now, Janet was again Mistress.  She admired her trim figure, 
kept that way through exercise.  No extra pounds on her!

    Janet entered her own bedroom, and kneeling naked on the 
carpet was Tina.  She was outfitted in collar and bracelets, which 
Janet had locked on her earlier.

    Seeing her submissive on the carpet made Janet's heart beat 
faster with desire.  For the past week, she had been in submission 
to Stephanie and Camille.  She had been used again as a slave.  
But now Janet was restored to the position that she had inherited 
from Mistress Erica.  Janet was again in control of her own slave, 
and she wanted it to be a memorable night.

    "Are you ready, Tina?"  Janet asked.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    On the dresser was a collection of Janet's toys: riding 
crops, a short whip, straps, chains, a flogger, ballgags.  She had 
selected them with great care from the Dungeon downstairs.

    "Do you submit to me of your own free will, without coercion 
or duress?"

    "Yes, Mistress Janet."

    "That your body belongs to me?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "That you will obey me without question?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "What is your safeword, Tina?"

    "Mercy, Mistress."

    "Then we shall proceed," concluded Janet, "place yourself 
over the desk, slave," ordered Janet.

    Tina rose and laid her torso down on the empty desk.  Janet 
had ropes ready, and secured her arms and legs, coiling the ropes 
and finally adding a single cinch to bind Tina more closely to the 
desk's legs.

    Janet noted that Tina's breaths were short, and she knew that 
Tina's heart was already beating fast with anticipation.  After 
being Janet's slave for so long, she could read all of Tina's body 
language perfectly.  Janet knew that Tina was aching with desire 
to be used by her Mistress.

    Janet reached her hand forward and began to massage Tina's 
upraised bottom, feeling the warm skin (which was going to be a 
lot warmer before the night was over); and making Tina squirm with 
want.  Then she reached between Tina's thighs, and found that 
Tina's sex was already engorged with blood, her pussy wet with her 
juices.

    "Did you long for your Mistress?" sternly demanded Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress Janet."

    "Did you use any sex toys while I was gone, a dildo up your 
sex, perhaps?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," quickly answered Tina.

    "In spite of my direct orders for you not to do so in my 
absence!"

    "Yes, Mistress.  Sorry Mistress!  It's just that I...."

    "If I want your answer, I'll ask for it," said Janet, "for 
being a disobedient slave, you shall bear the consequences."

    Janet found the leather-covered paddle, one that would redden 
Tina's bottom nicely.  She displayed it to Tina, than whacked it 
against her palm for effect a couple of times.

    "How long since I last used the paddle on you, Tina?" Janet 
demanded.

    "I don't know, Mistress."

    "You should know.  You should remember every time an 
instrument is used on you, so that you can report to your 
Mistress," stated Janet.

    Janet smiled, remembering that after every session that they 
did with a submissive Janet and Tina quickly wrote down what 
instrument they used, how many strokes and their severity, and how 
long a session lasted.  Also how the slave responded to 
discipline, and if the session was pleasing to them or not.  All 
of that went into the slave's file, both so Janet knew how their 
training was progressing and if the submissive understood what was 
happening to them.  Then Janet would make certain that they would 
have to write in their Journal their feelings about their 
submission.

    Being a Dom involved a lot of paperwork!

    "Did you desire me while I was with Mistress Stephanie?" 
Janet demanded.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Then your desires have been answered," replied Janet.

    Thwack!  Janet struck Tina's bottom with the paddle with a 
mild stroke, one that left a red imprint behind.  Thwack!  Janet 
struck Tina's other buttock.  Thwack!  Janet struck again.

    "Thank you, Mistress!" Tina cried.

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    After a series of mild strokes, Janet would pause, only to 
begin again.  Tina would moan and cry, and pull at the ropes tying 
her to the table.  But Tina was tied quite tightly, and couldn't 
really move in her position.

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Tina's bottom, which had been pink before, was now turning a 
deep shade of red as Janet continued her discipline.  Janet 
glanced at Tina's face, and saw that Tina was smiling as each 
stroke was delivered.

    When Janet had counted to twenty, she stopped.

    "Enough!"

    "Thank you, Mistress Janet," cried Tina.

    "Kiss the paddle," ordered Janet.

    Janet offered the paddle to Tina, who kissed it as ordered.  
She then reached between Tina's reddened ass cheeks into her sex, 
making Tina squirm and moan.

    "Wet, aren't you?" demanded Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," Tina answered.

    Still standing behind Tina, Janet reached forward and took 
Tina's breasts in her hands.  Janet began to pinch and fondle 
Tina's breasts, and finally located her erect nipples.  Janet 
pinched them with a gradual and ever increasing pressure that made 
Tina moan in her captivity.

    "Don't come!" ordered Janet.

    "No, Mistress," moaned Tina in return.

    "I am not finished yet," said Janet as she selected a riding 
crop with a leather pad at the tip.

    Janet then started to deliver very mild strokes of the crop 
under Tina's arms, which barely marked her skin.  The new strokes 
drove Tina ever wilder with desire, and she pulled at the ropes 
holding her.

    "Mistress, please!" begged Tina.

    "Not yet, slave," Janet ordered.

    Janet continued using the crop on the back and inside of 
Tina's legs, where she knew that the skin was the most sensitive.  
Tina moaned with every stroke, even moving the table when Janet 
struck a particularly sensitive area.

    "Enough with the crop!" stated Janet, as she offered it to 
Tina, who kissed it just as she had the paddle.

    "Thank you, Mistress," cried Tina in response.

    Janet began to loosen the ropes that bound Tina to the table.  
When all four had been released, Janet stepped backwards from her 
slave.

    "You may rise, Tina," commanded Janet.

    Tina slowly got to her feet, putting on her weight gradually 
before she stood erect.

    "Thank you, Mistress," said Tina.

    Since it was June, the bed now had a light summer quilt, 
which Janet had thrown backwards.  On the night table was a dildo, 
a small riding crop and quirt.

    "On the bed, Tina," Janet ordered.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet locked Tina's collar to the chain hanging from the 
ringbolt set in the wall.  Just the night before, Stephanie had 
done the same with Janet, after using her severely.  In truth, 
Janet did not even need to dress up, but she wanted to.  It was 
her turn again to wear her Domme outfits, instead of being a naked 
submissive.

    "You will now serve me, slave," Janet commanded.

    Janet unzipped her boots, undid her leather bra and skirt, 
and was promptly nude.  She got on the bed, and opened her legs.

    "Service your Mistress."

    Tina placed her head between Janet's thighs and her tongue 
reached between the lips of Janet's labia, quickly arousing her.  
Then her tongue played with Janet's clit, making her moan with 
desire.  Janet pressed her head back into the pillow as her sexual 
excitement quickly increased from Tina's attentions.

    "Make me come!" Janet ordered.

    Tina continued, thrusting her tongue inside Janet's sex, 
licking the walls of her Domme's sex, and making her moan with 
want.  Janet bucked against the bed, her aching sex nearing 
climax.

    "Aaaaah!" Janet cried as the sexual tension inside her was 
released in a series of powerful orgasms that left her breathing 
ragged.  She bounced on the bed, with Tina still between her 
thighs.  Gradually, the sensations subsided, and Janet regained 
her senses.

    "Thank you, Tina," said Janet.

    "You're welcome, Mistress."

    "You may now lay down," ordered Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Tina now lay upon the bed, and opened her legs, even though 
she had not yet been ordered to.  Janet picked up the dildo, and 
ran her hands over the plastic surface.  The dildo was a flesh 
colored shaft about ten inches long, and Janet placed it between 
Tina's thighs at the entrance to her sex.

    Tina arched her back to make the penetration easier, and 
Janet thrust the shaft within.  Tina's sex was already wet with 
desire, and Janet had no trouble pushing the dildo inside, making 
Tina moan and shake.

    "Have you missed me?" Janet demanded.

    "Yes, Mistress," moaned Tina.

    "Than I shall make you scream with pleasure, slave."

    Janet thrust the dildo within, then partially removed and 
thrust it again and again within Tina's sex.  Tina moaned with 
pleasure, then bounced on the bed as she quickly reached orgasm.  
Once she climaxed, Janet withdrew the dildo, and buried her face 
between Tina's legs.

    Janet made love to Tina's sex, tonguing her labia and finally 
bringing her to climax again by stimulating her clit.  She brought 
Tina one orgasm after another, making her scream her pleasure out 
in spasms of joy.

    She moved up the bed, and enfolded Tina in her arms, 
passionately kissing her Tina after time.  Janet tasted her own 
juices on Tina's lips, and Tina tasted herself on Janet's.  
Hugging and kissing her slave, they warmed each other up, sweating 
in the summer heat.

    When they finished, Janet looked at the clock.  It was after 
midnight, the bed and sheets were a mess and sticky with their 
sweat.  Janet fell asleep after Tina, a smile of contentment on 
her face.

Friday June 5, 1998

    The next morning, Janet unlocked Tina's collar.  They 
showered together quickly, since Janet had to get to work.  After 
a fast breakfast, Janet dressed in her blue business suit, got her 
case from the library, and was off to work.

    Her job at Xylex did not demand a lot of her time, unless she 
was working on a special project or report.  When she arrived at 
the company, her secretary had copied the report as ordered, so 
Janet would make her presentation on time.

    The meeting was brief and to the point.  Janet delivered the 
report and her findings, made her suggestions, and everything was 
done by noon.  The other executives removed their papers from the 
desk as the meeting broke up, and Janet prepared to check in her 
office, then leave for the day.

    "Janet?" asked Ronald Jarvis, the company president.

    "Yes, Ron."

    "Could you stay for a moment, please?" he asked.

    "Sure," Janet answered, not moving from her seat as the 
others left.

    Janet studied Ron's face, wondering what he wanted.  Was she 
going to get canned again?

    "Janet," he said when they were alone, "you've done a fine 
job here.  I admit that I was a little skeptical of the way you 
were brought on board, but you've proven yourself."

    "Thank you," Janet answered.

    "Which is why I'd like to expand your position to full time.  
You'll get a bigger office, a car, an expense account, and travel 
too.  You've earned it."

    "Thank you, Ron, but no.  I have to refuse, I'm sorry," Janet 
said in reply.

    "But why?"

    "Ron, I don't need the money, I'm quite well set in life.  I 
have something else in life that occupies most of my time, so this 
is a nice change of pace for me, really.  But I don't want one to 
impact on the other."

    "The job is always open, if you want it," he said, 
disappointment clearly evident on his face.

    "Thank you," Janet answered.

    They left the boardroom together, making small talk.  Janet 
checked in with her secretary, did some minor paperwork, and was 
off the premises by two PM.

    Driving back to the estate, with her briefcase on the car's 
floor, Janet wondered just how Ron might react if he knew that one 
of the company's stockholders, Jessica Danvers, was Janet's slave.  
Just before her vacation to Stephanie, Jessica had stayed over for 
two days.  Jessica had been naked, collared, and kneeling on the 
floor with a ballgag in her mouth, waiting to serve her Mistress.

    Now that was a thought!

    Later that evening, after doing her Domme work at home, Janet 
changed into a modest designer dress.  Then she picked up Jessica 
at her home, and they drove together to the fundraiser.

    The Cultural Center was a place for artwork, concerts, and 
book readings.  As a member of Greenwich society, Janet had 
contributed.  Now, she was expected to make an appearance.

    Janet recognized some of the people there from the 
newspapers, and Jessica could identify almost everyone there.  In 
her position as a Domme, Janet had kept a low profile in 
Greenwich.  She was polite when introduced, and when someone tried 
to draw her into conversation she politely answered a few 
questions and moved on.

    She was known as the woman who had inherited the Riken 
Estate, and little else.  Janet was determined to keep it that 
way, which was why her job was so important as a cover story.

    After an hour and a half, with the band playing in the 
background, Janet was about to seek out Jessica and suggest that 
they leave.  Janet did not have any sessions planned for tonight, 
so she wanted just to sleep.  She got a drink from a passing 
waiter, and stood, alone for a moment.

    "Janet Davis?" asked a female voice, behind her.

    "Yes," Janet answered, turning to face the woman.

    Her companion was a smartly dressed woman in a designer gown, 
which Janet had glimpsed twice in the last hour.  She was in her 
thirties, with an attractive figure (Janet undressed every woman 
with her eyes), black hair, a pretty face with high cheekbones, 
and red lips.

    "Could I speak to you privately?" she asked.

    "I'm really just about to leave," Janet replied as she sipped 
at her drink.

    "It's about a business and personal matter."

    "What can I do for you?" asked Janet, ready to give the woman 
Blanca's number, and let her lawyer warn this person off.

    "My name is Cheryl Branford.  Here is my card," she said, 
pressing it into Janet's hand, "read the front and back."

    On the front was Cheryl's name and phone number.  On the 
back, neatly typed, were the words:

    Mistress Janet Davis, I know all about you.
    If you wish to remain a Mistress,
    I want to be trained as your slave.
    Else I will expose you.

    Janet's blood ran cold when she read the words, even though 
it was quite warm.  The sweat on her back suddenly turned to ice.

    "Do we understand each other?" asked Cheryl.

    "Is this some kind of joke?" Janet asked.

    "No joke," answered Cheryl, "I'm deadly serious."

    "I don't know what you're talking about."

    "Let's not play games, Mistress," Cheryl softly replied.

    "What do you want, money?" asked Janet, suddenly afraid of 
blackmail.

    "It's not money that I'm after, Mistress.  I'll even give you 
the usual gift that your other affluent slaves bestow on you.  I 
want to be trained by you, no other Mistress will do."

    "This isn't how I work," Janet answered.

    "Then you'll just have to learn to accept me, Mistress.  
Unless you want me to expose you as a Dominatrix in public and 
face the embarrassment.  You have my number, call me to arrange a 
schedule.  I'll be waiting.  You have a week, do you understand?"

    "Yes," Janet answered.

    "Lastly, you must not tell Mistress Blanca Sanchez or 
Mistress Stephanie Richards about me, or have me investigated in 
any way.  I shall tell you this again in a package that I will 
have delivered to your house on Monday morning."

    "Why?"

    "That's for me to know, Mistress Janet.  I'll expect your 
call in the next few days."

    With the threat still in the air, Cheryl walked away, just in 
time for Jessica to suddenly appear at her side.

    "Janet?" asked Jessica, "are you all right?  You look like 
you've seen a ghost."

    "No.  Please drive me home, Jessica.  I don't feel very 
well."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Jessica softly.

    Later than evening, after Janet had tried to sleep, she awoke 
at 2 AM.  Her sleep had been filled with nightmares, which made 
her feel even worse.  Tina had slept in her own room, and had not 
asked Janet what was wrong when she locked herself in her bedroom 
sobbing.

    Janet put on a light robe and slippers, and walked down to 
the kitchen for a drink.  After a glass of water, she went to the 
library, and poured a large sherry.

    "Now what?" Janet asked herself.

    Janet walked to the wall safe, unlocked the wooden panel, 
then opened the safe itself.  She removed the first of Erica's 
Diaries, then seated herself behind the desk. Taking a deep breath 
and a swallow of sherry, she opened it to the first page, and 
began to read...

 

 

"The Challenge" Chapter Two: Death and the Resurrection
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if you
include this statement of limitation of use and notify the author 
by e-mail.
The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple 
copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.
However, individual readers may make single copies of the
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the author.  I 
do want to hear from you!

"The Challenge" by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net
Chapter 02: Death and the Resurrection

Part One: The Debt

June 1980

    For Alana Peters, life could not get any better this June 
day.  The stock deal to take the client's company public had hit 
the street this morning, and she had made it happen.  She had 
worked for the investment firm on Wall Street, and this was her 
first big deal.

    All the months of hard work, negotiations, nights spent in 
New York, all were paying off now.  She had taken an old family 
firm public, and her investment firm was issuing the stock.  For 
them and her it meant commissions, fame, and fortune.  Already 
there was talk of an article about her in the Wall Street Journal, 
and she was sure to make partner.

    She had spent the night before in NY, and had taken the car, 
a red Mustang convertible, into the City.  Once the deal went 
public, let the big boys get on TV.   Alana decided to hit the 
road and take a few days off.  She would swing by her mother's 
house in Greenwich, pick up a few clothes, and then head up the 
coast, maybe end up in Boston.

    She was driving north on the Merritt Parkway and the two 
lanes and sharp curves challenged her driving, forcing her to 
downshift to maintain control.  She enjoyed the sound and feel of 
the five liter V8 and manual tranny as she raced, well over the 
limit, into Connecticut.  Her black hair streamed behind her in 
the wind, as she had forgotten to wear a scarf.  Driving with the 
top down was the most exhilarating feeling!

    Beep!

    She turned to her left, and saw a red Pontiac Firebird.  The 
man behind the wheel gestured, and floored his gas pedal.  Alana, 
not wanting to be outdone, responded in kind, and slammed the 
Mustang into fifth gear.  The speedometer jumped to over a 
hundred, and she was pushed back into her seat.

    Rounding a curve, the Mustang encountered a puddle of water 
and oil.  It's rear wheels lost traction, and it began to spin.  
First the car hit the center median, then bounced back to the 
shoulder; it's tires screaming in protest.  The car hit a pole at 
nearly a hundred, ejecting Alana who had not worn her seatbelt.  
Alana screamed as the car disintegrated, her body buffeted by the 
forces tearing the car apart.  Her body flew through the air, 
finally striking the pavement, her bones and flesh breaking on 
impact.

    Police Report: Connecticut State Police PO Richard Parker
    While on patrol on the morning of June 16, I observed two 
vehicles, a Pontiac and Ford Mustang, racing at a high rate of 
speed on the Merritt Parkway.  Even before I could turn my lights 
on and pursue, the Mustang had spun out of control after sliding 
on a wet patch of road, and ejected the driver onto the pavement.  
Exiting from my patrol car, I called for an ambulance.  The 
driver, a young woman, was badly injured given the force with 
which she hit the pavement.  I was surprised that she was still 
alive when I reached her.
    The driver was very lucky, given that right behind me was a 
doctor from Greenwich Hospital who stopped after seeing the 
accident.  She was a trauma doctor, and kept the woman alive.  
Else she would have died quickly from her injuries.

    Medical Report: Dr. Stephanie Richards
    While driving on the Merritt Parkway to work on June 16, I 
was witness to a horrible road accident.  Alana Peters was driving 
a red Ford Mustang Convertible, and was ejected during an 
accident.
    I stopped to provide emergency medical aid, and was assisted 
by PO Parker who was already on the scene.
    Her right leg was broken, along with collarbone, skull 
fracture, concussion, multiple broken ribs, punctured lung, and 
massive internal injuries and bleeding.  Luckily, an ambulance was 
returning empty and heard the call from PO Parker, and was on the 
scene in 2 minutes.  Even with the proper equipment, Alana went 
into cardiac arrest before we got her to the hospital.  It took 
all of my skill to restart her heart, saving her life.
    Alana Peters is lucky to be alive.  However, when she 
awakens, she will be spending months, maybe a year in the hospital 
to recover and will require physical therapy to restore normal use 
to her body.
    Her constant companion now will be pain as her body slowly 
heals from the heavy injuries that she has sustained.
    She may regret surviving the accident given the long and 
painful path to recovery.
    End Medical Report

Part Two: The Conscious Choice

July 1981

    Alana drove her new BMW into Manhattan and had parked it at a 
garage not far from the address that she had been given over the 
phone.  Scared like hell, she had walked without the cane a couple 
of blocks to a residential building.  She had pressed the button, 
and been admitted within.

    Her first view of the House of Domination was a letdown.  
Just an office where she was asked a few simple questions by a 
receptionist.  Then she was conducted into another, private 
office, where she faced another woman.  Her companion was an 
attractive woman in her early 30s, nicely dressed in a silk blouse 
and plaid skirt.

    "Take a seat please," she directed, "drink?"

    "Diet Coke."

    "Sure."

    The woman stood up and walked to a refrigerator, and removed 
2 cans.  One she handed to Alana then reseated herself in her 
chair.

    "Thank you," said Alana.

    "How may we help you?" asked the woman.

    "I want to be used by a Dominatrix," bluntly stated Alana.

    "No doubt in your mind?" asked the woman as she drank her 
Coke.

    "None."

    "Why?"

    "I want to know what it feels like to be in submission," 
Alana replied, sipping at her soda, her throat suddenly bone dry 
from fright.

    "Have you ever had these fantasies before?" asked the woman.

    "Why all of these questions?  I'm not a cop."

    "No need to worry," the woman laughed, "we have some highly 
prominent people amongst our customers.  If we were ever shut 
down, I just have to make one phone call and the heat would be 
off.  Which is why you never see a place like ours busted."

    "Sounds interesting," Alana replied.

    "Why do you want to submit?"

    "I want to feel a lash and riding crop, to be used, to be 
dominated by another woman."

    "All right, we can provide that," said the woman, "and you 
must learn to obey all of my orders."

    "Are you a Mistress?"

    "Yes, Mistress Martine.  Before any client goes under the 
lash, I like to ask a few questions.  You pass.  Payment will be 
in cash, used bills only.  Small ones, please.  You will be 
conducted to one of our Dungeons where my slave maid will have you 
undressed and ready for my use.  You can still back out now, if 
you want."

    "No," sighed Alana, "this is what I came here for."

    "Good," answered Martine as she stood up, "see you in the 
Dungeon, then.  Naked."

    Another woman then conducted Alana, this time in her early 
30s to the Dungeon.  Except that this was the first time that she 
had seen anything related to Domination.  The Maid was dressed in 
a form fitting rubber outfit in black, and she was perched on very 
high heels.  She escorted Alana to a small anteroom, when she was 
made to undress.  Silently, Alana removed all of her clothes.  Her 
blouse, skirt, underwear and shoes were all taken from her.  The 
Maid then produced a box, inside of, which were leather cuffs, 
which were locked around her wrists.  Then a collar was placed 
around her neck, to which a leash was attached.  Alana was made to 
stand up, and her wrists were locked behind her back.  Finally, a 
fur lined leather blindfold covered her eyes.  She was now naked 
and helpless, and at the mercy of others.

    "Come," she was instructed, feeling a tug at her collar.

    Alana obeyed, and let herself be led a few steps.  She had no 
idea what room that she was in, except that she was soon made to 
kneel.  Just a few months before, she would have been incapable of 
doing that simple action.  Even though the room she was in was 
quite warm, she still shivered, and Goosebumps covered her skin.

    She heard the unmistakable sound of the click of a woman's 
heels, and then her blindfold was suddenly removed.  She looked 
up, and there was Mistress Martine!  Except that now she was 
dressed in a black leather corset, elbow length black leather 
gloves, black stockings, and matching black high heels.

    "Mistress?" asked Alana.

    "Silence, slave, you will speak only when you are spoken to," 
Martine said in a firm tone of voice.

    Alana swallowed from fright.  This was what she had sought 
out, what she wanted.  To submit to someone, and finally to feel 
the lash.

    "Have you ever been whipped before, or spanked?" asked 
Martine.

    "No, Mistress."

    "Then we shall have an easy session.  I don't want to scare 
you off, so that you won't return."

    Alana then was pulled to her feet like that of an errant 
child.  Martine marched her over to a chair, and Alana was then 
draped across Martine's knee.  She was going to be spanked!

    "You will count out each one," ordered Martine, "if you fail 
to do so, then I have a paddle waiting.  Several, in fact, 
everything from leather to wood."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Alana.

    Thwack!

    "One!"

    "Two"

    "Three!"

    "Four!"

    "Five!"

    For the first time since childhood, Alana was over someone's 
knee, being spanked.  Martine delivered each blow so that it 
struck in a different place on her bottom.  Alana had the 
unmistakable feeling that she skin was gradually becoming warm.  
Also that she was slowly starting to be sexually aroused by her 
little punishment.

    "Twenty!" cried Alana, who was startled when Martine stopped.

    "Thank your Mistress!"

    "Thank you, Mistress Martine," cried Alana.

    Alana was the pulled to her feet by Martine, who marched her 
over to a chain hanging from the ceiling.  Her wrists were 
released, then locked above her head to the chain.  Then Martine 
locked similar cuffs around her ankles that were attached to a bar 
that would keep her legs open.  Martine gestured, and the chain 
was suddenly pulled taut.  Alana strained to keep her toes on the 
floor.

    Her slave handed Martine a riding crop, and she flexed it in 
her gloved hands.  Alana remembered how for her 16th birthday, she 
had been sent to England for a summer to learn how to ride a 
horse.  She had been given a crop, but had never used it.  Her 
friends had played around by using them on each other, but she had 
not joined in.  Plus there were those stories that she had heard 
about the crop being used on people!

    "Prepare to feel the crop, and you will not have to count, 
slave," taunted Martine.

    Alana tensed, and she soon felt a stripe of fire run across 
the outside of her left thigh.  Swallowing, but remaining silent, 
she felt each stroke of the crop as it struck her exposed 
nakedness.  Martine was keeping to her word, as the strokes only 
stung Alana's flesh.  They were quite mild in reality.  Compared 
with the effort and pain of getting back up and walking between 
two parallel bars.

    "Stronger," whispered Alana.

    "What was that, slave?" asked Martine.

    "Stronger, Mistress, please?" begged Alana.

    Martine then began to strike Alana with even more force in 
each stroke.  She drew her arm back and delivered each stroke 
methodically.  Alana felt the finally she was in the position that 
she wanted to be.  Her breathing was fast and flushed, her nipples 
were erect, and she knew that she was wet between her legs.  Just 
like during therapy.  Alana was sexually around by the pain that 
she was undergoing once again.

    Then she felt the gloved hand of the Mistress probe her 
between her opened legs.  Alana moaned when she felt as Martine 
push the gloved fingers into her sex, happy at the invasion.

    "My, you're wet!" exclaimed Martine, surprise on her face.

    "Whip me, Mistress?" begged Alana, "Please?"

    "Have you ever been used by a Dominatrix before?" asked 
Martine.

    "No, Mistress."

    Martine exchanged the crop for a long, sinuous, black leather 
whip.  The oiled leather gleamed in the light, and Alana wondered 
just how it would feel.  Suddenly, a lifetime of watching old 
movies on television came back to her.  She was going to go under 
the lash!

    "Kiss the handle," ordered Martine.

    Alana did as she was ordered.  Martine then coiled the whip, 
and drew her hand back to strike.  The whip lashed out, and coiled 
itself around Alana's stretched form.  When the tip struck, Alana 
cried out.  Not with pain, but pleasure.  For the whip in its 
first stroke had released the sexual energy that the spanking and 
crop had stored within her.

    Martine delivered stroke after stroke, each one with 
increasing severity.  Alana's body pulsed and shook as she was 
wracked with one orgasm after another.  This was like what she had 
experienced in therapy, but multiplied many times.

    Finally, Martine ceased.  She presented the handle to Alana, 
who kissed it again.

    "I would like to see you after you've dressed," said Martine.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Alana was let down by the Maid.  She was escorted to a 
bathroom, where she could freshen up and dress.  She washed her 
sweat-covered body off with a wash rag, and found that her pussy 
was sopping wet.   Her body was covered by the marks from the crop 
and whip, but she was happy.  Not in any pain at all.  Alana 
dressed, and was helped by the Maid.

    In the same anteroom where she had been questioned, Martine 
was waiting, still in her leather outfit.  She was drinking 
another Coke, and smoking a cigarette.

    "Have a seat.  I've written you a bill," directed Martine.

    "Thank you," said Alana.

    Alana looked at the bill, and opened her purse, extracting 
her wallet.  Nothing had been touched.  She removed the fee, plus 
a generous tip for Martine, who had earned it.

    "You're either a liar about not having been used before, or 
you're a natural that's used to pain.  I watched your face when I 
was using you.  You loved it, didn't you?" demanded Martine.

    "Yes."

    "Serving a Mistress before, or loving the pain?"

    "The pain," Alana answered.

    "Then you're a painslut," observed Martine.

    "A what?" asked Alana.

    "Painslut.  Were you satisfied by my work?"

    "Yes, Mistress.  I'll be back again.  Thank you."

    Alana took her exit, convinced that what she had paid for was 
worth every dollar.  She had gotten what she wanted.  Walking 
around the neighborhood she entered the first bar that she passed.  
She ordered a stiff drink, and bummed a cigarette from the 
bartender.  Alana inhaled the smoke deep into her lungs, her skin 
still smarting from the use that she had taken from the 
Dominatrix.

    She sat quietly at the bar, watching the daily life of 
Manhattan pass by the windows.  Just a few miles from here stood 
Wall Street, and her job, where she was still on Medical leave.  
But somehow, that no longer seemed important.

    Alana smoked her cigarette, recalling the weeks-spent in pain 
after the accident as her body slowly healed.  The days she did 
nothing but cry in her hospital bed, begging for painkillers.  Her 
mother Eve, shouting at the doctors for something to dull her 
daughter's agony, only to be told that it wasn't proper medical 
practice just to give medication for that purpose.

    Then slowly she had begun to heal.  Her body repaired itself, 
and she was taken out of bed.  First to sit up, then to stand, 
next to therapy.  Every step that she took was sheer hell; every 
time she used her arms to lift weights was torture.

    One day, during an intense session to force her to walk Alana 
found that the pain had excited her sexually.  Her pussy was wet 
when the therapist had exercised her legs to force her to walk.  
The first time, she had been ashamed of herself.  But each time 
that she had gone for therapy, Erica found that she would enjoy 
the pain.  Her sex became wet, her nipples hard with desire.

    When she had been recuperating at home, with a Nurse to take 
care of her and a visiting therapist to continue her exercises 
Alana suddenly remembered the Voice.  She had read the paper while 
she worked in Manhattan, and had looked with wry amusement at the 
ads in the back from Professional Dominatrixes.

    So Alana had resolved that when she was finally able to walk 
on her own that she would find a Dominatrix who would provide her 
with both pain and pleasure.

    Alana had done that, and would go back for many visits to see 
Mistress Martine, who would take her a little further along with 
each session.  She enjoyed being placed under the crop and lash, 
having a gag between her teeth.  Afterwards, at home she would 
look and admire the marks on her skin.

    Deciding that she wanted more, she then discovered the S&M 
clubs in Manhattan.  She learned to disguise herself by using 
makeup and a wig.  Then she rented an apartment in Rye, and bought 
an old car and took that into the city at night instead of the new 
BMW.

    Alana Peters, daughter of wealth, Ivy League University 
Graduate, and future Wall Street Partner realized that she was now 
playing a dangerous game.  That people in her position in society 
didn't just enter the world of D/s, without a huge scandal 
erupting.

    So she resolved that she would use the wealth that her 
position in life had given her to create another life: where she 
could become another person.

      
    *        *        *        *        *

Greenwich CT: January 1982    

    "Don't make this any harder than it has to be," cried Eve 
Peters, as mother and daughter sat together on the couch in the 
library.

    "Mother, please!  We've already argued about this before.   
There's nothing that will change my mind," said Alana, swallowing, 
as she brushed her black hair away from her eyes.

    "Maybe another doctor or clinic," suggested Eve.

    "No, I've had enough doctors," shouted Alana.

    "Alana, please!  You don't know what you're doing!"

    "Yes, I do mom, please!" begged Alana.

    The afternoon sun shone through the library windows, and a 
breeze came through the open windows.  Mother and daughter, 
arguing, as they had for months.  They sat on the couch together, 
and tears flowed onto both their faces.

    "I've had you followed, do you know that?" asked Eve, "what's 
the benefit of wealth if you can't use it?  I know you have an 
apartment in Rye, just over the border.  That you bought an old 
car so you wouldn't use the new BMW I bought for you after you 
finished therapy.  That you dress up on Friday and Saturday nights 
in a wig with plenty of makeup and go to those horrible sex clubs 
in the city and.....and," Eve buried her face in her hands, tears 
streaming from the corners of her eyes.

    "And what, mother?"

    "The first couple of times, the detectives couldn't get in.  
But then they bought some leather clothes, and billed me, and 
followed you.  And saw you getting whipped in public!" cried Eve.

    "I'm sorry mother, but it's true."

    "You're not going to deny it?"

    "No."

    "That's even worse!"

    "Mom, I've got a confession to make.  During therapy, I found 
that I liked pain.  After I could walk again, I started going into 
Manhattan and found a Dominatrix to use me.  I enjoyed it!"

    "Is that what you like, being beaten?" asked Eve shock on her 
face.

    "It's not like that.  Then I wanted more, so I started going 
to the S&M Clubs."

    "No, no!" cried Eve, aghast at what her daughter was telling 
her.

    "Mother, I just can't explain it, maybe I was just this way 
all along, and didn't know it.  Until the accident, and the 
therapy, and all the pain I underwent, brought it to the surface."

    "That you're a sex pervert!" accused Eve.

    "No mom.  Slave, submissive, bottom.  But it's just what I 
feel."

    "You might be discovered.  Think of the scandal!"

    "I already have.  Why do you think that I disguise myself?  
One night, I was in a club, and saw a Wall Street lawyer that I 
once worked with.  He didn't recognize me."

    "What happened to the debutante?  To the girl we hosted a 
ball for in Manhattan?  Who went to Radcliffe and Harvard?  Who 
learned horseback riding in Europe?  Is that what you want to be, 
a sex slave?"

    "If that is what it takes to be fulfilled, yes, mother."

    Eve broke into tears, sobbing.  Alana reached outwards and 
held her mother tightly to herself, trying to comfort her.  She 
grabbed a handful of tissues from a box on the couch, and dried 
her mother's cheeks.

    "No, no, I've already lost one daughter, I won't lose 
another," cried Eve.

    "She left of her own accord, you know that.  Just as I must, 
but I'll always be nearby.  I promise I'll always live near here, 
in Greenwich, Darien, or just over the border in New York," 
consoled Alana.

    "But what about the scandal?"

    "I'm taking care of that," answered Alana.

    "You're planning something, tell me what.  Now!" demanded 
Eve, "I know that you've been seeing a plastic surgeon in 
Manhattan, and a lawyer."

    "You won't like it," cautioned Alana.

    "I don't like the fact that my daughter is going to sex 
clubs, either.  What are you up to?"

    "All right, mother.  You said it yourself just now.  What is 
the use of great wealth if you can't use it?  Well, I'm going to 
use some of it, for me."

    "How?"

    "In a few weeks, you won't have to worry about Alana Peters 
going to sex clubs, because Alana will no longer exist.  I'm 
having the plastic surgeon give me a new face.  Meantime, the 
lawyer is creating a new identity for me.  Everything from birth 
certificate to college degree."

    "No!" screamed Eve, "no!"

    "Mother, it's the only way that my face won't end up on the 
Daily News!  The only way to avoid a scandal is to cease being 
Alana Peters.  I've decided to give up my former life and create a 
new one, one where I can explore my sexuality without worry.  I'm 
going to take a normal job, live in a regular apartment, and cease 
to be one of the upper class.  I gave up my Wall Street job 
because I want something else in life!  I'm sorry," comforted 
Alana, as she held her mother in her arms, and dried her tears.

    "What's going to be your new name then?" asked Eve, disbelief 
in her voice.

    "Erica Riken," answered Alana.

    *        *        *        *        *

    In February, Alana had gone for plastic surgery.  Alana 
Peters had disappeared into South America.  Erica Riken then 
suddenly appeared and rented an apartment.  She had gone from 
working a Finance job on Wall Street to being a bookkeeper for a 
liquor distributor in Darien.

    When she looked in the mirror, Alana no longer looked back at 
her.  Instead, there was someone different.  Someone new that 
could explore the new life that she had chosen.

    Gone were the Yacht Races, Horse Shows, Golf (that she had 
hated anyway), and summers at Martha's Vineyard.  Along with the 
Gucci gowns, unlimited expense accounts, and Louis Vuitton 
handbags that she had liked.

    'I've crossed the Rubicon,' Erica said to herself one 
evening, as she drove into the city.

    Erica was wearing a clingy black dress, heels, and had even 
made some friends in the scene.  Finally she was free to find a 
Dom, someone that she could be serve as a slave.

Part Three: The Wrong Dom

September 1982

    Erica drove her seven year old Chevrolet up the driveway to 
her Master's house.  She had spent the day shopping, doing chores, 
fully aware that she wouldn't be returning home until late Sunday.  
Past the point where she would be able to get anything done before 
the workweek again started.  Daniel had been lately asking for her 
to begin her slavery after work on Friday night, but Erica had 
refused.

    While it was true that she did want to serve, Erica still 
needed time to recreate herself.  To let the two women who 
inhabited the same body to reconcile themselves into Erica Riken.

    Daniel owned a house in Portchester, NY, just over the border 
in New York.  About a forty-minute drive from her apartment in 
Darien, CT.  He owned a company, or so he told her.  They had met 
one night at an S&M club in Manhattan.  Erica had found him very 
attractive.  Slim, athletic, well built, he seemed the very model 
of a man that she had always been attracted to.  He usually 
dressed in black, leather of some kind.

    For several months now, she had belonged to him.  They had 
started by going to dinner together, and he had charmed her 
thoroughly.  Since Daniel was to be her first Master, he had told 
her that everything that she was going to learn about submission 
was to come from him.  So he had ordered her not to read any books 
about S&M, and she had obeyed.

    Erica locked her car, and put her keys in her purse.  She 
walked to the front door, and opened it with a key that Daniel had 
given her.  Since it was summer and still quite warm, all she was 
wearing was a blouse, skirt, and modest heels.

    Locking the door behind her, she quickly stripped herself of 
all of her clothes, hanging them in hall closet.  On the small 
table was a collar and bracelet set, which Erica rushed to lock 
upon herself.  Erica locked the cuffs around her ankles, then her 
wrists.  Brushing her long black hair around her neck, she locked 
the leather collar around her neck.  New to her confinement in 
recent weeks was a ballgag.  Erica picked the object from the 
table, opened her mouth wide, and inserted the red rubber ball 
into her mouth.  She buckled it tight at the back on her neck, 
breathing through her nostrils.  Finally, she knelt down on the 
carpet, and locked her collar to a chain attached to the wall.  
Then she locked her wrists together.  Erica was now bound and 
helpless, with a key nowhere in sight to release her.  She leaned 
herself again the wall to wait.

    It took only a short time for the ball between her teeth to 
become uncomfortable.  Once, she had not closed the leather straps 
tightly enough, and Daniel had punished her severely.  So 
afterwards, Erica had always obeyed his orders.

    Bound as she was, Erica didn't know if she was alone in the 
house, or if her Master was upstairs.  She had been ordered not to 
enter the house beyond the foyer.  Some weekends Daniel would be 
in the house, other times he would be returning home.

    Either way, Erica felt vaguely uneasy about her vulnerable 
position, that she shouldn't be helpless this in this manner.  
Resting on her knees, even though she was on a piece of carpeting, 
soon became uncomfortable.  While she had told Daniel about her 
accident, and that her body really wasn't fully healed, he didn't 
seem to care.

    After what seemed like an eternity, she heard the key turn in 
the lock.  Erica felt a breeze of outside air brushing against her 
naked skin, and she remained rock still, facing into the house.  
She didn't know who had entered.

    She felt like squealing when her ass cheeks were roughly 
parted, and a finger probed her tightly closed anal opening.  
Erica was glad when she received a couple of spanks on her behind.  
That meant her anus was safe.  For now.

    Erica was then pulled to her feet, and she quickly took a 
glance at Daniel.  He was dressed in a summer shirt, shorts, and 
sandals.  He unlocked the chain from the wall, and led her into 
the living room.  He made her sit down on the couch, and removed 
her ballgag.

    "Thank you, Master," said Erica as she took several deep 
breaths.

    "You're welcome, slave.  Did you wait long?"

    "No, sir."

    "Good.  I made Dinner earlier; all you have to do is reheat 
it.  I'll unlock your hands, and then you can put everything in 
the oven.  Then we'll eat."

    "Yes, sir."

    While Erica considered herself a good cook, and had offered 
to prepare Dinner on numerous occasions, Daniel still insisted on 
cooking himself.  Even though he was a lousy cook, in Erica's 
opinion.

    Still, he had roasted a Chicken, which he had managed to cook 
without it being dry or tough.  They ate together, him clothed, 
Erica naked.  When they were done, Erica cleaned up, and washed 
the dishes.

    "Thank you, sir," said Erica.

    "You're welcome, slave."

    Glancing at the clock, it was now 9 PM.  She knew that Daniel 
would take a shower, change, and would be ready to use her.  Which 
was what she wanted, she desired.  To be used and wanted by a her 
Master.

    Erica was then pulled over to a chair, and her wrists were 
locked behind her back.  Her collar chain was then locked to the 
chair, making her helpless once again.  Daniel's hands touched her 
breasts, and her nipples quickly became erect.  He touched her 
stomach, and playfully tickled her, making her giggle.

    "Be back soon, slave.  And don't go anywhere!" he admonished.

    "Yes, sir," Erica said in response.

    Erica waited patiently, indeed, what else could she do, as 
Daniel prepared himself.  Some weeks, he had blindfolded her.  But 
not this time.  Erica wondered if this was by design, or just what 
she perceived as erratic behavior.

    Daniel preferred to use her while wearing a black leather 
vest and matching leather shorts.   Once he had finished bathing & 
dressing, he reappeared in his usual outfit.

    "Ready, slave?"

    "Yes, Master."

    Alana was released from the chair.  In the basement of the 
house, Daniel had built a small playroom.  While nothing like the 
Dungeon that Erica had been used in by Mistress Martine, it still 
contained an impressive amount of D/s toys.  Daniel pulled Erica 
along, down the stairs.  Erica was glad she wasn't hobbled, else 
she would have had trouble negotiating the steps.

    The playroom was one of the basement rooms, and the walls had 
been painted black.  Small but intense lights shone from the 
ceiling, which provided some illumination.  Ringbolts were mounted 
on the walls to secure slaves to, there was a bondage chair that 
would allow access to the occupant's sex, a leather clad bench, 
and a cabinet to hold various toys.

    Erica had been Daniel's slave for months, and she never knew 
what would be awaiting her.  In recent months though, something 
had changed.  It had begun when Daniel had told her to stop seeing 
her friends that she had just recently made, and that she wasn't 
supposed to read any books on the scene.  She had uneasily 
complied with his orders.

    She was placed on a rug in the center of the playroom, and 
made to kneel.  She did so in silence, awaiting Daniel's next 
move.  He got a riding cop from the wall, where it had been 
hanging.  Then he walked back to her, and placed its tip under her 
chin.  She shivered, nervous about what would happen next.

    "Do you accept your discipline, slave?" Daniel asked.

    "Yes, Sir," Erica quickly answered.

    "Prepare to be used then."

    Erica soon found herself hanging from a ceiling chain, her 
legs opened by a spreader bar.  She was now totally vulnerable to 
whatever Daniel would do to her.  This was what she had waited 
for, what she had wanted all week.  First striped and then used 
sexually by her Master Daniel.  She didn't have to even look at 
herself to know that her nipples were hard.

    "Count, slave!" Daniel ordered.

    The first stroke with the thin crop was delivered across her 
exposed sex, making Erica cringe with pain.  Normally, Daniel 
would work gradually up to striking her sex.  Instead, he had 
begun there, and Erica suddenly feared what would happen next.

    "One!"

    "Two!"

    "Three!"

    Daniel maintained a steady rhythm of strokes with the crop, 
each one landing on a different place on her exposed body.  
Hanging by the chain, her legs held open by the bar, and counting 
each stroke, Erica soon began to perspire.  She could feel the 
drops running down her exposed flanks, and she grew ever more 
excited after each series of strokes.

    "Twenty."

    "Twenty-five."

    "Thirty."

    Erica realized that she was now in for a severe session, 
having been cropped far longer than usual.  In spite of the large 
numbers of strokes, and the fact that she felt like her skin was 
on fire, she had entered the point where she could "ride the 
pain."  Divorcing her mind from her body, she went beyond the 
usual pain/pleasure feeling that she usually felt while being 
used.

    "Kiss the crop," ordered Daniel.

    Erica suddenly came back to Earth, her mind and attention 
elsewhere as she again realized where she was.  Quickly, she 
kissed the crop's handle, again and again.

    "Thank you, Sir!" Erica stuttered.

    "You were somewhere else."

    "Yes, Sir!"

    He held her in his arms, which were also covered in sweat 
from his exertions, and kissed her.  He forced his tongue into her 
willing mouth, and she kissed him passionately in return.

    "Would you like to be whipped?" he asked.

    "Yes, please, Sir!"

    Daniel smiled, then walked over to the cabinet.  He replaced 
the crop on the wall, then withdrew a long sinuous black leather 
whip from the cabinet.  It was a supple, oiled piece of leather.  
And it would hurt terribly!

    "Ready, slave?" Daniel asked.

    "Yes, Sir!"

    "No need to count, darling."

    With the first stroke of the whip, Erica exploded into a 
series of explosive orgasms.  The whip would curl itself around 
her naked body, then come to rest with an explosive crack.  It 
struck between her breasts, and legs.  She screamed with both 
pleasure and pain, all at the same time.  Tears fell from her eyes 
and down her cheeks as she felt the wonderful release that she had 
been waiting for all week.  The strange inversion of pain and 
pleasure that she had craved since the accident and therapy.

    Erica didn't know, nor did she care, how long she was 
whipped, or even how many strokes.   But when it was finished, and 
she hung limply from the chain, she was glad.  Daniel first 
released the cuffs on her ankles, then released her wrists.

    "Thank you, Master," breathed Erica.

    "You're welcome, slave."

    Daniel carried Erica upstairs into his bedroom.  He washed 
her off with a towel, then he proceeded to strip and clean himself 
off as well.  Then he jumped onto the bed, and began to kiss her 
all over.  He started at her feet, and moved up her legs to her 
sex, then stomach, her breasts, and finally her mouth.  Erica 
enfolded him in her arms, and opened her legs to accommodate him.  

    His cock was already erect and hard, and he entered her wet 
slit easily.  His cock was long and hard, and he penetrated her, 
making Erica moan with desire and want.  In no time, he 
established a rhythm as he drove her into the bed.  Again and 
again, time after time.

    Having already experienced orgasms while being cropped and 
whipped, Erica came quickly.  Daniel held back, extracting the 
maximum amount of pleasure that he could from her.

    "Ooooooh!" Erica moaned, "ooooh!"

    Finally, they came together, both experiencing orgasms at the 
same time.  He then lay beside her, tired after his exertions of 
having used her both in the playroom and in bed.

    "Thank you, Master," said Erica.

    "You're welcome, darling.  I'd like to ask you something."

    "Yes, Sir?"

    "You work for a liquor distributor, don't you?"

    "Yes, Sir."

    "I want you to steal me a case of whiskey," he asked.

    "I can't do that.  I've never stolen anything from any place 
that I've worked," Erica answered, "and liquor is valuable stuff.  
We have a security firm keeping an eye on everyone, and tight 
inventory controls.  And liquor is a controlled substance, too."

    "I want you to steal a case of whiskey," Daniel repeated, 
even louder.

    "Sorry, I can't.  I'll gladly buy you one, sir, as a 
gift......."

    Enraged, Daniel got up off the bed and removed a cane from 
the dresser.  With pause or mercy, he delivered ten swift and 
harsh strokes to Erica.  Cringing from the unexpected and sudden 
attack, Erica curled into a ball to shield herself from the cane's 
impacts.  Crying from the sudden change from pleasure to pain, 
Erica was then slapped by Daniel.

    "Disloyal Bitch!" he roared.

    He then turned her onto her stomach, flattening her onto the 
bed.  Before she realized what was happening, Erica felt her ass 
cheeks being forced apart.

    "No!" cried Erica in horror, "no, please!" she begged.

    Erica had never really liked having her behind invaded; the 
very thought had always repelled her.  She knew that Daniel's 
stiff cock would deeply invade her, opening her anal hole.  Daniel 
didn't bother to use any lubricant of any kind.  His cock was 
rammed inside her, forcing its way to her puckered opening.

    "Open up, cunt!" roared Daniel.

    "No, sir," cried Erica, "please," she cried as tears fell 
from her eyes.

    Even though her bottom hole was closed tight, Daniel managed 
to force his cock inside her.  Erica resisted, then tried to open 
herself.  But Daniel pushed himself inside her, and Erica's anus 
hurt from the unwanted intrusion.  When he finally penetrated her, 
Erica screamed.  Then she felt his hot come squirt itself into her 
anus, the final humiliation.  She had not screamed that way since 
the day she had been ejected from the Mustang, with death a 
certainty facing her.

    That night, Erica cried herself to sleep, with Daniel totally 
oblivious to her, uncaring.
    *        *            *            *
    The next day, she took a shower in the morning, and was 
horrified to see red in the tub's water.  Her ass was sore, and 
hurt!  Later, she took some toilet paper & Vaseline, and cleaned 
out the blood from her behind.  Erica wanted to cry.  What had 
happened to Daniel?  He had been a kind, caring Master for months.  
He had fulfilled all of her desires, training her, disciplining 
her.  But taking her in the rear against her wishes!

    Afterwards, they ate breakfast together, which Erica had 
prepared.  She had made batter, and had heated up a waffle iron, 
which had gone unused until she had become his slave.  They ate 
juice, waffles, and coffee together.  The Times was spread on the 
far end of the table, but neither of them looked at the paper.

    After they had finished, Erica brought the dishes into the 
kitchen to clean up.  She was washing the dishes in the sink, 
wearing an apron, when she suddenly felt Daniel's hands surround 
her and hug her from behind.

    "Erica, I'm sorry," Daniel began, "I don't know what came 
over me."

    "Daniel....."

    Daniel turned Erica towards her, and kissed her.  He held her 
tightly, pressing her apron-clad form against his.  He was wearing 
an old sweatshirt and pants, and looked slightly mussed.

    "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have used you against your will like 
that.  I'll never do that again."

    "Thank you, Sir," replied Erica.

    For the rest of the day they made leisurely love in the 
bedroom together.  Sometimes, Daniel would strike her with the 
crop, but it was only for a mild reminder of Erica's position.

    It rained, and seeing the drops on the windows made the day 
seem even more dreamlike and lazy.  Finally, though, afternoon had 
come and Erica had to leave.  She again showered, and dressed.

    "Erica?" Daniel asked.

    "Yes, Sir?"

    "Before you leave, I have to tell you something."

    "Yes, Sir."

    "Next week, I'm taking on a new slave, who will be a 
companion for you," said Daniel.

    "Thank you."  The thought of sharing Daniel was one that 
Erica had never considered!

    "Her name is Lauren Singer."

 

 

"The Challenge" Chapter Three: The Interview
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if you
include this statement of limitation of use and notify the author 
by e-mail.
The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple 
copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.
However, individual readers may make single copies of the
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the author.  I 
do want to hear from you!
"The Challenge" by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Chapter 3: The Interview

Part One: The Gordian Knot

Monday June 8, 1998

    Mistress Janet sat behind the library desk, staring at the 
photographs and file on the blotter.  The pictures and personal 
information had been delivered to Janet's estate Monday morning by 
a messenger service, and Tina had signed for them and given the 
large envelope to her Mistress.  When Janet opened the envelope 
and removed the manila folder, it had taken all of her strength 
not to display her shock to Tina.

    Instead, she had fled to the sanctuary of the library, and 
closed the doors behind her.  As long as she was inside, it would 
take something important for Tina to intrude.  So Janet could 
study the file in peace, at least for a while, before she decided 
on just what to do next.

    Inside the folder, which tab bore the label "Branford, 
Cheryl" was all of the usual information that Janet would have 
about a new slave.  Pictures of her, clothed and naked, complete 
with measurements.  A recent medical report.  A lengthy biography, 
beginning with her date of birth (August 1963), her education (a 
degree at Stamford University), and a job history.  Lastly, there 
was a sealed envelope on which was typed "Mistress Janet Davis."

    'How in hell does this woman know what information I need 
before taking on a new slave?' Janet thought to herself.  
'Everything here but the final interview and her explanation 
before going under the lash for the first time!'

    Of course, Janet had written her explanation on her second 
day in slavery, after having seen Tiffany used in the Dungeon.  
Janet, as Mistress, always provided a demonstration to a new 
prospect before putting them under the lash.  This gave them a 
chance to see a scene, and to back out.

    A few did, thanking Janet for her honesty.  But the rest, 
just like Janet herself, had stayed.  Then they were forced to 
write a lengthy bio before going under the whip.  It was, Janet 
thought, the only really practical way of working.

    Sitting back in her chair, Janet gazed at the pictures, which 
must have been taken by a professional photographer.  It was the 
nude photographs of Cheryl that worried Janet most.  She was seen 
standing up, seated at a chair, and finally reclining on a couch.

    'Why should a woman do that?' Janet asked herself silently, 
'to be sent to a complete stranger?  And a Domme at that?'

    Janet studied the photographs, trying to connect them to the 
few seconds of conversation that she had with Cheryl.  She looked 
carefully at Cheryl's eyes and face, her body language, the way 
that she held herself.  The manner that she displayed her bare 
body, breasts and sex, even her bottom.

    'Surely she knows that I am going to mark and use that body 
of hers, to stripe and leave welts on her flesh,' Janet thought to 
herself, 'why?'
 
    What sort of woman, a wealthy woman at that judging by her 
job history, be doing forcing herself on Janet?  Cheryl lived in 
California, and Janet would have to check the address.  But it was 
obvious that she lived in an affluent manner.

    Cheryl could have any Domme she wanted, so why had she come 
East to impose herself on Mistress Janet Davis?

    The woman was quite pretty, and had a beautiful body.  A good 
figure, moderate sized breasts, a narrow waist, tight ass, and 
pretty legs made her a nice looking girl.  An attractive face, 
with high cheekbones and a mane of black hair made her quite good 
looking.

    Janet again considered Cheryl's date of birth.  Cheryl was 
35, and here she was placing herself in submission to a Mistress.  
Janet recalled that she had been 25, and sexually bored, when she 
had been introduced to Mistress Erica.  Here she was at age 31, a 
successful Domme, and Cheryl was older than her by a few years.

    So why did this woman want to submit to Mistress Janet Davis?  
What had driven her from her home in California to Greenwich?  To 
come out of the blue, and threaten Janet with exposure.

    Why?

    If Cheryl had come to her via the usual route, recommendation 
from another one of her slaves, or from another Domme, there would 
have been no problem.  Instead, it was a mystery.  And Janet hated 
mysteries.

    "Okay, Mistress Janet, what next?" Janet asked herself.

    Janet opened the envelope, and inside was a typed letter.  
Janet read:

    Dear Mistress Janet,
    Enclosed you will find all of the usual relevant information 
that you require for a new slave in training.  If you wish any 
additional information, you may contact me and I will gladly 
provide it.
    Under no circomestances are you to reveal my presence to 
Mistress Blanca Sanchez and Mistress Stephanie Richards, two 
Dommes who I know you are connected with.
    Lastly, if I hear that you have engaged any kind of private 
detective or law enforcement to check up on me in any way, I will 
expose you as promised.

                                Cheryl Branford

    Janet felt like balling up the letter and hurling it across 
the room.  Ever since she had met Cheryl, she had briefly 
entertained the idea of having Cheryl investigated in some manner.  
However, Cheryl had already anticipated that avenue!

    Exhaling in frustration, Janet got to her feet to pace the 
library.  What the hell was she going to do now?

    In all her time as a Domme, she had never heard of this 
particular problem ever coming up.  It was one thing to get 
blackmailed.  But Cheryl was willing to pay her for being trained!

    Janet felt boxed in.  Every avenue that she would have taken 
had been blocked or anticipated by Cheryl Branford.  There was 
only one thing now that Janet could do, which would be to take 
Cheryl on and hope for the best.  After all, Cheryl had said that 
if Janet trained her, then Janet's position would be safe.

    Just yesterday, Janet thought, she had been secure wearing 
Stephanie's chains.  Today, somehow, nothing seemed secure just 
now.

    Janet seated herself again behind the desk and picked up the 
cordless phone, and dialed Cheryl's number.

    "Cheryl Branford."

    "This is Janet Davis calling."

    "I was waiting to hear from you.  Did you get my package this 
morning?"

    "Yes," Janet answered.

    "Is that all of the usual information that you require?"

    "Yes, how did you know?"  Janet asked.

    "That's my affair," replied Cheryl, "have you made your 
decision?"

    "Yes, I'll do as you ask," Janet softly replied.

    "Good.  When do you want me to drive over?" Cheryl asked.

    "I usually send a car."

    "But I know about you, Janet.  That won't be necessary."

    "Yes it will be.  My Maid and assistant, Tina, will know that 
something's not right if you just come on your own.  I have a 
standard operating procedure.  And you will be just one more new 
slave."

    "I understand.  When do you want me?" asked Cheryl.

    "Since I already have your address, tomorrow at 9PM, for an 
interview.  After that, I'll schedule your first session for the 
weekend.  The car will be at your place at eight fifteen."

    "Thank you," said Cheryl.

    "Be prepared to learn," Janet advised.

    "I will, Mistress."

    Janet then cut the connection, and placed the receiver on the 
desk.  Who was really in control here?  Mistress or slave?  Janet 
sat back in her chair, comparing just how popular culture made 
Dominatrixes out to be some kind of all-powerful Amazons.  When in 
reality, D/s was a complicated interplay between Dominant and 
submissive.

    But that didn't solve her immediate problem, which was Cheryl 
Branford.  Janet was interrupted by a knock on the door.

    "Come," Janet ordered, glad for the interruption.

    The door opened to admit Tina, who brought in a tray of 
coffee and cookies.

    "Mistress, can I offer you something?" asked Tina.

    "Thank you Tina, that was very nice," said Janet as she 
folded the letter and replaced it inside the envelope, "place the 
tray on the table, and pull up a chair."

    Tina did as she was ordered, and poured Janet a cup of coffee 
and selected a few cookies on a dish, and handed both to Janet.  
Only after Janet had taken a few sips of the steaming black liquid 
and approved did Tina pour a cup also then sat down as well.

    "Why the treat?" asked Janet.

    "You seemed a little down, Mistress," Tina answered, concern 
evident on her face.

    Since she had become a Domme, Janet had become an expert on 
reading body language and facial expressions.  She had to be, to 
properly gauge a slave's reactions.  During interviews, under the 
lash, while being sexually used, even while sleeping.  Janet had 
learned about the fine line between pleasure and pain, and what 
she had to do with her slaves.

    "Thank you Tina.  I'm sure that you'll quickly replace the 
five pounds I lost while being in servitude to Stephanie."

    "Yes, Mistress.  Is that file for a new slave?" asked Tina, 
indicating the pictures on the desk.

    "Yes," Janet answered, passing her the pictures and bio.

    "Very pretty," commented Tina, "I wonder why she wants to be 
a slave?"

    "We'll know tomorrow when she comes for an interview, and 
then perhaps I'll make her stay the weekend to be used."

    "Haven't had a novice for a long time, Mistress," observed 
Tina.

    "No, I guess not," smiled Janet in response.

    They both finished the coffee and cookies together, and Tina 
piled the cups and saucers on the tray.

    "Thank you, Tina," said Janet.

    "You're welcome, Mistress Janet," Tina answered as she left 
the library and closed the door.

    In the years that they had been together, Janet had made Tina 
her assistant.  If Janet had been a selfish, wanton Mistress, she 
would have used Tina again in the library for a quick orgasm or 
two.  And Tina, as slave, would have had to oblige her, delaying 
her tasks.  Tuesday afternoon Tina had requested that she have 
off, and Janet had agreed, giving her the Toyota.  Janet even 
wanted her to have the BMW, but Tina had refused.  Tina would 
finish up her chores, get dressed, and have a few hours personal 
time.

    Janet exhaled, and realized that she was behind on writing 
the reports on her own slaves.  In addition, she had to answer 
correspondence from other Dommes.   Finally projects from her 
cover job as well.

    It was going to be a long time until tomorrow evening, and 
Janet was more scared that she had ever been in her time as a 
Domme.

    *        *        *        *        *
    Janet and Tina watched the limousine pull up from the front 
windows.  Tina was dressed in a normal Maid's outfit of black 
satin, stockings, and modest heels.  Janet had decided that a 
regular white silk blouse and black leather skirt would be just 
fine.

    "Conduct our new prospect into the library," Janet ordered, 
as she walked to the library.

    "Yes, Mistress," said Tina as she walked outside to help 
Cheryl, who was wearing the dark glasses that cut off her sight.

    Janet closed the library door behind her, then seated herself 
behind the desk and turned her chair around so that she was facing 
outside.  In a few moments, she heard a knock on the doors.

    "Enter," Janet ordered.

    She heard the footsteps of two people enter the library and 
come to rest in front of her desk.

    "Mistress Janet, Cheryl Branford is here," said Tina.

    "Thank you," said Janet as she swiveled the chair around to 
face her companions.

    Janet surveyed Cheryl, still as beautiful as she had been the 
previous night.  She was wearing a blue dress, with a matching 
handbag and heels.  Her lips were colored with a bright red 
lipstick, her hair was set, and she exuded a trace of expensive 
perfume.

    "Welcome.  I am Mistress Janet Davis. Tina, you may leave 
us," ordered Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," said Tina as she closed the library door.

    "Now then.  We can be alone, take a seat and we can talk in 
private."

    "Yes, Janet," Cheryl answered.

    "That was your first mistake, Cheryl.  You must address me as 
Mistress while you are in this house."

    "I'm sorry, Mistress," answered Cheryl as she seated herself.

    "Why are you here?" demanded Janet.

    "To serve, Mistress," answered Cheryl.

    "You live in California, yet you have come to Connecticut.   
You are wealthy enough to have any Domme you want.  Why do you 
want my services?"

    "I'm told that you are one of the best Mistress Janet."

    "So you have come clear across the country to be my slave?  
You'll have to do better than that, Cheryl," criticized Janet.

    "I have my reasons which I shall disclose at the proper 
time," Cheryl answered.

    "Really, and when will that be?" Janet asked.

    "At the end of my successful training as your slave, 
providing you fulfill my conditions."

    "And what would they be?" questioned Janet.

    "I ask three things," began Cheryl, "first that you train me 
like any of your other slaves.  Second that when I'm ready, you 
loan me to another Mistress, but not to Blanca or Stephanie.  I 
understand that's quite a normal procedure to loan out a slave to 
experience a new Mistress.  Third, when I have been fully trained, 
I shall extract a price from you.  I want to see just how devoted 
to the idea of being a Dominatrix you are."

    "That's quite a list of demands," countered Janet, "why can't 
I tell my two closest friends about you?"

    "That's my affair."

    "What kind of price are you talking about?" Janet asked, 
"money?  Blackmail?"

    Cheryl opened her designer purse and removed an envelope, 
which she lightly tossed onto Janet's desk.  It landed, right on 
target, in front of Janet.

    "I said I was willing to pay," said Cheryl, "I believe that's 
your usual fee for taking care of your wealthy clients, Mistress 
Janet."

    "I can still refuse, I don't like any of this," angrily 
replied Janet.

    "I could still expose you," threatened Cheryl.

    "Yes, you could.  Except that I'm rich enough myself never to 
have to worry about working again.  It might be a little 
embarrassing, I would have to stop for a while, perhaps set up 
shop elsewhere.  But then you wouldn't get trained by me, would 
you?"

    "That's true, Mistress.  So in exchange for my silence, I 
would like to be trained, Mistress Janet."

    "If I accept, your silence in exchange for training, then you 
must be like all of my other slaves.  You must obey me, take all 
of my orders, and discipline.  Allow yourself to be used by me, or 
my Maid, or any of my Domme friends.  Do you understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress.  I accept all of your conditions in order to 
be your slave," replied Cheryl.

    Janet paused to look carefully at her new prospect, who 
seemed sincere and honest.  She didn't have any of the signs of 
someone lying to her.

    "What makes you think that you are worthy of serving me?" 
asked Janet.

    "I don't know, Mistress."

    "Good.  I prefer honesty.  Have you ever served a Mistress 
before?  Been spanked?  Naked in front of other women?" demanded 
Janet.

    "No, Mistress, never."

    "Excellent.  I have not had the pleasure of training a novice 
for quite some time."

    "I'll try to be a good slave, Mistress," said Cheryl, sudden 
fright in her voice.

    "If you become a slave, there will be all of that, and more.  
You will be kept naked, or any way that I desire.  You will be 
used, sexually.  Punished physically with anything from a 
hairbrush to a whip, and covered in red welts.  Is that what you 
desire?"  Janet demanded.

    "Yes, Mistress," Cheryl answered.

    "I shall use you in any way that I want.  You shall learn 
your limits, and a safeword beyond which you will not be used.  Do 
you understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "You can still back out now," Janet pointed out, "except that 
since you've pressured me to train you, I don't think that you'll 
want to leave."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl.

    "Ordinarily, at this time, I would ask that my Maid serve as 
a little demonstration.  But I'm a little tired of using my 
devoted slave Tina to serve as my whipping girl.  Since you're so 
enthusiastic about being my slave, why don't you remove all of 
your clothes so that I can see what a lovely body you have?  
That's not a polite request, Cheryl, that's an order," coldly said 
Janet.

    Janet noted that Cheryl appeared to be stunned by her order, 
and visibly shaken.  It was direct, and to the point.

    "You do want to serve a Mistress, now don't you?" said Janet, 
"are you disobeying my first order?" Janet asked in a stern tone 
of voice.

    "I....."

    "Strip, slave, and quickly," commanded Janet as she removed a 
riding crop from the top drawer of her desk, and displayed it to 
her companion.  Janet placed it over the envelope that Cheryl had 
tossed on the desk.

    Casually, Janet took the envelope from the desk and opened it 
with a letter opener.  Inside were several brand new hundred-
dollar bills, crisp from the bank.  Whoever Cheryl was, she didn't 
want for money.

    "I gave you an order, slave," said Janet coldly.

    Cheryl removed her heels, then stood up and unzipped her 
dress, which she carefully placed on the chair.  She removed her 
bra, and then her pantyhose and panties.  In a matter of moments 
she was naked before Janet.

    "Turn around slowly, with your hands clasped behind your 
head.  I want to inspect you," ordered Janet.

    If the photographs showed Cheryl as lovely, in person she was 
one of the most beautiful girls that Janet had ever seen.  Janet 
desired nothing more than to have this beauty service her.  But 
that would come later.  After Cheryl had her first taste of the 
whip and crop.

    Cheryl did as she was told, slowly displaying herself.  The 
photographs didn't lie at all.  When she was done, she again faced 
Janet, but did not look at her directly.

    "Very good," said Janet as she rose from her chair, "now we 
move on."

    Janet circled Cheryl two times, before she finally stood in 
front of her.  Janet reached out, and took Cheryl's right breast 
in her hand, squeezing it slightly.  Cheryl gave her no response.  
Janet then pinched Cheryl's erect nipple, making her flinch.

    "There is more to come."

    With her index finger, Janet traced the outlines of Cheryl's 
breasts, her underarms, and her flat stomach.  Then she felt 
Cheryl's ass, finally giving her a mild swat on her behind.

    "Owww!" cried Cheryl.

    "Place your hands on the desk, with your legs spread," coldly 
ordered Janet.

    Cheryl did as she was told, and stood in silence, waiting for 
Janet's next move.  Her breathing was already rapid and short.

    Janet then pushed Cheryl downwards, and she complied quickly.

    Janet opened Cheryl's ass cheeks, and peered at her puckered 
anal opening.  Just for good measure, she swatted Cheryl's behind 
a couple of more times.

    "You'll have to keep that behind of yours clean," commented 
Janet, "lest I make you wear a butt plug all day.  Do you 
understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Then Janet reached between Cheryl's legs to her sex, and 
played with her pussy lips.  Then Janet held Cheryl's outer lips 
between her fingers and squeezed tightly.

    "Owww!" cried Cheryl.

    "Silence!"

    Janet then pushed her fingers inside Cheryl's already wet 
sex, and then pressed Cheryl's clit, making her move in response.

    "Stand still, slave.  You wanted to serve a Mistress, didn't 
you?"

    Continuing, Janet pressed further, digging her nails into 
Cheryl's labia, finally making her cry out, tears flowing from the 
corners of her eyes.  Which was exactly what Janet had wanted.

    "At least you're not a virgin," observed Janet as she pressed 
her nails into Cheryl's nether lips.

    "Owww!" cried Cheryl.

    Janet then delivered four swats with the flat of her hand to 
Cheryl's bottom, one after another, steadily increasing the force 
of each blow.

    Swat!

    Swat!

    Swat!

    Swat!!

    "Owwww!" cried Cheryl.

    "Silence until you are spoken to," said Janet, "or I'll 
strike you again, and much harder."

    The final blow had been delivered with such force that Cheryl 
lost her footing and staggered under the impact.  Her bottom was 
now a nice shade of red and would be sensitive for days to come.  
Cheryl would now have a reminder of her first visit with Mistress 
Janet.

    "If you react this way now," suggested Janet, "how will you 
react when a whip wraps itself around you?  Or when I deliver one 
series of strokes after another with the riding crop?  How will 
you hold up then?" demanded Janet.

    "I, I don't know, Mistress Janet," stammered Cheryl.

    "Good," said Janet, "you may stand back up."

    Janet faced Cheryl, and placed her hand under Cheryl's chin.  
Then she reached forward, and planted a kiss on Cheryl's mouth.  
When Cheryl responded, Janet forced her tongue inside Cheryl's 
mouth, holding her tightly.

    Finally, Janet released Cheryl, and left her gasping for 
breath.

    "I can use any part of your body at any time, for whatever 
reason.  I can place you in a constricting corset for weeks to 
alter your figure.  Or a dildo up your cunt all day and perhaps a 
butt plug in your behind.  Or whip you for my own amusement and 
pleasure till you are covered in red stripes.  Or anything else 
that I might possibly desire to do with your body.  Do you think 
that you are equal to being used like that?" Janet questioned.

    "I'll try, Mistress Janet."

    "Good," said Janet as she resumed her seat, "what were your 
plans for this weekend?"

    "I wanted to see some friends on Long Island, Mistress."

    "Cancel them," Janet bluntly ordered, "one of my most loyal 
slaves has had a family problem, and could not be with me.  You 
shall now have your desire, Cheryl.  Your first weekend with me as 
your Mistress.  You will be here from Friday night until Sunday at 
noon.  You will work naked with my Maid, who will have the freedom 
to use you.  I shall whip and crop you, chain you at night, use 
your body in any way that I want.  Do you understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress," tearfully answered Cheryl.

    "This is your final chance to back out.  Be warned that you 
are going down a dangerous path, and when you finish, it will be 
too late," stressed Janet.

    "I want to be trained as your slave, Mistress Janet."

    "Good, then get dressed and I shall call the car for you," 
Janet answered, "and beginning Friday, your life shall never be 
the same again."
    *        *            *            *
    "If you were still wearing my collar, Janet, I'd pick up a 
crop and give you a good thrashing," said Stephanie as she rested 
on the bed, "for being such an uninspiring lover this evening."

    Janet and Stephanie were in Janet's bed, after a night out 
together that had begun with Dinner, a late movie, then drinks and 
finally lovemaking at Janet's Mansion.  Their date had been 
arranged long before, and Janet had been looking forward to it.  
Until Cheryl had arrived to unsettle her composure.

    "I'm sorry, Stephanie," apologized Janet.

    "What's wrong Janet?" asked Stephanie.

    "Nothing."

    "Liar."

    "Just worried about something, that's all," lied Janet.

    "The last time that you were silent about something was 
Erica's grand plan to have you and Tiffany compete to replace her.  
I hope it isn't something like that," commented Stephanie.

    Stephanie rolled onto Janet, enfolding her into her arms.  
The bed was a mess, the sheets wet with their sweat.  In short, a 
normal evening of lovemaking for two good friends.

    "Let me give you a massage," offered Stephanie.

    Janet turned over onto her stomach, and Stephanie straddled 
her.  Stephanie's firm hands began to massage and knead Janet's 
back.

    "You're a mass of tension," commented Stephanie.

    "Guess so," Janet answered.

    Stephanie continued to massage and knead the muscles on 
Janet's back, gradually loosening up the tension.  Janet relaxed 
under her friend's efforts.

    "That's better," commented Stephanie, "relax, and that's an 
order!"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "I'm going one day to have to send you Wendy," offered 
Stephanie.

    "Who's that?"

    "One of my slaves, she's a masseuse at a local health club.  
She can do wonders with her hands and some scented oil.  But she's 
very particular, though."

    "How?" Janet asked.

    "Only, and I say only, use your hand, a leather covered 
paddle, or a riding crop on her.  Nothing else!  She hates the 
whip, period!"

    "We have to abide by her wishes," said Janet.

    "That's better, now turn over," ordered Stephanie.

    Janet did as she was told and Stephanie began to suck on 
Janet's right nipple, quickly making it erect from her attentions.  
One of her hands reached under the sheet, and began to fondle 
Janet's engorged sex.

    "Wet little minx, aren't you?" asked Stephanie.

    "Yes, Mistress," Janet answered.

    "Since you serviced me so indifferently, perhaps I can make 
you feel a little better," said Stephanie.

    "Thanks, lover," said Janet.

    Somehow, it wasn't the sex that Janet wanted from Stephanie.  
Rather, she wanted just being in bed with her best friend holding 
her close.  She stroked her friend's hair and shoulders, and held 
Stephanie tightly to her.

    'Why,' Janet asked herself, 'do I have to face these problems 
as a Domme?  First Erica's competition, and now Cheryl?  No other 
Mistress seems to be confronted with them.'

    Janet lay back in bed, allowing Stephanie to work on her sex.  
All of Janet's troubles were eased for a while as Stephanie buried 
her face between Janet's thighs and began to work on her sex.  
Soon, Janet felt wave after wave of orgasm wash over her.

    'Has it really been four years since Erica's faked death, and 
Stephanie becoming my best friend?' Janet asked herself.

    "Stephanie," Janet asked, "kiss me, instead."

    Stephanie was soon kissing Janet, who was lying on the 
pillows.  Janet tasted herself on Stephanie's lips.

    "Thank you for being my friend, Stephanie," said Janet, as 
she held her lover close to her.

    "You're welcome, lover."

    Janet held Stephanie close to her, and she clung to her 
tightly.  Janet longed to tell Stephanie the truth, just as she 
had during Erica's competition.  But she held back, and let sleep 
claim her instead.  She drifted off, the sounds of the night 
coming from the open window.

Part Two: Cheryl's First Use

Friday June 12, 1998

    It was Friday evening nearing 10 PM, and Janet and Tina were 
waiting for Cheryl's limousine to arrive.  Janet had chosen a 
short black leather dress, and she had ordered Tina to wear a 
black latex maid's uniform.  The weather was not yet too hot, 
still comfortable.  They were together in the hallway, waiting.

    "Tina," Janet began.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Tina.

    "I have something important to tell you.  This new slave, 
Cheryl, is going to be a little different than normal, but I can't 
tell you why."

    "Is that why you've been acting strangely, Mistress?" asked 
Tina, concern evident in her voice.

    "Yes.  And you're the only one to know about this!  Not a 
word to Blanca or Stephanie, please!"

    "Yes, Mistress.  You know I'll do whatever you ask."

    "If it appears that I break procedure, or do anything out of 
the ordinary, please understand that there will be a reason for 
it."

    "Yes, Janet.  I understand."

    Janet reached over and kissed Tina on her cheek, and silently 
embraced her.

    "Thank you, Tina.  I love you."

    "I love you too, Mistress," answered Tina.

    Their conversation was interrupted by a buzz from the front 
gate, indicating that the limousine had arrived.  Tina pressed the 
button to allow the car to gain entrance, and Janet walked back 
the library, closing the doors behind her.

    Seated behind the desk, on which she had again placed 
Cheryl's file, Janet waited.  She summoned up all her courage, 
wondering what her third encounter with Cheryl would be like.  
Cheryl had demanded to be her slave, had forced Janet into a 
corner.

    Her thoughts were soon interrupted by a knock on the door.  
Janet wondered just how many times that Erica must have sat here, 
interviewing her slaves.

    "Come," ordered Janet.

    Tina conducted Cheryl into the library.  Janet noted that 
Tina was wearing a simple blouse and skirt, and a pair of modest 
heels.  She was carrying a command handbag this time, not the 
expensive one that she had earlier.

    "Thank you, Tina.  We can be alone now," ordered Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Cheryl stood, waiting for Janet's next command.  She did not 
look directly at Janet, and remained silent.

    "You may be seated, Cheryl."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "Are you prepared to serve me?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet sat back in her chair, and breathed deeply.  On 
Cheryl's first visit, Janet had spanked her.  On this visit Janet 
would introduce Cheryl to what it fully meant to be a slave.

    "Then nothing further needs to be said.  I agree to your 
conditions, with the promise of your silence."

    "Then you'll do as I ask, Mistress?"

    "Yes, Cheryl.  I'll train you, loan you to a Domme, and we'll 
see what price you that you want from me.  But that's a long way 
in the future.  We'll see if you can make that journey."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl.

    "I'm now going to call Tina back.  You will get on your 
knees, and I will ask you for your submission.  You will agree.  
Then Tina will take you to a bedroom where you will strip and be 
outfitted in collar, bracelets and heels.  Which will be your only 
clothes until Sunday.  Do you understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress Janet."

    Janet pressed a button on her desk, and Tina appeared at the 
door a few seconds later.

    "Enter," ordered Janet.

    "Cheryl," Janet commanded, "kneel."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl, as she knelt before Janet.

    "Do you, Cheryl Branford, submit yourself to me, Mistress 
Janet Davis, of your own free will, and without coercion?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "That you will accept whatever discipline or bondage that I 
place upon you, or from others who I may give you to?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "That you will faithfully obey the orders of your Mistress?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "And that you will no longer have the freedom of your own 
body, which shall belong to me, totally."

    "Yes, Mistress Janet."

    "And that you shall be forever silent about what occurs to 
you here."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Choose your safeword."

    "Sin, Mistress," Cheryl answered.

    "Tina, take her to the bedroom, and get her ready.  She knows 
what to expect for this evening.  I'll see you in the Dungeon in 
thirty minutes.  If she resists in any way, you have my permission 
to use the crop on her," ordered Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress Janet," answered Tina as she led her charge 
away.

    'So now it begins,' Janet thought to herself.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Janet had decided not to change out of her leather dress.  It 
was comfortable, reasonable cool (since it did not enclose her 
like a Catsuit) and allowed her freedom of motion.  She did, 
however, select a pair of long matching leather kidskin gloves to 
go with the dress.  Janet removed them from a desk drawer, and 
carefully drew them up to her elbows.  The soft leather fit her 
easily, and Janet admired herself in the mirror.

    Leaving the library, Janet walked down the open stairs down 
to the Dungeon.  She could have taken the elevator, but Janet 
enjoyed hearing the sound that her heels made as she descended.  
Erica had both stairs and elevator installed to reach her Dungeon 
complex, and no doubt the stairs was a backup in case the power 
failed.  Which they did!  One Saturday night, during an intense 
scene, the power suddenly went out, plunging the Dungeon into 
complete darkness.  While she had been busy downstairs, an ice 
storm had knocked out power for all of southern Connecticut.

    She had wasted no time after the storm had cleared to install 
emergency lighting and a backup power supply for the Mansion.  
That was her second modification to her inheritance, the first had 
been a sauna installed upstairs.  Janet would frequently invite 
either Stephanie or Blanca over for a little steam session.  
Trouble was, keeping enough birch branches that they would use to 
beat each other with....

    Janet's heels clicked on the stairs as she descended, then 
she reached the door and opened it.  She walked into the first 
Dungeon, and found Cheryl hanging by her wrists from a ceiling 
chain, a red ballgag in her mouth, and a blindfold around her 
eyes.  She was naked, wearing only a collar, bracelets on her 
wrists and ankles, and a pair of heels locked to her feet.  A 
spreader bar kept her legs open and her sex available.  She was 
hanging so that her shod feet could just barely touch the floor.  
Her breasts jutted out, and Janet could see all of her ribs 
through her skin.

    Janet nodded in silence at Tina, who was standing silently 
nearby.  No slave should ever be left alone while bound, thought 
Janet especially when gagged.  It had only been much later when 
Erica had told Janet that all the times she had been bound that 
either Andrea or Erica herself had been nearby, in case something 
happened.  Even that final time, when Janet had been cruelly bound 
with a butt plug and dildo, and seemingly left alone, Andrea had 
been in reality quite close to her.

    Janet reached out and released Cheryl's blindfold, and when 
Cheryl could see again, she blinked in the sudden light.

    "Have you ever been in a Dungeon before?" Janet asked.

    Cheryl shook her head no.

    "Do you know what will happen here?"

    Cheryl shook her head yes.

    "Good.  It is here that you will be used, here that you will 
become a slave.  Both to your own body's desire's, and then to 
me," explained Janet.

    Janet took Cheryl's right nipple, which was already erect, 
and pinched it gently, then with slowly increasing pressure.  
Soon, Cheryl squealed from behind her gag.

    "Being gagged removes the last vestige of your free will, 
doesn't it?  I can use any part of you that I want."

    Janet probing hand went between Cheryl's legs, to her sex.  
Just as she had done days earlier, she roughly probed Cheryl's 
love triangle.

    "Mmmmph!" cried Cheryl, as her most private parts were 
invaded.

    "Wet already," Janet observed, "you're so easy, Cheryl," as 
Janet removed her fingers from Cheryl's sex.

    Janet walked over to the cabinet, and wiped her glove on a 
paper towel.  She then removed a riding crop from the wall, and 
soon stood again in front of Cheryl.

    "Tonight, I shall use the crop.  Afterwards, I shall use you 
in bed.  Do you understand?"

    Cheryl nodded.

    Janet unbuckled Cheryl's ballgag, handing it to Tina.  She 
then flexed the riding crop in her gloved hands.

    "You will now count each stroke," Janet began, "and after 
every five strokes, thank me for the discipline that you are 
receiving.  Do you understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress," replied Cheryl, who swallowed nervously, 
concern evident on her face.

    "I shall use you gradually at first, to gauge how you can 
take being used.  I shall not break your skin, or make you bleed.  
Ever.  I am not that kind of Mistress," coldly lectured Janet, 
"but I will leave marks and welts on your skin that will take time 
to heal."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl.

    "Then thank me for what you are about to receive," ordered 
Janet.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    Janet's first stroke was a mild one that landed on Cheryl's 
right thigh, which didn't even leave a mark behind.

    "One."

    The second landed on Cheryl's right breast, making her shake 
within her chains.

    "Two."

    The third was placed on Cheryl's bottom, making her squeal.

    "Three."

    "Four."

    "Five, Thank you, Mistress!" cried Cheryl.

    The sixth landed on Cheryl's right underarm.

    "Six."

    Eight."

    "Ten!  Thank you, Mistress!"

    Janet paused to give Cheryl a chance to recover, to catch her 
breath.  Each stroke had been delivered with more force than the 
last, and Cheryl's virgin body was now striped for the first time.

    "Eleven."

    "Twelve."

    The thirteenth stroke was delivered between Cheryl's legs, 
right onto her exposed sex.  Cheryl flinched within her chains, 
and a moan escaped her lips.

    "Thirteen!"

    "Fifteen, Thank you, Mistress."

    Janet then concentrated her strokes on Cheryl's Venus mound, 
and between her legs.  She wanted her new slave to cry in her 
submission.

    "Sixteen!"

    "Eighteen!"

    "Twenty! Thank you, Mistress."

    Janet ceased, and ran her gloved fingers down Cheryl's taut, 
sweating body.  She traced the fine red lines that the crop had 
left behind, and Cheryl flinched when Janet touched some of the 
more sensitive welts.

    "Kiss the crop," ordered Janet.

    Cheryl did as she was told, and then Janet waited in front of 
her.

    "Thank you, Mistress Janet," Cheryl stuttered.

    "Very good, Cheryl.  You have taken my crop rather well.  Now 
for your pussy."

    Janet again felt between Cheryl's legs, and her gloved 
fingers were coated with Cheryl's juices.  Janet removed her 
fingers, then displayed them to her bound captive.

    "Taste yourself," Janet ordered, "slave."

    Janet stuck her fingers inside Cheryl's mouth, and Cheryl 
licked away her own juices from the soft leather.

    "Once you have been trained," said Janet, "the mere sight of 
the crop will make you wet between your thighs."

    "Yes, Mistress,"

    "Tina, unchain Cheryl and get her cleaned up.  Chain her at 
the foot of my bed.  I shall want her ready in a half-hour.  And 
make sure that you leave a riding crop and dildo on my dresser," 
ordered Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Tina.

    On her way out, Janet handed the crop to Tina, and walked 
calmly to the library.  Cheryl's first session had gone well, and 
now......

    There were some reports that Stephanie had wanted her to 
read, and Janet had used them to pass the time.  Tina would have 
taken Cheryl to the bathroom, given her charge a quick sponge bath 
to freshen her up, and then her newest slave would be waiting for 
her in Janet's bedroom.  Janet got engrossed in reading, and did 
not notice that she had taken longer than the half-hour that she 
had originally ordered.

    When she entered her bedroom, she found Cheryl there alone.  
Her collar was locked to a chain from the foot of Janet's bed, her 
hands bound behind her back.  On the dresser was a riding crop, a 
dildo, and red ballgag.  Plus a single red rose, which had made 
Janet smile.  A gift from Tina, for which Janet would have to find 
some way to reward her later.

    "Good evening, Cheryl.  Did you enjoy your first session 
under the crop?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," Cheryl quickly answered.

    "You will learn that there is both pain," Janet began as she 
unzipped her leather dress, "and pleasure in being a slave."

    Janet removed her dress, under which she was wearing a 
matching black lace bra, panties and garter belt, which held up 
her stockings.  She removed her shoes, then opened the garters 
holding up her stockings, which Janet slowly removed.  Janet then 
removed her garter belt, and panties.  She was soon standing nude 
in front of her bound slave.

    "That's better," said Janet, "I'm going to go into the 
bathroom to freshen up.  When I return, your education is going to 
be continued."

    Janet washed herself off in the bathroom with a terry 
washcloth.  Leather was wonderful and sexy to wear, fit her like a 
glove, but didn't breath.  So after wearing any of her Domme gear, 
Leather, Latex, PVC, or Rubber, the first thing she wanted was a 
bath.  Whenever she did a session, she always slept nude that 
night, to let her skin breath.

    Re-entering the bedroom, she found the key to Cheryl's collar 
on the dresser, and unlocked the short chain.  She then pulled 
Cheryl up from the floor, and locked her to a longer chain set 
into a ringbolt in the wall above Janet's bed.

    "There now, better?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl.

    "You look very nice, Cheryl.  My stripes have improved your 
appearance.  Have you ever been to bed with a woman before?" Janet 
demanded.

    "What?" stammered Cheryl.

    "Have you ever made love to a woman?"

    "No, no, Mistress."

    "There's always a first time.  Now since you're a virgin in 
that regard, I'm not going to blame you for your ignorance.  I 
didn't make love to a girl until I became a slave to Mistress 
Erica."

    "Mistress?"

    "I want you to lay back on the bed, and I'll do everything," 
Janet ordered.

    "I'm cuffed, Mistress," Cheryl answered.

    Janet took a pillow from the top of the bed, and placed it 
midway down.  She patted it for effect.

    "Put your behind on the pillow, so you don't lay directly on 
the cuffs.  I'm not a cruel Mistress unless I'm forced to be.  Go 
on," Janet ordered.

    Cheryl did as Janet instructed, and put her behind on the 
pillow, elevating her behind and sex for Janet's use.

    "Open your legs, slave," Janet demanded.

    Cheryl blushed red when she opened her legs, and Janet began 
instead by kissing her on her mouth.  Their lips met passionately, 
and Janet wondered what type of lipstick that Cheryl used.  Then 
Janet began to suck and bite Cheryl's erect nipples, which she 
knew would make Cheryl hot with desire.

    "I'm going to have Tina teach you how to rouge your aureole 
to a deep red, and properly perfume yourself," said Janet, "but 
that will come later."

    Janet planted a series of moist kisses as her lips traveled 
downwards from Cheryl's breasts to her opened sex.  She enfolded 
Cheryl's moist love box with her lips, and her tongue darted 
inside Cheryl's outer lips to the joys within.

    "Ohhhh!" moaned Cheryl, shaking as she was excited by Janet's 
attentions, "Ohhhh!"

    Janet continued to pleasure Cheryl, and she knew that her 
slave's inhibitions were melting away as Janet brought her ever 
closer to climax.  Cheryl was wet between her legs, and Janet felt 
every time that Cheryl shuddered in response to Janet's 
stimulation of her.  Continuing, Janet wanted to draw out Cheryl 
as long as she could in order to make the orgasm stronger and more 
intense.  When Janet finally began to lick Cheryl's erect clit, 
she knew that release would not be far behind.  Deciding that she 
had kept Cheryl wanting long enough, she sucked and tongued her 
new slave to a series of orgasms that made her moan and bounce on 
the bed.

    "Ohhhh!" cried Cheryl, "Ohhh!"

    Janet noted that tears were falling from the corners of 
Cheryl's eyes, and that she lay there, panting with exhaustion.  
Janet wondered if Cheryl had ever had an orgasm before like that 
in her life.

    "You see," said Janet, sitting up, "there is both pain and 
pleasure in this house.  Provided that you are trained and obey.  
Sit up!"

    "Yes, Mistress," said Cheryl.

    Janet got the key from the dresser and unlocked the cuffs on 
Cheryl's wrists.  Cheryl then began to rub them to restore the 
circulation.

    "Thank you, Mistress," panted Cheryl.

    "You're welcome, slave."

    For a brief moment, Janet recalled the first time that she 
had been approached sexually by another woman.  It happened when 
she was working part-time in school, when she had the job in 
Macy's.  But nothing had come of it, leaving her frustrated and 
curious.  Did she desire a man or a woman?  

Janet remembered that she had never made love before to a woman 
until she had been chained in the cell with Tiffany. How Erica had 
made her wait weeks before she had been allowed to service her.  
Janet had desired to make love to Mistress Erica!  But Erica had 
waited (it took Janet time to figure this out) until she had been 
trained in lovemaking by Tiffany and Andrea before she would let 
Janet service her.

    Now that she was Mistress, Janet would either teach a new 
slave herself in the arts of love, or have Tina do it, or a 
combination of the two.  Janet now lay back on the bed, and 
arranged herself until she felt comfortable.

    "Make love to me, Cheryl," Janet ordered, "and taste yourself 
on my lips."

    Janet had expected Cheryl to hesitate, or pause.  Instead, 
she quickly lay beside Janet and began to kiss her new lover with 
passion and feeling.  Cheryl's tongue cleaned her juices from 
Janet's lips, just as they had done from Janet's leather gloves.  
Following what had gone before, Cheryl now sucked on Janet's 
nipples.

    However, Cheryl was a disappointment when it came to 
servicing Janet.  She tried, but seemed to hesitate and appeared 
scared when confronted by Janet's wet sex.

    "Something wrong?" asked Janet, "slave?"

    "I'm sorry, Mistress, I just can't make love to another 
woman," cried Cheryl.

    Janet had thoughtfully placed the crop on the night table for 
just that reason.

    "Did you enjoy the orgasm that I gave you?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Well, a girl taught me how to do that.  And you'll learn 
that also."

    Janet struck Cheryl twice on her back, two light strokes just 
meant to sting.

    "Owww!"

    "Now I'll hit you a lot harder next time if you don't satisfy 
me," said Janet, "so try again."

    Obediently, Cheryl lowered her head between Janet's thighs to 
start once more.  Janet felt Cheryl's tongue on her labia and 
clit, and was being aroused in an unfeeling way.

    "Satisfy me," said Janet as she struck Cheryl on her back 
once more with the crop.

    'It's going to be a long night,' Janet thought to herself as 
she opened her legs to accommodate Cheryl.
    *        *        *        *        *

Saturday June 13, 1998

    Janet awoke on Saturday to the sounds of birds singing 
through the open window.  She had been instructing Cheryl deep 
into the night, before they had both fallen asleep.  Now the bed 
was a mess, damp with their sweat and juices.

     She stood up from the bed, wanting not to awaken Cheryl.  
Nude, her body felt sticky, and Janet desired a hot bath or 
shower.  Janet stretched, admiring her figure in the mirror.

    'Not bad for a girl from Queens,' Janet thought to herself.

    "Mistress?" asked Cheryl.

    "Did I awaken you?" asked Janet.

    "No, Mistress Janet."

    "Good.  Tina will be along shortly to release and give you a 
bath.  After breakfast, which you and Tina will serve me in the 
dining room, I want to see both of you in the library.  
Understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Good," said Janet as she closed the door to her bathroom and 
opened the taps.

    Janet was going to have a nice leisurely long bath, and she 
selected a cube of lilac scented bath salts, which she unwrapped 
and tossed into the steaming water.  Janet settled into the tub, 
letting it dissolve away the stickiness on her skin.

    "Pity this moment can't last forever," Janet said to herself.

    Janet remembered how Erica had told her that the life of a 
Domme would sometimes not be an easy one, and she had found that 
out to be true.  Slowly, the story of Erica's competition between 
two of her slaves had gotten out into the D/s Community.  Janet 
was a skilled Domme in her own right, and she had gradually made a 
name for herself.

    But whenever there was a meeting, Janet sometimes heard the 
whispers that "she was the one, she was Erica's slave" induced a 
look of awe from other Dommes.

    After soaking away her cares and washing her long black hair, 
Janet got dressed in an old shirt and jeans, and lastly a pair of 
open sandals.  Summer was nearly here, after all!

    Janet went downstairs to the Dining Room, where Tina and 
Cheryl were waiting.  Tina was dressed in a regular maid's 
uniform, and Cheryl was naked. Janet noted that she was slightly 
uncomfortable.  Good.  That was to be expected.

    The table was set for one, with a glass of orange juice, a 
copy of the Times and the local Connecticut paper waiting for her.  
Janet seated herself and sipped at her juice.

    "Breakfast, Mistress?" asked Tina.

    "Yes, Tina, thank you.  Something different today, how about 
a cheese omelet?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Tina scurried out of the Dining Room, followed by Cheryl.  
Janet smiled as she opened the slim Saturday Times.  Normally, 
they shared breakfast (and most other meals) together in the 
kitchen, and dropped ceremony, since Tina was her assistant.  But 
when they had a slave in attendance proper respect had to be 
displayed.

    In a few minutes, Cheryl set the plates in front of Janet, 
and bowed.  Tina had coached her in what to do while Janet had sat 
in her bath (another reason not to hurry); doing her job in 
helping train Cheryl.

    "Thank you, Tina," said Janet.

    Janet ate her breakfast in silence, with the two standing at 
the kitchen door behind her.  She poured herself one cup after 
another of black coffee as she leisurely ate her omelet, home 
fries, and toast.  All the while, reading from the two newspapers.  
Finally, she finished, and stood up from the table.

    "That was very nice.  After you've cleaned up, please join me 
in the library," requested Janet.

    Janet took the papers under her arm, and walked to the 
library.  She was determined to get some work done today, no 
matter what!

    She was joined a few moments later by Tina and Cheryl, who 
both waited for her commands.

    Janet went over the chores that Tina would do today, in a 
formal manner.  Finally, at the end, Janet had a special chore for 
her assistant.

    "Tina, there is something else I'd like you to do."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Tina.

    "Cheryl is willing, but inexperienced, in the arts of love.  
Could you postpone some of your chores this afternoon for a little 
bedroom training?  The next time that I take Cheryl to bed, I want 
her to know how to satisfy a woman."

    "Of course, Mistress," Tina replied a smile on her lips.

    Janet stole a glance at Cheryl.  She knew that Cheryl had 
first been stimulated by the crop, then Janet's use of her sex.  
Then Janet had striped her skin even further teaching her the arts 
of love, deep into the night.  Cheryl was a mass of raging 
hormones, eager to feel both a crop and a woman again between her 
legs.  Janet knew that Cheryl was probably wet right now, just 
from being collared and naked.

    "Good.  Then I don't want to be disturbed, except for lunch 
and dinner.  If Cheryl doesn't cooperate while doing household 
work, you may use the crop as you wish."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "But there is one other thing, though.  When you have a 
break, have Cheryl write down her bio and final interview.  You 
know what to ask," ordered Janet.

    "Of course, Mistress Janet.  Come, Cheryl," ordered Tina.

    Janet watched as the two left the library and Tina closed the 
door behind her, and Janet sat back in her leather chair.  She sat 
in the same leather chair, and oak desk that she had inherited 
from Erica.  She had kept them as a tribute to her Domme, now dead 
two years ago.  Pausing, Janet wondered how many times that Erica 
must have sat behind the desk, attending to her Domme duties.

    "Oh, well," Janet said aloud to herself, "the bad thing about 
being in charge is that there's nobody but yourself to tell you 
what to do."

    Janet fired up her computer, opened her briefcase from her 
job, and began to work.  She read reports, downloaded files from 
the main computer, printed out reports, and read them.  She 
considered, made her decisions, and wrote her conclusions.  Even 
though the time glared at her from the computer, and the large 
grandfather clock ticked away the time, Janet was in her own 
insulated world of work.

    It wasn't until hours later that a knock on the door suddenly 
startled her.  Janet nearly jumped out of her chair, and noticed 
that the clock read 1 PM.  She had been working without a break 
for five hours.

    "Enter," Janet ordered.

    "Lunch, Mistress," announced Tina as she brought in a tray.

    "Thank you, Tina," said Janet as she put away some paper and 
report, "I guess I clean forgot about the time."

    "Did you finish?" asked Tina.

    "Yes, Thank you."

    Tina set down a tray, and unfolded a linen napkin on Janet's 
lap.  She removed a cover from a steaming cup of soup, next to 
which was a turkey sandwich and a small salad.  Janet inhaled the 
aroma.

    "Thank you, Tina.  Where is Cheryl?" asked Janet as she 
picked up the spoon and took a sip.

    "Chained in the kitchen, Mistress.  She's not going 
anywhere."

    "Good," said Janet.

    Janet was so hungry, she simply devoured the cup of soup.  
But before she could start on the sandwich, Tina placed her hand 
on Janet's.

    "Mistress, I think you had better read this," said Tina as 
she passed over several sheets of paper.

    "Cheryl's interview?"  Janet asked.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "And what do you think?" Janet questioned.

    "I was very concerned when you told me that you had laid a 
hand on Cheryl before her submission.  Even more when you used the 
crop on her before she wrote her bio.  That breaks all established 
procedure, Mistress."

    "Get to the point, Tina."

    "Lies, Mistress.  All lies.  The minute I gave her pen and 
paper she was off writing, like it had been memorized in advance.  
Normally a slave has to sit and think to dig deep before they can 
explain why they want to submit.  But Cheryl just started writing.  
No mistakes, nothing crossed out or started over," explained Tina, 
in a serious tone of voice.

    "Thank you."

    "Will you stop training her?" asked Tina.

    "I can't Tina.  For reasons I can't explain, I just have to.  
You'll have to take my word for it."

    "I understand, Mistress."

    "Let me read the interview as I finish the rest of my lunch.  
How did you get on with the housework?"

    "Finished.  Once lunch is complete, I'll take Cheryl to bed," 
Tina replied with a smile on her face.

    "Did you have to use the crop?" Janet asked.

    "A few times."

    "How did she react?"

    "She won't be questioning my authority any more, Mistress 
Janet," answered Tina, a smile on her face.

    "Thank you, Tina."

    Tina left the library, closing the doors behind her.  Janet 
picked up a can of Coke that was on the tray, and took a long sip 
before she took a bite of the sandwich.  Then sat back and began 
to read Cheryl's interview.

    It was good all right, Janet thought.  Very good.  Except 
that Janet had seen similar phrases from other interviews in the 
past.  Janet polished off the sandwich, then started on the salad.  
She finished one can of Coke, then opened another.  As a joke, 
Tina had chosen two slices of melba toast for dessert, which Janet 
ate anyway.

    Janet smiled to herself.  Sunday night, Tina would pay for 
her little joke with a paddling on her bottom, which would smart 
for days afterward.  But that was all part of the relationship 
that they shared together.  Mistress and slave.  Domme and femme.  
Lovers.

    Janet's reverie was disturbed by a knock on the door.

    "Enter."

    Cheryl entered, naked.

    "I'm here to pick up the tray, Mistress," stated Cheryl.

    "Go ahead," said Janet as she wiped her mouth on a paper 
napkin.

    Doing as she was told, Cheryl walked behind Janet and 
retrieved the napkin that had been on Janet's lap.  Janet noted 
the new stripes on Cheryl's bottom.  When Cheryl reached for the 
tray, Janet pulled Cheryl to her, and traced the new welts on her 
behind.

    "How did you get these?" Janet demanded.

    "I didn't follow an order, Mistress."

    "And what did you learn from these stripes?"

    "That I must obey Tina as I do you, Mistress," Cheryl 
answered.

    "Good."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "Go, Cheryl.  And learn, lest you give Tina more reasons to 
stripe your bottom."

    "Yes, Mistress," said Tina as she picked up the tray.

    "I expect you to be a satisfying and attentive lover when 
next I take you to bed, else you will be severely punished," 
sternly admonished Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Go," Janet ordered.

    Janet sat back in the chair, happy that she had not 
confronted Cheryl about her interview.  No, that she would do 
tomorrow, before she left.  Tonight, Janet would have her under 
the whip.  Janet wondered just how strong Cheryl would be when a 
thin cord of leather would wrap itself around her, leaving a 
painful stripe behind.

    Once Cheryl was gone, Janet got up from behind the desk and 
stretched.  Yes, a walk around the estate, maybe even a short 
drive to get out of the house was called for.  Afterwards, some 
Domme paperwork, then Dinner, then Cheryl's second scene in the 
Dungeon.

    It was going to be a very busy evening!
    *        *        *        *        *
    Mistress Janet admired herself in the bedroom mirror.  She 
had chosen a simple outfit call a "Dominatrix Dress."  It was made 
of PVC, zipped up in the back, had long sleeves, and reached to 
almost to her knees.  Black, it clung to all of her curves, 
showing off her figure.  She wore a pair of nude stockings, and a 
pair of modest heels.

    "Could even wear this to a nightclub," said Janet to herself.

    By now, Tina would have prepared Cheryl, and they would both 
be down in the Dungeon awaiting her.  It had been a very good day, 
after all.

    Janet had managed to read all the reports from other Dommes 
on slaves in training, on meetings that she would have, and other 
affairs.  Beforehand, she had taken a nice short drive in the 
Miata to refresh herself.  Dinner had been interesting, since it 
had given her the chance to watch Cheryl closely.  Janet got the 
distinct impression that Cheryl was used to being served.  Her 
file indicated that she was rich enough, and was probably born to 
wealth.

    Glancing at the clock, which read 10 PM, Janet decided that 
she had already spent enough time.  She exited her bedroom, made 
her way downstairs, and walked down the steps to the Dungeon.  
Janet had given Tina strict orders about Cheryl, and she knew that 
they would be obeyed.    

    In the Dungeon, Cheryl was kneeling on the floor.  Over her 
regular collar Tina had placed a posture collar, one that placed 
her neck in a straight uncomfortable position.  Her hands were 
locked behind her back, and the collar was locked to a chain from 
the wall.  A leather gag completed her bondage.  Cheryl was quite 
helpless.

    "Good evening, Tina," greeted Janet.

    "Good evening, Mistress."

    "I see that Cheryl is prepared for use this evening.  Did she 
give you any trouble?" asked Janet.

    "Not after I struck her with the crop a couple of time, 
Mistress," answered Tina.

    "And how did her lessons go this afternoon?" Janet asked.

    "Very well, but she is not ready to share your bed yet, 
Mistress.  Perhaps a few more sessions with me in the arts of love 
before she will be ready," offered Tina.

    "I have not yet decided how she will spend the evening," said 
Janet, "that will depend on our session here tonight."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet smiled to herself.  Even if Tina has said that Cheryl 
was ready, it still wouldn't matter.  She had already decided that 
Cheryl would be spending the night chained at the foot of her bed 
on the floor in order to frustrate her, just as Erica had done 
with her.  No, Cheryl would be driven mad with desire to please 
her Mistress before Janet would again allow her into Janet's bed.

    Janet reached down, and pinched Cheryl's right nipple, which 
was already erect and hard.

    "Mmmmph!"

    Janet took hold of the D ring on the posture collar, and 
pulled Cheryl to her feet.  Cheryl shakily rose, her balance off 
from the posture collar that she wore.

    "Helpless, aren't we?" stated Janet.

    With the posture collar around her neck, all that Cheryl 
could do was to bow her body a little in assent.  The gag in her 
mouth enforced her silence.

    "You're going to be used tonight, Cheryl.  With a whip.  I'm 
going to make you scream, do you understand?  You wanted to be 
here, and so you are.  You will now know what it is like to serve 
me, slave."

    Janet then unlocked Cheryl collar from the chain holding her 
to the wall.  Tina passed her the keys, and Janet removed the 
posture collar from around her neck.  Pulling her along, Janet 
positioned her beneath the ceiling chain.  She unlocked Cheryl's 
cuffs from behind her back, then locked them to the chain.  Cheryl 
offered no resistance.

    "A spreader bar, Tina," ordered Janet.

    Tina produced what Janet had ordered, and Janet motioned for 
her to attach it to Cheryl's ankle cuffs.  Then Janet activated 
the motor, and Cheryl was soon suspended on her toes off the 
floor.  She was bound, and totally vulnerable.

    Janet removed a coiled black leather whip from the wall, and 
placed its handle under Cheryl's chin.  Her eyes were wide from 
fear.

    "Is this what you want?" Janet asked.

    Cheryl nodded yes, and Janet removed the gag from her mouth.  
Cheryl took several deep breaths, her chest heaving.

    "Thank you, Mistress Janet."

    "I hope that you will say that when I have finished," said 
Janet, "now kiss the whip, slave."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "I don't have to feel your cunt to know that you're already 
wet.  That's the first sign that you desire a Mistress," stated 
Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress Janet," answered Cheryl.

    "Prepare to feel the whip," threatened Janet.

    Janet took a few steps back and let the whip uncoil on the 
floor.  It was long and sinuous, and it gleamed in the lights.  
Tina kept it well oiled and cared form else she would be the one 
to feel it's effect!

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl, fear evident in her voice.

    Janet drew the whip back slowly, then struck forward with a 
mild stroke that would wrap itself around Cheryl's exposed figure.  
When the thin leather sailed through the air, it seemed as if time 
had seemed to stop.  Then it impacted and wrapped around Cheryl's 
exposed flesh.

    Cheryl screamed more from fright than actual pain.  Janet had 
only used enough force to mark, and not injure.  Still, Cheryl was 
clearly scared to death as the thin leather coiled itself around 
her naked body, and the tip finally coming to rest between her 
breasts.  Upon impact, it stung, making Cheryl jump in her chains.

    "Owww!" cried Cheryl.

    "There is more to come, slave," said Janet with menace in her 
voice.

    Janet began to deliver a series of regular strokes with the 
whip, each of which would land and mark a different place on 
Cheryl's naked body.  Set against the marks from the cropping that 
Cheryl had received the night before, her skin was no longer 
virgin.  First Janet's use of the crop, then Tina's, and now 
Janet's use of the whip all had left their mark on Cheryl's 
exposed body.

    One stroke after another left it's mark on Cheryl's body and 
Janet delivered each stroke in groups five.  She paused after each 
group, in order to give Cheryl a chance to rest.  Janet noted that 
tears were soon falling from the corners of her eyes, running down 
her cheeks.

    After ten strokes, Janet took Cheryl's right breast in her 
hand, and played with it as if it were a toy.  Janet began to 
squeeze it between her fingers, finally pinching the erect nipple, 
making Cheryl squeal in response.

    "Well, Cheryl," Janet began, "now do you understand what it 
means to be a slave?  To lose control of your own body, to be at 
the mercy of others?"

    Janet then roughly fondled Cheryl's sex, and then inserted 
two of her fingers inside her wet slit in the roughest way 
possible. Cheryl jumped in her chains, startled.

    "Ahhhh!" cried Cheryl.

    Janet then repeated what she had just done, only rougher the 
second time.

    "Ahhhh!"

    "Lick my fingers," ordered Janet, as she offered Cheryl her 
own juices, glistening on Janet's fingers in the light.

    "Yes, Mistress," cried Cheryl, as she complied with Janet's 
command.

    Once finished, Janet again held the whip before Cheryl's 
eyes.  Cheryl was wide-eyed with fear.

    "You have only had ten strokes for far, Cheryl.  I shall now 
begin again, and use you until I'm satisfied.  Do I have your 
permission?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," tearfully answered Cheryl.

    Janet then drew the whip again, and delivered another series 
of five strokes.  These she made sure landed between Cheryl's 
legs, making her jump when the tip hit her sex.  Cheryl cried 
after each stroke, tears falling down her cheeks.

    Once the five had been delivered, Janet paused.  She had sown 
her mastery over Cheryl.  Now it was time to show Cheryl that her 
own body would crave the pain of the whip, and betray her.

    "Kiss the handle," sternly ordered Janet.

    Cheryl eagerly complied with Janet's orders, kissing the 
braided handle of the whip.

    "Your nipples are erect, your sex wet, your breathing fast.  
Your body is filled with desire for the pain and pleasure that the 
lash can bring.  Do you now understand what it means to be a 
slave?" demanded Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," tearfully answered Cheryl.

    "I'm now going to strike you harshly for your last five 
strokes, Cheryl.  You're going to carry these welts for a long 
time until they heal.  But I won't make you bleed, for that is the 
difference between a good Domme and a bad one.  Between discipline 
and abuse.  Be glad that you now serve a Mistress who will teach 
you the difference," explained Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet struck out, making Cheryl scream.  Each stroke impacted 
and left it's mark, but Cheryl's skin was reddened, but not 
broken.  When Janet was done, Cheryl hung limply in her chains.

    "Kiss the whip," Janet ordered, offering the handle to 
Cheryl.

    Cheryl did as she was told, in silence, tears falling down 
her cheeks.

    "I don't think that Cheryl will be much use in bed tonight, 
Tina.  Treat her wounds, bathe her, then chain her in a bedroom 
tonight," Janet ordered, "and you may spend the night with her, 
since I think that she'll need a shoulder to cry on."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Tina.

    "I'm going to attend to some paperwork in the library, then 
have a bath, then go to bed.  It's been a long day," said Janet as 
she placed the whip back in its proper place.

    "Thank you, Mistress," weakly said Cheryl.

    "You're welcome, slave," replied Janet.

    Janet's last view of Cheryl that evening was that of Tina 
releasing her from the bonds that held her from the ceiling chain.  
Cheryl looked weak and beaten, her eyes dark from the experience 
that she had undergone.
    *        *        *        *        *

Sunday June 14, 1998

    Sunday morning, Janet was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of 
jeans as she sat behind her desk.  She was waiting for Cheryl, 
since she wanted to speak to her before her departure.  There was 
Tina's distinctive knock on the door, perfectly on time.

    "Enter," Janet ordered.

    Tina and Cheryl entered the library, Cheryl wearing the same 
clothes that she had worn on Friday night.

    "Thank you Tina, we can be alone.  Cheryl, you may take a 
seat."

    "Thank you, Mistress," said Tina, as she closed the library 
door.

    Janet sat back in the chair, and surveyed her companion.  
Cheryl, now clothed, had regained her composure and bearing, but 
she still didn't look at Janet directly.

    "All right, Cheryl," said Janet, "we're alone.  Is there 
anything that you want to say?"

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "No complaints that I used you too harshly?" Janet asked.

    "No, Mistress.  I came to you wanting to be a slave, and I'll 
accept whatever training you impose."

    "Good," said Janet, "tonight, or maybe tomorrow, you will 
experience a strange feeling.  You will stand naked in front of a 
mirror, and trace the marks that I have placed upon you.  First, 
you will feel intense shame.  For you will have placed yourself in 
submission to another woman.  But then you will feel intense 
pride, remembering how my use placed the marks on you."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Excellent.  I shall see you next weekend.  Your body now 
belongs to me, Cheryl.  Remember that."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Go," Janet ordered, "and when you return, your descent into 
slavery shall continue."

    Janet watched as Cheryl rose, and left the library.  For 
Janet knew that Cheryl would be back, since Janet had opened a 
door for her that she had willfully entered.  One that there was 
now no turning back from.
    *        *        *        *        *

From the Diary of Cheryl Branford:
    When the limousine deposited me back at my rented apartment, 
I ran inside, ready to cry.  Just days ago, I had been confident 
and headstrong.  I was going to confront Mistress Janet, fence 
verbally with her, and coerce her into training me as a slave.
    But now all I want is to pack my bags, abandon the whole 
idea, and flee back to California, and the safety of home.
    When I met Mistress Janet at the Charity event, she looked 
simply beautiful.  Long black hair, a designer gown, handbag and 
matching shoes, tasteful but not ostentatious jewelry.  I made it 
a point to quickly deliver my message and leave, before her 
companion, Jessica, might recognize me.  Janet looked suitably 
shocked and stunned, and I vanished as quickly as I could.
    But it was on Wednesday night when I had my first doubts 
about this entire idea.  We talked, and reached an agreement.  I 
made my demands on her, and she accepted.
    But nothing I had read, or any of those silly tapes I 
watched, prepared me for the order to strip.  I suddenly felt 
vulnerable and exposed for the first time in my life.  Then she 
inspected me, fondling my breasts and invading my sex, finally 
spanking me several times to show her mastery over me.
    That was, however, just a taste, a prelude, of what was to 
come!
    This weekend, I was kept naked, for there is a difference 
between being nude and naked, collared and braceleted, made to 
serve and submit, and used.  I was beaten with a crop and whip, 
and the marks burn in my flesh even now.
    But what has shocked me most was her sexual use of me.  I had 
never been made love to before by a woman, and first Janet, then 
Tina, took me to bed.  My slavery shall include not just physical 
punishment, but sex as well.
    How can I deny that I am now sexually attracted to Mistress 
Janet?  Her long black hair, beautiful face and lips, and lush 
body all make me wet with desire.  When Janet took me to her bed, 
she gave me the best orgasms I ever had in my life.  Then, she 
wanted me to please her.  I failed, because of my inexperience, 
and was beaten with a crop in bed.  From now on, Tina shall teach 
me.
    I am also frightened that I am also attracted to women 
sexually, for Janet's use of me has awakened strange repressed 
feelings that I have tried to keep secret even from myself.  Am I 
attracted to both women and men?  Janet's leather clad figure, her 
breasts and sex, the scent of her body, made me want her.  I loved 
the taste of her sex in my mouth, and want more.
    When Mistress Janet told me that I should back out, else it 
would be "too late"; I did not understand what she meant.  I fear 
that I do now!  For at the end of my training, I shall be her 
slave!
    Back home, when I thought up this idea, I believed that I 
could make Mistress Janet pay a price to demonstrate her 
dedication to that title.
    But I now know that I shall be paying a higher price than she 
will!
    For Mistress Janet has already proven herself both as a slave 
and a Domme, has felt the bite of the lash and crop, endured her 
bonds, and justly won her position.
    I do not know whatever possessed me of the idea that I was 
somehow ever fit to confront her.
    Even as I write this, I am somehow proud of the red marks on 
my body, and my sex is wet with desire to please Mistress Janet.  
Will I really be trained as a slave?  Can my body betray my mind, 
and adapt to the uses I have subjected myself to?  Will I 
eventually crave being bound and whipped?
    Worst of all thoughts to contemplate would be that if I am 
trained as a slave, I might forget the reason I have come here. I 
would enjoy being her slave, serving Mistress Janet both in the 
Dungeon and her bed.  Instead of punishing her, as I fully intend 
to.
    The next morning, I took a steaming hot shower, attempting to 
wash away my emotional confusion with water and soap.  After 
drying my hair in the bathroom, I removed my terry bathrobe.  I 
gasped when I saw my naked reflection in the mirror, seeing the 
red marks on my skin, the welts from the riding crop and whip.  I 
was ashamed and proud at the same time, just as Mistress Janet 
said I would be.  Then I ran to the bedroom and jumped on the bed 
beating my fists against the pillows, tears flowing from my eyes.
    I am terribly afraid of what I have begun.

 

 

"The Challenge" Chapter Four: Rejection
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if you
include this statement of limitation of use and notify the author 
by e-mail.
The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple 
copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.
However, individual readers may make single copies of the
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the author.  I 
do want to hear from you!
"The Challenge" by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Chapter Four: Rejection

Part One: That Feeling of Power

February 1983

    Erica Riken sat at her desk, a cup of black coffee in front 
of her, papers neatly organized, and the IBM PC humming away.  
Trouble was, she just couldn't concentrate on her work.  In her 
new job of bookkeeper she was managing the finances of the liquor 
distributor, which handled hundreds of cases of hard liquor every 
day.  Oddly, all she ever drank was perhaps wine with dinner or a 
whiskey sour once in a great while.  

    Under her business suit, she massaged the latest welts that 
she had acquired the previous weekend.  She had been used severely 
by Daniel, who had beaten her with a riding crop until she had 
bled.  Crying when she returned home, she had managed to clean her 
back off, and bandage her wounds by herself.  She had decided to 
wear a business suit all week to work, just in case the stripes 
should begin to bleed.

    It had been weeks now that she had to share Daniel with 
Lauren, who had a strange effect on him.  Originally, Daniel had 
used her alone.  But then, one night, Daniel had handed the riding 
crop to Lauren.  Her companion in slavery then took the crop and 
used it savagely on Erica.

    Erica chewed on a pencil, aware that it was late Friday 
afternoon.  Before, she would only see Daniel on Saturday.  Now 
she had been asked to begin her period of slavery on Friday night.  
It was therefore quite a rush to do food shopping, laundry, and 
other domestic errands before the weekend should arrive.

    She watched as the other employees completed their tasks, and 
talked about the dates that they would be having.  Erica wondered 
just the others would think if they knew what was going to happen 
to her.

    In just a few hours, she would be wearing nothing but an 
apron, cooking Dinner for Daniel, Lauren, and herself.  
Afterwards, she would clean up.  Finally, she would be used in the 
playroom.  Sighing, at least she realized that he had taken no 
further interest in using her bottom again beyond a spanking.  She 
just couldn't bear the thought of going through that again!

    Erica realized that her project was done, so she saved her 
work, then shut the PC down.  She locked her papers in her 
briefcase and desk, checked to see what the others were working 
on, then bade them goodbye for the weekend.

    She would now have to rush to get things done!
    *        *        *        *        *
    Beginning in childhood, she had been urged to help in the 
kitchen.  While they had servants and a cook, she had been told 
that one day she would have to keep a house.  That cooking was a 
skill that everyone should learn, along with the other myriad 
skills in running a household.  So she had learned to cook, and 
her mother had even sent her for cooking lessons at some school in 
Manhattan.

    At the time, she would have rather loafed with her rich 
girlfriends.  Now that skill was coming handy in her new life!

    Erica had shopped, and she would prepare roast duck.  The 
problem with duck was that it contained a lot of fat, and had to 
be pierced continually during cooking.  Nor could it be overcooked 
else it would be dry and tough!

    So Erica had rushed to Daniel's house (he would pick up 
Lauren) to start Dinner.  She had cleaned and prepared the birds, 
and stuck them in the oven.  So she stood there, watching them 
cook, piercing them with a fork, draining off the fat.

    Erica was glad when she heard the door open, and she rushed 
over to the foyer.  Daniel & Lauren had entered the house, and 
Lauren was closing the door behind her.

    "Sir?" greeted Erica.

    "Good evening, Erica.  Is that dinner cooking?"

    "Yes, Sir." Erica answered.

    "Then you and Lauren had better attend to it.  I'll be 
changing."

    "Yes, Sir," they both answered in unison.

    Lauren set the table for three.  Erica had chosen a blush 
wine, since Duck was dark meat, unlike chicken or turkey.  Erica 
was removing the two birds from the oven when they were ready then 
Lauren intervened.

    "Shouldn't you cook those a bit longer?" asked Lauren.

    "No," pointed out Erica, "now that the fat has drained out, 
the meat's done.  Any longer, and it'll be tough and dry.  I took 
a few cooking classes."

    "Okay," Lauren answered.

    Of course, Erica didn't say that they had been in one of the 
most famous cooking schools in Manhattan!

    Dinner that night went off rather well.  Lauren had set the 
table properly, according to Erica's instructions.  They had dined 
on Duck, parsley potatoes, asparagus, the red wine, and a cake 
that Erica had bought.  The Dinner went off rather well, without 
any problems, since Erica had directed Lauren in what to do.

    Daniel had clearly appreciated the meal, which was clearly of 
restaurant quality.  Impressed, he had complimented Erica a few 
times afterwards.  But it was only after they had cleaned up 
together, that all the dishes were drying in the rack, that Erica 
realized just how jealous that Lauren was.

    "Do you think that by cooking dinner that will get you off?" 
asked Lauren.

    "What are you talking about?"  Erica replied.

    "Daniel asked you to do something.  You refused."

    "That's none of your affair," said Erica, nervously.

    "Yes it is, girly.  And Daniel is mine, slut!" snapped 
Lauren.

    "I was his before you came along."

    "Erica, Lauren!" called Daniel from the living room.

    Both of them quickly walked to attend Master Daniel, and 
knelt before him.  He surveyed his two slaves quietly.

    "Erica, thank you for dinner this evening.  I had no idea 
that you were such a good cook."

    "Yes, sir."

    "Did you go to school for that?"

    "I took a few classes over the years."

    "Had I known about your ability, I would have let you make 
dinner a long time ago."

    "Thank you."

    "Tonight, I have something special planned.  Lois, a 
Dominatrix friend of mine is going to be bringing over her slave 
Jasmine.  I had wanted to use her myself, but since Erica made the 
fine dinner I think that the two of you should be given the right 
to use her."

    Erica and Lauren stared at each other in silence, not 
replying to Daniel's statement.

    "Erica, have you ever used the whip or crop on another 
slave?" Daniel asked.

    "No, Sir."

    "Good.  It's an essential part of any slave's training to 
learn how to use the crop as well as receive it.  So this will be 
your first time.  Lauren, how about you?"

    "Not for a long time, Sir."

    "Excellent.  Master Richard and I will remain up here, and 
the two of you can entertain Jasmine down in the playroom."

    "Thank you," they both said in unison, "Sir."
    *            *        *        *
    About an hour later, Erica and Lauren were called out of the 
playroom to attend the arrival of their guests.  In order to pass 
the time, Daniel had ordered them to clean the playroom and the 
instruments of their torment.  Daniel had not wanted to bother to 
supervise their every move, and had left it up to the two of them 
to divide the tasks between them.

    Lauren had chosen to sweep the floor, and clean the X cross 
and wooden cage that Daniel used to confine them during a session.  
Erica had taken the more careful task of cleaning and oiling the 
leather instruments of discipline.  Naked, they both worked in 
silence, even though Daniel had not ordered them to be silent.

    For weeks now, Erica had watched in silence, not saying 
anything as she watched Lauren slowly manipulate her into Daniel's 
favorite.  No demand of his was too humiliating, and Erica knew 
that she was there almost every day.  One Friday night, she had 
entered the house, only to see Daniel taking Lauren up her bottom 
in the living room.

    True, Daniel had respected her wishes and had not asked to 
use her there again.  But she wondered just when the idea might 
again occur to Daniel.  Or even if Lauren might suggest it, as a 
way of demeaning Erica still further.

    Erica surveyed the instruments of her torment, laid out on 
the table in front of her.  With a shock, she realized that they 
all had been used on her at one time or another.  The whips, the 
crops, and the paddles that had made her into a slave.  The gags, 
and the dildos all had been used to introduce her to being 
Daniel's possession.  Which she was, at least until Lauren had 
arrived.

    'How do I react in a love triangle when I'm a slave?' Erica 
asked herself in silence.

    Since Lauren's arrival, Erica had slowly and inevitably felt 
herself being pushed out of the way.  She had been confined in the 
wooden cage when Daniel had used Lauren, then taken her up to the 
bedroom.  Or she had been chained at the foot of the bed and 
ignored all night as Daniel used Lauren sexually.

    Just as she had finished oiling a leather paddle that was the 
last instrument, Daniel had called to them to finish up.  Lauren 
had scurried to put away her cleaning tools, and Erica had 
carefully replaced everything back in its proper place in the 
cabinet.  Daniel would be down later to make an inspection to 
pronounce the playroom suitable before use that evening, and no 
doubt to show to his friend.

    Erica took one final glance inside the cabinet to make 
certain that everything was correct and closed the doors.  The 
pushed the table back there it had been and gathered the cloths 
and jars of polish that she had used on the wood and leather 
instruments.

    "I'll be right along," said Lauren.

    "Okay," said Erica.

    Upstairs, Erica stowed the oils beneath the kitchen sink, and 
Lauren joined her a few moments later.  They toweled off the dirt 
and oil that had accomeulated on their naked bodies as they had 
worked.  Erica wished that they had given an apron to work in, 
instead of being kept nude all the time.

    "Girls!" called Daniel from the living room.

    They both scurried out to the living room, and quickly stood 
at attention, though with their eyes downcast as they had been 
instructed.  Erica nearest the door, since she was his primary 
slave, with Lauren next to her.  Daniel had opened the front door 
to admit 2 women guests, and had embraced the first to enter, 
which would have been the Dominatrix Lois.  Following behind was 
another woman, which would have been Jasmine, her slave.

    Lois was an attractive woman in her early 30s, wearing an 
attractive red dress.  She was tall, well built, and pretty.  She 
was wearing a knockoff of a designer dress, carried a Coach 
handbag, and was wearing a set of modest heels on her feet.

    Jasmine must have been in her late twenties, and was quite 
pretty as well.  She was wearing a blouse and skirt, and Erica 
guessed that she wasn't wearing anything underneath.  Her breasts 
were free under the fabric of the print blouse, and her hips 
didn't betray a panty line.  Nor was she wearing hose either.  She 
was perched on what Erica guessed was a set of five in high heels, 
which must have been uncomfortable to walk in.  To complete her 
outfit was a leather collar that was locked around her neck.

    "Daniel, how nice to see you again," said Lois as she held 
onto Daniel and kissed him passionately on the lips.

    "You're looking well, darling," said Daniel in return as he 
held her tightly and kissed her roughly.

    "Mmmmm, plenty of time for that later dear.  You already know 
Jasmine, here.  So are these two yours?"

    "Yes," said Daniel as he closed the door behind Jasmine, 
"this is Erica, who has been my slave for some time now, and this 
is Lauren, who is new."

    When they heard their names mentioned, they each curtsied to 
Mistress Lois.

    "I see that you've trained them quite well," complimented 
Lois.

    "Yes, they know what would happen if I become displeased."

    "Excellent, there's nothing better than a well trained 
slave."

    "I'm only sorry that I didn't plan to have you over for 
Dinner.  Erica made the most wonderful meal, I had no idea that 
she was such a good cook.  So I thought that if it was alright 
with you that we might let Erica and Lauren use Jasmine for this 
evening."

    "Fine, but what does that leave for us to do?" asked Lois.

    "I think that we can find something that we can do together," 
answered Daniel.

    "Yes," beamed Lois, "I agree."

    "Erica, why don't you prepare Jasmine in the bedroom?  I've 
laid out a few things on the bed to get her ready.  Meantime, I 
can show Lois the house and Lauren."

    "Yes, Sir.  This way," indicated Erica.

    Erica conducted her charge into one of the bedrooms.  Jasmine 
showed no surprise at being greeted at the door by two naked 
girls, and followed Erica in silence.  Laid out on the bed were a 
set of wrist and ankle cuffs, red ballgag, and a leash.

    Jasmine said nothing, but merely unzipped her skirt and 
passed it to Erica, who folded it and placed it on the bed.  Then 
she opened the buttons on her blouse, and handed the garment to 
Erica, who placed it on a hanger and hung it inside the closet.

    Just as Erica had assumed, Jasmine wore nothing underneath 
her clothes.  She had been naked, without bra or panties.  Her 
white skin was well marked with evidence both of the riding crop 
and whip, with welts both fresh and fading from past use.

    "Aren't you going to get me ready?" Jasmine asked.

    "Yes," Erica answered, "I'm sorry, I was just looking at your 
marks."

    "That's OK," Jasmine answered, "I see that you've been well 
used yourself."

    "When were you last used?" Erica asked.

    "Yesterday.  I was late returning from work, so Mistress 
punished me.  You?"

    "Last week."

    "Do you live with Master Daniel?"

    "No."

    "Living with my Mistress makes me available for her constant 
use," Jasmine stated.

    "I had better get you ready," said Erica.

    "Yes."

    Jasmine stood impassively as Erica locked the cuffs around 
her wrists and ankles, then locking her wrists behind her back.  
Erica then picked up the ballgag, and stood behind Jasmine as she 
placed it inside her mouth.  Jasmine opened her mouth wide to 
accommodate the red rubber ball, then Erica tightened the roller 
buckle at the back of her neck.  Lastly, she attached a leash to 
the collar of the bound slave.

    "Mmmmph!" grunted Jasmine from behind her gag.

    With her wrists bound behind her back, Jasmine's breasts 
jutted outwards from her chest.  Erica noted that they had been 
used recently also, having been marked.  Jasmine was evidently a 
slave that was used to being used quite frequently.

    Pulling on the loop at the end of the leash, Erica led 
Jasmine out of the bedroom back into the living room.  Lauren had 
been pressed into service to offer drinks to Daniel and Lois, who 
were both seated on the couch together.

    "Ah, excellent," Daniel observed when Erica pulled Jasmine 
into the room.

    "Thank you, Sir," said Erica.

    Daniel rose, and inspected Jasmine.  He placed his fingers 
under her chin, and looked at her face.  Then her fondled her 
erect breasts, and pinched her nipples.  Tracing the outlines of 
her female curves with both of his hands, he massaged her naked 
behind.  Then, finally, he pushed two of the fingers of his right 
hand into her wet slit, making her moan in response.

    "She's well trained," Daniel commented.

    "Yes, I like to keep her on the edge of climax at all times, 
and used constantly.  This way she only associates a sexual climax 
with the crop, mixing together pain and pleasure."

    "Is she wet all the time?"

    "Mostly."

    "I see then that you've trained her quite well."

    "Thank you.  You haven't done badly with Lauren," Lois 
replied, seated on the couch.

    Erica then noticed that there was a riding crop on the table 
and that Lauren had several fresh stripes on her bottom.  
Evidently when Erica had been preparing Jasmine, Lois had been 
allowed to use Lauren for her own pleasure.

    "You have each been granted the use of Jasmine for thirty 
minutes only.  You may mark or use her in any way you wish.  After 
that, you shall draw a card.  The winner will get to spend the 
night with Jasmine, the loser will have to service the two of us 
in the bedroom.  Do you understand?" Daniel asked.

    "Yes, Sir," answered both Erica and Lauren.

    "Sir, may I ask a question?" asked Lauren.

    "Go ahead."

    "Mistress Lois, how severely may I use your slave?"

    Lois sat back in the couch, and twirled around the drink in 
her glass.  She stared at the ice cubes, then took a sip.

    "You may use her until she calls her safeword, Mercy."

    Erica's interest was suddenly piqued.  Safeword?  She had 
never heard the term before, and she was determined to ask about 
it, but only when the time was right.

    "Mmmmmph!"  Jasmine cried from behind her gag, shaking her 
head from side to side.

    "Behave Jasmine, or else you know what will happen when you 
return home!" Lois cautioned in a harsh tone of voice.

    "Thank you, Mistress," Lauren replied.

    "Lois and I are going to change, then we'll be down to the 
playroom.  Don't begin until we arrive," Daniel ordered.

    "Yes, Sir."  

    Lauren joined Erica, and they pulled Jasmine along by her 
leash.  Wearing the high heels and without the use of her hands 
made going down the steps to the playroom difficult.  Erica held 
onto her change, helping Jasmine maintain her balance as she 
walked down the steps.

    Once inside, they locked Jasmine's leash to a bolt on the 
wall.  Erica turned around, only to see Lauren already holding a 
riding crop.

    "We were told to wait," Erica told her companion.

    "So I'm waiting," Lauren answered.

    "Who shall use her first?"

    "You, since you've never used the crop on anyone before.  
Then it will be my turn," Lauren answered.

    "Okay," Erica agreed.

    A few minutes later, Daniel & Lois joined them.  Daniel had 
changed into a pair of leather pants & vest, and Lois was now 
wearing a leather bra and skirt.  Erica was reminded of Mistress 
Martine, and missed her terribly.

    Because they both had been granted the use of another slave, 
neither Erica or Lauren was naked.
Clothes had been left for them in the playroom, and they had 
dressed together.  Erica wore a leather top, skirt, and heels.  
Lauren wore a leather bodysuit, and boots.  They still wore 
Daniel's collar around their necks, but they were each going to be 
using a slave for discipline.

    "Erica, since you've never used a woman before, I think that 
you should have the honor of using Jasmine first," ordered Daniel.

    "Thank you, Sir," Erica said in response.

    Erica was handed the set of keys by Lois, and a riding crop.  
She held the leather and bamboo object in her hands gingerly.  
Some two years now, she had felt the sting of the crop on her own 
naked body.  Her flesh had been decorated by the marks that the 
crop had left behind, and she had screamed in both pain and 
pleasure from it's application.  Prior to her slavery, the only 
time before that when she had handled a crop had been when she had 
learned horseback riding in Europe.  But that was long ago, and in 
another life.

    Walking on the heels over to Jasmine, the shoes clicked on 
the surface.  Soon Erica stood in front of the bound slave that 
she had locked to the ringbolt.  Jasmine was truly beautiful!  A 
magnificent mane of black hair, wide shoulders and high breasts, a 
narrow waist, and a delicious looking pussy all made her something 
to look at.

    Erica reached out with her right hand, and touched and 
fondled Jasmine's right breast.  Excited from being bound and 
naked in the playroom, the nipple was hard and erect.  Tracing a 
path downwards on her flat stomach, Erica's hand reached the 
slave's sopping wet sex.  It had taken her descent into slavery to 
discover that she was attracted to both men and women, that she 
wanted ever so much to suck at Jasmine's cunt.

    "Mmmmmph!" grunted Jasmine, her mouth filled by the gag as 
Erica massaged and inserted her fingers inside of the slave's wet 
slit.

    Conscious of the fact that she only had a limited amount of 
time to use Jasmine, Erica removed her fingers from the slave's 
cunt, and unlocked her collar chain from the ringbolt.  Holding 
Jasmine by the elbow, she walked her over to the whipping post.  
Erica unlocked Jasmine's cuffs from behind her back and then 
locked them to hooks above Jasmine's head.  Then she unlocked the 
ball gag and removed it from the slave's mouth.

    "Thank you, Mistress," said Jasmine.

    "You're welcome, slave," answered Erica.

    Erica then presented the crop to Jasmine's lips, and she did 
not even have to be ordered to kiss the instrument of her torment.  
Jasmine quickly began to kiss the crop, her wet lips touching the 
leather.

    "Prepare to be used, slave," stated Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica stepped back, and delivered her first stroke of the 
crop on a person.  Done without any force or power behind it, it 
made no sound as it struck Jasmine's flesh.  Erica swallowed 
conscious of the fact that three people were watching her.  So she 
began to strike Jasmine ever harder, with each stroke now leaving 
a mark behind.

    Bound to the post, all that Jasmine could do was to rub her 
naked sweating body up against the wood.  Erica struck at 
Jasmine's back, behind, thighs, and her underarms and breasts.  It 
took little time for Jasmine to begin to sweat from punishment 
that she was taking.

    After a few minutes, Erica stopped.  Jasmine's body was now 
covered by a series of red welts, which covered the parts that 
Erica had been able to reach.  Erica then looked at her Master, 
who beckoned her to continue.

    "Kiss the crop," Erica ordered.

    For the first time since the accident that had nearly claimed 
her life, Erica had felt a strange surge of power surging though 
her.  Before, she had enjoyed being under the lash, being used by 
her Master.  But now, suddenly, she was thrust into a new plane of 
existence.  Erica gasped when she realized that after two years of 
being a slave, she had entered the Domme space.

    "Are you all right, Erica?" Daniel asked.

    "Yes, Sir!"

    Erica then unlocked Jasmine's hands from the post.  There 
wasn't much time left, so she pulled Jasmine over to the Bondage 
cross.  She secured Jasmine's wrist cuffs to the sides, then her 
ankle cuffs down below.  The front of Jasmine's body was now 
available to Erica for her to use.

    She displayed again the crop to Jasmine, then began to strike 
her breasts and between her legs with a series of stokes that made 
Jasmine moan and shake within her bonds.  Erica knew that what 
Jasmine was now experiencing was a series of sexual orgasms and 
pain at the same time that was driving her to ecstasy.  The slave 
moaned and bucked under the crop.

    "Ooooh!" cried Jasmine.

    Finally, sensing that her time was just about up, Erica 
stopped and found a dildo in the toy cabinet.  She held it firmly 
in her hand, and pushed it deep into Jasmine's wet slit.  Jasmine 
moaned, then came in rush of moans and screams.

    "Time's up, Erica," said Lois, "that was very good."

    "Thank you, Mistress," answered Erica, as she bowed to her 
audience.

    "Erica, go clean Jasmine up before her use by Lauren," 
ordered Daniel.

    "Yes, Sir!" Erica answered.

    Erica placed the crop back in the cabinet, then released 
Jasmine from her confinement.  Jasmine was used to being a slave, 
and was able to accompany Erica upstairs to the bathroom.  Erica 
filled the bathroom sink with water, and washed off Jasmine with a 
wash cloth.

    She ran the cloth over her shoulders, breasts, but hesitated 
when she reached Jasmine's mons.

    "It's all right," laughed Jasmine, "my cunt won't bite."

    "I've never washed another woman before," said Erica.

    "Are you attracted to men or women?" Jasmine asked.

    "I'm not sure," Erica answered.

    Jasmine grabbed the cloth from Erica and proceeded to clean 
her sex and the inside of her thighs.  Erica watched in silence.

    "After I get used by Lauren, I get the distinct feeling that 
Daniel and Lois are going to take her to bed.  So that leaves us," 
hinted Jasmine.

    "I've never been to bed with a woman before," said Erica.

    "Well, there's always a first time."

    Erica then returned to the playroom with Jasmine.  After her 
brief wash, she had combed her hair and tied it behind her head.  
Jasmine seemed totally free with her naked body, holding it like a 
proud object on display.  For a brief moment in the bathroom, 
Erica had brushed against Jasmine, and their breasts had touched.  
Jasmine smiled, and Erica had seen that look of lust before.

    "Are we ready to proceed?" asked Lois.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered both Erica and Jasmine.

    "Then you belong to me," said Lauren.

    Suddenly, Erica feared for Jasmine.  She had seen that look, 
that sadistic leer in Lauren's face before.  Whenever Daniel had 
allowed Lauren to use Erica, a different Lauren emerged.  Not the 
submissive slave or even the caring Domme that she had seen in the 
City clubs.  But someone else, someone vicious and perhaps 
dangerous.

    Lauren took Jasmine from Erica, and led her over to a chain 
hanging from the ceiling.  She locked Jasmine's cuffs to the 
chain, and ordered Erica to get her a spreader bar.  Jasmine's 
ankles were locked to the back, opening her legs about two feet.  
Jasmine was now totally available for whatever that Lauren had in 
store for her.

    "Erica, please bring me the whip?"

    "Yes, Lauren."

    Doing as she was told, Erica then found the whip, neatly 
coiled from when she had cleaned and oiled it before.  The leather 
reflected back the playroom's lights, showing that Erica had done 
a good job in cleaning it.  Erica then passed the fearsome device 
to Lauren.

    "Prepare to be whipped, slave," threatened Lauren.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Lauren began without even offering the whip's handle to 
Jasmine, but instead merely began to administer a series of light 
strokes.  Every time that the whip would strike Jasmine's body the 
girl would shudder in her chains and moan both from pain and 
pleasure.  Steadily Lauren increased the power behind each stroke, 
and the whip molded itself to the female curves that it was being 
applied to.

    Each stroke of the whip ended with a crack against Jasmine's 
naked flesh.  Tears fell from her eyes and moans of pain escaped 
her lips, but she did not call the safeword that Erica had 
wondered about so much before.  Instead, Erica knew that Jasmine 
was riding the pain, divorcing her body from her mind so that she 
could endure the ordeal of being whipped.

    Sweat fell from her armpits, and ran down her flanks.   It 
seemed as if the only thing that measured the passage of time was 
the regular crack of the whip against Jasmine's skin.  Lauren 
would deliver a series of ten strokes, pause, and then begin 
again.  After all, she had been having plenty of practice.  On 
Erica's flesh.

    "Times up," said Lois.

    Lauren then drew her arm back to strike Jasmine once again, 
only to have Lois rush over and grab onto her hand, stopping her.

    "I said, time's up.  You forget yourself, slave!"

    "I'm sorry, Mistress, I beg your forgiveness," replied 
Lauren, bowing to Lois.

    Lois then slapped Lauren strongly across her cheeks, and her 
hands left a red mark on her face.  She continued holding Lauren, 
and then pressed against her.  She forced her mouth against 
Lauren's then planted a savage kiss on her lips, and forced her 
tongue inside Lauren's mouth, making her moan.

    "Daniel, I think that for this slave's insolent behavior this 
evening we should take her to bed with us for a little session, 
don't you agree?" asked Lois when she had released Lauren.

    "Yes, I think that would be a very good idea.  I think that 
it would do Lauren good to be sucking on your pussy when I'm going 
up her cunt, or maybe her bottom."

    "Don't forget the riding crop.  I'm sure that a few strokes 
will do her good as well," Lois observed.

    "Of course, you're my guest."

    "That leaves Erica & Jasmine, doesn't it?" asked Lois.

    "Let them spend the night together," Daniel offered.

    "Excellent idea!"
    *        *        *        *        *
    From the next room, Erica and Jasmine could hear the sounds 
of Lauren being used.  After the session in the playroom, Erica 
had watched as Jasmine took a quick shower, followed by Erica and 
finally Lauren.  Then they had all adjourned to the bedrooms, and 
being used.

    On the dresser was a riding crop, cat, and dildo.  Both Erica 
and Jasmine wore collars, but their bracelets from their wrists 
and ankles had been removed, and neither had been secured to the 
wall.  Erica felt strange being naked in a bedroom with Jasmine.

    She had not felt this way with Mistress Martine in the city, 
but that was because Martine had not taken her to bed.  When she 
had been young in her early twenties, she had worked at Gucci, 
interning there for a summer job.  She had been taken to bed by an 
older woman in her thirties, and had enjoyed the experience.  In 
the years since, she had gone to bed with both men and women, 
leading her into sexual confusion.  What sex was she attracted to? 
 
    "Scared?" asked Jasmine, a smile on her lips.

    "No..no," stammered Erica.

    "I can guarantee that it won't hurt at all, unlike a 
session," said Jasmine as she embraced Erica.

    Jasmine began by tenderly kissing Erica on her cheeks and 
lips, while her hands roamed over Erica's body.  Her washed body 
smelled of Jean Nate, which she had sprayed on herself in the 
bathroom.  Erica responded to her slowly, by holding the other 
woman to her.

    When Jasmine began to suck and playfully bite her erect 
nipples was when Erica finally became aroused by her partner's 
attentions.  They were rolling around on the bed, not even 
bothering to get under the covers.

    Then Jasmine's hand cupped Erica's mons and slit, and 
inserted two of her fingers inside Erica's sex.  Erica didn't 
flinch or stop, but instead opened her legs to accommodate the 
other woman's attentions to her sex.

    "That's good, Erica," breathed Jasmine.

    Erica didn't reply, but instead held Jasmine closer to 
herself, their breasts pressed tightly against one another.  She 
loved the scent of another woman, and the feel of her companion 
against her.

    Jasmine disengaged her arms from Erica, then made Erica lay 
back on the bed.  She planted a trail of kisses on her stomach as 
she made her way down to Erica's wet sex.

    "I'm now going to make you scream with pleasure," Jasmine 
said softly.

    Erica felt her pussy sucked and tongued by Jasmine, and when 
the woman's tongue entered her lips and played with the bud of her 
clit she moaned with excitement.  Erica opened her legs still 
further, and played with Jasmine's long hair as the woman sucked 
and lightly bit Erica's sex.  Sweat broke out on Erica's body as 
she pulsed with new found erotic feelings, then she finally came 
with a rush that left her panting and breathless.  Erica moaned 
with the greatest pleasure that she had ever known in her life.

    "Thank you," said Erica as they snuggled up against one 
another afterwards.

    "You're welcome."

    "Jasmine, can I ask you something?"

    "Well, we're naked and in bed, you've used me with a riding 
crop and your fellow slave has whipped me, so I guess that there 
are no secrets between us," laughed Jasmine, "what do you want to 
know?"

    "What's a safeword?"

    "You mean that you're a slave and you don't know what a 
safeword is?" asked Jasmine.

    "No."

    "You must be joking!"

    "No, really," Erica answered.

    "A safeword is something that you as a slave agree to with 
your Master or Mistress beforehand.  When you've reached the limit 
of your pain or endurance, you call mercy or something else, and 
that stops the action.  Period."

    "I have never heard that before," said Erica.

    "How long have you been a slave?"

    Erica related how she had met Daniel and been attracted to 
him, how he had run her life and prevented her from reading 
anything about Dominance and submission.

    "Hmmm," Jasmine answered, "I've never heard of anything like 
that, but being a slave doesn't mean having to turn your mind 
off."

    "What can I do?" Erica asked.

    "Well, there's plenty of books available.  Why don't you look 
around in Manhattan and you'll find a whole group of shops that 
sell clothing and whips, and they all have books on the subject 
too.  That was how I started, by reading, going to clubs, then I 
met Mistress Lois."

    "Oh," answered Erica.

    When Erica was between Jasmine's thighs and exploring her sex 
and tasting another woman for the first time, Erica resolved that 
her period of ignorance was over.  She was going to learn more 
about D/s no matter the cost, which she was prepared to pay.  She 
had been under Daniel's spell long enough, kept in ignorance, and 
only having to say "Yes, sir."

    Just as she had crossed one divide by having her appearance 
changed and becoming Erica Riken, she would now recreate herself 
again.
    *        *        *        *        *
    "Good evening," said Lauren.

    Erica awakened to find herself on a bed, lying face down.  
The last thing that she remembered had been Lauren using her with 
a cane, then she had passed out from the beating.

    "How do you feel?"

    "Hurt," Erica answered.

    "You took the cane very well, before you passed out," 
complimented Lauren.

    "Why?" asked Erica.

    "Because Daniel said that you were disobedient, which was why 
I punished you."

    "Why are you so vicious, Lauren?"

    "What do you mean, vicious?"

    "Why are you so anxious to hurt someone?" cried Erica.

    "Because all my life I've been taking it from others.  I was 
raped and abused by a family member when I was young.  An athlete 
in school beat me when I wouldn't put out for him.  Now I have the 
chance for a little power, and I'm going to use it," explained 
Lauren.

    By then, Erica had ceased to care about, Lauren, Daniel, or 
much of anything else.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Erica's chance for knowledge had arrived just three weeks and 
six beatings later.  One Wednesday morning the phone rang just as 
she had been dressing to go to work.  Her boss had called to tell 
her not to come in, since a power transformer had exploded near 
work.  Power had been knocked out to the entire block, and the 
police had cordoned the area off.  So there was going to be no 
work today!

    Erica quickly stripped off her work clothes, and looked at 
herself in the mirror.  Daniel, in a violent episode, had punched 
her in the eye.  Erica had covered up the bruise with makeup, and 
it was finally beginning to heal.  However, she had been subject 
to a series of very severe beatings that had left her sore and 
stiff.

    One night, Daniel had used her, then handed the whip to 
Lauren.  Lauren didn't stop until Erica had hung limply in her 
chains, and her back had bled.  Erica had wanted to scream mercy, 
but had managed to keep silent.

    In the last three weeks, Erica had planned her city trip 
carefully.  She had bought the paper again, and found that fetish 
shops did indeed exist.  So she had called all of them, had noted 
their locations in the city, and had resolved to visit as soon as 
possible.

    Now she had her chance, and Erica decided to take it!  She 
dressed in an old blouse and jeans, sneakers, and would drive into 
the city.  She had resolved to buy every book that she could lay 
her hands on, to finally learn.

    Regardless of what her Master had told her!    

    The drive in to Manhattan was done after rush hour.  Erica 
parked her car at a lot closest to the fetish shops that she could 
manage.  Walking down the streets, she realized just how long it 
had been since she had last set foot in the city.  How she missed 
it's excitement, and pulse!

    Entering the first shop, she was immediately turned on by the 
aroma of leather, rubber & PVC.  She had seen the outfits that 
Martine had worn, and wondered where the Dominatrix had bought 
them.  Now she knew.  But it was the bookrack that had been her 
reason for coming here, not clothing.

    Feeling like the first time that she had set foot into the 
famed library at Harvard, she walked with purpose to the large 
display of paperbacks and hardcover books.  Swallowing, she 
selected one at random, leafed through it, and started reading.  
Here was something that was not coming from her Master.

    One by one, she looked over a copy of each book, then placed 
in on the counter.  Soon, she had a pile of books on proper D/s 
practice; D/s devices; books written by Doms & Subs about the D/s 
experience; and fiction.

    "Starting a library?" asked the store clerk.

    "Kind of," Erica answered.

    After selecting the pile of books, Erica took some time to 
satisfy her curiosity to try on some of the fetish garments.  She 
enjoyed the feel and smell of their materials, and how sexy that 
they made her look.  The woman helping her noticed the marks on 
her body, but said nothing, instead helping Erica select garments 
that fit her perfectly.

    Erica left the shop with a big bag of books, plus some 
clothing after all.  She realized that she couldn't get this sort 
of stuff in Connecticut!  Stowing the goods in the car trunk, she 
walked to the next shop.  She wasn't surprised to find that there 
were only a few publishers of D/s books, nor of fetish clothing.

    How often had she gone from Macy's to Stern's and then 
finally Gimbel's and seen the same dresses?  So it was no shock 
that her choices were limited.

    She ate a late lunch at a restaurant, and read a book about 
D/s while eating.  While her choice of reading material raised the 
eyebrows of the waitress, Erica didn't care.  The drive back was 
uneventful, and Erica half wished that she could have taken the 
train.  But then she would have been limited to the amount that 
she could carry, not keep in the car.

    Bringing the bags back to her apartment was a chore, but one 
that she did gladly.  Finally, she opened each bag and emptied the 
contents on the bed.  Having brought a few cans of Coke with her 
already, Erica took a notebook and pen, and opened a book that 
looked good.  She began to read, and learn.

    Erica Riken would no longer be a slave to ignorance any 
longer, no longer blindly accept whatever Master Daniel had told 
her.  Her belated education had begun. 
    *        *        *        *        *
    "Deep throat me," Daniel ordered one evening.

    Still dazed from the punishment session with the whip that 
she had endured, Erica wasn't sure if she had heard Daniel's order 
correctly.  She had been made to hang from the ceiling chain for 
what had seemed like an eternity before first Daniel and then 
Lauren had consented to use the whip on her.  Her shoulders ached, 
and her arms felt like they were going to rip themselves from 
their sockets for hanging so long.

    Her feet were inches from the floor, but they may have been 
miles away for all the good that it did her.  Every muscle in her 
body was strained from having been kept in suspension for so long, 
and she felt like she had been placed on a rack.

    But it was the lash that had hurt her.  Used by both Daniel 
and Lauren, it had been applied without mercy.  In recent weeks, 
it had been made plain to Erica that while both she and Lauren 
were slaves, Lauren had taken her place.  So Lauren was allowed 
the freedom to use Erica, which she took at every opportunity.

    After this session, Erica had slumped to the floor after 
being released, not even having the strength to stand.  She felt 
like crying, since this was not the way that she had been treated 
before Lauren had arrived.

    Daniel had then walked over to her, and unzipped the leather 
outfit that he had been wearing and exposed his hard erect cock.  
His shaft was long and hard, and Erica had not minded taking him 
in her mouth before.  But not after she had been beaten into 
submission first.

    "Deep throat me."

    "Please Sir, I don't feel well!" Erica protested.

    "You'll feel a lot worse if you don't do as I say!"

    Reluctantly, Erica got to her knees and with her right hand, 
guided his organ into her mouth.  She licked and sucked, and 
Daniel remained hard.  But without warning, he plunged his shaft 
deep into her throat, making her gag.

    "Take my cock, slave!"

    It took all of Erica's concentration to avoid pulling her 
mouth away from his shaft, and he came quickly.  Erica tasted the 
salty pre-come before his shaft came alive and began to pulse with 
orgasm.  His hot come shot into her throat, and Erica swallowed 
the salty fluid, hoping that it would be over soon.

    Once he had finished, Erica slumped again to the floor.  The 
floor cooled her heated flesh, and Erica wished that this 
nightmare of abuse and punishment would end.  But she had no idea 
how she might leave Daniel.

    Later that night, both Daniel and Lauren had taken her to 
bed.  She had been made to suck Lauren's pussy as Daniel had used 
both of her bottom holes.  First, she had liked the feel of his 
cock in her sex, and she had been driven to orgasm.  But Lauren, 
in her desire to show that she was a better slave, had always let 
Daniel use her anus without complaint.

    The next day, Daniel had informed her that they were all 
going to attend a D/s play party next week, and that he was going 
to have Erica perform her submission in public.  The following 
weekend, Erica knew, was going to be very difficult on her.

Part Two: Rejection

March 1983

    The party was held the following weekend at a house in 
Westport, just up from Greenwich.  Daniel had worn a black outfit 
and was carrying the toybag, in which he had brought a short whip, 
a crop, and a few other things.

    Erica had worn a black dress, with nothing underneath, 
leaving her feeling strange not be wearing at least a bra and 
panties.  Lauren had worn a blouse and skirt, also without any 
underwear either.  Daniel had been acting even more strange than 
normal, and had asked Erica over to his house during the week.  
The sole purpose of her coming over on Wednesday had been to 
lubricate her bottom and make her wear a large butt plug for 
several hours.

    It was one thing, Erica thought, to be used in a consensual 
manner in public, as she had been in NYC before she had met 
Daniel.  But now, in spite of the face that she had politely asked 
him how she was going to be used, he had refused to tell her.  In 
fact, he had belted her in the jaw, leaving her in pain and shock.

    The house was a large one, and several cars were already in 
the driveway.  Daniel parked the car, and he escorted his two 
slaves to the door and rang the bell.  A woman wearing a halter-
top, skirt, and leather collar around her neck admitted them 
inside.  

    Their hosts were Keith and Beth Simon, a married couple.  He 
was her Master, and she the slave.  He was a doctor at a local 
hospital, she was a teacher at a local school.  They were quite an 
attractive looking couple together.  

    Several others had arrived before them, a mixed group of 
Masters, Mistresses, slaves both male and female, some in various 
states of undress.  The Dom(mes) were the only ones talking, 
unless given permission to by their owners.

    Shortly after their arrival, Daniel had placed collars on 
them both.  That way, anyone would know that they were both 
slaves.  He had gotten them both drinks, and they circulated 
amongst the other guests.  One female slave had undressed, and was 
displaying her marks.  Her nipples were ringed, and her Master had 
said that he wanted to have her sex pierced as well.

    After everyone had arrived, everyone went downstairs to the 
playroom.  There, Erica noted a X frame, a bondage cross, chains 
hanging from the ceiling for suspension purposes, a wooden cage 
(which Keith had said that he had built by himself) stocks, and 
plenty of other things.

    The first person to be used was a female slave named Daphne 
by her Master, Jason.  He undressed her, then locked her wrists to 
one of the ceiling chains.  He had a long coiled whip in his bag, 
and used that on her.

    Daphne had been well trained, for she took fifteen strokes 
with only moans escaping her lips.  Once the series was over, she 
kissed the whip and Jason's hands, then bowed at his feet.  
Everyone applauded the performance.

    Next was a Dominatrix named Regina, who had brought her slave 
William.  He was tied to the X frame, and cropped for twenty 
strokes, which he counted off perfectly.  Again, everyone 
applauded.

    As each Dom(me) used their slave, Daniel had gone to the bar 
and taken another drink.  Erica knew that Lauren had been giving 
alcohol to Daniel as a gift (since she had refused to steal it 
from her firm) and that he was perhaps becoming dependent upon it.

    Finally, their turn came.  Erica stripped, and was braceleted 
as usual.  She was made to lie down on a wooden platform, and her 
arms and legs were stretched apart.  Daniel used a riding crop, 
and used her bottom and the back of her thighs, and finally 
between her legs.

    Much to her surprise, she was released after her use.  
Puzzled, Erica wondered why her anus wasn't going to be used.  She 
rose from the platform, only to be pushed down again by Lauren.

    "Now then," Daniel said, "you've all seen just how submissive 
my slave Erica is.  Just to prove how good a slave she is, I'm now 
going to take her up the ass with my cock."

    "No," said Erica.

    "What did you say?" Daniel asked.

    "No, Sir, please don't use my ass in public, please!" Erica 
begged.

    Daniel unzipped his black jeans, and everyone watched in 
silence, waiting to see what happened next.

    "No, please, mercy," cried Erica.

    "What was that, slave?" Daniel demanded.

    "Mercy, Master, mercy!" Erica cried.

    Erica felt his hard cock at the entrance to her bottom and 
jumped away.  When she turned to face Daniel, she was punched in 
the stomach, and then in the jaw.

    "Disloyal slave!" Daniel roared.

    "Now that's enough," said Keith, as he placed his body 
between Erica, who was cowering on the floor, and Daniel.

    "Go away!  She's mine."

    "She's called Mercy, and has indicated that she doesn't want 
to be used up the ass," said Keith.

    "She's mine, and mind your own business, damn you," screamed 
Daniel.

    Just as Erica was rising from the floor, Daniel maneuvered 
around Keith and struck a blow with his fists that left Erica 
staggering.

    "Stop!" screamed Keith, "or I'll put you in the hospital!"

    "If you want this worthless slave so much, then you can have 
her," said Daniel.

    It was then that Erica passed out, and slumped to the floor, 
unconscious.  She had taken a severe blow to the head, and it 
finally had knocked her out.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Erica awoke to the feeling of a cold compress on her 
forehead.  Keith was standing over her, and his wife Beth was 
holding her hand.

    "Are you all right?" asked Keith.

    "Where am I?"

    "In one of our bedrooms."

    "Where's Daniel?"

    "After he gave you to me, which was witnessed in public with 
everyone there, he took Lauren and left right away.  How do you 
feel?"

    "My head's ringing."

    "Not unusual after the blow that you took.  Have you ever had 
a concussion before?"

    "Yes."

    Erica thought to herself that Alana Peters had a great fall 
and all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put 
Alana back together again.

    "Well, get some sleep, and we'll talk in the morning.  One of 
us will be with you all night."

    Keith pulled a sheet and a winter quilt over her naked form, 
and Erica quickly drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Erica awoke to the wonderful aroma of tea.  Beth had placed a 
tray with a teapot, and cup and saucer on the bed next to her.

    "Good Morning," greeted Beth, "how do you feel?"

    "Okay, I guess."

    "Sit up then and drink something."

    Erica sat up, and Beth arranged the pillows behind her back.  
She was naked, and bruised from the session the night before, but 
that didn't matter.  Erica and Beth were both slaves, after all.

    "Thanks," said Erica.

    Erica drank a few sips of tea after Beth had filled the cup 
for her.  It warmed her, and felt so good going down.

    "Can I have something to eat, I'm starved?" asked Erica.

    "Not yet," answered Keith as he entered the room and sat on 
the bed, "no solid food since you might have a concussion.  I want 
you to have x-rays first."

    "You're a doctor?" asked Erica.

    "Yes.  It's Sunday morning, and the hospital will be quiet 
now.  I've arranged a private x-ray for you all on my account.  So 
drink up, and let's get going," ordered Keith.

    "All I have is my evening dress," answered Erica.

    "I'm sure that Beth can find something for you to wear, can't 
you, darling?" asked Keith.

    Thirty minutes later, Keith. Beth and Erica were on their way 
to the hospital.  Beth had found a top, and jeans and sneakers for 
Erica to wear.  Erica and Beth sat in silence in the back, and 
when they pulled onto the hospital grounds, Erica felt like she 
was having a panic attack.

    The Hospital.  Not the same one that she had been in before, 
but they all looked the same.  All smelled the same.  They drove 
to the doctor's private lot, and went in a side entrance.  Outside 
of security, maintenance and a few visitors, the place was empty.

    It took all of Erica's will not to break down and cry in 
remembered pain from her accident and recovery.  She lay on the x-
ray table as she was scanned from head to toe.  The technician 
developed the film, and handed the pictures to Keith in an 
envelope.  They then walked to his office, and Keith placed the 
pictures on a light box, and said nothing as Erica and Beth waited 
in silence.

    "Beth, could you leave us for a few minutes, please?" asked 
Keith.

    "Yes, Sir."

    Once she had left, and they were alone, Erica waited for 
Keith to begin.

    "Daniel has been using you in more than just a D/s manner, 
hasn't he?  You've covered up a black eye in makeup, you have 
evidence of being kicked and punched, and a few hairline 
fractures.  Is that the way he's been using you?"

    "Yes, sir," Erica answered softly.

    "I've never liked him, he's an embarrassment to us all in the 
scene.  One day, he's likely to kill someone.  At least that won't 
be you, since everyone heard him give you to me.  Do you want a 
new Master, Erica?  Do you want to continue?"

    "Yes, Master."

    "I'm not your Master yet.  First, I want to interview you, 
see why you're a submissive, your sexual orientation, and so on.  
Being a slave means more than being on the floor and saying 
Master."

    Erica sat in silence, and swallowed.

    "Your x-rays showed something more than just his abuse.  
You've had some pretty severe injuries lately.  A car accident?"

    "I fell off a ladder," lied Erica.

    Keith sat back in his chair, the leather squeaking as he 
shifted his weight.  Erica could see that he was considering his 
next words.

    "I've been a doctor here for a long time, Erica.  There are 
the rich, the old and new money, and everyone else.  Families 
going back to colonial times.  There's a strange story running 
around the country clubs lately, Erica.  About the daughter of a 
prominent family who survived a car accident, who quit her Wall 
Street job and was seen going in a sex club in Manhattan, then 
vanishing."

    "What does that have to do with me?  I'm a bookkeeper at a 
liquor distributor in Darien," protested Erica.

    "You must have fallen off some ladder then, to sustain those 
kind of injuries."

    "Yes, and it hurt like hell."

    "Do you know anything about a woman named Alana Peters?" 
bluntly asked Keith.

    "No," Erica lied.

    "Good, then let's go out for brunch.  You must be hungry."

    "I'm starved."

    "I'm going to train you Erica.  In posture, in submission.  
In using the lash also.  It's time you had a proper Master."

    "Thank you, Sir," answered Erica.

 

 

"The Challenge" Chapter Five: The Test of Wills
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if you
include this statement of limitation of use and notify the author 
by e-mail.
The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple 
copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.
However, individual readers may make single copies of the
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the author.  I 
do want to hear from you!

"The Challenge" by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net
CH05: The Test of Wills

Part One: Submission

Friday July 10, 1998

    Janet sat behind the library desk, chewing on a pencil.  She 
had watched from the windows as Cheryl's limousine had pulled up 
to the landing; and Tina had then conducted her into the house.  
Outside, the rain was pouring down in sheets and flashes of 
lightning and sounds of thunder could be heard.  In short a 
typical summer thunderstorm for this time of year.

    Her only concession to her Domme status was that she was 
wearing a leather skirt and silk blouse, with stockings and modest 
heels.  Which was perfectly ordinary dress for a date.

    Given the summer heat, she had told Tina just to wear a 
normal outfit, not made of any fetish fabric.  True, the house was 
air-conditioned; but Tina still had looked disappointed by Janet's 
orders.

    Janet had noticed that Cheryl had worn a rubber mackintosh 
raincoat.  Once Tina had taken Cheryl into one of the bedrooms to 
be stripped and readied for use, Janet had looked over the coat in 
the hall closet.  It was an expensive ladies English coat that 
Janet had seen when she had vacationed in London the previous 
year.

    The only reason that Cheryl could have chosen to wear such a 
coat would have been to antagonize Janet in some fashion.  Janet 
had specifically ordered her newest slave NOT to purchase or wear 
any fetish or scene attire at home without her permission.  She 
recalled Erica's surprise when her Mistress had discovered just 
what Janet had been doing at home by herself; and the punishment 
that she had received for it.

    Resuming her library chair, Janet opened the manila file that 
she had on Cheryl.  Inside was all of the information that Cheryl 
herself had provided, plus everything that had been added since.

    "Why, Cheryl, why?" Janet asked herself, softly.

    During the past four weeks, Janet had introduced Cheryl to 
the world of submission.  Cheryl had been stripped of her clothes, 
made to wear a collar and bracelets, and used.  She had borne the 
crop and the lash, had her breasts and sex used by Janet and Tina, 
and was in the process of being trained.

    The strange part of this entire situation was that Cheryl was 
actually responding well to her training.  She bore her marks 
well; Tina had informed Janet that she was now ready for her bed; 
and Janet was now ready to probe her bottom and other actions.

    But none of that answered the question of who she was and 
why!  Janet reflected that if she had been Lauren, Cheryl would 
have been whipped until she bled to force Cheryl to confess her 
reasons.  Instead, here was Janet, wearing her Domme outfits and 
heels, at the mercy of her submissive.

    Cheryl had not once threatened since her initial interview to 
expose Janet.  Janet thought that she would bring it up at every 
chance.  Instead, Cheryl had gone tight-lipped into her training, 
obeying every order given to her.

    Until now, with the raincoat.  Should Janet even bring it up 
to her?  Make it an issue, and thrash her for it?  Or just ignore 
it totally, and get on with her usual schedule with Cheryl?

    No, Janet decided that Cheryl had done this deliberately.  
Just as Cheryl had come out of the blue to impose herself on 
Janet, now she was defying a specific order.  In less then just a 
month, she had broken one of Janet's rules.

    But what would be the correct course of action?  Beating her 
harshly in the Dungeon?  Denying her sexual release?  Locking her 
in the cell all weekend?

    Janet reopened Cheryl's file looking for something that 
simply wasn't to be found.  There was something in Cheryl's life 
that had propelled her to seek out Janet in particular.

    And Mistress Janet Davis could not afford the luxury not to 
know why.
    *        *        *        *            *
    "Enter," Janet ordered.

    Tina led Cheryl into the library, as usual.  Cheryl was 
naked, and collared, with her wrists locked behind her back in a 
set of leather bracelets.  Her ankles were locked in a similar 
set, and her feet were locked into a pair of high-heeled shoes.  
She was quite helpless in her current state.

    "Thank you, Tina," said Janet, "on your knees, Cheryl!"

    Tina pushed Cheryl to her knees on the carpeted floor, and 
stood in silence awaiting Janet's next command.

    "Good evening, Mistress Janet," greeted Cheryl.

    "Good evening, slave," said Janet in return, "you have been 
my slave for just one month, and you have already displeased me."

    "Mistress?"

    "That rubber mackintosh you just wore, shall I get it out of 
the closet?  I gave you specific instructions that you were not 
allowed to wear anything made of leather, rubber, or PVC except 
shoes.  And you have deliberately disobeyed one of my instructions 
to you."

    "Mistress, I wore it because it was raining!" protested 
Cheryl.

    "You break my heart, Cheryl.  That's a special English 
mackintosh raincoat made by a firm in London that's not even 
imported into the United States.  You didn't buy that at Macy's, 
Cheryl."

    While she was talking, Janet opened the top drawer of the 
desk and removed the small crop that she always kept there.  She 
held it between her hands, and flexed the rod to display her 
power.

    "Mistress?" asked Cheryl.

    "This is not a game, Cheryl, you have come here of your own 
volition.  You have displeased your Mistress by a deliberate act 
of disobedience, even though until now you have performed quite 
well.  For that, you are going to be punished."

    "Mistress, no!  I didn't mean any harm or disrespect!"

    Janet rose from her seat, and walked over to Cheryl.  She 
placed the tip of the crop under Cheryl's chin and forced Cheryl 
to look directly at her.

    "What did you think that you were doing then?  This isn't a 
trivial matter that you are involved in but deadly serious 
business," lectured Janet to her captive.

    "What are you going to do to me?" asked Cheryl with fear on 
her face.

    "Tina," softly asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "I want you to hang Cheryl by her wrists from the Dungeon 
ceiling so that her toes can just touch the floor.  Then we'll 
leave her alone for a while so she can contemplate her 
disobedience to me."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Tina as she pulled Cheryl to her 
feet, "come, slave."

    "No, please!" begged Cheryl.

    "You still haven't learned yet, have you?" asked Janet.

    "Mistress?"

    Janet responded to Cheryl by slapping her across the cheeks 
with a stinging blow that brought tears to her eyes.  Then Janet 
swiftly delivered one stroke with the riding crop across her 
breasts, leaving a single red stripe behind.

    "It's time that you learned the true meaning of submission 
Cheryl, and by your own actions, this weekend you will find out 
just how strong that you can really be.  Take her away, Tina."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Tina pulled the sobbing Cheryl out of the library, and Janet 
returned to her place begin the desk.  She would let Cheryl hang 
for about an hour, until her arms would feel like they were going 
to come out of their sockets.  Then the real discipline would 
begin.
    *        *        *        *        *
    After an hour, Janet walked into the Dungeon.  She had 
changed into a leather bra, a simple skirt, and a pair of modest 
heels.  Hanging from the ceiling chain, as ordered, was Cheryl.  
She was clearly uncomfortable from her ordeal.

    While Janet had ordered that she should be left alone, in 
reality Tina had always been close nearby keeping an eye on 
Cheryl.  Janet reflected that when she had been here hanging in 
the same position Andrea had been with her.

    A Domme, a good Domme, should never leave a slave alone and 
in bondage.  Janet looked at the cell, from which she had released 
Tina from Tiffany's careless action.

    "Good evening, slave," said Janet.

    "Mistress, please!" begged Cheryl.

    Cheryl's ribs showed clearly beneath her skin as she strained 
for her toes to reach the floor.  Sweat ran down her flanks and 
between her breasts.

    "Are you more tractable now?" asked Janet.

    "Mistress, I'm sorry about the coat."

    "Then where did you buy it?" demanded Janet.

    "At that rubber shop in London, just like you said.  I didn't 
buy it here, I had to go all the way to London."

    "Very good, Cheryl.  Tina, the whip, please?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Tina removed the whip from the cabinet and handed it to 
Janet, who ran the oiled leather through her fingers.  The whip 
would leave marks that Cheryl would remember for quite some time.

    "Kiss the handle," Janet coldly ordered.

    Cheryl did so, meekly and in silence.

    "I want you to count out each stroke.  Failure to do so will 
result in five additional strokes.  I will indicate when I have 
finished with you.  Understand?"

    "Will I only be whipped, Mistress?" asked Cheryl.

    "No, slave.  That will be only the beginning."

    Janet lashed out the whip with a modest stroke, one that had 
the effect of curling the whip around Cheryl's body.  It left a 
thin red stripe behind.

    "One!"

    "Two!"

    "Three!"

    "Four!"

    "Five!"

    Janet noted that thin beads of sweat had formed on Cheryl's 
skin, which reflected the Dungeon's lights.

    "Six!"

    "Seven!"

    "Eight!"

    "Nine!"

    "Ten!" screamed Cheryl.

    Janet coiled the whip in her hands, giving Cheryl as rest 
from her use.  Tears dropped from her cheeks onto her breasts.

    "Thank you, Mistress," said Cheryl, weakly.

    "Your punishment is not yet over, Cheryl.  It has just 
begun," calmly replied Janet.

    "Eleven."

    "Twelve."

    "Fifteen!"

    Janet resolved to pause every five strokes to give Cheryl 
some time to recover.  In the last few weeks, Cheryl had been used 
for progressively longer sessions.  Now Janet was going to prove 
to Cheryl just how much of a submissive that she could be by using 
her beyond what she thought her limits might be.

    "Sixteen."

    "Eighteen."

    "Twenty."

    "Twenty-five!" screamed Cheryl, sobbing.

    "Twenty eight."

    "Twenty nine."

    "Thirty!"

    Cheryl had just undergone thirty strokes of the leather whip, 
her body was covered in thin red welts.  Janet paused to let 
Cheryl recover her senses.  Just a little more.

    "Thirty one!" screamed Cheryl when Janet started again.

    "Thirty three!"

    "Thirty five!" sobbed Cheryl.

    "Enough!" said Janet as she coiled the whip, "Tina, release 
her."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet held onto Cheryl as Tina activated the motor that 
lowered the ceiling chain.  Cheryl was limp in Janet's arms, 
almost a dead weight.  Janet released her wrists from the chain, 
and pulled her over to a leather-covered bench, and sat her down, 
followed by Janet herself.

    "Tina, get a glass of water," ordered Janet, "and some 
tissues."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Cheryl burst out into a flood of tears, and Janet held her 
closely.  Their breasts touched, and Janet let Cheryl hold her 
tightly.  Cheryl sobbed, and Tina brought her a box of tissues, 
which Janet used to dry the tears from her cheeks.

    "You were very brave, Cheryl," complimented Janet, "and very 
strong."

    "I didn't thank you for my punishment!" gasped Cheryl, 
"please don't hurt me again, Mistress!"

    "It's all right, Cheryl," soothed Janet, holding her slave 
close to her.

    Janet let Cheryl cry it out, she would wait until the woman 
regained her senses.  For Cheryl was on fire, her mind and body 
ablaze with sensations that she had not felt before.

    Cheryl had undergone a severe session with a fearful 
instrument, the whip.  Her flesh had been marked, she had taken 
thirty-five strokes and had not called her safeword.

    "Mistress, I'm so sorry, I'll never disobey you again," 
sobbed Cheryl.

    "You did very well, Cheryl.  You have proved your submission 
to me.  Thank you.  Are you all right?"

    "I think so."

    "Good enough to go upstairs?" asked Janet.

    "I think so, can I have a drink?" begged Cheryl.

    "Of course.  Tina, please."

    Tina held the glass as Cheryl slowly drank the entire glass 
of water down.  The shock that she had undergone was now slowly 
fading.  Cheryl was recovering from her punishment.

    Janet lifted Cheryl to her feet, and held the slave to 
closely to her.  She gently walked Cheryl to the elevator, and 
took her to one of the first floor bedrooms.

    "Mistress?" asked Cheryl, "didn't you want to take me to 
bed?"

    "Are you able to make love to me after your ordeal?"

    "Yes, Mistress.  Please?"

    "Then we'll stay here, not in my bedroom this evening.  Let 
me strip and rub some salve onto your skin.  Then we'll see about 
making love."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet walked into the bathroom, and filled a glass of water.  
In the medicine cabinet, indeed in every one in the house, was a 
full medical kit that both Janet and Tina had been trained to use 
by Stephanie in the event of a medical problem.  Janet removed a 
tube of salve, and brought back both to the bedroom.

    Cheryl was seated on the bed, and Janet passed her the glass.  
The woman held it for a few moments, her mind off somewhere else.  
Cheryl drank, without shaking, her grip firm and tight.

    "Feel better?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Am I really hurt?"

    "No, just shock mostly.  You're already over most of it, and 
you've learned to take the whip.  After this, you'll be able to 
take even longer sessions under the lash, to divorce your mind 
from your body."

    "I still hurt," said Cheryl.

    "I can fix that."

    Janet removed her shoes and peds, then her leather bra and 
skirt, and finally stripping off her panties.  The aroma of the 
leather clung to her like a perfume.

    "On your tummy," Janet ordered.

    Janet opened the tube of topical anaesthetic, and spread some 
on the welts on Cheryl's back,  moaning in response as it was 
applied and absorbed into her skin.  She soothed the pain, 
relaxing Cheryl gradually.

    "Feel better?"

    "Yes, Mistress, thank you."

    "On your back," said Janet softly.

    Janet repeated the treatment that she had given to Cheryl's 
back.  She gently applied the ointment, soothing Cheryl's welts.  
Janet spread some on her fingertips, then applied it to the inside 
of Cheryl's opened thighs.  She had carefully delivered a series 
of strokes that had terminated between Cheryl's legs that had 
driven the slave to a frenzy of excitement.

    "Are you all right?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress.  Make love to me?" asked Cheryl.

    Janet remembered the times that Erica had whipped her, then 
soothed before Erica had taken her to bed.  Now here she was, 
Domme herself; doing the same thing with her slaves.

    "Tina said that you're ready to service your Mistress, 
Cheryl.  Time to prove it.""

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet lay down on one side of the bed, with her head on the 
pillow and her legs opened.  She had expected that Cheryl would 
begin by sucking on her clit.

    Instead, Cheryl began by holding Janet tightly to herself and 
kissing her on the mouth, their tongues playing together.  
Cheryl's hands explored Janet's waist, thighs, and sex.  Cheryl 
again kissed Janet on the mouth, then on the cheeks and neck.  She 
sucked and playfully bit one of Janet's nipples, then the other.  
She left a trail of kisses as she gradually made her way down to 
Janet's sex.

    Finally, Janet felt her outer lips being bit and sucked, then 
Cheryl's tongue on her erect clit.  She moaned and bucked as 
Cheryl serviced her, bringing her to sexual climax.

    There was no doubt that handing Cheryl over to Tina for this 
part of her training had been a good idea.  First because Tina had 
proven that she was much better then Janet at teaching lovemaking; 
and secondly because denying Cheryl the privilege of Janet's bed 
only made her desire it even more.  Just as Erica had done with 
her!

    Janet's thighs exploded with one orgasm after another, and 
Cheryl kept her teeth and tongue busy making sure that her 
Mistress knew that she had been trained in the arts of love.

    "Ooooh!" Janet cried as one orgasm after another raced though 
her body.

    After what seemed an eternity, Janet was finally spent.  
There was no doubt that Tina had done her job well.

    "Thank you, Cheryl," gasped Janet.

    "You're welcome, Mistress."

    "Tonight I do something different with you," said Janet.  

    Janet removed a belt from the night table, and strapped it 
around her waist.  She removed another belt, which already had a 
phallus attached.  Janet locked the second belt though her legs, 
so that the phallus pointed outwards.

    "Ready, Cheryl?"

    "Yes, Mistress, please!" said Cheryl as she arranged herself 
on the bed.

    Janet climbed onto Cheryl, and guided the erect phallus into 
Cheryl's wet slit.  She didn't even have to check to know Cheryl's 
condition, as there was no doubt that she was ready and waiting 
for Janet's next move.  Janet pushed the shaft deep between 
Cheryl's legs, making her moan in response.

    "Oooooh!"

    She next began a steady thrusting motion, and Cheryl returned 
each thrust of Janet's with one herself.  Cheryl had become a 
willing, sensual lover, not just lying there unmoving as she had 
done the first time.

    The erect shaft drove Cheryl wild with passion, and Janet's 
sweat mingled with Cheryl's own as Cheryl soon bucked and moaned 
with orgasm.  Janet felt Cheryl's fingernails dig into her back, 
pressing her tighter to her Mistress.

    "Aaaaah!" Cheryl cried when Janet and the phallus finally 
drove her to climax.

    Finally, they lay together, side by side.  Cheryl was 
resting, recovering from the climaxes that had driven her wild 
with desire.  Janet undid the belt from around her waist, and 
placed the belts back in the night table and the phallus in the 
bathroom sink.

    "Mistress?" sleepily asked Cheryl.

    "Go to sleep Cheryl, I'll use you again tomorrow."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet pulled a single sheet over the two of them, then fell 
quickly asleep herself.  She had not even bothered to chain 
Cheryl's collar to the ringbolt above the bed.

    During the night, Janet partially awoke and remembered one of 
her actions three summers ago...

    After a year of being a Dominatrix in her own right, Janet 
had decided to redo the Dungeons downstairs.  She had wanted most 
to get rid of solitary, that silly vinyl lined prison that had 
reminded her of an MRI.

    So she had moved things around a bit and had solitary 
confinement torn out and had placed a small office and fridge back 
there.  She had a desk, chair, another computer (linked to the 
main one upstairs); making the whole place quite nice to work.

    In celebration, she had held a party, inviting many of her 
Domme friends and subs.  They had a BBQ on the sundeck, and when 
they sun went down, demonstrations in the Dungeons.

    Late that evening, after all the guests had left and Camille 
and Tina were cleaning up, Janet and Stephanie were alone in the 
Dungeon.

    "Stephanie," Janet began, "are you mad at me for redoing 
Erica's Dungeons?"

    "No Janet," answered Stephanie, as she sat on a chair, "I'm 
not, actually proud of you."

    "Proud?" asked Janet.

    "Yes.  Had you left the Dungeons exactly like Erica left 
them, as some kind of Memorial to her, I'd have been very 
disappointed.  You're a different sort of Mistress than Erica was.  
More caring, more sensual.  Less addicted to props than Erica 
was," Stephanie explained.

    "Do you remember that day shopping?" asked Janet.

    "How can I forget?"

    Since she was dispensing with solitary, Janet decided that 
she wanted to buy a cage of some kind.  Since the fetish shops all 
wanted a premium over what the pet supply shops cost, the two of 
them had gone to a large pet store.

    There they found the biggest steel cage for a pet (which was 
the exact same one from the S&M shop) and Janet looked it over.  
Finally, she crawled inside and locked the door behind her, 
explaining that if she was going to place her pet within, she 
wanted to check it out for herself.

    The staff had tried to ignore her, and Stephanie tried not to 
look embarrassed and laugh until Janet had her fill of the cage.  
Finally, Stephanie let her out, and Janet got to her feet.

    "Do you want it delivered?" asked the clerk.

    "I'll call to order it," Janet answered.

    When they were driving home, Janet said that she was going to 
dispense with solitary, and she didn't want a cage either, 
explaining that it didn't fit in with what her idea of what a 
Mistress should be.

    "Okay, doggie."

    "I'm going to paddle your behind for that, Stephanie."

    "Woof!"

    Later that night, Janet had fulfilled her promise to 
Stephanie, who would remember her remarks each time that she sat 
down for a while to come.

Part Two: Changing the Plan

Saturday July 11, 1998

    The next day, Janet decided would be a special one for 
Cheryl.  Tina had taken her just after awakening for a beauty 
treatment.  Tina had gone to school for that too, and was an 
expert at making a slave feel pretty.

    So Cheryl first had been bathed, and her hair been done and 
set.  Then her nails and toenails had been trimmed, and polished.  
Her lips and breasts had been rouged, and perfume had been sprayed 
several times between her legs, in order that the scent should 
linger.

    It was true that her naked body was covered in red welts, but 
those were the marks of her position as slave.  Finally, Cheryl 
had been readied, and Tina escorted her downstairs before Janet.

    Janet had gone back to sleep in an effort to kill time as 
Cheryl was made ready for her.  Still, she had awakened early, 
showered and dressed, read the Saturday papers, and finally 
started work on the computer.

    "Mistress Janet, Cheryl is here for your approval," said 
Tina.

    "Thank you, Tina.  Cheryl, step forward."

    Cheryl did as she was ordered, and stood rock still.  Her 
hair shone, and was drawn backwards by a clip.  Her nails were all 
done in a bright red, along with her lips.  Janet looked over 
every part of her, inspecting her slave.

    "Thank you Tina, you've excelled yourself today.  She's 
beautiful."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "How do you feel, Cheryl?" asked Janet.

    "Fine, Mistress."

    "Did I hurt you last evening?" asked Janet.

    "No, Mistress."

    "Good.  You will now learn how to take more and harsher 
strokes from me.  You will desire the lash and crop.  Do you 
understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "You may now prepare and serve breakfast."

    Janet ate in the dining room, after Tina and Cheryl had 
prepared a meal of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.  Janet ate 
leisurely, keeping an eye on Cheryl.

    Her charge held herself, erect, almost proud to display the 
marks on her flesh.  Even as Janet remembered how Cheryl had 
restrained herself from screaming in pain as Janet had applied 
them just the day before.

    There was no better or effective action than to take a slave 
in your arms after a session, sooth their wounds and minds, and 
make them feel wanted and loved.  Janet knew that Cheryl felt 
prized by the attention that Janet had given her after last night.

    That stood in marked contrast, Janet remembered, how Erica 
had ignored her sexually for months only allowing her to make love 
to Tiffany.  How Janet had pined for Erica, yet her Domme would 
chain her at the foot of her bed.

    The same bed that Janet now encouraged her slaves to join her 
in, to show that they were wanted and loved, and that their 
stripes were not applied just for whims of a selfish, capricious 
Mistress.

    For the rest of the day, Janet decided, Cheryl would be 
taught posture and submission.  Tina had been teaching her that 
already for some time.  But now it would fall onto Mistress Janet 
to teach her slave by herself.  

    "Cheryl, you may join me in the library after you have 
cleaned up and eaten breakfast," ordered Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet rose from the table, and left Cheryl and Tina to both 
clean up and eat themselves.  She estimated that Cheryl would be 
with her in about an hour, and that would be just fine, as she had 
work to do.

    "Enter," Janet ordered from her desk chair.

    Cheryl entered the library and stood in front of Janet's 
desk, in silence, awaiting the next orders from her Mistress.  
Janet had been working on some Xylex projects, and on the desk 
were groups of paperwork and reports, with the Company name and 
logo displayed.

    "Slavery of a different kind," commented Janet.

    "Mistress?" asked Cheryl.

    "Nothing, just thinking aloud."

    Janet opened the desk drawer and removed a crop, nipple 
clamps, a butt plug and dildo, and a few other things.

    "Do you know what these are?" asked Janet.

    "The instruments of my slavery, Mistress."

    "Yes.  All of these things can produce both pain and pleasure 
in a slave," Janet described.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "I want you to come and rest your hands on the desk, with 
your legs apart," Janet ordered.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Cheryl did as she was told, and Janet got to her feet, walked 
around to Cheryl's rear, and probed deep into her sex.

    "Ooooh!" cried Cheryl.

    "You wet so easily, Cheryl.  Did you always get wet so fast 
before you came to me?" asked Janet.

    "No, Mistress."

    "Then Tina's training has proven successful, hasn't it?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet picked up two small metallic objects in her right hand 
and displayed them to Cheryl by opening her palm.

    "Do you know what these are?" asked Janet.

    "No, Mistress."

    "Clamps for those erect nipples of yours.  Hold still."

    Cheryl gripped the edge of Janet's desk tightly as the nipple 
clamps were first applied them tightened onto her nipples.  Since 
she was already sexually excited they had become erect and 
distinct.

    "Aaaah!" cried Cheryl.

    "It's all right to cry out Cheryl," said Janet, "I did the 
first that they were used on me also."

    Cheryl bore her ordeal in silence, her eyes wandering over 
the surface of Janet's desk, her eyes finally fixating on the 
company stationary and reports from Xylex.  She swallowed 
nervously, and memorized the company's name for future reference.

    Janet next picked up the crop, and issued several stinging 
blows to Cheryl's exposed bottom, leaving a red stripe behind on 
her flesh.  Cheryl jumped slightly after every stroke was 
delivered.

    "Aaaah!" cried Cheryl, in response to Janet last and most 
severe stroke.

    "There now," said Janet, "now you're in the proper frame of 
mind.  Kiss the crop."

    Cheryl did as she was told, in silence.  Her painted red lips 
left traces of color behind on the black leather surface of the 
crop.

    "Now the real training begins.  On your knees, Cheryl," Janet 
ordered.

    "Yes, Mistress," Cheryl answered, as she assumed her position 
on the floor, her knees opened wide with her hands on her 
kneecaps.

    "How do your nipples feel?"

    "Numb, Mistress."

    Janet noticed that Cheryl made no attempt to remove them.  
Good, that meant that Cheryl was learning her place.

    "I'm going to put you though a series of postures, so that 
you will know many submissive positions.  You'll continue to wear 
the clamps at all times, until I remove them.  If you remove them, 
I can promise you at least twenty strokes with the crop.  So the 
only choices that you have are the ones that have been given to 
you by your Mistress, or not to serve me at all.  Do you 
understand?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl.

    "Then we begin," said Janet.

    For the next hour, Janet taught Cheryl numerous submissive 
positions.  Cheryl was made to place her body into many different 
postures, with Janet carefully teaching her each one.

    When Cheryl couldn't properly do a position on her own, Janet 
showed her by assuming the position herself.  Then forcing Cheryl 
into the position through the use of the riding crop.

    Finally, after an hour, Janet ordered Cheryl to her knees 
again, then suddenly removed both nipple clamps, making Cheryl 
jump in response.

    "Aaaaah!" cried Cheryl, as her nipples became pinpoints of 
fire.

    "It will pass," said Janet.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "Once you've recovered, Cheryl, I want you to demonstrate all 
of the positions that you've just learned.  Without the clamps 
this time."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Cheryl did as she was ordered, and when she made one mistake 
Janet delivered a few strokes of the crop onto Cheryl's exposed 
thigh, leaving stripes behind.

    "I hope that you're not planning on going to the beach this 
summer," Janet cautioned, "since welts are a little hard to 
explain."

    "No, Mistress."

    "Good."    

    Cheryl's training was interrupted by a knock on the door, 
exactly at twelve noon.

    "Come," Janet ordered.

    "Lunch, Mistress," Tina announced.

    "Thank you, Tina."

    Janet was served a lunch of roast beef sandwich, salad, and 
iced tea on the sundeck outside.  The weather was simply too good 
to stay indoors all day!

    "Cheryl, you may eat with Tina, then resume your chores.  I 
have some other work to do, though I may call you later."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl.

    It was at four in the afternoon when the phone rang, and 
things began to go horribly wrong.  Janet picked up the phone, 
wondering who was calling, since she had not been expecting 
anyone.

    "Janet here."

    "Janet, it's Lori.  I'm so glad I got you, look I'm in 
trouble.  My car overheated, and I'm on Lake Avenue, first exit I 
could find off 95.  Since I was going to see you later tonight 
anyway."

    "I'll be right over," offered Janet, "sit tight."

    "Okay."

    "Tina!" called Janet as she grabbed her purse.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Tina from upstairs where she and 
Tina were working together.

    "Mistress Lori just called, she's stuck on Lake Avenue.  I'm 
going to go get her."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    It wasn't until Janet was on the road that she began 
wondering what Lori meant that they would be seeing each other 
later that evening.  After a drive of a few minutes, Janet saw 
Lori's car, a red Chevrolet, on Lake Avenue not far from the 
Parkway Exit.

    Janet pulled her car to the other side of the road and parked 
behind Lori's, who came running to her.

    "Janet, thank you, I wouldn't know who else to call," greeted 
Lori.

    Mistress Lori was a Domme from Brookline, Massachusetts.  
Lori was just thirty, blonde, five feet five inches tall with a 
nice figure and a pleasant personality and was one of Janet's 
friend's in the scene.  She owned a house that she shared with her 
sub, Gina.  They had a small playroom in the basement that they 
used for entertainment, and Janet had been there a few times.

    "Glad I could help, what's the problem?"

    "I overheated, I think."

    Janet raised the hood, and opened the radiator, which was 
empty.  She always carried a gallon of water and anti-freeze with 
her, so she refilled the radiator.  She had Lori crank the engine, 
which emitted a metallic whine.

    "Water pump," concluded Janet, "you're stuck."

    "Can it be fixed?"

    "I know a garage that can tow it, and they'll fix it 
tomorrow.  This is at least a three-hour job, Lori.  Looks like 
you'll be spending the night with me," offered Janet.

    "Well, since we're both going to that party for Nina at the 
Lock & Key this evening in Manhattan."

    "That's next week," stated Janet.

    "It's this week."

    Lori opened her purse, and withdrew an envelope.  She removed 
the invitation, and displayed it for Janet to read.

    "Damn!" exclaimed Janet, "I thought it was next week!"

    "Surprise!  Glad I happened by.  So we'll get my car towed, 
and we can all go into Manhattan together," answered Lori.

    "Damn, there go all my plans," said Janet, thinking of 
Cheryl.

    Janet withdrew her cell phone, and called the garage.  They 
said that they would be over in about a half-hour to tow Lori's 
car.

    "Tina," said Janet as she called home.

    "Yes, Mistress?"

    "I've made a terrible mistake!  Dig out my desk calendar and 
find the invite for Nina's party, it's tonight!"

    "Yes, Janet."

    "Then make dinner for two, we'll be having Lori over as a 
guest, then send Cheryl home early and go to the party."

    "Good thing we got our clothes already, Mistress."

    "It will be a little tawdry for Cheryl to serve naked, so get 
her into a Maid's uniform and tell her to behave, or else!"

    For the last month, Janet and Tina had been training Cheryl 
in how to behave as a slave.  Janet also recalled that Cheryl had 
wanted to be given to another Domme.  She wasn't ready yet, but 
she was ready to be displayed to another Mistress.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Tina.

    "Thanks, Tina," said Janet as she cut the connection.

    "Who's Cheryl?" asked Lori as Janet stowed away her cell 
phone in her purse.

    "A new slave I'm training," Janet answered.

    "Any good?"

    "She has to learn submission.  Where's Gina, normally you two 
are inseparable?"

    "Her brother was injured in a car accident, so she flew home 
three days ago."    

    "Will he be all right?" asked Janet.

    "I think so, at least that's what Gina said last night."

    "Good."

    In due time, the flat bed truck arrived, and the two women 
watched as Lori's car was pulled onto the truck's bed.  Lori had 
unloaded her suitcases and clothes into Janet's Toyota while they 
had been waiting.

    The mechanic said that he could do the car tomorrow, and it 
would be ready by one or two.  Janet thanked him, and the two 
women got into Janet's car.  Janet started the engine and they 
pulled out into traffic and towards Janet's Mansion.

    "One of the benefits of living in a wealthy area is that 
there's a shop open on Sunday."

    "Guess the rich get special treatment, right?" asked Lori.

    "Yes, at the business end of my crop," Janet laughed.

    Janet drove towards home, and looked at her watch.  It was 
already almost five.  There was enough time for dinner, then 
showing off Cheryl to her guest. Then Janet, Tina and Lori would 
have to go into the city to the party.

    "So, tell me all about Cheryl?" asked Lori as Janet drove 
home.

    "Thirty five, nice figure, has never served a Domme before."

    "I'm jealous," commented Lori.

    Janet wondered just how jealous Lori would really be if she 
knew the truth about Cheryl, how the stranger had forced herself 
onto Mistress Janet.

    "How is she responding to you?" Lori asked, clearly curious.

     "Very well, but she disobeyed an order yesterday, so I gave 
her a punishment that she's not likely to forget."

    "The whip?"

    "Thirty-five strokes."

    "I think that she'll remember that for a long time," observed 
Lori, "and how is she in bed?"

    "Learning."

    "I'm sure that when you're done, she'll be a superb slave," 
complimented Lori.

    "Thank you."

    Janet pressed the button as she pulled the car into the 
driveway, and the gate swung open then closed behind them as the 
car passed the gates.  She pulled to a stop in front of the house 
and cut the engine.

    "Home," said Janet.

    They exited the car together, and walked up the landing, 
where Tina had already opened the door.  Tina and Cheryl were 
dressed in matching satin Maid's uniforms, complete with a 
kerchief on their heads.

    "Mistress Janet," greeted Tina.

    "Tina, you know Mistress Lori."

    "Yes, greetings Mistress," answered Tina, as she took a small 
curtsy.

    "Tina," replied Lori, "nice to see you again."

    "This is Cheryl, who is still being trained," introduced 
Janet.

    "Mistress Lori," greeted Cheryl.

    "Cheryl, you are owned by a truly wonderful Mistress.  Learn 
from her."

    "Thank you, Mistress Lori," replied Cheryl.

    "Tina, remove Lori's clothes from the Toyota and place them 
in the guest bedroom.  We'll freshen up and be in the library.  
When will dinner be ready?"

    "Forty minutes, Mistress."

    "Excellent," answered Janet, "come with me Lori, we have much 
to discuss."
    *        *        *        *        *
    "Dinner is served," announced Tina.

    After their arrival, Janet had shown Lori to her bedroom and 
moments later, Tina and Cheryl had arrived carrying her bags and 
clothes.  Janet and Cheryl had both taken a quick shower, then 
dressed into the clothes that they would be wearing into the city.

    The birthday party for Mistress Nina would be held in the 
Lock & Key, an S&M club in the meatpacking district down in 
Manhattan.  Since it would be highly impractical to drive down 
wearing their scene clothing, they would change at the club.

    Janet was wearing a red DKNY dress that she had bought at 
Macy's, along with sheer nude pantyhose and sensible heels.  Lori 
was wearing a blouse and skirt combination from Anne Taylor, in 
blue, with matching blue shoes.

    After hanging her things in the closet, Lori had phoned the 
friends that she was supposed to dine with in Manhattan to explain 
about her car breaking down and she would be driving in with 
Mistress Janet.  So Lori could dine with Janet without having 
stood up her other friends.

    Janet and her guest had been talking in the library, drinking 
from a bottle of white wine and sharing scene stories together.  
Lori told her all about Boston, a city that Janet adored, but 
rarely visited.  Lori was overwhelmed by New York, and could not 
imagine working or even living there.

    "Thank you, Tina," said Janet, "come let's see what Tina has 
made for us."

    Carrying their glasses, they two Dommes walked the few steps 
to the dining room.  Tina and Cheryl had set the room for a semi-
formal dinner.  They would not have the time for a formal, multi-
course Dinner.  But the table was set with the best dishes, 
silverware, and flowers adorned the table.

    Janet sat at the head of the table, and Lori at her side.  
Cheryl pushed their seats in behind them, then offered more wine.

    Tina then rolled in a cart from the kitchen, and placed a 
large covered platter and two smaller ones on the table.  She then 
removed the covers, placing them back on the trolley.

    "Roast Chicken, parsleyed potatoes, and steamed broccoli, 
Mistress Janet," announced Tina.

    "Thank you, Tina, excellent," complimented Janet.

    "Mmmmmm, smells good," agreed Lori.

    Tina cut the chicken with a large knife and fork, then served 
each Mistress in turn.  She gave both of them a generous helping 
of her cooking, which they consumed eagerly.  Cheryl would only 
serve wine or water, as she was just a new slave in training.

    "If I ate like this every day, I'd be big as a house," 
laughed Lori.

    "Why do you think I have a weight room?" answered Janet.

    "Do you have any exercise clothes for tomorrow?" asked Lori.

    "Exercise clothes, who needs exercise clothes," laughed 
Janet, "you've never been in my sauna upstairs."

    "You have a sauna?"

    "Yes," answered Janet between sips of wine.

    "I should visit you more often, Janet," Lori replied.

    "I also have a constant supply of birch branches to use on 
one another, and towels are strictly optional in this house."

    Lori laughed, and Janet joined her in mirth.  The world of 
D/s was so serious, so solemn, it was easy to forget that humor 
helped to break the tension.

    Dinner was a short affair, and had to end quickly.  They both 
looked at their watches, and it was already nearly seven.

    "Cheryl, once you've helped Tina clear the table and stow 
away everything in the kitchen, please come to see us in the 
library."

    "Yes, Mistress," Cheryl quickly answered.

    Janet was describing the training of some of her other slaves 
when Cheryl knocked on the door some time later.

    "Enter."

    Cheryl entered the library doors, and closed them behind her, 
but remained close to the doors.

    "Report."

    "The table has been cleared, Tina and I have eaten, the 
dishes are in the washer, and the leftovers stored in the 
refrigerator, Mistress."

    "Excellent, you may approach me, Cheryl."

    Cheryl did as she was told, standing before her Mistress in 
silence.

    "You may unzip your Maid's uniform and show your body and 
marks to Mistress Lori," Janet ordered.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Hesitantly at first, Cheryl did as she was told.  She was now 
displaying herself to another Domme, which was what she had 
requested.

    "Very pretty, Cheryl," commented Lori, "now turn around."

    Cheryl did as she was instructed, blushing and feeling 
embarrassed by displaying herself to another Domme.

    "May I?" asked Lori.

    "Of course, you're my guest," offered Janet.

    Lori walked forward, and fondled Cheryl's breasts, pinching 
her erect nipples.  Then she walked around to Cheryl's back, and 
traced the marks that Janet had placed there the previous night.

    "You have been well used, Cheryl.  With the whip?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Bend over," casually ordered Lori.

    "Aaaah!" cried Cheryl as Lori roughly forced two of her 
fingers into her sex.

    "Are you always that wet, Cheryl?" demanded Lori.

    "Yes, Mistress," cried Cheryl.

    "Thank you, Janet," said Lori as she withdrew from Cheryl.

    There was a moment of silence in the library, with Cheryl and 
Lori both awaiting Janet's next orders.

    "Cheryl, I'm sorry to say that I have to send you home.  I 
have made a mistake about dates, and I have an engagement tonight.  
I am therefore sending you home, and will continue with you next 
weekend.  Tina will free you, and has called the car.  Good 
evening," dismissed Janet.

    Cheryl looked like she was going to protest, and Janet could 
see both the disappointment and anger in her face.  But she said 
nothing in protest.

    "Thank you, Mistress," answered Cheryl.

    Cheryl picked up her Maid's uniform that she had draped over 
a chair while Mistress Lori had examined her.  She bowed, and left 
the library, closing the door behind her.

    After she had left, Lori turned to Janet with clear concern 
on her face.

    "Are you sure that she's a good choice to be trained as a 
slave?" asked Lori.

    "Why?" asked Janet.

    "Because she's dangerous, Janet.  Watch yourself with this 
one," cautioned Lori.

    "Thank you."

    "You usually like to loan a slave out to another Domme so 
that they have someone to compare to their own Mistress.  Janet I 
know that you use Stephanie or Blanca for that purpose.  Once 
she's been trained, let me have her instead," offered Cheryl.

    "Why?"

    "Because I think that I've seen her before."
    *        *        *        *        *
From the Journal of Cheryl Branford

    I have learned this weekend that I cannot confront Janet.  At 
least, not yet.
    I wore the rubber mackintosh raincoat in pure defiance of her 
orders, and was severely punished for my transgression.  Mistress 
Janet ordered me hung by my wrists from the Dungeon ceiling chain, 
my toes straining to reach the floor for what felt like an 
eternity.
    Next Mistress Janet used a long thin leather whip on me for 
thirty-five strokes that I was made to count out, one after 
another.  I felt like screaming from fear as I thought that the 
flesh was being torn from my body, but I counted out every stroke 
of my punishment.
    After my use was over, she released me.  I thought that I was 
going to be left on the floor, a sobbing beaten woman.  Instead, 
she tenderly took me in her arms, comforting my hurt mind and 
body.  She helped me to one of the downstairs bedrooms, and rubbed 
salve onto my hurt flesh.
    When I had recovered, I proved what I had learned by making 
passionate love to her.  I have been both captivated and enslaved 
by Mistress Janet.

    In the month that Janet has trained me, I have recently had 
to confront a disturbing truth about myself: am I submissive?  
When I devised this plan, I thought that everything that would 
happen to me here I could somehow wall off from the rest of my 
personality and self.  Instead, I first found myself sexually 
attracted to Janet after her very first use of me.  Now, in less 
than one month, I have found that strange, disturbing submissive 
feelings and fantasies that I had kept buried deep within my mind 
have become free to manifest themselves in my conscious mind.
    I now actually enjoy Janet pulling me over her knee and 
spanking me until my bottom hurts.  I become excited when I am 
suspended from the ceiling, and flogged until I cry.
    I fear that when all of this is over, I shall be changed 
forever, just as Mistress Janet had cautioned me from the 
beginning.  I now know that I am attracted to both women and men 
sexually.  Now I realize that I crave the feel of the lash and 
crop.
    What else will I learn about myself next?

    The next day Janet put me through what she called posture 
training.  I was made to stand, lay on the floor, and assume 
various submissive positions.  My mistakes were quickly corrected 
with a crop, and I have no desire to repeat them.
Saturday afternoon something important happened also.  Janet got a 
phone call, left, and returned with another Dominatrix.  I was 
dressed, and made to serve wine during Dinner.
    After dinner, Mistress Lori fondled my breasts and sex, 
invading me sexually and subjected me to a close examination.  I 
had wanted Janet to loan me to another Domme, and now one was 
seeing me naked.
    When I glanced into Mistress Lori's eyes, I saw what I 
thought was the look of recognition.  Has my plan collapsed 
already?    
I then realized that Tina and Janet had been talking on the phone 
about a party, and Janet had gotten the dates confused.  I was 
going to protest in front of Mistress Lori that I wanted Janet to 
take me, then stopped myself.  For I realized that my place as her 
slave was to be silent, lest she take me to her Dungeon and give 
me a thrashing for misbehavior.  In addition any party that Janet 
would be invited to would also have Blanca and Stephanie 
attending, and I must keep my presence a secret.
    I have learned one very important fact, that Janet has a job 
in Marketing for a firm called Xylex.  Great wealth is of no 
consequence if it is not used occasionally.

 

 

"The Challenge" Chapter Six: Triumph and Tragedy
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if you
include this statement of limitation of use and notify the author 
by e-mail.
The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple 
copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.
However, individual readers may make single copies of the
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the author.  I 
do want to hear from you!
"The Challenge" by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Chapter 06: Triumph and Tragedy

Part One: Family Obligations

June 1983

    Wednesday night was the slowest day of the week, so that was 
the day that mother and daughter usually met.  Each time, they met 
at a different diner or restaurant, in a different town or city.  
Erica had promised Eve that she would always live nearby, and had 
rented an apartment in Darien near where she worked.

    After she had begun to serve Master Daniel, she had given up 
her apartment in Rye that she had taken as Alana Peters.  At least 
that place had cost less, and had been closer to Greenwich.

    Darien lay further up the coast, and they were meeting for 
Dinner at a restaurant in Stamford, midway between Greenwich and 
Darien.   Erica had returned home, changed, then after fighting 
traffic arrived at the restaurant just before seven.

    Eve's Mercedes was already in the lot, and Erica knew that 
her BMW was probably in the garage, unused.  Or rather, Alana's 
BMW. Erica Riken drove a Chevrolet, and parked it in the first 
available spot.  She rolled up the window, grabbed her purse, and 
locked the door behind her.

    The restaurant was mostly empty, and Erica recognized Eve 
seated in a booth at the back.  She made her way there, and Eve 
saw her and raised herself out of her seat to kiss Erica.

    "Erica, how nice to see you," greeted Eve.

    "Mother," Erica answered softly.

    They both sat in the booth together, facing one another.  
Eve, who was in her early sixties, looked tired.  Erica guessed 
that there was something wrong.

    "Drink?" asked a waitress, who appeared suddenly.

    "Any Tap beer will do," Erica answered.

    "One for me also," added Eve.

    The waitress took their orders, then walked away, to return 
quickly with their drinks.  Only after she was gone did they 
really begin to talk together.

    "How are you doing, Erica?  Everything all right?"

    "Yes, the man I'm serving now is wonderful, not like the 
first.  He cares and understands, and uses me properly."

    "Does he beat you?" asked Eve.

    "Not in the usual sense, that you're thinking about, no.  But 
I get spanked, cropped, and whipped.  Does that answer your 
question?" Erica replied.

    "How can you talk about something like that so honestly?" Eve 
questioned.

    "Would you rather I lie?  This is what I came looking for 
when I decided to become Erica."

    "Does he make love to you?"

    "No, he's married, and his wife is his slave also."

    "When a mother talks to her daughter about sex, she expects 
to hear more normal things.  Like who snores, not her daughter 
being beaten."

    "We've been though this before, Mom.  I know that it doesn't 
make any sense.  But it makes me feel good," stated Erica.

    They were interrupted by the waitress bringing their dinners, 
Eve had ordered a Chef Salad and Erica a cheeseburger and fries.  
They both started eating before conversation resumed.

    "I have changed the will to make Erica Riken the beneficiary 
of my estate, since Alana Peters was declared dead on the Amazon 
River," described Eve.

    "Thank you," said Erica between bites.

    "Erica, I just want to say that whatever you do, I still love 
you."

    "Thanks, Mom."

    "Is this what you really want to be?  A slave?"

    "Yes.  I know that it's not rational."

    They finished their meal making small talk together, then Eve 
had to excuse herself to go to the bathroom.  Erica kissed her 
good-bye, and Eve left the restaurant first.  

    While Eve had gone to the bathroom, Erica had searched her 
mother's purse.  Inside, she found a bottle of nitroglycerine 
tablets that had not been there before.  Eve did not mention that 
fact, and Erica's eyes grew moist from the realization of what 
this meant.

    "Mother," cried Erica, as she pounded her fists on the 
steering wheel in the parking lot as she prepared to leave.

Part Two: The Uncertain Slave

June 1983

    Erica pulled her car in Keith's driveway, happy that the 
weekend was here.  Happy again that she could be a slave to Keith, 
for she now looked forward to serving her Master.

    It had been five months since the party when her former 
Master Daniel had publicly given her to Keith when she had refused 
to let herself be sodomized in front of others.  Daniel had taken 
special delight, often with Lauren's urging, to use her in the one 
way that she detested.

    When Keith had told her that she would be serving a proper 
Master, she really didn't have any idea what he had meant.  Now 
she did, and was truly happy as a result.

    For the first month, while her injuries from Daniel had 
healed, Keith had made her write out extensive biographies of 
herself.  She had been examined, and all of her sexual feelings 
brought out in the light of day.

    Erica was glad now for the money that she had spent to create 
her new identity.  When the lawyers had recommended some shadowy 
people to her, and a high price, she had balked.  What they had 
done was to create a new identity for her, then ruthlessly drill 
it into her after her recovery from the plastic surgery.

    Where she grew up, her schooling and friends.  Her grades, 
boyfriends, sexual encounters, and all of the other details of 
ordinary life.  At first, Erica had resented all of this 
silliness.  It was only later that she learned that the people she 
had hired were retired agents from the CIA and Justice Department, 
who had trained undercover operatives for spy missions.

    Erica was then able to recite from memory her new life, and 
she believed that Keith accepted it.  He had not asked her about 
Alana Peters again, but she always felt that he harbored some 
doubts about who she really was.

    Still, that did not matter.  For Keith was a wonderful 
Master.  Every encounter with him left her satisfied, and wanting 
more.  She adored being with him, feeling his lash, and following 
his training.  Which often left her exhausted, and hurting.  

    She had done the shopping the previous night, and everything 
was in the car.  She would cook dinner for Keith and Beth!

    Erica parked the car and opened the front door of the house, 
then unloaded the groceries.  She quickly brought them into the 
kitchen, where Beth had laid everything out for her in advance.

    Repairing to a bedroom, she stripped off all her clothes, 
then donned an apron.  She would not wear her collar and bracelets 
until later that evening when she would be used in the playroom 
downstairs.  Dashing back to the kitchen, she glanced at the 
clock, and set about preparing Beef Stroganoff.

    First, she cooked the meat and spices in a Dutch oven on top 
of the stove.  That would take about an hour.  While that was 
cooking, she prepared a salad, and set the table.  She placed 
candles on the table, since she wanted this dinner to be special.

    Just before the meat was ready, Erica heard the front door 
open.  She rushed out of the kitchen to see Keith standing in the 
foyer, carrying his case.

    "Erica," he greeted her.

    "Master," said Erica when she knelt before him.

    "You had better get back to the kitchen, that smells 
wonderful!" he commented.

    "Thank you, sir," said Erica as she rose.

    When the beef was done, Erica heard the door open again, and 
guessed that Beth must have come back from work.  She was soon 
joined in the kitchen.

    "Mmmmm," said Beth as she entered the kitchen, "I can't cook 
like that."

    "I took a few classes," said Erica.

    "Can I help?" asked Beth.

    "We can start with the Salad and Black Bread, and by the time 
we're finished with that, the noodles will be done and we'll be 
ready for the main course."

    The three of them sat down, and opened a bottle of red wine 
before eating, and started on the salad first.  Erica would glance 
at the clock to gauge how the noodles were cooking.  She finished 
her salad, then excused herself.

    The noodles were done, and Erica drained them.  Beth joined 
her, and they carried a pot with the noodles and another with the 
main course itself into the dining room.  They placed both on the 
table and uncovered them both.  Erica ran back to the kitchen and 
placed some sour cream into a dish, then placed that on the table 
as well.

    Beth placed a generous helping of noodles onto a plate, and 
then Erica topped it with the Stroganoff, finally followed by some 
sour cream.  She placed it in front of Keith, who inhaled the 
fragrant aroma rising in front of him.

    There was also a pitcher of hot tea, making it as Russian a 
meal as possible.

    "Excellent," he said after sampling some of Erica's cooking, 
"simply excellent."

    "Thank you, Sir," replied Erica.

    "You're welcome."

    With that, Erica and Beth served themselves and they began 
eating, exchanging small talk about work.  Erica had finally found 
peace in serving and submission.  Her search had finally ended.

    In the first month of her service to Keith, she had not been 
used.  He had insisted that her injuries from Daniel heal first.  
He had ordered that she read all of the books that she had bought 
about D/s; then assigned some of his own as well.  She had to 
write commentary on each one, and understand the point that the 
author had written.  Once, she had failed to read a book as 
ordered, and he had paddled her until she could barely sit down.  
After that, she had obeyed all of his orders without question.

    After Dinner, Erica and Beth were washing up the kitchen and 
stowing everything away when Keith walked in.

    "Sir?" asked Erica.

    "When you're done with the dishes, I would like to see you in 
the study.  Alone."

    "Yes, Sir," Erica answered quickly.

    Deep down, in the pit of her stomach, Erica was suddenly 
afraid.  His look and tone had told her that something important 
was going to happen.  But she had no clue what it might be!

    After Erica and Beth had finished, Erica removed her apron 
that she had worn since she had entered Keith's house and started 
cooking.  Naked, she felt vulnerable again, even though the apron 
really hadn't covered her much at all.

    She was wearing mules, and walked to Keith's study.  The door 
was open, and she knocked the frame, holding her breath.

    "Enter," Keith ordered, "and kneel."

    "Yes, Sir," Erica did as she was told.

    "Are you satisfied with your training?" demanded Keith.

    "Yes, Sir.  You have tested both my body and my mind."

    "Good.  Then I have achieved my objective.  Do you consider 
yourself to be a Dominant, or a submissive?"

    "I am your slave," proudly stated Erica.

    Keith opened the top drawer of the desk, and removed a 
flogger the strands of which were made of rubber.  Erica 
remembered that it had been used on her before.

    "Hands behind your head," Keith coldly ordered.

    Once she had done so, and her breasts stuck out, Keith rose 
from his chair walked the few steps over to her, and struck her 
breasts several times with the flogger.  The multiple strands 
stung each time they impacted on her flesh.

    "Answer the question," ordered Keith, "Dominant or 
submissive?"

    "I," Erica stammered, "I...I'm not sure, Sir."

    "Better," Keith answered, striking her breasts several times 
more with the flogger, before resuming his seat.

    "Why?" cried Erica, "why?"

    "You can put your hands on your knees, Erica.  You have been 
an eager and willing slave these last few months, and I'm proud of 
your progress."

    "Thank you, Sir," Erica answered as she did what she was 
told.

    "But you must understand what we have discussed earlier.  I 
can't keep you as a slave, Erica."

    "Sir, I want to owned by you."

    "I can't do that, Erica.  I'm sorry, but that's the way it 
has to be.  Perhaps your destiny lies along a different path."

    "Sir?"

    "I'm not really sure that you're a submissive.  At least, not 
totally.  When I let you Domme that female slave Rachel last 
month, you displayed excellent skills with her."

    "Thank you, Sir."

    "Tonight, for preparing such an excellent dinner, I shall use 
you in the playroom.  Then perhaps I can arrange a surprise for 
tomorrow."

    "Thank you, Sir," Erica answered, happy that she had made her 
Master feel the same way.

    "Rest for a while, and then don your collar and bracelets.  
I'll be along shortly.  Thank you," said Keith.

    "Thank you, Sir," Erica answered.

    On her way out of the room, Erica wished that he would have 
fondled her breasts, pinched her nipples or bottom, or done 
something with her.  Instead, he would only use her in the 
playroom.

    After she had been with Keith and Beth for a month, he had 
told her that they were called "Trainers;" a couple that would 
train slaves for others, both Doms and Dommes.  They would train 
her, but probably not keep her as a slave themselves.

    At the conclusion of their training, they would help find 
Erica a suitable Master.  Indeed, last month, they had introduced 
her to one.  He was attractive, handsome, and he had been allowed 
the use of her.  However, Erica didn't like him very much, there 
hadn't been any chemistry between them.

    Pausing outside Keith's study, a wave of melancholy swept 
over Erica.  She desired something else, and she returned to his 
door.

    "Sir?" asked Erica.

    "Yes," he answered.

    "Could I be chained in the playroom for a while, alone, 
before my use, please?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, go ask Beth and tell her that I said that it would be 
all right.  You wish to be alone, then?"

    "Yes, Sir."
    *        *        *        *        *
    Erica rested her bare bottom and the soles of her feet on the 
polished wooden floor of the playroom.  Her neck was encased in 
her collar, and her wrists were wearing the familiar leather 
bracelets. A single chain that began at a ringbolt set in the wall 
was first locked to her collar, then her wrist bracelets, and 
finally ended in a pair of steel cuffs that had been locked on her 
ankles.

    Bound like this, she could extend her legs until they were 
flat on the floor, but instead she preferred to draw her knees up 
and rest her hands and head on her kneecaps.

    Erica sat in silence, not knowing or caring how long she was 
bound.  Keith had first placed her in this position in the 
playroom, and she had been forced to endure it for hours.  But 
over time, Erica had decided that she liked being bound, and she 
even tugged at the steel cuffs on her ankles.

    It was strange, she thought, that her mind could roam at 
will, and think of all kinds of things, even as her body was 
chained to the wall.

    She fingered the steel cuffs on her ankles, and thought of 
Irene at work.  Irene was a secretary who was an active vital 
woman, indeed Erica had tagged along one day after work to happy 
hour and had shared a few drinks and dances with her.  Irene had 
just announced her engagement, and she had begun to wear both a 
ring around her finger and a chain around her ankle.

    While she didn't double date with Irene, she had heard from 
the other girls who did that Irene was now playing dumb towards 
her fianc‚e. She would agree with whatever he had to say, did what 
she was told, and keep her opinions to herself.

    The usual rationale that a woman gave in life for doing that 
to herself was that sort of conduct was the price of having and 
keeping a man.  That was the price of a diamond ring.

    Was that so different than the price that she was paying to 
be a slave?  Except that in exchange for being a slave and wearing 
chains, she was free to be whipped and striped by her Master.

    At least what Erica did in being a slave was more honest, 
submitting herself and her body to the use of a Master.  It took a 
lot of strength to do that, thought Erica.  To endure the lash and 
the crop showed not her weakness, but her courage as well!  

    Seated on the floor, Erica thought that it just wasn't fair!  
She had endured so much, suffered so much, had finally found a 
Master who she could love, and he couldn't own her for long!  He 
would interview other Masters for her, and finally select one and 
that would be the last that she would see of Keith.

    She had wanted to be chained so that she wouldn't even have 
the illusion of freedom.  There was something implacable about 
steel and leather restraining her.  Which had made slavery very 
real to her in a physical sense.

    Erica looked at the other toys in the playroom.  There was an 
X frame, a padded bar that a slave could be bent over and bound 
to, a set of stocks, and various other chains that a slave could 
be secured to.  In the last few months, Erica had experienced all 
of these.

    But nothing hurt a much as the knowledge that soon Keith 
would find a Master for her.  She felt like crying, but tears 
wouldn't come.  All of her life, she had been taunted as the rich 
girl.  First at Greenwich High School, next at Radcliffe, then at 
Harvard.

    She wondered just how many other female graduates from 
Harvard were into D/s.  Probably not many, and Erica thought that 
the experience might be good for some of them.  Might just make 
them humble and teach them a thing or two.

    If her concerns about Keith weren't enough, her sexual 
confusion was causing her problems as well.  Prior to making love 
to Jasmine that night, she had never before been made love to by a 
woman.  She thought that she had always been attracted to men.

    But now every time that she passed an attractive woman in the 
street or the mall, she undressed them with her eyes.  More than 
once, her nipples had hardened and she felt her panties wet with 
desire.

    Erica rubbed her toes together, enjoying the sound of the 
chain clinking together.  She pulled at it with all her strength, 
fantasizing that she could pull it from the wall.  Instead, all it 
did was to make the muscles stand out in her arms, and she still 
remained chained.

    "All you all right, Erica?" asked Keith.

    Erica had not heard the door open or his steps to her.  She 
had been so wrapped up in thoughts that she had kept hidden for 
weeks.

    "No, yes, I don't know!" declared Erica.

    "Are you doing penance for something?  Would you like to be 
locked in the stocks?"

    "No, sir.  Chained on the floor is just fine."

    "I'm sorry I don't have a cell of some kind, but I never got 
round to building one."

    Erica laughed, and his comments brought a smile to her face.

    "What do you want, Erica?"

    "Make love to me, Sir.  Take me on the floor, spread my legs, 
and fuck me.  Hard, any way you like.  It doesn't matter."

    "You know why I can't really do that," said Keith.

    Erica then clinked her chains in response.

    "Do you still consent to be used tonight?" asked Keith.

    "Yes, use me, please.  Hard," begged Erica.

    "As you wish.  Beth will be by shortly to hang you from the 
ceiling.  I won't keep you waiting too long."

    "Thank you, Sir."

    Erica hoped that she would be in for a really intense 
session.  One that would leave her body marked, one where she 
would be screaming in pain and pleasure afterwards.

    Pain, she had read, sharpens the mind.

    She waited in her chains for what would happen next, and drew 
her knees up to her chin.  Erica reached down between her legs and 
pulled at the steel around her ankles.  Bondage brought patience, 
if nothing else.  After all, she had nowhere to go.
    *            *            *            *
    After some time, Beth joined her, who then released Erica 
from the floor.  She glanced down at herself, and hoped that when 
Keith would be finished with her that she would be thoroughly 
striped.

    "Come," directed Beth.

    Erica had not worn her ankle bracelets, and the chain that 
had bound her terminated in two gleaming stainless steel cuffs.  
So Beth had handed them to her, and Erica had locked them upon 
herself.

    Beth was now wearing a black rubber bodysuit, and Erica noted 
that she had nothing on underneath.  Beth's nipples protruded 
under the rubber, and the outlines of her slit were visible from 
the tight rubber as well.  She was wearing a thick black rubber 
collar around her neck, earrings, and a pair of matching black 
heels.

    Erica remained silent as she was led to a ceiling chain, and 
Beth secured her wrist cuffs.  Then, Beth retrieved a spreader bar 
from the cabinet, and locked Erica's ankles apart.  Finally, Beth 
activated a small motor, and Erica rose off the floor a few 
inches.

    Hanging from the ceiling made Erica's breasts stick out, and 
made her conscious again of just how exposed she was.  But that 
didn't matter, nothing did.

    However Keith would use her, she wouldn't protest.  She 
wouldn't beg for mercy, or cry.  She wanted all of the punishment 
that her Master could give.

    "Are you ready?" asked Beth.

    "Yes," answered Erica, "I don't care what Keith does to me."

    "I'll be sure and tell him that."

    "Thank you."

    Erica didn't know and didn't care how long she hung by her 
wrists.  Her feet were within touching distance of the floor, 
which she could feel with her toes.  After a while, her shoulders 
had begun to hurt, but it didn't matter.

    She could not be possessed by the man that she loved so what 
better than to be severely used by him instead.  His marks would 
be the indication of his love for her, and those alone.

    "Kiss the whip."

    Keith's sudden orders startled Erica back to reality, for she 
had been captivated in her own little world.

    "Yes, Sir!"

    "Your use will come in two parts.  First, I am going to whip 
you severely.  I shall not strike you hard enough to break the 
skin, or make you bleed.  But I shall leave many stripes behind 
that will sting and marks behind that will last.  Do I have your 
consent?"

    "Yes, Sir!"

    "Then you shall be taken down and strapped tightly over the 
bar.  I will then use the cane on your bottom and thighs.  Do you 
consent to that also?"

    "Yes, Sir!"

    "Is this by your own choice?"

    "Yes, Master."

    "Do you want a gag?  You can hold a coin and when dropped it 
will be your safeword signal."

    "No sir, I don't want a gag.  Please proceed?" she asked.

    "Very well then, you will not have to count the strokes.  
Prepare to be used."

    Erica tensed in her bondage, aware that this was the path 
that she had chosen for herself.  Her muscles tightened by 
themselves, in anticipation of the ordeal that she was about to 
undergo.  

    "Now we begin," said Keith.

    In the months she had been trained by Keith, she had learned 
to recognize his mood by the force and rhythm of his strokes.  He 
had asked her a direct question, and she had deliberately avoided 
giving him a direct answer.  Then she had asked to be chained in 
the playroom and given a severe punishment.

    It was no wonder that his strokes were firm and effective, as 
the whip slapped itself against her flesh then wrapped around her.  
With each stroke, her moved a bit, gradually circling her, so that 
the whip would strike a different part of her body each time.

    With her legs opened, every few strokes she would feel it 
reach inside and strike the outside of her sex.  Then either her 
breasts or underarms would feel the sting of the whip.

    "Ten!" cried Erica.

    "There's no need to count, Erica," said Keith.

    "I'll count anyway," answered Erica.

    "As you wish."

    Nothing else in the world mattered now, as each stroke of the 
whip impacted on her flesh.  Nothing!  She was just a naked woman, 
going under the lash of the man that she desired, but couldn't 
have.

    When Keith and Beth had taken her under their wing, and had 
begun to train her, Erica thought that she finally had found what 
she had always wanted.  But when she had discovered that they were 
only going to have her for a short period of time she had felt 
betrayed.

    "Twenty!"

     Keith had fulfilled everything that he had said that he 
would do with her.  He had first ordered her to begin reading and 
understanding just what she had chosen.

    When her wounds from Daniel had finally healed, he had 
started to use her.  The very first thing that she had chosen was 
her safeword, which was mercy.  Not very original, but it would 
do!

    "Twenty-five!"

    He had begun training her slowly, gradually at first.  Her 
posture had been corrected, and she no longer slouched.  Instead, 
she held herself straight, and her breasts stuck out.  Beth had 
taught her how to walk, and show off her body.

    Even her co-workers had noticed something different in her as 
the weeks passed, and one woman had tried to set her up with a 
neighbor.  Erica had politely declined.

    "Thirty!"

    At a scene party that Keith and Beth had taken her to, she 
had overheard a conversation about a sub that would wear out her 
Dom.  The woman could simply absorb so much punishment that she 
would tire her Dom out.

    Erica never knew how long that Keith could use her, since he 
had never used her in anger before.  But now she didn't care!

    "Thirty-five!"

    The sweat was pouring off her body, dripping down her breasts 
and between her legs.  She felt the drops join and run together, 
her skin heating up from the constant strokes of the whip.

    "Forty!"

    Her mind had divorced itself from her body, and she felt 
herself floating outside, looking down at herself.  Just as she 
had learned to do while in the hospital bed, as they had denied 
her the painkillers that she had begged for.

    "Fifty!"

    "Enough," said Keith, "Beth, take her down quickly!"

    Erica had not realized that she had been crying until she 
tasted the saltiness of her own tears running into her mouth.  
Keith unlocked her spreader bar, then the ceiling chain.  Erica 
slumped into his arms, her body unable to support it's own weight.  
He pulled her over to a leather-covered bench, and sat her down, 
holding her closely to his body.

    "Are you all right?" Daniel asked.

     "Fine," Erica sobbed.

    "I should have stopped long ago."

    "No, it's all right.  Really."

    Erica's entire body was slick with her sweat, and she felt 
Keith's hands grip onto her strongly so that she wouldn't slip out 
of his grasp.  Her body was warm, like it was on fire.  But she 
didn't feel any pain at all, but rather a dull ache throughout her 
whole frame.

    Keith held onto her, and Erica remained silent, slowly 
regaining her faculties.  She rubbed her hands together, and her 
hands and arms were the only part of her body that had not felt 
the lash.

    Erica looked at her legs, and saw that they were extensively 
marked.  Even though it was summer, she would have to wear pants 
until the marks healed, as a skirt would be out of the question.

    "What are you thinking about?" Keith asked.

    "Pants, I'm going to have to wear pants until my legs heal."

    "Would you like a drink?"

    "Yes."

    Beth handed Erica a glass of water, and she drank it slowly, 
a swallow at a time.  After a session, she had once tried to drink 
too fast, and had choked.  So Erica had learned to take water 
slowly after an ordeal like the session that she had just done.

    "Are you all right?" asked Keith, again.

    "Fine, Sir."

    "We don't have to continue, we can stop now.  You've just had 
a harsh session, not many slaves could have taken that much use."

    Glancing down at herself, Erica was shocked to see the marks 
between her legs, on her breasts, her stomach.  Everywhere except 
her bottom!  Which was why she could sit down in the first place!

    Keith had not beaten her behind since he intended to use the 
cane there later.  She would have been unable to sit down with her 
bottom on fire.

    Erica guessed that a half-hour or more had elapsed, and she 
had drunk two more glasses of water.  She wondered just how much 
she had sweated out when she had gone under the lash, and she 
desired a bath, badly.

    "I'm ready to continue," stated Erica firmly.

    Had she really asked to be further used?  Keith had shown her 
all of the instruments in his cabinet, including the cane.  She 
had weighed the rod in her hands, and feared the day that it would 
actually be used upon her.

    "Are you sure?"

    Erica had wanted to answer that if she could not have his 
shaft inside her, then she would settle for the cane instead.  But 
she had stayed silent. Merely nodding her assent.

    Erica rose shakily from the bench, glad that she was barefoot 
and not wearing any kind of heels, high or otherwise.  There was a 
full-length mirror set into the wall, and Erica walked over to it.  
It was hidden behind a panel, which she unlocked.

    Naked, she unlocked the panel and swung the door open.  She 
almost wanted to gasp when she saw the fresh marks on her body, 
though she realized that she had regularly heard stories about 
slaves who were often whipped until they bled.

    She closed the panel in silence, then walked over to the 
vinyl-covered sawhorse.  Erica opened her legs, then bent over, 
her hair cascading down around her legs.

     All that she needed now was for either Beth or Keith to bind 
her to the horse, and her second ordeal could begin.  She waited, 
wondering is Keith would continue, or decide to stop.

    "Bind me," Erica ordered, "then cane me, please?"

    "There's no need for this, Erica, you've already proven 
yourself tonight.  You deserve praise for a Dinner like that, not 
a severe beating instead," said Keith.

    Dinner seemed like a million years ago, had she really done 
that?  Twice now in her slavery she had made an extravagant meal, 
and both times she had been severely used.  Though for different 
reasons.

    "Use me, please?"

    "Beth," Keith ordered, "bind her."

    Erica dully watched as her bracelets were locked to the 
sawhorse and pulled tight.  Her arms and legs were stretched, and 
her bottom was sticking up high in the air.  Her stomach was 
resting on the vinyl-covered surface.  Beth pulled the chains 
binding her taut, and Erica would no freedom of movement at all.

    Keith displayed the cane for her in his hands.  He held it 
tightly in his fingers.

    "This is a rattan cane, made from bamboo.  It will hurt you 
very much.  There is no need for this Erica, you have proven your 
submission to me."

    "Go ahead, Sir.  I am ready to receive your punishment," 
Erica replied.

    "As you wish then."

    In her time as a slave, Erica had been used with a whip, 
crop, cat, paddle, and other instruments of punishment.  But 
nothing had prepared her for the impact of the cane, which felt 
like a streak of fire across her bottom.

    "Aaaaaah!" Erica cried.

    Strokes with the cane were delivered slowly, one at a time, 
each one calculated to bring the most agony to the intended 
subject.

    "Aaaaaah!"

    Erica quickly realized why she had been bound in this manner.  
The only parts of her body that Keith would use the cane on would 
be her bottom and the back of her thighs, two parts that had the 
most fat to cushion the impact of the cane.

    "Aaaaaah!"

    Even though she had been harshly whipped for a long time, 
Erica realized that not even the most trained and experienced 
slave would ever be able to take many strokes from the cane.

    "Aaaaaah!"

    Not even the pain that she had endured in the hospital bed as 
her body healed from the accident had been like this.  This was 
different.

    "Aaaaaah!"

    Erica had not called mercy, even as she had been whipped.  
But now, for the first time in her slavery, she considered using 
her safeword.

    "Aaaaaah!"

    The sixth stroke of the cane landed on the inside of her 
exposed thighs, and Erica was concerned that she would lose 
control of her bowels, which stayed clamped shut.

    "Aaaaah!"

    Tears fell from her eyes onto the floor, and she saw the 
playroom lights reflected in them.

    "Aaaaaah!"

    The eighth stroke across her bottom left Erica wondering not 
if she would sit down, but if she would ever sit down again

    "Aaaaaah!"

    Pain, she had read, ennobled a person.  Evidently the person 
who wrote that had never been used with a cane.

    "Aaaaaah!" cried Erica.

    She had counted ten stokes, and then there were no more.  Her 
body was again ablaze, even more than before.  Erica had come 
close to calling her safeword, for the first time.  There was a 
limit to her endurance and tolerance for pain, which she had 
thought was limitless.

    "Beth, release Erica," ordered Keith.

    "Yes, Sir!"

    Erica was released, and led over to the bench.  She sat down 
gradually, her behind on fire.

    "I have to get some salve, Erica," said Beth, "you'll feel 
better in a bit."

    Erica looked at Keith, directly into his eyes, which was also 
forbidden.

    "Thank you, Master," said Erica.

    "You're welcome, Erica."

    Keith then left the playroom, and Beth to take care of Erica.  
Beth would massage salve onto her skin, bathe her, and give Erica 
plenty of fluids.  Finally, she put Erica to bed, and Erica fell 
quickly to sleep.
    *        *            *            *
    It was during the early hours in the morning when Erica heard 
a noise in her bedroom.  She was naked under the single sheet, and 
still weak from her ordeal.  Beth had told her that she would be 
all right after a night's rest.

    The noise had awakened her, and she was afraid, was there a 
burglar in the house?

    "Erica?" asked Keith's voice, "are you awake?"

    "Yes, sir," she softly answered.

    "How are you feeling?"

    "Punished."

    In the dim moonlight, she saw that Keith was wearing a short 
black kimono robe.  She watched as he removed it, and draped it 
over a chair.

    "Sir?"

    Keith lifted the sheet and slipped into the bed next to 
Erica, and faced her in the darkness.

    "I have explained your feelings to Beth, and she has 
understood them.  For just this one night, Erica, I shall make 
love to a slave that I am training.  Never again with you, or 
anyone else."

    "Keith," said Erica as she grabbed hold of him, before he 
wrestled her onto her back.

    Erica did not need to be told what to do.  She opened her 
legs to admit his shaft, which was already hard.  He had a few 
foil wrapped condoms in his hands, which he deposited on the night 
table.  He tore open one and Erica unrolled the latex on his hard 
cock.

    Her sex was already wet, and he penetrated easily.  Erica 
arched her back so that her could drive his shaft deep inside her, 
and she moaned with pleasure.

    He soon began to piston his thighs back and forth, and Erica 
matched him stroke for stroke.  She had not been made love to for 
a long time, and his cock rammed into her.  This was more than 
sex, somehow.  He had whipped and caned her, had brought her to 
tears and the edge of her safeword.  Now he was taking her 
sexually, between her legs.  Everything else this night had been a 
prelude.    

    Erica came quickly, moaning softly as her nails dug into his 
back.  She held him tightly to her, not wanting to believe that 
this was actually happening.

    They made love three times, before Erica was completely 
exhausted.  He kissed her, and she returned his kiss.

    "I love you," said Erica.

    "Sometimes we love things and people that we can't have," 
said Keith, "go to sleep, and you can sleep as late as you want."

    By then, Erica was soundly asleep, with a smile on her lips.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Erica awakened slowly, her body had needed the long rest from 
the events of the night before.  She felt her naked body under the 
sheet, and her fingers flew to her sex.

    In a flash, she remembered everything.  Her request that 
Keith harshly use her, since her could not be her Master once her 
training was over.  The whip and then the cane, followed by his 
visit to her bedroom late in the evening.

    Erica sat up in bed, and got to her feet.  She walked into 
the bathroom, and drew one cold glass of water after another.  She 
was still wearing her collar and cuffs, and Erica decided that she 
looked like quite a sight in the mirror.

    Beth had left the keys on the dresser, so Erica unlocked the 
steel and leather from her neck, wrists, and ankles, then stepped 
under the hot shower.  Erica had never felt so exhausted or used 
in her entire life.

    Keith was a skilled Master with the whip.  Though she had 
endured fifty strokes, there was no blood on the tub's floor as 
she showered.  Her body ached, and she would feel the effects of 
the cane whenever she sat down for days, but she was not seriously 
injured or hurt.

    After her shower, she dried and perfumed herself, then set 
her hair.  Finally, she replaced the collar and bracelets, and put 
on a pair of modest heels that Beth had left for her.

    She walked out of her bedroom, and through the house into the 
Kitchen.  Erica glanced at the clock, and found that it was 
already eleven AM.

    "Good morning," greeted Beth.

    "Morning."

    "Did you have a nice rest?"

    "Yes, thank you."

    "How do you feel?"

    "Fine."

    "Hungry?"

    "Starved."

    "We'll be having lunch at one, but I'll make you coffee and 
toast."

    "That would be just fine, thank you."

    What does one say to your Master's wife after he has made 
love to you, Erica thought silently to herself.  She ate in 
silence, and the juice, toast, and coffee quieted the rumblings in 
her stomach.

    "Keith would like to see you in the study," said Beth after 
she had finished eating.

    "Thank you," said Erica as she finished her last cup of 
coffee.

    Erica knocked on the door of Keith's study, which was closed.

    "Come," she heard from inside.

    Erica opened the door, and Keith was seated behind his desk, 
papers lined up neatly in rows.

    "Have a seat."

    "Thank you," said Erica as she sat down, naked, in a leather 
chair facing him.

    "How do you feel?"

    "Fine, though my bottom will be tingling for days, Sir."

    "I have been thinking about your situation all day, Erica.  A 
slave that wants no Master except the Trainer that she can't have.  
You have been a good student, Erica.  And you would make a superb 
slave for any Master, but you don't want that either."

    Erica stayed silent, her legs open and her hands on her 
knees.  She felt the leather on her bottom, and she knew that her 
skin had stuck to the surface.

    "Until now, I have trained slaves.  It appears that you are 
the first Mistress that I have trained."

    "Sir!" Erica exclaimed in shock, "Mistress?"

    "Erica, when we begin a path in life, sometimes we finish up 
on a totally unexpected direction.  I read how you used that slave 
Jasmine months ago.  I read it in your interviews, below the 
surface.  That's why I wanted you to use another slave sometimes."

    If Erica had been confused before, now she was totally 
confused.  Slave to Dominatrix?  In less than two years time?

    "Do you want to be a Domme, Erica?  Will that settle your 
dilemma with yourself?

    "I don't know, Sir."

    "There's always the stocks, I can lock you in them after 
lunch.  Great way to think, and they did a lot of that in New 
England during Colonial times."

    "No sir, that will be quite all right," Erica answered.

    "Your assignment today will be to write down all of your 
Dominant feelings, in between doing the housework.  Since the 
house is mostly clean anyway, you'll have plenty of time.  And you 
had better prepare yourself for tonight."

    "Sir?"

    "I said that I was going to have a surprise for you, and I 
will.  Beth and I have a hospital dinner to attend, a long and 
boring rubber chicken dinner and plenty of speeches as we try and 
raise community money for the hospital."

    "What am I going to do, Sir?" asked Erica.

    "I have a good friend, Mistress Sharon.  She has a policy 
that once a year she likes to be used by me, so she doesn't forget 
what the whip feels like.  I'm giving you the chance to use a 
Dominatrix, Erica.  That will be your test to see if you can be a 
Domme yourself."

    Erica swallowed, as she had a huge lump in her throat.

    "You're going to be graded on your posture, how you handle 
her, your language and bearing.  Also how you use her in the 
playroom, if you've learned what I've taught you.  If she pleases 
you, you can take her to bed, or chain her on the floor next to 
you.  Whatever you do, Sharon will give me a complete report on 
your use of her.  That will determine your future, Erica.  Are you 
up to this?"

    "Yes, Sir.  But I admit that I'm scared."

    "A fork in the road is always scary, Erica.  But I think that 
your talents lie holding a whip's handle," said Keith.

    "Thank you, Sir."

    "You may go."

    "Thank you, Sir," said Erica as she took her exit, rising 
from the seat, the leather sticking to her bare bottom.

Before she started the housework, she donned an apron, and sat in 
the kitchen, drinking a soda and wishing for a cigarette.  Had it 
been just 2 years ago that she had sought out Mistress Martine in 
the city?    
    *        *        *        *        *
    Keith had chosen to wear a tuxedo, and Beth had chosen a blue 
dress.  They had both showered and cleaned up, and Erica had 
helped them dress.  She was no longer naked and collared, but 
instead wore a blouse and skirt.

    Just as Keith and Beth were leaving at 7 PM, another car 
drove up.  Erica's stomach was in her throat as she watched as the 
tall blonde exited the car, and walked up to the landing.

    "Erica Riken?" asked the woman.

    "You must be Sharon," replied Erica, "please enter."

    Erica escorted her inside, and closed the door behind her 
guest.  The woman was wearing a red dress, and modest heels, just 
like she was going out for a date.

    "Have I missed Master Keith?" she asked.

    "You just missed them," Erica answered.

    "So I guess that I have to introduce myself.  I'm Mistress 
Sharon Kelly," she said, extending her hand.

    "Erica Riken."

    "I'm your final exam," said Sharon calmly.

    "You don't mind submitting yourself to a slave?" asked Erica.

    "No, because I started as a slave.  Keith trained me, I had a 
Master, then I became a Dominatrix."

    "Would you like something to drink?" asked Erica.

    "A soda would be nice," replied Sharon.

    Erica was really not sure what to make of Sharon.  All the 
time they spoke, she had to resist the urge to kneel in front of 
her.  They shared a soda in the kitchen together, making small 
talk.

    "I'd like to freshen up and prepare," said Sharon when they 
finished.

    "Sure, in the bedroom, then meet me in the study," answered 
Erica.

    As she watched Sharon leave, Erica was more scared than when 
she had learned again to walk.  Or sought out Mistress Martine for 
her first experience under the lash.

    When Sharon emerged from the bedroom she would be naked and 
collared.  Erica rushed to the other bedroom to change into a 
leather bra and skirt.

    Her final exam had begun.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Erica looked at herself in bedroom mirror for the last time.  
She had chosen to wear a pair of elbow length opera gloves in 
black leather to compliment her outfit, but now wished that she 
had worn something else besides the leather bra.  The marks on her 
stomach were showing, and the choice of the bra was just too 
revealing.  Still, it was too late now to change.

    She walked out of the bedroom into the study and seated 
herself in Keith's leather chair.  How often in the last few 
months that she had knelt naked on the carpet in front of his 
desk!  Now she has the one in control.

    Erica was startled by a knock on the closed door, and she 
prepared herself.

    "Enter."

    The door opened to reveal Sharon, and her beauty almost took 
Erica's breath away.  The woman was naked, wearing only her collar 
and bracelets, and shoes.  Clothed, she had been pretty, model 
quality. Naked, she was the loveliest woman that Erica had ever 
seen, outside of a centerfold in a men's magazine.

    "Kneel, with your legs open and your hands on your knees," 
ordered Erica firmly.

    Sharon quickly did as she was told, and she knelt on the 
carpet in front of the desk.  

    "What is your name, slave?" firmly asked Erica.

    "Sharon, Mistress."

    "What is my name?"

    "Mistress Erica.  Mistress Erica Riken," repeated Sharon.

    "Touch yourself, your nipples, your breasts, play with your 
pussy, but don't give yourself an orgasm," Erica ordered.

    Erica watched, fascinated, as Sharon did as she was ordered.  
Her hands began to feel the outlines of her breasts, and circled 
her erect nipples.  With her right hand on her breast, Sharon's 
left began to massage her slit.  Erica watched the woman closely, 
making certain that Sharon did not insert her fingers into her 
slit.  Sharon moaned, as she was close to giving herself an 
orgasm.

    "Stop, slave!"

    Sharon ceased immediately, placing her hands on her knees, 
bowing her head in front of her Mistress.

    Erica suddenly realized that every other time that she had 
been allowed the use of another woman, her Dom had been nearby, or 
supervising her actions.  But now she was alone!  Sharon was in 
her power, however briefly.

    Memories returned to her, of Daniel abusing her, ramming his 
cock up her behind as she begged him not to.  Her anus sore for 
days afterward.  His beating her without mercy until she had bled, 
tears streaming from her eyes.

    Erica picked up the riding crop that she had placed on the 
desk, her hands electric with power.  For the first time, she 
really felt down deep inside what it mean to be a Dominatrix.

    'I swear,' she thought silently to herself, 'I'll always 
arrange a safeword with a slave first, and never go beyond it.  I 
shall always respect a slave's dignity, and never humiliate them, 
in public or in private.  I shall never hurt or cause harm.  I 
will never force a slave into doing something that they refuse to 
do.  I will look out for a slave's welfare at all times.  I shall 
be known as Mistress Erica Riken."

    "Mistress?" softly asked Sharon, "are you all right?"

    Erica glanced at the clock, and found that she had been deep 
in thought for several minutes.  She wondered just what Sharon had 
been thinking when Erica had gone off into her own space.

    "Fine, Sharon, just fine.  What is your safeword?"

    "Desire, Mistress Erica."

    "What do you desire?"

    "To serve my Mistress," answered Sharon.

    "So you shall," said Erica as she rose from behind the desk, 
then walked over to the leather couch and seated herself, "over my 
knee!"

    Sharon scurried to place herself over Erica's knees, and 
Erica was not used to the weight of a naked woman resting on her 
thighs.

    "To begin, I am going to give you a light spanking."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "You will count each one," ordered Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    Thwack!

    "One!"

    Thwack!

    "Two."

    Thwack!

    Erica watched as each stroke of her hand left a red mark on 
Sharon's bottom, how she jumped slightly with each impact.  Up 
close, Sharon wore an alluring perfume that only served to entice 
the novice Domme.  Erica marveled at Sharon's silky smooth skin, 
and she instantly desired her.  She decided that Sharon would not 
spend the night chained on the floor next to Erica's bed, but 
would instead be serving her Mistress within.

    "Ten!"

    Erica ceased spanking, leaving Sharon panting from the 
session.  Sharon's bottom was slightly red, the skin warm to the 
touch.  Erica had decided that a mild spanking would just serve as 
a warm-up for the nights other activities.  She rubbed Sharon's 
warmed ass cheeks, then opened them to reveal the anal bud within.  
Reaching between Sharon's legs, she felt upwards to Sharon's wet 
slit.

    "Already wet, slave?" Erica demanded.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Kneel on the floor," Erica ordered.

    "Yes, Mistress," Sharon quickly did as she was told.

    Erica rose from the couch, and went to the desk drawer where 
she knew that Keith kept all of his toys.  She opened it, and 
found just what she wanted inside.

    She withdrew a leash, blindfold, and ballgag, plus a small 
metal link.  Erica held that in her hand, feeling the stainless 
steel in her fingers.

    "Hands behind your back."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica quickly walked over, and locked Sharon's hands behind 
her back.  She noted that the woman held herself proudly in her 
slavery.

    "Prepare to be made helpless."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica first locked the collar around Sharon's neck, brushing 
her long hair out of the way, then closing the collar with a 
satisfying click.  Then she held the red ballgag by the straps, 
and Sharon did not have to be told to open her mouth wide.  Erica 
buckled the ballgag snugly, but not tight so that Sharon would be 
uncomfortable.  She watched as Sharon's nostrils flared with each 
breath that she took.  Finally, Erica placed the fur-lined 
blindfold over Sharon's eyes, than locked the leash onto her 
collar.  The metal chain fell between her breasts.  Sharon was now 
totally helpless, and at Erica's mercy.

    How often Erica had been in this position, first beginning 
with Mistress Martine, then finally ending with Keith.  Now she 
was the Domme, with all of the responsibility that it entailed.

    Erica grasped Sharon by her bound arms, and pulled the naked 
slave to her feet.  Sharon grunted from inside her gag.

    "Stand up, slave," ordered Erica, "we're now going to the 
playroom."

    Erica pulled her captive along behind her, guiding her so the 
she didn't trip against any of the furniture.  She unlocked the 
cellar door, and helped Sharon down each step.  Finally, she 
opened the door to the playroom itself, and pulled Sharon along 
behind her.

    She guided Sharon over to the stocks, and placed her ankles 
in the half circles of the wood, then closed and locked the second 
bar.  Then she unlocked the leash, and the link holding Sharon's 
wrists together.  Sharon did not resist when Erica placed her neck 
and wrists in the half circles, then closed and locked the yoke.  
Sharon was now bent over, and helpless.

    "Mmmmmmph!" cried Sharon when Erica probed her sex, squirming 
within her wooden prison.

    "Silence!" ordered Erica, as she swatted Sharon's bottom a 
few times, "else I will not remove your gag and blindfold!"

    Sharon ceased her squirming, and stayed silent.

    "Better," commented Erica.

    True to her word, Erica soon removed the gag and blindfold.  
Sharon blinked several times as her vision was restored to her.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "You're welcome," replied Erica, "I think that we shall start 
with a flogger."

    From the cabinet, Erica selected a deerskin flogger.  It was 
made of plenty of soft strands, and unless used very harshly, was 
actually quite gentle form of discipline.  Unlike a leather cat, 
especially one with each strand knotted at the end.

    "Kiss the flogger, slave."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica began by applying the flogger softly, swinging each 
stroke for maximum effect.  The multitude of stands struck onto 
Sharon's flesh, with a slapping sound.  Sharon jerked with each 
impact in her leather prison, held tightly inside the stocks.

    "Aaaaaah!" cried Sharon.

    Erica paused and rubbed her hands over Sharon's heated flesh, 
massaging and calming the girl under her control.  Just for 
effect, she pinched Sharon's nipples, making her moan.  

    Sharon's face was flushed and red as Erica began again, 
striking her bottom, thighs, and between her legs.  After a series 
of strokes, she would pause to run her hands over her slave's 
body, her attentions helping to drive Sharon into an even greater 
sensual frenzy.

    "Kiss the flogger, slave!"

    Sharon did as she was ordered, in silence, her red lips 
leaving some lipstick on the leather bindings.  She kissed the 
instrument that had been used to create physical torment like the 
lips of a lover.

    "Thank you, Mistress for using me," said Sharon.

    "Your use has not yet begun," answered Erica.

    Returning the flogger to it's regular place, Erica decided 
that it was time to use the front of Sharon's body.  She unlocked 
Sharon from she stocks, and pulled her over to the X frame.  
Sharon mounted the X frame when ordered, and Erica restrained her 
by tightening the straps.  Soon, Sharon was tightly held against 
the wood, her ass against the wall.  Also, Erica had locked her 
bracelets to the frame as well.

    Erica retrieved the riding crop, which she held in her gloved 
hands.  She flexed it for effect in front of Sharon, who did not 
look directly at Erica, but did look at the crop itself.

    The one that she had chosen had a folded leather pad at the 
tip, and that would be what Erica used to strike Sharon's body 
with.  It would leave a nice red mark behind, and would sing her 
flesh.

    But first Erica massaged Sharon's sex with her right hand, 
then inserted two fingers into her sex.  Sharon jerked within her 
bonds, and Erica withdrew and the leather of her gloves was wet 
with Sharon's juices.

    "Taste yourself, slut."

    Erica forced her fingers into Sharon's mouth, and she sucked 
at the leather.  After a few seconds, they were clean of her 
juices.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "Kiss the crop," ordered Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Sharon kissed the handle of the crop when it was offered to 
her, and Erica watched as Sharon tried to anticipate what her 
Mistress would do next.

    Instead of just starting to beat her with the crop, Erica 
instead pinched both of Sharon's nipples at the same time.  Sharon 
squealed with both pain and pleasure at the same time.

    "Silence!"

    Then Erica began to use the crop, slapping the leather pad 
against Sharon's exposed flesh.  She began, not on her breasts, 
but on her underarms instead.  Sharon had evidently just shaved 
her armpits, as the skin was smooth and there was no trace of 
hair.  

    Next, she used the crop on Sharon's breasts, making her 
squirm on the X frame.  Erica made certain not to strike the same 
area twice in a row, and to strike hard enough to gently redden 
the skin.  Erica wanted her charge to slowly heat up, to be 
released later.  Much later.

    But when Erica began to slap the pad between Sharon's thighs 
and sometimes onto her sex did the slave become truly animated, 
moaning in response each time that the tip struck her flesh.

    "Ooooh!" cried Sharon, "ooooh!"

    "Moan all you want slave, there will be no respite for you 
yet," stated Erica.

    Erica used the crop repeatedly, until the front of Sharon's 
body was quite red.  The leather had left a mark behind with each 
impact, and when Erica felt Sharon's flesh, she found it warm to 
the touch.

    "How do you feel slave?" demanded Erica.

    "Fine, Mistress," replied Sharon.

    "Kiss the crop."

    Sharon did as she had been told.  Erica knew by then that her 
slave was quite ready for her final use in the playroom, followed 
by her use in the bedroom.

    "It is now time for the cat," calmly explained Erica, "as you 
hang from the ceiling, your legs kept open."

    Erica removed Sharon from the X frame, wishing that she had 
an assistant to help her.  If she should ever have a house with a 
playroom, she resolved that she would have a Maid.  A Maid clad in 
black Latex, obeying her every order, in the Dungeon and the 
bedroom.

    She pulled Sharon over to the ceiling chain, and locked the D 
rings on Sharon's cuffs to the last link.  Erica had readied a 
spreader bar in advance, and locked that to Sharon's ankle cuffs.  
She activated the motor from the control, and Sharon's body was 
pulled taut, and she could barely reach the floor with the toes of 
her shoes.

    "You look divine, with your ribs showing," said Erica as she 
lightly tickled Sharon's flesh, making her laugh.

    Before her last use in the playroom, she wanted Sharon 
relaxed.  For the next use might not be so pleasant after all.

    Once Sharon had been calmed down, Erica removed the rubber 
flogger from the cabinet.  The strands were made of rubber, and 
would mark easily.  They would sting, and make Sharon moan with 
pain when applied.

    "Did you think that I would whip you?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "I am a bit more creative than that, slave.  You shall taste 
the rubber flogger, next time I shall use the lash instead," said 
Erica.

    'If I ever get to use you again,' Erica thought to herself, 
'more than likely it will be Sharon who puts me under her lash.'

    "Thank you, Mistress," said Sharon.

    "Kiss the flogger."

    Sharon did as she was told, and soon Erica began to punish 
her with it.  The strands were heavy, and each one could mark.  
Instead, Erica slapped Sharon's body with the flogger, so that the 
strands did not always mark.  Erica wanted to show that she could 
control whether or not she could mark, demonstrating her control.

    "Oooooooh!  Oooooh!" cried Sharon as the flogger was applied 
to her.

    "Do you submit to me, slave?"

    "Yes, Mistress, yes!"

    "Kiss the cat, I shall now use you further."

    Erica allowed Sharon to kiss the cat, then ran her fingertips 
over Sharon's flesh.  The woman was burning up with excitement and 
passion.  Erica then replaced the cat in the cabinet, and released 
Sharon, who fell into her arms.

    She helped Sharon to a bench, and held and soothed the slave 
in her arms.  Then she took her by the hand, and walked her 
upstairs to her bedroom.  She locked Sharon's collar to a chain 
the other end of which was locked around the bedpost, which would 
limit her freedom of movement.

    Erica then stripped until she was nude, and she noticed that 
the aroma of leather had clung to her like a perfume.  She lay 
down upon the bed, and make certain that a crop and dildo were on 
the night table next to the bed.

    "Satisfy your Mistress, Slave," Erica ordered, "else you will 
be punished.

    When she felt Sharon's tongue and lips on her clit, Erica had 
no doubt that her charge was very experienced in the arts of 
lovemaking as one explosive climax after another rocked her body.

    Sharon then sucked on Erica's nipples, and then Erica wrapped 
her arms around Sharon as they rolled on the bed together.  Erica 
then grabbed hold of the dildo, and inserted in between Sharon's 
legs.  Sharon opened her legs to accommodate the phallus inside 
her.

    Erica did not know, or care, when they stopped.  First Sharon 
drifted off into an exhausted sleep, and Erica followed.  Her body 
was sticky with her sweat and Sharon's juices, and she had never 
felt so wonderful in all her life.
    *        *        *        *        *
    The next morning, Erica showered and was allowed to do her 
toilet.  Then Beth cuffed her hands behind her back, locked a 
collar around her neck, then a ballgag and blindfold.  Erica was 
made to kneel for what seemed like hours, her stomach grumbling 
from hunger.

    'At least Beth didn't put a plug up my ass,' thought Erica, 
'I never have to wait for grades like this in Harvard.'

    Finally, she was made to rise, and she was walked into what 
she presumed was Keith's study.  Then she was sat in a chair, and 
her blindfold and gag were removed.

    Keith was dressed in a casual shirt and jeans, and in the 
chair next to her was Sharon.  She was dressed in a white cotton 
blouse and denim skirt.

    "Good morning, Erica."

    "Good morning, Sir," Erica replied to her Master.

    "Sharon and I have been discussing your use or her.  Would 
you like to hear the results?"

    "Very much, Sir!"

    Erica was so intent on Keith's words that she didn't see 
Sharon lean over, enfold her in her arms, and kiss her on the 
cheek.

    "You pass, Erica," said Sharon with a smile on her face.

    "I passed?"

    "Yes, darling," answered Sharon, "you do.  Keith will want to 
go over how you used me, which was quite nice.  But you passed."

    Erica broke out into tears, something that she had not done 
since she'd passed that class in Economics.  Sharon released her 
wrists, and passed her a box of tissues.

    "Thank you, Master Keith," sobbed Erica.

    "You're welcome, Erica.  You've earned it.  Breakfast?"

    "I'm starved," Erica replied.

    When the four of them sat down to breakfast, Erica was 
allowed to wear a short robe.  She had graduated from nakedness to 
clothes, and she helped Beth prepare and serve.  They cooked 
cheese omelets, toast, and home fries, and served Keith and Sharon 
first, before they sat down.  Erica greedily tore into her food, 
as she was famished.

    After the meal and washing up was done, Sharon packed her 
bags and made ready to leave.  Erica was divested of her collar 
and bracelets, and helped Sharon carry her things outside.

    "Erica?" asked Sharon.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "One day you must come up and visit me, I'm sure that I can 
paddle that bottom of yours to a lovely shade of red."

    "I'd love to," said Erica in response.

    "You were very good, darling.  Very good indeed.  Be a good 
Dominatrix, please?"

    "I will," said Erica, remembering the silent conversation 
that she had had with herself, "I swear."

    Afterwards, Keith and Beth provided her with a detailed 
examination of how she had performed.  The only real criticism was 
that she had held herself a bit too stiffly, like a robot.  Still, 
Sharon had said that she was a skilled Domme, and had lots of 
promise.

    "Looks like I've trained my first Dominatrix," said Keith as 
Erica prepared to leave.

    "Yes, Master."

    "I'm not your Master any more," answered Keith, "we'll have a 
public ceremony for you in a club in Manhattan, or a leather bar.  
Then you'll be on your way."

    "Thank you...Keith," Erica answered.

    "Don't disappoint me, Erica."

    "I won't, ever."

    "I know you won't, Mistress Erica," said Keith as he reached 
over and kissed her, a kiss that she returned.

    When Erica drove away, she realized that her life had changed 
again.  Slave to Dominatrix.

Part Three: Triumph and Tragedy

September 1983

    It happened when Erica had gone to the supermarket in Darien.  
She had forgotten to go shopping, so after work and dinner, she 
had to get back in the car and go food shopping, since she had 
nothing in the apartment.

    The days of summer were over, and night came earlier as the 
days shortened.  When she had finished checking out, the sky was 
dark with the oncoming night.

    She loaded her bags into the trunk of her Chevrolet Nova, 
then closed the lid, only to find Daniel standing on the driver's 
side of the car.

    "Good evening, Erica," said Daniel, softly.

    "Go away, please!" Erica answered swiftly.

    "Is that any way to greet your Master?"

    "You're not my Master any more, you gave me to Keith."

    "Only because you were such a disobedient slut that night.  
If I hadn't taken you up the ass, you'd still be mine now."

    "I'm a Domme now, so go away, Daniel!"

    "Yes, I heard about next weeks little party for you in 
Manhattan, at that little gay leather bar.  What's wrong, Keith's 
little pet can't have her ceremony in a proper Dungeon?"

    "It's my ceremony, so don't spoil it!" cried Erica, as she 
withdrew the keys from her purse.

    "I have no intention of spoiling it.  What they don't know is 
that you're really just a fake, just a true slave at heart.  Who 
was never happier when I was using you."

    "You mean beating me to a pulp, abusing me, and keeping me 
ignorant, don't you?" Erica demanded.

    "You seemed pretty happy at the time, slave."

    "Go away," said Erica as she slid the key in the door.

    "You'll be back on your knees, begging me in six months," 
Daniel sneered.

    "You should live so long," Erica answered as she opened the 
door, jumped in the car, started the engine and drove off.

    She was half-afraid that he would try to do something 
physical to her outside, but he didn't.  He was too smart for 
that, which was good for her.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Keith had rented the leather bar for a closed party.  All of 
his friends were there, Dom(mes) and their subs, plus a couple of 
friends that Erica had managed to make in the scene.

    Keith was dressed in a leather outfit, and Beth was wearing a 
black dress with a collar around her neck.  Erica had decided on a 
vinyl Dominatrix dress, pantyhose, and sensible heels.

    She was kneeling on a raised platform, before Keith, who held 
a crop in his hands.

    "Do you, Erica Riken, understand the position that you are 
assuming?"

    "Yes, Master."

    "That you shall be responsible for the well being of a slave 
at all times?"

    "Yes, Master."

    "That you shall never place your desires over the safety of 
another?"

    "Yes, Master."

    "That you must always remember that absolute power corrupts?"

    "Yes, Master."

    "Based on my experience as a Trainer, and a Dom, I pronounce 
Erica Riken fit to be a Dominatrix.  Arise Erica," Keith ordered.

    Keith handed Erica a riding crop, with a leather pad on the 
end.  She flexed it in her arms.

    "Thank you, Master Keith," Erica answered, tears at the 
corners of her eyes.

    "Welcome, Mistress Erica," said Keith as he kissed her on the 
cheeks.

    "Thank you," she whispered in his ears.

    "I know you won't disappoint me," he replied.

    "Never."

    The rest of the party that night was composed of small 
demonstrations.  Erica did not have any slaves of her own yet, so 
she was allowed the use of others.

    It was the best party ever, Erica thought as she made the 
long drive back to Darien, even better than the one when she had 
graduated Harvard.  But that had been in another life.

    Or so she had thought that night.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Erica was seated at her desk when she saw something that 
chilled her to the bone.  Her mother's lawyer, Robert Alexander, 
had entered her firm's offices!

    He spoke to her boss Jason, who called her over to his 
office.

    "Erica, this is Robert Alexander, a lawyer.  He would like to 
speak to you in private.  Use my office," said Jason, as he left 
the two of them alone then closed the door behind him.

     Robert sat down behind Jason's desk, and pulled a picture of 
Erica from his briefcase.  Erica recognized it as the one she had 
given Eve when she had recovered from her surgery.

    "What's this all about?" asked Erica.

    "Are you Erica Riken?"

    "Yes."

    "Eve Peters died this morning, two hours ago of a sudden 
massive heart attack."

    "No!" cried Erica as she placed her head in her hands.

    "You have been named as beneficiary of the estate," Robert 
said calmly.

    Erica cried, for last week she had skipped her weekly meeting 
with her mother to instead use a woman for the first time.  Eve 
had given no hint in her voice just how sick she was, and now 
Erica was paying the price.

    Robert rose from the desk and whispered in Erica's ear, "Eve 
told me who you really are, Alana, why you gave up your life to 
become Erica Riken.  You're not the first person in Greenwich 
Society to fall off the wagon, you know."
    *        *        *        *        *
    Eve's funeral had been well attended, and everyone from 
Greenwich had attended.  Erica had bought a black dress, and had 
sat in the back, alone.

    Everyone said that it was such a tragedy that Alana had 
disappeared, leaving Eve alone in her last years.

    Erica had done everything possible to cease being Alana 
Peters, but in the end, she had instead come full circle.  Robert 
Alexander was working overtime to keep her name out of the papers, 
and the publicity down to a minimum.

    She would work at her job for a few more days, then quit and 
move into the mansion.  Erica would inherit a vast estate, of 
money, stocks, and real estate.

    In her mind, plans circled like exciting dreams.  The vast 
basement, which now housed a pool table, bar, and entertainment 
center.

    Erica imagined a vast Dungeon complex, like the one that 
Mistress Martine had at the House of Domination in NYC.  There was 
room for two Dungeons, a cell, and plenty of space for other 
things down there.

 

 

"The Challenge" Chapter Seven: Invasive Procedures
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if you
include this statement of limitation of use and notify the author 
by e-mail.
The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple 
copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.
However, individual readers may make single copies of the
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the author.  I 
do want to hear from you!
"The Challenge" by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Chapter 07: Invasive Procedures

July 17, 1998

    When the limousine arrived to bring Cheryl to Janet's Estate, 
it was Mistress Janet herself who opened the front door.  Cheryl 
had been picked up as normal, and driven to the Estate like any 
other week.

    "Please come in, Cheryl," welcomed Janet.

    "Mistress?" asked Cheryl, puzzled that Tina had not been the 
one to greet her.

    "Enter."

    Cheryl did as she was told, and Janet closed the door behind 
her.  Janet looked over her slave very carefully.  It had been 
just one week since she had disobeyed Janet, and Cheryl had been 
severely punished.

    The weather was in the 80s, and it had not rained.  Cheryl 
did not have a coat of any kind this week.

    "Please come into the library," ordered Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Cheryl followed behind Janet, and Janet seated herself behind 
the library desk.  She remained standing, not sure if she should 
sit in the chair, or ordered to kneel.

    "You may use a chair, Cheryl, you're not naked yet," ordered 
Janet.

    "Thank you, Mistress," said Cheryl as she seated herself.

    Janet looked Cheryl over very carefully.  Her slave was 
wearing an Ann Taylor dress, matching hose, and Nine West Shoes.  
She had gone to the beauty parlor, and not a hair was out of 
place.  She exuded a trace of Poison, yes that was the perfume 
that she was wearing.  Cheryl looked every bit like a model, and 
played that image of her to the hilt.

    In contrast, Janet was wearing just a plain denim dress and a 
pair of flats on her feet.  Those fetish shoes had begun to hurt 
lately, and Janet knew that she had to watch carefully just how 
often she would wear them.

    "How do you feel about your training so far?" began Janet.

    "I like it, Mistress."

    "Have you found what you came here for?"

    "Yes, Mistress," Cheryl answered.

    "Being naked, bound, and whipped excites you?" Janet 
demanded.

    "Yes, Mistress Janet."

    "No complaints about how I used you last weekend?"

    "No, Mistress, I was wrong to defy you."

    Janet paused, because she knew that her next words would have 
a shocking effect on her charge.

    "When you first came to me, I described to you how you would 
be used.  Do you remember what I said?" Janet asked.

    "That I would be beaten with a whip, crop, or even your 
hands, Mistress."

    "Anything else?"

    "No, Mistress," proudly answered Cheryl.

    "Then you have forgotten the part about how I will use your 
whole body."

    "Mistress?"

    "Before you forced yourself upon me, what were your sexual 
experiences?"

    "Just normal male female sex, Mistress," stated Cheryl, a 
blush on her cheeks.

    "Judging by your reactions when Tina and I took you to bed, 
I'll accept that as fact.  Or else you are a very good actress.  
Did you ever give a man a blowjob, or take his cock up your ass?" 
calmly asked Janet.

    "No, Mistress," quickly answered Cheryl, her calm demeanor 
shaken by the bluntness of Janet's intimate questions.

    "The first day that you were here, I told you that I was 
going to train your entire body.  That meant not only placing you 
under the lash, but using all of your orifices as well.  I said 
that I would make you wear a dildo in your cunt, and train you to 
accept a butt plug.  Do you remember?"

    "Yes...yes, Mistress," realization dawning in Cheryl's face 
at the meaning in Janet's words.

    "Good.  I was planning to begin that last Saturday, but 
Mistress Lori intervened."

    Cheryl remained silent and shaken, her face red and flushed.

    "I now give you the option again Cheryl to back out, as your 
training will now become very hard indeed.  Do you want to leave?"
Janet asked.

    "No, Mistress."

    "Good.  Since Tina is off this weekend, I want you to go the 
downstairs bedroom where you will find your collar, bracelets, and 
heels.  You will voluntarily outfit yourself in the instruments of 
slavery.  Then you may return here," directed Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," hesitantly answered Cheryl.

    "One last thing before you go."

    "Yes, Mistress?"

    "Don't wear Poison again, the connotation is rather obvious.  
You are ordered to wear something feminine like White Linen, else 
you will be severely punished.  Understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Go!" firmly commanded Janet, "and when you return you had 
better be properly outfitted."

    "Yes, Mistress," quickly answered Cheryl as she rose to 
leave.
    *        *        *        *        *
    When she returned to the library fifteen minutes later, 
Cheryl was naked, wearing only her collar, bracelets, and high 
heels.  Janet smiled when she saw Cheryl, since the woman was a 
natural blonde.

    "Do not kneel," ordered Janet.

    Cheryl stood silently on her feet, awaiting Janet's next 
command.  Janet rose from the desk, and walked towards Cheryl.  
She played with Cheryl's nipples, squeezing them between her 
fingers.

    "Do you enjoy it when I take you to bed and fuck you with the 
strap on dildo?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Good.  Since you have already been introduced to the phallus 
in my bedroom, you will not need as much training with it.  But 
still, tonight, you shall wear one."

    Janet walked back towards her desk, and opened the lower 
right hand drawer.  She removed a broad leather belt, and a 
smaller one that already had a flesh colored and shaped phallus 
attached.

    Cheryl gasped when she saw the device; her eyes wide open in 
shock.

    "Stand still, Cheryl," Janet ordered.

    Janet drew the wide belt around Cheryl's waist, and tightened 
it until it was snug.  Then she attached the smaller belt to the 
front of Cheryl's waist, and pushed the phallus upward between 
Cheryl's legs.

    "Oooooh!" gasped Cheryl as the phallus filled her sex.

    At Cheryl's back, Janet tightened the second belt, then 
finally secured it with four tiny locks around Cheryl's waist.  
She pulled at the belt to make sure that it was truly snug, and 
that Cheryl couldn't remove it.

    "Walk," Janet dictated.

    Cheryl took a few halting steps on her heels before she 
moaned, and she climaxed to orgasm quickly.  She stood, panting in 
her erotic agony.

    "I see that my training has taught you to be in a state of 
sexual excitement at all times," stated Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Good.  I now want you to wash the dishes in the sink in the 
kitchen, then clean the Dungeon downstairs.  Since Tina has 
already trained you in that task, you know what to do.  I used 
another slave there last night, and Tina wasn't available, so that 
task falls to you also.  Go!"

    "Mistress, not with this thing inside me!" protested Cheryl.

    "Are you backing out?" demanded Janet harshly, "refusing my 
orders?"

    "No, Mistress."

    "You have forced yourself upon me, and demanded to be trained 
like any other slave.  I shall do nothing unusual with you, or 
different.  But you either accept my training, and all it's 
consequences, or leave," lectured Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress, I will accept my training."

    "Good, your chores await you.  Just remember, you have one 
other opening I shall use tomorrow," coldly answered Janet.

    Janet looked at Cheryl's face as the woman left the library, 
a look of shock and horror on her face at Janet's last statement.  
If the full impact of her slavery had not been made clear last 
week, then the dildo locked inside her made it clear once again to 
Cheryl.
    *        *        *        *        *

    "Mistress?"

    "Yes, Cheryl."

    "The dishes are washed and the Dungeon has been cleaned, 
Mistress Janet."

    Janet looked up from her desk, and glanced at her watch.  She 
had been so engrossed in her work that she had not seen that an 
hour and a half had passed.  Cheryl had arrived at nine, and after 
she had been readied, had worked till eleven.

    The woman who had been the model of composure before was now 
quite different.  Beads of sweat were visible on her flesh, and 
her makeup was smeared.  Her hair was still held in place by the 
spray, but a few stands had worked themselves loose.

    "Excellent, I shall inspect both," said Janet rising from the 
desk.

    With Cheryl dutifully following along behind her, Janet first 
checked the kitchen.  The dishes (Janet had made certain not to 
wash any for two days) had all been washed, dried, and stored in 
the cabinets.  Then she walked to the Dungeon elevator, and they 
both rode downstairs.

    Cheryl had cleaned everything, including the leather bench, X 
frame, dusted the stocks, and oiled the whips.  Janet glanced in 
Cheryl's direction, and she saw the look of desperation in her 
eyes.

    Janet knew that Cheryl was desperately hoping that the job 
that she had done was good enough to escape a punishment of some 
sort, and that she would be free of the thing inside her.  Every 
few steps must have been a new form of agony for her, driving her 
to orgasm, then repeating the ordeal.

    "Very good Cheryl," Janet complimented her slave.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "Do you wish to be released from the phallus?"

    "Yes, Mistress, please!" begged Cheryl.

    "What if I were to tell you that you had to wear it all day.  
How would you react?" asked Janet.

    "I would wear it, Mistress."

    "Good.  Come upstairs," Janet ordered.

    Janet led, and Cheryl followed behind her.  Much to Cheryl's 
surprise, Janet shut the Dungeon lights behind her.  They rode the 
elevator upstairs, then Janet closed the door and the hidden wall 
paneling that concealed it.  Janet retrieved the key from the 
library, and closed all of the downstairs lights as well.

    "Ascend the staircase, Cheryl, I'll be right behind you," 
Janet ordered.

    It must have been sheer agony for Cheryl as she walked up 
every step, with the dildo frictioning itself against her sex with 
every step that she took.  Cheryl waited for Janet at the top of 
the stairs, then followed behind her Mistress to the bedroom.

    Janet glanced at the clock, and saw that it was already 
midnight.  She looked at Cheryl, and decided that it was time to 
release her slave for tonight.

    "Stand still," Janet ordered.

    "Yes, Mistress, ohhh!" moaned Cheryl as Janet unlocked the 
cross belt and removed the dildo from her dripping sex.

    "Feel better?" Janet asked as she removed the waist belt from 
around Cheryl's hips.

    "Thank you, Mistress," sighed Cheryl in relief.

    Janet then took another key, and unlocked Cheryl's heels, 
collar, and bracelets, leaving her without any of the instruments 
of her slavery.

    "You may now clean the phallus," ordered Janet as she handed 
the belts to Cheryl, "belts, and yourself, because you stink of 
sweat, in the other bathroom."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Then report back here," ordered Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet had finished her shower and had dried her hair first 
before Cheryl had rejoined her.  She enjoyed being nude, since 
none of her fetish attire breathed like normal fabrics.  Janet had 
started to leaf through a magazine, waiting for Cheryl to rejoin 
her.

    "Mistress?" said Cheryl as she knocked on the door.

    "Enter."

    Cheryl presented Janet the phallus harness by kneeling on the 
floor and holding it in front of her in both her hands.  The dildo 
was clean of her juices, the leather cleaned and polished.

    "Stand!"

    Janet ran her fingertips over Cheryl's skin, and found that 
she had indeed showered.  Cheryl's sex was clean of her juices as 
well.

    "Replace your collar and bracelets," Janet ordered.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet watched as Cheryl obeyed her orders, locking the 
leather and steel on herself.  Cheryl seemed to hesitate, somehow.

    "Are you ready to serve your Mistress?"

    "Yes, Mistress Janet."

    "Hands behind your back then," Janet ordered.

    The look on Cheryl's eyes was one of sheer amazement as Janet 
first locked her hands behind her back, then seated her on the 
floor.  Janet then locked a chain from the bedpost to Cheryl's 
collar, and placed a small pillow on the floor.

    "You may lay down, and stretch out on the floor for the 
night, chained at the bed of your Mistress this evening.  If you 
make a sound, you shall wear a ballgag all night.  Do you 
understand?"

    Janet shut the lights, and got under the single sheet nude.  
She didn't have to be a mindreader to know that either Cheryl 
desired to join her in bed, or resented her treatment.  But that 
was just a part of the slavery that she had chosen.  Janet soon 
drifted off to sleep, remembering when Erica had chained her in 
the exact same place.
    *        *        *        *        *

Saturday July 18, 1998

    The next day opened with a crash of thunder.  An early 
morning thunderstorm passed through Connecticut, awakening both 
Janet and Cheryl.

    Janet opened her eyes just in time to see a lightning bolt 
touch down nearby and the sound of thunder shook the house a few 
seconds later.  A powerful gust of wind blew in the open window, 
making the curtains billow in response.  Before Janet even got out 
of bed, a powerful wall of water descended some entering through 
the window screen.

    "Damn!" Janet exclaimed.

    Jumping out of bed nude, she closed the windows in her 
bedroom, then raced through the entire house closing on window 
after another.  It was only after shutting the library windows 
downstairs did Janet realize that she had left Cheryl chained in 
her bedroom.

    She then raced back upstairs, to find Cheryl sitting up on 
her bottom.

    "Good morning, Cheryl."

    "Good morning, Mistress," greeted Cheryl in response as Janet 
unlocked her collar and wrists.

    "You may attend to your toilet, then cook breakfast in the 
kitchen.  Tina has provided a list for you on the refrigerator of 
meals that you are expected to prepare this weekend.  I shall be 
waiting in the Dining Room."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl as she took her exit.

    As part of her training, Cheryl had been taught how to bathe 
and prepare herself.  Tina had shown her how to shave her legs and 
underarms so that no hair remained, and that her skin would be 
smooth at all times.  In addition, to rouge her aureole and 
perfume herself as well.

    Janet went to the bathroom, and realized that she had 
overlooked something else with Cheryl.  She had forgotten to order 
Cheryl to leave the bathroom door open when she performed her 
toilet.  That would be another small, but important part of her 
personal dignity that Janet would take away from her.

    The thunderstorm that had begun the day would continue all 
day, so Janet and Cheryl would remain in the house.  Janet wore a 
white cotton top, no bra, and jeans and white sneakers.  Since 
Cheryl was still busy in the kitchen, Janet put on her raincoat 
and grabbed an umbrella, then walked down the driveway to retrieve 
the paper.

    The mailbox was in a hole in the concrete wall, and she paid 
the papergirl extra to place the Times inside instead of just 
throwing it on the exterior lawn.  Janet opened the box, and found 
that the Times and local Connecticut papers were already here.  
Good!

    Janet walked back to the house, just before another storm 
hit.  She folded the umbrella in the foyer, then hung her raincoat 
in the laundry room to dry.

    "Breakfast is ready, Mistress," announced Cheryl.

    "Thank you," said Janet as she assumed her place at the head 
of the Dining Room table.

    As she was being served her cheese omelet, Janet realized 
that it wasn't going to take Stephanie long to figure out that 
something was going on.  It was quite common for them to share 
breakfast or lunch together, to compare notes on how training on 
new slaves was progressing.

    Sooner or later, Stephanie was going to become suspicious.  
When that finally happened, trouble was sure to begin.  Except 
that trouble had already started, in the person of Cheryl 
Branford.

    "You may clean the table," ordered Janet when she had 
finished, "but I only want you to eat a light breakfast this 
morning."

    "Mistress?"

    "Some juice, coffee, and a couple slices of toast.  I don't 
want you to have a lot of food in your stomach," ordered Janet.

    "Mistress?" repeated Cheryl, a look of astonishment on her 
face.

    "That was an order Cheryl, do not disobey.  When you are 
finished, you may join me in the library," ordered Janet, "where 
your training shall continue."

    Janet rose from her chair, and she hoped that Cheryl 
remembered what had been said to her the previous night.  Cheryl 
watched her Mistress leave the Dining Room in silence.

    After working for an hour in the library, Janet was 
interrupted by a knock on the library door.  She had been so 
engrossed in her work, that she had forgotten the passage of time.

    "Enter."

    Cheryl opened the door, then closed it behind her, and walked 
in front of Janet's desk, where she dropped to her knees, then 
placed her hands on her kneecaps.

    "Breakfast is finished, Mistress Janet."

    "Good, we may now proceed," said Janet as she closed the 
manila file folders and reports that she was working on, saved her 
work on the PC, and could now concentrate on Cheryl.

    Cheryl remained on the floor, silent, awaiting Janet's next 
orders.

    "Yesterday, you told me that you had never given a man a 
blowjob, or sucked a cock.  Is that correct?"

    "Yes, Mistress," quickly answered Cheryl, embarrassed at 
Janet's direct question.

    "I train both male and female slaves for Masters and 
Mistresses, but I prefer to train women since they are more 
interesting.  Since you have come to me to be trained, I have 
decided that you shall be trained to serve both a Master and a 
Mistress.  Since you have already learned how to service a woman, 
it's time you learned how to service a man."

    "Mistress?"

    From the desk drawer, Janet removed a lifelike latex cock 
with attached balls.  It was a moderate sized one, not one of 
those silly monstrosities in display in the sex shops.  It was the 
size of one that average man would have, perfect for training.

    "You're now going to learn how to suck cock, Cheryl.  An 
important skill that may one day delight a Master, or a husband.  
If you resist learning, then you have another opening that I can 
use."

    Janet had terrified Cheryl the previous night into believing 
that it would be her bottom that was going to be used.  Instead, 
she had surprised Cheryl by insisting on training her in 
cocksucking.  Janet did not have spell out to Cheryl what else she 
could do this morning.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet rose from the desk, walked the few steps to Cheryl, and 
handed the cock to her.  Cheryl took the object in her hands, 
holding it like a live object.

    "Since you're a mature woman, I presume that you've probably 
seen at least one sex film in your life showing a woman sucking 
cock.  It's not something from outer space, Cheryl.  You may 
begin," Janet ordered.

    Cheryl's cheeks blushed red as she drew the cock towards her 
mouth, then opened her lips and began to suck on the rubber cock.  
She opened her mouth, and took the head of the cock inside, past 
her lips and teeth.

    Janet watched with wry amusement as Cheryl sucked gently on 
the cock, taking it deeper inside her mouth.  She knew that Cheryl 
was acutely embarrassed by having to perform this in front of 
another woman.

    The only sounds in the library were those of Cheryl sucking 
on the cock, and the distant peals of thunder outside.  Janet had 
wanted to play Wagner on the stereo, but didn't want to embarrass 
Cheryl any further.

    After what seemed like a good session (Cheryl had taken only 
half the length of the cock into her mouth, but she hadn't gagged) 
Janet motioned for her to stop.

    "Very good, Cheryl," Janet complimented, "you may stop.  If 
you had been doing a man, I'm sure that he would have came in your 
mouth by now."

    "Thank you, Mistress," breathed Cheryl in relief.

    "But of course you will be expected to take the cock fully 
down your throat after you've been fully trained.  You may take 
the cock with you, and practice in between your chores today."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl in embarrassment.

    "Stand up, please."

    Cheryl did as she was instructed, and Janet removed the same 
harness from the desk that Cheryl had worn the previous night.

    "Please, no, Mistress!" gasped Cheryl, "not again."

    "Silence!" Janet ordered, "it is not for you to decide what I 
use upon you."

    Janet then removed the rubber phallus from the cross strap, 
and motioned for Cheryl to stand.  She then locked the belt around 
Cheryl's waist, then the crotch strap and the four little locks 
that held it.

    "I can't have you being driven mad by the cock, since you 
might succomeb to the temptation to place it within your sex.  So 
without the phallus, it can serve as a Chastity belt instead."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "In the event that you have to go the toilet, find me and I 
shall release you, then lock you back into the harness 
afterwards."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "One last order, Cheryl.  Don't stimulate yourself by playing 
with your nipples.  I have a very nice latex bra that has inward 
facing warts for your aureole that will drive you crazy.  
Understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress Janet."

    "Good, Tina has left you a list of chores to do, you may 
proceed."

    "Thank you, Mistress," said Cheryl when she departed.

    Janet decided that she would inform Cheryl about the leaving 
the bathroom door open the first time that she had to perform her 
toilet.  Cheryl had closed the library door, and Janet was left 
alone.

    It was ten thirty, and lunch was not until one.  Somehow, 
Janet didn't want to work anymore, but loaf.  She resumed her 
seat, then pondered what to do next.  She had considered calling 
Stephanie to ask her to look at Erica's Medical Records, then 
stopped herself.  Suppose there was something there that Erica had 
not wanted her friend to know?

    One of her other slaves, Gwendolwn, was a nurse at a local 
hospital.  She would ask her to look over Erica's records one day, 
to decipher the doctor's mad scrawl.

    Janet had read the first three volumes of Alana's Diary, from 
1980 to 1983.  Every page had held her spellbound, as if Erica was 
here beside her.

    She only read the diary late at night, alone, when Tina was 
asleep or busy.  She had never told her companion what had been in 
the safe, and had stayed silent.

    Alana Peters had been born to wealth and power, yet had 
turned her back on it after a car accident had nearly claimed her 
life.  She had changed her face and name, and lived as a working 
class person in order to pursue her desire to serve a Master.  
Only to find that her true destiny was as a Dominatrix.

    Just when Janet herself had become accustomed to the idea 
that she loved being Erica's slave, and wanted to serve her in the 
Dungeon and her bed, Erica had unleashed the competition upon her 
and Tiffany.  
    
    'Damn you Erica,' Janet thought to herself, 'I wanted to be 
your slave in all things.  I had never experienced true love or 
wanting until I wore your collar, chains, and marks.  Instead of 
training me as a slave, you trained me to replace you.'

    A lightning bolt that struck outside made the lights dim in 
response interrupted Janet's thoughts.

    'Bravo, Erica,' Janet thought, 'you always had a flair for 
the dramatic.'

    It was of course just a figment of her imagination to believe 
that her Mistress had arranged the lightning bolt at that moment.  
But it was still a nice idea!
    *        *            *        *        *
    Janet had been writing her household checks when Cheryl 
knocked again on the library door.

    "Enter."

    "Mistress, may I go to the bathroom?" asked Cheryl.

    "Yes, Cheryl, of course," replied Janet as she rose from her 
chair.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    Having control over a simple bodily function like going to 
the bathroom was just one more way that Janet exercised her 
mastery over Cheryl.  One more decision that Cheryl had been able 
to make on her own had been taken away from her.

    Janet took Cheryl to the bedroom downstairs, and when they 
stood there together, she unlocked the four small locks and 
removed the crotch strap.  Janet placed the strap on the dresser, 
and sat on the bed.

    "Go," directed Janet, "but leave the door open."

    "Mistress?" a look of shock was on Cheryl's face.

    "If you can't use the toilet, then I'll give you a bedpan 
instead and you can do it on the floor.  This is another part of 
your modesty that I take away Cheryl."

    "Mistress?"

    "Go!"

    Meekly, Cheryl sat on the toilet.  Her bodily needs must have 
been great, since it wasn't too long before she peed and moved her 
bowels.  Red faced, she found Janet watching her the whole time 
from the doorway.

    When she had finished her toilet, Cheryl cleaned her bottom 
with toilet paper and a gob of Vaseline, since Janet had insisted 
that she keep her anus clean.  The she cleaned her bottom and sex 
with a scented towelette, a box of which was in every bathroom in 
the house.

    "Very good, Cheryl," complimented Janet, "at least I won't 
have to order you to use a bedpan."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "Have you sucked on the cock?" Janet asked.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "You can demonstrate after lunch, Cheryl."

    "Thank you, Mistress Janet."

    Janet locked the Chastity belt back onto Cheryl's belt, 
turned on her heels and left Cheryl alone.  Glancing at her watch, 
she found that lunch was an hour away.

    Lunch, she already knew, was just salad, roast beef 
sandwiches, and cake.  Dinner would be a baked flounder, which 
would require some preparation.  Cheryl had demonstrated in the 
last month that she knew how to cook.  Janet resolved to ask her 
if Cheryl had gone to cooking school.  If Cheryl didn't answer, 
then she had other ways to extract an answer from her slave.

    Lunch itself was totally uneventful, and Janet ate quickly.  
She drank two cans of soda during the meal, and then ate her cake 
quickly.  Cheryl cleared the dishes away, and Janet adjourned to 
the library to wait for her.

    Janet waited behind the desk, reading a magazine that 
Stephanie had sent her.  It was a Ponygirl magazine, and Janet 
wondered if it was worth the expense to purchase an outfit that 
like for her slaves.  Once, on vacation upstate, she had gone to a 
farm run by a husband and wife team.  Janet had allowed herself to 
be outfitted and used as a Ponygirl for three days, and had found 
the experience interesting, to say the least!

    "Mistress," greeted Cheryl when she entered the library.

    "Enter," said Janet.

    "I am ready to show you my progress," stated Cheryl.

    "Go ahead."

    Janet watched dispassionately as Cheryl sucked on the rubber 
phallus, taking it deeper and deeper into her mouth.  Judging from 
the length, Janet knew that the cock was far into her throat, the 
head scraping the back of her throat.

    "Excellent, Cheryl," Janet complimented.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "You have done very well on your own, in a rather short time.  
I have a little test for you."

    Janet rose from her chair, and knew that Cheryl would still 
be here kneeling when she returned.  She unlocked a drawer in the 
kitchen, and removed another phallus.  Except that this one had a 
small bulb inside each rubber testicle that Janet filled with warm 
water.

    "Try this one," ordered Janet when she returned.

    Cheryl again took the second phallus into her mouth, her 
cheeks puckering as she sucked on the rubber cock.  Janet held 
onto the phallus with her right hand, and didn't even have to push 
it into Cheryl's mouth.

    When Janet was satisfied that the head was scraping the back 
of Cheryl's mouth, she pressed lightly on one of the rubber 
testicles, shooting a jet of warm water into Cheryl's throat.  
Janet expected that Cheryl would choke or gag, but instead she 
watched as Cheryl's throat muscles worked and she swallowed the 
warm water.

    Janet pressed again, then emptied the first testicle, and 
Cheryl repeated her performance once more.  Cheryl knelt, with the 
cock still in her mouth.

    Finally, Janet pressed the other testicle, emptying the 
second in one shot.  Cheryl swallowed, and didn't gasp for air.  
Janet released her hold on the phallus.

    "You may remove the phallus, Cheryl."

    "Yes, Mistress," Cheryl answered when her mouth was free of 
the rubber cock.

    "Very good, Cheryl."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "Perhaps I'll call a Master friend of mine and you can 
demonstrate your skill on him," suggested Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    It was early afternoon, and Janet was suddenly at a loss.  
She had expected that Cheryl would fail at cocksucking.  Instead, 
she had succeeded in less than a day.  Now what?

    "You may prepare dinner," Janet ordered.

    It wasn't after Cheryl had departed that Janet realized that 
she had left the chastity belt locked on Cheryl's waist.  Janet 
decided that she would unlock the belt, when her cell phone buzzed 
in her purse.

    "Janet?"

    "Yes, Lori, how are you?" asked Janet.

    "I'm fine, but that's not why I'm calling."

    "Go ahead."

    "Remember last week that I told you that I'd seen Cheryl 
before?"

    "Sure."

    "Now I remember where.  I was in Los Angeles last year, on 
vacation.  My girlfriend and I went into a few sex shops in LA for 
a few laughs.  Cheryl was in one, buying every book that they had 
on D/s."

    "Do you remember what she was saying to the clerks?"

    "No, I was too far away."

    "She was researching D/s?" asked Janet.

    "Either that, or starting a library."

    "Thanks Lori, I owe you one."

    "Who's counting, and I still want to use Cheryl."

    "You'll have her."

    "Bye," said Lori as the connection was cut.

    Janet sat in her chair, terrified.  Lori had been right last 
week in saying that Cheryl was dangerous.

    From the first moment that Cheryl had appeared in Janet's 
life, Janet thought that every action that she had taken was 
premeditated.  Now Janet had the confirmation that she needed.  
Trouble was, it still didn't answer the question of why Cheryl was 
here!

    Janet wished that she could grab her riding crop, march into 
the kitchen, and beat Cheryl until she was left sobbing on the 
floor and confessing her reasons for being here.

    "I'm not Lauren!" Janet said aloud to herself.

    Janet began to wonder if Cheryl's appearance and demands 
weren't some evil plot that Lauren had devised to trouble her.  
Every now and then, she and Lauren crossed paths, and Janet had 
ignored her.

    The image of Cheryl preparing dinner, wearing the apron and 
chastity belt came into her mind.  Cheryl had bought books and 
researched D/s; maybe even had gone under the lash of another 
Mistress.  She knew more than she was letting on.

    Janet had toyed with the idea of using Cheryl in the library 
for a little session, and now rejected it.  Any use of her now 
might lead to Janet beating Cheryl harshly.

    'Erica gave me her house, estate, and title of Mistress 
because I understood the responsibilities of being a Dominatrix,' 
thought Janet, 'and I won't start acting wrong now.'

    A roast chicken was on the menu for dinner.  Cheryl would be 
having a butt plug for dessert.
*        *        *        *        *
    Dinner had proven to be uneventful.  Cheryl had roasted a 
chicken as per Tina's instruction, except that she had used the 
Indian spices that Tina had recently purchased, and made a rice 
curry to accompany the meal.  The chicken was spicy, but not hot 
or burning, and quite good.

    Cheryl had made a determined effort to please her Mistress, 
Janet noted.  She had served naked, though she still wore the 
chastity belt around her hips.

    Was it just Janet's imagination, or did she perceive that the 
belt made Cheryl look and act sexier?  Cheryl carried herself 
proudly, holding her body straight, her shoulders straight and her 
breasts flaring in response.

    Cheryl had served the dinner, then stood in silence to pour 
wine as Janet ate.  In this position, Janet hated eating alone.  
She missed conversation, and discourse with another person.

    It was only after the meal that Cheryl asked to be released 
from the belt, before she sat down to eat by herself.

    "Did you like wearing the belt?" Janet asked.

    "Yes, Mistress Janet."

    "How did it make you feel?"

    "The leather against my hips gave me an additional reminder 
of my slavery, Mistress."

    "Perhaps I should make you wear it again," Janet suggested.

    "As my Mistress desires," offered Cheryl.

    "After you have cleaned up and eaten, you may come to see me 
in the library," ordered Janet, "where your training shall 
proceed."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet watched the rain pound the library windows.  Normally a 
rainstorm this time of year meant a fast moving thunderstorm.  
Instead, this storm was composed of one layer after another, 
soaking Connecticut repeatedly.

    Tired, Janet yawned and decided that she would take a short 
nap.  She programmed the clock radio, and settled down into the 
leather couch for a short 30-minute catnap.  She lay down, kicked 
off her shoes, and settled down for a nice little sleep, her eyes 
quickly closing as sleep overcame her.

    When Janet awoke, she was startled to find Cheryl kneeling on 
the carpet, her arms behind her body, in one of the submissive 
postures that she had been taught.

    "Cheryl, what are you doing here?" Janet asked.

    "You had fallen asleep, Mistress and I was waiting for you to 
awaken."

    Janet looked at the clock, and found that over an hour had 
passed.  Had she misprogrammed the clock, or had Cheryl shut the 
alarm off?
        
    "Thank you, Cheryl, I guess that I was more tired than I 
thought," said Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "I want to freshen up, and then we shall proceed."

    Janet walked to the bathroom, and slashed warm water on her 
face to wake herself up.  She soaped her hands, and washed her 
face as well. 
She then drank two glasses of water, and pondered her next move.  
Glancing at her watch, it was after 9 PM.  Plenty of time to 
introduce Cheryl to her next ordeal.

    Janet had expected that Cheryl would have trouble with the 
cock.  She hoped that she would have gagged, needing weeks of 
training.  Instead, she had proved to be a natural, or else had 
been trained before.

    'You're getting paranoid,' Janet said to herself, 'even 
paranoids have enemies, though.'

    Janet re-entered the library, and sat behind her desk.  
Cheryl was kneeling on the carpet, her head bowed in submission to 
her Mistress.

    "Cheryl?"

    "Yes, Mistress?"

    "Have you ever had a man fuck you up your bottom?  Have a 
proctology exam at the doctor's?"

    "No, Mistress, to both questions."

    "I want you to lay on the leather footstool," Janet ordered, 
"I'm going to probe your bottom."

    "Yes, Mistress," meekly answered Cheryl as she rose to her 
feet, then draped herself over the leather footstool.

    Janet recalled how Erica had chained her to the sawhorse when 
she had her bottom examined.  She had been scared to death, yet 
Erica had been surprising gentle with her.

    "If you wish, I can rope you to the stool," Janet offered.

    "No thank you, Mistress," replied Cheryl.

    Janet removed a pair of rubber gloves, a jar of lubricant, 
and two butt plugs from the desk.  She then donned the gloves 
carefully, making sure that her nails didn't break the rubber.

    "Hold still Cheryl," calmly said Janet.

    Janet was amazed that Cheryl did not ever stir as Janet 
opened her ass cheeks, then inserted a lubricant-coated gloved 
finger up into her anal opening.  When Erica had done this, Janet 
had been almost ready to scream in fright, except that Erica had 
placed a ballgag in her mouth.  She looked at the condition of 
Cheryl's anus, in the way that Stephanie had taught her.  
Stephanie had shown Janet the medical books that she still had, 
had trained her to look for anything amiss.

    "You're fine," said Janet as she completed her examination.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "You may stand."

    Janet pointed to the objects on the desk and picked up the 
smaller one in her hand.

    "This is a butt plug, a small one.  I want you to place some 
lubricant on it, then insert it up your bottom, until it fits 
snugly," Janet ordered.

    "Yes, Mistress," said Cheryl in response.

    Janet had expected that Cheryl would protest or reject the 
idea.  Instead she opened the jar of lube, then spread some on the 
plug.  She then took some in hands, and bent down a bit, then 
inserted that into her ass.  Finally, she pushed the plug inside 
herself grimacing until her anal muscles closed over the narrow 
portion.

    "Ahhhh!" cried Cheryl as it popped into place.

    "Are you all right?" Janet asked.

    "Fine, Mistress," said Cheryl as she straightened up, wiping 
her hands on a tissue.

    "You will wear the plug for two hours, after which I shall 
use you in the Dungeon.  Until that time, you may read, or watch 
TV in the bedroom, but not remove the plug," ordered Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," said Cheryl as she bowed, and walked out of 
the library.

    Janet could just see the base of the plug in her bottom as 
Cheryl departed.  She knew that Cheryl wouldn't remove it, or even 
touch it.  Because she was so damned eager to serve.

    Seated behind the desk, Janet wanted to throw a book at the 
double doors.  What novice slave could take a cock in her mouth 
and a plug up her ass in the same day?  Either Cheryl was a very 
determined submissive, or else she had been trained by another 
Mistress.
    *        *        *        *        *
    After two hours, Janet had ordered Cheryl to remove the plug 
in the bathroom.  She had found Cheryl in the downstairs bedroom 
calmly reading Vogue and Cosmopolitan, which Janet subscribed to.  
There Cheryl had been, reading about fall fashions, naked while 
wearing her collar and bracelets.

    Cheryl had removed the plug, and performed her toilet.  Janet 
had ordered her to stay on the toilet, in order to pass out all 
the lubricant.  Which she had done over a period of time.  Cheryl 
didn't even protest about the open door.

    Janet had then chained her in the bedroom, as she dressed for 
the night's session.  She had not used Cheryl the previous night, 
except for the dildo.  Saturday had been devoted to the cock and 
the butt plug, which Cheryl had performed well with.

    But now it would be her turn under the lash, and Janet walked 
through her closet naked trying to decide what she should wear.  
She would wear a Catsuit in the winter, but not during the summer.  
Too hot and confining, even with the a/c on.

    She selected an outfit composed of a PVC bodysuit, black 
sheer to waist pantyhose, gloves, and a pair of modest heels.  
Janet dressed quickly, wishing that Tina was with her.

    How she missed Tina!  Her slave and assistant.  But she had 
been called away for a family emergency, leaving Janet alone.  
Janet had driven her to the airport, and kissed her before she had 
left her at the terminal.

    Janet looked at herself in the mirror.  Either the outfit was 
a little tight, or else she had put on a few pounds.  She decided 
to weigh herself naked the next morning.

    Her final thoughts while dressing were about the clock radio 
in the library.  She was sure that she had programmed it 
correctly, then hit the switch to activate the alarm.  When she 
had examined it later, the alarm switch was in the off position.

    If Cheryl had turned the alarm off, why?  Had she searched 
the library?  Just to kneel and watch Janet sleep, something that 
she had already seen in the bedroom?

    Or had Cheryl fallen in love with Janet?  That was what 
usually happened when a slave was introduced to D/s; they loved 
the person holding the rod.

    Suppose that Cheryl had done this just to unhinge Janet?  The 
woman had not said anything at all about her training, regardless 
of how many stripes that Janet had as yet placed upon her.

    She walked downstairs, and found Cheryl still chained where 
she had left her.  Her hands linked behind her back, a collar 
chain locked to the ringbolt on the wall.

    "Are you ready to submit?" Janet asked.

    "To have your body and flesh striped and used by your 
Mistress?"

    "Yes, Mistress Janet, use me," Cheryl answered.

    Janet unlocked Cheryl's collar chain, but did not blindfold 
her or attach a leash on her collar chair.  She pulled Cheryl to 
her feet, and looked her in the eyes.

    "Prepare to be used."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet pulled Cheryl along to the elevator, and they rode down 
to the Dungeon in silence.  Normally, Janet would have placed a 
blindfold and ballgag on a slave.  But after Cheryl's 
extraordinary performance today, she wanted to look into her eyes.

    She placed Cheryl into the stocks, first closing the bar the 
locked her ankles into place.  Then she unlocked her hands, and 
indicated that Cheryl place her head and hands in the half circles 
of wood.  Janet then closed the yoke, and locked it shut.

    "Are you ready, slave?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," Cheryl answered.

    Janet had removed a leather paddle from the cabinet.  It 
would sting and hurt, but not really mark, since it was so soft.  
But it could be used for a long time.

    "Kiss the paddle," Janet ordered.

    Cheryl did as she was instructed, then remained silent.

    Holding the paddle in her gloved hands, Janet looked directly 
at Cheryl.

    "It's really a good thing that Tina is away this weekend, 
Cheryl," Janet began, "else your little performance would have 
amazed even her.  No inexperienced woman could take the cock like 
that, or place a plug up her ass, unless they've been trained 
first.  You know a lot more than you're telling me, which is 
nothing," said Janet.

    Cheryl stayed silent in her wooden prison as Janet spoke to 
her.

    "Last week I whipped you harshly because you disobeyed me.  
Tonight, I'm going to use you harshly again because you're not 
telling me the truth."

    "I told you I want to be trained as a slave, Mistress Janet.  
Your slave."

    "You've prepared for this, haven't you?" demanded Janet.

    "That's my affair, Mistress Janet."

    "To come clear across the country and force me to train you?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Since you desire my use, then you shall have it."

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Janet struck the paddle on Cheryl's bottom, watching as each 
stroke left a red mark behind.  Each time that she struck Cheryl, 
she moaned slightly.

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Janet wondered if Cheryl had a martyr complex, if she could 
take endless amounts of punishment.  Or if she was a painslut, 
perhaps.  Tonight, Janet wanted the tears to flow from Cheryl's 
eyes.  Then she would take her to bed.

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    "Kiss the paddle," Janet ordered suddenly.

    "Yes, Mistress," cried Cheryl as she did as she was told.

    After a paddling like that, Cheryl would be reminded each 
time that she sat down that Janet had used her.  Janet then 
released Cheryl from the stocks, and pinched her erect nipples.

    "Owww!" cried Cheryl.

    "Who does your body belong to?" Janet demanded.

    "You, Mistress Janet!"

    Janet then slapped Cheryl across the cheek, surprising her 
charge.

    "Are you a slut?"

    "Mistress?"

    "I said, are you a slut?" asked Janet.

    "I am whatever my Mistress wants me to be," Cheryl answered.

    "In that case."

    Janet pulled Cheryl over to the ceiling chain.  Originally, 
she had wanted to bind her to the X frame or the cross, but had 
decided against it.  Last week, in the same position, she had used 
the whip on her.  Since it was already late, she had another 
weapon in mind.

    From the inside of her leather bodysuit, Janet extracted two 
nipple clamps.  She displayed them for Cheryl's benefit, then 
closed then on Cheryl's erect nipples, making her moan as each one 
was applied.

    "Ahhh!" moaned Cheryl.

    Janet selected a rubber flogger.  The rubber strands would 
sting and hurt, and Cheryl would be reminded all week about how 
Janet had used her.

    "Kiss the flogger, slave," directed Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet began with a light series of strokes of five, with the 
last one being the most severe.  Then Janet would pause, and begin 
again.  Cheryl had been pulled taut by the ceiling chain, and her 
ankles were locked to a spreader bar.  She was helpless and 
exposed, totally vulnerable to whatever Mistress Janet wanted.

    Why?

    Her interviews were a lie, Lori had told her that she had 
bought every D/s book at a shop in LA, and she had probably been 
trained in the use of her mouth and bottom.

    Where would this lead?  When and why would she call her 
safeword?  If she would ever call it at all?

    "What is your safeword, Cheryl?" demanded Janet.

    "Mistress?"

    "I said what is your safeword."

    "Sin, Mistress Janet."

    "Good, I wanted to make sure that you haven't forgotten it.  
One day, it may save your life," cautioned Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress Janet, thank you."

    "Now we can continue," said Janet.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    Had Cheryl forgotten her safeword, Janet had been prepared to 
release Cheryl, dress her, then throw her out of the house.  
Instead, Cheryl had remembered her safeword, so Janet would 
continue.

    Janet then struck Cheryl several times on her breasts, making 
tears come to her eyes.  After a pause, Janet then used the 
flogger between Cheryl's legs, making her cry and squirm.  She 
made sure to strike the inside of Cheryl's exposed thighs when she 
did so.

    After removing the nipple clamps, Janet made certain to 
strike Cheryl's tender breasts with five strokes each.  Her white 
skin was now marked red from every impact of the rubber flogger.

    Janet had kept an exact count of the number of strokes that 
she had used.  She would write it down when she replaced the 
flogger in the cabinet.

    "Kiss the flogger."

    "Yes, Mistress," tearfully answered Cheryl.

    Janet unlocked Cheryl, and placed her, sobbing, on the 
leather bench.  She gave Cheryl a box of tissues to dry her eyes.

    "Are you expecting me to comfort you?" Janet demanded.

    "Mistress?"

    "Last week, I comforted you because I had punished you 
harshly after your disobedience.  This week, I shall not, because 
you have not told me the truth, slave."

    "Mistress Janet, don't hurt me?" begged Cheryl.

    "I'm not going to hurt you, Cheryl.  Just take you to bed.  
If you fail to please me, though, then I shall use the crop on 
you."
    *        *        *        *        *
    "Please your Mistress."

    Janet lay back on her bed, her legs open.  Cheryl was on the 
floor, kneeling, where Janet had ordered her after she had cleaned 
herself up after the Dungeon session.  Cheryl had been tearful and 
forlorn looking after Janet told her that she was not going to be 
held in Janet's arms, even after the session that she had endured.

    Cheryl's body was marked by the rubber flogger, the marks a 
dull red in color.  The marks would be there for a long time, and 
combined with the paddling, she would remember this visit for 
quite a long time.

    Cheryl rose from her kneeling position, and climbed onto the 
bed.  She placed her mouth over Janet's sex, her lips, tongue, and 
teeth working on Janet's sex.

    Janet knew of some selfish Dommes who viewed their only goal 
in life was to get orgasms from their slaves.  If they should fail 
to please, then they were severely beaten.

    That was not the way that Janet had been trained by Erica, 
nor was that the way that she had conducted herself.  Janet 
trained her slaves to submit and to serve, but sexually pleasing 
her was not her only goal.

    When another woman submitted herself to Janet, she was 
introduced to physical discipline.  But she was also treated 
tenderly afterwards, shown just how much courage it took to 
submit, and encouraged to proceed even further.

    "Oh!" Janet cried as the first orgasm pulsed through her 
thighs.

    Janet bounced on the bed, since Cheryl had excited her 
quickly.  Cheryl's tongue played itself over her clit, darting in 
and out, stimulating with each touch.  Each touch exciting her, 
making Janet hotter and hotter with touch.

    Cheryl's tongue went deep into Janet's love canal, sucking 
her, stimulating her to orgasm.  Janet knew that she was wet, felt 
Cheryl's tongue inside her, lapping at her juices.

    "Ohhhh!"

    Janet held onto Cheryl's hair, gently keeping her slave 
between her legs.  She wanted Cheryl to satisfy her, to drive her 
wild with pleasure.  Even if Cheryl herself was still smarting 
from the session that she just endured.

    "Ohhhhh!"

    One orgasm after another rocked through her, leaving Janet 
stunned and weak.  She bounced on the bed, her bottom slapping 
against the sheet.

    "Thank you, Cheryl.  That was excellent," complimented Janet.

    "You're welcome, Mistress."

    Janet kissed Cheryl on the lips, tasting her own juices.  She 
rolled her tongue over her lips, eager now to taste Cheryl as 
well.

    "On your back," Janet ordered.

    Cheryl did as she was told, and soon Janet was between her 
thighs.  Janet wanted to tease Cheryl, so she slowly tongued her, 
drawing her climax out slowly.  She excited Cheryl gradually, 
licking her sex as the woman gradually lubricated in response to 
Janet's attentions.

    After the harsh punishment that Janet had given Cheryl, she 
wanted to show her slave that she could pleasure as well as pain.  
But somehow Cheryl seemed to want to satisfy her Mistress even 
more than usual this evening.  Perhaps the experience of spending 
the night chained on the bedroom floor next to her Mistress had 
taught Cheryl submission.

    Janet drove Cheryl to climax, making her companion moan and 
rock on the sheets.  Cheryl clearly responded to Janet's 
attentions, her nipples hard and her sex wet.  Cheryl held onto 
her Mistress tightly, their breasts and lips close together.

    Resting on the table was a dildo, and Janet held it in her 
hand as she used Cheryl with it again and again, driving her to 
climax.  The bed was wet with their sweat before Cheryl dropped 
off to sleep first, with Janet following afterwards.

Sunday July 19, 1998

    "Cheryl, I have something for you," said Janet.

    Janet and Cheryl were in the library.  Tina had not yet 
returned, so Mistress Janet had to train the slave all weekend by 
herself.  In the morning, Janet had unlocked Cheryl, and she had 
let Cheryl serve as her bath girl.  Cheryl had bathed and pampered 
her Mistress, just as Janet had taught her to.

    While Cheryl bathed, Janet had prepared breakfast herself.  
Janet ate in the Dining Room, Cheryl in the kitchen.  Finally, 
they faced one another in the library.

    After a solid day of storms, the weather had finally broken.  
Rays of sunlight peeped through the clouds, and the forecast was 
going to be for a good day.

    "Yes, Mistress?"

    Janet opened a desk drawer and removed a wooden box.  She 
stood up from her chair, and walked over to Cheryl's.

    "Extend your left hand," Janet ordered.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "These are my slave rings," described Janet, "any Mistress 
that knows me will see you wearing my ring and know that you are 
serving me."

    Janet tried a number of rings on Cheryl's index finger until 
she found the right sized one that fit correctly.  The rings were 
made of sterling silver and had links incised on their outer 
surface.

    "Do you understand what wearing this ring means?" demanded 
Janet.

    "That I am your slave, Mistress."

    "Very good, Cheryl.  Ordinarily, I wouldn't give a slave ring 
so soon.  But since I have discovered your deceit in taking the 
cock and anal training, you are more advanced than you are letting 
on."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "I have one other gift for you," said Janet as she resumed 
her seat.

    "Mistress?"

    Resuming her seat, Janet removed the jar of lubricant and the 
larger butt plug that she had shown to Cheryl on Saturday.

    "This is a moderate sized butt plug, larger than the one that 
you wore on Saturday.  You are to wear it for two hours each day 
at home until next week.  If you cannot insert it easily by then, 
then you shall be very harshly used," threatened Janet.

    "Mistress?"

    "Those are your orders, Cheryl.  The car will be here in 
three minutes, and you will wait in the foyer."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl as she placed the two items 
in her purse.

    Janet watched Cheryl leave, and was even more worried about 
her than she had been before.  Not only had the woman posed naked 
for a photographer she had also researched D/s and probably 
trained herself in sucking a cock and placing a plug up her ass.  
Then forcing herself on a Mistress clear across the country.  Why?

From the Diary of Cheryl Branford:
    If last weekend I made the mistake of disobedience, this 
weekend I made one of submission.  I was proud of the fact that I 
had guessed that a Mistress would want to use my mouth, sex, and 
bottom, and had trained myself in advance using sex toys.
    On Friday night, I was made to wear the dildo harness while I 
performed housecleaning tasks.  Afterwards, Janet chained me at 
the foot of her bed that night, and I have never felt so helpless 
or humiliated in my life.
    On Saturday, I made my mistake.  I took both the cock and 
anal plug without effort or protest.  Janet accused me of having 
been trained in advance, and I had no defense.  I was severely 
used that night in the Dungeon, and I shall be wearing her marks 
for a long time.
    She has given me a larger butt plug, which I am now wearing 
in my bottom.  It was about the same size one that I had used at 
home, and slid easily into my anus.
    I dare not disobey her again, even as I now put my plans into 
effect.
    I continue to be sexually attracted to Mistress Janet, and 
her use of me in bed is what I look forward to.  With my naked 
body striped by the lash, I cannot wait to serve Mistress Janet 
sexually.
    I gaze at the silver ring on my finger, and wonder, have I 
truly become her slave?

Chapter 08: Progressions

Part One: The Power and the Responsibility

April 1984

    "Mistress, are you all right?"

    The question startled Erica out of her thoughts back 
to the real world.  She had gone down to the Dungeon to 
think, and had entered a dream world all her own.  Glancing 
at her watch, she saw the reason for the interruption.  It 
was long past the time that Lisa was supposed to serve 
lunch, and she had gone down to the Dungeon to find her 
Mistress.

    "I'm fine, Lisa," replied Erica.

    Erica was seated on the leather-covered bench in the 
basement Dungeon, still not quite believing what she had 
created.  What once had been the family playroom was now a 
room of quite a different kind.

    Gone were the bar, pool table, large screen TV, and 
all of the other amenities necessary for the affluent to 
entertain their guests.  Taking it's place were two 
Dungeons, a cell with bathroom (so a slave could spend the 
night); and even a vinyl prison that Erica called solitary.  
Erica had also purchased a set of stocks and a vinyl 
covered sawhorse, an X frame, and had hung chains from the 
walls and ceiling.

    In short, it was every toy that a Dominatrix could 
ever want.  Erica had spared no expense because she didn't 
have to.  She could afford everything that she had ever 
wanted because it was all pocket change.

    After the dust had settled and Erica had taken 
possession of the estate she had asked around and found a 
contractor in the scene that would covert the basement into 
a Dungeon.  But first she had an elevator installed and had 
hidden the basement steps behind a false wall.  Only 
someone who knew its location would be able to enter the 
Dungeon, and Erica had also installed locking systems.

    "Lunch is served, Mistress," announced Lisa.

    "Thank you, Lisa, I'll be right up," Erica answered.

    Erica rose from her seat, and walked past Lisa, who 
quickly followed behind her Mistress.  They entered the 
elevator together, and Erica punched the button to the 
first floor.  She exited, and made her way to the Dining 
Room and sat down at the head of the table.

    "Lunch will be out in a minute, Mistress," stated 
Lisa.

    "Thank you."

    Lunch was a quiche that was still warm from the oven, 
French bread, salad, and a bottle of white wine.  Erica 
decided that Lisa was quite a good cook, and she wondered 
if her Maid's skills exceeded her own.

    Erica ate leisurely, since she didn't really have 
anything else to do.  In fact, since she had quit her job 
and inherited the Mansion her only job had been designing 
and contracting for the Dungeon.  Gone were the power 
lunches on Wall Street, or the forty-five minute ones at 
the liquor distributor.

    But now, in her position as Dominatrix, things seemed 
different.  Gone were the times that she could serve Master 
Keith, who made decisions for her.  Now she was the one 
holding the lash, a submissive under her control.  With the 
power that she now had came responsibilities that she had 
never thought of before.

    "Lisa?" asked Janet when the Maid was clearing away 
the dished from the table, "could you please join me in the 
library when you're finished?"

    "Yes, Mistress," quickly answered Lisa.

    Erica rose to her feet and walked out of the Dining 
Room.  She often wished for a companion, someone to share 
meals with.  Having a slave was nice, and Lisa would do all 
of her bidding.  But it was getting lonely.

    Seating herself behind the desk, it was still hard to 
believe that the house was really hers.  Erica opened a 
report that she had been writing, and wondered when IBM 
would be sending along the PC that she had ordered.

    Erica heard a knock on the library door, and she 
closed the report that she had been writing.

    "Come," Erica ordered.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Sit down, there's something that I have to discuss 
with you."

    "Mistress?" asked Lisa as she did what Erica 
instructed.

    "Last night, why did you fondle the new slave, 
Ingrid?"

    "Just a little fun, Mistress," answered Lisa.

    "You were clearly ordered to strip and prepare her, 
NOT to enjoy yourself.  As Mistress, I have to evaluate why 
she places herself in submission and plan methods to 
encourage her to continue.  This does not include a wanton 
use of her, before she is ready."

    "Mistress?"

    "Place yourself in her position.  You go to a strange 
place, and are stripped naked, made to wear a collar and 
bracelets, and are made helpless.  You are to be used by a 
Mistress for the first time, and are scared out of your 
wits.  The very first thing that happens to you is that the 
Maid pinches your nipples and thrusts her fingers into your 
sex."

    "I thought..."

    "What you thought was unimportant," Erica answered, 
"your conduct with a new prospect was improper.  What you 
fail to understand is that I am ultimately responsible for 
everything that occurs in this House.  That includes the 
selection, assessment, and training of possible slaves."

    "That wasn't the way that Mistress Judith conducted 
herself," protested Lisa.

    "I am going to be different than Mistress Judith," 
replied Erica, "and if you cannot abide by my rules, then 
you shall not be serving me."

    "I was a good slave to Mistress Judith," protested 
Lisa.

    "You were, that was why I chose you.  But as a slave, 
you know that you have to obey orders, paramount above all.  
For disobeying me, we shall now go down to the Dungeon, and 
I shall use you."

    "Mistress?"

    "I said now, Lisa.  Being a slave means that you are 
available for my use twenty-four hours a day.  Or have you 
forgotten?

    "No, Mistress."

    "Then I want to see you in the Dungeon, naked on the 
carpet, waiting for me.  I want to go dress in something, 
street clothes aren't quite correct."

    "Yes, Mistress," agreed Lisa.

    "GO!"

    Erica watched as Lisa scurried out of the library, 
fright evident on her face.  She had not meant to frighten 
Lisa, but the girl had more than once disobeyed her.

    Rising from the desk, she walked upstairs to her 
bedroom.  Every time that she visited NYC, she visited a 
fetish shop and purchased a new item of clothing.  Slowly, 
she was creating a nice wardrobe for herself.

    Erica stripped down her panties, and admired herself 
in the mirror.  Her body had healed from the car accident, 
and the only reminder of her near fatal ordeal was the 
occasional pain and ache.

    She stood five feet seven, with moderate sized breasts 
and a tight ass that was very attractive.  In her bare 
feet, she rummaged through the closet, trying to decide 
what to wear.

    The Catsuit was nice, but a little too confining; 
though she loved how she looked and felt while wearing it.  
It gave her the feeling of power, with all of her curves 
covered in latex or PVC.  Perhaps she would order one made 
especially out of leather for her birthday.

    Deciding that simplicity was best, she chose a PVC 
bodysuit, sheet to waist pantyhose, and a pair of five-inch 
heels.  She dressed quickly, and admired herself in the 
full-length bedroom mirror.

    Lisa had come to her from Mistress Judith with good 
references.  She could cook, clean, and maintain a house, 
serve Erica sexually, and assist her in the training of 
slaves.  However, Lisa could not follow her orders, and 
Erica wondered was she just badly trained or deliberately 
disobedient.

    Finally, her unauthorized use of Ingrid had been the 
last straw, and Erica had now decided that this would be a 
good time to use her.  To show Lisa that she must follow 
the instructions of her Mistress.  Or else she would not be 
serving Erica for long.

    When Erica opened the Dungeon Door she found Lisa 
kneeling on the carpet as instructed.  Lisa was just five 
foot three, with natural blonde hair, a flat stomach, and 
small breasts.  Still, she was very attractive, and her 
face was very pretty.

    "Do you submit to your Mistress, slave?"

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    "Good," said Erica as she seated herself on the bench, 
"over my knee.  I want to start by spanking you."

    "Spanking?"

    "Haven't you ever been spanked before?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Than get over my knee, slave!"

    Lisa did as she was instructed, draping herself over 
Erica's lap.  Her tight little bottom looked quite good 
when covered by a pair of designer jeans.  It would look 
even better after having been warmed by Erica bare hand.

    "Count out every time that I spank you," ordered 
Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress, One!"

    Lisa had thought that Erica would delay somehow, 
instead the Mistress had started immediately with a swift 
stroke that made Lisa rise with the impact on her bottom.    

    "Two!"

    "Three!

    "Four!"

    "Five!"

    Erica delivered one blow after another, giving Lisa 
time to recover before the next one would redden her 
behind.

    "Ten!"

    "Thirteen!"

    "Fifteen!"

    "Twenty!" cried Lisa, when Erica finally ceased her 
spanking.

    Erica waiting in silence, surely she would not have to 
tell Lisa everything.

    "Thank you, Mistress!" sobbed Lisa.

    "That's better, Lisa.  But the afternoon is young, and 
I have a lot of ground to cover.  You may kneel," ordered 
Erica.

    Lisa did as she was told, and awaited Erica's next 
instructions.

    "Kiss my shoes.  Now!"

    Lisa bent to kiss Erica's offered black leather shoe, 
kissing the material with her red lips.

    "At least you can obey some orders," commented Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress Erica, I'm sorry," sobbed Lisa.

    "That's better.  Kneel!"

    Lisa knelt again, her hands on her knees, eyes down, 
and silent.  She awaited the next commands from her 
Mistress.

    "Should I hang you from the ceiling, and whip you, 
Lisa?" asked Erica aloud, "will that make you obey my 
commands?"

    "Whatever my Mistress desires," Lisa answered.

    "Judith is a good Mistress, and a good trainer.  But 
you must understand that you are in my house now, and that 
I intend to be a different sort of Mistress that any you 
have served before," stated Erica.

    "I don't understand," answered Lisa.

    "Lisa, if you wish to be my assistant, you will have 
to follow all of my orders.  In this house, a safeword once 
established will be absolute.  Slaves will not be 
humiliated in this house, no eating out of dog dishes or 
any other such nonsense."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "I'm not going to beat you, just use the flogger on 
you for a few strokes, Lisa," said Erica.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "This is the first and only warning that you will get 
from me, Lisa.  You will attract my attention by obeying my 
commands, not disobeying them.  I must have a slave and 
assistant that I can totally rely on, in order to be the 
Dominatrix that I wish to be.  If you cannot serve me, if I 
cannot rely on you, then I shall find another position for 
you."

    "I shall obey you in all things, Mistress."

    "Talk is cheap, Lisa.  I shall judge you by your 
actions.  Rise and lock the leather cuffs on your ankles 
and wait by the ceiling chain."

    Erica watched as Lisa did as she had been ordered.  
She walked over, and locked the cuffs to the chain, then 
activated a motor that pulled the chain taut.  She next 
removed a flogger of soft deer hide from the cabinet, and 
displayed it to Lisa.

    "Prepare to be flogged," Erica cautioned.

    Erica used the flogger moderately, almost sensually.  
She struck at the most sensitive and exposed parts of 
Lisa's body.  Her breasts were first, followed by her 
underarms.  The leather slapped against Lisa's body, making 
her moan and try to avoid the many strands as they struck 
her flesh again and again.

    "Open your legs," ordered Erica.

    Tearfully, Lisa did so, exposing her vulnerable sex 
next for the flogger.

    "Are you wet, dearest?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Do I have to fondle your cunt as you did with Ingrid 
to know that you are wet and excited by the use of your 
Mistress?" asked Janet.

    "No, Mistress, I'm wet."

    Erica then struck gently with the flogger between 
Lisa's legs, striking not her sex but the inside of her 
thighs.  She noted that tears were flowing from the corners 
of the girl's eyes.  Lisa had not been flogged enough to be 
in actual pain.  Instead, she was close to orgasm.

    The flogger was then used for a few more strokes 
before Erica ceased, and presented the handle for Lisa to 
kiss.

    "Mistress?" begged Lisa.

    "Kiss the handle," ordered Erica.

    Once Lisa had done as Erica had requested, she had 
been ordered to stand motionless by the cabinet as Erica 
procured the next item.  Erica then locked a belt around 
Lisa's waist, then attached a crotch strap, which locked 
with four small locks.

    "Mistress?"

    "It's a chastity belt, Lisa.  I didn't want you to 
cum, not until I decide.  Maybe later tonight, in bed, but 
only at my discretion."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Now run along and get on with your chores," ordered 
Erica, "and remember what I have told you."

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    When Lisa had left the Dungeon, Erica remained along, 
by herself, in the leather bodysuit.  Erica had watched her 
slave depart, with the belt locked around her waist.  The 
freedom to cum was denied to Lisa, for the moment anyway.

    'What is freedom?' Erica asked herself.

Part Two: Truth and Lies

May 1984

    "Dr. Keith Simon to see you, Mistress," announced 
Lisa.

    "Thank you, Lisa," answered Erica as she rose from the 
chair behind the library desk, "Keith, how nice to see 
you."

    "Erica," greeted her guest.

    Erica walked to Keith, hugged him, and kissed him on 
the cheek.  She held him tightly for a moment, then 
released him.

    "Lisa, we can be alone."

    "Yes, Mistress," said Lisa as she bowed, then closed 
the library doors.

    "Would you like a drink?" asked Erica.

    "Bourbon," he answered, "straight."

    Erica walked over to the bar, and placed two ice cubes 
each into two glasses, then poured Jack Daniels into the 
glasses.  She handed one to Keith, and they clinked their 
glasses together.

    "Skoal," said Erica.

    "Skoal."

    "Have a seat, Keith.  We have a lot to discuss."

    They both drank from their glasses, and Erica thought 
that this was going to be very awkward for both of them.

    "You lied to me," bluntly accused Keith, "you said 
that you weren't Alana Peters.  Yet within weeks of being 
promoted to Dominatrix, you inherit the Peters estate.  A 
complete stranger would not have inherited this estate.  
You changed your name, and face, but the x-rays didn't lie.  
You are Alana Peters."

    "Yes, I am Alana Peters, or rather, I was.  I am now 
Erica Riken," confessed Erica.

    "You admit it now, but you lied to me when I took you 
as my slave."

    "I had to," answered Erica, "just suppose that I had 
admitted who I really was?  Would you have taken the 
daughter of one of the wealthiest families in the nation as 
your sex slave?  You wouldn't have wanted anything to do 
with me."

    "You could have explained, told the truth!"

    "No.  To you I would have been just a poor little rich 
girl out for a thrill.  You wouldn't have taken me for a 
slave, would you?"

    "I don't know what I would have done had I known."

    "Master Keith, I'm sorry that I had to lie to you.  As 
Alana, I realized the dangerous game I was playing after I 
recovered from the accident by first seeing a Professional 
Dominatrix in NYC; then going to clubs and being used.  I 
couldn't continue much longer before I would have been 
recognized, then my picture would have been all over the 
papers.  Daniel was a bad Master; he kept me ignorant and 
was abusive.  You were a good Master, and you encouraged 
me, taught me to grow in my submission.  But I couldn't 
have you for a Master, and you decided that I was better as 
a Domme.  So please, forgive me," begged Alana.

    "I don't know what to say."

    "I had to give up who I was, and what I was, to become 
a slave.  A graduate of Harvard, a future Wall Street 
Partner, born with a silver spoon in my mouth.  I gave all 
that up so that I could be hung by my wrists, naked, and 
feel the lash.  There was nothing else that I could do," 
explained Erica, swallowing the lump in her throat.

    "That still doesn't justify your lying to me, Erica."

    "I'm relying on your professional discretion as a 
doctor, and the fact that you were my trainer, to keep 
silent about who I really am.  Or was."

    "I would never betray your secret, Erica, you know 
that.  But for lying to me..."

    Erica rose from behind her desk, and knelt before 
Keith's chair.  She crossed her wrists, and presented them 
to Keith.

    "Please forgive me, Master, for lying to you, and this 
humble slave begs your forgiveness.  I have lied to my 
Master, my owner, and my friend.  I have equipped an 
extensive Dungeon downstairs with everything that you need 
to use your slave.  Please discipline me as you see fit for 
my transgressions."

    Keith remained silent, and looked down at Erica.  She 
stayed in her position, kneeling on the carpet, her arms 
outstretched.

    "For the offense of lying to your Master, I accept 
your offer of discipline.  You may call in your Maid, 
Lisa," ordered Keith.

    "Lisa!" called Erica, loudly.

    "Mistress?" asked a puzzled Lisa when she entered the 
library and saw her Mistress kneeling before her guest.

    "This is Keith, who was my Master.  I have willingly 
submitted myself to him for a personal reason," explained 
Erica, "in the bedroom closet you will find a leather vest, 
and black jeans that he can wear in the Dungeon."

    "Thank you, Erica," said Keith.

    "Once he has dressed, you may collar and bracelet me, 
then take me down to the Dungeon for my discipline," 
instructed Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    Keith rose from the chair, leaving Erica on the 
carpet.  She would remain in this position until Lisa came 
to get her, to be stripped of her clothes and prepare her 
to be used.

    Twenty minutes later, after Erica had been divested of 
her clothes in the downstairs bedroom, Lisa was locking a 
leather collar around her neck.

    "Mistress?" asked Lisa.

    "Yes, Lisa?"

    "Master Keith said that I should ask you the reason 
why he is about to discipline you."

    "Because I lied to my Master," replied Erica, "that is 
the reason why you are going to see your Mistress 
punished."

    "I have never heard of a Mistress going under the 
lash."

    "Bind my wrists, place a gag in my mouth and a 
blindfold over my eyes, and attach a leash to my collar.  
Then you shall see me used," stated Erica.

    After Lisa had done what Erica had ordered, her 
Mistress was pleased that her slave did not take the 
opportunity to fondle or use her in any way, even though 
she was helpless and at her mercy.  Erica bit down on the 
rubber ball in her mouth, and tested the cuffs that held 
her wrists together behind her back.

    She felt herself pulled along by a tug on her leash, 
and obediently followed behind Lisa.  Erica had counted the 
exact number of steps to the elevator, and knew when she 
stepped over the threshold.  She was wearing a pair of 
modest heels that Keith had ordered locked upon her feet, 
and the strap chafed her ankle.

    When they finally reached their destination in the 
Dungeon, Lisa removed Erica's blindfold.  The light had 
been turned way down, and Keith was seated in the throne 
like chair that Erica had selected because it looked 
powerful and imposing.  Erica was then pushed to her knees 
in front of Keith, but she held herself proudly in her 
submission as he had taught her.

    "Remove her gag," ordered Keith.

    "Thank you, Master," said Erica the moment her gag was 
free of her mouth.

    "Do you submit to me of your own free will?" asked 
Keith.

    "Yes, Master," Erica replied.

    "What is your safeword?" Keith asked.

    "Forgiveness."

    "Hang Erica from the ceiling chain, Lisa, and attach 
her ankles to a spreader bar," ordered Keith, "I am going 
to use her."

    "Yes, Master."

    Without resistance, Erica was made to stand, then 
walked over to the ceiling chain.  Lisa unlocked her 
wrists, then quickly locked them to the chain.  A spreader 
bar was next locked onto her ankles, then Erica was pulled 
taut when a motor removed the small amount of slack in the 
chain.

    "Erica is now ready for your use, Master," said Lisa.

    "Thank you, Lisa," replied Keith as he rose from the 
chair, a riding crop in his hands.

    Keith was wearing the vest and jeans, which Erica had 
bought for him for a future occasion.  She had wanted to 
surprise him one day, instead they were more suitable for 
him to wear than the casual clothes that he had worn for 
just a visit.

    "Kiss the crop," ordered Keith.

    Erica kissed the crop handle when it was offered to 
her, her red lips leaving a small imprint of her lipstick 
on the leather.

    "We now begin."

    Erica was struck with the leather pad that the end of 
the crop, which slapped against her skin as one stroke 
after another impacted against her naked and exposed body.  
It had been months since Keith had used her last, and she 
was grateful that it was her former Master that was again 
using her.

    The leather struck her underarms, her breasts, both 
the outside and inside of her thighs, her sex and her 
bottom.  No part of Erica's body would escape the crop, and 
she had resolved that she would not call her safeword 
either.  Just as she had done that climactic time when 
Keith had told her that she was better suited to be a 
Dominatrix.

    Erica snatched a glance at Lisa, who stood back from 
Keith, ready to take any of his orders.  The expression on 
her face was one of bafflement.  Here was her Mistress, 
being used right in front of her.  Surely this was just 
part of an incredible dream?

    Keith made certain to strike her body in one place 
with one stroke overlapping another, then would move on 
somewhere else.  From past experience, Erica knew that this 
meant that she was in for a through and severe punishment.

    "Ahhh!" Erica cried when the leather struck her right 
nipple.

    "Ahhh!" She cried again when the left was struck with 
equal force.

    "Ahhh!" Erica cried when the pad struck between her 
legs in a metronome like fashion, as Keith swung it from 
the inside of one of her thighs to the other.

    She had entered sub-space, where she felt, but at the 
same time, did not feel the pain of the crop.  Erica had 
placed herself in submission to a Master, who was now using 
her as he had done many times before.

    Her flesh had warmed by the crop, her mind once again 
on fire.  The same feelings of both pain and pleasure that 
she had experienced when she had been in therapy and 
afterwards coursed through her body.  She longed for Keith 
to throw the crop away, unchain her, and then take her on 
the Dungeon floor.  But she knew that he wouldn't do that, 
and that brought a tear to her eyes.

    "Kiss the crop," ordered Keith suddenly.

    Erica had not realized that he had even stopped 
striking her with the crop, she had been so deep in 
thought, the pain forgotten from the session.

    "Yes, Master," cried Erica as she followed his 
instructions.

    Keith reached out, and began to pinch and play with 
her erect nipples, tweaking them between his thumb and 
forefinger.  Erica felt like gasping each time that he did 
so, but stayed silent.  She knew that she could absorb a 
lot of use, as she had done before.

    "How do you feel, Erica?"

    "Fine, Master."

    "Then we shall continue with a flogger.  Lisa, get me 
the deerskin flogger from the cabinet," ordered Keith as he 
handed the crop to the slave.

    "Yes, Master."

    Keith ran his fingers through the soft deerskin hide, 
feeling the strands on his skin.  Erica watched, hanging by 
her wrists, her body still exposed to the next part of her 
punishment.                      

    "Prepare yourself."

    "Yes, Master."

    Again Erica felt the impact of a deerskin flogger on 
her flesh, the strands slapping aginst her skin.  She dug 
her nails into her palms, disassociating her body from her 
mind.

    The brief respite from the crop had left her body 
soaking in sweat, and she knew that her flesh was red and 
warm to the touch.  The flogging that she was now receiving 
would only increase the warmth of her flesh.

    It was not Keith's style to insert his fingers into 
her exposed sex, and Erica knew that the flogging was 
making her sexually excited and wet between her legs.  The 
first that this had happened during therapy it had shocked 
her, the association of pain and sexual pleasure together.

    When she had served as a slave the mere sight of an 
instrument like the crop or the flogger would bring her 
juices flowing.  Erica had always wondered if she really 
had been a painslut after all, as she had been called many 
times.

    "Ahhhh!" cried Erica after a harsh stroke landed on 
her Venus mound.

    Her whole body seemed on fire, like she was a human 
torch.  She wanted to cum again and again, never to stop.

    Erica did not know, or care, how much time had elapsed 
since her session had begun.  The entire universe had 
shrunk to the confines of the Dungeon, and her use by her 
Master.  Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed.

    "Lisa?" asked Keith.

    "Yes, Master?"

    "Have you ever been in a state called flying?"

    "No, Sir."

    "Erica is in that state now, her body is on fire, yet 
her mind has divorced itself from her body."

    It seemed strange for them to talk about her like she 
really wasn't there, but Erica did not answer, wanting 
instead to remain in her present mental state.

    "Take her down," ordered Keith when he had delivered 
the last stroke.

    Erica could not at first keep to her feet when the 
chain lowered her to the ground.  Keith held her tightly to 
his body as Lisa unlocked her wrists, then ankles.  He 
carried her over to the bench, and sat her naked form on 
the leather.

    Then he sat next to her, and held her sweat covered 
and red marked body close to his, whispering things into 
her ears that Lisa could not hear.

    Gradually, Erica returned to her faculties, moving her 
fingers, arms, and legs.  Her chest heaved with each 
breath, her breasts rising and falling.

    "Are you all right?" asked Keith.

    "Fine, Master."

    "It is now late in the evening, I have to go.  Your 
final use this night will be at the hands of your slave.  
Lisa has been allowed to take you to bed, which I cannot."

    "Yes, Master."

    "Until that time, you will wear a chastity belt around 
your waist," calmly said Keith.

    "Yes, Master."

    Erica was taken to the cell, where there was a small 
sink and toilet.  She was allowed to empty herself, but not 
touch herself afterwards.  Lisa cleaned her bottom and her 
sex, then locked the belt around Erica's waist with Keith 
watching her closely.

    "Very good, Lisa," complimented Keith.

    "Thank you, Sir."

    Lisa held her Mistress as the three of them went back 
upstairs in the elevator, and Erica was conducted to the 
couch in the library.  She did not touch either the belt 
around her waist, or her exposed nipples.

    The sky was now dark, and Keith changed back into his 
street clothes.  He kissed Erica on the cheek, then bade 
good-bye to both Erica and Lisa.

    "Are you all right, Mistress?" asked Lisa as she held 
a glass of water for Erica to drink.

    "Fine, Lisa."

    "I was going to say this later, when we are in bed.  I 
am truly amazed by the amount of use that you took.  I 
would have been screaming in pain, begging him to stop.  
But you took the strokes without calling your safeword."

    "Thank you, Lisa."

    "Do you want me to unlock you from the belt, now that 
Master Keith is gone?"

    "No."

    "Why?"

    "Because he ordered that you were to take me to bed, 
and not remove the belt until then," pointed out Erica as 
she got to her feet, "at least he didn't put a dildo inside 
me until then."

    Erica smiled, since the reason that Keith had locked 
the belt around her waist was so that she wouldn't be able 
to sexually relieve herself.  Had he placed a dildo inside 
her, Erica would have cum immediately.  Instead, her sex 
was imprisoned inside steel and leather, forbidden to her 
touch.

    "Are you hungry?" asked Lisa.

    "No thank you, I'll eat tomorrow."

    Erica glanced at the clock, it was now Midnight.

    "Let me clean up, and then we can go to bed," said 
Lisa.

    "That will be fine," said Erica, as she stood shakily 
on her own two feet again.

    Erica pulled at the chastity belt around her waist, 
and toyed with the small locks.  A lifetime ago, she had 
interned for a summer at the offices of Vogue in New York.  
She gazed at herself in the library mirror.

    "Mistress?" asked Lisa, "what are you thinking about?"

    "This will never make the fall fashion collections in 
New York," stated Erica as she modeled her striped and 
naked body with her sex imprisoned by the leather chastity 
belt in the mirror, "never."

    The summer following after she had worked at Vogue, 
she was again working in New York City.  Except that she 
was at the very pinnacle of women's fashion.  A friend of 
her mother had gotten her a job at Gucci for the summer.  
While it was true that the fall fashions were already sold, 
there was the work on the fashions for next spring, since 
fashion works six months ahead of the calendar.

    She had done everything from modeling to sewing, to 
photo layouts.  During that summer, she had been seduced by 
both a man and woman, and had bedded both.  In all, her two 
summers working in the fashion industry had been 
interesting, but she finally decided that she didn't want 
to work there after all.

    But it had certainly been fun for a young woman in 
college!

    It wasn't until they were in bed shortly afterwards 
did their laughter subside, as Lisa used her Mistress 
sexually.  Erica sucked at Lisa's cunt lips, plunging her 
tongue inside to excite Lisa's clit at the same time.  Her 
slave moaned and bucked as Erica made love to her, but she 
did not tap Erica with the crop that she was holding.  As 
if she was afraid to, given the harsh use that Erica had 
already sustained earlier that night.

    The next morning, Lisa released Erica's collar and 
bracelets, then sank to her knees in front of her Mistress.

    "Mistress Erica, may I say something?" asked Lisa.

    "Of course you may."

    "I never really understood submission before.  I only 
thought that I did, and Mistress Judith always backed away 
from making demands that would truly test me.  It wasn't 
until I saw Master Keith use you, saw you flying as Master 
Keith called it after such a harsh session did I really 
understand what submission really meant.  And when you 
refused my offer to release you from the belt until we went 
to bed did I understand that your honor and your word were 
at stake."

    "Thank you."

    "I promise to obey all of your orders, to truly learn 
from you.  I understand now that this isn't a game, but 
very serious business."

    "Thank you, Lisa.  Now let's have a bath and get 
cleaned up, and plan the future of this House together."

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    As Lisa knelt before her Mistress Erica sensed that 
her slave had meant what she had said.  Lisa now held her 
body tightly, differently that she had before.  Proudly in 
submission to her Mistress Erica.

Part Three: The Client

June 1984

    Erica paced the library, walking back and forth.  She 
had achieved the position of Domme, yet she had been 
disturbed by events in the last few weeks that she had not 
even been a part of.

    First came the news that her former Master Daniel had 
promoted Lauren Singer to Dominatrix in a large S&M Club in 
Manhattan.  He had thrown a huge party that everyone in the 
scene had attended, unlike the small gathering that Keith 
had thrown for her months earlier.

    Then came the news that Daniel had died in a drunk 
driving accident.  He had gone out drinking, then rammed a 
tree at over 90 miles an hour after falling asleep.  
Finally, alcohol that had turned him mean and vicious had 
helped to take his life.

    But it was the last piece of news that had been the 
most shocking of all.  All the time that she and Lauren had 
been Daniel's slaves, Lauren had been separated from her 
husband.  He had died of a sudden heart attack, and Lauren 
had inherited his estate.

    The thought that Lauren was a Dominatrix and now 
possessed financial power frightened Erica down to her 
core.  Lauren was full of Daniel's ideas about power and 
submission.  With all that wealth at her disposal she would 
be a dangerous Domme indeed.    

    "Mistress Erica, Joann Robins is here," announced 
Lisa.

    "You may conduct her into the library," ordered Erica, 
as she resumed her seat behind the library desk, placing 
Lauren out of her thoughts, in order to interview a new 
candidate.

    Joann Robins was one of the wealthy in Greenwich, who 
had not waited to inherit a fortune from her family, but 
had instead gone out and made one of her own.  She had 
started two companies, then sold them, and then made a 
killing on Wall Street afterwards.  She was thirty-five, 
beautiful, thin, muscular, and tanned.  Her hair was a dark 
brown, an expensive salon had done her hair and nails, and 
she owned an estate outside of Greenwich.

    She was wearing a blouse, white linen skirt, no 
stockings, and matching heels.  Under the blouse, the 
outlines of her white bra could be seen, and under her 
skirt a pair of panties outlined her bottom.  Joann was a 
very beautiful woman, indeed.

    Alana Peters and Joann Robins had met once, at a 
formal ball in Manhattan.  But that had been in another 
lifetime.

    "Thank you, Lisa.  Leave us," directed Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress," replied Lisa as she closed the door 
behind her.

    "I am Mistress Erica Riken," Erica said softly, 
"pleased to meet you."

    It was early evening, and Erica now had the golden 
opportunity in her career as a Dominatrix.  Joann Robins 
was a wealthy woman, prominent in Greenwich Society, who 
wanted to seek out a Mistress rather than travel to New 
York City.  Erica had arranged for Joann to be "collected"; 
blindfolded so she would not know the location, then driven 
to Erica's house.

    "I am not sure how to address you," replied Joann.

    "Mistress Erica will do.  Are you nervous?"

    "Yes."

    "Drink?"

    "Diet Coke would be fine, thank you, Mistress Erica."

    "Two Diet Cokes, Lisa," ordered Erica after she 
pressed the intercom button on her desk.

    They waited a short time before there was a knock on 
the door, and Lisa entered.  She placed a large glass 
containing ice and soda in front of Erica and her guest, 
bowed, then closed the door behind her.

    "Is she?" asked Joann.

    "Is she what?"

    "Your...slave?"

    "Yes," answered Erica as she sipped at her drink.

    "Then this is all for real," said Joann.

    "You do want to be used by a Mistress, don't you?" 
asked Erica.

    "Yes."

    "Why?"

    "Last year, I was involved in a strange relationship.  
I went riding and misused the horse.  My boyfriend took the 
riding crop to my bare bottom after he pulled down my 
riding breeches."

    "And what happened?" asked Erica.

    "I got wet between my legs, I was so embarrassed.  
Later on, he spanked me one night in bed.  It turned me on!  
However, he went off to Europe, and I haven't found anyone 
since who could..."

    "Fulfill your desires," said Erica finishing the 
woman's sentence.

    "Yes."

    "If you want to serve a Mistress who will fulfill your 
desires with the utmost discretion, then I am the one that 
you seek.  I can answer your fantasies, and provide you 
with an experience that you will never have otherwise," 
stated Erica.

    "I have these strange feelings," admitted Joann, "that 
I cannot reconcile with myself."

    "Of submission?" asked Erica as she sipped her drink.

    "No.  Yes," confessed Joann.

    "Do you envision yourself at the feet of a leather 
clad woman who will use your body, cover you in stripes, 
keep you naked and bound?"

    "Yes," admitted Joann.

    "You realize that these desires of yours place you 
outside the normal scheme of things, don't you?" asked 
Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Are you prepared to feel the confines of steel and 
leather, be kept naked at all times, and endure the lash 
and crop?"

    "Yes, Mistress, I am."

    "You do understand that you are free to leave at any 
time, that I am not forcing you to become my slave?"

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    "Good," answered Erica as she took another sip of her 
drink, then reclined back in the chair.

    "What do you want to me to do, Mistress Erica?" asked 
Joann as she placed her empty glass on a nearby table.

    There was dead silence in the library as Erica 
carefully considered her next move.  What to do?

    "Since you have not written your bio yet, nothing 
serious.  But I would like you to strip so that I can see 
that lovely body of yours," Erica ordered.

    "Strip?" asked Joann.

    "Naked," answered Erica, "unless you know some other 
way."

    Hesitantly, Joann rose to her feet, her eyes looking 
all around the library.  Slowly, she unzipped her skirt, 
revealing white panties underneath, then folding her skirt 
and placing it on the chair.  Her blouse followed, and then 
she undid her bra, then slipped her panties from her hips.  
She stood in silence, naked before Erica.

    "Turn around," Erica ordered.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Joann as she followed 
Erica's instruction.

    "Have you ever been naked in front of other women?" 
asked Erica.

    "Sometimes in the steam room at the health club, 
Mistress."

    "You have a beautiful body," observed Erica, "if you 
choose to serve me, you may be marked.  You will either 
have to hide your marks, or explain them away somehow."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Get dressed," ordered Erica, "I shall not use you 
this evening."

    "Not even to be spanked, Mistress?" asked Joann.

    "Not until you have written your bio.  Are you busy 
this weekend?"

    "I was planning on going on a friend's yacht, if the 
weather is good, Mistress."

    "Cancel it," Erica ordered, "you're going to be 
spending the weekend with me."

    "Mistress?" asked Joann, a look of bewilderment on her 
face.

    "You shall spend the weekend here, with me, naked and 
collared.  Only after you have written a sexual biography 
will I use you for the first time.  What time do you want 
the car to collect you on Saturday morning?" asked Erica.

    "Mistress?"

    "You have gotten your wish, Joann.  I am a Mistress 
who can help you to experience your deepest and darkest 
sexual desires.  If you do not take this chance now, I 
shall never see you again."

    "Nine AM, Mistress," hesitantly answered Joann.

    "Excellent," answered Erica, "think long and hard for 
the rest of the week about your sexuality, as you have 
never done before.  If you have the slightest doubt about 
what you are to begin, then you should refuse me."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "You are about to abandon your station in life, Joann.  
You shall be kept naked, on display at all times, free for 
my use or my Maid, so should I order.  You will be wearing 
a collar around your neck, bracelets on your wrists and 
ankles, and your lovely body available for whatever use I 
decide.  That includes my hand, the lash or the crop, or 
anything else that I decide.  Do you understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress, I think so," shakily answered Joann.

    "Good," said Erica as she rose from her chair, "once 
dressed, Lisa will call the car for you."

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    Erica and Lisa watched at the car pulled away, Joann 
riding in the back seat a pair of dark glasses covering her 
eyes.  Erica had watched as Joann replaced the clothes that 
she had removed earlier, her guest blushing throughout.

    "Will she be back, Mistress?" asked Lisa.

    "Yes," Erica answered confidently, "yes."
    *        *        *        *        *
    Erica sat at her desk, sipping from a can of Diet 
Coke.  She was staring at the words on the computer screen 
that she had just written.  She chewed on the eraser at the 
end of a pencil, thinking.

    There, on the screen, were her plans for training a 
slave.  Having them strip, and wear only a collar and 
cuffs.  Except if a woman was having her period, of course.

    They would write a sexual biography of themselves, 
explaining what they had or had not done sexually.  Erica 
would then assess what she would do, or not do with them, 
since she would never force a person to do an activity that 
might hurt them.

    The memory of Daniel's cock forcing itself into her 
anus was all too recent, how she had begged him to stop.  
The pain she felt when he rammed himself into her hole.

    'I'll never do that to a slave,' thought Erica.

    She would explain what a safeword was, then never go 
beyond it if a slave ever used it.  She would test a slave, 
of course.  But never harm or cause injury.

    She would not humiliate in public, or play sex games.  
Whether a slave was a woman of means or an average person, 
she would only use them within the confines of the Mansion.  
No going out to Dinner with a slave, and leaving them 
without money to pay the check.

    Erica sipped at her drink, knowing that what she had 
written was just the beginning.  

    Keith's use of her last month had energized her, and 
had demonstrated to Lisa the commitment involved in 
submission.  Lisa now obeyed Erica implicitly, following 
her every word.

    Erica's journey as a Dominatrix had begun.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    "Enter!" commanded Erica.

    "Joann Robins is here, Mistress," announced Lisa from 
outside the library doors.

    "Conduct her in here."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Joann Robins followed Lisa into the library.  It was 
now Saturday morning and she had been collected, placed 
dark glasses on her eyes, then driven to Erica's estate.  
She was wearing a loose sundress, and Erica wondered if she 
was wearing any underwear, since she did not seem to have a 
visible pantyline under her clothes.

    "Welcome," greeted Erica, "Joann, you may be seated."

    Joann assumed a seat in front of the library desk, and 
Lisa remained standing at her side.  She was clearly 
nervous, the way that she was clutching her handbag.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Have you made your decision?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "What is it to be?"

    "I want to serve you, Mistress Erica," softly answered 
Joann.

    "Thank you, your trust in me shall not be misplaced.  
Lisa shall now conduct you to the bedroom where you shall 
be prepared.  Have you done as I asked, thought deeply 
about your sexuality?"

    "Yes, Mistress," quickly answered Lisa.

    "Lisa," Erica ordered, "please prepare our guest in 
the bedroom."

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    Twenty minutes later, Lisa again interrupted Erica.  
Except that this time it was to bring Joann back to the 
library.  The woman was now naked, with a collar around her 
neck, and leather bracelets on her wrists and ankles.  Her 
wrists were locked behind her back, but her feet were not 
hobbled.  She had brought a pair of modest heels with her 
on Janet's orders, and they were now locked upon her feet 
by a series of small leather straps.

    "Thank you, Lisa.  You may release Joann's hands, and 
lock her collar to the school desk.

    Erica had pushed the leather chairs off to one side, 
and had placed and locked a school desk that she had 
purchased directly in front of her library desk.  On the 
desk was a lined legal pad, and a pen and pencil.

    Lisa did as she was instructed, and her charge was now 
locked to the motionless desk, which was in turn locked to 
the floor.  Joann would not be going anywhere soon.

    "Before you begin serving me, Joann, you are ordered 
to write a sexual biography of yourself.  Your sexual 
experiences the fantasies that you have about yourself and 
others.  Especially those that involve serving a Mistress."

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    "I shall leave you alone in the library, and you may 
call Lisa or myself if you want a drink or have to go to 
the bathroom.  You must write, or else I shall not use you, 
do you understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "One last order, you must select a safeword.  That 
will be your choice."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica and Lisa then walked out of the library, leaving 
Joann alone to her thoughts and writing.  She had pulled at 
the desk and her chain on Erica's orders, and found them to 
be implacable.  She was a prisoner until released.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    After three hours of working, and one call for a 
drink, Joann called and asked that Erica return to the 
library.  Joann had written about a dozen pages in a clear 
distinctive handwriting that Erica would have no problem 
reading.

    "Excellent," complimented Erica, "thank you, Joann."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Lisa, take Joann to the kitchen, and give her lunch.  
I'm going to read what she has written, and then have her 
clean house with you as instructed.  I'll check on your 
progress a little later."

    "Yes, Mistress," replied Lisa as she unlocked Joann 
from the school desk.

    Erica sat down behind the desk to read, and she 
wondered just how Joann would take to being ordered around 
by a Maid dressed in black satin.  But that would be after 
her lunch, of course.
    *        *        *        *        *
    In the past few weeks, Erica had sketched out the 
broad outlines of how she would conduct herself as a Domme.  
She would primarily service the wealthy women of Greenwich 
and the environs of Connecticut and New York.  Though if 
someone interesting came along who couldn't pay her for the 
exclusive services that she offered, that would be 
forgiven.  Perhaps payment was too strong a word, she would 
instead use the word "gift."

    Erica read Joann's bio after lunch in the library.  
Joann may have been a wealthy woman with her name in the 
society pages, but she hadn't said anything when Lisa 
ordered her to put on an apron over her nakedness and 
assist her in house cleaning.

    Having Joann come on Saturday morning really didn't 
allow for enough time for her training.  Erica decided that 
from now on she would have a prospect come on Friday night.  
There was barely enough time to have her outfitted, do a 
few chores with Lisa, then serve a meal or two, and have a 
session on Saturday night before she would have to leave 
the next day.

    That was going to be all part of her decisions as a 
Domme, and Mistress of her House.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    "Mistress?"

    Joann had been called from her chores by Erica, and 
was now kneeling in front of her on the library carpet.  
The apron had been left in the kitchen, and she was naked 
once again.

    "I have read your biography, and have found you 
suitable.  You have a desire for submission, and you want 
your body used by a Mistress.  Is that correct?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "I gave you an order in the library besides writing 
down your bio.  Do you remember what that was?"

    "I had to choose a safeword, Mistress."

    "Have you chosen one?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress.  I would like my safeword to be 
passion."

    "Very good choice, Joann."

    Erica looked at her watch.  It was already five, and 
Dinner had been scheduled for seven.  That had left enough 
time for Joann's first use, which would be just a prelude 
for her real use later that evening in the Dungeon.

    "You told me that the first time you had been 
physically used was in the club, a man had taken down your 
riding breeches and used a crop on your behind.  Is that 
correct?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "And you have been spanked as well?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "And how did you feel after both incidents?"

    "I enjoyed them, Mistress Erica," replied Joann, her 
cheeks blushing red.

    "Good," said Erica as she rose to her feet, then 
walked over to the couch, a hairbrush in her hand.

    Erica noted the Joann suddenly grew nervous at the 
sight of the wooden hairbrush in the hands of her Mistress.  
What was before just an innocuous household object was now 
something quite different in the hands of a Domme.

    "Drape yourself over my knees," ordered Erica as she 
sat on the couch, the brush in her hands.

    "Have I done anything wrong...Mistress?" protested 
Joann.

    "No you haven't, Joann.  So far, you have obeyed all 
of my orders perfectly.  Your reward then shall be your 
first use, a mild one on your bottom.  So get on my knees, 
your training has just begun."

    Meekly, Joann rose to her feet, then placed herself 
gingerly over Erica's lap.  Erica admired her fine body, 
perfect figure and skin.  She had decided that she would 
not invade Joann sexually until after her first spanking.

    "Prepare to be spanked."

    "Yes, Owwww!" shouted Joann as the hairbrush struck 
her bottom.

    Erica had begun with a mild stroke, one that was 
barely harder than if Joann had fallen to the ground.  Her 
shock was mainly due to the surprise that she felt on 
having her bottom used by a Mistress for the first time.

    "Owww!

    "Owwww!

    "Owwww!

    Erica would strike Joann's bottom in one place, then 
move on to another.  Just a few weeks before, she had seen 
Joann's picture in the paper in the society pages.  Now the 
same woman, a socialite, was draped over knees being 
spanked.

    "Owww!

    "Owww!

    "Owww!

    "Owww!" cried Joann each time that the hairbrush 
struck her behind.

    Erica had imagined that Joann would rise to her feet, 
screaming about the indignity of her use by Erica, but 
instead she remained on Erica's lap, absorbing every blow 
to her bottom and perhaps her dignity as well.

    "Enough," said Erica, "you may kneel."

    Erica had moderately used Joann's bottom, so that her 
skin was a mild shade of red.  She did not want to either 
use Joann so severely as to frighten her off, just enough 
to make her want more.  Judging from her response to a 
spanking that had consisted of just ten strokes with the 
hairbrush, she was definitely interested in continuing with 
Erica.

    "Very good," complimented Erica.

    "Thank you, Mistress," answered Joann, her hair 
slightly in disarray and her entire body excited by the 
spanking.

    "Are you wet?"

    "Mistress?" asked Joann in surprise.

    "I said, are you wet?  You have permission to touch 
yourself."

    "I don't, I mean..."

    "While you are in my House, you are forbidden to touch 
your breasts or your sex, unless given express permission 
my myself or Lisa.  You are also forbidden to give yourself 
an orgasm, or to sexually excite yourself.  Do you 
understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    "Good, I therefore give you permission to place your 
hand between your legs, and tell me if I have excited you."

    Hesitantly, with a huge red blush on her cheeks, Joann 
inserted her right hand between her legs, then moaned 
slightly as her fingers penetrated into her womanhood.

    "Ohhh!" cried Joann.

    "You may remove your hand," ordered Erica.

    When Joann did so, her index and forefinger were 
coated with her juices.  Joann, it seemed, had been 
stimulated quite easily, by just a mild spanking.  Erica 
wondered what the effect that the crop would have on her.

    "Taste yourself."

    Have crossed one divide, it was easy to cross another.  
Joann drew her fingers to her mouth, and sucked at her own 
juices from between her legs.

    "Very good, Joann," complimented Erica.

    "Thank you, Mistress Erica."

    "Have you ever masturbated yourself in the presence of 
another woman or man?" asked Erica.

    "No, Mistress," replied Joann, embarrassment evident 
in her voice.

    "Here, you shall learn how to do just that, on my 
command."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Now go and rejoin Lisa in the kitchen.  You are to 
prepare Dinner with Lisa, then serve me in the Dining Room.  
Later this evening, you shall be used."

    "Thank you, Mistress," said Joann, still kneeling on 
the carpet.

    "One last thing before you go.  Now that I have used 
you for the first time, I have given Lisa permission to 
discipline you if you fail to obey and order or make a 
mistake.  You are to take her orders as if they were mine, 
do you understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    "You have taken your first steps into slavery, Joann.  
Do not disappoint me.  You have my leave to go."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    Erica watched as Joann rose to her feet, bowed, then 
left the library.  Joann was clearly excited and afraid at 
the same time.  It would be up to Erica to get her prospect 
over her worries to make her comfortable with her new found 
submission.

    But that was her job as a Domme, of course.  Just as 
Mistress Judith had done with her in NYC, and later Daniel 
(at least in the beginning) and Keith had done with her.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Lisa and Joann had prepared a somewhat elaborate 
Dinner for Erica, and it had all gone off rather well.  
Since it was summer, they had prepared Clam chowder, and 
baked flounder with salad, and to drink, white wine.

    Joann had served under Lisa, and she had taken all of 
her orders perfectly.  Erica wished that she could have had 
another Domme present, but that would be for the future.  
Time to make friends with other Dommes and learn from them, 
to develop a stable of slaves eager to serve Mistress 
Erica.

    Erica was served coffee and cake in the Dining Room 
after the dishes had been cleared.  Lisa and Joann would 
eat together, then clean up after Dinner was over.  Lisa 
would keep Joann busy until she would be taken down to the 
Dungeon to be used.

    While finishing her coffee, Erica had a strange 
thought, one that rose unbidden, from her days back on Wall 
Street: she wondered how many slaves it would take to 
amortize the investment that she had made in the Dungeon 
and all it's contents?
    *        *        *        *        *
    Erica dressed that night in a black PVC Dominatrix 
dress that had long sleeves and the hemline of which ended 
above her knees.  She had not yet totally gotten used to 
wearing very high heels, so she instead decided on a more 
modest pair.  She modeled herself in the mirror, admiring 
the way the fabric molded itself to her figure.

    Lisa had taken Joann down to the Dungeon, and was 
already down there waiting for her.  It was after 10 PM, 
and Erica had wanted Joann to get a little rest.  Her slave 
in training was going to be having a busy night.

    Erica walked down the steps, only wishing that the 
Mansion had an elevator installed to reach the second floor 
as well.  Still, it was exciting to wear a fetish dress in 
her House, to feel the PVC hug itself to all of her curves.

    She took the elevator downstairs, then walked into the 
Dungeon.  There, just as she had ordered, was Lisa and 
Joann.

    Lisa was dressed in a black satin Maid's outfit with 
black hose and a pair of matching heels.  The outfit was 
cinched mildly tightly around her waist, which expanded her 
bust.  Erica wondered if she should buy a corset or basque 
for her to wear, since she had already bought some for 
herself.

    Joann was naked, and kneeling on the floor.  Her hands 
were locked behind her back, and she was wearing a 
blindfold and ballgag, and Lisa was holding onto a leash 
that was attached to her collar.  Her prospect was already 
quite helpless.

    "Very good, Lisa," complimented Erica.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    Joann stayed silent in her position, then Erica 
signaled for Lisa to remove her blindfold.  Joann blinked 
in the sudden light as her vision was restored to her.

    Her eyes registered surprise as she took in the 
tableau in front of her, as she recognized the various 
devices that were now before her.

    "You may remove her gag."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Thank you, Mistress," said Joann when the ball was 
removed from her mouth.

    "Do you recognize what these things are?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Do you submit to me of your own free will, without 
coercion or duress?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "That I shall have the freedom to use your body in any 
way I choose while you are here?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "That you will remain silent about what happens to you 
here?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "That you have consented to be my slave?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Then prepare to be used," said Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress," replied Joann, softly.

    "Lisa, tie her to the to the post," ordered Erica.

    The post was something that Erica had seen in a 
catalog and had ordered.  It was more like an inverted T, 
and a slaves arm's could be bound behind her and attached 
to the post, and her bracelets on her ankles would be bound 
to the ends of the bar.  This would make her breasts 
protrude, and leave her sex exposed to whatever Erica could 
devise.

    Once secured, Erica selected a riding crop with a 
leather piece at the end.  It would leave a red mark and 
sting, but not really hurt.  But it was perfect for 
introducing a new prospect to the crop.

    "I shall crop you first, Joann."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica began by using the crop on Joann's breasts.  
Every time that the leather struck her, Joann emitted a low 
moan.  Erica struck her breasts, shoulders, stomach, 
thighs, and lightly on her sex.

    She delivered her strokes in-groups of five, paused, 
then began again.  Erica wanted Joann to slowly get used to 
the crop, and began with a series of very mild strokes that 
she soon increased in intensity and strength.

    "Ahhh!" cried Joann.

    "Are you excited, slave?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress, yes!"

    "Then I will continue, however," paused Erica.

    Erica reached out and pinched Joann's right nipple, 
which had grown hard from her sexual excitement from having 
been cropped.  Then she reached down, and ran her fingers 
through Joann's pussy hair, and stroked her Venus mound.

    "How pretty a woman you are, yet you long to be 
whipped and disciplined by a Mistress.  That lovely skin of 
yours will bear the marks of my lash and crop, and be 
virgin no more.  Have you ever been to bed with a woman?" 
asked Erica.

    "Just once, Mistress."

    "Then in this House you shall also learn how to please 
your Mistress in bed.  But that will be later."

    "Ohhhh!" cried Joann as Erica gently inserted her 
index finger inside Joann's cuntlips, making her squirm and 
moan.

    "Your body belongs to me now, Joann.  I will use you 
in any way that I desire."

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    Erica then made Joann suck her juices off of her 
finger, then used the crop on her a few more times, leaving 
a series of red marks on her skin.  Joann moaned and pulled 
at her bonds without effect, and she looked like she was 
about to cry, but did not.

    "Kiss the crop and thank your Mistress," ordered Erica 
when she had finished.

    "Thank...Thank you, Mistress Erica," stuttered Joann, 
in shock from her first real use.

    "Lisa, hang Joann from the ceiling.  I shall flog her 
next," calmly described Erica.

    The use of the word "flog" had clearly disturbed 
Joann.  As Lisa took her down from the post, then secured 
her wrists to the ceiling chain, Erica had glanced into the 
woman's eyes.  Though Joann said nothing, and meekly 
submitted as she was again made helpless, Erica could just 
image what horrors must be going through her mind.

    Once a spreader bar had been locked to Joann's ankles, 
Lisa had activated the motor and pulled her taut.  Her feet 
were still resting on the floor, but now Joann was straight 
as a ruler.  

    Erica removed a flogger made of a soft felt material.  
It would strike the flesh, and leave a mark.  But not 
really sting or hurt.

    "Kiss the flogger," ordered Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Joann as she did as she was 
told.

    "You are ordered to count each stroke."

    "One!"

    "Two!"

    "Three!"

    "Four!"

    "Five!"

    As she delivered each stroke Erica carefully watched 
Joann's facial expressions.  In the beginning, Joann had 
been very scared.  But after a few strokes, when she had 
realized that the flogger would not strip the skin from 
her, Joann had relaxed.  She pulled at her chains, the 
muscles visible under her skin.  But the fear slowly had 
dissipated.

    "Eight!"

    "Ten!"

    "Twelve!"

    "Fifteen!"

    Since this was her first real use, Erica did not want 
to scare Joann.  On Monday morning, she wanted Joann to 
gaze at her marks with pride and she had been courageous 
enough to take them onto her body, and to want to return.  
Her strokes were modest, and stung, and left a mark behind.  
Their mild pain had been transmuted into pleasure.

    "Twenty!" yelled Joann, slightly her voice slightly 
hoarse from counting out each stroke.

    "Very good Joann," complimented Erica, "very good, 
indeed."

    "Thank you, Mistress," panted Joann.

    "Lisa, please take Joann upstairs, clean her up, then 
chain her at the foot of my bed?  I'll want her about forty 
five minutes."

    "Yes, Mistress Erica," smartly answered Lisa.

    Erica presented the flogger to Joann, who kissed it 
without having to be told.  From the way that Joann was 
pulling at her chains, Erica knew that Joann was now 
excited sexually in a way that she had never been before.  
If the mild cropping and spanking that her boyfriend had 
done before had made her wet, her first use in the Dungeon 
had brought her to a new level of sexual energy.  It would 
be up to Erica to provide a release.

    "Lisa, make sure that she doesn't touch her nipples or 
her pussy, could you?  I don't want her to climax," ordered 
Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    "Thank you Lisa, I shall be in the library."
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    Just after Midnight, Erica entered her bedroom.  Joann 
was kneeling on the carpet, naked and bound, as per her 
instructions.  Erica had spent the time in the library 
reading while Lisa had prepared her slave.

    Erica stripped off the PVC dress, and hung it in the 
closet.  Then she walked into the bathroom, and quickly 
washed the sweat off her.  She dried herself, then emerged 
back to the bedroom.

    "Are you ready to serve your Mistress in bed?" asked 
Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica unlocked Joann's collar chain, then her wrists.  
She lay down on the bedcovers, then opened her thighs.

    "Please your Mistress, else the crop awaits."

    Erica was more than pleased to discover that she did 
not have to use the crop to encourage Joann.  The woman was 
insatiable once she began to suck and lick at Erica's 
pussy, and drove her Mistress to one climax after another.

    Then Erica used her own mouth and lips and released 
all of Joann's pent-up sexual energy in one shattering 
sexual climax after another.  Then Erica used a dildo, 
which she pushed deep into Joann's sex, making her moan and 
buck with one climax after another.

    Erica failed to notice what time they finally stopped 
making love, but she didn't much care either, since she was 
exhausted.  She looked at Joann, who had fallen asleep 
first, and the woman had a pleased expression on her face.  
Even if her collar had been locked to a chain from a 
ringbolt on the wall.
    *        *        *        *        *
    "Will she be back, Mistress?" asked Lisa as they 
watched the car drive away with Joann in the back seat.

    Joann had been bathed the next morning and had 
breakfast with Lisa, then she had been ushered into the 
library for a exit interview with Erica.

    Erica had asked her all kinds of questions about her 
use, and she was sure that Joann had replied truthfully.  
The woman had enjoyed her first taste of slavery, and had 
wanted more.
    
    "Yes," answered Erica, "she'll be back."

    What Erica had not counted on was that after a few 
months of use, Joann would ask if she could send some of 
her girlfriends to be used by Erica, to experience 
submission.  Mistress Erica and her Maid Lisa would be very 
busy in the months to come.

 

 

"The Challenge" Chapter Nine: The Other End of The Crop
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if 
you
include this statement of limitation of use and notify the 
author by e-mail.
The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell 
multiple copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.
However, individual readers may make single copies of the
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the 
author.  I do want to hear from you!

"The Challenge" by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Chapter 09: The Other End of the Crop

Part One: The Contract Fulfilled

Friday September 11, 1998

    While Janet was not supposed to put in an appearance 
at her job at Xylex, she had forgotten some papers in her 
office and decided to drop in and retrieve them so she 
could work over the weekend.

    She had dressed in a DKNY blouse and skirt, unlike her 
usual blue business suit.  Janet had carried her briefcase 
(black leather, of course) inside the building, and 
intended to be no more than ten minutes within her office.

    "Coffee, Janet?" asked her secretary, Clara.

    Janet had to stop herself for verbally disciplining 
Clara for not calling her Mistress.  She had to remember 
that she wasn't at home now, and that Clara wasn't her 
slave.  She was a secretary that she shared with three 
other executives.

    "Yes, thank you," answered Janet, frustrated that she 
was unable to find the papers that she had been searching 
for.

    After a few minutes more, Janet gave up and slammed 
the desk drawer closed.  She wanted her coffee now, and 
wondered what was causing the delay.

    She walked outside her office, furious and angry at 
not finding her papers, and wanting her caffeine fix.  But 
her anger melted away when she approached Clara's desk.

    "Oh!" said Janet.

    Standing next to her secretary's desk was Clara's 
daughter, Amy.  Clara had just shown the pictures around 
the office last week of her little girl's fifth birthday 
party.

    "I'm sorry, Janet.  I got busy with Amy here.  My 
sister will be over to take her for the day and..."

    "That's all right, Clara.  Your daughter is more 
important than my cup of coffee," said Janet as she poured 
herself a cup from the machine next to Clara's desk.

    Janet glanced at her secretary's desk, at the family 
picture of Clara, her husband, and their two children.  She 
often stared at the picture, looking at her secretary's 
family.

    "I'll just go back to searching, Clara," said Janet.

    "Yes, Janet, call me if you need anything," answered 
Clara.

    Exhaling when she searched through her file cabinets, 
she wondered if family life would have been in store for 
her had she not asked Sally to liven up her sex life.

    Would Janet now be in Clara's place, a secretary with 
a husband and a couple of children?  Instead of Dominatrix, 
being a wife and mother (not that those roles were mutually 
exclusive, she had met couples with a Domme wife and 
submissive husband) living an extraordinary domestic life.  

    Now here she was, Dominatrix, and Corporate Executive, 
who still couldn't find that damn file!

    "Shit!" she said aloud.

    The file that she had been looking for was inside of 
another file, which was why she couldn't find it.  It was 
just one back from being where it should have been, but her 
own frustration had prevented her from seeing it.

    Janet grabbed the damn file and a couple of others, 
and threw them in her case and locked it shut.  She drained 
the coffee in one swallow, then pitched the disposable cup 
into the wastebasket.

    "All done, Janet?" asked Clara when Janet passed her 
desk.

    "Yes, thank you."

    "You should have been here yesterday, and heard all 
the commotion."

    "Really, about what?"

    "There's some gossip about someone buying our stock.  
Not just here in New York, but also on the Philadelphia 
exchange as well."

    "Well, that is all well and good, but I have a project 
to do," said Janet.

    "Good-bye, Janet."

    "Good-bye, Clara," answered Janet as she left her job.

    She was going to have a busy night with Cheryl, so 
Janet wanted to get as much work done as possible 
beforehand.  What she really wanted to do was to just go 
for a nice long drive in the Miata, with the top down and 
the wind blowing in her face.

    It was getting a little hard for Janet to conceal 
Cheryl from her closest Domme friend.  She and Stephanie 
were very close, sharing almost everything.  They would 
lend slaves to one another, so that the slave could 
experience a different Mistress.

    When they went out on their last Dinner date, 
Stephanie had asked why Janet was always busy on the 
weekends.  She had told her that she was training a new 
slave, which had proven to be a mistake, for now Stephanie 
was very curious.  Even asking when the new girl would be 
loaned to her.

    BEEP!

    The car horn that went off behind her broke Janet's 
chain of thought about Cheryl, bringing her back into the 
real world.  Janet pressed on the gas, and continued 
driving.

    'All right, Cheryl, you've been a good slave so far,' 
Janet thought to herself, 'let's see how you perform now.'
    *        *        *        *        *
    With the coming of September, the temperature had 
gotten colder.  The library windows were now kept mostly 
closed, though Janet would open them a crack to get some 
fresh air inside.

    When she had a slave in the house naked, all of the 
windows were closed and the house kept warm, so that the 
slave would not catch a chill.  If Janet wanted some fresh 
air, she would take a walk outside by herself.

    "You may enter, Cheryl," ordered Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," replied Cheryl from the library 
doors.

    Cheryl was already collared and naked, and Tina had 
gone to attend to something.  It was late, past ten, since 
Cheryl asked to be picked up later than usual for a 
personal reason.

    It was too late, Janet thought, to go down to the 
Dungeon for a scene, and she was a little tired after 
working all day.  Tina had even had to force her to eat 
lunch; she had been so busy.

    "Sit down," ordered Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Ever since July, when you gave me trouble on those 2 
weekends, you have been a model slave.  You have taken all 
of my sessions without complaint, you have served me well 
in bed, and have read all of the books on submission that I 
have ordered you to read."

    "Thank you, Mistress.  I want to be a good slave," 
calmly explained Cheryl.

    "Just like that, like you were buying a new dress."

    "Mistress?"

    "I have had submissives who have agonized for weeks 
over why they are here, to be used as a slave by me.  Who 
cannot reconcile their feelings with the way that they have 
been brought up by society to behave."

    "I don't understand, Mistress."

    "You planned all of this very carefully, Cheryl," 
accused Janet.

    "I choose not to respond, Mistress."

    "You probably read a lot about submission, trained 
yourself at home with sex toys, were photographed nude, 
perhaps even hired a Domme to use you a few times.  Why?"

    "As I said in June, Mistress Janet, I wanted to be 
trained by you alone."

    "You have surrendered your clothes and your dignity, 
have had your flesh striped and your body invaded sexually, 
all because you wanted me for your Mistress?"

    "Yes, Mistress Janet."

    Janet sat back in her chair, the leather rustling when 
she shifted her weight.  The chair squeaking in response as 
well.

    "There are many Dommes who play games with their subs 
that can be rather harmful or embarrassing," Janet began, 
"one Domme I know has constructed a special panty composed 
of a small dildo rigged to a beeper and power pack.  When 
she wants her slave to call her, off goes the dildo giving 
the slave a climax at what could be a very sensitive 
moment.  Another will go out to Dinner with her slave, and 
leave her there with the check and no money."

    "Mistress, what does that have to do with me?"

    "I used you very harshly last week, didn't I?"

    "Yes, Mistress," quickly answered Cheryl.

    "You still carry my marks, don't you?"

    "Of course, Mistress."

    "What if tomorrow I were to order you to dress, take 
you to a dress shop and have you try on clothes?  So that 
the sales help would see your marks when you were in your 
underwear?  Also have you wear my collar with just the 
single front ring.  Would you do so, humiliate yourself in 
public?"

     "I don't know, Mistress," answered Cheryl, visibly 
shaken.

     "I don't play those kind of games, Cheryl.  Whatever 
I do occurs within the boundaries of this house, or if I 
loan a slave to another Domme, or if I take a slave to a 
play party.  I only use a slave with their consent.  But I 
don't play games with my slaves, even if other Dommes 
consider me a bit conservative and dull."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "Are you satisfied with your training?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress, very much.  Thank you."

    "Is this what you desired in your job as a Corporate 
Executive back home, to be stripped naked and used by a 
Dominatrix?"

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl.

    "To be a slave?" demanded Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress.  To be a slave."

    "It's rather late this evening, and I'm a bit tired.  
I have decided that I'll use you now in the library instead 
of the Dungeon."

    "Yes Mistress Janet, whatever you desire."

    "I want you to get on the black leather footstool, 
face down," ordered Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Cheryl obediently rose from her seat and walked the 
couple of steps, and draped herself over the footstool as 
ordered.  Janet opened a desk drawer, and removed four 
coils of rope and four smaller pieces, a red ballgag, a 
riding crop, and a dildo.

    Janet then pushed her chair back, and stood up, 
carrying everything in two handfuls. She placed them on a 
table next to the footstool.

    She then began to rope Cheryl's arms and legs to the 
legs of the footstool.  First she wrapped the rope a few 
times around, then knotted and pulled it tight. Then she 
used another piece, and cinched the ropes, pulling them 
tighter.  It had taken Janet plenty of time to learn just 
how to use rope without cutting off a person's circulation. 
Which was why she preferred the familiar cuffs of leather 
and steel.

    Once Cheryl had been roped to the footstool, Janet 
buckled the ballgag in her mouth, silencing her slave.

    "Mmmmmph!" cried Cheryl.

    "The footstool is a quite sensuous little piece of 
equipment," described Janet, "and it was Mistress Stephanie 
who introduced me to it the first time.  But I was a slave 
then, of course."

    Janet watched in amusement as Cheryl rubbed her 
breasts, stomach, and thighs against the black leather.  
She clearly liked the aroma of the polished leather, and 
how it felt against her skin.

    "Mmmmmph!"

    Janet reached under Cheryl's bound form, and began to 
pinch and play with her captive's nipples, which were 
already hard and erect.  Cheryl was clearly excited.

    "It's rather good to bind a slave to, since I can do 
all sorts of things with you, can't I?"

    "Mmmmmph!" Cheryl emitted a long low moan from behind 
the gag.

    "Wet, aren't you?" asked Janet, "and hot also, but not 
quite ready yet.  Since you've been such a good slave to 
train, let's see just how much control you have been able 
to learn."

    Janet displayed for Cheryl the dildo, which was a 
regular, sized one.

    "I am not going to make you come or climax, Cheryl, 
that is not now my objective.  Rather, I'm going to insert 
the dildo in your sex, and you're going to learn to hold it 
inside."

    Cheryl squealed as Janet slowly pushed the dildo into 
Cheryl's sex, then left it there instead of simulating sex.

    "There now, that's good.  Now I want you to hold it 
inside," ordered Janet, "clamp those cunt muscles of yours 
around the dildo, and hold it in place."

    "Mmmph!" cried Cheryl.

    Janet again sat behind her desk, and she had a clear 
view of Cheryl's bound form on the footstool.

    "I'll even give you a little piece of advice, Cheryl.  
Don't rub yourself against the leather, you won't excite 
yourself that way."

    "Mmmmph!"

    Janet watched with wry amusement as Cheryl struggled 
to keep herself from climaxing with the dildo inside her.  
She remembered her own struggles of control when Stephanie 
had bound her in the position.  Then she had succeeded in 
keeping the dildo inside her, even as Mistress Blanca had 
paddled her.

    "Very good, Cheryl," complimented Janet.

    "Mmmmmph!"

    "You make too much noise, Cheryl.  There is, of 
course, a second part to being roped to the footstool."

    Suddenly, Cheryl had stopped moaning from behind the 
gag.

    "Shall I use the paddle, my hand, or the riding crop?" 
asked Janet.

    "Mmmmmph!" cried Cheryl.

    "Definitely the paddle," quickly said Janet.

    From the desk, Janet procured a leather paddle, which 
she held in her hands as she displayed it to Cheryl.

    "You must keep the phallus inside your sex, Cheryl.  
If you come and it slips out, I can think of all kinds of 
nasty things that I can do with you."

    Janet stood over Cheryl, holding the paddle in her 
hands, flexing the black leather, her fingers a nice 
contrast against a dark background.

    "You told me earlier that you wanted be a slave, 
Cheryl," said Janet, "prepare to be used."

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Janet made sure not to strike Cheryl too hard with the 
paddle.  She didn't want Cheryl to panic, and since she was 
gagged, Janet kept a very close eye on her.  Rather, Janet 
wanted Cheryl to be able to keep the shaft in her sex.

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    The paddle had been her first introduction to Mistress 
Blanca, her lawyer.  But all she knew then was that Blanca 
had been Stephanie's guest that night, and she had tested 
Janet's limits of control.

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Janet stopped to run her hand over Cheryl's reddened 
bottom, feeling the heated skin.  The shaft was still 
inside Cheryl's thighs, and Janet touched it slightly.

    "Mmmmph!" cried Cheryl.

    "We continue."

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Janet made certain to use a different spot each time, 
never striking the same place twice.  She had specially 
avoided using Cheryl's bottom last week, just so that she 
could use it this week.

    Crack!

    Crack!

    "Very good, Cheryl," complimented Janet, "ten strokes 
with the paddle and you've kept the shaft in your sex."

    Janet placed the paddle on the floor and unbuckled 
Cheryl's ballgag.  Cheryl took deep breaths when the ball 
was freed from her mouth.

    "Thank you, Mistress," panted Cheryl.

    "You're welcome, Cheryl.  I generally don't like to 
use a slave when gagged unless they have a signal or I'm 
very close at hand."

    Almost casually, Janet reached between Cheryl's legs, 
held onto the shaft, and began a slow steady rhythmic 
motion with the phallus.  Cheryl immediately began to moan 
and buck, since now Janet wanted her to climax.

    "You may now come," ordered Janet.

    Once Janet had given her permission, Cheryl climax, 
and with her limited freedom of movement, impaled herself 
on the phallus.  She moaned, and made sounds of pleasure as 
one orgasm after another coursed through her body.

    "Aaaaaah!" cried Cheryl.

    "Very good, Cheryl."

    Janet began the slow process of releasing Cheryl.  
Rope, while more confining and intimate than cuffs, took 
longer to both bind and release that the snap locks or 
padlocks that she usually used.

    "You may kneel," Janet ordered.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Legs apart, hands on your knees."

    Cheryl did as she was instructed.  Janet looked at her 
watch, and found that it was near Midnight.

    "Are you a slut, Cheryl?" Janet asked.

    "Mistress?"

    "I asked you if you were a slut, Cheryl.  Were you 
predisposed to being a slave even before you came to me to 
be trained?  Did all your research into submission excite 
you and make you wet?"

    "I'm not a slut, Mistress."

    "So the Corporate woman finally speaks, does she?" 
Janet taunted, "then you have certainly fooled me, since 
you now act like any of my other slaves."

    Cheryl stayed silent, and Janet walked over to her and 
placed her thumb and index finger under Cheryl's chin and 
raised her head to directly look into Janet's eyes.

    "Before you came here this evening, you rouged your 
aureole and perfumed yourself as Tina has taught you.  You 
know how to satisfy a woman, since Tina has shown you that 
as well.  I have given you pain and pleasure from the lash 
and crop.  Your sex is wet from just the sight of a riding 
crop.  And you are kept naked and collared.  You're a slave 
and a slut, Cheryl."

    "No!" cried Cheryl as she buried her face in her 
hands, the leather of her bracelets a stark contrast 
against her skin.

    "There comes a time," Janet lectured Cheryl, who was 
still crying, "when every woman who enters my service 
finally realizes what she has become.  You're a slave, 
Cheryl.  You hold your body proudly as one, you wear my 
collar and take my discipline."

    Cheryl sobbed quietly on the floor.

    "You have achieved what you came here for, Cheryl.  
You're my slave," concluded Janet.

    Instead of spending the night with Janet, Cheryl 
instead was allowed to clean herself up and spent the night 
in a bedroom by herself, unchained.  While Janet could have 
taken her to bed and used her without mercy, instead she 
knew that Cheryl's realization of what she had finally 
become would have a far greater effect than any number of 
strokes with a riding crop.

    Janet left Cheryl in a bedroom, quietly sobbing to 
herself.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Sleep eluded Janet, and she lay quietly in bed.  She 
glanced at the doorframe, and saw silhouetted against the 
blackness the figure of a woman.  In the dim moonlight, she 
could make out that she was nude.

    "Mistress?" asked Tina softly; "may I join you?"

    Janet did not reply, but instead opened the covers.  
Tina got into bed with her Mistress, and enfolded her in 
her arms.

    "Tina, I'm sorry that I've been neglecting you," 
explained Janet.

    "Hush, Mistress," ordered Tina as she kissed Janet on 
the lips.

    Tina unbuttoned Janet's silk pajamas, exposed her nude 
body.  She gently ran her fingertips over Janet's breasts, 
Venus mound, and sex, exciting Janet quickly.  Janet pulled 
Tina closer to her, their hot breaths mingling together.

    They made quiet, leisurely and passionate love under 
the covers.  Janet did not need, or want, to use a crop or 
phallus.  Instead they serviced each other, then tasted 
themselves on each other's lips.

    Tina rested on Janet's shoulder after their 
lovemaking, and Janet ran her fingers through her lover's 
hair.  Janet then lovingly stroked Tina's nude body under 
the sheets.

    "Thank you, Tina," softly said Janet.

    "I love you, Mistress."

    "I love you too, Tina," answered Janet as she fell 
asleep, her slave and lover in her arms.

Part Two: Pillows Don't Have Safewords

Saturday September 12, 1998

    In the morning, Tina had released Cheryl from the 
bedroom to perform her toilet.  The pillow was wet with her 
tears, though the sheets were clean.  Evidently Cheryl had 
not sexually stimulated herself to orgasm without Janet's 
permission.

    Tina and Cheryl had served Janet breakfast in the 
Dining Room, then Janet had gone to change into a sports 
bra and shorts, and spent the rest of the morning in the 
exercise room.  She had turned on the stereo to play a 
classical station, and exercised to the sounds of Bach and 
Beethoven.

    Once Janet had finished, and recorded her progress on 
a clipboard in the room, she went in search of a soda.  Her 
body was covered in sweat, and she wanted a shower.

    "Mistress, can I help you?" asked Cheryl as she 
snapped to attention from a seat at the kitchen table.

    "No thank you, Cheryl," answered Janet as she removed 
a can of Coke from the refrigerator, popped the top, and 
took a long swallow of its contents.

    "Mistress, why didn't you chain me in the bedroom last 
night?" asked Cheryl.

    "Because I didn't need to," Janet answered, "you're 
already bound to me with something stronger than steel."

    "Mistress?"

    "Your slavery, Cheryl.  You are a different person now 
than when you entered this house," Janet answered calmly.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl.

    Janet drained the last of the soda in a couple of 
swallows, then washed out the can and placed it in a 
container that they kept for recycling.

    "Would Mistress Janet like to bathed by her slave?" 
offered Cheryl.

    "Yes, Cheryl, thank you, that would be very nice."

    Janet sat back in the tub, with Cheryl attending to 
her.  The water had been scented by a cube of lilac bath 
salts, and Janet relaxed closing her eyes.

    She had used the exercise equipment to work off some 
calories and frustrations, and had worked up a good sweat.  
While it was true that she had quite a bit of work to do, 
she had decided to take Cheryl up on her offer to bathe her 
Mistress.

    Tina had been training her as a Domestic, so she would 
learn how to serve a Mistress in all ways.  Including bath 
girl and Janet smiled when she realized how Tina had taught 
Cheryl to pamper her during training.

    Now Cheryl could demonstrate what she had learned, and 
she soaped and washed Janet's nude figure, then waited as 
Janet soaked away her frustrations in the tub.

    Afterwards, she dried and set Janet's hair, clipped 
and polished her nails, then finally massaged her Mistress 
on a table.  Janet had asked Tina to delay lunch, since she 
did not want to rush Cheryl.  She had wanted to see if 
Cheryl had learned her lessons, which indeed she did.

    "Thank you," said Janet as she rose from the massage 
table, nude.

    "You're welcome Mistress," replied Cheryl, kneeling on 
the floor.

    Janet pulled a robe around her nude body, then 
slippers on her feet.  She looked at herself in the mirror, 
and was very pleased.

    "You have done very well in serving your Mistress, 
Cheryl.  For that I have arranged a surprise for you this 
evening.  Go and tell Tina I shall dress and then you can 
serve lunch.  You are about to enter a new phase in your 
slavery."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl, as she rose to her 
feet, then left Janet alone in the exercise room.

    Janet had been bathed in the bathroom of the 
downstairs bedroom and then they had gone to the exercise 
room where the massage table was located.  The sauna had 
been installed in the next bedroom, leaving just two full 
bedrooms downstairs.

    Lunch was a simple affair, just salad, soup, and a 
sandwich.  She had decided to wear a simple blue denim 
dress around the house, something a little heavier than 
light summer clothing.

    Cheryl had been given some time off, and had spent the 
afternoon reading and sleeping.  She had performed the rest 
of her chores with Tina, staying silent most of the time.

    Janet noted that Cheryl cringed slightly whenever she 
sat down, a reminder of the paddling that she had received 
yesterday.  Her bottom was going to be a little sore for 
days to come, which would serve to keep the memory of 
Janet's use fresh in her mind.  Even when she would be 
wearing clothes.

    Nothing else happened until after Cheryl and Tina had 
eaten and the Dinner dishes were washed and in the drying 
rack.  The gate buzzer sounded, and Janet pressed the 
switch to admit a car.

    The car followed the driveway, then parked in the open 
space next to the garage next to the house, near Janet's 
Toyota.  The door opened, and a smartly dressed woman 
emerged, and made her way up to the landing, then pressed 
the doorbell.

    "Good evening, Valerie," greeted Janet to her guest.

    "Mistress Janet," greeted the woman, who kissed Janet 
on the cheek.

    "Thank you for coming on such short notice," said 
Janet.

    "Anything that my Mistress desires."

    "You already know Tina, and this is Cheryl, one of my 
newest slaves."

    Valerie removed her jacket, and Cheryl hung it in the 
closet, not really sure just what was going on between 
Janet and her guest.

    Valerie was in her thirties, and was wearing a white 
blouse and red plaid skirt.  She stood at five feet five, 
wore flats on her feet, stockings, and carried a small 
handbag.  

    "Tina, you may conduct Valerie to the bedroom and 
prepare her, I shall take Cheryl and prepare her myself," 
Janet ordered.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Please come with me, Cheryl."

    Cheryl dutifully followed behind Janet, and they 
ascended the staircase to one of the secondary upstairs 
bedrooms.  Janet noted on the clock that it was already 
past nine.  Good, since she did not want to get too early a 
start.

    "Now hold still," ordered Janet.

    Cheryl looked surprised when Janet released her 
collar, ankle and wrist bracelets.  Janet saw confusion and 
bewilderment in her eyes.  Good, that was what she had 
intended.

    "Mistress?"

    The evening before, she had not been chained to the 
wall.  Now she had been divested of the instruments of her 
slavery.  She was now totally naked.

    "Go into the closet, and select something to wear, 
including a pair of shoes," ordered Janet, as she sat on 
the bed.

    Cheryl opened the closet, which was smaller than her 
own (the closet in Janet's bedroom was larger than her 
first apartment); and she gasped when she saw that it was 
filled with the fetishwear that only a Mistress was allowed 
to wear.

    "Mistress, I don't understand," commented Cheryl.

    "Every slave of mine is offered the chance to switch, 
to use another of my slaves.  Valerie has consented to be 
used by you, after my request."

    "I've never held the crop before," protested Cheryl.

    "There's a first time for everything," Janet observed.

    "I just can't, Mistress!"

    "You have a choice, Cheryl.  Either use Valerie, or I 
shall take you down to the Dungeon, and give you a session 
that you will never forget," threatened Janet.

    "Mistress!"

    "Now get dressed, and then you shall help me dress as 
well," ordered Janet, "or else suffer the consequences."

    Janet noted the hesitation and indecision in Cheryl's 
mind, as she thought about the offer and threat.  Cheryl 
stood motionless, clearly frightened by what had been 
offered to her.

    "In order to be a slave," Janet began, "you must also 
experience what it means to properly hold the crop 
yourself.  This is all part of my training, Cheryl."

    "Yes, Mistress," Cheryl hesitantly answered, "I'll do 
it, I'll use Valerie."

    "Then get dressed, something simple.  You'll find 
clothes in your size in the closet.  Now go!"

    In the end, Cheryl selected a black PVC bra and skirt, 
black pantyhose, and matching shoes.  Janet helped to dress 
her, making sure that she was comfortable in her Domme 
wear.

    "Thank you, Mistress," said Cheryl as she looked at 
herself in the mirror.

    "You're welcome, Cheryl, now you may help me dress."  

    Janet had chosen a sleeveless red PVC Catsuit in 
advance.  Not as confining as the regular one with sleeves, 
it was still stunning to wear, and Janet held still as 
Cheryl zipped her up in the back.  She then placed a pair 
of knee high boots onto her feet, and Janet made certain 
that the garment fitted her correctly.

    She the removed a riding crop from her dresser, and 
handed it to Cheryl.

    "Mistress?" asked Cheryl with a puzzled look on her 
face.

    "Strike the pillow a few times with the crop, Cheryl," 
Janet instructed.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    The crop that Janet had chosen for Cheryl to use was 
the one with a broad leather pad at the end.  She did not 
want Cheryl to use one where the rod itself would be used 
to strike flesh, since that required experience and 
knowledge to use.

    Janet watched as Cheryl whacked away at the pillow, 
which was an excellent device to use before using a slave 
for the first time.  She wondered why Stephanie had not 
given her the pillow first, before she had been allowed to 
use Camille.

    "Did you ask the pillow for a safeword?" asked Janet.

    "Mistress?"

    "Just a joke, Cheryl," Janet smiled in response to 
Cheryl's question, "now that you have learned to be my 
slave, what must you know before using another?"

    "I must determine if and how a slave has ever been 
used or trained.  How much use that they can take, get a 
bio of their sexual history in order to understand them.  
Establish a safeword and never go beyond it, and never hurt 
or maim," answered Cheryl.

    "Very good, Cheryl.  You have learned just as I did, 
from my Mistress.  Holding a crop in your hands does not 
give you the right to abuse or harm," said Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Good, now we go down to the Dungeon where Tina is 
waiting with Valerie."

    "Yes, Mistress Janet, and thank you, Mistress," said 
Cheryl, swallowing a lump in her throat.

    "You're welcome, Cheryl.  That crop can be left here 
in the bedroom, I have others downstairs.  And if you do 
something wrong with Valerie, prepare to suffer a 
punishment."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Cheryl dutifully followed behind Janet as they walked 
down the staircase, then descended in the elevator down to 
the cellar Dungeon.  Janet opened the heavy wooden door, 
and they entered together.

    Tina was wearing her regular Maid's outfit of black 
satin, and Valerie was now kneeling naked on the floor, 
collared with matching bracelets on her wrists and ankles.

    Janet ascended to her throne like chair, and seated 
herself.  Tina walked over to her side, attending to her 
Mistress leaving Cheryl standing next to Valerie.

    "Do you, Cheryl, understand and accept the 
responsibilities that I give you involved in the temporary 
use of my slave, Valerie?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Proceed," ordered Janet.

    "How have you been used, Valerie?" asked Cheryl.

    "With the paddle, crop, and flogger Mistress, but I am 
not to be used with the whip."

    "Are you gagged during use?"

    "No, Mistress."

    "What is your safeword?"

    "Charm, Mistress."

    "Mistress Janet, may I have Tina assist me?" asked 
Cheryl.

    "Yes, of course.  Tina, please assist Cheryl."

    "Valerie, do you accept my use of you?" finally asked 
Cheryl.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Tina?" asked Cheryl, not quite believing that she was 
now the one giving the orders in the Dungeon.

    "Yes, Mistress?"

    "Tie Valerie to the X frame."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Cheryl watched in silence as Tina pulled Cheryl to her 
feet, then walked her over to the X Frame, and quickly 
secured her to it, first locking her cuffs, then using a 
series of straps to tightly tie her to the wooden beams.

    "Mistress, Valerie is now ready," said Tina.

    "Thank you, Tina," answered Cheryl.

    Cheryl selected a riding crop from the cabinet that 
was similar to the one that Janet had allowed her to use in 
the bedroom.  She held it in her hands, feeling the leather 
handle that she had oiled herself under Tina's guidance.

    "You may proceed, Cheryl," ordered Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Cheryl walked over to the X Frame, and held the crop 
in her hands.  She offered the handle to Valerie's mouth.

    "Kiss the handle, slave."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Valerie did as she was instructed, her red lips 
caressing the woven leather handle of the crop.  She kissed 
the handle a number of times before Cheryl removed it, and 
slapped the pad at the end against her hand.

    "Prepare to be used, Valerie."

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!
    
    Thwack!

    "Oooooh!" cried Valerie as the pad struck her 
repeatedly.

    Cheryl had begun using the crop like every novice.  
Her strokes were mild ones, which barely made a sound or 
marked.  She delivered one after another, sometimes looking 
back at Janet.

    'Cheryl is nervous as hell,' thought Janet, 'that's to 
be expected.  But is there something else?'

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    "Ahhh!" cried Valerie when Cheryl struck the crop 
between her legs.

    With each stroke of the crop, Cheryl gained greater 
confidence.  Her strokes were header and better aimed, and 
left a red mark wherever the pad struck Valerie's body.

    Valerie moaned, and pulled at her leather restraints, 
putting up a good show.  The strokes that Cheryl was using 
were no more than mild pats to her, given the sessions that 
she had experienced with Janet.  From her seat, Janet 
smiled at her slave's performance.  Perhaps next time when 
she had Valerie again under her crop, she would give her 
slave something to cry about.

    "Does, does this make you wet, Valerie?" asked Cheryl.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Cheryl inserted her free hand between Valerie's legs 
into her sex, and found that the slave wasn't even sexually 
excited.

    "Liar!"

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    "Ohhhhhh!" cried Valerie, with a lot more feeling this 
time as she was repeatedly struck with the crop time and 
again.

    From her seat, Janet guessed that Cheryl had delivered 
about thirty strokes before she finished and presented the 
handle again to Valerie to kiss.

    "Thank you, Mistress," panted Valerie.

    "Do not release her yet," ordered Cheryl.

    Cheryl replaced the crop in the cabinet, then placed a 
number of objects in her hands.  She walked back over to 
Valerie, and displayed them to her captive.

    "Have clamps ever been used on you?" asked Cheryl.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Cheryl attached one to Valerie's right nipple, making 
her squirm and moan.  A second was placed on her left 
nipple, then Cheryl attached one each to her pussy lips.

    "Ahhhh!" cried Valerie.

    Cheryl ran her hands over Valerie's warmed and 
reddened flesh, stroking the bound girl's naked and exposed 
figure.  She pulled at the clamps, eliciting a response 
each time from Valerie.

    "Aaaaah!"

    After about fifteen minutes, Cheryl removed the 
clamps, then called Tina over.

    "Hang Valerie from the ceiling and place a spreader 
bar on her legs," ordered Cheryl.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Tina.

    Once Valerie had been confined as ordered, Cheryl 
stood in front of her, holding a flogger in her hands.  
Janet had said nothing when Cheryl had chosen the flogger 
made of rubber strands.

    Unlike the ones made of a softer material like 
deerskin, or soft leather, the rubber flogger was quite 
severe.  The strands were heavier, and the edges sharp.  
Used properly, it would sting and mark.  Used improperly, 
it could damage and break the skin.

    Janet had used many of her floggers on Cheryl, and 
Tina had pointed out the many different kinds that there 
were and the possible effects that they could have.

    Cheryl had grabbed the rubber flogger in haste and 
perhaps exasperation at not getting the desired response 
from Valerie.  Janet had especially asked Valerie to be 
Cheryl's guinea pig, since she wanted a slave that could 
absorb a lot of pain.

    Mistress Janet watched in silence as Cheryl handled 
the flogger, and finally realized what weapon that she had 
chosen in haste.  The look of recognition spread across her 
face, that this was not one of the softer ones that she had 
wanted instead.

    "This is a rubber flogger," began Cheryl, "that is 
quite severe.  I want you to count out each stroke."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Thwack!

    "One!"

    "Two!"

    "Three!"

    "Five!"

    Janet noted that Cheryl did not put the full strength 
of her arm into each stroke, and she avoided hitting 
Valerie with just the ends of the flogger.  If she did, 
then each strand would mark.  Instead, Valerie was struck 
with the length of the strand rather than the tip itself.

    "Owwww!" cried Valerie, as she turned her torso to 
avoid the sting of the flogger.

    "Eight!"

    "Ten!"

    "Fourteen!"

    "Sixteen, please stop, Mistress!"

    "Twenty!" called Valerie.

    "Kiss the flogger," ordered Cheryl.

    "Thank you, Mistress," panted Valerie, tears falling 
from her eyes.

    "Ahhh!" suddenly cried Valerie.

    "Wet, aren't you?"

    While Valerie had been kissing the flogger, Cheryl had 
roughly inserted her fingers into the girl's sex.  The crop 
had not excited her, but the flogger had instead.

    Valerie's body was now a dull red, and her skin was 
warm to the touch.  Cheryl had used the flogger over every 
part of Valerie's body, and the girl was now covered in 
sweat, her hair a mess, since she had shaken her head from 
side to side during the flogging.  Cheryl had used 
progressively stronger strokes as the session went on, to 
bring Valerie up to a new threshold beyond her cropping.

    "Thank you, Mistress," cried Valerie.

    "You're welcome, slave."

    Cheryl then replaced the flogger back into the wooden 
cabinet, then asked Tina to take Valerie down.  She helped 
Valerie over to the bench, and sat her down carefully.  
Then she walked over to Janet's chair, and knelt before 
her.

    "I thank my Mistress Janet for the use of her slave, 
Valerie," said Cheryl.

    "You're welcome, Cheryl.  You may take her to bed, if 
you want," offered Janet.

    "Mistress?"

    "Don't make me have to repeat myself, Cheryl.  You 
heard what I said."

    "Yes, Mistress, thank you.  I accept the use of 
Valerie this evening."

    "Very good.  Tina could you take Valerie upstairs and 
get her cleaned up, I want to have a word with Cheryl?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet waited until they were alone, and the heavy door 
closed behind them.

    "You did very well Cheryl," complimented Janet.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "You picked the wrong flogger, didn't you.  You chose 
something in haste because you didn't get Valerie to 
respond to the crop, is that correct?" accused Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress.  But I recognized my mistake."

    "Good, because if you had not, if you had used the 
rubber flogger improperly, I would have stopped you, had 
you stripped, then hung from the ceiling and beat you as 
you had been beating Valerie."

    "I understand, Mistress.  What if she had called her 
safeword?"

    "Then you would have stopped, of course.  That is 
absolute."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Give Tina a few minutes, then you may use Valerie in 
bed.  Just remember that one-day I will ask you to be used 
by another of my slaves."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Good, then we shall walk up together," said Janet.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Janet lay nude on the bed, and Tina straddled her, 
massaging her back.  Her fingers kneaded the flesh, and 
worked out the knots in Janet's back muscles.

    "That feels so good," complimented Janet.

    Tina opened a bottle of scented oil, and began to 
massage the oil into Janet's skin, adding a fragrance to 
the room.

    "Thank you, Tina."

    "You're welcome, Mistress."

    "When was the last time that I used you, Tina?" asked 
Janet.

    "I don't remember, Mistress."

    "Four weeks ago," answered Janet.

    "Let me do your shoulders, Mistress."

    "Tomorrow night, Tina, I'm going to give you the 
thrashing that you desire."

    "Thank you, Mistress.  I'll be looking forward to it.  
Will that be before or after Dinner?"

    "After, Tina.  But not all that long after," laughed 
Janet.
    *        *        *        *        *

From the Diary of Cheryl Branford
    This weekend Mistress Janet played a cruel 
psychological game with me, that both plunged me into the 
depths of despair and gave me an emotional high as well.
    On Friday night, I was not used in the Dungeon, as I 
thought I would be.  Instead, Janet verbally fenced with 
me, and I did not understand the reason why.  Then she used 
me in the library, tying me to the footstool, inserting a 
dildo into my sex, then paddling my behind.  What made it 
such an effective punishment was that I had to keep the 
dildo inside my sex while my bottom was being paddled.
    Biting on the ballgag in my mouth, I strained with 
every ounce of my being to keep the dildo inside me, and I 
succeeded.  Afterwards, Janet made me realize that I was 
truly her slave, and I broke down crying.  I spent the 
night unchained in a bedroom, not even bothering to bring 
myself to climax.
    On Saturday I was offered the chance to use another of 
Janet's slaves, a woman named Valerie.  She was one of the 
prettiest women that I have ever seen, yet she enjoys 
Janet's lash.
    I used her, first in the Dungeon, next in bed.  It 
wasn't until I returned home that I realized what I had 
done.
    I am no longer purely submissive, having used another 
woman.  I have experienced, however briefly, the feeling of 
power that comes with using another.
    I gaze at the ring on my finger, and my body grows hot 
with desire for Mistress Janet.  If she were to call, I 
would run back to her house, and strip myself of all my 
clothes, and beg for her use.
    Am I now nothing more than a mouth, a cunt, and an 
anus waiting to be stimulated and used?  Can only the lash 
and crop bring me to sexual climax?

 

 

"The Challenge" Chapter Ten: The Rescue
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if 
you
include this statement of limitation of use and notify the 
author by e-mail.
The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell 
multiple copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.
However, individual readers may make single copies of the
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the 
author.  I do want to hear from you!

"The Challenge" by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Chapter 10: The Rescue

Part One: The Debt Recalled

February 1986

    The party was held at the country home of Mistress 
Marcia, and her husband, Simon.  They owned a successful 
catering business in New York City, and lived there during 
the week.  But on weekends, they stayed in their country 
house up in Pawling, New York.

    They owned an old farmhouse, with plenty of room.  
They had converted the basement to a D/s playroom that they 
kept locked unless they were having a party.

    Erica and Lisa had been invited, and they stayed 
together almost all of the time.  Food and drinks had been 
served upstairs, and the playroom had been reserved for 
play and demonstrations.

    While there was a substantial interest in showing off 
homemade toys, whips, floggers, and the like, Erica really 
wasn't into that sort of thing.  She much preferred to just 
go to the city, and buy all of her toys there in the shops.

    Erica and Lisa sat together in the playroom, sipping 
their drinks.  They chatted with other Masters and 
Mistresses that Erica knew, and made small talk.

    "You're very successful," whispered a Domme in Erica's 
ear.

    Erica turned and hugged her friend Erin, and kissed 
her on the cheek.

    "Erin!  I didn't know that you were here," greeted 
Erica.

    "I didn't either, but my husband just begged me to 
come.  I'll punish him later for that," laughed Erin.

    "You're looking well," commented Erica.

    "Thank you, a little dieting helps."

    Erin was an Irish Redhead who Dommed only men, and 
then she turned around and married one of her slaves.  They 
lived over in New Jersey, and they both had their own 
careers.  She stood 5 foot five in heels, and was wearing a 
leather bodysuit, and long gloves.

    "Someone's just come in upstairs, and she's going to 
Domme a new prospect of hers."

    "Really, who's that?" asked Erica.

    "I've never seen her before, have you ever heard of a 
Mistress Lauren?"

    "Yes," replied Erica, "I've heard of her."

    "I want to get a drink upstairs, I'll see you later," 
said Erin.

    Erica and Lisa had been sitting up front, in the front 
row of folding chairs next to some of the toys that their 
hosts had in the playroom.  They had a set of stocks, some 
ceiling chains, a padded sawhorse, bondage platform, and 
finally a bondage cross.

    "Do you want to leave?" asked Lisa.

    "No, but let's sit in the back," said Erica.

    "I think that I saw some masks around here."

    "Get two," ordered Erica.

    While Erica got two seats in the back, Lisa removed 
two masks from a table against one of the walls.  According 
to D/s etiquette, once masked, nobody would identify them 
to anyone else.  They sat in back, next to a male and 
female couple.  He was her master, she wore a collar, and 
he was holding onto her leash.

    Erica and Lisa sat down together, and placed masks on 
their faces.  Their companions nodded to them in knowing 
silence.

    "I would now like to introduce Mistress Lauren, and 
her painslut," said Mistress Marcia, "who are going to 
provide a little demonstration for us this evening."

    Lisa glanced at her watch, because she knew that they 
had a meeting tomorrow in Manhattan.  She pointed at the 
dial, and Erica indicated that they should stay seated.

    Lauren walked out in front of the small audience, 
wearing a Dominatrix dress in black leather, and matching 
heels.  She was holding the leash of a cloaked and collared 
woman in a black mask that was walking behind her.

    "Thank you, Mistress Marcia.  This is my painslut, 
named simply S.  I am going to provide a demonstration of 
how a slave can take an extraordinary amount of use."

    The audience sat in silence as Lauren unlocked the 
leash from the slave's collar, then removed her cloak.  
Under the cloak, the woman was totally naked, except for 
wrist and ankle bracelets.  Erica noted the signs that she 
had been harshly used before.

    'No surprise, given that she serves Lauren,' Erica 
thought to herself.

    Without even asking for a safeword, Lauren pulled the 
woman over to the bar, forcing her legs apart then locked 
her ankles, then after bending her over, her wrists to the 
legs of the padded sawhorse.

    From her bag she then removed a paddle, and displayed 
it to the audience.

    "I shall start with a paddle on her behind," said 
Lauren.

    Without ceremony or any other prelude, she began by 
delivering a modest blow to the slave's bottom, who 
remained silent during her use.  Then she followed that up 
with a regular series of strokes, each one harder than the 
last.

    There was no counting of the strokes by the slave, or 
by Mistress Lauren.  But in the back, Erica's trained eye 
counted each stroke.  Soon, the slave began to emit little 
cries after every stroke or two.

    Her bottom was fast progressing from lightly to mildly 
onto harshly punished, as Lauren rained blow after blow on 
her exposed and vulnerable ass cheeks.  Lauren did not 
stop, pause, or show any mercy.  Or any concern for her 
slave, either.

    "Do you want to leave?" softly asked Lisa.

    "No, hush," replied Erica.

    After Erica had counted thirty blows with the paddle 
had been delivered, and the last series the hardest of all, 
did Lauren abruptly stop.

    "Thank you, Mistress!" cried S.

    There was scattered applause from the audience, most 
of who did not know of Mistress Lauren, Erica guessed.  
After this night, though, everyone would.

    "Thank you," Lauren said to her audience, "now I shall 
continue."

    Lauren then released S from the padded sawhorse, and 
wasted no time in locking her wrists to the ceiling chain.  
She attached a spreader bar to her ankles, opening her sex 
to whatever Lauren intended.

    Casually, Lauren pinched the slave's nipples so hard 
as to make her cry out, then dug her nails cruelly into her 
sex.

    "I shall make you scream," threatened Lauren.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    From her bag, Lauren then selected a crop.  This one 
was a long straight object, a piece of bamboo reed wrapped 
in leather.  Unlike other crops, this one was intended for 
harsh use.  There was no leather pad at the end, which was 
usually used on a slave.  So the rod itself would be used.

    Again, Lauren began to issue one stroke after another 
onto the taut form of S.  While the first strokes were 
quite mild, others were considerably more severe.

    Erica counted each stroke, her eyes recording each one 
and her mind counting them one by one.  S would cry out 
occasionally, a stifled moan.  The sound of someone who no 
longer cared whatever happened to her.

    Lauren continued without pause or mercy again, heavily 
striping her slave.  Erica somehow managed to keep count, 
even when Lauren circled around her slave.

    S endured strokes to the inside and outside of her 
thighs, her sex, her breasts, and also to her injured 
bottom.  She was not hanging off the floor, but instead was 
standing on the soles of her feet.

    "Ahhhhh!" S cried sharply when the crop struck her 
sex, making her jump within her confinement.

    "Silence, slave!" ordered Lauren, who slashed at S 
even harder.

    Erica believed that she counted forty strokes before 
Lauren stopped.  The stripes that Lauren had left behind 
would last for weeks, thought Erica, and would become real 
welts the next day.

    'What sort of woman would want to endure such 
punishment?' Erica asked herself.

    "Kiss the crop," ordered Lauren.

    S reached forward and kissed the crop that Mistress 
Lauren offered her.  She was allowed a few moments rest, 
before Lauren then produced a flogger.

    Erica thought that at least the flogger wouldn't leave 
welts behind.  It was made of broad soft leather strands 
that would hurt, but not mark.

    Still, Lauren appeared to be putting all of her 
strength into each stroke, making S cry out with every 
other blow.

    "Please, Mistress!" cried S, tears streaming down her 
cheeks.

    "Silence!"

    'I know that voice,' Erica thought to herself, as she 
continued to count each stroke with the flogger.

    "Do you want to leave?" asked Lisa.

    "If you ask again," quietly answered Erica, "I swear 
I'll thrash you tomorrow.  We stay here."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica had counted about thirty strokes with the 
flogger, with her concentration interrupted by Lisa.  Her 
maid would pay for her transgression later.

    "Thank you, Mistress," cried S.

    "As you can see, S is a remarkable painslut.  For my 
final use, I shall use the single tail whip."

    A murmur of concern emanated from the crowd.  The 
single tail whip was a dangerous instrument, one that could 
slice flesh easily if not used correctly.  Erica refrained 
from using it, and only kept it for display purposes.

    Lauren exchanged the flogger for the whip, which she 
cracked a few times in the air for effect.  Then she began 
to use it on S, who cried out from both fright and actual 
pain when it struck her already punished flesh.

    Erica noted that tears were streaking down the cheeks 
of the slave's face, under the mask.  Either this woman was 
a true painslut, or there was something else at work here.

    "Ahhhhh!" cried S.

    "Silence, slut."

    Lauren continued until Erica had counted twenty, then 
ceased, and offered the handle to the sobbing and beaten 
slave.

    "Thank you very much," said Lauren to the crowd.

    "Talk to Lauren, distract her, keep her away from S," 
Erica softly ordered Lisa, "I want to talk to her, alone."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Don't remove your mask, she must not know who you 
are!"

    "I understand."

    Two of Marcia's other guests helped release S, and sat 
her down on a wooden bench.  S winced when her beaten 
bottom touched the hard wood, and Erica noted the tears on 
her cheeks.

    Lisa engaged Lauren in conversation, and the Mistress 
made no effort either to comfort or to help her slave after 
her ordeal, as Erica would have done under the same 
circumstances.  Erica was pleased that Lisa obeyed her 
orders, even if sometimes she did not understand them.

    Erica poured a glass of water from a pitcher, and 
removed a few tissues from a box on a nearby table.  S had 
been left alone, sobbing on the bench, with nobody to help 
her.

    "Here," said Erica, "drink this."

    "Thank you," replied S as she drank greedily.

    Up close, Erica was shocked at the condition of the 
slave's body.  While the single tail whip had not sliced 
the skin, drops of blood were visible on the woman's back.  
Not just at the recent marks, but evidence of past marks as 
well.  But it was her voice!  A chill went down Erica's 
spine!

    "Dry your eyes," suggested Erica.

    S undid her mask, and covered her eyes with the 
tissues, drying her tears.  She then looked up at Erica, 
and the universe seemed to stop.

    It was the face of Dr. Stephanie Richards, the woman 
who had saved Alana's life that June morning six years 
earlier, and in another life.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    The drive back from Pawling to Greenwich was made in 
silence, and Erica had asked that Lisa do the driving.  
Plans and ideas ran through Erica's mind, but they would 
have to wait until she had information first.

    When they arrived back home, Erica took a glass from 
the kitchen cabinet, and placed three ice cubes within.  
Then she walked to the library, and poured straight bourbon 
over the ice.  Finally, she seated herself behind the 
library desk.

    "Mistress, are you all right?" asked Lisa.

    "Go to bed, Lisa.  I'll be along in a minute," ordered 
Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica stared at the ice in the glass, then took a long 
hard swallow of the bourbon.  The whiskey set her throat on 
fire, burning as it went down to her stomach.

    'What's the use of great wealth if you can't use it?' 
she asked herself.

    Erica walked to the library safe, and opened it.  
There were, for people in her position, special services 
available.  Karla was one such provider who would do a job 
for her, no questions asked.  She removed a manila folder, 
inside of which was an envelope.  Erica opened the 
envelope, extracting a sheet of paper within, then picked 
up the phone on her desk.  She pressed the buttons, and 
after a few rings, someone picked up on the other end.

    "Hello?"

    "Is this Karla?" asked Erica.

    "Yes."

    "This is Erica.  I have a job for you."

    "Go ahead."

    "I want to know everything that has happened in the 
last six years to a Dr. Stephanie Richards of Greenwich 
Hospital."

    "When do you want it?"

    "Yesterday."

    "This could be expensive," replied Karla.

    "Money is no object."

    "Forty-Eight hours.  I'll call with the location and 
price."

    "Done."

    The connection was cut on the other end, and Erica 
replaced the receiver and drained her glass.  Then she 
poured another, and drank that too, a burning anger 
building within her.

    'What could have happened to Dr. Richards to make her 
serve a sadist like Lauren?' Erica asked herself.

    Erica gripped the glass so strongly that it broke 
within her hand, scattering glass, ice, and blood on the 
desk.  She ran to the bathroom, and cleaned and dressed the 
cuts on her hand.

    'I swear that I'm going to find out,' thought Erica, 
'I swear.'
    *        *        *        *        *
    Two days later, Erica was seated in the library.  She 
had met Karla, and paid him a sizeable amount of cash for 
the report on Dr. Richards.  While driving home, she had 
wanted to tear the heavy manila envelope open and begin 
reading.  Instead, she had waited until she returned home, 
ordered Lisa to hold all her calls, then locked herself in 
the sanctuary of the library.

    Karla had excelled even himself.  The report started 
not six years ago, but instead was a report on Dr. Richards 
entire life.

    Like Alana, Stephanie had been the daughter of an old 
Connecticut family.  Instead of following the family to 
Wall Street, she had decided to become a doctor.  Stephanie 
had gone to Medical School in Los Angeles, had trained as a 
trauma doctor to treat accident and gunshot victims, and 
was a talented and respected doctor in her field.

    The year before Stephanie had saved Alana's life she 
had married, but had not taken her husband's name.  Alana 
gazed at the wedding announcement in the Times, and at the 
picture of her attractive husband.  How happy they looked 
together.

    It was two years after Stephanie had saved Alana's 
life that things began to go horribly wrong for her.

    First an incompetent doctor had misdiagnosed her 
brother, and by the time he was correctly diagnosed, a 
fatal cancer had spread through his body, killing him.  
Stephanie had protested to the Medical Authorities, and the 
entire affair had been swept under the rug.

    Two years later, after a car accident, another 
incompetent doctor killed her husband in an emergency room.  
Again, Stephanie tried to have the doctor's license 
removed.  This time, the doctor got off by retiring, then 
began to practice again in another state.

    Stephanie had begun drinking, and after she had been 
convicted of a DWI offense she had made a minor mistake in 
a hospital, and placed on suspension.  After being 
criticized by others in the Medical field, she had quietly 
retired.  Or had she been forced out?  Then she began to 
drink again, eventually passing out in a bar one night in 
Cos Cob, according to a police report.

    The report didn't say how Stephanie had ended up 
serving Mistress Lauren.  But it didn't have to, for Erica 
had found out what she wanted to know.

    Now the only question was what she was going to do 
about it.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    "Keith, how can I take a slave from another Domme?" 
asked Erica.

    "I was wondering when you were going to ask me 
something," answered Keith as he sipped his after dinner 
drink.

    Erica had taken Keith out to restaurant for a private 
dinner, but he knew just by looking at her that she had an 
ulterior motive for seeing him.

    "I have a real problem here, and I need your help."

    "Do you have a special interest in this slave?  Is she 
very attractive, well trained, good in bed?"

    "It's nothing like that, I have other reasons."

    "All right, thank you for dinner, by the way," he 
began, "do you know if the slave been collared or has 
signed a contract with her owner?"

    "I don't know," answered Erica.

    "If she hasn't, then you're in the clear.  She can 
just tell her former Domme that she has a new owner."

    "What if?"

    "If she has signed a contract, then either you will 
have to wait until the end of the contract, or provide a 
service to the other Domme in exchange for the slave," 
described Keith.

    Erica realized that if Stephanie had signed a 
contract, then Lauren would never let her go if Erica 
wanted her.  Lauren would want nothing better than to keep 
Stephanie for no other reason than that alone.

    Even if she would trade Stephanie for something, Erica 
could imagine that she would do it in exchange for only one 
thing.  Lauren's chance to get Erica under her lash once 
more.

    "What are you going to do?" asked Keith.

    "Hope that she hasn't signed a contract," answered 
Erica.       

    "Good luck, Erica."

    "Thank you, Keith."
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    Karla's next job had been to find out Stephanie's 
daily life and schedule.  She was tailed for a week, and 
all of her habits observed and written down.

    Meantime, Erica had used her sources in the D/s 
community, and had found that Stephanie had not been 
collared by Lauren, nor had there been any talk of a 
contract between them.  Lauren would take her little toy to 
parties, then beat the crap out of her in public.  Erica 
had heard criticism of Lauren's behavior from others in the 
community.  Good.

    After a week's time, Karla delivered another report, 
this time on Stephanie's personal schedule and habits.

    "Why are you interested in this woman?" asked Karla as 
he handed Erica the second envelope, as they sat together 
in a parked car.

    "I thought that you were the one who never asked 
questions?" answered Erica as she passed him an envelope 
containing her payment.

    "Just read what she did this week," suggested Karla.

    "OK, sure.  I may need you for other services as 
well."

    "See you soon," said Karla.

    Erica sat behind the library desk, Karla's report 
spread out before her.  The report had documented all of 
Stephanie's movements, where she lived, and her personal 
habits.

    Dr. Stephanie Richards had indeed fallen from grace.  
Though she possessed wealth, she had out rented the Mansion 
that she had shared with her husband.  She lived alone in a 
small apartment in Rye, not far from the one that Alana had 
rented.  She now drove an old Ford, not the Jaguar that she 
owned before.

    Just as Erica had done, she had tried to assume a 
modest life away from the one of wealth and privilege that 
she had led before.  Both of the paths in their lives had 
somehow led them to one in submission, and both involved 
serving a wrong Master or Mistress.

    Karla was right about last week.  She had gone to a 
gay bar, met a butch femme, who then had beaten her up 
after some kind of disagreement.

    The report listed where she shopped for food, her lack 
of friends, her choices in reading, and where she went 
everyday (mostly to a bar for happy hour) and how she spent 
her time.

    Erica did not have to be a psychologist to figure out 
that Stephanie blamed herself, and her profession, for 
killing her brother and her husband.  She guessed that 
Stephanie had been very close to them, and she was seeking 
out physical punishment as a way of doing penance for their 
deaths.  Even if they had not been her fault.

    She remembered how Stephanie had seen her in the 
hospital, even though she had now been passed onto other 
doctors who would put her back together.  They had talked 
on many occasions, and Alana had looked forward to seeing 
the woman who had saved her life.

    Outside, snow was falling, covering everything in a 
carpet of pure white.  The radio was warning everyone to 
drive slowly and get off the roads.

    "Lisa!" called Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Lisa from the kitchen.

    "Come here, I want you!"

    Lisa entered the library, and sat in a chair, silently 
waiting for Erica's orders.

    "Do you remember the woman at the party, S?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "I have taken an interest in this woman, and have been 
compiling information about her.  I want her as my slave," 
stated Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica smiled to herself, since Lisa had not asked her 
the reason why.  Good that after two years her slave, she 
had learned not to question her Mistress unless given 
permission to do so.  For Mistress Erica had distinguished 
herself in her first two years, successfully training many 
slaves, writing articles on Dominance and submission, and 
was known in the community.

    "I do not know if this task will be easy or difficult.  
But there is a reason for why I want her."

    "I understand, Mistress."

    "Thank you, Lisa.  That will be all for now."

    "I'm making some hot chocolate, Mistress.  Would you 
like a mug?"

     "Yes, thank you."

    Erica sipped her hot chocolate from the mug, and 
watched as the snow fell silently onto the estate.

    'I owe you a debt for saving my life,' thought Erica, 
'and you don't deserve a cruel Mistress like Lauren.'

    Erica knew that sooner or later, Lauren would be 
unable to control herself, and would hurt Stephanie, just 
as she had done with Erica.

    'By that time, Stephanie will be my collared slave,' 
thought Erica, 'I hope.'

Part Two: The Rescue Begins

March 1986

    Stephanie Richards, was if nothing else, a creature of 
habit.  Her day was composed of going to the library, 
walking countless hours, window shopping at the mall, then 
finally ending up for happy hour two or three days a week 
at the Cork & Board; a bar and restaurant in Rye.

    In the beginning, one of Karla's men had shadowed her, 
until Erica realized that Stephanie followed a set and 
predictable routine.  Then Erica took over the job herself, 
and began the slow process of gaining Stephanie's 
confidence.

    Erica began to go the Cork & Board for Dinner alone 
almost every other night or so, even on days that Stephanie 
wasn't there.  She wanted to become one of the regulars, so 
that the bar and wait staff would know her face.

    Her mother had loved to read spy and espionage novels, 
and had avidly watched all of the TV shows during the 
1960s.  Alana had sat next to Eve, soaking up everything.  
She had read all of her mother's books as well, and had 
learned from them.

    Years later, she would put into effect the lessons 
that she had acquired from her mother's choice of 
entertainment.  She would worm herself into Stephanie's 
confidence, then proceed from there.

    Erica would eat Dinner at the bar, watching Stephanie.  
Her target would eat alone also, sometimes talking to 
another man or woman, even leaving with a complete stranger 
on occasion.

    Lisa had complained that Erica was no longer eating 
Dinner at home, and Erica had explained what she was doing.  
Her Maid no longer protested and kept silent.

    It took weeks, but over time Erica gradually 
ingratiated herself into Stephanie's confidence.  First by 
giving her a cigarette, next they played the pinball 
machine together, buying her drinks, finally Stephanie 
invited Erica back to her apartment.

    Erica had expected to find Stephanie's apartment to be 
a den of horrors, with dirty dishes piled high in the sink, 
bags of trash lying around, and piles of laundry.  Instead 
the place was neat and organized, betraying nothing of the 
occupant's distress.            
    
    They first began by having nothing but sex.  Stephanie 
would invite Erica into her bed, and they would make love 
until she passed out from exhaustion or drink.

    But their lovemaking was strange, to say the least.  
Stephanie would willingly service Erica's breasts and 
pussy, her tongue driving Erica to one raging climax after 
another.  But when Erica tried to reciprocate, Stephanie 
pushed her away from her sex.

    Erica did not comment on her lover's marks, and stayed 
silent about them.  Stephanie dutifully stripped naked in 
front of her lover, then climbed into bed.

    Then Stephanie pushed Erica away, only to invite her 
back the following week.  Erica held Stephanie loosely in 
her arms in bed, their bodies sweaty from lovemaking.

    Soon, Erica was her bed partner two nights a week.  
She never questioned what Stephanie was doing on the 
weekend, or the fresh welts that she possessed seemingly 
every week.

    Ever so gradually, Stephanie began to respond.  She 
became animated and alive again.  Erica noted that she 
brought fresh flowers into her apartment, and began to wear 
perfume.  Her dressing began to improve from drab to more 
lively colors.

    One night, finally, Stephanie's wall of resistance 
broke down.

    "It's my fault!" Stephanie cried.

    "It's all right," comforted Erica as she quickly 
awakened.

    "I killed them!"

    "Killed who?" asked Erica.

    "My brother and my husband," sobbed Stephanie.

    In between sobs, Stephanie related the story of how 
her brother and husband had died, how she felt responsible, 
and how she had been forced to retire as a doctor.    

    "Drink this," ordered Erica, as she gave Stephanie a 
glass of ice water.

    "Wait, I know your voice," cried Stephanie.

    "Where?"

    "The party, I remember now.  You gave me water and 
tissues after Mistress Lauren beat me in public.  Right?"

    "Yes," admitted Erica.

    "Why?"

    "Has your Mistress ever taken you to bed, comforted 
you after a session?  Found out why you wanted to be used?" 
asked Erica.

    "No," answered Stephanie, shaking her head.

    "She just beats you, is that correct?"

    "Yes.  That's all she does.  Says I'm a worthless 
slut," cried Stephanie.

    "I am Mistress Erica Riken, and I have taken an 
interest in you, Stephanie.  You are not a worthless slut, 
just badly treated by an improper Mistress."

    "I've heard of you.  Other Dommes at parties talk 
about you, and I saw some of your writings at a party once.  
Lauren snatched them away, called you a bitch."

    "Bitch no, Dominatrix yes."

    "Why do you want me?" asked Stephanie.

    "For my slave.  You would be collared to me, we would 
sign a contract, and I would look after your emotional 
needs as well as physical ones.  There is more to 
submission than just being beaten every weekend," described 
Erica.

    "I don't know, Lauren is the only Mistress that I've 
served.  She fills a need in me."

    "Yes," said Erica, "but only one need.  Which is why 
you took me to bed, because you wanted someone to hold you 
close.  A proper Mistress would know to fulfill all your 
needs."

    "I don't know."

    "How did you meet Mistress Lauren?" asked Erica.

    "I was in a gay bar one night, when I met Lauren.  We 
went back to her place, and she took me down to her 
playroom.  I told her that I wanted to be beaten, and 
that's been the way she's treated me ever since."

    "That is not what submission is all about.  What's 
your safeword?"

    "Lauren won't let me have one, says I'm a painslut, 
that all I deserve is to be beaten."

    "No, that's not the way a responsible Mistress should 
conduct herself," answered Erica.

    'Lauren has certainly learned all of the wrong lessons 
from Daniel,' thought Erica.

    "If you're a Mistress, then use me over the weekend.  
Lauren is away so you can have me.  A few more marks won't 
matter," offered Stephanie.

    "All right, I have a house in Greenwich complete with 
a Dungeon."

    "Use me then, Mistress?"

    "Yes, Stephanie.  I will to the best of my ability."
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    "Lisa!" called Erica when she returned home, closing 
the door behind her.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Lisa as she put down the 
laundry basket that she was carrying.

    "In the library, now!"

    When they had both seated themselves in their familiar 
places, Erica almost could not contain herself.

    "My seduction of Stephanie Richards has paid off.  She 
is not collared or under contract to Mistress Lauren, 
merely serves her as painslut.  Tomorrow, she will join us 
for the weekend."

    "What are we to do, Mistress?"

    "Unfortunately, Stephanie thinks that submission means 
that her Mistress can beat her as harshly as she wishes 
without a safeword.  Then she is not comforted or helped by 
her Mistress afterward."

    "Mistress, you do not use slaves in that way."

    "True, in order to win her over I shall have to beat 
her severely at first so that she gets the punishment that 
she craves.  Then teach her a safeword, and gradually wean 
her away from harsh discipline."

    "Mistress Erica, what are we do to with Stephanie?  
How am I supposed to conduct myself? What sort of woman is 
she?" asked Lisa.

    "We must be very careful here, Lisa.  Stephanie 
Richards is a woman who has lost her family, her 
profession, almost her will to live.  Almost all that she 
desires now is to be beaten severely by Mistress Lauren, my 
adversary," described Erica.

    "What am I to do?"

    "She will expect to be used, made to serve as a 
Domestic alongside you.  If she makes a mistake, you can 
use her like any other slave.  Except that if you give her 
the severe use that she craves, and you can fully expect 
her to intentionally do something to merit that use, you 
must comfort her in your arms.  That will be the way that 
we win her over, by convincing her that she is not 
worthless."

    "I understand, Mistress."

    "Good, and one last order."

    "Mistress?"

    "Place the good China in the closet and put out the 
normal dinnerware.  I strongly suspect that Stephanie will 
be breaking a few dishes to get our attention this 
weekend."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Excellent," replied Erica.

"Mistress, why are you doing this for one of Lauren's 
slaves?" directly asked Lisa.

    "I can't answer that, Lisa.  You have to trust me.  
Please?"

    "I shall obey all of your orders, Mistress Erica."

    "Thank you, Lisa.  For your loyalty."

    "Yes, Mistress."
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    Later that night, sleep wouldn't come for Erica.  She 
tossed and turned all night, her body in a cold sweat.  The 
same way that she remembered feeling in the hospital.

    The face of the full moon was visible in the window, 
but Erica did not see the man in the moon.  Instead, Erica 
saw the face of Dr. Stephanie Richards, wearing her 
hospital garb, standing over her bed.

    'I owe you my life, Dr. Richards,' thought Erica, 
'please let me repay the debt before Lauren goes too far?'
    *        *        *        *        *
Stephanie Richards was brought into the library, naked 
and collared.  After Lisa had brought her into the 
house, she had been stripped and prepared in one of 
the downstairs bedrooms.  Like all of Erica's other 
slaves, she was wearing nothing but a collar around 
her neck and bracelets on her wrists and ankles.

    Erica sat behind her desk, wearing a white blouse, and 
plaid skirt.  Her only indication of her position as Domme 
was the presence of a crop on her desk.

    "Thank you, Lisa," said Erica.

    "Kneel on the carpet, Stephanie," softly said Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Do you, Stephanie Richards, agree to serve me of your 
own free will?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "That for the duration of your stay here, I shall own 
your body totally?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "That I have the freedom to use you sexually?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "That you shall forever remain silent about whatever 
happens to you in this House?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "What is your safeword?" asked Erica.

    "I have no safeword, Mistress.  I am nothing but a 
worthless painslut."

    "Not in my house, Stephanie," softly answered Erica, 
"your safeword shall be forgive."

    "Yes, Mistress.  Forgive."

    "The purpose of this little session is so that my Maid 
can witness your submission, and give you a final chance to 
back out.  Do you wish to do so?"

    "No, Mistress."

    "Excellent, Lisa, you may take out guest down to the 
Dungeon, and chain her according to my instructions."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    As Lisa led Stephanie away, Erica wondered if Lauren 
had ever bothered to do anything else with Stephanie 
besides beat her.  Probably not, she thought.

    In her mind's eye, she imagined what was now happening 
in the Dungeon.  Stephanie would see all of the familiar 
devices, then be led over to the wall.  Lisa would make her 
sit on the wooden floor, then lock her hands together.  A 
chain would be locked to her ankle bracelets, to her 
wrists, then collar, lastly attached to the wall.  
Stephanie would have little freedom of movement chained in 
this way.

    Erica wanted her to be alone, to feel the same kind of 
isolation that she had experienced from Lauren.  Then she 
would punish her, but add a surprise also.

    Lisa would be standing nearby, in case of trouble.  
Erica would have to dress herself, of course.

    But that was the one of the responsibilities of being 
a Mistress.

    After an hour had elapsed, Erica entered the Dungeon 
with Lisa following behind her.  She had chosen a black 
sleeveless Catsuit, and a pair of knee high boots as her 
outfit.  She had wanted to wear the leather corset, but had 
decided against it.  Too much trouble.

    Lisa had changed out of her Maid's outfit into a 
leather bodysuit, one more suited to wearing in the 
Dungeon.  There was a small closet that they could keep 
scene clothing stored in the Dungeon, so they would not 
have to run back up if they needed anything.

    Stephanie had taken her isolation well, and she sat, 
naked on the wooden floor, pulling at her chains.  Did 
Erica detect the presence of tears on her cheeks?

    "Are you ready, Stephanie?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "You may release her, Lisa.  I shall start with a 
spanking."

    "Yes, spanking," answered Erica as she sat down on the 
leather padded bench.

    Erica sat her PVC clad bottom down the bench, and in 
no time Stephanie was draped over her lap.  In the moderate 
Dungeon lights Erica could see the evidence of past 
beatings that Stephanie had endured.

    Whack!

    Whack!

    Whack!

    Whack!

    Whack!

    Erica used the palm of her hand to begin to spank 
Stephanie's upraised bottom.  For all of the effect that 
she had, Erica might as well have been using a creampuff.  
Stephanie just lay there, unfeeling on her lap as her 
behind soaked up every swat like a dry sponge.

    'Most women view this as being highly erotic," thought 
Erica.

    Whack!

    Whack!

    Whack!

    Whack!

    Whack!

    "Thank your Mistress," ordered Erica after she had 
delivered 20 spanks that left Stephanie's bottom red and 
Erica's hand hurting as well.

    "Thank you, Mistress Erica."

    "Kneel."

    Stephanie resumed her place on the floor, her hands on 
her knees in submission.  She looked like she wanted to be 
punished, and harshly used.

    "Lisa, hang her from the ceiling.  I want to crop her 
next," ordered Erica.

    Even Erica's more experienced slaves would display 
some kind of emotion when she would announce what their 
Mistress would do to them next.  Instead, Stephanie 
displayed no emotions at all as she was next made to hang 
by her wrists from the ceiling chain, and then finally Lisa 
locked her ankles apart.

    "Excuse me," said Erica, as she rose from her seat, 
and walked outside.

    "Mistress?" asked Lisa in bewilderment, since Erica 
never left a scene in progress.

    "I'll be right back," said Erica.

    Erica walked outside, and sat on the stairs.  Her 
plans, to beat Stephanie until she cried then to comfort 
her, suddenly seemed worthless.  Stephanie could take all 
of the discipline that Erica could give her, and more, 
until she wore Erica out.  Because what she craved was pain 
and abuse.

    She had seen what Lauren could do to her, and Erica 
suspected that Stephanie's public performance was only a 
small indicator of the amount of use that she could take.  
Stephanie would just soak up everything that Erica would do 
to her, then beg for more.

    Unless...

    "Okay, Mistress Erica," said Erica to herself, "time 
to show what you're made of."

    Erica rose from the steps, dusted off her bottom, and 
re-entered the Dungeon.  Lisa was standing next to 
Stephanie, who was straining to keep her toes on the floor.

    "Mistress?"

    "Just a minute, Lisa," said Erica.

    Erica rummaged through the cabinet, until she removed 
the dildo harness and nipple clamps, and finally the crop 
that she wanted.  She walked over to Lisa, and handed her 
the crop and clamps.

    "Hold these," Erica ordered.

    Erica locked the waistband of the dildo harness around 
Stephanie's waist, then pulled the crotch strap through her 
legs.  She felt Stephanie's slit, and found that the woman 
wasn't even wet.  By now, even after a brief spanking, 
almost all of Erica's other slaves would be wet and ready.  
Instead, Stephanie had taken her spanking like it had been 
a medical exam!

    "Aaaaaaah!" cried Stephanie when Erica inserted the 
phallus into her dry sex then locked the crotch strap, 
holding the shaft within.

    'Stephanie has divorced pain from sexual pleasure,' 
thought Erica, 'unlike usual D/s practice.  She just wants 
to get beaten, but she enjoyed me in bed.  I'm going to put 
those two parts of her back together.'

    Erica opened her palm, and Lisa placed the two clamps 
in her hand.  A smile creased her face, and impish grin.

    Normally, Erica would tease a slave's nipple's erect 
with her fingers.  But not this time.

    "You disappoint me, Stephanie.  I thought that Lauren, 
bad Mistress that she is, you have at least properly 
trained you by now to react in the proper manner."

    "Mistress?" asked Stephanie.

    Erica then bent down, and started to lick and suck at 
Stephanie's right nipple.  Her teeth grazed the nipple, and 
Erica worked hard to tease it erect.  No matter how long it 
took.

    For the first time since Erica had become a Mistress, 
she had a hard time sexually stimulating a slave in the 
Dungeon.  Or the library, bedroom, kitchen, or anywhere 
else that she had used a slave before.

    Spanked, hung naked, with a dildo in her pussy, 
Stephanie should have been sopping wet and horny as hell.  
Instead, she was a glutton for punishment.

    Finally, when her nipple was erect, Erica placed the 
clamp first on the right nipple, then the left.  She 
lightly pulled at both, making Stephanie moan.

    Then Erica took hold of the ring on the outside of the 
crotch strap, that way a slave could be pulled along by the 
phallus inside her.  Erica could have chosen the ribbed 
phallus, making even the slightest motion an agony of 
pleasure.

    Pulling the ring she made a gentle back and forth 
motion, limited to a few centimeters.  She hoped that it 
was enough.

    "Aaaaaaah!" moaned Stephanie.

    "I want you wet," ordered Erica, "when I take that 
phallus out, I want it wet and glistening, do you 
understand?"

    "Yes...Yes, Mistress," stuttered Stephanie.

    "Crop please," demanded Erica.

    Lisa handed Erica the crop, which she offered to 
Stephanie's lips.  Stephanie kissed the instrument, and 
without pause or ceremony Erica began to use it on the 
bound woman.

    Instead of using all of her strength Erica used light 
almost playful stokes.  She wanted to stimulate and arouse, 
not give the pain that Stephanie seemed to crave.

    After every series of strokes, Erica would pause, and 
give a pull either to Stephanie's nipples, or the phallus 
ring.  Stephanie would moan and buck, her cheeks red with 
arousal.

    It was the combination of mild discipline, plus the 
shaft between her legs that was breaking down Stephanie's 
wall of resistance.  Had Erica just gone ahead and used 
Stephanie harshly, she would just have replayed what Lauren 
had been doing to her.

    "Aaaaaaah!" cried Stephanie.

    "Are you a slut?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress.  Your slut!"

    Erica then pulled at the phallus ring, and then pushed 
in as far as she could go.

     "Aaaaaah!"

    Erica increased the frequency and force of each stroke 
of the crop.  Each time that the leather pad struck 
Stephanie, she writhed in her chains, the dildo inside her 
rubbing itself against her cunt.  Erica knew that she no 
longer hand to pull on the little ring on the strap, since 
every movement that Stephanie made did the job for her.

    She hoped that having the shaft inside her would 
awaken her sexually to the combination of pain and pleasure 
that every slave was usually familiar with.  Except for 
Stephanie, thanks to her own desire for punishment and 
Mistress Lauren.

    "Aaaaaaaah!" screamed Stephanie, shaking as one orgasm 
after another coursed through her bound body.

    Erica stopped her use, and held the crop in her hands, 
waiting for Stephanie to regain her composure.  Normally, 
she would give a slave permission to have sexual release.  
It was all part of the procedure of being a Mistress.

    But not this time, since Erica wanted to put together 
the parts of Stephanie's psyche that had divorced pain from 
pleasure.  Which would be the only way that she would be 
able to win her over from Lauren.  Or so she hoped.

    Erica then removed the nipple clamps that had caused 
Stephanie so much stimulation, then replaced everything in 
the cabinet.

    "Lisa, you may take Stephanie up to my bedroom, and 
chain her on the floor.  But do not remove the harness."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Thank you, Lisa," answered Erica as she walked out of 
the Dungeon.

    Erica then walked up to the library, where she 
resolved to spend at least thirty minutes.  She wanted 
Stephanie to wear the phallus inside, to walk upstairs, to 
hold it between her legs.

    The shaft would drive her crazy, driving her to climax 
after climax.  Which was something that Erica guessed that 
Lauren had either denied her, or had instead just wanted to 
beat Stephanie into submission.

    What would have happened in the future to Stephanie 
had Erica not seen her at the party?  She wondered, and it 
made her flesh crawl at the prospect.  Stephanie, a woman 
without moorings or self-respect, used as Lauren's 
painslut.

    After a half-hour had elapsed, she walked upstairs to 
her own bedroom.  Just as she had ordered, Stephanie was 
kneeling on the floor, her hands bound behind her back, her 
collar locked to a chain from the ringbolt on the wall.

    "Good evening, Stephanie.  Have you been awaiting your 
Mistress?"

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    "Let me help you stand."

    Erica helped Stephanie to her feet, then produced a 
set of keys.  Stephanie looked Erica with expectation in 
her eyes.

    "I'm going to unlock you, Stephanie.  Remember what I 
said in the Dungeon?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Normally, Erica would have ordered Lisa to clean up a 
slave prior to Erica taking her to bed after a scene.  But 
not this time, since Erica wanted Stephanie to bond 
sexually to her right away.

    Erica unlocked the collar chain, and coiled it and set 
the chain on the night table.  Then she unlocked 
Stephanie's wrists, then the small locks that held the 
crotch strap.

    "You may remove the strap," ordered Erica.

    Hesitantly, Stephanie removed the shaft from within 
her sex.  She moaned when it slid out of her sex, covered 
with her juices.

    "Very good, Stephanie.  I shall remove the belt from 
around your waist, and then you may clean yourself in the 
bathroom.  Then I shall use you in the bedroom."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica stripped off her boots and Catsuit, and the 
plastic scent of the PVC clung to her like a perfume.  
Ordinarily she would have showered first, but had decided 
against it.  She wanted the scent to remain.

    She lay on the bed, then waited for Stephanie to join 
her.  Her fingers brushed against her sex, waiting for the 
attentions of another.

    "Mistress?" asked Stephanie.

    "Service your Mistress," ordered Erica.

    Stephanie did not waste any time as she climbed onto 
the bed, and placed her lips on Erica's pussy.  She licked 
and sucked at Erica's sex, her teeth playfully biting the 
lips of her Mistress.  Then her tongue reached inside, and 
licked at Erica's love box.

    But when her tongue reached Erica's clit, she drove 
Mistress Erica quickly from one climax after another.  
Erica moaned and bucked, bouncing on the bed.  Stephanie 
buried her face between Erica's legs, pausing only for 
breath as she put all her energies into pleasing her 
Mistress.

    "Ah!" cried Erica, as she climaxed time after time.

    Erica did not want, or care, to know how much time had 
elapsed.  She already knew that Stephanie was putting all 
of her being into pleasing her, unlike the stiff mechanical 
lovemaking that they had done in Stephanie's apartment.

    Once Erica was sated, she pulled Stephanie from her, 
and lay her companion on her back.  Then she playfully bit 
at Stephanie's nipples, her hands massaging Stephanie's wet 
slit.  Finally, she knew that Stephanie was ready.  Her 
kisses left a trail from her breasts down to Stephanie's 
sex, and then she serviced her new slave.

    This time, Stephanie did not push Erica away, instead 
she welcomed Erica's attention, moaning when her sex was 
stimulated.  Erica sucked at Stephanie's pussy, her tongue 
inside the love canal, tasting her wetness.  Then she 
tongued Stephanie's clit, stimulating her love button.

    Shudders of pleasure rippled through Stephanie, her 
moans increasing in volume, as she was pleasured time after 
time.  Again, Erica did not want to forbid Stephanie her 
climax.  No, there would be other times to do that.  She 
wanted Stephanie to have an earth-shattering climax, one 
that Lauren had not even considered for her painslut.

    "Aaaaaaah!" cried Stephanie, finally climaxing, her 
bottom bouncing on the bed, shaking Erica along with her.

    When Erica looked up from between Stephanie's legs, 
she saw tears falling from the woman's eyes.  Her companion 
was sobbing.

    "Hold me?" begged Stephanie, "please?"

    Erica had planned to strap on a dildo, and use 
Stephanie long into the night.  But just as she had changed 
her plans about harshly beating her and then instructing 
her about a safeword, so she had decided that idea was 
wrong as well.

    "Yes, Stephanie," answered Erica as she held the 
sobbing woman in her arms, a tissue in her hand to dry 
Stephanie's tears.

    Erica held onto Stephanie all night, her sleep broken 
by Stephanie's occasional crying.  She did not chain 
Stephanie during the night, and only once did she go to the 
bathroom.  Erica had awakened to find Stephanie gone, then 
watched as her lover rejoined her in bed.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Saturday went without a hitch, and Stephanie said 
nothing as Lisa made her act as a Domestic.  She did 
nothing wrong, and performed her tasks quite willingly.

    Stephanie served Janet her lunch and Dinner, then 
cleaned up with Lisa.  Erica wanted her in the Dungeon, 
again for her use.  She had ordered Lisa to place her on 
the X frame, wearing a blindfold and ballgag.  Stephanie 
would remain there, helpless until Janet used her.  With 
Lisa waiting, close at hand.

    Erica walked quietly into the Dungeon, in her stocking 
feet, not bothering to place on her heels.  She did not 
want Stephanie to hear her approach.  Last year Lisa had 
bought her a pair of slippers that looked like dogs, but 
Erica had forgotten them.  Instead, she liked the feel of 
the wooden floor on her feet.

    Lisa was seated on a chair, silently reading a 
magazine.  They wanted Stephanie to think that she was 
alone, yet in actuality someone gagged should never be left 
alone under any circumstances.  

    Erica looked over Stephanie's naked body, deciding 
that she would use a flogger this evening.  Perhaps she 
could make Stephanie call a safeword, instead of just 
punishing her.

    "Mmmmph!" cried Stephanie when Erica pinched her erect 
nipples, then her cry was even stronger when her wet slit 
was invaded.

    Stephanie pulled at her bonds, trying without effect 
to free herself from the X frame.  The leather held her 
fast to the wood, and her efforts had no effect.

    "Mmmmmph!" grunted Stephanie when Erica finger fucked 
her, "mmmmph!"

    'I've got to sexually stimulate her as much as I can, 
to get her away from the idea that she's just a worthless 
painslut,' thought Erica, 'else I'm no better than Lauren.  
I've got to reawaken her sexual self, give her one climax 
after another, so that she'll look forward to sex, not just 
a beating.'

    "Mmmmmph!"

    "Mmmmmph!"

    When she was finally satisfied that she had stimulated 
Stephanie enough, she first drove her fingers as deep as 
she could into her sex, then suddenly withdrew them, making 
Stephanie moan in frustration.  Cleaning her hands with a 
tissue provided by Lisa, she then removed Stephanie's 
blindfold and gag.

    "Thank you, Mistress," panted Stephanie.

    "You're welcome, Stephanie," answered Erica, "tonight, 
I shall flog you."

    "Yes, Mistress, thank you," answered Stephanie.

    Lisa had replaced her copy of Cosmopolitan back in the 
cabinet, and handed Erica her weapon of choice for the 
evening.  Tonight, she would not place a dildo inside 
Stephanie's sex.  From her finger fucking, she already knew 
that it wasn't necessary.

    "Kiss the flogger," ordered Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica had chosen a heavy leather flogger, one that 
would moderately hurt and mark.  She knew that Stephanie 
still craved punishment and use, and wanted it.  Changing 
her expectations would take time and effort, not done in a 
single night.

    "What is your safeword?" asked Erica.

    "Forgive, Mistress."

    "Good," said Erica.

    Erica offered the handle to Stephanie, who kissed it 
without being ordered.  She then began to carefully deliver 
one stroke after another, ones that would give Stephanie 
the amount of pain that she wanted, but not step over the 
line into actually hurting her.

    Thirty strokes later, including some onto Stephanie's 
breasts and between her legs, she was done.  Stephanie was 
covered in sweat, her body marked and red.  Just to make 
sure, Erica again finger fucked her a few times, and she 
was indeed wet.

    "Take her to my bedroom," ordered Erica, "I'll be 
right along."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Lisa.

    Erica strapped the dildo harness to her hips, and 
always laughed silently to herself when she saw her 
reflection in the mirror.  After all those years of men 
chasing her, she was the one with an erect cock.

    "Aaaaaah!" cried Stephanie when Erica drove the erect 
shaft between her legs, "aaaaaah!"

    "I'm going to make you come all night," said Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress," sobbed Stephanie.

    By the time that Erica finally unstrapped the harness 
from her waist, Stephanie was totally exhausted, and Erica 
was also.  She had driven Stephanie to screaming more than 
once.  They barely had enough energy left to tongue each 
other's sex before they fell asleep in their arms.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Erica sat at her desk, writing out the future course 
of her plans for Stephanie.  The woman had pledged her 
loyalty to Erica, and said that she would return next week.

    She would continue to sexually stimulate Stephanie, 
showing her the difference between herself and Lauren.  
Next collar her and sign a contract, and get her away from 
Lauren once and for all.  Then finally get her a job, make 
her go back to work everyday instead of wandering all day 
then drinking at night.

    "Mistress," interrupted Lisa as she placed a tray on 
Erica's desk containing lunch.

    "Thank you, Lisa," said Erica.

    "Stephanie didn't break any dishes, Mistress.  She 
performed as a model slave this weekend, doing everything 
that I asked," stated Lisa.

    "Good," answered Erica, "thank you Lisa."
    *        *        *        *        *        *
Part Three: Seeds of Resentment

May 1986

    The ceremony was to be a public one, held at a club in 
Manhattan.  Erica had invited everyone that she could think 
of, and she was disappointed that Keith and Beth couldn't 
come, since they were in Hawaii on vacation.

    During the intervening weeks, Stephanie had 
alternately been used by both Erica and Lauren.  Stephanie 
would report to her that all Lauren would do was to beat 
her.  Once, she had slipped and asked for mercy, then 
Lauren had kicked her to the ground, enraged.

    Erica was now the Mistress that Stephanie desired, and 
had seen less and less of Lauren, until she had broken off 
all contact with her three weeks earlier.

    She was seated at a chair on a raised dais, in a PVC 
bodysuit, hose, and heels.  In her hands was a rubber 
collar, and silver ring, which would be for Stephanie's 
index finger.

    A hush came over the crowd as Stephanie was led in, 
wearing a cloak.  Lisa held her by the hand, and walked her 
over to Erica's chair.

    Mistress Erin and her husband had come in from New 
Jersey, and she would do the honors.

    "I now present Mistress Erica, her slave Lisa, and her 
new slave, Stephanie."

    Scattered applause came from the audience, who was 
hushed into silence.

    Lisa removed Stephanie's cloak, revealing her 
nakedness underneath.  The harsh marks left by Lauren were 
slowly fading, as Erica wanted them to.  Her body looked 
better than before, much better than the first time that 
Erica had seen her beaten by Lauren.

    "Kneel," ordered Lisa.

    Stephanie knelt as she was instructed in silence.

    "Do you accept the collar and protection of Mistress 
Erica?" asked Lisa.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "That you shall forever honor and obey your Mistress, 
and follow all of her orders, implicitly."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "That you shall be always challenged by your Mistress, 
and used in any way that she shall desire, except in ways 
leading to harm and endangering your personal safety."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Then you may accept the collar and ring of Mistress 
Erica, and we are witness to your submission to Mistress 
Erica of Greenwich Connecticut," stated Lisa.

    Erica reached forward, and locked the small rubber 
collar around Stephanie's neck.  Her contract had been 
signed earlier in the presence of Mistresses Erin and 
Marcia.  Then she placed the ring on Stephanie's finger.

    "Arise slave, and name your owner," ordered Erica.

    "I belong to Mistress Erica," said Stephanie, tears of 
joy in her eyes.

    Erica then gave Stephanie a ritual light spanking in 
front of the crowd, then had Lisa dress her back in her 
cloak.  She did not want to use Stephanie harshly in front 
of the crowd, which would have been too much like Lauren's 
use of her.

    Circulating the crowd, taking to her friends, Erica 
did not see the person approach her that she had wanted to 
see least of all in the world.

    Slap!

    The unexpected blow, coming in total surprise, 
staggered Erica, her drink falling to the ground.

    "Bitch!" cried Lauren, "you bitch!"

    "Out!" said one of the Moniters, who grabbed onto 
Lauren's hand before she could strike another blow.

    "You stole my slave!" screamed Lauren.

    "You never signed a contract with Stephanie, had her 
collared, or anything else besides beating her every 
weekend.  She was always free," explained Erica as she was 
helped to her feet.

    "She was still mine!"

    "No she wasn't," defended Marcia, who had quickly run 
over to see what was going on, "you were just using her."

    "Erica stole her away!"

    "I sensed that Stephanie needed a new Mistress," said 
Erica, "and I am glad to fulfill that role."

    "One day, Erica, one day I'll have you under my lash 
again, and you'll pay the price," threatened Lauren, who 
turned on her heels and left without being ordered to.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    "Mistress, she's vastly overqualified for this job," 
protested Jason.

    Mistress Erica sat in the office of one of her slaves, 
Jason Martin.  The man owned a small company in 
Westchester, and was being difficult.

    "Yes, Jason.  I know that she's overqualified for this 
job.  That's exactly why it's perfect for her," replied 
Erica.

    "You're saying that a doctor and a former surgeon is 
going to work as a clerk?" asked Jason.

    "Yes, Jason, that's exactly what I'm saying," answered 
Erica, exasperation in her voice.

    Erica resisted the temptation to rise to her feet, 
grab Jason, then set the man over her knees and give him a 
good spanking on the behind.  For a half-hour already she 
had been arguing with Jason, over what should have taken no 
more than ten minutes.

    "Why should she?" asked Jason.

    "You did advertise for workers, didn't you?" asked 
Janet, "no experience necessary?  I have the ad in my 
purse."

    "Yes, Mistress, that's true.  But someone like this 
doesn't belong here."

    "Ordinarily true," Janet replied, "but this is not an 
ordinary situation."

    "Are you punishing her in some way?"

    "No."

    "Then why are you suggesting that I hire a doctor for 
an office clerk?" asked Jason.

    "All right, Jason.  I'll tell you, since you can't 
take the orders of your Mistress.  Stephanie Richards has 
lost her family, her profession, and her self-respect.  She 
spends her days wandering the streets, then drinking at a 
local restaurant."

    "What does that have to do with me?"

    "I want her to have a job.  To get up early every day, 
shower, dress, work, and come home tired five days a week.  
To restore her sense of self worth, and give her something 
to do besides wasting her life away," stated Erica.

    "If I hire her then, she had better work.  I don't 
want her to loaf, then have you ask me to let her get away 
with it."

    "Yes, Jason.  She'll be just like any of your other 
workers, and if she does loaf, then you can tell me about 
it and I will deal with her," offered Erica.

    "I'm still not sure about this, Mistress."

    "How many women do you hire, then dismiss anyway?" 
asked Janet, "in the normal course of business?"

    "Too many," answered Jason.

    "Well, I'm giving you a worker.  But under no 
circumstances are you to divulge her past, or embarrass or 
humiliate her.  She has suffered enough already in life," 
described Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress.  I understand," said Jason.

    "I hope that you do, Jason."

Part Four: Picking Up the Pieces

September 1986

    If Stephanie Richards resented the life that Mistress 
Erica had chosen for her, she showed no signs of it.  In 
May, she started the office job that Erica had found for 
her.  From Monday through Friday, she went back to work, 
instead of wandering the streets all day, then going to a 
bar and drinking all night.

    Erica had taken her shopping one-day to JC Penny's, 
and they had selected an entire wardrobe of clothing that 
she could wear to work.  The only hard part about the 
entire shopping trip was that Stephanie hid herself in the 
dressing room so that the sales help wouldn't see her 
marks.

    Gone was the hopelessness and despair in her eyes, the 
desire to go out to a bar to drink, and to meet the wrong 
person who would beat her up.  She had brightened up, her 
appearance and demeanor had changed for the better.

    Erica saved the report that she had been writing about 
Stephanie on the PC, and decided that she would print it 
later.  She stood up from the desk, and stretched.

    After every session that she used one of her slaves, 
she would write a report on their progress.  How they 
performed under the lash, and what instruments could be 
used on them.  Coupled with their interviews it made a 
powerful training tool for a Domme like herself to use.

    It was Saturday morning, and that meant that Stephanie 
and Lisa were doing the laundry together.  Except that 
Stephanie was naked, and Lisa was supervising her with a 
crop.

    Glancing at the clock, Erica decided that it was time 
for a little stimulation for Stephanie.  Not that she had 
done anything to merit a punishment from Erica, but it was 
her job to keep the woman off balance.

    After Erica had converted the entire basement into her 
two Dungeons, she had to alter the former servant's 
quarters on the first floor into a utility room.  That was 
where she found Stephanie and Lisa at work.

    "Status report?" asked Erica.

    "The last load is in the washer now and Stephanie has 
just folded the previous load, Mistress," answered Lisa.

    "Perfect, Stephanie?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Over my knee," ordered Erica as she sat down on a 
bench.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Erica used the flat of her hand, not even bothering to 
take the paddle from the wall.  It was far more satisfying 
just to use her hand, to watch as Stephanie's bottom turned 
a nice shade of red.

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    "Thank you, Mistress!" cried Stephanie.

    "You're welcome, Stephanie, you may rise off my lap," 
ordered Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Are you wet?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Before Erica had entered the laundry room, she had 
removed the chastity belt from her toybox.  Erica had 
carried it to the laundry room, and had placed it next to 
her when she had used Stephanie for her brief spanking.

    "Wanton slut," observed Erica as she rose to her feet, 
"I'm going to lock the chastity belt on you."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Stephanie stood impassively as Erica locked the 
chastity belt on her.  A belt was first locked around her 
waist, then a crotch strap was drawn up though her legs and 
locked.  The leather belt would be a constant reminder of 
her slavery, and her reddened bottom would still be exposed 
should Erica or Lisa want to use her again.

    "There now, that should keep your hands from that sex 
of yours without my permission," commented Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "You may finish the laundry and your chores, then 
serve me Lunch.  You will be used tonight," stated Erica.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    Sitting down to read a novel, Erica reflected that it 
was all a game that she was playing.  While some Dommes 
insisted that their slaves stay with them constantly, Erica 
only had them for at most a weekend.  She could not control 
what they did at home, only give them orders that she hoped 
were obeyed.

    So she would lock them in a chastity belt, or 
sometimes place a dildo or anal plug inside all day to 
drive them crazy, for a few hours.  Next she would use them 
both in the Dungeon and bedroom, before sending them home.

    In Stephanie's case, however, Erica had to give the 
woman at first the maximum amount of sexual stimulation.  
For too long, all she had craved was either a beating or 
worse.  Now Erica had taken it upon herself to reawaken the 
sexual being within Stephanie.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    "Kneel," ordered Erica.

    It was nine in the evening time for Erica to start her 
session and Stephanie knelt before Erica in the Dungeon.  
Lisa had bathed and perfumed Stephanie before Erica's use 
of her would begin that night.

    "Do you consent to my use?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Rise, and bend over the padded bar, Lisa will lock 
your wrists and ankles to the legs," ordered Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress," agreed Stephanie.

    The naked woman rose to her feet, walked over to the 
padded sawhorse, and stood motionless as Lisa restrained 
her as per Janet's orders.

    "Thank you, Lisa," said Erica as she removed a paddle 
from the cabinet.

    "You're welcome, Mistress," answered Lisa.

    "Kiss the paddle," ordered Erica as she held the 
leather paddle up to her slave's lips.

    Silently, Stephanie did as she was instructed.  Erica 
flexed the paddle in her hands, but before she used it she 
decided that something else was in order first.

    "Oooooh!" cried Stephanie when Erica began to caress 
her bottom.

    The simple act of Erica touching her bottom, feeling 
her exposed skin, was enough to make Stephanie moan in 
response.  In the months that Stephanie had been her slave, 
Erica had steadily made her more receptive to pleasure.  
Gone were the sessions that Stephanie had just craved a 
mindless beating that had left her hurting and sore by 
Sunday.

    Erica gently slid her hand into Stephanie's exposed 
slit that was already wet and waiting for her.  She pushed 
two fingers inside the waiting cunt, and Stephanie moaned 
in her bonds.

    "Do you desire the use of your Mistress?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress, please?"

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Erica struck the paddle onto Stephanie's bottom, but 
not too strongly.  It would hurt and sting and she would be 
left with a red mark for every stroke.  Every time that she 
sat at her desk on Monday, she would have a reminder of how 
her Mistress had used her.

    "Ahhhh!"

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    The paddling, coupled with the spanking that she had 
received earlier, was quite enough on Stephanie's bottom.  
Erica presented the paddle to Stephanie's lips, and she 
kissed it would being order to.

    "Thank you, Mistress," cried Stephanie.

    Erica exchanged the paddle for a rubber dildo, which 
she displayed to her bound captive, then slid into her 
exposed sex.  Stephanie moaned in response.  She bound 
Stephanie's hair with some elastic hair bands to get it out 
of the way, then raised Stephanie's head with her fingers.

    "I want to see how much control you have, Stephanie," 
said Erica as she unzipped her leather skirt, revealing the 
fact that she wasn't wearing panties underneath.

    "Mistress?"

    "You must stay bound over the bar, keep the dildo in 
your sex, and make me come all at the same time.  Else you 
shall be severely punished, or perhaps I'll give you to 
Lisa for the night.  Understand?"

    "Mmmmmph!" replied Stephanie as Erica forced her 
fragrant sex onto Stephanie's face.

    Erica stayed motionless as Stephanie first explored 
her outer lips with her lips and teeth, then moved in 
closer to help her slave explore her sex.  She did not 
believe that it was fair to punish a slave for failing to 
obey an order that an obstacle made impossible.  So she 
placed her sex at Stephanie's disposal, and the woman 
responded by doing everything possible to satisfy her 
Mistress.

    "Ohhhhh!" cried Erica when she felt her clit 
stimulated, then she was driven to one orgasm after 
another.

    Mistress Erica opened her legs slightly to further 
accommodate Stephanie's attentions, and she continued to 
arouse and satisfy her Mistress.

    "Ahhhh!" moaned Erica as she withdrew, "thank you, 
Stephanie."

    "You're welcome, Mistress."

    Still holding the leather skirt in her hands, Erica 
walked over to Stephanie's rear, and found that the dildo 
was still firmly placed within the woman's sex.  Erica held 
onto the base as she thrust it deeper, then partially 
withdrew it, before thrusting it inside again.

    "Mistress, please?" panted Stephanie.

    "Silence slut!" ordered Erica.

    If Stephanie had been a painslut six months ago 
wanting only to feel the bite of the lash, today she was a 
sensual slut instead.  Erica had a hard time keeping 
Stephanie on the edge during a weekend visit.  But that was 
all part of her job of being a Domme.

    "Aaaaah!" cried Stephanie when she felt the dildo 
finally removed.

    "Tina you may release Stephanie and let her clean her 
sex while I freshen up too.  Then I'll decide what to do 
with her next," ordered Erica.

    While Stephanie would be using the little sink and 
toilet in the cell, Erica had to go upstairs.  In her 
design of the Dungeons, she had made some mistakes, like 
not having a place where she could properly refresh 
herself.

    Erica cleaned her sex with moistened towelettes, 
enjoying the scent that they left on her.  Then she slipped 
a pair of white cotton panties over her hips, then zipped 
up the leather skirt again.  She straightened her leather 
bra and skirt in front of the mirror, and brushed her hair.

    'I'm going to use this brush on Lisa's bottom 
tomorrow,' thought Erica, 'and she's going to enjoy it 
too!"

    Erica then rejoined her two slaves in the Dungeon, who 
were waiting for her.

    "Ready, Stephanie?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "I just bought a new flogger made of rubber, and it 
stings so nicely.  Lisa, please hang Stephanie from the 
ceiling, spreader bars on both wrists and ankles."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Lisa.

    Erica waited as Lisa carried out her orders, and soon 
Stephanie was just as helpless as before, her toes 
straining to reach the floor.  Her naked and exposed body 
held in the shape of an X.

    "Do you submit to your Mistress?" asked Erica, as she 
stood directly in front of Stephanie, the new flogger in 
her hand.

    "Yes, Mistress!"

    "Prepare to be used, slave!"

    Stephanie could do nothing except twist in her bonds 
as Erica used the rubber flogger on her.  Each strand of 
rubber stung and marked, and each could be plainly felt as 
it impacted on Stephanie's naked body.

    Erica made certain to flog her breasts, underarms, 
thighs, stomach, and between her legs.  Stephanie moaned 
and bucked, and Erica knew that she was having one climax 
after another in response to the flogger.  It was her 
favorite instrument above all, even surpassing the crop and 
whip.

    Every time that she said that she would use the 
flogger on Stephanie, Erica had observed how she desired 
the strokes of the many-stranded instrument.  Once, 
Stephanie had presented Erica with a flogger that she had 
bought as a present, and that had been what Erica had used 
on her that night.

    "Aaaaaah!" cried Stephanie.

    "Silence, slave, or I'll clamp your nipples," 
threatened Erica.

    Stephanie remained silent throughout the rest of the 
session, and kissed the flogger eagerly when it was offered 
to her.  Her body was reddened, and covered with sweat.  
But she looked happy after having been used by her 
Mistress.

    "Lisa, have her in my bedroom, I want to use Stephanie 
tonight," ordered Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica knew full well that in the past, Stephanie would 
have only desired that Erica continue flogging her, 
preferably until she either passed out or bled.  But now 
Stephanie, after having been excited by Erica's use, would 
eagerly await her use in the bedroom.
    *        *        *        *        *
    "Mistress?" asked Stephanie.

    "Yes, Stephanie?" sleepily answered Erica, "what is 
it?"

    Glancing at the clock, Erica saw that it was nearly 
three in the morning.  She had used Stephanie in the 
Dungeon, then in the bedroom for hours.  Couldn't the woman 
ever fall asleep, or was she insatiable?

    "I just wanted to say that you, Mistress."

    "For your use in the Dungeon tonight?"

    "No, Mistress Erica.  You've saved my life, and I'm 
grateful.  The job restored my self-respect and gave me a 
purpose back in life, and you've reawakened my sexual self 
as well."

    "Yes, Stephanie," said Erica, tasting Stephanie on her 
lips.

    "I have a secret," admitted Stephanie.

    "You must have no secrets from your Mistress," ordered 
Erica.

    "I'm really wealthy, I own a large estate in 
Greenwich."

    "Then what are you doing in that apartment?" demanded 
Erica.

    "Hiding, Mistress.  Hiding from the life I once led, 
and the family and job that I lost."

    "You will tell me about it in the morning," ordered 
Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "What do you want to do from now on?" asked Erica.

    "To rebuild my life, Mistress Erica.  And thank you," 
answered Stephanie, tears in her eyes.  

 

 

 

"The Challenge" Chapter Eleven: The Test
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if 
you
include this statement of limitation of use and notify the 
author by e-mail.
The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell 
multiple copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.
However, individual readers may make single copies of the
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the 
author.  I do want to hear from you!

"The Challenge" by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Chapter Eleven: The Test

Friday October 2, 1998

Part One: The Betrayal

    It was good, Janet thought, to get out of the house 
and her normal routine.  The pressures of her job, her 
Domme duties, and now training Cheryl, all added to up a 
frustrating combination that threatened to overwhelm her.  
So Janet had asked Tina if she wanted to change and go into 
Greenwich for a little shopping as a break.  Tina had 
declined, so Janet had gone alone, eventually finding 
herself at Saks Fifth Avenue.

    Wandering the sales counters, Janet felt like a 
teenager again, when she had gotten her first job at Macy's 
in Queens.  Still in High School, and before College, she 
had found a part-time job starting as a cashier.  
Gradually, over the years she had finally worked her way up 
to the expensive dress department in Women's wear which was 
the most glamorous department in the store.  She had worked 
there to earn money, and to get the employee discount for 
buying clothes.  Janet had worked there all during College, 
full time during the summer and Holidays and then on 
weekends after she had started working full time.

    It was therefore startling to realize that she now had 
a wallet full of charge cards with credit lines more than 
she had earned during a whole year as a Secretary.  Now 
Janet could afford all the jewelry, Hermes scarves, Gucci 
dresses, and Louis Vuitton luggage that she might desire.

    Except that Janet didn't need, or want, any of it.  
Sure, she would buy a new dress or gown each season in case 
she had to go to a charity event.  But just to buy on 
impulse was a waste of money, for Janet had learned to 
distinguish needs from wants.

    But there were other memories for Janet from those 
years.  The men who offered to take her out, who wanted to 
seduce her.  Both single and married!  Janet laughed at the 
time she and a boy had nearly been caught making out in a 
stockroom one evening.

    It was the memory of Angela that Janet remembered 
most.  How the older woman had maneuvered her into an empty 
office, had begun to kiss and arouse her.  Angela had 
embraced Janet, kissed her, and forced her tongue into 
Janet's mouth, scaring her.  Then Angela had inserted her 
hand into Janet's blouse, and fondled her breasts.  Janet 
was sexually aroused, and hot with desire for the older 
woman.  Just when Angela was going to continue, she 
suddenly ran out of the office, leaving Janet alone and 
frustrated.

    Angela had then transferred to the flagship store on 
34th street, never to return.  Janet had always wondered 
why, if it had been related to her, or if Angela had 
committed some other sexual transgression in the Queens 
store.

    Janet smiled to herself, standing at the jewelry 
counter, where Angela had worked.  She wondered how Angela 
might gasp if she knew that Janet had become a Domme and a 
lover of Women!

    "Janet?"

    The sound of her name brought her back to the present, 
and Janet was shocked to see who was addressing her from 
behind.

    "Tiffany," said Janet, stunned at seeing her former 
companion.

    "Janet, please," plead Tiffany, "I have to talk to 
you."

    "No," said Janet, "we have nothing to say.  Bye."

    Janet began to walk, but Tiffany grabbed onto her 
forearm and held her tightly.

    "Please, I've waited months for this, hoping I might 
see you in town.  Please, just a few minutes?" begged 
Tiffany.

    "Let me go, you're making a scene," said Janet.

    "Please?" begged Tiffany, "please, Janet?"

    Janet noted that tears had formed at the edges of 
Tiffany's eyes.

    "Is this person bothering you?" asked a man in a dark 
suit who had suddenly appeared, and Janet knew that he was 
store security.

    "No, it's all right," said Janet, "just an old 
acquaintance, thank you."

    "All right," said the man, who walked away, but 
remained in visual range.

    "Let's talk," offered Janet, "in the restaurant, 
someplace private."

    Inside Saks was a pricey restaurant, with private 
booths.  Janet and Tiffany had taken one, and Janet had 
ordered coffee for two.  It was only after they had been 
served and were alone, did Janet properly begin the 
conversation.

    "Okay, Tiffany, what do you want to say?" Janet 
demanded.

    "Buy me from Lauren, please!  She's a cruel, horrible, 
Mistress," stated Tiffany.

    "Why should I do that?" Janet asked.

    "For the love we once shared, for Erica's memory," 
cried Tiffany.

    "Which you betrayed," accused Janet, "tell me, why did 
you betray Erica?"

    "Janet, there were weeks when I didn't see Erica.  She 
didn't send me to other Dommes, so I got fearful that she 
wanted to dump me.  So one night, when I went to a bar, I 
met Lauren.  I didn't know that she was a Domme, or even 
that she knew Erica either.  But I was seduced by her, she 
used me, pumped me for information about Erica, and soon I 
was serving her, I was in love with her," explained 
Tiffany.

    "Really, how convenient," mocked Janet, "except that 
Erica loved you, just as she loved me.  You were always a 
little too emotional, Tiffany, a little too impatient, 
always wanting immediate gratification.  And was that the 
reason why you betrayed Erica?" accused Janet.

    "Yes, and I'm sorry, Janet.  For everything that 
happened."

    "Including trying to kill me," bluntly stated Janet.

    "I didn't know that was going to happen, honest!  All 
Lauren had said was to bring you to the house, and she 
would do the rest.  I had no idea that you were being set 
up until...."

    "Until I had a ballgag in my mouth and she was beating 
me without mercy?" demanded Janet.

    "Yes," Tiffany cried, "Yes!"

    "Why didn't you stop her?" Janet asked.

    "The others restrained me, kept me back, placed 
something in my drink."

    "Really," said Janet, sipping her coffee, "was that 
also why you defended Lauren in front of Stephanie?  I 
heard it from my bedroom, I wasn't asleep, damn you."

    "She filled me full of lies, I was programmed like a 
robot."

    "How touching," sarcastically replied Janet.

    "Janet, no sooner than you traded me for Myra did 
Lauren have my breasts ringed, and a medallion on Erica's 
ring on my labia.  Now she's talking about having me 
branded!  She keeps me naked most of the time, a collared 
slave in her house, for her amusement, and that of her 
friends.  She beats me terribly, all the time!"

    "Which was the fate that she had planned for me, no 
doubt.  So she got you instead, as consolation prize."

    "Why did you keep me chained, always bound, before you 
traded me?" asked Tiffany.

    "Now surely you didn't think that I was that dumb, did 
you Tiffany?  How could I let a potential killer run free 
in my house?  I even asked Stephanie to keep you for a 
while, and told her to place you under strict bondage at 
all times, so I wouldn't be tempted to hurt you, in 
retribution for what you did to me."

    Tears flowed from Tiffany's eyes.

    "Janet, I'm sorry I betrayed you and Erica.  If I 
could do things differently, I would, believe me.  But when 
I go back to her house today, I'll be naked, and in chains 
again for weeks, maybe months, before she lets me out 
again," cried Tiffany.

    "Do you know what would have happened had I won and 
you didn't try to kill me?" asked Janet.

    "No, Janet, please tell me."

    "I would have kept you as a slave for a year, then 
promoted you to a Domme.  Which was what Erica would have 
wanted.  Instead, I traded you for Myra who recognized the 
difference between Lauren and myself.  You made your 
choice, Tiffany.  I'm sorry, I really wish that it didn't 
turn out this way."

    "Please buy me, please," begged Tiffany.

    Janet noted that some of the other patrons were 
staring, pretending not to hear.  It wasn't every day that 
a woman was begging another to buy her, in public.

    "No.  I'm sorry Tiffany, you made your choice," coldly 
stated Janet.

    "I'll be a good slave, I'll do whatever you ask, at 
least you won't beat me till I bleed all the time," cried 
Tiffany.

    "Good bye, Tiffany," said Janet as she gathered her 
purse and rose to her feet, "I'm leaving."

    Janet left Tiffany in the booth, and pressed a twenty 
in the hands of the surprised waitress.  Tiffany remained 
alone, sobbing, her blonde hair becoming a mess, tears 
falling to the table.

    When Janet reached her car, she paused before starting 
the engine.  She remembered all of the times that she had 
made love with Tiffany, how they had been allowed to use 
each other with Erica's consent.  Tears flowed from her 
eyes.

    'First Cheryl, and now Tiffany,' Janet thought to 
herself, 'what next?'

    Somehow, Janet really didn't want to know the answer.

Part Two: The Test of Submission

    "Mistress, Cheryl has arrived," stated Tina.

    It was the early evening and Cheryl had arrived for 
her usual weekend to serve Mistress Janet.  She had spent 
the day doing work for her company, and writing reports 
about her other slaves, and other assorted tasks.

    She had also assisted Tina in dirtying the house.  
When Janet had been a slave to Mistress Erica, she would 
often why the place always needed a cleaning.  Either Erica 
was either a total slob, which was highly unlikely given 
how organized she was in other sectors of her life, or else 
she was always hosting wild parties in the Mansion, which 
was improbable as well.

    The answer had been that in order to give Janet (and 
Erica's other slaves) something to do, Erica and Andrea 
would dirty the place before every slave would visit.  She 
had found notes to that effect when she had been cleaning 
out Erica's papers one day.

    "Good, I want to talk to her," said Janet, "please 
conduct her into the library."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    After her visit to Saks earlier in the day, Janet had 
felt like buying something, but not paying the ridiculous 
luxury prices that they wanted.  So she had driven out of 
Greenwich to the local mall, walked into JC Penny, and had 
purchased a few new fall outfits.

    Once, while shopping with Stephanie in Macy's, she had 
found a nametag that an employee had dropped, and Janet had 
taken it for herself, quickly placing it in her purse.  
Over the intervening years, she had lost hers.  The tag 
that she had found was a link back to her earlier and less 
complicated life, and she wanted to have it.

    Seated behind the desk, she was wearing an outfit that 
could be worn both to work and out on a date, a brown 
jacket with matching skirt that she rather liked.

    Cheryl had worn a tight fitting blue dress that had 
shown off all her curves.  While a dress that like might 
wind a man around her finger, it would do nothing for her 
when Janet had Cheryl naked and under her lash once more.  

    When Cheryl was seated and they were alone, Janet 
finally began the conversation.  Cheryl, as usual, looked 
like she had stepped out of a magazine cover.

    "Good evening, Cheryl."

    "Good evening, Mistress Janet," Cheryl answered.

    "I have been reviewing your records, comparing them to 
the progress made by my other slaves.  You have done quite 
well," complimented Janet.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "How do you feel about being a slave?" asked Janet.

    "That is what I want to be, Mistress.  Your slave, and 
yours alone.  I have taken your crop, been taken to bed, 
bound and gagged, and used as a slave.  I am perfectly 
satisfied, Mistress," stated Cheryl.

    "No regrets?"

    "No, Mistress."

    "Not even after I had beat you severely with a 
flogger?  Or impaled you with the phallus?" asked Janet.

    "No, Mistress, none."

    "Or even after I let you use one of my other slaves?  
How did you feel about holding the crop yourself?"

    "I enjoyed it, Mistress, thank you."

    "I am going to test your submission this weekend, 
Cheryl.  Test you to your limit and in ways that will 
surprise you, do you understand me?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet was doing everything in her power to break 
through Cheryl's wall of resistance.  To make her admit the 
reason that she had forced herself upon Mistress Janet.  
But nothing had worked after Janet had forced Cheryl to 
realize that she was a slave.

    "You can still back out," Janet offered.

    "No, Mistress Janet, thank you.  I'll stay."

    "Tina!" called Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress?" asked Tina from the library doors.

    "Please ready Cheryl then return her to me in the 
library," ordered Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    From the Dungeon Janet had selected a few items that 
she would begin to use on Cheryl in the library.  That 
would be a prelude before she took her slave down to the 
Dungeon before tonight's test would begin.

    "Mistress?" asked Tina on her return, "Cheryl is 
prepared, as you have ordered."

    "Thank you, Tina.  You may stay with me, I may need 
you."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Cheryl was naked once again wearing just bracelets, 
with her wrists locked behind her back.  Tina had not 
placed a collar around her neck, unlike any other time 
before.

    "What are you missing, Cheryl?" asked Janet.

    "Your collar, Mistress."

    "Very good, Cheryl," answered Janet as she opened the 
top right desk drawer.

    Inside was a small wooden box, which Janet withdrew 
and placed on the desk.

    "Kneel," ordered Janet.

    Cheryl did as she was told, in complete silence.

    Janet rose to her feet, and walked around the desk to 
face Cheryl.  She opened the box, and removed the collar 
within.  Closing the box, she replaced it onto the desk.

    "Before I place it around your neck, look at the 
collar," ordered Janet.

    "You've placed my name on this one, Mistress," 
observed Cheryl.

    "Correct," said Janet as she locked the collar around 
Cheryl's neck, "this collar is yours.  Whenever you are 
used in this House, you shall wear it around your neck from 
now on.  You have earned your own collar, Cheryl."

    "Thank you, Mistress Janet."

    "You may not be so thankful after tonight," firmly 
said Janet.

    "Mistress?"

    "Tina, help Cheryl to her feet.  Have you ever heard 
of something called an armbinder?"

    "No, Mistress," answered Cheryl.

    Tina assisted Cheryl to her feet as Janet opened the 
closet door, and removed a very large triangular leather 
object, with numerous straps attached.

    "Unlock her arms, and Cheryl I want you to keep your 
arms straight behind your back," ordered Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," replied Cheryl as Tina unlocked her 
wrists, thankful for even a brief moment of freedom.

    "This is called an armbinder, and it will render you 
totally helpless.  It can also be quite dangerous to the 
wearer, since it can place enormous strain on your 
shoulders.  I shall place it on you very loosely, and if it 
hurts, you must tell me immediately and I shall remove it.  
Do you understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Cheryl stood in silence, her arms behind her back and 
her legs slightly open, as Janet opened the armbinder by 
unzipping it along its entire length.  She displayed it for 
her slave, showing her where her arms would go, the 
exterior straps that could also confine her arms, and 
finally the main long straps that would loop over her 
shoulders and be buckled back onto the main body of the 
armbinder.

    "Are you ready, Cheryl?"

    Cheryl nodded her head in silence, as Janet placed 
Cheryl's arms within the device then slowly zipped up the 
leather halves.  Even though there were a number of straps 
along its length; Janet refrained from using them.  After 
she had closed the zipper, she then looped and crossed the 
straps around Cheryl's shoulders, then closing the roller 
buckles.

    Cheryl was totally helpless and at Janet's mercy.  She 
tried to pull against the leather, and found that 
impossible.  All that she could do was to move her hands 
(which were closed palm to palm) a few inches.  The 
armbinder forced her pretty breasts to protrude, making 
them even more available to whoever might want to use them.

    "Are you in pain, Cheryl?" asked Janet.

    "No, Mistress, I'm fine, thank you," answered Cheryl.

    "This model has a ring at the end," Janet pulled on 
the ring, "which can then be chained to your ankles, or a 
vaginal or anal probe," stated Janet.

    "Thank you, Mistress," said Cheryl.

    "I want you to wear the armbinder for a while before I 
remove it.  Tomorrow I shall make you wear it for some 
time, so that you may become used to it."

    Cheryl nodded in silence.  Janet took inventory of the 
marks on Cheryl's naked body, then reached out with her 
left hand and pulled on the D ring on Cheryl's collar.

    "Are you my slave, Cheryl?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress," quickly answered Cheryl.

    Janet pinched Cheryl's already erect right nipple with 
her right hand, making Cheryl flinch under her attentions.

    "I can do anything that I want with you, Cheryl.  Do 
you understand what that means?" asked Janet.

    Cheryl nodded in silence instead of answering 
verbally.

    "Ahhhh!" cried Cheryl when Janet brutally inserted her 
fingers into Cheryl's slit, "Ahhhh!"

    Cheryl tried to pull away, but Janet held firmly onto 
her collar with her left hand.  She was totally helpless 
and Janet would not release her.

    "Tell me, Cheryl.  When you are all alone at home, do 
you desire my use and my lash?"

    "Yes, Mistress," Cheryl tearfully answered.

    "Have I turned you into a slave?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Good," said Janet as she released Cheryl, and she 
cleaned her hand with a tissue.

    Cheryl walked a few steps with the armbinder, having 
trouble maintaining her balance.  Janet had ordered Tina to 
place a pair of modest heels on her feet, and Tina followed 
Cheryl every step, prepared to catch her, lest she fall.

    After a half-hour had elapsed, Janet called Cheryl 
over and ordered her to remain still.  Cheryl stood 
silently as the armbinder was removed, and then she was 
free of the leather device.

    "You may rub your wrists together, and move your arms 
to restore circulation," ordered Janet, "now."

    "Thank you, Mistress," answered Cheryl as she did as 
she was told, moving her arms as instructed.

    Janet replaced the armbinder back in the closet, only 
to remove something else.  It was a long thin piece of wood 
that looked rather innocent, at first glance.

    "This is a cane, Cheryl.  I have not used this on you 
yet until you were ready.  You are now.  I want you to bend 
over the footstool, but you shall not be bound."

    "Yes, Mistress," dutifully answered Cheryl.

    "The cane is a fearsome thing also," Janet began, "and 
it can be dangerous and hurt badly as well if not correctly 
used.  I rarely use it, since I prefer my hand, the crop, 
flogger, or even the whip.  But I want you to experience 
it, Cheryl."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "This will hurt, but I shall deliver only a few modest 
strokes."

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    "Owwwww!" cried Cheryl.

    "Thank you, Cheryl, that was quite brave of you to 
remain in one place as I caned you."

    Janet had struck Cheryl on her bottom and on the 
outside of her thighs.  Had she struck on the inside, 
Cheryl would have been screaming for her life right now.

    "Mistress, that hurt!" cried Cheryl, as she rubbed her 
sore flesh.

    "As I told you it would.  Tina, you may rub some salve 
into Cheryl's flesh and help her to recover for a while.  
Then take her down to the Dungeon.  I shall be getting 
dressed upstairs, and will join you shortly."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Tina.

    Janet left the library without another word, and she 
continued to hold the cane in her hands.  She placed it 
under her arm as she ascended the stairs, holding onto it 
like it was a good luck charm.

    While she was naked in her bedroom, she glanced at the 
day calendar on the table.  October brought back many 
memories for her.

    Six years before, Erica had loaned her to Mistress 
Stephanie, who had treated Janet harshly, then placed her 
on the rack.  How terrified Janet had been, scared out of 
her wits with every click on the fearsome device that she 
was restrained on.  However, no lasting harm had come of 
her experience, and she had learned that Stephanie's bark 
was really worse than her bite.

    Janet selected a long sleeved PVC Catsuit that covered 
her totally, plus a pair of matching knee high boots.  Now 
that the weather had turned colder, she could wear what was 
her favorite outfit that hugged her like a second skin.

    When she entered the Dungeon, Cheryl was naked and 
kneeling on the carpet, as ordered, with Tina standing 
nearby, holding Cheryl's leash.  Tina had not changed out 
of her satin Maid's outfit since early in the morning, and 
Janet considered having her change into something a bit 
more appropriate for doing a scene.

    In the center of the Dungeon was something hidden 
under a single white sheet, which betrayed no indication of 
it's purpose.  Cheryl stared at it, until Janet broke her 
concentration.

    "Good evening, Cheryl.  I trust that Tina had tended 
to your wounds?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Be warned that after a time, you shall learn how to 
take many strokes with the cane.  Even harsher ones than 
the mild ones that I gave you."

    "Yes, Mistress Janet."

    "Do you ride a horse?" asked Janet.

    "Mistress?"

    "I asked if you ride a horse.  Are you one of the 
horsey set at the country club that plays polo on 
weekends?"

    "I know how to ride, Mistress, but I don't own a 
horse," answered Cheryl.

    "Well, that's a start, when did you last ride?"

    "Some time ago, Mistress."

    "It's been too long then," observed Janet, as she 
removed the sheet from the object, revealing what looked 
like a large A made of wood that had eyelets for attaching 
chains.

    Cheryl gasped when she guessed the purpose of the 
thing, which she had never seen before.

    "It's called a horse, for obvious reasons, Cheryl.  
And you're going to ride it this evening, before I use you.  
Help me, Tina."

    Cheryl was helped to her feet and her leash removed 
and her wrist bracelets unlocked.  Then she was made to 
mount the horse, and her wrists were again locked behind 
her back, then Janet locked her ankle bracelets to the 
horse.  Finally, Janet locked one of the ceiling chains to 
Cheryl's wrist bracelets, pitching her forward.

    "Your entire weight now is resting on your sex," 
described Janet, "which will become uncomfortable very 
quickly."

    "Mistress, please?" asked Cheryl, "release me?"

    "I said that I would test you, Cheryl.  You shall 
remain on the horse until I decide when to take you down, 
and not before.  Besides, it is far less painful than the 
cane, unless you would prefer a few more strokes with that 
instead," offered Janet.

    "No, Mistress."

    "I could have placed a phallus on the horse, which you 
would now have inside of you.  Instead, since this is your 
first time, you shall ride without it."

    "Thank you, Mistress Janet."

    "Tina you may go and change into something a little 
more suitable for the Dungeon," ordered Janet.

    "Thank you, Mistress," answered Tina as she bowed 
slightly, then walked out of the Dungeon, leaving Cheryl 
and Janet together.

    Janet walked over to her throne like chair, sat down, 
and opened the newest issue of Vogue.  So this was where 
Tina had left it!  She had been wondering where it had 
been, and Janet had wanted to read it.

    Cheryl, in her uncomfortable position on the horse, 
tried to shift herself so that the pain would lessen 
somewhat.  Instead, nothing that she did had any effect, 
and she cried silently to herself.  Janet would glance at 
her occasionally.

    She had given Tina a hand signal to indicate that she 
should take nearly an hour to change, then return.  Janet 
wanted to be alone with Cheryl, in order that she could 
properly gauge Cheryl's reactions from being on the horse 
for a long period of time.

    Under the sleeve of her PVC Catsuit, Janet wore a 
small watch on the inside of her wrist.  She would check 
the time every now and then, but not be too obvious about 
it.

    "Mistress, please!" begged Cheryl.

    Janet rose from her seat, and closed the magazine.  
She walked over to the horse, and played with Cheryl's 
erect nipples.

    "Ahhhh!" cried Cheryl.

    "What's wrong, Cheryl?"

    "My pussy, Mistress.  It's being split in two!"

    "Would you rather that I slice your bottom again with 
the cane?  That is the choice that I'm giving you tonight.  
Either the horse or the cane, Cheryl.  Those are your only 
alternatives today," coldly stated Janet.

    "Please, please," begged Cheryl, tears in her eyes.

    Janet reached between Cheryl's legs, and pulled at a 
few of Cheryl's pubic hairs.  She played with Cheryl's 
pussy, feeling the hot pained flesh between her slave's 
legs.

    "Owwww!" cried Cheryl when Janet pulled a few out.

    "Perhaps your next punishment shall be to have that 
lovely bush of yours shaved.  If you think that having a 
bikini wax at a salon can be painful and embarrassing, you 
should have your pussy shaved for a few months.  It will 
give you a new meaning to the word naked," suggested Janet.

    "I think that nipple clamps are in order, don't you?" 
asked Janet.  

    Janet unzipped her Catsuit, for in advance she had 
secreted a pair of clamps in her black lacy bra that she 
was wearing under the PVC material.  She removed them, and 
without further taunting, placed them onto Cheryl's erect 
and extended nipples.

    "Ahhhh!" sobbed Cheryl.

    "That's better, now be quiet, lest I place a gag in 
your mouth, Cheryl," stated Janet.

    Janet noted the mournful look on Cheryl's face as she 
resumed her seat, and began to read again where she had 
left off.  Her slave looked rather pained in her place on 
the horse.

    "Cheryl?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "I am not seated here to be callous," explained Janet, 
"but rather to teach you a lesson.  A bound slave should 
NEVER be left alone, under any circumstances, do you 
understand?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress Janet," sobbed Cheryl.

    "Especially if they are gagged," added Janet.

    "I understand, Mistress."

    "Good."

    Janet was interrupted when the Dungeon door opened to 
admit Tina, who had now changed her satin Maid's outfit for 
a leather vest and pants.  Plus a pair of elbow length 
gloves to complete her outfit.

    "Excellent choice," complimented Janet.

    "Thank you, Mistress," answered Tina, "I desire to 
wear something besides the Maid's outfit sometimes."

    "Would you like to use Cheryl?" offered Janet, "and I 
shall be happy to assist?"

    "Yes, Mistress, thank you," gratefully answered Tina, 
"how may I use her?"

    "In any way that you desire, and in the harshest 
possible manner, which was what I had intended to do with 
her."

    "Thank you, Mistress," answered Tina.

    Janet smiled, for if Cheryl resented the fact that 
Tina would now be using her instead of Janet that would 
prepare her for Saturday, when Janet's real plans for her 
would unfold.

    "She's yours," said Janet.

    "I see that you've placed nipple clamps on her," 
observed Tina.

    "Yes," answered Janet.

    "Owww!" cried Cheryl when Tina pulled at one.

    "I thought that you were going to use me, Mistress!" 
cried Cheryl.

    "I have trained Tina both as my slave and assistant," 
described Janet, "and she is perfectly capable of handling 
you in the Dungeon as well as the rest of the house."

    "I want to be used by you, Mistress!" protested 
Cheryl.

    "You're not in a position to demand anything," coldly 
answered Janet as she rose from her seat, removed a riding 
crop from the cabinet, then handed it to Tina.

    Cheryl looked in shock at the two women facing her, 
not certain what to say next.

    "You may begin, Tina."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "What is your safeword?" demanded Tina.

    "Sin, Mistress," answered Cheryl.

    "Very good, Cheryl," replied Tina, as she struck her 
first blow with the crop onto Cheryl's skin.

    Because of the way that she was bound to the horse, 
all that Tina could strike with the crop was the outside of 
Cheryl's legs, her breasts, and bottom.  But that was 
enough, as Tina delivered light strokes that made Cheryl 
moan and fight her place on the horse.

    "Aaaaah!"

    "Aaaaah!"

    "Aaaaah!" cried Cheryl each time that she was struck 
with the riding crop.

    After Tina had delivered about a dozen small strokes, 
she offered the crop to Cheryl's lips, and the bound woman 
kissed the crop without any complaints.  Then Tina roughly 
removed the clamps, making Cheryl moan in response.

    "I want her removed from the horse, she needs to be 
flogged," ordered Tina.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Janet.

    In reality, it took both of them to release Cheryl 
from the horse, then help her down.  Sitting on her sex for 
a prolonged period of time had made Cheryl stiff and sore, 
so she was given time to recover from her ordeal.  In 
preparation for what would be her next trial to come.

    "Spread-eagle her on the table," ordered Tina.

    The table was one of Janet's newest purchases.  It was 
a table with chains at each corner, which could be raised 
or lowered depending on how it was to be used.

    Cheryl was placed upon on it, and her wrist and ankle 
bracelets were locked onto each corner.  She was then 
slightly elevated, and tipped forward to allow for easier 
use by Tina.

    "Thank you, Mistress Janet," said Tina.

    "You're welcome, you may proceed," ordered Janet.

    Tina selected a common leather flogger, and presented 
it to Cheryl's lips to kiss before use.

    "Kiss the flogger," ordered Tina.

    "NO!" screamed Cheryl, "I want to be used by Mistress 
Janet."

    "I suggest that you obey Tina, Cheryl," suggested 
Janet as she resumed her seat, "I did give you to her for 
the evening, and she can be quite nasty if provoked."

    Tina then began to strike Cheryl with the flogger.  
She had chosen a leather one, and the heavy strands made a 
dull thud as they impacted onto Cheryl's flesh.  She pulled 
at her chains in an effort to free herself, but the leather 
and steel that restrained her was implacable.

    Cheryl moaned as each stroke left it's imprint on her 
naked body, and she cried as Tina continued her relentless 
use of her.  Tina would strike at her breasts, belly, the 
inside of her thighs and sex, and her underarms.

    "Ahhhhh!" cried Cheryl.

    "Ahhhhh!"

    Stroke after stroke, Tina made certain that no part of 
Cheryl's body remained unscathed by the use of the flogger.  
Cheryl may have been defiant at the beginning, but she 
would not be at the end of her use.

    "Sin!" screamed Cheryl, "Sin!"

    Tina stopped the use of the flogger, and Janet rose 
from her seat, and they both unlocked Cheryl from the 
table.  She sat on a bench, sobbing into a tissue that 
Janet had produced.

    Tina then took Cheryl into her arms, and held her 
closely as she dried Cheryl's tears.  Cheryl remembered 
when Janet had done this before, when she had been used 
nearly to her breaking point.

    "Are you all right?" asked Tina, softly.

    "Yes, Mistress.  Can I rest?"

    "Of course you may," said Tina.

    Tina held Cheryl closely in her arms, then took her 
upstairs and to bed.  Janet put everything away in the 
Dungeon, and closed the lights and locked up.

    They had set up everything together in advance of 
course, and Cheryl would never know that.  Janet had wanted 
to drive Cheryl to her safeword without actually hurting 
her.  It was an excellent lesson for her.

*        *        *        *        *        *

Part Three: The Next Day

Saturday October 3, 1998

    In the morning, after breakfast, Janet had asked 
Cheryl to join her in the library.  Cheryl was naked, 
wearing only her collar and bracelets and heels.  Tina had 
bathed her, and soothed her punished skin with salves and 
creams.  Cheryl's skin was a dull red, but Tina had not 
broken the skin nor really hurt her.  Tina was too 
experienced a Domme for that to happen.

    "How do you feel?" asked Janet when Cheryl sat across 
from her in the Dining Room.

    "All right, Mistress," Cheryl answered.

    "Did Tina hurt you?"

    "No, Mistress.  Not really, I was scared and 
frightened.  I am sorry that I called my safeword."

    "That is where you are wrong, Cheryl."

    "Mistress?"

    "You must never be afraid to call your safeword, 
because that may be what will save your life," answered 
Janet.

    "I don't understand, Mistress."

    "One day I'll tell you the story, when you're up to 
it.  Until then, regard what happened here as a lesson."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Attend to your work with Tina, we have a guest coming 
later."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl as she rose and bowed 
to Janet before leaving.
    *        *        *        *        *
"Please conduct our guest into the library," ordered 
Janet, as she glanced at Cheryl, who looked suddenly 
worried.

    Tina conducted a man in his late thirties into the 
library.  He was tall, fit, and thin, dressed in black, and 
very attractive.  Janet watched as Cheryl's eyes opened 
wide with desire.

    "Craig, I would like to introduce Cheryl.  She is my 
newest slave, still under training."

    Cheryl had looked like she was going to introduce 
herself, but remained silent.

    "You may kneel on the floor, Cheryl, address him as 
Master, and speak only when spoken to," Janet ordered.

    "Master Craig," said Cheryl after she had assumed her 
place on the floor.

    "I have been training her in private for a few months, 
and she has not been shown to any other Masters or Dommes 
yet, so she has not yet been trained in public address yet.  
But she will learn," described Janet.

    "What is your name?" asked Craig as her sat in a 
library chair.

    "Cheryl Branford, Master," shakily replied Cheryl.

    "How have you been trained?"

    "I have been spanked, whipped, flogged, and cropped, 
Master," replied Cheryl.

    "Always thorough," Craig said to Janet.

    "Thank you.  It is now time that I test Cheryl's 
submission, don't you agree?" asked Janet.

    "Yes."

    "Cheryl, since you have proven yourself, I would now 
like you to suck Craig's cock and give him an orgasm with 
that mouth of yours," ordered Janet.

    "Mistress?" answered Cheryl with a look of horror on 
her face.

    "That's right, Cheryl," Janet answered.

    "I, I...," stammered Cheryl.

    "Craig, could you excuse us please for a moment?" 
asked Janet, "I would like to have a word in private with 
Cheryl."

    "Of course," he answered, rose to his feet, and left 
the library, closing the door behind him.

    "You have angered me greatly, Cheryl, in refusing a 
direct order of mine and embarrassing me in front of a 
guest."

    "Mistress, I thought that you were only friends with 
other Dominatrixes!" protested Cheryl.

    "If you are still worried about me loaning you to 
another Domme, that will be arranged shortly.  Master Craig 
is here from California, he is a good friend of mine, and I 
want to show him my newest slave.  That means you, Cheryl," 
said Janet coldly.

    "Mistress!"

    "If it's a health problem that you're worried about 
Cheryl, he will be wearing a condom.  But is it something 
more?  Did you think that you could be submissive to a 
Domme here in the East without that affecting you when you 
went home?  Is that it?" asked Janet.

    "I don't know, Mistress!" cried Cheryl, "don't 
embarrass me this way, please?"

    "You have proven that you desire the lash and the 
crop, have been trained in the use of your mouth and 
bottom, and are my slave.  Once you return home Cheryl, you 
will desire to be spanked and used, whether it be by a 
Master or a Mistress.  You are my slave, Cheryl, by your 
own admission and behavior."

    "Mistress, I have never done that to a man before!" 
protested Cheryl.

    "Only with sex toys?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress!"

    "Well then, I think that it's time that you put your 
knowledge to proper use," said Janet.

    "Please, Mistress, no, not with a man?" begged Cheryl.

    "Are you going to act this way when I loan you to 
another Domme?" questioned Janet, displeasure evident in 
her voice.

    "No, Mistress."

    "What you have failed to understand Cheryl is that you 
are a submissive.  That means obeying the orders of men and 
women, Masters and Dommes.  You are now going to suck on 
Craig's cock, then he will use you in the Dungeon, and then 
probably take you to bed.  Do you submit, Cheryl, if not 
then you are free to leave, never to return," lectured 
Janet.

    "I submit, Mistress Janet," cried Cheryl, "I submit."

    "Take a tissue from the box and dry your eyes, Cheryl.  
Craig will not want to see you crying as you suck his cock, 
do you understand, else you will be embarrassing me.  And 
you don't want to do that, do you?" asked Janet.

    "No, Mistress."

    "Then you will compose yourself, and be prepared to be 
used by a Master, Cheryl.  You will submit your body, your 
mouth and probably your sex to him.  And if you fail to 
please him, you will suffer the consequences."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl.

    After Craig was returned to the library, he removed 
his boots, black jeans, and pulled down his shorts before 
seating himself in a chair.  Janet passed him a condom, and 
his cock sprang to erection.

    "Come here," ordered Craig.

    "Yes, Master," answered Cheryl.

    "You know what to do," said Craig as he passed her the 
foil wrapped object.

    Cheryl unwrapped the condom, then unrolled the latex 
onto his swelling organ.  Then, hesitantly at first, she 
took his organ into her mouth, sucking slowly at first.

    Craig did not push or force her, instead sat on the 
edge of the chair and let Cheryl proceed at her own pace.  
She was clearly embarrassed because of the blush on her 
cheeks, but she continued to suck on his cock and draw it 
deeper back into her throat.

    Mistress Janet sat behind her desk, watching the 
activities as an interested observer.  There were no sounds 
in the library except for the occasional sucking sound from 
Cheryl and Craig's small moans of pleasure.  Tina had been 
ordered not to join them, and Janet stayed quiet.

    Once Cheryl had gotten over her initial embarrassment 
and fright, she took Craig deep into her mouth.  Her tongue 
tickled his glans, and she could feel his pulsating cock 
deep in her throat.  Her mouth puckered every time that she 
sucked on him.

    Craig was known for his ability to restrain himself, 
but Janet could see that he was weakening.  For Cheryl had 
clearly excited him, and was showing her ability to delight 
a Master.

    "Ahhhh!" cried Craig, as his body shook with one 
orgasm after another.

    Janet watched as Cheryl sucked at the latex, suddenly 
warmed by Craig's hot come.  It was only after Craig had 
stopped his climaxes did Cheryl remove her mouth from his 
limp organ.

    "Thank you, Cheryl."

    "You're welcome, Master," said Cheryl from her 
kneeling position on the floor.

    "The bathroom is behind that door," pointed out Janet 
to Craig.

    "Thank you, Janet."

    Craig rose to his feet, and picked up his jeans, and 
walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

    "You have done well, Cheryl.  I told you that one day 
that you would make a Master happy, and you have done so."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "Once Craig has cleaned and rested, he will want you 
in the Dungeon.  I shall be attending, since Tina has the 
night off."

    "I understand, Mistress.  Thank you for training me."

    "You're welcome, Cheryl."
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    Dinner that evening was a strange affair.  Craig had 
placed a suitcase in a bedroom after Cheryl had serviced 
him, then fallen asleep from his trip.

    Afterwards, Janet and Craig had been served Dinner, 
which was Shrimp Scampi that Tina had prepared and Cheryl 
had served.  Dinner had gone off without a hitch, and Janet 
noted the way that Cheryl looked at her guest.

    There was no doubt that Cheryl was attracted to Craig.  
The way she stood nearby while serving him, how she knelt 
before him.  Cheryl was clearly attracted to her Male Dom 
guest.

    They had eaten late, and talked while Cheryl and Tina 
first ate together then cleaned up.  Tina would help to 
bathe and prepare Cheryl, then she would be going out by 
herself.

    Janet would be assisting Craig in the Dungeon, just as 
she had assisted Tina that night before.  She wondered just 
how Cheryl was going to react this evening.
    *        *        *        *        *
    "What is your safeword, Cheryl?" asked Craig.

    It was late in the evening, and Craig, Janet, and 
Cheryl were now downstairs in the Dungeon.  Tina had 
prepared Cheryl, then showered and dressed, and had taken 
the Toyota.

    Craig was wearing a leather vest, black jeans, and 
boots.  Janet had chosen a simple leather bra and skirt.  
Cheryl was of course naked, wearing only her collar and 
bracelets.

    "Sin, Master," answered Cheryl from her kneeling 
position on the floor.

    "Do you consent to my use, given by permission of 
Mistress Janet?" asked Craig.

    "Yes, Master."

    Craig was very attractive in the outfit that he had 
chosen.  His firm muscles rippled under his skin and the 
black leather every time that he moved, and his black 
piercing eyes looked like they could discern one's very 
soul within.

    "Thank you, Mistress Janet," Craig said to his 
hostess.

    "You're welcome."

    "Prepare to be used."

    "Yes, Master," Cheryl answered.

    Cheryl knelt on the carpet, her legs open, hands on 
her knees.  She looked eager for whatever was going to 
happen next.  Even if that meant that she was going to be 
painfully administered by Janet's guest.

    "Janet, place her against the post, I want to crop 
her," ordered Craig.

    "Yes, Sir!"

    Janet pulled Cheryl up by her collar then locked her 
hands onto the post above her head.  Then she locked a 
spreader bar on her ankle cuffs so the Cheryl would remain 
open for whatever Craig might deign to use her for.

    "Done, Master," said Janet when finished.

    Craig then walked over to the cabinet, and opened it, 
removing a crop that he flexed in his hands.  He motioned 
Janet over to his side.

    "Owwwww!" cried Janet after Craig had struck her 
unexpectedly with the crop.

    "You failed to hand me the crop," admonished Craig, a 
smile on his face.

    "Yes, Sir!"

    "Now onto Cheryl," said Craig as he walked over to the 
bound woman, "kiss the crop."

    "Yes, Master," answered Cheryl as she kissed the 
handle when it was offered to her.

    "You will count each stroke, and thank me after every 
five," ordered Craig.

    "Yes, Master."

    "One!"

    "Two!"

    "Three!"

    "Four!"

    "Five, thank you, Master!"

    Janet watched her friend at work and smiled.  Craig 
would delivered a series of five strokes of every 
increasing force, then every tenth stroke, use his hand to 
rub Cheryl's heated body.

    "Eleven!"

    "Twelve!"

    "Thirteen!"

    "Fifteen, thank you, Master!"

    "Eighteen!"

    "Twenty, thank you, Master!"

    Craig was not using strokes harsh enough to really 
hurt, just mildly sting and would leave a mark behind.  The 
crop's tip would land on Cheryl's bottom, her underarms, 
and between her legs.

    After a time, Janet observed that Cheryl would 
deliberately stick her behind out.  Quietly, she circled 
around to see the look on Cheryl's face during her use.

    "Twenty-two!"

    "Twenty-four!"

    "Twenty-five, thank you, Master!" panted Cheryl.

    'She wants him,' Janet thought to herself, 'she's 
submitting herself to me for whatever reason, but Cheryl 
wants a MaleDom.'

    There was no doubt in Janet's mind as she saw the 
unmistakable look of desire on Cheryl's face.  It was the 
look of a person who not only wanted, but needed a Master 
(or Mistress) to fulfill all of their desires.

    'I helped Cheryl to bring out her submissive desires, 
to train her sexually in submission.  But she doesn't want 
a Dominatrix to serve, she wants a Master,' Janet thought 
in silence.

    Craig then looked past Cheryl to Janet, and she gave 
him a knowing glance, then nodded in silence.  Craig 
understood, and replied in kind.

    "Thirty, thank you, Master!"

    "Kiss the crop," ordered Craig, as her presented the 
handle to Cheryl's lips.

    "Yes, Master," answered Cheryl.

    "Janet, you may release her and let her rest for a 
short time, before her next ordeal," ordered Craig.

    "Yes, Master," replied Janet.

    Janet unlocked the spreader bar, then released 
Cheryl's wrists.  The woman was shaken, but not truly hurt.  
She was covered in red marks and sweat, but was holding 
herself quite well, considering her use in the last two 
days.

    "You have done well, Cheryl," said Janet as she 
conducted Cheryl to the bench to rest.

    "Owwww!" cried Cheryl when her sensitive bottom 
touched the leather of the bench.

    "You'll be all right."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    Cheryl was allowed to rest, and drink some water and 
compose herself.  Her breasts rose and fell with every 
breath that she took, but she looked different somehow.  In 
how she held herself.

    "Cheryl?" asked Craig after a period of time had 
elapsed, "are you ready to proceed?"

    "Yes, Master."

    "Janet has told me that Tina used you yesterday with a 
flogger.  Is that correct?"

    "Yes, Sir."

    "Because you have been used with the crop and flogger 
within the last two days, and you are experienced according 
to Mistress Janet, I think that it is only correct that you 
select the instrument of your next use."

    "Master?" replied Cheryl, a look of shock on her face.

    "Go to the cabinet and select the instrument of your 
next use," ordered Craig.

    "Yes, Master," answered Cheryl.

    Sheepishly at first, Cheryl rose to her feet and 
walked over to the cabinet.  She opened it to reveal all of 
the instruments of her use in the Dungeon.  Tina had taught 
her how to care for all of the things within, and it was 
usually Erica who used them upon her.

    Naked, Cheryl looked over all of the various 
instruments that had caused her pain and pleasure during 
her training by Mistress Janet.  Finally, she selected a 
coiled leather whip, walked back to Craig, and feel to her 
knees in front of him, presenting the whip to him in her 
hands.

    "Please use the whip, Master?" asked Cheryl.

    "Are you sure that is what you want?" asked Craig.

    "Yes, Master, the whip," stated Cheryl.

    "I could hurt you with it," cautioned Craig.

    "I know that you will not."

    "Janet, please suspend Cheryl from the ceiling chain, 
opening her arms and legs with a spreader bar?" asked 
Craig.

    "Yes, Sir."

    Mistress Janet did as her friend Craig requested, and 
soon Cheryl was hanging from the ceiling chain, her arms 
and legs locked to spreader bars in the shape of an X.  
Within her bondage, Cheryl held herself tightly erect, 
proud in her appearance.

    "Cheryl is ready, Sir," announced Janet.

    "Thank you, Janet," said Craig as he coiled the 
gleaming whip in his hands.

    Craig looked over Cheryl, and ran one of his hands 
from her shoulders to the swell of her breast, her flat 
stomach, her mons, and open slit.  Cheryl moaned slightly 
as he tenderly caressed her.

    "Are you ready?" asked Craig.

    "Yes, Master," confidently answered Cheryl.

    "Remember your safeword," cautioned Craig.

    "Sin, Master."

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    "Aaaaah!" cried Cheryl.

    Janet watched as Craig carefully used the whip on 
Cheryl.  In expectation of the lash, she had held herself 
tightly, and Janet saw the tension in her muscles before 
she was struck with the whip.  Craig was a Dom who was very 
experienced with the lash, and knew how to use it 
correctly.

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    "Are you all right, Cheryl?"

    "Yes, Master," answered Cheryl.

    Craig moved a few steps forward and ever so gently 
used his fingertip to feel where the whip had struck 
Cheryl's flesh.  Her nakedness was now adorned with fresh 
stripes from his whip.

    "Do you want to continue?"

    "Yes, Master," Cheryl confidently replied.

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Janet noted how Craig would sometimes crack the whip 
in the air a few inches from Cheryl's body, so that Cheryl 
would think that her body was being struck.  Other times, 
the whip would wrap itself around her body.  But those 
strokes were delivered with such little force that they 
rarely marked at all.  Craig would only strike her with the 
whip in such a way that the flesh was not broken, but only 
marked.  A stroke that was delivered with only a carefully 
measured amount of force designed to sting and not maim.

    "Are you all right?" asked Craig.

    "Yes, Master, please continue?"

    Without pause, Craig continued his use of Cheryl.  She 
would flinch every time that the whip would strike her 
body, but she did not cry or scream.  Instead, she looked 
confident during her use.

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    "You have trained her well, Janet," complimented 
Craig.

    "Thank you, Master."

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    "Aaaaaah!" cried Cheryl.

    "Are you all right?"

    "Yes, Master, I'm fine."

    Stroke after stroke, Cheryl's body was laced with 
stripes from the whip.  But Cheryl did not scream or panic, 
instead holding herself resolutely with her bondage, 
absorbing every stroke as Master Craig used her to her 
limit.

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    "Janet, you may take her down," ordered Craig, "your 
session is over."

    "Thank you Master," panted Cheryl.

    When Cheryl was seated on the bench, her chest still 
heaving from the ordeal, Craig offered her the whip's 
handle.  She kissed it without even being ordered to.

    "You have been well trained by a good Mistress," 
stated Craig.

    "Yes, Master, thank you," answered Cheryl.

    "Do you want to join me in bed this evening?" asked 
Craig.

    "Yes, Master, I would like that very much."

    Craig sensually ran his fingertips over her striped, 
sweat stained body.

    "You were very brave, Cheryl.  To take the lash from a 
Master that you did not know."

    "Thank you, Master."

    "Janet, please give her a bath and have her ready in 
my room in about an hour," ordered Craig.

    "Yes, Master," answered Janet.

    Janet helped Cheryl to her feet, and walked with her 
to the door.  She did not bind Cheryl, nor did she have to.  
Cheryl now obviously wanted the evening to progress onto 
the next phase, by the spring in her step.

    Next Janet stripped, and drew a hot steamy bath for 
Cheryl, which she immersed herself in.  Cheryl moaned with 
pleasure when Janet bathed her, washed her hair and cleaned 
and prepared her.

    "Mistress Janet?" asked Cheryl.

    "Yes, Cheryl."

    "Why did you bathe me?"

    "Because Craig ordered it, and it's been a long time 
since I did that for another woman."

    "You've done that before?"

    "I wasn't always a Mistress," explained Janet.

    "Thank you, Mistress, for training me."

    "You're welcome, Cheryl.  Now Craig awaits!  You don't 
want to anger a Master, do you?"

    "No, Mistress, I do not!"

    When she was finally ready, Janet escorted Cheryl to 
Craig's bedroom, where he was sitting in bed, reading a 
book from Janet's library.

    "Thank you, Janet.  That will be all," ordered Craig, 
as Cheryl walked into his bedroom naked, and closed the 
door behind her.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
Part Three: The Discovery

Monday October 5, 1998

    Doreen Kelly closed the last of Erica's Medical 
Reports, she had been reading them at Janet's request.  A 
slave of Janet's, she was an LRN at a local hospital.

    She closed the file folder, and walked from the Dining 
Room to the Library, where Janet was staring at her 
computer monitor.

    "Mistress?"

    "Please be seated, Doreen.  And thank you again for 
your help.  What do those Medical Reports say?"

    "This woman, this Erica Riken.  Who was she?" asked 
Doreen.

    "That is of no consequence, Doreen.  What do they 
say?" demanded Janet.

    "Erica was seriously ill, Mistress.  She was badly 
anemic, and had leukemia.  She was receiving treatment, but 
it doesn't seem to have been working.  Erica may have been 
dying, but the reports don't say anything past June 1993."

    "Thank you, Doreen, that will be all.  Not a word of 
this to anyone, do you understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    After Doreen had left, Janet opened the file, reading 
the notes that her slave had written about Erica's 
condition.  Dying!

    Janet broke down in tears sobbing, for she had truly 
loved Erica with all of her heart.  The woman who had 
introduced her to the pain and pleasure of submission had 
been in reality hiding a deadly secret from her, even when 
she had come to se Janet months after she had won the 
competition.

    'Erica you didn't stop being a Domme because you got 
married, you stopped instead because you were dying,' Janet 
thought.

    Tears ran down Janet's cheeks, so that was why Erica 
had referred to Janet as her last slave.  That had been the 
real reason why Erica had devised the competition between 
her and Tiffany.

    The Medical reports had begun in 1992, just after 
Janet had begun to serve Erica.  Janet looked at the diary 
dated 1992, and wondered if she should skip ahead and read 
that now.  But she was still in 1989, and resolved to read 
them in sequence.

    'Erica, now I know why you were in a rush to train me 
as slave, because you felt you didn't have much time left.  
No wonder Andrea later told me that you loved me so much.  
I was going to be your final slave and legacy!' thought 
Janet as she cried in the library.
    *        *        *        *        *        *

From the Diary of Cheryl Branford
    The Sunday Times lays unopened on the coffee table in 
the living room, and no matter how I try to interest myself 
in reading it, the news of the outside world just doesn't 
interest me.
    I sit in a chair, crying, trying to sort out my 
feelings.  But I cannot, because I am now a storm of raging 
emotions.
    Last night, after a session with the whip at the hands 
of Master Craig that should have left me screaming in pain, 
I shamelessly joined him in bed.  I have never been so 
attracted to a man in all of my life.
    Craig took me into his bed, and used me as fiercely 
with his cock as with the whip.  He impaled with his shaft, 
and I clung tightly to him, my legs curled around him as he 
thrust time after time inside me.  I have never had sex 
with any other man like him before.
    Three times he took me in my pussy, and by the time he 
was finished I was stiff and sore.  Then he rolled me over, 
placed a new condom on his cock, then spread plenty of 
lubricant in my bottom and took me from behind.  I opened 
myself to him, enjoying the fullness of his cock in my ass.  
He penetrated me, and I moaned with pleasure, not pain. 
    In my book reading about submission I now remember 
that a Dominant is supposed to keep a slave off balance, 
constantly challenging them with one new experience after 
another.
    Mistress Janet has certainly done that by providing me 
with the man of my dreams, who would look at home on the 
beach at Venice.  Except that this man would not hesitate 
to place me over his knee to spank me, or hang me from the 
ceiling to be whipped.
    When I began this mad scheme, Janet warned me that I 
was going down a path of no return.  I should have listened 
and fled back to California.
    Instead Janet has awakened the submissive inside me, 
and I now desire the lash and crop.
    But most of all, I want a Master to own me, and use me 
in the way that I desire.  And to make me his slave, 
forever.

 

 

"The Challenge" Chapter 12 Changes
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if 
you
include this statement of limitation of use and notify the 
author by e-mail.
The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell 
multiple copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.
However, individual readers may make single copies of the
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the 
author.  I do want to hear from you!

 

"The Challenge" by

CH12: Changes

Part One: The Promotion

March 1989

    The restaurant was mostly empty as the waitress seated 
Erica and Stephanie in a private booth.  She took their 
orders for drinks, then left them alone with their menus to 
decide what they wanted for lunch.

    "How are you today?" asked Erica.

    "Still smarting from the way you used me on the 
weekend, Mistress Erica," softly answered Stephanie, "other 
than that, just fine."

    They were interrupted by the arrival of their drinks, 
and then they ordered so that they could be left alone 
until lunch arrived.

    "Are you excited?"

    "Yes, Mistress.  I'm very scared," admitted Stephanie.

    "Nothing to be scared about, Stephanie.  You're the 
first of my slaves to be promoted to Domme, a singular 
honor.  You've earned it."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "Erica will do in public, Stephanie.  Unless you want 
me to put you over my knee and make a scene."

    "That could be rather nice, Mistress.  Er, Erica, 
sorry."

    Erica wore a white silk blouse, and red leather skirt 
and matching shoes.  She looked like she was going out on a 
date, rather than meeting a friend for lunch.

    "I'll spank you later," threatened Erica.

    "Thank you, Erica."

    Stephanie had chosen a sweatshirt, jeans, and 
sneakers, dressing even more casual than Erica did.  Still, 
she had just had her hair done in the morning, and she 
looked wonderful.  Unlike the depressed woman of three 
years before, she smiled, paid attention to her appearance, 
and now dressed for the occasion.

    "Here's lunch!" announced the waitress.

    They had chosen fajitas for two, and the waitress 
placed a steaming tray of steak and chicken and onions 
between the two women, followed by a plate of flour 
tortillas, and bowls containing sour cream, tomatoes, and 
guacamole.

    "Can I get you anything else?"

    "Two more beers, please?" asked Erica.

    "Sure, be right back," answered the waitress.

    "How old do you think that she is?" asked Erica, when 
the waitress had left.

    "Twenty or so, goes to college.  Just like I did," 
proudly answered Stephanie.

    "You waitressed?" asked Erica.

    "Sure," answered Stephanie, taking a swallow from her 
beer mug, "when I was at Stamford, far away from home."

    "Tell me about it?"

    "I wanted a job, I didn't have to work.  But my 
classes were a breeze, and I whizzed through my homework.  
One day, at the local eatery I saw a sign looking for help, 
so I got the job."

    "Your drinks," announced the waitress, as she placed 
the fresh beer mugs on the table.

    "Thank you," replied Stephanie.

    "You're welcome."

    "What happened?" asked Erica.

    "I worked there for over a year when I was in school.  
I rather liked it, but I kept it a secret from Mom and Dad.  
They were just scandalized when they found out!" laughed 
Stephanie.

    "Why?"

    "They send me to prep school, tutors, everything!  
Then I get a job as a waitress instead of some cushy 
internship somewhere."

    Both women had rolled their dinner into the flour 
tortillas and talked between bites and swallows of beer.

    "How did they find out?" asked Erica.

    "One of our family friends came into the restaurant 
and called home.  Dad called me then visited California on 
business.  Well, that ended my little waitressing job.  
Damn, I liked it.  Got lots of dates, even had my ass 
squeezed sometimes.  Wasn't bad," commented Stephanie.

    "Not the sort of thing for a person in your class, was 
it?" asked Erica.

    "No, but I liked it.  The late hours and hectic 
conditions got me ready for Medical school, though.  But 
that's over now too."

    "Perhaps you'll practice again someday," suggested 
Erica.

    "No, Mistress, I don't think so," answered Stephanie, 
her eyes looking down at her plate.

    Erica then realized that she should not have brought 
the subject up.  Stephanie could be caned until she bled, 
for the one wound in her mind was the loss of her family 
that she blamed herself for.

    "I'm sorry, Stephanie, I shouldn't have said that.  I 
know that it still hurts," apologized Erica.

    "It's all right, Erica.  I know that you mean well, 
and time does heal wounds.  Some of them, anyway," 
concluded Stephanie.

    They both ate in silence for a few minutes, rolling 
one tortilla after another, then washing them down with 
fresh drinks that the waitress brought after Erica had 
asked her back to the table.

    "Have you thought about what you're going to wear this 
Saturday?" asked Erica.

    "A leather bra and skirt will do."

    "That means I'll have to wear something different.  I 
guess I'll wear that Dominatrix dress, which is better than 
a Catsuit," observed Erica.

    After the check had been paid and they lingered at the 
table, Stephanie looked very seriously at Erica.  When 
Erica rose to leave, Stephanie placed a hand on her 
companion's hand, imploring her to stay seated.

    "Erica, why?" asked Stephanie.

    "Why what?" answered Erica.

    "Why did you save me?"

    "You know that you're not supposed to ask that, 
Stephanie.  As my slave, you were not allowed to keep any 
secrets from me.  But as Mistress, I'm allowed to keep 
secrets from you.  I could say that I found you sexually 
attractive, or that I thought that you would make a good 
slave.  But there was a reason beyond that, that I felt 
that you should not be serving Lauren."

    "Thank you, Erica."

    "You're welcome, Stephanie," answered Erica as she 
rose to leave, followed by her companion.

    In the short drive back to her house, Erica was not 
really sure if Stephanie had believed the reason for taking 
her from Lauren.  But it did not matter if Stephanie had 
believed her or not.  What counted was that she had rescued 
Stephanie, reawakened her sexually and the desire to live 
again, and now was promoting her to Dominatrix.

    Which was all that really mattered, after all.

    "Lisa?" called Erica as she hung her jacket up in the 
hall closet.

    Normally, Lisa would be at the door to greet Erica on 
her return, instead her Maid was not there to help her with 
her jacket.  Erica walked over to her downstairs bedroom, 
and found Lisa on the bed, crying.

    "Mistress?" asked Lisa when she saw Erica at her 
bedroom door.

    "Lisa, what's wrong?" questioned Erica as she joined 
Lisa on her bed.

    "Mistress, I'm sorry, but I have to leave you," sobbed 
Lisa.

    "Why?"

    "Family, I have to go home to Oregon."

    "There now," said Erica as she pulled a tissue from a 
box on the night-table and dried Lisa's eyes.

    "I'm sorry," cried Lisa, "I'm sorry, Mistress Erica."

    "It's all right, Lisa, nothing is forever.  You have 
served me well for five years, and now you have to move on.  
There is no shame in leaving me."

    "You're not angry?"

    "No Lisa, I'm not angry.  If you have family 
responsibilities then they are far more important than your 
service to me."

    "Thank you, Mistress.  I love you," said Lisa.

    "It's all right, Lisa.  And I love you too," answered 
Erica as she held Lisa in her arms.

    "I'll be giving my two week notice, Mistress," stated 
Lisa.

    "That will be fine, Lisa.  Thank you."

    Lisa had dried her eyes, then sat up in bed and began 
to remove her Maid's outfit.  Once naked, she held Erica in 
her arms and kissed her Mistress on the lips.

    "Awfully direct, aren't you?" asked Erica.

    "We don't have much time Mistress.  You can use me 
tonight after Dinner in the Dungeon.  Now though, I want to 
make love to my Mistress.  Please?"

    "Of course."

    Erica unbuttoned her blouse, then unzipped the leather 
skirt.  She removed both, then removed her heels, and 
followed by her pantyhose.  She then was nude like her 
companion, and held Lisa in her arms.

    Lisa gently pushed Erica back onto the bed, and kissed 
her on the mouth, their tongues dancing together at the 
joined entrance of their mouths.  Erica inhaled Lisa's 
perfume, familiar with the Chanel #5 that her slave 
preferred.  Lisa then kissed Erica's neck, and soon took 
one of Erica's nipples into her mouth.  Then her hand began 
to work on Erica's sex, and Erica moaned in response, 
opening her legs to Lisa's attentions.

    Erica pushed her head back against the pillows, her 
body filled with the heat of desire for Lisa and her 
lovemaking.  Then Lisa buried her face between Erica's 
legs, and her tongue quickly began to tease Erica's love 
bud.

    "OH!" exclaimed Erica.

    Lisa pushed herself deeper into Erica's fragrant sex, 
her mouth sucking at the juices now flowing from the 
excited Domme.  Her lips caressed Erica's, and she 
playfully nibbled at her pubic hair.

    Erica's chest heaved with sexual excitement, her blood 
thundering in her veins, her heart furious with passion.  
All that mattered now was lovemaking, and Lisa had fully 
applied herself to satisfying her Mistress.

    "Ahhhhh!" screamed Erica, her body bouncing on the 
bed, wracked by one orgasm after another that washed 
through her.

    Lisa continued to drive Erica to one orgasm after 
another, her tongue buried deep into Erica's lovebox.  
Erica bucked time after time on the bed as Lisa pursued her 
relentless assault on her sex, driving her Mistress to one 
height of passion after another.

    Next, Lisa advanced up the bed like a predatory cat, 
snarling from deep in her throat.  She kissed Erica on her 
lips, and Erica tasted herself.  They rolled together on 
the bed, like two cats in heat.

    Then Lisa lay back, and Erica serviced her slave.  
Lisa was already wet with desire, her body aching for 
climax.  Erica used her tongue and lips to drive her from 
one climax to another, making Lisa moan and buck with every 
orgasm.

    If Erica was skilled Domme, she was an even more 
skilled lover.  She deliberately wore Lisa out, until the 
slave passed out from too much stimulation.  Soon, Erica 
watched her fall off to sleep after one orgasm after 
another, then she closed her own eyes.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Lisa awoke to the aroma of cooking from the kitchen.  
She dressed herself in a robe and slippers, and ran to the 
kitchen.  The clock said it was past Seven, meaning that 
she was late for Dinner and could expect a thrashing from 
Erica for missing a meal!

    "Hello, sleepyhead," greeted Erica, her hands encased 
in oven mitts.

    "Mistress?"

    "Have a seat, dinner will be out shortly."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    The kitchen table was set for two, complete with 
candles.  A salad, a loaf of crusty French bread, and a 
bottle of white wine were already on the table.

    "Since I wore you out I decided to make dinner," said 
Erica.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "It's been a long time since I cooked anything, so I 
made a quiche for Dinner.""

    Erica then opened the oven, and removed the quiche, 
filing the kitchen with a wonderful aroma.  She placed the 
dish on the kitchen table, shut off the oven, and removed 
the mitts from her hands.

    "Salad, Mistress?" asked Lisa.

    "Please."

    Lisa served Erica a portion of the salad, then poured 
some of the dressing over it.  Then she served herself 
next.  Erica opened the white wine, and after sniffing the 
cork, poured out two glasses for them.

    "Cheers," said Erica.

    "Cheers."

    Erica took a long swallow of her wine, and Lisa did 
the same.  They began eating, and after the salad was 
finished, Erica cut out pieces of the quiche for both of 
them while Lisa cut the bread.

    "Thank you for making Dinner, Mistress," said Lisa.

    "You're quite welcome Lisa.  I went to school for 
cooking in New York."

    "You must have been very good," commented Lisa.

    "Thank you, but I really have let my skills lapse in 
the last few years.  You're pretty good yourself."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "There's something I've been meaning to ask, and this 
is as good at a time as any.  When I promote Stephanie to 
Domme, she will need a submissive to do a small symbolic 
scene with.  She doesn't have any subs of her own yet."

    "She can use me, Mistress," offered Lisa, "I would be 
honored."

    "Thank you, Lisa.  But there's another question I have 
for you.  Would you like to be a Domme also?"

    "Mistress!" answered Lisa, shock registering on her 
face.

    "Why are you so surprised?" asked Erica, "you served 
Judith for two years before you came to me, and have been 
with me for five years.  You've proven yourself, Lisa.  
That's why I have let you use submissives occasionally."

     Lisa poured herself some more wine, then took a long 
swallow to comfort herself.  She was visibly shaken by 
Erica's offer.

    "Mistress, I don't want to disappoint you, but I'm 
happier with a collar around my neck.  I love being owned, 
being a slave.  I just don't want the responsibility that 
comes with being a Domme," admitted Lisa.

    "Thank you Lisa, for your honesty."

    "Mistress, I've learned so much from you.  Interviews, 
histories, sexual backgrounds.  I never understood why you 
delved so deeply into a person's background before you took 
them as a slave until I saw you in action.  Judith was 
never like you!"

    "Thank you, Lisa," said Erica as she finished her 
quiche, "more?"

    "I'm stuffed," answered Lisa, "Mistress.  Thank you 
for a wonderful dinner."

    "You're welcome."

    Dessert was cake and coffee, and Lisa insisted on 
doing the dishes.  Erica drank more coffee as she watched 
Lisa clean up, and remembered the time when she had been in 
the apartment.  After she had given up the life in this 
house that she had tried to escape from, however briefly.

    "I shall want you in the Dungeon, naked and collared 
at Ten," ordered Erica, "you will be harshly used both 
there, and in the bedroom afterwards."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Lisa while she dried her 
hands, "and thank you."

    "I'll be waiting," said Erica as she placed the coffee 
cup in the kitchen sink.
    *        *        *        *        *            
    Erica had decided to wear a sleeveless black PVC 
Catsuit, long opera length gloves, and matching black heels 
for her use of Lisa.  While she could have worn the thigh 
high boots that she had just recently purchased they were a 
bother to put on and zip up.  So a pair of less restricting 
heels would have to do.

    Lisa had showered and prepared herself, and Erica had 
seen her walking down the Dungeon steps naked.  Erica had 
sensed that Lisa was relieved that she had admitted that 
she had to leave, and a burden had been lifted from her.  
So Erica had decided that tonight (good thing that she had 
no sessions scheduled with her clients) would be a special 
one.

    Had it really been just five years since Lisa had come 
to serve her?  They had trained dozens of slaves together, 
and had become well known as a team.  But now part of her 
House was leaving, and that would leave a void to be 
filled.

    Erica preened herself one last time in the mirror, 
admiring the way that she looked in the skintight Catsuit.  
She had others in leather (expensive) and rubber (equally 
expensive) but the most versatile was PVC.  Which she could 
wash tomorrow in Woolite and be ready to use again in just 
two days.

    "Are you ready, slave?" asked Erica.

    Lisa knelt naked on the carpet, wearing only her 
collar and bracelets.  Erica saw that she had rouged her 
aureole a deep red, and the scent of perfume pervaded the 
Dungeon.  Lisa had taken special care to prepare herself 
for Erica's use, and Erica did not want to disappoint her.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Do you consent to my use?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "What is your safeword, Lisa?"

    "Joy, Mistress Erica."

    "Stand up and place yourself against the X frame, legs 
apart."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Lisa as she did as she had 
been instructed.

    Erica then attached straps to Lisa's wrist and ankle 
bracelets to hold her to the frame, rendering her helpless.  
She bound Lisa tightly to the frame, her nakedness against 
the polished wood.

    "Do you desire your Mistress?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, please?" implored Lisa.

    "I shall make you scream with desire," taunted Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress, please!" begged Lisa.

    Erica then removed a simple riding crop with a small 
leather tip at the end.  Plus two clamps that she hid in 
her palm of her hand.  She walked back to Lisa, who eagerly 
awaited her Mistress.

    "How lovely you look," commented Erica, "I shall 
stripe that body of yours tonight with my lash and crop."

    "Thank you, Mistress Erica."

    "But first," Erica bent down, her tongue and lips 
playing against Lisa's right nipple, quickly bringing it 
erect.

    "Ah!" cried Lisa, for Erica had placed a clamp on the 
nipple, followed by the left ones as well.

    Then Erica kneaded Lisa's already wet sex, making her 
moan and squirm within her bonds.  She pushed her fingers 
deep into Lisa's slit, touching her love bud.

    "Oh!" moaned Lisa.

    "Lick my fingers of your juices, you wet slut," 
ordered Erica as she shoved her fingers into Lisa's mouth.

    "Mmmmmmph!"

    Once Lisa had done as Erica had ordered, Erica then 
decided that something else was in order.  She walked to 
the cabinet, and removed a gag, plus a gambling token the 
size of an old full size Dollar Coin that she had taken 
from a Casino in Atlantic City.

    "This is a penis gag," described Erica, "complete with 
an air hole.  Since you will be gagged and cannot use your 
safeword, you will drop the coin as your signal, do you 
understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress, Oh!" cried Lisa.

    Erica had pushed the head of the penis gag into Lisa's 
wet slit as far as it could go, making her moan.  Then she 
removed the gag from between the slave's sex, and gently 
placed it at the entrance to Lisa's mouth.  Lisa opened her 
mouth, and Erica pushed the gag inside, buckling it at the 
back of her neck.

    "Mmmmph!"

    "You may taste yourself as I use you," said Erica.

    Erica then pressed the coin into Lisa's right hand, 
and she gripped it tightly in her fingers.  Lisa held the 
penis shaped latex gag between her teeth, and Erica watched 
as she sucked at the cock like object attempting to move it 
around within her mouth.

    "What a slut you are," observed Erica.

    "Mmmmmph!"

    Erica then began to strike Lisa gently with the crop, 
tapping on her breasts and underarms at first.  Lisa 
squirmed in her bonds, and moaned whenever she was struck.

    "Mmmmmph!"

    The crop was next used between Lisa's opened thighs, 
with even stronger impacts leaving red marks behind on her 
white flesh.  Erica knew that being used in this way while 
gagged was intensely sexual, and she observed that Lisa 
clenched the gag tightly between her teeth.

    "Enjoying this aren't you?" asked Erica.

    Lisa nodded her head in silent agreement, even as 
Erica began again to use the crop again and again.  Erica 
then used her fingers to pull at the clamps holding Lisa's 
nipples prisoner, teasing them and making her captive 
squirm in response.

    "Mmmmmmph!" grunted Lisa.

    "I'm not going to let you go, sweetie, not till I'm 
done."

    The outside of Lisa's thighs were the next target, and 
Erica made sure that her strokes were steady and evenly 
placed, and each left a red mark behind.  Erica watched as 
droplets of sweat ran down Lisa's exposed flanks, her skin 
warm to the touch from the use that it was receiving.

    Once she had delivered thirty strokes, Erica then 
placed the crop under her arm and proceeded to remove the 
gag from Lisa's mouth, leaving her panting in response.

    "Thank you, Mistress," said Lisa.

    "Kiss the crop," ordered Erica.

    Lisa did as she was told, while Erica removed the 
clamps from her nipples, making her flinch as each one was 
freed of the metal object.  Then Erica ran her fingers 
through Lisa's pubic hairs, pulling at a few, making her 
moan.

    "In all the time that you were my slave I never shaved 
you, did I?" asked Erica.

    "No, Mistress."

    "Perhaps that should be my parting gift, a shaved 
pussy?"

    "Yes, Mistress, please?"

    "I'm not done yet, slave.  I want to flog you!"

    Erica then released Lisa, who handed her the coin that 
she had kept tightly clenched in her hand.  Then Erica 
marched Lisa over to the ceiling chain, and locked her 
wrists to it.  Activating the motor, the chain was then 
pulled taut, and Lisa was as straight as a ruler.

    "How lovely you look," observed Erica.

    Erica gently ran her fingertips over Lisa's naked 
body, her breasts, back and underarms, making the girl even 
more sensitive to her touch.  Lisa seemed proud, even 
radiant while being used by Erica.

    When she sensed that Lisa was ready, Erica ceased her 
gentle caress.  She next removed the flogger, made of soft 
leather from the cabinet.

    "Kiss the flogger."

    Lisa did as she was ordered, willingly and quickly.  
She swallowed, the lump going down her throat.

    "You will not have to count, Lisa.  But I will give 
you twenty strokes this night."

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Erica used the flogger with moderate strokes, the 
leather strands slapping against Lisa's exposed flesh.  She 
made sure to strike with enough force to mark but not break 
the skin.  Erica wanted Lisa to be hot with desire for her 
later, something that the flogger would generate.

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    "Ahhh!" cried Lisa.

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    "What a good slave you are."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    "Twenty," announced Erica.

    "Thank you, Mistress," cried Lisa, tears falling from 
her eyes.

    "Kiss the flogger," ordered Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica then released Lisa, who fell into her arms.  She 
placed Lisa on a bench to let her recover her senses.  
Before the next part of the evening would begin.

    She replaced the flogger and all of the other 
instruments back into the cabinet, then closed the wooden 
doors.  Lisa was waiting for her, her eyes wide with 
expectation, on the bench.

    "Are you ready, darling?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress!"

    "Then follow me to my bedroom, where your use shall 
continue!" promised Erica.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Erica had ordered that Lisa not to clean herself after 
her use.  Instead, the Mistress had spread-eagled her to 
the bed, locking her wrist and ankle cuffs to the four 
bedposts.

    Then Erica had leisurely stripped in from of her 
captive, first removing her shoes, followed by the opera 
gloves, then the PVC Catsuit.  She had not worn a bra, but 
merely a pair of black panties underneath, that she slipped 
off her hips.

    She climbed onto the bed, and approached Lisa.  Then 
she slipped her head between Lisa's open legs, and began to 
lick at the fragrant sex available for her use.

    "Mistress!" cried Lisa, "Ah!"

    Erica had placed a small pillow under Lisa's bottom, 
so that her sex would be easier for her to use.  Under her 
attentions, Lisa began to respond and moan quickly.

    Lisa threw her head back against the pillows in 
response to Erica's use of her sex.  What she did not see 
was Erica placing a fur covered glove on her hand, which 
Erica began to slowly caress her body with.

    "Oh!" moaned Lisa, "Oh!"

    "Enjoying yourself?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress, yes!"

    Erica continued to run the fur glove over Lisa's 
already used and sensitized naked body.  Lisa writhed and 
moaned, excited by the sensual treatment that she was 
receiving.  Instead of the usual lash or crop.

    "Oh!"

    Erica interrupted her use of the glove to lick and 
suck at Lisa's already hard and erect nipples.  This only 
made Lisa moan further, and bounce herself against the bed.

    "Ah!"

    "What a slut you are," commented Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress, I'm a slut.  Your slut!" proudly 
answered Lisa.

    Erica then lay on top of Lisa, and holding the 
helpless women in her arms, plunged her tongue into her 
slave's willing mouth.  They mingled their tongues 
together, wet mouths kissing each other again and again.

    "I'm not done with you yet, Lisa," stated Erica, 
"there is still more to come."

    From the night table next to the bed, she withdrew a 
ballgag and blindfold, and displayed them for Lisa.  Her 
slave's response was to open her mouth wide, and Erica 
buckled the red rubber ball within.  Then Erica buckled the 
black leather blindfold over Lisa's eyes, cutting off her 
vision.

    Erica removed herself from the bed, and she removed a 
dildo harness from the night table.  Silently, she strapped 
it around her waist, then locked the crotch strap between 
her legs.

    In the mirror's reflection, Erica looked at herself 
and smiled.  Whenever she used the harness, she loved the 
sight of it in the mirror.  Her lovely female body, 
harnessed, with an erect male shaft.  

    There would be no need to lubricate the shaft.  Lisa 
was already wet and excited as Erica climbed onto the bed.  
Erica held herself over Lisa, on her elbows and knees.  
Ever so gently, she lowered the shaft's head to the 
entrance of Lisa's moist lovebox.  She wanted just the tip 
to sit at the entrance, to excite Lisa even further.

    "Mmmmmph!" cried Lisa.

    "Bet you can't guess what's next," said Erica.

    Lisa strained against her bonds, and Erica only wished 
that she could look into her eyes.  But she wanted Lisa to 
be totally helpless as the dildo took her between her legs.

    Suddenly, without warning, Erica plunged the shaft 
deeply into Lisa's cunt.  The time for suspense and play 
was over, and the dildo slid in quickly and easily, since 
Lisa was wet and ready.

    "Mmmmmmph!"

    "Slut!" playfully accused Erica.

    Erica then began to thrust with the shaft, and remove 
it partially, only to thrust once again.  Every time, Lisa 
would buck and moan within her gag, and fight her 
restraints.

    Lisa threw her head backward against the pillow, then 
from side to side as Erica continued her sexual use of her 
slave.  The pillow under her behind had made her pussy even 
more accessible, and Erica now wished that she had placed a 
small butt plug up Lisa's bottom to plug her last orifice.

    That would have been a final crowning touch to her use 
of Lisa this night.  But she had not done it, 
unfortunately!

    'A Mistress can't have everything,' Erica thought to 
herself.

    "Mmmmmph!"

    'But she can have almost everything.'

    Erica continued using the shaft, until she felt that 
Lisa was finally ready.  She knew all of Lisa's responses 
down pat, and she knew when her slave was ready to come at 
her command.

    "Come!" ordered Erica.

    In a rush, Lisa let loose a flood of one orgasm after 
another, her body bucking against the bedsheets.  She 
moaned under the gag as wave after wave of orgasm erupted 
from between her legs to surge through her entire body.

    "Mmmmmmph!"

    Erica continued until Lisa was totally exhausted and 
spent, and her sweaty body lay still upon the bed.  Then 
Erica stood up and removed the gag and blindfold, leaving 
Lisa gasping for breath.

    "Thank you, Mistress," panted Lisa.

    "You're welcome, Lisa.  Now you may clean the shaft," 
ordered Erica as she knelt back on the bed, and placed the 
dildo at the entrance to Lisa's mouth.

    Without hesitation, Lisa took the black shaft into her 
mouth, sucking on it like it was a real cock, and cleaned 
it of all of her secretions.  She took it all the way to 
the back of her throat, her cheeks puckered as she sucked 
at the latex cock.

    "What a wanton little slut you are," commented Erica.

    Lisa didn't answer, since her moth was full of dildo 
at the moment.  Her eyes betrayed her feeling of pure lust, 
as she sucked greedily on the dildo.

    "Enough," said Erica as she removed herself from the 
bed.

    "Thank you, Mistress,"

    Erica then unlocked the belt from around her waist, 
and placed it on the dresser, the sex toy an interesting 
contrast on the elegant piece of furniture.

    "Now it's your turn," said Erica as she unlocked Lisa 
from her bondage, then lay upon her side of the bed, and 
opened her legs, "please your Mistress, slave."

    Lisa did not have to be told twice, as her tongue 
dived into Erica's sex, quickly arousing the Domme.  Their 
naked bodies mingled together, sweat pouring from both, 
soft moans escaping from Erica's lips.

    Erica knew how to control herself so that she would 
not climax too quickly.  She wanted Lisa to have to work at 
bringing her to orgasm, not simply a quick come.  But she 
had been excited herself, so it did not take too long for 
Erica to moan with an orgasm herself, and cry as the 
intense pleasure washed over her.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    Later on, as they lay under the covers together, but 
still naked, Lisa looked steadily into the eyes of her 
Mistress.

    "I'm sorry that I have to leave, Mistress.  Perhaps I 
could work something out, stay here..."

    "No," firmly said Erica, "you have a duty and an 
obligation, just as you have had one by serving me.  If we 
were a normal male/female couple then you would be torn 
between families.  But instead, you are my Maid and slave.  
I cannot work if you have to be in two places at once, 
Lisa.  I need an assistant to be at my side as I train and 
evaluate a slave."

    "I understand, Mistress," answered Lisa.

    "If you hadn't, I'd have to paddle that behind of 
yours until you did," said Erica.

    "May I suggest something?" asked Lisa.

    "Go ahead."

    "May I recommend my replacement?"

    "Sure."

    "I know a woman who wants to serve a Mistress.  She's 
a graduate of a cooking school, and knows how to keep house 
for a Mistress.  I talk to her in the clubs, and she's 
eager to serve a Domme in a twenty-four hour, seven day a 
week arrangement."

    "I always gave you a day off," stated Erica.

    "True, but she wants a Domme, Mistress.  Her name is 
Andrea Clark."

    "Invite her on Saturday to Stephanie's promotion so 
that I can met her.  Unless you might be a little 
embarrassed for her to be watching as you get spanked."

    "No, Mistress.  That will be quite all right."

    They both drifted off to a deep sleep after a night of 
use and lovemaking that had left them exhausted but happy.

Part Two: Stephanie's Night

    Since Stephanie had been Erica's slave and prot‚g‚, 
Erica had decided to hold the ceremony at her house.  She 
had invited about thirty people to the event, mostly 
attended by Dom(mes) and their slaves and submissives.

    Erica had dressed in a PVC Dominatrix dress that 
hugged all of her curves, but left her legs exposed.  It 
was much more comfortable to wear for an extended time than 
the Catsuit would be.

    Stephanie had chosen a simple leather bra, skirt, 
hose, and modest heels.  She had looked so good that Erica 
had taken several pictures of her, complimenting her on her 
appearance.

    Mistress Marcia and her slave husband Simon owned a 
catering business, so they had agreed to oversee the entire 
affair.  Not only had they provided the food, but also the 
wait staff, parking arrangements, change rooms (the 
downstairs bedrooms), and security to make certain that no 
guest ventured upstairs or into the library.

    The party was limited to the first floor of the house, 
mainly the Dining Room, and the Dungeons downstairs.  Ropes 
had been stretched across entries to off limits rooms, and 
guards (dressed in Domme outfits holding crops) made sure 
that the curious were kept out.

    Not that Erica imagined that any of her friends would 
harm or damage anything, but she wanted the activities to 
be strictly focused.

    As Hostess, she had chosen to wear a simple black 
leather dress, and had asked Stephanie to dress simply as 
well.  Even though Erica was known as a Domme of 
considerable means, she did not believe in flaunting her 
position.

    She would greet every new arrival, and then they would 
be conducted to a changing room where they could change 
from street clothes to fetish wear, and then into another 
room for cocktails before the formal buffet Dinner would 
begin.

    Marcia had made every waitress (indeed all of the 
staff that she had provided was female) dress in a rubber 
Maid's outfit; some in black others in red.  All wore 
collars around their neck, and some were quite beautiful 
indeed.

    In between the arrival of guests, Erica had wanted to 
go into the kitchen to get a drink, and Marcia had appeared 
at her side and handed her a large glass of Coke.

    "Thank you," said Erica, taking a sip.

    "Thought you could use a drink."

    "Anything in here?" asked Erica.

    "You're supposed to keep a clear head as Hostess, this 
isn't a wedding," pointed out Marcia, "D/s and alcohol 
don't mix, which is why I'm pushing soft drinks."

    "Thank you," answered Erica, happy there was a lull, 
"do you usually cater affair with a D/s theme?"

    "Once, in Manhattan.  The client was doing one for 
Halloween, he thought it was a joke.  What he didn't know 
was that all of my girls are into D/s in one form or 
another," laughed Marcia.

    "That Coke was good, thank you," said Erica as she 
handed it to a passing Maid.

    "You're welcome," said Marcia.

    "How is the party going?" asked Erica.

    "Stephanie is the life of party, and since Lisa is 
your Maid she's overseeing things in the kitchen.  But 
Simon is the one really in charge there.  Most of your 
guests have arrived, so I'll open the buffet soon.  In 
short, everything's OK."

    "Thank you," said Erica.

    "Someone new," noticed Marcia as the front door opened 
to admit a new guest.

    The newest arrival was a woman about 30, alone, who 
passed her coat to the waiting Maid.  She was wearing a 
leather top and skirt, and carried a matching handbag.  
Very attractive with black hair, and Erica couldn't place 
her at all.

    "Andrea Clark," said the woman, introducing herself.

    "Mistress Erica Riken."

    "Pleased to meet you, Mistress."

    "Mutual.  Since this is business mixed with pleasure, 
we'll talk alone after I promote Stephanie to Mistress."

    "Agreed."

    "I looked at your resume, very impressive," commented 
Erica.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "Lisa tells me that you are eager to serve a Domme.  
Is that true?"

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    "We'll talk alone in the library later.  Meanwhile, go 
and enjoy yourself.  Lisa is about, you'll find her with no 
trouble."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    As Andrea walked away, Erica undressed the woman with 
her eyes.  Andrea was simply stunning in appearance, not a 
hair out of place, her nails trimmed, and the leather 
fitting her like a glove.

    Erica returned back to her job as Hostess as the final 
guests arrived.  She greeted them, made small talk, and a 
Maid showed her the clipboard indicating that all of her 
guests had arrived.

    At least Lauren Singer would not be crashing this 
party!

    The buffet Dinner went quite well, and Erica and 
Stephanie actually got to eat something in between small 
talk.  Marcia would appear at the strangest moment with a 
small plate of something, fork, and drink, so that they got 
some Dinner as well.

    But the main event was to occur in the Dungeon, and 
Marcia made certain to shepherd the guests downstairs, 
where further non-alcoholic refreshments were waiting, and 
the D/s events would begin.

    Marcia would introduce each little event, and her 
husband Simon would make sure that the participants were 
ready beforehand.  All of the guests were seated on folding 
chairs, except for Erica, who occupied a throne like chair 
against the wall.

    "Next will be Master Brian and Kim," announced Marcia.

    The audience applauded, and the two participants 
walked to the main portion of the Dungeon.

    Brian was tall, over six feet.  In his late thirties, 
Brian was very attractive, and worked as a Bond trader down 
on Wall Street.  He wore a black leather vest, black T-
shirt, and black leather jeans.  Kim, his submissive, was 
in her late twenties, and naked except for a collar and 
bracelets.  While seated, she had been wearing a black 
robe, which she had left on her chair.

    "Thank you," said Brian, "I shall now demonstrate the 
crop with Kim."

    Brian locked Kim's wrists onto the ceiling chain, 
followed by her ankles to a spreader bar.  He nodded to one 
of the Maids, and Kim was soon reaching with her toes for 
the floor.

    He then kissed her on the lips, and held a riding crop 
which he offered to Kim, who kissed it without having been 
ordered.

    "What is your safeword?" he asked.

    "Lust," she answered.

    "Prepare to be used."

    "Yes, Master."

    The crop had a broad leather pad on the end of the 
crop.  Brian began with a series of small strokes that left 
red marks on the outside of Kim's thighs.

    "Oh!" she cried whenever the crop struck her.

    After every five strokes, Brian would give Kim a firm 
kiss on the lips.  She responded just as eagerly to his 
kiss as his crop.

    Then Brian began to strike on the inside of her 
thighs, beginning above her knees reaching to just below 
her sex.  Kim would moan after each stroke, and she pulled 
at the chain holding her wrists together.

    "Ah!"

    "Ah!"

    "Ah!"

    "Ah!" she cried.

    Brian was a skilled Dom; and every stroke would leave 
a mark behind.  He was gently using her, in comparison to 
what a real scene would be like.

    The crop then fell upon her breasts, making Kim moan 
and writhe in response.  She did not try to avoid the crop, 
instead she willingly kept herself facing her master.

    "Thank you," said Brian when he finished, since each 
scene had to be short in order for the evening's main 
event.

    "You're welcome," answered Mistress Marcia.

    There was applause as Brain released Kim, then kissed 
her passionately on her lips.  He helped to a seat, then 
draped a short robe over her and got her a drink.

    Soon, everyone quieted down without Marcia's urging.  
They all knew the reason why they had come to Erica's 
house, and it was now time.

    "Attention," began Mistress Marcia, "be it known that 
this evening is a special night in the life of Mistress 
Erica and her slave, Stephanie.  For Mistress Erica has an 
important announcement for us all."

    "Thank you, Marcia," said Erica from the throne like 
chair, "Lisa, you may bring in Stephanie."

    Lisa led Stephanie into the Dungeon.  She was wearing 
her leather dress, and was not restrained in any way.

    "Kneel, and state your name and owner," ordered Erica.

    "Stephanie Richards, my owner is Mistress Erica 
Riken."

    "How long have you been my slave?"

    "Three years, Mistress."

    "In your time with me, what have you learned?"

    "To properly treat a slave, obey safewords, to set 
limits and respect them, Mistress."

    "As owner of Stephanie Richards, I let her use others, 
and found that she was a talented Domme.  I realized that 
her proper place was as a Domme herself.  I have therefore 
decided both to free Stephanie Richards, and promote her to 
Domme as well."

    The audience clapped briefly.

    "Do you, Stephanie Richards accept and understand the 
power and responsibilities that you are accepting?"

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    "That you will always place the safety of those in 
your power above all else?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "That you must always remember that absolute power 
corrupts?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Based on my experience as a Dominatrix, I pronounce 
Stephanie Richards fit to be a Dominatrix as well.  Arise, 
Stephanie."

    Erica handed Stephanie a black leather-riding crop, 
which she took respectfully into her hands.

    "Thank you, Mistress Erica," replied Stephanie.

    "Congratulations, Mistress Stephanie," said Erica as 
she kissed Stephanie on the cheeks.

    "Thank you, Erica, for everything.  Including my 
life," whispered Stephanie into Erica's ear.

    "You're welcome, Stephanie."

    "I swear that I'll be a good Mistress."

    "I know that you will, Stephanie."

    The audience applauded as Stephanie held the crop in 
her hands, then watched as she rose to her feet in 
confirmation of her new position.

    "Mistress Janet has graciously allowed the use of her 
slave Lisa by Mistress Stephanie," announced Marcia, 
resuming her role as Mistress of Ceremonies.

    Everyone watched in silence as a chair was provided 
for Stephanie to sit upon.  Then Lisa reappeared, wearing a 
black cloak.  She walked to the front, and bowed before 
Mistress Stephanie.

    "Lisa at your service, Mistress."

    "Strip," ordered Stephanie.

    Lisa removed her cloak, revealing that she was naked 
underneath, wearing only a collar and a pair of high heels.  
She handed the cloak to a member of the audience, who held 
it on their lap.

    "Kneel," ordered Stephanie.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Do you submit willingly to my use?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "What is your safeword?"

    "Pleasure, Mistress."

    "Good, you may sit on my lap," ordered Stephanie as 
she sat in the chair.

    Lisa did as the new Domme told her, aching her back so 
that her bottom was easily accessible for use.

     "Thank you, slave."

    "You're welcome, Mistress."

    Stephanie began to swat at Lisa's bottom with one 
stroke after another, making certain that her hand did not 
strike the same place twice.  Each stroke was carefully 
measured, and Lisa moaned when her bottom was hit.  The 
skin, which had remained pink, now turned a dull red as one 
swat after another was administered.

    "Oh!" cried Lisa, after one particularly strong 
stroke.

    "Thank your Mistress," ordered Stephanie.

    "Thank you, Mistress Stephanie," cried Lisa.

    Stephanie began another series of strokes, somewhat 
harsher than before.  Erica, seated in her chair, counted 
ten in the first series, and knew that Stephanie would only 
deliver ten more.  She counted each one, and they were 
administered with stronger force from Stephanie's 
outstretched hand.

    "I am finished," announced Stephanie, which caused 
scattered applause from the audience.

    "Thank you, Mistress," panted Lisa, still draped over 
Stephanie's leather clad lap.

    "You may stand, slave!" ordered Stephanie.

    Lisa rose to her feet, followed by Stephanie.  The 
audience applauded, and many walked over to shake the hands 
of both Stephanie and Lisa.  Erica rose to her feet also, 
and joined in the crowd to make small talk with her guests.

    "Mistress?" asked a female voice at Erica's back after 
she had circulated in the crowd.

    "Yes," said Erica as she turned, then faced Andrea, 
"I'm sorry I had forgotten.  We can talk upstairs, Marcia 
can run things here."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica excused herself, then walked up the steps 
followed by Andrea who was two steps behind her.  In the 
Dining Room the staff was setting out coffee and cake, and 
Marcia would soon herd the guests upstairs.

    "Would you like some coffee?" offered Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica motioned over one of the wait staff, and ordered 
a tray of coffee to be delivered to the library.  Andrea 
then followed the Mistress to the library door, and Erica 
opened it, and the two women went inside.  Erica sat behind 
the desk, and Andrea took a chair in front of her.

    "That's better," said Erica.

    They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and the 
Maid entered and placed a tray containing a pot of coffee, 
a pitcher of milk, sugar, and two cups and a few cookies on 
the table.  The Maid poured two cups of coffee, then handed 
them to Erica and Andrea before taking her leave.

    "Thank you," said Erica to the Maid, "make sure that 
we're not disturbed."

    "Yes, Mistress," the woman replied, closing the door 
behind her.

    Erica sipped at the hot coffee, enjoying the aroma of 
the French Roast that had always been her favorite.

    "You come to me highly recommended by Lisa, and I have 
gone over your resume and sexual history that I asked you 
for.  Very impressive," observed Erica.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "Did you go to school in England?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "And to cooking school as well?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Why?"

    "I thought that I wanted to be a chef in a hotel, 
Mistress.  Instead, after I graduated, I began to serve a 
Mistress.  I decided that I would rather keep house for a 
Mistress who would satisfy my sexual desires."

    "Which are?" asked Erica.

    "To be used physically and sexually," answered Lisa.

    "How have you been used?"

    "I have been whipped, cropped, spanked, bound, and 
used sexually by both Masters and Dommes, Mistress," 
answered Erica.

    "If I take you on, there will be a testing period to 
see if you work out.  I am a very demanding and exacting 
Mistress."

    "I understand, Mistress Erica.  That is why I want to 
serve you, in all things."

    "When can you start?" asked Erica.

    "Monday, Mistress."

    "Very well, then, Monday.  Thank you, Andrea.  I agree 
to salary, health care, and other requirements as specified 
in your resume."

    "Thank you, Mistress Erica.  I will endeavor to please 
and serve you to the best of my abilities and skills," said 
Andrea.

    "Let's rejoin the party, and you can work out the 
details with Lisa.  Who will be happy to learn that she has 
provided for her replacement."

    After Erica rose to her feet, Andrea knelt on the 
floor in front of Erica's desk.  She bowed her head, and 
placed her arms out in front of her, offering them to her 
Mistress.

    "Thank you, Andrea, that is a touching display of 
submission.  I accept, and you shall be used for the first 
time on Monday, after Lisa has explained your duties in the 
House."

    "Thank you, Mistress," answered Andrea.

 

 

"The Challenge" Chapter 13 The Loan
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if 
you
include this statement of limitation of use and notify the 
author by e-mail.
The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell 
multiple copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.
However, individual readers may make single copies of the
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the 
author.  I do want to hear from you!

 

 

"The Challenge" by

Chapter 13: The Loan

From the Diary of Cheryl Branford

Friday October 23, 1998

Part One: A Different Mistress

    I sit at the window of the fast food restaurant, 
watching the traffic go by.  The workweek is over, and the 
roads are filled with people going home to family, 
shopping, and looking forward to the weekend.

    In my purse are the directions to Mistress Lori's 
house, which Mistress Janet had given me the previous 
Sunday.  Mistress Janet has fulfilled the second request 
that I have made of her, that she would loan me out to 
another Domme.

    Actually, I know Brookline quite well, since I went to 
school here for a year.  Janet had provided me with 
virtually fail safe directions to Lori's House, but I kept 
silent that I knew the area.

    I cannot believe that I am here, having driven over a 
hundred miles for the purpose of serving another Mistress!  
I know that this weekend I shall be naked, whipped, and 
used sexually by another woman.  Worse, I desire this 
treatment!

    It has been just five months since I have willingly 
submitted myself to Mistress Janet.  In that time I have 
learned both the pleasure and pain which has come as the 
price of submission to a Mistress.

    In the back of the restaurant, trying hard not to be 
obvious, are a pair of teenagers in love.  They sit on the 
same side in a booth, hugging and kissing, the boy's hands 
roving over her body when he thinks that nobody is 
watching.

    I smile, wondering how she might react if she saw the 
marks I carry.  Or what the small leather collar around my 
neck really means, the ring on my finger, and the chain on 
my ankle.  When Janet gave me the collar to wear in public 
last week, I was pleased and happy.  Until I realized one 
day while shopping that I am now collared, ringed, and 
chained in public.  I now wear constant reminders of my 
slavery even when I am not in Janet's presence.  I am a 
slave to Mistress Janet, which is what I feared that I 
might become.

    Janet broke down my last wall of resistance when she 
asked me if her friend Master Craig could use me.  How 
could I refuse to be used by the man of my dreams?  He used 
me as Janet did, then made savage love to me afterwards.  
Had he asked me to return home with him I would have done 
so, as his slave.

    I finish my drink, and walk to the bathroom to freshen 
up.  I wash my face, and dry myself off.  I apply lipstick, 
and straighten my sweater and jeans.

    Summoning my courage, I walk outside, and get behind 
the wheel of my car.  I start it, then pull into traffic, 
and the remaining drive to Lori's house only takes about 
fifteen minutes.  My heartbeats faster as I wonder what 
pain and pleasure await me.

    Mistress Lori and Gina live in a house in an upscale 
suburb of Brookline.  I follow the directions that Janet 
has given me, into a winding series of streets in a new 
development of large homes.

    I make certain of the address, then pull into a 
driveway.  In the driveway I see a Jeep Wagoneer, and place 
my Lexus beside it.  I exit my car, remove a small suitcase 
and clothing bag, then walk to the front door, and ring the 
bell, terrified.

    "You must be Cheryl," greeted a woman, "I'm Gina, 
Mistress Lori isn't home yet.  Please come in."

    "Pleased to meet you," I reply, extending my hand in 
greeting.

    "Welcome," Gina answers, "can I take your coat?"

    "Thank you."

    I place my suitcase on the floor, and my clothing bag 
on top.  Gina takes my coat and places it in the hall 
closet.

    "Let's put your things in your room," she suggests.

    I take my clothing bag and Gina takes my suitcase, and 
we go upstairs to a nicely appointed bedroom.  There is no 
hint that Lori is a Domme, no ringbolt in the wall.  Just a 
nice brass four poster bed, which I know that I can be 
secured to easily.  

    Gina is in her thirties, and quite attractive.  About 
five feet four inches, she is wearing an Ann Taylor blouse 
and skirt in red and modest heels.

"Mistress Lori is running a little late at work.  I'm 
making Dinner, want to help?"

    "Sure."

    I follow her back downstairs and we pass through the 
Dining Room, where I notice that the table is already set 
for three.  My eyes linger on the table and place settings, 
and Gina notices my attention.

    "We'll be eating together, unlike at Mistress Janet's 
House," stated Gina, "Mistress Lori is a lot less formal 
than Mistress Janet.  Besides, we don't own such a grand 
House like she does."

    "You usually eat together?" I ask.

    "Yes, except when Lori in entertaining a guest, when I 
may be called on to serve in a uniform.  Other than that, 
we eat together, and sleep together also."

    "Oh!" I answer, recognition dawning that there are 
different relationships in D/s than Janet's formality.  I 
now wonder if Janet and Tina share meals together also, 
instead of her being served in the Dining Room whenever I 
am there.

    "I'm just about to bread the fish, want to help?" asks 
Gina.

    "Sure."

    I follow Gina into the kitchen, where a pot of soup is 
slowly cooking on the stove, and the table is covered in 
everything needed for a fish fry.  Fillets on a dish, a 
bowl with flour, and another with bread crumbs.

    "I was just about to whisk the eggs," said Gina.

    "I'll do it," I offer.

    I break three eggs into a bowl, then whisk them until 
the yolks are completely mixed in. Gina then adds in some 
spices, and we are ready.  Next I assist Gina by first 
coating the flounder in flour, then dipping them into the 
egg, then finally coating them in bread crumbs.  We place 
the fish into the fridge when finished, and wash our hands 
together.

    "We're having New England Chowder, Salad, Fried 
Flounder, and Baked Potatoes," listed Gina, "is this your 
first visit here?"

    "I was here long ago," I answer.

    "Perhaps we'll show you around tomorrow.  You won't be 
cleaning the playroom all weekend," she laughed.

    "That would be nice."

    "Chowder's just about done," observes Gina as she 
lifts the pot's lid, the kitchen filling with a wonderful 
aroma.

    I hear the front door open, and close.  Gina replaces 
the cover and walks quickly to the front door, with me 
following.

    "Good evening, Gina," greets Lori.

    "Good evening, Mistress."

    Lori hands her coat to Gina, who hangs it in the hall 
closet.  She is wearing a dark blue business suit, her hair 
in a bun at the back of her head.

    "How was your day?"

    "Very good, Mistress."

    "I see that we have a visitor, welcome, Cheryl."

    "Hello, Mistress Lori," I bow as Janet has instructed 
me to.

    "I'm going to change and freshen up, and you can start 
Dinner.  Is everything prepared?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Good, I'll be down in ten minutes."

    Lori walks upstairs, and I help Gina place the salad 
on the table, along with bread and butter.  I help Gina in 
the kitchen, who evidently has had everything well prepared 
in advance.

    We are all seated at the table as Gina serves the 
salad, and Lora and Gina begin making small talk about 
work.  Then we have some bread, then Gina brings out three 
bowls of steaming New England Clam Chowder.

    "Thank you, Gina," said Lori.

    "You're welcome, Mistress."

    "You're allowed to speak, Cheryl.  I'm not quite as 
formal as Mistress Janet, but you must remember how to 
address me."

    "Thank you, Mistress," I answer.

    Lori and Gina continue making small talk, and then 
even before she's finished with her chowder, Gina goes to 
the kitchen.  I see her light the fire under a frying pan.  
She returns and finishes the soup, which we have already 
finished.  She takes the bowls and spoons back into the 
kitchen, leaving Mistress Lori and me alone at the table.  
Her black eyes bore into me like drills.

    "How was the drive from Greenwich?" politely asks 
Lori.

    "Fine, Mistress.  No traffic, I left after lunch.  A 
very pleasant drive, thank you."

    "Have you ever been to Boston before?"

    "No, Mistress," I lie.

    "Perhaps we can do some sightseeing tomorrow, show you 
the town.  I'm not going to be using you all weekend."

    "Thank you, Mistress.  That would be very nice."

    I suddenly realize that I am in greater danger here 
than I was in Janet's house.  There, I am a servant, 
usually naked, but now allowed to wear a rubber Maid's 
outfit.  Here, I am allowed to sit at the table, directly 
facing Mistress Lori.  Even to make small talk!  Lori is 
already suspicious of me, having recognized me from that 
damn fetish shop in Los Angeles last year.  She will try to 
befriend me, make me slip, do anything to admit why I am 
here on the East Coast far from home in Janet's house.

    The sound of something frying suddenly comes from the 
kitchen, along with the wonderful aroma of fish frying.

    "May I help Gina?" I ask.

    "Yes," replies Lori.

    I am glad for the reprieve, and I help Lori in the 
kitchen.  I remove the potatoes from the oven, and place 
them in a dish.  There is tartar sauce in the fridge, along 
with white wine and soda.

    Gina fries the fish, drying off the excess oil on a 
paper towel before placing the main course on a plate.  She 
has made more than enough for three, and rushes to place 
the oval serving dish on the table.

    I follow with the potatoes, and tartar sauce, then 
another trip with the soda and wine.  Lori already has an 
opener on the table, which she hands to me.  I open the 
wine, hand her the cork, and wait.

    "That will be fine, Cheryl, you may pour."

    "Thank you, Mistress," I reply.

    I pour the wine into three long stemmed glasses made 
of finely cut crystal.  Once everything has been placed on 
the table, I seat myself after Gina.

    "Very good, Gina, thank you," complimented Lori.

    "You're welcome, Mistress."

    I eat in silence, only answering when asked a question 
by Lori or her companion.  The chowder was excellent, and 
the fish even better.  Gina suddenly rises from the table, 
and retrieves a dish of steamed broccoli.  The meal is now 
complete, and we settle down to eat.

    Lori manages an office, and Gina is a graphics 
designer.  They make small talk together, and I eat in 
silence.  Once the main course is complete, Gina and I 
remove the dishes, and we bring out coffee and cake.

    "Are you all right?" asks Lori.

    "A little tired, Mistress," I answer.

    "After Dinner, you can rest for a while before I'll 
want you."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    Once I help Gina with the dishes I am allowed to go to 
my bedroom and I lay down on the bed.  What am I doing 
here?  To prove that I can serve another woman?  Or that I 
can stand up to her use of me?

    I fall into an uneasy sleep on the bed.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    "Cheryl," I hear a voice waking me.

    "Gina," I answer when I open my eyes.

    "Mistress Lori will want you in an hour.  She has 
asked that you prepare yourself for her as you do for 
Mistress Janet."

    "I'll have to bathe, rouge my aureole, and perfume 
myself.  That will take an hour or so," I reply sleepily.

    "I'll help," answers Gina.

    "Thank you."

    True to her word, Gina helps me after I shower and dry 
my hair.  I remove my leather collar when I bathe, but not 
my ring or my ankle chain.  In the bedroom, she has 
stripped also, and I see that she is wearing a gold ring in 
her right nipple.

    I prepare myself just as Tina has taught me, sometimes 
painfully, to get properly ready for Mistress Janet.  The 
perfume stings as it dries between my legs, on the tender 
flesh that has felt the lash and crop.  In between 
application, I rouge my nipples, conscious of the fact that 
I never prepared myself so thoroughly when I dated a man.

    Then again, he wasn't expected to take a riding crop 
to me if I failed to be properly ready either.

    "You've very beautiful," comments Gina.

    "Thank you," I reply.

    In the bedroom mirror I see the marks that Janet has 
placed upon me last week.  I wonder if it was my 
imagination, or did she go easy on me then?  Were the 
strokes of the crop lessened in order that Lori would use 
me more?

    I place my feet into a pair of mules, then follow Gina 
to a small study downstairs.  She knocks on the closed door 
and Lori bids me entrance.

    "Come inside," Lori orders.

    I enter the room, naked.  It is a smaller version of 
Janet's library.  Bookcases, a desk and computer.  
Including an unfamilar leather clad woman seated behind the 
desk.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "You may stand in front of the desk."

    I close the door behind me, and stand naked in front 
of Lori.  In the past, I would be blushing a deep red by 
now, embarrassed.  But I am past such things now, used to 
being seen and used by others.

    "Hands behind your head, and turn around, slowly," 
Lori orders.

    I do as I am told, having presented myself to Janet 
like this before on many occasions.  My aureole are rouged 
a deep red, and I can smell the perfume that I have applied 
between my thighs.  My underarms are shaved clean, and I 
wonder if Janet will eventually demand that I shave my sex 
as well.

    "You are quite beautiful," observes Lori, "when were 
you last used?"

    "Saturday, by Mistress Janet."

    "With what instrument, and how many strokes?"

    "Twenty-five strokes with the riding crop, Mistress," 
I calmly answer.

    "Thank you, you may put you arms down now," Lori 
orders.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "Place your hands on the desk."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Lori rises to her feet as I follow my orders in 
silence.  I know that I am going to be used, even before we 
go to her playroom, but how?

    "Why are you here?" asks Lori.

    "To serve another Mistress," I answer.

    "Aren't there plenty of Dommes in Los Angeles?"

    "I am here today to serve you, Mistress Lori."

    Thwack!  Thwack!  Thwack!

    I receive three blows on my bottom that would have 
staggered me before I was trained and brought me to tears, 
but I am used to such force by now.

    "Why are you here being trained my Janet, a good 
friend of mine, three thousand miles from your home?

    "I wanted to be trained my Mistress Janet," I answer.

    "Her reputation extends to LA, to a woman with no 
connection to the scene?" demands Lori, steel in her voice.

    "Yes, Mistress," I calmly answer.

    "Do you consider yourself to be strong?"

    "Yes, Mistress," I answer.

    "Yes, Cheryl, I did remember you from the fetish shop 
in LA.  It was sheer coincidence that you were there when I 
went in with a girlfriend of mine.  I did tell Janet 
afterwards that I remembered you, yet you are here, loaned 
to me for a weekend.  Aren't you worried that I may hurt 
you?"

    "No, Mistress Lori."

    "Why?" she softly asks me.

    "Because I know that being an associate of Janet's you 
would never hurt or abuse a slave, Mistress," I answer.

    "Ah!" I cry, when Lori's fingers invade my sex.

    "Mistress Janet is a good friend of mine, and a well 
known and loved Domme in the scene.  I may not be able to 
make you explain why you are here, but I will make you 
prove to me what you have learned from Janet's training.  
Do you understand?"

    "Yes!" I cry, as her fingers dig into my sex.

    "That's good," answered Lori calmly, as if she had 
been inspecting a car for purchase, instead of a woman.

    She wipes her hands on a tissue, then selects a long 
wooden ruler.  She hefts it in her hands, displaying it for 
my terror.

    "Has Janet ever used a ruler on that bottom of yours?"

    "No Mistress."

    "Do you know why?"

    "No, Mistress," I answer, terror in my voice.

    "Because it has sharp edges, and can break the skin 
easily if used.  And it can drive splinters into the wound 
as well.  I'm not going to use it on you unless you give me 
a reason, by not obeying an order.  Understand?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Very good, now sit in the chair, I have quite another 
test in mind for you," Lori orders.

    I do as I am told, and sit naked on the cool leather.  
I had been fearful and afraid that the hard wood of the 
ruler was going to be used on me for the first time, and 
now I wonder what test Lori wants me to perform.

    She places the ruler on her desk, then removes a 
vibrator and phallus.  Holding the vibrator in her hands, 
she flicks the switch, and I can hear a slight buzzing 
sound.

    "You may use your hand, the vibrator, or the dildo.  I 
want you to give yourself an orgasm in my presence," Lori 
orders.

    "I've never done that before in the presence of 
another woman, Mistress," I answer.

    "Nice to see that I can ask something of you that 
Mistress Janet has not.  Do it!"

    Embarrassed, I place my hand between my legs, 
inserting my fingers into my already wet love box.  I 
tickle and pull at my pubic hairs, then insert two of 
fingers inside where Lori has already probed.  Then in 
begin to move my fingers in and out, simulating the motion 
of a man's cock.

    There is a small mirror in the library, no doubt 
specially placed to reflect back upon the occupant of the 
chair.  I look at my red face, and I feel acutely 
embarrassed by this action.  Janet has never asked me to do 
this, and Lori has already threatened me with a fearsome 
instrument if I do not perform.

    "May I have the vibrator, Mistress?" I ask in a soft 
voice.

    "Yes."

    I take the vibrator from the desk, turn it on, and 
place the buzzing shaft between my legs.  The hard plastic 
is the remaining stimulation that I need, and I soon feel 
myself get wet and excited.  My breaths become shorter, my 
chest heaves, and soon I climax.

    "Ah!" I cry, one time after another as the waves of 
pleasure course through my naked body, for Lori's 
entertainment.

    "Very good," compliments Lori.

    I place the vibrator back on the desk, the plastic 
surface wet with my secretions.  Surely Lori wants to lick 
my own juices from the device, just a Janet would?

    "Thank you, Mistress," I answer.

    "That was easy to do, wasn't it?" Lori asks, "much 
easier to bear than a session with the cane?"

    "Yes, Mistress," I answer.

    Last week, Janet again allowed me the use of another 
of her slaves.  I let the girl choose the instrument, and 
she wanted the cane.  I had wanted the crop, but instead 
the cane was her choice.  It took all of my concentration 
to avoid drawing blood, to break the skin.      

    "Since you're now nice and wet, Gina will take you to 
the playroom, where I have a few different toys than Janet.  
Do you submit to my use?" asks Lori.

    "Yes, Mistress Lori."

    "What is your safeword?"

    "Sin, Mistress," I answer.

    Gina opens the library door.  She has changed into a 
leather bra and skirt, and now wears a collar around her 
neck.  I wonder what she is carrying in her hands.

    "Stand up," Gina orders.

    I comply quickly, and Gina takes hold of my right 
wrist, and I feel the bite of cold steel around it.  Gina 
has a pair of handcuffs, and my left wrist is quickly made 
prisoner as well.  I suddenly realize that in the entire 
time I have been used by Mistress Janet, she has only used 
the leather bracelets to bind me.

    "Pull at the all you like," suggests Lori, "you'll 
never escape."

    Naked and cuffed, I make a vain attempt to free myself 
from the implacable steel that holds me prisoner.  But 
nothing I do is of any avail, and my wrists remain locked 
in steel.

    "Take her down to the playroom, and place her in the 
cage," orders Lori.

    Gina grabs hold of my arms, and I am forced marched 
down to the playroom.  While the basement of the house is 
large, it is nothing compared to what Mistress Janet 
possesses.

    Against the wall of the basement (done in fake brick, 
I notice, for atmosphere) is a large steel cage, of the 
sort used for large animals.  Or I realize, big enough for 
a single person.

    I am marched over to the cage, and I see that the door 
is open.  On the cage floor is a wooden pallet, covered by 
a blanket.

    "On your knees and inside," orders Gina.

    I place myself on my knees, bend down low, and inch 
myself inside the cage onto the blanket.  Once inside, the 
door is closed, and Gina padlocks the door through a hasp.

    "Place your back to the bars."

    I do as I am told, and my right wrist is freed of the 
steel, but not the left.  I turn around, then look at my 
captor.

    "Lock it back on your wrist, with your hands in 
front."

    I take the cuff into my left hand, then lock it back 
around my right wrist, hearing each click as I close the 
ratchets tighter around my flesh.

    "Lori will be along after a bit to attend to you, 
Cheryl.  In the meantime, enjoy the cage.  There's no 
escape."

    Gina dims the lights, then closes the door behind her.  
With my wrists enclosed in steel, I pull at the bars 
without effect.  Next my fingers try for the padlock.  On 
my knees, I try to pull my wrists apart, fighting against 
the handcuffs that restrain me.

    I am naked, locked in a steel cage in the playroom of 
another Mistress who is already suspicious of me.  By my 
own choice!  Tears fall from my eyes as I settle down to 
wait for Mistress Lori.

    The cage is large enough so that I can sit with my 
legs pulled up close to my chin, or lay down somewhat.  
Regardless, I am a prisoner.  I recall that Janet has a 
cell in her Dungeon that I was made to sleep in for a 
couple of nights after I had displeased her.

    There is no clock in the playroom, so I have no way of 
measuring the passage of time.  I can turn to look outside 
my steel prison, but a table or something blocks my view of 
the rest of the room.

    I settle down to wait for Lori, occasionally pulling 
at the handcuffs on my wrists.  My fingers caressing the 
smooth cold stainless steel that holds me captive.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    "Wake up!" commands Lori, as she strikes the bars of 
the cage.

    "Yes, Mistress," I dumbly answer as I struggle back to 
wakefulness.  Have I really fallen asleep in my cage, and 
how long have I been inside?

    Mistress Lori opens the door, and I wait inside, for 
permission to come out.  I have learned from Mistress Janet 
not to make any moves unless having been given permission 
first.

    "You may leave your cage," orders Lori.

    I exit the cage, stiff from my confinement.  I get to 
my feet, my muscles stiff from the ordeal of crouching in 
the cage for so long.

    "There's a bowl of water on the table, plus a cloth to 
dry yourself with," suggests Lori, "let me remove your 
cuffs."

    I hold out my hands and my cuffs are unlocked.  I spy 
the bowl and cloth, and plunge my hands into water that 
feels like it is freezing cold!  Then I withdraw my hands 
in surprise, and look sadly at Mistress Lori.

    "Wash yourself or I'll pour the bowl over you," 
threatens Lori.

    Even though the water is ice cold, I wash my face with 
it.  The cold water instantly awakens me, and I dry my 
hands and face with a soft white towel.

    It is while I'm drying myself that I look at what I 
thought was a table.  At each end is a wheel and chains.  
It is a rack!  I stop and stare, looking in horror at the 
device.

    "Are you awake?"

    "Yes, Mistress," I answer.

    "Good.  Gina, you may fit her collar and bracelets 
on."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Trembling, I stand in place as Gina locks on the 
familiar instruments of my bondage.  I am made to place my 
ankles one at a time on a stool so that Gina does not have 
to bend all the way to lock my ankle bracelets on.  Soon, I 
am attired as usual.

    "Kneel," commands Lori.

    I kneel in front of Mistress Lori, conscious of the 
fact that I now deeply long for Mistress Janet.

    "Do you submit to my use?"

    "Yes, Mistress," I answer.

    "You may then select the instrument of your use," Lori 
commands.

    Against the wall is a wooden cabinet that Gina has 
opened for my inspection.  I see all of the familiar 
instruments of a Domme.  I breathe deeply, and select a 
rubber flogger.  I know that the stands will sting and 
hurt, and mark easily.  But I know that unless I prove to 
Lori that I am both submissive and well trained, she will 
use me even harder than Mistress Janet.

    I remove the flogger from the cabinet, stand before 
Lori, and sink to my knees in front of her.  Then I present 
the rubber flogger to her.

    "Please flog me, Mistress?" I ask softly.

    "Your wish shall be granted.  Gina!"

    "Yes, Mistress!"

    "Hang Cheryl from the ceiling chain, with her legs 
spread.  She's going to be severely flogged this night, 
perhaps harder than ever before.  I want her naked little 
body totally available to me."            

    "Yes, Mistress," answers Gina.

    I stand in silence as I am again hung from a ceiling 
chain, exposed to whatever mercies that Mistress Lori has 
in mind for me.  Janet has never asked me to select the 
method of my torment, so I was shaking inside as I looked 
at the contents of Lori's cabinet.

    Just a few miles from here I went to school and 
studied literature before I went back to Stamford.  I 
remembered my walks at Harvard, Boston University, and 
others with the friends that I had made in my first year of 
college.

    But now I'm naked, hanging from a ceiling, again 
expecting to feel the bite of the lash.  Nor is it long in 
coming, as Lori does not even want me to kiss the flogger 
or ask for my use.  Instead she draws her arm back, and 
lashes me against my outstretched breasts.

    "Ah!" I cry, "ah!"

    My entire body is to feel the flogger, and Lori 
circles around me, striking an area a few times, then 
moving on.  Each stroke stings and probably marks, but I do 
not know or care.  I have placed myself in this position, 
and I have nobody to blame but myself.

    "Ah!"

    "Ah!"

    There are no sounds in the playroom except for those 
of the flogger striking my flesh, the click of Lori's heels 
as she walks around me, and my moans and breaths.  In spite 
of the treatment that I am receiving, I stand proud and 
tall, just as Mistress Janet has taught me to.

    "You have learned your lessons well," compliments 
Lori.

    "Yes, Mistress," I gasp, between strokes.

    My breasts, underarms, and thighs are all singled out 
for special treatment, and I feel the sting of each rubber 
strand as it strikes my flesh.  I moan with both pain and 
pleasure, my mind divorcing itself from my body, as I enter 
that special submissive place in my mind.  Which I did not 
know existed before I began to serve Mistress Janet.

    "Kiss the flogger," directs Lori.

    "Yes, Mistress," I answer, wondering how much time has 
passed and how many strokes I have endured, "thank you, 
Mistress Lori."

    "Are you a bondage slut?" asks Lori.

    "Ah!" I cry, as her fingers enter my sex and rub my 
clit, "yes, Mistress, I'm a slut!"

    I have a Masters in Business that I earned from 
Stamford University, heiress to a family fortune (though I 
have kept my name and position out of the papers so that I 
can achieve this mad scheme), yet I have been trained as a 
slave.  And to my horror, I have come to enjoy it!  Being 
kept naked, used physically and then sexually, made to 
serve another man or woman.

    "Slut!"

    Lori's fingers are coated with my secretions, and she 
does not have to order me to clean them when they are 
placed in my mouth.  I do so automatically, without 
prompting from the Domme.

    "Gina, release this slave, I am not finished with her 
yet," Lori orders in a firm tone of voice.

    I am released from my bondage, only to be made to 
kneel in front of Mistress Lori, who is not seated in a 
chair similar to the one that Janet has in her Dungeon.  
She is dressed in a skintight PVC Catsuit, complete with a 
matching corset around her waist.

    "Lick my shoes," orders Lori.

    Without hesitation I get on my hands along with my 
knees, and Lori crosses her legs, and extends her right 
foot to my lips.  She is wearing a pair of shoes on her 
feet that are locked to her ankles by a leather strap and a 
small padlock.

    I begin to lick and suck at the PVC material of her 
shoes without hesitation or shame.  My skin still burns 
from the harsh flogging that I have received, but that only 
has made me more sexually excited.

    First Lori made me give myself an orgasm in her 
presence, something that Janet never did.  Now I am asked 
to lick a Domme's shoes, and I do so without question, my 
sex wet with desire.

    Twice in one night Mistress Lori has made me do 
something different, and my heart thunders in my chest.  I 
have discovered a new level of submission, and I yearn for 
more.

    "Does Mistress Janet know what sort of submissive that 
she has unleashed?" Lori demands.

    "Yes, Mistress," I answer.

    "Does she whip you to a frenzy?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Make you scream with pain and pleasure?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Get over my knee, Cheryl.  You need a paddle on your 
bottom, and I'm going to administer it!"

    I quickly follow her orders, and I am now resting on 
her lap.  Then I smell the PVC that Lori is wearing, and my 
own scent is that of intense arousal.  Gina hands Lori a 
leather paddle, and my bottom is rubbed in advance of my 
next use.

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    "Thank you, Mistress!" I cry after five harsh strokes, 
my bottom burning from the impacts

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    "Thank you, Mistress," I gasp, tears falling from my 
eyes, for Lori has struck me harder on my bottom than Janet 
ever has.

    "Kiss the paddle," orders Lori.

    I do so without question, even as I feel my bottom 
burning from the use that it has already suffered.  Then I 
feel Lori's fingers between the cheeks of my abused bottom, 
and I wonder if I am going to be used there too!

    "Should I use all of your holes tonight, Cheryl, or 
leave your ass for tomorrow?  Or are you already totally 
submissive?"

    "I'm submissive, Mistress.  You may use me in any way 
that you like."

    "On the floor, Cheryl, on your knees," orders Lori.

    I do as I am told, wincing when my bottom touches the 
heel of my feet.  My rear has been used quite harshly, and 
I wonder how I am going to sit down afterwards.

    "Gina, take this slut to my bedroom in a few minutes 
after you clean her up.  I shall have her this night."

    "Yes, Mistress," answers Gina.

    Lori exits the playroom, leaving me alone with Gina.  
I am taken upstairs, and Gina cleans the sweat from my 
body, and my sex with a scented towelette.  I am then 
perfumed again, and my hair brushed and set.  Looking at 
myself in the mirror, I am amazed at the stripes that the 
flogger has left on my skin.

    In her bedroom, Lori is naked upon the sheets, her 
fragrant sex open to my attentions.  Without being ordered 
to, I quickly apply my lips and tongue to her sex, thinking 
of how I pleasured Mistress Janet last week.

    Then I notice that Gina has removed her leather 
clothes, and joins us in bed.  She gets under me, then 
begins to work on my sex just as I am doing with Mistress 
Lori.

    I am having a hard time concentrating on pleasing Lori 
as I am being pleasured at the same time.  My legs are open 
wide, and Gina plays her tongue over my clit, making me 
moan with pleasure.

    "You must make me come before Gina makes you come, 
else you shall be beaten again," describes Lori.

    With renewed vigor, I attach myself to Lori's lovebox, 
determined not to succumb to Gina's attentions.  I apply 
myself, using everything that Tina has taught me in the 
arts of pleasing a woman, and eventually I succeed in 
making Lori moan and buck with pleasure.

    Gina then removes herself from my sex, and I see that 
my juices are on her lips.  We kiss, before Lori pulls me 
closer to her.  She pulls the quilt over the two of us, and 
Gina leaves the room, closing the lights behind her.

    Lori and I made languid slow love after that, until we 
both fall asleep together.  Even though I have been harshly 
used and my skin burns, I feel quite happy about tonight.  
I fall into a dark, dreamless sleep.

Part Two: The Rack

Saturday October 24, 1998

    It was late afternoon, and I was tired after a day of 
sightseeing around Boston.  I have not been a tourist 
anywhere for a long time, and now my feet hurt.

    "Would you like to rest?" asked Lori.

    "Yes, Mistress," I answer.

    True to her words of last night, on Saturday morning 
after breakfast the two of us had set out together.  We had 
seen all of the usual tourist sites in Boston, then trudged 
through the city.  I had followed her without question.

    We go into a restaurant, and get a window seat.  I 
look out the window, and see the grounds of Harvard 
University, where I had gone to school for a year before I 
transferred to Stamford in California!

    Lori orders coffee for the two of us, and after the 
waitress delivers it, we are left alone.  Her eyes bore 
into me like drills.

    "Have you ever been here before, Cheryl?" plainly asks 
Lori.

    "No, Mistress," I answer, lying through my teeth.  I 
wonder if Lori can detect that I am lying to her?

    "If I contact a friend of mine in the admissions 
department of Harvard, will she find your name?" questions 
Lori as she sips her coffee.

    "No, Mistress," I answer softly.

    "I have contacts and friends in many colleges in the 
Boston area, some say that it's the main industry here.  If 
not Harvard, perhaps Boston University, or somewhere else?  
You don't seem like a Yale type to me," observed Lori.

    "I went to Stamford University in California, 
Mistress, and received an MBA in Finance.  My background is 
known to Mistress Janet."

    "I'm sure that it is, Cheryl.  Except that it doesn't 
answer the question of why you're here, after my seeing you 
at that shop in LA."

    "I'm here to be trained by Mistress Janet, then loaned 
out to you so that I may experience another Domme, Mistress 
Lori," I curtly answer.

    Lori says nothing in return but merely sips at her 
coffee, and stares at me.  Her black eyes bore into me as 
before.

    "Tonight, after Dinner, I shall put you to the 
ultimate test, Cheryl.  Did you see the full contents of my 
playroom last night?"

    "Yes, Mistress, I saw the rack," I answer.

    "That shall be your test, Cheryl, the rack.  You can, 
of course, refuse.  That is your right."

    "No, Mistress," I answer, "that will be quite all 
right.  I accept the rack willingly."

    "Brave words for one clothed in a restaurant in the 
heart of Boston, but you may change your mind later."

    It has been five months sine I have entered into the 
world of submission.  I have been stripped naked, flogged, 
cropped and whipped.  All of my orifices have been used 
repeatedly, and I have been lent out to Janet's associates.  
I wear a collar, ring, and chain on my ankle.  There is 
nothing left for me but the rack.

    "Tonight, Mistress," I answer, "I shall prove my 
submission."
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    We meet Gina for Dinner at another restaurant, Durgen 
Park outside Fanueil Hall.  Originally, I had thought that 
we might have gone to Legal Seafood, but we had fish the 
previous night.

    Usually, I would be serving Dinner to Mistress Janet, 
either naked or wearing a Maid's uniform.  Instead, someone 
else is serving us, and I feel the leather collar around my 
neck marks me as a slave.

    I eat a large steak and baked potato, and my only 
deference to Mistress Lori is that I do not have any 
alcohol to dull my senses.  We are three women friends out 
for Dinner, and a man comes out of the crows at the bar to 
try to pick up Gina.  She politely declines, and he leaves 
us alone after that.

    After Dinner, we go to an Art Gallery opening.  A 
friend of Lori's has an exhibition of his paintings.  I 
stand off to one side as Lori circulates the crows, and eat 
some cheese and more soda.

    We get back home, and Lori suggests that I rest in my 
bedroom.  I take the opportunity, undress, and fall into 
bed, into a deep dream filled sleep of my time under the 
lash of Mistress Janet.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    "Good evening," I hear through the fog of sleep.

    "What time is it?" I ask.

    "Eleven thirty," Gina answers.

    I sit up naked in bed, and rub my eyes.  After my 
rest, I feel reinvigorated, ready for anything.  Even the 
rack.

    "I had better get ready, then," I say aloud to Gina.

    "Yes, I'll help."

    I wash, the warm water returning me back to full 
awareness.  Much to my surprise, Gina does not ask me to go 
through the ritual of rouge and perfume.  Once I am clean 
and ready, she cuffs my hands behind my back and places a 
blindfold over my eyes.

    Then I am marched down to the playroom, and made to 
kneel.  I have not even been gagged, which is a surprise.  
My time on the rack is to be direct and with a minimum of 
ceremony.

    Gina removes my blindfold, and I see that Lori is 
seated in her chair. I remain silent, as my training has 
taught me.

    "Do you now accept the rack, Cheryl?" Lori asks.

    "Yes, Mistress," I answer.

    "You may still back out."

    "Please place me on the rack, Mistress?" I ask.

    "As you wish.  Gina, please assist me."

    I am released from my handcuffs, and made to lie down 
on the rack.  My wrists and ankles are placed within fur 
lined cuffs, and locked.  I am in the familiar shape of an 
X, my body totally exposed.

    "You may still back out, Cheryl."

    "No thank you, Mistress Lori."

    "What is your safeword?"

    "Sin, Mistress," I answer.

    "Remember it well," Lori cautions.

    Lori ever so slowly begins to turn the wheel, and I 
hear the ratchets click one after another.  I do not feel 
anything yet, as merely the slack is taken up.  But ever so 
gradually the tension begins, as I am pulled flat.

    "Are you all right, Cheryl?"

    "Yes, Mistress," I answer.

    I stare resolutely at the ceiling light, concentrating 
on the light bulbs.  My body is pulled taut, my breasts 
flat against my chest.

    Lori begins to fondle me, and my breasts are her first 
objects of attention.  She pulls at my nipples, which are 
erect, then holds one entire breast in her hand.  Then one 
of her hands traces the outlines of my sex, and I moan with 
pleasure.

    "Ah!" I cry.

    My reward is to hear the ratchets click further and I 
am pulled tighter.  If anyone had told me a year earlier 
that I would be in this position, I would have told him or 
her that they were crazy.  Instead this is the final test 
of my submission.

    "Ah!"

    "AH!"

    The pain is intense, and I swallow, my mouth has 
suddenly become dry and like paper.  Fear and pleasure 
mixed together in a strange manner that I have never 
experienced before.  I have a achieved a new feeling of 
total submission that is new to me.  

    "Are you all right, Cheryl?" Lori asks.

       "Yes, Mistress," I answer.

    "You are very brave, Cheryl," compliments Lori.

    After what seems like an eternity, the chain is 
released, and the tension on my body falls away.  I feel 
like I am seven feet tall as Gina helps me to sit up and 
take a drink of water.

    "Are you all right?" asks Gina.

    "Yes, thank you."

    That night, I am not used again.  I spend the night 
with Gina in a big double bed, and I suspect that she is 
awake through the night to keep an eye on me.  I go back to 
sleep, wondering if my time on the rack was just a dream as 
well.

Part Three: Remembrance of Things Past

Sunday October 25, 1998

    My apartment is just as I have left it.  The Times is 
on the doorstep and I carry it inside with me.  I place my 
coat back in the closet, and pour myself a stiff drink.

    For all of the terror that the rack generated in me, I 
was not seriously hurt by it.  Lori knew just when to stop 
before any real damage would happen.

    Sunday I took a hot bath to relieve the tension in my 
joints, given breakfast, then sent on my way by eleven.  
Lori gave me a short exit interview, and then I departed 
for home.

    My training is now over, and I have the marks to prove 
it.  I am a slave, have been loaned to two of Janet's 
associates.  A Male Dominant has used me, followed by a 
Dominatrix.

    It is now time.  From the top dresser drawer, I remove 
the manila envelope, and look at the pictures of her.  
Before and after, realizing that I have followed the path 
that she did, into submission.

    I will call my contact in Hong Kong and set into 
motion my final plan.  In scene language, the bottom will 
control the top.  In plain language, I am now going to 
humiliate Mistress Janet, then make my final demand on her 
before going home.

 

 

"The Challenge" Chapter 14 The Legacy
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if 
you
include this statement of limitation of use and notify the 
author by e-mail.
The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell 
multiple copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.
However, individual readers may make single copies of the
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the 
author.  I do want to hear from you!

 

 

"The Challenge" by

Chapter 14: The Legacy

Part One: Borrowed Time

July 1992

    "Mistress, are you all right?" asked Andrea, concern 
and worry on her face.

    "What?" answered Erica, struggling back to 
consciousness.

    Erica realized that she had fallen asleep at her desk, 
resting her hands on the desktop, her arms for pillows.  
She had gone into the library to write a report on that new 
girl, Janet Davis who she had used the previous weekend.  
Then had she had dropped off to sleep, exhausted.

    "Are you all right?"

    "I'm tired," answered Erica.

    "I'll get you some coffee, Mistress.  Then we have 
something to discuss," replied Andrea as she left the 
library for the kitchen.

    Erica wanted to get to her feet to follow Andrea, but 
found that she was too tired even to do that.  She had used 
Janet all weekend, and now here it was Sunday afternoon, 
and she felt like she had run the NYC Marathon!

    "Here's some coffee, Mistress," said Andrea after she 
returned and handed Erica a steaming cup.

    "Thank you, Andrea," replied Erica as she sipped at 
the black liquid, the heat and caffeine restoring her.

    "You're welcome, Mistress."

    "What do you want to talk to be about, Andrea?  And 
please take a seat."

    "Thank you, Mistress," answered Andrea as she sat in a 
library chair directly opposite Erica, "it's about Janet 
Davis."

    "Go ahead."

    "Why are you training her?"

    "Sally suggested that her friend wanted to try 
something new, since her sex life was a bore.  Which was 
what she told me verbally, and in her written bio."

    "Do you really believe that, Mistress?  That a normal 
heterosexual woman who is bored with her vanilla sex life 
would suddenly decide to serve a Dominatrix?  Plus the face 
that she has no experience in the scene."

    "What of it?"

    "She must have had some boring sex life then.  I would 
have thought that you would have been at least more curious 
before you placed her under the lash," commented Andrea.

    "Are you questioning my judgement?"

    "Yes, Mistress, when it concerns your reputation as a 
Domme," pointed out Andrea.

    "What else?  I know that look in your face, Andrea, 
out with it."

    "What happened Saturday night?"

    "I don't know what you're talking about," answered 
Erica.

    "Did Janet tire you out?  I know how you train new 
slaves, Mistress.  And you wimped out on using the whip on 
her.  That is, unless you want her to become Tiffany's 
lover?"

    "I felt that she had been used enough," answered 
Erica.

    "All right then, I suggest that you compare her 
training records to those of the others.  You will find 
that she hasn't received nearly enough use as compared with 
the others at the same stage of their training."

    "Thank you, Andrea, for bringing that to my 
attention," said Erica.

    "I think that if a new girl like Janet can tire you 
out, I suggest that you see a doctor, Mistress."

    "Next week, Andrea," answered Erica, afraid to go back 
to a doctor.

    "Tomorrow, Mistress.  Please?"
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    "What's the problem?" asked Doctor Anderson.

    Erica sat in the doctor's examination room, on the 
table.  Now she was the one being examined, not one of her 
slaves.

    "I'm tired all the time, sleepy.  Can't concentrate, 
and I tire easily."

    "All right, then, I'll start with an exam and a blood 
sample.  Roll up you sleeve, and let's get started."

    "Yes, Doctor."

    She submitted herself to a full physical exam, 
including samples of her blood and urine, being weighed and 
a heart exam.  Everything that she had been avoiding for a 
very long time.  Finally, she was allowed to dress, and was 
conducted into the office to sit quietly.

    Erica waited for the results of the blood analyzer.  
It was a new device that could do things that formally had 
to be sent out to a lab.  

    Doctor Anderson entered his office, and closed the 
door behind him.  The serious look on his face told Erica 
that what he had to say was nothing good.

    "I'm sorry I took so long," he excused himself.

    "That's all right," answered Erica.

    "Thank you," he said as he sat behind his desk, a 
manila folder in his hands.

    "How am I?"

    "I've been a doctor for many years, Erica.  There's no 
good way to deliver news like this.  Your hemoglobin count 
is very low, and I'm going to give you a prescription for 
iron pills.  Also, eat as much red meat as you can, even if 
you have to have steak for breakfast.  But that's not the 
main problem."

    "What is?"

    "Your blood count is very low also, and I want you 
over in the hospital tomorrow for further tests.  I think 
that you may have leukemia, and we have to determine what 
type and if it's treatable."

    "Thank you," answered Erica softly.

    "There have been many advances over the years in 
treating leukemia, Erica.  Drugs, radiation, marrow 
replacement, and if we've caught it early you have a good 
chance of having a normal life..."

    Erica sat in the bar, and opened a pack of cigarettes 
that she had just purchased from the machine.  After all 
that she had gone through years ago to quit, now she wanted 
nothing more than a cigarette and bourbon over ice.

    She lit the cigarette, and inhaled the smoke deep into 
her lungs, happy that she didn't embarrass herself by 
coughing in response.  Then she followed the puff with a 
swig of whiskey that burned her throat making her feel more 
alive than anything did in days.

    "You OK lady?" asked the bartender.

    "Fine, thank you."

    After hearing the news, she had called Andrea to tell 
her to cancel the one session that she had planned for 
Monday night.  Since she didn't want to get caught in rush 
hour traffic, she had pulled into a bar and restaurant for 
a drink.

    She had planned a session for Beth Summers, one of her 
favorite slaves.  But now her heart wasn't into it, after 
hearing the news that she was sick.

    Erica then called Andrea back to say that she wasn't 
having Dinner at home either, that Andrea should eat alone 
and that she would be home later.

    Her concentration was broken when the bartender placed 
a menu in front of her, and she looked at him.

    "Want some dinner to go with that bourbon?" he asked.

    Erica opened the menu, and finally noticed that other 
patrons were coming in and being seated for Dinner in the 
restaurant section.  She had the bar all to herself, 
however.

    "Yes, I'll have the Prime Rib with French Fries, thank 
you.  Medium Rare."

    "Thank you," he answered, "you don't want to drink and 
drive on an empty stomach."

    "No," answered Erica.

    When the Prime Rib arrived, complete with a sharp 
steak knife and a bottle of Steak Sauce Erica was actually 
hungry.  The cut of meat was a good one, and it was very 
tender.  So Erica laced into it, and finished the whole 
steak with the fries also.

    "Thank you, that was very good," said Erica as the 
dishes were cleared away.

    "You're welcome."
    *        *        *        *        *        *

    It came as no surprise after the tests in the hospital 
when Erica discovered that she had leukemia.  Overproducion 
of immature white cells, also called cancer of the blood.

    She had sat in the doctor's office, and he had given 
her pamphlets to read, and had talked about therapies, 
drugs, and treatments.  But her mind was elsewhere, her 
concerns somewhere else.

    "Thank you, doctor," she said, shaking his hand on the 
way out.

    BEEP!

    The car horn behind her had startled Erica back to the 
real world, and she pressed on the gas to get moving into 
traffic.  She pulled over into a McDonald's and ordered 
coffee, and wished for a drink instead.

    Death.

    She had cheated death when Stephanie had saved her 
life, inadvertently placing her on the path to submission 
when she had been a painslut to Mistress Martine.  Then, in 
a strange twist of fate she had saved Stephanie from 
serving Lauren, who had learned all of the wrong lessons 
from their common Master, Daniel.

    Erica had died twice, but as Alana Peters.  First 
after the car accident that had placed her on the path to 
D/s.  Then in her Amazon trip to Brazil when she abandoned 
her former life to become Erica Riken.  She swallowed, and 
wanted a cigarette.

    After finishing her coffee, she drove the remaining 
distance home, and told Andrea that she wanted to be alone 
in the library.  Fortunately, she had no sessions today.  
Else they would have been canceled also.

    'I don't want to be an object of pity,' Erica thought 
to herself, 'a Domme who can't hold a crop.'

    For the first time in years, she buried her face in 
her hands, and cried.  Tears fell from her eyes, into her 
hands.  They leaked  onto the desktop blotter through her 
fingers, falling like raindrops.

Part Two: Janet Davis

July 1992

    "It's been a long time," said Karla.

    Erica had called Karla to investigate Janet Davis, to 
have him dig into her past and provide a full biography for 
her.  They met in a parking lot to exchange money for his 
work.

    "Have you done what I asked?"

    "Yes, here it is," he said, handing it over, "pretty 
small fry, don't you think?"

    "That's my affair," answered Erica.

    "Janet Davis, secretary.  Earns eighteen thousand a 
year.  Works in Manhattan.  Drives a ten year old Plymouth.  
Hardly the type to circulate in your circles, don't you 
agree?"

    "Thought you didn't ask questions?"

    "I don't," replied Karla as he opened the car door, 
"see you next time."

    "Thanks."

    'If there is a next time,' thought Erica.

    It was Saturday morning, and Janet would be helping 
Andrea with the household chores.  She was treated like any 
new prospect: kept naked, collared and wearing bracelets, 
and her feet locked into punishing five inch high-heels.  
Before she had left the house, Janet had been paraded in 
front of Erica.  Andrea had bathed and perfumed her, and 
Janet seemed eager and ready to serve.  Her naked skin was 
freshly marked from the session that she had undergone the 
previous evening.

    Sally had told Erica that her friend was a little 
sexually inexperienced.  She should have said that Janet 
was very sexually inexperienced, that had been a great 
understatement and Sally would one day pay for her 
inaccurate remarks.

    The house seemed like a prison, and Erica had wanted 
to get away for a while.  She went to a restaurant, and got 
a booth all the way in the back, away from others.  There 
she ordered a Coke, and sat reading Janet's file.

    Middle class upbringing, public schools, Queens 
College.  Parents dead, one brother in Colorado.  No 
serious debts, disdains jewelry, dresses well (worked at 
Macy's starting in High School), owns an old car.  Takes 
the train every day to work in Manhattan.

    The very life that Alana had wanted to have was an 
anonymous one that would have left her free to enter the 
world of submission.  But Erica had not been free, really.  
Serving Daniel, unable to have Keith for her Master, 
finally discovering that her true talent had been as a 
Dominatrix.

    Once Erica had gotten Karla's report on Janet she had 
wanted to demand the reason for why she had wanted to serve 
a Mistress.  If necessary, she would beat the reason out of 
her, then send her packing.

    'No,' Erica thought to herself in silence, sipping at 
her Coke, 'I knew nothing about submission either until I 
met Martine.  I could afford Martine, couldn't I?  But 
Janet certainly can't afford the fee that I usually charge 
the rich women of Greenwich to beat their bottoms.'

    "Want some lunch?" asked the waitress, a pretty 
brunette.

    "No thanks, just thinking.  Please get me another 
Coke?"

    "Sure."

    Erica stared at the ice cubes floating in the brown 
liquid, watching them swirl around in the glass.

    'I'm going to train Janet like all the others, even if 
I'm sick and she will be my last slave.  She deserves a 
good Mistress that will love and respect her, even I can't 
love her in return.  Maybe I'll respond to treatment, maybe 
my energy will come back so that I can take her to bed.  
She's the first slave to ever wear me out, and she's not 
even trained yet.'

    Erica placed a few dollar bills under the empty glass, 
and walked out into the July heat.  She couldn't wait to 
get home as she got behind the wheel of her BMW.  When she 
got home Andrea had Janet waiting for inspection, but Erica 
wanted to place her file in the safe first.  Then she would 
see Janet, alone.

    "Enter!" called Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Janet.

    Janet walked in the library slowly, measuring each 
step in the heels that she was forced to wear.  Erica noted 
that the woman had managed to become used to be kept naked 
after only a few weeks.  Good, that was the first and 
hardest hurdle to jump.  After that, being used physically 
and sexually would come quickly.

    "Kneel."

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    "Have you ever served a Mistress before, been whipped 
or cropped?" asked Erica.

    "No, Mistress."

    "Ever been spanked by another woman?"

    "Not until I came to serve you, Mistress Erica."

    "Why do you want to serve a Mistress, Janet?" asked 
Erica.

    "My sex life with men was unsuccessful, so I wanted to 
try something new.  Sally has told me of how she enjoys 
submission, so I wanted to give it a try," nervously 
answered Janet, as she swallowed a huge lump in her throat.

    "Just like that?  You knew that you would be whipped, 
cropped, and sexually used, yet you still wanted to serve a 
Mistress?"

    "Yes, Mistress Erica, those are my reasons."

    "It's all right, Janet.  They are quite good enough 
for me, and I said last month that I was satisfied with 
your interview," explained Erica, "now I want you to get on 
my lap, because I want to use a hairbrush on that bottom of 
yours."

    Erica rose from the desk chair, picked up the brush, 
then seated herself on the leather couch.  She watched as 
Janet did as she had been ordered, presenting her naked 
bottom for Erica's use.

    "Are you submissive Janet?" asked Erica.

    "I want to learn submission, Mistress Erica," answered 
Janet.

    Erica fondled Janet's firm breasts, holding the globes 
in her right hand.  The she placed her hand between Janet's 
legs, and felt the already wet sex.  Her slit was moist and 
wet with excitement!

    "Are you going to behave?" demanded Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "You're such a good girl, Janet."

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!
    
    Thwack!

    The hard wood of the brush smacked against Janet's 
upraised bottom, making her flinch with each stroke.  Even 
though each stroke was harder than the one before, Janet 
resolutely remained seated on Erica's lap.

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    "That's enough for now, Janet, I'll be using you 
tonight in the Dungeon after Dinner."

    "Thank you, Mistress," cried Janet as she got shakily 
to her feet.

    "You've done very well, Janet, for a new girl in so 
short a time," complimented Erica.

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "Now go help Andrea in the kitchen with Dinner."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    'Yes,' thought Erica, 'I shall train her with love and 
understanding.  If she's so eager to learn submission then 
I must train her.'
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    "What is your safeword, Janet?"

    "Mercy, Mistress."

    "Make sure that you do not forget it," advised Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress!"

    Janet was on her knees in the Dungeon, her hands bound 
above her head to the ceiling chain.  Her breasts 
protruded, and she was sweating from the use that she had 
already undergone earlier.

    Taking a wooden stool from the wall, Erica sat down in 
front of Janet and held a crop in her hands, flexing the 
leather covered bamboo in her gloved hands.  The crop had a 
leather pad at the end, which was what would be used on 
her.  Erica could see how Janet watched the pad with 
anticipation in her eyes.

    "Hold out your breasts."

    Janet did so, and her reward was to have them struck 
several times lightly with the crop.  She did not flinch, 
cry out, or draw back.  Instead she remained in placed, and 
took the crop on her pretty well formed breasts, which 
bounced slightly after each impact.

    "Very good, Janet."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    Erica got to her knees, and began to lick and suck at 
Janet's erect nipples, making the woman moan in response.  
What the crop could not do, Erica's mouth would do instead.

    "Ah!" cried Janet.

    "Slut!" commented Erica her mouth full of Janet's 
breast.

    Erica then placed one of her hands between Janet's 
legs, and the slave opened her legs to facilitate the 
entrance of Erica's fingers into her love box.  Janet 
moaned as her Mistress probed her privates.

    "Do you want to be my slave?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica could smell Janet's sweat from her use, but it 
wasn't the scent of fear.  Rather it was of pleasure, for 
that was what she wanted.

    "Andrea shall have you tonight, Janet.  Only after you 
have proven yourself to me shall I take you into my bed," 
stated Erica.

    "Please Mistress, make love to me?" asked Janet, 
disappointment in her voice.

    "Not yet, Janet, not yet."
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    On Monday morning, when it was just Erica and Andrea 
in the house, Erica had ordered a cheese omelet for 
breakfast.  Instead, Andrea cooked two scrambled eggs, and 
a small steak.  Erica ate everything in silence.

    "What's wrong, Mistress?" asked Andrea, "why are you 
taking those iron pills, vanishing for hours, then eating 
beef constantly?"

    "That's my affair, Andrea."

    "Then why didn't you take Janet to bed on Saturday 
night, she certainly earned it?"

    "All right, then, Andrea, sit down!" commanded Erica.

    Andrea sat in one of the dining room chairs, next to 
Erica.  She waited in silence.

    "I'm sick, Andrea.  I have leukemia, I may be dying," 
said Erica as she broke down in tears, "and I'm so scared."

    "Mistress," answered Andrea as she held Erica close to 
her, as the Domme cried, the tears falling from her eyes.

Part Three: Excalibur

October 1992

    The treatments had begun to work and Erica had started 
to feel normal again.  Her energy was returning, along with 
her sex drive.  Mistress Erica had returned to her regular 
schedule and habits.

    Until the phone call had come from Dr. Anderson.  Even 
with the treatments, it was just a temporary respite.  She 
was still seriously ill, and had just three years to live.

    Andrea was preparing lunch in the kitchen when Erica 
walked in.  She was just about to tell Erica that lunch 
would be ready soon.

    "Mistress?" asked Andrea.

    Erica removed a can of Coke from the fridge, then 
opened it and sat on a chair.  She took a long swallow 
before she began to speak in a soft voice.

    "That was Dr. Anderson, Andrea.  I'm dying.  I may 
feel better now, but it's just temporary.  I'll start to 
decline again, become weak and sick again.  If you want, 
I'll release you from your contract.  Being a nurse wasn't 
part of the contract that we signed."

    Ding!

    "Lunch is ready, Mistress.  Chicken pot pie," stated 
Andrea.

    "Let's eat together in here," said Erica, "screw 
formality for once."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Mistress and slave sat down to an informal lunch of 
salad, pot pie, sodas, and finally cake.  Erica stayed in 
the kitchen after eating, just to talk and have some 
company.

    "You know," said Erica, the funny thing is that I died 
twice already."

    "Mistress?" questioned Andrea as she did the dishes.

    "Just a figure of speech, Andrea."

    "Perhaps you could die again, and live once more, as 
someone else," suggested Andrea, "but have someone take 
your place."

    "I wish that I could do that, Andrea."
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    "Wake up, Andrea," insisted Erica as she shook her 
slave awake.

    "What's wrong Mistress?" Andrea looked at the clock 
and saw that it was three in the morning.

    "What did you say after lunch?"

    "Bout what?" sleepily answered Andrea.

    "Dying and living again?"

    "If you were to die and have someone take your place, 
Mistress," Andrea answered, still half asleep.

    "Yes, that's it!" said Erica as she sat down on 
Andrea's bed.

    "What?"

    "I love you, Andrea."

    "Yes, Mistress," replied Andrea, convinced that Erica 
had finally gone crazy, somehow.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    "Sit down, Andrea.  I have a question to ask you.  
What do you think of Tiffany Gray?"

    Erica and Andrea sat in the kitchen after breakfast, 
sharing another pot of coffee together.  Outside was a dark 
gray winter sky.

    "Selfish, unstable, a liar, I have never trusted her, 
Mistress.  I have even suggested that you cease being her 
Mistress."

    "Yes, Andrea, I remember.  What do you think of Janet 
Davis?"

    "Eager to please you and learn, faithful.  Willing to 
submit to you in all things.  The best slave you've had in 
a long time, Mistress.  I'm sorry that I ever suggested 
that you shouldn't train her."

    "Perfect then.  Tell me, Andrea, if you died, would 
anybody miss you?"

    "You know that I'm all alone in the world, Mistress.  
I was an only child, and my parents are dead."

    "So if you vanished into a harem, you wouldn't be 
missed?"

    "No, Mistress."

    "How would you like to join me then in death and 
rebirth?" asked Erica.

    "Wait a minute, Mistress.  You're not thinking of 
doing what I suggested yesterday are you?" questioned 
Andrea.

    "Yes," answered Erica, sipping her coffee, "yes, and I 
need your help.  Janet must be trained and quickly while I 
still have the strength to do it."

    "Between Janet and Tiffany?  How?"

    "A competition both financial and in Dominance and 
submission.  Each to be awarded a portfolio of stock, they 
have to run the house for a year supervised by Blanca 
Sanchez, their activities monitored by her also then the 
winner gets the estate.  Plus the loser as her slave," 
Erica described in detail.

    "Tiffany will cut her to pieces, Mistress," stated 
Andrea.

    "That's why we have to train her correctly, now don't 
we?  When I loan Janet to Stephanie, I'll tell her not to 
place Janet on the rack, for example."

    "She will, anyway, you know how much she loves a new 
girl.  And Janet is just the sort that she desires."

    "I'm counting on it, Andrea," answered Erica.

Part Four: The Final Plans

May 1993

    It was only by her strength of will that Erica mad 
managed to retain enough strength to continue training 
Janet.  She had given many of her other slaves and paying 
clients to other Dommes, simply because she no longer had 
the energy to service them all.

    Some of her wealthy clients were bitterly 
disappointed, complained that she had serviced their 
submissive needs for years.  That Erica had been the 
perfect Dominatrix, and that they would gladly pay her 
anything to continue.

    Erica had never been a Domme for the money.  She had 
been quite well off from the family estate before she had 
began as Mistress Erica serving the needs of the elite in 
Greenwich CT.  Over the years, she had taken her earnings, 
and placed them into the stock market.

    In 1987, she had made a killing by suddenly 
liquidating everything in the family's stock portfolio, 
including stock that had been held for generations.  Weeks 
before the crash, she had sold everything, sensing that the 
market was simply too high.  In just one decision, she had 
increased her cash position many times, and she had called 
on Blanca to keep her name out of the Wall Street Journal.

    Strange how in 1980, when she had done her first deal 
as an investment banker, she had wanted an article about 
her in the Journal so very much.  Now, in her position as 
Domme, even though she had amassed a vast fortune in her 
own name, publicity was the last thing that she had wanted.

    She had bought portfolios of stock again for both 
Janet and Tiffany, and had arranged for brokers to handle 
their accounts, beginning after her death.

    Enough money had been siphoned off into accounts into 
the Cayman Islands that would provide her with enough money 
to live on in the time remaining to her, and to set Andrea 
up with a comfortable estate as well.  She could have used 
Switzerland for numbered accounts, but the Caymans were a 
lot closer.

    Somehow the prospect of her own death no longer 
frightened her as it did almost a year earlier.  Creating 
the competition between two of her slaves had given her a 
purpose and goal to continue living.  She would even live 
the year to see who would win the competition.

    Janet's slave training had been almost rushed to an 
incredible degree.  Used herself one week, she had been 
allowed to use other slaves the next.  Every week that 
Erica had called to arrange for her Friday night pickup, 
she had been afraid that Janet would refuse her.  Instead 
Janet eagerly sought to please her Mistress, having no idea 
of what was in reality being planned for her.

    Even when Stephanie had scared her half to death by 
placing her on the rack, Janet still wanted to serve a 
Mistress.  It was only icing on the cake when Stephanie had 
allowed Janet to use her own slave Camille for a 
transgression.

    'I'm sorry, Janet,' Erica thought in silence. 'I'm 
going to place you in a test that you know nothing about, 
possibly endanger your life, in a competition with a woman 
that you think of as your lover and friend, Tiffany.  
Please forgive me?'

    Janet had been bound and whipped into a sexual frenzy, 
her body covered in stripes every week.  Her pussy had been 
shaved for months now, with Andrea shaving her each Sunday 
on her departure.  Janet had never commented or protested 
to Erica about that new violation of her womanhood.

    Erica wondered sometimes just how much internal 
strength that the woman really had, her personality 
certainly didn't betray any indication of the nerves of 
steel that Janet must posses.  Her choice of Janet against 
Tiffany would place two almost exact opposites against the 
other.

    Janet was cool, calm, and determined.  Tiffany was 
emotional, easily excited, and possessed a short attention 
span.

    Tiffany would no doubt regard her sudden wealth as a 
gift from heaven.  Janet would be far more suspicious about 
her sudden change in status.

    Even more so when she was fired from her job, and 
would find the clues around the house that Erica would have 
left for the two of them.  It would not take long for them 
to realize that they were in for the test of their lives.

    'Forgive me, both of you, for the ton of bricks that 
are about to fall on you,' thought Erica, 'but I don't want 
to go out as an object of pity, a sick Domme dying in a few 
years.'

    The week before, she had used Tiffany alone in the 
house, giving Janet the week off.  Now it was Janet's turn, 
and Erica was determined to use her in the most sensual 
manner possible, as a last parting gift to her final slave.

    Erica had also made it her business to bring Janet to 
a few parties and clubs to show her around.  She wanted 
others in the D/s community to know that Janet was her 
slave, but for far different reasons than normal.

    "Mistress," interrupted Andrea from the library door, 
"Janet has arrived."

    "Thank you, Andrea, you may conduct her into the 
library after you take her coat."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet was soon seated in front of Erica.  She was 
wearing a white blouse, plaid skirt, and red hose and 
heels.  Holding herself stiffly, waiting for the first 
orders of her Mistress.

    "What did you do the previous weekend, Janet?" asked 
Erica.

    "I went out on Friday and Saturday nights as you 
ordered, Mistress.  To a local bar and a disco."

    "What happened?"

    "Nothing, Mistress.  A few men tried to pick me up, 
but none of them appealed to me."

    "So you disobeyed my instructions that go home with a 
man to have sex so that he could see your marks?"

    "Yes, Mistress," truthfully answered Janet.

    Erica had her followed the whole two nights, and all 
of the contacts that she had made had been reported back to 
Erica.  

    "You have disobeyed my instructions, Janet.  You do 
realize that this will mean a severe punishment?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "I shall use you harshly and make you cry, Janet.  I 
shall leave your flesh marked more heavily than usual, for 
the crime of disobedience."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Strip," ordered Erica.

    Without any hesitation, Janet rose to her feet and 
silently and quickly removed all of her clothing.  She 
folded all of her clothes neatly on the chair that she had 
just occupied, and soon stood naked in front of Erica.

    "Get up on one of the other chairs," commanded Erica.

    Janet did as she was told, her knees resting on the 
leather cushions, holding onto the top of the chair with 
her hands.  Her breasts pushed against the seat back 
cushion.  She waited for Erica's next move.

    From the desk drawer, Erica removed a paddle, which 
she held in her right hand.  She slapped it against her 
left as a display of power.

    "Do you consent to your use, Janet?"

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    "What is your safeword?"

    "Mercy, Mistress Erica."

    Erica rose from the desk and stood behind Janet.  The 
paddle was offered to Janet's lips, and she kissed it 
without having it ordered to.

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    "Thank you, Mistress!" cried Janet after five harsh 
strokes that quickly reddened her bottom.

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    "Thank you, Mistress!"

    Erica placed her hand against Janet's bottom, and the 
red flesh was hot from the ten strokes.  The she placed her 
hand up between Janet's legs to her shaven sex, and probed 
within.

    "Do you miss your pubic hair?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress," cried Janet.

    "How does having your sex like this feel?"

    "I feel naked, even when I'm wearing clothes," 
answered Janet, "when my panties rub against my pubes, 
Mistress."

    "Does this always remind you of me?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Get off the chair and take your clothes to Andrea.  
She will outfit you and place you in the Dungeon for my 
use.  Do not disappoint me this weekend, Janet."

    "No, Mistress."

    "Go!"

    Erica watched as Janet fairly ran out of the library, 
naked and holding her clothes.  There was no longer any 
doubt; her submission was now total to her Mistress.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    Erica had dressed in a sleeveless Catsuit with just a 
pair of modest matching black heels.  She had placed a belt 
around her waist to accentuate her figure, from which she 
had hung a pair of gleaming stainless steel handcuffs for 
effect.

    In the Dungeon was Janet, already bound against the 
whipping post.  Her legs were locked open about two feet, 
her hands behind her back that was against the wooden post 
itself.  Andrea had placed a leather strap above her 
breasts and one around her waist, welding Janet to the 
device.

    "Helpless, aren't we?" asked Erica upon her entrance.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "I'm going to strike you with a crop on your breasts 
and stomach, with the rod itself.  It will hurt and mark, 
but only for ten strokes.  For the crop and paddle will 
only be your warmup for tonight."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    "Thank you, Mistress!" cried Janet, tears flowing from 
her eyes, for Erica had struck her tender breasts.

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    Thwack!

    "Thank you, Mistress!"

    "Very good, Janet," complimented Erica, "hang her from 
the ceiling, Andrea.  Janet shall be flogged tonight, then 
whipped tomorrow."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    When Janet was hanging by her wrists, Erica made 
certain to place clamps on her nipples and shaven sex, 
making her moan with each application.  She cried out, but 
did not ask for their removal.

    "Perhaps I shall use clothespins on you next time, 
Janet.  They can provide quite a bit of agony as well."

    "Yes, Mistress," cried Janet.

    "Kiss the flogger."

    Erica had chosen a heavy leather flogger.  It would 
hurt fiercely, and mark immediately as well.

    "Two weeks ago, I used you lightly.  Do you remember?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "I shall make up for not using you properly, and last 
week as well."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "You shall count each stoke, and thank me after every 
five."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "One!"

    "Two!"

    "Three!"

    "Four!"

    "Five, thank you, Mistress!"

    The only sound in the Dungeon was the heavy thud of 
the flogger and Janet's counting of each stroke.  Her body 
bound, and now punished severely by Erica, Janet instead 
hung proudly in her chains.

    "Six!"

    "Seven!"

    "Ten! Thank you, Mistress!"

    Erica watched in admiration as her slave soaked up 
every heavy stroke of the flogger.  Just a year before, 
Janet had known nothing, indeed had not been spanked since 
childhood.  Now she was a true slave in sub-space, able to 
divorce her body from her mind.

    "Eleven!"

    "Thirteen!"

    "Fifteen! Thank you Mistress!"

    There were no tears in Janet's eyes as she was 
flogged, she merely strained against her bonds.  Her pretty 
breasts with the clamps on her nipples shook with every 
stroke from the flogger.

    "Eighteen!"

    "Twenty! Thank you Mistress!"

    Erica paused briefly to run her fingertips over 
Janet's heated and punished flesh.  Janet was going to be 
severely used this night, but she did not cry out.  Instead 
she awaited Erica's next move.

    "You're very beautiful, Janet," complimented Erica.

    "Thank you, Mistress," panted Janet in response.

    "Just a few more strokes, Janet."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Twenty-one!"

    "Twenty-three!"

    "Twenty-five! Thank you Mistress!" gasped Janet, her 
chest heaving.

    "Twenty-seven!"

    "Thirty! Thank you Mistress!"

    "Thirty-three!"

    "Thirty-five! Thank you Mistress!" cried Janet, tears 
falling from her eyes.

    "Thank you, Janet," said Erica, as she kissed her 
slave on the lips, "you're very brave, and loyal."

    "Mistress..."

    Janet's body was covered in fresh red marks and 
drenched with sweat.  Her hair that had been so nice 
earlier in the night was now a mess of tangles.  But the 
girl had never looked so proud under Erica's lash before.

    "Andrea, release her, give her a bath, then have her 
in my bedroom in an hour or so.  I want to have my slave 
show her appreciation in the arts of love," ordered Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Andrea.

    "I love you, Janet," said Erica.

    "I love you too, Mistress."

    Erica left the Dungeon, not even bothering to have 
Janet kiss the flogger that she handed to Andrea on the way 
out.  She made it back to the library, then sank into the 
chair, exhausted from the ordeal that she had just 
inflicted on Janet.

    'I'm dying,' Erica thought to herself as she buried 
her face in her hands, then began to cry alone.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Erica entered her bedroom, to find Janet waiting naked 
on the floor.  Her hand were locked behind her back, her 
collar chained to the ring-bolt set in the wall.

    "Are you ready to make love to your Mistress?" asked 
Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress Erica!"

    Quickly, Erica removed the shoes and Catsuit, and 
underneath she wore a lace black bra and panties, which she 
quickly removed.  While Andrea had been bathing Janet, 
Erica had fallen asleep.  She had needed a short nap to 
recharge before sex.

    Erica sat on the edge of the bed, and allowed Janet to 
begin by servicing her while she was still bound on the 
floor.  This way, all she could use was her lips, tongue, 
and teeth to bring Erica to orgasm.

    Quickly Janet began to work on Erica's love nest, her 
lips touching Erica's sex lips, her tongue probing deep 
inside her love canal tickling her love bud.  Janet pushed 
herself against Erica, inhaling the scent of her 
secretions, knowing that she was satisfying her Mistress.

    "Ah!" cried Erica.

    It had not taken Janet long at all for Erica to be 
stimulated into orgasm as Janet tickled her clit time after 
her.  She threw her head back and moaned, her bottom 
bouncing on the bed.

    Erica then pulled Janet onto the bed, and quickly 
released her hands.  She then lay down on the bed and 
opened her legs to admit Janet once more to her sex.

    With only that pause, Janet began again to satisfy her 
Mistress.  They both moaned in pleasure as Janet brought 
Erica one orgasm after another, all of her energies and 
training directed at the singular goal of pleasing the 
Mistress.

    "Ah!"

    "Ah!" cried Erica.

    Sweat poured off Erica's body as she bounced on the 
bed, screaming her pleasure from one orgasm after another.  
Janet held onto her thighs, and continued to bury her face 
between Erica's legs.

    Finally, Erica was spent, her breaths ragged from the 
waves of pleasure that had washed through her like a tidal 
wave.  She lay on the pillow, unmoving.

    "Are you all right, Mistress?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Janet," Erica lied, "just a little jet lag I 
returned from California yesterday."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Come here, Janet, I want to hold you in my arms, for 
you are truly my best and most loving slave."

    Janet did as she was instructed, and held onto Erica.  
Why was her Mistress sweating so much?

    "Let me make love to you, Janet."

    "Yes, Mistress," said Janet.

    In contrast to Janet's hurried lovemaking, Erica began 
by playfully sucking on Janet's nipples.  Her arms enfolded 
Janet, their scents mingling together as one.

    Erica then began to suck at Janet pussy, and slowly 
brought her to orgasm, her tongue tickling Janet's clit.  
Her languid lovemaking continued, until Janet shook with 
one climax after another.

    "Janet, would you like a drink?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica got two glasses of water from the bathroom, and 
they both drank together.

    "Thank you, Janet," said Erica.

    "For what, Mistress."

    "Everything," answered Erica as she closed the lights, 
then threw the sheets and quilt on the bed, then she joined 
Janet under the covers.

    Erica was asleep within minutes, leaving Janet puzzled 
by Erica's lack of energy.  Janet lay upon on her back, and 
let sleep claim her too, the taste of Erica still upon her 
lips.
    *        *        *        *        *
    Erica awoke with a start.  Sunlight poured through the 
windows, and Janet was no longer chained beside her.  
Instead she was alone in bed, naked under the covers as she 
had fallen asleep during the night.

    "Mistress?" asked Andrea from the door.

    "What time is it?"

    "Ten, Mistress Erica."

    Andrea entered the bedroom, carrying a tray in her 
hands.  She placed it on the bed after Erica sat up in bed.

    "Where's Janet?"

    "Chained in the kitchen, Mistress.  Since you couldn't 
awaken, I took her, gave her a bath and breakfast, and told 
you had a case of jet lag.  Then I brought up a tray for 
you."

    "Oh god, Andrea.  It's the end.  I can't continue," 
cried Erica as she buried her face in her hands.

    "Just one more night, Mistress.  One more use of 
Janet, that's all.  Here's your juice and pills."

"Thank you," answered Erica as she drank her orange juice, 
then downed her medication and iron pills.

    "You're welcome, Mistress Erica.  Breakfast is 
scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee."

    "Thank you, Andrea.  Janet wore me out twice last 
night, once in the Dungeon, then later in bed."

    "I know.  You were dead to the world, literally," 
answered Andrea, concern evident on her face.

    "I just hope that I have the energy to use her again 
tonight," said Erica.

    "Then I prescribe a bath, then you dress in your 
pajamas and spend the whole day in bed.  Janet will bring 
you lunch, and Dinner can be like normal downstairs."

    "Thank you, Andrea.  Is the slave now giving her 
Mistress orders?"

    Andrea reached over and kissed Erica on the forehead, 
then on her lips.

    "Get some rest, Mistress.  Before I place a collar 
around your neck and lock you to wall myself."

    "Yes, Mistress Andrea."

    Later on, Andrea checked on Erica.  She had showered 
and put on her pajamas, then had fallen asleep again.  
Lunch was forgotten as Erica slept into the afternoon, to 
be awakened much later for Dinner, her stomach rumbling 
from hunger.

    "What's for Dinner?" asked Erica after Andrea had 
awakened her.

    "Rib Roast, Mistress.  Medium Rare."

    "Thank you, Andrea.  Set the table for three, I want 
you and Janet to eat at the same table with me.  We'll drop 
ceremony tonight."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    As Erica dressed for Dinner, she watched as snow fell 
outside.  The peaceful whiteness brought back memories of 
her playing in the snow in the estate during childhood.  
Erica chose a Gucci dress with one shoulder strap that she 
usually wore to affairs.

    She had ordered that since Janet and Andrea were to 
share her table, they were not to wear Maid's uniforms.  
Andrea wore a simple blue dress, and Janet wore a blouse 
and skirt, though she still had the collar around her neck.

    Andrea carved off three ribs and served Erica first.  
In addition to the roast was salad, roast potatoes, and 
steamed green beans.  Plus a bottle of red wine to top off 
the meal.

    Janet looked surprised to be dressed and share the 
table of her Mistress.  She ate silently, only speaking 
when spoken to by Erica or Andrea.

    Dessert was a chocolate cake and coffee, and 
afterwards Erica adjourned to the library to do some 
paperwork.

    "I want Janet downstairs by nine," ordered Erica to 
Andrea.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    'I hope that I can perform tonight,' thought Erica to 
herself in the library.
    *        *        *        *        *
    For simplicity's sake, Erica wore a Dominatrix dress 
in black PVC that covered her arms, but not her legs.  She 
had taken to storing some of her fetishwear downstairs so 
she wouldn't have to run upstairs each time.

    The Domme dress was similar to a Catsuit, except that 
it ended in a dress instead of tight fitting legs.  It was 
quite attractive, and once when she had gone to a disco, 
she had seen a woman wearing it.  Erica wondered if the 
woman knew the true origin of the dress.

    She stared at herself in the mirror, depressed.  Her 
career as a Domme was over at age 36 from exhaustion.  
Erica had wanted to do so much, and just when she had 
established a name for herself, she was dying instead.

    Dinner was one of the best that Andrea had ever made, 
the roast had indeed melted in her mouth.  Erica wondered 
if next she'd start to gnaw on car bumpers for iron.

    "Do you submit to your Mistress?" demanded Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Kiss the whip."

    In order to save time, Andrea had hung Janet from the 
ceiling in advance, her arms and legs opened by spreader 
bars.  Erica had always disliked those Dommes who went 
right into using a slave without any preliminaries first.

    But there was now no time left, none at all to waste.

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Janet.

    Erica drew the whip back and began to strike Janet 
with a series of light methodical strokes.  Unsure of how 
much energy she had left, she wanted to make whatever she 
did last as long as possible.

    Janet had already been well marked the day before, so 
she didn't have to be as intense.  Still, she knew that 
Janet remembered her previous times under the lash.  She 
was certain that Janet was already suspicious of her lack 
of energy, and any failure of performance now would only 
confirm her suspicions.

    "Do you accept my use of you, Janet?" asked Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress Erica."

    "There will be no need to count tonight, Janet.  After 
I use you, I shall take you into my bed again."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica then began to whip Janet, and she secretly 
dreaded what would happen if she should fail.  But then a 
strange thing happened, her body suddenly became alive with 
strength, her muscles energized as they had not been for 
months.

    'What's going on?' Erica asked herself.

    The whip struck Janet again and again, and Erica could 
see the effect that it was having on her.  Each stroke left 
a mark behind as the whip wrapped itself around her body.

    "Ah!" cried Janet.

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    The whip continued to strike Janet, and Erica noticed 
that her slave had begun to sweat.  Glistening droplets ran 
down her body, reflecting in the lights.  

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    "Ah!"

    In the past Erica would have stopped, and felt the 
overheated flesh of her slave.  But now if she stopped, 
perhaps Erica would be unable to start again.  So she 
continued with the whip, never breaking Janet's flesh but 
instead leaving welts behind that would last for some time.

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    "Ah!"

    Erica looked briefly between strokes at Andrea, who 
was captivated by her performance.  In her mind she had 
kept careful count of the number of strokes that she had 
delivered, mindful of the number that she knew that Janet 
could safely take.

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    "AH!"

    It was the sudden change in Janet's voice that alerted 
Erica to the fact that Janet was close to her limit.  Erica 
wanted to continue, to use the newfound energy that her 
body had provided.  But instead she knew that she had to 
follow Janet's limit.

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Crack!

    Erica had delivered twenty-five strokes, all without 
breaking the skin or making Janet bleed.  A splendid 
performance, given that Janet's body was now covered in red 
welts.

    "Thank you, Janet," complimented Erica what she 
ceased, "kiss the whip."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Erica reached between Janet's legs and found that her 
sex was sopping wet.

    "Slut!  Do you want to make love to your Mistress?"

    "Yes, Mistress Erica," quickly answered Janet.

    "Andrea, I'll be in my bedroom.  Have Janet there in 
half an hour," ordered Erica.

    "Yes, Mistress."
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    When Janet was conducted into Erica's bedroom, she 
found her Mistress naked on top of the quilt.  Her legs 
open, a dildo and crop on the night table.

    "Please your Mistress," ordered Erica, "now!"

    Janet immediately set to work on Erica's sex, her arms 
free from any bondage.  In fact, Erica had not chained her 
in any way, leaving her slave free.

    Erica soon moaned and bucked with a satisfying orgasm, 
her bottom bouncing on the bed.  Her body covered with 
sweat, she soon turned over and began to use Janet.

    Her tongue quickly drove Janet to sexual madness, 
bringing her to climax as well.  Then Erica slipped the 
dildo inside Janet's pussy, then began to suck her breasts 
and kiss her on the lips.

    Under Erica's fierce attentions, Janet soon had one 
climax after another, with her mouth, sex, and breasts 
stimulated by her Mistress.

    "Ooooooh!" cried Janet, "Mistress!"

    Erica continued bringing Janet to orgasm, wearing her 
slave out.  Each climax seemed to give Erica herself new 
strength.

    Finally, Janet dropped off to sleep after they cuddled 
and kissed under the sheets.  Next Erica slept soundly, 
naked against her slave.

    During the night, Erica awakened to look at Janet's 
face in the moonlight that was streaming through the 
window.  On her face was the look of a slave who had been 
given both pain and pleasure by her Mistress, who was 
smiling in pleasure as she slept.

    'Janet, forgive me,' thought Erica.

Part Four: Death and Rebirth

June 1993

    "Are we both packed?" asked Erica, nervous as hell.

    "Yes, Mistress, everything's done," stressed Andrea 
for the second time.

    Erica had used both of her slaves for the last time, 
and had removed some of her fetish and regular clothing 
from the Mansion.  Next she had left clues, an empty 
envelope from Janet's company in the bottom of the library 
desk, a letter in the computer.

    The will and codicil had been drawn up months before, 
along with the package of documents that Blanca would give 
to Janet and Tiffany.

    Every last detail had been attended to and gone over 
several times.  Erica and Andrea had tried to second guess 
how Janet and Tiffany would respond once they inherited the 
estate, then realized that they were in a deadly 
competition with one another.

    Finally, the trip to Mexico, their deaths in the 
mountains in a plane crash (which would be faked, complete 
with a plane that Erica had purchased for that reason).  
Then going into hiding, and the new identities that had 
been created.

    "Mistress, why did you leave your journals in the 
safe?" asked Andrea.

    "Because if Janet finds them, she'll read and cherish 
them.  Tiffany will probably ignore them at best, burn them 
in the fireplace at worst."

    "Who do you think will win?" questioned Andrea.

    "Janet."

    "Tiffany will cut her to ribbons, Mistress.  I believe 
that Tiffany will be the winner."

    "No, Andrea, that's where you're wrong.  Janet has 
nerves of steel, even if it's not obvious.  She will win, 
mark my words.  I just hope that I'm alive one year from 
now to see that come true."

    At the gate, a black limousine had pulled up.  Erica 
hit the button to admit the car.

    "Black, how fitting," commented Andrea.

    "Come, Andrea.  Death awaits."

 

 

"The Challenge" Chapter 15: Endgame
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if 
you
include this statement of limitation of use and notify the 
author by e-mail.
The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell 
multiple copies
of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.
However, individual readers may make single copies of the
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net

Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the 
author.  I do want to hear from you!

 

 

 

"The Challenge" by

Chapter Fifteen: Endgame

Part One: Past and Present

Sunday November 15, 1998

    ...Janet closed the last of Erica's Journals, dated 
1992, tears in her eyes.  She cried, and placed her head in 
her hands, and sobbed loudly, no longer caring if she 
awakened Tina or not.

    The tears splattered on the leather of Erica's last 
journal, like raindrops.  Wetting the dry leather that had 
remained in the safe for years until Tina's chance 
discovery six months ago.

    "Oh Erica!" Janet cried, "I forgive you, I know you 
loved me.  Why couldn't you tell me when you were here that 
you were dying?"

    Suddenly it was all clear to Janet, why Erica had lied 
about the reason for her leaving her position as Mistress.  
How she did not want to be an object of pity, but wanted to 
go out in a memorable fashion.

    Looking at the dates involved, Janet realized that 
Erica had lived a long time with her leukemia.  Perhaps it 
had gone into remission, maybe even a cure?

    But Erica had not returned to reclaim her estate, 
instead she had let Janet continue and develop into the 
Mistress that she had been trained to be.

    Janet dried her tears with a tissue, even as more 
tears flowed.  She remembered how Erica had placed herself 
in submission to her last slave, and Janet's harsh use of 
her, finally drawing blood.

    "Now I understand, Erica," said Janet to herself.

    Erica's mistreatment at the hands of her first Master, 
then being beaten by Lauren.  Janet now understood why 
Erica came to be the good Mistress that she was.

    Erica may have been a demanding Mistress who had 
tested Janet to her limits, but she had never forced Janet 
to do anything without her consent.  Janet had never been 
humiliated by her, in public or in private.

    Finally, Janet had come to love her Mistress Erica, 
even as Erica was planning to put her in competition with 
Tiffany.  Not knowing that Tiffany had allied herself with 
Lauren, her enemy.

    Janet glanced at the clock, and saw that it was 
already past one in the morning.  Monday morning!  And she 
had an important business meeting at nine!

    She replaced the last volume in the safe, then closed 
and locked it, along with the wooden panel.  Janet closed 
the lights, and ran off to bed.

Part Two: Humiliation

Monday November 16, 1998

    Janet placed her briefcase on her desk before she hung 
her coat up in her office.  It was raining, and she had 
worn her London Fog raincoat.  She had chosen to wear a 
conservative DNKY blue business suit since she would be 
making her presentation at a major staff meeting.

    "Janet," greeted Clara, her secretary.

    "Yes, Clara.  Lousy day, isn't it?  Is there any 
coffee?"

    "The President called, he said to join him in his 
office the minute you arrived."

    "I'll be seeing him at a meeting in a half hour, I 
have to go over my notes."

    "He said immediately," stressed Clara, concern on her 
face.

    "Ok, I'll go over there now," answered Janet as she 
grabbed her purse from the desk.

    "I'll call and say that you're on the way."

    "Thanks," said Janet, wishing that she had gotten some 
coffee first.

    Walking to Ron's office, she wondered what was so 
important.  The project was completed, she would make her 
presentation, and everything was on schedule.  So what was 
going on?

    "He's expecting you," said Audrey, Ron's secretary, 
"go right in."

    "Thanks," answered Erica as she knocked, then opened 
the door.

    "Enter."

    Janet opened the door, and entered Ron's office.  He 
wasn't alone, also in the office was Steven, one of the 
corporate attorneys.

    "You wanted to see me?" asked Janet as she closed the 
door.

    "Yes, Janet, please sit down.  You know Steven."

    "Yes, we met last year," answered Janet as she sat 
down in front of Ron's desk.

    "I don't know how to begin this Janet.  Do you 
remember that takeover attempt last year?"

    "What about my presentation?"

    "Canceled, along with the meeting."

    "What!  I've been working on that for weeks!" cried 
Janet.

    "That's academic now, Janet.  Please listen, this is 
very serious.  Last year, we fended off a takeover attempt.  
Now it's back, with a vengeance."

    "I don't understand?  What does this have to do with 
me?"

    "In the last few months, a firm that we never heard of 
before has bought enough of our stock to hand over control 
to the buyout firm that wanted to sell us off last year."

    "You're not making any sense, Ron.  How does this 
relate to me?"

    "CB Enterprises, Hong Kong, has said that unless 
you're fired and accused of misusing your expense accounts, 
we'll be acquired within days.  I'm sorry, Janet, but 
you're the price of our independence.  You have to be fired 
under humiliating circumstances."

    "No!  I've worked hard here!"

    "Janet, you have.  But the choice is clear.  Either 
you go, or the whole company gets broken up and sold.  
Think of all the people who'll lose their jobs!"

    "Can I think this over in my office?" asked Janet.

    "Sure, call me when you're ready," answered Ron.

    Janet sat in her office alone.  She had a cup of 
steaming coffee in front of her, and wished that it were a 
sherry instead.  Outside, it was lightly raining, which 
matched her mood perfectly.

    Buzz!

    'Who's calling me on my cell phone?' thought Janet.

    "Janet here."

    "Morning, Mistress."

    "Cheryl?" asked Janet.

    "Gotten the news yet?"

    "What news?" asked Janet surprised to hear from her 
slave, "wait a minute, CB Enterprises, Cheryl Branford 
Enterprises, that's you!"

    "Correct Mistress.  Don't make too much of a scene 
about your public humiliation before you leave, there's 
more to come.  I suggest that you accept the terms of your 
dismissal, no matter how humiliating.  Including misuse of 
your expense account, and so on.  It'll go easier on you if 
you do.  Once you've cleaned out your desk, come join me in 
the Diner down the road.  Quickly please?  Bye."

    The connection was cut on the other end, and Janet was 
in shock again, for the second time since Midnight.  She 
stared at the cell phone, wanting to smash it to little 
pieces on the floor.  Tears fell from her eyes, as she 
contemplated her firing.
    *        *            *            *        *
    "Good morning, Mistress," greeted Cheryl, seated in a 
booth, "please join me."

    After Cheryl's phone call, Janet was delivered a 
sealed note from her suggesting that she accept her terms 
of dismissal.  Tearfully, she had gone back to Ron's 
office, and agreed to the humiliating terms of firing.  
Which would include a small notice in the Wall Street 
Journal the next day.  Then Janet had been allowed to clean 
out her desk, and had left Xylex for the last time.  She 
had then pointed the car towards the Diner, and to meeting 
with Cheryl.

    "Why?" demanded Janet.

    "Take off your coat first Janet, we're going to be 
here for a little while.  Before you drip all over the 
seat."

    Janet removed her raincoat, and hung it on the nearest 
rack to their booth.  It was late morning, and the rest of 
the breakfast crowd was still leaving.

    "That's better, Janet.  Much more ladylike."

    When they were seated, Cheryl called a waitress over 
for coffee for the two of them, but did not begin speaking 
until they were alone.

    "How does it feel being fired?" asked Cheryl.

    "I've been fired before.  Why Cheryl?" Janet demanded.

    "Because you liked that job, that's why," answered 
Cheryl, "no other reason."

    "Do you own CB Enterprises?"

    "The family firm."

    "Is that the price you wanted?" asked Janet, fearful 
of the answer.

    "No," answered Cheryl, sipping her coffee, "that was 
just a little demonstration of my power.  Yours is with the 
lash and crop.  Mine is with the purse."

    "What do you want?"

    "Don't rush things, Janet."

    "All right, then.  I'm listening."

    "Good," said Cheryl, "you trained me very well, Janet.  
I can't look at a woman with a leather skirt on without 
wetting my panties, and the thought of being cropped gets 
me excited.  I'm a slave."

    "Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

    "This Friday night, Janet, I want to use you, alone in 
your Dungeon.  Just the two of us, without Tina present.  
Perhaps you could send her off to Lori, I'm sure that she'd 
love that cage in the playroom."

    "You want to use me?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, naked and in your own Dungeon, but with me in 
control, Janet.  So you can feel my lash."

    "No."

    "If you refuse, I have several packets of information 
about you that will be delivered to local reporters, gossip 
columnists, and others.  Your world will crash in on you 
Janet, you will be the object of scorn and derision in 
Greenwich."

    "No!"

    "I made three requests on you, and you have honored 
two.  It's time to do the third, else you will no longer be 
a Mistress.  Not in Greenwich, anyway," threatened Cheryl, 
steel in her voice.

    "If you want to use me out of anger to punish me 
physically, and to hurt or harm me, no.  I did not train 
you that way and you did not perform in that manner when I 
offered you the chance to use others.  If you want to use 
me sensually as I have used you to demonstrate what you 
have learned from me, then perhaps.  But not alone," 
protested Janet.

    "Mistress, I am a very rich woman, able to buy and 
sell companies at a whim.  I even own an island in the 
Caribbean with a staff loyal to me.  Now I could have had a 
Dungeon built there and had the two of you abducted, 
serving me as slaves forever.  Or have Tina silently taken 
while I force you under the lash.  Instead I want to do 
this without force, please send Tina away.  Then I'll use 
you once, and you'll never see me again."

    "I did exactly what you wanted me to.  I trained you 
like any other slave, with love and respect, without hurt 
or humiliation.  This is how you reward your Mistress?"

    "Yes, in a manner of speaking.  Do you know who I am?"

    "No, you stopped me from investigating you, remember?"

    "Yes I did.  On Friday night, after I unlock you from 
the thrashing I'm going to give you, then I'll tell you who 
I am.  Then you shall never see me again.  You took someone 
very close to me and turned them into a slave, now that I 
know and understand just what submission really means."

    "Who?" asked Janet, "who was it?"

    "That's for me to know, Mistress.  Do you accept my 
use, or even more humiliation?  Decide now, Janet.  All it 
takes is one phone call."

    "Yes," cried Janet softly.

    "What was that, slave?"

    "Yes," answered Janet, tears in her eyes, "I accept 
your use, Cheryl."

    "Friday, Mistress, I'll be in touch.  You can pay for 
the coffee."

    Janet was left alone in the booth, crying silently, 
tears in her eyes.  In less than two hours, she had lost a 
job that she had liked and enjoyed.  Then she had been 
forced to accept humiliating terms of dismissal to save the 
jobs of her friends and co-workers.

    Now Cheryl had revealed that she had been behind it 
all, with a demand that she wanted to use Janet for her own 
reasons.  Janet took a few bills from her purse and placed 
them on the counter, put on her coat, and left for home.
    *        *        *        *        *        *

    "Mistress?" greeted Tina, "why are you home so early."

    "I was fired, Tina.  For misusing my expense 
accounts," answered Janet as she handed her wet raincoat to 
Tina in the foyer.

    "Mistress, you barely used those accounts," pointed 
out Tina.

    "Yes, Tina.  That's quite correct, I wish to be alone 
in the library.  I do not wish to be disturbed."

    "Yes, Mistress.  I understand."

    Janet locked herself in the sanctuary of the library, 
and poured herself a stiff drink now that she was finally 
alone.  She sat behind her desk, and wanted to cry.  But 
she was out of tears for the moment.

    Humiliated.  She had been humiliated by a woman that 
she had placed so much effort into training correctly.

    There they had been together in the diner, with Cheryl 
clearly wearing the small leather collar around her neck 
and Janet's ring on her finger.  Cheryl had first 
humiliated Janet by the manner of her firing.

    Now the price of her continuing as a Domme was her use 
by Cheryl, alone.  What kind of person would Cheryl be when 
holding the lash?  Janet had agreed, there was nothing else 
that she could do.

    Just like when Cheryl had forced herself upon Janet in 
June, blackmailing Janet into training her.  Now Janet was 
blackmailed into being used by her own slave.

    In the safe was the money that Cheryl had been giving 
her for her training, just like the rest of Janet's other 
clients.  Janet's blackmail was of a quite different kind, 
a physical one.  First it had been to train Cheryl, now it 
would be her own body under the lash as the roles of 
Mistress and slave were to be reversed.

    Except that when Janet had used Erica, she had been a 
Domme for more than a year.  Cheryl, meanwhile, had been a 
slave for just six months, and had used another slave only 
twice before.

Part Two: The Interval

Wednesday November 18, 1998

    "Tina?" asked Janet.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet and Tina were in the library together, going 
over the reports on Janet's other slaves in training.  It 
was strange again being home without her job and she missed 
both the work and getting out of the house.

    When she had arrived back home on Monday, Tina had 
been a little suspicious.  Janet had told her that she was 
let go in an economy move, that her position had been 
eliminated.

    Until Tuesday when there was a small one inch long 
piece in the Wall Street Journal saying that she had been 
fired because of misusing her expense account, and her 
position at work.  Tina had found the piece, and come 
running to show it to Janet.

    "I don't believe it," said Tina, "you've rarely used 
your expense account, never had a company car, and refused 
that promotion.  Why would they let you go in an 
embarrassing manner like this?"

    "That's private, Tina."

    "No, Mistress.  That's very public what they did to 
humiliate you."

    "Thank you, Tina, that will be all."

    Tina had never mentioned it again, but Janet knew that 
look in her eye.  Janet knew that Tina had not believed 
her, and was suspicious of the explanation.

    So Janet had plunged back into her work as a Domme, 
and had realized that Cheryl had taken up a lot of her 
time.  When she had weighed herself on the on the scale 
this morning (naked, of course) she found that she had lost 
five pounds.

    But it was seeing herself nude that had really scared 
her.  The thought that she was going to be naked again, and 
under the lash of Cheryl that was potentially frightening.

    "What if she does want to hurt me?" asked Janet to 
herself.

    They worked together, discussing Dinner, running the 
Mansion, and slaves, which was Janet's main concern.  But 
when to broach the subject at hand?

    "Tina, I have to tell you something," Janet began.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    They were seated at the kitchen table, manila folders 
spread out on the table, drinking Cokes together.

    "I have arranged that on Friday night, you are to be 
used by Mistress Lori.  So you can take the Toyota to 
Brookline, be used by her Friday and spend the night, then 
return on Saturday."

    "Mistress?" asked Tina, shock on her face.

    "That's right, Tina.  Just a one day use by Lori."

    "Yes, Mistress, it would be interesting to be used by 
Lori," answered Tina.

    Janet looked directly into Tina's eyes and saw that 
her slave was lying.  Tina would have no intention of going 
to Lori's. Instead Janet knew she would go to Stephanie's 
and tell her the whole story, on Friday.

    "Thank you, Tina," Janet answered.

    "What about Cheryl this weekend, Mistress?"

    "I shall be alone with her, Tina.  I'm quite able to 
handle her myself, thank you."

    "Of course, Mistress," answered Tina.    
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    Janet had avoided talking to Tina for the rest of the 
day when the phone buzzed into life.

    "Mistress Janet, is it all arranged?" asked Cheryl.

    "Yes, damn you.  It's all set, Tina will be going off 
to Lori's on Friday morning."

    "Very good, Mistress.  I see that you know how to take 
orders as well as give them.  I hope that you perform as 
well under my lash."
    
    When the connection was severed on the other end, 
Janet felt like smashing the cordless phone against the 
floor.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    Wednesday night had been a disaster for Janet.  Dinner 
had tasted like sawdust, she had no appetite.  She had 
tried to entertain herself with books and television, and 
nothing held her interest.

    Then Tina had walked into the library wearing nothing 
but a robe, collar and leash, and asked Janet to use her.  
Janet had refused, and Tina had left her alone, 
disappointed.

    Finally Janet had gotten into bed, and after a short 
time, Tina had joined her.  They had made love together 
slowly, and Janet had a series of disappointing orgasms, 
and had failed to excite Tina at all.

    "I'm sorry Tina," said Janet, "my mind isn't into sex 
tonight."

    "It's about Cheryl, isn't it?"

    "You know I won't talk about that, Tina.  Please don't 
ask again."

    "Yes, Mistress," answered Tina, concern on her face, 
"then talk about Mistress Erica."

    Janet lay back on the pillow, in all of the years that 
they had been together, Tina had never asked about Erica.  
Until now.

    "What do you want to know?" asked Janet.

    "Why did you want to serve a Mistress?"

    "I was always having problems with the strange 
submissive feelings that I felt deep inside.  When my 
friend told me about Erica, I jumped at the chance to serve 
her."

    "Did you love Erica?" asked Tina.

    "Yes, very much," Janet answered, "more than I loved 
another person in my life.  Even though every weekend I 
served Erica I had new stripes on my body afterwards."

    "Did she ever hurt you?"

    "No, never.  She tested my limits all right, scared me 
a few times, but no.  It was Lauren that hurt me, 
remember?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Tina, I don't want to be rude, but I've had a bad 
couple of days.  This is the best pillow talk we've ever 
had, but I want to sleep."

    "Yes, Janet," answered Tina, "but I can't help 
thinking that somehow Cheryl and Erica are connected 
somehow, that the reason for Cheryl's presence is because 
of Erica."

    "Go to sleep, Tina," said Janet as she kissed Tina on 
the lips.

    "Yes, Mistress."
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    Later that night, Janet awakened.  She looked at Tina 
sleeping peacefully next to her, softly snoring.  Janet had 
been unable to sleep decently, and now she was again awake.

    Even though she was wearing a pair of flannel pajamas, 
and they were sleeping under a thick winter quilt, Janet 
was cold.  It was a comment that Tina had made hours before 
that kept repeating itself in her mind.

    'Cheryl and Erica connected?' Janet thought to 
herself, 'how?'

    Realizing that she wasn't going to get any more sleep, 
Janet silently left her bed, trying not to disturb Tina.  
She removed her warm terry bathrobe from the closet, and 
her slippers.  Janet walked quietly out of her bedroom, and 
closed the door silently.

    She walked downstairs, opening the lights as she went.  
Finally, in the library, she opened the safe, and removed 
the first few volumes of Erica's journal.  Taking a Coke 
from the small refrigerator that she kept in the library, 
she began to read again from the first years of Erica's 
journal.

    It was just one line somewhere, and in almost the 
beginning of her story.  When Erica had been Alana, 
daughter of wealth, not destined to be a slave.

    "So they are connected," said Janet softly to herself.  

Part Three: Legacies

Friday November 20, 1998

    Janet watched from the front door as Tina took the 
Toyota out for the trip to Mistress Lori in Brookline.  
They had packed a small suitcase, and Janet had kissed Tina 
on her way out.

    But Janet knew that Tina would disobey her, that she 
would instead drive to Stephanie's and tell her the whole 
story on how Cheryl had forced herself upon Janet.

    All of the events of the last six months had come to 
this.  Her training Cheryl and her deceptions involving 
Tina and Stephanie.  Now she was all alone, having 
delivered herself to Cheryl as the price of her remaining a 
Domme.

    She went back to the library, and took a seat.  Janet 
tried to work, hoping that it would change her mood.  
Instead, she felt like screaming.

    Buzz!

    "Janet!"

    "Yes, Blanca.  You don't have to speak so loudly.  
What's up?"

    "I have to see you right away."

    "That's impossible for today, perhaps Sunday.  I'm 
busy this weekend.  What's that noise?"

    "I'm calling from a pay phone at Kennedy Airport, 
Janet this is very important.  Have you been contacted by a 
woman named Cheryl Branford?"

    "No," Janet lied.

    "Don't lie to me, Janet, please!  This woman is 
somehow linked to Erica."

    "What?"

    "Early this morning I got a call from a lawyer in San 
Francisco.  Erica had instructed him that after her death 
he was supposed to send you a package.  But the idiot 
forgot!  He was keeping an eye on Cheryl, and in the event 
she would come East, to warn you.  It wasn't until Cheryl 
had a car accident on Telegraph Hill on Wednesday and was 
revealed to be a fake that he remembered the package and 
called me."

    "But Cheryl's here in Greenwich!"

    "Exactly, Cheryl hired a woman look a like to 
substitute for her for quite some time."

    "Why are you at Kennedy?"

    "He sent his secretary with the package on a red eye 
flight from San Francisco that will be landing shortly.  
Then I'll drive up to your house."

    "No, you can't be seen here."

    "All right, where?"

    "How about the Rye Town Hilton?  Meet me by the 
staircase by the Westchester Ballroom in two hours."

    "Fine.  The plane's about to land, see you there."

    'What the hell is going on?' Janet asked herself.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    Janet waited outside the ballroom, pacing on the 
carpet.  Blanca was probably stuck in traffic, thought 
Janet.

    "Can I help you?" asked a hotel staff worker.

    "I'm waiting for a friend," Janet answered.

    Just then at the end of the corridor, Janet watched as 
Blanca walked in.

    "Blanca!" called Janet.

    Blanca quickly strode over, puffing as she sought to 
catch her breath.  Her face was flushed red from the 
outside cold.

    "Janet, glad you're here.  Can we go somewhere 
private?"

    "There was a sales meeting here a little while ago, 
the door's open."

    Janet opened the door, which was really a conference 
room, not a ballroom in the usual sense since it could be 
separated into three small rooms.

    "Good," said Blanca as they walked inside and closed 
the door to the empty room.

    "Well?"

    "Here."

    From her soft leather briefcase Blanca removed a large 
package, bound with tape.  On the top were the words "To be 
Opened by Janet Davis Only."  Below the words was Erica's 
distinctive signature.

    "Aren't you going to open it?" asked Blanca, as she 
poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the table.

    "Sit down, I have a confession to make first," said 
Janet.

    "Go ahead."

    "Erica and Andrea didn't die in the plane crash in 
Mexico.  Andrea is alive and well, living in Taos New 
Mexico.  The whole thing was a set-up."

    "What?" gasped Blanca.

    "Erica was dying of leukemia for the last years of her 
life, she was seriously ill and weak.  She didn't want to 
be remembered as an object of pity, of sympathy, a Domme 
who couldn't hold a crop.  So she and Andrea created the 
competition between Tiffany and myself to succeed her."

    "Why?"

    "To see which of her slaves was the better Mistress.  
I was, by virtue of the fact that I was a better stock 
market player, management of the house, and proper conduct.  
Unlike Tina, who had allied herself with Lauren, Erica's 
enemy."

    "I understand now," said Blanca, "Erica wanted to see 
that she was to be remembered for her replacement.  That's 
why you've acquired the aura of Erica's reputation."

    "Yes.  I'm sorry that I've concealed the truth from 
you, Blanca.  I was obeying my Mistress, even after her 
death."

    "Understood."

    Janet opened a small Swiss Army Knife that she carried 
in her purse, and cut the tape on the package.  Inside were 
a series of envelopes, plus a wrapped rectangular object.

    "Letters for me, you, Cheryl, and Stephanie.  Plus 
this," Janet held the object, which she shook in her hand, 
"videotape."

    Janet opened her letter, and handed Blanca hers.  They 
stared at each other, then Janet opened hers and passed the 
knife to Blanca.

    "I didn't know!" cried Blanca, shock in her face after 
she had read her letter.

    "But I did."

    "This changes everything!"

    "No, this changes nothing.  Cheryl forced herself on 
me in June.  She wanted me to train her as a slave, hand 
her over to a another Domme, then make her final demand."

    "Which is?"

    "To use me in the Dungeon, alone."

    "You can't, Janet.  She'll hurt you, thinking the way 
she does."

    "I don't think that she feels that way anymore," Janet 
answered.

    "Why?"

    "Because I've trained her, because she knows and 
understands what it means to both feel and hold the crop."

    "You're very confident about your own abilities, 
Janet.  To place yourself at her mercy!"

    "All right then," Janet spied a pile of stationary on 
a table, and some envelopes.

    Janet wrote out something, then removed a key from her 
purse.  She placed it in the envelope along with the letter 
that she had just written.

    "I sent Tina off to Lori in Brookline, but knowing her 
she's probably at Stephanie's now.  Which is where you're 
going, with that envelope."

    "What's in here?"

    "Instructions for Stephanie and Tina, if I'm right 
about my companion.  They're going to be the calavry."

    "What are you going to do?" questioned Blanca.

    "Submit myself to Cheryl Branford, just as she wants.  
I made a contract with her, and I intend to honor it."

    "If I had a pair of cuffs now, I'd lock you to the 
chair, since you're totally mad."

    "Perhaps I am, but I don't think that Cheryl means to 
hurt me now."

    "Good luck Janet," said Blanca as she kissed her 
friend on the cheek.

    "I'll need it," answered Janet.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    When Janet returned to the Mansion, she kept glancing 
at her watch.  Even though it was hours until Cheryl would 
arrive, Janet wanted to be ready for her.

    Janet stripped her clothes off in the bedroom, then 
padded around naked as the tub filled.  

    "What?" said Janet to herself when she saw movement 
behind her.

    It was then that she felt a cloth pressed to her face 
with the sickly sweet odor of chloroform before she passed 
out, the walls spinning.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    "Good afternoon, sleepyhead," said Cheryl.

    When Janet came to, she found that she was naked, 
collared, and bracelets were locked to her wrists and 
ankles.  She was seated on the floor with her back to the 
bed, wrists locked behind her back, and a spreader bar 
locked to her ankles.

    "Cheryl, how?"

    "While you were out, I paid someone to let me in the 
house.  Money can buy everything, you know."

    "What are you going to do with me?" asked Janet.

    "Worried aren't you?" smiled Cheryl when she answered.

    "Yes."

    "Anything that I want, Mistress.  You're helpless, and 
at my mercy.  I can use you any way I choose, to my heart's 
desire."

    "You said you wouldn't hurt me," protested Janet.

    "True."

    "Ah!" cried Janet.

    Cheryl had been hiding a riding crop behind her back, 
and she had cruelly struck Janet's breasts with an 
unexpected stroke.  An evil grin spread across her face.

    Then Cheryl got to her knees next to Janet, and began 
to lick and suck at Janet's nipples, teasing them erect.  
At the same time, her right hand snaked between Janet's 
thighs and began to trace the outline of her sex, making 
Janet moan with anticipation.

    "No Janet, I'm not going to give you a climax, not yet 
anyway.  You're quite a sexual person, aren't you?"

    "What do you want with me?" asked Janet.

    "I've got everything that I want right now.  The famed 
Mistress Janet, helpless at my feet.  I'll get dressed, do 
you mind if I wear some of your clothes?"

    "Go ahead, I can't stop you," answered Janet.

    "Oh how very droll, Mistress.  I'll give you something 
to think about while I'm dressing."

     Janet watched as Cheryl opened her night table, and 
removed a vibrator.  Cheryl the flipped the switch on and 
it made a buzzing noise.

    "Open wide," ordered Cheryl.

    Janet obliged, and Cheryl forced the vibrator into her 
sex all the way that she could.  The buzzing vibrator 
instantly excited Janet, making her hot and wet.

    "Keep that in your cunt," threatened Cheryl, "or there 
will be worse to come."

    Janet watched as Cheryl stripped off her clothes, 
revealing that she wore no underwear.  Naked, Cheryl walked 
around Janet's bedroom, and opened her dresser drawers.

    "Nice collection of undies, Janet.  Bet you must be 
Victoria's Secret's best customer.  Good thing that we're 
about the same size."

    Cheryl selected a matching bra and panty set of black 
lace, and put them on quickly.  Then she removed one panty 
from the drawer, along with a single black stocking then 
closed it.  Cheryl then advanced on Janet, who remained 
helpless on the floor.

    "How's that cunt of yours?" asked Cheryl.

    "Fine, thank you."

    "Vibrator still inside?"

    Cheryl then reached between Janet's legs and tweaked 
the buzzing vibrator.  It was still held firmly in place.

    "You must have one trained sex, Mistress," commented 
Cheryl as she balled up the panty she was holding, "open 
wide."

    Cheryl then stuffed the panty into Janet's mouth, then 
wrapped the stocking around then tied a knot at the back of 
her head.

    "Mmmmmmph!" cried Janet.

    "You're mine, Mistress.  All mine for one night.  I'll 
do with you as I please, everything from a spanking to 
suspending you from the ceiling and striping that lovely 
body of yours.  And you'll never know the reason why," 
taunted Cheryl as she walked into the closet to select some 
fetishwear.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    Cheryl sat in Janet's chair, wearing a black leather 
bodysuit and a pair of high heels.  On the carpet knelt 
Janet, naked and helpless.  Once Cheryl had dressed she had 
unlocked the spreader bar and removed the vibrator.  Then 
she had pulled Janet to her feet, and had marched her down 
to the Dungeon, pushing Janet to her knees.

    Janet had not resisted or fought, or even tried to 
run.  Instead, she had allowed herself to be taken down to 
the Dungeon.  She knelt with the gag still in her mouth, in 
the pose of submission that she had taught Cheryl.

    "I would have thought that you would have tried 
something, Janet.  But you are here at my mercy doesn't 
that scare you?  The whip, the crop, and the cane are all 
available for my use.  I could hurt you badly, Mistress."

    Instead of grunting through her gag, Janet remained 
silent.  She bit down on the panty inside her mouth, glad 
for the dignity that the fabric gave her.

    Frustrated, Cheryl rose to her feet and untied the 
stocking, and pulled the panty from Janet's mouth, leaving 
Janet gasping for breath as Cheryl resumed her seat on the 
throne like chair.

    "Thank you, Mistress!" panted Janet, her chest heaving 
from the deep breaths that she now took.

    "You're welcome, slave."

    "Why do you want to hurt me?" asked Janet.

    "What did you say?"

    "I have trained you with the utmost care and respect 
that I was capable of, I tested you to your limits but 
never exceeded them, and treated you as a caring Domme and 
now you want to hurt me.  Why?"

    "That's my affair, Mistress," curtly answered Cheryl.

    "You said that you had me investigated before you 
forced yourself upon me.  What did your investigations 
show?"

    "Mistress..."

    Janet watched as the question that she had planted in 
Cheryl's mind brought her to mental confusion.  A few 
moments earlier, she had been gloating over having Janet 
helpless at her feet.

    "What did you find out about me?" asked Janet.

    "That, that, you were a good Mistress," slowly 
answered Cheryl, her voice breaking.

    "Have I hurt you?  Humiliated you in any way?  Treated 
you badly?"

    "No, Mistress," answered Cheryl.

    "Made you kneel on the floor and eat out of a dog 
dish, for example?"

    "No, Mistress, you did not."

    "When you left here every Sunday, how did you feel?"

    "Pleased," Cheryl answered quietly, as if she was 
ashamed of the answer.

    "So you liked your treatment?"

    "Yes."

    "And you found out that I was an honorable Mistress, 
didn't you?"

    "Yes."

    "There was no need to drug me, Cheryl.  I said that I 
would willingly submit to you, and I was going to bathe and 
prepare myself.  Instead, you invaded my home and drugged 
me.  Why?"

    "Because I didn't believe that you would submit, 
Janet."

    "I have done everything that you asked and more, 
Cheryl.  Even letting a MaleDom use you."

    "Why did you have to do that?" suddenly cried Cheryl.

    "Because I thought that you might want to be used by a 
man, and Craig was visiting.  He told me later that you 
were a good submissive, in the Dungeon and later in bed."

    "I'll never be able to separate my normal sexual 
feelings from submission because of you, Mistress!" cried 
Cheryl.

    "My purpose as a Domme is to determine your sexual 
needs, Cheryl.  Even if you don't understand them 
yourself."

    "If you're thinking that I'll release you, I won't.  I 
have you at my mercy, Mistress.  I won't let you go."

    "I haven't asked to be released, have I?"

    "No, Mistress," answered Cheryl.

    "Then why do want to hurt me?"

    "Because you took someone close to me and turned her 
into a slave, Mistress," answered Cheryl, anger in her 
voice.

    "Was this person the worse for it?  Are you the worse 
for your discovery that you are a submissive?" asked Janet.

    Cheryl suddenly was silent, not answering Janet's 
question.  Her inner conflict now played itself out on her 
face.

    "I'm not a submissive!" cried Cheryl, "no!"

    "Then you are certainly a good actress, Cheryl.  You 
have been trained and have performed very well in the last 
six months.  I know when a person is acting Cheryl, and 
when they're not.  You're a very good submissive Cheryl.  
You enjoy the cuffs on your wrists, spankings, and your use 
in bed."

    "NO!"

    "Face the truth Cheryl, you're a submissive and you 
enjoyed my training!"

    "I'm going to use you Mistress, here and now in your 
own Dungeon.  I'm going to make you cry and moan, just as 
you did with me."

    "All right, Cheryl.  Just use me as I trained you, 
with love and respect."

    "When were you last whipped Mistress?" asked Cheryl, 
"I'll bet that it was a long time ago?"

    "Six months ago," answered Janet, "just before you 
arrived.  Once a year I submit to Mistress Stephanie so 
that I may never forget what the lash feels like."

    "How proper you are."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

"I'm going to spank you now, slave.  Perhaps a few strokes 
with the paddle on your bottom.  Get ready, Mistress!" said 
Cheryl.

    Cheryl then pulled Janet again to her feet, then 
marched her over to the padded bench.  She then sat down, 
and pulled Janet over her knee.  Janet noted that Cheryl 
had already placed the paddle on the bench in advance.

    "You may count each stroke, slave.  And thank me after 
every five."

    "Yes, Mistress!"

    Cheryl raised Janet's bound arms, and then struck a 
savage blow with her hand.

    "One!"

    "Two!"

    "Three!"

    "Four!"

    "Five! Thank you, Mistress!"

    Janet felt the skin on her bottom slowly warm as it 
was struck.  She had not been spanked for a long time 
indeed.

    "Six!"

    "Seven!"

    "Eight!"

    "Nine!"

    "Ten!  Thank you Mistress!"

    Crack!

    "Ah!" cried Janet, the force of the paddle staggering 
her with its effect.

    "Continue, slut!"

    "Eleven!"

    "Twelve!"

    "Fifteen! Thank you, Mistress!"

    Crack!

    "Sixteen!"

    "Eighteen!"

    "Twenty! Thank you, Mistress!"

    "Very good, Janet," commented Cheryl as she let Janet 
kneel on the floor.

    "Thank you, Mistress!"

    "Did you like the paddle?"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Cheryl offered the paddle to Janet, and she kissed it 
without having been ordered to.  Then Janet knelt in 
silence, awaiting Cheryl's next use of her.

    "I want to flog you," said Cheryl.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Nothing, no resistance?  Or protest?" asked Cheryl.

    "No, Mistress, none.  I would have submitted to you 
without the chloroform."

    "Why?"

    "Because I trained you, Cheryl.  Because you know 
right from wrong.  Or at least I hope you do," answered 
Janet.

    "You're not going to beg me to stop?" asked Cheryl.

    "No, Mistress.  Please flog me?"

    Cheryl then slapped Janet across her cheek, the sound 
clearly audible in the Dungeon.  Janet fell to the floor, 
as she lost the balance that she had on her knees.

    "Why can't you be scared of me?" screamed Cheryl.

    "Because I was once nearly killed by a Domme who was 
evil," Janet answered.

    Cheryl then pulled Janet to her feet, then over to the 
ceiling chain.  Releasing her wrists from behind her back, 
Cheryl then locked Janet's wrists to the chain.  She then 
activated the motor control, and soon Janet was hanging by 
her wrists.

    "Prepare to be flogged, Janet!"

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "No need to count, Janet."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    Cheryl had selected a flogger made of heavy leather 
strands that would mark on contact.  She hefted it in her 
hands, feeling the weight.  When Janet looked into her 
eyes, Cheryl looked back at her in anger.

    "I'm going to leave your skin on fire, Janet."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    Cheryl then began to strike, the flogger leaving red 
marks wherever it landed.  Janet's entire body shook with 
every stroke.

    "Ah!"

    "Ah!"

    "Ah!"

    "Ah!" cried Janet with every stroke.

    Janet dug her nails into her palms as she was flogged, 
her body one mass of pain as Cheryl would strike her in one 
place, then move on to another.  Her underarms, breasts, 
thighs, and sex all were the target of the flogger, and 
Cheryl didn't stop.

    Each stroke left Janet gasping as she cried out after 
each one marked her.  Tears fell from her eyes.

    "Open your legs, slave."

    Janet did as she was ordered, and the flogger found 
it's way onto her sex and the inside of her thighs.  Cheryl 
relentlessly continued to use Janet without pause or mercy.

    "Slut!" cried Cheryl, "you're a slut, Mistress!"

    "Painslut, Cheryl," gasped Janet, "I'm stronger than 
you, Cheryl.  Much stronger."

    "No!"

    Cheryl ceased using the flogger, only to take a crop 
from the cabinet to replace it.  She flexed it in front of 
Janet, holding it in her hands.

    "Kiss the crop," ordered Cheryl.

    "Yes, Mistress."

    Janet kissed the crop, only to be rewarded with a 
series of slicing strokes across her breasts and thighs.  
She hung in her chains, moaning when the crop would strike 
her especially hard.

    "Twenty," stated Janet.

    "What was that?"

    "You used twenty strokes on me, Mistress," said Janet.

    "I wasn't counting, slut."

    "You should have, Cheryl.  Because I taught you to be 
responsible."

    "What does that mean?"

    "To properly care from the submissive under your 
control, and to know the amount of use that they can take."

    Recessed into the ceiling were the lights, which could 
be bright or dim depending on their control.  Janet looked 
up, and saw that one light had begun to flash on and off.  
The security system override had been activated.

    "You forgot to ask me for a safeword, Cheryl."

    "Go ahead, then, Mistress."

    "Alana Peters."

    "NO!" screamed Cheryl, "NO!"

    She grabbed a ball gag, then thrust it into Janet's 
mouth.  Cheryl then picked up the single tail whip, and 
lashed at Janet with all of her might, breaking Janet's 
skin, the blood flowing down her back.

    Stroke after stroke hit Janet, tears falling from her 
eyes.  The gag prevented her from pleading, just like 
before.

    Cheryl continued to beat Janet, oblivious to anything 
else.  The thick Dungeon door burst open, and Tina and 
Stephanie raced inside.          The look of horror on 
Tina's face was shocking.

    "Janet!" screamed Tina.

    Tina tackled Cheryl in a few strides, knocking her off 
balance.  From her belt Tina removed a pair of handcuffs 
that she cruelly locked on Cheryl's wrists.  Then she 
placed a ballgag in her mouth, and drew the roller buckle 
tight.

    Stephanie removed Janet's gag, then they both released 
her.  Tina held onto Janet as they sat her on the bench, 
Janet's blood on their hands.

    "Are you all right?" asked Stephanie.

    "I hurt," said Janet, "nothing that some rest won't 
cure."

    "You've been badly used."

    "Yes," Janet weakly answered.

    Tina dragged Cheryl to her feet, then forced her to 
her knees in front of Janet.

    "What do you want me to do with her, Mistress?" asked 
Tina.

    "Take her to the library after my wounds have been 
treated," ordered Janet.

    "Why shouldn't I hang her from the ceiling and whip 
her until she bleeds, Mistress?"

    "Because she's Erica's sister, Tina," Janet calmly 
explained.
    *        *        *        *        *        *
    After Stephanie had dressed the wounds, Janet had 
dressed in her nightgown and bathrobe.  Janet then asked 
that they go to the library to conclude the events of the 
evening.

    Janet sat at her desk, with Stephanie in a chair 
beside her.  Cheryl sat in a chair, her arms still bound 
behind her back, and the ballgag still in her mouth, with 
Tina next to her.

    "Janet, you really should go to bed, you've suffered a 
tremendous shock," said Stephanie.

    "I'm all right, Stephanie, thank you.  I'll rest 
later.  Thank you for being my friend."

    "I'll always be your friend, Janet," answered 
Stephanie.

    "You might not be after we're done tonight."

    "Why?"

    "Give me my purse," asked Janet, "now we begin.  Tina, 
you may remove her gag."

    "I'm not saying anything!" protested Cheryl when her 
mouth was free.

    "You don't have to, your sister will do the talking.  
Stephanie, I have a confession to make.  Erica and Andrea 
didn't die in the plane crash in Mexico back in June 1993.  
She really died three years later from a car accident, in a 
new life that she had created.  Andrea is still alive, and 
lives in New Mexico."

    "Why?" cried Stephanie.

    "Because she was dying of leukemia that didn't respond 
to treatment at first.  From 1992 on, just after I had 
begun to serve her, she was sick.  I always wondered why 
she never took me to bed, even though I was eager to please 
her.  She was sick and dying and did not want to be an 
object of pity and sympathy.  Instead, she wanted to choose 
her replacement in a grand manner, in the competition 
between Tiffany and myself."

    "I never knew, I saw that she tired easily, but Erica 
never said a word to me!"

    "That's all right, Stephanie.  Now we come to the 
question of Cheryl, here.  Tina, unlock her handcuffs.  She 
has some reading to do."

    "Yes, Mistress."

    "Six months ago," Janet began, "after I returned from 
my vacation to Stephanie's, at the Charity event last June, 
Cheryl forced herself upon me, threatening to expose me if 
I did not train her as a slave and fulfill her demands.  I 
agreed to them in order to avoid public exposure and 
humiliation.  Cheryl did not want me to investigate her to 
discover her true identity, which is that she is Erica's 
younger sister.  Cheryl please read this letter that I 
received this morning that a lawyer was supposed to send me 
years ago, but didn't realize his mistake until your 
substitute had a car accident on Wednesday in San 
Francisco."

    Tina removed the cuffs, and passed the letter to 
Cheryl, who still looked bitter and resentful.  She began 
to read silently, then tears formed at the corner of her 
eyes.

    "Read it aloud, Cheryl."

    "My dear Janet," Cheryl began, her voice breaking with 
emotion, "I am writing this at a lawyers office in San 
Francisco because I have unwittingly placed you in danger.  
When I submitted myself to you as a slave, I failed to tell 
you of my younger sister, Cheryl Branford, who lives in San 
Francisco.  Mine was not a happy family, Janet.  When I had 
you investigated I discovered that you had been raised in a 
proper house with a mother and father.  How I envied you, 
for money is no guarantee of happiness."

    "Continue, Cheryl."

    "I was born into a wealthy household that was wracked 
by constant arguments and fights.  Finally my father left 
for California, and my younger sister with him.  My mother 
changed back to her maiden name, and changed my name as 
well.  Cheryl chose her father's name."

    "I did not stay in contact with my sister, but she did 
say that she was guilty about not being closer with her 
mother.  When Eve died of a sudden heart attack, she grew 
to hate me, saying that I had abandoned her to live my life 
as a slave, having changed my face and name after my car 
accident."

    "When I went to explain to her why I had given you the 
estate, Cheryl said that I was a sexual pervert.  That you 
were an enchantress who had conned me out of the estate and 
my fortune, then Cheryl threw me out of her Mansion, never 
to see me again."

    "What Cheryl never wanted to hear was that I was dying 
of leukemia, and wanted to take revenge on you.  First 
because she had taken no interest in Eve, our mother, and 
second for her wrongful perception of how you had come into 
my estate."

    "Cheryl has said that she may one day come East and 
take revenge against you.  I do not know what form this 
will take, but in her Mansion I did see some D/s novels."

    "For you are my heir, Janet.  From the beginning, I 
had a secret plan for you to succeed me.  Please forgive 
me, Janet.  I used you, denied you my bed, sent you to 
Stephanie, striped and beat you to ready you for the 
competition with Tiffany."

    "In the library you will find a safe containing all of 
my journals from 1980 when the car accident placed me on 
the path to my submission to 1992 when I set up my own 
death and the competition.  I know you will read them for 
you always wanted to know more about me."  

    "Read the end, Cheryl."

    "I want to say in closing that the reports that I have 
heard indicate that you have more than lived up to my 
expectations for you.  You have done well, Janet.  I shall 
always love you, deeply and with all of my heart.  Please 
forgive me, Janet.  I have written additional letters for 
Stephanie, Blanca, and a letter and tape for Cheryl.  I 
love you, signed Erica Riken."

    Cheryl broke down in tears, the sounds of her crying 
filling the library.  Janet passed a sealed envelope to 
Stephanie from her purse, and laid Cheryl's on the desk 
with the videotape as well.

    "Erica died the following day in a car accident, she 
never called to tell me about Cheryl," described Janet, 
"I'll never know if she was responding to treatment, or 
dying.  But once I assumed her position as Dominatrix, she 
never came back to reclaim her title or estate, which she 
gave to me as the victor of her competition."

    "I'm sorry, Mistress!" cried Cheryl, "I thought that 
you had taken the estate from Alana.  I had it all wrong, I 
didn't listen to her!"

    "It's all right, Cheryl.  Stephanie, I think that I'm 
ready for bed now."

    "I'll always be your friend Janet.  Always."

    "Thank you, Stephanie."

Epilogue

Six Months Later

    The leather conference was in Los Angeles, and Janet 
and Stephanie had decided to make a true vacation out of 
it.  They had taken Tina and Camille with them, to make it 
a truly memorable experience.

    The conference was held over a weekend, and the four 
of them attended numerous panels and discussions, and had 
played with many other Dommes and their slaves.  They had 
filled a couple of suitcases with purchases of toys to 
bring back home.

    Then they had gone to Disneyland, since Janet had 
never been to California before.  They spent days there, 
with Janet determined to ride and see everything.  In the 
hotel room, Stephanie had taken a picture of Janet in a 
Catsuit wearing Mouse ears.

    Before they left for home, there was one final duty to 
perform.  They had driven to Santa Monica, to a quiet 
cemetery.  Purchasing flowers before they entered, Janet 
remembered that Erica loved flowers.  There were always 
fresh flowers in the house whenever Janet would serve her 
Mistress.

    The grave was a simple one, with the name "Alana 
Peters" 1957-1996 chiseled into the stone.  Janet and 
Stephanie placed the flowers into the small cups near the 
grave.

    "She was my Domme, who I loved so much," said Janet, 
her voice choked with sobs.

    "Mine too," added Stephanie.

From the Diary of Cheryl Branford
    It is now six months since I have left Connecticut, 
and serving Mistress Janet.  And my life has been changed 
forever.
    My penalty for using Janet without a chance to plead 
for mercy was to serve her for 24 hours a day, seven days a 
week, for a month.  Which I readily agreed to.  My 
punishment, in addition to being used by Janet (once she 
had recovered from my beating) and Tina, was to read my 
sister's entire journal from start to finish.
    Mistress Janet offered to give me Erica's diaries but 
I refused, as she is the one who Erica designated to have 
them.  But she did ask if I wanted a copy of them, and I 
accepted.
    When I was set free to leave, Janet drove me to the 
airport and pressed an envelope into my hand.  She said I 
would know when to open it.
    Two months after returning home, I passed a sex shop 
in San Francisco and went inside.  I was immediately 
sexually excited by the scent of leather and latex.
    When I went home, I opened the envelope.  Within was a 
list of Masters and Mistresses, all friends of Janet in 
California.
    But the one I wanted was the first, Master Craig.  I 
called him, and have been serving him for months now.  
Every weekend I drive to Los Angeles where he lives, and he 
uses me.  I wear his ring, collar, and ankle bracelet.  And 
carry his love inside my heart.
    I went in search of my sister's sexuality to hurt her 
heir and replacement and in the process I discovered my own 
submissive feelings.  I enjoy the lash and crop, the 
ballgag and paddle.  Just as Janet told me, she understood 
my own sexuality better than I do.  The feeling of freedom 
and release when I submit to Craig, and when he takes me 
sexually I am fulfilled.
    One day, I shall return to Greenwich and again place 
myself in submission to Mistress Janet.  Only after I have 
served Craig and he allows my use by another, for I am now 
his slave.
    There is no way that I can repay the agony that I 
placed Janet through in the six months that she trained me, 
fearing the viper in her midst.  Strangely, she bore me no 
ill will.  Instead, she made certain that I understood the 
nature of Dominance and submission.
    As I sit here alone, writing my journal I feel a 
strange kinship with my sister that I never had before.  
Alana must have put herself though hell making the decision 
to shed her life and become Erica.  I now partially 
understand what she must have felt emotionally.
    I have asked Craig if I may wear Janet's ring on my 
hand also, and he has agreed.  For Erica lives on in Janet, 
of that I am sure.
    In the last twelve months I have experienced the lash 
and the crop, bondage, and the love of other women.  My 
body has been used in ways that I never conceived even when 
I devised confronting Mistress Janet.
    In serving Craig I am happier than I have ever been 
before, a lover who will place me on my knees or over his.  
I go to work with a sore bottom, and stripes under my 
designer suits.
    When I am naked and collared, and serving Craig, I am 
free for the first time in my life.  For that I must thank 
Mistress Janet, who I shall forever love as my first Domme.  
Just as Janet, I believe, loved Mistress Erica.
    Mistress Janet confronted me with the truth about my 
submissiveness, which I did not want to accept at first.  
But now that I understand my sister, I have also come to 
understand myself as well.

    The End