The Dealer and the Dungeon

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abrank
Tightly Hogtied
Posts: 168
Joined: 20 Apr 2006, 21:42
Location: United States

The Dealer and the Dungeon

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Abrank
Jan 2021

Chapter 1: First Meeting

It was a long drive to the Marriott Hotel so Patrick took Friday off from his regular work. He could have flown but she had ordered him to drive.

He spent a mostly sleepless night at the hotel, worried whether he was doing the right thing. What would she do to him, could he withstand the pain, would he be able to buy it? He motivated himself with the thought that he could endure a lot for fifty million dollars.

He had a quick breakfast and checked out. He drove to the parking garage she had designated and parked in the area she had specified. She seemed to have considered every detail; instructing him to shave his body hair, how to dress, and what to bring.

At precisely nine o’clock he received the phone call he was expecting. The woman’s voice seemed friendly and empathetic; not harsh and disdainful as he had been expecting. His concern was slightly alleviated; perhaps the session would not be as arduous as he had feared.

He told her where he was parked and a few minutes later a young attractive woman knocked on his window. She was dressed in ordinary clothes and not as tall as he expected. Her hair also seemed darker than in the photos on her website; he wondered if she had photoshopped them. Seeing her face for the first time, he was surprised that she was pretty, and wondered why she wore a mask in all her photos. Her face, like her voice, seemed friendly.

She motioned him to open the window. “Show me your driver’s license,” she ordered, and he dutifully took it out of his wallet.

She examined it carefully and handed it back. “Do you have the balance of the money?”

“Here,” he said handing her a sealed envelope.

“Leave your phone in the car and step out.”

She ordered him to lock the car and stand facing it with his hands behind his back. She handcuffed his wrists together and he heard clicks as she tightened the cuffs. He had never been handcuffed before and began to feel a strange mixture of panic and sexual excitement as he realized he was now her helpless prisoner.

“You are not carrying a camera or any electrical device?” she asked.

“No, I’m not,” he replied, wondering if he should call her ‘Mistress’.

“I have to make sure,” she said and began to pat him down. Her touch was quite firm and he felt increasing sexual excitement as she put her hands in the pockets of his jeans, and then pressed up under his crotch.

“Is this really necessary?” he complained.

“Be quiet,” she reprimanded. “You are only to speak in answer to a question.”

After she has completed her examination, he felt her drape something soft over the handcuffs. She held a pair of sunglasses up in front of his face. “Keep still,” she commanded as she put them on him. They were wrap-around style and completely opaque. He was effectively blinded.

“I am Jay,” she announced, “and I’m going to take you to Mistress Branika. I would like you to cooperate fully with me, but I’ll be happy to tell Mistress Branika anything you want. What do you want me to say to her?”

He was surprised that she was not the dominatrix he had come to meet. He had not considered that Mistress Branika might have an assistant, but it seemed reasonable; there could be a lot of menial work associated with keeping clients in captivity. He was also puzzled by Jay’s question. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if you want to be punished, I can say that you didn’t cooperate with me.”

“And if you don’t say anything?”

“Oh, I have to say something. You must have done something to deserve punishment, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“What punishment does she give for non-cooperation?” he asked.

“It depends on what I tell her. If I say you were slow to obey my orders, it will be a simple whipping and bondage. If I say you resisted it will be a harsh whipping and predicament bondage. If I say you tried to escape, she will whip you bloody, and if I say you attacked me, she will severely torture you. Unless you are a real diehard masochist, I don’t recommend the last option.”

“OK, tell her I was slow to obey.” He did not want to be whipped, that was the thing he feared the most. But he knew he had to endure it if he was to achieve his objective; it was one of the things she emphasized on her website.

Jay took his arm. “Come with me, I’ll lead you to the car.”

Patrick worried that being blind, he would not be able to accomplish one of his objectives which was to discover the location of Mistress Branika’s dungeon.

She made him sit in the car and buckled him in. He felt her lift his jeans and push his socks down, then something cold around his ankles. He waited until he heard her get in the driver’s seat then tried pulling his ankles apart, discovering that she had connected them with a short length of chain.

She drove slowly out of the garage only stopping once, presumably to pay the parking fee. He wondered if anyone could see him. He supposed that if this was their usual way of picking up clients, the car would have dark tinted windows.

They drove through some city streets and then seemed to get onto a highway. “How far are we going?” he asked.

“No talking. My job is only to deliver you to Mistress Branika.” She was silent for a minute then added, “You seem nervous, is this your first session?”

It was, but he didn’t want to admit it, so he carefully replied, “This will be my first session with Mistress Branika.” The words implied he had had sessions with other dominatrices. He hoped she didn’t ask the obvious follow-up question.

He was relieved when, after a slight pause, all she said was, “I have some advice for you. Listen to what she says and obey her as quickly as you can. Answer her questions, but don’t say or ask her anything unless you want to be punished.”

Disappointed that Jay was not going to reveal where they were headed, he thought back to their earlier conversation. He realized that, in telling her what to say to Mistress Branika, he was topping from below. Even though Mistress Branika would theoretically be in complete control of the session, he would nevertheless be controlling her actions to some extent. He wondered how else he would be in control; by the intensity of his cries of pain, by a safe word?

This was to be his first session with a dominatrix. He had read about such sessions and learned that having a safe word was an essential safety precaution. In corresponding with Mistress Branika the topic had not arisen, but he thought that since she was a professional, she would surely provide one.

It was a long ride, and he moved his arms occasionally to restore feeling to his hands, parts of which had become numb. Eventually, the car stopped and Jay helped him alight. She led him along level ground, slowly because of his ankle chain. They ascended some steps and entered a building. She pulled him into a room and seated him on a hard chair.

She removed his glasses and told him to wait while she informed Mistress Branika that he had arrived. She left the room closing the door behind her.

Patrick looked around and saw that he was in an office with a desk and filing cabinets. Looking down he saw that Jay had padlocked his ankle chain to a ring set into the floor. The chair he was sitting on was metal, and its legs had been screwed to the floor.

He noted that the high ceiling was decorated with plaster consistent with the style of the room he had seen in one of the photographs on Mistress Branika’s website.

o-O-o

It was this photograph that had induced him to place himself in his present situation. It showed Mistress Branika sitting in a chair in an elegant room. As in all her photos, she was dressed in black leather, high-heeled boots, and wore a black mask. A female servant stood to the side of her, offering her a glass of wine on a silver platter. This servant was dressed in a short black dress, extremely high heels, and a black hood that covered her head except for her eyes. A wide leather strap covered her mouth, and steel bands connected by chains encircled her neck, waist, wrists, and ankles.

Although his emotional interest was captured by the two women, his professional interest took over when he noticed two paintings on the wall behind the chair. The first was a landscape in the Hudson Valley style, probably executed in the 19th century. Only a very small part of the second painting was visible, but he thought it looked familiar. After enhancing the photo, he recognized it as one of the world’s lost masterpieces. It had been looted by the Nazis during the Second World War and never recovered.

He wondered what was it doing in the house of a dominatrix in America? He thought that some American soldier might have stolen it during the chaos at the end of the war and taken it home. Perhaps he stole other paintings which would explain the elegant house.

Patrick was an art historian and a minor dealer in fine paintings. He had researched the art looted by the Nazis and thought the painting could now be worth about a hundred million dollars at auction. If he could acquire the painting for a hundred thousand dollars or so and sell it, he could make fifty million dollars or more. He was a generous man and intended to give a few million dollars to the current owner as compensation after successful authentication and sale. The original Jewish owners and their children had died in concentration camps, so he thought there would be no major legal problems in claiming ownership of the painting.

Although it was difficult to identify the painting, and perhaps very few art historians would stumble across the dominatrix’s photograph, he decided to act quickly. He searched online but could find nothing about Mistress Branika other than the information on her website. He did not want to inform her that she had a valuable painting; he wanted the profit for himself.

He emailed her asking for information about her dungeon but received no reply. He reasoned she was probably only interested in hearing from potential clients, so he wrote to her again saying he wanted to have a session with her. She replied saying that she was accepting only a few clients from the many applications she was receiving. Her reply specified a procedure that he had to follow to even be considered. He had to provide detailed information about himself, a copy of his driver’s license, explain in detail what kind of session he wanted, and pay for a background check. She was no longer conducting short sessions, the minimum length for the first session was two days, and any subsequent sessions would be longer.

Lacking experience, it was difficult for him to explain what he wanted and he spent many hours online looking for information on dominatrix sessions. Thinking about the photo of the maid in chains, he thought this might be one of the things Mistress Branika wanted. If he were such a maid, it might give him an opportunity to see the picture and make an offer to buy it from her. In several of her photos, she was holding a whip and he saw this as a hint. He wrote that he wanted to serve her in any way she wanted, be kept in bondage, and punished by whipping. He included a generous tip with the fee for the background check.

Two days later he received a reply. He had to give additional information on what he wanted and did not want in a session, and provide a video of himself explaining his desires.

After further correspondence, he was given a date in June for a weekend session.

o-O-o

The only picture in the office, in which he was now sitting, was a large black and white photograph of a nude man chained to an X cross. He was wearing a black hood with tubes attached. Weights were hanging from his nipples and balls.

As Patrick was wondering if the photo represented his own future, Mistress Branika entered the room. His penis stirred at the sight; he had never been so close to such a sexy woman.

She was dressed all in black as in her photos. He saw her face for the first time and was surprised to see how beautiful she was. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and pronounced cheekbones, and was wearing red lipstick. Her waist was tightly corseted which accentuated her breasts, and her tight black leggings were tucked into knee-high leather boots with high spike heels.

“You have rest of money?” she asked him. She spoke with a slight accent. Her face was expressionless, perhaps aloof.

“Here it is, Mistress,” responded Jay who had followed her into the room. Jay picked up the envelope from the desk and handed it to Mistress Branika who placed it, unopened, into a safe.

“Free him,” Mistress Branika commanded and Jay removed his handcuffs and ankle chain.

“Thank you,” he said.

Mistress Branika look at him sternly. “Every time you speak, you say Mistress.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress. I’ll remember in future.”

“Since this is first time you here,” Mistress Branika continued, “I give you chance to ask questions. This will be only time.”

“Why was I blindfolded on the way here?”

“I not want uninvited visitors.”

“Can you tell me what’s going to happen in our session? I know you are going to whip me, what else?”

“It depends on what I want, I not decided yet. And it depends on you, if you not follow rules then punishment.”

“How would you punish me?”

“Any way I want. But I follow your rules, I not kick or punch you.”

In their correspondence, he had specified some things he did not want her to do to him. It was clear that she was not going to be specific about the details of the session, and perhaps, as she indicated, she had not decided. One major question remained. “What is the safe word, Mistress? You know, a word that tells you I am in serious trouble.”

She looked at him disapprovingly, then said, “Safe word is ‘anemone red’. If you say it, I decide what to do. You will be punished for saying it.”

The safe word was clearly to be used only as a last resort.

Branika broke the ensuing silence. “If I ask how you feel, you say anemone green if you OK, anemone yellow if whip too hard or chains too tight, anemone blue if whip too soft or chains too loose, and anemone red if you die.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

“You practice say anemone red.”

He said it, slightly worried that this was an excuse to punish him.

“If you dying you say exactly like that, and I save you. You have more question for me?”

“No Mistress.” He didn’t need to ask any more questions since they had agreed on options for the scenario in their previous correspondence.

“Now you have one chance to leave without being in dungeon. If you stay you will be total under my control, and leave only when I decide.”

He was sure that she would not offer to refund his money if he decided to leave. But that was of little consequence compared to getting access to the painting. “Thank you, Mistress, I will stay.”

“Before dungeon, we make clear what we do. You read this to camera.” She handed him a typewritten sheet of paper and nodded to Jay who pressed a button on a camera sitting on the desk.

He began to read, “I, Patrick Stayman, am paying Mistress Branika to be trained by her in sexual techniques and domestic duties. All aspects of training will be chosen by Mistress Branika, but will not include breath play or fecal play. I understand there will be no sexual contact between us. I will obey her every command without hesitation and to the best of my ability. I will not speak except to truthfully answer questions. I will do my best to anticipate and satisfy her desires. I agree that Mistress Branika may use restraint and punishment as part of my training. Such punishment may include, but is not limited to, whipping, caning, electric shocks, and deprivation. The punishment may be intense but will not include kicking or punching, and will not cause permanent injury, visible scarring, or bloody wounds.”

The speech covered aspects of the sessions that they had agreed on. It was grammatically better than her conversational English, so he assumed she had help in writing it. He had insisted on excluding kicking and punching thinking that it would prevent ball-busting which she had expressed a desire to practice, but which he thought could cause long-term damage to his testicles.

After he had finished reading, Mistress Branika nodded with approval and then said, “You put on handcuffs to show you willing be restrained for duration of training. Only when you fully trained you be free.” She handed him a pair of handcuffs, and he clicked them closed around his wrists.

“You have much to learn. You must handcuff hands behind back, not in front.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress, I will do better next time.” He was annoyed with himself; the official session was perhaps only a few seconds old and he had already blundered. He should have known what she wanted; Jay had handcuffed his hands behind his back.

“I did not ask question, yet you speak.”

‘Oh my god!’ he thought. ‘I’ve made another mistake. She’s probably going to punish me.’

“Jay, take it down to dungeon and prepare it for inspection.”

He had become an ‘it’. Or perhaps always had been from her perspective. Jay opened the door and beckoned him to follow her.


Chapter 2: Into the Dungeon

Patrick followed Jay through another door and they descended wooden stairs. The dungeon was not the small stone-walled room he was expecting, but a large room with brick walls and several substantial brick pillars and columns. It was dimly lit with electric imitation candles, but his attention was caught by a number of bondage and torture devices. Three steel cages of different sizes were positioned against one wall. Scattered around the floor were wooden stocks, a wooden horse, and a couple of devices whose purpose was not clear. A wooden X cross was attached to a wall, and several chains hung from beams in the ceiling. More chains lay on the concrete floor, attached to rings set into the concrete.

Hanging on one wall were a variety of bondage and punishment devices; handcuffs, manacles, steel collars, whips, canes, and electric prods. Shelves were positioned against another wall and appeared to hold leather and other items. Next to the shelves were two tall steel cabinets.

As Jay led him across the floor, he noticed that the middle cage appeared to be occupied. He could not tell if the occupant was alive or a mannikin; the light was too dim, but he could see that it was wearing a hood resembling the one in the picture in the office. The thought that it might be a real person disturbed him; he was expecting to be the only client of Mistress Branika.

Jay positioned him between two rings set into the floor and ordered him to stand with his legs apart. She locked cuffs around his ankles and attached them by chains to the rings. He was facing away from the occupied cage and towards a brick wall. A single metal chair was positioned directly in front of him.

He heard a whirring noise above him and looked up. A horizontal bar supported by chains was descending. It just missed his head and passed close in front of his face stopping at chest height. Jay unlocked his handcuffs and then locked his wrists to cuffs attached to the bar, spreading his arms apart. He noted that the bar had holes so that cuffs could be attached to different places.

The whirring resumed, and the bar began to rise. The motor stopped just as his heels began to lift off the ground. he was now completely helpless with arms and legs chained wide apart in a vertical X position.

“Stay here while I tell Mistress Branika that you are ready for inspection,” Jay ordered. She was behind him so he could not tell if her little joke was intentional.

He heard her climb the stairs, and then there was silence. He could not see the occupied cage, so he listened intently for any sound. There was none.

The steel cuffs were pressing uncomfortably into his wrists. He recalled that in looking at internet photos of women suspended in a similar position, they usually seemed to be holding onto something with their hands rather than having all their weight taken by their wrists. By standing on tiptoe, he was able to grab the bar and so relieve the pressure on his wrists.

A few minutes later he heard footsteps on the floor above. Then the dungeon door opened and he heard someone descend the steps and approach him across the floor.

Branika appeared in front of him. She was dressed as before but was now holding a riding crop. “What have you brought me this time?” she asked. She moved close to him and looked down into his eyes. He wondered if he should look away but could not help looking directly up at her. He wondered why she did not show her face on the website; it would surely bring her more clients.

“His name is Patrick, Mistress,” Jay said as she followed Branika into his field of view.

“This one is not well trained,” Branika remarked continuing to look him in the eyes. “We need correct its behavior.”

He immediately looked down at her boots.

“And how was it?” Branika asked. “Did it give you any problems?”

“It was slow to obey my commands,” Jay replied.

“Slow, that is big problem,” Branika said ominously with emphasis on the word ‘big’. “We have to punish it.” She lifted his jaw with her crop and again looked directly into his eyes. “I have three big rules; obey orders no hesitation, always tell truth, and think only to please me.” She paused then added. “You promise me?”

“Yes Mistress,” he replied meekly looking down.

She nodded. “You are here to be trained, to have your behavior corrected, and to satisfy my desires. Your feelings are not important; you to think only of satisfying me. Is that clear?”

“Yes Mistress.”

She turned and sat down on the chair. She leaned back and looked up at him. “Undress it,” she commanded.

Jay, who had been carrying a large pair of scissors, immediately began to cut off his shirt. A rush of emotions assailed him, surprise, annoyance that she was destroying a shirt that he liked, and worry about how he was going to return home without any clothes.

When his shirt was shredded on the floor, Jay removed his wallet and car keys from his pockets, then proceeded to attack his jeans with her scissors. She seemed to enjoy what she was doing. As she attacked his shorts, he worried that she would cut him, but assumed she had done this safely with other clients. She removed his sneakers and, to emphasize the totality of his declothing, ruined them by slitting the tops with a knife.

Although he had expected to be nude at some point and had tried to prepare himself for it, he still felt embarrassed to be totally nude and helpless in front of the two women.

Branika stood up and walked around him, tapping and prodding him with her crop. When she had circled back to his front she reached down, grabbed his balls, and pulled them forward. “This is its problem,” she said to Jay. “Without these, it will become very more manageable and obedient. If it does not behave, we will cut them off.”

Her words worried Patrick. In the correspondence leading up to this session, he had excluded a number of things but had not thought to exclude castration. He was tempted to say something but managed to control himself.

His penis was becoming erect with her manipulations. She released his balls and slapped his penis with her crop, a stinging blow, but he didn’t make any sound.

She raised her hands and grasped his nipples, squeezing them hard and making him grimace with the pain. She looked for his reaction and then said, “You not had many nipple clamps, yes?”

“Yes Mistress,” he said agreeing with her. Nipple clamps had not been mentioned in their correspondence, and he wondered what else Mistress Branika might do to him. He had expected to be whipped and restrained in bondage but had not considered the possibility of castration or painful nipple clamps. He became concerned that he would not have the fortitude to endure the session. He tried to reassure himself with the thought that he had a safe word.

“Open mouth,” she commanded.

He obeyed, but she slapped him across the face. “Wider,” she said. “You promised to obey me to best of ability, not half way.”

He forced his mouth open as wide as he could.

She pulled his lower lip down and looked into his mouth. “It has good teeth,” she announced pulling his upper lip up. “It is not too old.”

He thought he was being rated like a horse, not that he had any experience with horses.

She lifted his nose, examined it, then looked at him silently for a few seconds before saying, “Close mouth.”

He did so, thinking that he had avoided more punishment by keeping his mouth open.

She nodded then drew her nails across his belly. “Too much fat, too few exercise,” she remarked. “We have much work to do this week.”

‘This week?’ he wondered. He had only paid for two days; just the weekend. But she had emailed him that it was she who was in control, and she would decide when and if to release him. He had discounted the ‘if’ but had made sure he had no appointments for the following Monday and Tuesday just in case there was a delay.

Branika took a step back and looked critically at him. “It looks too naked; it needs something to wear.”

He was pleased to hear her say that, he wanted something to conceal his nudity.

“It has no piercings, so I need something to attach chains. Bring me collar,” she said to Jay.

The collar was a shiny steel one with two rings attached to the outside. She placed it around his neck and locked it with a key that turned an internal bolt. It fitted snugly, no surprise since he had provided his neck and other measurements.

She reached down and grabbed his balls, pulling them away from his body. “Bring me testicle divider,” she ordered, “Steel one with long chain.” Jay brought it and he could see that it consisted of a hinged steel cylinder with a curved bar that divided the balls. He could not see how she fastened it on him, but felt his skin being pinched and involuntarily said “Ouch.”

She looked up at him. She did not say anything but did something to remove the pinch, and then closed the bar between his balls and locked the chain to it. It felt tight, slightly uncomfortable, and sexy. The chain was long, as she had said, and its end lay in a heap on the floor.

“I very kind to you, I not use one with spikes.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” he said.

“Good. You will say that when I do anything to you. You say that each time I whip you.”

“Yes Mistress.”

She walked behind him and reached between his legs for the chain. She pulled it back, which pulled his balls back between his legs. She did not pull back hard, but there was definite force. She attached the end of the chain to something behind him and he heard her walk away.

She reappeared brandishing a bullwhip. It was black and appeared to be about five or six feet long with a thin cracker at the end.

“I whip you now. I whip you to punish slow obey. And I whip you because I want to. I am artist, I make pretty red pattern on your back. I make video and show you on Internet. You want that?”

“No, Mistress, please, I do not want to be on the Internet.” He most definitely did not want his friends or clients to learn that he was visiting a dominatrix and being whipped.

She walked behind him and he waited for the first lash of the whip. He was fully stretched out and could barely move; there was no way he could avoid the cruel bite of the whip. His only option, to let go of the bar, would only renew the pain in his wrists and would not help him avoid the whip. As the seconds slipped by in silence, he became increasingly fearful. What had he let himself in for, how hard would she strike, how many strokes would she inflict?

Suddenly there was a loud crack and he flinched. But there was no pain; she had cracked the whip without hitting him. There was a second crack, and again she did not hit him. He began to wonder if she was inexperienced and had missed. But the cracking made him even more fearful; he had read that cracking a whip when it hits is extremely painful; it can draw blood and make nasty wounds.

Suddenly the whip hit him across his upper back, a sharp stinging blow that made him gasp with pain. But she hit without cracking the whip. He jerked forward and in addition to the sharp pain on his back felt a painful jerk on his balls as the chain holding them back did not yield. “Thank you, Mistress,” he managed to gasp.

A second blow followed, close behind the first, then after a few seconds, a third. They were so painful that he thought she must be giving him a severe whipping, striking as hard as she could. He wanted to tell her it was too hard but could not remember what code word to use. Fearful that he might accidentally ask her to strike harder he said, “Anemone red.”

The whipping stopped. For a few seconds, all he could hear was his own ragged breathing. Then he heard her footsteps as she walked around and stood in front of him.

She slapped his face, hard. “You lie. You not dying.” She slapped him again. “You promise to tell truth, but you lie.” He was surprised that she seemed more amused than angry at his transgression.

“I’m sorry Mistress, but all…”

She slapped him again, silencing him. “Do not speak. I not ask a question.” She walked away and returned holding a black penis gag attached to a leather strap. “Open mouth,” she ordered, and pushed it in. The penis was fat but not too long; it did not touch the back of his throat. “Now you cannot lie.”

He now felt even more helpless, he could no longer say the safe word.

Branika walked behind him and the whipping resumed. He thought the blows were not quite as hard as before, and realized that she had some compassion. He silently thanked her.

She usually waited a few seconds between blows, perhaps to allow him to recover and feel the full pain of each blow. She varied the delay between blows so that he could not predict when the next was coming. He tried not to flinch forward to avoid hurting his balls, but the blows were still heavy and he could not help it.

The gag muffled his gasps of pain, and he no longer tried to thank her after each blow. He steeled himself to expect and accept the pain of each lash. He wondered why anyone would volunteer to be whipped, and how it could possibly be pleasurable.

After a while, the whipping stopped and Branika moved close to him. He felt her hand gently caress his back, then felt the scrape of her fingernails. “Marks are good,” she said, “Soon your back will be very pretty.”

She walked round to his front and picked up the winch controller which was lying on the chair. She pressed a button and he felt his hands being lowered. He felt a wonderful relief that the whipping part of the session was over, and thankful that it had been so short.

But she lowered his hands only a few inches. His heels were now on the floor and he could move his body more; he could turn a little and move his hips back. But the chain fastened to his balls still prevented any forward movement. he was glad of the increased freedom, “Thank you, Mistress,” he tried to say.

“I want to see you move,” she responded.

So, lowering his hands was not for his comfort but for her pleasure in seeing him squirm more.

She walked behind him and the whipping resumed. But it was not quite as hard as the first dozen lashes, and the cracker sometimes curled around his left side instead of the right. She was now using her left hand to whip him.

To reduce the painful jerks on his balls he moved his hips back while waiting for each lash. She must have noticed this because, after a further dozen or so strokes, she stopped whipping and tightened the chain holding his balls back. This forced him to stand with his upper body bent forwards. She circled slowly around him looking at him but did not say anything.

He could see Jay off to his right watching the whole procedure and presumably waiting for another command from Mistress Branika.

Instead of resuming the whipping, Branika appeared in front of him holding two nipple clamps. Each was attached to a thin chain at the end of which was a spiked steel ball. She attached a clamp to each nipple. The pain was so intense he tried to say ‘anemone red’.

She ignored the sound he made and walked behind him. She resumed whipping, this time with her right hand so the blows were stronger. The pain from the jerking on his balls was also stronger, but he was learning not to move his hips too much to reduce its intensity. The spiked steel balls hit his stomach as they swung, but that pain was minor compared to the others. The whipping continued with Mistress Branika periodically changing hands.

Eventually, the whipping stopped and he again felt her hand caress his back. Then she moved round to his front and touched his nipple clamps. The pain from the clamps had largely subsided, so he was surprised by the rush of intense pain as she removed them.

“I not want to kill your nipple nerves. Only purpose for men nipples is to experience pain.”

He had never previously thought about a purpose for male nipples. He thought she was obviously incorrect but could not think of a better reason.

She resumed whipping, and then once more stopped. This time she replaced the nipple clamps and weights. The pain in his nipples was much worse than when she had first attached the clamps; they must have been sensitized by the previous application.

She lifted his face up with the handle of her whip. “There is no blood so I continue. Your penis tries to stand up so I think you have a good time. Yes?”

“Yes Mistress.” He tried to say. The pain was having an effect on him, he wanted it to stop but he was getting used to it and part of him wanted it to continue. His consciousness had somehow changed, he no longer resented the pain of the blows but had become more accepting of the sensations.

“Jay, fetch Sybil.”

“At once, Mistress,” Jay responded and he heard her climb the stairs,

A few minutes later Sybil appeared. She resembled the maid in the photograph in the office. She had medium-length black hair, and a black leather skirt to mid-thigh. She wore high heel shoes and shiny steel ankle cuffs. These were connected by a chain, the center of which was held up by another chain that disappeared up under her skirt. She wore a high-necked white top. Her breasts seemed small but her erect nipples pushed out the top. She held her head low.

“I want you to drain this male, I not want it squirting on floor.”

“Yes, Mistress,” she said in a quiet voice that sounded slightly husky. “May I use a mat?”

“Yes.”

Sybil went behind him. He wondered how many assistants or slaves Mistress Branika had; he had expected none but he had already seen two.

Sybil reappeared with a rolled-up mat. She unrolled it between his legs, then knelt down, took his penis in her mouth, and began to suck. The sensation was amazing, the more so since she had a stud in her tongue which she used to massage his penis.

His eyes were closed and he felt the first hints of an approaching climax when his world was suddenly shattered by a stinging blow on the back; Mistress Branika had started whipping him again.

Sybil put her hands on his hips and continued to suck him. He looked down and saw the spiked balls were swinging just above her head; the setup had been carefully designed. The whipping and sucking continued. The sensations finally became so intense that he tried to say, “I can’t take this anymore,” just as a climax took over his body. The pains dissipated and he began to pump his essence into Sybil’s mouth.

It was perhaps the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced, certainly the most dramatic. It continued for some time, and as the euphoria began to subside, he became aware that Mistress Branika was still whipping him. He wanted her to stop so he could enjoy the now fading sensations.

Sybil pulled her head back and said, “He is empty, Mistress.”

The whipping stopped and Mistress Branika said, “Thank you Sybil. That will be all for now.”

Sybil rolled up the mat and went upstairs.

“Come here Jay and tell me what you think.”

“It is good, Mistress, very pretty.”

“I think more marks spoil it.”

“Yes, Mistress. More marks would spoil your design.”

‘Thank you, Jay,’ he said to himself grateful that she agreed that he did not need any more whipping.

Mistress Branika moved round to his front and lifted his drooping head with the handle of her whip. “You want more whip?” she asked.

He shook his head and tried to say “No thank you, Mistress.” He wondered why he still tried to speak. With his mouth filled with a penis, his words were unintelligible. He decided he would no longer try.

She removed his nipple clamps. “Come, Jay. We let it rest,” she said and walked behind him. Jay followed and flashed a smile at him as she passed.”

Jay’s unexpected smile lifted the depression he was beginning to feel. Perhaps they cared a little for him after all.

His nipples hurt, and he desperately wanted to rub them to soothe them. ‘This must be the epitome of bondage frustration,’ he thought. ‘The thing I want most in the world is to rub my nipples, and I can’t.’

There was a noise behind him that he could not identify, then he heard the women ascend the stairs. They turned off the lights and closed the door.

Left alone in the darkness, he thought about what had happened to him and worried about his future. Not having the ability to say the safe word meant he was entirely at the mercy of the whims of Mistress Branika; he had never before felt so powerless.

He tried to console himself with the thought that if he could endure this session, he would likely be rewarded with several million dollars. This money would be life-changing; he had been poor all his life, and his art dealership business was not making any money.

Since he had been whipped, he thought that the worst part of the session was now over. He could not predict what would happen next but hoped she would make him a bondage maid and give him access to the house enabling him to see the painting and offer to buy it. If that didn’t happen, then at the end of the session he would praise the architecture and decoration of the house and ask for a tour.

To be continued

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