The combination of deep, satisfying romantic love, with the complete freedom to shag anyone she liked was just what the doctor ordered as far as Helen was concerned. People were not built to be monogamous, and an arrangement such as she had with Sandra was the answer. Of course, there had to be rules, as in any relationship, and the Number One rule here was that neither of them should shag anyone else without the other being present.
For six months this had worked perfectly. Naturally, they had the odd argument, but generally it was an enviable arrangement: the older woman was driven wild by the younger girl’s beauty and massive sex-drive, and her complete lack of cynicism, whilst the young girl was very appreciative of the older woman’s devotion and very considerable experience.
One day they were having a “lie in”; Helen was leaning on her partner’s breasts whilst moving a finger lazily in and out of her vagina, when Sandra suddenly sat up, as though she had made a decision.
“Helen… you know I love you, don’t you?”
Helen froze, despite her total trust in the older woman. She had only heard that expression on The Maury Show, and it was always a prelude to the one who said it owning up to being unfaithful, or worse.
“Don’t be frightened, darling,” Sandra said full of concern. “I’m just going to suggest that it’s time we did something new.”
“But we’re always doing something new; you’re the most adventuresome partner anyone could have. I’ve shagged all your friends, male and female, of all ages. I’ve done everything to everyone, and had them all do it to me. What do you want me to do now, shag their pets?”
The two of them collapsed in an uncontrollable fit of the giggles.
“That won’t be necessary,” smiled Sandra.
“What then?” asked Helen.
Sandra replied, “How would you like to be a little slave?”
Sandra was rather vague about what precisely she meant by this, but Helen gathered it was some kind of BDSM scene, and she wasn’t impressed. She had always been fairly resistant to pain, but she didn’t enjoy it. On the other hand, she had had a couple of partners spank her lightly, and that felt good.
She was persuaded to try it out, with a promise from Sandra that she would be permitted to stop as soon as she felt uncomfortable. It was hours later that she recalled that she had used the word “permitted”. Why, she wondered, did the recollection of this word make her feel horny?
Sandra was on the phone for ages making arrangements. She seemed to have endless friends and acquaintances. Finally things were sorted, and the date was set for Helen’s initiation.
The day eventually dawned and Helen found herself on her way. Strangely enough the journey only took a few minutes. The house was only just around the corner. Strange, Helen thought, what is lurking behind the respectable windows of suburbia.
Helen was expecting everyone to be dressed in rubber masks and chains, but this wasn’t the case at all. Sandra took her straight into an enormous living room. There were about twenty people there, mostly women but with a few men.
“Ahh,” minced one middle-aged guy, “our new recruit has arrived.”
Ages ranged from over fifty to one girl near Helen’s own. She was given a drink. There was friendly random chit-chat about the usual mundane subjects. After about an hour Helen was beginning to get really bored. She couldn’t imagine this lot having an orgy. Suddenly one of the ladies said,
“I think it’s time to go downstairs.”
They all headed for a set of double doors; when Helen stood up to join them Sandra looked a little sheepish.
“Er, not you, dear; you come with me this way.”
Sandra led the way to a small flight of stairs going down.
“We are going into the cellar too, my dear, but to a different part. You have to prepare.”
What exactly Helen had to prepare for wasn’t plain, and Sandra was decidedly uncommunicative on the matter. They ended up in a small room with no furniture.
“Strip!” commanded Sandra.
“What’s going to happen?” Helen asked nervously, as she quickly got out of her skimpy clothes.
“It’s very important that from now on, for the rest of this night you learn to obey. Whatever you do, do not ask questions; just do whatever you’re told as soon as you’re told it, and everything will be OK. I’ve watched you closely these last six months and I just know you will enjoy yourself immensely tonight. Trust me; but you must obey. If you really can’t stand it any more and you want it all to stop, say the code-word “parasol”, but try not to use that word. You will enjoy it much more if you can see it through”.
Helen experienced a mixture of feelings.On the one hand, she felt frankly afraid, as she believed that some sort of pain must be involved in what was going to happen (and she knew intuitively that Sandra could not, or would not, help her avoid it). On the other hand, she was so horny at the thought of something new happening to her, and in front of all these strangers. She decided to go with it.
“You must wear this,” Sandra told her. “At the beginning, anyway.”
Before Helen could ask any questions, Sandra fitted a ball-gag over her mouth, and fastened it round the back of her head.
Helen found herself in a huge room. All the people from upstairs were there, seated at tables. Helen was the only one without clothes. Her lover led her to a thick pole and lifted both her hands up; a set of handcuffs was attached to the pole high up, and her hands were both fastened securely into these.
Helen felt totally vulnerable. Looking at all those men and women made her indescribably horny, especially as she was the only one there who was naked, and she was definitely the centre of attention. Sandra went to sit down. A sense of sharp anticipation percolated through the air.
Helen let her eyes drift round the room; the only doorway she could see was conspicuously padlocked. Everything screamed at her that escape was impossible. She felt afraid and yet greedy for something to happen.
Yet another door opened, and out came a tall woman, slim but curvy, good-looking and wearing a basque, black stockings and suspenders and leather knickers; she also wore high black leather boots. She held in her right hand a small “cat” whip.
Helen gazed into her eyes; a big mistake.
“Don’t you dare look at me!” she shouted, and at the same time wrapped the whip around Helen’s left breast.
Helen, confused, dropped her eyes, remembering her lover’s advice. The woman began to whip lightly Helen’s left breast. She could feel it sting slightly. She remembered not to look at the woman, so let her gaze skim over the crowd; they were obviously excited by what was happening.
Helen saw that her breast was glowing red, and stinging more and more. She wouldn’t have said she liked it; not like she enjoyed her lover’s tongue between her legs. But at the same time she didn’t want it to stop. She found it so arousing in the context of the crowd watching her. Next the dominatrix began to whip her other breast. This time it felt harder. Helen began to flinch at each stroke. This lasted longer than the other, too.
The dominatrix went back to her left breast, and alternated her whipping back and forth from one breast to the other for a good twenty minutes. Helen had never felt such pain. Her breath was coming in short gasps and she was sweating profusely.
Just when she felt she could take no more, the woman stopped. Helen had dribbled from the gag quite a lot, over her chin and in between her breasts. The woman untied the gag and licked Helen’s saliva from her burning flesh. She then kissed Helen deeply. Whilst it would not be true to say that Helen had never been so excited, it was true that she had never before been excited in this way.
Though her body still stung from her whipping, she would not have left that place even if she could have whisked herself magically away in a second. She wanted to be nowhere else.
The dominatrix relented to the point that she took a glass of cool wine and put it to Helen’s parched lips. She drank it in three gulps.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You will call me ‘Mistress’,” the woman replied.
“I’m sorry, Mistress.”
“You learn your lessons well, little one.”
The dominatrix seemed almost fond of her. Helen was allowed to rest for ten minutes, after which time her little tits smarted less. Then her ordeal began again.
Sandra came over to her, but didn’t speak as she arranged some contraption behind the pole. Helen watched as she was bent over what seemed to be a sort of wooden desk. Her hands were cuffed again and she was bent right over, her bottom on show to the audience. The mistress began to whip her slowly and fairly gently up each leg, from behind her knee to her arse.
But, as before, the strokes became heavier. The dominatrix was relentless, never giving her time to relax. The sweat ran down her face and off her tits; her bottom was a fiery red. Helen gasped at each stroke of the whip. Then she began to make little moaning noises. Still the mistress went on. Helen didn’t want to use the code-word, but she felt she could stand this pain no longer. Her moans got louder; still her mistress wouldn’t stop. Eventually she screamed,
“No more, please, no more!”
“That’s better, little one,” said the mistress in a warmer tone than she had used before. “Now you have a choice. You can be whipped again for a full half-hour; or you can be my slave, and the slave of everyone here… Make your choice.”
The tears flowed freely down Helen’s face.
“Please let me be a slave, Mistress. I will do anything you say.”
“Are you absolutely sure? You must obey everyone and do exactly as they tell you at all times; if you fail to do this even once you will be whipped again most severely.”
“Yes, Mistress, I will do anything.”
“Good girl,” said the dominatrix, and immediately knelt behind Helen.
She started to lick up each leg until she reached her bottom, then skilfully using her tongue she licked around her anus, and slipped her tongue into Helen’s soaking wet vagina. Helen was overflowing with sexual desire. Still smarting, but in the knowledge that there would be no more pain if she did as she was told, she rejoiced in the thought of what was about to happen.
She spent the next few hours being passed around all twenty people. She lost count of the number of times she sucked or licked her new-found friends, or the many times she was butt-fucked by a guy or by a woman wearing a strap-on. She found that learning to obey was the most truly liberating experience she had ever undergone…
