Terms of Employment, Pt2

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By quarter to seven Mark was freezing. Miss Watson must have been working overtime, leaving him stood around like a fool. He normally drove
straight home, and the thin jacket he wore did nothing to protect him from the biting wind. His backside still throbbed from the beating he’d received at her hands, adding to his discomfort. The guy at the desk had invited him back inside to wait in the warmth of the reception but he’d politely declined. He’d pushed all thoughts of simply going home out of his mind too, of pretending that this afternoon hadn’t happened. He had an inkling that he was being tested, and that failure meant not only a future on the dole, but being exposed as the pathetic wimp she’d shown him to be. Physical strength paled in comparison with mental strength, he mused, and that dominant little bitch had it in abundance.
He had been watching, out of the corner of his eye, the reception, expecting her to stroll out of the main doors, so he was surprised when the black BMW pulled smoothly to a halt in front of him. One tinted window purred down.
One word, then the window rose again.
He opened the door and climbed into the car. settling back into the soft grey leather of the seat. She pulled away even as he began to do up his seat belt.-
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, the lack of apology in her voice implying exactly the opposite, “but I felt like a quick drink and I couldn’t be bothered wasting my time sending you a message. God knows how small your cock is now after hanging around in the cold” she sniggered, and grabbed his crotch with a giggle. Mark coloured again at the repeated mockery of his manhood, but felt a certain relief. He hoped that her good humour meant he’d passed her little test. Maybe he’d be in for an easy time this evening, whatever she had planned for him. They drove in silence for a while, as Miss Watson let Mark’s anxiety grow. She did not speak again until they pulled into the drive of a large detached house. Mark had been preoccupied, lurid fantasies about his possible fate distracting him from the journey. He managed a look around as the big car negotiated the tight gateposts, and he saw that they’d left the town, arriving at a quiet village that had so far resisted the planner’s attempts to incorporate it into the suburbs. The view was quickly hidden behind dense bushes.
Miss Watson turned to him.
“Now, worm, I want you on your best behaviour. I’ve brought you here to meet a friend of mine, Madam Sadia.
She’s a professional Domina, the one who taught me that females are superior, and how to practice female domination.
I’m warning you, for your own good, no more tricks like you pulled this afternoon. She loves to torment men, there’s a fully- equipped torture chamber in the cellar of that house, and she’s truly gifted when it comes to inflicting pain. She won’t hesitate to whip you senseless at the slightest provocation… Now, strip.”
Mark looked at her.
“You’re not allowed to wear clothes in the house. Strip.”
Seeing that her good-humour was fading fast, Mark quickly pulled his clothes off, shoving them over his shoulder onto the back seat. When he reached his shorts, the beautiful blonde ordered him to stop.
“I don’t think she’ll be interested in what’s in there,” she sneered. “You might as well leave them on.”
She opened the door, and swung her legs gracefully out. Mark followed suit, climbing out into the cold night air.
Miss Watson locked the car and walked round to where Mark stood shivering. She opened her handbag, pulling out a collar and lead. Placing the bag on the bonnet, she fastened the collar around the young man’s neck, grasped the loop of the lead in one hand, and picked up her handbag with the other.
“Right, worm, on your knees. Madam Sadia expects all worthless males to crawl in her house, so you might as well get into the habit.”
As he sank to his knees she turned on her heels and yanked on the lead, jerking him forward. He let out a little cry as his elbows took the brunt of the fall, the harsh gravel tearing at his skin. Miss Watson turned round, took a step forward, and aimed a kick into his ribs.
“Stop buggering about, you imbecile.” She jerked the lead again. “Move it!”
He raised himself up onto his hands and allowed himself to be led up the drive, gritting his teeth to prevent himself moaning as the tiny stones of the gravel surface bit into his hands and knees. He was grateful to reach the small patch of concrete at the doorstep.
“Remember,” she told him, “this is your last warning. Obey every order, and don’t speak unless spoken to. Understand?”
“Yes, Miss Watson,” he stammered.
The blonde was pleased. That stammer just wasn’t the cold – he was terrified. And well he might be, she mused, remembering how some of Madam Sadia’s “failures” had fared. She pressed the bell, and it wasn’t long before the door was opened. Michael gasped at the figure that stood there, and a chill spread over him, an ice-cold fear that overwhelmed the natural cool of the air. Looking at the man standing there, he knew that the warnings about Madam Sadia were true.
Miss Watson led Mark inside and as the man closed the door he began to sink to his knees in accordance with the rules.
“Wait. Stand up for a minute so my new slave can see you,” she ordered him.
The man immediately rose again, his face expressionless. He stood there naked, no embarrassment at the scrutiny of the pair in front of him.
“This is Vassal,” she explained to Mark. “Madam Sadia gave him that name years ago, when he first became her house-slave. Turn round Vassal – slowly.”
Mark was fascinated, Vassal was obviously a true slave. He had been shaved totally, and tattoos celebrating the superiority of women, and Madam Sadia in particular, adorned his body. A large “S” was burned into his left buttock, which was lined with ancient whip scars. Other whip’s scars covered his body, interspersed with newer red weals.
As he turned back to the front, Miss Watson grasped his large, thickly-veined prick. “That’s the main reason Madam Sadia keeps him around,” she told Mark. “I use him myself from time to time, it’s the sort of cock a real woman needs to satisfy her.” Then, to Mark’s horror, she turned to Vassal. “His is only tiny,” she told him. “He’s totally useless as a sex slave with the pathetic little worm he’s got between his legs.”
Vassal made no comment, merely standing to attention until Miss Watson had finished with him. When she let go of his cock and stepped back, he dropped to his knees and silently proceeded to lead the way along the corridor, and up a flight of stairs.
He stopped before a room, opened the door, and crawled away on another errand. Miss Watson led Mark into the room.
A stunning brunette stood waiting for them. A tight leather top could barely contain her bursting breasts and her legs, longer even than those of her blonde friend, were sheathed in thigh-length boots, each tipped with long spiked stilettos. A skimpy leather G-string barely covered her crotch, revealing perfectly rounded buttocks. Setting eyes on Miss Watson, her face lit up.
The blonde allowed the lead to fall as her friend came forward to meet her, her arms outstretched. She fell into the embrace, her own arms encircling the lovely, leather-clad body. Their lips met, and contented murmurs came from both as they shared a long, slow, sensual kiss. Despite his fear, Mark’s cock began to twitch in appreciation at the erotic sight of two gorgeous women sharing a soul- kiss. Madam Sadia’s leather-gloved hands roved all over the blonde’s body, groping then clasping firmly the pert buttocks. Miss Watson responded, her soft moans muffled by the mouth that smothered hers, becoming louder as her hands stroked the silken flesh. Eventually, reluctantly, they pulled away from each other. Madam Sadia looked down at Mark, who had had the sense to bow his head when he had seen them part.
“What’s this creature?” she enquired, haughty disdain filling her cultured voice. “Oh, I just call him worm,” her friend told her. “I only started on him today, so I don’t think he rates a name yet. He’s quite useless at everything.”
“You haven’t trained him at anything, then?” “Well, he did a little bit of shoe worship at lunchtime, but…”
“That’s okay,” the Domina interrupted. “I had to go out into the garden this afternoon, as one of my useless slaves was being lazy when he was supposed to be weeding. I tied him to the tree and gave him a good flogging. It was fun, until he passed out, but unfortunately I got all sorts of crap on my boots. Your new slave can clean them for me.”
Miss Watson nodded agreement.
“Fine. Mind if I take a shower while he’s at it? It’s been a long day.”
“Help yourself. It’ll take a while anyway, my boots are VERY dirty. And raid my wardrobe while you’re at it – a nice kinky outfit will put you in the mood to deal with your worm.”
Mark watched helplessly as Miss Watson left him. He had relied on her to be there, but now he was left alone – in the clutches of someone who flogged people senseless for being “lazy”.
She unfastened the collar around his neck, and turned to walk to the bed, beckoning him to follow.
She raised one booted foot, resting it on the bed. “Right, worm. Start licking, and I want them spotless. Or else…”
Menacingly, she picked up a long switch. Mark bent down to his task, closing his eyes. He hoped that it wouldn’t be so bad if he couldn’t see what she was making him lick up. His lips touched the instep, and he began tonguing at the leather, almost choking on the dried earth when he tasted it.
The switch cut into his back. It hurt, yet he knew it wasn’t full force – it was just her way of getting his attention. He looked up at her. “Look at my heel,” she ordered.
Mark bowed his head.
“See that?” She indicated part of the crushed remains of a beetle that clung to the stiletto. “That’s all you are to me, an insect to be stepped on and crushed as the fancy takes me. What are you, eh?”
“An – an insect, Madam Sadia. A worthless insect.” “Good, you know your place, insect. But my boots are still dirty. Let’s see some work.”
He bent his head back to her instep, but she stopped him with another stroke of the switch. “Wait. What are you worried about? Think it might be cannibalism, insect?”
The way she emphasised insect made her meaning clear. Mark was revolted. Surely she didn’t expect him to eat – to eat that? The switch cut into him once more.
Disgusted, frightened at the threat of a brutal whipping, and surprisingly a little excited, Mark began to obey. he took the crushed remains between his teeth, breathing through his mouth to try to lessen the taste. He swallowed quickly, holding his breath to stop himself gagging. When he felt his stomach’s rebellion subside, he breathed out in relief. “That’s better. But why have you stopped?” Mark bent to his task once again, finding it surprisingly easier. After what she had just made him do, licking the thin veneer of dust, the small specks of earth and the occasional blade of grass did not hold the revulsion it had before.
When the heel and the leather covering her foot were spotless, she raised her foot.
Mark ducked further down, twisting his head up. Without the need for further instructions, he began to lap at the sole, licking every speck of dirt from the worn leather.
Finished, he pulled back, sitting motionless as he awaited his next task. Madam Sadia placed her foot back on the bed, and gave him another flick of the switch.
“Right, now the rest of my beautiful boot.” Mark once again went to work, starting at her ankle where he had left off. He had to twist around uncomfortably to reach around the other side, the Dominatrix providing no help as she stayed in her commanding position.
Miss Watson’s shoes were made of shiny, patent leather, smooth and tasteless under his tongue.
These boots, however, were soft, textured skin, and the powerful taste made him swallow repeatedly, constantly threatening to overwhelm him. The pungent odour added to it, filling his nostrils, slightly sickening in it’s intensity. As he reached the top another, subtler smell mingled with it. The musky, feminine aroma of Madam Sadia’s naked thighs combined with the heady smell of the leather to pound his senses. Ducking his head under her leg to clean the top of her boot, he was forced to crane round with his cheek resting against her thigh.
The touch of her firm, warm flesh, her silken skin, sent ripples of pleasure through him. He knew those gorgeous legs would never encircle him, would never entwine around his body. The simple fact of being so close to that which was unobtainable thrilled him, yet at the same time made his heart ache with the denial of that which, he now realised, he desired more than anything. It dawned on him that it was for this very reason she stayed in that awkward position, tempting and teasing him with the perfect body he could never hope to possess.
In his desire, though, he had lingered too long, pressed to that sweet flesh. The boot was raised, then the stiletto jabbed sharply down onto his shoulder, sending him sprawling back in pain and surprise.
With a cold look, she placed her other foot on the bed.
“You’re not here for your own pleasure, insect,” she told him, a dangerous edge to her voice. “There’s plenty more filth for you to clean up yet.”
She indicated her other boot with a tap of the switch. Mark pushed himself back onto his knees, swallowed, and started to tongue the dirt from it. The pattern followed the first but he was thankful to have to swallow nothing more than earth this time. Reaching the top, he made sure that the black leather was spotless before moving back immediately. He knew he had made one mistake, and didn’t want to repeat it.
“Stand up, worm.”
She walked around him, inspecting him he presumed, although he made himself stare straight ahead. He was dreading a cut from that switch, but he dared not look around
He felt her move closer, pressing her body against him. Her large, leather-clad breasts crushed against his back, her firm thighs caressing the backs of his legs. She pressed her face, her soft cheek, to the side of his head, starting to nuzzle his neck seductively. His cock, already halferect, responded eagerly.
It was obvious that Madam Sadia was Miss Watson’s instructor, the sudden changes from punishment and degradation to erotic teasing seemed to follow a pattern, but good as the blonde was, she could not compare to the expertise of the beautiful Domina. She was controlling not only his body but his mind, even his emotions and desires.
Abruptly, she pulled away and walked to the front of him. She sat on the bed, watching him, but he was careful to stare straight ahead, not directly at her. He knew he’d need all his wits if he was to last out the night without a trip to the dungeon.
Madam Sadia spread her legs apart and ordered him forward. Still staring straight ahead, Mark shuffled forward and, at another command, placed his hands behind his neck.
Keeping her face fixed on his, the lovely brunette reached up and grasped his excited genitals. “Well,” she said, still watching him. “I can see why you’re called worm. Won’t do much good with that, will you?”
“No, Madam Sadia,” Mark agreed. He was getting used to the constant mockery, beginning to accept that his tormentors’ jibes were true.
They were both stunning, how could he ever hope to come up to their standards?
“So why have you got a hard-on’! Surely you don’t think I could find a use for an inadequate little prick like that, do you, worm?”
“No, Madam Sadia,” he repeated, crushed. The goading was getting to him and, in truth, he did feel inadequate.
All his teenage insecurities were brought back, his sexual failures. His successes outweighed his failures by far, but under the constant ridicule they were forgotten, drowned out by the few occasions when nerves, or alcohol, had led to a disaster – and the one moment when a girl had allowed him to enter her, only to push him off and announce contemptuously that he was too small to satisfy her. As Madam Sadia poured scorn on him, the memory came flooding back, his eyes moistening as he fought back hot tears of shame.
“Very well, we’ll have to train you not to get a hard-on – unless we want a laugh.”
She drew her hand back, and jabbed him sharply in the balls. His breath exploded from him, but with a determined effort he retained his posture. His breathing was slow and painful as his bollocks began to throb, the dull ache spreading up into the pit of his stomach.
The leather-gloved hand encircled his sac. Slowly, she began to squeeze, until she had reached the point that Miss Watson had managed earlier in the day. Her curvaceous frame belied her strength, however, as incredibly she continued to tighten her grip, crushing Mark’s balls unmercifully. When he was certain they were about to burst, she stopped. She held her grip, as Mark stood, his breath coming in short gasps, fighting to cope with the incessant waves of agony spreading from his groin. Then, to his horror, she began to twist her wrist. His breathing increased to rapid, quiet grunts. Madam Sadia looked up again.
“You may scream,” she told him matter-of-factly. “The walls are sound-proofed.”
Mark barely heard her through his pain, but it made little difference. There was no way he could stifle the scream anyway. He heard the cry, not recognising his own voice. At first, in his confused, agonised state he did not realise it was himself. What burst from his lips was highpitched, not the bellow he would associate with himself but the shriek of a wounded animal. Madam Sadia let go, watching him slump to the floor, sobbing, clutching at his injured groin.
She waited until his weeping subsided to soft whimpers.
“Get up on the bed, worm”, she ordered him.
Mark slowly pulled himself onto the bed, on his hands and knees facing the bedstead. Madam Sadia raised the whip, preparing to flog him, but was interrupted as the door opened.
Her friend entered. Miss Watson was dressed only in a red body suit, revealing impossibly long legs. “How’s it going?” she enquired, seeing Mark on the bed, ready for a beating.
“Not too bad,” Madam Sadia replied, “considering he’s only a pathetic male. I’ve begun his cock training. By the time I’ve finished with him he won’t dare get a hard-on without my permission.” “Are you sure?” asked the blonde, walking over, “he’s a randy little bugger.”
“See for yourself,” invited Madam Sadia. “Up,” she ordered Mark, flicking the end of the switch under his chest.
Mark raised himself onto his knees, automatically placing his hands behind his head. Miss Watson reached from behind him, between his legs, grabbing hold of his bruised testicles. As he gasped, she squeezed them experimentally, before grabbing hold of his now limp cock. “Well,” she said to her teacher, “he seems to have learned his lesson.”
“Oh, not yet,” she replied. “It’ll take many more lessons before we have his dick under complete control. It’ll take twenty or thirty training sessions, and much more severe torture, before his body will be under total female domination, as it should be. For now, I think it’s time to see if he can be of any use. His cock is obviously far too small, but let’s see what he can do with his tongue… Get up,” she ordered. Mark rose slowly, standing to attention. A cane cracked down onto his tender backside, causing him to bend forward in surprise and pain. “When you’re given an order,” scolded Miss Watson, “you’re expected to obey it at once.”
Madam Sadia took hold of his ear as the blonde added a second and third stroke to his pain.
“Do you know what’s behind here?” she asked him, indicating a curtain.
Mark merely shook his head, afraid to speak. He had a good idea what it was.
“It’s my personal torture chamber. It’s not as well equipped as the dungeon in my cellar, but if you enter it, you’ll leave on your hands and knees – if you leave at all. I am a true Mistress of Pain, so you’d better buck your ideas up. It’s only because you belong to my friend Vanessa that’s saved you from unimaginable agony.”
Still holding his ear, she shook his head.
“Next time you won’t have this consideration. I expect total obedience from now on – or else it’s torture time. Now, get yourself bent over the bed.” Terrified, Mark scurried round and knelt, resting his upper body on the bed. Madam Sadia followed him round, and raising one leg drove the spiked heel into his back.
“Come over here,” she invited her friend. “If we’re not going to put him through his paces in my torture chamber, we ought to punish him for his disobedience. His behaviour has been abominable ever since he came here.”
Miss Watson stalked over to where the couple were, the gorgeous dominant female and the pathetic figure awaiting his punishment. She positioned herself behind him and, without waiting, drove the cane into his bare back.
“You useless bastard! I told you to be on your best behaviour. You’ve made me look a fool again.”
The anger was not feigned. Miss Watson was livid at being shown up in front of her friend and mentor. She crashed the cane down again and again, ignoring the pleas of the figure struggling under the weight of Madam Sadia’s boot.
The Dominatrix herself was enjoying the show, jabbing her heel into the soft flesh of Mark’s back, encouraging her friend, urging her on. “Yes… yes. Whip the little shit. That’s it, whip him harder. Make the fucker bleed. Come on, Vanessa. Make him scream…”
Inspired by the dark-haired sadist, Miss Watson laid into Mark harder and harder, his lack of experience totally forgotten. The cane whistled again and again, each blow accompanied by an agonised yelp. Each attempt to move out of the way of the agonising cane was thwarted by stabs of Madam Sadia’s vicious stilettos. His pitiful pleas went unanswered, seeming only to spur the dominant bitches on to more and more cruelty.
Finally, her anger worked out on the broken figure pitifully draped over the bed, Miss Watson stopped.
“Time to test his tongue, do you think?” asked her friend, entwining her fingers in the young man’s hair and lifting his head.
The lovely blonde slipped onto the bed, one leg on each side of Mark’s shoulders. Her hand took the place of Madam Sadia’s, grabbing his hair and forcing his head down into her crotch.
“Lick my cunt, worm,” she ordered.
Mark responded eagerly, tasting the damp material that framed her pussy, before slowly licking up and down the PVC that covered her lips.
“That’s no good, I can hardly feel it,” she complained.
A heel placed on his back told him Madam Sadia was paying attention. The switch bit into his back.
“Put some effort into it, insect. If we can’t find a use for you, we’ll have to amuse ourselves in the torture chamber.”
The threat was enough. Mark forced his tongue out as hard as he could, thrusting into Miss Watson’s pussy through the thick material. More jabs of the spiky stiletto, and flicks of that stinging whip, spurred him on. Despite the covering over her pussy, the highly-sexed blonde began to throw her head back, moaning softly with pleasure.
She had been wet all day, high on power from the domination of a new, unwilling victim, and the only outlet had been a swift fingering from her slave/secretary once the slut had returned from her lunch.
Now her pent- up desires were released as Mark’s tongue, encouraged by Madam Sadia’s whip, was forced onto her PVC-covered cleft. She grasped his hair tightly, became still, and came to a shuddering climax.
Madam Sadia watched, pleased to see that her friend could take pleasure even from the lowliest of males.
There was a pressure building beneath her stomach, but she did not want to spoil the moment by taking the time to relieve it.
Vanessa was rising and the dark-haired Domina was already moving to take her place.
She too grasped the man’s hair, but her other hand pulled the tiny leather G-string to one side. Mark stared at her lovely pussy for a moment. The dark hair had been carefully trimmed, and shaved around the lips which, inflamed and slightly parted with her excitement at punishing and humiliating a new slave, glistened with small drops of her come- juice. His enjoyment of the sight of her perfect cunt was cut short as the whip added to the wounds on his back.
“Go on, lick it,” ordered Miss Watson. “It’s a great honour for a worthless insect like yourself to be allowed to suck up all that sacred juice, so what are you waiting for?” Mark immediately pushed forward, probing between the damp lips with his eager tongue. Licking up and down the slit, his tongue quickly found her abnormally large clitoris, standing out rock-hard. He tongued it furiously, and within moments she was coming, thrashing about and rubbing her pussy against him coating his face with her womanly cream. Her orgasm seemed to last forever, accompanied as it was by Mark’s own movements, goaded by Miss Watson’s whip, but eventually the brunette’s gyrations ceased.
She pulled Mark’s head back slightly, forcing him to look up, past her large, heaving breasts, to her face, even more beautiful as it was now, flushed with her orgasm.
“Well, you seem to have done a hell of a lot of licking today. You must be really thirsty.” Mark could only nod, restricted as he was by the hand grasping his hair.
“Want a drink then?”
Another nod.
Madam Sadia smiled, pleased. The pressure below her stomach was becoming unbearable. She pulled Mark’s head back into her crotch, forcing his mouth into her pussy once more. She relaxed the muscles in her abdomen, and sighed loudly at the relief as the pressure eased.
All she heard from below was a damp, choking splutter…