Tuesday, March 29, 2011


Community… There are times I have spasms of loneliness… bouts of panic at my isolation.  I crave friends… friends that go beyond the virtual… the email… the chat… the comment here and there on my blog.  Someone I can have lunch with, compare trials and triumphs… someone that gets what I am, gets that even though Master is human and sometimes frighteningly imperfect and I struggle with impatience and panic at times, he is still my Master.  And when these feelings rise up, I go out… out into ‘the community’, trying to find a place where I fit in, feel comfortable…

Perhaps I am looking all the wrong places.  I am not really one of them… not a player… not young… I don’t go to munches or parties or sex clubs… I don’t play well with others.  I don’t even play with others. 

I went to a girl’s munch… charmingly called Sex In the City… after the TV show.  It was kind of nice, in that it was small.  But even in a relatively quiet bar, sitting at tables, I still had difficulty understanding others when they talked (fucking old ears) and when I did… it was about people I did not know and experiences I cannot have.  The merits of one party over another… who played with whom…

They were nice.  I did not feel unwelcome, but I just don’t feel like I have much in common with these women.  I seem to be the only monogamous, 24/7 slave at these places.  I am pretty sure I will go back a few more times.  But once again… I am not sure there is a place for a nonplayer in those sort of places. 
I have only gone to a few other munches.  But the few I have attended the little groups of cliques swirled and revolved around each other.  The conversations swirled and revolved around the same topics… who went to what party, who played with whom, what parties are good… Names of people I do not know, places I have not been… They all seem so caring but as I sit on the sidelines and watch the tides and eddies, I see the little dramas, the people included and others excluded… gossip and back stabbing as common as welcoming and tolerance.

Who and what are these kinksters?  Who are these people who go to these munches and parties?  People who seem to see and treat playing with others like I think of restaurants or bottles of wine.  Some you try once and never return; others that you return to over and over again.  They critique each other.  They display bruises and whisper about darker things. 

Yet to me, to surrender to the power of my Master… that is the most intimate of things.  It goes beyond sex.  In fact I think I could fuck a stranger a hell of a lot easier than I could ever let someone I met a few times at a bar tie me, hurt me, humiliate me.  It is beyond comprehension.  I could not enjoy it… I would never ever be able to relax, to let down my guard.    

And I see the relationships, the lists of people’s ‘leather families’ on Fetlife change with the seasons.  And I cannot help but wonder about the depth of something that is so mutable, so nebulous… wonder if it is a reflection of this appetite for the novelty rather than the comfort of the familiar that dooms these people to continually seek out new partners, new sensations.  I wonder if they find satisfaction or if this community isn’t a wasteland of broken hearts. 

I know that there are dozens, perhaps hundreds of examples of long term steady relationships but those people are not the ones I see.  I cannot help but wonder if I am looking in the right places.  Perhaps our Master’s keep all the other slaves too busy to go to frivolous girl munches… perhaps is it is really the single girls that you see out there… wandering restlessly from one brief, intense relationship to the next. 

Monday, March 28, 2011

It started out like most Saturday mornings...

It started out like most Saturday mornings… quiet and coffee… checking emails and blogs.  Master busy with something on his computer.  We had had a busy evening the night before, vanilla friends and family, a house full the squeals and laughter of little children… a house full of life and love.  One of those nights you were happy they were there and profoundly appreciative of the peace and stillness that marked their departure.

So I sat the next morning, sipping my coffee… reading old stories I had written years ago… but there was a part of me, a silent waiting, intensely listening part of me… each time he would move, stand up, sit down, sigh or mumble to himself, I would look up, listen.  It was Saturday morning after all.  It had been a week and for once, I was looking forward to the expected call to the shower.

When he shifted in his chair and called to me, “Pretty girl, come here, look at this,” I was up and moving toward him without thought.  He already had some porn up.  Master is learning what gets the juices flowing… bondage… some sense that the girl is coerced… rough sex with all avenues being taken.  After a few clips, I was tingling… warm and wet and looking at him with a decidedly carnal glint in my eye.

As we moved to the next step of the dance, I could not help but wryly observe that by the time we finished brushing our teeth and got into the shower, that it was inevitable that most of this heat and hunger would have dissipated.  Perhaps he heard that, saw past the humor and heard the fear, the sadness the accompanied the fading of the lust, the warmth… the fear if it slipped through my fingers, I might not get it back.  Because he did not let it fade or slip from my grasp… He kept the fire burning… repeatedly touching me, caressing me, spanking, pinching, scratching… pulling, twisting me, bending me back, pressing me, trapping me as he fed that fire within me.

I was quiet, holding onto the images left in my memory, images of women bound and gagged, women screaming in pain and passion as they were taken.  Letting those images blend and mix with the sensations he was forcing upon my body.

The drain in the shower has been slow, (one more thing on the long list of items needing fixing) and Master looked down at the rapidly growing pool and muttered something about doing something about it… and I teased, “You mean you aren’t going to drown me in there?”

He snorted and said “no” in no uncertain terms.

And I came back, “One more sexy fantasy shot all to hell.”

And you know… it is kind of sexy… the image of being forced to kneel in the murky water, of being forced forward, strong hands in my hair, pushing my face down in the dirty water and having to hold my breath as he fucks me from behind, depending upon his mercy and whim to lift my face up so that I may steal a breath of air.  Unrealistic?  Perhaps, especially with a clean freak Master… but sexy as hell.

The water was up over our ankles when I was bent over at the waist staring down at the water and I had a brief impression of wading in water, a sense of being outdoors, being fucked while standing in a stream or a pond.  But the failure of the drain was perhaps my salvation.  With the danger of flooding, we did not linger under the falling water until the water heater was empty.  At his sharp short command we were soon making our way down to his room.

Pushing me back onto the bed he interlaced his fingers with mine and stretched my arms taut up over my head and straddled my upper body and slowly, deliberately fucked my mouth.  There was a delicious mix of helplessness and restriction of movement.  I remember how my face was smeared with spit and precum.  He did not let go of my hands as he moved down and began fucking my cunt with the same slow deliberate thrusts, my legs lifting up and wrapping around him, pulling at him, urging him deeper.  I was close, amazingly close… I could feel it there just out of reach.

When he moved up to fuck my face some more, he kept my legs hooked up over his knees, forcing my knees up around my ears.  With my hands still pinned above my head, I was restricted even more, constricted, crushed and contorted.   I remember how rich his cock tasted, coated with the thick cream from my pussy, how the smell and flavor filled my mouth and nose and heart.  He kept pushing me further, pressing deeper, probing for the depths of my throat, pressing deeper and deeper until he was buried up to the root, reveling in the sensation and sound of my reflexive gags and struggle for air.

He did not let go of my hands until he moved down to fuck my cunt some more, choosing to lean his weight upon the backs of my legs, keeping my knees still pinned up around my ears.  The new angle tips his cock at a sharp angle up, the underside dragging heavily along the crack of my ass… an intense sensation that ratchets up my soaring excitement but once again, keeps that orgasm just out of reach.  But my hands are finally free and he growls at me to touch myself… the last piece of the equation.   

Everything was perfect… until as he came.  He tensed and his eyes bulged out and he began to utter a mix of grunts and curses… something had started to cramp up at exactly the wrong or perhaps right moment.  I remember freezing under him and staring up… the random thought that Master is definitely not a masochist bubbling up from the cage of the crazy lady in the back of my head.  A thought I wisely did not put into words.  I did not even give into the impulse to giggle.  I watched him ride it out, ricocheting between the pulses of his climax and the lances of pain coming from his leg. 

And when he pulled out, I was still hovering, still touching myself…  and then he did something different… something unexpected… pulling my awareness away from my own imminent pleasure.  He pulls out and immediately presses against my asshole, pushing in… it catches me by surprise.  He has not fucked my ass in months.  The first sensation is pain… pure burning, stabbing pain and I cannot help but cry out and pant.  He stops, buried deep within me, waiting for me to adjust but it does not ease, any movement is a new wave of pain. 

“Get your vibrator.”  I reach but it is just beyond my grasp and he gives me an impatient shove with is cock, trying to push me closer and I shriek.  Finally he stretches and manages to hook the cord and hands it to me. 

And mysteriously, despite the agony in my ass… or perhaps because of it… the moment I touch myself with the head of that Hitachi I am coming, instantly, wildly, a soaring orgasm from heaven.  All pain is just as instantly gone and he is moving, thrusting and to my confusion he is coming again or still… his gasps and growls of passion blending with mine.  My orgasm feels endless, each shuddering lunge into my ass another wave of ecstasy, intensified by the vibrations of my toy.  Long after he is still, I press the vibrator to myself and savor each and every last quivering spasm of pleasure.  I know he is watching me… he loves to watch me come. 

Afterward, snuggling up to him I ask, “Did you come twice?”  He shrugs and says, “Sort of.”  So eloquent… and apparently not only did he come twice… he came a LOT in both places.  Bastard… this is all wrong… I thought us girls are supposed to be the multiple orgasm machines…               

Sunday, March 27, 2011

I reject your reality...

...and substitute... what the fuck?

I find Master’s habit of remembering things that never happened as the most difficult of all the things I must adjust to.  Before committing to be his slave, I would just roll my eyes, say he was crazy, or remembering some other woman, or dreamed it… I would stubbornly hold onto my reality.  Now I cannot do it.  Now I must accept his reality and forget my own.

It is the always the most mundane of things… This weekend it was where I bought my first pair of hiking boots… somehow he injects himself into that story… he “remembers” that he was there.  He says he bought the boots for me.  And I know he was not there… I know exactly when I bought those boots.  It was an impulse buy… an unexpected snowy day… a cold wet evening with the knowledge that I was going to be standing, waiting for the bus home.  I walked into an upscale department store in downtown Portland and paid what was at that time an extravagant amount of money… $92.00, I even remember buying a pair of gloves too.  It was in the bleak years… when then husband was relegated to the role of ex-husband and I was temporarily single.  Master was not there.  He could not have been there. 

Now, years and years later, now when the boots wore out long ago… somehow the conversation turns to boots and he has this memory of something that never happened.  It is ridiculous.  It is a nothing thing, where a pair of shoes were bought so long ago… but the hard thing is to have ones memories attacked, modified, Master artificially injected into scenes and situations that he was nowhere near.

Master asserts that I am the one that “does not remember”… that I am forgetful… even though my lapses in memory are minor compared to his… and usually specific in nature.  I own my numerical challenges… I can do math… I am a whiz at algebra and geometry and equations… but raw numbers… how many of something, or a phone number or a date or price or a time or weight… there is no file drawer in my head for such things… abstract numbers blur and slip away within minutes… I can barely remember important things like my phone number or SSN… I still cannot remember Master’s birthday from one year to the next.  So when Master quizzes me about something numerical, I just screw up my face and plea… “you are asking me about numbers again.  I can look it up for you if you want.”  Because if it is important, I will write it down… I save receipts and have a duplicate checkbook.  I know my limitations.    

But anyway… Master holds up this forgetfulness for numbers and generalizes it for forgetfulness for places and experiences.  He points at me and perhaps projects his own forgetfulness upon me.  And part of his forgetfulness is this disturbing habit of fabricating elaborate memories and then insisting I was there and I must “remember” it too… and when I don’t… and it held up as one more piece of evidence of my poor memory… it is a self perpetuating cycle of crazy making.  

So I am charged with the task of swallowing down my protests, my better knowledge, of swallowing down my urge to argue and swallowing down that Rubic’s Cube of submission.  I can do it.  I blink, I know I must look like it hurts all the way down, but all I can do is say, “Really?  I don’t remember that”… WHEN I DO. 

But I do not know if I can really substitute his reality for my own, forget what I know as fact and edit him into a impulse shopping trip so long ago on a dark, wet, snowy afternoon, where I wore the boots out of the Meir and Frank and stopped and pulled on the gloves before stepping out into the wet driving snow to catch that bus home.  I wonder why he would ride the bus… when I never have seen him ride the bus???  Maybe I will have to edit out the bus… but then why would I have wanted the boots… if I was riding home in a warm dry car???  

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Serial Saturday NORTHWEST HUNTERS Book One, Chapter Four

Chapter 4:  Defining Roles

Bob drove and Donna rode in the front passenger seat.  Junie rode in back looking curiously out the windows.  Donna spoke up, “Town is about twenty minutes away.  We will go by the clinic first.”
The town was small and picturesque.  There seemed to be a large number of antique stores, art galleries and restaurants lining the streets.  Donna dryly commented, “This place is turning into a tourist trap.”
Bob reached over and patted her knee.  “It’s all us rich retired folks, hiding out in the woods, that and the demise of the logging industry.  Locals have to live off us or the tourists.  At least there are enough people to support a good food co-op.”  He pulled into the parking lot of a modern looking brick and glass building.  “We should go in separately.  Junie, you go in first, ask for a confidential lab test.”  He got out his wallet and handed her some money.  “Once you are at the lab, tell them what you want, an oral rapid result AIDS test.  It’s up to you if you want to use your real name or not.  They won't ask for ID.  Pay cash.”
Junie felt her mouth go dry.  “Alone?”  Her voice quavered.
Donna turned and looked at Junie, a puzzled look on her face.  She looked at Junie's face seeing the fear.  “I am sorry, Junie.  This is a small town.  A lot of people know who we are.  If we all go in at once for lab tests, people will talk.  I guess we should have prepared you for this more.  It should take about 45 minutes.  Bob and I will go in after you come out.”
Junie swallowed, “No, it will be all right.  It’s just something I have to do.”  She took a shaky breath.  “It is just one of those things that is hard for me.”  She climbed out of the back seat of the SUV and straightening her shoulders, marched into the clinic.
Donna laughed and leaned over to Bob.  “I had forgotten about the shyness.  She seemed so comfortable about meeting us.  I can see that this will be a big thing for her to do.”
“Well let’s see if she can go through with it, or if she will come running out in a few minutes.  Are you okay waiting here while I walk over to the hardware store?”
“Go ahead.  I brought a book to read.”

Bob was gone almost the whole 45 minutes and the bag he dropped into the back of the SUV made a metal clank and chink of chain.  “Well she didn't run back out, but this is taking longer than I had thought it would.  When I called they said 45 minutes tops.”
“Do you think we are going to need to rescue her?”  Donna sounded exasperated.
Bob laughed, “No, I don't think that will be necessary.  See, there she is.”
Junie was walking quickly, almost running back to the SUV.  Her eyes red, her lashes wet like she had been crying.  She scrambled into the back seat and wordlessly handed Donna some papers.  Donna looked them over.  “Junie, this said what you knew it would say.  You currently have no HIV antibodies.  You are fine.  Why are you so upset?”
Junie looked embarrassed.  “Ma'am, I was pretty nervous.  I guess they could tell because they decided to have me talk to a counselor to see if I was emotionally stable enough to handle a possible positive result.  It was so embarrassing.  I had to lie my ass off.  I told them that my husband had cheated on me and I just wanted to get a test to make sure I was okay.  I told her I was in town visiting some friends and that they would be my support system.  I did not tell the counselor lady who I was visiting.  I am sorry it took so long.”
Bob was struggling to keep his face straight.  “You guess you were nervous?  What did you do?”
Junie blushed and covered her face with her hands.  “I am not sure if it was the hyperventilating or when I threw up.”
Bob roared with laughter.  Donna looked at him in outrage.  “Sweetie pie, you were so brave.  We are very proud of you.”
Junie held out a handful of money.  “Sir, you gave me way too much money.”
Bob waved her hand away.  “Keep it.  You will need some spending money for house stuff.”
Donna climbed out of the car, “Bob and I will go get our test.  You can wait in the car or go for a walk.”
“I think I would just like to wait here, Ma'am.”
“If you change your mind, just be back by in 30 minutes.  I can't vouch for Bob but I know I won't throw up.”
Junie giggled.  “Actually, Ma'am, I am surprised I managed to do it.  I almost ran out when they said I had to talk to a counselor.”
Donna reached out and took Junie's hand.  “It is good you chose to stay.  I know how difficult that was for you.  I am proud of you.  We will be back soon.”

Junie rolled down the window of the car and breathed in the air.  She could smell the bitter scents of tar and car exhaust.  She smiled to herself, just one day at the house on the lake and she was accustomed to the sweet, clean air of the country.  She wondered idly what Donna would have done if she had run out of the clinic in a panic.  It had been that thought that had kept her from completely losing control.
She was half asleep in the warmth of the car when Bob and Donna returned.  When Donna turned to hand the papers to her showing their results, Junie smiled and shook her head.  “I don't need to see those, Ma'am.”
“Do you trust us, or do you not care what they say?”
“Both, Ma'am.”

The rest of the visit to town went by quickly.  Bob and Donna seemed to know everyone in town, greeting people in a friendly easy manner, introducing Junie as a friend visiting them.  Junie found herself shaking endless hands, blushing and smiling, happy that she did not have to talk too much.  It was obvious that Bob and Donna were active in the community and well liked.
They stopped by a small warehouse-looking grocery store.  It had only nonperishable bulk food and in a cooler in a corner a variety of cheeses.  “It’s an organic cooperative store.  You must have a membership to shop here.  A group of us started it when we couldn't find decent organic stuff at the local grocery store.  Bob and I are on the board.”
Junie added some high gluten flour and yeast to their basket.  “For baking bread, Ma... Donna.”  Junie stumbled and choked off saying Ma'am.  Her face was scarlet.
Bob laughed and murmured, “Madonna?  I like it.  Nice Catholic overtones.”
Junie giggled and whispered.  “It is also an old Italian form of formal address for women, very much like Ma'am or Mistress.”
Donna protested, “Not the rock star?”
Bob put his arm around her.  “You are our rock star.”
Bob added a few bottles of organic red wine, cheeses, and a big piece of bulk dark chocolate to their basket.  Donna looked at the candy.  “He won't eat dessert but he can't resist dark chocolate.”
“A man is entitled to have a few weaknesses.”

The farmer's market was bustling with people and music.  A trio was playing lively folk music on stringed instruments.  Again Junie found herself being introduced to what felt like dozens of people, trying to make eye contact and smile when she felt like running back to the car.  She knew that she would never remember any of their names.
There was a wonderful variety of fresh fruit and vegetables, but also there were lots of booths of prepared food; canned fruits and jams, dried fruits, nuts, homemade candies.  There were also artists and craftsmen selling their creations.
Junie's eyes lit up at a display of fresh strawberries.  She hesitated, sensing in herself the same reluctance to ask that had displeased her Mistress this morning.  She tried out several ways to ask that would not sound manipulative or overtly submissive.  She cleared her throat.  “The strawberries look delicious.  Let’s get some of those?”  The end of her sentence turned up like a question.
Donna frowned and shrugged.  “Sure let’s.”  Junie picked out a couple of pints and paid with some of the leftover money that Bob had given her to pay the clinic.
They ended up buying some wild mushrooms, a dozen eggs, some lemons, a fresh salmon and a half-gallon of fresh milk.  It was early in the afternoon when they headed back home.
On the ride home Junie felt tired.  It was the familiar fatigue she experienced from the continual nervousness that she experienced in unfamiliar places, around people new to her.  As they drove up the narrow drive, she felt the tension draining out of her.  She looked out the window and silently greeted the trees, happy to be home again.

Junie changed into her shorts and tank top and was busy cleaning around the house, taking the laundry out to dry on the line, remaking the beds when Bob called her into the office.  He was looking at a bondage equipment website.  “Come here; I want to get a few more measurements.”  He had a tape measure.  He measured around her thighs, ankles, wrists and waist.  Last he measured around her neck.  Junie felt herself trembling with nervous excitement, peering over his shoulder at the site, electrified by the images of shackles and collars.
Donna was curled up on the couch with a laptop computer.  She looked up and grinned at the expression on Junie's face.  “You are tantalizing her, Bob.”
Bob ran his fingertips up Junie's leg and up the leg of her soft shorts, tickling the soft skin of her inner thighs.  “Are you tantalized, Junie?”
Junie licked her lips and swallowed.  “Yes, Sir, very tantalized.  My mind is full of images, sexy provocative images.”
“Good, that was my intention.  Go on now.”  He propelled her out of the office.  Junie stood in the front room for a second, still preoccupied with her thoughts.

The afternoon sun shone directly on the front deck.  Donna looked out the window, “Come on, Junie, and let’s get some sun.  I want you to be a little tanned.  Not too dark but I want you a nice light golden brown, like a little wood nymph.”
“Yes, Ma'am.”  Junie followed Donna out onto the deck.  She followed Donna's example of stripping off completely nude.
“Lie down and let me put some oil on you.”  As Donna spread the oil over Junie's skin as she talked to herself.  “Not too long this first time.  Don't want any sunburn.  That wouldn't be a good idea.  We have all summer to get you just right.  Turn over onto your stomach.”  After Junie rolled over, Donna commented as she smoothed the oil on.  “I can still see some of the marks from your spanking.  Your bottom is still a little pink.  The bruises from the belt buckle are starting to go away.  It’s funny how I find the marks that we leave delicious and erotic, and at the same time, I am enraged by these marks from that asshole.”  She muttered to herself, “Fucker has not sent that apology yet.”
Junie found herself sinking slowly into the sensations of Donna's hands sliding over her, slippery with oil.  “That feels so nice, Ma'am.”
“Don't get too sleepy, girl.  You have to do me next.”
After oiling Donna's skin, Junie lay almost asleep, letting the warmth sink into her skin, turning and repositioning her body as Donna directed her to.  It felt wonderful.  She had not lain out in the sun since she was a teenager, always too embarrassed by her size to risk being seen.  She smiled softly to herself thinking that now it did not seem to matter.  In fact, she was feeling very sexy-looking lately.
Junie jerked awake, surprised by a sharp slap to her bottom.  She jumped up; aware she had drifted off to sleep.  Looking up she saw Donna standing over her.  “I am sorry, Ma'am.  I fell asleep.  Did you say something?”
“It’s time to stop.  Let’s go shower off this oil.”
“Yes, Ma'am.”
For dinner Bob grilled the salmon fillets outside and Junie made roasted red potatoes with carrots and garlic.
Over dinner Donna questioned Bob if he had been having fun shopping online.  Her tone was light, teasing, but her eyes were sharp as her words.
“Some.”  Bob's voice was neutral.
Junie could tell that something bigger than she was aware of was going on between her Master and Mistress.  Donna seemed irritated with Bob and it was showing in the edge of her wit.
Donna leaned over to Junie, her hazel eyes dancing.  She spoke in a deliberately loud whisper, “He spent all afternoon on the computer shopping.  Expect some panties in the mail.”  Bob growled ominously.  Junie blushed and focused on taking small bites of her dinner.  Donna persisted.  “Junie wonders if you wear panties too.”
Bob's voice was suddenly deep and sharp.  “Downstairs, now!  You mouthy fucking bitch!”  Donna sat frozen for a micro second, her fork halfway to her mouth, and then with a soft whimper dropped it and scurried towards the basement.  Junie shrank down in her chair.  Bob took another bite and then standing, followed at a leisurely saunter.  Just as he was about to go down the stairs, he called over his shoulder.  “You too, Junie.”
With a squeal of alarm, Junie jumped to her feet and scrambled after him.  As she got to the bottom of the stairs, Bob spoke to her, pointing at the corner.  “Junie, get on your knees here and watch.  I want you to see what happens to mouthy fucking bitches around here.”  Junie was in the corner in an instant, her eyes huge and frightened, and yet fascinated.
Donna was already nude and kneeling in the center of the room, her hands clasped behind her, her eyes on the floor.  Bob walked up to her and lifted her chin with a finger tip.  “You find my enjoyment of women's underwear amusing.”  It was not a question.  “You seem to find fun at making light of me.  I cannot help but feel like I am being treated disrespectfully.”
Bob dropped his hand away from Donna's face.  Giving her a thoughtful look, he walked through one of the doorways and came back dragging a heavy scarred wooden trunk.  Lifting open the lid he rummaged through it.  “Stand up, bitch.”
Donna quickly rose to her feet.  Bob laughed when he noticed that Junie had jumped to her feet as well.  “Junie, get back down on your knees.  For tonight ‘bitch’ is Donna's name.”  He walked around Donna, a length of white rope in his hands.  “Yes, that’s your name, Bitch, ‘Disrespectful Mouthy Bitch’.  You seem to be so entertained by my interest in panties.”
Tucking the rope into a pocket, he turned to Junie.  “Junie, give me your panties, now.”  Junie hurriedly stripped off her shorts and panties, handing the lacy underwear to Bob with a trembling outstretched hand.  He looked at her, “I am frightening you, Sweet Junie?”  He eyed her naked legs and cunt.
“Yes, Sir, a little.”  He nodded in satisfaction.
He sniffed the silk and lace, “Too bad they are so clean.”  He spread them wide and smiled an angry snarl, “They will have to do.  They certainly are a mouthful, just the thing to shut up a mouthy bitch.  Open up, mouthy bitch.”  Donna obediently opened her mouth and Bob crammed them into her mouth.
Walking around Donna again he took her braid.  “I have been meaning to compliment you, Junie, on what a nice job you did braiding your Mistress's hair.”  Pulling the rope from his pocket he tied it to the braid, doubling back the hair and tying it again.  “Yes, a very nice job.  I could almost hang her up by this alone.”
Returning to the box he threw out several more lengths of rope.  He had a ball gag in one hand and a blindfold in the other.  As he fastened the gag around Donna's mouth he spoke in a conversational tone to Junie, “Probably unnecessary, but I like the way it looks.”  He pulled the blindfold around Donna's eyes.
“Okay, Junie, now I am going to tie her arms behind her.  Not too tight though, she is going to be tied for quite a while.  Don't want to put too much strain on her shoulders.  We are looking for pain, not injury.”  He was tying a rope around Donna's shoulders and then weaving the ropes down the length of her arms, ending with her wrists together.  He turned Donna so Junie could see.  “Pretty.”
He picked up a small, heavy-looking leather pair of thong panties.  “Let’s continue with the panty theme, why don't we.”  He put a hand on Donna's shoulder, balancing her.  “Bitch, pick up your right foot.”    For the first time Junie heard Donna make a sound, a soft whimper as she lifted her foot.  Bob's eyes met Junie's, his voice was matter of fact, almost joking but his expression was grim, “She is remembering the last time she wore this particular pair of panties.  I wonder if this might just be the source of her poorly veiled angst about panties.  Other foot, bitch.”
Bob hauled the leather thong up hard, jerking it cruelly so the narrow leather triangle cut harshly between Donna's cunt lips.  Junie flinched in sympathy.  Leaning down Bob attached a spreader bar between Donna's ankles.  “Look, Junie.  See this metal ring on the back of these panties?
It is not purely decorative.”  Bob reached up and pulled a roped down from a rafter and attached a heavy metal snap to the ring and pulled it through the pulley raising Donna up on her toes.
Taking the rope attached to her braid he threaded through a second snap higher up on the rope, pulling it tight.  “This way when I suspend her she will be held by both her hair and her panties.”
His tone was no longer light.  “Ready, bitch?”  Donna whimpered plaintively and shook her head.  “Too bad, maybe you will learn to think before speaking.”  He pulled on the rope and lifted her off the floor, her body leaning forward at the hips, lifted by the narrow band of leather biting into her cunt, her back held parallel to the floor by the rope holding her hair.  A low whine of pain echoed in the room.
“Bring me the chair, Junie.”  Junie drug the heavy chair over to Bob, and he sat down on it.  “I really need to get something more comfortable to sit on down here.  Junie, go upstairs and get my dinner.  Warm it up and bring it down here for me to eat.”  He idly shoved Donna with one of his feet making her swing and spin.
“Yes, Sir.”  Junie's face was wet with tears as she sped up the stairs to obey.
When she came back, he was sitting watching Donna slowly spinning.  “Good girl.  Sit at my feet.”  As he ate he would occasionally give Donna a push, the swinging and rocking forcing the leather deeper into Donna's cunt.  Junie could see that the flesh was red and swollen around the thong, the puffy flesh bulging out obscenely on either side, almost surrounding the now saturated leather.  As she watched, Junie saw a drop of moisture fall to the floor.
Bob watched Junie's eyes as she watched it fall and took in the small puddle of wetness on the floor.  Again his tone was light.  “Fucking amazing isn't it?  She is in a lot of pain and yet she is completely turned on.  It wouldn't take much for her to come right now.”
Junie took a long shuddering breath and sniffed.  Bob stroked her hair.  “Why are you so sad, Junie?  Do you wish it was you up there?”
“Yes, Sir.  I do wish it.”
“Because you want it for yourself or because you want to somehow rescue your Mistress?”
For the first time a tiny hiccup of a sob shook her.  “Both, I think both, Sir.  I hate watching her be hurt and at the same time I crave it for myself.  Crave it and fear it.”
Bob's hand tightened in her hair.  “I ordered a pair of leather panties just like these for you.  I hope you like them.”
His eyes returned to Donna's slowly swaying form.  “I think she is getting bored.  Or maybe I am.”  He stood and moved in between Donna's legs, stopping her swing with a foot on the spreader bar.  “What do you think bitch, are you bored?”  He bore down on the spreader bar, adding his weight to hers.  Donna convulsed, a shriek whistling through her nose.
Bob stepped away and gave her another shove, making her sway and spin once more.  Casually he walked over and began to inspect the whips and floggers neatly displayed on the wrack next to the fireplace.  Picking up a flogger with dozens of very narrow tails, almost leather laces, he turned and flicked it experimentally a few times and then snapped it at Donna’s leg as it spun past.
From where she knelt next to Bob’s chair she saw that the tips of the laces barely touched Donna’s skin but it made a sharp little crack, and Donna flinched, her leg jerking slightly.  Bob commented, “She was a little surprised by that.”  He snapped it again at her ass cheek and then again at one of her breasts, carefully choosing his targets as she spun slowly. 
Junie cringed again when he targeted the tender swollen flesh between Donna’s legs, and for the first time a cry of pain leaked around the gag in Donna’s mouth.  After that Bob seemed never to pass up an opportunity to punish that part of Donna’s body, snapping the little flogger against her swollen labia at every spin.  Junie’s found she was making tiny whimpers echoing Donna’s squalls of pain.
“Enough, bitch.  I hope you have learned something.”  Bob looked over at Junie, “I certainly think Junie has.”
Bob slowly let Donna down but she seemed unable to hold herself up with her legs, sagging to her knees.  He unclipped the rope from her hair and the ring on the thong, and hauled her to her feet.  “Stand up, bitch.”  Donna swayed but held herself upright.  Bob quickly untied the ropes from her arms and hair.  He took the spreader bar off her legs.
Last he pulled the panties down with a jerk.  When Donna flinched and whimpered, he laughed cruelly, “I knew she liked these panties best of all.  Look how she hates to see them go.”  He took her by the elbow, supporting and guiding her.  “Walk to the bed, bitch.”
He pushed her down onto the bed, fastening her arms and legs out spread eagled.  He pulled off the blindfold and the ball gag.  He held out his hand.  Donna slowly pushed the wet panties out of her mouth into his hand and took a long shaky breath.
Throwing the panties on the floor, he called.  “Come here, Junie.  Look at the bitch's cunt, all sore and swollen.  Kiss it better, Junie.  Kiss and bite her cunt, just like I showed you how.  I will know if you are doing it right because she will be screaming.”  His next words were for Donna, “Don't you dare fucking come, bitch.”
Junie looked at Donna and back at Bob.  Her face was a mask of grief and terror.  In the tiniest voice she faltered.  “I don't want to hurt her.  Please don't make me hurt her.”
Donna's voice was a croak, “Junie, do what he says.”
Junie was sobbing as she climbed up between Donna's legs.  She sent a beseeching look at Bob, but his face was adamant.  She whispered, “I am sorry, Ma'am,” as she lowered her face to the tortured flesh of Donna's cunt.
Bob knelt behind Junie, leaning over her back, his voice a hoarse angry whisper in her ear.  “Harder, suck and bite harder.”  He put his hand on Junie's head and ground her face into Donna's cunt.  Donna writhed and screamed.  “Good, like that.  Keep that up.”
 Bob unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock.  Junie could feel it hard and hot sliding up and down the crack of her ass.
Junie stiffened and groaned as he pushed his cock deep into her cunt.  Burying himself to the hilt and using it as a ram to force her face to into Donna, banging her lips and teeth against Donna's clit over and over.  “Grab the bitch's cunt lips, pinch them, and twist them, harder than that.”  Donna was squirming and screaming, soft squalls of pain and at the same time Junie could tell she was struggling to fight against her building excitement.
Keeping a hand on the back of Junie's neck Bob rose up and began to thrust fast and deep into her cunt.  He spanked her ass hard with his other hand with each lunge into her cunt.  Junie could feel herself starting to tense and shudder, her cunt tightening down, her sobs turning to high pitched squeals of pleasure. 
Suddenly Donna was silent, her whole body tense and arched, her mouth open and her eyes clenched.  Bob jerked Junie's face away from her cunt.  “Oh no you don't, bitch.  I said don't come.” 
Gripping both Junie's hips he began to fuck her hard and fast, almost battering at her with his hips.  Junie fought her climax in long strangled groans, trying to relax and keep her muscles from tensing.  Bob growled in her ear.  “Come when I do, or don't come at all.”  Junie's eyes met Donna's and chose.
Bob growled and lunged deep, his whole body spasming and jerking as he filled her with his come.  Junie almost failed, the sensation of the hot semen filling her, almost pushing her over the edge.  It was only Donna's steady gaze that kept her teetering.
Bob grunted and pulled out from Junie.  His eyes were thoughtful as he pulled Junie around and pushed her face onto his cock.  As she carefully cleaned him with her mouth, he looked at Donna.  “I think you have an ally.  She seems eager to share your fate.”  Donna knew better than to speak.
When Bob let go of her, Junie was uncertain what was expected of her next.  She stayed on her hands and knees between Donna's legs, trying to avoid looking at her swollen labia.  She could feel Bob's essence leaking down her legs, the tickling sensation making her cunt clench and throb.  She was intensely aware of her need to come but she was determined to fight that.  If Donna was not allowed to reach climax she was going to share her punishment.  Awkwardly she climbed from the bed and stood nervously, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
Bob was sitting on the edge of the bed looking down at Donna.  His face seemed softer, his eyes warm and yet distant.  “Okay, young lady, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Donna cleared her throat.  When she spoke her voice was soft and chastened.  “I am sorry.  I was showing off.  I forgot who I really am.”
Bobs voice was soft and loving.  “And what is that?”
“I am yours.  I am your goddess.”  For the first time Donna sobbed.  “I love you.”
“I love you too.  And how is my goddess supposed to behave?”
“A goddess treats her Master with love, obedience and respect.”
Bob kissed her gently on the forehead.  “I understand it will be confusing for you to be both my goddess and Junie's Mistress, but this is what you wished for and you must find balance.  Your behavior at the table was a subtle attempt to take my power by disrespecting me in front of Junie.  You even went so far as to try to attempt to enlist her in your little game.  I cannot allow that kind of destructive energy into our home.”
Donna was really starting to sob, “Yes, Master.”
Bob gently stroked her face.  “Tonight I want you to hold vigil.  Lie here.  Contemplate your actions.  Think about how it would tear apart our world if I lost my power.  Meditate on balance.  Beg our mother for guidance.  I will speak with you again in the morning.”
Bob looked sharply at Junie who was watching them speak.  Her eyes were large and tear filled.  “Okay, Junie, help me clean up down here and then go upstairs and clean up the kitchen.  Do not speak to Donna.  She is thinking.”

Bob showed Junie how to put the ropes away and how to clean the ball gag and the leather thong.  She helped him slide the trunk to one side.  “Let’s leave this out here.  I am thinking we will be using it a lot.”
Junie gathered her and Donna's clothes and headed upstairs.  When she came out from her room pulling on a clean pair of underwear and her shorts, Bob was looking at her and Donna's unfinished dinners.  “It seems like you have chosen to share your Mistress's fate as much as you can.  You both will fast the rest of the evening.  You will eat when she does.”
Bob took a glass of water down to the basement and came back with it empty.  He noticed that Junie would look up apprehensively every time he came into the room.  He held out his arms to her.  “Come here, Junie.”  Junie obediently let him pull her close, but she could sense a nervous tension in her body, a holding back.  He leaned back, tipping up her face to look into her eyes.  He said one word, “Talk.”
A deep sob tore at Junie's throat.  Bob pulled her face to his chest.  “Let it out, Junie.”  Deep wracking sobs shook Junie.  Bob stood and held her crooning.  “That’s a girl.  Let it out.  Give it to me.”  When she finally ran down, took a deep shuddering breath, her body was soft and warm against him, all resistance gone.  Once again he looked into her face, “Talk.”
“I hate seeing her in pain.  I hate hurting her.  Why do you make me do that?”
Bob's voice was deep and warm.  “Sweet Junie, did you listen to what I said to Donna about my power?”
“Yes, Sir, but I don't know if I completely understand.”
“For this little ménage to function there has to be a leader, a Master.  Without it, the emotions and allegiances get muddy, confusing.  There would be squabbles over power.  What happened tonight at the table, under the guise of teasing, was an attempt to take some of my power.  I could not allow that to happen.”
“It is almost inevitable that Donna try to do this.  Her role is changing in our circle.  She is no longer on the bottom.  She has to find her place in the middle.  It will be difficult for her.  Your and my places at the ends of the poles, top and bottom, it’s easy to know if you are where you are supposed to be.  The metaphorical ends of the rope, but Donna will have to learn to balance in the middle.   I came down on Donna very harshly the first time I sensed her trying to move too close to my end.”  Bob laughed, “I am stretching this metaphorical rope to the breaking point.  But do you get what I mean?”
“I think so, Sir.  But I still don't understand why you made me hurt her.  I hated that.”
“I know you hate that.  I would be concerned if you did not hate it.  If you are staying in your role of bottom you should instinctively avoid any and all demonstrations of dominance.  I made you do it because you hated it.  It was my assertion of dominance over both you and Donna.”
“I guess I understand.  I will always hate it, but I understand.”
“There is no way you are going to like everything you will experience here, Junie.”
“Yes, Sir.  I think that’s true for most everything.  Before I came here there was very little in my life I liked.”
Bob looked seriously into Junie's eyes.  “You must be careful to stay in your role, little one.  Already you are confused.  Your decision to join Donna indicates a splitting in your loyalty.  You must guard against that.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I am going to go take the dogs for a walk.  I warn you to stay out of the basement.  I know that every fiber of your being is screaming to go be with Donna but that would not help either her or you.”
“Could I come with you?”
“No.  It is unsafe to leave someone alone in a house, handcuffed to a bed.  I need you to stay here.”
“Yes, Sir.”

Restless, Junie got out her laptop, but she could not make the wireless internet work.  She got out her phone and there were three messages.  One was from Sir James from late Friday night, one was from her apartment manager from this morning, flagged urgent, and the last was from her ex-husband, this evening.
Junie opened the message from her manager, Miss Jannings.  The apartment manager was a nice, if somewhat eccentric, older woman.  Junie had never really gotten to know her.  The manager's voice was frightened and speaking very fast.  Junie had trouble following exactly what it was all about, but it was clear that someone had broken into her apartment and it seemed like the manager was worried for her safety.
The message from her ex-husband was clear and even more frightening.  He was trying to reach her because a police detective had contacted him, trying to find Junie.  It seemed like the police were functioning under the impression she may have been abducted or in danger in some way.
Junie was standing in the door, struggling to control her breathing and losing the battle, when Bob came back.  She threw herself into his arms, sobbing.  “Whoa, Junie, what’s the matter?”  She held out her phone.  “Broke... broke into my...  my... apartment.”
Bob was instantly serious.  His voice was sharp, slicing through her hysteria, “Calm down this instant.  Take a deep breath.  Slow down.”
Junie took several shuddering breaths.  She held up her phone, stammering, “Phone messages.  One from my... my apartment manager.  She said someone broke... broke into my apartment.”  Junie closed her eyes and took another deep breath.  “One from ex-husband.  He said police detective looking for me.  He said they think I might be in danger.”  Junie looked at the phone and made an angry, frightened face.  “And one from Sir James.  I didn't listen to that one.”
Bob was grimly all business.  “Let me listen to the one from Pastor James.”  His face turned dark as he listened.  He looked at Junie.  “It was a good thing you came here when you did.  Seems like James' friend did not like the idea of leaving you alone.  James was trying to warn you to get out of your apartment.”
“Call your ex-husband.  Let him know you are safe and get the name and number of the detective.”  Bob paced back and forth across the deck, his face stormy.  “Shit, I had hoped we could put all this behind us.”
Junie called her ex.  “Greg, this is Junie.  No, I am fine.  I just got your message.  No I am fine!  I just was out of town for the weekend with friends.  That’s unfair and none of your business.  My car?  The window really?  Oh no.  My apartment too?  That’s awful.  Give me the detective's name and number and I will call the police and let them know I am okay.”  Junie wrote down some numbers.  “Greg, stop!  I don't need you to do that.  I am perfectly capable of dealing with this on my own.  Greg, you are not my husband anymore.  I suggest you mind your own business.  No!  Goodbye!”
After she hung up, she looked at Bob.  Her eyes were furious, her voice flat.  “If he did not piss me off every time I talked to him, I would be fucking hysterical.”
“What did he say?”
Junie took a deep shaky breath.  “A man, I am guessing James' friend, broke into my apartment Friday night.  It seems that he is a pretty bad guy.  He is wanted for abduction, rape and attempted murder of a woman in Oregon.  I guess he really trashed the place.  He made quite a racket and one of my neighbors called the manager and she called the cops.  They arrested him as he left the building.  The police just wanted to contact me to make sure I was all right.  There was some worry that he may have carried me off or killed me because my car was still there.”  Junie suddenly shivered and swayed on her feet.
Instantly at Junie's side, Bob caught her.  Taking her arm, he guided her to the couch and pushed her down to sit.  “Sit down.  Keep breathing.  Do you feel okay to call the police detective?” 
Junie wrapped her arms around herself and breathed deeply through her nose for several seconds.  Forcing herself to take one more deep cleansing breath, she nodded.  “I just need to do this.”  She picked up the phone.  “Like you, I just want to get all this behind me.” 
Junie dialed the police number and asked for the detective, her eyes following Bob as he paced the living room.  “Detective Sangstrom, this is June Thomas.  My ex-husband, Greg Thomas, has notified me that you want to speak with me regarding a break in at my apartment Friday night.  No, I was not at home.  I am visiting friends out of town for the weekend.  No, this is the first I heard of it.  I had my cell phone turned off.  Really?  He said that?  Detective, I will be honest with you.  I was in an online relationship at one time but not with the man you describe.  I can guarantee that I have never met this Sam person.  I do not know how he got my information.  There was a time when I was... perhaps too trusting... not cautious enough with my personal information and he may have gotten it from someone online.  Yes, that is true.  Is there any way I can avoid my family learning of this?”
Junie listened for a while and slowly she began to look relieved.  “That would be ideal.  I can't begin to express to you how much that would mean to me.  Yes, you are right.  Yes, I have learned my lesson.  Yes, I can do that.  I expect to be back in the city next week.  I will contact you then.  Thank you so much.”
Junie turned off her phone and looked down at it with an odd smile on her face.  “That was fucking amazing.”
“What happened?”
“This rapist guy, Sam... something, tried to claim he was my online lover and that he was looking for me because he was afraid I was abducted by someone else.  He showed them some of those naked pictures of me to try and prove we were lovers.  The city police seem eager to ship him back to Oregon.  I guess they have a pretty solid case against him there and they don't expect him to get out of jail for a very long time.  They just want me to sign a complaint in case he ever makes it back to this jurisdiction.  They said there was no reason for any of my personal indiscretions to get out.  He did give me an earful about online predators.”
Next Junie called her apartment manager.  “Miss Jannings, this is Junie Thomas.  No, I am fine.  I just got your message.  Yes, I have spoken to the police.  I know.  It’s terrifying.  Thank god I was visiting friends.  You were so smart to call the police when you did.  Yes.  You are right.  He could have.  It’s just too much to think about.  I think I will stay with friends a while longer.  Yes.  Oh good.  I will have to clean that up I guess.  All’s well that ends well.  Thank you.  Oh you are so sweet.  Goodbye.  Yes.  I will.  Yes.  Goodbye.  I really have to go.  Goodbye.”
Junie was giggling, a tense frightened humorless sound, bordering on sobs, when she finally hung up.  “This is surreal.”
Bob was looking at her curiously.  “My apartment manager, Miss Jannings is quite the hero at the moment, being the one who called the police.  I guess there was a reward for the guy's capture.  She is absolutely convinced he was coming for her next.  The maintenance guy put a new lock on my door.  She told me that the guy really smashed things in my apartment.  I guess I have a nasty surprise waiting for me when I get back home.  I hope he did not break my sewing machine.”

Junie looked at Bob.  “Sir, Mistress was right when she said he was a rapist.”  Junie looked at him through her eyelashes.  “Sir, how long must Mistress stay downstairs thinking?”
“Junie, Donna will keep vigil until sunrise.  The length of her vigil is critical to its success.  Do not vex yourself about this.”
“Won't she just fall asleep?”
“I have instructed her to think.  She will do this.  Again, Junie, I direct you to turn your mind from your Mistress's task.  Do not make me speak of this a third time.”
Junie lowered her eyes.  “I am sorry, Sir.  I guess I was excited to tell her about what happened.”
“We are not quite done.  I still need to contact Pastor James.  Dial his number and hand me the phone.”
James' voice was cautious, “Junie?”
“Wrong again, Pastor James.  This is Bob.  You called Junie on Friday night to tell her to get out of her apartment.  It seems that your friend was not going to back off.”
James' voice was defensive, “I did what I could.  I live a thousand miles away.”
“You could have called the police.  Did you know that the guy you sent Junie's pictures to, the guy you promised to give her to for a fuck, had warrants out for his arrest for abducting, raping and trying to kill a woman in Oregon?”
“Good lord, no.”
“Pastor James, you are criminally stupid.  This guy broke into her apartment on Friday.”
“Is Junie okay?”
“If she wasn't okay, the police would have already been there to get you.  As an accomplice to rape and very possibly murder your comfortable, if hypocritical, life would have come to a very nasty end.  You are very lucky.  She was with us.  A better man would have asked after her safety before this.  A better man would have put her safety before his good name.”
“I am not such a good man.”
“Then I suggest you strive to improve yourself.  Perhaps you should look between the pages of that book you read to others on Sunday.  It is a good rule book to start with, especially for stupid men.”
James sounded impatient.  “Okay, okay, I have heard it all before.  You are not saying anything that I have not said to myself a hundred times before.”
“Luckily for all of us, the man you sent to rape Junie was caught by the police.  They are going to extradite him to Oregon to prosecute him for the crimes he committed there.  The police here are not interested in pursuing a case against him here.  So far your name has not entered into evidence.  Whether this happens or not, is of no importance to me.  You still owe Junie an apology and a new car.  We were serious about that.”
“I am working on that.”
Bobs voice was impatient.  “Bullshit, how long does it take to write a fucking apology?”
“I... um... guess I forgot about that.”
“For one who has so much to lose, you seem to have a pretty lax attitude.  Tell me about Junie's new car.”
“I said I was working on that.  I have to figure out how to pay for it without my wife finding out.”
“I will expect a progress report.”
Bob hung up without saying good bye.  “Fucking asshole.”

It was still too early to go to sleep so Junie spent some time in the kitchen.  She took the leftover salmon fillets and carefully flaked all the succulent meat.  She made a light salad, adding minced chives, celery, olives, and a dill lemon dressing.
Junie cleaned the hulls from the strawberries, resisting the impulse to pop one into her mouth.  Bob's words, “You will eat when she does,” echoed in her mind.  Suddenly the need to see Donna, to touch her hands and kiss her face, shot through her.  Her eyes kept straying to the doorway to the basement stairs.
Bob was in the office, doing something on the computer.  Junie found herself straining to hear, listening intently, holding her breath, and turning her head from side to side.  The house was silent.  Junie could feel the pull to go to the basement door, like the whole world was tipping, the floor turning to a slippery slope, gravity her enemy.  The open basement door gaped, a pit instead of a portal.  She found herself holding tightly to the kitchen counter, struggling to hold back against what felt like falling.
“Junie, come here.”  Bob's voice came from the office door, righting the world.
Junie dragged herself away from the kitchen, somehow reluctant to move away from that door that held her attention.  “Yes, Sir.”
“Are you done in the kitchen?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Bob pointed at the floor by his feet.  “Come sit here.”  After Junie curled up at his feet, tangling his fingers in her hair, he pulled her head to lean against his leg.  “What were you doing?”
“I don't know, Sir, just standing, trying to decide what to do.”
His fingers tightened in her hair.  “Truth, Junie, always give me the truth.”
A tiny whimper of fear rose up in her throat.  “I was afraid of falling.  It felt like if I let go of the counter, I would fall...”  Junie gulped.  “...fall down the stairs.”
Bob nodded with a look of understanding on his face.  “Your mind returns to your Mistress.  Your need to go to her is difficult to resist.”
“I try to stop it, but it’s all I can think about, Sir.”
“You sense her struggle.  You have a very sensitive soul.  You already have a strong spiritual bond with her.”
“Sir, is she in pain?”
“Pain?  No, Junie, not much pain, perhaps some discomfort, but just the memories of her punishment.  But she is in distress.  She contends with her demons, and she shall emerge victorious and stronger, more beautiful, more balanced.”

Bob let go of Junie's hair and stood.  “Come.”  He went to the front door and whistled softly to the dogs lying on the front deck.  Bump leaped to his feet and was at Bob's feet in an instant, the other three slowly stood and stretched, watching him, waiting for his words.  “Come.”  Bob turned and held the door open.  Junie watched as Sunny slowly made his way into the house, then Maddy, then Honey and last of all Bump.
Bob pointed at a circle of four old chairs outside the office.  “Go on.  Make yourselves comfortable.”  Junie could not help but smile as the dogs happily climbed up and sat one in each chair.  They all seemed to know whose chair was whose.
“When they came in the door, did you see how they all waited for Sunny?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“It’s easy to see he is the Master in that circle.  It is also easy to see that Bump is the last.  But where do Honey and Maddy fall in this little rating game?  They balance in the middle.”
“Maddy, oh it has to be Maddy, then Honey, Sir.”
“Tell me why you think so.”
“You said she had the strongest will.  It seems like Honey needs attention more than Maddy.  Maddy did not want to follow my directions; she only did it because you growled at her.”
“Did you notice when you would tell Maddy what to do, each time she would look at me first?  Have you thought about why she did that?  Did you notice what she did when you finished and you praised her?”
“I noticed that she looked at you, Sir.  But I don't remember what she did afterward.”
“You praised her, and she came to sit at my feet.”
“Yes, I remember now.  I lifted her chin and talked to her.  I told her we would be friends and as soon as I let her go she went to you.  I guess I thought she just liked you better?”
Bob looked affectionately at the dogs curled up in the big old easy chairs.  “They like me.  That’s true.  But that is not the answer.  Dominance, submission and obedience have little to do with affection, especially for dogs.  For you it would have an influence on your happiness, but for Maddy it has little to do with her decision making.”

Bob turned and walked away from the dogs.  “Come.”  Junie found herself following along behind Bob, wondering which of the dogs she most resembled in her eagerness to obey.  He led to the bathroom.  “Go ahead and get ready for bed.  Don't drink any water.  Make sure to go pee now.”  He turned and headed into her bedroom.
Junie looked at him curiously and headed into the bathroom.  She brushed her teeth and hair, washed her face and put on moisturizer.  She noticed her skin had a light pink tint from the sun.  She carefully made sure her bladder was empty wondering what Bob had in mind.
As she walked into the guest room, Bob was just finishing tying a rope to one of the legs of the bed.  “Put on whatever you are most comfortable sleeping in.”
“I usually just sleep in my panties, Sir.”
Bob turned and gave her a look.  “Are you mocking me or flirting?”
“Neither, Sir, it’s the truth.”
“Okay, you get to choose.  Do you want to sleep on your stomach or back?”
“I think my back, Sir.  It gets uncomfortable to lie on top of my breasts after a while.”
“I think I will find lying on your breasts infinitely comfortable.”
Junie giggled, “Are you going to sleep on top of me?”
“Flirt.  But no, I just don't want you sleepwalking, or at least walking while I am sleeping.”
Junie stopped, suddenly serious.  “Sir, don't you trust me?”
“Junie, do you trust yourself?”
Junie stopped and thought carefully.  “Before tonight I would have said yes, but I felt so odd tonight.  I can't say for sure, but I think if you had not called me then, that time in the kitchen I would have disobeyed you.  I would have ended up slipping down those stairs.  It felt like something was dragging me down there.”
“That was a very honest and thoughtful answer.  Now strip down to those sexy panties and get comfortable on the bed.”
Junie stripped down to her underwear, carefully folding and putting away her clothes.  She climbed up onto the bed and looking at Bob to see if she was doing it right, she spread her arms and legs.  He laughed.  “We won't tie you to tightly, Sweet Junie.  Just tightly enough so you can't get free.”
“I ordered some wrist and ankle shackles for you.  They should be here in a week or maybe less.”  Bob carefully wrapped the rope around her wrist in five parallel coils and tied it.  He slipped a couple of fingers under the coils making sure that they were not too tight.  “This knot will not slip.  I did not tie it all that tightly.  I am sure if you worked at it all night you could probably get free.  I am equally sure you know better than to do that.”
Junie looked curiously at the neat band of rope around her wrist.  “Yes, Sir.”  She felt curiously excited and nervous.
“Good girl.”  Bob proceeded to tie her other wrist and then her legs.  With each knot Junie felt her tension build.  As he finished her last ankle Junie shivered.  Bob stroked his hand up her leg, leaving his hand possessively on her pubic mound.  “How are you feeling, Junie?”
“Nervous and excited, it felt very sensuous when you would tie the ropes around me.  The way they slipped across my skin, the way your hands felt on me, so strong and warm.”  Junie experimentally pulled at the ropes, measuring how much movement she had.  “I feel very vulnerable now.  It is very erotic.”  Her eyes were locked on his penetrating blue gaze.  She licked her lips and swallowed.
“You look very erotic.”  His fingers traced a lazy circle over the fabric of her panties.  Junie's hips seemed to lift of their own accord, tipping up, her legs spreading, offering herself to him.
“So eager for my touch.  So responsive.”  Bob murmured.  Cupping a heavy breast, he captured a nipple and rolled it firmly between his fingers.  Junie sighed and arched, pressing her breast up into his hand.  Slowly, tantalizingly he pushed her panties to one side, his fingers slipping through her folds, dipping deep into her wetness and drawing the slippery fluids up over her clit, sliding over her, massaging in firm circles. 
Junie shuddered and whimpered, her hips surging to meet his touch, her eyes locked on his.  “You like this, being tied and helpless.  I could do anything to you.  You are my bitch.  I fucking own you.  I own this cunt.”  His fingers lunged deep into her, forcing a gasp from her lips.  “I own these tits.”  His fingers pinched and pulled up cruelly on her nipple, twisting and stretching.  His gaze hardened, and his lips twisted in a feral smile as Junie arched and struggled to lift herself to ease the pain, a cry leaving her lips.
“Your cunt clenches up around my fingers so nice when I do that.  I will have to remember how nipple pain makes you tighten up.  I am going to torture the fuck out of these big fucking nipples.”  He moved to her other nipple and again pinched and lifted her almost off the bed.  Junie closed her eyes and cried out again, a soft wail of pain.  His fingers in her cunt were pumping hard and fast, his thumb firmly on her clit. 
Junie could feel herself starting to tremble and tense.  “Oh god, Sir.  I am... I am...”
“No, you are not.  Listen to me.  You are not.”  His hand continued to push her higher.  He let go of her nipple and slapped her breast sharply, forcing a shocked howl from her lips.  He slapped one breast than the other, grating out between clenched teeth, “No... you... are... not.”
Junie's mind was reeling.  She could feel a huge orgasm building and the slaps on her breasts did nothing but make it come faster.  It was impossible to focus on fighting the feeling with the scorching pain burning through her nipples and tits.  She struggled to pull away from the fingers in her cunt.  “Fuck!  Fuck!  Can't stop!”
Just as she knew she was going to fail, his hands left her.  Junie was intensely aware of her whole body thrashing and arching.  Straining to come, teetering on that knife edge, and needing just that last single touch to fall over the edge.  A long keening moan left her lips.  She could not tell if it was a wail of relief or frustration.