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Message-ID: <48365asstr$1088849403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Carlos Malenkov <cmalenkov@linuxwaves.com>
Reply-To: cmalenkov@linuxwaves.com
MIME-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} Dominance (FM MM Fdom bd anal enem)
Lines: 687
Date: Sat,  3 Jul 2004 06:10:03 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

DOMINANCE
by Carlos Malenkov (writing as Kien Reti)
Word Count: 5523



"Three hundred bucks an hour? I gotta be out of my everlovin' mind!"

Yet here he was, sitting in the waiting room. Waiting. Vic had arrived
twenty minutes early for his appointment.

"Mr. Victor?" The middle-aged woman in a crisp nurse's uniform ushered
him into the dimly lit room. The only furniture was a low, vinyl-covered
padded table. There were what looked like television screens mounted on
two of the walls. "You are to undress while you await Mistress Domina,"
she told him. The door shut with a barely audible click, and he was alone.

This was his first visit to a real live dominatrix. He had heard crazy
stories about what went on in their chambers (dungeons?) -- stories of
clients being subject to extremes of degradation and humiliation.
Whippings, torture, insertion of unusual objects into various body
orifices, and even worse. Much worse.

There was a shabby terrycloth bathrobe hanging on a hook beside the
table. He pulled it on. Underneath he was naked. The door opened.

Mistress Domina -- "DOE-meen-ah," she pronounced it -- was wearing a
tight black elastic bodysuit. Tall and classically voluptuous, she even
verged on chubby. Wire-rimmed glasses incongruously gave her the look
of an old-fashioned schoolmarm. She was leafing through various papers
on a clipboard.

"Your file lists your treatment plan as exploring extreme variations
of anal sex, but with only a mild degree of humiliation, and minimizing
pain where possible. Pity. One of our specialties is training and severe
discipline, but we *always* cater to our clients' needs.

"Due to the nature of your particular program, you will require cleansing
enemas in preparation for each session. In future visits, our medical
staff will administer these. Today, however, I will handle this, as it
will permit me to assess the physical health and capacity of the relevant
parts of your anatomy -- the lower colon, rectum, and anal sphincter."

Vic lay facedown on the padded table. Nylon straps locked his arms and
legs rigidly in place. A rubber hose ran upward from the crevice of his
buttocks to the large enema bottle dispensing a cloudy amber liquid into
his lower intestine.

"This is a mild Castile soap and mineral oil solution. You should not
find it unduly irritating, but it *will* most effectively accomplish
its purpose of thoroughly purging your large intestine. We will follow
up with two rinsings of distilled water. You are expected to retain the
solution within your colon for ten minutes, at which time I will release
the restraints and permit you to use the bathroom facilities."

What a relief it was to dump the liquid contents of his colon in a
single, smelly, explosive burst! Perched on the toilet, Vic mulled
over what awaited him for the remainder of the two-hour (six hundred
dollar!) session.

Preliminary dilation, Mistress Domina had called it. Now he was standing,
bent forward over the padded table. His arms stretched out at an angle
past his head. Straps buckled around the wrists held him firmly in
place. His chin sank into the soft pillow under his chin.

"If you will look upward and a bit toward your right, Mr. Victor, you
will be able to follow our progress on the video monitor."

Mistress Domina was examining what appeared to be a rather large corkscrew
device with a handle on its end.

"This is a Type IV Orifice Spreader. Practitioners in our field consider
it superior to a medical speculum for stretching and expanding the anal
orifice. From its small rounded insertion tip, it gradually tapers outward
into a cone as we move toward the base. There is a wide spiraling screw
thread running diagonally along its surface to engage the ring of muscle
at the entrance of the anus. The crank on the end permits the operator to
rotate the device, with the net result that it actually screws into the
recipient. The net result is to gently but inexorably enlarge and loosen
the anal sphincter. For our first session, we will content ourself with
a modest gain in aperture."

"Screwed by a corkscrew," Vic was thinking as Mistress Domina introduced
the tip of the thing into him. It felt rather like a small dildo as
it penetrated about an inch deep, just past the anal ring. "So far,
so good," he mumbled. He was starting to get an erection.

Now there was slight sideward pressure, and he began to feel the stretch
as Mistress twisted the crank. It was advancing deeper into his rectum,
and widening him sideways. There was little friction, due to the
lube applied to the spiral threads. He watched on the video monitor,
fascinated and disbelieving, as about a third of its length disappeared
into him, and he stretched, stretched, and *stretched*. He felt as wide
as a railway tunnel, and it was starting to get distinctly uncomfortable.

"Seven inch depth and two inch width," Mistress Domina announced, then
she slapped him on the right butt cheek. "Now we disengage." Vic could
feel his sphincter relax and spring back as the corkscrew untwisted and
unscrewed out of him.

"Ten minute rest period before the final phase of this session," Mistress
said. The door clicked shut and Vic was alone, standing, bent forward
over the table, still held in place by wrist restraints. He closed his
eyes and dozed off. . . .

. . . and awoke as he felt something inserting into him. Into his anus
again. Looking at the video monitor, he saw Mistress Domina penetrating
him with something protruding from a black harness she was wearing around
her hips. A dildo. A very large dildo.

The corkscrew treatment must have loosened him quite a bit. He didn't feel
any discomfort at full penetration. How deep? At least six inches. Now
she was vigorously pumping in and out. Mistress was fucking him. Fucking
him in the ass.



Half an hour later, Vic was driving home. He felt exhausted, utterly and
completely drained. Well, why not? He had climaxed twice during the "final
phase" of his first treatment. There was still a pleasurable throbbing
in his bowels. Mistress knew what she was doing, all right. Painless
extreme anal -- that was right on the money.

He *had* to continue the "treatment." It was the fulfillment of lifelong
fantasies. Being dominated and being penetrated . . . simultaneously.
There was only one small problem, though. How to pay for it.

Six hundred per session was quite a bit more than he could afford. So,
what were his options? Get a second job? Take another mortgage on
his condo apartment? Borrow money from the loan sharks? None of those
alternatives particularly appealed to him.

Inspiration! Vic had once been quite an accomplished computer hacker.
What if . . . what if he could figure out a way to electronically recover
the money he paid for Mistress Domina's services. Say, if he could access
the house bank account on-line and drain some funds from it. Now *this*
idea rang his chimes. While she was fucking him in *his* most intimate
place, he could be fucking her right back in *hers* -- in the pocketbook.



This waiting was making him nuts. Waiting for his second session
with Mistress, Vic was busy chewing his fingernails down to ragged
nubs. Damn. They really ought to have a better selection of magazines
for the waiting room. "House Beautiful" and "Woodworking Hobbyist"
didn't quite do it for him.

"Mr. Victor -- " A different nurse this time. Younger, prettier. The
room she admitted him into was likewise different. In addition to the
familiar padded examination table there was an elaborate mechanical chair
that appeared to have various devices built into it. It also had a sort
of cutout in the center of the seat, toward the back.

"If you will please disrobe, we will administer the series of preliminary
enemas. Starting with this session, their purpose is not just internal
cleansing, but increasing intestinal volume. You will receive a full
four quarts, and retain the solution for twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes! He could never hold it in that long.

As it turned out, he could. If he had to. After the attractive nurse had
filled him to bursting, he felt something expanding just inside his anus.

"This special-purpose enema nozzle contains an inflating bladder to block
the exit from your rectum." In the video monitor he watched the nurse pump
a small rubber bulb in her hand. "You will find yourself unable to expel
any liquid, and attempts to do so will be futile and only cause increased
discomfort. Bye. See you later." The door shut behind her.

Those were the longest twenty minutes of his life. Several times he
thought his belly and guts were going to burst. Then he surrendered and
gave himself over to the feeling. Totally distended inside, blown up like
an overinflated balloon. Transformed into a human water container. Yet,
in the midst of his discomfort, he felt the stirrings of . . . lust. On
his stomach on the padded table, arms and legs in restraints, pumped up
with a solution of chemicals . . . his penis began hardening beneath him.

He hadn't even noticed that the nurse had returned. She was regarding him
with a faint smile as she unbuckled the straps.

"Through the door and to the left. Empty yourself in the sanitary
facilities and be back here within ten minutes."

The following two rinse enemas were no big deal. He didn't have to hold
them in very long, and he enjoyed the sweet feeling of inner purification
they left him with.

"Welcome back, Mr. Victor." Mistress Domina had entered. She dismissed
the nurse.

"We will employ a special-purpose Dilation Chair for this next stage of
your treatment. Please sit down, if you will."

The chair was form-fitting and surprisingly comfortable, but he was held
firmly in place after Mistress had strapped down his arms and legs. Yes,
there was, in fact, a slot in the seat beneath him, lengthwise along
the crack of his buttocks as he was positioned.

"Beneath the chair are various cylindrical penetration devices. The
control panel permits me to insert these directly into your posterior
through the opening in the seat. There are a number of options for
manipulating and moving them inside your rectum after penetration. To
minimize discomfort, all insertion devices are ergonomically designed
and adequately lubricated.

"We will begin with stretching and widening. This first insertion will be
a combination speculum and dildo, a cylinder that screws apart and expands
sideways to widen the anal entrance and the lower rectum. Prepare yourself."

There was a mechanical hum and Vic felt something pushing between and
through his buttocks from below. Now it was pressing against his anal
opening ("It's going in right up through my asshole," he was thinking).

"Your cooperation is expected, Mr. Victor. Push gently outward, as if
you were having a bowel movement. This will unlock your sphincter ring
and let the device into you."

It was inside him now, and moving up higher inside. Higher still. It
stopped.

"Relax your thigh muscles. We will now commence the expansion. Speak up
if it becomes too uncomfortable."

Vic saw her move a joystick on the control panel, and he felt the sides
of his anal opening slowly forced apart in all directions. The stretching
sensation was stronger and more uniform than the corkscrew device from
the previous session. Wider, and wider still. Then it held steady. He
could just barely tolerate it.

"We will hold at this setting for five minutes, Mr. Victor. I must
congratulate you. You have a three-inch aperture now. That is probably
sufficient even for full-depth fisting, but that will have to await a
future session."

This wasn't bad at all. Extreme expansion, huh?

All too soon, Mistress withdrew the expansion dildo from him. He felt
an emptiness inside.

"The next insertion will be for the purpose of depth measurement. Using
a soft, flexible probe we will determine how far up into you we can
penetrate. Get ready."

This one felt softer and gentler than any of the other mechanical dildos.
But it kept moving up and up, and farther up into him. It wouldn't
stop. It just wouldn't stop. "Mistress, I feel some discomfort inside
now."

"We're at eleven inches and probably impacting the bend in your lower
colon. Let me unlock the flex joints of the probe. How does that feel
now?"

"Better, thanks."

"Let's resume then."

"Twenty-six inches. You held out quite well. We'll withdraw the probe and
give you another ten-minute rest period before completing the session."



Homeward bound, Vic felt good all over. Purified inside and thoroughly
fucked out. Mistress had ass-fucked him with a dildo for twenty minutes
at the close of the session. A *huge* dildo. She had let him measure
it before penetrating him. It was ten inches long and two-and-a-half
inches across. It had felt very satisfying as she plunged its full length
into him.

On the way out, Mistress had actually *smiled* and hinted at a special
surprise for his next session.

He had another reason to feel fine. His monthly bank statement had come
in this morning's mail. There was a canceled check made out to the House
of Dominance. He now had Mistress Domina's account number . . . and he
had not the slightest doubt that he was every bit as good at plundering
her electronic funds as she was at plundering his ass.



It was his third session. Mistress had escorted him out of the waiting
room. No nurse this time. She herself had given him his cleansing enemas.
Special treatment, indeed. Now he was taking his ten-minute rest period,
lying flat on the treatment table, waiting for her return.

The door opened. Now this *was* special. Mistress stood before him in
her full shining glory. Bare-ass naked.

"Make yourself comfortable in the Dilation Chair, Mr. Victor. This time we
will use a conical insertion device to stretch your entrance. Penetration
depth will be minimal, but we will open you up to a four-inch width."

Strapped down in the chair, Vic groaned as the conical dildo pushed
against his anal sphincter, then into him. It was splitting him
apart! Then the pressure relaxed and he let out all his breath in a
single gasp.

"Now, now. It couldn't have been all that bad. Let's check your progress."

She undid the straps and bent him forward over the table.

"Quite a passageway you have there. Big enough to drive a truck through.
More than adequate for purposes more dear to your heart."

There were pinpricks of cold metal on both sides of his anus. Mistress
was measuring his sphincter width with calipers.

"Just a hair short of four inches wide, but close enough for government
work." It was the first touch of humor she had ever shown.

"Stay as you are Mr. Victor. You are about to experience something very
startling." She turned. "Come in, Barto. We are ready for you."

The door opened and a burly young man strode in. He bowed to Mistress,
then to Vic.

"This, Mr. Victor, is my associate, Bartolomeo. His specialty is testing
expanded anal cavities. With your permission, we will commence."

Vic shrugged his shoulders. He had never been ass-fucked by a man. "Since
everything else has been done to me, why not this, too?" he mumbled.

"How's that again, Mr. Victor?"

"Yes. Yes! Go ahead. Get it over with."

It didn't feel much different than when Mistress had used a dildo on
him. In fact, the man's cock felt distinctly *smaller* inside him. Must
be the effect of the dilation part of the therapy. 'Just think, I've
got a wide enough asshole to be ass-fucked by a man, and hardly even
noticing it.'

Vic did feel the faint throbbing, then the wet discharge inside him as
the man came. He heard, rather than felt, the withdrawal out of his ass.
It was a distinctly *liquid* sound.

"Congratulations, Mr. Victor. You have officially lost your anal virginity."

"My pleasure, Mistress."



"What next?" Victor was thinking as his ten-minute rest period came to
an end. That question was answered as Mistress entered the room. She
had on a short white lab coat, but was naked from the waist down. In her
right hand was a skin-tight latex glove, which gleamed with an oily gel.

"You are ready -- more than ready -- for fisting, Mr. Victor. Will you
kindly bend over the table. Thank you. As usual, I will buckle the
restraints on your arms and legs. You may observe what is being done to
you on the wall monitor."

Mistress had tented together the fingers of her gloved hand and was
gradually pushing it into his anus. Victor began feeling the stretch
as the knuckles disappeared into him. She was stroking his forehead with
her free hand and humming into his ear.

"There. That wasn't so bad. We're past the hard part. I'm forming a fist
now. Can you feel it?"

"Indeed I can, Mistress. Do with me what you will."

"This is the most intimate act of power and possession. You are totally
in my power and I am possessing you. I will hold your very life essence
in my hand.

"We are up to the wrist now. For the moment, we shall stop at this
depth. Ah, yes. I have impaled you upon my fist. You are totally mine."

Mistress began slowly pumping her fist in and out. Vic reached orgasm
for the third time that session. As his body spasmed and convulsed,
Mistress slowly withdrew out of him. His rectum seemed reluctant to
release her hand. It felt as if his bowels were being pulled out.

"Look at yourself," she said. The monitor showed a large dark hole where
his anus was. It reminded him somewhat of a tunnel entrance. A tunnel
leading all the way up into the deepest heart of him.

"Enough," she said. Next session I may plunge into you all the way up
to my elbow. But for now . . . we will terminate today's activities by
permitting you to interact with specially selected visitors. You will
be privileged to accept whatever attentions they choose to endow upon
you." Mistress exited the room, leaving him bent over the table, still
buckled up in the restraints.

The door opened and a man came through. He was alone. He was fully
clothed but masked. He unzipped his fly. He had a full erection. With
no preliminaries he plunged his cock deep into Vic's exposed receptacle.

The man pulled the door shut behind him as he left.

Moments later, a second man entered. He approached Vic from behind and
took his pleasure. When he finished, he left.

A total of twelve masked men had their way with Vic in the space of
about an hour. He found it somewhat interesting, in a detached, clinical
sort of way. Mistress Domina's expansion treatments had so enlarged his
passage that even being serially ass-fucked by a dozen men caused him
not the slightest discomfort.

One minor matter bothered him, though. It had finally dawned on him
that these men were *clients* of the establishment. It followed that
Mistress Domina was peddling his body, his *ass*, to make money for the
establishment. She was *prostituting* him. Not only that, but forcing
him to pay for the privilege. He was beginning to feel exploited and
deceived. Then he had an amusing insight.

He chewed on the thought as he drove home. "I might just end up making a
lot more money out of this affair than Mistress. In the middle of being
ass-fucked by that gang, I had an inspiration. I've got a hunch how I
can crack the passcode for her bank account."



Of course the bank's ultra-secure Internet site had a back door . . . just
as everything and everybody had a back door. Mistress herself had
inadvertently given him a clue. "Dominance, in all its variations and
permutations, holds the key to my heart," she had said. The endorsement
on the canceled check supplied the additional information Vic needed.

It wasn't terribly difficult. The very first thing he tried was the
permutations of "dominance" -- its anagrams. The longest of these
anagrams, "comedian," turned to be the password for the account. From
there, it was a straightforward technical exercise to jump one step
up into the supervisory level. Vic now had access to *all* the bank's
client accounts.

Interesting. Rooting through the allegedly sacrosanct financial records
of the bank led to an even bigger plum than the House of Dominance --
an outfit by the name of Pietro Associates. Now *that* account was worth
*billions*. Digging deeper revealed some shadowy entities behind that
company. There were Saudi oil interests involved. Pietro = Petro(leum).

Fuck the House of Dominance! He had much bigger fish to fry. Real soon
now, he'd be rolling in Pietrodollars.

It was child's play for an old-time hacker like Vic to subvert the
bank's accounting system. He inserted into the software a stealth-trojan
that triggered whenever the final digit of a credit or debit from *any*
bank customer ended in 7. That would initiate a cloaked fund transfer
of *a single penny* from the Pietro account to his own. It would never
be noticed by human auditors, and over a period of weeks would add up
to millions of dollars. This meant the end of any lingering monetary
problems for him.

Even before this latest escapade, Vic's finances had improved dramatically.
Having his special needs taken care of by Mistress had apparently
unleashed his creative potential. He was constantly bubbling over with
ideas. His problem solving abilities became legendary, and he scored off
the scale on a couple of IQ tests. He had received a large performance
bonus at work and was a candidate for promotion to regional manager. He
had pulled off a nice little coup on the stock market by short-selling
the Barbary Pirate Group, a sleazy little outfit that generated income
primarily through extortion and lawsuits. He had written and sold
eighteen erotic stories and was awaiting the checks in the mail. He had
been selected as a quiz show host on a local radio station. All in all,
fortune was smiling on him, and he attributed it all to Mistress Domina's
ministrations.



Vic was forty-five minutes early this time. Anticipation was half the
fun. Sitting and idly leafing through a magazine, he wondered if he were
man enough to splurge and go for a double session this time?

Once more Mistress personally greeted him in the waiting room. And why
not? Not only was he a good client, he was also helping her make money
from *other* clients. But he no longer harbored any resentment over
that. After all, he benefited from it, too.

Vic hardly noticed the three cleansing enemas, so preoccupied was he with
what awaited him next. Mistress had promised to fist him *all the way up*.
Imagine being totally impaled upon her strong arm, utterly in her power.

"Mr. Victor." Mistress interrupted his reverie. "We have a special
entertainment prepared for you. Rather than using the Dilation Chair
for your 'stretching exercises,' permit me to introduce you to the
Impalement Stool."

It was an ordinary-looking armless chair, but with what looked like a
thick, blunt-ended tapered shaft sticking straight up from the middle
of the seat.

"In answer to your unasked question, the dilation cone measures fully
fifteen inches high. It is one inch in diameter at its rounded tip, and
three and three-quarters inches at the base. With a bit of help from my
assistants, you will be seated there, impaled directly upon it. Now kindly
bend over and I will inject lubricant into your body cavity. Remember --
total acceptance and relaxation are the keys to painless enlargement."

Three burly men had entered the room. While excess lubricant was still
dripping from his anus, two of them bodily lifted him by the arms, while
the third held him at the ankles. Slowly they lowered him in seated
position onto the cone. His weight pulled him down, and it wedged him
open and pushed up into him as he sank down upon it.

His buttocks rested flat on the seat and his trembling legs barely reached
the floor. The dilation cone was embedded high up within his rectum and it
froze him in a rigid posture.

Mistress smiled. "There are more embellishments."

The men fastened cuffs to his wrists. They linked cables to eyelets on
each cuff, then looped the cables over a low-hanging beam overhead. The
cable ends hooked to the back of the chair. The net effect was to hold
his arms rigidly extended nearly vertically in the air.

"That will hold you in place," Mistress said. "To prevent you from
ejaculating without our permission, we will employ an additional
measure." She held an elastic snap-lock ring in front of him. "This
clamps around the base of your testicles, Mr. Victor. It should be a
most interesting experience."

It was.

After sitting immobile and impaled for some minutes, Vic was starting to
feel a moderate degree of discomfort. It was also just plain boring. How
much longer would he have to endure it?

The door opened.

A masked woman entered. She walked over to Vic, and coolly appraised his
naked body as if he were a piece of livestock. Apparently satisfied,
she turned around, flipped up her skirt, flounced her bare ass at him
. . . and, facing away from him, fastidiously lowered herself upon his
involuntary erection. Vic admired the elaborate butterfly tattoo on her
back as she leaned forward and braced her hands on his thighs. Bobbing
up and down, she rode his cock until, with a gasp and a shudder, she
received her full measure of release. She stood up, smoothed the wrinkles
out of her skirt, and planted a wet kiss on his sweaty forehead. The
door closed behind her.

The door opened.

A masked woman entered. She repeated the performance of the first, but
with considerably more vigor and accompanying groans, squeals, and a
fart or two. The air in the room began to get stale. Woman Number Two
tousled his hair and pinched his cheeks before leaving.

What was going on was obvious. These were more of Mistress Domina's
clients. He was still making money for the house, it seemed.

The third woman was quite large and heavy. She had the biggest, roundest
ass he had ever seen, and without preliminaries she plopped that ass
squarely on his lap. Her hungry pussy engulfed him, and what must have
been three hundred pounds of womanhood squashed him hard into the seat
of the stool, driving the cone even deeper into his guts. Vic began
wondering if death by ecstasy was all it was cracked up to be.

Vic tried speaking to the fourth woman. She slapped his face, then
laughed and sat down on him. She pulled a compact out of her purse,
and, leaning backward against him, went through an elaborate ritual of
applying lipstick and makeup. All the while, her pussy was rhythmically
squeezing his cock.

Somewhere along the way, one of the women had greased up her anal entrance
and indulged herself in a little sodomy, courtesy of Vic's helpless cock.

After the fifth or sixth woman (Vic had by then lost count), the male
assistants returned and released him from the stool. They removed the
testicle clamp. He ached more down there than inside his gut. His shaft
felt raw and abraded. Friction burns.

With the men supporting him, he staggered over to the padded table and
climbed up. He fell into a dreamless sleep almost immediately.

And jerked awake as Mistress grasped his shoulder. She was holding the
corkscrew Orifice Spreader in the other hand.

"This is the final time you will require spreading. We've almost achieved
our objective in that respect. Now, hop down and bend over the table.
Quickly now!"

Deep into him Mistress screwed it. Then deeper. Vic had passed beyond
discomfort, beyond all feelings of pain. His buttocks felt as if they
were a foot apart.

"Fifteen inches deep and four inches wide," were the words Mistress spoke,
with what sounded like a note of triumph. "Right on target."

She carefully unscrewed the gadget from within him.

"Ten minute break," Mistress said, then left.


"This is an upright bondage frame," Mistress explained. Taut cables
anchored to the wooden sides of the frame attached to restraints that
held Vic's arms and legs immobile. He was in a standing position,
with legs held wide apart, and arms pulled overhead at about the same
angle. Spreadeagled upright and frozen in place. Naked and totally
vulnerable.

"We have invited guests. They will honor you with their presence and take
their pleasure from you. And, yes, you will entertain two at a time."
Mistress left.

The door opened.

A man and a woman, both masked, walked into the room. The woman approached
him from the front, inspected him at some length, then grasped his penis
and began to fondle it. Meanwhile, the man was examining him from behind.
Vic felt his buttocks being parted.

The woman had bent over and flipped up her skirt backwards. She had
nothing on underneath. On all fours, she maneuvered herself awkwardly
backwards onto Vic's hard cock, and gradually swallowed it between her
cunt lips. She was very wet inside.

In back, Vic felt erect flesh push between his cheeks, against his anus,
and slowly into him.

As the woman thrust backwards onto his cock, the man thrust forwards
higher into him. Vic was sandwiched, simultaneously double-fucked.

Waves of heat and pressure buffeted him from both front and back. Vic
would have immediately spasmed in violent orgasm if the testicle clamp
hadn't prevented it. The man and the woman came, within seconds of each
other. Vic felt the pussy rhythmically clenching on his cock and the
cock inside him throbbing and shooting fluid high up into his gut.

The door closed behind the man and the woman. Minutes later, a second
couple entered.

All told, Vic entertained five sets of visitors.

Thank heavens for the ten minute rest period!


Mistress had her latex-gloved fist high inside him. "We're up to the
wrist once more," she said. "Now we move into virgin territory."

It wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as being mechanically spread open by the
corkscrew. In fact, it felt pretty damn fine. It was releasing strange
energies within him. He felt on the verge of something tremendous and
life-changing. "Please, Mistress, deeper," he said.

"Halfway up the forearm," Mistress said. "Cry out if you can't take
any more."

"Deeper, Mistress."

"Almost there. Just a bit more. Ah, yes, elbow depth. How does that feel,
Mr. Victor?"

"Mistress, I am a hand-puppet and you are my owner. You are my fate. Your
strong arm fills and animates me. It infuses me with life force. I am
ready for the pumping of your divine fist. Please, give me what I crave."

"We try to provide fulfillment for our clients," she said. She was
slowly pumping her fist forward and back inside him. The video monitor
showed her latex-gloved forearm emerging, glistening with lube, then
disappearing into him again. He felt huge surges of power rippling
through his guts. His mind ruptured the boundary between matter and
spirit, and then he was floating free, part of the great Unity that
lies beneath all illusions. His earthly flesh orgasmed, and again,
and he was utterly empty. A scream shattered the silence.

Ten minutes left in the session. Mistress emerged through the door. She
was wearing fishnet stockings, and nothing else. Her magnificently curved
body was everything Vic had imagined it to be.

"You have been such a well-behaved boy, Mister Victor, that you deserve
a most special treat. If you like, you can have *me*."

She walked over to the table, and bent forward over it. Her pussy was
velvety and butter-soft. It was somewhat of an anticlimax for Vic after
all he had been through.

"Thank you Mistress. You are fully as sweet inside as out."

"You are most gracious, Mr. Victor. Until next time, then."



Vic was chuckling softly to himself on the drive home. Mistress Domina
didn't know it yet, but he *owned* her.

The House of Dominance was a privately owned corporation, with much of its
stock in the hands of a family foundation. But even tightly-held firms can
be taken over if the price is right. Forty-eight million it had cost him.

It wasn't as if the funds had come out of his own pocket. "Use other
people's money," the adage went, and that's exactly what Vic had done.
He had used the money of a few assorted Arab oil billionaires. Pietro
Associates would never miss it. It had disappeared from petty cash.

All in all, embezzlement didn't greatly appeal to him. Running a B&D
empire was much more his style.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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