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Subject: {ASSM} ...of all Possible Worlds Ch.25 by Rachael Ross (see ch.01 for story 
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...of all Possible Worlds
by T.S. Severe

Chapter 25


"Are you really going to castrate Wren, Mistress?" I asked her over
dinner.

"Why yes, I most certainly am, Danielle." Miss Corinne replied in her
Mississippi accent, sweet and sing-song.

"Oh." I nodded.

We were sitting on the roof, about twenty-five stories up, which
seemed awfully high to me. Much of it was covered by a large canopy,
almost like a circus tent, but open and airy, and the pastel canvas
snapped high above our heads in the late evening breeze. There was
music playing, a little jazz band was performing, and aside from a
café of sorts, there was a swimming pool up there with a bar around it
and the whole place was gaily lit with Chinese lanterns and relaxed. I
rather liked the roof.

"I do enjoy the ardent flavor of her personality," my Mistress
continued, "but that little negra of mine is downright promiscuous.
Don't you think so?"

"Promiscuous?" I giggled nervously thinking I was probably the same
way myself.

"Oh, I don't mean with the niggers, that doesn't bother me." The woman
took a small bite of her salad. "Delilah, on the other hand..."

"Delilah?" I was eating my own salad and I narrowed my eyes. I knew
Wren was fucking Tom Henry and Jericho about as often as she could,
but I didn't know about Lilah.

"Oh yes, my little faggot has gotten himself a taste for girls." Miss
Corinne laughed. "Not her sweet derriere, mind you, Wren likes the
real thing and I've punished the girl several times for it."

"I didn't know that." I laughed too, wondering how they'd kept it
secret from me.

"I was hoping you'd be a good influence on the girl." Miss Corinne
sighed.

"Me?"

"Being a sincere and devoted faggot, such as you are." My Mistress
nodded. "I suspect you don't particularly enjoy being with a woman, do
you?"

"I like being with you, Mistress." I smiled and looked down.

"Heh." She chuckled lightly.

"I mean, um, when I close my eyes..." I said slowly, not wanting to
offend her, "...I kind of forget you're a woman."

"Why, Danielle, I believe that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said
to me." Miss Corinne leaned slightly closer and her face showed real
pleasure. "Thank you."

She reached for my hand and gave me a little pat and then a squeeze
and I knew I was blushing then, feeling very happy with myself, and
both of us knowing I hadn't lied.

"Oh, look at that, Danielle." Miss Corinne was looking at an older
woman, a mistress who was sitting down at a table near us with a much
younger bedroom buck.

"Ma'am?" I shrugged, only because the woman looked like a dozen others
up there and her nigger was handsome, but nothing special.

"That's what I don't like." She said in a not-so-low voice. "Women who
look like men in drag."

I swallowed hard, nodding politely and looking away as the woman in
question turned her head at the sound of my Mistress' voice, some
others nearby were looking as well.

"It would almost excite my blood, Danielle, if she'd done it on
purpose." Miss Corinne shook her head sadly.

"Yes ma'am." I blinked rapidly and I wasn't sure what to think or do.

"If I ever start to look like that, you'll tell me, won't you,
Danielle?" Miss Corinne was looking at me and I nodded quickly.

"Yes Mistress." I breathed.

"Oh...Shhh...Here she comes now." Miss Corinne shushed me theatrically and
giggled.

"Well, Miss Ingersoll, I thought it was you." The woman had gotten up
and now she was standing next to our table. "Your daddy let you out of
the attic, I see."

"Only if I promised to leave town." My Mistress smiled thinly. "How
are you, Mrs. Buckley? How's your husband these days?"

"It's Mrs. Hardesty now." The woman smiled back. She was in her
forties and not unattractive, I suppose. She didn't really look like a
man in drag at all to me. "Last I heard, Mr. Buckley was planting some
nigger named Sugar Daisy down in New Orleans."

"Sugar Daisy?" Miss Corinne clapped her hands and laughed. "What a
delightful name, I do hope they're happy together."

"Are you visiting Memphis long, Miss Ingersoll?" The woman asked. "The
husbands in Mississippi must be lonely in your absence."

"Husbands are always lonely when the bed's too cold; you of all people
should know that." My Mistress replied. "I'm Mrs. Reiser now, of the
Memphis Reisers. I would have thought a woman as well informed as
yourself would read the society page."

"Really?" Mrs. Hardesty looked decidedly unhappy with that news, but
she hid it quickly. "I've been abroad until recently, traveling with
my husband in Europe."

"Oh? And how is the Fuhrer these days." Miss Corinne tilted her head.

"The very picture of health, Miss Ing...I mean, Mrs. Reiser, silly me."
The woman smiled apologetically.

"Yes. Silly you." Miss Corinne laughed lightly. "Well, I'd insist that
you join me, but I'm afraid the hour is growing late and..."

"Of course it is." Mrs. Hardesty nodded sympathetically. "Oh, we're
having a little dinner party, raising funds for my husband's upcoming
campaign, perhaps I could send you and Mr. Reiser an invitation?"

"Why thank you, but I do believe we have one." Miss Corinne smiled.
"I'm certain my husband will give it careful consideration."

"Of course he will."

"But getting Mr. Reiser to pay a thousand dollars for a dinner plate..."
My Mistress chuckled. "...Well, You know how hard it is to get money out
of a Jew."

"Oh," Mrs. Hardesty paled. "Your husband is Jewish?"

"A lesbian and a Jew." Miss Ingersoll nodded. "It's the secret of our
happy marriage, we're both tight fisted."

"I, uh...Good evening, Mrs. Reiser." The woman left without another word
and Miss Corinne just shook her head.

"Mr. Reiser is Jewish?" I asked her a moment later, because I honestly
didn't know if he was or not, but I wouldn't have thought so.

"Danielle." My Mistress looked into my eyes. "We're all Jewish when
faced with people like that; don't let anyone tell you different."

"I don't understand." I cleared my throat.

"Hardesty is the Nazi candidate, well, we don't call them Nazi's here,
they're North American Socialists, it's the same thing though." The
woman told me. "And if you're not one of them, you're a Jew, or a
Bolshevik, or a homosexual, or any of a thousand other things they
don't like."

"But my Master..."

"Oh, good heavens, girl!" Miss Corinne chided me with a giggle. "Get
your purse, we're going downstairs. The air is foul with politics up
here, I swear."

I didn't know anything about politics, of course, nor did I understand
my Mistress' remark about everyone being Jewish. A lot of people liked
the German's though, but not Miss Corinne apparently and I wondered
why. The only thing I really knew for sure was that my Mistress and
that other woman, Mrs. Hardesty, they didn't care for each other at
all. Miss Corinne wasn't like other women either, she didn't mind
letting people know her opinion of them, although she always seemed to
find the most polite way possible to insult someone. It was one of the
things about her I found very intimidating and I was very glad she was
fond of me.

I spent the next few hours playing ornament to my Mistress, staying
close and clutching her arm while she moved through the social
circles. I didn't mind so much, it was a lot like being with Mr.
Reiser when he did the same thing at the Owner's Club. I enjoyed some
of the talk, listening to women discuss the latest fashions, for
example, but that was exactly the sort of thing Miss Corinne found
boring. She had little use for designer clothes, at least those not
tailored to her specific and decidedly masculine taste, but I thought
it very enjoyable and I found myself wishing I'd worn a real dress and
my good jewelry, just to show off a little.

"Are you bored?" Miss Corinne asked me.

We were sitting in The Prance, a club of sorts and so called because
the Society dressed the niggers working there as pony boys. They were
all beautiful young men, dressed with leather harnesses, cock rings,
and butt plugs with long silken horse hair tails extending up and out
from their hard round butts. They could be gagged with bits and
bridles, which usually hung loosely beneath their chins until needed.
Long leather reins trailed across their broad shoulders and down their
backs. The men were all large and quite muscular, an average sized
woman could ride one if she desired, bareback of course. Or fuck one,
if she wanted, and most often that was done bareback as well.

"No Mistress." I smiled at her, sipping champagne in a small crescent
shaped booth with a low table in front of our knees.

"Yes you are." She decided, lifting her hand to call over one of the
ponies. "I'm bored too."

"Ma'am?" The boy was gorgeous, like all the slaves in The Prance were,
his body sleek and well-defined and dark like Swiss chocolate. He was
oiled as well and smelled of something, jasmine maybe, or sandalwood
perhaps. I couldn't decide, but I liked it and I felt my penis
throbbing as I looked the boy up and down slowly.

"I'm bored." My Mistress sighed. "Prance for me."

"Yes ma'am." The pony smiled and that was the real reason he was there
in the first place, and the reason for that low sturdy table in front
of us.

There were a number of other ponies dancing and the music was non-stop
and I suppose the place was very much like one of those burlesque
strip clubs they have in Orleans, although I'd never been inside one
of course. I'd heard of them though and I imagined this place was
similar. It was lit in red mostly, loud and warm and intended to
excite the blood.

We watched as the man got on the table and he was graceful doing it,
despite his size. He danced for my Mistress in his bare feet, moving
his body in time with the deep bass rhythms that shook me all the way
down in my tummy. The slave's muscles seemed to ripple beneath his
gleaming black skin and his cock was long and thick, hard as if it
were sculpted from solid mahogany with the foreskin pulled back to
reveal a light, pinkish glans. I stared at his penis, watching it move
stiffly, weaving and bobbing above the nigger's big balls as they
swung between his smooth brown legs. It was very erotic and I was
feeling very relaxed after drinking more champagne that evening than I
usually did.

"Dance with him." Miss Corinne urged me with a soft laugh. "Go on, get
on the table. Have some fun with him."

I giggled a little self-consciously and reached down to unstrap my
shoes, kicking them off as I felt my own girl cock pressing against
the tiny thong trying to hold it captive. The pony grinned at me,
lifting a hand and crooking a finger at me before turning to shake his
wonderfully chiseled ass for my Mistress. His tail was long and
auburn, brown and red and he bent over, with his legs spread so we
could see the base of the buttplug which must have been buried deep
inside the man's rectum and his plum sized balls hanging beneath.

I climbed onto the table slowly, and it was low anyway and very
sturdy, large as well, enough so that we had room enough to stand
together anyway. We danced closely, as my Mistress wanted and I was
laughing, my hands were roaming his body and feeling the slave damp
and slightly greasy with the oil he wore. He was hard though and I
delighted in exploring his muscles and it made me buzz with desire, a
primal lust to possess that man, or better yet be possessed by him. He
was touching me as well, smiling and sliding his hands around my
waist, lifting my top slowly while Miss Corinne gave her happy
approval, telling the nigger to undress me.

My top came off easily as I lifted my arms, undulating my body in time
with his. When my firm black tits came free I turned to my Mistress,
cupping them for her, offering my aching nipples which were puffy and
swollen with excitement. I squeezed my breasts and thumbed the tips,
giggling and watching her face. I bent over for her, letting my tits
fall heavy, the smooth skin drawn taut by their weight and the pony
moved behind me, holding my hips and pressing his wonderfully hard
cock against my skirt, riding my ass and grinning as I pressed back to
meet him, grinding my butt against his gyrating pelvis.

"The skirt too...Everything..." Miss Corinne was sitting back, rubbing the
bulge of her strap-on through her breeches.

The slave took her directions well and I grinned at him over my
shoulder as he found the clasp and zipper of my miniskirt, releasing
it from around my waist. I stepped out of it as the leather fell
around my feet and kicked it away, feeling the pony boy's cock against
my flushed skin now, riding the deep groove between my ass cheeks. His
cock was hot and heavy and wet at the tip with precum and I realized
other people were watching, us other women and their bucks sitting
nearby, and some of them pointed and whispered as they could see my
balls clearly and then my cock as I pulled my thong aside.

We turned to face each other, the pony and me, and that was when he
discovered I wasn't like most bedroom negras. The look on his handsome
face was precious and he stared down between us, seeing his large
black cock suddenly rubbing against my much smaller, but no less
strident erection. I kissed his chest then, putting my arms around him
and pressing my fingernails into the man's flesh in case he had some
thoughts of moving away from me. He probably did, because the nigger
didn't look nearly so eager anymore, but he was just a pony boy and my
Mistress was right there to make sure he behaved himself. The Society
had its own whipping post, it's own rooms devoted to nothing but
correcting a slave's bad attitude and perhaps that was on his mind,
more than dancing with another boy.

Miss Corinne liked the scene unfolding before her though. She did love
seeing our cocks pressed together and while the pony stiffened
slightly with his unreasonable anxiety, I reached down to take both of
us in hand. I pressed our cocks together and sliding my fingers back
and forth around us, and used my mouth on his nipples. He wasn't going
soft anyway and that was probably due to whatever it was that they fed
those boys to keep them hard all night long, Viagra or something,
maybe that same oil the cock fighters used, I wasn't sure. He was hard
as a rock though and so was I, with my Mistress clapping her hands and
nodding happily at our little display.

"Go down on her, boy...On your knees now..." Miss Corinne was saying.

She leaned forward almost breathlessly, her white skin flushed pink
now and this was one of the things she liked best. She wanted to see
this obviously straight young buck sucking my sissy girl cock, knowing
he'd never done any such thing in his life. It seemed for a long
second that the nigger might almost refuse and I wondered how my
Mistress would have taken that; not too well I imagined, and so I
urged him gently, releasing our cocks and putting my hands on his
shoulders. I was pushing him down, although he was so much bigger and
stronger than me I couldn't actually force him to do anything.

The pony relented though, surrendering to what he knew was inevitable.
Like it or not the slave was going to suck my penis and that just made
it better for both of us, Miss Corinne and myself, I mean. The man's
obvious reluctance turned us on even more and I thrust my hips forward
so my cock was pressed against the nigger's belly and then his chest,
sliding across his smooth dark flesh and leaving a thin trail of damp
excitement behind, until he found himself kneeling on the table and I
had my hands on his head. I pulled him towards me, feeling his
reluctance and not caring. He was just a slave like me and we don't
get to decide what we want or don't want, he knew that as well as I
did.

"Suck it for me..." I whispered and I didn't even know if he could hear
me above the music, but he could hear my Mistress just fine, some of
the other women too as they were shouting encouragement.

Anything different was interesting and seeing a gorgeous pony boy
going to his knees for a beautiful sissy wasn't a usual occurrence, in
this club or anywhere else and the women loved it. I stroked the man's
short hair, soft and kinky and shorn close to his scalp, and my penis
was sliding across his face by then, not into his closed mouth, but
across his cheeks and up along his nose as I pressed my small hairless
balls to his chin and lips. I was almost standing tip-toe and giggled
at the spectators' urgent coaxing and even a few threats. One woman,
apparently one of the Sable Society's white employees, was promising
the boy that if he didn't suck me, she'd tie him down and let her dogs
use him as a bitch. I didn't know if she was serious or not, but she
sounded like it and the man finally did open his mouth for me.

I pushed my cock between his soft lips quickly then, feeling my desire
like a fire in my tummy. My heart was pounding and I was giddy with
the obscene pleasure of this whole affair, being watched while this
handsome stud took his first cock. I sighed and held his head tight,
pushing all of my smallish penis over his tongue before he realized
what was happening. He choked and gagged, although I should have been
far too small to give him any real discomfort. He just didn't know
what he was doing and so I fucked his mouth slowly, letting him get
used to the size and shape of my sissy cock. I told him to use his
tongue, to move it around and wash my penis with it, but he was barely
doing anything but kneeling there. He wouldn't even put his hands on
me, which was mildly disappointing.

It was still nice though, still fun just working my cock in and out of
him, and if nothing else he was a good warm hole to fuck, a soft wet
home for my penis. I was going all the way inside too, enough so my
balls would press flat against his chin while I held myself deep for a
second. I wasn't long in cumming anyway, being as hot for the man as I
was and feeling his mouth around me. I slid my girl cock in and out of
him quickly, just a few minutes after we'd started, and Miss Corinne
and the others were mocking the nigger's reluctance and telling me to
cum in his mouth, to feed him my hot semen. The boy had his eyes
closed and he knelt on the table stiff and unhappy, but I didn't care.
My whole body was contracting around my balls as they tightened and
finally erupted, bringing a loud gasp as I shoved my cock between his
lips as far as I could, holding his face against my female body while
my sperm ejaculated quickly into his unprepared mouth.

The pony boy choked then, coughing and trying to swallow, but mostly
making a mess as his mouth opened wide, my orgasm spilling out from
his lips to run down his face and drip onto the floor and even his own
jutting cock, ironically enough. Even taking my climax into his mouth
wasn't enough to make the slave go soft and I wasn't letting him go at
all. He shuddered and his head jerked, but I kept my penis between the
slave's slack lips until I was finished, pulling my softening cock
free of him and then bending quickly to press my mouth against his. I
thrust my tongue into the sloppy remains of my orgasm, because he'd
swallowed very little of it really, and kissed him deeply for a half
minute or so and then let the boy go.

"Was it good for you?" My Mistress asked me as I sat down beside her,
panting happily and snuggling close.

"No." I laughed and licked my lips. "I don't think he likes me."

"Hmmm..." Miss Corinne stroked my damp skin as I'd been sweating a bit
and I was still naked. "...The boy should be whipped, would you like to
see that?"

"Me?" I blinked at her. "Um...I don't think I want to see anyone
whipped, Mistress."

"Of course you don't." She smiled gently. "Such a thing corrupts our
delicate sensibilities."

"Yes Mistress." I agreed, not sure exactly what she meant but feeling
relieved anyway. It wasn't the nigger's fault he wasn't queer.

"Yes ma'am?" The white woman, the one whom I thought supervised the
pony boys in The Prance, was nearby and I realized my Mistress had
called her over.

"I want to see that boy whipped." Miss Corinne said, putting an
indignant tone into her sweet voice. "I could have gotten as much
pleasure watching my negra fuck a willow tree."

"Of course." The woman was nodding and I swallowed hard, looking at my
Mistress.

"I'd expect a little more enthusiasm from a pony boy, I should think."
Miss Corinne shook her head.

The slave was standing nearby now, listening carefully I was sure as
his handsome face reflected not only his recent displeasure at sucking
my cock, but now hearing that he was going to be punished for it. I
felt bad for him and understood my owner's disappointment, but I
really had no desire to see the boy hurt. He wasn't the best slave
though, and he needed some training, that was clear. I hadn't enjoyed
sucking pussy, but I'd done it as eagerly and well as I could because
my Mistress wanted it, that's what this nigger needed to learn and so
maybe a whipping would be good for him.

"I'll have him punished immediately," the woman agreed, "or if you'd
care to bring him to the training room..."

"I'll take him." Miss Corinne nodded with a smile. "A little exercise
will do my constitution some good."

"Of course." The woman smiled as well and turned her head to give her
slave the bad news.

Seeing a person whipped, even a dumb slave like that one, is hardly a
thing I care to remember. It's enough to say that my Mistress knew her
way around a bullwhip and she made me watch. It didn't last long and
there were other employees there, white women who worked for the
Society as trainers and they were the sort of women who took great
pleasure in the suffering of others. They dressed in black leather and
boots and carried crops which seemed a little theatrical to me, but
the look on their faces left little doubt that they weren't serious.
They watched the whipping as well, probably to ensure the Society's
property wasn't unduly damaged by Miss Corinne.

There were other slaves in the room, which hardly resembled a torture
chamber, I have to say. It was large and comfortable, nicely appointed
with oak paneling and hardwood flooring. There were sofas and thick
cushions and waiters carrying drinks for those women who wanted to
watch, for there were more than a few who found their carnal desires
satisfied by BDSM in all of its various guises. There were even men
there, both slaves and white men. The slaves played the dominant roles
for white owners who played the submissive, subjecting themselves to
whatever cruel devices their black masters could devise. The white men
were like the women, employees and enthusiastic in their work,
treating the female members of the Society to whatever their
submissive hearts desired. Much of the place was secluded, however,
scenes partitioned away from prying eyes by large silk screens so that
only the sounds could escape to curious ears.

On the whole I found it both frightening and exciting and I was all
too aware of my own submissive nature, which I was trying to hide. My
fear was that someone would take me, with Miss Corinne's permission,
and test my body and spirit with whips and paddles and clamps and such
things as I'd never imagined. Part of me did want that, I couldn't
deny it, but as I said, I tried to hide that interest for fear of
attracting attention, and once my Mistress laid into the pony boy's
back with her whip it became much easier for me. The sight of blood
has never aroused me and at the sight of it I wanted to leave that
place as soon as possible.

At the end, after only a half-dozen lashes or so, eight I believe, my
Mistress was panting slightly, her cheeks florid and her blouse damp
with sweat. She hadn't whipped the boy quickly, but it had taken some
effort as the woman had spent all of energies on each deliberate
stroke with that cruel whip. I hadn't seen her that way before and
while Miss Corinne was still as beautiful as ever, perhaps even more
so, there was a shadow cast over her face, a malignant light in her
eyes that frightened me terribly when she turned her gaze on me.

"I haven't whipped a nigger in six months." The woman breathed and it
was a satisfied sound while she coiled the long whip loosely in her
hand.

"You're very good with it." One of the Dommes smiled, taking the whip
from Miss Corinne's blood stained hand. "It's a rare talent."

"Thank you." My Mistress took the sincere compliment in stride. "I've
had a lot of practice."

They spoke for a moment, but my eyes were drawn to the pony boy, still
bound to the whipping post. I was reminded of my once urgent desire to
see Tom Henry whipped, not fully knowing what it was I'd been asking
for, and I was very glad Mr. Reiser had been willing to change his
mind for me. I wondered if my Master had ever seen this side of his
new wife before and I decided he probably had, or at least he was
aware of it. I wished I could ask him what he thought of it, but of
course I'd never be able to do that.

"This way, Danielle." Miss Corinne took me by the hand and I was
surprised, but unresisting of course when I realized we weren't
leaving right away.

She brought me to a room, or an alcove really as there was no doorway,
but only a large open arch and a three walled enclosure. It wasn't
overly large and rather unremarkable except for the large windows
overlooking the city on the far wall and a number of heavy wooden
beams overhead. There were a great many ropes of all sizes coiled on
dull hooks, hanging from the walls and I was so innocent then. I had
no idea what we were doing.

My Mistress wasn't in a mood for explanations either as she merely
told me to undress, to remove everything but my shoes, while she took
a length of soft rope in her hands, fashioned a small noose at one end
and tossed it over a beam. I didn't protest or even make much of any
sound at all as the woman took another rope, this one smaller and
supple, and tied my wrists together behind my back. The other rope,
the one hanging over the beam, Miss Corinne attached to my left leg,
slipping the noose over my foot and up to my knee, forcing me to
balance on my right leg. It was rather precarious and I was incredibly
nervous as the heel of my shoe was thin and delicate and I didn't know
what we were doing.

She pulled the rope tight and lifted my left leg high, almost
painfully as I had to bend my body and my arms were useless, being
tied the way I was. When my Mistress had my leg as high as she
desired, which was too high for my comfort and even with my shoulders,
she tied the rope off to the wall, using one of those hooks to hold
the line fast. My Mistress took the rope attached to my wrists then
and pulled that tight as well, stretching my arms behind me and I
actually had to hop slightly, choking with the sudden fear that I
would lose my balance, but I didn't.

When Miss Corinne tied that rope off to the opposite wall I was
stretched in the center of the room, my body leaning to my right,
pulled down by my arms and the rope binding me at my wrists, and my
left leg pulled high and in the opposite direction. I was spread wide
open, my soft penis and balls hanging loose and vulnerable, my asshole
now easily accessible, and I didn't know why I was being punished this
way. I felt my skin burning and my heart was rushing beneath my barely
controlled panic. I had to fight for air and wetness threatened my
wide brown eyes.

"One more thing." Miss Corinne whispered and she left me briefly,
which really frightened me, more than anything else. I didn't want to
be left alone and helpless in that place.

My Mistress returned soon enough though, carrying a black leather
mask, almost a hood but with straps at the back of it. She fitted it
over my face quickly, giving me little time to summon enough courage
to ask her the many questions flooding my feverish mind. There was a
gag built into the mask, a thick and soft bit of rubber that squeezed
into my mouth and I found there was a hole through the center which
allowed me to breath, but my eyes were covered completely, turning the
world pitch black and I didn't like that.

I jerked slightly as Miss Corinne buckled the leather straps behind my
head, securing the mask tightly in place and then there was a peculiar
tugging sensation and a soft sound and I realized that the gag was
inflating. My Mistress had attached a bulb apparently and now she was
squeezing it so that the gag filled with air and swelled quickly
inside my mouth, until all I could do was breath through the small
hole in the center of the thing. My tongue was pressed down and
useless, my jaws forced wide open and cheeks filled; any sound I might
make was muffled and unintelligible.

"Don't go anywhere, I'll be back soon." I heard Miss Corinne whisper
and I flinched at the unexpected touch of her fingernails along my
spine and then she was gone.

I shivered almost uncontrollably as my fear grew. I couldn't see
anything and sounds were distorted through the leather covering my
ears. My own rapid heartbeat and labored breathing seemed much too
loud and my skin seemed to crawl with anticipation, my sense of touch
heightened as the other senses were deprived. I didn't know what was
coming or what to expect. Was she going to fuck me? Or did my Mistress
intend to whip me or beat me? My mind ran wild with possibilities, all
of the worst imaginable sort as I tried to catalogue the things I'd
seen and heard previously. Candles and hot wax, would she do that to
me? Use a cane or a paddle perhaps, on my ass or exposed breasts as
they hung low from my chest. Would she brand me somehow? Did they do
that sort of thing here? I'd seen branded slaves before and I was
deathly afraid of being burned in that way, or in any way for that
matter.

I was growing tired as well, standing on my one leg, balanced in my
high heel shoe. My left leg was growing sore, the rope biting into my
soft skin, under my knee and I had to wiggle my toes, moving my foot
around as I was worried about my circulation suddenly. And my
shoulders ached, being pulled back as they were, my arms straight out
behind me. I could feel that soft line around my wrists as well, tight
enough to let me imagine my fingers turning scarlet and swollen and so
I wiggled them as well. My mind was feeding off claustrophobic fears,
reasonable and unreasonable, and I was crying silently beneath my
mask.

"Mmmphhhh!!"

I jerked suddenly as I felt someone taking me from behind, a male
someone and large, not my Mistress. I felt his cock at my tight anus
and he thrust inside me quickly, sparing me no consideration, but just
stabbing his thick manhood deep into my bowels so that I very nearly
collapsed. He was holding me though, keeping me steady as he fucked
his cock inside my ass easily and it wasn't terribly painful, but very
uncomfortable as I fought to understand what was happening and relax
my trembling body around him.

He fucked me without a word, just grunting and occasionally slapping
at my hip while he pushed his cock inside my burning asshole over and
over. I struggled for air against that intrusion, finding the airway
in my gag too small for comfort, but just barely adequate to keep me
alive and conscious. The fucking did begin to feel good though and I
was almost able to enjoy it, finding my own arousal building slowly
despite my confusion and fear. Part of my mind, as if proving I were
going insane, wondered if the man was black or white, a slave or
master, as if it would make any difference to me. I'd never know who
he was and any man I saw after that could be the man who'd fucked me
and that was a wicked thought and I embraced it finally as something I
could concentrate on other than my fears. It worked well enough and I
was moving slightly to meet the man after several long minutes, not
much, but enough to let him know I wanted his cock inside me and he
chuckled, but still refused to speak.

He came after five minutes perhaps, or longer, I really couldn't tell.
It seemed both a very long and altogether too short amount of time to
me. I swallowed hard, sucking thin air as if through a straw and I
felt his cock grow larger for a heartbeat and then spasm rapidly, his
ejaculate filling my rectum with a deep stain of pleasure that I
welcomed eagerly. My own cock throbbed then and I was on the verge of
my own orgasm, if only he would give me the slightest touch, just a
rub or a squeeze, and I would have cum with him. The man was ignoring
my girl cock though and he just held himself in my ass until he was
satisfied and growing soft. He pulled out quickly and then I was alone
again.


End of chapter 25
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/rache/www/index.htm
T.S.Severe@gmail.com

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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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