It's My Party

by The Technician

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© Copyright 2023 - The Technician - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; MF/f; fpov; bond; hood; rope; shave; depilatory; chain; susp; naked; tease; oral; exhib; mast; straps; buttplug; strapon; anal; spank; cane; paddle; collar; slave; climax; cons; reluct; XX

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Mistress J accepts a new slave at Mistress Regina’s party.

This story is told by Mistress J’s new slave. It tells how she learned she was a slut and pain slut and why she became Mistress J’s slave.

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2023 by The Technician ([email protected]).

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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I was already lying across the spanking / fucking bench when the first partygoers arrived. Julie Ann, called J by everyone… and Mistress J by those in the inner circle… was there to meet them. She quickly explained, “Mistress Regina was called away on urgent business, but she didn’t want to cancel the party, so she asked me to act as hostess.”

She pointed to me and said, “Besides, we have already arranged for slut zara to be here tonight. I’m sure everyone will enjoy themselves.”

I could hear her walking across the room to where I was. Of course I couldn’t see her because I was wearing a full coverage hood with just the lower portion of my face showing. My lips were painted up in a very, very bright red semi-permanent lip paint. Mistress J had applied the paint herself. It may have been some form of long lasting liquid lip coloring, but she called it paint, and it might be. It tasted awful. She let me see myself before in a small mirror she closed the eye flaps and led me over to the bench. My tawny skin looked golden against the flat black of the leather hood and my lips seemed to glow like a beacon of sluttiness. Those were her words also. She left the ear flaps open… for now… so I would be able to hear, but once she let me see myself in the mirror she pressed the eye coverings firmly in place. The hood was a little loose on the top of my head. It was designed to be big enough to allow all of my hair to be pushed up into the top… if I had any.

I had hair until a week ago. My life was very much different until a week ago. Things changed that night when I knelt naked and crying before Mistress J as she used a set of electric clippers to shear off all of my beautiful hair. I watched it gather in heaps around my knees. When she was finished, she rubbed my head with her hands. The strange combination of the stubble being moved back and forth and the warmth of her hand on my now almost naked scalp caused me to shudder.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” she said with a laugh. Then she lathered up my head with some shaving cream that smelled like menthol and burned slightly on my scalp. She let it sit for several minutes while she kept telling me to straighten my back and keep my head high. Then she got out a pack of new razors and began shaving off the stubble.

After she totally shaved my head, she said brusquely, “Time to let you sit down for a while.”

She told me to fall forward to my hands and knees and then push myself up. As I was pushing myself up, she hit me hard over the ass several times with a wooden yardstick and said, “Just warming you up for later.”

Once I got to my feet, she led me over to a heavy wooden chair with wooden arms and pushed me down in place. She laughed when I yelped as the welts from the yardstick hit the hard wooden seat. Once I settled down, she wrapped long strips of cloth around my arms binding them to the arms of the chair and similar strips around my ankles binding them to the front legs.

She walked slowly around the chair several times and then lathered me up again. The second time the menthol shaving cream smelled less but burned even more. Mistress J sat in front of me slowly sipping a glass of wine and laughing as I squirmed in the chair into which I was tied. After I begged her again and again to finish shaving me and get the fire off my head, she said, “I’ll finish shaving your head now, if you want, but if I do it now, then when I remove the hair everywhere else I make it permanent.”

I shook my head, but after what seemed like another fifteen minutes or so but was probably only two or three minutes, I screamed out, “OK! OK! Get this fire off my scalp and everywhere else can be permanent.”

Mistress J laughed as she walked up to me with a towel. “No need for further shaving,” she said, still laughing lightly, “this stuff is a depilatory cream, not a shaving cream.”

When I gasped, she smiled at me and said, “Don’t worry. This isn’t the permanent stuff.” She snorted slightly and said, “The permanent stuff doesn’t burn like this.”

After she wiped everything off my head with the towel, she began rubbing some sort of oil into my scalp and the burning immediately stopped. Then she held up a mirror so I could see myself and said, “Do you think that slut zara looks good with a shiny bald head?”

I couldn’t answer. I wanted to scream, “Yes!” but I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

Mistress J could read my thoughts, however, and laughed. Then she patted me on the top of my now bald and shiny head and said, “I thought so.”

She unwrapped the cloth strips which bound me to the chair and said, “Time for the rest.”

She guided me to the big arch that separates the dining room from the living room and told me to raise my hands above my head. About one-fourth of the way up the inside of the arch on both sides are a couple of brass plates which look like covers for an electrical outlet. They are covers, but there are no outlets behind them. Instead there is a rather heavy chain which is secured to the structure of the arch and then extends all the way to the floor joists of the second floor. When the cover is removed, one link of the chain is exposed. Because the ceilings of this old house are so high, Mistress J had to use a step-stool to reach the covers and then looped one end of a rope through the bottom link of the chains.

She had me stand in the very center of the arch and raise my hands as far above my head as I could. Then she wrapped a restraint cuff around my wrist and looped the other end of the rope through a link built into the restraint. She repeated that with the other wrist and then tied a complex looking knot in both of the ropes. She pulled on both of the ropes until the slack was gone out of the rope. Then she pulled really hard on the left rope. The knot was some form of slipknot and as she pulled, the rope tightened and tightened until my left arm was stretched taut and my feet were barely on the ground. When she pulled hard on the right rope, I ended up on tiptoe. She secured both ropes with some sort of quick release slip knot and then carried the step-stool over to the side of the room.

“Let’s let you hang there and get settled in,” she said as she brought her chair over and sat in front of me, again sipping on her wine.

When she finished her wine she came over and stood in front of me. I gasped as she suddenly reached forward and ran a finger through my slit.

“You are enjoying this, aren’t you?” she said firmly.

Again I couldn’t answer. Mistress J shrugged and said, “Well it doesn’t make any difference what your mind… or your mouth… says anyway. Your cunt tells me that you are absolutely enjoying this.”

She stuck her finger in my open mouth and said almost angrily, “Clean off my finger, slut!”

I did. My lips snapped closed around her finger and I suckled it and slid my tongue all over it as she moved her finger in and out of my mouth. I had tasted other women before, but this was the first time that I had ever tasted myself.

“Now to make things tight,” she said as she wrapped restraints around my ankles. 

There are also two brass plates recessed in the floor under the arch. They are almost at the edges of the short wall which protrudes slightly into the arch and forms a small shelf. These, too, look like electrical plates, and these too cover anchor points. When the cover is removed, a couple links of heavy chain can be pulled up above floor level.

Mistress J looped ropes from my ankle restraints to the floor chains and tied her special slip-knots in both ropes. Then she began shortening the ropes a little at a time. She would pull the rope on my left leg until it was pulled out as far as it would go, then she would switch to the right leg and pull it out. 

She switched back and forth several times. Each time I would cry out, “No more, please no more,” but she would just laugh and say, “The Mistress sets the limits, slut, not the slave. Besides, your body will adjust.”

She was right. Somehow, my leg or hip or whatever, would relax slightly after a minute or two and then Mistress J would pull me tighter… and tighter… and tighter. Finally my feet were off the ground and I was hanging tied in a very tight naked X in the middle of the arch.

I had my eyes closed trying to relax my body when I heard a soft buzzing. Mistress J was removing my carefully trimmed pubic hair with a small battery powered clipper.

“My God!” she said loudly. “Your juices are flowing so heavily I’m afraid you are going to short out my clippers.”

Then she ran her finger through my wide-spread slit. I groaned loudly as her finger moved up to my clit. When her finger slid over my clit I almost screamed. When she started slowly circling my clit with her finger I groaned and screamed with each circuit around my pleasure nub.

Then she stopped.

I looked down at her and she was standing in front of me with her fists on her hips. “You are enjoying this way too much,” she said with a sly grin. “You need this, don’t you? Deep down in your heart and mind, you really need this.”

This time I found my voice and said, “Yes.” I intended to answer softly, almost meekly, but instead I shouted out my answer.

In response Mistress J started laughing. “How badly do you need it?” she asked as she again slid her fingers through my slit. “Would you let me whip you if I took you to orgasm afterwards?”

I didn’t want to answer. I really didn’t want to say yes. But “Yes!” was the answer I was keeping shut tightly within my mouth. I managed to keep my mouth shut as Mistress J’s eyes bored into me, but I couldn’t keep my head from slowly nodding.

Mistress J laughed. “I think I will keep that for another time,” she said as she ran her finger down my stomach, stopping just above my clit.

“Let’s talk about something more important,” she said. She pushed her finger deep into my cunt then pulled it partially out and slid it back to my rosebud. She didn’t push her finger in there, but she did push slightly with the tip on the very center of my pucker hole. When I gasped loudly, she laughed and slid her finger all the way back to my clit.

I was now panting very heavily and begging, “Please make me cum. Please make me cum. Please make me cum.”

“You are a true slut, aren’t you,” she said with a laugh. “So what would you do to get an orgasm? Would you let me use the permanent cream all over your body?”

“No!” I said very definitely, but she kept circling my clit with her finger. After a few moments I said, “Maybe.” Then my body started undulating on its own. I was trying to force myself harder into her finger. But Mistress J stepped back and I ended up dancing in the air screaming, “I need to cum! I need to cum! I need to cum!”

She held up a large jar of ointment. “This is the permanent stuff,” she said. “Just say ‘Everywhere’ and I guarantee I will give you an orgasm you will never forget.”

I hung limp for a moment and then said softly, “Everywhere.”

“That’s my little slut slave,” Mistress J said cheerily. Then she opened the jar and began smearing the cream ALL over my body. She seemed to take a long time making sure it was well-smeared around my cunt and asshole. She also took a long time with my nipples, twisting them roughly as she smeared the cream around them. Finally, when she had worked her way up to my head, she had to stand on her step-stool to be even with my face.

“First your arms,” she said as she slathered cream up and down each of them. “We will get the areas under the restraints later,” she said flatly. Then she said firmly, “Now you have to keep your eyes tightly closed. I’m going to do your head.”

I clamped my eyes shut and she very gently began smearing the cream all over my face. She even worked it into and behind my ears. Then she poured a big glop of it on the top of my head and started rubbing it into my scalp.

“Now you have to be patient,” she said sweetly. “It will burn a little, but the burning will stop as soon as the hair follicle is dead.”

I started to say thanks, but she almost shouted, “Don’t open your mouth. You don’t want to accidentally get this stuff on your tongue.”

So I hung there silently for a long time. It seemed like a really long time to me as my entire body seemed to be being consumed by a thousand angry ants. I couldn’t believe it when Mistress J said, “That’s five minutes, only five more to go.”

The final five minutes seemed like forever even through the stinging stopped shortly after Mistress J had spoken. Now I was tired of keeping my eyes and mouth closed. She had promised me an orgasm and this wasn’t taking me high… at all.

Then I felt a cool, wet towel on my head. “Just give me a minute to wipe this all off,” Mistress J said lightly, “and then I will give you an orgasm you will never forget.”

As the cool towel worked its way down my body, I began to beg, “I need to cum! I need to cum! I need to cum, now!”

Mistress J just laughed and said, “Don’t worry my little slave slut, you will get your orgasm.”

“I’m not your slave,” I said petulantly. 

“Not yet,” she replied. “But you will be. You will be.” 

Then she started rubbing me between the legs. Everything was super sensitive and super slick as she rubbed her fingers up and down my slit. She moved around me so that she was standing behind me. Her arms were now wrapped firmly around me with one hand pressed hard into my cunt. She must have been standing on her step-stool because she was practically lifting me up as she rubbed from both the front and the back slathering my juices all the way back through my crack.

Suddenly she was back to standing on the floor with one hand reaching up between my legs with her fingers rubbing my slit and going up to squeeze my clit between her center fingers. I could feel myself climbing higher and higher. I could no longer even talk but was just groaning louder and louder.

I screamed as Mistress J jammed her thumb into my ass and reached forward with her fingers all the way to my clit. Then she pinched as hard as she could. Lightning tore through my body. I thought that the ropes had broken and I was falling… or flying… or leaving my body. Everything turned a very bright white and then blackness washed over me.

When I regained consciousness, I was still hanging in the arch. Mistress J was sitting in a chair in front of me sipping a new glass of wine. “Welcome back,” she said with a smile. I think it’s time to go into the living room so you can return the favor to your new Mistress.

I tried to once again say, “I’m not your slave,” but I wasn’t able to get the words out. My mouth wouldn’t work right and I just mumbled something that sounded like drunken babble.

She pulled on one of the ropes and my right leg was released. Another quick pull and my left leg was free.

“Bring your legs together, honey,” she said sweetly, “and I’ll release your arms,”

I did. My body must have stretched or something because I could stand almost flat on my feet. Then I felt my left arm fall down alongside my body followed rapidly by my right arm. I was having trouble standing so Mistress J lowered me to my hands and knees on the floor.

After she took the restraints off my wrists and ankles, she patted me on the ass and said, “I think it would be best if you crawled over to the couch. You’ve got some work to do.”

I didn’t understand until she walked over to the couch and took off her skirt. She was naked underneath. When she sat back on the couch with her legs spread I could see that her dense, black pubic hair was glistening with her juices. 

I crawled over to her and put my head between her legs. “Soft and slow, soft and slow,” she said as she stroked my bald head.

I don’t know how long I licked her cunt. I thought she had a very sweet taste and kept lapping and lapping and lapping until she suddenly pushed my head hard into her slit with both hands and closed her legs tightly around me. I couldn’t breathe, but I knew that I had to keep licking and sucking until she released me. The world was spinning and everything was starting to go black. Finally her legs opened and we both lay there panting.

“You will get even more orgasms as the party slut Friday night,” she finally said.

“But people will recognize me,” I answered in fear.

“No they won’t,” Mistress J answered with a laugh. “You are afraid that they would immediately recognize your infamous lily white body, but that depilatory cream has a side effect. It darkens your skin… all over your body, not just where I applied it. Your body absorbed some of the chemicals and deposited them in your skin. You now have the golden tan skin of a high caste Indian person. That’s why I renamed you slut zara.”

“Is that permanent too?” I asked fearfully.

“No,” she replied, “it will fade in a few weeks. But by then you will be comfortable with being slave slut zara and won’t care who recognizes who you used to be.”

She handed me the bottle of hair remover and said, “Use this on your wrists and ankles to finish removing all hair, then take a shower and go to bed. We will talk in the morning, and I mean eight o’clock in the morning. I want you sitting at the table naked when I come into the kitchen.”

“Yes, Mistress J,” I replied and took the jar of ointment. As I headed toward the bedroom, she called out, “Set a timer. Keep that on your skin for eleven minutes exactly.”

That was one week ago. My skin has lightened just a little. Mistress J kept me naked all of the time for the whole week. Once when a delivery man came to the door with a package, she made me answer the door naked and then stand there naked while I signed for the package. After the man left, she ordered me to stand in front of her with my legs spread so she could check my cunt. It was dripping.

“Do you need another orgasm?” she asked in that overly sweet voice she used when talking to me like I was her pet dog. When I nodded my head she said, “I’m too busy right now, but you can give yourself an orgasm if you lay on the floor facing the open front door with your feet up on the door jamb.

The house is way out in the country and sits pretty far back from the road. Someone driving past might see me, but my need outweighed my caution and I flopped down on the floor and rolled over on my back. I closed my eyes and started rubbing my slit.

A sudden slap to my breast caused my eyes to fly open. “Don’t close your eyes,” Mistress J said harshly. “Look out at the world that is watching slut zara jill herself off.”

I looked out at the countryside through the open door. The thought that people… hundreds of people… maybe watching me debase myself suddenly caused an intense heat to wash over my body. I screamed and writhed and lifted myself up off of the ground so that only my shoulders were on the floor. My orgasm was like an explosion in my body. I could feel myself quivering as my back slowly returned down against the floor. Both of my hands were pressed firmly against my slit and I had eight fingers pushed into my cunt.

“God,” Mistress J said in mock disgust, “you are such a slut, zara. You are already a slave… a slave to your needs.”

“If you say so, Mistress J,” I answered, still in a post orgasm daze. Then she told me to stay where I was for fifteen minutes.

She walked into the kitchen and came back with one of those old-fashioned timers that you twist to set. She set it on the floor next to my head and said, “When this dings you can take your hands out of your cunt. If you do that before then, you will regret it.”

It was easy to push my fingers into my cunt when I was going so high, but now it was a strain to keep my back curled enough to hold them there. I found myself grunting and even sweating with the exertion. Every so often I could hear Mistress J somewhere behind me laughing softly.

Finally the timer went “Ding,” and I pulled my hands out of my cunt and lay back exhausted on the floor.

“Seven,” Mistress J said flatly.

“Seven what?” I asked and she responded, “That’s how many cars drove by while slut zara was lewdly displaying her body to the world.”

I felt my body burning once again, but this time it was not the heat of lust, it was the fire of shame.

“You’ve made a mess on the floor,” Mistress J said sternly. “Go get the mop from the kitchen and clean everything up.”

I had to leave the front door open while I cleaned up the smears on the floor. Then Mistress J let me close the door. Everything basically repeated itself a day later when we ordered a pizza delivered except that it was night. I answered the door naked and paid for the pizza. The delivery boy didn’t seem surprised and acted almost like nothing was different. I gave him an extra big tip and told him to have a good night.

After he answered “I will,” and drove off, I turned and gave the pizza to Mistress J. She looked deeply into my eyes and said, “Yes, if you need it.” I flopped down onto the floor and put my feet against the open door jamb. The explosion came even quicker. Maybe that was because I knew that with the light on I was absolutely visible to anyone who drove past. This time Mistress J didn’t make me lay there afterwards. Instead, once I had floated out of my post orgasmic high she said curtly, “Go wash your hands. Your pizza is getting cold.” I didn’t wash my hands. For some reason I wanted the smell… and taste… of my pussy to mix with the cheese and pepperoni.

I had to work all day today to get the house ready for the party while Mistress J went into town and did all the shopping. While I was cleaning, I noticed that the covers were off the chains in the arch. There was also a new piece of furniture in the living room. The coffee table was pushed over against one wall and in the middle of the room was a spanking– or fucking– bench.

After I had cleaned up the floors and dusted everything, I got out the leather cleaner and cleaned the couch and the recliner. I thought about cleaning the leather on the spanking bench. The bench itself is a padded shelf that is adjustable to match a person’s size. The very front of it drops down in case you want to get to a woman’s breasts while she is strapped to the bench. There is also leather on the small pads that you kneel on. Those narrow pads are just high enough off the ground so your feet can point down as you kneel on them. There is a gap beneath the pads so a leather restraint can be wrapped around your ankles or calf. The legs of the bench angle outward slightly to make it more stable. That also allows your wrists to be cuffed or restrained even if the drop down portion is down.

I almost didn’t clean the leather on the bench. Mistress J hadn’t told me to do so and if she didn’t want me to, I might get punished. But then I thought out loud, “That’s what everyone is going to do to me tonight anyway.” So, I carefully cleaned the leather on the spanking bench. It wasn’t really that dirty, but after I cleaned it the heavily-grained black leather shone with a dull luster, and the room was filled with the smell of leather. Cleaning the couches didn’t do that, but this handmade leather was much more natural and I stood above it breathing in that scent.

I don’t remember consciously making a decision, but I found myself kneeling down on the bottom pads. Then I lay across the bench itself and reached down to where the wrist restraints would be. It wasn’t right. The bench was a little too low. Maybe a Master or Mistress would want it that way to force my ass up a little, but I’ve seen these used too many times and know that the person should be laying flat on the bench. I got off and adjusted the shelf up about an inch. When I lay back down on it, it was perfect.

I jumped to my feet as I heard Mistress J’s car pull into the driveway. I looked down at the bench and there was a definite impression of my body on the leather. I quickly applied a little more leather cleaner and wiped everything down. I knew I had a few minutes because Mistress J had pulled the car all the way back to the garage behind the house rather than leaving it under the big portico over the circular driveway or parking it alongside the house. By the time Mistress J came back into the house I had all my cleaning supplies put away. I met her in the kitchen. She set the bags of groceries on the table and then looked at me sternly.

“Did you do your cleaning out?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered immediately, “five enemas to make sure I was cleaned out thoroughly.”

“And did you clean the house?”

Again I answered immediately, “Yes, everything is straightened, vacuumed, and dusted. I even used leather cleaner on the couch and recliner… and on the bench.”

She laughed and reached out her hand. I was confused as she began at the bottom of my stomach and ran her finger all the way up to under my left breast. Then she held up her finger. It was coated with leather cleaner.

“Did you use the leather cleaner on yourself?” she asked, “Or were you trying out the spanking bench?”

I looked down at the floor. “I was just adjusting it for tonight,” I mumbled.

“Truth!” she said loudly and firmly and I nearly burst into tears.

“The smell of leather was so powerful,” I blurted out, “and I wanted to know how it felt to lay across it.”

She laughed again and then said sternly, but somewhat flatly, “Since you like the bench so much, you will lay across it quietly from now until the party. You will be there when the first guest arrives.” 

She paused and then said very sternly, “Put this on and make sure it is cinched tight. Then kneel at the spanking bench and wait for me.”

I walked back into the living room and knelt on the narrow pads. After I adjusted my position on the pads, I put on the hood and pulled the velcro straps on the neck tight across the back. I could hear Mistress J talking to someone, or several someones in the kitchen but I couldn’t see them from where I was kneeling. After a long while, Mistress J walked out into the living room.

“Let’s get you painted up,” she said flatly as she opened a small makeup kit and took out a pointed brush. She dabbed it in one of the colors and began applying a very bright red on my lips.

She was very careful with the edges, but not so careful with the back of the lips. I could taste the paint when she worked on my open mouth.

“Keep your mouth slightly open for two minutes and let that dry,” she finally said and walked back into the kitchen. When she came back, she was carrying a mirror. She let me look at myself before she closed the eye holes on the hood. That’s when she said that my lips were now a beacon of sluttiness.

I lay across the bench for hours listening to the sounds around me. I heard the sounds of people working in the kitchen to prepare the meal. I heard some cars come and go at the house, and once a heavier vehicle, perhaps a delivery truck of some sort. Eventually I heard the arrival of Master Arnold and Mistress Jane, the first guests. I knew who they were because the server maids that Mistress J had hired from Mistress Leona called them by name. If the maids were dressed like they were at previous parties, they were in naked French maid outfits. Those outfits consisted of stockings and lace garter belts and a tightly cinched corset with small shelf-like cups to support their breasts. A maid’s cap and shiny black high-heeled shoes completed the ensemble.

“Greet slave zara,” Mistress J said cheerfully, and Master Arnold and Mistress Jane walked past me and slapped me soundly on the ass. I yelped when Master Arnold slapped me, but was ready for it when Mistress Jane did. I was also ready for the other guests when they arrived. I didn’t yelp, but just counted quietly. The count was at fifteen when Mistress Leona, the last guest arrived. That meant that there would be sixteen people around the table in the dining room.

I continued to lay over the bench listening to them eat and talk. Then I heard Mistress J say, “I don’t think slave zara has had anything.” Then I heard footsteps approaching me from behind. “This is very mild,” she said, “but I think you will enjoy it… silently!”

I then felt something being pushed into my ass. It went in rather easily, but it should have. I had spent an hour with various butt plugs loosening up my ass for tonight. It felt very small for an anal plug. I thought that was a bit unusual until it started to sting. It was a ginger root! I wanted to cry out or even scream, but Mistress J had told me to stay quiet and so I just lay there crying quietly. My tears were making the front of the leather hood wet beneath my eyes. 

I went into the pain and everything else seemed to disappear. It was no longer pain, just sensations. Then suddenly the fig was yanked out of my ass and someone spanked me really hard.

“Wake up sleepy head,” Mistress J said. “It is time to entertain our guests.”

As I raised my head, I heard someone say, “She isn’t bound,” and Mistress J answered, “She will stay in place on her own. And she will do everything she is ordered to do.”

“What’s first?” I heard someone say. Another voice answered “How about a spit fuck?” A third voice, a woman, said, “That’s a grand idea. And I even came prepared.”

Mistress J said firmly, “Hold onto the legs,” and someone lowered the front portion of the bench. Almost immediately I felt a man’s hands on my nipples. 

“I’ll help hold you up,” he said softly, “while my wife gets ready.”

I felt someone smearing something cold on my ass and in my ass. I think it was lubricant. It immediately stopped the burning from the ginger, but I could tell that my asshole was very tight because of the ginger’s effect on my sphincter. A finger pushed its way in, then two, then three. A woman’s voice said, “My you are tight tonight deary,” then a fourth finger joined in loosening up my ass.

“That will have to do,” the woman’s voice said and shortly thereafter I felt something cold and hard pushing between my asscheeks. It was a strap-on dildo. The woman pushed hard and the dildo began to enter me. She stroked very slowly, pushing in just a little bit slower than when she pulled out.

“You won’t have to do much work,” a man’s voice said. “My wife will move you up and down on my shaft. All you have to do is suck and lick.”

I felt the tip of a rather large penis press against my lips and I opened up my mouth. He immediately pushed all the way in. I would have gagged, but the woman screwing my ass pulled back really hard and pulled me a little ways off his gigantic prick.

“Time your breath,” Mistress J said sharply. Evidently she was standing alongside us.

I grabbed a quick breath and then the dildo rammed into my ass once again and I was pushed forward on the giant prick. They kept that up for a long time. The woman would ram her dildo into my ass and force my mouth almost all the way down on her husband’s massive prick. Then she would pull back and I would come off of the prick just enough to grab a quick breath. Then it would all repeat again and again. It seemed to go on forever. I expected that from the woman with the dildo, but I really thought the man would pop. I was sucking and licking as much as I could. Finally I heard him say, “Now!” very loudly and for the first time he rammed himself forward at the same time as she rammed into my ass.

I think they grabbed each other’s hands above my back and pulled themselves into me as hard as they could. Then I felt pulse after pulse of cum shoot down my throat. I didn’t inhale any of that slimy mess, but I couldn’t breathe either as both he and she pushed as hard as they could into my mouth and ass. Finally things began to fade out. A loud humming sound overwhelmed the conversation in the room and I felt myself going limp.

A hand was softly slapping my cheek. “Are you in there zara?” a voice was asking from a long distance away. The hand slapped a little harder and Mistress J’s voice said firmly, “Wake up!”

I took a deep breath and lifted my head.

“I think we will stick to the bottom end for a while,” she said and I felt someone lining up a prick with my cunt. Whoever he was pumped really fast for a really short time. Many in the room laughed as he lay over the top of me panting.

“That was my dog fuck for the evening,” he said with a laugh. I like to try that once in a while.

“But not with me,” a woman’s voice said sternly. “My rule is that the lady always comes first.”

That brought more laughter.

I’m not sure how many men… and women… took me after that. I could hear the sounds of sex and smell women in heat as the people at the party coupled with each other… and with me. Someone lifted the front portion of the bench back in place and told me to turn over. He lifted my feet up onto his shoulders and I thought he was going to ass fuck me, but instead he pushed very slowly into my cunt. Then he pushed my legs up over my body so that my feet were almost above my head and began to slide in and out of me in a slow rhythmic pace. The previous fucks hadn’t done much for me, but this was a new sensation. Everything seemed tight down there. I could feel the entire length of his cock sliding inside me. He started laughing softly as I began to moan. When I started keening, he sped up his thrusts and pushed even harder on my legs.

Then I exploded. It was a wonderful orgasm. As soon as I started thrashing, he pulled my legs back and pushed them wide apart. Then he began driving into me almost as fast as dog fucker, did earlier. I knew I was screaming. I thought I was floating above the bench. It was a minute or two before I realized that he was gone and I was laying there with my legs spread wide and my cunt dripping on the leather beneath my ass.

“Well,” Mistress J said sarcastically, “we all know that zara is a slut, but is she a pain slut?”

“I’ll warm her up,” a man’s voice said gruffly, but a woman’s voice cut him off and said, “You don’t know how to warm up a woman’s ass. You start out too hard. I will go first, then you can add to the heat.”

Someone turned me back over on the spanking bench and I again grabbed the front legs. The woman’s first smack was almost a love tap. It was very light, but was followed immediately by a thousand more smacks that moved all over my ass. Each small smack got just a little harder until she was spanking fairly hard… and a lot slower.

“Now that ass is properly warmed up,” she finally said triumphantly. 

She was right. Even though there hadn’t been that much pain, my ass was burning like it was on fire.

“Now to bring those embers to a flame,” the gruff voice said and I felt and heard a loud “Smack!” from a hand that was large enough to cover both of my asscheeks with his slap.

He spanked me ten or fifteen times. Each “Smack!” was a little louder and stronger than the last. By the time he finished, I was sobbing.

“Leather paddle time,” someone said brightly and I felt a really hard blow to the very bottom of my ass. That is the place a spank hurts the most and I yelped loudly.

“Got her attention,” the same voice said and the leather paddle struck again… and again… and again.

I was now crying loudly and saying, “I can’t take it. I can’t take it.”

“Yes you can,” Mistress J said softly as she stroked the top of my head. “You just have to accept the pain and go into it,” she continued. You got distracted by too much fucking.”

As usual, she was right. I could take this, but I had to get ahead of it. I had to open myself up to the pain and accept it. Then, when the pain and I were one, it would stop being pain. It would just be one more sensation driving me higher and higher.

I don’t know when they switched to a wooden paddle. I was somewhere above my body relishing the pain when that occurred. I did notice when they switched to the cane. There was a long pause and then I heard the cane buzzing behind me.

“Count them,” Mistress J ordered and the first strike of the cane hit across both asscheeks.

“One,” I yelped just before the second stroke landed on just my left ass-cheek.

“Two,” I called out. Then “Three,” and “Four” and “Five.”

The strokes were coming too fast for one person. I could barely keep up with the count. And every other stroke was coming from the opposite side. There had to be two people with canes whaling on my ass.

I was afraid I was going to lose count. I was at “twenty-nine” when Mistress J leaned in close to my head and said, “You may orgasm on the next stroke.”

I could feel my body quivering as I awaited the thirtieth stroke. Then both canes came down on my ass at the same time. I tried to say, “Thirty,” but all that came out was a wailing cry as my body thrashed on the spanking bench. Someone grabbed my hand, then someone else grabbed my other hand and two more people grabbed my feet.

I was still thrashing in orgasm as they carried me across the room and held me under the arch. My wrists were soon in the restraints and four strong men began pulling on the ropes to lift me off of my feet. Unlike when Mistress J put me in the arch, my feet didn’t touch the floor at all. I was hanging with my wrists nearly touching the arch and my legs dangling beneath me. I didn’t feel them put the restraints on my ankles, but when the men pulled my legs wide open, I found myself once again screaming in orgasm.

A long time later– at least it seemed like a long time to me– Mistress J stepped forward and began very lightly stroking my leg all the way up to my cunt. “My little zara,” she said softly, “zara, zara, zara, we all know that you are a depraved slut who will fuck anything. Even you know that now. And we all know that you are in the depths of your inner being a pain slut who gets off being dominated. Yes, even you have to admit that now.”

She started lightly rubbing my swollen ass. She must have been standing on the step-stool because she could easily reach me. “And we all know, zara, what happens to depraved sluts and pain sluts, don’t we?” she continued, still speaking very softly. “Those kinds of sluts will constantly seek what they need. They can’t control themselves. They will go deeper and deeper into their needs until they are all used up. You know that’s true, don’t you?”

There was silence for a moment and then she said much more sternly, “Don’t you!”

I was crying harder than when I was being spanked, but I managed to blubber out, “Yes.”

“So you know the only way for you to survive and have a happy life, don’t you?”

This time I only nodded my head and cried.

“Then say it,” Mistress J said firmly. “Say it slave zara.”

I swallowed several times and then said in a very shaky voice, “This slut submits herself to you, Mistress J, as your slave and gives you total control of its life.”

“I accept you as my slave,” Mistress J said. Then I heard a buzzing sound and something was pressed against my front just above my cunt.

I gasped loudly as a thousand bees stung my flesh. Then Mistress J spoke. “That was an electronic tattoo device,” she began, “It says ‘slave zara, Property of Mistress J.’ Is that a true statement?” 

“Yes Mistress J,” I said softly.

I heard something being scraped across the floor behind me. Then I heard a slight creaking as someone climbed a ladder behind me. The bottom portion of the hood was released and pulled up slightly. I could tell by the feel of his hands that it was a man doing this. Something was being wrapped around my neck in its place. It was hard and cold. I heard a very slight “click” and it was in place.

“With this collar,” Mistress J said firmly and loudly, “I accept you as my personal slave and extend my protection and guidance over your life and being.”

There was the loud sound of applause, then Mistress J said, “I think it is time for you to see your new Masters and Mistresses.” She was almost laughing as she said that.

The man behind me fully loosened the hood and pulled it up off my head. There was a loud gasp from the sixteen people gathered. I heard someone exclaim, “Mistress Regina!!!”

“No,” Mistress J said firmly, “Mistress Regina is gone. Actually she never existed. This is slave zara.” She looked up at me and asked, “That is who you have truly been all along, isn’t it little zara?”

“Yes, Mistress J,” I said softly.

“Well,” Mistress J said with a slight laugh, “it’s time for dessert. Gather around the table and our slut staff will serve a delicious Creme Brulee.”

As the people ducked their heads and filed beneath me to get to the dining room, Mistress J said cheerily, “I have a special dessert for you, too, slave zara.”

One of the servants hurried out carrying a special harness. She stepped up onto the ladder and wrapped it around my waist. Then she pushed the anal plug into my ass. After everything I went through already, it slipped in very easily, but the leather stung against my bruised and purple ass. 

Then Mistress J reached up from in front of me and pushed the oversized dildo into my cunt. Once it was in place, she pulled the strap up to the belt and firmly secured it.

She slipped back under me and walked over to the table where she picked up a remote of some sort. She pushed some buttons and both the dildo and the anal plug began buzzing. It must have been following a program of some sort because even after she sat down with her guests, the vibrations continued to rise and fall. The two vibrators were not in sync, so one would be at maximum while the other might be even at minimum. Once in a while they got into sync. That would drive me wild and I would grunt and moan and shake in my restraints. Then, just when both vibrators would reach maximum, they would deliver a lightning bolt of electricity to my cunt and ass. 

The first time that happened I screamed loudly. The second time I just grunted and went back to enjoying the vibrations. It was on the sixth or seventh time that I blasted off and then hung limply as a naked X in the archway.

“No more,” I muttered, “please no more,” but Mistress J replied, “You want it. You just won’t admit that to yourself. You will hang there until the evening is over.”

She had gotten up from the table and was standing directly behind me now. She reached up and stroked my bruised asscheeks. 

“I may even leave you up there all night,” she said softly. “And when I finally bring you down, you are going to write up everything that happened today and send it to Master W. He will post it on all of his story sites and everyone will know that Mistress Regina has become slave zara. Will you do a good job of that, slave zara?”

“Yes Mistress J,” I answered softly.

She only kept me up in the arch until after all of the guests had left. Two of the servants had to help lower me to the ground because I couldn’t stand on my own. I sat on the floor looking up at Mistress J. She looked down at me and said, “Once everything returns to normal, I want you in the office that used to belong to Mistress Regina. You will write up everything tonight and leave it on a memory stick. Put that stick on my desk next to my computer. I will edit things and send it to Master W in the morning. Can you do that, slave zara?”

“Yes, Mistress J,” I answered, “slave zara can do that.”

Mistress J only changed a few things in the story I wrote. She was, however, very upset that I hadn’t told the story of how this night came about so I am adding that here.

It was at breakfast on the day when she cut my hair. Mistress J and I are actually cousins who share a house that we inherited from our aunt. My bedroom is on the ground floor off the kitchen, hers is upstairs.

We are very different people. I am… or was… a blonde with very pale skin that almost glows in the dark. Her skin is quite a bit darker and her hair is straight, black and very shiny. I can barely wake up before noon. She’s a morning person. Last week, there was someplace that we had to be and I was still in bed. She was at the table in the kitchen. My alarm had gone off several time and she had called me just as many times. She was getting upset and yelled to me, “Get your ass out here to this table NOW!”

I wasn’t really awake yet, so I acted on instinct and jumped out of bed and ran into the kitchen. I sat down opposite her at the table and sat there shaking. I sleep in the nude, so I was sitting at the table naked.

“That’s a response I would expect from my slaves,” she said, almost laughing.

“Is that what I am?” I asked.

“Is that what you need to be?” she replied.

I paused a long time and then said “I don’t know. I really don’t know. I’m a Mistress because you are and you introduced me to the scene, but…” My voice trailed off and I looked down at the table.

She reached across the table and lifted my head. Then she looked me straight in my eyes and said, “Maybe we should give you a taste of slavery and you can decide what you are? Think about it all day today. If you want to sample a taste of slavery, after supper tonight, kneel before me when we go into the living room and say, ‘I need to know.’ I will take it from there.”

We ate in silence that night. Actually I don’t think we spoke at all during the day. After supper, I cleaned up the kitchen and went into my bedroom. Julie Ann went into the living room to watch TV. I came out of my bedroom naked and knelt before her. 

“I need to know,” I said in a voice only slightly louder than a whisper.

She must have known what I would do because she had everything ready and prepared. From that point on she was no longer Cousin Julie Ann, she was Mistress J. And a week later she was this slave’s Mistress.

I needed to know. And now I do.

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Wayne Mitchell “The Technician”

[email protected]

See my published books at

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