Chapter 1: It

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Fiction, DomSub, MaleDom, FemaleDom, Spanking, Light Bond, Oral Sex, Petting, .

Desc: BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 1: It - Nigel pushes Slave's limits, forcing her into position as a Dominant, tasked with training a new sub for Master Gerald. If you like D/s themes, you might like it. If you hate BDSM, move along, there's nothing to see here, including VERY little sex.

The Barton estate comprised 54 acres of land, much of it old growth hardwood forest. While a large portion of the estate, particularly the grounds around the mansion, was groomed and manicured, much was allowed to be wild and natural, with the exception of the large number of walking trails that had been established in the woods. Those woods were home to whitetail deer and a myriad of smaller animals such as raccoon, possum, fox, bobcat, skunk, squirrel and more.

The chairman and CEO of Barton International, Inc., Nigel Barton, strolled casually along one of those manicured trails. Tall and distinguished looking, at 51 he was a billionaire many times over, easily one of the ten wealthiest and most powerful men in America. Thanks to an extensive exercise regimen, he was trim and fit. In his casual cargo shorts, button down flap pocket shirt, and hiking sandals with nylon straps and thick rubber lug soles, he looked outdoorsy and perfectly at home in the woods, far from the boardroom and expensive three piece suits that filled his closets.

His fingers were entwined with those of his young wife of 6 months, Peggy. To anyone who saw them outside of the estate, they appeared a perfectly normal, happily married couple, despite their obvious age difference.

In private, they WERE happily married. They were also lifestyle D/s practitioners. Peggy, deeply submissive by nature, was Nigel's Slave. Slave with a capital letter, because when in role, she was no longer Peggy. She was Slave. That was her name.

When not in role, he placed very few restrictions on her. No panties, ever, unless she was on her period. She owned five pair, for that reason only. Dresses and skirts only, no pants or shorts. Always fully nude when in his playroom. He encouraged her to go nude whenever she liked when on the estate, but that was up to her, most of the time.

Peggy had discovered, despite her beginnings as a very modest girl, and thanks to Nigel pushing her limits by sometimes forcing her to be nude in humiliating situations, that she had a bit of an exhibitionist streak, and she now spent a lot of time naked when on the estate. She simply enjoyed the freedom of nudity, not to mention the fact that it kind of turned her on, despite herself. Thomas, the butler, and Mrs. Cooper, the rotund and grandmotherly black lady who called herself a "cook" but was in actuality a world-class chef, saw Peggy nude often, as did Lucia and Veronica, the two Honduran housekeepers.

The 36 members of Nigel's security team, a minimum of six of whom were on duty on the estate at any given time, 24 hours a day, were no strangers to her nudity either. It had taken a while, but she knew each of them by name.

Two members of that team trailed them at a discrete distance. A third was scouting ahead. They were professionals who took their jobs quite seriously. Nigel's company was a major stockholder of the security firm they worked for, a worldwide-known company that specialized in executive protection. They were the cream of the crop, mostly former military or Secret Service.

Peggy was wearing hiking sandals that looked like a much smaller version of Nigel's. Beyond that, she wore only her wedding rings and her "collar", a delicate gold choker. Recently turned 24, she always seemed to stay about 30 or 40 pounds overweight, most of it in her butt and thighs. She had a pretty face, with brilliant emerald eyes and light brown hair just long enough to caress the tops of her small, A-cup breasts. She thought them her best feature, as they didn't sag a bit, standing out proudly and peaked with extremely sensitive nipples. She kept her body hairless below the neck.

"Nigel, honey, please. I can't do it. I'm not ready," she argued for the hundredth time.

He stopped walking, moving in front of her and taking both her hands. "Peggy, we've been over and over this. You're ready."

"No, I'm not," she said weakly. "I don't think I will ever be."

He sighed. "Look, Peggy. I owe Gerald this favor. I'm entirely too busy to take the girl on. I need you to do this."

She knew in her heart he was right. He normally worked 60 or 70 hour weeks. True, much of it in his home office, but his plate was very full.

She thought back to her first humiliating meeting with Master Gerald, as she thought of and addressed him now, even when out of role. Since then, the elder Dom had been a frequent visitor in their home, and had proven to be a charming, witty and actually quite delightful person. Peggy liked him, a lot. On his last visit, Master Gerald had asked Nigel to take over the training of his newest sub while he attended to business in Asia for a month. "You owe me, old friend," he had said.

"I'll agree to oversee. But I'm going to delegate her actual training to Peggy."

She had gasped. "Nigel, I..."

"Silence, Slave," he barked, forcing her into role. She sank to her knees, assuming the 'nadu' posture she was so familiar with.

"Is she up to the task?" Master Gerald had asked.

"I'll make sure that she is."

That was three weeks ago. Nigel had spent extra time with his wife during that time, coaching her, answering questions, teaching her how to use each and every item in his toy cabinets. They had even spent time poring over his catalogs and the Internet sites where he bought his equipment, and he had been delighted when she suggested a few additions to his playroom. He had immediately ordered them and had them installed.

So badly, Peggy wanted to blurt out her safe word, "peppermint", and end all this. She had never spoken it aloud to her husband. She tried a different tack.

"Nigel, I know. I know you've tried hard. But I just don't have Dominance in me. I don't know how!"

"Nonsense. Most really good Dominants started as subs. You were a fantasy sub for years. You've spent seven months living the lifestyle. You've read everything ever written on the subject. Hell, you've worn out two copies of "50 Shades of Gray" since you moved in! You will assist me by taking on this task, and you will do it well."

She smiled inwardly. She actually preferred "Forget the Roses, Give Me the Thorns". She'd worn out three copies of that. While she might be the sub in the relationship, she sometimes pushed HIS limits a bit. Her fantasies ran a little kinkier than his.

"I've coached you and trained you, and you are ready. You are a very experienced, well trained, lifestyle sub, and you can rise to this challenge."

"But ... I really don't want to, Nigel. Please?"

"Did I ask what you wanted, Slave?"

"PEPPERMINT!!!" she mentally yelled at him.

"No, Sir," she said, dejected.

"Do you wish to use your safe word?"

She groaned. "No, Sir."

"Then it's settled. Come on, Peggy. We need to head back. Gerald will be here with the girl soon."

Peggy showered and slipped on a simple zipper front tennis dress, white with red trim. The short skirt portion of it barely covered her ass. No bra, she really didn't need one, and of course, no panties. After brushing out her hair, she applied just a trace of lip gloss and slipped on a pair of simple white sandals. She made a final check of her appearance, then walked to the kitchen.

Thomas, the butler, was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He straightened as he saw her. Tall and slender, the sixty-year old man's hair was neatly groomed and silver in color. As always, his dark suit was impeccable, and his shoes gleamed with polish. He had been with Nigel for over 30 years. Peggy knew that he was much more than just an efficient butler.

He was also an Aikido grand master and an expert marksman. No bulge in his tailored suit jacket gave away the presence of the Colt Gold Cup National Match 1911 that he carried in a Mitt Sparks inside the waistband holster. He had been Nigel's first bodyguard as an adult.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Barton," he said.

"Good afternoon, Thomas. Mrs. Cooper isn't in?"

"I believe she is at the delivery entrance, checking over some produce. May I help you with something?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks. Have you seen my husband?"

"Mr. Barton is in the library," the butler replied.

"Good, I'll join him there. Thank you, Thomas."

"Of course, Mrs. Barton," he said with a nod, and Peggy whirled, her short tennis dress spinning up and giving the butler a brief glimpse of her ample bare butt as she strode away.

He chuckled silently and sipped his coffee. It had really been fun working here since The Boss got married!

Nigel set his business magazine aside and rose to his feet as his young wife entered the library. He had changed into casual slacks and a pull-over golf shirt. Sweeping her into his arms, he stooped and nuzzled her neck, breathing in her clean, fresh scent, letting one hand drop down and sweep the fabric of her tennis dress out of his way to cup her ass cheek, fingers in her crevice, feeling that crinkled rosebud that had been virginal when they first met.

Peggy moaned softly and he whispered into her neck, "I love you so much."

"Then don't make me do this," she groaned, tipping her face up for a kiss, trying her final ploy. Nigel crushed his lips to hers, applying slight pressure now to her anus, and kissed her deeply, silencing her.

Thomas cleared his throat in the doorway and they broke apart, both panting a little, grudgingly.

"Mr. and Mrs. Barton, Gerald has arrived."

"Thank you, Thomas," Nigel said. "Show him in, please."

"At once, Sir," Thomas replied and turned on his heel.

Moments later Gerald entered the room, and the two men greeting one another warmly. He turned to Peggy, and she stepped into his arms, giving him a hug and a brief kiss on the cheek. He held her shoulders for a second, at arm's length.

"Peggy! A delight as always!"

"I wish I could say the same today, Master Gerald," Peggy replied, sounding glum.

Nigel interrupted. "I thought you were bringing the girl..."

"And I have," the short Dom replied. "She's waiting for me on the front porch. I wanted a word alone with you first." He shot a glance at Peggy. "Would you mind, darlin'?"

Nigel cleared his throat. "Peggy, where do you wish to receive our guest?"

"The Playroom, Sir, if that pleases you."

"Excellent. Await us there."

Dismissed, she nodded to each in turn. "Sir. Master Gerald." She left the library, pulling the door shut behind her.

Approaching the door to the playroom, which was just next door in the long hallway, she hesitated. Sir had granted her, unasked, an exemption from the "nude only" rule in force for the playroom. Still, she had never been inside with clothes on. Making up her mind, she quickly unzipped and stepped out of her dress, folding it neatly and placing it in the small chest that stood by the door for that purpose. Being nude worked better with her plan, anyway.

Sir had never pressed her on what exactly her plan was. "You will have to deal harshly with her initially," he had told her repeatedly, "and establish your immediate Dominance." He was curious to see how his Slave would handle this, in the first few days especially.

Naked, Slave stepped into the playroom and walked directly to the stocks. Crafted of dark, rough hewn wood, they looked like one might imagine from the Puritan days. An upright, and a cross member with holes for head and wrists. There the similarity ended. The three holes were lined with soft leather to insure that the sub received no splinters, and were actually quite large enough to slide one's hands or head and neck through easily. Steel leash clips in the holes attached to the sub's collar and cuffs provided the actual restraint. She turned the crank to raise the upper half of the cross member away from the lower half by about a foot. Another crank turned, and both upper and lower halves moved towards the floor. Once the opening between the two was about at the height of her chest, she stepped away, looking at the device for a moment.

Satisfied, she retrieved her round kneeling cushion, placed it next to the stocks, and sank gracefully into a perfect "nadu" posture to wait.

Sir walked into the room just a few minutes later, the door closing softly behind him. He looked around for a moment, spotted Slave, and moved to stand beside her. He caressed her head, and she leaned it into his firm thigh.

"I told you that you could wear clothes for this," he started.

"I know, Sir. It wouldn't work. Not for me. I can make nude work better."

Before he could reply, Gerald entered the playroom, clutching a young girl who looked to be maybe 20 years old, if that, by the bicep. Tall and slender, she was at least a head taller than the elder Dom. She had a pretty face, and was wearing a periwinkle blue sun dress with spaghetti straps at the shoulder. The shirred bodice covered obviously large breasts, which swayed unencumbered by a bra. Her head was covered by a cascading mass of ringlets of red hair that hung nearly to the top of her ass. The girl's face was pale and dusted with freckles, wide-eyed as she took in the eclectic mix of exercise and bondage equipment in the room.

They widened even more when she spotted the tall, casually dressed man, so obviously a Dom, with a naked sub by his side, leaning into his caress. Gerald led her over in front of them, standing a few feet back.

"Tina, this is Mr. Barton and his wife. They'll be caring for you while I'm gone."

"Master Gerald, please! I'll..."

He increased his grip, squeezing her arm painfully. "Tina, be polite and thank them. We've already been through this."

"Yes, Master," she winced. She lifted her face to Nigel's gaze. "Master Barton, thank you for..."

Quick as a snake, Slave jumped to her feet and her hand lashed out. The slap was a resounding crack in the playroom. Tina gasped, and staggered back. Gerald released her arm and took a step back to watch.

"He is NOT your Master! NOT Master. NEVER Master," Slave ranted, angrily. "You will call him Sir. Only Sir! Is that clear?"

Cheek stinging and tears welling up, the girl stammered, "Yes ma'am, I'm sorry Mrs. Barton".

SLAP!! The girl yelped this time, and burst into sobs.

Gripping the girl's hair, Slave roughly pulled Tina's face down until their noses nearly touched.

In a low voice, Slave growled. "I'm NOT your mistress. NOT your Madame. Did you not SEE me when you came into the room? Did you not SEE my position next to my Dominant ... next to Sir? Did you not SEE me NAKED, and SUBSERVIENT? I am a SLAVE!" She was emphasizing each word with a painful yank on the redhead's hair. "You will ADDRESS me as such. My name is SLAVE!" she spat, punctuated with an especially hard yank.

"Yes, S-s-slave," the girl stammered, blubbering.

Slave released her hair and gripped the bodice of the crying girl's button-front sun dress with both hands, and with a single hard yank, popped every button off down to the short hemline. Another yank broke both spaghetti straps and the dress puddled at the girl's feet. Her firm 36Cs jutted out proudly with no need of support, but she had a bit of a paunch, a softly rounded tummy and some baby fat on her hips and thighs. Her muscles were slack, rather than toned and firm. Slave slid her fingers under the front panel of the tiny g-string the girl wore, and snapped it off her body as well with a hard jerk, exposing a mass of red pubic curls that matched the girl's head. Tina gasped again, blushing furiously and tried to cover herself.


"Don't try to hide your body! And why are you on your feet in front of two powerful Dominants? Get on your fucking knees!"


Bawling out loud now, Tina sank gracelessly and awkwardly, into a poor version of a slave kneeling posture, her head hanging, tears streaming down her face, sobbing loudly.

Slave fisted her hand in the blubbering girl's hair, yanking her head to face Master Gerald.

"Master Gerald," Slave said, her voice cool and controlled. "This one isn't worthy of you, Master. It falls apart at the slightest correction, it is covered with fat, its muscles are slack, it is disrespectful to its betters. It can't even kneel properly. Release it from your service, Master Gerald, and I'll ask Thomas to set it out at the curb."

The girl wailed louder.

"It does have some ... endearing qualities," the Dom said with a wry grin, playing along. He saw where Slave was leading. He was impressed. In less than sixty seconds, Nigel's wife had established her Dominance over his usually somewhat bratty sub. She had stripped the girl of her name, her only possessions, and her gender. It didn't realize it yet, but he was pretty sure It would soon.

Nigel smiled inwardly, struggling to maintain his stern countenance. His wife Peggy was marvelous at this. He knew that she would be. He wanted to laugh with joy.

Master Gerald continued, "I assume Nigel has informed you of my wishes in It's training, Slave?"

Slave knew a simple yes would not suffice. She was being tested. "Yes, Master Gerald. It is lazy, fat and sloppy. You wish It to lose some weight and firm up. It is clumsy and awkward, and you wish It to learn some grace. It lacks social skills, especially when among those in the D/s community. It is impatient and greedy and often thinks only of Itself. You want me to turn It into a compliant, trained sub, but not a broken slave. You ask for much, Master Gerald."

Somewhere, it sank into It that they were talking about her. No, not her. Just an inanimate thing. It wailed, sobbing anew. Slave slapped a hand across It's mouth, and pinched It's nostrils shut.

"It will be silent. Does It understand?"

Shocked, It struggled for a second, then nodded. Slave removed her hand. It gasped for breath, but was otherwise quiet, tears still flowing freely.

"Continue," said Master Gerald.

"Master Gerald, It may not be permanently marked. No scars, brandings, tattoos or piercings. It is an anal virgin, and you reserve that for your cock, although It's ass may be penetrated by other than a penis. You expect It to be ready to receive your cock in It's ass happily. It also needs instruction in orgasm control."

"Safe word?" Master Gerald asked.

"Master Gerald, as you relayed to me via Sir, It's safe word is 'applesauce'. That will be treated as sacrosanct. Per your instructions, if It uses It's safe word, all training activity will instantly cease. It will be given food, drink and a comfortable place to rest for 24 hours, in order that It may decide if It wishes to remain in your service. At the end of that time, It will inform me of It's decision. Either It will resume training, or It will be given clothing, cash, and a ride to the bus station, where It will be set free."

"If It uses It's safe word again?"

"The same, Master Gerald. You are very tolerant, Master."

"A third time?" he pushed, ignoring the little barb.

"It will be assumed It wishes to leave your service, Master Gerald. It will be given clothing, cash, and a ride to the bus station, where It will be set free."

Satisfied, he nodded. "I give It into your care, Slave. Please proceed."

Slave sighed and glanced at her husband. Sir gave her a slight nod, his face just short of smiling, eyes twinkling. She stepped over to one of the storage closets and pulled out a training collar. Made of two inch wide harness leather with a chrome buckle, the plain black collar was unadorned except for three stainless steel leash rings set at intervals. Slave closed the closet and moved in front of the young redhead, gracefully sinking to her knees. She lay the collar on the floor between them.

It's head hung, shoulders shuddering as It silently wept. Slave spoke, her voice soft and soothing.

"Look. I know It doesn't want to be here. I don't WANT It to be here. I want It to leave. It means absolutely nothing to me. I want It to go away. It is an unwelcome intrusion into my life. This collar does not bind It to me. This collar is merely a training aid, and does not have the meaning of a Collar that It's Master might give It someday. Still, It must accept or refuse the collar of It's own free will. If It chooses the collar, It's path will be difficult. It's path may be painful, and will often be lonely. It does NOT have to do this. Choose now. Just say 'applesauce' and It may leave."

It reached out, trembling fingers nearly touching the collar, then drew It's hand back with a shudder. Slave waited, silently urging the girl to use her safe word. Nearly a full minute passed. Finally, It raised It's tear-streaked face and looked first briefly at It's Master, then directly into Slave's eyes.

"I choose the Collar, Slave," It said, voice quavering.

Resigned, Slave buckled the collar around It's slim neck, being careful not to trap any of the long locks of curly hair beneath the leather. She helped It to It's feet and buckled wide cuffs of soft suede leather around each of It's wrists and ankles.

Leading It behind the stocks, Slave urged It to bend at the waist, and quickly and efficiently clipped the redhead's neck and wrists into position, then lowered the upper cross member. She then turned the crank to bring both cross pieces lower, until It's waist was bent at a 90 degree angle, torso parallel to the floor. Satisfied, Slave bent and clipped It's ankles to a wide spreader bar, forcing It's legs wide apart and leaving It's sex lewdly exposed. It's pussy lips looked slightly swollen, and gleamed with moisture. Slave caught a whiff of It's musk.

Slave was not in the least bit bisexual, and in fact, had never been with another woman sexually. She would take no pleasure out of what she knew had to be done next. Moving behind It, she squatted down and bent forward, dragging the tip of her tongue through the folds of It's pussy. With long slow strokes, she licked back and forth from clit to anus, over and over, tongue swirling. It moaned, loudly, legs beginning to tremble.

After only a couple of minutes, Slave saw It's puckered rosette start to clench, and immediately pulled her face away from It's sex. It groaned in frustration. Slave rose to her feet.

"Sir. Master Gerald. It is quite wet, if either of you have need."

Despite the firm bulge in his trousers, Nigel smiled and shook his head. Master Gerald said, "I'm fine. Please continue."

It smiled to Itself when It heard the loud buzzing sound. A vibrator! Oh, this was going to be fun! It was confused when it felt the buzzing at the base of It's neck. Slave smoothly moved the clippers up and over It's scalp and a huge hank of luxuriant red curls fell to the floor in front of It's eyes.

It SHRIEKED! "Oh my god, not the hair, please not the hair!" It wailed.

Master Gerald winced a little but said nothing. It was only hair. It would grow back.

Slave turned the clippers off and caressed the blubbering girl's cheek. "Just say the word," she said softly. "End this right now."

It bawled loudly, huge sobs wracking It's body, but It shook It's head firmly.

"As It wishes," Slave said, turning the clippers back on.

Master Gerald cleared his throat. "I think I've seen enough. Slave, we'll leave you to your work." He turned to his friend. "Nigel, I believe you said something about finding a truly magnificent old Scotch..."

"Of course! Thomas has it ready in the library. Shall we?" The two men left the room.

Less than five minutes later, Slave had reduced It's scalp to fine stubble. She cleaned the clippers and put them away, then used a small pair of scissors to trim away It's mass of curly pubic hair as short as she could. It had quit sobbing but was still sniffling and blurted out, "I hate you!"

"It hates me," Slave agreed cheerfully. "It is greedy, and impatient, and vain. It thinks only of Itself. It will learn to remove the words 'I' and 'me' from It's vocabulary."

It gasped as Slave once more leaned forward and buried her face in It's fragrant cunt, tongue probing and exploring. She drove her tongue deeply up the slick canal, gathering the juices, moved up and probed It's tightly puckered anus briefly, then moved lower and began circling It's swollen clit. Once more, she brought It almost to the point of orgasm, then backed away.

"Damn you!" It hissed. "Let me cum!"

"Don't be silly. It hasn't earned the right to cum. It still thinks only of Itself. It must learn control." Slave stood and walked to the small bathroom in the corner next to the big, glassed-in shower, leaving the frustrated sub locked in the stocks. Taking her time, she sat on the toilet and pissed, surprised to find herself feeling mildly aroused when she wiped. She moved over to the bidet and meticulously cleaned her genitals and anus in the warm, burbling water.

Standing, Slave moved to the sink, carefully washed her face and hands, then used a large, fluffy towel to dry off. She draped the towel over her shoulder and prepared a large bowl of hot water. Slave selected two new disposable razors and a can of shaving cream from the cabinet over the sink, and returned to the main room.

Slave dampened It's head with hot water and began to spread shaving cream over the stubble. "Now," she said, "I will explain the rules. After today, the hair on It's head is allowed to grow back. It will keep It's body hairless below the neck. If I find stubble, It will be punished."

"Fuck you. I don't..."

Slave slapped her hand, palm still mounded with shaving cream, over It's open mouth. As It struggled, she calmly said, "It will remain silent until asked to speak, unless It wishes to say 'applesauce'. Does It wish to say 'applesauce'?"

It groaned, and shook It's head.

Slave took her hand away and the sub spluttered, trying to spit the vile foam out but otherwise not speaking. Slave continued spreading the foam on It's head.

"It will exercise when told to do so. It will keep It's body spotlessly clean and fresh smelling. It will complete all tasks assigned to It. If It fails in any of these things, It will be punished." Slave left the foam to soften the stubble and moved behind the naked sub, bringing a handful of foam to It's cunt. She began rubbing it in, fingers moving through It's slick folds and over It's hard little clit, once more bringing It nearly to the point of orgasm. The whole time, Slave was talking.

"It may not cum without permission. If it does, It will be punished. It may not masturbate. If It does, It will be punished. It will always remember to say please and thank you. If it does not, It will be punished."

Slave began carefully, but efficiently, shaving the sub's pussy, starting around the puckered rosette of It's ass and moving down onto the labia, finally sweeping the mons clean of hair with a few quick strokes.

"It will eat only the food it is given, without complaint. If It complains, It will be punished. If It tries to sneak a snack, It will be punished."

Slave rinsed the bare cunt and checked for stubble, again fingering It to a near frenzy before stopping.

"Now. Would It like a drink of water to get the taste out of It's mouth?"

"Oh god, YES, please!" It panted.

Slave got a bottle of water out of the small fridge and twisted the top off. She stuck a straw in the neck of the bottle and wiped It's face clean with the towel, then held the bottle so the sub could drink. It drew thirstily, finishing nearly two thirds of the bottle before indicating It had had enough. Slave set the bottle aside and began shaving the sub's head. It only took a couple of minutes until It's bald dome gleamed. Slave wiped the rest of the shaving cream off with the towel, and caressed the smooth scalp gently.

"I did notice that It failed to thank me for the water."

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I should have OW OW OOWWWWWW!!!"

Slave was twisting It's ear, hard. "It still thinks the word 'I' is in It's vocabulary. It still thinks only of Itself. I think It WANTS to be punished." She released It's ear. It immediately shook It's head.

"NOOOO! I'm, um, I mean, shit! IT is sorry, Slave. Really! It thanks you for the water!"

"It will forget. It needs a lesson It can remember. Three licks with the paddle, I think."

"Nooooo!" the sub wailed. "PLEASE! It will remember. It promises!"

"Promises mean nothing. Only obedience matters. Five licks. Would It care to try for more?"

It gulped, and quietly said, "No, Slave. It is sorry."

Slave caressed It's ass gently, then went to the closet. She withdrew both the paddle and the flogger. The paddle was a bit over three feet long and four inches wide. It had a slightly flexible polymer core and was covered in black leather. The flogger, Sir's favorite toy, had 39 two foot long strands of thin, extremely soft kangaroo hide, joined together at the leather wrapped handle. Setting the paddle aside, she began to twirl the flogger as Sir had taught her, letting only the tips of the leather strands kiss against It's ass and upper thighs, each touch only a light sting. Because of It's widespread and bent over position, that meant of course that some of the little flicks also landed on It's cunt and asshole.

It flinched at first, then relaxed a little, jerking each time the strands hit It's pussy. After only a few minutes, It's ass was starting to burn and redden.

It spoke, voice quavering. "Slave, may It ask a question?"

"It may". Flick flick flick flick flick.

"I, er SORRY! It thought you OW! said paddle..."

"Yes. Paddle. Five licks. As soon as It's ass is properly warmed."

"Warm? It's on fire NOW, Slave OW! it really is!"

"Nonsense. It can get MUCH warmer." And it did. By the time fifteen minutes had passed, It's ass was glowing. Each little flick of the flogger now felt like a wasp sting. It's legs were trembling and It was sobbing again, in between occasional yelps. It's pussy lips were swollen and distended, brightly pink and Slave noticed that It's cunt was decidedly very wet. Realizing she could accidentally make the sub cum if she kept this up, she set the flogger aside.

"Warm enough, I think. We will begin. It will ask politely for each lick, then count it and thank me for it. If It loses count or otherwise fails, I will start over. Does It understand?"

"Yes," It said sullenly.

Slave slapped It's ass with her bare hand, hard. It yelped.

"Yes, Slave, It understands! It is sorry. May It have the first lick, please?" It tensed, trembling.

Slave aimed carefully and swung the paddle, hard and true. A loud CRACK! resounded through the playroom.

It gasped as white hot pain streaked across It's already burning ass. "Just say it," Slave silently urged the sub. She really, really wanted the girl to let her off the hook and safe word out.

It panted, "One. Thank you, Slave. May It have the next one, please?"

It yelped on the next impact. On the third, It screamed. It kept count, remained polite, and asked for the next, sobbing and gasping.

On the fourth, It screamed again "NOOOOO!!!" The sub sobbed into a softly chanted litany of "can't, can't, can't, can't..."

"End this," Slave said softly.

"No! Please. Just. A moment ... a moment..." It began to calm, still trembling.

"I understand. If the pain is too much It should..."

"NO! You DON'T understand, Slave. Not the pain," the sub said. "It can handle the pain. Pain just hurts. Or at least, it should ONLY hurt." It sniffed, then sobbed once, lightly. "It shouldn't turn you on. It ... It nearly had an orgasm, Slave. What's wrong with It?"

Slave caressed It's trembling back, considering. "Drop out of role for a second, Tina. We can talk about this. We won't treat this as a safe word moment."

"No! Please? It was bad and understands that It needs to be taught a lesson. It needs to be punished now, while It's ass still burns. Talk can come later. It is ... past the arousal now." Sniffle. "The last one was four, Slave, thank you. May It have the final lick now, please?"

"As It wishes." Slave moved back into position and eyed It's ass, admiring the sub's grit. It's ass would be bruised tomorrow. The twin globes were crossed with welts in various shades of brilliant reds, pinks and white. As Sir had taught her, the final stroke was closure. It had to be hard. She took aim and swung the paddle.


"FIVE!" shrieked It. "Thank you, thank you! OW OW OW that one REALLY hurt. OW! Just hurt. Only hurt," It panted. "Thank you, Slave, thank you," It gasped, sobbing again.

"What has It learned? Does It still hate me? Speak freely." Slave asked, realizing that somewhere along the line, It had reached an epiphany.

"Yes. No. It is confused. It HATES you for taking It's hair. But It knows now. It has learned. It understands why you did. It needed It's vanity stripped away. And It hates, HATES having to call you Slave. It wants to call you ... Mistress, or at least something with more respect than Slave. It ... loves ... you for being so powerful, so sure of yourself, so, so Dominant. It is sorry, Slave. It is babbling. It will be silent."

"Would It like some more water?" Slave asked, gently.

"It really, really needs to pee, Slave. It doesn't want to muss your Sir's floor. Would ... you please bring a bucket or something?"

"Don't be silly, Girl. Let me get you loose so you can use the bathroom." Slave starting unclipping the sub's ankles from the spreader bar.

"S-Slave? It is confused. Did you mean to call It ... Girl?" It asked, wonder in It's voice.

"Of course I did. You were a good Girl. You admitted what was happening, and worked through it. You completed your punishment without complaint. You have earned a promotion. You are now Girl."

Despite the pressure in her bladder, Girl beamed happily, patient while her Mistress released her from the stocks. Oh, she would never use that word out loud to Slave. Her mistake in calling Sir 'Master' had taught her that lesson. But she recognized who her Mistress was. She found herself now eager to please.

Slave undid the last leash clip. "Run, Girl. See to your needs. Be quick about it."

"Yes, Slave, thank you!" she said, and was off with a dash to the bathroom, her ass barely reaching the porcelain before her bladder exploded in sweet relief. Girl groaned with the sheer pleasure of taking a piss. Finally finishing, she wiped and flushed, and remembered Slave's admonishment about cleanliness. She stepped over to the bidet, figuring out the unfamiliar controls, and washed.

She stepped back out, much refreshed, and saw Slave standing with a grim look on her face.

"Girl, this room is a mess. Your hair is all over the place under Sir's stocks. There is shaving gear scattered about, and two of Sir's favorite toys are on the floor, out of their place in the closets. The bath room is dirty. You have two hours to restore Sir's playroom. Any questions?"

"No, Slave. I'll be happy to do it," Girl said brightly, smiling.

"Good Girl! See that you don't fail me." Slave strode out of the room, pulling the door firmly shut behind her and locking it with a soft click. A few seconds later, there was a loud "CLACK" and the playroom plunged into total darkness.

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