Prologue

“Don’t worry, darling. The first time is the hardest,” Siobhán told him softly. “This will rekindle our romance and take our love to the next level.” She faced the bound naked man brought to her in the dimly lit anteroom of the Punishment Suite. He wore a black leather hood with openings for his eyes, nose, and mouth.

His dark eyes seemed dull and restless in the soft glow of the overhead fixtures, and his nose flared with each breath as he tried to compensate for the ball gag in his mouth. His forearms were lashed together before him, and he wore a thick studded collar with a D-ring. The dark-robed figure delivering him halted at the door and retreated, closing it behind him.

Even in the drug-induced fog, he barely recognized the woman before him. Siobhán Bennett-Landry wore a studded half bra with matching crotchless black leather panties, webbed stockings on her long legs, and four-inch stiletto heels. She accessorized with a black leather studded collar and elbow-length silk fingerless gloves. Her natural red hair was combed back and held with clips. She was a captivating beauty with full, perfect breasts above the half-cup brassiere. Her soft pink nipples stood out, encircled by pale areola. The minimal leather thong left her firm ass exposed while the front framed and molded her shaved mound.

The man behaved sluggishly as she took his arm and led him into the master suite. He was oblivious to the furnishings; else, his unease might have tipped him into full panic. Mistress Leilani assured her that first-time cucks were often given a mild roofie to make them less resistant to the initial submissive conditioning. She stepped closer to face him and kissed his sweaty lips gently. “I love you so much for this, Sweetheart,” she whispered, tracing her velvet-gloved hand down his bare chest, feeling his abdomen tremor as she caressed his flaccid penis and scrotum. “Let’s begin.”

A king-sized bed dominated the suite, but there was room for several other devices. Against the wall facing the bed was a weathered wooden cross beam with chains and cuffs. Closer to the center was an odd-looking item resembling a squat pommel horse with its own restraints. The wall to the right of the anteroom entrance was a solid, opaque, one-way, soundproof window for discreet viewing.

Siobhán led her pet to the cross beam and turned him around with his back to the hard timbers. She secured his arms above his head. “The valium and ketamine will wear off soon,” she said. “You’ll be fully aware of everything.” She spread his legs and fastened his ankles with Velcro. Pressing against his naked body, she kissed him, biting his lip enough to make him flinch. “My bull will be here soon, Martin. Can’t wait for you to meet him,” she murmured. “But first, let’s make sure you know your place,” she added coldly.

He shook his head, trying to focus, and mumbled incoherently around the gag. His voice turned into a pitiful cry when she squeezed his balls. “Do not speak!” she hissed. “You are nothing! A weak, spineless little bitch with a tiny cock!” She grabbed a shiny device from a shelf—a wire-framed male chastity cage. His eyes widened, and he moaned loudly. “This is the smallest size,” she mocked, placing him in it. He twitched at the cold metal and uttered a muffled cry as she forced his balls and penis inside, snapping it closed with a click. “You’re about to see a real cock,” she added demurely. Her heels clicked on the floor as she approached a wall of S&M devices, a tool board of sadistic perversion—with straps, belts, whips, paddles, dildos, gags, and harnesses.

“You’ll finally watch my bull fuck me and wear my pussy out—like he’s done so often whenever you worked late or went on business trips.” She moved gracefully, her hips swaying as she traced her long fingers across the instruments. “I’m sure you thought I was only sleeping with Kyle,” she remarked. “I’m sorry you had to learn about our affair like that.” Her tone belied the merit of her words as she paused at a cruel-looking, multi-stranded whip with a braided handle. “I bet you never imagined this was how I spent my free time.”

She continued talking as she considered the tools: “Now, to help your transition into the perfect pet, we must overcome the natural resistance even the weakest men have for authority and obedience.” She took down the whip and snapped it with a flick of her wrist. She took down a riding crop and replaced it for a flat wooden paddle. She smacked it against her palm. Satisfied, she stepped seductively over to the pommel horse and placed each within easy reach.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” she said softly, and he shook his head frantically. The gag muffled his desperate moans as he choked on her name. Her smile vanished, replaced by a harsh scowl. She grabbed the whip and strode back to him until they were nose-to-nose and thrust the grip under his chin, shoving his face up. “What did I say about speaking?” she hissed. She studied the disbelief and fear in his eyes, and her heart raced. God! Leilani was right! Her mentor’s words didn’t do the sensation justice. She felt high! It was euphoric—being in complete control of her husband.

The Mistress stood less than ten feet away, observing through the smoky one-way glass. The viewing chamber was smaller than the punishment suite, with a sloped floor rising toward the back. A console with audio/visual and recording equipment occupied one corner, while three rows of seats filled the rest, accommodating up to nine viewers. The room was currently empty except for the tall, enigmatic woman standing before the glass, arms crossed. Her long dark hair fell below her hips, and she wore an elegant black gown, which split up to her ribs, occasionally revealing her feminine charms. Like her protégé, her generous breasts were exposed, supported by an open-cup bra.

She didn’t turn when the door hissed open. She felt him quietly enter and step up behind her. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she sensed his presence. “I hope she contains her spiteful enthusiasm,” she remarked softly to the robed man.

He remained silent, offering her a crystal flute of sparkling ginger ale, which she accepted, appreciating the gesture as he sipped his own. Sterling Calabresi was a man of few words, especially in character, and always deferred to his lovely wife as ‘Mistress’ or ‘Madame.’ He was devoted to her, and she often took his affection for granted. She took a long drink. They abstained from alcohol during sessions because it dulled the senses. She caressed his lower back without taking her eyes from the activity beyond the glass. “He is soft,” she said quietly, referring to Siobhán’s cuck husband, Martin Landry. “And stupid.”

The man beside her said nothing, but she sensed his amusement as she continued, “I will never understand how a free-spirited and gorgeous creature like her could become attracted to such a repulsive and unremarkable person. How she stayed with him for two decades defies logic.” She silently approved as the crimson-haired trainee paced back to the instrument wall and selected a gem-encrusted plug and her strap-on with an eight-inch hard rubber phallus.

A knock sounded on the soundproofed anteroom door, and the woman turned her radiant smile to the tall, muscular man who appeared. Bull Damien was a younger, handsome man with mixed European features. He stood exactly six feet, completely nude, and it was impossible to overlook his astounding manhood. Siobhán’s eyes fell lustfully to his fully erect cock as she moved to embrace him. They kissed deeply, and she moaned as he pressed the tip of his rigid pole against her mound. Parting, she clasped her delicate fingers around his girth and led him to the restrained figure.

“Can you believe it, darling?” she said. “Isn’t he the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen?” She moved behind her newest lover, clutching his chest with one hand and stroking his erection with the other. “Not even Kyle can match his skill and staying power,” she purred, circling the stud and smiling at the bound man. “I can’t wait to watch you pleasure him after he fills me.” She knelt beside the bull, clasping his sack. It filled her hand as she ran her tongue along his shaft, causing it to twitch. “You won’t believe the amount of cum in these balls.” She released his scrotum and gripped his shaft with both hands before placing her lips over his large tip and taking him in. She sighed happily and moaned as she sucked on him. Her head moved slowly as she pulled back and then forward once more, this time taking his entire length with practiced ease.

It was a provocative demonstration of a gift she had shared often with her husband over the years. She released him with a hollow pop, smacking her lips primly. “You’ll love how he tastes, covered with my juices and his salty cream,” she said lustfully, standing tall again.

Beyond the window, Mistress Leilani felt her labia warming and reached down to touch herself, relishing the anticipation. Her hand almost shook as she took another drink.

“Damien, my love,” they heard through the glass, “Be a dear and bring it to the horse?” Siobhán turned to the odd-shaped block by the foot of the bed. The Bull released the ankle straps, unclipped the collar, and cuffed the man for offering weak resistance. He was led to the beam and bent over it, facing the bed. The device adjusted to his torso so his feet remained on the cold floor. His hands were clipped near the floor, stretching him onto his toes. His chin rested on the edge of the block. Siobhán parted his legs, placing his knees on a shelf and spreading them wide before securing them tightly with straps. He flinched as she slapped his bare ass and prodded his tight anal sphincter.