Chapter 3

'Life takes strange turns, ' I though idly, running my fingers though Samantha's long blond hair. As she slumbered in my arms, exhausted from her first orgasms as a woman, I luxuriated in the satiated smugness of having been the initiator of those orgasms. Of course, what Sam would never hear from my lips was that the pleasure she felt from her first sexual experiences as a female were not normal for most women.

Still, being the one that had facilitated the creation of that body, I did feel I had the leeway to add a few "tweaks" here and there to ensure a favorable reaction to both submission and sex. Things such as limbering her joints to make her extremely flexible, while adding a rush of pleasure when she was bound or used in a number of highly submissive sexual positions. Or adding "pleasure points" to spots in her lips, tongue, and throat that transmitted highly charged stimulation to her clit, especially when she was worshipping certain body parts. Or making certain word associations transmit the same clit stimulation - for instance, when she said the words "master" or "sir," or when she heard words such as "slave," "slut," or "fuck," or when she heard me moan in pleasure from what she was doing to me. Or making her nipples and clit extremely sensitive to touch once aroused, perhaps five times as much as for most normal women. Or making her unable to cum unless I gave her permission, but having the pleasure to build and build to a mind-crushing climax once that permission was granted.

Which is why, by the time she had finished kissing my feet and sucking my toes, her new pussy was dripping wet from the stimulus her tongue was sending to her clit. With each lick, each kiss, each tender nibble, her clit throbbed in sympathetic resonance. By the time she had me out of my pants and had buried my cock to the hilt in the back of her throat, she was moaning non-stop, lost in the sensations of being at the edge of orgasm, but being unable to move any closer to climax. Which made it all the sweeter when, as I felt myself carried over the edge to cum in her mouth, I waited until I had sprayed the last of my jizz into the back of her throat, then said the words "Cum for me."

She immediately began shaking like an electrical wire had been touched to her skin; she bucked and writhed, humping her pussy against an imaginary cock. My cock slid from her mouth with a wet "pop," and unswallowed cum dripped down her chin like drool as she moaned and thrashed. I was forced to grab onto her hair in order to keep her from flopping backward and smacking her head on the floor, and the pain sent her into another series of convulsions - yet another tweak, increasing her enjoyment of and sensitivity to the masochistic activities she had enjoyed as a man. She continued twitching in ecstasy for another five minutes, the floor below her a river of cum flowing from her pussy. Only when she regained enough control of herself to put her hands on the floor and lean forward did I release my hold on her head. Like a newborn colt standing on shaky legs, it was all she could do to just rest her weight on her hands and sit quietly, her breathing finally slowing from gasps to pants to even, measured breaths.

"Master?" she asked quietly, still looking down.

"Yes, Samantha?"

"May I look up at you, please?"

Instead of answering, I took her chin in my hand and moved her face upward to look into mine. "Yes?"

Her eyes darted around a bit, avoiding mine, while she struggled to find the words she wished to use. "Would you... can you... please..." until finally, she looked directly into my eyes. "Would you please fuck me? Please, Master?"

Again, I did not answer her directly. Instead, I stood up and extended my hand to her. She grasped it, and I pulled her to her feet and quickly wrapped her in my arms, kissing her deeply, tasting remnants of my own cum still fresh in her mouth. I could feel her brain reel as her clit was assaulted again by the stimulation of her lips and tongue by my own. Still holding her tightly, I removed my mouth from hers and slid my lips along her face until they were next to her ear.

"I will happy to fuck you, my pet. However, before that will happen, you need to clean up the mess you made on the floor. Leaving all those juices on that hard wood will never do. And," I pointed to my own semi-hard wood, "there are some juices that still need to be cleaned from here as well. Do a good job, and there will be a wonderful reward waiting."

Samantha nodded and, when I released her, sank to her knees and began to lap at the puddled juices her first orgasm had wrenched from her. Within a few minutes she had licked up the cum, and then used her now much-too-large black slip to wipe up the saliva she had left behind. She sat back on knees, awaiting my inspection of her work. Satisfied with her efforts, I gestured to my cock, and she crawled over to the bed and began to lick the dried cum around the head and down the shaft. I pretended not to notice when, as her pussy began to run again from the stimulation she was feeling, she shoved the black slip between her knees to shield the floor from any further coating.

As fate would have it, that's when Cassie walked in.

I had probably surfed the Internet for an hour when Ornias finally broke its silence.

"You know what amazes me about you, Orny? It's that you're even still able to talk. I once put a frog in the freezer, just to see what would happen, and it was pretty much a frog-sicle within 30 minutes. So you're doing pretty good, I'd say. I'll give you another 15 minutes, and you'll be a nice sparkly demon-pop - all that would be missing is the stick up your ass."

Its wail of despair was, if you'll excuse the expression, chilling. But it didn't cut any ice with me. I sat silently, staring right into Ornias' pain-filled eyes.

"Wh-wh-what d-do you want-t-t-t?" it hissed.

"Well, Orny old boy, I want a lot of things. I want the Detroit Tigers to win the World Series again. I want Chris Matthews to shut up. I want every teacher and cop in America to earn as much as the lowest paid veteran in the NBA. I want people to stop caring so much about what's outside, and more about what's inside a person.

"But, most of all, Orny, I want to know what the hell happened to my girlfriend, why the hell your symbol is inside her journal, and what the hell is going on with this ring!"

Ornias mumbled incoherently, lowering its head to scrape the ice from around its mouth with one claw.

"What's that, Orny boy? I think a few more minutes in the freezer and you're going to be completely immobilized... and then you just might never move again."

"Un... lock..." The demon paused, laboring for coherence. "Un... lock... the... ring..."

"You can unlock the ring?" The demon shook its head slightly. "You can tell me how to unlock the ring?" A nod this time. "And what exactly will unlocking the ring do?"

"P-p-power... s-s-s-s-secretsssssss..." its voice trailed off into a soft hiss.

"How? How do I unlock the ring?"

Ornias was silent. Its slight shudders indicated it was still conscious, but the demon made no effort to lift its head from where it lay on its hands.

"Will you show me how to unlock the ring if I thaw you out a bit? I'll take the book from the freezer if you will swear to show me how to unlock the power and secrets of the ring!"

Ornias did not move, but its muffled voice came from somewhere inside its frost-covered form.

"I... swear..."

I jumped up from my chair in front of the computer and ran to the freezer. Opening the door, I lifted the block of ice cream up... and watched as the page with Ornias' symbol stayed stuck to the bottom of the carton. Using my left hand, I pulled down on the journal while holding the ice cream container. The rest of the journal suddenly came free... but the page with the symbol was still stuck to the bottom of the ice cream carton, where it apparently was going to stay until a little thaw set in.

I put the ice cream in the sink to melt, knowing it wouldn't take long for the page to peel away from the carton, but I couldn't help needling the demon again. "Well, Orny, it looks like this isn't going to be as easy as I thought."

Butter Almond ice cream - $2.89. Legal-ruled journal - $0.89. The wails of a demon nearly frozen and ready to do anything you ask - priceless.

I could only think of one word to describe Cassie completely: twit. She came to the monthly meetings with no intention to participate in the demonstrations or to use the dungeon. Instead, she always showed up with some new, very confining costume made of leather or rubber, which she'd wear for about an hour; then she would slip into the bedroom to change into something "more comfortable" to her, and spend the rest of the evening lounging in a chair either in the living room or the encounter room, talking about how she loved being constrained, but could only stand it for short periods of time before she had to get out of it or go crazy.

Apparently, she had reached her limit again, as she walked into the bedroom in a very tight leather corset that was squeezing her abdomen and mashing her tits flat against her chest. It was obvious that she wanted to slip out of the clutches of the corset as quickly as possible and into her typical tight t-shirt, no bra. There was no doubt that she had a great figure, emphasized by the tightness of the non-fetish clothing she wore; the leather pants she had on this night were so tight, I could swear I could see a mole on her ass from 10 feet away.

She looked startled as she realized she wasn't alone in the room, doubly so when she saw it was me sitting on the end of the bed having my cock lovingly tended by someone she didn't know (or, in this case, didn't know she knew). She made to back out of the bedroom, but a quick thrust of power into her mind caused her to step forward and close the door behind her. Samantha, deep in the throes of pleasure from sucking me back to hardness, never stopped in her ministrations, and I touched her thoughts briefly to ensure that she would concentrate solely on my cock and ignore anything else that happened in the next few minutes.

Cassie stood by the door, attempting to ease the pain she was feeling from the tightness of the corset by hunching over slightly at the waist. Her eyes were open wide, taking in the scene of Samantha on her knees, nuzzling the base of my cock in obvious pleasure. I could see that the sight didn't particularly arouse her; in addition to being a twit, she also seemed a bit of a prude. A slight push from me, though, and she suddenly started to feel a warm flush from her pubic region up her torso to her face, and then back down again.

"Hello there, Cassie," I said as she stood mute; her eyes traveled upward slowly from Samantha's kneeling form to meet my own. "Very nice corset. Is it new?"

She nodded, licking her lips. "Custom made. Just got it delivered yesterday, and Shirley laced me into it about 45 minutes ago. But it's really starting to hurt now, so I was going to take it off..." Her voice trailed off as she dropped her eyes to watch Sam, who was licking the underside of my cock, trailing the tip of her tongue from the base to the head and back continuously.

"Really? But it's so beautiful, and it fits you like a glove! You really should leave it on, don't you think?"

"Leave it onnnn... ?" Her voice came from far away, as most of her mind took in Samantha's ministrations, leaving only a small, uninterested part to deal with what I was saying.

"Yes, you've always looked so good in the fetish clothes you've worn to these meetings. But you never leave them on very long. Why is that?"

"Hurtssss... too tight... need to take it off..." Her hands reached behind her, as if to start unlacing the back of the corset. A slight push and her mind refocused on Sam, her hands dropping to her sides again.

"You know Cassie, I really think that the reason that you come to these meetings and put on these clothes is that you're looking for discipline."

"Discipline... ?"

"Yes, Cassie, discipline. Not necessarily a spanking or punishment, but to you, wearing these ultra tight clothes is a form of discipline - self-discipline, if you will."

"Self-dissssscipline," she agreed, as another flush of pleasure crested as Sam sucked one of my balls into her mouth.

" I think it would probably hurt less if you stood up straight instead of hunching over like that."

"Yesssss..." Cassie straightened up, no longer bending at the waist, but not standing completely upright either.

"In fact, you should think of yourself as a soldier, Cassie. Stand at attention, shoulders back, stomach in, chest out. I believe that corset will start to feel even better if you do that."

Her body responded by snapping into the classic soldier's pose, her back straight as a rail, her stomach muscles pulling inward. As I thought it would, the lingering pain from the tightness of the corset loosened somewhat, though she could still feel its grip around her torso. As a reward for her pliability, I sent another wave of pleasure through her pussy, and she gasped as it traveled through the rest of her body. It took only a slight additional tweak and Cassie's eyes glazed over, making her unaware of anything going on around her but my voice. I put my hand on Sam's head and she froze in place, her mouth wrapped around my cock; I slid backward until its head finally escaped the grasp of her lips with a slight, moist "pop." I walked over to where Cassie was standing.

"Yes, Cassie, I think you need to exercise more discipline, and you'll get more pleasure out wearing such nice clothes. Don't you think?"

"Yesssssss."

"But, if you're going to practice discipline, you have to also show respect to your superiors. How do you show respect, Cassie?"

Because it wasn't a yes or no question, her brain had trouble processing an answer. She just stood there spinning her mental wheels in muddy, uncomprehending circles.

"You show respect by addressing your superiors with respect, Cassie. By saying 'Yes, sir' and 'Yes, ma'am.' Isn't that right?"

Given a line of thought to grasp, Cassie latched on and began moving forward again. "Yesss, sir. Need to give respect."

Saying, "That's a good girl, Cassie," I again pushed pleasure through her, reinforcing the lesson. She flexed her muscles as she stood at attention, managing to stifle a moan. "Now, we need to practice more discipline, don't we Cassie?"

"Moooore... ?"

"Yes, you need some other accessories to go with your lovely corset, to help you practice discipline." I concentrated briefly, and in my hand was a scolds mask. Looking much like a smaller version of the corset she already wore, the scolds mask fit from the bottom of the neck to just over the mouth, lacing up tight behind the head. Part posture collar, part gag, a scolds mask was a device I'd always wanted to use, and enforcing Cassie's newfound discipline gave me the perfect opportunity. I pulled the mask over her head, trapping her reddish hair underneath the leather; then I pulled the laces tight, forcing her head up while pushing her mouth closed. "Doesn't that feel divine, Cassie?"

She mumbled something unintelligible through the mask, though I could read in her mind that she was saying 'Yes, sir.' Pleased with her, I again sent pleasure coursing through her body.

"Now, Cassie, we need to exercise some discipline on those arms of yours." Again I concentrated, and this time what appeared could only be thought of as an arm corset. Pulling her arms back behind her, I wrapped the soft leather binding over her arms from wrist to elbow, then laced it together and pulled it tight. Now her arms stuck straight down behind her, bound and immovable. Yet, it seemed to me there was an element missing, and, with a thought, I materialized a short adjustable cord. One end I hooked to the back of the scolds mask, the other to the end of the arm binding near the wrist. Slowly, I pulled the cord tighter, until her arms were stretched out at an angle from her body. By lifting her arms slightly, she could keep pressure off the cord and keep her neck properly aligned. However, if she relaxed her arms and put weight on the cord, it pulled her neck back, squeezing her Adam's apple behind the tightly laced mask. "Isn't that nice, Cassie?"

This time, along with 'Yes, sir, ' I felt her say 'Thank you, sir.' This time, I allowed her a small orgasm.

Walking around her and examining my work, I decided I didn't like her shoes. She wore sandals, chunky and clunky, and not very sexy at all. With a thought, she was wearing dark black leather boots, knee-high, with a four-inch stiletto heel. As she wobbled, adjusting to her new footwear, I said aloud, "Discipline demands that you wear boots suited for this purpose. Isn't that right, Cassie?"

She recovered her balance, returning to attention, again saying 'Yes, sir, ' in her mind. Pleasure washed through her as a reward.

As I examined her leather pants, I was not happy with the way they took away from the line of her shiny new boots. Concentrating, I shrunk them upward, until all that remained was a tiny pair of black leather hot pants, so tight against her skin that she might have been born with them on. As a final touch, I materialized a vibrator in her already sopping pussy, and a butt plug in her ass. As I mentally switched them on, I said to her "Discipline requires you to maintain your state of attention, no matter what the hardships. You do want to maintain discipline, don't you Cassie?"

Without hesitation, she shouted in her mind 'YES, SIR!' She came without trembling or moaning; the only the sign that she had cum at all were the juices trailing down her legs in small dribbles from under her glove-tight hot pants.

"Now Cassie, these are your orders. You are to stand here at attention until I tell you otherwise. You are not to move or talk. However, you are to watch me have sex with the woman kneeling by the bed. Each time she cums, you can cum. But you must maintain discipline, not moving or making a sound before, during, or after your orgasm. Do you understand?"