Chapter 5

For the grand tour, Pat fastened Margot's hands and attached a leash to her collar, but removed her ball gag for now.

"You show interest in becoming a well-behaved and obedient slave, submissive to the needs of your Master. You body yearns for the whip and for the submission of kneeling abjectly before him, willing and eager to perform any duty or indignity on his behalf. In your case I approve of this decision, but still it is an important one that should never be taken lightly or in any sort of haste. You need to know exactly what sort of fate you might find yourself in, and in this instance it might be for the best to see some of the worst than can befall you. The Master you choose might not be as considerate of your interests and well-being as he ought to be, so let me show you a few more extreme examples of what your Master or Mistress might consider as playtime fun.

The tour began with a quick view of some of the more private rooms. Submissives, both female and male, were strung up, tied or bound for various enjoyments of pain or pleasure, often both. Slaves were often in sexual use by multiple partners, often while tied in helpless positions.

The next stop was the master bathroom, but I stayed outside. I knew Pat's personal favorite kink, watersports, pretty well. She had far better uses for her urine than pissing it away into a toilet bowl, and was fortunate to have several slaves that enjoyed being on her receiving end. Undoubtedly Pat was going to demonstrate this, including how she liked to be cleaned off afterwards. Educational, but not on my list of things that I would have subjected Margot to ... at least not yet. They were in there nearly forever, so I guess Margot needed much more Kegel instruction.

As the tour now moved downstairs into the big cellar playroom, more serious fetishes and sado-masochistic inclinations were openly indulged, sometimes quite a bit beyond my personal tastes and preferences. Pat brought her charge to a corner of the dungeon designed and outfitted in the medieval theme, perfectly equipped for any modern day Spanish Inquisition, and bid her to kneel and remain silent.

Another nude submissive, a near middle-aged woman in her mid-forties, was already kneeling and waiting for Pat and when she arrived. The slave kow-towed to her with head against the stone floor in abject submission.

"Rise slave! Please explain to me once again, and to this young lady who wishes to possibly submit herself into slave servitude, exactly why you wish to make the permanent and irrevocable act of being branded as one of my personal slaves! You have a home of your own and I'd prefer not to place my most intimate and special marking on anyone who has not made the permanent commitment to serve my every personal need on a daily basis. Explain!" And her abject slave most certainly did.

Like Margot, 'Slave Ruth' had come from a wealthy family with every advantage in life. Currently she was a senior executive for a national clothing corporation where she ruled hundreds of employees (and her wimp husband) with an iron fist. For her mental sanity she needed to know, and be able to feel with the idle caress of their hand, that someone stood over her and could make her obey. Thus in balance she could be firmly in charge for most of her life, but she knew that she was also firmly in permanent submission to someone else. She truly wanted the mark of Pat's brand, and knowing Pat, she wouldn't give it unless she also truly 'needed it' ... and she did.

Bidding Margot to move closer to within a foot of Ruth's bare ass, she watching in a look of combined fear and fascination as the red hot iron with the brand was applied and held for a few seconds to Ruth's unflinching left ass cheek. Ruth tearfully thanked Pam profusely and she was dismissed to other duties leaving the rest of us more or less alone.

Pat held up the smoking iron quite close to Margot's face as she began to lecture her.

'Slave, this iron, or one quite like it, might someday be pressed up against your firm white ass and you would probably by then beg for it, most sincerely. As I told you earlier, I have rolodexes full of rich women, and men, just exactly like you. They're all obnoxious assholes or bitches to everyone around them ... until it becomes their turn to kneel in submission. The smart ones soon realize that this is a split part of their nature, and that they need to get appropriate psychological advice ... or else they find someone with the balls and a big whip that can soothe their demons and fulfill their needs. Often I have to do both. Sometimes the need to become a submissive is temporary in their lives and other treatment can resolve their internal imbalance. Other times the submissive learns that only constant obedience will soothe those angry dragons in their soul and that they need a Master or Mistress as a part of their daily life. From my years of professional experience, I am nearly certain that you are one of those types of people. Do you agree or disagree?"

Her answer wasn't long in coming; Margot nodded her head in agreement.

"Good. Awareness is the first step, but it is not enough. You have to understand the dragons and demons that rage inside you and comprehend beyond any further doubt exactly how your submission would tame them. Unless your soul is at some sort of peace and you have fully accepted your new goal in life — one of utter submission and service to a Master or Mistress that you can completely, trust, respect and love, your road to fulfillment can be long and hard. You must first find your deepest wounds, baring yourself so that you can offer absolutely everything of yourself, with nothing withheld from the one you submit to ... and submit wisely."

"I shall do as you suggest Mistress." I heard Margot weakly say, her head now quite bent over in shame until Pat corrected her with a fairly gentle whip blow across her tits.

"Tell me if you can, why do you desire and feel the need for pain. Your eyes look upon this whip like most women would look at a slice of cake."

"I do not know Mistress. It seems to ... comfort and soothe me somehow. The more pain I feel, the lighter the weights on my heart seem to be. It gives me pleasure, but that shames me ... and makes me disobedient and ill-tempered."

"An honest confession. This is something that you need to discover about yourself - if you truly need this pain or if it just covers up and masks something else deeper and darker inside you. Never be ashamed to confess what you are thinking or feeling to your Master. He not only wants this from you, but he expects and demands this. You are never to keep secrets from him under any circumstances and he values your honesty. A good Master will never hold your confessions against you and they are necessary if you are to gain his trust and be happy in his service. Now give me a hug ... you need one before we join your temporary Master and the others. Some interesting fun is about to begin."

Pat gave Margot a kiss on the top of her head and allowed her a good tearful hug before Pat half-heartedly gave her ass a whip stroke to get her moving back upstairs.

The "Top Slave Girl Contest" was about to begin.

I suppose I should have guessed what would happen next. Margot, despite firm instructions to remain still, was squirming while she watched the first set of slave contestants submit their approval and willingness to be whipped, nearly without ceasing until the first cry was heard. For most of the contestants this didn't take very long, as the rules were very strict.

The slave had to remain absolutely stationary on her tiptoes while her hands were fastened to a rope above. In each hand a raw egg was held which would easily crack if the slave tensed up or knotted her muscles in pain. In fact the egg test was often the disqualifier for most contestants. No cry, whimper, or moan was allowed with a judge carefully listening for any sort of quiet sob of pain.

Late in the first round two true pain-sluts found themselves in dire competition as the whip-master alternated strokes across the naked forms of both girls, equally and impartially until finally one girl let out a slight moan ... probably of pleasure. Margot's eyes were full of something akin to desperate desire and her fingers and toes squirmed as if she was frantically wanting or needing to masturbate. Pat, whose sharp trained eyes missed nothing, couldn't resist taking advantage of the situation.

"Slave Cupcake, why are you so aroused? Do you desire to feel the kiss of the whip this soon? Tell your Master what you are thinking and feeling!"

"Master, I ... I was imaging that you were whipping me, to make me be good ... and how nice it would be to be helpless, like they are, at your mercy ... and hoping that you wouldn't give me any mercy for a long ... long time." Margot then once again bowed her head in shame.

"Cupcake, do you want to be whipped like they are, to have my eyes watch your pain under every single stroke of the whip, naked and helpless in front of nearly a hundred strangers?"

"Please Master! I do. Besides, I'm harder inside then they are. I am stronger ... and I want to prove it to you. Master, please let me give you my pain and let me prove that I would be the Best Slave Girl."

She meant it. She really meant every single word of it. I cast a quick glance at Pat who was smiling and nodding at me. Thus reassured, I lifted Margot up from her knees and stripped her totally naked and ordered to the end of the short line of entrants to wait her whipping. The smile of pure happiness on her face was scarcely to be believed, but it was absolutely genuine.

Slave Cupcake easily won her first round and sailed right through her second match as well. She had whip marks all over every inch of her body but she absolutely glowed with obvious pleasure and delight. She asked for permission to masturbate after her second whipping but I decided to be firm and tease her.

"No release at all tonight for you until you win, pain slut!" I muttered in faux annoyance while she beamed in happiness.

Her cheerfulness at assuming her captive position for her third whipping caused her contestant to quit even before the first stroke was made. Completely psyched out, her opponent realized she had no chance to win at all and she decided to save her own skin, to the obvious displeasure of her Master.

Soon though it was time for the semi-final and Cupcake was up against a truly hardened professional pain-slut, if the multitude of scars on her back were any sort of indication. She apparently liked it really rough. Margot hung in there and somehow outlasted her to be admitted to the final competition of the contest.

She was a flaming screaming red color all-over, but the glow on her face was even brighter if possible. Still this was quite a lot of whipping for a novice to face and I pretty much decided that I wouldn't let Margot go for another round against a true hardened pain-slut like her new opponent, who was apparently was often the regular winner of this contest each month.

"Don't even think about it! Margot hissed, in the same tone of voice she used in her professional dealings before realizing she had omitted the Master title to me. "Master please ... I want this. I can take every stroke of the whip that this other cunt can, and more. Please Master, don't make me stop now!"

What else could I say to her? I nodded my agreement, and Margot faced the challenge of her life. For nearly the full maximum whipping time of fifteen minutes or one hundred blows of the whip each, each woman was deep into their own private world of pain and pleasure ... lost in their 'sub-space'.

On whip strike number ninety-seven, it was discovered that the blow had just barely broken skin on Margot's stubborn but tough hide and a slight droplet of blood was present there. This stopped the contest immediately and the final decision was left to public voting. Slave Cupcake won, nearly unanimously, and her proud temporary Master was happy to receive the nearly two foot tall "Top Slave Girl" trophy of her achievement. It would have looked fantastic on her desk with the Coyotes in San Antonio.

We didn't stay much longer at Pat's party. Happy and contented or not, Margot was starting to feel the pain now and was moving increasingly gingerly. I collected her leather bodysuit and made my farewells for the night.

Back in the hotel, still naked except for her raincoat, I made her strip naked in the elevator and walk naked to our suite. She was seen by a couple of people in all of her whipped glory but she didn't care in the slightest about showing off her wounds of victory. Once we were in my master bedroom I ordered her to her knees and demanded that she masturbate right in front of me, which she did nearly instantly. I let her cum just once before ordering her to a long soak in the bathtub.