Chapter 7

My plaything remained bound to '3' all morning. They wriggled and writhed for hours, neither able to get quite enough stimulation to cum. That was the catch to a seemingly pleasurable experience, the combination of the tight binding and the special oil ensured that both '3' and my plaything were kept hot wet and horny, but lacked the last little stimulus necessary to tip them over the edge into orgasm. Punishment takes many forms and my plaything was well on her way to discovering a whole new world of agony.

Gore assisted in their release, ensuring that my plaything could not get relief. As the silken ties were unwound enough to release my girl's arms, her wrist cuffs were locked to her collar. Once completely freed, Gore helped her to stand and guided her into the shower, helping her to wash the oil and sweat from her body whilst taking care not to allow her to cum. I helped '3' to her feet and she walked somewhat unsteadily to the shower, taking her turn after Gore had helped my plaything from the shower and carefully patted her dry with a large fluffy towel. Gore released my plaything's wrists just long enough for her to use the toilet and brush her teeth.

Meanwhile I had resumed my usual chair. Now dry, my plaything walked unbidden to stand before me, her desperate need for release plain upon her face as she knelt before me, eyes pleading for relief as she lowered her head and began to eat. Having emptied her bowl, my girl resumed her kneeling position, carefully adjusting her position to acheive the perfect posture, her face reflecting her desire to please whilst her eyes still burned with at need for release. Even now she remained highly aroused, her skin flushed, breathing heightened, it would not take much to give her the release she so desperately needed.

I stood, reaching down with one hand to curl my fingers into her hair. Guiding rather than pulling, I led my plaything across the dungeon to the stocks. Obediently my girl bent forward and settled her neck and wrists into position, holding still as I lowered the top board, latching it securely before tapping her legs one at a time so that she spread then wider for the floor mounted chains to be attached to her ankle cuffs. Lastly I moved the cross bar into place, the narrow, thinly padded bar pressed against her lower belly, part supporting, if her knees were to buckle, it was to narrow to be comfortable and thus encouraged her to maintain her position.

I began to gently caress my girl, teasing her mercilessly, until her body shivered with the need to cum. '3' joined Gore in front of the stocks, perfectly positioned so that my plaything could not help but watch as she lowered herself onto his cock, riding him, his every move, every touch designed to bring her pleasure. It was not long before '3's' screams of fulfilment were joined by my plaything's pleas for release.

As '3's' body relaxed, her flushed face a picture of intense sexual satisfaction, Gore cradled her in his arms, his still rigid cock embeded deep inside her as she relaxed in his gentle embrace before my girl's pleading eyes.

I took my time torturing my girl with gentle caresses, then switched to the soft fluffy mitten, stroking her, taunting her highly sensitised skin with each soft knowing touch, until her begging reached fever pitch. A brief touch of the violet wand to her clit sent her screaming over the edge, body writhing as I repeatedly pressed the want to her swollen tender clit, prolonging her climax before putting the wand aside and resuming the gentle caresses.

So it went on all afternoon. Both '3' and Gore joined in after a while, using their skill to arouse my plaything time and time again, until she could take no more, then and only then did I send her screaming into orgasm, each time using a different method, each briefly painful, each sending her into instant orgasm as the pain and pleasure mixed.

By the time I finally released my plaything from the stocks and Gore had carried her back to the cell, she was utterly spent. Dazed and hardly able to speak. As he laid her out on the bed her body relaxed into sleep, her evening meal left uneaten. Gore checked her carefully, then departed, leaving the cell door open as instructed. My plaything had completed her punishment, tomorrow training would start, though I wondered if my girl would notice the difference... ?

By the time we're cut out of our bonds we must have set a new world record in lustfulness. I would give and do anything to be able to touch myself, I know the lightest touch of a finger on my clit would send me screaming over the edge. But as soon as my hands are free they are either held by Gore or tied, thus preventing me from finding relief.

Through all the time I'm being washed and while I brush my teeth my pussy is tingling and pulsating terribly and wonderfully at the same time. At some time my hand moves towards my crotch as I brush my teeth, but Gore clicks his tongue and when I look at him he shakes his head ever so slightly. Frustrated I finish and let him cuff my wrists to the collar again before I walk to her. To Mistress. I guess I should start thinking of her as Mistress. Maybe even my Mistress? There's the faintest trace of amusement on her face as I approach her, my eyes begging her to let me cum, but I get no response, definitely not the response I am hoping for. I have a hunch that this teasing and keeping me on the edge is far from over as I get down on my knees and start eating.

Mistress makes sure during the following hours to show me how right and yet totally wrong at the same time my hunch had been. I was right about being kept on the edge, but I was completely wrong to believe that I was anywhere near the edge back then. There's obviously being on the edge of an orgasm, and then there is being on the cutting edge of the edge, and that's where I am for most of the afternoon, locked in the stocks, horny and desperate to get relief, yet unable to get it myself and denied to get it by Mistress. I'm there on this edge as I watch Three riding Gore's cock, her lithe body and facial expression an epitome of sensuality and lust, even more so when she finally cums, that too a beautiful, wonderful moment to watch, with just one massive fault, though: It's the wrong girl which is cumming.

I guess I'm babbling all the time as Mistress teases me mercilessly, time and again bringing me to that point where I think I'll explode if I'm not allowed to cum soon, begging and pleading for release, unconciously moving my hips so that my pussy would make contact with something, anything, but there's nothing to touch and rub my wanton pussy on and on the few occasions there isn't just air, Mistress' touch is brief, too brief, to send me over the edge. It gets even worse - or better? I couldn't decide whether this is hell or heaven if my life depended on it - when Mistress is joined by Three and Gore, six hands now playing with my body, arousing it further until I think I'll be the first woman ever to die of withheld sexual satisfaction.

But then, Mistress tips me over the edge. If I had been capable of thought I probably would have wondered if I ever had an orgasm before or just glimpsed a cheap copy of a lousy imitation. But I can't think, my mind's shut off and I'm all body now, mostly cunt, and it remains like this until I'm totally spent after having cum and cum and cum again. The last thing I know before I fall asleep is that I look at my Mistress. I guess I'm foolishly grinning, but who cares. Besides, that is exactly how I feel.

I wake up hungry after a dreamless, restful night and quickly eat before I head to the bathroom. I'm greeted by a silly beaming girl when I look in the mirror, but I see also a girl with a lustrous, fresh complexion. I can't remember when such a content, happy, radiant girl has looked back at me out of a mirror.

The cell door is open, but my Mistress' - yeah, I've just decided I'm gonna refer to her as my Mistress, at least for the time being - isn't sitting in her usual chair. So why's the door open? Is this a test, or an invitation? Am I supposed to wait on my knees beside her chair? Or will that bring further punishments?

I decide to play it safe and assume the perfect position right inside the cell door to wait for Mistress. My Mistress.

There is something very comforting in simple routines. An early morning pot of tea in the study as I review the days plans is one of my favourites. Today was a special day, one I had long awaited. Today I would say good bye to my plaything. As I sipped my tea, my gaze drifting to the pictures as it so often did, my mind replayed the hours since she walked into the hotel room for that fateful interview.

I had no need to read the files, or refer to the hours of recordings to recall every detail. Even the details of her life before the interview came to mind as my subconscious studied each picture. All wore the house trademark of white leather and black lace, each was captured full length, the 'magpies', I smiled to myself, the nickname was apt, even if it was never uttered in my presence. I remember the day my picture was taken for the first frame, so many memories, both good and bad, but now was not the time to reminisce. Today there was much to do, today I say good bye to my plaything.

Even as I enjoyed the last of my tea, the big screen showed my plaything already bathed and kneeling ready, awaiting my presence. Beautiful as she was, when she attended the interview, now she was exquisite. Her body had changed little, slightly more toned, better posture, her stunning looks came from within. Her smile broadcast her new found happiness, her face scrubbed clean, no makeup was needed to enhance her radiance, the change in attitude, in her own self image, all combined to make my plaything the epitome of desirable perfection. That is not to say that there are not many, many girls blessed with more perfect figures, or more natural good looks, for there most definitely are. To the discerning eye, beauty is more than superficial, it comes from deep within, and this morning my plaything radiated that inner beauty, a subtle mix of contentment, desire and sensuality.

Entering the dungeon I made my way to the chair, once again placed before the cell. Setting the 'dog' bowl on the floor before me I greeted my plaything. "Come kneel before me." No hesitation, she moved to kneel in place, her whole attention upon me, this close she was positively intoxicating. I reached out to touch my plaything for the last time...

My fingertips caressed her temple, tracing a loving path down to her chin, my thumb brushing her lips as our eyes locked, for the first time I could see into her soul, she hid nothing, exposed herself utterly to my gaze. "Good morning, '7'," I greeted her, watching her eyes widen in surprise, even as her lips formed a smile of acceptance. We both knew that my plaything was no more.

As I spoke, I selected each tasty morsel from the plate I had brought with me, feeding my girl her breakfast, pausing only to hold the glass of chilled juice to her lips. There is something very special about hand feeding another, it forms a bond that words cannot explain. Each lovingly prepared bite that passed her lips cemented our relationship just a little more. I spoke softly, yet clearly, knowing that my girl listened in rapt concentration. "Today we start your training, for now you need only learn the lessons you will be taught, in time you will find out more about what the future holds for you, then, and only then, will you make your choice." I paused to wipe a crumb from my girl's upper lip, my thumb lingering upon those luscious willing lips, watching as they formed a tentative kiss, that grew as I nodded my permission. That one kiss, her lips lovingly pressed to my thumb, sealed our understanding as words could not.