Summer Hire Ch 01
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Summer Hire Ch. 09 Part 1 free porn video
Morning
“Wake up sleepy head.”
His voice startled her into wakefulness. Her eyes blinked against the intense blue sky beyond her windows.
“Huh,” she mumbled, struggling to remember where she was and why she was being forced to wake up from such a wonderfully comfortable bed.
Then it all came rushing back to her. She clapped the sheet against her, sitting up in bed. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I fell asleep like that last night.”
He laughed softly. “No worries. It was a very intense day. Sleep was probably the best, and most appropriate thing.”
“But, but, I didn’t… I mean you didn’t have a chance to…”
“Truly, no worries. I was very happy. The greater part of my joy in making love comes from being able to take you exactly to the place you were last night. For me, there’s true satisfaction in crafting your journey, to go exactly where I want to take you. And never fear, as you grow… stronger in the ways of kinkdom, I will insist that more of my needs are attended to.” He chuckled, “There will be times, indeed, when we may be out and about – I’ll just stop the car, bend you over the hood, lift up your dress, and take you right there, just for the hell of it. I won’t ask. I won’t care if you come or not. I’ll just take you.”
He grinned, “I like all sorts of different approaches and moods.”
Melissa felt a sudden rush of arousal as he spoke. It was disorienting. She was not used to being so instantly horny when waking up.
He noted her reaction and continued, “It seems like you do too. Anyway, breakfast is in a half hour.”
He crossed to her closet and rummaged around briefly, returning with a small bundle of clothes and a pair of sneakers. “Here’s some workout clothes for this morning.”
Before she could think of a response, he left. The door clicked softly shut behind him.
Looking around the room, she ran a hand through her hair, certain she was an absolute mess. Spotting her bedside clock, she saw it was a little after six. She muttered angrily to herself, “No wonder I’m so fucking groggy. Never get up this early.” She tried to remember when the personal trainer would be here. The woman’s name was equally fuzzy in her memory. Melissa hoped she would remember it before the trainer arrived.
Having someone whose job it was just to help her workout felt very weird to Melissa. “Besides,” she said indignantly to the empty room, “I’m in good shape.” She dropped the sheet she had been holding up and looked down at herself. Sitting slumped in bed, however, had emphasized the slight pudge at her waist, turning it into a roll of flesh. She gave an exasperated sigh and slid angrily out of bed, stalking to the bathroom.
Waking up early was never one of her favorite activities.
Once she had finished with the toilet and showering, she worked her hair back in a damp ponytail, then walked back to her bed to look at the exercise outfit that Erik had chosen for her. Now that she was finally awake, she realized that the clothes and shoes were new, or at least they weren’t anything that she had brought with her.
She picked up the sneakers. They were feather-light, and the uppers were made of a stretchy, soft leather. She checked the size. It was her size. She snorted, deciding that she’d have to remember that Erik could be a tricky bastard. He definitely had read her shoe size when he’d handed her sneakers to her back on… Friday? Their first date seemed so long ago. It was hard to believe today was only Monday.
She set down the shoes and picked up the work-out clothes. It was a suspiciously small pile. On top was a perfectly serviceable sports bra. It had woven seamless cups that looked to be the right size. She was relieved that she wasn’t expected to be bouncing around topless as she exercised. That wouldn’t have been fun.
The bottom, however, was more abbreviated. It was basically a sports thong. She had seen women at the gym who wore them over the top of tights and a leotard, but that was not going to be the case here. “Oh well,” she muttered to herself, “the job description did say ‘sex slave.’”
Pulling on the clothes, she stepped over to the mirror to see how they fit. The top was perfect and surprisingly comfortable. The bottom, however, sliced right across her small bulge of waistline pudge, making her very self-conscious. She tried rolling it down, but that only made things worse. Then she tried dragging the waistline up higher, but the sports spandex was too stiff.
“Arrg! Trust a guy to get something I’d never buy. It makes me look fat, and stupid, and, and… aw shit. He’s getting what he’s buying. I don’t have to look at me.”
She grabbed the sneakers and footie socks off the bed, sitting angrily down on the floor to put them on.
Leaving her room, she walked quietly down the dark hallway, hesitating at the entrance to the main space. Something smelled good for breakfast. She spotted Erik sprawled in a chair down on the living room level. He was barefoot, wearing a white camp shirt and a pair of worn jeans. “No tight spandex for him,” she mused. He had a mug of coffee balanced on the arm of his chair. He seemed to be reading news on a tablet. Some sort of light classical music was playing.
Beyond the sweep of the living room windows, she could see the deep shadows and bright highlights cast by an early morning sun across the meadow, clearly showing the undulating terrain as it sloped down to the stream. The forest on the far side of the stream looked dark and primeval.
For the first time, she noticed how the flagstone floor of the living area matched the flagstone of the patio, as well as the stone sitting wall beyond the windows. She was taken aback to realize that even the throw rugs in the living area somehow evoked the colors and curves of the meadow, stream, and woods, without being overly literal. “This,” she thought, “is how the rich live… complete, of course, with his very own real, live sex slave.”
Looking around the main space again, the red-brown wood of the interior reflected a warm glow from the dawning day beyond the windows. The setting, she decided, was too beautiful for her to stay in a bad mood.
As she studied the scene further, she realized that even though the house was both astonishingly beautiful and comfortable, there was also an exactness to it that felt a little distant and unobtainable. She realized the house and its owner made a good match.
Clearing her throat discreetly, she walked into the dining area. Erik turned from his reading, a smile broadening across his face. “You are such an amazingly beautiful woman. It is a joy to have you in my home.”
Melissa knew she was blushing. He could say things that caught her so off guard, it took her breath away. What made it worse is that there had been no artifice in his voice. She was convinced that he had simply said what he felt the moment he had looked up to see her.
She thought to herself, “How the fuck do I respond to that?”
She smiled back and said, “Good morning.”
Inside, she angrily told herself, “Oh that was fucking brilliant.”
He rose smoothly up out of his chair, grabbing his coffee mug as he headed up the steps to the kitchen/dining level. He asked, “Do you like coffee, tea, whatever in the morning?”
She hesitated.
He stopped at the top of the steps and cocked his head at her. Then he ventured, “Diet cola?”
She nodded guiltily.
“One diet Coke, coming up. I also made some oatmeal, along with fresh biscuits. There’s butter and jam on the table. Do you want any oatmeal?”
“Ah, sure.”
“I don’t know what sort of breakfast you usually like, but you’ll probably want something simple and energy packed. A session with Mistress Amy can be somewhat… intense. Not the sort of thing to do right after a big breakfast of bacon, eggs, and pancakes.”
She thought to herself, “Amy! That’s her name.” Continuing aloud, she said, “I’m not a big breakfast sort of girl. Most mornings, I just grab a piece of toast with peanut butter, if that.”
“Okay,” he said, bringing over a bowl of oatmeal and a covered basket of biscuits. While he went back to get her soda and his bowl of oatmeal, she lifted the cover from the basket. The smell of fresh baked bread wafted up to her, making her mouth water.
She dug out a hot biscuit, suddenly aware of how hungry she was. “So that was the wonderful smell when I came in.”
He came back to join her. “I have to warn you, though, I use a whole wheat white flour. I try to stay away from simple carbs, you know, white flour, white sugar, that stuff.”
She nodded, taking a buttered bite from a biscuit. “That’s delicious.”
“My grandparent’s cook grew up in the South. She taught me the recipe. I think she said it came from her grandmother’s great aunt. Back then, I’m sure the shortening was lard.” He laughed. “Probably tasted even better.”
“So what, you trying to fatten me up?”
“Oh, I think Mistress Amy will take care of that. She has a somewhat… unique approach. And it’s surprisingly effective.”
“Sounds a bit intimidating.”
After breakfast, he took her to the exercise studio. It was in one of the smaller buildings strung out along the brow of the hill. A walking path started on the far side of the entry courtyard, then wound past buildings nestled into the side of the hill. The path was made of the same smooth paving stones as the courtyard, feeling as though it was a narrower continuation of the entry road, wrapping partway around the hill.
As they walked, they passed two beautiful small courtyards. She noted that some of the smaller structures were on different levels, as the path split apart to follow the sloping hill. There seemed to be about a half dozen buildings in all, none of them very large, but the sum total made a huge house for one man.
He gestured at a couple of the buildings as they passed, pointing out his workshop, a guest house, and a potting shed. The path ended in a larger courtyard, overlooking the stream valley below. On the far side was a tidy-looking house, tucked in behind a very British-looking garden, with half-height walls and a gate separating it from the courtyard.
Erik waved at the house, “That’s where Mrs. Grady and Chuck live.” Melissa suddenly felt self-conscious about walking around in a spandex thong.
Erik turned to the left, toward a stone and wood structure that was set into the rising slope of the hill, forming the back side of the courtyard. The structure was lined with windows looking across the courtyard and stream valley beyond. Through the reflective finish of the windows, she could vaguely make out the outlines of some exercise equipment inside.
Erik continued, “And here’s where we’ll meet Mistress Amy. You’d do well to only call her ‘Mistress’ or ‘Mistress Amy.’ She’s a more… exacting dom than I am. Well, ‘dominatrix’ is actually the term she prefers. In any case, remember ‘yellow light’ and ‘red light.’ If you don’t understand something or it seems wrong, don’t be afraid to use them. Especially ‘yellow light.’ It just means you’re calling a time out to discuss what’s going on.”
Before Melissa could respond, a door in the building opened. A compact, dark-haired woman walked out to greet them. She was dressed very similarly to Melissa, including a spandex thong. “Ah, here’s Mistress Amy now,” Erik said.
As the dark-haired dominatrix stopped in front of them, Melissa couldn’t help thinking to herself, “At least I’m not the only one with my butt cheeks hanging out.” Seeing Mistress Amy close up, Melissa realized that she was Eurasian. At about five foot, two inches, the exercise trainer seemed compact, rather than petite. While Mistress Amy was extremely well toned, Melissa was happy to see that she wasn’t a muscle-bound Amazon.
Erik introduced them. “Mistress Amy, this is my new slave, Melissa. Thank you for agreeing to help with her training and physical conditioning.” Amy nodded, remaining silent. Then she walked around Melissa, carefully appraising her in the morning light. Melissa wasn’t certain if she was intimidated by Amy’s scrutiny, or angry.
Returning to her starting point, Amy stared thoughtfully at Melissa a little longer, before turning to Erik and saying, “Okay, I can work with her. It’ll be a few weeks before she’s in anything like decent shape, but it’s a reasonable starting point.”
Erik nodded to Amy, then turned to touch Melissa’s arm. “I’ll leave you to your fate. Have fun.”
Melissa struggled to think of a snappy rejoinder, but Erik was out of sight before anything came to her. She turned her attention back to Mistress Amy, who was still regarding her coolly. Amy nodded once and turned on her heel. As she walked back to the exercise studio, she said, “Come,” in the same tone as commanding a dog.
Quelling her resentment, Melissa followed, thinking, “Oh this is going to be ever so much fucking fun.”
Inside, Mistress Amy motioned her over to a scale and instructed her to remove her clothes and shoes. With a grimace, Melissa complied. Mistress Amy tapped on the face of a small data pad while she waited. Once Melissa was naked, Mistress Amy pointed to the scale and Melissa stepped up on it. Looking around, she couldn’t see any display on the scale, but she realized that her weight had already registered on Mistress Amy’s data pad. Twisting her head to read the display, Melissa was exasperated to see that she was up another two pounds. She reminded herself that getting the lowest possible reading was why she always weighed herself before breakfast, not after.
Mistress Amy next measured her height, which again appeared automatically on the pad’s screen. Melissa was happy to see that at least she was still 5’7.” It made her feel better that she was so much taller than Mistress Amy and her bossy attitude.
Then Mistress Amy took out a tape measure and started measuring all around her body: legs, arms, and torso. When she got to Melissa’s bust, Mistress Amy asked, “Those real?” Melissa was so surprised by the abruptness of the question that she didn’t immediately answer.
Mistress Amy asked in a slower, more measured voice, “Do you have breast implants?”
“No!” Melissa blurted out indignantly. “They’re all me.”
Mistress Amy seemed unhappy with the strength of Melissa’s answer, as well as her general attitude. Mistress Amy continued asking questions, “You on birth control?”
“Yes,” said Melissa, with rising frustration. “And I’ve had my HIV vaccine, plus booster, and the full course of vaccines for Herpes/Varicella, Hep A, B, and C, and HPV. I’m clean.”
“Okay.” Mistress Amy tapped a few more boxes on her screen. “What birth control do you use?”
“The pill.”
“Do you know which brand, what it’s called?”
“Triesterin, I think.”
“That’s a monthly, right?”
Melissa looked at her a little puzzled.
Mistress Amy elaborated, a little more patiently this time, “You get a period each month, right?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Okay, over the next month or so, you’re going to lose a lot of body fat. Breast tissue is mostly fat, so your breasts are going to get a bit more droopy. If you stop exercising and put the weight back on, everything should come back. In the meantime, another option is to shift your birth control to one of the low-dose, constant release pills. Those tend to add about a half cup or so to your breast size, plus you won’t have any periods. Actually, it’s not really a period when you’re on a birth control pill anyway; it’s more properly called ‘withdrawal bleeding.’ If you go on the low-dose, constant release pill, you’ll probably get some spotting during the first few months, but no monthly cycle. If you get bad PMS, the continuous acting pill can also be an advantage.
“The good news,” Mistress Amy continued, “is you’ve got a decent chance that the increase in breast tissue will offset the loss of fat and you won’t wind up with any net change in bust size. Of course, if you stop exercising and stay on the continuous acting pill, then you’ll probably get bigger. That’ll be your choice.”
Melissa hesitated, unsure of what to do with this information, “Uh, okay. They’re big enough now. I wouldn’t want them any bigger.”
“I’ll tell Erik that you should visit your OB/GYN to talk it over. I know he’d prefer not having to deal with your periods, but it’s got to be your decision, right?” Mistress Amy looked at her very intently.
“Yeah, absolutely.” Melissa was very firm, “My body, my decision.”
Mistress Amy nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good, at least you’re not a complete push-over. Couldn’t imagine Erik wanting someone like that around anyway.”
Melissa crossed her arms, her expression cross. Mistress Amy’s superior attitude was really grating on her.
Ignoring Melissa’s reaction, Mistress Amy reached up to a shelf and took down a pink-colored object, along with a tube of water-based gel. As Mistress Amy applied the gel to the object, Melissa saw that it was some sort of double dildo.
Mistress Amy said, “Okay, turn around, bend over, hands on the wall.”
“Bull-fucking-shit I will!”
Amy cocked her head slightly. “Spirit is one thing. Disobeying a direct order is something else entirely. Are you safe-wording out? Quitting?”
Melissa opened her mouth to retort but then stopped short. Did she really want to quit now? She felt backed in a corner. Then she remembered Erik’s advice. “Uh, yellow light?”
“Okay,” Mistress Amy said in a voice that wasn’t as nearly as harsh. “Here, let’s sit down.” She sank gracefully to the floor, ending up cross-legged. Melissa followed, as best she could. “Tell me what’s going on. You seem upset.”
Melissa nodded, “I don’t know what I expected, but, well, why were you saying it’s a good thing that I wouldn’t let somebody else tell me to change my birth control, and then, Pow! Tell me to ‘bend over and take this up the ass’? I mean, what’s the difference? Why do I get to decide some things and not others? It feels, you know, like a real violation.”
Mistress Amy nodded thoughtfully. “First, it is always, always, your decision. You can always say ‘no.’ Of course, depending on what you say ‘no’ to and how many times you say ‘no,’ that might mean quitting and going back to your vanilla life, but that is absolutely your choice. It’s a valid choice, anytime you want.
“You also can always ask for this sort of time out. Clearly, though, if you’re doing it constantly, that’s kind of a drag for everyone. So again, you’ve got to balance it against going back to a vanilla life. As for the difference between your choice of birth control, versus taking this device inside you… The birth control thing is about your personal health. You shouldn’t be making health choices just to satisfy somebody else’s desire for you not to have withdrawal bleeding once a month. That’s got to be your informed choice, made with a real doctor’s advice, not just mine or Master Erik’s.
“Bending over and getting this thing inserted into you, on the other hand, well, you are a sex slave. Master Erik told me he was purposefully blunt about spelling out your duties. I know he prefers being a ‘softer, gentler’ dom, who frankly spoils his slaves horribly, so I made sure before I agreed to this assignment that you know exactly what is expected of you.”
Mistress Amy paused, looking at her with careful consideration, “So, tell me; was Erik accurate? Do you know what the expectations are?”
“Um, I guess so.”
“‘Yellow light’ or not, how do you answer a question?” Mistress Amy’s voice had suddenly become much colder and more demanding.
“Um, I’m sorry… Yes, Mistress Amy, Master Erik was accurate. He did tell me, very bluntly, that my role is to be a sex slave in his employment. I am to follow his commands and be used for his enjoyment. Further, I am to provide those same services to anyone he appoints over me, such as yourself, Mistress Amy.”
“That’s better. Now, since we are on the floor, turn over onto your hands and knees. Present yourself for my little toy.”
Melissa did as she was commanded. She waited on her hands and knees, with her back arched and butt high while Mistress Amy gathered up her ‘toy’ and the lube. When Mistress Amy’s cool fingers grazed along the cleft between Melissa’s buttocks, it was all that Melissa could do to not flinch. She was, however, once again astonished to discover how swiftly her body could respond with arousal to being ordered to submit. She was already wet, at least vaginally, without the lube.
Mistress Amy caressed her fingers past Melissa’s sphincter several times before rubbing a finger that she had coated with lube across Melissa’s tightly clenched opening. Using her other hand, Mistress Amy slid her thumb up inside Melissa’s very wet vagina, pressing down immediately on her G-spot.
Melissa gasped and fought to keep herself from pulling away from Mistress Amy’s sudden invasion. Then Mistress Amy tightly closed the web of her hand, capturing Melissa’s clitoris and G-spot in her grasp. The pressure was almost, but not quite, too much. Melissa squirmed and involuntarily bucked against her.
Without Melissa quite realizing it, the tension in her sphincter relaxed. Mistress Amy worked the lube into Melissa’s ass, slowly coaxing her anus wider.
Melissa’s head hung down, the polished wood floor only inches from her face. Her eyes were closed, and she was completely lost in the power of submitting to this unseen force, penetrating her from behind. She could feel the early waves of an oncoming orgasm, not too far away. She moaned, pushing back harder against Mistress Amy’s hands.
Then suddenly, Mistress Amy inserted her device in both of Melissa’s openings. As soon as it was seated inside Melissa, both of Mistress Amy’s hands were gone. Melissa’s eyes flew open, her head snapped up, desperately trying to chase after her now rapidly fleeing orgasm. She started to complain, then froze, thinking better of it. Slumping back down, she felt very frustrated.
Mistress Amy went to wash her hands. As she walked away, she called out, “You can get dressed now.”
Melissa groaned, rolling over to sit with her back against the wall. She considered slipping her hand down between her legs to finish off but decided not to. It seemed like something that might get her in trouble, and besides, her orgasm now felt so remote that reviving it was unlikely, at least before Mistress Amy returned.
Instead, Melissa gathered up her shoes and clothes, and she got dressed. As she put on her thong bottoms, she felt around. She could tell the two dildos were molded together with some sort of flat connecting base that conformed to her shape. Inside of her, the dildos flared out, holding themselves in place, even without her thong. The front dildo had a small protrusion that lay between her labia, reaching up to overlap her clitoris.
Once she got on her thong and looked in the mirror, she couldn’t tell that she was wearing anything inside of her. Even a feminine pad was thicker. Thinking about wearing a pad reminded her of Mistress Amy’s suggestion about changing her birth control pill. If her breasts really were going to get droopy, maybe it was something worth looking into. She usually didn’t have bad PMS, but not having periods sounded like it’d be worth trying.
She had finished dressing by the time that Mistress Amy came back.
“Good,” the dark-haired exercise trainer said, “it’s time to get started.”
The next twenty minutes seemed, as far as Melissa could tell, to be a standard exercise session. Mistress Amy introduced her to each piece of equipment and how she was supposed to use it. Then Melissa would work out on the equipment while Mistress Amy tapped away on her data pad, adjusting the load. Mistress Amy would also correct her form, whenever she slouched or didn’t do the exercise correctly.
Melissa had never worked with a personal trainer before. She was mostly ambivalent about exercise or going to a gym. She counted on her long walk to school for most of her exercise. When she thought about it, which was usually when her scale ratcheted up another pound or so, she would do some crunches, and work out with some hand weights she had inherited from a sophomore roommate.
Fortunately, student poverty limited her food budget, and she was so busy studying that she didn’t eat enough to put on much weight. She’d been counting on manual labor at the Arizona dig site to get her back in shape this summer. Thinking about her lost summer of Archeology sent a sharp pang of sadness through her. Looking around the air-conditioned exercise studio, with it’s warm wood floors, gleaming exercise equipment, a beautiful view across the valley, she wondered what the hell she was doing. This experience seemed so fake and unreal. She felt a fraud, living as a toy in this rich man’s world. She was an Ivy League college graduate student, for God’s sake.
Mistress Amy looked up from her data pad, where she had been entering yet more information. Noticing Melissa’s pensive, distracted expression, she asked, more gently than in her normal ‘mistress’ tone, “You seem very far away. Anything going on?”
Melissa almost blurted out her fears and doubts, but she held back, not trusting the other woman enough to know what her reaction would be. Instead, Melissa said, “Nothing Mistress, I’m sorry.”
Mistress Amy nodded curtly and looked back down at her data pad.
Melissa promised herself that she would call Malcolm as soon as she could and talk this over with him. Of course, she knew what his advice would be. She could hear his chiding tone in her head, telling her to stop worrying and embrace the new experience. “If the Gravy Train decides to stop at your station, why the hell ain’t you getting onboard?”
Melissa stifled a smile as Mistress Amy finally stopped tapping on her pad and looked up. A cruel smile edged across her face as Mistress Amy announced, “We are done with learning how to do today’s exercises and calibrating your abilities, such as they are.” Melissa didn’t relax, even though it seemed that they might be done early for the day. Something told her that the trainer was not really done with her yet.
“So,” Mistress Amy continued, “now we can begin.” She tapped a button on her pad, and a soft “ping” sounded through the studio’s overhead speakers. “This will be your signal to move to the next apparatus. You will go through the same sequence that we just did, for twenty minutes.” She stabbed another button, and the dildos, which Melissa had completely forgotten about began to vibrate. “When you match the exercise profile I have created for you, this is what you’ll feel.” She tapped again, and the intensity of the vibration increased. “The harder you work, the higher the stimulation.”
Melissa squirmed on the bench where she had just finished her last exercise. The vibration was driving her crazy, making it difficult to focus on what the trainer was saying. The little nub of the front vibrator that covered her clitoris was nearly pushing her over the edge. She tried to lean forward a little bit, to press that part of the vibrator more firmly against herself.
“But if you slack off and do less than you should, then…” Mistress Amy stabbed another button and the vibration suddenly turned into an electric current that was horribly uncomfortable. Melissa shot to her feet, pressing her hands to her crotch. “And this corrective force also has levels…” Mistress Amy grinned as she pushed another button. Melissa gasped, doubling over as the fiery current seemed to increase one thousand fold in strength. It was hard to breathe.
Suddenly, it stopped. Melissa slowly straightened, trying to catch her breath. Mistress Amy giggled quietly, “It is a marvelous motivator.” She pressed another button and told Melissa, “You have twenty seconds to get to the first apparatus.”
Melissa stared at her, dumbfounded.
“Fifteen seconds…”
Melissa looked around, considering the option of just tearing the cursed dildos out of her and running out the door.
“Ten seconds…”
She turned to look at the first piece of equipment, trying to remember the exercise she was supposed to do, wondering if it was worth trying.
“Five seconds…”
With a growl of annoyance, Melissa hurried over to the starting point and grabbed hold of the bar she was supposed to pull. Above her head, she heard the soft “ping,” and she started.
As she pulled against the weight, a warm, pleasant buzzing spread between her legs. The good feeling slowly relaxed the tension that had built up from the terrible tingling of the ‘corrective’ current. She pulled a little harder and was rewarded by a stronger, deeper vibration. The feeling was wonderful, but she was fairly certain that she wasn’t going to reach an orgasm standing in this position.
She felt a little guilty that everything in her life seemed to have narrowed down to how to reach the next orgasm, but she rationalized that having sex was, after all, the whole point of being a sex slave. It was her job. ‘Sex’ was right there in the job title. “Of course,” she thought, “so is ‘slave.’” She glanced over at the trainer, thinking, “I’m still not so certain about the whole ‘mistress’ bit. I guess, maybe, she’s kind of cute… for a total bitch. Not really my type. Now a nice, hunky guy for a trainer… maybe he’d have to spank me if I was bad…”
Looking over at the next piece of exercise equipment, she grinned in anticipation of the bench she would use. She imagined pressing down against a bench, forcing the dildos more firmly against her.
Although her arms were getting tired, she didn’t want to slow down. She wanted to keep her arousal growing, so she could try to push over the top on her next apparatus. By the time that the soft “ping” sounded, her arms were rubbery and aching, but she hurried over, eagerly straddling the bench, putting her feet against the pedals, and pressing hard against the resistance.
As she hoped, her level of intensity grew and grew. She closed her eyes and continued to push hard through the motion, grinding her pelvis against the bench. She could feel her orgasm building, growing ever closer. Just as it was within reach, she heard a quiet “ping” overhead. Ignoring it, she kept on throwing herself at the exercise, but the vibration level in the dildos slowly ebbed away.
Groaning in frustration, she leaped to the next exercise, which was another one for her arms. Even though this exercise worked a different set of muscles from the first one, her arms were still so rubbery from the first apparatus that she struggled just to build back to the level of arousal she had at the beginning of the last leg exercise.
Sweat was pouring off her, the salt stinging her eyes. It seemed that her whole body was as wet and glistening as her clenching vagina and anus. When the “ping” announced the next shift, she threw herself into the next leg apparatus, determined to explode hard against the pedals and quickly push herself over the top. Quickly, she was gasping for air. She felt lightheaded as she climbed higher and higher, before finally, at long last, crashing over, shuddering and shaking in a long, powerful orgasm that left her completely spent.
She slumped over and collapsed on the floor, her chest heaving, waiting for the room to stop spinning. The vibration of the dildos slowly died down to nothing and her breathing began to steady out.
Then an itchy, painful electrical current began, so slowly at first that she wasn’t sure what it really was. Another “ping” issued from the speakers above. She opened her eyes, trying to focus and look around.
Mistress Amy stepped above her, legs straddling Melissa’s prone form. Leaning over to look her directly in the face, Mistress Amy said, “You have eight minutes left.”
“But, but, I came.”
“Congratulations. An amazing accomplishment, I’m sure. You have eight minutes left.”
Melissa groaned in pain, as the buzzing static electrical impulses grew very unpleasant. She rolled onto her hands and knees, and crawled over to the next exercise machine. As the pain grew, she lurched up to grab the bar and begin her next arm exercise. Try as she might, she only managed to work the pain level down to barely tolerable by the end of the set.
When the next “ping” came, she stumbled over to the final apparatus, laid facedown on the bench, pulling her numb legs under the bar, and began to lift the bar with her lower legs back toward her buttocks. Tears of frustration poured down her cheeks and onto the padded bench, as she could barely keep away from the most painful levels of electrical discharge.
Her breath was ragged, and she felt nauseous. Finally, she could do no more. She lay there, curling against the pain until the final soft “ping” released her. The dildos fell silent.
Melissa rolled off the bench and onto the floor, curled into a fetal position. Her breath shuddered in and out.
“Wake up sleepy head.”
His voice startled her into wakefulness. Her eyes blinked against the intense blue sky beyond her windows.
“Huh,” she mumbled, struggling to remember where she was and why she was being forced to wake up from such a wonderfully comfortable bed.
Then it all came rushing back to her. She clapped the sheet against her, sitting up in bed. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I fell asleep like that last night.”
He laughed softly. “No worries. It was a very intense day. Sleep was probably the best, and most appropriate thing.”
“But, but, I didn’t… I mean you didn’t have a chance to…”
“Truly, no worries. I was very happy. The greater part of my joy in making love comes from being able to take you exactly to the place you were last night. For me, there’s true satisfaction in crafting your journey, to go exactly where I want to take you. And never fear, as you grow… stronger in the ways of kinkdom, I will insist that more of my needs are attended to.” He chuckled, “There will be times, indeed, when we may be out and about – I’ll just stop the car, bend you over the hood, lift up your dress, and take you right there, just for the hell of it. I won’t ask. I won’t care if you come or not. I’ll just take you.”
He grinned, “I like all sorts of different approaches and moods.”
Melissa felt a sudden rush of arousal as he spoke. It was disorienting. She was not used to being so instantly horny when waking up.
He noted her reaction and continued, “It seems like you do too. Anyway, breakfast is in a half hour.”
He crossed to her closet and rummaged around briefly, returning with a small bundle of clothes and a pair of sneakers. “Here’s some workout clothes for this morning.”
Before she could think of a response, he left. The door clicked softly shut behind him.
Looking around the room, she ran a hand through her hair, certain she was an absolute mess. Spotting her bedside clock, she saw it was a little after six. She muttered angrily to herself, “No wonder I’m so fucking groggy. Never get up this early.” She tried to remember when the personal trainer would be here. The woman’s name was equally fuzzy in her memory. Melissa hoped she would remember it before the trainer arrived.
Having someone whose job it was just to help her workout felt very weird to Melissa. “Besides,” she said indignantly to the empty room, “I’m in good shape.” She dropped the sheet she had been holding up and looked down at herself. Sitting slumped in bed, however, had emphasized the slight pudge at her waist, turning it into a roll of flesh. She gave an exasperated sigh and slid angrily out of bed, stalking to the bathroom.
Waking up early was never one of her favorite activities.
Once she had finished with the toilet and showering, she worked her hair back in a damp ponytail, then walked back to her bed to look at the exercise outfit that Erik had chosen for her. Now that she was finally awake, she realized that the clothes and shoes were new, or at least they weren’t anything that she had brought with her.
She picked up the sneakers. They were feather-light, and the uppers were made of a stretchy, soft leather. She checked the size. It was her size. She snorted, deciding that she’d have to remember that Erik could be a tricky bastard. He definitely had read her shoe size when he’d handed her sneakers to her back on… Friday? Their first date seemed so long ago. It was hard to believe today was only Monday.
She set down the shoes and picked up the work-out clothes. It was a suspiciously small pile. On top was a perfectly serviceable sports bra. It had woven seamless cups that looked to be the right size. She was relieved that she wasn’t expected to be bouncing around topless as she exercised. That wouldn’t have been fun.
The bottom, however, was more abbreviated. It was basically a sports thong. She had seen women at the gym who wore them over the top of tights and a leotard, but that was not going to be the case here. “Oh well,” she muttered to herself, “the job description did say ‘sex slave.’”
Pulling on the clothes, she stepped over to the mirror to see how they fit. The top was perfect and surprisingly comfortable. The bottom, however, sliced right across her small bulge of waistline pudge, making her very self-conscious. She tried rolling it down, but that only made things worse. Then she tried dragging the waistline up higher, but the sports spandex was too stiff.
“Arrg! Trust a guy to get something I’d never buy. It makes me look fat, and stupid, and, and… aw shit. He’s getting what he’s buying. I don’t have to look at me.”
She grabbed the sneakers and footie socks off the bed, sitting angrily down on the floor to put them on.
Leaving her room, she walked quietly down the dark hallway, hesitating at the entrance to the main space. Something smelled good for breakfast. She spotted Erik sprawled in a chair down on the living room level. He was barefoot, wearing a white camp shirt and a pair of worn jeans. “No tight spandex for him,” she mused. He had a mug of coffee balanced on the arm of his chair. He seemed to be reading news on a tablet. Some sort of light classical music was playing.
Beyond the sweep of the living room windows, she could see the deep shadows and bright highlights cast by an early morning sun across the meadow, clearly showing the undulating terrain as it sloped down to the stream. The forest on the far side of the stream looked dark and primeval.
For the first time, she noticed how the flagstone floor of the living area matched the flagstone of the patio, as well as the stone sitting wall beyond the windows. She was taken aback to realize that even the throw rugs in the living area somehow evoked the colors and curves of the meadow, stream, and woods, without being overly literal. “This,” she thought, “is how the rich live… complete, of course, with his very own real, live sex slave.”
Looking around the main space again, the red-brown wood of the interior reflected a warm glow from the dawning day beyond the windows. The setting, she decided, was too beautiful for her to stay in a bad mood.
As she studied the scene further, she realized that even though the house was both astonishingly beautiful and comfortable, there was also an exactness to it that felt a little distant and unobtainable. She realized the house and its owner made a good match.
Clearing her throat discreetly, she walked into the dining area. Erik turned from his reading, a smile broadening across his face. “You are such an amazingly beautiful woman. It is a joy to have you in my home.”
Melissa knew she was blushing. He could say things that caught her so off guard, it took her breath away. What made it worse is that there had been no artifice in his voice. She was convinced that he had simply said what he felt the moment he had looked up to see her.
She thought to herself, “How the fuck do I respond to that?”
She smiled back and said, “Good morning.”
Inside, she angrily told herself, “Oh that was fucking brilliant.”
He rose smoothly up out of his chair, grabbing his coffee mug as he headed up the steps to the kitchen/dining level. He asked, “Do you like coffee, tea, whatever in the morning?”
She hesitated.
He stopped at the top of the steps and cocked his head at her. Then he ventured, “Diet cola?”
She nodded guiltily.
“One diet Coke, coming up. I also made some oatmeal, along with fresh biscuits. There’s butter and jam on the table. Do you want any oatmeal?”
“Ah, sure.”
“I don’t know what sort of breakfast you usually like, but you’ll probably want something simple and energy packed. A session with Mistress Amy can be somewhat… intense. Not the sort of thing to do right after a big breakfast of bacon, eggs, and pancakes.”
She thought to herself, “Amy! That’s her name.” Continuing aloud, she said, “I’m not a big breakfast sort of girl. Most mornings, I just grab a piece of toast with peanut butter, if that.”
“Okay,” he said, bringing over a bowl of oatmeal and a covered basket of biscuits. While he went back to get her soda and his bowl of oatmeal, she lifted the cover from the basket. The smell of fresh baked bread wafted up to her, making her mouth water.
She dug out a hot biscuit, suddenly aware of how hungry she was. “So that was the wonderful smell when I came in.”
He came back to join her. “I have to warn you, though, I use a whole wheat white flour. I try to stay away from simple carbs, you know, white flour, white sugar, that stuff.”
She nodded, taking a buttered bite from a biscuit. “That’s delicious.”
“My grandparent’s cook grew up in the South. She taught me the recipe. I think she said it came from her grandmother’s great aunt. Back then, I’m sure the shortening was lard.” He laughed. “Probably tasted even better.”
“So what, you trying to fatten me up?”
“Oh, I think Mistress Amy will take care of that. She has a somewhat… unique approach. And it’s surprisingly effective.”
“Sounds a bit intimidating.”
After breakfast, he took her to the exercise studio. It was in one of the smaller buildings strung out along the brow of the hill. A walking path started on the far side of the entry courtyard, then wound past buildings nestled into the side of the hill. The path was made of the same smooth paving stones as the courtyard, feeling as though it was a narrower continuation of the entry road, wrapping partway around the hill.
As they walked, they passed two beautiful small courtyards. She noted that some of the smaller structures were on different levels, as the path split apart to follow the sloping hill. There seemed to be about a half dozen buildings in all, none of them very large, but the sum total made a huge house for one man.
He gestured at a couple of the buildings as they passed, pointing out his workshop, a guest house, and a potting shed. The path ended in a larger courtyard, overlooking the stream valley below. On the far side was a tidy-looking house, tucked in behind a very British-looking garden, with half-height walls and a gate separating it from the courtyard.
Erik waved at the house, “That’s where Mrs. Grady and Chuck live.” Melissa suddenly felt self-conscious about walking around in a spandex thong.
Erik turned to the left, toward a stone and wood structure that was set into the rising slope of the hill, forming the back side of the courtyard. The structure was lined with windows looking across the courtyard and stream valley beyond. Through the reflective finish of the windows, she could vaguely make out the outlines of some exercise equipment inside.
Erik continued, “And here’s where we’ll meet Mistress Amy. You’d do well to only call her ‘Mistress’ or ‘Mistress Amy.’ She’s a more… exacting dom than I am. Well, ‘dominatrix’ is actually the term she prefers. In any case, remember ‘yellow light’ and ‘red light.’ If you don’t understand something or it seems wrong, don’t be afraid to use them. Especially ‘yellow light.’ It just means you’re calling a time out to discuss what’s going on.”
Before Melissa could respond, a door in the building opened. A compact, dark-haired woman walked out to greet them. She was dressed very similarly to Melissa, including a spandex thong. “Ah, here’s Mistress Amy now,” Erik said.
As the dark-haired dominatrix stopped in front of them, Melissa couldn’t help thinking to herself, “At least I’m not the only one with my butt cheeks hanging out.” Seeing Mistress Amy close up, Melissa realized that she was Eurasian. At about five foot, two inches, the exercise trainer seemed compact, rather than petite. While Mistress Amy was extremely well toned, Melissa was happy to see that she wasn’t a muscle-bound Amazon.
Erik introduced them. “Mistress Amy, this is my new slave, Melissa. Thank you for agreeing to help with her training and physical conditioning.” Amy nodded, remaining silent. Then she walked around Melissa, carefully appraising her in the morning light. Melissa wasn’t certain if she was intimidated by Amy’s scrutiny, or angry.
Returning to her starting point, Amy stared thoughtfully at Melissa a little longer, before turning to Erik and saying, “Okay, I can work with her. It’ll be a few weeks before she’s in anything like decent shape, but it’s a reasonable starting point.”
Erik nodded to Amy, then turned to touch Melissa’s arm. “I’ll leave you to your fate. Have fun.”
Melissa struggled to think of a snappy rejoinder, but Erik was out of sight before anything came to her. She turned her attention back to Mistress Amy, who was still regarding her coolly. Amy nodded once and turned on her heel. As she walked back to the exercise studio, she said, “Come,” in the same tone as commanding a dog.
Quelling her resentment, Melissa followed, thinking, “Oh this is going to be ever so much fucking fun.”
Inside, Mistress Amy motioned her over to a scale and instructed her to remove her clothes and shoes. With a grimace, Melissa complied. Mistress Amy tapped on the face of a small data pad while she waited. Once Melissa was naked, Mistress Amy pointed to the scale and Melissa stepped up on it. Looking around, she couldn’t see any display on the scale, but she realized that her weight had already registered on Mistress Amy’s data pad. Twisting her head to read the display, Melissa was exasperated to see that she was up another two pounds. She reminded herself that getting the lowest possible reading was why she always weighed herself before breakfast, not after.
Mistress Amy next measured her height, which again appeared automatically on the pad’s screen. Melissa was happy to see that at least she was still 5’7.” It made her feel better that she was so much taller than Mistress Amy and her bossy attitude.
Then Mistress Amy took out a tape measure and started measuring all around her body: legs, arms, and torso. When she got to Melissa’s bust, Mistress Amy asked, “Those real?” Melissa was so surprised by the abruptness of the question that she didn’t immediately answer.
Mistress Amy asked in a slower, more measured voice, “Do you have breast implants?”
“No!” Melissa blurted out indignantly. “They’re all me.”
Mistress Amy seemed unhappy with the strength of Melissa’s answer, as well as her general attitude. Mistress Amy continued asking questions, “You on birth control?”
“Yes,” said Melissa, with rising frustration. “And I’ve had my HIV vaccine, plus booster, and the full course of vaccines for Herpes/Varicella, Hep A, B, and C, and HPV. I’m clean.”
“Okay.” Mistress Amy tapped a few more boxes on her screen. “What birth control do you use?”
“The pill.”
“Do you know which brand, what it’s called?”
“Triesterin, I think.”
“That’s a monthly, right?”
Melissa looked at her a little puzzled.
Mistress Amy elaborated, a little more patiently this time, “You get a period each month, right?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Okay, over the next month or so, you’re going to lose a lot of body fat. Breast tissue is mostly fat, so your breasts are going to get a bit more droopy. If you stop exercising and put the weight back on, everything should come back. In the meantime, another option is to shift your birth control to one of the low-dose, constant release pills. Those tend to add about a half cup or so to your breast size, plus you won’t have any periods. Actually, it’s not really a period when you’re on a birth control pill anyway; it’s more properly called ‘withdrawal bleeding.’ If you go on the low-dose, constant release pill, you’ll probably get some spotting during the first few months, but no monthly cycle. If you get bad PMS, the continuous acting pill can also be an advantage.
“The good news,” Mistress Amy continued, “is you’ve got a decent chance that the increase in breast tissue will offset the loss of fat and you won’t wind up with any net change in bust size. Of course, if you stop exercising and stay on the continuous acting pill, then you’ll probably get bigger. That’ll be your choice.”
Melissa hesitated, unsure of what to do with this information, “Uh, okay. They’re big enough now. I wouldn’t want them any bigger.”
“I’ll tell Erik that you should visit your OB/GYN to talk it over. I know he’d prefer not having to deal with your periods, but it’s got to be your decision, right?” Mistress Amy looked at her very intently.
“Yeah, absolutely.” Melissa was very firm, “My body, my decision.”
Mistress Amy nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good, at least you’re not a complete push-over. Couldn’t imagine Erik wanting someone like that around anyway.”
Melissa crossed her arms, her expression cross. Mistress Amy’s superior attitude was really grating on her.
Ignoring Melissa’s reaction, Mistress Amy reached up to a shelf and took down a pink-colored object, along with a tube of water-based gel. As Mistress Amy applied the gel to the object, Melissa saw that it was some sort of double dildo.
Mistress Amy said, “Okay, turn around, bend over, hands on the wall.”
“Bull-fucking-shit I will!”
Amy cocked her head slightly. “Spirit is one thing. Disobeying a direct order is something else entirely. Are you safe-wording out? Quitting?”
Melissa opened her mouth to retort but then stopped short. Did she really want to quit now? She felt backed in a corner. Then she remembered Erik’s advice. “Uh, yellow light?”
“Okay,” Mistress Amy said in a voice that wasn’t as nearly as harsh. “Here, let’s sit down.” She sank gracefully to the floor, ending up cross-legged. Melissa followed, as best she could. “Tell me what’s going on. You seem upset.”
Melissa nodded, “I don’t know what I expected, but, well, why were you saying it’s a good thing that I wouldn’t let somebody else tell me to change my birth control, and then, Pow! Tell me to ‘bend over and take this up the ass’? I mean, what’s the difference? Why do I get to decide some things and not others? It feels, you know, like a real violation.”
Mistress Amy nodded thoughtfully. “First, it is always, always, your decision. You can always say ‘no.’ Of course, depending on what you say ‘no’ to and how many times you say ‘no,’ that might mean quitting and going back to your vanilla life, but that is absolutely your choice. It’s a valid choice, anytime you want.
“You also can always ask for this sort of time out. Clearly, though, if you’re doing it constantly, that’s kind of a drag for everyone. So again, you’ve got to balance it against going back to a vanilla life. As for the difference between your choice of birth control, versus taking this device inside you… The birth control thing is about your personal health. You shouldn’t be making health choices just to satisfy somebody else’s desire for you not to have withdrawal bleeding once a month. That’s got to be your informed choice, made with a real doctor’s advice, not just mine or Master Erik’s.
“Bending over and getting this thing inserted into you, on the other hand, well, you are a sex slave. Master Erik told me he was purposefully blunt about spelling out your duties. I know he prefers being a ‘softer, gentler’ dom, who frankly spoils his slaves horribly, so I made sure before I agreed to this assignment that you know exactly what is expected of you.”
Mistress Amy paused, looking at her with careful consideration, “So, tell me; was Erik accurate? Do you know what the expectations are?”
“Um, I guess so.”
“‘Yellow light’ or not, how do you answer a question?” Mistress Amy’s voice had suddenly become much colder and more demanding.
“Um, I’m sorry… Yes, Mistress Amy, Master Erik was accurate. He did tell me, very bluntly, that my role is to be a sex slave in his employment. I am to follow his commands and be used for his enjoyment. Further, I am to provide those same services to anyone he appoints over me, such as yourself, Mistress Amy.”
“That’s better. Now, since we are on the floor, turn over onto your hands and knees. Present yourself for my little toy.”
Melissa did as she was commanded. She waited on her hands and knees, with her back arched and butt high while Mistress Amy gathered up her ‘toy’ and the lube. When Mistress Amy’s cool fingers grazed along the cleft between Melissa’s buttocks, it was all that Melissa could do to not flinch. She was, however, once again astonished to discover how swiftly her body could respond with arousal to being ordered to submit. She was already wet, at least vaginally, without the lube.
Mistress Amy caressed her fingers past Melissa’s sphincter several times before rubbing a finger that she had coated with lube across Melissa’s tightly clenched opening. Using her other hand, Mistress Amy slid her thumb up inside Melissa’s very wet vagina, pressing down immediately on her G-spot.
Melissa gasped and fought to keep herself from pulling away from Mistress Amy’s sudden invasion. Then Mistress Amy tightly closed the web of her hand, capturing Melissa’s clitoris and G-spot in her grasp. The pressure was almost, but not quite, too much. Melissa squirmed and involuntarily bucked against her.
Without Melissa quite realizing it, the tension in her sphincter relaxed. Mistress Amy worked the lube into Melissa’s ass, slowly coaxing her anus wider.
Melissa’s head hung down, the polished wood floor only inches from her face. Her eyes were closed, and she was completely lost in the power of submitting to this unseen force, penetrating her from behind. She could feel the early waves of an oncoming orgasm, not too far away. She moaned, pushing back harder against Mistress Amy’s hands.
Then suddenly, Mistress Amy inserted her device in both of Melissa’s openings. As soon as it was seated inside Melissa, both of Mistress Amy’s hands were gone. Melissa’s eyes flew open, her head snapped up, desperately trying to chase after her now rapidly fleeing orgasm. She started to complain, then froze, thinking better of it. Slumping back down, she felt very frustrated.
Mistress Amy went to wash her hands. As she walked away, she called out, “You can get dressed now.”
Melissa groaned, rolling over to sit with her back against the wall. She considered slipping her hand down between her legs to finish off but decided not to. It seemed like something that might get her in trouble, and besides, her orgasm now felt so remote that reviving it was unlikely, at least before Mistress Amy returned.
Instead, Melissa gathered up her shoes and clothes, and she got dressed. As she put on her thong bottoms, she felt around. She could tell the two dildos were molded together with some sort of flat connecting base that conformed to her shape. Inside of her, the dildos flared out, holding themselves in place, even without her thong. The front dildo had a small protrusion that lay between her labia, reaching up to overlap her clitoris.
Once she got on her thong and looked in the mirror, she couldn’t tell that she was wearing anything inside of her. Even a feminine pad was thicker. Thinking about wearing a pad reminded her of Mistress Amy’s suggestion about changing her birth control pill. If her breasts really were going to get droopy, maybe it was something worth looking into. She usually didn’t have bad PMS, but not having periods sounded like it’d be worth trying.
She had finished dressing by the time that Mistress Amy came back.
“Good,” the dark-haired exercise trainer said, “it’s time to get started.”
The next twenty minutes seemed, as far as Melissa could tell, to be a standard exercise session. Mistress Amy introduced her to each piece of equipment and how she was supposed to use it. Then Melissa would work out on the equipment while Mistress Amy tapped away on her data pad, adjusting the load. Mistress Amy would also correct her form, whenever she slouched or didn’t do the exercise correctly.
Melissa had never worked with a personal trainer before. She was mostly ambivalent about exercise or going to a gym. She counted on her long walk to school for most of her exercise. When she thought about it, which was usually when her scale ratcheted up another pound or so, she would do some crunches, and work out with some hand weights she had inherited from a sophomore roommate.
Fortunately, student poverty limited her food budget, and she was so busy studying that she didn’t eat enough to put on much weight. She’d been counting on manual labor at the Arizona dig site to get her back in shape this summer. Thinking about her lost summer of Archeology sent a sharp pang of sadness through her. Looking around the air-conditioned exercise studio, with it’s warm wood floors, gleaming exercise equipment, a beautiful view across the valley, she wondered what the hell she was doing. This experience seemed so fake and unreal. She felt a fraud, living as a toy in this rich man’s world. She was an Ivy League college graduate student, for God’s sake.
Mistress Amy looked up from her data pad, where she had been entering yet more information. Noticing Melissa’s pensive, distracted expression, she asked, more gently than in her normal ‘mistress’ tone, “You seem very far away. Anything going on?”
Melissa almost blurted out her fears and doubts, but she held back, not trusting the other woman enough to know what her reaction would be. Instead, Melissa said, “Nothing Mistress, I’m sorry.”
Mistress Amy nodded curtly and looked back down at her data pad.
Melissa promised herself that she would call Malcolm as soon as she could and talk this over with him. Of course, she knew what his advice would be. She could hear his chiding tone in her head, telling her to stop worrying and embrace the new experience. “If the Gravy Train decides to stop at your station, why the hell ain’t you getting onboard?”
Melissa stifled a smile as Mistress Amy finally stopped tapping on her pad and looked up. A cruel smile edged across her face as Mistress Amy announced, “We are done with learning how to do today’s exercises and calibrating your abilities, such as they are.” Melissa didn’t relax, even though it seemed that they might be done early for the day. Something told her that the trainer was not really done with her yet.
“So,” Mistress Amy continued, “now we can begin.” She tapped a button on her pad, and a soft “ping” sounded through the studio’s overhead speakers. “This will be your signal to move to the next apparatus. You will go through the same sequence that we just did, for twenty minutes.” She stabbed another button, and the dildos, which Melissa had completely forgotten about began to vibrate. “When you match the exercise profile I have created for you, this is what you’ll feel.” She tapped again, and the intensity of the vibration increased. “The harder you work, the higher the stimulation.”
Melissa squirmed on the bench where she had just finished her last exercise. The vibration was driving her crazy, making it difficult to focus on what the trainer was saying. The little nub of the front vibrator that covered her clitoris was nearly pushing her over the edge. She tried to lean forward a little bit, to press that part of the vibrator more firmly against herself.
“But if you slack off and do less than you should, then…” Mistress Amy stabbed another button and the vibration suddenly turned into an electric current that was horribly uncomfortable. Melissa shot to her feet, pressing her hands to her crotch. “And this corrective force also has levels…” Mistress Amy grinned as she pushed another button. Melissa gasped, doubling over as the fiery current seemed to increase one thousand fold in strength. It was hard to breathe.
Suddenly, it stopped. Melissa slowly straightened, trying to catch her breath. Mistress Amy giggled quietly, “It is a marvelous motivator.” She pressed another button and told Melissa, “You have twenty seconds to get to the first apparatus.”
Melissa stared at her, dumbfounded.
“Fifteen seconds…”
Melissa looked around, considering the option of just tearing the cursed dildos out of her and running out the door.
“Ten seconds…”
She turned to look at the first piece of equipment, trying to remember the exercise she was supposed to do, wondering if it was worth trying.
“Five seconds…”
With a growl of annoyance, Melissa hurried over to the starting point and grabbed hold of the bar she was supposed to pull. Above her head, she heard the soft “ping,” and she started.
As she pulled against the weight, a warm, pleasant buzzing spread between her legs. The good feeling slowly relaxed the tension that had built up from the terrible tingling of the ‘corrective’ current. She pulled a little harder and was rewarded by a stronger, deeper vibration. The feeling was wonderful, but she was fairly certain that she wasn’t going to reach an orgasm standing in this position.
She felt a little guilty that everything in her life seemed to have narrowed down to how to reach the next orgasm, but she rationalized that having sex was, after all, the whole point of being a sex slave. It was her job. ‘Sex’ was right there in the job title. “Of course,” she thought, “so is ‘slave.’” She glanced over at the trainer, thinking, “I’m still not so certain about the whole ‘mistress’ bit. I guess, maybe, she’s kind of cute… for a total bitch. Not really my type. Now a nice, hunky guy for a trainer… maybe he’d have to spank me if I was bad…”
Looking over at the next piece of exercise equipment, she grinned in anticipation of the bench she would use. She imagined pressing down against a bench, forcing the dildos more firmly against her.
Although her arms were getting tired, she didn’t want to slow down. She wanted to keep her arousal growing, so she could try to push over the top on her next apparatus. By the time that the soft “ping” sounded, her arms were rubbery and aching, but she hurried over, eagerly straddling the bench, putting her feet against the pedals, and pressing hard against the resistance.
As she hoped, her level of intensity grew and grew. She closed her eyes and continued to push hard through the motion, grinding her pelvis against the bench. She could feel her orgasm building, growing ever closer. Just as it was within reach, she heard a quiet “ping” overhead. Ignoring it, she kept on throwing herself at the exercise, but the vibration level in the dildos slowly ebbed away.
Groaning in frustration, she leaped to the next exercise, which was another one for her arms. Even though this exercise worked a different set of muscles from the first one, her arms were still so rubbery from the first apparatus that she struggled just to build back to the level of arousal she had at the beginning of the last leg exercise.
Sweat was pouring off her, the salt stinging her eyes. It seemed that her whole body was as wet and glistening as her clenching vagina and anus. When the “ping” announced the next shift, she threw herself into the next leg apparatus, determined to explode hard against the pedals and quickly push herself over the top. Quickly, she was gasping for air. She felt lightheaded as she climbed higher and higher, before finally, at long last, crashing over, shuddering and shaking in a long, powerful orgasm that left her completely spent.
She slumped over and collapsed on the floor, her chest heaving, waiting for the room to stop spinning. The vibration of the dildos slowly died down to nothing and her breathing began to steady out.
Then an itchy, painful electrical current began, so slowly at first that she wasn’t sure what it really was. Another “ping” issued from the speakers above. She opened her eyes, trying to focus and look around.
Mistress Amy stepped above her, legs straddling Melissa’s prone form. Leaning over to look her directly in the face, Mistress Amy said, “You have eight minutes left.”
“But, but, I came.”
“Congratulations. An amazing accomplishment, I’m sure. You have eight minutes left.”
Melissa groaned in pain, as the buzzing static electrical impulses grew very unpleasant. She rolled onto her hands and knees, and crawled over to the next exercise machine. As the pain grew, she lurched up to grab the bar and begin her next arm exercise. Try as she might, she only managed to work the pain level down to barely tolerable by the end of the set.
When the next “ping” came, she stumbled over to the final apparatus, laid facedown on the bench, pulling her numb legs under the bar, and began to lift the bar with her lower legs back toward her buttocks. Tears of frustration poured down her cheeks and onto the padded bench, as she could barely keep away from the most painful levels of electrical discharge.
Her breath was ragged, and she felt nauseous. Finally, she could do no more. She lay there, curling against the pain until the final soft “ping” released her. The dildos fell silent.
Melissa rolled off the bench and onto the floor, curled into a fetal position. Her breath shuddered in and out.
Yvette
- 08.11.2021
- 14
- 0
- Category:
- BDSM
