Freedom is Slavery (9 page)

I watched this for a few minutes before I sank back between Grace’s legs and began licking her pussy. I could hear her moans muffled under April and this seemed to telegraph up through and out of April who joined in the chorus of pleasure. It was like I was licking both Grace and April at the same time as the intensity of my tongue on Grace’s clit seemed to mirror that which she applied to April’s. Soon they were both writhing and moaning as they orgasmed in tandem, something that I’ll never forget.

We collapsed in a heap of bodies, April to Grace’s right and me to her left as we both lay in her arms and slowly ran our hands over Grace’s glistening body. We chatted a while until April and I looked at each other and then both took Grace’s nipples into our mouths, starting the whole thing all over again...

I’ve always prided myself on being very clean. I shower every day, soaping up every nook and cranny. Washing, rinsing, and repeating until I’m squeaky.

However, Mistress can’t abide my hair. I have far too much hair in all the wrong places. She likes to have my balls and "pussy" shaved smooth. The last time I came to her, She found that I was far too overgrown for Her liking.

"This just won’t do," She chided as I lay on her gynecological table, my feet bound into the stirrups and a spreader bar between my knees. She tsked at me, lifting up my balls with Her riding crop.

Blindfolded and bound to the table, I was unable to see her. Within moments I heard the sounds of her phone.

"This is me," she said to the person on the other line. "Yes. Good girl. Yes. I need you over here. Yes. Bring your kit. Oh, and bring a bottle of Chablis."

I smelled Her scent, close to me now, and felt Her breath hot on my ear.

She whispered to me, "My pet, you are not fit to serve Me today but I’m going to make You that way. Now, I know that you hate to be left alone but you deserve to be punished and I find this to be proper. Do you agree?"

I always loved how fair She was with me. She was pushing one of my hard limits but with good cause. I nodded as I was unable to answer verbally; a plastic O-ring kept my mouth open, making me look like a living sex doll.

"Good boy," She said and placed a pair of headphones over my ears. My eyes and ears covered and completely immobilized, I felt completely helpless.

Without warning, I felt a tight pinching sensation along the length of my flaccid cock. Almost as soon as I felt this came the words of my Mistress, flooding my ears through the headphones.

"You are now powerless before Me, as you should be, as you always are. My pet, My property, My toy..."

As She spoke, my body felt lighter, the bonds tighter against me, enveloping me in her presence. Behind Her voice I could hear a small, tinny piano and what sounded like running water or waves. She continued on, Her words taking hold of me even stronger as She spoke.

"You have chosen this life, living under My rule. You know that this is best for you. You have realized that you are weak and that your life only has meaning through being part of My life; being one of My servants. After you made that decision, you gave up all free will. There is only My will; My needs, My desires, My whims, My fancies. There is only My joy and My pleasure that concern you now. You are but a plaything, a tool which I may use or abuse as I see fit. You don’t even bear a name, apart from the one I granted you after I saw fit to do so."

My mind went back to my early days with Mistress and how She only called me "slut toy." It was only after much testing and training that She deigned to give me a name; one only that She and I know. One, when uttered, that would cause me to re-evaluate myself at every turn, to make sure that I was being the best slave to Her that I could be. One that She uses sparingly and powerfully. One that often sent me directly to my knees before Her.

The pinching sensation on my member seemed to intensify as Her voice continued to fill my ears. I wondered if there was anyone else in the basement dungeon with me. Completely helpless and cut off from the world as I was, there could have been a cavalcade progressing a few feet away or the heat of excitement I felt could have come from studio lights for a live webcast. I didn’t know and I couldn’t think about it much more as Her words continued to take me away.

"I will never stop pushing you to be better. You say that you have limits but all of them will crumble before Me. All of your shame, your fears, your barriers; they will yield to Me. They will crumble before Me. There are things that you may dream that you would never do but you will for Me; gladly and without question. Go ahead, let your mind wander. Think of those things that scare you; the things that you don’t feel possible."

As the piano music played in the distance, I did what Mistress told me to do. Had I not been bound tightly to the table, I would have shuddered as a flood of mental images overcame me. I pictured all of the things that Mistress had had me do that I once thought impossible and now did for Her on a regular basis. I thought about how I degraded myself for Her, wantonly, whenever She desired it. It was at that moment that I felt something strange on my nether regions. It felt cool, like something was being slathered on to me.

"Doesn’t that feel nice?" Mistress asked in the headphones.

Was She talking about what I was to think about or what was going on down below?

"That is my slut toy Liz. I have instructed her to shave every inch of your little balls and pussy clean. I want your pussy as clean shaven as hers. Clean enough to eat. I have her using a straight razor. That’s the hard, cold metal you can feel now, scraping at your tender flesh like My nails across your back."

Had everything been a recording until now or had Mistress been speaking to me live the whole time? I wasn’t able to contemplate this as She kept speaking.

"Liz will make every inch of your pussy-ass completely hairless like the little sissy I like you to be for Me. It’s no secret that I like keeping you in that area between masculine and feminine. To Me, you’re not man enough to be a man and you’re not good enough to be a woman. Therefore, you’re neither one. The best you can aspire to be is to be a sissy and to serve Me. That is all that will give your life meaning and purpose."

Mistress began describing to me in detail every slide of the blade as it went over my most tender flesh. Feeling and hearing but not seeing created its own sense of unreality. Likewise, I had only heard Mistress mention slut toy Liz but I had never seen or met her and here she was now, inches away from my genitals with a naked blade. Moving from my balls to my ass cheeks made me feel even more vulnerable now as she spread me wide and began running the blade there.

Mistress gave a stroke by stroke tally, describing my pale naked flesh that She was glad to see. Hot breath warmed my newly denuded flesh as the razor moved in concentric circles toward my tender asshole. Mistress began interjecting Her description now with pleasant memories of our time together, recalling the times that She left me bruised and battered physically but stronger and better emotionally for Her.

The shaving stopped and I felt a cool mist over every inch that had been shaved followed by a towel drying me off.

Mistress’s words filled me again, "I have chosen to be generous with you today and to give you a special treat now that you’re all good and clean."

Often, things that are a "treat" to Mistress induce quite a bit of pain for me and I steeled myself for an invasion of my bare "pussy." Without warning, I was invaded but it was a sweet feeling. It wasn’t the hard tip of Her cock but, instead, something soft and moist.

"It was three years ago today that you agreed to serve Me. I don’t take that gift of submission lightly. The reward I give is that you are allowed to serve Me, and, as you know, that comes with perks. Consider this a big one."

There was no mistaking that the sensation I felt now was clearly a tongue swirling around my denuded rear entrance. Mistress was gracing me with the gift of slut toy Liz "eating my pussy." The sensation was unbelievable. On top of that, the pinching of my now-swollen penis ceased, providing me with a great deal of relief.

The pinching became pressure which built and ceded, built and ceded.... building to a steady, mechanical rhythm that massaged my growing hard-on while slut toy Liz continued to push her tongue deeply inside of me, swirling and sending me into orbit. Into my ear poured a low chuckle from Mistress.

"Of course, I know you better than you know yourself. And I know that your mind is spinning right now; that you’re trying desperately to picture what’s going on. If only you could catch a little glimpse. If only I would describe what things are being done to you. Awww, poor baby. I like keeping you in the dark. Today, literally."

Into my mouth, still held open wide, came a flood of liquid. The surprise of this made me choke a bit. I began swallowing, instinctively. As I did, I began processing what was in my mouth. With Mistress I could never be sure. The tart and tangy taste began to register. She was treating me to a few sips of Chablis, knowing that my mouth had gotten dry from being held open for so long.

The grab and release on my penis coupled with slut toy Liz’s tongue was getting to be too intense. My tongue started lolling as I tried to form the words, asking for permission to orgasm. I tried pushing the sounds from my throat to no avail.

Into my ears came, "Shhhh, shhhhh... no talking. No asking today. Just let it happen."

And, with that, I was over the edge. My legs contracted as much as they could while strapped to the stirrups. My asshole clenched around slut toy Liz’s tongue and I felt my balls begin to pump spunk out of me until I was completely drained. The pressure around my penis ceased and I felt the cool basement dungeon air now on my skin.

Into my mouth slid the gloopy cum that had collected in whatever had encased me. I drank it all, taking every drop for Mistress as I had been trained to do. The rest, which still covered my deflating penis, was being taken care of by the warm, wet mouth of slut toy Liz.

After a while, the mouth was gone and I was alone again in the dark with nothing there but the faint piano music in my head. A little while later, I was released from my bonds by unknown hands. Mistress’s voice informed me that I was to count to 200 before removing my blindfold, getting dressed, and leaving through the rear entrance of Her abode.

Julia and I had hung out all afternoon. We had gone to the show, shopped, and dined. She was one of my few female friends. I find my lack of female friends somewhat perplexing as I get along with women much more than I do with men.

Not content to go our separate ways, Julia came over to my apartment where we popped in Baz Luhrmann’s
Moulin Rouge
. We started talking about absinthe and I volunteered that I had a bottle available. The film had made me so curious, the first time seeing it, that I researched and located a place in Czechoslovakia that imported bottles to the U.S. It didn’t take much arm-twisting for Julia to talk me into breaking the seal on the beautiful green bottle.

Following the handy instruction card that came with the bottle, we proceeded to soak a lump of sugar with the absinthe, set it aflame, and prepare the drink as Toulouse-Lautrec would have.

It tasted awful.

We waited for some kind of chemically altered state to overtake us but, alas, we were as sober as nuns after waiting a half an hour for the drink to take effect. Not prone to giving up, we tried the drink again. This time we followed another instruction on the recipe card, adding a little brandy to the mix. This seemed to work much better.

I noticed that Julia’s tongue was loosened by the drink. I wish I could remember how we got onto this topic but I simply can’t. It’s lost in the haze. All I remember is Julia volunteering that she wasn’t a fan of pornography, per se, but "give me a good spanking film and I’ll be happy."

"I just happen to have a good spanking film, my dear," I offered. "I bought it because John Zorn does the sound track. It’s called
The Elegant Spanking
by Maria Beatty. Shall I?" I gestured towards the VCR.

Julia slapped her knee and proclaimed, "Hot damn! What are you waiting for, son?! Get that French crap off the screen and let the spankings begin!"

We refreshed our glasses with the last of the absinthe before the movie began.

Beatty’s film is a black and white affair that’s artistically shot. Most of it concerns a very bad girl who must suffer at the hands of another woman. Suddenly, Julia began a running commentary all about spanking—the art and the artifice.

"You see, the underwear needs to remain on. White panties are best. They make the woman look like a little girl. Oh, this is good."

"I didn’t know you were such a connoisseur of spanking," I joked.

Her face turned beet red, as if she didn’t realize that she had been speaking aloud.

"Only a little," she said, smiling mischievously. "There’s still a lot I need to learn. Did you know that spanking enthusiasts never use the word ‘ass’ or ‘butt’ but always say ‘bottom’?"

You learn something new every day.

We watched the rest of the film, cracking jokes out of mutual embarrassment over seeing racy images on screen. When it was over it would have been time for Julia to go home. However, her eyes were closing and she caught herself snoring a few times.

"I absolutely forbid you to make the drive home in that condition," I told her. "You can spend the night here. Sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch."

I led her to my bedroom, laid out a large T-shirt for her to sleep in, and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. When I came out, she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "You really don’t need to sleep on the couch. I can share."

I won’t pretend that the look in her eye was completely innocent or that I didn’t notice it. I will say that I didn’t think of what that look would mean to our friendship if I joined her in bed. At that moment, I didn’t care.

Crawling into bed next to her, I turned off the light. For a few minutes we pretended to be responsible adults rather than the horny kids we felt like.