We took a few minutes break, she sipping her wine, me washing my face and groin. I stank of sweat, juices and cum, but all I could do was get an extra shot of anti-perspirant. Sometimes my Mistress takes a quick shower during a break, and I attend to her. But usually she uses the time to plot her next move.

She motioned to me, the break at an end. I dropped back to the ground in front of her, kissing and licking her toes and feet. I'm openly groveling now. I want her to abuse me like a two-dollar whore. Because that's what I am. A whore that will do anything for a little pleasure. With a single spoken word, she had me kneel astride her, so that my chest was at the same level as her face. Urging me to lean against her, she lightly flicked her tongue along my right nipple, raising it to attention, before doing the same to the left. I moaned softly, the sweat breaking out on my brow. Through much use, and abuse, she'd turned my nipples into finely-tuned sexual organs. They responded to both pleasure and pain, and could almost, by themselves, bring me to the brink of orgasm.

Softly, slowly, she licked them, worrying at the little nubs. Then, as I began to relax into it, she bit one, the pain exquisite as it shot through my body. The threshold broken, she began gnawing and twisting them in her teeth, causing me to whimper in wonderful helplessness. She continued on, relentlessly, alternating bites, pinching and pain with soft licking and blowing. I writhed against her, wanting to pull away and yet not wanting to. She could ravage me all night and I'd enjoy every second.

She reached down, between my legs, not stopping at my cock or balls, but farther back to press her finger against my anus, my golden hole. I was so ready, so willing. I pressed my chest against her, arching my back, despite the fact that she was now viciously biting my sensitive nipples. Her fingers danced around the surface of my ass, touching my tight bud often enough to send waves of anticipation through me.

"Go get Number One," she ordered, suddenly ceasing her ministrations. I nearly tripped over myself as I scampered to comply, the combination lock on the inside of the travel bag slipping through my fingers. Reaching inside, I found it by touch, then eagerly returned it to my Mistress. My obedience was soon to be rewarded.

Rule #7: The slave shall be treated as though he is being trained to do whatever his Mistress wishes, including performing sexual acts on another man.

That's one of our shared fantasies. And what could make a man feel more powerless, more helpless, than being at the mercy of not only a woman, but another man. Me. On my knees. Another man standing before me. A stranger. A bi-sexual stranger. He's touching my naked wife. Kissing her. Sucking her full nipples. Stroking her bare cunt. And me at their feet. Their mutual sex toy. Kissing their feet. Groveling before them. Hoping to be used and abused. Wanting to watch another man fuck my wife with his big, thick cock. Bigger than mine. Thicker. With huge balls dangling in a taut sack. I'm her present to him. A mouth to warm him up. A receptacle for his cum. And an easy, tight fuck. Waiting to be his bitch. Their bitch.

I lie flat on the floor, heatedly licking their feet. I look up in wonder, and fearful anticipation, as they tower above me. I can smell their sex already. He's half firm. Her slit is beginning to swell. He's kissing the nape of her neck. She's pressing her full breasts against him. His fingers stroke the folds of her pussy; a spot only I have touched for the last 13 years. She touches his cock. I can see the wonder and admiration in her eyes. Only half-erect, it's already as big as mine. Soon my wife will get a good fuck. A hard fuck. A fuck from a rough man who's not her husband. The fuck she has wanted, secretly, for so many years. Finally she looks down and notices me, groveling for attention.

"Suck his cock," she orders, pulling from his grasp and sitting down to watch. "Suck him hard, so he can fuck me hard with his big, thick, beautiful cock. Suck him good, and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you help him put his nasty cock into your wife's pussy."

I climb to my knees, as I've been taught. His cock sways in front of my face, the head an angry purple. Gently, oh so gently, I grasp the shaft in my fingertips. I bend forward. This is the real thing. Softer than any dildo, yet hard enough to split my lips, and my wife's pussy, straight open. I concentrate on that image as I press my head forward, feeling the tip, the ridge, and finally the shaft bump over my lips. He tastes of cum and sweat. His girth is hard to handle. I run my tongue up and over the shaft as best I can, getting a feel of it. Suddenly he pulls me toward him, crushing his cock deep in my mouth. I know what he wants and give it to him, mouthfucking him with abandon. Exactly as I was trained. Trained for this fantasy.

My wife quickly strapped on the harness, the leather already sized to fit her. In the front extends a seven-inch dildo, about one-and-a-quarter inches in diameter. It's flesh colored, but not particularly life-like. There's no cock-tip, no ridge and no balls. It's called Number One because it's the first strap-on we purchased. Number Two is much more realistic, with a hard helmet, a deep ridge, and two testicles at the base. It's also larger ­ eight-and-a-half inches and one-and-a-half inches in diameter. A nub of plastic is attached to the inside of the harness just below the balls. The nub stimulates the wearer as the dildo is being used on the recipient. It's perfectly situated to hit my wife's clit. I've nicknamed Number Three "The Punisher." It looks less like a dick than a glass tool of some sort. Made of clear Pyrex, it has a smooth shaft that is only interrupted by a deep ridge, designed to make you feel it going in and coming out. This harness has two smaller dildos that can be attached to the inside. One goes inside the pussy. The other goes inside the ass. It's one all-around hardcore piece of equipment.

"Kneel," my Mistress said to me, standing above me. I drop to my knees, the dildo now at mouth level.

"Suck me off," she ordered, pressing the tip of it up to my lips. I've done this many times before. I take the fake cock into my mouth, sucking hard on the plastic. Now my fantasy really takes flight. I'm not just sucking a dildo for my dominant wife. I'm sucking the cock of that stranger. Making it harder. Making it thicker. Licking the big, stiff shaft that will soon deliver to me a mouthful of hot jism, sprayed across my face as an animal might mark his territory. Globs of it on my tongue, held there until ordered to swallow. And then the inevitable clean up session, my tongue wrapping around the deflated shaft, hunting in crevices and hair and skin for every stray speck of semen, until his big cock and balls are clean and ready for another round.

Kneeling before my Mistress, I did a simple blowjob, using my hands to steady the long dildo as I licked and sucked at it with abandon. In the past she has taken my spent cum and applied it to the shaft, so that it would feel as though I were cleaning a stranger's cum from his cock. This time, though, despite my enthusiasm, she quickly tired of the game. And she pushed me away, abruptly ending my fantasy as well.

"That was terrible," she said disdainfully. "I can't imagine you pleasing anyone with such a terrible blowjob. It's obvious you haven't learned your lessons all that well. And since it can't be a problem with the teacher, it must be a problem with you. A blowjob is something any woman can do. Maybe you need to think more like a woman."

I could already tell where this conversation would lead. She confirmed it with her next words, "Bring over the box that's in the laundry room. And hurry with it."

I leapt to my feet and ran to the laundry room, grabbing the box and dropping to my knees to present it to her.

"Open it up and dress yourself," she ordered, taking a seat on the couch.

I opened the box and looked inside with some trepidation. I'd expected just what I got: a wardrobe of women's clothing. What worried me was the kind of clothing it might be. My Mistress has complete control over me, even to what I wear or don't wear during the session. She'd placed me in women's clothing before, but sometimes she would make a point about subjugation and such by the type of clothing she provided. I especially hated being forced to wear pantyhose. They're uncomfortable enough for a woman. They're damn near unbearable for a man who has an extra appendage to fit into the panty part. This time, though, I got off lightly. Nothing more than a plaid skirt. I'd be a school girl for her pleasure. A schoolgirl that she'd soon be fucking. At least I hoped.

"Now that you're better focused, let's try that blowjob again," she said, grabbing the fake cock protruding from between her legs and gesturing to me. I scampered over to do her bidding, this time much more enthusiastically licking and sucking the hard dildo. I was grateful for having another chance to please her, and grateful for the chance to return to my fantasy. My Mistress knows I sometimes do this during a session. She lets me, as long as it doesn't interfere with my service to her.