Despite the sight of the two naked women kneeling submissively before me--or perhaps because of it--my mind wandered again. Renae was playing a game; one which had taken on a new level tonight, but it was still a game. It was a thrill, something to add to her list of "kinky things I've done." Sasha, however, was different.

I had met Sasha, oddly enough, at the local youth center. I volunteered my time to work with the high school students, while Sasha helped out with the younger kids. Our paths never crossed much, so I had never had a chance to really talk with her. I would watch her when I could, however. Despite her tendency to wear loose clothing which hid her figure, I could tell from the glimpses I did get, that she had what appeared to be a very nice body. Her face was beautiful; sparkling eyes that shown with intelligence and passion, and a smile that was bright and contagious.

She was the one the kids went to when they were hurt, or sad, or when they needed someone to talk to. Her smile and warm hugs were comforting. It was as if she were absorbing all the pain and troubles of the kids into herself. Once she'd taken it in, however, it seemed to stay there. Behind the smile and sparkling eyes was a depth of pain and loneliness that was well hidden, yet still apparent to those who took the time to look.

It was almost a year before I had a chance to talk with her--at a show in my own gallery. I had posted a notice about the show opening in the mentors' lounge at the center--with a warning that some of the pieces would be graphic. I was surprised when I saw Sasha wandering the floor looking at the various pieces on display. She was by herself, smiling warmly at the other guests and mumbling quiet greetings, but staying away from conversations.

The show, titled "Consent is Mandatory," was a benefit for the local domestic abuse shelter and was sponsored by the local BDSM club. The combination actually made a lot of sense, but most of the other galleries refused to house it.

Sasha had stopped in front of a large canvas by Casey Jordn titled "Beauty".

The canvas stood 12 feet tall by 6 wide; a massive and overpowering piece.   The subject of the painting was an incredibly-detailed gothic cathedral, the cool, imposing stone standing in solid majesty.  Shafts of warm light pierced cleanly through the clerestory windows and stained glass to land in delicate and intricate patterns on the polished marble of the floor.   The graceful columns and sweeping arches embraced the light with majesty and strength.  At the center of the painting, life-sized, was a woman.  She knelt in the center of the aisle, bathed in the comforting light of the sun.  In her arms she cradled an infant, wrapped in white silk.   It contrasted with the black leather body-suit which hugged the curves of the young woman.  The colors of the stained glass reflected off the restraining rings at her wrists, ankles and neck.  A worn leather leash trailed in a gentle curve from the silver collar at her neck to the black marble floor. And, if one looked closely, swirls of dust in the beams of sunlight formed graceful, sweeping wings.

"Quite the piece, isn't it?" I watched Sasha jump as I spoke from behind her.

"oh! ... Umm... It's just so... That is... I mean... She just looks so... Peaceful. So happy."

"Of course. She has security, protection, freedom, intimacy and a master who loves her. All she's had to do is submit to that love."

"Love? Isn't it.. I mean, I thought it was about ... um sex. Tying women up and whips and kinky things like that."

"Well, it depends. There's a very broad spectrum. There are those who just like to play with the toys; they get a thrill from dressing up, waving a whip around and doing something that feels all naughty. There's nothing wrong with that, mind you; if it makes the people involved happy and no one gets hurt, then go for it. But that's sort of the Halloween mentality--dress up, have fun, then go back to real life.

Then there are those who live the life 24 hours a day--most of that without any of the accoutrements. It's all about doing what makes you happy." (expand this)

"You sound like you know a bit about this. Are you... into that?"

"Yes an no. I've played at it a few times, but I haven't found a woman I could trust enough to let her be my slave." I had been guiding her towards one of the empty couches at the back of the room, grabbing a glass of wine along the way for myself and a new orange juice for her. We sat and continued the conversation. I began to lead the conversation along certain paths in order to follow a few hunches.

"People tend to wonder why some one would want to be a submissive. They're sure they know why someone would be a dom--and I suspect that they're wrong more than they're right. There are as many reasons as there doms."

I paused for a bit while she sipped at her juice; a host of thoughts running behind her eyes.

"What.." she paused and looked briefly into my eyes before her eyes darted down again. "...What is your reason--if you were to do that; if you were to be a..."

A master?" I offered. She nodded shyly. "That's a long discussion all its own. The short answer, I guess, is to teach and (raise up) the slave--to show her what she has to offer, and to accept that as my own."

"I don't know that I could ever do that; be a ... "

"A slave."

And now here she was, kneeling at my feet, stripped to the waist, gagged, restraining cuffs on her wrists, and smiling with honest pleasure.

t had taken almost a year from that first conversation until we first had sex of any sort--though her training had started in the middle of that time and progressed gradually to the point where she was willing to accept her submissive nature. That first night of sex had been over 14 months ago. In that time, she had gained confidence, strength, and an acceptance of herself. Yet she had lost none of the qualities that had first attracted me to her. While still quiet and somewhat shy in public, in private she was able to fall fully into the role of a slave and let herself go.

The sensation of soft hair trailing along my thighs brought me back to the present.

Renae had knelt upright and leaned forward to take me into her mouth. Her shoulders rested on my thighs, her long auburn hair falling in tight curls across my thighs and abdomen. Casually, as I felt her lips first wrap around me, I took a sip of my scotch, switching the glass from my left to the matching table on the right. My left hand would be busy. Gently and carefully, I gathered up her hair, neatly pulling up each stray lock into my hands. With a quick twist of my left wrist, I wound the long mane around my hand, using it to both control and guide her movements, and keeping stray strands from interfering in her task. With my right hand, I explored and caressed what parts of her body I could easily reach.

Behind her, Sasha was gently massaging lotion into Renae's tender flesh. In reality, the lotion did little, but the contact was soothing and arousing--which is what mattered.

With the lotion soaked in, Sasha picked up the bottle of oil, and let it dribble at the base of the bound woman's spine and back down between the cheeks of Renae's reddened ass.

I smiled as I felt Renae twitch as the cold oil hit her hot skin. Her back arched up, and her arms pulled against the ropes binding them. Her mouth tightened ever so slightly, then opened again as I tightened my grip un her hair.

I could feel Renae's reactions through her mouth as Sasha's small skilled hands worked the oil up and down the crevice before her; as her slender Finger first teased, then probed into, the tight knot of Renae's anus. The oil was a special blend of mm own; fragrant tropical oils with a hint of menthol and camphor to get the blood flowing and loosen the muscles. Used on more sensitive areas, its effects are amplified.

Sasha's fingers worked deeper into Renae, relaxing her, preparing her. The sight of my gagged slave working her fingers deep into a woman she had just met was far more arousing than the feeling of the warm, demanding mouth sucking on my cock. My love for mm slave is the most arousing thing I know--except, perhaps, for her love for me. So many people fail to understand: it's not the things mg slave does that are so arousing, it's the fact that she's doing them for me.

"Miss Sasha." she looked up at the sound of my voice, but didn't stop the movement of her hands. "Is she ready for me?" Unable to speak through the gag, she nodded clearly, then withdrew her hand from Renae's ass and held up three fingers laying tightly together and glistening with the faintly pink oil.

"Good." Without regard to what she was doing, I gripped Renae's hair tightly and pulled her face away from my crotch. "Time for the next step."

I stood up, pulling Renae up with me. "Sasha, remove her pants." As much as I enjoyed the sight of her legs bound by the faded denim pulled down around her thighs, it needed to go. For what I had in mind next, I wanted her nude--except for a few accoutrements. Once the pants had been removed, I ordered her to be gagged again, and a three-foot leash attached to her collar. My orders were rapid and precise; I wanted action and results, not sensuality.

Renae stood, naked gagged, and leashed, arms bound behind her in a perfect presentation pose. I quickly turned my attention to Sasha. "Strip."  She immediately removed her own jeans, and the lace tangas she wore underneath.  Sasha has an affinity for underwear; something I've allowed and encouraged.  It's always interesting to see what will be revealed when her pants come off.  At that point, however, I was more interested in getting her where I wanted her... and where she wanted to be, I imagined.

While Renae stood watching, I walked Sasha over to an antique wooden chair that sat near my bed.  The heavy maple chair had hintings of early art-deco style to the legs, and a solid back sitting on thick square posts.  I sat Sasha down on the cold wood, and strapped her ankles to the front legs with the leather restraints I had laid out earlier.  I clipped the rings at her wrists together, laying her hands in her lap, and then picked up another restraint from the floor.  This had two leather cuffs and a cinch strap between them.  I strapped one cuff around each arm above the elbow, and ran the strap around the back of the chair.  I pulled it tight enough to hold her in position.  Another restraint, similar to the last, went around her legs, just below her knees, pulling her legs apart and holding them there.   She could not move--except for her head, and her hands.  I smiled.

"Now.  You are required to watch everything I do to Miss Renae." She nodded and wiggled her fingers just a bit. "...And you are may not masturbate.  You may not do so much as caress your lips, or stroke the insides of your thighs.  Nothing.  If I catch you trying to masturbate, you will get 30 lashes a day for the next 7 days... and I will not fuck you for the next 2 months. I will not let you suck me, I will not let you *kiss* me.  I will not touch you, talk to you, or look at you.  Other than your 30 lashes, you will not exist to me."  I paused to look at the shock in her eyes; the fear.  "Do you understand?"  Her head moved only a small bit.  "Do you understand?"  I put more force into my voice.  Her head nodded more pronounced, though without any more confidence.  "Good."   I reached out and stroked her hair gently.  "Behave yourself, and I'll reward you..." I glanced towards the bed "... with Miss Renae."  I bent down and gave her a kiss on the forehead, above the strap of her gag, and then turned away, treating her as if she wasn't there.

My attention now turned to Miss Renae.   To the other side of the bed from where I had sat Miss Sasha, was a short, carpet-covered wall.  It stood between two posts, sitting just under three feet high, and 18 inches thick.  It was situated parallel to the foot of my bed, and at the bottom, on the side towards the bed was a carpeted bar three inches in diameter, and eight inches off the floor.   The excuse for the wall was that it was an area for the cats to perch and play.  The reason for the wall was about to be demonstrated.  I walked Renae over to the wall, placing her ankles against the bar at the floor.  Kicking her feet out to about shoulder width, I let her stand there while I walked back towards my bed and pulled open a small wooden box.  From inside I withdrew 2 leather cuffs similar to those which held Sasha's arms, but minus the strap, and two lengths of soft, white, nylon rope.  I put the cuffs on Renae's ankles, with the thick D-rings to the outside.  Pulling out the rope, I whipped a quick clove hitch around the bar, and a simple granny-knot through the rings, holding them tightly to the bar.

I walked slowly around to the other side of the wall.  With slow and deliberate movements, I reached out and laid my hand under the cord of the leash which hung from her neck.  I stroked slowly down the length of the leather strap, pulling it out to my side of the wall.  When my hand reached the loop at the end, I gently pulled towards me; hand over hand, with slow even pulls, I drew it towards me, and pulled Renae forward over the wall.  With her ankles bound to the bar and her arms behind her, she had no choice but to bend forward.  When, at last, I held the other end of the leash, she was bent completely over.  Bending at the knees and keeping my eyes on hers, I reached down and slipped the loop at the end of the leash into a clip fastened to the floor.  Now, her legs secured, her neck secured, he hands bound behind her, she could go nowhere.  Standing back up, I looked across her back into Sasha's eyes.  She would have a perfect view of everything I was doing.

Slowly, I again walked behind my bound toy.  As I stood between her bound legs, I laid my hands on the cheeks of her as and felt their shape, their tone.  I moved them down her thighs, and back up to her waist.  My right hand slipped down between her legs and stroked her lips with firm fingers.  I pushed a long middle finger into her cunt, then slipped the thumb into her slick ass.  The fingers to either side of my middle finger massaged her smooth, shaved lips, while my thumb and finger, deep inside her, rubbed against each other through the thing membrane.  I reached up with my left hand to grab a handful of hair and pull back on her head, straining it against the leash that held her.   To my surprise, it took only a minute for her to come.  Her asshole clenched over and over around my thumb, milking at it. 

While she still twitched with the fading sensations of her orgasm, I pulled my hand swiftly from her and grabbed a hold of her waist; releasing her hair from my left hand, and bringing it down to join my right.  I stepped forward the half step it took to lay my still-hard cock into the crack of her ass.  Without trying to enter her yet, I slid up and down, rubbing the underside of my cock against the sensitive muscle of her anus.  Each stroke kept her on the edge, not letting her come down from her orgasm.   At last, I had enough teasing.  I pulled my hips back, shifted my weight, and pressed the head of my cock into her ass.  With the oil, Sasha's fingers, and the teasing, she was relaxed and slick, allowing me to slide in with one slow, smooth stroke.  There was resistance, perhaps a little bit of pain for her--though I doubted it.

After coming in Sasha's mouth earlier, I knew that I would last longer this time.   I started slow, gripping her tightly at her waist and pulling back, then sliding forward again and again.  I just enjoyed the feel of the tight muscles wrapped around me, gripping every little contour.  There's something about the feel of a tight ass that is like no other feeling.  For several minutes, I stroked slowly into her, slowly, deliberately; enjoying the sensuality, the sensation.  

I leaned forward, placing my hands on the wall to either side of her, letting my long hair fall down around my shoulders and across her back.  I continued to thrust into her ass, a little harder now, the angle slightly different.   Bending my head down, I ran my tongue up her spine, starting between her shoulder blades and ending at the back of her neck.   I listened to her moan through the gag and smiled.   Again I ran my tongue up her spine.  Again she moaned, her ass gripping tighter around me.   Once more I ran my tongue up her spine, slower this time, and as her moan built, I sank my teeth into the back of her neck, causing her to gasp and scream through the gag.  I could only imagine the look on her face.

Releasing my lock on her neck, I moved my mouth around, kissing and licking where ever I could reach, feeling her squirm against me.  Always she has insisted that she doesn't like a man in her ass, but whenever I have forced her, she as grown to enjoy it.  Tonight is no exception.  As my mouth roams around her neck, back and shoulders, she begins to thrust her ass back at me, arching her back to draw me deeper inside of her.  I waited for her passion to build more, then again sink my teeth into her pale skin, this time on her shoulder.  There will be marks in the morning.  I continue the slow torture, licking and kissing her soft skin for a minute or two, then sinking my teeth in as I thrust forward.  I let my full weight rest on her bound arms, and reach around to her chest, cantilevered out beyond the wall. Her chest was heaving, trying to pant, but unable to do so around the gag.  My weight added to the strain in her breathing, the sense of being surrounded, encased.  My arms around her increased this feeling, both constraining and protective.  It never ceases to amaze and amuse me how women love to feel the crush of a man's weight upon them in the heat of passion.

With soft firm strokes, I ran my hands up and down her chest and sides.   I wrapped my right hand around her throat, and quickened my pace for a short while.  I let my hands move down to her small, pert breasts.  Her nipples were standing out harder than I had ever seen them.  The tiny muscles around them almost twitched.  The hard pearls were rough and hot between my fingers as I pinched them and pulled downward, toward the floor and the ring that bound her leash.  I twisted them in time to my thrusting and the attentions of my mouth.   I began working contrasts; softly caressing her left breast while fiercely gripping her right with sharp, short nails.  The deluge of sensations was becoming too much for her.

"Let it go."  I whispered in her ear.  "Let it wash over you."  I could feel her hanging on the edge, not able or willing to let herself come.  To come with me in her ass would be an admission of submission that could never be taken back.  This would be the ultimate prize--her ultimate loss--to come doing the thing she has claimed to hate so adamantly.

I stopped with the teasing, wrapped my arms to grasp her shoulders from underneath, and forced her back onto me harder and faster.  "you will come for me while I fuck your tight little ass, Miss Renae."  She shook her head forcefully, trying to deny it, trying to shake my voice from her ear. "You've lied to yourself all these years.  You love it.  You love being sodomized."  Her head moved slower, muffled sounds coming from her filled mouth "no... no... no... no... no..."

"yes...."  I whispered.  "you love it.  You love to have your ass split.  You will come while I sodomize your sweet, tight ass.  You will let go and let it take you.  I command you... You will come...."  I swiftly pulled my hands back down to her now-tender breasts and twisted her nipples fiercely and pinched with all my strength as I thrust deeper and harder than I had yet, forcing her hips up and crushing her clit into the edge of the carpeted wall...  "NOW!"  and sank my teeth again into her neck.

AT that instant, it snapped in her.  She couldn't resist any longer, and the waves of orgasm shattered through her body, causing her to spasm wildly, without rhythm or direction, pulling against the leash that bound her to the floor until I feared it would break loose.  A guttural scream reached out from behind the gag to echo through the room.  As her orgasm finally peaked, I couldn't hold out any longer, I stood back up, grasped tightly to her hips and thrust deep and hard and held her there, letting my own orgasm wash over me.  Her slick ass grasped randomly down on me as I let go with wave after wave of come flow deep into her.  When the intensity of the sensations finally became painful, I pulled out and staggered to fall back on my bed, sweaty and exhausted. 

Renae continued to twitch occasionally, the cheeks of her ass clenching and relaxing pleasantly.  I could her a soft sobbing coming through the heavy breaths, but couldn't tell if it was from relief or something else.  I was about to get up to check on her when a powerful shudder ran down her body, followed by a long, pleasant sigh.   I smiled and relaxed again.

I looked over at Sasha.  Her teeth were clamped into the hard rubber ball of her gag, and her fists clenched.  I could see a wet sheen on her smooth cunt, and on the seat of the chair.  Her eyes were staring at me with a look of passion and begging.  I just smiled back at her and closed my eyes.

They could wait for a bit while I rested.  I wanted to be awake for the next part.