index


Message-ID: <29072asstr$983088604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Reply-To: "Hecate" <hecate1@bigfoot.com>
From: "Hecate" <hecate1@bigfoot.com>
Subject: {ASSM} <2ndS> The Server by Alexis S (D/s MF n/c(?))
Date: Sun, 25 Feb 2001 03:10:04 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d






<1st attachment, "The Server by Alexis S.txt" begin>

story codes:  D/s MF n/c(?)

Respectfully submitted for adult readers.  Please, if
you are a minor, if it is not legal, or if you are
offended by sexual content, do not continue. 

This story was written by me, Alexis.  Please respect
this.  If you wish to distribute or repost this story
(freely and in its original form) I ask only that you
keep my name and e-mail address attached





The Server
By Alexis S. (ealexissiefert@yahoo.com)

"Nice piece, Jonathan.  Is she new, or have you had her in storage waiting 
for tonight?"  Thomas' fingers lingered briefly over her taut nipple as he 
spoke.  He gave it a parting tweak as he reached for a cocktail napkin 
nestled between her bound breasts.

Jonathan, tonight's host, chuckled before he responded.  "Look closer, 
Thomas.  Take your eyes off her tits and look at her face."

Thomas set his highball on the tray resting on her taut belly.  He walked to 
the head of the table to peer more closely at the newest serving dish in his 
host's collection.  There was an angry flush in her cheeks; and, even though 
her eyes were shut, Thomas figured from the tight way they were clenched that 
if she were to open them, she'd burn holes in whatever she set her gaze upon.  
As he stroked his finger over the small scar on her pronounced cheekbone it 
came to him.  "Holy shit, Jonathan!  If it weren't for the mark on her cheek, 
I'd never have recognized her in this position.  What's Bailey doing on your 
table?"

"She overextended herself in last week's poker game, then misjudged her 
ability to bluff.  Three sevens to my ace-over-kings full house landed her as 
you see her.  I've got her and her handmaiden for tonight's party and the 
clean-up tomorrow."

"Maura's here also?  Where?"  Thomas' head swiveled as his eyes searched the 
room.  

Thomas put a hand out to calm his friend.  "Patience, Thomas.  Maura will be 
out with dessert tonight.  Until then, enjoy your drink."

The two men stood next to the bar, discussing the inconsequential matters 
that usually get discussed at such parties.  Bailey struggled to relax her 
tense muscles, knowing that the longer she fought it, the more likely she'd 
be to spill something.  The forced calm gave her a rare opportunity to 
reflect.  Normally at these events she was as busy as the rest of the guests, 
sampling the offerings, playing with the toys, and doing her best to keep the 
upper hand in whatever game was being proposed.  There were very few dominant 
women in her social circle, and the men were still adjusting to dealing with 
her as an equal, not as a piece of property.  It was a constant struggle to 
maintain her position, and tonight wasn't going to help much. 

Damn.  The game last week had started off so well for her.  After several 
hours, she was ahead both in her monetary bets and the "favors" that were so 
often the staple of the game's side-bets.  She had watched her bank build 
steadily with each hand, and although she lost a few dollars every couple of 
hands, overall she was sure to come out ahead by several thousand at the end 
of the evening.  Additionally, Michael was terribly deep in debt to her after 
the last hand ("He really must work on his bluffing skills," she had confided to 
Jonathan between rounds.  "I wonder if he'll ever figure out that we can all 
read his tell, his habit of scratching the back of his hand when his cards 
are empty.")  Everyone knew that Michael's manservant gave the most perfect 
deep-tissue massages, and Bailey fully intended to take advantage of them 
when she cashed in her side-bet chits with Michael.  That's the way the favor-
bets usually worked, although the guidelines weren't exactly set in stone.  Her 
current situation was really her fault for not specifying when she and 
Jonathan bet on the outcome of that last hand.  In addition to the use of the 
other's favored slave, Jonathan had suggested "a small service" from each 
other.  Bailey had assumed, wrongfully, that they had both been referring to 
a professional service, not such a personal one.  

She was so rarely overconfident in her poker playing.  She still couldn't 
believe that Jonathan had had the other ace.  Although she couldn't prove it, 
and she'd never make a public accusation for fear of appearing a sore loser, 
she knew that he had been cheating.  There's no way he had been dealt both of 
those aces in that hand.  She can count the cards better than that.

She shifted slightly; mindful of the tray of drinks balanced on her belly.  
The bindings were beginning to itch, but Bailey knew that the evening was far 
from over.  She consciously slowed her breathing, trying to match it to the 
rhythm of the music in the background of the room, Saens' "Aquarium and Fossils" 
if she wasn't mistaken.  A little dark for her taste and not quite appropriate 
to the party's Valentine theme, but it was typical of Jonathan to take the 
unexpected route when creating the setting for his gatherings.  She sighed and 
took stock of her position trying to figure a way to use it to her advantage.

She was lying, naked, on her back.  Fortunately, Jonathan seemed to be 
slightly cold natured (which, Bailey couldn't help but think, went perfectly 
with his reptilian personality), so the house was always kept a bit on the 
warm side, and the polished mahogany surface of Jonathan's wet bar wasn't 
overly uncomfortable under her back.  In keeping with the February theme of 
tonight's gathering her bindings were red velvet sashes, deceptively strong 
despite their cushy appearance.  Her ankles were wrapped several times in the 
velvet ropes then lashed to her thighs, forcing her knees to bend up and 
spread slightly.  Red velvet circled her wrists as well, which were then 
bound tightly to her ankles and thighs, and a wide velvet band was strapped 
across her forehead and secured to a ring beneath the bar's overhanging 
ledge.  The effect was similar to being hog-tied, effectively immobilizing her 
without appearing crude.

Her bindings and display were enough to make her burn with embarrassment, 
however Jonathan had apparently decided to take full advantage of his one-
night dominance over her.  

Earlier in the afternoon, as he finished securing her to the bar top, Jonathan 
handed a tube of K-Y and instructed his housemaid to "be generous but not 
necessarily gentle."  It wasn't until the maid began pushing her gelled fingers 
into Bailey's pussy that Bailey had her first inkling she wasn't going to be 
merely "displayed" at the party tonight.  Bailey had bit her cheek hard as the 
maid twisted her fingers roughly between Bailey's nether lips, spreading them 
and opening her pussy wider than any cock had previously stretched her.  
Although she stifled her small wimpers as much as possible, the glint in the 
maid's eyes told Bailey how much the servant was enjoying Bailey's predicament.  
It was a rare occasion indeed that one of the slaves had this type of 
opportunity.

Between her spread thighs Jonathan had placed a tall, thin metal container.  
At first glance it appeared to be a scaled-down champagne ice bucket, rounded 
at the bottom with a slight lip at top.  Her first verbal protests, the one 
that earned her the leather-covered bit between her teeth, had come when 
Jonathan began pushing the rounded end of the container between her legs, 
into her dilated pussy.  He didn't stop until the metal was resting against 
her cervix and the lip of the container was pressed firmly against her 
swollen pussy lips.  He had then unceremoniously dropped a handful of swizzle 
sticks and stirring straws into the container.  

Jonathan moved to her breasts.  Even to his overly-critical eye they 
were perfect.  Large, but not unnaturally so.  Just over a c-cup, he had 
figured.  With a wide strip of velvet he bound them up, almost together.  He 
laughed slightly at her discomfort when he swiped her nipples with an ice 
cube.  "Must keep up their appearance, Bailey dear.  After all, everyone 
knows that my home is always perfectly furnished and accessorized."  Between 
her bound breasts he had placed a stack of linen cocktail napkins, using her 
perfect tits like pale bookends to hold the cloth squares upright.

Over her flat tummy he had draped a small felt cloth--to protect his silver 
from the oils in her skin.  "And," he had explained, "it will help keep the 
tray from slipping.  However, dear, you might wish to keep your abs tight 
tonight.  Wouldn't want the guests' drinks to drop, now would we?"  Had she 
not been so effectively gagged by the bit, she would have told him exactly 
what he could do with his guests' drinks.  Unfortunately, the best she could 
do was mumble a few incoherent obscenities at him as he rested the silver 
serving tray on her stomach.  On the tray he had placed several crystal wine 
and drink glasses.

His maid had then braided her long, midnight black hair into a rope, doubling 
it into a loop and securing it to her head with wide hairpins.  From this 
convenient handle, Jonathan had hung various implements for the bar; 
primarily a couple of sets of ice tongs and a sharp ice-pick for his guests 
who preferred their ice shaved fresh off the block rather than processed into 
cubes by the freezer.  

He stepped back to inspect his handiwork.  "Bailey, darling, tonight is sure 
to be a success.  I can't tell you how grateful I am that you've made 
yourself available for me.  Oh, I realize that this isn't what you had in 
mind when I requested your appearance at my home tonight, but we must be 
gentlemen--err, gentlepeople--about honoring our bets, mustn't we?  Now, just 
a few more hours and this will all be over and we can go back to the way we 
were."

For some reason, Bailey doubted that things would ever go back to the way 
they were.  Certainly, she would return to her rightful position in the 
group, and her status as a dominant would never be openly questioned.  After 
all, a bet is a bet.  There's not a one of them who wouldn't take full 
advantage of the others given half a chance.  That's what makes their 
association with each other so exciting and fulfilling.  However, after 
tonight's gathering, Bailey suspected that the men in the group would always 
look at her in a slightly different manner.  Not a one had previously been 
granted the right to touch her perfect skin, to enjoy her perfect body so 
completely exposed.  Although none of the "guests" would be permitted to do 
anything more than fondle her bound tits and "accidentally" brush her clit, 
she felt as exposed and vulnerable as the playthings Jonathan always has 
available for general use during these parties.  

The slight splash of cold vodka on her ribs brought her thoughts back to the 
party.  She opened her eyes slightly and took stock of the party now in full-
swing around her.  Thomas was still standing next to her, his back turned 
slightly.  He had rested his hand absent-mindedly on her breast as he talked 
to their host.  The two men were making arrangements for Thomas' later use of 
her handmaiden, Maura.  Bailey sighed again and began to envision the set-up 
for next week's poker game.  This time, she was going to ensure she could 
keep a better eye on Jonathan's dealing.  After all, if she was going to make 
up the ground she'd lose with the group tonight, she had a bet to win.

<1st attachment end>


----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+