index


Message-ID: <56568asstr$1189123803@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: dr.buttz@gmail.com
Mime-Version: 1.0
NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 6 Sep 2007 02:06:57 +0000 (UTC)
User-Agent: G2/1.0
Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com
Injection-Info: 22g2000hsm.googlegroups.com; posting-host=76.105.74.19;
   posting-account=ps2QrAMAAAA6_jCuRt2JEIpn5Otqf_w0
Subject: {ASSM} Poor Old Joan, parts 1-7 (nc, m/f, f/f, humil, medical, feet, anal, nc)
Lines: 1136
Date: Thu, 06 Sep 2007 20:10:03 -0400
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

PART ONE

Axe smiled when he saw the trouble ticket arrive on his computer
screen. Printer KCLNOP0305 was down. The POC for that printer was
Joan. Axe checked his calendar, and noted that today was a regularly
scheduled Dress-Level 4 day according to the Order of the Mistresses
of the Telecommuncations, Software, and Nuclear Energy Industries.
This Fortune 500 company where he worked was a strict union shop, and
failure to follow the Order's dress code would have been unthinkable
for someone at Joan's level. Joan's level was a lowly E1, and checking
the cross-reference chart told Axe exactly what Joan would be wearing
when he arrived to repair the printer.

Joan was fiftyish, greying, slightly chunky, and generally what many
people would describe as frumpy. She was the admin assistant,
secretary, and Area Point of Contact for mailstop KCLNOP03, east wing.
When Axe arrived, she was slumped behind her desk and computer. He
asked, please show me where this is, holding up the printed trouble
ticket and pointing to the printer's ID. Of course he knew right where
the damn thing was, but he had the right to ask anyway and it was job
to comply.

Joan slowly moved out from behind her desk. She was, as the chart had
predicted, dressed in a standard company-issue blue/grey thigh-length
gown, very much like a hospital gown. Her own usual frumpy, shabby
clothes were in the safe care of the Fitting Mistress, who had checked
her in that morning and assigned level-appropriate attire for today.

The F.M. had done an impeccable job on Joan today, a real work of art.
The gown was exactly long enough to cover Joan's genitals in the
front, and exactly long enough to cover her buttocks in the rear. Not
an inch more, not an inch less. It was split down the back, also like
a hospital gown but without tie strings. Here too the fit was perfect.
The two sides just barely reached each other. There was neither
excessive overlap, nor an unmanageable gap. Joan had just enough
fabric to pinch the two sides together with the thumb and forefinger
of her Clasping Hand, and hide her ass from his view. Not a centimeter
to spare. Axe decided to write Susan a thank you note for her
excellent work.

This way, Joan motioned, and the game began. Her bare feet (also
required by the combination this Dress Level and her Order Level)
slowly marched down the aisles of cubicles. Her gown remained expertly
clasped. As she walked, Axe could occasionally catch a sightly glimpse
of maybe about 1/8th of an inch of the the lowest part of her
buttocks, peeking out below the back of the gown, but that was all.
Joan had been doing this on the appropriate occasions since her 30's,
when she took this job and had to join the Order, so she was pretty
good at it by now.

The reached the printer. Axe looked at the message displayed, he
exclaimed "Joan, you called in a ticket for this? This thing just
needs toner. I am a Client Support Analyst II, I do not change toner.
You do it."

Joan knew he was right. She walked to the supply room to get the toner
cartridge, and even though Axe was technically now relieved of his
duties towards her printer, he followed her. In the drab, shabby
supply closet, with its threadbare carpeted floor, the toner
cartridges turned out to be on the ground. Joan stood silent for a
minute, wondering if Axe would offer to pick one up for her. No such
offer was made. Joan reached down to pick up the cartridge with her
non-Clasping hand, and that's when she slipped up. The fit of the gown
was too tight to handle the extra pressure of being bent at the waist
even slightly, and the one side of the gown was pulled out from
between her fingers. For an instant, her backside was exposed. Axe
could see her round, plump, white and surprisingly smooth (for a woman
of her age and weight) ass.

"Check" he called, the protocol for indicating that the game was up,
he had spied on of her protected areas. She had instinctively
straightened back up and re-clasped, but Check meant that she had to
let go of the gown and place her hands stright by her sides, thus
exposing her ass again and this time permanently.

For a moment, Axe just stared at her ass, carefully inspecting it. It
was perfect.

"I call butt pat", he said.

"Granted", came Joan's reply, really the only reply she could make at
her Level.

The butt pat was swift and firm, a slight spanking right across those
pale cheeks. Joan flinched.

"Two for flinching", Axe exclaimed.

"Protest. That was too hard.", Joan replied.

"That was regulation, and if you take it up with the Order it will be
your word against mine".

"Granted", said Joan reluctantly.

The second pat was even harder. Joan even let out a sligtly audible
"oh!".

This was the last straw. Axe had won. "Session", he said. Joan stood
silent for a minute.

"Request Session according to standard protocol, in appointed time and
place, to be marked by Token until redeemed", said Axe, spelling out
exactly what he intended.

"Granted", came the weak reply.

Axe went over to the token dispenser that was located in this, like
all similar, supply closets. He removed the Token from its plastic
wrapper. It looked like a rubber plug with a string attached to it,
and a paper tag on the end of the string. The tag had serial number
X65GT4089 written on it twice. He tore it in two parts, so that the
stub he tore off had one copy of the number and the other copy of the
number was still on the tag attached to the plog. Joan winced slightly
but said nothing as he inserted the plug into her anus.

Joan lumbered back to her desk, now forbidden to Clasp since the game
was over and Axe had won. Her Token flapped about as she walked,
plainly visible occupants of the cubicles she passed.

Axe went back to his desk to see if any new tickets had arrived. At
the end of the workday, he would go the Session Clinic, to present his
Token stub and be granted his Due Access to Joan.


PART TWO

Susan sat on the desk in the fitting room and closed her eyes. She
could almost go to sleep, she thought, it was so quiet and uneventful
in here in the middle of afternoon. Her early mornings were filled
with scrambling activity, as she had to properly fit dozens of
Mistresses, Apprentices, E-levels, and P-levels with the appropriate
loosewear, and put their street clothes and other personal belongings
away in the metal lockers to which only she knew the combinations. The
end of the day would be a similar rush, this time in the opposite
direction.

Unlike most of the women that she dressed and undressed, Susan was not
a member of the Telecommunications, Software, and Nuclear union. Her
own order was the Society of Seamstresses, Designers, and Loose-
Fitters.

Her Order operated on a different schedule, which meant that today was
not a D-4 for Susan. It didn't matter anyway, since Susan would have
only been required to dress down for the day if she had been visiting
the Society's own shop, to obtain fabric. Here in the Fitting Room, it
was a priveledge of her position that Susan was allowed to wear her
own clothes all day long, no matter what the days D-level. (Which
right she excercised today by wearing a black dress suit, black
fishnet stockings, and shiny black spiked heals. This matched her
black hair, and contrasted with her white marble-like skin tone and
ruby red lipstick and fingernails) Not even the highest ranking
Mistresses in the building could do the same.

No, Susan pwned them all. They would arrive in the morning, dressed in
anything from high powered business suits to t-shirts and blue jeans.
One by one, they would stand before Susan who would consult the
official charts and combine the various factrs and (when permitted)
her own shrewd judgement to arrive at the correct level of nudity for
the day.

Level in the Order was totally unrelated to one's job or rank at the
company. A low-ranking (but well-respected) software developer like
Daphne (whom we will meet later) might be a 2nd-Level Mistress, which
meant that Susan had to provide her with a bed-sheet-sized cloth to
drape all around herself and also with a pair of flip-flops.
Meanwhile, Carolyn was VP of International Sales, but as a P-1 there
were some days when all she was permitted was a 12-by-12 inch silk
pillow (hand sewn by Susan with lots of frilly lace) with which to
hide her pubic region from view.

And Susan's position had it's perks. After each woman emerged from the
changing stalls, Susan was required to inspect her entire person to
determine that she was truly not wearing anything other than what she
had been assigned. Susan especially enjoyed inspecting the higher-
level Mistresses, whose nakedness was concealed from most people even
on dress-down days.

Susan was also allowed to tease, pinch, tickle, slap and goose
everyone she inspected. But unfortunately that was the extent of it.
To actually call any of them into a Session would be considered an
abuse of her power.

She daydreamed about what it would be like to get someone like Daphne
into a session. Tan, blonde (all over!), and exceptionally thin,
Daphne was the most strongly acidic T-Spec that Susan had ever seen.
The way her naked body recoiled from the slightest playful poke.. oh
for a chance to get her laid up and helpless where her wriggling
ticklishness couldn't get away from Susan's eager fingers.

Susan was snapped back to attentiveness when Axe came into the room.
"I need to request a transfer of street clothes to the Session
clinic", he said. (A woman called into session would be at the clinic
much later tonight than Susan's fitting room would remain open, so her
clothes needed to be transferred to the clinic's techs.)

Susan asked whose belongs needed to be transferred. She tried to guess
which one of her customers might have been successfully gamed by this
lucky bastard of a computer support guy. Carolyn? No, even though she
had to suffer the tickles of all passers by, she could not be
Sessioned on a day like today, when she hadn't been given enough cloth
to play a fair game of Spot and Check. What about Carmen, that short
Latina up on the 4th floor? Nope, Susan just remember that Carmen had
been assigned a Non-Claspable gown that left her buttocks exposed to
the slaps and pinches of her co-workers but also excused her from the
game. Who? Was it Daphne?

"It's Joan, from the 3rd floor".

"Joan? That mousy old thing? Wait till you see what she stripped out
of this morning", Susan laughed. "Poor old Joan, doesn't have any
clue".

Susan removed her shoes so that she could safely climp up onto a stool
to retrieve Joan's clothing, wallet, etc., from a locker high above
Axe's head. He could see her bright red toenail polish through the
black fishnet. He wondered if it was possible to get the Fitting
Mistress into a Session.

Susan turned around and sat down on the stool. "I mean, really, look
at these things!", she joked, holding up Joan's grandmotherly blouse.
Her stocking foot was right in front of Axe's face. Why not?, he
thought. He reached out a playfully pinched the undersole. It was
soft, sweaty. Unbeknownst to him, he had pinched almost exactly at the
sweet spot of Susan's foot, the spot which could send her into
hysterical pleasure in the hand's of a sufficiently skilled Mistress.

Susan didn't budge either her foot or her expression. She was in total
control, and she was not going to let him game her. Not today. She
liked him, but she was not going to share a man with Poor Old Joan.

"I don't think you're giving Joan enough credit", said Axe. Have you
seen her ass? It's immaculate.

"Seen it? Of course I've seen it, I inspect it every day", said Susan.
Now that she thought about it, it was quite shapely for an older woman
like Joan. "Be gentle with her, if you don't mind. Poor thing has had
memory wipes every time she's ever been sessioned. As far as she
knows, this will be her first time. She doesn't even know what
Mistresses do or why she has to dress the way she does. She thinks it
has something to do with national security or something. She is
actually kind of rude to me because she suspects that I'm a "lesbian",
and she comes from a day when that sort of thing was not acceptable
behavior or something. Daphne just keeps on ordering her to be wiped
every time she has a session, so the shock of it all is new every
time. I almost wish I could see it; I've only heard the Mistresses
gossip about it."

"I've got an idea", said Axe. "Why don't you come with me?"


PART THREE

At 4:45, Daphne, brilliant kernal hacker and the head floor Mistress
of the 3rd floor of building #KCLNOP, logged off from her workstation.
She had accomplished much that day; she always found that she did her
best programming when dressed "loose" (a term which referred, in her
case, to being nude underneath a smooth silky sheet that she wrapped
all around herself). It was time to begin her rounds, to collect any
of her charges that had been called in for Sessions. She looked at her
clipboard which sometimes contained up to half a dozen names. Hm..
slow day, she thought. Only three names this time.

One by one, she went to the women's desks and requested that rather
than take their otherwise expected route to the Fitting Room, that
they should instead follow her to the Session Clinic. Their clothes
and other valuables, she explained, had already been transferred
there. At the clinic, she would leave each nervous patient in the
hands of a Session Tech, and go back to find the next one.

First, was Kim. Kim was young, chubby, and (in Daphne's opinion) not
all that bright. She was dressed in a wool sweater that Susan had hand-
knitted, and someone had spotted her pulling it up past her butt to
scratch herself. Kim was always being called into Sessions for
something like that. Everyone knew that she was always losing these
games on purpose, but Kim thought she was being clever, though.

Second was Yi-Jing. Petite, hyperactive, and dressed in what Daphne
could only surmise had once been a large lampshade, Yi-Jing had
apparently flinched more than the allowed amount when a co-worker had
grabbed her elbo. "Hobnob", said Daphne and pinched Yi-Jing's forearm
between two knuckes. The asian girl giggled and shimmied away to
escape the tickling. Poor thing, thought Daphne. As a T-spec herself,
she knew exactly what Yi-Jing was in for!

Last, came Joan. Poor old Joan. As far as Joan knew, this was her
first session. Of course, Daphne had explored the finer points of Joan
many times, but preferred to keep Joan's mind blank from these
memories. She was afraid that if Joan remembered a Session, it might
change the trademark dowdiness, stuffiness that made her fun in the
first place.

"Come with me, Joan", Daphne said. Joan, without saying a word, got up
from her desk and followed Daphne. She kept her eyes to the floor,
ashamed to meet the eyes of anyone she passed in the hall. Her round
white buttucks poked out through the back of her unclasped gown, the
tag swinging on its string as she walked. Her face was red with
embarassment. As far as she knew, this was the first time that she had
ever slipped up and allowed all these people to see her bare bottom;
it was especially humiliating to be seen with that thing dangling out
of her.

"Joan", said Daphne, "this is Tara. Tara will be your session tech
this evening."

A young apprentice, possibly not even 20, presented herself and took
Joan by the arm. Daphne left the two of them together at the clinic
entrance.

"Hello, Joan. Am I going to take care of you!", said Tara. "Now, come
this way".

Inside the clinic, Joan finally had the nerve to speak, although it
was hardly more than a whisper. "Can you please take my tag out? I've
been waiting to go the bathroom all afternoon. My stomach is killing
me".

"First things first", said Tara cheerily. You can go as soon as we get
your properly cheched in. She led Joan down a hallway and into a room
that was about 10x10. It looked like a standard medical examination
room, complete with a roll of paper at the end of the exam table.

"We have a different dress code in here in the clinic, Joan. You won't
be needing your gown. Please remove it."

"But.. I'm naked under here!", protested Joan, still speaking as if
she was afraid of someone overhearing her.

"Here", said Tara. You can still cover up with this for now. But
eventually I'm going to see everything". She pulled off about three
feet from the roll of paper, and handed it to Joan. She winked when
she said this, in a way that made Joan very uncomforable. She turned
her back for Joan to "change".

Joan removed her gown, and suddenly the garment which she had
previously been silently cursing for it's skimpiness, seemed like a
protection that she wished she still had. She held the sheet of paper
so that it covered her breasts and her pubic area. It was actually
somewhat like wax paper: semi-transparent or at least translucent! You
could see her nipples and the dark area of her public hair right
through it.

"Ok, Joan", said Tara, "hop up on the table. I'm going to check your
reflexes". Tara took Joan's left foot and felt it over carefully. Her
soft young finger slightly pinching the somewhat chubby flesh of
Joan's sole. She had already read Joan's profile and was familiar with
the locations of all sweet spots, but as a mere apprentice she was not
allowed to fully exploit this knowledge. She pushed the envelope by
scratching her fingernail near to the edge of a secondary pressure
point.

"Whoo! whoo hoo hoo!" Joan exclaimed and reflexively, involuntarily
jerked her leg upwards. It was the first loud thing she had said all
day. Tara caught the leg by the calf in midair and held it straight.
She looked down the leg and could see that Joan was now sitting at
such an angle that both her pussy and her asshole, with the tag still
in it, were completely exposed.

Joan, looking over Tara's shoulder, noted that Tara had never closed
the door to the room they were in. With her free hand, Tara reached
down and pulled the plug out of Joan's ass.

"Ok", she said. "Before we continue the exam, you can go to the
bathroom. I'll take you there".

"But I can't go like THIS", said Joan, motioning to draw attention to
the fact that was "dressed" only by a large sheet of wax paper.

"Come on", said Tara. "You said you needed to go."

Joan couldn't argue with that. Her bowels had been cramping for hours
from the effort to avoid taking a shit while that tag was in her ass.
Relucantly, she followed Tara down the hall, one hand holding the
paper to her breasts, the other holding it to her hips and public
region. At this point so many people had seen her ass that she
couldn't even worry about it any more, but she didn't want to be any
more exposed than she had to be.

At the end of the hallway, a door lead into an open area. It was the
building's lobby! This area was outside the protected area in which
all the women were subject to the dress code. People who didn't even
work at the same company were coming and going in that lobby. Fully
clothed people, both men and women. Joan shrank back in horror.

"The bathroom is right over there", said Tara, pointing to a restroom
door that was clear across the lobby. Motivated only by the pain in
her stomach, Joan started to walk towards it.

"Hold on there", said Tara. "Since that's outside the clinic, and
you're in my custody, I need to make sure you come back.." (Like Joan
was going to run off and go anywhere else in her current condition!)
Tara pointed up to a sort of metal track that was part of the ceiling,
and ran from above where they were standing across the lobby to the
bathroom. A metal wire was attached to the track, and at the end of it
was a handcuff. Tara snapped the cuff onto Joan's hand, the one with
which she had been covering her breasts. The paper started to fall off
and Joan had to readjust to try to keep covered with only one hand
free.

Joan scuttled across the lobby as quietly as possible, hoping to not
attract attention. Howver, she did not suceed. A number of people
turned their heads to watch her cross over. When she reached the
restroom door, she realized that the only had with which she could
open was the one with which she was holding the paper over her breasts
and pussy. Somehow she got the door open and slipped inside.

She sat on the toilet and tried to relax. To her horror, nothing
happened. She was so nervous, that she couldn't possibly take a shit
now, in spite of the pain in her stomach. Feeling very foolish and
defeated, she sulked back across the lobby to Tara.

"I can't go", she whispered into Tara's ear.

"Well, that's unfortunate, Joan", said Tara. "I need you go. Can't you
try?"

"No", said Joan, "I tried and I can't do it. I just can't".

"Ok, come in here." Tara removed the handcuff and brought Joan back
into the exam room. "Get up on the table on your hands and knees,
please".

Joan did as she was told.

Tara went into a medicine cabinet and took out a suppository. She
slipped the greasy thing into Joan's anus without warning. Joan
struggled, started to try to crawl forward to get away from Tara.

"Hold still, you jumpy thing", Tara scolded. Once the suppository was
in and slowly dissolving, Tara had Joan return to a seated position on
the table. Now Tara started probing her fingers into Joan's meaty
sides, back, and shoulders. As a X-spec, Joan wasn't orgasmically
sensitive in those areas, but it still tickled. Her laughter made her
drop the paper entirely. Tara was facing her completely nude body, and
continued to poke and prod, now feeling Joan's breasts. For a minute
Joan just sat there and giggled, not sure how to react to this strange
sensation of another woman (if you could even call this girl a woman!)
fondling her in this way.

But then all such concerns became moot, as Joan felt the laxative kick
in. "Oh," she said, "oh! oww!". She jumped up from the table, not
bothering to pick up her paper cover, and hurried out into the hall.
Tara caught up with her just before she made it out into the lobby,
and stopped her just long enough to get the handcuff on her.

After that delay, Joan knew she had not a moment to spare. She ran,
skipped, and jumped across the lobby, her large mature breasts
flopping freely and her dark brown pussy hair visible to all. She
reached the bathroom and plopped onto the toilet just in time for the
most forceful bowel movement of her life. She moaned and groaned as
the shit came out of her.

When she opened the door to go back across to the clinic, the people
in the lobby clapped, cheered, and whistled.

PART FOUR

Naked and mortified, Joan sat on the exam table and looked at Tara
listlessly.

"Ok, Joan, the examination is over", said Tara.

"That's it?", exclaimed Joan, "but what about Axe?"

"Oh, don't worry, you'll be seeing him soon. Now that the examination
is over, your Session is about to begin".

"Oh.. so what happens now?"

Tara went out into the hall (still not closing that damn door to give
Joan some privacy) and came back in pushing a wheeled hospital bed.

"Joan, I want you to get in bed."

Joan climed onto the bed, and lay down. Tara covered her up to her
chest with smooth, cool blue sheet. Joan was amazed that Tara now
seemed to be working to cover her nakedness, after so much time spent
seemingly deliberately causing her to be more and more exposed.

"Alright.. that medicine I gave you, the same one that made your
bowels move, is about to have it's secondary effect on you. Sweet
dreams..."

That was the last thing Joan heard. She was out like a light.

Tara wheeled the unconcious Joan down the hall and through a set
double doors that opened automatically. She had left the staging area
of the clinic, and was now in the session hall, the hallway that led
to the actual Session rooms. She wheeled past large windows of one-way
glass, that allowed her to see in but did not allow the occupants of
the rooms to see out.

A mistress and several Novices (even younger than Tara) where watching
through one of the windows. This was part of their training. Inside
the room, Yi-Jing was spread-eagled on a slanted table the inclined
away from the window. Her arms were held above her head by strong but
comforable cloth straps attached to the corners of the table. Her legs
were spread apart by similar straps attached to her feet. She was
blindfolded.

A man, with his back to the window, passed a large peacock feather
continuously over Yi-Jing's naked thighs, stomach, sides, breasts. She
begged, she struggled, she laughed like mad.

"No... no.. hahahaha hehehe... why you do this to .. m-m-me.. I just a
poor.. li'l... chinese... girl!.... nononono...."

As the feather gently attacked her left armpit, Yi-Jing forgot English
and lapsed into a Chinese dialect which I won't attempt to transcribe
here. Tara moved on.

There were several empty Session Rooms after that, since this was not
a busy night at the clinic. After that, though, another group stood
watching intently. Several of the younger mistresses could hardly
surpress their delight, and giggled at what they saw.

"What's going on?", Tara asked the mistress as she approached.

"It's Kim again!", came the reply. "She's On The Ball!".

"On The Ball" referred to the fact that Kim was strapped down on the
floor with a large inflated rubber ball underneath her belly, just the
right size to hold her up onto her hands and knees. Kim was facing the
window, and her large breasts hung down in front of the on-lookers.
Her long reddish hair had been pulled back into a pony tail, which
served two purposes. First, it allowed the expression on her face to
be observed. Second, it served as a convenient handhold for the
strapping young naked fellow who was currently fucking her very hard
in the ass! The force of his thrustings caused Kim to bounce up and
down violently on top of the jello-like ball. Her eyes bugged out of
her head, like a picture of that runaway bride from Georgia.

"Does that hurt?", asked another apprentice.

"Probably, sweety, but she loves it!", said the mistress. "Otherwise,
why would she deliberately throw every game just so she can end up in
here every week?"

Tara wheeled Joan's gurney into an available room, and started to set
up. Now was the time when she needed to think of a good lay-up. Joan's
specification was X. That called for either podal and anal
exploitation. But which would Axe want? He had forgot to specify when
he filled out the form? Oh well, she thought, it never hurts to go for
both.

She attached a metal arm to the lower left corner of the bed, shaped
like an upside-down L. To the arm, she attached a sling and placed
Joan's left leg into it. This held Joan's left up at just the right
angle so that not only was the undersole of her foot just about at
shoulder height for a person standing at the end of the bed, but her
possy, asshole, and the area in between were easily visible and
accessible as he sheet pulled up with the raised leg. Joan's right
leg, with the sheet now pulled off of it, lay alone and limp on the
bed.

Tara knew that physical restraints would not do for this kind of a
setup. She would have to use chemical restraint instead. She went into
the medicine cabinet, and brought out a syringe. She made injections
into a number of Joan's muscles: thighs, calves, arms. This would
ensure that these muscles remained relaxed during the Session and
would not allow Joan to move voluntarily, but would not spoil the
openness and looseness of it all with a bunch of messy straps and
buckles. Tara felt like an artist.

Daphne entered the room. "Great work, sugarfoot! I'll take it from
here!". As Tara was only an apprentice, she was not yet allowed to do
what came next. Tara turned to walk away.

"Oh, honey, you can stay until she shows signs of waking up. I think
you've earned it!". Tara looked thrilled.

"What now, Mistress?", asked Tara.

"Make a suggestion. Use what you learned in class.", said Daphne.

"Mmm... when I gave her that suppository, she seemed particularly
jumpy right at the start, right at the edge. How about.. Roundhole!"

"Roundhole it is! Grease me up, woman!", said Daphne in a horrible
fake Scottish accent. (What a geek, thought Tara.. but that's why I
love my mistress)

Tara held out a bowl of something that was about the same consistency
as petroleum jelly, but probably wasn't, and Daphne gleefully dipped
the first two fingers of her right hand into it. Daphne immediately
proceeded to run her ringers in small, slow, steady circles around the
rim of Joan's asshole. The sleeping woman moaned slightly, but didn't
wake, yet...

"She'll be up any minute, shortcake, so you'd better go out in the
hall. I've got another surprise for you.. you get to be the
tourguide!".

Tara stepped outside, and greeted a waiting cluster of teenage
novices. They were so new that they weren't even allowed to wear the
standard scrubs yet, they were dressed almost like an E-level, except
that their gowns were sewn shut in the back. "Ladies, what you are
about to see, will demonstrate the power of multiple stimulation..."

PART FIVE

Axe sat outside the entrance to the training room and waited for
Susan's shift to be over. In front of him, women in varying degrees of
undress queued up in a line to get in there.

Carmen was currently last in line. Her garment was a nightie that had
a triangle-shaped section cut out of the bottom in back. It completely
covered her naughty bits in front, but left her olive-tan buttocks
completely exposed. She stood with her ass to the wall, and shuffled
from one bare foot to the other. Why was this taking so long?

Axe offered her the chair he was sitting in, but she refused. She had
had enough guys messing with her butt today, and she knew that this
was just an excuse for him to give her one more good smack before she
could get back into her jeans.

"If she doesn't want that chair I'll take it", said Carolyn, who had
just walked up, with one hand holding her small lacy pillow over her
pussy, and the other arm attempting to cover her breasts.

"No. I'm a E-2 and she's a P-1", said Michelle, who had just walked
up. "I get it before her". Michelle was dressed in a used size-XXL
country music tour T-shirt (which was big enough of her to hide
everything) that Susan had found at the thrift shop. "Boot-Scoot '93",
it said. What a sense of humor that woman has, thought Axe.

Michelle sat down in the chair, and crossed her ankles, as if she was
attempting to hide one bare foot behind the other. As an Fb-spec, the
nakedness of her feet was of concern to her, a concern that was
different in degree but not in kind from the care taken by Joan about
her ass.

Axe got down on one knee, and said "may I?".

Michelle nodded, and extended her left foot. Axe held the foot by the
ankle, and kissed it. Michelle blushed. Axe had had her in Session
before, and they were both remembering it now.

"Why don't you just take her for a Session and let me have the chair",
snarked Carolyn. Axe backed away, deciding he didn't want to be part
of any argument between these two.

"Carolyn, you can sit on my lap if you like", said Michelle. Carolyn
shook her head, but Michelle pointed at her lap and nodded forcefully.
Michelle was not a Mistress, of course, but a P-level like Carolyn
pretty much had to do what she was told. Carolyn sat gingerly on
Michelle's lap.

"This is better than standing up, isn't it Carolyn", said Michelle in
a mock-sweet voice, her hand now resting on Carolyn's tight stomach.

"Yes", said Carolyn.

"Yes WHAT??"

"Yes ma'am", said Carolyn. The form of address for a P- or E-level
superior was "Ma'am" rather than "Mistress".

"You don't like having to be naked all day, do you Carolyn?", said
Michelle, her hand now rubbing Carolyn's belly in circles.

"No'm..", whined Carolyn, struggling to remain composed while what was
being done to her obviously tickled greatly.

"You just can't wait to get back into your panties, can you,
Carolyn..", Michelle's hand was *under* the little pillow.

"No'mmm..."

Just then, Carmen walked out of the changing room fully clothed,
followed by Susan, who seemed annoyed by what was going on in her
waiting area.

"Ladies, please. Save it for the next Cake Party. Carolyn, you're
next". To Axe, she said, "there's always a few who act out at the last
minute like this. After these two, I'll close up shop and we can go!".

After Carolyn and Michelle had finally dressed and gone home, Susan
locked the door to the Fitting Room. Axe took her by the arm, and they
strolled off in the direction of the Session Clinic.

At the clinic entrance, Axe tried to explain to the receiving tech
that Susan was going to be his guest at Joan's session. The young
apprentice didn't know if such a thing was possible, and said she'd
have to go ask the mistress. She returned a few minutes later, and
said that it could only be allowed if Susan signed a form that said
*she* would come in for a Session some time in the next 30 days.

"Who'll be my client?", asked Susan.

"You can name your own", said the receptionist. "We have the rights to
warm-up and observation, but the final client is up to you. They'll
have to pay the standard fee, of course; we won't waive it like we do
for a Session won in an officially conducted game."

"Ok, I name.. him", Susan pointed to Axe.

"Alright, let me take care of the paperwork and then you can proceed
as co-clients to the session this evening. Better hurry, too, I was
just back there, and the Mistress has your patient ready for you now
and doesn't know how much longer she can go!"


PART SIX

Joan awoke with a strangely pleasant sensation. At first she didn't
even notice what part of her body she felt it in, she only knew it was
odd, but stimulating, and that it was starting to make her horny; and
the feelings of sexual arousal had started even while she was asleep.

Suddently she realized that the sensation was that of someone
persistently massaging her anus. That place she had spent so
much trouble protecting, trying in vain to keep out the eyes and the
hands, was now completely captive, and being stroked like a plaything.

She attempted to move away from the sensation, but she could not. Much
of her body appeared to be immobilized.

The sensation went on, and Joan knew there was no way to escape it.
Round and around it went. The stimulation was steady and even,
unchanging. This, however, made it increasingly frustrating. Her
arousal was at a plateau, and would not go higher.

She opened her eyes, but still saw nothing. She had been blindfolded.

"Why are you doing to this to me?"

No answer.

She tested the movements of her body. She was able to move an
individual finger or toe, but could not lift an arm or a leg. She
could raise and turn her head, but she couldn't sit up. No part of her
body was numbp; she was simply unable to move. No part of her body was
in pain. She
felt normal, except for the arousal and still growing frustration.

The massage went on and on. Joan could feel the wetness dripping from
her pussy, running down between her legs, to her asshole where the
fingers were.

"It feels... so good, but I want it to feel better! Please, make it
better!"

Silence.

Endless minutes of helpless moaning later, Joan shouted, "Fuck me!
Fuck
me! Stick your finger in my cunt! Just touch my clit! Anything! I'm
getting too horny to stand it..."

Joan had never used some of those words before in her life.

Out in the hallway, Tara and the pack of novices watched all of
this through the one-way glass.

"Are we going to learn how to do that?", asked a slightly plump blonde
girl, who looked to be about 16 years old.

"Yes, you are. And do you know how you're going to learn?"

"How?"

"You're going to learn by practicing on each other!", Tara said with a
wicked smile.

Another novice, who was standing behind the one who had asked the
question, said, "Let's practice on Bethany right now!", and started to
lift up the gown of the first girl. Bethany pulled it back down, and
giggled uncontrollably. All of the novices started laughing and
goosing each other.

A young Mistress, slightly older than Tara, stepped up and said
sternly, "Calm down, girls". Then, to Tara, "Is everything under
control here?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Ok then. But let me know if you need any help with them. I've got my
eye on this one", she said, pointing at Bethany.

(It would be at least 18 more months of novice-training before any of
these girls were ready to became apprentices, but it never hurt to
pick one out early. This mistress's name was Denise, and she was
hoping to be able to level-up and take on her first apprentice by that
time)

It was about this time that a door on the opposite side of the room
oppened. This was the clients' entrance, separate from that used by
the clinic staff.

The novices exclaimed, "two clients!"

Tara was expecting to see Axe, but she was not expecting to see Susan.
And neither was Daphne, although she said nothing. But Tara could see
the look of intrigue on her face. Something rare and exciting was
happening here.

Axe silently signalled to Daphne to keep on rubbing Joan's asshole,
while he told Susan to be silent. Finally, he went and stood next to
Daphne, and spoke, "Are you ready for something new, Joan?"

Joan gasped, "Oh its you! Finally you speak! Oh I'm so glad to hear
you... before I went to sleep, those...
Mistresses.. had me, and I didn't know what they were going to do
to me. They're all a bunch of perverts you know... lesbia...AH!"

Daphne very briefly stuck her finger into Joan's asshole, interrupting
her speech, and then went back to the usual pattern.

"Please.. do something! Anything!...", Joan pleaded.

"Alright", Joan, said Axe, "here's something different".

He stepped back from the bed, and whispered in Susan's ear. Susan
approached Joan's raised foot, and gave her a kiss right in the middle
of the sole.

"Oh...", Joan moaned, both from Daphne's continued motions and from
the new sensation on her foot.

Susan then started licking up and down Joan's foot, running her tounge
up and down both sides, then up and down the middle of the sole. It
tickled. A lot! Joan laughed, and the foot twitched involuntarily, but
she couldn't move it away from.

"Oh, please, that tickles too much... I didn't think you were going to
mess with my feet too! Nooo..."

Susan planted tiny, baby kisses up and down Joan's poor helpless foot.

"Nnanananuhnuhuhuh n-nn-n-n m-m-m-m-m- fe-ee-ee--eet", Joan continued
to protest admidst the laighter.

Axe, meanwhile, stood back and pulled his erect penis out of his
pants, and started rubbing himself. The novices stared. This was the
first time that most of them had seen a man masturbating.

Tara happened to glance down at the chart that she still had in her
hands, and said, "Oh no... I laid up the wrong leg! The sweet-spot is
on the other foot."

Tara knew she couldn't leave the group of novices in the hall
unattended, so she handed the chart to Bethany and said, "Sweetie,
please take this in show it the Lady Client. It's against the rules
for you to go in there, but I think she'd really like to know this.
Don't say anything!".

Bethany cautiously entered the room, and held the clipboard in front
of Susan and Daphne so they could read it. She then stepped back like
she was about to leave the room, but Axe looked at here and silently
mouthed, "stay!".

Without missing a beat, Susan's long, sharp fingernails dug into the
top of Joan's other foot, the one that was lying limp on the bed. Now
both feet were being attacked, in addition to her butthole.

"Not tha otherfoot! Not totherfoot!", Joan begged, between
incomprehensible guffaws.

Susan attacked foot's underside, and it sprang involuntarily into the
air and then fell down again. She pinched the meaty
sole of Joan's plump tootsie, as Joan did everything she could to jerk
it away.

Axe patted Susan silently on the behind, and this was the signal.
Finally, have some brief mercy on poor old Joan.

While Daphne continued to run her finger in cirlces around Joan's
asshole, and Susan continued to run her tougue round in circles on
Joan's left heel, Susan's fingers skillfully scratched at just the
right corner of the ball of the right foot.

"Ohhhhh........... ahhh...... eeeeeeEEEEEE!", Joan moaned, then
screamed,
and convulsed in the throws of a massive orgasm.

Everyone looked at Axe, expecting him to finish his masturbation and
end the session. But instead, he stopped, and simply held his erect
dick.

"Alright he said, let's flip her over."

PART SEVEN

The Mistresses took Joan's left foot down out of the sling, and pulled
off the sheet, revealing her sweaty naked body. Carefully they turned
her over, and placed her on her belly. A stack of pillows was placed
under her hips, forcing her ass up into the air. Her legs spread wide,
Axe (and those behind the glass, as well as the bewildered Bethany)
could see her still-dripping pussy and still-lubricated asshole. Her
head was placed so that she would've been staring at the opposite
wall, except for the blindfold.

"Joan, I want to explain something to you. You know those
lesbian-bitch Mistresses that you were talking about earlier? Well,
you just came the hardest you've ever come in your life, from being
touched by a couple of dykes! Remove the blindfold!"

Daphne removed the blindfold from Joan's eyes, and she and Susan stood
in front of Joan grinning widely. Daphne was dressed in standard-issie
clinical scrubs, and Susan was still in her street clothes: black
skirt, black jacket, fishnets, black shoes.

"My my god..", murmered Joan. "That's not true! I've been tricked!"

"Now, now, Joan", said Axe. "We know you've always been a closet
bisexual. And these ladies are going to put on a little show for you,
to get you horny again before I fuck you."

"That's right", said Daphne. "Come here, sweety", she motioned to
Bethany. The girl shyly walked up in front of Joan. "What's your name,
sugar?"

"Bethany, Mistress. 1st year Novice. Assigned to group 3.
Unspecified".

"Hmm... I'm having trouble remembering you. You newbies all look alike
sometimes. Turn around."

Bethany turned her back to the crowd. Susan lifted the back of her
gown, exposing her plump young buttocks.

"Oh, now I remember you! You're the one the girls call
Bethie-Butter-buns.", and patted Bethany's ample but tight rear end.
The other novices in the hall giggled. Susan let the gown back down,
and Bethany turned back to face the group.

"Newbie, I want you to show these fine folks the dance you learned
last week."

Daphne took out some kind of portable music device with tiny speakers,
and it started to play a song that sounded similar but not identical
to this:

http://www.armadillowebs.co.uk/somesongs/sameoldshit.mp3

(credits: "Same Old Shit", by The Booza Boys, who may soon be
contacted to appear on the official Flap Jack Sound Track)

Bethany lost her nervousness as she got into the music, and started
shaking and bumping her nimble hips, wiggling her booty at Axe and
Joan. There was a single chair in the middle of the floor, and Bethany
started to use it in the dance, leaning over with her hands on the
chair it as she pumped her butt up in the air. Then she sat down, and
alternately kicked one leg and then the other up in the air, offering
teasing glimpses of her crotch. At the finale, she spread her legs
wide and pulled up her gown past her bulging breasts, then immediately
pulled it back down and sat demurely smiling. Out in the hall, Denise
had rejoined the observers, and made mental note of all this.

Joan was in fact turned on by all this, but wasn't ready to admit it.
Axe could see her starting to get wet anew, separate from the wetness
of her last orgasm, and playfully poked the head of his hard penis at
the outside of her pussy. Joan strained to push back on him and force
the penis into her willing cunt, but she was powerless to do so.

"I know you enjoyed that, Joan", said Daphne. "Unfortunately, Bethany
has to leave us now. She's still untouchable. She stays a virgin until
the big breakdown session at the end of the year, when we figure out
what her specs are."

Bethany silently left the room, and was greeted with hugs, high-fives,
and more attempts against her bottom when she rejoined Tara and the
other novices.

"Good girl. Now, Susan here, on the other hand, is just asking for
trouble", said Daphne.

"What, lil' ole me?", said Susan in a fake "southern belle" accent
(apparently intended to mock Axe's drawl)

"Yes. You see Susan, in the rest of this office you may be the Fitting
Mistress, but this clinic operates on a different schedule. In here,
since you're not part of this order, you ought to be treated like a
T-Level. What's your level and spec, tootsie ?"

"1st Level Mistress, Specification Xt."

"I assign you the level of T-1. You're not dressed properly for a T-1
are you, Suzie?"

Susan feigned being slightly scared of Daphne, "No Mistress"

"Alright, get dressed. Here, I'll turn by back to give you privacy".
Daphne turned away from Susan, and held her hand over her eyes. Susan
slowly took off her jacket, then her shoes, then her blouse and skirt,
then her bra, and finally the fishnets, which turned out to be a
single piece of pantyhose. As each layer came off, Joan felt a greater
tingling in her loins. This was the woman that had been the terror of
Joan's day on many mornings, forcing her into awkward custumes and
humiliating situations. And here she was, herself naked in front of
them all, her marble-white skin raised in goosebumps.

Susan awkwardly covered her breasts with her hands, and crossed her
legs to hide her crotch, and asked playfully, "Oh, Mistress, whatever
am I going to wear?".

"Hopefully, a smile..", said Daphne, and turned around. "Alright,
Suzie-Q, it's time for your inspection". Daphne sat down on the chair.
"Come get across my lap".

Susan lay down across Daphne's lab, her milky white buttocks looking
ever more enticing to both Axe and Joan. Daphne, too, had longed for
this moment. She remembered all those times Susan had helped her get
dressed in the morning, fully clothed even though Daphne technically
outranked her.

"Oh", marvelled Daphne, "Buttermilk biscuits! Fresh out of the oven!",
and pinched Susan's butt cheek.

"This is making you hot, isn't it Joan", Axe asked.

"Yes, yes it is!", Joan finally admitted. "Please fuck me! Now!"

"Almost time for that, Joan", Axe assurred, slapping his dick around
the inside of her thighs.

Daphne said, "Suzie, because you broke the dress code, I'm going to
have to munish you".

"No, not munished!", exclaimed Susan in mock-horror.

"Yes, munished, little Suzie. "Your munishment will be a panking."

"No, please don't pank me!", Susan pleaded, trying to avoid breaking
out in laughter, as Daphne tickled her near the ass-crack.

"This is going to hurt me worse than it does you! Pank, pank, pank!",
said Daphne, and with each "pank", a pat was given across Susan's pale
bottom, intensifying until the flesh turned slightly pink and stayed
that way.

(This was of course more mockery of Axe's southern accent, in which
"pank" and "pink" were allegedly indistinguishable. At the same time,
Axe had started slapping Joan's butt cheeks with his dick.)

"How do you feel now, Suzie?", Daphne asked lovingly, caressing
Susan's back.

"Mistress I'm thirty", Susan said.

"Oh you poor thing", said Daphne. "Have a drink". She unzipped her
garment, which was sort of a jumpsuit, down to the waist, and pulled
out a bare breast. Susan shifted positions to kneeling, and started
sucking at the breast ethusiastically.

"Oh god", moaned Joan. "This is SOOO hot. Fuck me, please!"

Susan took her mouth off the breast and cooed, "Oh Mistress... it's so
sweet! Quench me, Mistress, quench me!"

"Shut up and keep on suckin', bitch!", said Daphne sternly and put
moved Susan's head to put her mouth back to the breast. She reached
down and slapped Susan's booty again.

"Yeah, she's a bitch! She's a bitch!", said Joan, excitedly.

"You know what", said Axe, "you're a bitch too, Joan. That's why I'm
gonna fuck you now. I'm gonna fuck you right in your bitch ass!". He
stuck one of his fingers into her ass, and started to rub it and
lubricate it on the inside, for what was to come.

"No! Please no! Everything that's happened to me... the only thing I
can still say is I've never let anybody fuck me in the ass!", pleaded
Joan.

(This was of course not true, she'd been fucked in the ass many times,
by male clients and by female clients and Mistresses with all kinds of
implements, for years. Not to mention the Cake Parties. But her memory
had been blanked after each incident. In her mind, her butthole was
still the last sancutary that had not been invaded)

"Sorry, Joan, that's the rule', said Axe apologetically. "The rule
says your ass is the only place I can fuck you".

"That's right! That's the rule", said Susan, again taking her lips off
Daphne's nipple.

"That's it, bitch", scolded Daphne. "You're goin' down". Daphne
unzipped herself further, all the way down to the crotch, and pushed
Susan's face into her blonde pubic hair. Susan immediately began to
lick, and Daphne grabbed the sides of her chair with both hands. "Oh,
Suzie...", she moaned.

"That's all I can stands and I can't stands no more", exclaimed Axe in
a frighteningly accurate Popeye imitation, "Ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh"

With that, he shoved his rock-hard dick full force into Joan's
asshole. In spite of her many previous ass-reamings, and the fact that
both of them were extremely greasy, it was a tight fit and rough ride,
for both of them. The discomfort was actually fortunate, because it
was the only thing that stopped Axe from blowing his wad right then.

OOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH OOOWWWWWWWW AGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH mmmmmm

Joan grunted like an animal, and struggled to get away, but it was no
use. Axe thrust his dick in and out of her poor vanquished behind, and
with each thrust he also pushed her whole body down against the
pillows, stimulating her in the front as well as in the rear. After
the initial pain of entry wore off, Joan was thrilled, although even
this was not enough to distract her from watching Susan and Daphne.

Knowing that no one else could reach there, Susan put her own hand
down between her legs and started finger-fucking herself and rubbing
her own clit, at the same time as she still licked at Daphne's. Susan
was now on her knees immediately in front of Axe and Joan, who could
clearly watch the masturbation between her legs from behind.

Daphne let out a high-pitched wail, and gave in to orgasm, as she
smashed Susan's face further into her bush with her hands. Susan
uttered a deep, muffled, squashed moan as she also reached climax.
Watching and hearing them, Joan gritted her teeth, squinted her eyes,
grunted like someone taking an enourmous dump, and had her second
orgasm as Axe's dick happened to be sliding out of her.

Axe pulled out the rest of the way, came all over Joan's big white
behind, and then continued slapping her about the buttucks with his
now-flaccid penis for about ten seconds, spreading the jism around
with it.

Standing out in the hall, one of the observers noted, "No fair.
everybody got off, but poor Susan didn't have anybody to fuck her!".

"Don't worry about her", said Tara. "Just come back next Tuesday
night!"

AFTERMATH:

Joan later demanded that her memory be wiped, as she always did,
because she said she'd rather forget this incident. Thus ensuring that
the next time she wound up in a situation like this, she would once
again be relucant about her sexuality and convinced of her anal
virginity.

Thus endeth the tale of Poor Old Joan. The other characters, of
course, you may be seeing more of.

-- 
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> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+