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From: corvidae1@aol.com (Corvidae1)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: STORY: Nothing Like The Sun Pt.8 (Femdom)
Date: 24 Apr 1997 03:45:58 GMT
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   STANDARD DISCLAIMER: The following story contains scenes of female
domination. Those with moral objections to such activity as well as those
under legal age should not read this story.
   All the characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to
persons living, dead, or undead is completely coincidental. The author
makes no claims about any of the products, movies, artists or children's
stories mentioned in this story, other than they exist and are a part of
our culture at large.  

                             Nothing Like The Sun
                                 By L.Corvidae
                          Chapter Eight: First Loss
Saturday Night
   We drove home from the health club in absolute silence. The fatigue in
my muscles was matched only by the dread building in my chest.
   Not that She'd gone easy on me over the remainder of the week. She'd
spent most of Wednesday evening attaching hemostats to my body before
flicking them off again with my friend, the quirt; and just the previous
night, Friday, i'd received my first authentic whipping.
   i'd had other duties as well. Both those nights i'd come straight from
our new gym and in the half an hour or so before darkness, work in
Mistress' garden, planting rose bushes and the like. Thursday i had to
tend to Her leather "Domme" outfits, cleaning them with saddle soap and
then applying mink oil to keep then supple. Most of Her rubber garments
were in really sad shape: dried out cracked. She ordered me just to pitch
them.
   i spent the rest of Thursday night chasing a rubber ball down the
hallway on my hands and knees. A small cat-o'-nine-tails with a dildo
handle was rammed up my ass as a "tail" and i was only allowed to say the
word "woof!" and then only on command.
   But the "highlight" of that evening came a little past midnight, when
Mistress decided it was "din-din" time and produced an enormous bowl full
of stale kibble. i was starving, but the little chunks were like rocks.
Mistress noticed the trouble i was having chewing and asked,
   "Is it too hard for the puppy?"
   The puppy whined and nodded.
   "Then let Mistress soften it up for you," She said; and to my horror,
squatted right over the bowl and released a jet of urine directly into it.
   "Now be a good boy," She said, walking past and ruffling my hair, "and
clean your plate for Mistress while She goes and cleans Herself off!"
   This whole scene took place in the dungeon proper and the cameras got
every last second of my degradation as i cleaned my plate like a good boy.
   The one constant element was the massage, usually followed by either my
reading to Her; or She'd pick a topic and ask me to talk about my opinion
on it. She revealed very little of Herself in these "discussions" and it
was disconcerting to have to go on about things like religion and politics
while receiving precious little feedback.
   Naturally, She'd been intently curious about how Lindsey had reacted to
our dinner together. As i told Her, to my surprise, i found myself hedging
a little - not outright lying - but rather neglecting to mention certain
details.
   Lindsey'd entered my office at the 10:30 break on Wednesday, and shut
the door behind her. She had an impish grin on her face.
   "Well, well, well," she said. "My dad always used to say, 'Still waters
run deep.' I wonder... it'd be a terrible shame if Mr. Christian found out
what a little perv he had working in his nice, clean office..."
    "Lindsey!" i blurted out, genuinely shocked. Before she could go on,
she was seized with a sudden fit of hysterical laughter.
   "I'm sorry," she squeezed out through guffaws. "The look on your
face..."
   "Ha, ha." i muttered irritably, turning back to the rough storyboards
for the new commercial.
   "You know," she said, regaining her composure, "if it had been anyone
else around this joint..." Her words tapered off and she gave me a telling
look.
   "I, uh," i stammered, "I mean, thanks, I guess."
   "Actually, Michael, I wanted to thank you."
   That sense of jealousy, of wanting Mistress all to myself, rose up in
me again.
   "For what?"
   "Well, actually, I HAD seen her there before. A lot, actually. I mean,
not so much recently but, like, a year ago she was in there all the time
and I always... wondered. I mean... she's hot, y'know?"
   "Yes. She said you were, um, good looking yourself."
   "Really?" Her eyes sparkled. "I mean, it wasn't just that, I mean, a
lot of the reason she seemed hot were the guys she was with. They'd come
in wearing collars and act all passive and do whatever she told them to
do, y'know? And, like, I always wondered what that was all about.
   "And there was this one guy," she moaned dreamily. "Oh Christ! He was
GORGEOUS! I mean, I'm pretty certain, y'know? About preferring women? But,
Jes-Us! He made me think it over!"
   "gee," i groused. "thanks."
   She suddenly seemed to remember who she was talking to. "Oh, Michael,
I'm sorry! It's not that... It's just... Aw, fuck! I mean, he was just
really... something. Sorry."
   "That's okay," i mumbled, not feeling okay about it at all.
   i thought that was the end of it, but Lindsey lingered at the door,
chewing at the end of one of her fingertips.
   "She really... she really thought I was good looking?" Lindsey asked.
   i sighed. Mistress' words loomed up before me: "You might become my
slave, but I will never be anything that belongs to you." i sighed again.
  "I believe Her exact words were 'quite attractive.'"
   Lindsey  contemplated on that for a bit.
   "I... I dunno. I'd hate to get between something going on with you
two..."
   i swallowed hard before i spoke. "It's not my place to decide who my
Mistress accepts as slaves. It's Her... prerogative."
   Lindsey really had to think on that. Finally she said, "I still don't
think so... I don't think I could hack it." 
   She smiled sweetly at me.
   "Still, I wanted to thank you for dinner, and apologize for Betsy, I
guess. She can be such a pill!"
   "I kind of knew how she felt," i admitted.
   Lindsey held her hand up to her mouth and blushed. "I'm sorry!"
   "That's okay."
   She still loitered by the door as if trying to bring herself to say
something.
   "Yes?" i asked, hoping to pry it from her.
   "Could I like... touch... the belt?"
   i stood up and held out my arms. Hesitantly, she moved towards me and
gingerly pressed her hands to my crotch, pulling away quickly.
   "Oh, Jesus!" she said, turning an even brighter shade of red. "I REALLY
couldn't hack it!"
***
   i told Mistress everything but the part about Her "gorgeous" dining
companion. i'm not sure if i was more afraid She'd refuse to tell me about
him, or that She would.
   To be honest, by Saturday i was wondering how much more i could "hack"
of the chastity belt myself. i definitely knew i wouldn't be able to play
worth a damn in it. Luckily for me, Mistress slipped me the key as we
entered the health club and i was able to find an empty stall in the
bathroom and take the hateful thing off. Even though i was in a room full
of men, i still found myself pumping my cock almost out of reflex and had
to force myself to stop.
   Removing the belt didn't really help much. i had played squash in
college, but my whole body had undergone a radical metamorphosis since
then. i'd gained forty pounds, lost sixty, and added ten in muscle mass
since those days. What memories my muscles did hold were geared for a game
with a longer racquet and lighter, faster ball. The racquetball ball was
equal parts sponge and brick and constantly dropped sooner and lower than
i expected.
   We ended up playing two matches total, one practice and one "for
keeps." i was so beat by the final game i never even won the serve, let
alone any points.
   my one "consolation" was that She told me i didn't have to put the belt
back on when i showered and changed; but in my heart i knew this was for
Her convenience down the road and not out of any thoughts for my comfort.
   We drove home from the health club in absolute silence.
   When we got to Her house, i had to go around to the slave's entrance as
usual. When i arrived naked and collared to the dungeon, i found Her still
in Her workout clothes. She had a handful of silk rope.
   "Lie down on the floor, face up," She commanded.
   i did as She ordered and She began tying a rope to each wrist and
ankle. Apparently there were bolts or cleats or something set in the floor
at the corners of the room, because She soon had the ropes pulled tight
and tied off; leaving me spread-eagled, pressed flush against the cold
floor. She finished by tying a black silk scarf around my eyes.
   In the cold and dark i laid naked and helpless. A cold sweat began to
break out over my body. i began to shiver.
   "michael?"
   "Yes, Mistress?" i was already whimpering out of fear.
   "I promise you, there won't be any pain tonight."
   i heard Her footsteps trail away, back towards the mud room. i was more
terrified than ever.
   The door back there opened, allowing a draft of cool night air to drift
over my exercise-heated body. i heard a voice. A man's voice.
   my whole body began to shake in earnest now. Had the time come for Her
to make good on Her promise to see me have sex with another man? If so,
She'd picked a rather odd position for me to be in: my ass was squashed
solidly to the floor, and without a cock-ring my penis had shriveled up
almost into my ribcage.
   Something, probably hard plastic, thumped against the floor; just at
the entrance to the dungeon. Something metal clinked. Two people, trying
to keep quiet, walked up the stairs and closed the doors behind them.
   my heart sank. What if that were "Him?" the slave Lindsey had spoken
about. It had been incredibly naive of me to think that i was the only
one. She could have fifty - a hundred slaves as far as i knew. i might
soon just be relegated to "one of the pack;" ironically reduced to the
very thing i had once spoken so eloquently about, now that i'd been
"broken in."
   i began to imagine Her upstairs, making love to some impossibly
handsome man while i, Her feeble and lowly slave, had to wait and wonder
in the darkness. 
    "There won't be any pain," She'd said. The torment was beyond
endurance.
   In the darkness, not five feet from me, something moved.
   The pounding of the blood in my temples had drowned it out until then,
but it had gotten too close. Imagine the sound of an uncooked steak being
dragged across a kitchen counter. It let loose a raspy, croaking, hiss.
   Many times had i thought back to the two months worth of E-mail and
private chatrooms; to the endless stream of questions She'd asked of me.
Some seemed inane: which sports do you enjoy watching? Some seemed to have
some larger significance: who did you vote for in the election, and why?
And some seemed all too on target: what scares you?
    i suppose i could have been "crafty" and answered with things that
sounded good, but didn't really bother me - closed spaces, open water -
but i'd been truthful.
    Heights and snakes.
   It had moved close enough to me that i could feel the minuscule
disturbance in the air every time it flicked its tongue. By the sound of
its movement, it was big.
   Oddly enough, the size of it was the only thing that kept me from
dissolving into a shrieking panic. Mistress had never thought to
elaborate, but the fact was that big snakes didn't frighten me half as
much as little ones did. If She had let loose a box of utterly harmless
garter snakes onto my chest i would have snapped like a twig.
   Not that i wasn't scared nearly out of my mind as it was - i WAS tied
down, alone, and effectively blind; but the thought of that huge, slow
animal was far less chilling than a heap of small, fast, wriggling ones.
   It pushed its snout against my ribs.
   i'd had a friend in college who raised big snakes - thankfully he'd
kept his collection back at home - so i knew quite a bit about them. i was
probably safe from its main avenue of attack, which would have been to
wrap itself around me and constrict its muscles slightly every time i
breathed out. my back was all but sealed to the vinyl flooring.
   Still, it might have tried to swallow a hand or foot or - Christ! - my
head! i slammed the back of my skull hard against the floor and pressed it
there. i gripped the ropes with my hands to present a single, unbroken
line. my feet were stuck sticking up, and there was nothing i could do
about them.
   The snake began to push itself up, over my midriff and onto my hot,
sweaty, trembling chest. i could feel the ripple and play of its muscles
as its soft, cool, underbelly groped my ribs for purchase.
   It began to dawn on me that as a cold-blooded animal, the snake would
naturally be drawn to the warmest spot in the room: me.
   It hissed again, clearly unhappy that its chosen resting spot was so
unstable. The coils of its body began to mass upon my sternum. It weighed
probably thirty pounds, at least half of which was already pressing down
on me.
   my shivering, combined with my sweat, caused the snake to constantly
adjust its position. With mounting horror, i felt the trailing part of its
body slide along my abdomen. Behind my blindfold, i shut my eyes tight and
began to wordlessly pray, but it did no good. The lower third of the snake
dropped between my legs.
   Bile rose in my throat, burning the roof of my mouth. The snake now had
to drag the remainder of its tail over my hip and then across my groin.
Alien muscles massaged my penis and balls. i mewled like a kitten. 
   After an eternity, the snake finally had its whole weight heaped upon
me. It didn't need to coil around me to slowly squeeze the breath from my
body. In a way, it fed off me, absorbing the heat my body pumped out for
its own.
    i slowly began to regain my wits. The more at ease i got, the more
relaxed the snake got. i even tried to match my breathing to its, but its
languid, reptilian metabolism allowed it to breathe in once for every
three i needed to take.
   Still, i eventually grew so clam i began to drift. i was nearly asleep
when i heard footfalls coming towards me. The snake's weight suddenly
lifted, and an unfamiliar male voice said, "Okay, girl, that's enough fun
for today!"
   i heard the man put the snake back in its carry case and engage
Mistress in a brief conversation, the details of which escaped me.
   i heard one set of footsteps head away to the mud room. Mistress' bare
feet slapped against the floor as She approached me. She didn't remove the
blindfold; just sat down on my chest where the snake had previously
rested.
   i don't think either of us expected my reaction to the sudden sensation
of Her warm, bare crotch pressed against the gelid flesh of my chest. i
came suddenly and violently; accidentally spattering Her back with a few
droplets of semen. She yelped in surprise and jumped off me again.
   my trembling returned with a vengeance. i was still tied down and
totally exposed to whatever punishment She might inflict.
   She retreated to the bathroom and returned shortly, accompanied by the
rustle of a towel against Her body. She dropped it over my crotch and took
up a position standing directly over my head.
   "Very naughty of you, michael, cumming without my permission. I thought
you didn't like snakes. First pain, now this; what else have you been
fibbing about, michael?"
   "i..."
   She lowered Her wet, musky sex onto my face. "I think the least you can
do is to reciprocate..." She clamped Her thighs around the sides of my
head as i rose up to eagerly meet Her.
  "...Fourfold."

END OF CHAPTER EIGHT

   Note: Please feel free to E-mail with any constructive criticism and
suggestions for future episodes. Flames will be ignored. This story is
protected by copyright, 1997, by the author.    


 


   Once, I swore I would die for you,
   But I never meant like this.
   I never meant like this.
   No, I never meant like this.

                Stabbing Westward "Shame"

