That evening I was happily in the bathtub at Mistress Fiona and Mistress Kristina’s place, scrubbing away with a can of bicarbonate in one hand and a sponge in the other. Suddenly the doorbell rang. This had never yet happened during my Saturday afternoon sessions as “house slave”. I had removed my apron and was naked except for a black leather collar. I heard men’s voices coming in through the front door…

How I got into this? I had fixed a computer for a lady I was trying to impress, and she had a friend called Fiona (Mistress Fiona now to me) whose PC also needed fixing. At Fiona’s there was a toy riding crop hanging on a nail and without thinking I toyed with it (“bashfully” Mistress Fiona told me later) and she said “wanna try?”.

I looked at her. She unhooked it and gave a couple of playful swipes. When she saw the effect on me (it gave me a hard on), she said “and how do you like this one?” She took out a serious horse-whip from the closet, and mock-threateningly raised it a couple of times. I think I made some gesture as if to ask what I was supposed to do, so she knew she had a catch. “Right! Let’s do this proper. Down your pants, on your knees and BEND OVER!”, and she gave me an honest good thrashing, there and then.

(Or so I thought. When I mentioned it later, she said “Oh Nonsense! I was very careful not to go too hard on you. We don’t want any blood or anything, for one thing. Nobody’s trying to REALLY hurt you. And you did come back for more, didn’t you pet? )

Yes I had. After running out of her place, after spending the next day craning at the traces in the bathroom mirror, applying ointment, after worrying to death someone might see them, after swearing I would never set foot again to her place, I realized 3 days later I was thinking about it all the time.

Finally I contacted her again and asked whether her problem was solved OK? Yes it was, but maybe I could have a look at the washing machine, it was making a weird sound. I brought my toolbox along, but when I arrived the washing machine had miraculously recovered. But since I was there, maybe I could clean some windows that were a bit high to reach?

When I had finished, she said “Look what I bought… Specially for you!” And she showed me a new leather riding crop.

From there it didn’t take long to move down to washing, scrubbing the floor, and before I knew it I was cleaning the toilet with an old toothbrush.

She also enjoyed ordering me to dress and undress, (or rather, enthusiastically enjoining me to do so), like I was her barbie doll. Some of the paraphernalia looked silly to me, but by now I was seriously in love and would do anything to please her. And wearing a collar really did turn me on.

I knew she was a lesbian. Her mate, Mistress Kristina, took some convincing to accept weekly visits, but I made a show of being really submissive, and besides I was useful around the house. Mistress Kristina short and muscular, with short black hair and a strong accent from her native Bulgaria, while Mistress Fiona was a red-head with long silky hair and long dresses.

So I was finishing my chores and looking forward to a hand job by Mistress Fiona. I was always tied down first to reassure Mistress Kristina about any possible initiative on my part.

Why did she put up with that? She knew her partner liked men too, and had been known to have affairs on the side. She saw me as a safe, harmless and controlled way of satisfying that side of her. And she did enjoy having a whipping-boy.

Also it peppered their own relationship. I actually witnessed that once, if not with my own eyes, at least with my own ears. Mistress Fiona had a habit of leaving me to dry after wanking me off. That evening she and Mistress Kristina got carried away and she forgot (or “forgot”, I’ll never know) to push me out first. I don’t know what thy were doing exactly, but it sounded pretty intense.

So I was in the bathtub when the doorbell rang, followed by Mistress Fiona opening the door and chatting with vistors. Men’s voices.

I was petrified. I was stark naked except for my collar, I’d taken off the rest of my serving suit to be at ease in the bathtub. I waited what seemed like forever. Maybe the visitors would leave?

Suddenly the door burst open and Mistress Kristina stormed in. “Drop that shit. We have visitors”. She was wearing leather leg-boots on her stocky legs, which made her look unusually beylikdüzü escort sexy. She hold a chain leash in one hand, and in the other – uh oh – a riding crop I hadn’t seen before, with what looked like a small ball bearing at the end.

Without ado she clamped the leash on my collar and ordered me to follow. I dried my feet as I could as I entered the living room in tow. I blushed scarlet to be undressed and collared in front of two fully glad gentlemen I had never been introduced to. One was short and plump, fussily dressed, and talked a lot. The other was an athletic giant.

I was told to turn around, to stand on tiptoe, kneel, stand up, (to test my obedience, maybe?). The fading marks from last week were commented. So was my beginning erection. *He does like to be given orders” said Mistress Fiona. “A terrible show-off”, Mistress Kristina couldn’t help herself from adding.

Mr Little Guy asked something like “and you sure that…” and Mistress Fiona answered confidently “oh yes absolutely”.

Mr Little concluded by saying “well let’s get down to business then”.

At this point I must confess the subject of forced bi had been raised before. Mistress Fiona had shown me some pics. It was the very beginning of the internet and I had yet to visit a porn site, with its neat chapters for everything from “small breasted redheads” to “hard-core scatology”. In fact my idea of pornography was magazines with photographs of full-breasted young women (usually white) in enticing poses. I had yet to encounter the word BDSM, and I didn’t even know I was a “sub”.

She asked me if I had ever done anything like that. I blushed and answered “‘Oh NO Mistress! I could NEVER do ANYTHING at all like that”. Her answer was a wink – my arousal must have shiwb. She understood my overly indignant reaction was the sign of a deep-seated interest. I stayed silent. If I’ d just added “no, seriously”, I guess the rest would not have followed.

And I must admit on returning home I looked up the practice, and even – with my heart in my mouth – downloaded my first porn images with my brand-new 3200 baud modem (about 10,000 times slower than what we have now. )

Back at the scene, what followed then happened so fast I hardly had time to realize what was going on. Mistress Kristina pointed with her crop to the spot in front of where Mr Little was sitting, ordering “KNEEL!” Mistress Fiona then sunk her manicured nails into the roots of my hair, pushing my mouth into his open fly. He wanked himself for a few seconds in my mouth and came as soon as he got hard. I gulped down his acrid liquid as fast as I could, to avoid keeping the taste. I remember thinking “not such a big deal in the end”. Mistress Fiona was meanwhile caressing the back of my neck (she knew I liked that), which was a partial consolation for the unromantic circumstances of my defloration.

I presumed Mr Big would be next, but he was standing motionless. I expected him to lower his pants or something if he wanted his cock sucked but he seemed to think this was my job. I looked up at Mistress Kristina; she nodded. I proceeded to undo his belt and fly. I was trembling slightly; I remember thinking that was probably a good thing, as it would help to confirm my status as a real virgin (at least in their area of interest), that Mr Little had enquired about.

I had seen his bulge, so I expected something big and hard. I wasn’t disappointed. What did surprise me was that once in the open, it was very accurately horizontal, a perfect right angle. It was to remain that way throughout.

I was about to “get down to business” when I heard the man’s voice for the first time:

Hold it, Boy.

Mistress Kristina gave a hearty yank on the leash, in case I didn’t get it.

It starts when I say so.

And Boy…

Pause. I could hear Mistress Kristina twitching her whip on her boots. I think I saw Mistress Fiona biting her lip.

… every time I have something to say about your performance, I click my finger, and you get licked. One click, one lick.

Are we agreed with that, Boy?

YesSirthankyouSirI’lldomybestSir.

(Never sounded so obsequious in my whole life. The man’s dick-eye, a foot from my nose, had a hypnotic effect).

I thought so. Now here is a sample.

He clicked twice. I cringed, but instead of swiping, Mistress Kristina caressed beyoğlu escort my left buttock, gently giving two pats. Was he joking or something?

Thwack! Thwack!

Between the finger-click and the punishing stroke, there must have been a signal from the master, but I was not witness to it.

Two little welts were now forming at the exact points she had tapped. They were comma-shaped, parallel, with a round and very red point from the ball bearing.

Mistress Kristina’s style was the opposite of Mistress Fiona’s. For the latter, flogging was always fun, and would naturally always also be so for me (even if I showed signs of not quite sharing the mood while it happened). For the former, it was always a motivated punishment, even if the motives were largely made up for the circumstance.

The first time she did it, I was on my hands and knees finishing washing the kitchen with a floor cloth (no mops, to ensure an exercise as humiliating as possible). When I was in the middle of wringing the floor cloth she glided in behind me and ordered “freeze! Don’t move one inch”. I was thus suspended with my hands over the pail holding the soggy floor cloth.

She swiped me five times, three on one buttock and two on the other, then pointed to the floor and asked “do you call that clean? You do it again! ” I started to say “but Mistress…” but she cut me short. “You want more? I give you more.” She then cut the exact symmetry. “I want this properly clean, or there’s more to come”. Only then could I finish wringing the cloth. I proceeded to wash the clean floor again, with ten cuts burning on my ass, in two neat columns.

So Mistress Kristina was more than happy to enforce the punishment ordered by Mr Big, who now added:

Now watch my finger.

His arms were crossed and his little finger raised. I understood that once the finger came down, it would be up to me.

A new pause left me time to think of blowjobs I had received or seen on video.

When his pinkie met his arm I was actually relieved to get started at last.

The Thing felt both rubbery and hard, making me think of a truncheon with a metal core.

Whatever I do, don’t touch it with my teeth. Try blowing hard. Try flicking my tongue. I gained some confidence and built up steam.

He pulled out after 2 minutes. What could possibly be wrong? I really was doing my best.

Are you in a hurry, Boy? Do you have a date somewhere?

I sensed I wasn’t supposed to answer.

I’ve got all the time in the world. It’s slow and easy till I tell you differently.

A new pause, then he added:

Your date, Boy…

He pointed to his erection

… is right here

3 clicks, this time on the right buttock.

I tried to imagine that instead of giving head to this brute I was dancing gently with Mistress Fiona in my arms. This seemed to work for a while. But he would pull out regularly, with recommendations like “Vary your techniques, Boy” or “Fondle my balls, they will be rincing your teeth eventually”.

The third time, I felt Mistress Kristina stroke my thigh. To give her free access, I lifted my ass high, put my head down, and pressed my cheek on the floorboards. This gave me a view of Mistress Fiona, who looked highly revved up by the sight of my humiliation. She would lift her arm and swipe it down to accompany the fall of the whip. I imagined her cunt like a wet sponge: this gave me a hard-on of my own. I then took this position every time Mr Big clicked his finger; until…

After giving me a single click for a minor point, Mr Big added:

And Boy…

… keep your eyes in front of you.

I pressed my nose deep into the ground but it was too late. Mistress Kristina had got increasingly annoyed at my eye contact with her mate. Mr Big must have given her a signal, and she went into high-power mode, like a car when you have your foot down on the accelerator and you flick off the speed limiter.

No more measured strokes, no careful aim. Right-left, right-left, right-left. Six deep cuts, all over my body. And for the finale, she stepped back as far as she could and ran at me, landing the deepest blow of all. She then exhaled deeply and said something like something like “feel better for that”. Both she and Mr Big seemed to think that was enough flogging for the evening.

I was then left to my own devices, blowing, biga escort licking, pumping, flickering, slobbering, kissing, fondling, in and out, up and down. In other words: I gave a man a blow job. All the time I was wondering when at last he would come.

I was somewhat surprised to feel a stiff hard-on of my own coming, despite the fire on my hide. So this makes you a…. Part of me couldn’t help thinking of the despising adjectives associated with what I was not only engaged in, but actively deriving pleasure from. But mainly I was proud to demonstrate that it wasn’t just a passive submission, but an actual relationship.

Finally he pulled out to announce:

Now is the last lap. I want you to give all you’ve got. And Boy…

What next this time? I had time to wonder.

… you don’t swallow till I say so.

After the jawbreaking effort, but variety of the previous explorations, the next minutes were brutish and repetitive. I was about to collapse in a heap like a broken horse, to everyone’s disappointment, when I heard a single syllable.

Stop.

The whole world seemed to stand still, become silent and immobile. Time was suspended, for how long? At least three seconds, that seemed an eternity.

The first squirt came so hard it went straight down my throat. I had the time to wonder about keeping anything down, his pulses were so slow.

I needn’t have worried, there was plenty more to come, slow and regular, for what must have lasted at least a minute; one of those minutes that count in a life. Finally, his balls drained, he yanked his dick out: it was only curving down very slightly. He shoved it back into his trunks without bothering to wipe himself, all sticky from his spunk and my saliva, pulled up his pants, and turned away, without a second look.

This was where Mistress Fiona pulled in a trolley with a bottle of cognac and glasses. She was half French and her mother was from a vineyard owning family. Followed a commentded tasting exercise, with Mistress Fiona and the two guests sipping and admiring the heavenly beverage. In the meantime, I remained naked, on my knees, with my mouth open for fear of swallowing, hardly daring to breathe. I could sense Mistress Fiona darting her eyes at me, fully enjoying the sight of my humiliation, while she was explaining the cognac, but I didn’t dare make contact: Mistress Kristina, who didn’t drink, still held me on leash, and was visibly itching to give another good swipe.

At last, once the last drop was finished and the glasses put down, Mr Big gave the long-awaited order:

Swallow up.

Then he added

What d’you say, boy?

All eyes were on me, so I sensed this must be some kind of test. I could hear myself answer

It’s been an honor and a pleasure, Sir.

And then, to my surprise, someone – and it could only have been me – added

I hope we have the opportunity to do this again.

And my voice was calm and assured, as if instead of being whipped and humiliated I had been screwing some Miss World.

Everybody seemed satisfied with this, and they nodded to each other. When they left I saw the little guy giving a few 50s to Mistress Kristina, who looked unusually pleased.

Once it was over and I was tied down, Mistress Kristina said something about going out for a drink and stormed out, slamming the door. Mistress Fiona then not only gave me a face-sitting – finally I got to seeing and tasting her cunt. It was soaked, her public hair as red and soft and silky as her hair. Then she actually finished me off with a blow job. “I’d love to ride on you, but Kris would feel it straight away” she even added. I went home that evening with a sore skin but an elated heart.

The next week, Mistress Kristina chained and padlocked me to a bondage device that forced me to kneel in the middle of the sitting room. Then I heard them getting dressed to go out. Then… Nothing. They just switched on the TV and sat on the couch.

After about half an hour, the door bell rang, and the same two guys came in. I saw the little guy giving a whole wad of cash to Mistress Kristina, in exchange for the key to the padlocks…

Mistress Kristina was already at the front door, but Mistress Fiona came back in her high heels and bent down to give me a kiss on each eye.

We are just going out for a bite and a movie, we won’t be long. Meanwhile you boys can do your stuff. I know there are things you’re embarrassed about in front of us girls… I’m counting on you to do your best now, we’ll talk it over when we get back.

Then, after blowing a kiss in my direction, her last words were:

I’m sure you’ll have great fun!

My heart was beating hard and fast. What could they possibly expect for all that money?

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