My Uncle's Maid

Lisa, My Uncle's Maid

By Taoman





   Lisa, My Uncle's Maid copyright Taoman. The right of Taoman to be identified
as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and
78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988

   Author's Note: Thanks to Bill Morgan for his valuable editorial assistance.

Chapter One

   In my family my uncle had always been an enigma. I was told during the
Depression, while still a teenager, he had left home and "went on his own". His
later rare reappearances, which had occurred at family funerals, were always
unexpected. I remembered him from these events, as well dressed, cultured and
seemingly very well off. It was at my mother's funeral, his sister, that I had
my first discussion with him as another adult. I was eighteen then and with her
death I was all that remained of his immediate family. He questioned me
regarding my academic status and seemed to have some awareness of my many
accomplishments. He approved of my plans to pursue a career in law. I had told
him I had applied to several schools including Harvard. He informed me of some
connections in Cambridge and that he could "pull some strings" to possibly speed
the process.

   Several weeks later I received my acceptance letter. Later during my college
years he also provided me with a generous allowance. This income ensured I never
lacked for money. I had a suspicion that his influence had been involved behind
the many grants and scholarships that came my way. Then on my graduation I found
keys to a late-model sports car and his card under my door at the fraternity
house. When I called him with my profuse thanks he laughed and told me to visit
him. He said he needed to go overseas for a period of time and needed someone to
stay at his home. I agreed as I had no pressing summer plans and a great
curiosity regarding my Uncle.

   It was 1952 and a fresh New England spring morning. The new warmth in the air
hinted of the approaching summer. I was driving south from Boston to New York
City. I had the top down and I was pushing my new Mercedes 190SEL to it's
limits.

   Both my parents had been casualties of the war. First my father had been lost
in one of the first B-24 bombing runs over Germany. His body was never recovered
and the same could be said for my mother. She mourned herself to the grave. Her
grief was so profound that her will to go on with life slipped away. She had
been unable to face the world without my dad. I had come home from school and
found her curled in bed. I thought she was sleeping until I touched her cold
arm. Then I noticed the empty bottle of pills on her night side.

   It seemed as if I had been sad all my life. I had buried my own grief and
loss in my books. The past years had been bleak and the prospects of new happier
days of promise and opportunity seemed just over the next horizon

   It was mid-afternoon when I reached the city and it took another hour to
locate the address. It was on the Upper East Side on a quiet tree-lined side
street. The building itself was an unassuming brick four story that blended in
with the other apartments and commerce in the neighborhood. The small brass
plate on the door read THE MANHATTAN CLUB and then below in smaller prints A
GENTLEMEN'S SOCIETY.

   I opened the door and entered another world. The small lobby was furnished
with several straight back chairs and a counter. I felt myself being observed
and I was suddenly conscious of my attire with consisted of a bright undocked
Hawaiian shirt and worn khakis. A distinguished looking elderly man in a
butler's uniform was peering at me over the top of his spectacles.

   "May I help you, Sir?" he asked politely, but coolly.

   I handed him my Uncle's card and he peered and it. He lifted his bushy
eyebrows and again looked at me. Then he smiled and his demeanor changed.

   "Welcome to New York City, Mr. Whitlock. We have been expecting you."

   He unlocked a heavy door behind the counter and indicated I was to follow
him. This passage entered into a wood paneled hallway with yet another heavy
door at the far end. There was a small opaque window at eyelevel, which my guide
peered into. There was a buzz and the door swung open. We entered a spacious
room. As my eyes become accustomed to the subdued light I realized the great
size of the place. Considering the height of the ceiling and the length of the
floor it would be possible to play full court basketball in the space. An ornate
old-fashioned carved wood bar ran nearly the full length of one wall. I heard
the snick of a cue ball and noticed several pool tables highlighted by islands
of light. There was a low murmur of voices and I determined there was a dozen or
so men either playing pool or sitting at the bar and tables. There was an
aromatic mixture of cigar smoke and old leather.

   The thick carpeting muffed our footsteps as we padded across the room.
Several well-dressed men at the bar turned and smiled at me as we passed. I
nodded in acknowledgment. I wished I had worn a suit.

   We stopped at the far end of the bar and my guide fit a key in a sliding
panel, which opened to a small lift.

   He stepped aside and motioned for me to proceed, "Your uncle is expecting
you."

   The elevator rose smoothly and I counted three floors then the doors slid
open to steps which led to a large living room. The room was dark paneled and
richly furnished with heavy plush furniture. There was a roaring fire in stone
fireplace. My uncle was seated in a chair by the hearth. He arose, smiling, and
crossed the room. We hugged and he warmly told me how good it was to see me and
how pleased he was of my accomplishments. He said my mom and dad would have been
so proud of me.

   We sat by the fire, drank brandy and talked for several hours. We discussed
the war, my parents, school, Eisenhower and my future. I was fascinated to hear
another worldview, which was diametrically opposed to what I had been taught at
Harvard. Finally he changed the subject and told me he needed a big favor. He
had extended overseas business to attend to and he needed me to stay at his
apartment and oversee his domestic concerns. I modestly told him I had little
business acumen, but he waved my protestations aside and told me there was no
experience really needed. He smiled and said I would find the assignment
actually quite enjoyable.

   He noticed the brandy decanter was empty.

   "Let me introduce you to my house servant, Lisa" he said.

   Reaching over to a side table he picked up a small silver bell and rang it.
There was a silence and then I heard a hissed 'no" from an out of-sight hallway.

   My uncle shook his head and sniffed in disdain. "I apologize. She is not
happy with my new choice of apparel. With your arrival I am afraid I had to
implement a crude means of persuasion," he stated... He opened a drawer under
the table and motioned for me to come closer. I leaned forward in my chair. The
drawer swung open to reveal a hidden electronic apparatus.

   "This equipment was made for me by a German scientist now working for the US
government. He owed me a favor," he said. My uncle flicked a toggle switch and
there was an immediate electronic hum, the panel glowed and several glass
enclosed needles pegged across clock-like meters then settled at different
readings.

   "This controls the amount of voltage", he instructed. He turned a large
knurled knob and the hum changed tone and the meter's readings flicked and rose.

   "The entire apartment is enclosed in an electronic field," he explained.

   I was puzzled by were this was all going, but I nodded as if I understood.

   "This button releases the shock," he said simply.

   He pressed a red button and immediately I heard a high-pitched female squeal.

   "Lisa, come... now" my uncle said in the direction of the cry.

   I was taken aback by the appearance of a beautiful young woman hurriedly
emerging from the hall. She had the olive complexion of the Mediterranean with a
full luscious mane of black hair falling to her shoulders. Her dark green eyes
glared angrily at my uncle as she clicked across the wood floor in her high
heels. She stood before us and I was very impressed. She was the most beautiful
girl I think I had ever seen.

   She was dressed in a classic French maid's uniform. But my Uncle had
evidently had it tailored to his taste. The uniform was cut in a fashion that
any housekeeping duties beyond the bedroom would be impossible. The tightly fit
laced decollete amply displayed her large bulging up-thrust breasts. The frilly
lace that wisped across her deep cleavage only just covered the brown of her
aureoles. Lacy garters attached to her black net silk stockings were visible at
the hem of her very short silk skirt. In her spike heels she stood at about five
feet, four inches.

   There was a large, thick black bejeweled leather collar around her neck,
which accented her exotic beauty.

   She stood with defiance under my frank appraisal. She had attempted to tug
her skirt down which had ridden high up her thighs, but had only succeeded in
pulling the top down to reveal more of her bosom. Now she stood before us with
her hands clenched in fists at her sides and a fire hinting in those flashing
eyes.

   "This is John, Lisa', my uncle spoke in a mannered tone. "He is to be the
Master while I am away."

   Lisa again glared at my uncle. Then shook that black mass of hair slightly in
a negative way.

   "Lisa... recall our earlier discussion" my uncle stated firmly.

   The two of them seemed to exchange meaningful eye signals. She broke eye
contact with him and looked at the floor, then carefully bent one knee and
inclined her head and upper body toward me.

   "Welcome... Sir," she said slowly. I could discern a slight accent.

   I started to reply, but my Uncle held up his hand to indicate, "wait". "Lisa
has been taught the proper way to greet guests. But I am afraid we rarely have
company and she has forgot her lessons. I shall remind her," he said as he
reached toward the nearby control device.

   "No. No," she spoke up.

   She looked at him in exasperation then slowly lowered herself to her knees
before me. She did this in a stiff controlled manner so as to not expose any
more of her deep cleavage. As she knelt I was awarded a lovely look at a full
upper thigh and then a glimpse of a tiny pair of lace panties as her short skirt
rose. I looked down at her and she would not immediately meet my eyes; then
those large green eyes came up to mine and she fully acknowledged me.

   "Welcome, Master" she said in a low throaty voice. "How may I serve you?"

   I was now obviously at a loss for words and my uncle instructed her to refill
the brandy decanter. She placed her hands to the floor, shifted her legs and
arose. It was readily apparent she was modestly attempting to minimize the
display of her lush figure. The thin clingy short uniform was defeating her.

   I watched her walk across the room to the bar. She had a lovely backside. The
stiletto heels caused her hips to roll in an unavoidably provocative fashion.
Conscious of my attention she tugged down and held the short skirt.

   "The collar discharges the shock. She can't remove the device. Hopefully you
will not need to use it much. But it does get her immediate attention," he
chuckled.

   She came back to stand before us with the decanter on a tray. She stared at
the floor by my feet

   "Brandy... Master?" she murmured.

   "Lisa you WILL do this as you have been trained" my uncle spoke sharply.

   The lovely girl closed her eyes and paused as if to collect her temper. She
exhaled and bent forward from her waist presenting the tray to me. Her position
caused her breasts to strain up and nearly spill from the top of the uniform. I
had an unimpeded view of the full orbs, which were presented almost as an
offering on the tray. She wore a light clean perfume and was close enough I
could feel a heat emanate from her. I reached forward and placed my hand on the
decanter. Despite the surrealness of the situation I could not resist the
impulse to run the back of my hand against the inner side of a proffered breast.

   She shivered at the contact and her eyes came up and met mine. Our eyes
locked and I slowly stroked her warm silkiness. She blinked and shifted her
eyes. I smiled and filled the glass. As I returned the decanter I ran a finger
across a lace covered surprisingly taut nipple.

   She did not look up, but flinched at the intimate contact.

   I tasted the brandy. "Exquisite," I proclaimed.

   Her eyes came back up to mine. Then she turned and went to my uncle. She
performed the same serving maneuver for him. But she did it in a modest manner,
presenting only her side to me. Her position still caused her skirt to rise
above her buttocks revealing the full length of her legs and a pair of small
dainty lace panties.

   "Exquisite," I repeated.

Chapter 2

   After Lisa had served my uncle he indicated for her to kneel on a small
pillow on the floor next to his chair. With another self-conscious glance at me
she lowered herself demurely to her knees. She folded her hands in her lap and
rested back primly on her heels. She lowered her eyes and would not meet my
continued frank appraisal.

   As we talked I examined my uncle. I figured his age in the mid-thirties. He
was tanned, tall, lean and looked very fit. He was very serious man and was not
one to chat. I had attempted to turn our talk toward the mystery of his life.
But, he was not forthcoming in this regard, but would adroitly dodge my queries.
The conversation seemed to center on me almost as if I was being interviewed.

   We had been discussing my parents and I had been suddenly overwhelmed with
grief. There was a pause and we both sat and stared at the fire. He had politely
shifted his attention until I had composed myself.

   He turned to Lisa and told her to bring the cigar humidor. She rose,
repeating her carefully demure rising movement. She crossed the room and
unintentionally refreshed my memory of her extraordinary beauty.

   Bringing a heavy wood canister towards us, my uncle indicated for her to
serve me first. She came to me and again bent forward to expose the wide expanse
of her breasts. She lifted the lid blocking my view to reveal an array of
cigars.

   "Cigar, Master?" she murmured.

   I picked a large Cuban make I recognized as an Upmann. For a moment I was at
a loss to how to prepare the cigar when my uncle spoke. "She will do it for
you," he said with a slight smile.

   She looked at him and then to me. I shrugged and held it out. She set down
the humidor and took the cigar. Using a knife from the table she expertly cut
off the end. Holding the cigar to her puckered mouth she rolled it between her
pursed lips to smooth the rough edges. Then in a very businesslike manner, she
ran her extended tongue around the tip. I caught her eye as she performed this
last task. I had a sudden image of her performing fellatio and I inadvertently
smiled. She saw my expression and looked away. I had an intuition she knew
exactly what I was thinking.

   My uncle spoke up. "She is well trained in her duties," he said dryly.

   I turned to see if he was being sarcastic but his expression was deadpan.

   Then using her fingernail she struck a wooden match and lit the cigar. She
exhaled and there was smoke between us. Her eyes came up and locked with mine
through the smoke cloud for a timeless moment. She bowed and offered the cigar
to me. Then she turned to my uncle and performed the same task.

   When she had returned the humidor to its proper place, she returned to kneel
at my uncle's side. He laid a hand possessively on her head and gently stroked
her hair.

   "Before we retire we need to discuss Lisa," he said. He brushed her hair from
her face. She was staring at the floor.

   "I found her in Italy after the war," he said. "Well, let me correct that.
She was given to me as a gift... in return for a favor. Lisa and I entered an
agreement. I would bring her to the States and take care of her and in return
she would belong to me. I have promised when she turns 25 I will secure her
American citizenship and have guaranteed her a generous income the rest of her
life. So she is not a slave. Those days are long past in this country, but more
of an indentured servant. Then he added, "She is twenty now and was fifteen when
she first came to me. We have come a long way."

   He smiled and rubbed the back of his hand affectionately against her cheek.
She looked up to him and then darted a glance at me. She then looked back to the
floor.

   "You will find she is very intelligent," he continued. "I have permitted her
to be tutored by private instructors and her progress has been remarkable. She
has shown a desire to pursue law and I thought you might be of some assistance
in that regard

   "But that is not the reason you are here, John. I want you to interact with
Lisa. She has been shut up in this penthouse for years and I want her to
experience someone her own age.

   "Also in return, John, I want you to benefit from this time. Nowadays my
philosophy regarding the roles of men and women has become passe or antiquated.
But I want you to appreciate the proper control of a woman. I was afraid you
might have entangled yourself with one of those coeds at Cambridge but I see you
avoided the trap. The ability to master a woman's will is a talent that needs to
be learned. It is a fine art and doesn't come naturally. In this modern world
examples to emulate are becoming very rare," he added as an afterthought.

   " I want you to learn your own destiny. The template is here." He indicated
the whole room and smiling ran his hand up Lisa's back. " Perhaps you lack the
strength or will; that is up to you. But I want you to experience a man's
natural power before one of these emancipated American cunts turns you into her
emasculated lapdog begging for her favors.

   "Now in regards to Lisa: I have instructed her to obey you as she does me.
But you may find the practical application of this may be more complicated than
it sounds. I will leave you to your own wits and devices in the matter. You will
find the tools needed through-out my home."

   He smiled as he stared at her. "I think initially you will find Lisa's
temperament daunting, but I have found that in her soul she yearns to be
mastered."

   Lisa had turned her head and been listening to my uncle intently. At his last
statement she seemed bursting to voice protest but then restrained herself. She
bowed her head and looked at the floor.

   My uncle lifted her chin so they were eye to eye. "Lisa, I will repeat this
once more so there is no misunderstanding. John is the master of the house while
I am gone and you will obey his every command. Do you understand this?"

   There was a pause as the two stared at each other. She nodded.

   "Now tell John you understand," he told her. He turned her head towards me.

   She would not meet my eye, but flatly stated; "I will obey you."

Chapter 3

   Shortly thereafter my uncle announced it was time for bed. As he rose from
his chair, he said, "I will be in contact." As an afterthought he had taken two
keys from his pocket and told me they were for Lisa's collar and the drawer
holding the control mechanism. He suggested I keep it secure on my person to
avoid "anyone's wayward temptations". Then taking Lisa by the hand he led the
lovely maid off to another wing. I sat by myself, watching the fire slowly die
and considered the evening's portentous events. I finally decided I would relax
and enjoy this luxurious setting and just let the chips fall were they might. My
uncle had indicated the location of the guest room and I retired to sleep
heavily.

   The next day it was mid-morning before I arose. After a shower I followed the
scent of frying bacon to the kitchen. I found a large jovial black female cook
there who had anticipated my need for breakfast. She told me that my uncle had
left early in the morning. Also, she would be in twice a day "to fix-up"
breakfast and dinner. She showed me the phone to call in special orders from the
kitchen downstairs and the location of the dumbwaiter. I told her my favorite
foods and she promised an evening meal "just like home."

   Afterward, carrying a mug of coffee, I toured the spacious penthouse in
daylight. Eventually I heard voices and opened a door to find a small gymnasium.
Lisa was dutifully involved in an athletic training class. The instructress, a
striking blonde, was directing her through a strenuous routine of bending
stretches. Lisa's coach barked several guttural commands at her charge, and then
strode over to me. She wore a white loosely fitted tunic-like blouse and thin
baggy knee-length shorts. There was a black belt tied around her waist. With a
noticeable German accent she told me her name was Ingrid. As we shook hands we
took the other's measure. I noticed her handshake was as strong and confident as
a man's. She was a beautiful hard-featured Aryan. Her blond hair was cropped
short to her head and she had unblinking piercing blue eyes. She was only inches
shorter than me and her body was lean and tightly muscled. In particular I
noticed a rider's crop that she carried on a thong from her wrist.

   She told me she was Lisa's trainer and that her job was to keep Lisa in
superb physical condition. Ingrid stated that Italians were naturally lazy. Her
task was to instill Lisa with a "sense of proper discipline". As we talked she
continuously tapped her crop against her leg.

   Lisa had continued her exercise regimen, but had been distracted as she
surreptitiously attempted to listen to us. She made an awkward movement and
broke her rhythm. Ingrid's head jerked around and she screamed something in
German. She bounded over to the bending girl and snapped the crop across Lisa's
upturned vulnerable backside. Lisa squealed, immediately dropped flat to the mat
and rubbed her bottom. She glanced my way and to see my reaction to her
humiliation, then quickly climbed back to her feet. She continued the
interrupted movement with her face blushing dark red beneath her olive
complexion.

   I leaned against the wall and continued to watch the two females for nearly a
quarter of an hour. Lisa was in excellent physical condition. Her rounded curves
were misleading. She was a tightly muscled lithe female dynamo.

   Ingrid grew agitated after Lisa had made several imperceptible miss-movements
during a particularly provocative sensual routine. She had directed Lisa to
perform a cheerleader-like split. Lisa had glanced at me and noted my
appreciation of her body's capabilities. Acutely aware of herself Lisa seemed
unable to fully relax her legs to complete the split. Ingrid finally came to me
and said that my attention was distracting her pupil. I laughed and agreed. But
I promised myself that soon I would have my own workout session with little
Lisa.

   Later after checking her posted schedule and noting she had a scheduled
two-hour hiatus, I rang for her. After five minutes and no responding Lisa, I
checked her suite door to find it locked.

   I had hoped that our relationship would start on a better note. I returned to
the living room and unlocked the control drawer. I activated the panel and
pressed the red button. Moments passed and there was no answering response.
Perturbed I turned up the voltage control dial to the maximum and again pressed
the button. Immediately I was rewarded with a distant corresponding scream and a
sound of breaking glass. Within a moment an indignant Lisa entered the room to
stand before me flushed and wild-eyed.

   She took a deep breath, looked me straight in the eye and screamed coarsely
in Italian. Unfamiliar with the language I assumed by her tone that I was being
cursed. She was quite lovely in her anger. She had large green eyes like fiery
emeralds. Her thick black hair that had been tied back during her exercises was
now loose and framed that beautiful face. She had changed into a gray oversized
athletic sweatshirt, which hung to her mid thighs. The sweat dampened cotton
clung to her large breasts which rose and fell in a delightful fashion as she
caught her breath.

   "I am in class. You must not bother me!" she stamped her foot. Her accent was
more pronounced due to her agitation.

   I tapped her schedule, which lay on a side table. "No, Lisa, you are free for
several hours and it is time we became better acquainted". She did not respond
but continued to stare at me. I realized she was attempting to intimidate me by
her will alone.

   Sternly I looked at her and said, "I have rules which you must learn; first
when I summon you... you will come to me naked and kneel before me. Do you
understand?"

   Color rose in her cheeks, and her eyes flashed and she again muttered in
Italian. Then she said "No! I am not your slave and I will not do what you say!

   I said, "And you will call me MASTER" I again pressed the red button. She
arched backward to the carpeted floor and jerked spasmodically. Alarmed I took
my finger from the button and she promptly curled into a tight ball on the
floor.

   "Please, please stop," she gasped. She began to cry.

   Despite a slight pang of pity I said firmly "Lisa, you WILL be naked for your
Master... NOW!"

   A pair of green eyes peered at me from under that disheveled mane of hair.
She sniffed, then reached down and pulled the sweatshirt over her head. She sat
balled on the floor her head down with her hair cascading down her knees.

   "Lisa!" I commanded.

   She lifted her head and look at me with angry defiance. She had her knees
against her breasts and her feet crossed.

   "Kneel before your Master, Lisa," I ordered again.

   "You are not my Master," she replied.

   I shook my head in resignation and reached toward the button.

   "Shitty American bastard!" she hissed and jerked herself up and to her knees.

   I sat back in the chair to take in the sight of this naked beauty kneeling
before me if not submissively then at least at my command. The leather collar on
her neck seemed even more prominent with her complete nudity.

   She kept her arms at her sides with her fists tightly clenched. Her heavy
breasts were suspended on a lovely frame of ribs. She had large areola and full
nipples, which I noticed were taut from her exposure in the cool room. Her pubic
hair had been clipped close and the lips of her vagina were exposed. I imagined
she had a full bush when growing wild.

   "Spread your legs wide, little slave girl " I said.

   She grimaced, but then very begrudgingly opened her thighs perhaps four
inches.

   I sighed, abruptly stood and stated, "I have had enough of this."

   I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her forward. She screamed, grabbed
my wrists and rose to her feet. Keeping her bent forward I pulled her behind me
into the next room.

Chapter Four

   Earlier that day, during my exploration of the penthouse, I had made a useful
discovery immediately off the great room. My uncle had a very eccentric taste in
artifacts. The room was furnished with an odd array of torture instruments
including several crude medieval curiosities. There was a massive wooden stock,
a rack, whips, chains and a wide range of paddles. But, evidently my uncle was a
collector with an eye for the practical and working tool. One intricate device
had interested me in particular and I had familiarized myself with its
functions. It's ingenious design and practical purpose had fascinated me.

   It was toward this machine that I dragged my struggling naked captive. She
was a handful of hotly aroused female. I was very impressed with her furious
strength. She had gained her feet and lunged into me, pummeling my back with her
fists. I twisted her hair and pulled her forward and to her knees. She rose
again, screaming obscenities in a combination of Italian and English. I caught a
flying fist by the wrist and slapped it into an awaiting cuff, dangling from an
overhead hoist. She seemed to have previous experience with this device and she
immediately redoubled her efforts to be free.

   Lisa fumbled with the cuff's lock and screamed, "I do not want this!"

   I promptly began to crank the hoist taking up the slack from the chain and
pulling her to her tiptoes. She frantically tugged at the cuff as she teetered
awkwardly. I continued to crank and raise her till she was suspended from the
floor. She flailed her legs impotently for a moment then stopped to hang
spinning, suspended by one arm. As she spun her glaring eyes shifted as she
tracked me.

   Then she performed a remarkable acrobatic feat. She pulled her torso up and
over her head and wrapped one leg around the chain. Upside down she used her
free hand in a renewed effort to free herself from the cuff. I clicked the other
cuff on that free arm at an opportune moment, while barely avoiding her snapping
teeth. I then cranked the corresponding hoist pulling her newly captured arm
upward. She had continued to scratch at the first cuff till it was out of her
reach. Then with another curse she unwrapped her leg and lowered herself. I used
the lift to balance her so she now swung freely from her two wrists. She was
hanging suspended inches from the floor. She stopped all her struggles realizing
that it only displayed her naked charms to me in a very provocative manner. She
shook her head throwing her full mane of hair away from her face and spit at me.
She couldn't control her full bosom from rising and falling as she caught her
breath from her wild exertions.

   Standing back very aware of the kicking potential of those shapely legs I
addressed my sensual prisoner. Looking straight into those deep green and very
angry eyes I told her, "I am your Master. You will call me Master. You will obey
me."

   She curled her lips contemptuously. "I will NOT!" she snarled at me. "You are
not MAN enough to be my master!"

   I picked up a large wooden paddle from a nearby table. I walked behind her.
She immediately began to twist and turn attempting to prevent my obvious use of
the instrument on her body. She began screaming, "NO, NO, NO!"

   Patiently I waited till her movement slowed and I had a clear shot at her
exposed bottom. I took a full swing and with a resounding SMACK caught both of
those firm cheeks. The tenor of her new scream changed to a throaty wail and she
curled her legs up so she was a tight ball. I again admired her gymnastic
ability. With wide-eyed shock and fear she looked over her shoulder at me. I
smiled at her. She was realizing that my youthful appearance belied a truly
sadistic nature.

   I had played varsity baseball at school and my next swing would have been a
homerun. There was a resounding SMACK and a corresponding full-throated scream
from Lisa. She lifted and jerked herself about like a beautiful naked dancing
marionette. Her wails turned into a pitiful sobbing cry. I aligned my stance as
if facing a pitcher and delivered three more resounding blows. She exhausted
herself with anguished but restrained reaction to the pain. Her exertions had
weakened her and ultimately she went limp to hang swinging slowly with her head
bowed.

   I paused and then took one more full swing on now fully presented ass. She
again arched away from the pain howling in a most satisfactory manner. I noticed
a bright redness now shone on the cheeks of her abused bottom through the
natural Mediterranean darkness of her skin. I walked in front of her and gently
lifted her chin to look into her teary eyes. "Have you had enough, little one?"
I asked her.

   "Please no more... please!" She would not look me in the eyes. "It hurts so
terribly!"

   I smiled in triumph. Crouching down I pulled up the two floor-mounted
restraints and snapped them on her ankles despite murmured protests and feeble
attempts to struggle. Using the pulleys I adjusted the chains so her arms and
legs stretched outward forming a suspended X. I stood in front of her and
admired my handiwork. Her head drooped and her hair obscured her face. I
unfastened, dropped and kicked aside my loose breeches. Reaching behind her I
cupped her warm spanked ass in my hands. I pulled her against me so my now
aroused penis was pressed against her cervix. I could feel the tickle of her
pubis and the warmth of her cleft. Her full heavy breasts were mashed against my
chest. Her head slowly came up until our faces were inches from the others. I
reached up to brush the hair from her face. My arousal was an unspoken truth
between us. I kissed her mouth in demanding fashion and she twisted her face
away. I squeezed her tortured ass hard and she gasped. I again kissed her open
mouth.

   She said something unintelligible against my lips, which I assumed, was
another protest. I stood back. She was watching me closely. I saw her eyes drop
down to my erection, and then quickly shift away. She closed her eyes and bowed
her head with her hair again falling about her face.

   "Soon, little slave, girl you will be kissing your Master's cock," I said.
"You love having a man's big cock in your mouth, don't you?"

   Never raising her head I heard a low "No" and she shook her head negatively.
"That is not what my uncle said," I replied teasingly.

   Her eyes came up and I could tell this worried her. My uncle, ever the
consummate gentleman, would never say such a thing. But Lisa's brief questioning
look convinced me that I had struck a nerve. I smiled at her. "And you will lick
and swallow every drop of sperm from my cock," I told her emphasizing "cock"
when I said it. I think she knew enough slang English to understand.

   She lowered her eyes to avoid my mocking sneer.

   Earlier I had noticed the strategically located screw divot in the floor and
the nearby matching attachment. It was a large wooden T that screwed into the
floor. The cross bar could be adjusted so it just creased the hanging girl's
abdomen. By adjusting the suspending chains I shortly had Lisa in the position I
desired.

   She was bent forward with her ass sticking out in a most inviting manner. Her
legs were splayed outward and forward. She was squirming uncomfortably. Walking
behind her, I laid a hand on her up-thrust buttocks. I squeezed a firm cheek
admiring her smooth muscle tone. Then I slid my fingers down to her open thighs
to caress her exposed sex. She was not wet.

   "Your Master does not excite you? I asked as I found and gently rolled her
hooded clit between my fingers. I crouched down and kissed her vagina. She
smelled of woman and soap. She gasped, and a shudder ran through her. I used my
thumbs to spread her lips and I slowly lapped her slit.

   I had known a particularly free-spirited female French exchange student at
Harvard. She had introduced me to the fine art of fellatio and cunnilingus.
Proper American girls saw these acts as great taboos. She had enthusiastically
guided and encouraged me in the performance of this act.

   Within minutes I had Lisa moaning and twitching in a heated state. I stood
and rubbed my now throbbing hard-on against her vulva. I pushed forward. At my
entry she had begun twisting in her bonds and protesting my intrusion in a
pleading tone. "No, oh no! Please. You are too much!"

   I had a general idea of how my erection compared to other men's. Several
"experts" had told me I was gifted. My fraternity brothers and I knew of a high
priced whorehouse in the Back Bay of Boston. After frequent trips we became
known as regulars. The women evidently shared tales and I had been breathlessly
told, "All the girls want to try you!" because of my fabled size.

   She was a tight fit. I realized that her training had given her extraordinary
muscle control. She was actually attempting to squeeze me out of her pussy.
Placing my hands on her hips I began a slow back and forth motion pushing
against the resistance. The barrier seemed to soften and she moaned. I pushed
forward until the full length of my penis was buried to the hilt in her. I
stopped again while still holding her tight against me.

   "Damn, you are a sweet little piece," I told her. She had relaxed and was
hanging loosely in the restraints.

   I reached forward and grabbed her full breasts, rolling the engorged nipples
between my fingers.

   "Your body betrays you, little one," I told her.

   Using her breasts as handholds I began a slow in and out thrust against her.
She came abruptly and suddenly, crying out and arching her back. I increased the
tempo, fucking her hard. Hanging as she was I had the ability to pull her
against me as I drove forward resulting in a satisfactory control and deep
penetration. I paused, bent my knees and slowly ground against her pelvis. She
gasped and came again.

   Suddenly I noticed even within her restraints she was meeting my thrusts by
lifting her ass and meeting my stroke.

   "Fuck me you little bitch... fuck me!" I ordered her.

   I heard her hiss something unintelligible in Italian. She would exhale and
let out an "ah" when I drove into her.

   Feeling an almost animalistic passion come over me, I dropped any resemblance
of finesse and began a furious driving thrusting into her exquisite silkiness.
After several minutes I threw my head back and took a deep breath fighting not
to cum. Fully joined with her I stopped, bent forward and rested my head on her
back. There was a sheen of sweat between us. I kneaded her breasts and pinched
her nipples in a demanding fashion. She shivered and made slight protests in
response to my rough handling.

   I again started a slow in and out motion, and then began to drive into her
hard. She arched, cried out, straining against her clanking chains and had an
orgasm.

   I was beginning to fully appreciate this treasure my uncle had found. I
slowed and again stopped. We were tightly joined; our bodies locked as I held
her to me. I leaned forward till my mouth was against her ear and whispered,
"You now belong to me, Lisa. I will fuck you as many times and as often as I
want." I ran my tongue up her ear. She shuddered beneath me and turned her head
away.

   "Do you like the way your Master fucks you, Lisa?" I asked. I had restarted a
slow tempo into her. After a moment I realized she had spread her legs outward
to the limits of her restraints to allow me maximum penetration. I picked up the
pace slamming into her. She was again matching each thrust with her limited
movements. "Oh fuck your Master, little slave. Show him how a trained bitch can
fuck" She gasped loudly and came. She writhed in climactic ecstasy and then went
limp in the chains.

   I let go at this point. Holding her limp legs I pulled her against me and
pounded her. An intense wave of mounting pleasure flowed through me and I
released, coming deeply in her. After a long moment I pulled out and stood back
from the slowly swinging girl. I walked to her head and grabbed a handful of
hair. Pulling her head up I leaned forward and kissed her. Her lips did not
resist me, but moved lightly against mine.

   Standing up I placed my now semi-flaccid cock before her face. I brushed the
head of my still oozing cock against her lips. "Clean up your Master's cock" I
said. She turned her face away leaving a shiny trail across her lips and cheek.

   "Do it now or I WILL spank you again," I threatened. Her head came up and she
looked up at me. I was not smiling.

   Her shy tongue came out and tentatively touched the pearl of cum beaded at
the head of my penis. The drop clung to her tongue when she licked it. A string
of semen dangled from my cock to her mouth. She looked up at me and I winked at
her. She averted her eyes, and then licked the sperm remnants from her lips. She
swallowed.

   She swiped the cock head running her tongue under and over until the gland
gleamed from her saliva. I ran my fingers possessively through her hair. "Good
girl" I told her. "Good girl" I placed the cock head against her lips. "Look at
your Master," I gently ordered. Her eyes came up to mine. "Kiss your Master's
cock, little slave girl," I said. There was a moment's hesitation and she
dropped her eyes. "Lisa!" I said in a hard tone. Her eyes rose to meet mine, she
blinked and her head moved forward. I felt and saw her puckered lips lightly
kiss my cock in acceptance of her new owner. I pushed forward and Lisa took me
in. She began a slow sucking. She closed her eyes in concentration.

   My revelry was abruptly broken by a harsh voice. "You have made my student
late for her afternoon class!" I turned to see Ingrid who had silently entered
the room to fully witness my tryst with Lisa. The German's face was twisted with
fury.

   I pulled my penis from Lisa's mouth. There was a popping sound from her
sucking oval lips. My organ swung free with her saliva dripping from its still
semi-erect state. "I am done with her for now. She has satisfied me." I
responded. "She is all yours."

Chapter Five

   Afterwards I went downstairs to the gentlemen' club to drink beer, smoke
cigars and play pool. I found the clientele very affable and made myself at
home. As the evening progressed though my thoughts keep returning to Lisa.
Eventually I found my self-drawn to her quarters.

   I rapped on her door and after a moment I heard a cautious "Yes?" through the
heavy panel.

   I answered, "It's me. Open the door."

   There was a pause then the sound of a bolt being drawn and she peered out at
me. She scanned the hallway quickly and then opened the door fully. She wore a
chaste white peignoir and was holding a hairbrush. She seemed shy and unsure of
herself. After our intimate interaction earlier in the day I too felt unsure of
my next step. But, despite my hesitation, I adopted a confident air, kissed her
on the cheek and entered her room. I sat on her bed and made myself comfortable.

   I told her to continue what she was doing and we would talk a while. She sat
on a lacy cushioned stool before a mirrored make-up table and began to run the
comb through her thick hair. We could see each other in the mirror. I noticed a
framed photograph of a beautiful woman next to the mirror.

   Her bedroom was decorated in a very feminine - almost little girl - style.
White ornate furniture, lacey frills, fluffy cushions, stuffed animals, flowered
motifs and a sweet perfume aroma made the feel of the room overwhelmingly
female. There was a phonograph playing softly. I realized this was Lisa's
sanctuary. This room was as different from the atmosphere I had just left in the
club below as night and day.

   I stretched out on her bed and propped up my head with an overstuffed pillow
and began to ask her about her life. She was quite forthcoming and I found her a
very good conversationalist. She seemed as interested in me as I was curious
about her. We talked at length about parents, school, Italy, the USA and the
War. Her English was flawless when she was relaxed.

   I learned Lisa too was an orphan. Her father had been an Italian officer and
had been killed in Mussolini's Ethiopian invasion. She and her Mother had
suffered near poverty until a German officer had entered their lives. He had
taken Lisa's mother as his mistress and moved them to comfortable chateau on the
island of Capri. They had spent an idyllic time there far removed from any
hardships being suffered on the mainland. Then the Allies had arrived and with
the abrupt departure of their benefactor the two were thrown back into a harsh
reality. Lisa's mother had been scorned and chastised by the rising Naples's
populace. She had been caught and had her head shaved. They had lived on the
streets like hunted animals. Then in a quiet tone she told me how she had seen
her mother beaten to death in a riot after Mussolini's downfall. Nuns at the
church had taken her in and had cared for her until my uncle found her.

   There was a poignant pause of silence. The record player had stopped. She was
looking at the picture on her table and she reached up to touch it. She sniffed.
I rose from the bed and went to stand behind her. I was feeling some remorse for
my earlier callous actions. I laid my hands on her bare shoulders in comfort.
She looked up at me in the mirror. Her reflected eyes were brimming with tears.

   "She was so beautiful," Lisa said quietly. "I miss her like part of my heart
is missing."

   I leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. Her smell was deep and
intoxicating. I ran my hands to her throat and the untied the ribbon supporting
her silken gown. The filmy material slid down the high slopes of her breasts.
Her hand came up to catch it before it completely fell. Our eyes were locked in
the mirror. I ran my hands down and gently pushed hers away. The gown dropped
leaving her naked from the waist up. I cupped her full breasts feeling their
heaviness. She took a deep breath.

   "I want you Lisa," I whispered close to her ear.

   She turned her face toward me with her smooth cheek rubbing against my
coarseness. Her skin was wet and I realized her recollections had made her cry.
Her lips met mine and we kissed deeply, our tongues dancing.

   Taking her by the hand I guided her to her feet and took her in my arms. Her
lips rose to mine and we kissed again. I opened my eyes to look at her graceful
back in the mirror. The gown had gathered at the rise of her hips. The gauzy
material hung loosely across the swell of her buttocks. I ran my hand down and
pulled it away so it pooled at her feet. The naked girl shivered as she pulled
herself tightly into my embrace.

   I firmly clenched her warm buttocks and gently kneaded them, but in a
demanding manner. She flinched and I realized her bottom was still smarting from
her earlier spanking. I eased my grip and turned towards the bed. With my arm
around her waist I led her there. She followed me passively and I lay down on my
back and pulled her next to me. She squirmed against me until she was nestled in
my arms then she laid her head on my chest.

   I ran my hand through her thick hair to the nape of her neck. I brought her
lips up to mine and we kissed. I moved her up till her breasts hung above my
mouth. I slowly tongued a nipple, rolling its taut pertness around my lips. I
looked up at her and she had her eyes closed and lips parted savoring the
contact. I held the nipple between my teeth and applied a little pressure. Her
eyes opened and we exchanged a silent message of mutual want. I kissed the
nipple.

   "Take my cock out," I told her.

   She blinked then turned her head to look down my chest. She looked back at me
then used her hands to push herself down my body. I cradled my arms behind my
head to watch. She fumbled with the clasp on my slacks then pulled them open,
pulling the zipper down. My erect penis bulged in my thin silk shorts. She ran a
finger down the length and then grabbed the girth through the material. She
looked up at me and smiled. It was the first time I had seen her smile. She was
radiantly beautiful.

   "I excite you... Master?" she said. That was more of a statement of fact than
a question.

   "Take it out." I replied.

   She unbuttoned the loose flap and pulled my penis free. I was demandingly
erect. Her eyes were wide as she focused intently on manipulating her fist in a
slow pumping action on the rod. She glanced quickly up at me to note my reaction
to her ministrations.

   "Suck it." I told her.

   She smiled coyly at me and then engulfed the corona with a swirling up and
down mouth movement. Holding the head in a widely pursed lip embrace, she bobbed
her head in a purposeful manner, gradually engulfing a large length of me.

   It was a rapturous sensation and took my breath away. I involuntarily threw
my head back and gasped. Taking in a deep breath I looked down at her. She had
nearly swallowed half my girth. She angled her head so the cock was pressing at
the back of her throat. I could see her neck bulge as she relaxed her muscles to
take me in. She was humming and making a wet slurping noise. It felt marvelous.

   She would pump her head then pause every few strokes to rotate her head and
create a twisting pull on me. My knees had drawn up and I was suddenly short of
breath.

   "God damn! Were did you learn that?" I moaned.

   Slowly she pulled her head up. She would tantalize me by rising several
inches then sucking me in again and taking me to the edge of ecstatic pleasure.
Then she slowly rose up keeping a hard suction to the last full mouthful Her
lips popped free. She ran her tongue around the head, looked up at me and smiled
shyly.

   "Your uncle brought a call-girl here once. She taught me how to do it." She
added breathlessly, "Do you like it?" She laid her head on my thigh and slowly
stroked my gleaming phallus. Her expression was one of dreamy worship.

   "I have never felt anything like it," I told her honestly.

   She kissed the blood-engorged crown. "Let me show you the whole trick. My
Master loves for me to do it for him," she said sweetly.

   It was a tempting proposition but I had a nagging feeling I was losing
control of the relationship. I resolved to demonstrate to Lisa one of my own
"tricks".

   A Greek whore in Boston had taught me the joys of anal sex. She had a
perverse yearning for this "backdoor love." She had once said she should be
paying me for servicing her so well.

   I pulled Lisa up and rolled her on her stomach. Using a large stuffed teddy
bear under her stomach I propped her well-formed bottom up in the air. Using a
jar of facial cream I greased her anus. At this intrusion of my fingers Lisa
began squirming as my intentions became more evident.

   " I am not sure I can do this... Master," she pleaded. " I know of this, but
I have never done it." Then she added, " I can make you very happy in many other
ways."

   As I greased and probed her anus with one finger then two, her pleas had
turned to a whine. "Master, I am afraid."

   I was silent as I wiped the remnants of cream on the head of my cock and than
on the side of her hip. I positioned myself behind her placing my erection at
her sphincter. "You must relax, Lisa, and the hurt will pass," I promised her.

   Using a slight pushing motion with my pelvis I nudged against her entryway.
She pulled away in response from the unfamiliar intrusion. Holding her hips I
pushed more forcefully and was rewarded with some slight penetration. Suddenly
with more pressure I overcame the barrier and became partially buried in her. I
stopped my movements and enjoyed her tightness. My prick looked enormous
protruding from her tight cheeks. Her writhing beneath me heightened the
sensation of my power over her.

   She gripped a handful of sheets and had the wad clenched to her mouth, making
muffled cries of discomfort. I leaned forward to brace myself on my arms and
began a slow but persistent driving. I would slide back till my cock was at the
end of her channel, which was still the tightest point and then very slowly
slide forward to push toward new depths.

   She would tense at each new inch I gained and then I could feel her muscles
relax as she accepted the increased plumbing of her. It was a slow and
painstaking progress but the intensity of taking her in this fashion was
delicious. When I felt my balls finally bumping against the smooth skin of her
bottom I knew I was close. Concentrating, I made one more thrust, becoming fully
buried in my pliable conquest. I closed my eyes and smiled in a deep
contentment.

   Lisa was holding herself very still as any unneeded movement might cause her
more pain. I leaned forward to bury my face in her hair. I kissed her. Then I
began anew my pumping motion, always thrusting myself to the limit of our
joining. She had stretched out her arms over her head and flattened herself
almost as if in a bowing gesture in an attempt to straighten and align herself
to my thrusting. She made small panting noises.

   As we continued she was able to accommodate me with less effort so I became
less restrained in my motions. Soon I was fucking her with nearly all my
strength. Toward the end I believe she had somehow taken pleasure in the act.
Her cries had changed and when I finally halted and released deep within her she
released a long sigh. I laid on top her and caught my breath. Then rising up I
slowly pulled my shrinking penis from her. As the head caught and then slipped
past the ring of her sphincter, she sighed again and then curled into a ball.

   I rolled off her and lay on my back staring at the ceiling. There was a
silence between us. Then she moved against me to lay her head in the crook of my
shoulder. She ran a hand up my stomach to rest on my chest.

   " I am not sure I like that," she murmured. " I felt like there was nothing I
could do but lie there. I like to..." She paused as if hunting for a word.
"...participate," she added.

   I smiled, basking in the afterglow of a very satisfactory ejaculation. "Let's
take a little nap," I replied. "Then we will do it again and let you
'participate'."

   We did it twice more that night in a more traditional fashion. The third
session was a slow dreamlike pre-dawn coupling. It was almost as if our bodies
had joined together without any conscious effort. In what seemed like a timeless
state she rode on top me, thrusting in a languorous fashion against my penis.
Then suddenly her motion became more frenzied, she stiffened and cried out
alarmingly. Then she went slack in my worried embrace. She was crying. She moved
her lips to mine kissing me passionately with tears running down her cheeks. She
broke the kiss. "Oh, my Master! That was so wonderful. I have never felt such a
thing before."

   I noted that for the first time was no hesitation in her addressing me as
"Master".

Chapter Six

   Michael Forsyth leaned against the balcony rail and hoisted a pair of
neck-suspended binoculars. He focused on an ancient freighter tied among
non-descript freighters in the busy Hong Kong harbor below. It was the sixth
time in the past half hour he had examined the shipboard activity on that
particular vessel. Dropping the glasses he inhaled on a cigarette he held
pinched between his fingers and then flipped it out into the street six blocks
below.

   He was known as Michael Forsyth in the Orient. That was one of many names he
used here and in Europe. The name recorded on his birth certificate back in the
States had no relevance to the business he was involved in.

   Again lifting the glasses he slowly panned down the length of the vessel. He
lowered the glasses to light another cigarette. His chain smoking was the only
expression of pressure he ever exhibited.

   Within the hold of that ship, packed in boxes labeled "construction
equipment" was a large quantity of armaments meant for the Nationalist Chinese
forces. The current political situation had created a shortage in the market and
Forsyth had made a fortune in just such opportunities,

   . When the British Customs were off the ship and he could transport the cargo
to his warehouse then he would consider the job done. He had reviewed and
considered every possible contingently. The British bureaucrats were paid off
and these final steps should be simple routine. But, Forsyth never trusted
"routine".

   He stood upright and turned away from the harbor activity. He exhaled a cloud
of smoke and smiled. He had developed the ability to handle stressful times by
emptying his mind of pending concerns and refocusing on other matters. He was
thinking about his nephew.

   He wondered if John had discovered the trap he had left for him. Forsyth
manipulated people; it was one of his fascinations. Leaving the youth in his
home without a challenge would be too much like leaving him with the keys to a
brothel. He wanted to see what John was truly made of.

   Forsyth knew John's all-American boy personality and Ingrid would invariably
clash. Like oil and water the two would never mix.

   He had known Ingrid for many years, but other another name. Forsyth had a
very unique ability to quickly pickup new languages and assimilate himself
seamlessly into foreign cultures. He had been working with the American Foreign
Service off and on since the mid-thirties. He first met "Ingrid" in the late
thirties when she was with her father, the German ambassador to France. Then in
the closing days of the war he had seen her name on a very secret SS document.



   During the war he had been in France as liaison between the Allies and the
French resistance. He had been with that group when the contact had been made
from Germany. A cadre of highly placed Nazi Government officials wanted asylum
and were ready to pay gold for it.

   He had arranged for her escape to Venezuela. Several years later he had
arranged a new identity for her and brought her to the States. Her
eccentricities amused him and he found her company a refreshing shift from the
postwar blandness of America

   Lisa had also come into his life during that period. He had been in Rome
during the peacetime Allied occupation. His ability to speak Italian had placed
him in a position of negotiations during the restructuring of a new government.
He had met secretly with several Mafioso who wanted to deal.

   The meeting had reached an impasse and Forsyth had stood, turned his back on
the men and walked to an open window. Looking out into the bustling street below
he had seen a nun leading a group of uniformed girls across the square. Lisa had
stood out from the group like a beacon. That the cool American had seen
something causing his head to turn alerted the old Don who stood and looked out
the window. The old criminal smiled when he saw the object of Forsyth's
attention.

   Lisa had been the "sweet" added to the deal that was finally completed.
Forsyth left Rome with her and a telegraph from Geneva stating that a large
deposit had been made to his account. The Mafia was given access to the new
government.

   Forsyth's reverie was broken by the approach of soft footsteps. A naked
Chinese girl knelt at his feet and held up a saucer and cup of tea to him. "Tea,
Master?" she asked softly in Cantonese. She was very young and beautiful. She
had been a gift from a local warlord for Forsyth's influence with an American
Oil firm.

   "Thank you sweet flower,' he replied in flawless Cantonese.



   My lounge chair jerked and disturbed my nap. I opened my eyes and reoriented
myself. I was laid out naked in the penthouse's solarium on the roof of the
building. It was a warmly brilliant afternoon, seemingly meant for nothing but
complete relaxation.

   I looked down between my outstretched legs to determine what had disturbed my
repose. The naked Lisa was on her knees was at the end a silver linked leash,
which ran from her neck collar to a clip on the arm of my chair. The chair again
jerked slightly as she attempted to reach a massive law book which just beyond
her fingertips.

   Other such books surrounded her. Some books where stacked and others were
opened to whatever she was researching. She caught the edge of the out-of-reach
book with her fingernails and pulled it to her. With a satisfied smile she sat
back on her heels and hoisted the book onto her lap. She turned her head to me,
sensing my attention and gave me a lovely smile.

   She used a pair of reading glasses for the fine print in the texts. The
glasses were perched on the end of her nose and she looked at me over the rims.
She had her long hair tied in a very loose bun on top of her head. Several loose
strands curled on her forehead. She had rubbed oil over herself and she gleamed
in the sun. I noticed several beads of perspiration clung to her large outthrust
breasts.

   "I thought you would never wake up," she said brightly, "Look what I have
found." She ran a finger across a page leaving a slight oil smudge on the paper.
She then began a legal discourse worthy of a practicing attorney. I lay my head
back and immediately lost interest. This particular argument, which dealt with
an obscure facet of the law, had been ongoing for days now. I was on vacation I
told myself. I had planned to take the bar exam next winter and considered
myself on summer break. I had found the past weeks every bit as challenging as
the final year of law school.

   I had come to realize that Lisa had a quick-minded genius coupled with a
boundless energy. She would focus on a problem until she had worked it out. My
uncle had not left me in this situation simply for my youthful stud services.
Although I would concede the time we spent on law was balanced by our sexual
escapades. Lisa could focus her entire attention on what she enjoyed.

   The past few weeks had been wonderful. Lisa and I had become very close. I
had to discipline my heart. I had never been in romantic love before and this
relationship with her was like being perched at the edge of a bottomless chasm.
I had to concentrate on maintaining an emotional detachment from her.

   Her insistent voice intruded on my thoughts. "See right here... in 1949...
Smith vs. Smith... the court decided... " I reached down and tugged her leash
pulling her to me. She looked up briefly then scooted on her knees between my
spread legs. Holding the book she continued reading out loud.

   She would order these books by phone and a very extensive law library would
deliver them the next day. Her tutored classes had a scholarship level and I
thought she could compete at any Ivy League school. I received a shock one day
when I noticed one of her teachers leaving. I had seen his picture before as
author of one of the more highly regarded texts of the day.

   She walked her fingers up my leg stopping to squeeze my thigh as she
emphasized the point she was making. I felt my groin stir.

   She stopped reading and looked at me. "See? It is as exactly as I said!" she
told me, delighted with herself. She began reading out load again to me.

   I tugged the leash again, taking in the slack so she was pulled toward my
crotch. She looked up and noticed my semi-erect cock bobbing before her. "Oh,"
she said. She pushed her glasses up her nose and leaned forward to take the head
of my cock in her mouth. I spread my thighs, smiled and laid my head back. After
a moment I felt the hot suction leave my penis and heard a wet "pop" as her lips
left the gland. "But, listen to this," she said. Holding the book in one hand
she slowly stroked my cock with the other. She began reading where she had left
off.

   I abruptly interrupted her discourse. "You know that birch switch that hangs
by itself on the wall in the punishment room? Do you think that would leave
blister-welts on someone?" I stared up into the clouds as if in deep thought.

   She stopped reading. I could feel her stare. Although our relationship had
developed a closeness that permitted much play and back and forth foolish
interaction, she was aware of a cruel side in me that kept her watchful.

   "I would not know, but I think someone would have to be particularly sadistic
to use that," she said primly. But she set aside the book then ran her hands up
around my hips. She slid forward rubbing her full, oiled, firm breasts against
my inner thighs. She grasped my rising cock and pulled it to her lips. She
slowly lowered her mouth until her nose was buried in my pubic hair. We had
practiced in the past weeks until she was able to take all of me.

   I thought to myself that life was grand. I reclined further in the chair so
my hips were at the edge of the chair.

   "Lower little slave," I said. "Go way down"

   She slowly brought her mouth up my penis, stopping at the end to slowly bob
her head. I brought my head up and watched her. She looked delightful with her
beautiful face, reading glasses and my large cock stretching her puckered lips.
Sliding her hand across me she grasped the cock and gently let me slide from her
lips as she rolled her tongue around the mushroom head. We exchanged glances as
if she was going to test my resolve, and then she rolled her eyes. She took off
her glasses and set them aside. Then she slowly lowered her head, tongue-lapping
the full length of my penis to my testicles. I felt her gently kissing and
rolling my balls in her mouth.

   "Lower, Lisa," I repeated. "Go 'round the world." I slid forward a bit and
spread my legs wide. I felt her breath tickle my scrotum and then a kiss. There
was a searching flick and then the probing at my anus. She slowly drilled her
tongue into my depths.

   I was totally relaxed. "Good girl!" I said

   Smiling in satisfied contentment and secure power I thought about the next
two months and the promise of continued good times ahead.

   The next day I had to return to Cambridge to settle up my affairs at Harvard.
While there I spent two nights at my old fraternity. Several brothers were
around for the summer and it was like a reunion. I had invited three of my old
friends to come down to the city and visit me.

   On my return to New York and the penthouse I found there had been some
problems. Lisa tearfully confided to me that Ingrid had abused her in my
absence. Lisa said Ingrid had beaten her and forced her to perform oral sex.
Lisa showed me her lovely bottom, which was criss-crossed with ugly welts. I was
upset by this but uncertain of my next step. I was not sure of Ingrid's status
in this household. She seemed to come and go as she pleased and did not seem to
be in my uncle's employ. I certainly did not want to contact my uncle and appear
as if I couldn't properly handle this responsibility. But, the real fact I was
facing was that I was a bit intimidated by the German bitch myself.

   I had purposefully avoided Ingrid in the past weeks. It seemed the easiest
course of action. But, on this day I showed up at the gymnasium during Lisa's
training session. I began my own workout with some weights and a jumping rope.
My presence in what Ingrid viewed as her kingdom seemed to annoy her. She seemed
particularly strident with Lisa and her screaming was shrill and unpleasant. I
was in a foul mood myself and really didn't care what she thought. I actually
took a degree of pleasure in her petty displays of displeasure.

   I started using the ceiling-mounted speed bag. I kept it in a constant blur
of motion as I set a rhythm of exchanging left and right punches. I quickly
noticed that the steady slapping thudding pattern of the speed bag was getting
under Ingrid's skin. The close low ceiling would reverberate the sound until it
was nearly all encompassing. I adapted the habit of increasing my tempo and
raising the sound level when Ingrid was giving Lisa instructions.

   Ingrid's mood became progressively worse. I had gotten good at adjusting my
pace to the rise and fall of her voice. She had been sternly lecturing Lisa and
was forced to raise her voice above the mounting roar of my corresponding
workout. Her voice had reached a screaming crescendo then she abruptly became
quiet. I had my back to the two and I became aware Ingrid had come up behind me.
I slowed my pounding, reached up to stop the swinging bag and turned to face
her. Her face was red with fury.

   "Well hello, Ingrid," I said pleasantly. "You want to try it?" I indicated
the speed bag.

   She visibly composed herself and smiled icily. "No, I am expert in other
means of combat," she answered, then added. "We should match our talents. It
would prove interesting to see who is the true master of their art."

   "Well sure," I replied with a smirk. I never turned down a challenge.
"Anytime you say. Let me know."

   She smiled again. Then backed away from me several steps and went into a
loose crouch, "Let us see NOW!"

   I shrugged. I had boxed light heavyweight in the Golden Gloves back at
school. I was very sure I could knock her head from her shoulders with one good
right hand. I went into a classic pugilistic stance and feinted toward her. She
shifted to my side, causing me to turn to follow her, and then in a blur of
motion she twisted again, rose to her toes and kicked up between my fists to
clip my jaw. I was staggered back. In rapid succession she whirled and kicked me
twice more. The second kick caught me in the solar plexus and I dropped my
hands. The third kick was against the side of my now unprotected head. Close to
dropping I fell back against the wall.

   She halted, returned to her initial stance and appeared to be measuring me up
for another attack. She was smiling in an infuriating manner. I had seen this
type of fighting before. I had an assistant coach who had been a Marine during
the War. He had served in the Pacific and had been impressed with this Japanese
style of combat. He had called it karate. During the later occupation of Japan
he had trained in the art. He had convinced me the discipline would broaden my
own fighting talents and I had done some extensive training under his tutelage.
I was no adept, but I understood the basic concepts

   I shook my head to clear the cobwebs and went into a matching stance as she
approached and flowing with her motion threw out my elbow and cracked her upper
arm at the junction of her shoulder. It was her turn to reel backwards, but she
immediately rolled and came back at me. I was still dazed from the first series
of blows. In defense I did hold my own and we circled each other weaving and
probing.

   The next few minutes were an intense fury of combat. It was a close match
between my strength and her speed. I realized immediately Ingrid was fighting in
deadly earnest. This was a battle for who would rule this world, with Lisa as
the prize.

   I was in good condition; but found quickly my size could be a hindrance. I
was fighting her fight and I was simply a bigger target for her kicks and
chopping hands. My body ached and I was badly winded. She was cutting me down
slowly like a big tree.

   I realized my last chance would have to be a ruse. Using an old trick from my
boxing days I gave her a classic opening to my jaw. She took it, jumping and in
mid air kicking her foot out. It would have broken my jaw if it connected, but I
was twisting with her. I had a clear shot at the side of her head and I hit her
with a full right-handed fist between her ear and temple.

   She hit the floor rolling and came back to her feet, then crumpled to her
knees in a wall-eyed daze. I walked behind her and pushed her forward. I placed
a knee to the middle of her back resting my bulk on her, solidly pinning her to
the floor.

   "I win, Ingrid, concede to me," I told her.

   She squirmed beneath me, gasping under my weight. I felt her scratch my bare
upper thigh with her hand. In response I grabbed a hand of her hair and prepared
to thump her head against the floor when my leg cramped in sudden searing agony.
I yelled and doubled falling to the floor. In sickening pain I attempted to
straighten and loose the knotting muscles with my hands. The now free Ingrid
regained her feet. I looked up at her. She held out the back of her hand and I
noticed a sharp-edged ring with blood on it.

   "A little memento I keep from the old days," she said. "The chemical causes a
bad muscle reaction, doesn't it?

   She walked over to the rack of dumbbells and hefted one. Bringing the weight
up she calmly walked back toward me. I realized her intention at the last moment
and barely blocked her swing. The weight would have smashed my face but instead
it glanced off my forehead. I went into a black unconscious void.

   When I awoke the world was all wrong and full of pain. My throbbing headache
was compounded by the fact that my head was hanging down. I attempted to move
and realized I couldn't. Reality slowly dawned and I concluded I was in a very
bad way.

   I was in the punishment room secured in the same manner I had once done to
Lisa. My legs were spread wide and my rectum was thrust in the air. Frightened I
briefly struggled in my binds. My exertion only increased the pounding in my
head. Feeling nauseous I hung limp.

   The clanking of the chains had alerted Ingrid and she entered my vision. She
had changed. She wore a pair of black jodhpurs and knee-high boots. She was also
topless but I was in no condition to ogle. She reached down, grabbed a handful
of my hair and jerked my head up. She crouched so we were eye to eye.

   "It has been a long time since I have had the pleasure of breaking an
American swine." She confided. "We shall do this in a slow manner and enjoy
ourselves."

   I had no reply and she dropped my head. I heard her making sounds and I
raised my head. She had attached a belt device around her waist. An enormous
black phallus jutted from between her thighs. She smiled at me and grasped the
dildo in her fist.

   "When I am done with you... you shall be as tamed and obedient as a puppy
dog," she said lightly.

   She walked behind me and I threatened her, telling her my uncle would not
approve of this and she would be out of a job. She answered and said when he
returned I would be so docile that I would never tell. I felt her between my
thighs and I tried to bargain with her, telling her I had money and a car. She
said in a few days I would gladly give them to her as a gift and I felt mounting
pressure on my anus. Jerking away from the intrusion I began to whine and plead.

   She thrust forward and I heard a wailing scream. For a moment I did not
recognize the sound coming from my own throat.

Chapter 7

   The next week was an unending nightmare of pain. The days and nights were
filled with her unrelenting fury. I was kept naked, collared and shackled. She
had chained and hobbled me in a fashion so I was unable to gain my feet. My
world became the punishment room and here Ingrid ruled.

   She used a short rubber-covered billy club to beat me. She knew exactly were
to strike on my thick muscles, not leaving massive bruises, but causing intense
agony. My thighs, calves and arms felt bruised to the bone. I wondered if I
would ever stand again.

   I was slowly filled with a conviction that she could read my thoughts. In my
pain and growing exhaustion it seemed any thoughts of anger or rebellion could
be sensed by her and would result in another terrible beating. My sense of
identity became detached. My world focused on her and her club. That if my
becoming her dog would lessen the pain started seeming a very logical choice.

   After several days of torture, when my behavior had gotten to a point were
she was satisfied I was subdued, she led me from the punishment room on a leash.
Heavily chained I crawled obediently after her. She led me to the master bedroom
were I saw Lisa for the first time in what seemed an eternity. She wore a short
frilly nightgown and was sitting on the edge of the bed. My neck aching I looked
up and met her eyes. I saw pity.

   This exchange drew an immediate response from Ingrid. She swung her club and
struck the back of my neck. Crying out in pain I cowered from her.

   "BAD doggie!" she exclaimed. "Now lay and behave yourself." She raised her
club and I immediately slunk to floor and curled to a defensive position. Ingrid
fastened my collar to a short length of chain, which she attached to a bedpost.
My position left my head under the bed.

   She smiled and turned to Lisa, "You see, I told you, these men are really
only two legged animals. Once they are properly trained they easily revert to
their true bestial state."

   Then she took Lisa to bed. I lay sleepless on the floor and listened to their
lovemaking. At first Lisa had murmured protests, then her pleading had become
more breathless and finally passion was all I heard from above me. It went on
for hours. I suppose my presence inspired Ingrid because her demands on Lisa
seemed inexhaustible. When their breathing deepened and the bed's movements had
ceased I managed to divorce my deep despair and fall into my own restless
slumber on the cold wood floor.

   The next morning began badly. I was awakened from a fitful sleep by a brutal
kick in my ribs. "Wake-up dog boy." Ingrid laughed as I gasped for agonized
breath. I opened my tear-filled eyes and looked up at the two females towering
over me. Lisa had her hand over her mouth as if to suppress an exclamation of
pity for me.

   I had awakened with an erection. But, immediate fear had caused me to go into
a less turgid state. Ingrid noticed my semi-aroused condition and used her toe
to nudge my penis.

   "You see this? The cur cannot help itself. Maybe I shall have it neutered.
When I am finished with his training he will have no use for these anyway." She
said. She used her toes to mash my balls. I gasped and jerked in my chains
attempting to protect myself. She used the heel of her foot to push me onto my
back. I concentrated on preparing myself for more pain. But, instead she only
laughed, stepped over me and led Lisa from the room.

   I lay on the hard floor for an hour. Ingrid had not let me eat since the
previous morning and I was very hungry. I also needed to urinate. My abdomen
muscles were badly bruised from a particularly cruel beating days earlier and I
had little bladder control. I made a valiant effort to stem the rising pressure
but eventually pissed on the floor and myself. In abject misery I lay in the
reeking puddle and awaited Ingrid's frightening consequential reaction for this
indiscretion.

   My fears were justified. When Ingrid entered the room she flew into a fury.
She repeatedly kicked me until she was breathless. When she noticed she had
splashed urine on her boots she unlocked the chain from my neck collar and told
me to lick her boots clean.

   Completely broken I rolled onto my belly, scooted to her feet and stuck out
my tongue. I began to lap at the proffered boot in a servile manner. I don't
know what came over me. Perhaps it was the bitter taste of the urine or the
hopeless realization that Ingrid meant to destroy me. But on a mad impulse I
opened my mouth wide and took the whole toe of her boot between my teeth. Biting
down hard, I locked my jaw and lifted myself, throwing her backward. She fell,
cracking her head on the bed stand, and landed hard on the floor. Immediately
she started to attempt to regain her feet. I braced my legs and launched myself
head first into her stomach. The impact was jarring as I drove her into the
wall.

   Pushing myself to my elbows I twisted myself managing to grab the dangling
keys from her belt. I recognized the large antique key that matched my wrist
manacles and twisting myself in another angle, pinching the key awkwardly I
blindly thrust it at the key slot. In sudden despair I realized I was chained
too tightly to push it fully in place. I strained at my restraints but it was a
fraction of an inch beyond my limit. In panic I noticed Ingrid had risen to her
hands and knees and was shaking her head as if to clear her vision.

   I strained one more time with the key and then looked desperately about the
room for another means of escape. Lisa had entered and was watching me.

   "Please," I pleaded, "Help me."

   She paused for only a second, then walked over, bent and unlocked the
manacle.

   "I hate that bitch," she said.

Chapter 8

   Lisa and I subdued the stunned Ingrid by transferring my shackles and
restraints to her limbs. My strength and movements were deadened as a result of
my previous harsh mistreatment. The most assistance I could offer was to use my
dead weight and a pillow to hold Ingrid's head to the floor as Lisa did all the
work. As Ingrid had regained her senses she had screamed her muffled anger and
frustration at the new change of order of things. When I was satisfied she was
completely secured, I slowly pulled myself to my feet. Her now- released wrath
was loud and unpleasant. Using my foot on her stomach to press her to the floor
I ripped the thin pants from her legs. Twisting the cloth into a tight wad I
roughly forced it into her mouth. I had heard enough of her vile voice over the
past few days.

   She continued to violently struggle violently in her bondage for several
minutes then stopped to glare up at me. There was a raw hatred in her eyes. I
was sorely tempted to kick her in the face, but I was at a point of collapse
myself and lacked even the strength to summon the needed energy to perform that
much needed act of revenge. As the adrenalin drained from my body I began to
shake. I lowered myself to the bed feeling the full weight of my abuse. I told
Lisa to unlock my collar. When I heard the lock click I fumbled with the clasp
of the hated symbol of my submission. With a last major effort I weakly flung it
away from myself.

   I had briefly slept to be awakened by Lisa wiping my forehead with a cool
cloth. "Water, food, aspirin" I had whispered to her. Over the next day and
night Lisa ministered to me and by the next afternoon I began to feel some of my
strength return.

   Ingrid still lay on the floor by the bed. I had forbidden Lisa from attending
to her. My former mistress had been reduced to a wretched state. She had soiled
herself. Her lips were parched and split around the protruding wad of clothing.
Her former passionate fire seemed to have died out. When I attached my collar to
her neck I saw dawning fear in her eyes.

   Wordlessly I draggeddrug my new captive to the bathroom, then lifted and
rolled her into the bathtub. I turned on the cold tap, which drew an immediate
shocked reaction from her. I stood back and instructed the observing Lisa to
"clean her up"

   Later on my return I found the well scrubbed and rinsed Ingrid crouched in
the tub. I pulled her unresisting legs up and out over so her stomach rested
onat the edge of the tub. I wedged myself between her wet legs forcing themher
wet legs apart. I then took her from behind in a hard manner. She was slippery
and my penis easily entered her. But, that was only the only gentle part of my
use of her. I pounded against her thighs driving her head forward into the still
full tubbath. She immediately began to struggle to get her submerged face out
offrom the water. Her restraints and my weight prevented her from gaining any
purchase. I continued my thrusting until her movements became frantic then I
used her hair to pull her face from the water. I used this means of control
until I finished with her. It was a deeply satisfactory experience.

   This was the first time inof a long series of rapes I inflicted on Ingrid,
the new slave. I realized this was the worst punishment I could subject her too.
I learned she was a very responsive female and despite herself couldn't seem to
control her own passions. I wondered if the awareness of her own need and
weaknesses is what made her so cruel. During intercourse her lean frame would
buckle and thrash in her restraints as she underwent powerful orgasm after
orgasm.

   I pondered the fine line between a dominant and submissive personality.
Within days her resistance had melted away. I of course kept her completely
shackled, but her demeanor had become as meek as a lamb. Without any demand from
me she had started calling me "Master'.

   Although I am not by nature a vindictive man, I was not forgetful of the
terrible injustices I had suffered fromby her. I had decided on her ultimate
fate and made preparations.

   A week later, I called several old friends from school to come see me in the
city. That weekend all three of my old carousing schoolmates showed up at my
door. The four of us had a notorious reputation in Cambridge as a very debauched
libertine gang of roguesrouges. We called ourselves the "whore-mongers" and the
"good" blue-blooded girls of Harvard had mostly shunned us like distasteful
outcasts. We had gloried in this distinction.

   They were immediately impressed by my new living conditions. I gave them a
quick tour, which terminated in the game room. There I had made a grand
pronouncement introducing the day's festivities and had pulled a heavy wood
teacart from the kitchen. I had secured the nude Ingrid on the middle shelf so
she was positioned in a suspended crawl. Her buttocks protruded on one end and
her head on the other. I had tied her hands and arms so she could slowly propel
the cart by using her fingers. Her thighs were spread wide and bound. Her
positioned pussy was shaved, gaping and inviting to be filled.

   My "worldly" friend's were stunned at this provocative display. I informed
them that Ingrid had volunteered to satisfy all our "base carnal lusts" for the
day. I additionally had shaved her head so all that remained was a topknot at
the crown of her shining skull. I grabbed the knot and lifted her bowed head.
Her eyes took in the room full of men staring at her and she closed her eyes.

   "You yearn to be used and degraded, don't you Ingrid?" I asked her.

   "Yes." She whispered after a moment.

   My friend's attempts to remain casual under this unusual circumstance were
humorous. But, they immediately began acting as if having a naked bound girl was
simply a normal occurrence. William, always the initiator of the group, walked
behind Ingrid and began to squeeze her bottom.

   "Grade A Prime," he smirked as her smacked her bottom.

   He slid his hand down and stroked her cleft.

   "She is soaking! She does like this," he proclaimed.

   He leaned forward and kissed the exposed flower of her vulva.

   "Damn puss is sweet as candy and I can't resist sugar," he laughed.

   He promptly unzipped his pants and pulled out a throbbing erection. Holding
his penis in his fist he rubbed it between her legs and then thrust his hips
forward. Ingrid grunted and squirmed in her bindings. Resting his hands on the
cart he began a slow leisurely driving motion. He looked up at us sheepishly.

   "If snatch was always so easy and tight I would never think of anything
else," he said in a slow drawl.

   The rest of us watched our friend's performance and cheered him on. Someone
suggested he wouldn't last a minute and another added he had left a historic
trail of unsatisfied coeds back at school.

   With this ribbing William began a more vigorous pumping. Ingrid moaned and
clenched her fists. Then she shuddered and had an obvious orgasm.

   "God damn she does love it!" Mark, the more usually reserved of the group,
blurted out.

   Then completely out of character he pulled a chair to the front of the cart.
Sitting at the edge of the chair he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock.
Using the Ingrid's topknot he lifted her face to his growing erection. Ingrid
submissively used her tongue to guide the shaft to her open mouth. She bobbed
her head and engulfed him. Mark seemed oblivious to the rest of us as he
concentrated on moving her head up and down on his cock.

   It was at this moment that Lisa entered the room. She wore a full-length silk
kimono my Uncle had brought her from the Far East. It looked like it had been
sown to her curves. Her eyes had widened momentarily at the tableau being played
out with Ingrid, but she immediately regained her aplomb and smiled brightly to
all of us as if this was a common household occurance.

   I introduced her as my Uncle's "protege". I made no reference to her status
as a slave. Her large neck collar was very apparent, but politely no one made
mention of it. I had no plans of sharing her with them. My friends seemed unsure
of her duties in the house and politely followed my lead with her. She ran back
and forth from the kitchen bringing food as needed. Between servings she would
stand behind me and eventually joined in the raucous banter. She seemed
energized by the male-dominated atmosphere of the room and could hold her own
with any of the casual but flirtatious remarks directed at her.

   I had noticed that she seemed to have a growing interest in my one friend
from Boston, Brian, and there seemed to be a heightened awareness between the
two. He was a rake whose sexual exploits were of such amazing achievement that
he had become a fraternity legend. He had an unfathomable attraction to the
other sex. I had always wondered if it was his sharp Irish features or his
devil-may-care personality that the women found appealing. We had been roommates
and had an understanding that the other would vacate the room at any time the
other needed it for privacy. I had been dumb-founded more than once when
sleepily exiting the premise and passing him and a late night paramour. He had
an uncanny knack for seducing beautiful coeds that the rest of us had thought to
be completely out of play.

   I thought for a minute of heading him off. But I noted Lisa's coy animation
in his presence and thought I would just let the matter play out.

   The afternoon turned into evening and the mood of the party became
progressively more inebriated.

   "TABLE!" someone yelled, "Where is that damned table!

   Ingrid used her tightly bound hands to slowly propel her burden around the
table. We had placed a large wash pan of ice and beer on top the cart. My
friends had continuously enjoyed Ingrid's charms since their arrival. Everyone
had repeatedly sated his desires with her. Finally someone had inserted the long
wood handle of a church key into her anus. The business end stuck from her
backside in a particularly obscene manner. We had been popping cans of beer with
this handy appliance for nearly an hour. The back of her thighs gleamed with
accumulated sperm and sprayed beer.

   Lisa had joined us in the poker game. Brian had pulled her onto his lap. She
had made a token resistance to this familiarity, but had not made a concerted
effort to escape from his clutches. Now she was playing his hand as he sat back
and advised her. She had tried drinking beer and her earlier coy shyness had
vanished. I had seen Brian's hands had become bolder as he gained confidence in
her lack of resistance.

   He slowly ran his hand up her side and lifted it to point at the card she
should play and then in the next movement cupped a full breast and squeezed it
encouragingly. Her lips parted at the caress and she paused for a moment before
playing her card. She lifted her shoulders to press her bosom against his hand.
Brian smiled and again squeezed the silken covered handful. We exchanged glances
and I realized that sharing Lisa was not going to cause me any distress. I shook
my head at him and shrugged my shoulders as if the matter was out of my control.
Brian looked at me intently for a moment then smiled. He returned his attention
to Lisa and her next play. He kept his hand on her breast with one finger slowly
rolling a now obviously tautened nipple.

   I made a decision and folded my cards. I excused myself from the table and
went into another room. When I returned I stood above Brian and Lisa. Reaching
down to her neck I brushed her hair back and clipped a leash to her collar.

   I relished in the astonishment that crossed Brian's face in this new
development. It was a rare treat to be one up on him. I handed him the other end
of the leash. "She feels naked without this on." I told him.

   I sat back at the table and picked up my cards. Looking up at Lisa we
exchanged glances. I wondered what was going through her mind at the moment.
Brian leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. She giggled and I
thought for sure I saw her blush. She turned to him and whispered something in
his ear. Brian smiled and set down his cards.

   "Gentlemen, I fold," he announced. Lifting Lisa to her feet he arose. "Please
excuse us." He added.

   He looked at Lisa and she pointed toward her chambers. Without another word
he led her in the indicated direction. Before the two vanished Lisa turned
toward me and we again exchanged glances. I felt no jealousy. I smiled at her
and she touched her pursed lips with one finger and the door closed behind them.

   In my slightly intoxicated state I had a moment of intuitive clarity that our
relationship would never be quite the same.

Chapter Nine

   I had felt an unaccustomed remorse in my sharing of Lisa. My initial
alcohol-induced demonstration of my power over her had somehow become a
perverted evolution into her and Brian's exclusive shared passion. I had assumed
there would be an understanding between the three of us, but somehow had been
maneuvered out of my position.

   I had awoken the morning after the party and the absence of Lisa in her
accustomed place in my bed was jarring. I had raised myself and peered over the
side of the bed. On the floor a naked and leashed Ingrid lay curled on her
cushion. Before I had retired I had released her from the table and allowed her
to clean up. In the morning light she looked none the worse nonetheless for wear
from the previous day's abuses. In fact I noted a slight smile on her parted
lips. I reached down and ran my fingers across her cheek. She turned her head
and licked my hand. "At least I can depend on you," I muttered.

   After a shower I met for breakfast, with the exception of Brian and Lisa, the
rest of my fellows. It was late morning when the two finally emerged from her
quarters. They sat together and across from me at the large table. They made no
effort to hide the fact that a warm relationship had blossomed. Lisa had cast
several cautious looks at me and I had smiled at her. Brian seemed completely at
ease with the situation and joined the ongoing banter with a smooth grace. I
maintained a dispassionate front but inwardly I was furiously churning at what I
perceived as a gross abuse of my hospitality.

   The company had long over-extended their welcome before finally they
perceived my polite but barely concealed wish for want of them to go. Lisa then
accompanied them to the street below to say goodbye. Time passed and she did not
return and I looked out the window. The two new lovers were wrapped in a tight
embrace on the sidewalk. I closed the drapes, sat down, lit a cigar and pondered
my options.

   I wondered if my uncle had foreseen this. Certainly he was not so intuitive
as to predict this emotional quagmire I found myself in. Possibly, I wondered if
he wanted me to learn a lesson in possession, the heart and detachment.

   I determined I had two options. I could either take Lisa to task for her
behavior or I could ignore the situation. Any expression of displeasure would
probably be perceived, as jealousy and I abhorred the thought of losing my cool
veneer. I resolved not to mention the previous evening's events.

   But not addressing the matter over the next few days did not solve the
problem. Lisa and I had no time for long discussions because we were both busy.
Her classes were in a testing stage and I had been learning some of my Uncle's
business. I had received a telegram with directions involving the transfer of
funds and the delivering of some documentation to several lawyers. The
completion of these tasks had kept me occupied.

   The household routine might have returned to normal except Lisa had not
returned to my bed. I did not immediately confront her newfound sense of
independence but decided to let events play out as they may.

   I had seen her using the phone one evening and her actions when she noticed
me seemed furtive. She made a quick perfunctory "goodbye" and then hung up. I
had asked her to whom she was speaking to and she had replied "a professor".

   Then on Friday morning after exercising I passed her room and noticed the
door was ajar. There was open luggage on her bed. I entered the room and
examined the bags and realized she was packing for a trip. There was a train
ticket on her bureau. Her shower was running and I was tempted to take rash
action by immediately confronting her. But showing great restraint I went to my
own quarters and took a shower. Then clad only in a long thick -piled robe I
went to the front room and waited.

   It was an hour later when she came out of her quarters and entered the room.
She seemed taken aback when she saw me. I was sitting next to the open control
panel with a stack of my Uncle's documentation in my lap. The instrumentation
was glowing with activation.

   She was stunning, being stylishly dressed in a fashionable skirt and jacket.
She wore a white high-necked blouse, which modestly covered her collar. She had
a leather bag hanging from her shoulder and was carrying a matching overnight
bag. Her hair was done up and she had applied unaccustomed make-up to her face.
She was clutching an envelope in her hand.

   She stopped and we stared at each other.

   "Leaving?" I asked casually.

   She held out the envelope. " I explained everything here," She said quietly.

   "No," I said making a dismissive wave with my hand, "You tell me right now
what you are doing."

   She took a deep breath. Then said haltingly "Brian sent me tickets to come
and see him in Boston this weekend. I am catching a train."

   I nodded. "I see... were you planning on asking my permission?" I asked in
the same casual manner.

   She looked away from me and bit her lip. She looked down at the floor. " I
didn't know how to ask you without hurting you," she nearly whispered.

   I let several moments pass. She stood before me and fidgeted. Our
relationship had evolved from the Master/slave hierarchy. I knew I could force
her to stay, but my heart was not truly in it. The thought of a blunt traumatic
scene was anathema to me. "You should have asked me, Lisa, I would not have
objected, I finally said. "But before you go, my needs must be satisfied.' I
added.

   She looked up at me questionably.

   "Come to me," I ordered in a low tone. I held out my hand. My other hand
casually rested on the control device.

   She made several hesitate steps to me and lay her hand in mine.

   "John, please!" she said in a tight tone and squeezed my hand. "You will not
need to use that thing,' indicating the control device, "I will do whatever you
want me too, but I do need to catch my train"

   "Lisa, I am not going to argue with you," I answered in a calm tone. "You
know your primary duties and the way you are expected to obey your true Master."

   I firmly tugged her downward and between my legs. She slowly sank to her
knees before me. I smelled Chanel No. 5.

   "I am happy I did not have to resort to harsh means of reminding you of your
responsibilities," I drummed my fingers across the humming cabinet.

   She closed her eyes, sighed and her shoulders slumped. She had set her
suitcase down beside her and she pulled her bag from her shoulder. She set the
bags together and looked up to me. She rested her hand on my knee.

   I ran my fingers across her cheek and down her throat. I unbuttoned her
blouse collar. The material was fine white linen.

   "Are you ashamed of your slave collar, Lisa?" I asked her. She did not
answer.

   I unbuttoned several more of the tiny pearl fasteners opening her blouse to
expose her cleavage. She wore a dainty white bra. Her full breasts bulged within
the silken confines.

   I hooked a finger at the junction of the cups and jiggled her bosom. Her hand
came up to cover mine and I thought she might protest. Her eyes searched my face
for a clue to my intentions.

   I was impressed how, what I thought to be a simple Italian peasant girl, had
fixed her-self up to look like a sophisticated big city lady.

   "A slave girl's breasts should always be bared for her Master," I reproached
her. "Take this off."

   She again sighed and again I thought she was going to argue. But instead she
sat back on her heels and concentrated on unfastening the final blouse buttons.
She avoided my eye she twisted in an unavoidably provocative fashion to reach
behind herself and unfasten the brassiere. She shrugged her shoulders and the
loose cups dropped from her breasts. Still avoiding my stare, she carefully
folded the light piece of lingerie and set it on top the suitcase.

   Her eyes flickered up to meet mine, and then she looked down again. I reached
out to palm her breasts in both my hands. I squeezed the heavy melon- sized
handfuls. She took a deep breath. I rolled her nipples with my thumbs.

   "When does your train leave, Lisa?' I asked her.

   She glanced at the clock on the mantle. "At one o'clock," she answered. It
was noon.

   "Well, we had better get this over with," I replied in a moderated tone.
"Take out your Master's cock and kiss it"

   Our eyes were locked as she gauged my resolve. Then she took a breath, looked
down at my crotch, and then ran her hand up my thigh and across the bulge of my
erection. I saw a slight smile cross her lips when she determined my aroused
state. Using both hands she opened my robe and immediately bent forward and
began kissing the length of my rod. I realized she had resolved to try and
quickly satisfy me.

   She left a trail of red lipstick on my cock. She lifted the stiffening organ
and kissed the root swirling her tongue around my testicles. She looked up at me
to see my reaction, then ran her tongue up to the crown. She engulfed the head
and began a slow but tight sucking.

   She had become an accomplished little cocksucker and knew well how to play
me. I was aware of the fact that if left to her own devices she could have me
ejaculating in a short time.

   I reached and grabbed two handfuls of her styled hair. It was stiff with hair
spray. Using this handhold I pushed her head down so my cock was forced down her
throat. She did not fight me but responded by relaxing her neck muscles. I moved
her head up and down enjoying the tight pressure. After a minute of this her
hand fluttered against my knee and then she gripped my leg. She made a muffled
protesting sound. I loosened my grip and her head came up. She gasped for
breath. Her eyes were running and smearing her mascara.

   Demandingly I pushed my cock back against her lips. She looked up at me
blinking and opened her mouth. I let her catch her breath as she sucked.

   "Who is your Master, Lisa?" I asked.

   She was slowly bobbing her head with her eyes closed. A moment passed. Then
she looked up at me and her pursed lips came off my penis with a wet sound. She
answered, "You are."

   I nodded and angled my cock back into her parted lips. I let her continue to
suck.

   "Who owns you, Lisa?" I asked.

   She did not look up this time. Her head came up and she addressed my cock.
"You do," she said simply.

   I laid my head back and smiled. "Lisa," I looked at the ceiling. "I want you
to touch yourself. I want you to orgasm before I do."

   She stopped sucking and I wondered if she would finally protest. But instead
she ran her arm down between my legs. She shifted herself and her skirt rustled.
She made several sawing motions as she slid her fingers under the top of her
panties. Her head had an almost imperceptible twist and I realized she had
stolen a glance at the clock. Her body began a rhythmic motion between my legs.
She was stroking herself. She dipped her head and began to lick my penis, and
then she took me in her mouth. She matched the bobbing of her head with her own
masturbation.

   " And don't think you can fool me and fake it. I know you too well," I added.

   She missed a beat, paused and then renewed her tasks. I ran my fingers
through her now tousled hair. "You are a good girl," I told her.

   Using her talented tongue and a tight suction at the tip of my cock she had
me close in a matter of minutes. I gasped and raised my hips. She looked up at
me, arched her back and shuddered. She slowed her arm movements so she was just
touching herself, and then shuddered again. She pulled her mouth from my cock
and made a small cry. She trembled and laid her head on my lap pressing my cock
to my stomach. She caught her breath and immediately returned to my shaft in a
demanding fashion.

   I relaxed myself and held my rising climax at bay.

   "Do your self again Lisa," I told her.

   Her eyes looked up at me through her bangs which now hung over her face. Her
hand was still between her thighs and she began slowly caressing herself.

   I made her work for my orgasm. She began a slow very tight bobbing on my
penis, which was unbearably intense. Using her free hand she began a gentle
squeezing of my testicles. I closed my eyes and concentrated on riding the flow
of the pleasurable sensation.

   It was like riding a roller coaster and when she tightened her lips on the
crown of my dick and began a rapid piston movement it took me over the top of
the ride.

   "CUM now," I commanded her.

   She was close also and made a sudden movement with her arm. My cock popped
free from her sucking mouth with a "pop" and she threw her head back. She gasped
and exhaled.

   At the same moment I pushed her back and stood up so I towered above her.

   "Your tits!" I barked. "I want to cum on your tits!"

   She faltered for a second, still in the middle of her own climax, but then
arched forward holding my cock over her breasts. She squeezed me hard and pumped
me. I clasped her head in my hands and rose to my tiptoes. I came hard. I opened
my eyes and looked down and was awarded the sight of my ejaculation squirting
across the top of her up thrust mounds.

   She continued to stroke me and I perceived she was using her hand to catch a
portion of the wildly squirting spunk and control the amount soiling her
clothes. "Rub it over those big titties," I told her.

   She looked up at me. She made a slight exasperated noise and then proceeded
to rub my cock and her sperm filled hand across her bosom. Her warm skin felt
silken and smooth. I watched her smear the sperm until both full breasts
glistened with a frothy shine.

   "Now lick Master clean Lisa," resignedly she bowed her head and licked the
still throbbing rod. She took it in her mouth to thoroughly tongue cleanse it.

   "Who do you love Lisa?" I asked.

   She looked up at me my cock protruding from her mouth. A glistening sheen
circled her lips. She blinked those huge brown eyes and lowered them. There was
a pause.

   She pulled my cock from her mouth. Not looking at me she answered quietly. "I
love you... Master."

   I turned to look at the clock. It was 12:30.

Chapter 10

   Now as I look back, what happened after that weekend, who said and did what,
has faded with time and memory. Shortly after Lisa's demonstration of
independence my Uncle returned and I promptly returned to my parent's home in
Connecticut.

   My Uncle and I never did fully discuss the matter. When I visited him later,
Lisa was gone and replaced by a young and sensually beautiful Chinese girl. He
said simply "Lisa had desired to test the limits of her tether and then broke
free."

   Later I heard through others that Brian had married her and they had settled
in the familiar embrace of his extensively prominent family in Boston.

   The years passed. I did not see Lisa again until my twenty-five year class
reunion.

   My eyes seemed drawn to her across the crowded banquet room and I was stunned
with her timeless beauty. She stood out from the other women clustered about
her. Sensing my attention, she turned her head and our eyes locked. She smiled
and I was instantly flooded with a rush of heated memories.

   She immediately crossed the room to me and we warmly embraced. She
breathlessly whispered in my ear "you have certainly aged well dear John,"

   I stepped back and held her at arm's length. I told her, "You are still so
very beautiful."

   She smiled and replied, "Ingrid did teach me how to exercise properly. Even
after three children I still wear the same dress size."

   She was stunning. She wore a simple black dress, fashionably short, that
clung to her ripe curves in a way that caused tightness in my throat.

   We stepped back from each other and she took my arm, turning to my evening's
companion. "Now who is this lovely conquest, John?" she asked.

   I introduced her to Rachel who had stood quietly behind me during our
expressive demonstration of reunion.

   Lisa cocked her head and remarked that Rachel seemed somehow "very familiar"
and I explained that she had been Miss Alabama in the Miss America pageant
earlier that year.

   I reached my hand up and gently stroked the back of Rachel's neck under the
mass of her dark hair. "But now all her interests are simply to serve my needs."
I smiled.

   Rachel's eyes rose to meet Lisa's and then shyly dropped.

   Lisa raised her hand to Rachel's neck and slid a well-manicured finger under
the black satin ribbon circling the young girl's neck. Lisa moved a fingertip
under the ribbon to the delicate gold lock-clasp, which joined the ribbon's
ends. She fingered the lock.

   "John you have not changed a bit." She murmured.

   Without taking her eyes from Rachel she remarked coyly, "I am surprised you
don't have a leash on her."

   Rachel's eyes came up at this and the two females exchanged a look of
understanding. After a moment Rachel dropped her eyes.

   Lisa let her finger linger under the ribbon then slowly ran a long fingernail
down Rachel's exposed neck to the full swell of her nubile bosom. I had chosen
Rachel's evening wear, which consisted of a low cut, near diaphanous floor
length evening gown. She wore no underwear.

   Lisa lightly circled a satin covered nipple with her fingernail then pulled
her hand away.

   Rachel gasped at the bold unexpected public effrontery and glanced at me. I
smiled. "She is unused to others taking liberties," I added. "Her need to submit
is a very new revelation for her."

   Lisa slowly scrutinized Rachel. In the crowded room it was if the three of us
were for the moment removed from everyone.

   "You are a lucky little girl to have John as your Master." Lisa said in a low
tone, " You must always try very hard to please him."

   Rachel had raised her eyes at this and the two females again seemed to
exchange a feminine understanding.

   "I do," Rachel said shyly turning to me for approval.

   "She is a natural... just like you Lisa," I said.

   This caused Lisa to pause "That was so long ago, I do sometimes wonder, but
now I am a respectable wife and mother these days." Then she added with a slight
laugh, "It would set some of those stiff necked Beacon Hill society ladies back
on their heels if they knew my whole story."

   The conversation turned and we discussed my Uncle. I related how he had
turned his business affairs completely over to me. I told her that he had become
a virtual recluse in his New York townhouse.

   "I think he is denying that the 50's are over and that time has marched on
from the middle ages," I related his reaction to the growing women's liberation
movement and the bra burning demonstrations on the news.

   "He has become a regular curmudgeon in this past years." I told her half in
jest.

   "But his tastes have not changed," I continued, "His contacts in the Orient
seem to find the most remarkable girls for him."

   "There have been five since you left. Two married very well and two have
achieved remarkable academic success. This last girl, one of the most beautiful
Vietnamese females I have ever laid eyes on, has completed her pre-med and has
been accepted at the Columbia School of Medicine." I shook my head in wonder,
"She is only 22."

   Lisa had grown quiet in thought as she listened to me. "I have not heard from
him in years. The last time we spoke was when I asked him to intervene in my
American citizenship process, which seemed to have become snagged in the
bureaucracy. I don't know who he knew, but overnight the paperwork sailed
through." She sipped her glass of wine.

   "He was always very good to me," she continued. She shook her head; "Even
today... I don't know if I could say 'no' to him if he commanded me with that
voice of his. He always had a Svengali like affect on me."

   Rachel spoke up at this. "I know just what you mean." She looked at me shyly.

   We discussed Ingrid and I told how my Uncle had complained, "I had ruined a
perfectly good Dominatrix." I said that I had heard she had migrated to
California and seemed to be involved with "beatniks" in San Francisco.

   Rachel and I became separated from Lisa as we mingled amongst the crowd. It
wasn't until later in the evening that we again crossed paths. Lisa's spirits
had risen with the wine she had been drinking.

   I had noticed her husband at the bar surrounded by a raucous band of old male
friends. He was obviously drunk and oblivious to his wife. Lisa uninhibitedly
pressed herself to me as we talked.

   Our conversation had been full of nostalgic remembrances. On a sudden whim I
asked her if she ever missed the past.

   She paused and considered the question. She glanced across the room at the
group surrounding her husband then turned back to me. "You mean the sex with you
and your Uncle as your slave?"

   I simply nodded in reply.

   She took a breath and sighed. She made a wry smile. "Yes, of course I do.
Straight sex can become very mundane over the years. Being a housewife with
children can be very fulfilling. We make decisions in life and we must live with
the consequences of those decisions. But I still have dreams."

   She became more introspective. "Frequently in my sleep I find myself
helpless, frightened and very much in a man's control." She continued,
"Sometimes it is you... sometimes your Uncle... sometimes other men I know, whom
I have never been intimate with, but who have that aura of masculine power."
Then as an after-thought she glanced across the room to her husband. "Never
Brian, of course."

   She looked back to me. "Then I awake and find myself safe and secure in my
big house with my husband and children." Then she leaned forward and whispered
in my ear, "But I am always out of breath and very aroused." She stood back and
giggled, "My psychologist explains those dreams as a repressed expression of my
true self."

   We stood quietly for a moment looking at the other and I had a sudden
impulse. "Why don't you meet Rachel and I upstairs in our room in about fifteen
minutes. You can show Rachel how a trained slave girl can truly go through her
paces."

   Rachel had stood quietly beside us during this discourse and I noticed her
eyes had widened with the direction of the conversation. But she remained
properly quiet.

   Lisa looked as if she was thinking of a reply. I reached into my pocket and
pulled out my room key. I pressed it into her hand.

   "I expect you to be in the room in about fifteen minutes." I looked toward
Brian who was surrounded by his boisterous clique. "I don't think your absence
will be missed. I need to say hello to several people yet, before it gets too
late."

   Lisa clutched the key in her hand and looked at me. Her lips parted but she
didn't reply.

   I leaned forward so my face was next to hers and whispered in her ear, "Oh
yes, be naked and on your knees awaiting your Master's arrival." I added.

   I touched her pursed lips with my finger and smiled. Then taking Rachel by
the hand, I led her across the room.

   Promptly fifteen minutes later we left the party and took the elevator to my
floor. The room door was unlocked, but Lisa was not there. There was a faint
whiff of Chanel No 5 and I noticed the bedspread had been folded back.

   Lisa's old collar lay across the satin pillow.

   I picked it up and Rachel asked, "Is that hers?"

   "Yes." I answered turning it my hands. It was heavy with the out-dated
electronics. I clicked the ends together and bemusedly spun the device around my
index finger.

   "After all these years she still had it," I shook my head, "I wonder how hard
it was for her to finally decide this."

   "Oh well, perhaps we shall have it fitted for you," I told her. I flipped the
collar back to the bed, took her by the arm and led her back downstairs.



The End

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