Chapter 7
Later, after we were finally released from our humiliating position as the party's human pendulum, Master Marty caressed our flesh in the places which were aching. The ropes had dug into our skin. "But, any Master who is worth anything, will also take care of his slaves."
I felt my heart go out to poor Alice. This was her first lesson, and she had gotten the worst of it. While we were swinging, other members of the cult of disciplinarians saw fit to pinch her naked ass globes which were so rounded and inviting. They reached up, found her flesh, and gave her a few marks on her ass.
Her head was held down for a long time, and I know that made her dizzy.
As for me, my task was not too easy a one, either. Forced to drink her piss, when I couldn't swallow any more, I was beaten. This made it difficult for Alice also. She was treated to dribbles of her own piss from my mouth when I let some escape my lips.
Marty told me to go upstairs and wait for him in the piss room. It was just a bathroom, but his sense of values was not ordinary. He called it a piss room.
He told me that he had to make a round, I 'giving the other slave girls their nightly discipline training. He told me that each girl was waiting for him in another of the townhouse's many "piss rooms."
Knowing that he would soon be up to get me, there was a knot in my stomach. I could j feel it growing, and sometimes getting smaller. But it was always there, and would probably remain there until Master Marty whipped it out of me.
The bathroom was a small one. I noticed j that there was no toilet paper on the roll next to the toilet. I had heard Master Marty boasting to the other guests about that. He had said that he didn't waste his money on toilet tissue. He used the tongues of his slave girls instead.
Master Marty had told me that I would be given an enema, whipped, and forced to sleep in the piss tub. Again, he called bathtubs by his own name for them.
I saw the menacing looking enema bag hanging from a hook inside the bathtub. It sent shivers up and down my spine because I knew that it would soon be sending rushes of hot or cold water into my gut.
I had heard Master Marty bragging to the guests of the many techniques of enema punishment he used on his slave girls. He said that he liked to make the girls weak by alternating steaming hot enemas with ice cold ones. Having had some experiences with Marty's techniques, I also knew that the substance in the enema bag might not be water.
Master Marty had permitted me to wear my bra and panties up to the bathroom. Having already been exposed before all the party guests in total nudity, this was now the more erotic alternative; to be seen in the pink bra and nylon panties.
I looked at myself in one of the full length mirrors which lined the walls of the bathroom. It was funny, because the other rooms of the spacious townhouse did not have any mirrors in them. However, all the bathrooms were lined with full length mirrors on most of the walls.
There were mirrors facing the toilet so that if somebody were using it, they could watch themselves at all times.
I have to admit that I felt a sexual rush surge through my body as I observed myself in the mirror. My full breasts were almost overflowing the bra that cupped them. Because the pink bra was made of a soft almost sheer material, my nipples could be clearly seen through it. Maybe it was because my nipples were stiff that they poked so insistently through the material.
The shape of my cunt mound could be clearly seen through my panties. The material of my panties was the same as the material of the bra. I guess that's why my pussy was so clearly seen, and why the moisture from it was soaking up the front of the panties.
I knew that Master Marty had given one very specific instruction, and that was to keep my hands away from my cunt. He had warned me about frigging myself.
"You are here for my pleasure," he had told me. "You are under my domination. That means that you cum when I tell you to cum."
But now, seeing myself in the mirror, I wondered if I might get away with it. I was turned on to myself, and it was kind of a new experience.
I had always realized that my voluptuous beauty was a turn-on to men. I guess that I admired myself pretty much, and when I paused to compare my body to the bodies of other women I observed, I had to admit that I stacked up quite well.
But never before had I experienced a sexual desire for myself. The reason for this difference seemed to have several origins.
I had been exposed to lesbianism in a most extreme manner. I had met Alice and spoken to her for several minutes, and then, without warning, we were bound together with my mouth on her pussy, drinking her piss.
We stayed with our naked bodies clinging together for what seemed like an hour as we swung back and forth from a harness for everybody to see.
This experience had a liberating effect on me, in a way. It opened me up to new possibilities within myself.
But more important than that, it was my' humble position as a slave to Marty's dick which made me experience arousal at my own beauty. Never before had I recognized how beautiful I was. I had blocked off that feeling from myself.
Even though Master Marty called me vile names and humiliated me verbally and physically, it seemed to make me blossom.
It was my new position as a slave girl that turned me on to my own beauty. Strange as it seems, it's true. I know that it is. It made me like myself.
So I couldn't resist letting my fingers fall to the waistband of my panties. I couldn't resist watching myself as I played, in the soft folds of my pussy.
Since Marty had shaved my pussy hairs the last time we were together, I ran the tips of my fingers over the area. It was still very soft; baby soft. I put powder on it to keep it that way.
Soon there would be stubble where the shaving had been done. I knew that Marty would have some uses for that, too. Probably he would make some poor slave girl suck on my pussy when the area was full of razor stubble.
I was beginning to think in the same perverted way that Master Marty did. The only difference was that he thought about these things from the Master's position. I thought about them as a slave.
The thoughts of these things made me realize that I had been correct about something. I was born to serve; born to be a slave girl. I needed a man like Marty who knew how to beat the sass out of me.
My mind did drift back to Bill, the super, but not now. Now I was thinking of pure masochistic sex, and that was why I was thinking only of Marty.
Throughout the townhouse, the sounds of whippings could be heard. It reminded me of some old Southern mansion in which the slaves were being whipped regularly. So it was here, and the sounds had become familiar to me by now.
I was able to tell the difference between the crack of leather against an upturned rump, as compared to the sound of a rubber hose against one. '
There was quite a bit of hose beating going on, if my ears were any judge. Master Marty was fond of whipping his slave girls with the hose of the very enema bag they would soon experience. It was a double form of humiliation to take a whipping with a hose that would soon be up your ass.
The sounds were erotic to me. I could hear them going on throughout the house. I had my own experiences behind me, so I could just fully imagine what every one of the other slave girls were going through. I knew that mine would be coming soon. Marty was making his nightly rounds of discipline.
I felt the softness and moistness of the inner cuntal flesh. Oh, it was warm inside my vagina, and it felt so good to feel the insides of my flesh against my fingers. I played with myself, watching myself in the mirror as I did so.
I placed both my facial lips and my cuntal lips up against the mirror. By now my panties were down around my knees.
I kissed my own reflection in the glass. I pressed my cunt lips against the mirror and rotated my hips in a sensual dance. I could see the moistness of my pussy making itself clear against the glass.
The mirror was wet with my cunt cream.
I was lost in my own thoughts as I moved back and forth to the beat of the whips outside this piss room.
From time to time I would glance at the enema bag hanging from a rack in the tub. That made me even more excited. I had all I could do to keep from reaching climax.
The sensations coursing through my body were intense.
Yes, I believed in romance and gentleness and in all those soft things. But to achieve the greatest orgasm, I knew what I had to do and who I had to be. I had to submit. I had to be a slave.
I thought of that, and only of that, as I rubbed my body against the glass. What I didn't realize was that I had misbehaved again.
Oh, I guess on some level I did realize it. After all, Master Marty had given me the clear and very firm directive to keep my hands away from my pussy hole. Here I was frigging myself madly.
By now I was jabbing my fingers in. I tensed my cuntal muscles so that I wouldn't cum uncontrollably. But I had to feel the full impact of my fingers the way it would feel if the cock of Master were in me.
The door to the bathroom flew open. In fact, it flew open with such force, it hit against the other wall, startling the shit out of me.
"You stupid cunt!" he declared.
It was Marty. He had caught me in the act.
I was shamed. I had been caught frigging myself. It was the very thing that I had been told not to do.
"I give you one order and you disobey it," Master Marty snapped. "You really are a bad bitch. You're the kind that really deserves my deluxe training!"
He was angry, but the gleam in his eye and the bulge in his pants told me that my misbehavior did have secondary rewards as far as he was concerned.
I just felt like I was crazy. I couldn't understand why I would deliberately taunt Marty with the very act he forbade me to engage in.
I knew that I was begging for punishment. I was aching for a breaking, cruising for a bruising, asking him to catch me and punish me.
It was going to be enema punishment this time.
"I'm going to give you a double enema," Master Marty told me. "This time, for being caught frigging your cunt, you're going to get an enema up your ass at the same time you take one up your cunt."
I was shaking with such fear, I thought I would pass out. I knew that he meant business.
Often, he punished slave girls merely on general principle. He believed that girls were like rugs. Every so often, they needed to be beaten. Marty kept a very clean house, if you know what I mean!
So I knew that when he had a reason for punishing a girl, it would really be a hard session to endure.
"You won't disobey me after this punishment," Marty told me.
"Please, Master, I'm so sorry."
"You'll be a lot more sorry after I'm finished with you."
"Have mercy," I begged him. "The mercy I'll have on you is that I won't kill you."
He really took his work as a sadist seriously.
He was rough with me from the start. He grabbed me and brought me over the the bathtub, or the piss tub, as he called it.
He yelled out and one of his other slave girls came forward, bringing him a second enema bag. It was also colored a bright orange.
I was given no lubrication up my holes this time. He just inserted the tubes up my cunt and up and up my ass without warning or lube.
I moaned as he did this. Luckily, I had some natural lubrication up both of my holes. I had been dripping rather profusely from my pussy as part of my frigging session. Also, Alice had her mouth on my cunt and asshole. That helped a bit now. , But still, it wasn't easy.
The bags were already full. Imagine how it felt to suddenly be filled with burning hot liquid up the cunt and ice cold liquid up the rear!
It's true. I had the double enema from both sides and it shocked my system with such force, I wasn't sure that Marty wasn't out to kill me.
My abused cunt was feeling as if it were on fire. The heat of the water just burned and burned.
The liquid which rushed into my ass channel was ice cold. It felt as if there were ice cubes in it. If so, I knew that Marty had been pissing in the ice trays and freezing it over again.
I cried and cried. My body was shuddering.
"Take it, bitch," Master Marty snarled.
"Ow, it's killing me."
"Take it," he repeated. "You saw to fit to go against my word and frig yourself. Now you'll take punishment so you'll never, never try that again."
To my amazement, it all came back to me once again.
It was something that I had forgotten from long ago.
Back when I was a little girl, living at home, I .... it was almost too heavy to think about. I felt dizzy. The boiling water was expanding my young pussy. It hurt more than any cock.
The ice cold enema was freezing my asshole.
Marty held me in place, forcing me to take the double abuse.
"Alright," he said, when it was obvious that I could stand no more pressure. "You can let it out now."
I stood there, now in the bathroom. He allowed me to release the liquids.
They streamed out of me, front and back.
The hot water mixed with the cold at my feet. He had ripped my bra from my breasts, and I vaguely recalling watching my heaving breasts as I withstood this part of the punishment.
The filling up was horrible, but this was horrible, too. I felt as if my cunt and asshole were being pulled inside out.
When I was finally able to breathe in an approximation of normality, Marty left me alone. I reached for the rack above the tub and held on for dear life. I needed that support.
Again I thought about the incident that had taken place some years ago. Why, I couldn't have been any more than five or six years old at the time. It was one of the days that my parents went out, leaving me all alone in the house.
I don't think that being alone frightened me. I was used to it. In fact, I think I rather looked forward to those times. They were times that I could be all alone, left to my own devices. I remember it being very quiet in the house when my mother and father were not there.
I liked it because I didn't have to hear their fighting. Sometimes, I knew that they were fighting about me. Sometimes, I thought that they really didn't want me.
I remember this one day, when they were gone, and I stood in front of the mirror in my parent's bathroom. The mirror was on the wall over the sink.
I recall climbing up on the sink. In order to see the full length of my body, I had to do that. I was crouched up there watching my reflection. I think I was wearing only a pair of under panties.
And then .... and then.....
But Master Marty returned. I was brought back to the present with a jolting squirt of heat in my asshole. He had abruptly stuck the hose of the enema bag up my stretched asshole. The bag had been filled again. Whatever the liquid, it was steaming hot, giving my ass the opposite sensation from what it had been forced to experience before, only moments ago.
At the same time, he took the second enema bag, hung it on the rack above the bathtub, turned on the valve, and ejected streams of fast-rushing water into my cunt. The heat that had burned my pussy before was now up my ass. My cunt was treated to an ice cold douche this time!
"Take that, bitch, and learn to obey."
I recalled that day when I was only a little girl. For a while, as I thought about it, I didn't even feel the strange sensations that were going on in my cunt and ass.
I had been innocently exploring myself. I had been innocently looking at my young nakedness. My pussy was pink, and, of course, perfectly hairless.
I had placed it close up to the silvered glass so that I could see it as others would see it, if I had ever dared to expose it to them.
Yes, it was pretty.
I don't know if I was feeling sexual urges or not. All I recall was that I played with the soft lips and exposed them to the mirror, and to my eyes.
I opened my little pussy up and put my fingers inside.
That was when the door to the bathroom flew open. It flew open and hit the other wall, just as it had done when Marty expressed similar rage.
Daddy was on the other side. He caught me.
"You little slut!" he yelled out. "You dirty little slut."
He cursed me and slapped me. I tried to shield myself from his angry blows, but I had all I could do to keep from slipping off the sink and crashing head first into the tile floor.
I remember thinking that I had been right. Daddy didn't love me. And yet, why would he be so angry over me? Maybe he wanted me to be a good girl because he loved me. But what had I done wrong? I was confused.
"You'll pay for this," he told me.
I was frightened, and yet, I loved my Daddy. I didn't think that he would do anything to me that was really wrong.
I remembered asking for Mommy. "Where's Mommy?" I said.
"She won't be home for an hour. And if you're good, and behave yourself, maybe I'll keep your bad behavior from her. I'll keep it a secret."
"Please keep it a secret," I begged my Daddy. I remember thinking that if he told Mommy, she too might get angry and punish me also.
Daddy stripped my under panties from me.
"Sit on that toilet," he said.
For my punishment, Daddy took out his penis. I had never seen it before. It looked very big and unlike anything I could ever imagine.
He aimed it at me and he started, he started, oh, yes, he started to pee! He pissed all over his little girl. He pissed all over me, and I remember feeling heat wherever he directed it. It was like a hundred little needles sticking into me, and then it would all go away, with only a wetness left in its place.
"Daddy, Daddy," I said, crying.
"Just a little more punishment," he told me. "Then you'll be good."
He told me to spread the lips of my little cunny. Then he pissed into my pussy and the frothy liquid filled my insides. I kept it there when he kissed me and told me that he loved me. He kept repeating it, and I could feel his warm piss inside me. It felt so good that I wanted it to stay there forever.