Sarah's Steed

Chapter One-2

“Wait,” I pleaded, “what are you doing?”

“I told you not to speak,” she said. “You will not get another chance. You are here for the instruction that you have been begging for. The woman who owns this farm specializes in training slaves. She is very strict, and I have persuaded her to take you on for a week. You are here to serve and learn and you have no choice in the matter. You will obey her without question, do you understand?”

“But honey,” I whined, “I really think that this is...”

“God, you are really stupid, aren’t you?” she exclaimed.

Reaching into her overnight bag she took out a p***s gag and buckled it in my mouth. My p***s had shriveled up to nothing and panic was flooding my brain. What could she be thinking of? This was supposed to be a fantasy, which meant I got a little scared, worked up, frustrated for maybe an hour and then we got to have s*x. Instead, I was going to be left with some woman whom I’d never met, didn’t care about meeting and didn’t want to meet. What’s worse there was nothing I could do about it. What was happening here wasn’t part of any wet-dream of mine. Well, actually, it was but, not for real like this. My life seemed to be spiraling into a black hole way faster than my mind could sort out and this real lack of control was threatening to overwhelm me.

Almost as soon as my wife rang the doorbell, the door was opened by a short, willowy, erotic, bomb-shell of a girl in a skimpy maid’s uniform, high heels, stockings with a collar around her neck. In any other situation, I would be salivating and tripping all over myself to get a closer look. Instead my embarrassment caused me to keep my eyes averted.

“Good evening, Miss,” she said, “won’t you please come in? Mistress is waiting for you.”

I was pulled through the door, deeply humiliated to be standing naked in front of this super-hot woman. She escorted us down the main hall and into the living room where, seated on the couch, was a stylishly attractive woman who looked to be in her forties, like my wife and me. She had pale skin, blue eyes, short, tasteful blond hair, and was wearing a black jump suit with sexy, high-heeled red boots. Her icy stare looked right through me as if I didn’t exist as she greeted my wife.

“Have any trouble finding the place?” she asked.

“Not a bit,” replied my wife.

“So, this is your husband,” she said, “bring him over here so I can look at him.”

My wife led me over to her. She examined me at some length, paying attention to the marks on my ass and my p***s restraint. I was still so terrified that when she played with my p***s, the stupid little thing that got me into this mess in the first place remained shriveled.

“More like a girl, isn’t he?” she commented. Then turning to her maid, she said, “Carla, lock a shock collar on these pitiful balls.”

The maid came over with a miniature shock collar which she placed around my balls and locked with a padlock.

The woman looked at me with an expectant look on her face and said, “That shock collar is a state-of-the-art training device normally used for dogs. My entire property is surrounded by an invisible fence. The shock level is set at ten, designed to ensure that no one who is here for re-education can leave. Believe me when I say that above ‘five’ the unit is incapacitating and at ‘ten’, if you should be stupid enough to try to cross the fence, you will lose those ‘things’ you are so proud of.”

She picked up a remote control from the coffee table in front of her. A huge grin split her face like she was privy to some secret joke.

“I will demonstrate level five,” she said sweetly.

She calmly pushed a button on the remote and I felt like I had been kicked in the balls. I ended up on the floor in a fetal position.

She smiled at me and said politely, “Hurts, doesn’t it? Now, get up so my maid can put you into the training frame.”

The maid took my leash and led me to the side of the room where a low frame was bolted to the floor. She had me kneel and bend over it, leaving my rear end up in the air. She tied my leash off on a ring in the floor, connected straps to my ankles, and ran a strap across my waist. By the time she was finished I could barely move.

For the next fifteen or twenty minutes, my wife and the woman sat and talked and had drinks. Some of my initial embarrassment and apprehension had succumbed and I guess I had started to relax until it dawned on me what they were talking about. My wife had asked a question about the maid.

“Oh, Carla,” the woman chuckled, “she is not really a she. Raise your skirt, Carla.”

When Carla raised her skirt, it was obvious that as hot as the little b***h was, she was really a male. Under her skirt ‘her’ p***s was constrained in a very small cage which obviously did not allow an erection much less s****l relief.

“I have made what used to be my second husband, Carl, into a woman because it pleases me to be served by a woman. The restraint is because I very rarely allow slaves s****l relief and this makes sure that no unauthorized activity can ever take place unless I permit it.”

She asked ‘Carla’ to tell my wife how long it had been since she had permitted him to c*m.

“The last time was five weeks ago, Ma’am,” he responded.

His answer hit me harder than the shock collar jolt to my gonads. I was having trouble focusing. We had been married ten years and my wife knew that I had trouble going five hours much less five weeks. Everyone has different tolerances and needs for different things but I masturbate three to four times a day and the thought of even going one day, or two, god forbid, was like an icicle in my heart.

I was still processing that appalling information when her next words struck terror into what I thought was already the bottom of the sick feeling that was washing over me.

Turning to my wife she said, “You can’t tell but I can, that Carla is very excited and happy that your slave is here to visit. You see, she knows that when I have finished his fellatio training on my special device I will have a graduation ceremony. Of course, if I have a male friend here I will let him have the pleasure, but, if not, I will allow Carla to be sucked off by your husband.”

Turning to Carla she asked, “You would like that, wouldn’t you, slut?”

“Oh yes, Ma’am,” he replied.

“I thought so,” she said. “Make sure I get a good report from Mistress Sarah about your service to her this week or not only will you not get that pleasure, but you and I will have a session that will make you never ever again forget how to properly treat one of my guests.”

Dropping to his knees in front of her and kissing her boots he began to babble, “Oh no, Miss, oh no I would never, I will, I....”

“Shut up, slut,” she barked, “get up and get both of us some more wine to drink, now!”

He jumped up and left the room. My mind, or the part that was still functioning, was in total hysteria. I didn’t know what my wife had been thinking bringing me here but it looked as if I was going to be left in this bizarre woman’s care for whatever sick twisted desires she felt like inflicting on me. Not only that, it seemed as if my wife was going to be entertained or pampered by this ‘Carla’ person. I was sick about this. It was obvious that ‘Carla’ wasn’t going to be able to take advantage of my wife with that chastity device, but even so another man would be pleasuring my wife, however she wanted, without me. Then there was the comment about fellatio training and sucking someone off. I didn’t want that. I didn’t even think about that except when I wanted a really dirty, disgusting, horrible, please-don’t-force-me m**********n loop playing in my head. But for real? Never. What was my wife thinking of?

Those thoughts were bad enough but then I saw that the crazy blond b***h was walking toward me with a nasty whip in her hand. All my concerns about ‘Carla’ and my wife were of no consequence compared to what was about to happen.

“Well, slave,” she said, “it’s time for your initial orientation. I know you can’t talk with that horrible p***s gag in your mouth, so just nod your head if you understand and agree.”

I looked at her blankly. Agree to what?

“First,” she said, “my name is Mistress Bridgett Watson, but you will respond to me with ‘Yes Ma’am’ or ‘Yes Mistress’ or ‘Yes Miss Watson’? Do you understand?” she said, and then punctuated her last word with a vicious stripe of the whip.

If I could have moved at all I would have jumped three feet. The worst cut from my wife was nothing compared to how much that first one hurt and I knew that each one of her next instructions was going to be accompanied by another just as bad. I nodded my head vigorously.

“Now, when I mean respond,” she continued, “I mean a reply to a direct question from myself, otherwise you are not permitted to speak. Do you understand?”

Another searing blow from her whip, only the second one and I was already beginning to dread that word, ‘understand’. Again, I nodded my head.

“In fact,” she said, ‘you are not permitted any personal actions at all without my direct permission. Do you understand?”

WHACK.

Nod.

She continued, “The major personal indulgence that little slaves like you always like to engage in is m**********n. I want it perfectly clear that your p***s will remain locked up the entire week you are here. You will receive NO s****l relief during this week. You are forbidden to even touch yourself for any reason during that time. If I catch you touching yourself I will whip your p***s until it bleeds. Do you understand?”

WHACK.

Nod.

“Oh my god a week, not a week, I’ll die. I couldn’t go a week without a discharge, I’d never gone a week, I’d never gone more than a couple of days and that was only when I had been deathly sick. Oh god…”

She went on, “Toilet needs. When you need to go to the bathroom, you will approach me on your hands and knees, kiss my feet and whine like the doggie you are. You will then be taken outside on a leash to relieve yourself. This is allowed only three times a day, morning, noon, and night. If you need to go at other times I may permit it or not but you will receive a whipping for asking. Do you understand?”

WHACK.

By this time, it was almost like a Pavlovian response to nod my head.

“You probably heard me talking to your Mistress about fellatio training while you are here,” she said. “The purpose of that is three-fold. First, to humiliate and degrade you to drive home the understanding that you are really nothing but a slave to be used in any manner seen fit by a woman. Second, and most important, to provide a special experience for any male friend that your wife should to care to bring home. And third, to provide a source of amusement for your wife’s friends at get-togethers with other slaves.”

“You will spend two hours a day, while you are here, on the training device I have had specially designed,” she said. “Believe me when I say that, it has been constructed so that the positive and negative feedback aspects will turn you into an incredible cocksucker by end of your week here.”

“Then we will have a graduation ceremony,” she laughed, “on the real thing. Something to look forward to, yes?”

WHACK.

Nod. My god she really was going to make me suck another guy’s d**k.

“As to my s****l relief,” she continued, “you will be given extensive training in sexually pleasing a woman with your primary s****l organs. By that I mean your mouth, fingers and tongue. The training device in this case will be my p***y and I am very particular about my pleasure so I hope for your sake you are a fast learner. Do I make myself clear?”