Part Three

As we entered the living room, Kathy invited her guests to make themselves at home on the sofas, before turning to me thoughtfully. It was a look I'd seen before and my heart raced in contemplation of the thoughts she might be having. After a moment, she seemed to decide, pulling sharply on my leash and positioning me a little away from one of the sofas, sideways on to it. I let her arrange me, pushing my legs in together under my chest, my hands tight to my body in front, forming me into a sort of box.

Finally, my heart pounded as she roughly gripped my hair at the back of my head, giving me a final grin before forcing my head down, pushing my chin up against my chest, confining my vision to the sight of my knees and my arms. “Now stay, stool.”

My body shuddered a little at the indignity I felt as she rested her feet on my back, before casually returning to conversing with her guests, as if I were just a piece of furniture.

They talked for a long while, an hour, maybe two. It was strange, to hear them talking such normal talk of life, catching up as old friends are want to do, while I lay there as my owner's footstool. In my imposed, immobile silence, I had plenty of time for my inner conflicts to rage. Part of me longed to escape the humiliation, yet another wished to wallow in the degradation, enjoying being furniture to my master. Part of me longed to escape the boredom, while another was enjoying listening to, even if not participating in, the flow of conversation above me.

I learnt much of my master's guests. They were called John and Sarah, and had been old friends of Kathy's before she moved. They were visiting the area for a while, based out of a nearby hotel. She was his submissive, but since both of them were sadists, they enjoyed finding other outlets for that side of themselves. In general I find it very interesting to hear others talking about their sexual interests, but in this case, the knowledge that I would soon be the target of their attention made it all the more exciting - and fear inducing.

As they spoke of their sadism, I noticed that they differed substantially in their style. He seemed more interested in inflicting pain as an end rather than a mean, and more generally in the physical side of things, particularly in the application of force. It appealed to me, in a rather bestial manner, the thought of being of being savagely taken and hurt. Nothing tender about it, just a primal assertion of power over me. My body ached to be abused in that way by him.

Yet her style seemed far more intriguing. More careful, mixing pain and pleasure to break down her prey's resistance, confusing their senses until they were hopeless, lost in a maze of sensations. Then, when they were ready, making them not just want, but need and beg pathetically for whatever she wished. The way she spoke of punishing and rewarding her toys to bring them to that state, of catching them in a web of hopes, fears and desires, and then making them hers... so enticing, it evoked unbearable wants in me that made me just want to break down and beg right there.

The more she spoke of it, the hotter and more turned on I became, my cock rising to full mast, my breathing becoming slower and deeper, my heart racing.

It must have been fairly noticeable, as Kathy deigned to notice it, in an adorably playful tone, “My, I do believe my pet rather likes the sound of that, don't you think? Perhaps you should give him a little taster session while I go and prepare dinner, hmm?”

With that, I felt the weight on my back depart as she swung her legs off to leave and my excitement soared at the prospect of being played with by this sadistic couple.

My back unburdened, I wagged my tail in complete agreement with Sarah's approval of that idea, “Mmm, that sounds delightful. Hmm...”

There was a pause, and then I heard some whispers back and forth between her and John. My body shook with the anticipation, the fear of the unknown, and the desire to be used by them.

Part Four

I felt a finger reach under my chin, silently and gently ordering me to look up. I was met by the lovely sight of Sarah, now completely naked, smiling mischievously at me. It was a pleasing view, to say the least. Taking control of my head with a firm grip of my hair, she lay back onto the ground, guiding my face to a comfortable rest between her large and firm breasts, before wrapping her legs around mine, pinning me down.

She spoke tenderly, stroking my hair and my cheek, “Right now, little boy, I'm not looking for a pet. I'm not looking for a puppy to play fetch with, to take for walks, to nuzzle up against me. Sometimes I will be. But right now, I'm looking for a slave. Slaves don't have to enjoy themselves. In fact... I rather like it when they don't.”

My heart rate spiked and I felt the man's hands upon my buttocks, removing the tail I'd rather come to enjoy. “I am your Goddess. Your existence is mine to do with as I please; your sole purpose is to please me. Remember that.”

She dropped to a whisper, “Oh, and do not hesitate to whimper, I like it.”

Fear shuddered through me, but it didn't have long to form before I heard the crack of the whip, and felt it burn a line of pain down my back. I let out a pained cry of shock and agony, and my body instinctively tried to escape the source of the pain, forcing me towards the woman I was already tightly pressed up against.

When the next blow landed, I buried my face into her bosom, smothering my cries of pain.

On and on the onslaught went, each strike drawing a moan of agony from me and one of pleasure from my new Goddess. The painful blows I was receiving were only heightened by contrast with the tender, pleasant quality of her petting. His blows drove me towards her, made me want to find sanctuary in her tenderness. In my pain addled confusion, I wanted- needed to respond to her kindness by pleasing and serving her.

But it wasn't long before I felt like I could take no more. I tried to force the words out to try and make it stop, failing pathetically before the barrage of pain. “Please...please...”

“Yes, my slave?” The blows stopped, and relief flooded in. Yet as I looked up at her, I saw disappointment in her eyes and I felt saddened by it. I needed to serve her, to please her. Kathy had asked me to. I wanted to. Even though it might be hard, I wanted to.

“Please, Goddess... harder. I want to give you my tears and sobbing to enjoy. Please, please, please.”

I broke down into a pathetic chain of pleases, overcome by the sense of shame at begging to be brought to tears by a stranger's harsh beating, and somewhat unbelieving of myself begging for more of the already excruciating pain.

“Mmm. Good boy.”

With a nod, the beating began again, the suffering inflicted on me, even greater than before, bringing me quickly to the sobbing tears that she wanted. As I squirmed and thrashed involuntarily, her petting turned to holding my head in place, buried in her breasts.

Even through the agony, the unbearable agony, my heart danced for joy as she whispered praise into my ear, “Such a pleasing little boy. I love holding an obedient slave like this, knowing they're trying to keep still but just can't stop themselves, feeling their tortured writhing upon my naked body.”

“It makes me very, very wet.” The whip stopped, but the agony persisted; like a man with an itch, my squirming continued. “Be still, like a good boy.”

I obeyed, my mind far too overwhelmed by pain to do otherwise, even if I had lacked the all consuming drive I now felt to obey her.

She turned me over, flipping me onto my back, the pain from the contact with my bruised back barely registered upon my pain-numbed senses. My cock had softened from during my torture, but I was half-crazed with desire for this woman, and a few expert, teasing strokes from her hand brought the blood rushing back to it. I smiled up at the sight of the beautiful and naked woman who had comforted and controlled me during my torment. Despite knowing that she had been part of that agony, I felt such gratitude, such desire to please her in return, alongside my own licentious lust.

Yet I should have known better than to think that my lust might be sated. She slid me inside her, slowly, gently sliding down on top of me, letting us both savour of the sensation of entering and pushing deeper inside of her. As her impalement came to its conclusion, she allowed herself to rest upon my chest, her arms embracing me, her head to the side of mine.

“Sometimes I mount my slaves and ride them, making them cum inside me. Or, perhaps, just to the brink, over and over.” My body tingled at the thought, my lust driven to new heights, my sexual frustration building.

“But other times, I just like to have them inside me. I enjoy knowing they want to fuck me, being so close, being inside me in fact, but still not getting the stimulation they want and crave.” She gyrated her hips, just a little, sending a sliver of pleasure through my body that only made me ache for more. “And sometimes, I like to tease them.” Another gyration, another tantalising moment of pleasure. “Mmm, I love feeling the way your body rises to it, wanting it, and then its sigh of disappointment when it vanishes again.”

I practically burst out sobbing in frustration as she lifted herself from me, my whimpers at my teased denial pathetic even to my own ears. In that moment, all my mind and my body could comprehend was how close and yet how far satisfaction had been, and how now it was hurtling away. “Blindfold him and then tie him up. We won't need him for a while.” Her voice was playful, seductive, and the promise of further degradation only magnified my frustration.

A blindfold was forced over my eyes and tied tightly behind my head. I felt the man's rough hand grab me, drag me to the side of the room, sitting me up against it, before handcuffing my hands above my head to a discreet post set into the wall.

“Should I gag him too?” The man's voice seemed hopeful; I could imagine him standing over me, eager to force open my mouth and ram a ball gag into it.

“Hmm...not this time my love, I enjoy hearing a pathetic animal we've subdued whimper every once in a while.”

The grunt from above me indicated an acceptance of this, even if a begrudging one. My face snapped to the side in agony in response to the backhander he delivered to my face instead of a gag. I whimpered at my helplessness before him, even as I enjoyed it, wanting to be roughly taken while completely unable to defend myself.

“Mmm, exactly like that my dear.”