The Office Dupe

Part 6

By Deborah Pinto

[Author's Note: This work is intended as a continuation of Ms

Deborah Ford's magnificent story. That story ended with Linzi,

I mean Lindsay Hawkins seemingly entangled permanently in a web

of submission to his loving wife's loutish boss, Mr. Davies. We

watched him as he was transformed from a sensitive, but (I

think) virile, husband into a cringing sissy secretary/maid.

However, I believe that Lindsay is of noble spirit, much like

myself, so I decided to create a sequel where Linzi escapes this

humiliating fate, saves his wife from the evil clutches of Mr

Davies, and re-asserts his true manly nature.

Unfortunately, the prior momentum of the characters and plot of

the story have drawn me into a different direction, for now.

However, if the audience and Ms Ford are pleased with this

effort I will try again to redirect Linsay on his quixotic

journey.]

* * * * * * * * *

Now for Part 6:

The idea of Mr Davies moving in with my wife and me was

abhorrent, especially when I considered his apparent romantic

intentions towards her. However, I knew that Deborah was a woman

of the highest virtue, who had little interest in sexual

dalliances. After all, I was her husband of several years and I

could count the number times that marriage had been consummated

on one hand. Hence, in my mind it was clear that this black

brute had no chance of succeeding in his vulgar intentions

toward my faithful and loving wife.

Comforted by these thoughts, I decided to concentrate on the

positive side. The fact that Mr Davies would be living with us

could open up vast opportunities for me to finally demonstrate

to him my true business talents. While his company was

profitable and he seemed to have developed a large and loyal

clientele, it was clear that if he wished to keep it that way he

would have to make major changes. His current practice of hiring

only young women was sure to backfire. Although they were pretty

and sexy, they had little or no business sense… just look at

the way they had distracted clients from Deborah’s presentation

with their strutting and posing as they served food and drinks.

Did they think that this behavior would impress prospective

clients? Absurd, of course! It was clear, therefore, that if I

had a chance to work closely with Mr Davies, I could impress him

with my numerous skills. That evil bitch, Ms. Morgan would be a

thing of the past! Or better yet, maybe I’d keep her in the

secretarial pool and treat her like she treated me!

Thus, I reconciled myself with the fact that my wife’s loutish

boss, who was now my boss as well, would be living in our

household by recognizing that my wife was impervious to his

advances and that it would be financially beneficial to both of

our careers. I also realized that he still held the key to my

chastity device and the only other way that I could have it

removed would be to go to a locksmith. Certainly, I would not

allow myself to be put into such a humiliating situation. It

would all work out, I thought, somehow.

I waited patiently in Mr Davies office while he walked back to

his private office with Miss Ford. (I do mean Deborah: I guess

I am getting so used to using the formal address in public, I

almost forget that I can still call her Deborah in my private

thoughts. Can’t I??). They must have had some important business

matters to discuss because they were in there for quite a while

and it was after 6 o’clock before Mr Davies returned. At first

I inhaled the scent of what I thought was my wife’s perfume but

turning I saw it was only Mr. Davies. What a strange cologne for

a man, I thought, but then smiled to myself as I suspected that

perhaps the ignorant lout had picked up my wife’s perfume from

he desk by mistake. I tried not to smile at this thought, here

he is forcing me to dress as a girl and he’s wearing women’s

perfume! As he leaned to pick up his briefcase I thought I

noticed a red mark on his cheek and another smudge on his

collar, and shook my head at the fact that he must have coerced

my wife into a dutiful peck on the cheek.

“Well then, let’s be off,” he harrumphed, grabbing his case and

motioning me toward the door. “We haven’t got all day and the

limo is already waiting!”

“Haven’t you forgotten one thing?” I chortled, motioning with a

sweeping gesture of my arms that I was still dressed in an

office uniform.

“No…what do you mean?” he blustered incredulously.

“I’m still wearing women’s clothes,” I gasped, wondering how

unobservant this man could be. I fully expected that the buffoon

would be embarrassed at my curt remark but unfortunately my

enjoyment was short lived.

“Of course you are!” he spat back. “You’re dressed in our

corporate uniform! What’s wrong with that? You can change into

your Maids uniform when we get home.” Oh, the nerve of him,

couldn’t he ever admit to me that he was wrong? In this case, I

wasn’t going to tolerate it.

“Listen! I came here in male attire and that’s the way I plan on

leaving!” I schemed defiantly as I stomped my high heel as

loudly as I could on the parquet floor to emphasize my resolve.

“No, you listen to me, young lady, “the arrogant brute sneered

picking up the contract from his desk, “you’ve signed these

papers and if you don’t stop acting like a spoiled little brat

I will have to put you over my knee again! Do you understand?”

“But what will the neighbors say?” I shrieked, my defiance

beginning to ebb.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about the neighbors,” he shouted as he

moved toward me.

Suddenly I realized that perhaps discretion was the better part

of valor. “I’m sorry; You’re right; I see your point, Mr Davies.

Please excuse my misunderstanding,” I rambled on foolishly, my

resolve completely evaporated as I tried desperately to escape

another chastisement.

“Well, get your coat on and let’s go,” he smirked triumphantly,

as he raised up his rolled-up copy of my contract, “before I

decide to impose Paragraph 16-b.” I had no idea what paragraph

16-b was but I sensed it must be dreadful so I decided to save

my resistance for a later date and prepared to leave.

Knowing that it would be chilly outside as dusk had already

settled in, I put a short black leather jacket and exchanged my

mary-janes for a pair of over-the-knee spike-heeled boots that

Miss Ford had so graciously left for me. Luckily, I was roughly

the same size as my wife so, while the boots pinched a little

and the jacket fit snugly, it didn’t leave me looking like a

streetwalker with tight clothing to display her wares. Well,

perhaps just a teensy bit tarty in short skirt and high boots.

“I’m sure will you be more careful in the future,” he said

swinging open the doorway and gesturing me toward a private lift

where a woman in formal chauffeur’s uniform was waiting. She

must have been six feet tall with long blonde hair and steel

blue eyes. Her black leather jacket and cap matched the tall

riding boots and the color scheme was only offset by the tight

cream colored breeches, which molded to her shapely legs.

“Dis vey, fraulein,” she sneered in a heavy German accent,

smirking at me as I shuffled in my high heeled boots. Despite

the four-inch heels I was still less than eye level with her, as

she escorted me into the elevator car. Mr Davies followed behind

and I felt nearly crushed between these two tall, powerful

figures.

“Linzi, this is Miss VonStiefel, and let me assure you that,

although she is only my chauffeur, I expect you to treat her

with the utmost respect. Is that understood?”

“Of course, Mr Davies,” I nodded enthusiastically, while

fantasizing with erotic desire of the ways that I would really

like to treat this Teutonic beauty.

Then he handed a bundle of clothing to Ms vonStiefel and

instructed her to dispose of it as soon as possible. I

recognized the shirt that was used as the wrapper and realized

that it was my clothing… my MALE clothing. I started to object

but one look at the smirk on Mr Davies face warned me that I had

no right to say anything. This set of male clothing was now

history.

Ms vonStiefel held the door open for Mr Davies and me and the

three of us squished into the tiny, private lift. I stood with

my back to Mr. Davies but Ms vonStiefel carrying the package of

clothing pushed me further and further toward the back of the

compartment. I must say that I was enjoying the subtle pressure

she was exerting, although the chastity device severely limited

my enjoyment, and the smell of her leather outfit permeated my

senses. Suddenly I realized that the four-inch heels on my boots

put my arse on level with Mr Davies groin as I found myself

pressing into him. It seemed innocent enough at first but then

I felt something against my backside. It felt almost like he was

grinding his hips into me. I thought that it had to be my

imagination of course, but why did he then seem to begin

thrusting into me?

“Excuse me, Mr Davies,” I squealed trying to make light of the

awkward situation.

“Excuse you for what, young lady? For snuggling into me to like

a cheap harlot?” he sneered.

“We..ll no, I mean I would never ” I started, but he grabbed me

around the hips and held me as he continued to grind his torso

into me.

“You little slut,” he spat, “you try to get me aroused with

those tight little buns and then you pretend that you’re not

interested! My little slut and her slutty little games can’t

fool me. I think she needs a good spanking! What do you think Ms

vonStiefel?”

“Probably a lot more than a spanking, mein Herr,” the Aryan

Goddess cackled. “She von’t even admit that she vas trying to

seduz you, mein Herr.”

“No, she has not shown any remorse at all,” the black brute tut-

tutted, shaking his head somberly.

Well I never, never would have believed the audacity of these

two, discussing my behavior – MY Behavior – as if I had done

something wrong. And now they were discussing my punishment as

if I weren’t even there. Didn’t they think they should hear MY

side of the story. Well let me tell you, I have stood up to

bullies all of my life and if they thought for one minute I was

going to debase myself by admitting to the ghastly comments Mr

Davies was making out my character, they had another thought

coming. I was going to show them that maybe some silly girls in

the secretarial pool would cave in to this type of harassment

but Linzi Hawkins was not the type of girl, I mean man, that

they could idly toy with.

“What would you suggest?”

“Leaf her for one hour vit me,” she mused, as she nonchalantly

stepped back pressing me harder into Mr Davies, “I’m sure I can

teach her some proper respect.”

“The last time I did that, one of the girls from the secretarial

pool was in the hospital for a week, but I must say she did not

give me any problems after that,” the haughty male laughed, all

the while still grinding into my backside. “I think maybe just

a good bare-bottom spanking in the back seat of the car!”

Ms vonStiefel nodded in agreement and as finally reached the

garage level, I could see a stretch limousine was waiting. Ms

vonStiefel dispatched the package of clothing into a nearby

dumpster and opened the car door for Mr Davies and myself. I was

already putting together an irrefutable argument to defend my

actions, and I could hardly wait to let him and his chauffeur

know the type of man they were dealing with.

He entered the car first sitting in the middle of the back seat

but as I bent to enter, I barely had time to observe the size

and elegance of the vehicle before the ebony skinned monster

grabbed my wrist and splayed me over his lap.

“Well, my pretty little slut, I think we may as well get this

over with promptly. Justice delayed is justice denied,” he

laughed as his powerful hand dragged me into a perfect ass-

raised, ready-for-a-spanking position.

“The little slut looks too eager, Mr Davies,” Ms vonStiefel

sneered as she pushed my legs fully into the vehicle with her

boots before she closed the door, locking it behind me.

“Up with your skirt, young lady,” Mr Davies ordered, his tone

turning completely serious.

Between the tone of his voice and the viselike grip of his hand

on my wrist, I lost track of my carefully constructed arguments

and found that all I could do was squeal a few desperate appeals

for mercy. “Noooo…oh please nooo…, Mr Davies,” I whined as

I

futilely kicked and squirmed, “You don’t understand…” my voice

trailed off recognizing that he had turned a deaf ear to my

pleas.

“Pull down those panties!” he added as I lifted the skirt over

my back and wriggled my panties down to my knees. I was sure

that if I resisted, he could have easily performed both tasks

himself but no, the bastard! He wanted me to demonstrate

acceptance of my own humiliation. But, I was in no position to

object, was I? So I meekly obeyed his insulting orders and

nervously awaited his assault on my exposed and already reddened

backside.

“First. I want you to tell me why you deserve this punishment!”

he demanded as the limo pulled out of the parking space. Thank

goodness the windows on the vehicle were heavily tinted, I

thought to myself, or the whole scene would be witnessed by

every passing pedestrian or occupants of other vehicles as we

slowly exited the congested business district of the city. Only

the window between the driver and the passenger compartments was

lowered giving Ms vonStiefel a clear view of the proceedings.

“Uh… I guess that you thought I was coming on to you, Mr

Davies,” I started, fuming inside because I knew quite well that

there was no way that I had come on to him. Just thinking about

the way he was forcing a confession out of me made my blood boil

even further. Not only was it obvious that he was the one

pushing against me in the elevator but even now I could feel his

manhood jutting up from his lap. The evil cad! Someday I would

show him! Perhaps in a court of law where justice was the rule,

rather than brute strength, I would show him that he couldn’t

treat me like some two-bit hussy. If only he weren’t so

powerful, I would show him! But for now, I resigned myself to

the fact that I had no choice other than to endure his

disgustingly crass behavior. I could only hope that the bastard

would stop his lewd grinding against me when he finished with my

chastisement.

THWAAKkk: his beefy palm landed on my bare buttocks, sending a

jolt of pain through my body.

“You guess that I only thought that you were coming on to me?

Like there may be a question involved? That sounds very

insincere, young lady. It doesn’t sound like you want to take

responsibility for your slutty behavior, Linzi. Well that

attitude is just fine, but it will just add ten more strokes!”

THWAAKkk: the second stroke landed.

Knowing full well the power of his strokes and, despite my

complete innocence, I decided to pretend that it was all my

fault. “I’m sorry,” I whimpered in my most cloying and

subservient tone, “I really meant to say that I was very, very

sorry for trying to seduce you by rubbing against you in the

elevator.”

THWAAKkk: another blow.

“Just tell me then, Linzi, what did you want me to do? Let you

suck my big black cock?”

Oh the contemptible lout! How gross could one man be? I thought,

he was the one grinding into me NOT the other way around! But

unfortunately, I was in no position to give him a hard time (if

you’ll excuse the expression). Once we got home Miss Ford would

be told about his behavior and something would be done.

Therefore, I went along with his foolishness… for now.

“Yes, Mr Davies, I wanted you to let me suck your big black

cock. Please forgive me. I’ll never do it again.” I hoped that

the monotone of my confession didn’t sound too sarcastic, but I

just couldn’t force any enthusiasm into my remarks.

THWAAKkk: again my flesh burned.

THWAAKkk. THWAAKkk. The blows came hard one after the other

until I thought I had counted ten… only TEN! Then I felt him

lift my chin up as he pushed me off of his lap to my knees at

his feet. It was over? Indeed, Mr Davies was finally showing

some compassion.

“Linzi, Linzi Linzi,” Mr Davies tsk-tsked looking into my blue

eyes as if talking to wayward child, “what will we ever do with

you? Always trying to satisfy those slutty urges. Well, you

caught me at a weak moment. Unzip my fly and take out ‘Mr ebony’

and go ahead!”

“Wha…what?” I blurted out never expecting him to actually take

me up on fraudulent confession, “but you know I can’t, Sir, I’m

married to Miss Ford.”

“Well that didn’t stop you from humping into me did it?” he

snarled, his black skin glowing with a red hue. “I guess you

want to act like a little cock-tease, eh. Well that doesn’t work

with real men! Now do as your told and start behaving or I’ll

make you sorrier than you’ve ever been!”

“No… ohhh… nooo, please Mr Davies,” I bawled, “I never

really

wanted to suck your cock, I only said that to… er…” my voice

trailed off not knowing how to work my way out of my web of

lies.

“To what, get me horny?” he sneered, raising his huge hand

waving menacingly at me. Then he yelled up to Ms vonStiefel.

Take us to the meat-packing district. I think we can teach our

little slut some manners.”

The meat-packing district was at one time what its name

indicated but many years ago that industry had vacated leaving

the area abandoned until the sturdy buildings were taken over by

a series of unsavory businesses, and now consisted mostly of gay

leather and biker bars. Hence, its title only made sense in

historical terms or as a very telling description of the sexual

activities so frequently conducted there. The local law

enforcement had long ago given up hopes of controlling the

morals of its denizens. Policemen entered the area only when the

mayhem grew to near riot level, or perhaps to fulfill their own

personal needs.

As we drove toward this district, Mr Davies opened the side

windows of the car so that passersby and passengers of other

vehicles could see my predicament. At a few traffic lights,

truck drivers delightedly yelled encouragement and even inquired

about the price of my services. Kneeling between his legs as I

was, I could only get glimpses of their faces and reactions. One

car with a group of black women in it offered to take my place

and called me a “honky slut” as they threatened to kick my white

ass. I was sure that they would have had greater sympathy for me

if they could see how red my “white ass” already was and if they

knew the true nature of this black brute, before whom I knelt.

Still, I could not help but to blush further at their taunts.

We now started going down some desolate and dangerous looking

streets until we reached a block of well-lit bars and clubs,

with a few curio shops. Although there were cars parked on the

street, the major mode of transportation seemed to be the

motorcycle, mostly big Harleys, row of which lined the curb. The

names of the clubs “Meat Packer”, “Log Jam” and “Leather Cycles”

gave hints as to the targeted clientele. The streets were packed

with a variety of leather-clad men and individuals, who were

dressed as and many of whom actually were women. Apparently most

of the bars and clubs were yet to open but the regulars were

already putting on a leather fashion show as they waited to gain

access to their favorite spots.

Ms vonStiefel brought the limo to a stop in the middle of the

intersection and got out of the car and walked around to

passenger door. The crowd seemed to come to a dead silence

broken only by the loud and ominous click of her boot-heels on

the cobblestones.

“Get OUT!” she ordered sternly, as Mr Davies moved his powerful

legs so that I was free to move. Despite my “freedom” I couldn’t

move, after all, where was I to go? The crowd gathering around

the car looked far more dangerous and sadistic than even Mr

Davies. “Mach shnell!” screamed the leather-clad chauffeur,

impatiently slapping the shaft of her boot with some sort of

swagger stick.

Meekly I crept out of the car as the crowd started a cacophony

of wolf-whistles and catcalls. “C’mon babe, I’ll teach you not

to be naughty,” cried one beer-bellied loudmouth, clad in a

heavy leather biker jacket and calf-high boots. “Is that really

a girl or just another boy trying to become the ‘Queen of

England’,” cooed one husky voiced ‘lady’, whose tiara sat

slightly askew on her ringleted hair.

I couldn’t move except to drop to my knees and cling to Ms

vonStiefel’s boots, pleading as I looked up at her imperious

countenance. “Please don’t leave me here, I will do anything

that you say,” I bawled loudly, bringing a further round of

hoots and mocking sighs from the crowd. What would become of me

here, I thought. I had no money and was dressed as some sort of

tawdry schoolgirl in hooker boots and a pleated skirt. I

remembered what had happened to me at the party when I escaped.

Even though I was found by the police, they had assumed I was a

two-bit whore and had brought me back not to my home but to my

abusers… Miss Morgan and Mr Davies.

“It’s up to Mr Davies now mein schatz,” mocked my Amazon

antagonist as I laid kisses on her boots, inhaling he scent of

the freshly polished leather.

“One last chance, Linzi? Maybe,” Mr Davies mulled aloud as he

thoughtfully rubbed his chin between thumb and forefinger. “Just

tell me what you want to do, but say it loud enough so that

everyone in the street can hear. I want to make sure there are

plenty of witnesses in case you try to deny it again.”

“Please, Mr Davies,” I sobbed, “I want to “

“Louder, slut,” he ordered, his black features framing his

grinning white teeth.

“PLEASE, MISTER DAVIES,” I started again, loud enough to be

heard in the street, I want to… er… to…, to…,” I

stammered

unable to get the vile words out.

“To what?” he demanded, his grin turning into a scowl.

“Let’s go, mein Herr,” the cruel chauffeur hissed, kicking me

away from her boots. “The little slut vill be vell taken care

uff here!”

“Close the door, Ms vonStiefel,” the black bastard commanded

turning away from me but luckily I was kneeling in the door and

despite the efforts of ms vonStiefel to kick me away with her

powerful boots, she could not get the door closed.

“PLEASE, SIR! I WANT…, I WANT TO SUCK YOUR COCK!!!” I screamed

at the top of my lungs, my forehead falling to rest on the floor

of the car. It was loud enough, I knew for everyone on the

street to hear, but what choice did I have?

“Tell me more precisely what you want to do, slut,” the bastard

sneered, turning his eyes ever so slightly toward the pathetic

figure I presented as I knelt on the cobbles, with my head

resting on the floor of the car.

“I WANT TO SUCK YOUR BIG BLACK COCK, SIR! AND FEEL YOU COME IN

MY MOUTH” I shouted again so that all could hear my utter

humiliation.

“Ms vonStiefel, let her back in but leave the car door open,” he

ordered in firm modulated tones that contrasted with my shrill

shouts and emphasized the vast disparity in our status.

The haughty bitch gave me a firm kick in the ass that sent me

flying into the car, sprawled at Mr Davies’s feet. A part of me

felt rather amused as I sensed her displeasure at my agreement

at last to serve Mr Davies in this vile, loathsome manner. My

only consolation was that by doing so I was probably depriving

Ms vonStiefel of her desire to service Mr Davies herself. At

least I would be messing up her plans!

“You may take it out now, slut,” the contemptible lout ordered,

as if he were allowing me some great honor. I would have loved

to have set the record straight right there and then, but

thought better of it when I looked out at the unruly crowd

gathering outside the car. No doubt I would suffer a worse fate

at their hands than whatever indignity Mr Davies imposed on me.

Hence, I dutifully positioned myself on my knees between his

legs, while he sat back, relaxing with his hands behind his

head.

“YES, Sir,” I cooed, all the while turning my eyes from side to

side waiting for the door, and hopefully the windows as well, to

be closed so that I would at least be spared the gawking stares

of the perverts crowding around the car. But instead of the door

closing the door on the other side was opened to allow even more

spectators gain a view of my humiliation.

“What are you waiting for, Linzi?” the arrogant man sneered, “we

haven’t all day do we? After all, your wife is expecting you for

dinner, isn’t she?”

“Yes, sir,” I babbled meekly, “but I thought we could have, er

you know, privacy.”

“Linzi, Linzi Linzi! That’s what I wanted too, dearie,” he

cooed, tapping me on the cheek with a firm hand, “but you didn’t

behave yourself, did you?”

“Er , no, sir,” I lied, biting my lip, at the very thought of

it. If only I could tell this bastard off! But I knew all I

could do was wait until I get home and tell my wife about his

loutish behavior. Together we would escape his insidious web.

She would make him sorry. But, for now all I could do was play

along with his evil game. “No, sir. I was not a good girl,” I

ad-libbed hoping to gain some mercy from him.

“Well then I think we should let everyone see just what a little

slut you are!” he bellowed drawing a great cheer from the crowd

and I dutifully went to work unzipping his trousers. He was

wearing a bright red silk pair of boxer shorts under his

trousers which were lose enough to let me easily pull out his

semi-flaccid member. My god, I thought to myself, how big will

this thing be when it is fully aroused. It had to be over six

inches in its present condition and its massive un-circumcised

head was still half hidden in its neat little helmet. Certainly

it more than evidenced at least one of those stereotypes

attributed to his African race.

Needless to say, I had never seen anything like it before. My

apparatus was only 4 and « inches fully erect and I had been

circumcised at infancy. It was almost as if his were a different

male gender than mine. There was a part of me that wished I

could tell my wife about this but how could I let her know how

I found out? Thank goodness, I thought to myself, that size was

not one of my loving wife’s concerns.

I started to caress the tip bringing it out of its sheath as the

vile piece of flesh telescoped out toward me, almost as if its

evil, dripping eye could see my mouth and was surging to fill

it. Wrapping both of my hands around it I speculated that it had

to be at least eight inches plus the two or three additional

inches, which lay outside of my grasp. One consoling thought was

that any worry of my wife’s having been intimate with him was

completely defused. After all, she was the one who had told me

that it was only a myth that some men were over 6 inches. I

laughed thinking of her reaction if she ever saw this grotesque

monster whose dripping eye seemed to be staring me in the eye.

I was brought back to my senses by a blow to my ear. “Kiss the

tip of it, bitch. ‘Mr Ebony’ needs a little affection!”

Dutifully I complied.

“Now open up – wide, bitch. You know that’s what you want!”

There was no escaping it now. I formed my lips into a big ‘O’

barely wide enough for the bulbous head to enter. Then I began

to bring it into my mouth. My mouth could only accept about half

of it so I began bobbing up and down to at least service that

half of the rod, all the while working his remaining rigidity

with my hands. Then I felt his beefy hands behind my neck

driving my head forward, but try as I might my mouth could

accept only so much.

“Ms vonStiefel, doesn’t this slut know how to deep throat a

man?” the enraged bully spat out gasping in a mixture of

pleasure and frustration.

“I haff not bin invulved in eet’s training, mein Herr, but we

haf vays to make little whores open up,” she sneered as she

raised one of the seat which concealed a ‘toy chest’ and pulled

out a thick black dildo. “Sometimes a little opening up at vun

end helps loosen the uther.”

The crowd oohed and ahhed as it watched the Teutonic Goddess

strap the latex instrument around her hips and positioned

herself between my booted legs. Throwing my skirt up over my

back and pulling down my panties, she began to drive the evil

instrument home.

“I am sure you vill like dis, slut, it is a complete replica of

Mr Ebony,” she sneered as I felt the cold rubber head against my

colon. With each thrust of her hips I gasped slightly but enough

for Mr Davies to drive his cock down my throat.

“Oh yes, Ms vonStiefel, her throat’s like tight pussy… like a

virgin, eh?” he bellowed as he inched his tool further and

further down.

“And like a whore down here,” his Chauffeur moaned as she easily

entered the passageway so recently opened up by Miss Thomas. Ms

vonStiefel could hardly have been getting any physical pleasure

through her leather breeches but undoubtedly she was turned on

by taking the male role in completing my defilement. My booted

legs kicked out in a futile effort to deter her but to no avail.

My mind tried to summon up resistance but the booted bitch took

full charge and my ass seemed to involuntarily rise to meet her

thrusts. Although my to moans and gasps of pleasure were muffled

by the black man’s cock, they made it clear that, in this war of

wills, I had taken second place.

I could feel my own cock swelling in its confinement as Ms

vonStiefel reached beneath me to play with my ‘clitty’.

Unfortunately the chastity belt allowed no further pleasure,

hence, only heightening my frustration.

As I wrapped my arms around Mr. Davies muscular legs bracing

myself, I felt his legs stiffen and then his hips started

rocking. The next thing I knew, I heard an almost silent sigh,

I thought I was drowning in his cum and his powerful cock

unloaded a blast of his vile, thick juices. I would have spat it

out, no matter what the consequence of such action, but the

still pulsating slab of meat, which filled my mouth, prevented

me from doing anything but swallowing all of the foul-tasting

gism. Surprisingly though, it went down rather smoothly leaving

me sucking every drop off of the hairy crotch before I realized

that his hands were no longer keeping my head in place. I

swallowed every drop, except a small amount that had dribbled

out of my mouth and down my chin.

“Oooo hhh, isn’t that cute Mr Davies,” the bitchy chauffeur

cooed, “she’s like a little baby sucking ze last drop out uff

her bottle! Maybe she would like to clean this as well,” she

cackled as she pulled the artificial phallus out of my bottom so

fast it made a loud ‘ker-plop’ sound. The jealous bitch! I

thought, she’s still mad because I got what she wanted! Probably

because he thinks I’m cuter, I consoled myself! Thank goodness

I realized what was behind her sadistic actions because

otherwise I may have completely lost myself respect as she sat

down next to Mr Davies and forced me to clean the blood and shit

off of her 11-inch tool.

Finally having cleaned it to Mr Davies’ satisfaction, Ms

vonStiefel unstrapped it and tied the harness around my head,

leaving it to serve as a dildo gag.

“Good idea! I think the less this slut talks the less trouble

she’ll get into,” Mr Davies laughed admiring how the chauffeur

had transformed the dildo into a fine gag. A quick motion toward

his exposed crotch made me aware that my duties were not quite

finished. So I gently took the now flaccid, lipstick-stained

member and gently tucked it back beneath his silk boxers and re-

zipped his fly. “Good girl,” he smiled wickedly and testing the

sturdy straps holding the dildo in my mouth added, ” and this

will get you used to ‘Mr Ebony’, my dear.”

“Und vit dis in place, she vunt be able to seduce the other boys

as easily,” the Chauffeur chimed in, giving the harness straps

a playful tug, and the two sadists laughed at the joke.

With that the Ms vonStiefel stepped out of the car and closed

the doors. “Show’s over!” she announced to the still gawking

crowd, many of whom were shouting out offers to purchase my

services for the night. Many others, male, she-male and female,

were equally interested in taking my place in serving Mr Davies

or evil Chauffeur.

Lucky me! I was in a position to serve them both.

* * * * * * * * * *

Mr Davies slept the rest of the way home but I was not allowed

to sit in any of the lounge-style seats that rimmed the

passenger compartment. Instead I was ordered to kneel at his

feet and he would occasionally pull my head into his lap

sleepily rubbing his groin into my face. Typical male, I thought

to myself, he has an orgasm and goes to sleep. No regard at all

for my feelings! This wasn’t the way to treat a girl! I consoled

myself with the thought that someday I might be able to use this

character weakness to entrap him!

After a half-hour drive, the limo pulled in through the gates of

a large mansion. Where were we, I wondered. Mr Davies sleepily

looked up and sensed the puzzlement in my expression. “Welcome

home,” he announced, looking at me quizzically before adding

“are you surprised?”

“Where are we?” I gasped, as he unstrapped the cruel penis gag.

“This is my home, and, for a while anyway, it will be your home

as well. Are you impressed?”

“But I thought that we were going to MY home!” I spat out

somewhat indignantly.

“Oh! You must mean Debbie’s house,” he interjected, his eyes

twinkling at the insinuation that I was dependent on my wife for

my home. He was right of course but did he have to remind me of

it! And he knew how much I hated when he called her ‘Debbie’. I

was her husband and could only call her ‘Deborah’ – well at

least before I was ordered to call her ‘Miss Ford’.

Rather than make a point about it being my house as well, I

decided to let him get away with this minor faux pas and force

him to explain why he brought me here. Deborah was of course

expecting us to go home where we would share our marital bed, or

at least the bedroom since she often couldn’t sleep with my

snoring and moving in the bed. “Whatever,” I lashed out, “Miss

Ford, I believe is expecting us home tonight, and she will be

sorely disappointed when ‘m not there!”

“Please stop with your foolishness. Do you think I would have

brought you here without your wife’s permission?” he postulated,

surprising me with his logic of gaining my wife’s permission but

thinking that there was no need to inform me of the plan. “Your

house is a fine little house, very suitable for a married

couple, of course. But if I’m going to get my work done and have

room for staff, I need something a little larger, don’t you

think?”

“Well…” I started, but before I could get a second word out I

was cut off by a sharp snap of his fingers, as if he had no real

interest in my opinion.

“Ms vonStiefel, get this little slut, washed up and changed into

something more appropriate. Tony is bringing Debbie home in the

Jaguar and I expect her to be home in about ten. Hopefully the

little Linzi will have a decent meal ready by then.” Then

holding up a little silver key, he added, “and you better take

this with you, if the little hussy is to be properly washed. But

no games now!”

“The maids outfit I assume,” she suggested.

“Of course!” he scowled.

“Shoudt she keep dese boots on?”

“I think they were not so scuffed… how did the knees get so

scuffed up anyway? Such a slut, always on her knees!” he mused

aloud, knowing full well that it was he who had ordered me out

of the limo – he who had me on my knees – and I was the Slut?

Oh, if only I hadn’t signed that contract, I would tell him off!

His ears would be as red as my backside!

“Noo.. ” he concluded, after giving it deep thought, “not the

boots. The stilettos; the ones with the ankle straps!” Another

major managerial decision, from this dolt, I snickered to

myself!

With that, I was sent to the shower to wash up shave and change

into my maids uniform. Ms vonStiefel accompanied me upstairs and

to my utmost pleasure she unlocked the evil chastity belt,

resulting in a formidable (as formidable as 4 and « inches could

look) erection.

“Vee are only doing dis so that vee can shave those pubic hairs

so do not get any silly ideas!” She snapped as she slid off the

painful apparatus. Despite her warnings my cock had a mind of

its own and sprung out to full attention. However, she had other

plans and quickly threw me into the shower and handed me a

special depilatory lotion. The lotion stung a little but I

applied as she directed. Even though my legs and armpits had

been regularly shaved under orders from Deborah, Ms vonStiefel

ordered me to apply lotion there as well as to my arms, chest,

back and genitalia.

Stepping out of the shower I felt somewhat like a plucked

chicken with all of the hair below my neck totally eradicated.

The lotion had stung, but not painfully so and not enough to

dissuade my little head from acting on his own. Amazingly the

breast forms had remained perfectly attached despite the fact

that I had blasted them with hot water well above my usual

tolerance level. I thought Ms Morgan had indicated that they

would come off in hot water? Well, I was sure that the problem

would be straightened out soon enough. For now I would merely

enjoy them bobbing up and down as if they were the real things

As I turned toward the booted chauffeur, my artificial breasts

and my manhood were lewdly and defiantly aimed right at her. “I

bet you would you like to cum?” she queried, knowing full well

the answer.

“More than anything in the world, Ms vonStiefel,” I whimpered,

head down in shame, before this powerful woman.

“Does that mean that you will do anything?” she sneered, railing

one eyebrow in a theatrical gesture.

“Yes… , anything…,” I managed to babble, my voice trailing

off

ant the thought of ‘anything’… maybe I was going to far, but

I

had not cum in days now and I had been teased and tormented

beyond all rational levels. Usually I would have masturbated two

or three times without any stimulus but, after all I had been

through, I felt like my head would explode if I didn’t get

relief.

“Yes, I’m sure you vill,” she snickered, “sluts vill do anything

for sex von’t they? Here, slut, put these on, I like my sluts to

look sexy!” she ordered handing me a set of red lingerie

including bra, garter belt and stockings. She held up a matching

pair of panties, but folded them and put them down. “You von’t

need them right now,” she chortled.

Quickly I donned the feminine finery. I rolled on the stockings,

under her watchful eye, ensuring that the back seams were

perfectly straight. She looked at me with such utter loathing

and contempt that I felt it imperative to dispel some of her

opinions of me. “I’m not a slut, Ms vonStiefel,” I whined,

unconvincingly.

“Then vat are you?” she wheedled as she motioned with her finger

that I should twirl around for her inspection.

“I’m a good gir…, er…, I mean BOY; I’m a BOY!” I bellowed

trying to correct my momentary loss of sexual identity.

“You may be a ‘good girl’ but you certainly don’t look like a

‘boy’ of any sort,” the haughty bitch mocked. “Do boys wear bras

and stockings and garterbelts? I don’t think so! And as far as

‘good girl’, do good girls go around without panties, showing

off their swollen clitties?”

My countenance reddened from anger and embarrassment as I

bristled at her innuendoes. “Don’t call me a slut,” I fumed, my

hands clenching into fists, “or I’ll… I’ll…” I thought that

leaving the threat open would be more dramatic but Ms vonStiefel

just laughed at me.

“Or vat?” she squealed delightedly as she spread her legs and

placed her hands on her hips in a defiant gesture. “Are you

going to get rough vit me? Are you going to show me who’s boss?”

Without my high-heeled boots on, the imperious goddess towered

over me menacingly. I was afraid but after all I was a man,

wasn’t I? I started to reach for her when her arms came up

knocking mine aside. I tried to throw a punch at her smirking

face but her hand came up and caught my fist in mid-arch. Her

mouth broke into a smile, as she flashed her perfect set of

white enamel.

“So you like to play rough, ehh, mein kleines schatz-ie. Well,

so do I!” she laughed as her powerful hand crushed my knuckles,

leaving me in such pain that I was forced to drop to my knees

before she released the powerful grip. Numb with pain my right

arm was useless and she grabbed me by the left hand and twisted

it behind my back, and snapped it up to the point that I thought

it was broken or dislocated. Then with my arms unable to break

the fall, she pushed me down face first, to the floor. Blood was

trickling out of my mouth and nose as I felt the sole of her

boot press down on my neck driving my face into the carpet.

“Enough of your silly games, slut? Or do you want to try again?”

I tried to just close my eyes and cry quietly not only from the

physical pain but also at the idea of this woman defeating me

with such impudence. “Answer me, schwein!” she demanded.

“Please no more,” I whimpered meekly.

“Then show me who’s boss, slut-girl,” she snarled, “lick the

boots of the woman who beat you!”

How utterly degrading. But I knew that resistance was useless so

I raised my face from the carpet and acquiesced to her command.

Soon her boots were glistening with my wet saliva, from toe to

knee. “Yes I think my little slut likes my boots doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” I blubbered, almost refusing to lift my tongue off of the

gleaming leather, but uncomfortable with the erotic feeling I

was deriving from the humiliating act. To me the boots somehow

symbolized the power of this beautiful woman and I was

erotically drawn to her power.

Sitting back on the bed she raised the sole of her right boot

and ordered me to lick even the sole. Unquestioning, I heeded

her command, servicing one boot-sole and than the other.

“Enough, my little bootlicking slut. Now help me off with my

boots.”

From my kneeling position, I tried to yank the boot off but to

no avail as the boots seemed molded to her feet and legs. Then

she gestured me to rise and straddle her leg, facing away from

her. As I pulled, I could feel my sex organ rubbing against the

shiny shaft and was afraid that I would cum on the spot. The

boot still wouldn’t budge until finally she placed the sole of

her other foot on my bare bum and pushed, sending me and the

boot flying across the room, head over heels. After the other

boot was removed in similar fashion, she ordered me to lick her

sweaty white knee socks. As I lay prostrate at her feet licking

her socks she stood up and peeled off her tight breeches,

revealing to my surprise a pair of very mannish, white jockey

shorts.

“I’m going to make you my bitch, girl,” she sneered looking down

on me”. Do you vant to me meine kleine bitch?” she added with a

laugh.

“Yes, Mi mistress,” I stammered.

“Nein, not ‘Mistress’” she spat at me contemptuously, “I want

you to call me ‘Master’, Master Helga’!”

“Yes, mein Herr,” I ad-libbed, but that only got me a face full

of sock.

“‘MASTER Helga’, get it,” she snarled.

“Yes, Master Helga,” I sobbed.

“Now, bitch, fetch me my cock. It’s in my bag,” she added

motioning toward a large black leather carryall on the floor.

“On your knees, slut. Crawl like the bitch you are. And bring

it.”

Not sure of exactly what she meant I opened the bag and found a

huge double headed dildo with leather harness straps already

attached. My god, even the smaller end was too much for me to

handle.

I laid the lewd implement at her feet, but a hard slap across

the top of my head indicated that perhaps I hadn’t responded

correctly to her commands. “Put it vare it belongs, bitch!” she

snapped opening up the flap on her jockey shorts with two

fingers off each hand. “Not that end the other,” she added as I

tried to aim the larger end toward the target.

The arrogant woman began to moan as I inserted the thick latex

into the opening and then went utterly ecstatic as I fastened

the straps around her hips. It was bad enough that I was going

to be impaled on the lewd latex shaft, but here I was forced to

participate in my own degradation.

“Suck eet, bitch,” she snarled as she pistol-whipped me with the

heavy tool. “Tell me how much you vant me to fuck you!”

I lapped away more eagerly than was really necessary and

couldn’t help but to wonder if she was right – did I really want

her to bum-fuck me?

“OHHH, yes, Master Helga, I want feel you inside me,” I gurgled

as I greedily coated the latex rod with a thick coat of my

saliva.

“Gut fraulein,” she squealed as the motion of my cock-sucking on

the outside end of the dildo amplified the action inside of her.

Her juices were dripping down the base of the shaft and I

started to lap these up but she grabbed me by the ears and

forced my mouth onto the tip of her ‘cock’, as She ordered me to

“take it in – take it all in – swallow it, you slut!”

I couldn’t believe myself. Not only did I obey every command,

but I followed each one with a lewd display of enthusiasm, which

was over and above anything demanded or expected of me.

“Ohhh…yesssss. Ummfff.., ahhh.. uhhh ,” I moaned, my words

turning to indecipherable moans, as I took her huge tool in both

hands and slid it down my throat. Although it was even bigger,

it slid down my throat far more easily than “Mr Ebony” had

earlier that night.

Despite my enthusiasm, Ms vonStiefel was clearly unimpressed and

took me by the ears and began to slam my head up and down on her

“cock”.

“Suck eet, bitch! Suck eet like the two-bit whore you are!” she

spat out angrily. “Get eet nice und vet so ee vill slide up dat

tight little pussy.”

Finally she stopped and pushed me to the floor gasping for air.

Stepping over to the bed she piled a few of the pillows in the

middle and then draped her glossy black riding boots over the

middle of the pile.

“You like my boots don’t you, schatz-ie,” she chortled. “Well,

I’m going to let you fuck my boots while I fuck you,” she added

with a sneer, “because that’s all you’re gut for – you

bootlicking, bootfucking little slut!”

I quickly scampered into position, but as I started to gyrate my

hips provocatively, the door suddenly flew open. It was Mr

Davies.

“And what is going on here?” he snapped, although clearly the

situation was self-explanatory. “Who freed her from her chastity

belt,” he added, “don’t you know I am the only one who can give

her freedom!” I looked back at the raging black bull as I felt

my male member shrinking in fear. He was dressed in fox hunting

apparel, a bright red jacket white breeches and tall black boots

with cordovan tops. A stiff leather whip was clasped firmly in

his right hand as he strode menacingly into the room. “Is this

little slut trying to use her feminine wiles to get out of her

duties?” he added as he slapped a stiff leather quirt against

the shaft of his boot.

Me! Me to blame, I gasped to myself. Couldn’t he see that I was

only the victim of Ms vonStiefel’s carnal desires? Why did he

try to turn me, the victim, into the defendant? Typical male! I

had a good mind to really give him a piece of my mind. But the

quirt was still in his hand so perhaps it had better wait for a

more opportune moment.

“Yes, Mr Davies, I’m sorry, it is all my fault, but as you can

see the little tramp can be very captivating, eet’s hard

sometimes to resist her enticements,” Ms vonStiefel offered in

a defense that took the blame but plopped it right back on my

shoulders. Oh the nerve of her!

“How dare you say… ” I started, but was cut off immediately by

Mr Davies’ quirt smacking loudly against my bum.

“Please, Linzi, haven’t you and your carnal urges caused enough

difficulty? Ms Morgan has already arrived and Miss Ford could be

here any Minute. And look she’s not even dressed – and she still

has to get her make-up on!”

“Yes, tramp,” Ms vonStiefel sneered, “enough of your tawdry

games! Get your uniform on and get that make-up fixed and…”

“Wait! First, let me see how well that depilatory worked,” he

interjected, as he pulled me close and began moving my arse and

legs and hands and other miscellaneous body parts as if I were

some sort of farm animal on the auction block. “Very good,

indeed,” he nodded, “smooth a baby’s butt.”

I shuddered as his hands so knowledgeably explored my body. I

could hardly control my body as I trembled and quaked until

finally I found myself collapsing against his strong, powerful

body. His muscular arms enveloped me as his huge beefy hands

roughly enfolded my latex breast forms. “I think we’ll have to

get her some real ones,” he laughed as he licentiously fondled

them. But as he did so I found myself secretly wishing that they

were real so I could feel his hands ravishing me rather than

only the faint, muffled feeling through the artificial forms.

One last pinch of my chest just below the bra line gave me small

sense of the real thing and I found myself falling back into his

arms for support.

“Enough, tramp, get ready!” he mocked pushing me away. “Haven’t

you delayed things enough.” His push brought me back to my

senses and made me realize how truly slutty my performance had

been.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Davies, forgive me,” I whined as I fell to my

knees, my hands clasped in supplication. But he pushed me away

with his booted foot, and menaced me with his wicked crop before

he spun around to leave the room, giving Ms vonStiefel

instructions to get me ready – “and be quick about it!”

“Mach schnell, mach schnell!” she shrieked maniacally. Thank

goodness she wasn’t the one with the crop or undoubtedly I would

have felt it.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Soon I was dressed for service. The maids uniform fit me as if

it were custom tailored except for the hem, which was so short

it barely covered my stocking tops. Clearly, I concluded, the

outfit must have been originally intended for someone else. The

bodice, with its lacy white trim barely covered my red ‘wonder-

bra’, which pushed my pecs together and combined with the breast

molds to form, if I must say so myself, a most alluring

cleavage. Ms vonStiefel ordered me to leave on my red bra and

garterbelt. She considered leaving the red stockings on me, but

decided that black, seamed ones would be more appropriate. Then,

only with the help of a bucket of ice water, she had me reattach

my chastity belt. With the belt in place she then took out a

butt plug, which she lubed and bent me over her knee to insert

it into my aching bum. Finally, allowed me to don the matching

red panties and sat me down to apply makeup to my scrubbed face.

Given the lightness of my beard, she applied only a thin layer

of foundation, more to cover my acne than my facial hair, and

then applied a nice blush to give me that perky look. My

eyelashes always seemed long enough to me, but they were not

long enough for Ms vonStiefel and soon I had a pair of long

black artificial lashes fluttering over my eyes. So long that I

had to remove my glasses, leaving me nearly blind. Ms vonStiefel

assured me that contact lenses or perhaps corrective surgery

would cure this, but for now I found myself staring at a blurry

world. “A maid does not have to see long distances, its not like

you’re being turned into a jet pilot,” she laughingly suggested.

Thick black eyeliner and blue eye shadow with glitter completed

my eye makeup. My lips were then filled with a bright red

lipstick and a dark red outline, which gave them a pouty,

sensual look.

Finally I was given a pair of black spike-heeled, lace-up

booties that came just up to my calves. At the top of each boot

was a leather strap with a metal clasp and tiny padlock. “Zey

take ze same key as your chastity belt,” I was assured, when my

warden saw my puzzled look. I knew there was no purpose to

protesting, so I simply got about my business. The heels had to

be at least 4 inches and despite my previous efforts I wasn’t

sure that I could maneuver in this sexy footwear.

While I was lacing up my booties, I saw that Ms vonStiefel was

changing into formal dress for the evening. She had discarded

her white skivvies and was now donning a pair of black panties

that were almost as exquisite as my red ones. Next she fastened

a heavily-wired, long line bra, with half cups that supported

her heavy mammaries without covering her nipples and areolae.

Since my wife always dressed in private, and of course I was a

virgin before meeting her, I was mesmerized by sight of his

goddess exposing herself to me without the slightest inhibition.

Indeed she seemed to be almost taunting me as she rolled her

stockings up her curvaceous legs. She bent over so that her huge

tits were pointed straight at me.

“Luckily vee girls are by ourselfes,” she chortled, “can you

imagine if there ver a mahn in here! I bet he vut be excited -

no?” IF there were a man I steamed to myself. What was I! I

thought until I looked into a full-length mirror on the back of

the door. What was I? I looked at myself and all I could see was

a curvaceous French maid staring back at me – the type of sweet

young thing that I would have hit on in a moment if the

opportunity had ever arisen.

Ms vonStiefel donned a formal, black leather gown. Although it

was floor length with a high collar and appeared rather

conservative from the back, when she turned to face me all I

could look at was the low cut bosom which all but revealed her

ample breasts. In addition the skirt was slit up both legs

almost to her hips, and when she strode her stockings and

garters were clearly visible. Then she pulled on a pair of thigh

high spike-heeled boots and zipped them up, as she smiled at my

drooling face. Then she slithered one arm into one black

leather, opera glove and slapped me with the other.

“Ar ze boots locked? Gut! Mach shnell, slut, you look like a

beautiful tart. Herr Davies ez vaitink,” she barked as she

snapped a slave collar around my throat. Passing by the full

mirror a whorish maid gaped back at me as momentarily forgot

what or whom I was looking at.

We headed for the main drawing room where the guests were to

assemble before moving to the dining room and eventually to the

“playroom”. On the way there, Ms vonStiefel gave me a quick tour

of the mansion. We had been in one of the lesser guest bedrooms,

but she pointed out the hall to the servants’ rooms a neat

dormitory like setting. I noted six doors and a bathroom at the

end of the hall. The guest bedrooms were all substantial and

exquisitely decorated. There were five of these and one seemed

grander than the next. At the end of this wing the building

fanned out allowing for two monstrous bedrooms: the King and the

Queen bedroom suites. I was told all of the rooms were heavily

soundproofed so that virtually anything could happen in them

without fear of detection by one’s neighbor.

The main drawing room was decorated in a macho, clubby manner.

The furniture was all covered in rich cordovan leather and

animal heads and gun racks decorated the walls. In the corner

was an oak bar where one maid was already busy mixing drinks.

When we walked in, there were six guests already gathered, four

women and two men. The two men were dressed in similar fashion

to Mr Davies, elegant fox hunting attire; all wore the scarlet

Pinks jackets of the hunt masters. Two of the women were dressed

in elegant silk evening gowns but exposing far more leg and

cleavage than what might be encountered at your typical family

wedding party. Another was dressed in a black leather catsuit

with matching over-the-knee boots. Only her jewelry and the

sharp, shiny spurs on her boots broke the pattern. The last

woman was the tallest and most muscular of the group but she was

the only one dressed in submissive mode. She was dressed in a

schoolgirl’s uniform: pleated skirt, matching jumper and knee

socks.

Without any introduction, I was led past this group and into the

kitchen. Andr‚, the chef was in the midst of preparing a seven-

course dinner to be served in exactly one hour. But, the hors

d’oeuvres were ready to go and I could see that Andr‚ was

furious that “the maid” wasn’t already serving them to the

guests. I wanted to explain that this wasn’t my fault and in

fact I was a Man not a Maid but, realizing the futility of it

all, I merely straightened out the seams in my stockings and

went to serve the guests.

I must say I was taken aback by the scene of debauchery I

encountered when I reached the guests. There in the drawing room

the males were all seated in the plush leather chairs. The two

well-dressed women, whom I had noted earlier, were now kneeling

between the legs of the men with their faces in the men’s laps.

The woman in the leather catsuit was locked in a passionate

embrace with the “school girl”, whose skirt was up and panties

down, revealing the most un-girlish hard on jutting out of the

cat-woman’s gloved hand. With their tongues lost in each other’s

mouth, the “school girl” was noisily gasping with pleasure. Mr

Davies was locked in deep embrace of a blonde woman who must

have arrived late. She appeared to be dressed in a black leather

mini skirt, but I couldn’t be sure if it were a short skirt or

merely the fact that Mr Davies’ groping hands had lifted it up.

Nevertheless, judging by the way her booted legs were kicking

and squirming, she was imposing no real objection to the black

man’s boorish behavior.

Miss Morgan and Ms vonStiefel were in the corner, playfully

taunting the barmaid, a real bimbo named Suzie, who was trying

to get the white wines ready for serving. Her unconvincing

protests only encouraged the two leather-clad bitches. Oh, how

I pitied the poor bimbo for having to deal with these two

sadists. Undoubtedly they would cause her to spill some wine and

it would be she who would be blamed and chastised – not them.

Oh, the unfairness of it all.

“Hors d’oeuvres, anyone!” I dutifully announced as the women

somewhat sheepishly extracted themselves from their duties to

grab a few of the offerings, for their male companions. The

blonde extracted herself from, Mr Davis arms and straightening

out her skirt (yes it was a mini) she turned to face me. It was

Deborah!

“Oh my,” she giggled, “don’t you look cute!”

“Deb…, I mean Miss Ford, how could y ,” I started to blurt

before I realized just how inappropriate it would be to insult

my boss in his own house! “I er…mean W-ould you like an hors

d’oeuvre?”

“No!” she giggled as she took two or three shrimp, “I have to

watch my figure, but I’ll take a few for Mr Davies.” With that

she re-planted herself onto his lap and dangled the shrimp over

his eager mouth like a Roman concubine might have done with a

bunch of grapes.

As I walked by them I felt my skirt lift and then a sharp pang

to my ass cheek. Looking back my eyes met Mr Davies, his bright

white teeth grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat. “Thank

you, Linzi. Everything is delicious!” he sneered licking his

lips lasciviously as he gestured toward my wife, “Beautifully

delicious!”

Inwardly, I was fuming at the tactless behavior, but what was I

to do? Stoop to his level? No, I was above him and his ilk. I

would not respond to his gauche behavior by demeaning myself. So

I simply smiled back at him and calmly replied, “let me know

when you need more, Sir.”

The boorish creature reached under my skirt and squeezed my

chastity belt. “You can be sure I will,” he sneered tauntingly.

The other guests were watching the scene develop and soon the

men and the one leather-clad woman were all joining in the abuse

of my tender backside, pinching my sore buttocks as if I were

some sort of floozie. Despite their mocking laughter, I

maintained both my dignity and composure, and went about my

assigned task until all of the shrimps had been devoured and

retreated to the kitchen for more.

Dinner was an elegant seven-course affair, each one presented in

an artistic fashion, enticing to the eye, to the nose and

presumably to the taste. I couldn’t say this with any certainty

since the kitchen staff (just the barmaid and myself) were not

allowed to partake of this feast, although the boiled rice and

soy sauce which comprised our dinner was very adequate.

After the dessert was served I noticed that Deb…, I mean Miss

Ford excused herself from the table and headed for the Ladies

Room. Given the break in my duties I took a chance and headed

out the back door of the kitchen and headed for the same

destination. I got there just as she was entering and slipped in

behind her. Shushing her as I closed the door and locked it

behind us.

“Linzi, what is the meaning of this?” she scowled, her

expression displaying her extreme annoyance.

“Please, Miss Ford, I just need a moment,” I pleaded, somewhat

annoyed at myself for taking such a deferential approach. After

all, she was my wife and although the title of “Miss Ford” might

be appropriate since technically we were in Mr Davies home so

perhaps technically at work, I shouldn’t have had to apologize

for talking to my wife, should I?

“What is it? Tell me quickly, I have to pee!” she spat angrily.

“We have to get out of here, and I don’t care if we both lose

our jobs over it,” I whispered hoarsely, realizing that someone

might be listening.

“Are you crazy? Give up my career at Davies Ltd? Don’t you

realize how much I’ve done to advance my career here? And you!

You’ve made a very nice start at building your own career here

as well. I think Mr Davies rather likes you, and he’s told me

that he will make a personal effort to see that you are given

every chance to succeed in your profession.”

“Deborah, are you so blinded by ambition that you can’t see

what’s happening?” I screamed forgetting for a moment my

manners. “Look at me! I’m your husband and here I am dressed as

a sissy maid. Is that normal?”

“Actually, I do think you look very , very cute,” she giggled,

as she ogled me up and down, dropping her panties down to her

ankles. “Maybe more men should try a little make-up.”

“You’re missing the point!” I blared, “I’m dressed as a maid,

while you make out with that arrogant black bastard before my

very eyes. Don’t you see what’s going on?”

“Of course I see what’s happening,” she sneered, sitting down on

the toilet to pee, “you’ve been living rent free in my house for

two years afraid to go out and get a real job. And, now that I

find one for you you’re too lazy to do the work and want to get

out of it!”

“Listen, I think he’s going to try to force you to have sex with

him just like he…,” How could I tell my wife what happened?

How

could I admit that I had been forced to have oral sex with a

man? Still, it had to be done! So, half-sobbing I disclosed what

had happened. “You don’t know, but tonight, he forced me to

perform oral sex on him.”

“Are you trying to tell me that Mr. Davies is a fag?” she

laughed. “Or are you trying to tell me something about yourself?

Maybe you wanted it! Did you lead him on?”

I could not believe what I was hearing. My wife actually

accusing me of being an accomplice to my own defilement. Yes,

blame the victim! “You don’t understand,” I blubbered.

“Yeah, well if you didn’t want it, why did you come back here

with him? You could have run away couldn’t you?”

“But that would have meant leaving you with him,” I started

trying to put a heroic spin on my failure to stand up to him.

“And besides,” I added, returning to reality, “he is so big and

powerful…you wouldn’t believe the size of his , er…I mean

him,” I blubbered trying not to think of ‘Mr Ebony’.

Deborah smiled at the comment almost as if she knew what I

meant. “Oh yes he is so, so…er, well…big! in a muscular way

of

course,” she giggled as if she were sexually attracted to his

muscular frame.

“Please. This is no joke. He raped me! And if you’re not careful

you’re next!”

Looking up to me, as her stream of urine hissed into the water,

she shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe that Mr Davies

is the ogre that you have been describing. He’s always been so

gentle, er , I mean such a gentleman with me,” she confided

reassuringly, “But if he did what you said, we must do

something. What do you suggest?”

I started to unveil my plan. “Well I’ve been thinking that

although he is powerful, he seems to er…, well…tire out

after,

er…only one orgasm.” I blurted out unsure of how to put it.

“He did?” Deborah gasped incredulously. “I never noticed , I

mean never would have thought , but how would I know?” she

concluded with a mysterious giggle and blush.

Waving off her silly interruption, I continued with my scheme.

“Tonight, if he tries to force you back to his room, ask if I

can join you. Tell him that you want me to join you.”

“But if he says no?”

“Well, just make up an excuse to leave the door open and I’ll

come in with some champagne – if he questions it, I’ll pretend

that you ordered it.”

“And then?”

I gulped audibly, I didn’t want to say this but it was the only

way I could save my wife’s honor. “I’ll beg him to let me take

your place. I’ll give him his orgasm and when he falls asleep,

we’ll take his car keys and leave. By the way I found some

sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet – you can slip it into

his champagne and “

“You would do that for me?” she gasped with a hint of tender

appreciation in her eyes, as she lifted herself off of the

toilet seat and gave me a big hug.

I felt myself go numb in her arms and my feet totter on the high

heels, almost falling back into the bathtub when a loud knock on

the door brought me back to my senses.

“What’s going on in there,” a loud accented, male voice shouted.

It was Andr‚ the cook, so I answered.

“Nothing, Sir. I’ll be out in a second.”

“Well hurry up the Gentlemen guests are waiting for their

cigars!” he yelled back and judging by his footsteps, he

disappeared down the hall.

“Remember now, when he’s busy with me slip the sleeping pill

into his champagne, then when he falls asleep we’ll get his car

keys and escape.”

She eagerly indicated her full understanding. “Such a clever but

simple plan – it has to work,” she nodded in agreement.

I decided that I had to take that opportunity to exit before

anyone else came looking. I kissed my wife passionately on the

cheek and whispered, “I love you.”

She looked back at me and in the tenderest tone responded, “of

course you do.”

On that note I escaped down the hall back to my assignment.

* * * * * * * * *

The remainder of the evening went uneventfully. The men and some

of the women, leather-clad one and Miss Morgan and Miss

vonStiefel, partook in the smoking of the thick Cubans and the

quaffing of the after dinner wine. The other women were allowed

to sit at the feet of their masters and mistresses, more in the

role of elegant furniture or fancy jewels than human beings.

Finally about midnight, they all started towards the guestrooms.

My wife spent most of the evening in the arms of her boss, but

I determined to make one last attempt to free her from his

clutches without resorting to my clever scheme. I would merely

assert my marital rights and demand that Mr Davies allow me to

share a bedroom with her.

“Ahem. er , Excuse me, Mr Davies,” I started nervously, “but

where will Miss Ford and I spend the night?”

“Miss Ford will be in the ‘Queen Suite’ but as for you…I

assume

that there is a bunk down in the servants quarters. Ask Andr‚,”

he added with a leering smile, “he always knows where the

prettiest girls sleep!”

“But, er…Mr Davies, Sir,” I countered, surprising even myself

with my clear logic and courage, “don’t you think it would be

more appropriate for me to share a room with my wife?”

“If I thought that that was the proper solution, then I would

have made those arrangements,” Mr Davies bellowed. “Miss Ford is

an officer in my corporation and you are a mere maid. If I

provided her with accommodations unsuited to her rank, I would

be opening myself, and my company, to some very serious sexual

discrimination suits, wouldn’t I?” He spewed at me as his face

reddened and his eyes glared.

“But, Sir, if I shared her room ” I started but was rudely

interrupted.

“Oh yes, let a male maid sleep in the executive wing. What would

my female staffers say about that! You must really want to see

me in a sexual discrimination suit.”

“No..ooh , Sir, really, I just don’t think ,” I whined trying to

argue with his seemingly irrefutable logic, but was cut off

again.

“I’m paying you to work, not to think! Now finish cleaning up

and be off to bed,” he spat back and defiantly grabbed Miss

Ford’s arm and escorting her to the formal guest rooms, his

heavy riding boots clomping on the hardwood floor, as they made

their way down the hall.

* * * * * * * * *

It was almost an hour before Andr‚ conceded that everything was

sufficiently spotless and Suzie and I could be released from

service.

Instead of going to the servants’ quarters, however, I sneaked

back into the drawing room and uncovered a bottle of champagne

and two glasses which I had cleverly hidden in a nook under the

bar. I put my glasses on for the first time since my makeup was

put on and, armed with champagne and an ice bucket, I headed for

the “Queen Suite”.

Knocking at the door I heard a man’s voice. I was again proven

right. The black brute was in my wife’s bedroom, undoubtedly

forcing his affections on her. Then I heard the stomp of boot

heels moving across the oak floor toward the door. At least he

wasn’t naked – yet, I thought to myself. But as the door flew

open, I realized that he had already started his move. He was

bare-chested and his belt was already unfastened.

“Yes, Linzi, why in god’s name are you interrupting us at this

hour? Don’t you realize that we’re trying to…, er…ahem, get

some work done for tomorrow’s meeting,” he improvised, thinking

I was so gullible that I would accept this implausible

explanation.

“My wi.., er , I mean…Miss Ford asked me to bring a bottle of

champagne to your, er I mean.. her room at one o’clock,” I

stammered hardly able to take my eyes off of his muscular, hairy

black chest. I had never seen an undressed black man in person

before and, I must say was impressed by this man’s skin color

and the power he exuded.

“Is that so?” he scowled angrily as he turned toward Deborah who

was sitting up in the bed clothed only in exotic lingerie. The

black merry widow, which covered her breasts and torso, also had

garters attached to black seamed stockings. She still had on the

tall black boots which she had worn earlier and had donned a

pair of opera length gloves.

“Oh yes,” she beamed happily, “I thought that after a long night

of entertaining clients, you could use a little bubbly to

relax.”

Entertaining clients? I thought to myself, the only client he

entertained tonight was my wife.

“You are so thoughtful, pussycat,” he purred as he opened the

door to let me in. Pussycat? I thought! Then he turned to me and

ordered me to place the ice bucket in the corner and pop the

champagne.

Dutifully I complied and as I busied myself with the champagne,

I could see that Mr Davies was back on the bed fondling my wife.

I’d have to act fast, I thought, otherwise he’ll be raping her.

I decided to be as outlandish as I could and as I brought the

glasses over to them, I deliberately tripped and spilt some of

the bubbly right onto the crotch of his breeches.

“You ignorant maid,” he bellowed, leaping from the bed “I can’t

believe anyone…,” he started in an agitated tone, but then

took charge in his usual brutal way, grabbing me by the scruff

of the neck and forcing me to my knees at his feet. “Clean it

up, slut! Lick every drop of champagne out of those breeches!”

Now was my opportunity. “Oh please, sir. Let me clean your

breeches and anything else that might have gotten wet,” I purred

assuming that he would quickly get my message.

“Oh, I see. I think maybe you want to clean my cock, don’t you?”

He sneered.

“Oh yesss, it was soooo nice tonight when you let me suck you

off, I want to do it again,” I cooed, hating myself for what I

was saying, but realizing that this was the only way to save my

wife’s honor.

“Go ahead take it out. Get that champagne off of it!”

“Ohhh thank you sir. You are too good to your clumsy maid,” I

continued to purr. His back was too Miss Ford so I looked around

his hips to see her reaction. She seemed mesmerized by the scene

developing in front of her. I’m sure she never realized the

extent of my love for her. She bit her lower lip and nodded as

if to tell me that she understood what I was going through.

“But this time, you’re going to get it the way you really want

it: up the ass, slut!”

“Oh please, sir, not that,” I wailed. I had just released “Mr

Ebony” from his hiding place and had kissed its ugly head, my

smeared lipstick mixing with his pre-cum. Yes, I was ready to

humiliate myself again by providing oral service – but take it

up the ass? Oh how did I let myself get into this position?

He began to pistol-whip me with his heavy cock, yelling at me.

“Admit it you want me to take you up the ass – don’t you!”

“Oh nooo oh,” I wailed.

“I’ll release you from your chastity device if you show a little

enthusiasm,” he wheedled, zeroing in on my weak point.

“Please, Sir I’ll do anything – anything but that,” I continued

my embarrassing display of bawling. But, if I were looking for

pity, I was barking up the wrong tree – or pair of boots in this

case.

“You’ll do anything and that as well,” he spat back at me.

“Yes, sir,” I finally agreed, recognizing the hopelessness of my

predicament, but thinking if I can get through this Deb… I

mean Miss Ford and I could escape. And if Mr Davies did not

remove the chastity belt I would have to go through the

humiliation of going to a locksmith. Yes, submitting to Mr

Davies would solve the problem.

“Get up on that bed” he commanded as he pushed me away with the

sole of his big black boot.

Tears were now rolling down my cheeks. I looked to Miss Ford for

help or pity but saw only the same fear in her eyes that was in

mine.

“Get off the bed, Debbie. And don’t worry – you’ll have your

chance next!” he screamed. It infuriated me further to hear him

talk to my wife as if she were a slut as well but she seemed

unfazed by the treatment.

“Oh yes, Sir,” she cooed in a tone that made it sound as if she

could hardly wait. Obviously she was playing up to his ego,

ready to spring our trap.

“Now get down on all fours; face the foot of the bed. I want you

to see yourself in the dressing mirror. See yourself for what

you really are! That’s it. Spread those legs, slut!” he barked

and I hastily compiled, silently wishing he would not call me by

that name.

“WIDER! And wiggle that cute little ass to show me how much you

want it.”

Shamelessly, I complied.

“Oh look, Debbie, see how your husband (Hhh! Hhh!) is begging me

to fuck her pussy. Look how she’s wiggling those hips!”

“Yes you really are turning her into a slut!” my wife enjoined,

I assumed she was acting so bitchy only to lure him into a false

sense of security.

“Wait a minute, we did make a deal that I would release your

chastity device, if you showed some enthusiasm. Well I think you

have certainly made good on your part of the bargain,” he

bellowed as he moved around and unlatched the lock on my

harness. I felt my manhood fill with blood as it sprung out in

full state of arousal.

He walked around and stood before me and viciously pulled my

head down onto his cock. “Kiss it slut and beg ‘Mr Ebony’ to

fuck you up that worthless ass hole! Maybe he’ll even let you

put some KY on, to make it easier.”

Greedily I licked the massive tool as, in garbled voice I

pleaded with him. “Please ‘Mr Ebony’ I want to feel you in my

pussy hole. Please take me like the sissy slut I am I need to

feel you inside of me!”

My wife was standing by the side of the bed giggling

uncontrollably.

“Oh my poor little Linzi is trying to make friends with Mr.

Ebony – how sweet.”

“But ‘Mr Ebony’ doesn’t want trashy white girls as his friends,”

Mr Davies smirked, “he makes them his bitches!”

‘Mr Ebony’ was by now smeared red with my lipstick and Mr Davies

pulled him away from my hungry lips, almost making me fall

forward off of the bed. Then he handed my a tube of KY and

ordered me to lube up the massive cock and put ‘a wee bit’ in my

pussy. Gladly I complied thinking that I could never hope to

accommodate it without a lot of lubrication.

Then I felt the pressure of his legs pushing mine even further

apart; the leather of his boots against my stockinged calves, as

I felt him kneeling between my booted limbs. I did not think it

was possible but he forced them even further apart. Then I felt

him pressuring my sphincter muscle – gently at first but with

more and more authority. My hips were now wiggling shamelessly

seeking to be filled with his thick piece of male meat.

“Your husband (Hhh! Hhh!) really wants me to fuck her pussy.

Look how she’s acting like a cheat whore wiggling her ass!”

“Oh yes,” my wife chimed in, “she does seem to be desperate for

it, but I don’t think it’s an act! Hah! She certainly knows how

to get a man excited.”

“Nooo..oh!” I wailed as the initial penetration was achieved but

then he unexpectedly pulled out. For some reason I felt

strangely disappointed. Certainly it had been painful, but in

such a pleasantly painful way.

My eyes were closed now filling up with tears of pain (and,

could it be – pleasure?) when Mr Davies smacked me on the back

of my head. “Open your eyes, slut, and watch yourself be fucked!

See what happens to naughty little sissies when a real man is

around!”

I looked in the mirror and saw what looked like a cheap, tawdry

hooker, lewdly debasing herself to entice her customer. It

seemed as if my mind had no control over my body as I watched my

hips sway back and forth slowly moving to the rhythms of his

thrusting motion. I saw the spike heels of my booties flailing

futilely as if to prevent or at least slow down his assault. But

there was no delaying my fate. His bulbous head spread my

sphincter to a size I had never before known, as it was wider by

far than the dildoes used by Miss Travers or even Ms vonStiefel.

Then, full penetration of my not-so-stubborn defenses.

“No..ohhh, plea…zzze, don’t,” my mouth shrieked but my body

continued to gyrate, lewdly accommodating his vile assault.

“Ooh my god,” my wife squealed, “look at the whites of her

eyes!” I couldn’t see but knew of course what she meant. My eyes

had rolled into the back of my head, as my body experienced the

pain and pleasure of full penetration.

Mr Davies was panting a bit but I could hear hiss smug laughter

as he sneered, “yes, my bitches all complain at first, but in

the end they all love it – it is what they all need!”

My pleas continued but their message was transformed as I felt

him pumping into me. “No..ohhh, plea…zzze, don’t, – don’t

stop!

Ohh..hh I need it so bad! HARDER DEEPER PLEA…ZZZZE!” My mind

wanted to protest, but my body was crying out for my further

defilement.

How long it continued, I don’t know. I could see my legs wrap

back around his torso as my heels flailed at his flanks, not in

protest but to urge him on. I saw his hands pawing at my fake

boobs, pinching them so roughly that I could feel the rough

pleasure of my titties even through the thick latex forms.

Finally, after what seemed an hour I felt Mr Davies massive body

twitch and then twitch again, followed by a soft moan. Then I

felt a warm sensation in my anal passageway. He rocked back and

forth and then I experience a feeling of emptiness as I felt him

pull back until I heard or at least thought I could hear a

slight pop as his head came free of my sphincter. Warm liquid

was running down my backside onto my thighs when I felt one of

his massive paws reach around my torso and grab my little

weenie. The leather of his glove felt smooth and cool against my

throbbing male clit. And I exploded almost instantly into the

leather palm.

“Lick it, bitch!” he commanded and dutifully I complied as best

I could until he finished cleaning the glove by rubbing the

excess onto my face. Looking into the mirror I watched him get

up and re-buckle his pants, as I was left kneeling on all fours,

my face smeared with my own cum and my ass still dripping from

his ejaculation. I wanted to collapse on the bed and go to sleep

but, I thought to myself, now the lazy black bastard is probably

exhausted, we’ll slip him the sleeping pill and get out of here.

“Now I want to make love to your wife, bitch, but first clean my

cock and help me off with these boots.” Getting off the bed, I

saw my wife pouring the champagne and slipping in the pill.

“Champagne for my big black he-man,” she chortled.

“Not now, dear,” he replied, “lets’ wait until after we make

love.” I could hardly believe it, as I knelt before him, washing

the now-flaccid member with warm towel. I pulled off his thick

leather boots, expecting that he would be eager to relax now, or

at least slow down, but found that not only didn’t he appear

tired but he seemed ready to go again sexually. Looking up, I

could see that I was not wrong. His massive cock was telescoping

out again at a right angle, zeroing in on its prey.

Miss Ford put the glasses down and fell to her knees to kiss the

cock. But he gently raised her up and kissed her deeply, his

tongue disappearing into her mouth, her head back, as she bent

back into his strong, loving embrace.

Lifting her off her feet, he brought her to the bed and laid her

down gently, their mouths never separating. I watched as his

hand groped beneath her panties. I wanted to stop him or at

least tell him something that would make his ears smart, but no,

why ruin our scheme now. After we escaped I would send him the

most biting letter he ever read. I would really tell off this…

this, ‘nigger-bastard’, (there… I said it!) But that would

have

to wait.

“Oh, yes, oh..hhh yes yes,” my wife was moaning in pleasure as

he manhandled her.

“Last time we made love dearest,” the arrogant brute cooed,

(wait a minute, LAST TIME?) “you said my heavy balls hurt your

tender ass when they smacked against you, remember?”

“Of yes, lover-boy,” she moaned not seeming to understand his

inaccurate remarks.

“Maybe you can ask your sissy husband to hold my balls while I

make love to you, I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” he stage-

whispered hoarsely in her ear.

“Oh, darling you ARE so considerate,” she squealed writhing

under his touch. Then turning to me she snapped, “Linzi, get up

on the bed behind Mr Davies!”

“But…” my voice trailed off as she stopped me before a second

word got off my tongue.

“Do it NOW!” she ordered eyes glaring as I meekly obeyed. “Now

gently take one ball in each hand and make sure they don’t touch

me while we’re making love!”

What was her point, I thought, how would this help our clever

plot? But now was NOT the time to question so again I complied.

His balls were huge and I knew from personal experience how

heavily they could pound into a tender backside, but why put me,

her husband, into this position? Why didn’t she just tell him

not to bother? Mr Davies raised himself over her and positioned

Mr Ebony over her waiting slit. Amazingly she was damp and moist

and he drove fully into her on the first try. I could only think

how long it took me to obtain similar results whenever we had

attempted copulation it had taken almost an hour before her

pussy could accommodate me – my cock was half of his!

They went at it for almost an hour her body seeming to know

every facet of his and his every nuance of hers. Although Mr.

Davies moans were barely audible my wife sounded like, her cries

ranging from purring vibrato to occasional piercing shrieks of

unadulterated pleasure. I could feel how wet the base of Mr

Davies’s cock was getting from her slimy slit as he pumped

harder and harder with her rising up off the bed to meet every

thrust.

“Tell the slut to lick my ass while I cum, Debbie,” he moaned.

Debbie looked over his shoulder and ordered as he instructed.

“Yes, sissy slut, kiss my Master’s black ass! AND I want to see

a big smile on your face!”

It was awkward to hold his balls and lick but somehow I was able

to comply and licked and smiled and licked and smiled until I

felt that now familiar spasming of his body. He moaned lowly as

my wife shrieked out, her heels pummeling my shoulders as she

tried to flail at his back but found me instead.

Then his body stiffened and he collapsed into the embrace of her

arms and stockinged legs. Her wails, which had reached a

crescendo, continued but the decibel level slowly ratcheted down

to whimpering sobs of pleasure.

Rolling off of her, I was finally allowed to release his balls.

His still huge but limp cock glistened with heir mixed juices.

“My cock needs a good cleaning, sweetness,” he cooed and my wife

began to lean over to clean it.

“No, I want to hold you, babe. Tell your slut hubby to do it”

“Oh of course. That’s a much better idea!” she murmured, and

then turned to me with a scowl, “Linzi, don’t you see? Mr Davies

needs a cleaning! What are you waiting for? Yes now with your

tongue!”

I allowed myself some pleasure tasting my wife’s juices but

overall it was disgusting to be ordered to perform the task. And

worst of all he still looked wide-awake. After thoroughly

lapping I figured it would be best for me to act – not wait for

her any longer.

“May I get the two of you champagne?” I asked demurely dropping

my eyes back to Mr Davies cock.

“Yes, Linzi, capital idea.” Mr Davies nodded, as I reached for

the already poured glasses, “but not those – they’re warm. Warm

champagne tastes like piss! You can drink those! Pour us fresh

glasses from the ice bucket.”

“No please they’re still fine,” I tried to assuage him and

offered the untainted glass to my wife but she refused.

“No, Linzi they’re both for you she smiled sheepishly.

I glared back at her. “But, Miss Ford, the plan you know ?” I

tried to remind her. Could she have forgotten in her state of

sexual frenzy?

“What plan, Linzi?” Mr Davies interrupted quizzically.

“Oh, er .. nothing Mr Davies, I just was acting a little ditzy,

you know me,” I babbled trying to deflect his inquiry with a big

smile.

But he would have none of it. “Tell me what plan before I beat

it out of you!”

“Noo, really there was no plan .. really there wasn’t any..,”

I was trying desperately to think up an excuse but my wife

interrupted.

“Oh Linzi, tell Mr Davies your silly little plan. She started

but then changed direction. “Oh never mind , I’ll tell. It was

so stupid anyway. As if it ever could have worked!” she was now

giggling loudly.

“Oh there was a plan then?” the awful black man interjected, one

eyebrow raised in a menacing stare.

“Oh, honey, don’t be upset it was really, I mean really stupid.

You see Linzi thought that because you fell asleep in the car

after the poor little thing sucked you off, she figured that we

could knock you out with some hot sex. Of course Linzi also

thought that maybe we could use a sleeping pill to finish the

job.”

“He thought I’d fall asleep after one or two orgasms?” he

snorted incredulously. “Didn’t you tell him how long I can go?”

How would my wife know something like that I thought but decide

to keep my thoughts to myself.

“Oh I didn’t want to spoil the fun of seeing his face after his

silly little plan fared so miserably.”

Mr Davies was near doubled over in laughter now and shaking his

head in disbelief he snickered, “Oh Linzi, I probably should

punish you for even thinking of what you did but I am so amused,

I can’t be angry.” But then raising that evil eyebrow he told me

firmly “but drink your Champagne – NOW!”

I looked at my wife pleadingly. “You really don’t want to leave

do you?” I suddenly realized. “I’m your husband how could you do

this to me?”

“Oh Linzi, I tried – oh, how I tried – to love you but how could

I. I mean you are barely a man with that tiny little, 4 and 1/2

inch cock. It would have been hard enough given that

shortcoming, but everything else. You lost your job. You didn’t

have the drive to go out and find a way to support your wife. I

had to be the breadwinner!”

“But Deb… I mean Ms Ford I tried to get a job,” and then

dropping my eyes just said “look at me…”

“Yes that’s what I mean – look at what’s happened to you now. A

man, albeit an intelligent and physically powerful one has

forced you to dress as a sissy slut. Forced you to serve him

orally and even fucked you up the ass. Then he tells you that

he’s going to Fuck your wife and all you can do is hold his

balls and lick his black ass. Have you put your foot down and

shown any modicum of manliness?”

I dropped my eyes sheepishly but could not come up with a single

word in my own defense.

“No!” she continued shaking her head in disgust at my inability

to defend myself, “you’ve acted like a sissy – because that’s

what you are.” Then her tone turned gentle. “I do love you but

not as a man, I love you as a sissy girlfriend. You know the

type of girl who’s always in trouble because she can’t say no to

the boys. The one that they all date, but only once because

she’s a tramp. Men always want to help girls like that but never

want to marry them. Yes I love you but as a sissy tramp

girlfriend, not as a man.”

I was crying now, ruining whatever was left of my makeup.

“Maybe if you had done something to show me you were still a man

or at least had a modicum of manliness ,” her voice trailed off.

There was momentary silence until Mr Davies chimed in with a

laugh, “well she did come up with that very clever plot to

escape.” The two of them began to howl with laughter at my

complete foolishness not only of thinking I could escape but

also that I had believed my wife’s relationship with Mr Davies

was strictly platonic. Oh, how blind could I be!

Calming down from their inside joke at my expense, my wife

finally composed herself and asked tenderly, “Well, Linzi, you

can still escape. Your contract expires in sixty days and then

you are free to leave, if you wish. Until then you will serve as

our sissy maid, slut girl, whore or whatever else, Mr Davies

determines. We expect you to act in a ‘professional’ manner at

all times during the sixty days. At that point the choice is

yours.”

Yes, I thought, but if I chose to leave, where would I go? I’d

decide tomorrow. I’m too tired now. The sleeping pill was having

its intended effect.

To be continued???

By Deborah Pinto

* * * * * * * * *

Now for Part 6:

The idea of Mr Davies moving in with my wife and me was

abhorrent, especially when I considered his apparent romantic

intentions towards her. However, I knew that Deborah was a woman

of the highest virtue, who had little interest in sexual

dalliances. After all, I was her husband of several years and I

could count the number times that marriage had been consummated

on one hand. Hence, in my mind it was clear that this black

brute had no chance of succeeding in his vulgar intentions

toward my faithful and loving wife.

Comforted by these thoughts, I decided to concentrate on the

positive side. The fact that Mr Davies would be living with us

could open up vast opportunities for me to finally demonstrate

to him my true business talents. While his company was

profitable and he seemed to have developed a large and loyal

clientele, it was clear that if he wished to keep it that way he

would have to make major changes. His current practice of hiring

only young women was sure to backfire. Although they were pretty

and sexy, they had little or no business sense… just look at

the way they had distracted clients from Deborah’s presentation

with their strutting and posing as they served food and drinks.

Did they think that this behavior would impress prospective

clients? Absurd, of course! It was clear, therefore, that if I

had a chance to work closely with Mr Davies, I could impress him

with my numerous skills. That evil bitch, Ms. Morgan would be a

thing of the past! Or better yet, maybe I’d keep her in the

secretarial pool and treat her like she treated me!

Thus, I reconciled myself with the fact that my wife’s loutish

boss, who was now my boss as well, would be living in our

household by recognizing that my wife was impervious to his

advances and that it would be financially beneficial to both of

our careers. I also realized that he still held the key to my

chastity device and the only other way that I could have it

removed would be to go to a locksmith. Certainly, I would not

allow myself to be put into such a humiliating situation. It

would all work out, I thought, somehow.

I waited patiently in Mr Davies office while he walked back to

his private office with Miss Ford. (I do mean Deborah: I guess

I am getting so used to using the formal address in public, I

almost forget that I can still call her Deborah in my private

thoughts. Can’t I??). They must have had some important business

matters to discuss because they were in there for quite a while

and it was after 6 o’clock before Mr Davies returned. At first

I inhaled the scent of what I thought was my wife’s perfume but

turning I saw it was only Mr. Davies. What a strange cologne for

a man, I thought, but then smiled to myself as I suspected that

perhaps the ignorant lout had picked up my wife’s perfume from

he desk by mistake. I tried not to smile at this thought, here

he is forcing me to dress as a girl and he’s wearing women’s

perfume! As he leaned to pick up his briefcase I thought I

noticed a red mark on his cheek and another smudge on his

collar, and shook my head at the fact that he must have coerced

my wife into a dutiful peck on the cheek.

“Well then, let’s be off,” he harrumphed, grabbing his case and

motioning me toward the door. “We haven’t got all day and the

limo is already waiting!”

“Haven’t you forgotten one thing?” I chortled, motioning with a

sweeping gesture of my arms that I was still dressed in an

office uniform.

“No…what do you mean?” he blustered incredulously.

“I’m still wearing women’s clothes,” I gasped, wondering how

unobservant this man could be. I fully expected that the buffoon

would be embarrassed at my curt remark but unfortunately my

enjoyment was short lived.

“Of course you are!” he spat back. “You’re dressed in our

corporate uniform! What’s wrong with that? You can change into

your Maids uniform when we get home.” Oh, the nerve of him,

couldn’t he ever admit to me that he was wrong? In this case, I

wasn’t going to tolerate it.

“Listen! I came here in male attire and that’s the way I plan on

leaving!” I schemed defiantly as I stomped my high heel as

loudly as I could on the parquet floor to emphasize my resolve.

“No, you listen to me, young lady, “the arrogant brute sneered

picking up the contract from his desk, “you’ve signed these

papers and if you don’t stop acting like a spoiled little brat

I will have to put you over my knee again! Do you understand?”

“But what will the neighbors say?” I shrieked, my defiance

beginning to ebb.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about the neighbors,” he shouted as he

moved toward me.

Suddenly I realized that perhaps discretion was the better part

of valor. “I’m sorry; You’re right; I see your point, Mr Davies.

Please excuse my misunderstanding,” I rambled on foolishly, my

resolve completely evaporated as I tried desperately to escape

another chastisement.

“Well, get your coat on and let’s go,” he smirked triumphantly,

as he raised up his rolled-up copy of my contract, “before I

decide to impose Paragraph 16-b.” I had no idea what paragraph

16-b was but I sensed it must be dreadful so I decided to save

my resistance for a later date and prepared to leave.

Knowing that it would be chilly outside as dusk had already

settled in, I put a short black leather jacket and exchanged my

mary-janes for a pair of over-the-knee spike-heeled boots that

Miss Ford had so graciously left for me. Luckily, I was roughly

the same size as my wife so, while the boots pinched a little

and the jacket fit snugly, it didn’t leave me looking like a

streetwalker with tight clothing to display her wares. Well,

perhaps just a teensy bit tarty in short skirt and high boots.

“I’m sure will you be more careful in the future,” he said

swinging open the doorway and gesturing me toward a private lift

where a woman in formal chauffeur’s uniform was waiting. She

must have been six feet tall with long blonde hair and steel

blue eyes. Her black leather jacket and cap matched the tall

riding boots and the color scheme was only offset by the tight

cream colored breeches, which molded to her shapely legs.

“Dis vey, fraulein,” she sneered in a heavy German accent,

smirking at me as I shuffled in my high heeled boots. Despite

the four-inch heels I was still less than eye level with her, as

she escorted me into the elevator car. Mr Davies followed behind

and I felt nearly crushed between these two tall, powerful

figures.

“Linzi, this is Miss VonStiefel, and let me assure you that,

although she is only my chauffeur, I expect you to treat her

with the utmost respect. Is that understood?”

“Of course, Mr Davies,” I nodded enthusiastically, while

fantasizing with erotic desire of the ways that I would really

like to treat this Teutonic beauty.

Then he handed a bundle of clothing to Ms vonStiefel and

instructed her to dispose of it as soon as possible. I

recognized the shirt that was used as the wrapper and realized

that it was my clothing… my MALE clothing. I started to object

but one look at the smirk on Mr Davies face warned me that I had

no right to say anything. This set of male clothing was now

history.

Ms vonStiefel held the door open for Mr Davies and me and the

three of us squished into the tiny, private lift. I stood with

my back to Mr. Davies but Ms vonStiefel carrying the package of

clothing pushed me further and further toward the back of the

compartment. I must say that I was enjoying the subtle pressure

she was exerting, although the chastity device severely limited

my enjoyment, and the smell of her leather outfit permeated my

senses. Suddenly I realized that the four-inch heels on my boots

put my arse on level with Mr Davies groin as I found myself

pressing into him. It seemed innocent enough at first but then

I felt something against my backside. It felt almost like he was

grinding his hips into me. I thought that it had to be my

imagination of course, but why did he then seem to begin

thrusting into me?

“Excuse me, Mr Davies,” I squealed trying to make light of the

awkward situation.

“Excuse you for what, young lady? For snuggling into me to like

a cheap harlot?” he sneered.

“We..ll no, I mean I would never ” I started, but he grabbed me

around the hips and held me as he continued to grind his torso

into me.

“You little slut,” he spat, “you try to get me aroused with

those tight little buns and then you pretend that you’re not

interested! My little slut and her slutty little games can’t

fool me. I think she needs a good spanking! What do you think Ms

vonStiefel?”

“Probably a lot more than a spanking, mein Herr,” the Aryan

Goddess cackled. “She von’t even admit that she vas trying to

seduz you, mein Herr.”

“No, she has not shown any remorse at all,” the black brute tut-

tutted, shaking his head somberly.

Well I never, never would have believed the audacity of these

two, discussing my behavior – MY Behavior – as if I had done

something wrong. And now they were discussing my punishment as

if I weren’t even there. Didn’t they think they should hear MY

side of the story. Well let me tell you, I have stood up to

bullies all of my life and if they thought for one minute I was

going to debase myself by admitting to the ghastly comments Mr

Davies was making out my character, they had another thought

coming. I was going to show them that maybe some silly girls in

the secretarial pool would cave in to this type of harassment

but Linzi Hawkins was not the type of girl, I mean man, that

they could idly toy with.

“What would you suggest?”

“Leaf her for one hour vit me,” she mused, as she nonchalantly

stepped back pressing me harder into Mr Davies, “I’m sure I can

teach her some proper respect.”

“The last time I did that, one of the girls from the secretarial

pool was in the hospital for a week, but I must say she did not

give me any problems after that,” the haughty male laughed, all

the while still grinding into my backside. “I think maybe just

a good bare-bottom spanking in the back seat of the car!”

Ms vonStiefel nodded in agreement and as finally reached the

garage level, I could see a stretch limousine was waiting. Ms

vonStiefel dispatched the package of clothing into a nearby

dumpster and opened the car door for Mr Davies and myself. I was

already putting together an irrefutable argument to defend my

actions, and I could hardly wait to let him and his chauffeur

know the type of man they were dealing with.

He entered the car first sitting in the middle of the back seat

but as I bent to enter, I barely had time to observe the size

and elegance of the vehicle before the ebony skinned monster

grabbed my wrist and splayed me over his lap.

“Well, my pretty little slut, I think we may as well get this

over with promptly. Justice delayed is justice denied,” he

laughed as his powerful hand dragged me into a perfect ass-

raised, ready-for-a-spanking position.

“The little slut looks too eager, Mr Davies,” Ms vonStiefel

sneered as she pushed my legs fully into the vehicle with her

boots before she closed the door, locking it behind me.

“Up with your skirt, young lady,” Mr Davies ordered, his tone

turning completely serious.

Between the tone of his voice and the viselike grip of his hand

on my wrist, I lost track of my carefully constructed arguments

and found that all I could do was squeal a few desperate appeals

for mercy. “Noooo…oh please nooo…, Mr Davies,” I whined as

I

futilely kicked and squirmed, “You don’t understand…” my voice

trailed off recognizing that he had turned a deaf ear to my

pleas.

“Pull down those panties!” he added as I lifted the skirt over

my back and wriggled my panties down to my knees. I was sure

that if I resisted, he could have easily performed both tasks

himself but no, the bastard! He wanted me to demonstrate

acceptance of my own humiliation. But, I was in no position to

object, was I? So I meekly obeyed his insulting orders and

nervously awaited his assault on my exposed and already reddened

backside.

“First. I want you to tell me why you deserve this punishment!”

he demanded as the limo pulled out of the parking space. Thank

goodness the windows on the vehicle were heavily tinted, I

thought to myself, or the whole scene would be witnessed by

every passing pedestrian or occupants of other vehicles as we

slowly exited the congested business district of the city. Only

the window between the driver and the passenger compartments was

lowered giving Ms vonStiefel a clear view of the proceedings.

“Uh… I guess that you thought I was coming on to you, Mr

Davies,” I started, fuming inside because I knew quite well that

there was no way that I had come on to him. Just thinking about

the way he was forcing a confession out of me made my blood boil

even further. Not only was it obvious that he was the one

pushing against me in the elevator but even now I could feel his

manhood jutting up from his lap. The evil cad! Someday I would

show him! Perhaps in a court of law where justice was the rule,

rather than brute strength, I would show him that he couldn’t

treat me like some two-bit hussy. If only he weren’t so

powerful, I would show him! But for now, I resigned myself to

the fact that I had no choice other than to endure his

disgustingly crass behavior. I could only hope that the bastard

would stop his lewd grinding against me when he finished with my

chastisement.

THWAAKkk: his beefy palm landed on my bare buttocks, sending a

jolt of pain through my body.

“You guess that I only thought that you were coming on to me?

Like there may be a question involved? That sounds very

insincere, young lady. It doesn’t sound like you want to take

responsibility for your slutty behavior, Linzi. Well that

attitude is just fine, but it will just add ten more strokes!”

THWAAKkk: the second stroke landed.

Knowing full well the power of his strokes and, despite my

complete innocence, I decided to pretend that it was all my

fault. “I’m sorry,” I whimpered in my most cloying and

subservient tone, “I really meant to say that I was very, very

sorry for trying to seduce you by rubbing against you in the

elevator.”

THWAAKkk: another blow.

“Just tell me then, Linzi, what did you want me to do? Let you

suck my big black cock?”

Oh the contemptible lout! How gross could one man be? I thought,

he was the one grinding into me NOT the other way around! But

unfortunately, I was in no position to give him a hard time (if

you’ll excuse the expression). Once we got home Miss Ford would

be told about his behavior and something would be done.

Therefore, I went along with his foolishness… for now.

“Yes, Mr Davies, I wanted you to let me suck your big black

cock. Please forgive me. I’ll never do it again.” I hoped that

the monotone of my confession didn’t sound too sarcastic, but I

just couldn’t force any enthusiasm into my remarks.

THWAAKkk: again my flesh burned.

THWAAKkk. THWAAKkk. The blows came hard one after the other

until I thought I had counted ten… only TEN! Then I felt him

lift my chin up as he pushed me off of his lap to my knees at

his feet. It was over? Indeed, Mr Davies was finally showing

some compassion.

“Linzi, Linzi Linzi,” Mr Davies tsk-tsked looking into my blue

eyes as if talking to wayward child, “what will we ever do with

you? Always trying to satisfy those slutty urges. Well, you

caught me at a weak moment. Unzip my fly and take out ‘Mr ebony’

and go ahead!”

“Wha…what?” I blurted out never expecting him to actually take

me up on fraudulent confession, “but you know I can’t, Sir, I’m

married to Miss Ford.”

“Well that didn’t stop you from humping into me did it?” he

snarled, his black skin glowing with a red hue. “I guess you

want to act like a little cock-tease, eh. Well that doesn’t work

with real men! Now do as your told and start behaving or I’ll

make you sorrier than you’ve ever been!”

“No… ohhh… nooo, please Mr Davies,” I bawled, “I never

really

wanted to suck your cock, I only said that to… er…” my voice

trailed off not knowing how to work my way out of my web of

lies.

“To what, get me horny?” he sneered, raising his huge hand

waving menacingly at me. Then he yelled up to Ms vonStiefel.

Take us to the meat-packing district. I think we can teach our

little slut some manners.”

The meat-packing district was at one time what its name

indicated but many years ago that industry had vacated leaving

the area abandoned until the sturdy buildings were taken over by

a series of unsavory businesses, and now consisted mostly of gay

leather and biker bars. Hence, its title only made sense in

historical terms or as a very telling description of the sexual

activities so frequently conducted there. The local law

enforcement had long ago given up hopes of controlling the

morals of its denizens. Policemen entered the area only when the

mayhem grew to near riot level, or perhaps to fulfill their own

personal needs.

As we drove toward this district, Mr Davies opened the side

windows of the car so that passersby and passengers of other

vehicles could see my predicament. At a few traffic lights,

truck drivers delightedly yelled encouragement and even inquired

about the price of my services. Kneeling between his legs as I

was, I could only get glimpses of their faces and reactions. One

car with a group of black women in it offered to take my place

and called me a “honky slut” as they threatened to kick my white

ass. I was sure that they would have had greater sympathy for me

if they could see how red my “white ass” already was and if they

knew the true nature of this black brute, before whom I knelt.

Still, I could not help but to blush further at their taunts.

We now started going down some desolate and dangerous looking

streets until we reached a block of well-lit bars and clubs,

with a few curio shops. Although there were cars parked on the

street, the major mode of transportation seemed to be the

motorcycle, mostly big Harleys, row of which lined the curb. The

names of the clubs “Meat Packer”, “Log Jam” and “Leather Cycles”

gave hints as to the targeted clientele. The streets were packed

with a variety of leather-clad men and individuals, who were

dressed as and many of whom actually were women. Apparently most

of the bars and clubs were yet to open but the regulars were

already putting on a leather fashion show as they waited to gain

access to their favorite spots.

Ms vonStiefel brought the limo to a stop in the middle of the

intersection and got out of the car and walked around to

passenger door. The crowd seemed to come to a dead silence

broken only by the loud and ominous click of her boot-heels on

the cobblestones.

“Get OUT!” she ordered sternly, as Mr Davies moved his powerful

legs so that I was free to move. Despite my “freedom” I couldn’t

move, after all, where was I to go? The crowd gathering around

the car looked far more dangerous and sadistic than even Mr

Davies. “Mach shnell!” screamed the leather-clad chauffeur,

impatiently slapping the shaft of her boot with some sort of

swagger stick.

Meekly I crept out of the car as the crowd started a cacophony

of wolf-whistles and catcalls. “C’mon babe, I’ll teach you not

to be naughty,” cried one beer-bellied loudmouth, clad in a

heavy leather biker jacket and calf-high boots. “Is that really

a girl or just another boy trying to become the ‘Queen of

England’,” cooed one husky voiced ‘lady’, whose tiara sat

slightly askew on her ringleted hair.

I couldn’t move except to drop to my knees and cling to Ms

vonStiefel’s boots, pleading as I looked up at her imperious

countenance. “Please don’t leave me here, I will do anything

that you say,” I bawled loudly, bringing a further round of

hoots and mocking sighs from the crowd. What would become of me

here, I thought. I had no money and was dressed as some sort of

tawdry schoolgirl in hooker boots and a pleated skirt. I

remembered what had happened to me at the party when I escaped.

Even though I was found by the police, they had assumed I was a

two-bit whore and had brought me back not to my home but to my

abusers… Miss Morgan and Mr Davies.

“It’s up to Mr Davies now mein schatz,” mocked my Amazon

antagonist as I laid kisses on her boots, inhaling he scent of

the freshly polished leather.

“One last chance, Linzi? Maybe,” Mr Davies mulled aloud as he

thoughtfully rubbed his chin between thumb and forefinger. “Just

tell me what you want to do, but say it loud enough so that

everyone in the street can hear. I want to make sure there are

plenty of witnesses in case you try to deny it again.”

“Please, Mr Davies,” I sobbed, “I want to “

“Louder, slut,” he ordered, his black features framing his

grinning white teeth.

“PLEASE, MISTER DAVIES,” I started again, loud enough to be

heard in the street, I want to… er… to…, to…,” I

stammered

unable to get the vile words out.

“To what?” he demanded, his grin turning into a scowl.

“Let’s go, mein Herr,” the cruel chauffeur hissed, kicking me

away from her boots. “The little slut vill be vell taken care

uff here!”

“Close the door, Ms vonStiefel,” the black bastard commanded

turning away from me but luckily I was kneeling in the door and

despite the efforts of ms vonStiefel to kick me away with her

powerful boots, she could not get the door closed.

“PLEASE, SIR! I WANT…, I WANT TO SUCK YOUR COCK!!!” I screamed

at the top of my lungs, my forehead falling to rest on the floor

of the car. It was loud enough, I knew for everyone on the

street to hear, but what choice did I have?

“Tell me more precisely what you want to do, slut,” the bastard

sneered, turning his eyes ever so slightly toward the pathetic

figure I presented as I knelt on the cobbles, with my head

resting on the floor of the car.

“I WANT TO SUCK YOUR BIG BLACK COCK, SIR! AND FEEL YOU COME IN

MY MOUTH” I shouted again so that all could hear my utter

humiliation.

“Ms vonStiefel, let her back in but leave the car door open,” he

ordered in firm modulated tones that contrasted with my shrill

shouts and emphasized the vast disparity in our status.

The haughty bitch gave me a firm kick in the ass that sent me

flying into the car, sprawled at Mr Davies’s feet. A part of me

felt rather amused as I sensed her displeasure at my agreement

at last to serve Mr Davies in this vile, loathsome manner. My

only consolation was that by doing so I was probably depriving

Ms vonStiefel of her desire to service Mr Davies herself. At

least I would be messing up her plans!

“You may take it out now, slut,” the contemptible lout ordered,

as if he were allowing me some great honor. I would have loved

to have set the record straight right there and then, but

thought better of it when I looked out at the unruly crowd

gathering outside the car. No doubt I would suffer a worse fate

at their hands than whatever indignity Mr Davies imposed on me.

Hence, I dutifully positioned myself on my knees between his

legs, while he sat back, relaxing with his hands behind his

head.

“YES, Sir,” I cooed, all the while turning my eyes from side to

side waiting for the door, and hopefully the windows as well, to

be closed so that I would at least be spared the gawking stares

of the perverts crowding around the car. But instead of the door

closing the door on the other side was opened to allow even more

spectators gain a view of my humiliation.

“What are you waiting for, Linzi?” the arrogant man sneered, “we

haven’t all day do we? After all, your wife is expecting you for

dinner, isn’t she?”

“Yes, sir,” I babbled meekly, “but I thought we could have, er

you know, privacy.”

“Linzi, Linzi Linzi! That’s what I wanted too, dearie,” he

cooed, tapping me on the cheek with a firm hand, “but you didn’t

behave yourself, did you?”

“Er , no, sir,” I lied, biting my lip, at the very thought of

it. If only I could tell this bastard off! But I knew all I

could do was wait until I get home and tell my wife about his

loutish behavior. Together we would escape his insidious web.

She would make him sorry. But, for now all I could do was play

along with his evil game. “No, sir. I was not a good girl,” I

ad-libbed hoping to gain some mercy from him.

“Well then I think we should let everyone see just what a little

slut you are!” he bellowed drawing a great cheer from the crowd

and I dutifully went to work unzipping his trousers. He was

wearing a bright red silk pair of boxer shorts under his

trousers which were lose enough to let me easily pull out his

semi-flaccid member. My god, I thought to myself, how big will

this thing be when it is fully aroused. It had to be over six

inches in its present condition and its massive un-circumcised

head was still half hidden in its neat little helmet. Certainly

it more than evidenced at least one of those stereotypes

attributed to his African race.

Needless to say, I had never seen anything like it before. My

apparatus was only 4 and « inches fully erect and I had been

circumcised at infancy. It was almost as if his were a different

male gender than mine. There was a part of me that wished I

could tell my wife about this but how could I let her know how

I found out? Thank goodness, I thought to myself, that size was

not one of my loving wife’s concerns.

I started to caress the tip bringing it out of its sheath as the

vile piece of flesh telescoped out toward me, almost as if its

evil, dripping eye could see my mouth and was surging to fill

it. Wrapping both of my hands around it I speculated that it had

to be at least eight inches plus the two or three additional

inches, which lay outside of my grasp. One consoling thought was

that any worry of my wife’s having been intimate with him was

completely defused. After all, she was the one who had told me

that it was only a myth that some men were over 6 inches. I

laughed thinking of her reaction if she ever saw this grotesque

monster whose dripping eye seemed to be staring me in the eye.

I was brought back to my senses by a blow to my ear. “Kiss the

tip of it, bitch. ‘Mr Ebony’ needs a little affection!”

Dutifully I complied.

“Now open up – wide, bitch. You know that’s what you want!”

There was no escaping it now. I formed my lips into a big ‘O’

barely wide enough for the bulbous head to enter. Then I began

to bring it into my mouth. My mouth could only accept about half

of it so I began bobbing up and down to at least service that

half of the rod, all the while working his remaining rigidity

with my hands. Then I felt his beefy hands behind my neck

driving my head forward, but try as I might my mouth could

accept only so much.

“Ms vonStiefel, doesn’t this slut know how to deep throat a

man?” the enraged bully spat out gasping in a mixture of

pleasure and frustration.

“I haff not bin invulved in eet’s training, mein Herr, but we

haf vays to make little whores open up,” she sneered as she

raised one of the seat which concealed a ‘toy chest’ and pulled

out a thick black dildo. “Sometimes a little opening up at vun

end helps loosen the uther.”

The crowd oohed and ahhed as it watched the Teutonic Goddess

strap the latex instrument around her hips and positioned

herself between my booted legs. Throwing my skirt up over my

back and pulling down my panties, she began to drive the evil

instrument home.

“I am sure you vill like dis, slut, it is a complete replica of

Mr Ebony,” she sneered as I felt the cold rubber head against my

colon. With each thrust of her hips I gasped slightly but enough

for Mr Davies to drive his cock down my throat.

“Oh yes, Ms vonStiefel, her throat’s like tight pussy… like a

virgin, eh?” he bellowed as he inched his tool further and

further down.

“And like a whore down here,” his Chauffeur moaned as she easily

entered the passageway so recently opened up by Miss Thomas. Ms

vonStiefel could hardly have been getting any physical pleasure

through her leather breeches but undoubtedly she was turned on

by taking the male role in completing my defilement. My booted

legs kicked out in a futile effort to deter her but to no avail.

My mind tried to summon up resistance but the booted bitch took

full charge and my ass seemed to involuntarily rise to meet her

thrusts. Although my to moans and gasps of pleasure were muffled

by the black man’s cock, they made it clear that, in this war of

wills, I had taken second place.

I could feel my own cock swelling in its confinement as Ms

vonStiefel reached beneath me to play with my ‘clitty’.

Unfortunately the chastity belt allowed no further pleasure,

hence, only heightening my frustration.

As I wrapped my arms around Mr. Davies muscular legs bracing

myself, I felt his legs stiffen and then his hips started

rocking. The next thing I knew, I heard an almost silent sigh,

I thought I was drowning in his cum and his powerful cock

unloaded a blast of his vile, thick juices. I would have spat it

out, no matter what the consequence of such action, but the

still pulsating slab of meat, which filled my mouth, prevented

me from doing anything but swallowing all of the foul-tasting

gism. Surprisingly though, it went down rather smoothly leaving

me sucking every drop off of the hairy crotch before I realized

that his hands were no longer keeping my head in place. I

swallowed every drop, except a small amount that had dribbled

out of my mouth and down my chin.

“Oooo hhh, isn’t that cute Mr Davies,” the bitchy chauffeur

cooed, “she’s like a little baby sucking ze last drop out uff

her bottle! Maybe she would like to clean this as well,” she

cackled as she pulled the artificial phallus out of my bottom so

fast it made a loud ‘ker-plop’ sound. The jealous bitch! I

thought, she’s still mad because I got what she wanted! Probably

because he thinks I’m cuter, I consoled myself! Thank goodness

I realized what was behind her sadistic actions because

otherwise I may have completely lost myself respect as she sat

down next to Mr Davies and forced me to clean the blood and shit

off of her 11-inch tool.

Finally having cleaned it to Mr Davies’ satisfaction, Ms

vonStiefel unstrapped it and tied the harness around my head,

leaving it to serve as a dildo gag.

“Good idea! I think the less this slut talks the less trouble

she’ll get into,” Mr Davies laughed admiring how the chauffeur

had transformed the dildo into a fine gag. A quick motion toward

his exposed crotch made me aware that my duties were not quite

finished. So I gently took the now flaccid, lipstick-stained

member and gently tucked it back beneath his silk boxers and re-

zipped his fly. “Good girl,” he smiled wickedly and testing the

sturdy straps holding the dildo in my mouth added, ” and this

will get you used to ‘Mr Ebony’, my dear.”

“Und vit dis in place, she vunt be able to seduce the other boys

as easily,” the Chauffeur chimed in, giving the harness straps

a playful tug, and the two sadists laughed at the joke.

With that the Ms vonStiefel stepped out of the car and closed

the doors. “Show’s over!” she announced to the still gawking

crowd, many of whom were shouting out offers to purchase my

services for the night. Many others, male, she-male and female,

were equally interested in taking my place in serving Mr Davies

or evil Chauffeur.

Lucky me! I was in a position to serve them both.

* * * * * * * * * *

Mr Davies slept the rest of the way home but I was not allowed

to sit in any of the lounge-style seats that rimmed the

passenger compartment. Instead I was ordered to kneel at his

feet and he would occasionally pull my head into his lap

sleepily rubbing his groin into my face. Typical male, I thought

to myself, he has an orgasm and goes to sleep. No regard at all

for my feelings! This wasn’t the way to treat a girl! I consoled

myself with the thought that someday I might be able to use this

character weakness to entrap him!

After a half-hour drive, the limo pulled in through the gates of

a large mansion. Where were we, I wondered. Mr Davies sleepily

looked up and sensed the puzzlement in my expression. “Welcome

home,” he announced, looking at me quizzically before adding

“are you surprised?”

“Where are we?” I gasped, as he unstrapped the cruel penis gag.

“This is my home, and, for a while anyway, it will be your home

as well. Are you impressed?”

“But I thought that we were going to MY home!” I spat out

somewhat indignantly.

“Oh! You must mean Debbie’s house,” he interjected, his eyes

twinkling at the insinuation that I was dependent on my wife for

my home. He was right of course but did he have to remind me of

it! And he knew how much I hated when he called her ‘Debbie’. I

was her husband and could only call her ‘Deborah’ – well at

least before I was ordered to call her ‘Miss Ford’.

Rather than make a point about it being my house as well, I

decided to let him get away with this minor faux pas and force

him to explain why he brought me here. Deborah was of course

expecting us to go home where we would share our marital bed, or

at least the bedroom since she often couldn’t sleep with my

snoring and moving in the bed. “Whatever,” I lashed out, “Miss

Ford, I believe is expecting us home tonight, and she will be

sorely disappointed when ‘m not there!”

“Please stop with your foolishness. Do you think I would have

brought you here without your wife’s permission?” he postulated,

surprising me with his logic of gaining my wife’s permission but

thinking that there was no need to inform me of the plan. “Your

house is a fine little house, very suitable for a married

couple, of course. But if I’m going to get my work done and have

room for staff, I need something a little larger, don’t you

think?”

“Well…” I started, but before I could get a second word out I

was cut off by a sharp snap of his fingers, as if he had no real

interest in my opinion.

“Ms vonStiefel, get this little slut, washed up and changed into

something more appropriate. Tony is bringing Debbie home in the

Jaguar and I expect her to be home in about ten. Hopefully the

little Linzi will have a decent meal ready by then.” Then

holding up a little silver key, he added, “and you better take

this with you, if the little hussy is to be properly washed. But

no games now!”

“The maids outfit I assume,” she suggested.

“Of course!” he scowled.

“Shoudt she keep dese boots on?”

“I think they were not so scuffed… how did the knees get so

scuffed up anyway? Such a slut, always on her knees!” he mused

aloud, knowing full well that it was he who had ordered me out

of the limo – he who had me on my knees – and I was the Slut?

Oh, if only I hadn’t signed that contract, I would tell him off!

His ears would be as red as my backside!

“Noo.. ” he concluded, after giving it deep thought, “not the

boots. The stilettos; the ones with the ankle straps!” Another

major managerial decision, from this dolt, I snickered to

myself!

With that, I was sent to the shower to wash up shave and change

into my maids uniform. Ms vonStiefel accompanied me upstairs and

to my utmost pleasure she unlocked the evil chastity belt,

resulting in a formidable (as formidable as 4 and « inches could

look) erection.

“Vee are only doing dis so that vee can shave those pubic hairs

so do not get any silly ideas!” She snapped as she slid off the

painful apparatus. Despite her warnings my cock had a mind of

its own and sprung out to full attention. However, she had other

plans and quickly threw me into the shower and handed me a

special depilatory lotion. The lotion stung a little but I

applied as she directed. Even though my legs and armpits had

been regularly shaved under orders from Deborah, Ms vonStiefel

ordered me to apply lotion there as well as to my arms, chest,

back and genitalia.

Stepping out of the shower I felt somewhat like a plucked

chicken with all of the hair below my neck totally eradicated.

The lotion had stung, but not painfully so and not enough to

dissuade my little head from acting on his own. Amazingly the

breast forms had remained perfectly attached despite the fact

that I had blasted them with hot water well above my usual

tolerance level. I thought Ms Morgan had indicated that they

would come off in hot water? Well, I was sure that the problem

would be straightened out soon enough. For now I would merely

enjoy them bobbing up and down as if they were the real things

As I turned toward the booted chauffeur, my artificial breasts

and my manhood were lewdly and defiantly aimed right at her. “I

bet you would you like to cum?” she queried, knowing full well

the answer.

“More than anything in the world, Ms vonStiefel,” I whimpered,

head down in shame, before this powerful woman.

“Does that mean that you will do anything?” she sneered, railing

one eyebrow in a theatrical gesture.

“Yes… , anything…,” I managed to babble, my voice trailing

off

ant the thought of ‘anything’… maybe I was going to far, but

I

had not cum in days now and I had been teased and tormented

beyond all rational levels. Usually I would have masturbated two

or three times without any stimulus but, after all I had been

through, I felt like my head would explode if I didn’t get

relief.

“Yes, I’m sure you vill,” she snickered, “sluts vill do anything

for sex von’t they? Here, slut, put these on, I like my sluts to

look sexy!” she ordered handing me a set of red lingerie

including bra, garter belt and stockings. She held up a matching

pair of panties, but folded them and put them down. “You von’t

need them right now,” she chortled.

Quickly I donned the feminine finery. I rolled on the stockings,

under her watchful eye, ensuring that the back seams were

perfectly straight. She looked at me with such utter loathing

and contempt that I felt it imperative to dispel some of her

opinions of me. “I’m not a slut, Ms vonStiefel,” I whined,

unconvincingly.

“Then vat are you?” she wheedled as she motioned with her finger

that I should twirl around for her inspection.

“I’m a good gir…, er…, I mean BOY; I’m a BOY!” I bellowed

trying to correct my momentary loss of sexual identity.

“You may be a ‘good girl’ but you certainly don’t look like a

‘boy’ of any sort,” the haughty bitch mocked. “Do boys wear bras

and stockings and garterbelts? I don’t think so! And as far as

‘good girl’, do good girls go around without panties, showing

off their swollen clitties?”

My countenance reddened from anger and embarrassment as I

bristled at her innuendoes. “Don’t call me a slut,” I fumed, my

hands clenching into fists, “or I’ll… I’ll…” I thought that

leaving the threat open would be more dramatic but Ms vonStiefel

just laughed at me.

“Or vat?” she squealed delightedly as she spread her legs and

placed her hands on her hips in a defiant gesture. “Are you

going to get rough vit me? Are you going to show me who’s boss?”

Without my high-heeled boots on, the imperious goddess towered

over me menacingly. I was afraid but after all I was a man,

wasn’t I? I started to reach for her when her arms came up

knocking mine aside. I tried to throw a punch at her smirking

face but her hand came up and caught my fist in mid-arch. Her

mouth broke into a smile, as she flashed her perfect set of

white enamel.

“So you like to play rough, ehh, mein kleines schatz-ie. Well,

so do I!” she laughed as her powerful hand crushed my knuckles,

leaving me in such pain that I was forced to drop to my knees

before she released the powerful grip. Numb with pain my right

arm was useless and she grabbed me by the left hand and twisted

it behind my back, and snapped it up to the point that I thought

it was broken or dislocated. Then with my arms unable to break

the fall, she pushed me down face first, to the floor. Blood was

trickling out of my mouth and nose as I felt the sole of her

boot press down on my neck driving my face into the carpet.

“Enough of your silly games, slut? Or do you want to try again?”

I tried to just close my eyes and cry quietly not only from the

physical pain but also at the idea of this woman defeating me

with such impudence. “Answer me, schwein!” she demanded.

“Please no more,” I whimpered meekly.

“Then show me who’s boss, slut-girl,” she snarled, “lick the

boots of the woman who beat you!”

How utterly degrading. But I knew that resistance was useless so

I raised my face from the carpet and acquiesced to her command.

Soon her boots were glistening with my wet saliva, from toe to

knee. “Yes I think my little slut likes my boots doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” I blubbered, almost refusing to lift my tongue off of the

gleaming leather, but uncomfortable with the erotic feeling I

was deriving from the humiliating act. To me the boots somehow

symbolized the power of this beautiful woman and I was

erotically drawn to her power.

Sitting back on the bed she raised the sole of her right boot

and ordered me to lick even the sole. Unquestioning, I heeded

her command, servicing one boot-sole and than the other.

“Enough, my little bootlicking slut. Now help me off with my

boots.”

From my kneeling position, I tried to yank the boot off but to

no avail as the boots seemed molded to her feet and legs. Then

she gestured me to rise and straddle her leg, facing away from

her. As I pulled, I could feel my sex organ rubbing against the

shiny shaft and was afraid that I would cum on the spot. The

boot still wouldn’t budge until finally she placed the sole of

her other foot on my bare bum and pushed, sending me and the

boot flying across the room, head over heels. After the other

boot was removed in similar fashion, she ordered me to lick her

sweaty white knee socks. As I lay prostrate at her feet licking

her socks she stood up and peeled off her tight breeches,

revealing to my surprise a pair of very mannish, white jockey

shorts.

“I’m going to make you my bitch, girl,” she sneered looking down

on me”. Do you vant to me meine kleine bitch?” she added with a

laugh.

“Yes, Mi mistress,” I stammered.

“Nein, not ‘Mistress’” she spat at me contemptuously, “I want

you to call me ‘Master’, Master Helga’!”

“Yes, mein Herr,” I ad-libbed, but that only got me a face full

of sock.

“‘MASTER Helga’, get it,” she snarled.

“Yes, Master Helga,” I sobbed.

“Now, bitch, fetch me my cock. It’s in my bag,” she added

motioning toward a large black leather carryall on the floor.

“On your knees, slut. Crawl like the bitch you are. And bring

it.”

Not sure of exactly what she meant I opened the bag and found a

huge double headed dildo with leather harness straps already

attached. My god, even the smaller end was too much for me to

handle.

I laid the lewd implement at her feet, but a hard slap across

the top of my head indicated that perhaps I hadn’t responded

correctly to her commands. “Put it vare it belongs, bitch!” she

snapped opening up the flap on her jockey shorts with two

fingers off each hand. “Not that end the other,” she added as I

tried to aim the larger end toward the target.

The arrogant woman began to moan as I inserted the thick latex

into the opening and then went utterly ecstatic as I fastened

the straps around her hips. It was bad enough that I was going

to be impaled on the lewd latex shaft, but here I was forced to

participate in my own degradation.

“Suck eet, bitch,” she snarled as she pistol-whipped me with the

heavy tool. “Tell me how much you vant me to fuck you!”

I lapped away more eagerly than was really necessary and

couldn’t help but to wonder if she was right – did I really want

her to bum-fuck me?

“OHHH, yes, Master Helga, I want feel you inside me,” I gurgled

as I greedily coated the latex rod with a thick coat of my

saliva.

“Gut fraulein,” she squealed as the motion of my cock-sucking on

the outside end of the dildo amplified the action inside of her.

Her juices were dripping down the base of the shaft and I

started to lap these up but she grabbed me by the ears and

forced my mouth onto the tip of her ‘cock’, as She ordered me to

“take it in – take it all in – swallow it, you slut!”

I couldn’t believe myself. Not only did I obey every command,

but I followed each one with a lewd display of enthusiasm, which

was over and above anything demanded or expected of me.

“Ohhh…yesssss. Ummfff.., ahhh.. uhhh ,” I moaned, my words

turning to indecipherable moans, as I took her huge tool in both

hands and slid it down my throat. Although it was even bigger,

it slid down my throat far more easily than “Mr Ebony” had

earlier that night.

Despite my enthusiasm, Ms vonStiefel was clearly unimpressed and

took me by the ears and began to slam my head up and down on her

“cock”.

“Suck eet, bitch! Suck eet like the two-bit whore you are!” she

spat out angrily. “Get eet nice und vet so ee vill slide up dat

tight little pussy.”

Finally she stopped and pushed me to the floor gasping for air.

Stepping over to the bed she piled a few of the pillows in the

middle and then draped her glossy black riding boots over the

middle of the pile.

“You like my boots don’t you, schatz-ie,” she chortled. “Well,

I’m going to let you fuck my boots while I fuck you,” she added

with a sneer, “because that’s all you’re gut for – you

bootlicking, bootfucking little slut!”

I quickly scampered into position, but as I started to gyrate my

hips provocatively, the door suddenly flew open. It was Mr

Davies.

“And what is going on here?” he snapped, although clearly the

situation was self-explanatory. “Who freed her from her chastity

belt,” he added, “don’t you know I am the only one who can give

her freedom!” I looked back at the raging black bull as I felt

my male member shrinking in fear. He was dressed in fox hunting

apparel, a bright red jacket white breeches and tall black boots

with cordovan tops. A stiff leather whip was clasped firmly in

his right hand as he strode menacingly into the room. “Is this

little slut trying to use her feminine wiles to get out of her

duties?” he added as he slapped a stiff leather quirt against

the shaft of his boot.

Me! Me to blame, I gasped to myself. Couldn’t he see that I was

only the victim of Ms vonStiefel’s carnal desires? Why did he

try to turn me, the victim, into the defendant? Typical male! I

had a good mind to really give him a piece of my mind. But the

quirt was still in his hand so perhaps it had better wait for a

more opportune moment.

“Yes, Mr Davies, I’m sorry, it is all my fault, but as you can

see the little tramp can be very captivating, eet’s hard

sometimes to resist her enticements,” Ms vonStiefel offered in

a defense that took the blame but plopped it right back on my

shoulders. Oh the nerve of her!

“How dare you say… ” I started, but was cut off immediately by

Mr Davies’ quirt smacking loudly against my bum.

“Please, Linzi, haven’t you and your carnal urges caused enough

difficulty? Ms Morgan has already arrived and Miss Ford could be

here any Minute. And look she’s not even dressed – and she still

has to get her make-up on!”

“Yes, tramp,” Ms vonStiefel sneered, “enough of your tawdry

games! Get your uniform on and get that make-up fixed and…”

“Wait! First, let me see how well that depilatory worked,” he

interjected, as he pulled me close and began moving my arse and

legs and hands and other miscellaneous body parts as if I were

some sort of farm animal on the auction block. “Very good,

indeed,” he nodded, “smooth a baby’s butt.”

I shuddered as his hands so knowledgeably explored my body. I

could hardly control my body as I trembled and quaked until

finally I found myself collapsing against his strong, powerful

body. His muscular arms enveloped me as his huge beefy hands

roughly enfolded my latex breast forms. “I think we’ll have to

get her some real ones,” he laughed as he licentiously fondled

them. But as he did so I found myself secretly wishing that they

were real so I could feel his hands ravishing me rather than

only the faint, muffled feeling through the artificial forms.

One last pinch of my chest just below the bra line gave me small

sense of the real thing and I found myself falling back into his

arms for support.

“Enough, tramp, get ready!” he mocked pushing me away. “Haven’t

you delayed things enough.” His push brought me back to my

senses and made me realize how truly slutty my performance had

been.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Davies, forgive me,” I whined as I fell to my

knees, my hands clasped in supplication. But he pushed me away

with his booted foot, and menaced me with his wicked crop before

he spun around to leave the room, giving Ms vonStiefel

instructions to get me ready – “and be quick about it!”

“Mach schnell, mach schnell!” she shrieked maniacally. Thank

goodness she wasn’t the one with the crop or undoubtedly I would

have felt it.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Soon I was dressed for service. The maids uniform fit me as if

it were custom tailored except for the hem, which was so short

it barely covered my stocking tops. Clearly, I concluded, the

outfit must have been originally intended for someone else. The

bodice, with its lacy white trim barely covered my red ‘wonder-

bra’, which pushed my pecs together and combined with the breast

molds to form, if I must say so myself, a most alluring

cleavage. Ms vonStiefel ordered me to leave on my red bra and

garterbelt. She considered leaving the red stockings on me, but

decided that black, seamed ones would be more appropriate. Then,

only with the help of a bucket of ice water, she had me reattach

my chastity belt. With the belt in place she then took out a

butt plug, which she lubed and bent me over her knee to insert

it into my aching bum. Finally, allowed me to don the matching

red panties and sat me down to apply makeup to my scrubbed face.

Given the lightness of my beard, she applied only a thin layer

of foundation, more to cover my acne than my facial hair, and

then applied a nice blush to give me that perky look. My

eyelashes always seemed long enough to me, but they were not

long enough for Ms vonStiefel and soon I had a pair of long

black artificial lashes fluttering over my eyes. So long that I

had to remove my glasses, leaving me nearly blind. Ms vonStiefel

assured me that contact lenses or perhaps corrective surgery

would cure this, but for now I found myself staring at a blurry

world. “A maid does not have to see long distances, its not like

you’re being turned into a jet pilot,” she laughingly suggested.

Thick black eyeliner and blue eye shadow with glitter completed

my eye makeup. My lips were then filled with a bright red

lipstick and a dark red outline, which gave them a pouty,

sensual look.

Finally I was given a pair of black spike-heeled, lace-up

booties that came just up to my calves. At the top of each boot

was a leather strap with a metal clasp and tiny padlock. “Zey

take ze same key as your chastity belt,” I was assured, when my

warden saw my puzzled look. I knew there was no purpose to

protesting, so I simply got about my business. The heels had to

be at least 4 inches and despite my previous efforts I wasn’t

sure that I could maneuver in this sexy footwear.

While I was lacing up my booties, I saw that Ms vonStiefel was

changing into formal dress for the evening. She had discarded

her white skivvies and was now donning a pair of black panties

that were almost as exquisite as my red ones. Next she fastened

a heavily-wired, long line bra, with half cups that supported

her heavy mammaries without covering her nipples and areolae.

Since my wife always dressed in private, and of course I was a

virgin before meeting her, I was mesmerized by sight of his

goddess exposing herself to me without the slightest inhibition.

Indeed she seemed to be almost taunting me as she rolled her

stockings up her curvaceous legs. She bent over so that her huge

tits were pointed straight at me.

“Luckily vee girls are by ourselfes,” she chortled, “can you

imagine if there ver a mahn in here! I bet he vut be excited -

no?” IF there were a man I steamed to myself. What was I! I

thought until I looked into a full-length mirror on the back of

the door. What was I? I looked at myself and all I could see was

a curvaceous French maid staring back at me – the type of sweet

young thing that I would have hit on in a moment if the

opportunity had ever arisen.

Ms vonStiefel donned a formal, black leather gown. Although it

was floor length with a high collar and appeared rather

conservative from the back, when she turned to face me all I

could look at was the low cut bosom which all but revealed her

ample breasts. In addition the skirt was slit up both legs

almost to her hips, and when she strode her stockings and

garters were clearly visible. Then she pulled on a pair of thigh

high spike-heeled boots and zipped them up, as she smiled at my

drooling face. Then she slithered one arm into one black

leather, opera glove and slapped me with the other.

“Ar ze boots locked? Gut! Mach shnell, slut, you look like a

beautiful tart. Herr Davies ez vaitink,” she barked as she

snapped a slave collar around my throat. Passing by the full

mirror a whorish maid gaped back at me as momentarily forgot

what or whom I was looking at.

We headed for the main drawing room where the guests were to

assemble before moving to the dining room and eventually to the

“playroom”. On the way there, Ms vonStiefel gave me a quick tour

of the mansion. We had been in one of the lesser guest bedrooms,

but she pointed out the hall to the servants’ rooms a neat

dormitory like setting. I noted six doors and a bathroom at the

end of the hall. The guest bedrooms were all substantial and

exquisitely decorated. There were five of these and one seemed

grander than the next. At the end of this wing the building

fanned out allowing for two monstrous bedrooms: the King and the

Queen bedroom suites. I was told all of the rooms were heavily

soundproofed so that virtually anything could happen in them

without fear of detection by one’s neighbor.

The main drawing room was decorated in a macho, clubby manner.

The furniture was all covered in rich cordovan leather and

animal heads and gun racks decorated the walls. In the corner

was an oak bar where one maid was already busy mixing drinks.

When we walked in, there were six guests already gathered, four

women and two men. The two men were dressed in similar fashion

to Mr Davies, elegant fox hunting attire; all wore the scarlet

Pinks jackets of the hunt masters. Two of the women were dressed

in elegant silk evening gowns but exposing far more leg and

cleavage than what might be encountered at your typical family

wedding party. Another was dressed in a black leather catsuit

with matching over-the-knee boots. Only her jewelry and the

sharp, shiny spurs on her boots broke the pattern. The last

woman was the tallest and most muscular of the group but she was

the only one dressed in submissive mode. She was dressed in a

schoolgirl’s uniform: pleated skirt, matching jumper and knee

socks.

Without any introduction, I was led past this group and into the

kitchen. Andr‚, the chef was in the midst of preparing a seven-

course dinner to be served in exactly one hour. But, the hors

d’oeuvres were ready to go and I could see that Andr‚ was

furious that “the maid” wasn’t already serving them to the

guests. I wanted to explain that this wasn’t my fault and in

fact I was a Man not a Maid but, realizing the futility of it

all, I merely straightened out the seams in my stockings and

went to serve the guests.

I must say I was taken aback by the scene of debauchery I

encountered when I reached the guests. There in the drawing room

the males were all seated in the plush leather chairs. The two

well-dressed women, whom I had noted earlier, were now kneeling

between the legs of the men with their faces in the men’s laps.

The woman in the leather catsuit was locked in a passionate

embrace with the “school girl”, whose skirt was up and panties

down, revealing the most un-girlish hard on jutting out of the

cat-woman’s gloved hand. With their tongues lost in each other’s

mouth, the “school girl” was noisily gasping with pleasure. Mr

Davies was locked in deep embrace of a blonde woman who must

have arrived late. She appeared to be dressed in a black leather

mini skirt, but I couldn’t be sure if it were a short skirt or

merely the fact that Mr Davies’ groping hands had lifted it up.

Nevertheless, judging by the way her booted legs were kicking

and squirming, she was imposing no real objection to the black

man’s boorish behavior.

Miss Morgan and Ms vonStiefel were in the corner, playfully

taunting the barmaid, a real bimbo named Suzie, who was trying

to get the white wines ready for serving. Her unconvincing

protests only encouraged the two leather-clad bitches. Oh, how

I pitied the poor bimbo for having to deal with these two

sadists. Undoubtedly they would cause her to spill some wine and

it would be she who would be blamed and chastised – not them.

Oh, the unfairness of it all.

“Hors d’oeuvres, anyone!” I dutifully announced as the women

somewhat sheepishly extracted themselves from their duties to

grab a few of the offerings, for their male companions. The

blonde extracted herself from, Mr Davis arms and straightening

out her skirt (yes it was a mini) she turned to face me. It was

Deborah!

“Oh my,” she giggled, “don’t you look cute!”

“Deb…, I mean Miss Ford, how could y ,” I started to blurt

before I realized just how inappropriate it would be to insult

my boss in his own house! “I er…mean W-ould you like an hors

d’oeuvre?”

“No!” she giggled as she took two or three shrimp, “I have to

watch my figure, but I’ll take a few for Mr Davies.” With that

she re-planted herself onto his lap and dangled the shrimp over

his eager mouth like a Roman concubine might have done with a

bunch of grapes.

As I walked by them I felt my skirt lift and then a sharp pang

to my ass cheek. Looking back my eyes met Mr Davies, his bright

white teeth grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat. “Thank

you, Linzi. Everything is delicious!” he sneered licking his

lips lasciviously as he gestured toward my wife, “Beautifully

delicious!”

Inwardly, I was fuming at the tactless behavior, but what was I

to do? Stoop to his level? No, I was above him and his ilk. I

would not respond to his gauche behavior by demeaning myself. So

I simply smiled back at him and calmly replied, “let me know

when you need more, Sir.”

The boorish creature reached under my skirt and squeezed my

chastity belt. “You can be sure I will,” he sneered tauntingly.

The other guests were watching the scene develop and soon the

men and the one leather-clad woman were all joining in the abuse

of my tender backside, pinching my sore buttocks as if I were

some sort of floozie. Despite their mocking laughter, I

maintained both my dignity and composure, and went about my

assigned task until all of the shrimps had been devoured and

retreated to the kitchen for more.

Dinner was an elegant seven-course affair, each one presented in

an artistic fashion, enticing to the eye, to the nose and

presumably to the taste. I couldn’t say this with any certainty

since the kitchen staff (just the barmaid and myself) were not

allowed to partake of this feast, although the boiled rice and

soy sauce which comprised our dinner was very adequate.

After the dessert was served I noticed that Deb…, I mean Miss

Ford excused herself from the table and headed for the Ladies

Room. Given the break in my duties I took a chance and headed

out the back door of the kitchen and headed for the same

destination. I got there just as she was entering and slipped in

behind her. Shushing her as I closed the door and locked it

behind us.

“Linzi, what is the meaning of this?” she scowled, her

expression displaying her extreme annoyance.

“Please, Miss Ford, I just need a moment,” I pleaded, somewhat

annoyed at myself for taking such a deferential approach. After

all, she was my wife and although the title of “Miss Ford” might

be appropriate since technically we were in Mr Davies home so

perhaps technically at work, I shouldn’t have had to apologize

for talking to my wife, should I?

“What is it? Tell me quickly, I have to pee!” she spat angrily.

“We have to get out of here, and I don’t care if we both lose

our jobs over it,” I whispered hoarsely, realizing that someone

might be listening.

“Are you crazy? Give up my career at Davies Ltd? Don’t you

realize how much I’ve done to advance my career here? And you!

You’ve made a very nice start at building your own career here

as well. I think Mr Davies rather likes you, and he’s told me

that he will make a personal effort to see that you are given

every chance to succeed in your profession.”

“Deborah, are you so blinded by ambition that you can’t see

what’s happening?” I screamed forgetting for a moment my

manners. “Look at me! I’m your husband and here I am dressed as

a sissy maid. Is that normal?”

“Actually, I do think you look very , very cute,” she giggled,

as she ogled me up and down, dropping her panties down to her

ankles. “Maybe more men should try a little make-up.”

“You’re missing the point!” I blared, “I’m dressed as a maid,

while you make out with that arrogant black bastard before my

very eyes. Don’t you see what’s going on?”

“Of course I see what’s happening,” she sneered, sitting down on

the toilet to pee, “you’ve been living rent free in my house for

two years afraid to go out and get a real job. And, now that I

find one for you you’re too lazy to do the work and want to get

out of it!”

“Listen, I think he’s going to try to force you to have sex with

him just like he…,” How could I tell my wife what happened?

How

could I admit that I had been forced to have oral sex with a

man? Still, it had to be done! So, half-sobbing I disclosed what

had happened. “You don’t know, but tonight, he forced me to

perform oral sex on him.”

“Are you trying to tell me that Mr. Davies is a fag?” she

laughed. “Or are you trying to tell me something about yourself?

Maybe you wanted it! Did you lead him on?”

I could not believe what I was hearing. My wife actually

accusing me of being an accomplice to my own defilement. Yes,

blame the victim! “You don’t understand,” I blubbered.

“Yeah, well if you didn’t want it, why did you come back here

with him? You could have run away couldn’t you?”

“But that would have meant leaving you with him,” I started

trying to put a heroic spin on my failure to stand up to him.

“And besides,” I added, returning to reality, “he is so big and

powerful…you wouldn’t believe the size of his , er…I mean

him,” I blubbered trying not to think of ‘Mr Ebony’.

Deborah smiled at the comment almost as if she knew what I

meant. “Oh yes he is so, so…er, well…big! in a muscular way

of

course,” she giggled as if she were sexually attracted to his

muscular frame.

“Please. This is no joke. He raped me! And if you’re not careful

you’re next!”

Looking up to me, as her stream of urine hissed into the water,

she shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe that Mr Davies

is the ogre that you have been describing. He’s always been so

gentle, er , I mean such a gentleman with me,” she confided

reassuringly, “But if he did what you said, we must do

something. What do you suggest?”

I started to unveil my plan. “Well I’ve been thinking that

although he is powerful, he seems to er…, well…tire out

after,

er…only one orgasm.” I blurted out unsure of how to put it.

“He did?” Deborah gasped incredulously. “I never noticed , I

mean never would have thought , but how would I know?” she

concluded with a mysterious giggle and blush.

Waving off her silly interruption, I continued with my scheme.

“Tonight, if he tries to force you back to his room, ask if I

can join you. Tell him that you want me to join you.”

“But if he says no?”

“Well, just make up an excuse to leave the door open and I’ll

come in with some champagne – if he questions it, I’ll pretend

that you ordered it.”

“And then?”

I gulped audibly, I didn’t want to say this but it was the only

way I could save my wife’s honor. “I’ll beg him to let me take

your place. I’ll give him his orgasm and when he falls asleep,

we’ll take his car keys and leave. By the way I found some

sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet – you can slip it into

his champagne and “

“You would do that for me?” she gasped with a hint of tender

appreciation in her eyes, as she lifted herself off of the

toilet seat and gave me a big hug.

I felt myself go numb in her arms and my feet totter on the high

heels, almost falling back into the bathtub when a loud knock on

the door brought me back to my senses.

“What’s going on in there,” a loud accented, male voice shouted.

It was Andr‚ the cook, so I answered.

“Nothing, Sir. I’ll be out in a second.”

“Well hurry up the Gentlemen guests are waiting for their

cigars!” he yelled back and judging by his footsteps, he

disappeared down the hall.

“Remember now, when he’s busy with me slip the sleeping pill

into his champagne, then when he falls asleep we’ll get his car

keys and escape.”

She eagerly indicated her full understanding. “Such a clever but

simple plan – it has to work,” she nodded in agreement.

I decided that I had to take that opportunity to exit before

anyone else came looking. I kissed my wife passionately on the

cheek and whispered, “I love you.”

She looked back at me and in the tenderest tone responded, “of

course you do.”

On that note I escaped down the hall back to my assignment.

* * * * * * * * *

The remainder of the evening went uneventfully. The men and some

of the women, leather-clad one and Miss Morgan and Miss

vonStiefel, partook in the smoking of the thick Cubans and the

quaffing of the after dinner wine. The other women were allowed

to sit at the feet of their masters and mistresses, more in the

role of elegant furniture or fancy jewels than human beings.

Finally about midnight, they all started towards the guestrooms.

My wife spent most of the evening in the arms of her boss, but

I determined to make one last attempt to free her from his

clutches without resorting to my clever scheme. I would merely

assert my marital rights and demand that Mr Davies allow me to

share a bedroom with her.

“Ahem. er , Excuse me, Mr Davies,” I started nervously, “but

where will Miss Ford and I spend the night?”

“Miss Ford will be in the ‘Queen Suite’ but as for you…I

assume

that there is a bunk down in the servants quarters. Ask Andr‚,”

he added with a leering smile, “he always knows where the

prettiest girls sleep!”

“But, er…Mr Davies, Sir,” I countered, surprising even myself

with my clear logic and courage, “don’t you think it would be

more appropriate for me to share a room with my wife?”

“If I thought that that was the proper solution, then I would

have made those arrangements,” Mr Davies bellowed. “Miss Ford is

an officer in my corporation and you are a mere maid. If I

provided her with accommodations unsuited to her rank, I would

be opening myself, and my company, to some very serious sexual

discrimination suits, wouldn’t I?” He spewed at me as his face

reddened and his eyes glared.

“But, Sir, if I shared her room ” I started but was rudely

interrupted.

“Oh yes, let a male maid sleep in the executive wing. What would

my female staffers say about that! You must really want to see

me in a sexual discrimination suit.”

“No..ooh , Sir, really, I just don’t think ,” I whined trying to

argue with his seemingly irrefutable logic, but was cut off

again.

“I’m paying you to work, not to think! Now finish cleaning up

and be off to bed,” he spat back and defiantly grabbed Miss

Ford’s arm and escorting her to the formal guest rooms, his

heavy riding boots clomping on the hardwood floor, as they made

their way down the hall.

* * * * * * * * *

It was almost an hour before Andr‚ conceded that everything was

sufficiently spotless and Suzie and I could be released from

service.

Instead of going to the servants’ quarters, however, I sneaked

back into the drawing room and uncovered a bottle of champagne

and two glasses which I had cleverly hidden in a nook under the

bar. I put my glasses on for the first time since my makeup was

put on and, armed with champagne and an ice bucket, I headed for

the “Queen Suite”.

Knocking at the door I heard a man’s voice. I was again proven

right. The black brute was in my wife’s bedroom, undoubtedly

forcing his affections on her. Then I heard the stomp of boot

heels moving across the oak floor toward the door. At least he

wasn’t naked – yet, I thought to myself. But as the door flew

open, I realized that he had already started his move. He was

bare-chested and his belt was already unfastened.

“Yes, Linzi, why in god’s name are you interrupting us at this

hour? Don’t you realize that we’re trying to…, er…ahem, get

some work done for tomorrow’s meeting,” he improvised, thinking

I was so gullible that I would accept this implausible

explanation.

“My wi.., er , I mean…Miss Ford asked me to bring a bottle of

champagne to your, er I mean.. her room at one o’clock,” I

stammered hardly able to take my eyes off of his muscular, hairy

black chest. I had never seen an undressed black man in person

before and, I must say was impressed by this man’s skin color

and the power he exuded.

“Is that so?” he scowled angrily as he turned toward Deborah who

was sitting up in the bed clothed only in exotic lingerie. The

black merry widow, which covered her breasts and torso, also had

garters attached to black seamed stockings. She still had on the

tall black boots which she had worn earlier and had donned a

pair of opera length gloves.

“Oh yes,” she beamed happily, “I thought that after a long night

of entertaining clients, you could use a little bubbly to

relax.”

Entertaining clients? I thought to myself, the only client he

entertained tonight was my wife.

“You are so thoughtful, pussycat,” he purred as he opened the

door to let me in. Pussycat? I thought! Then he turned to me and

ordered me to place the ice bucket in the corner and pop the

champagne.

Dutifully I complied and as I busied myself with the champagne,

I could see that Mr Davies was back on the bed fondling my wife.

I’d have to act fast, I thought, otherwise he’ll be raping her.

I decided to be as outlandish as I could and as I brought the

glasses over to them, I deliberately tripped and spilt some of

the bubbly right onto the crotch of his breeches.

“You ignorant maid,” he bellowed, leaping from the bed “I can’t

believe anyone…,” he started in an agitated tone, but then

took charge in his usual brutal way, grabbing me by the scruff

of the neck and forcing me to my knees at his feet. “Clean it

up, slut! Lick every drop of champagne out of those breeches!”

Now was my opportunity. “Oh please, sir. Let me clean your

breeches and anything else that might have gotten wet,” I purred

assuming that he would quickly get my message.

“Oh, I see. I think maybe you want to clean my cock, don’t you?”

He sneered.

“Oh yesss, it was soooo nice tonight when you let me suck you

off, I want to do it again,” I cooed, hating myself for what I

was saying, but realizing that this was the only way to save my

wife’s honor.

“Go ahead take it out. Get that champagne off of it!”

“Ohhh thank you sir. You are too good to your clumsy maid,” I

continued to purr. His back was too Miss Ford so I looked around

his hips to see her reaction. She seemed mesmerized by the scene

developing in front of her. I’m sure she never realized the

extent of my love for her. She bit her lower lip and nodded as

if to tell me that she understood what I was going through.

“But this time, you’re going to get it the way you really want

it: up the ass, slut!”

“Oh please, sir, not that,” I wailed. I had just released “Mr

Ebony” from his hiding place and had kissed its ugly head, my

smeared lipstick mixing with his pre-cum. Yes, I was ready to

humiliate myself again by providing oral service – but take it

up the ass? Oh how did I let myself get into this position?

He began to pistol-whip me with his heavy cock, yelling at me.

“Admit it you want me to take you up the ass – don’t you!”

“Oh nooo oh,” I wailed.

“I’ll release you from your chastity device if you show a little

enthusiasm,” he wheedled, zeroing in on my weak point.

“Please, Sir I’ll do anything – anything but that,” I continued

my embarrassing display of bawling. But, if I were looking for

pity, I was barking up the wrong tree – or pair of boots in this

case.

“You’ll do anything and that as well,” he spat back at me.

“Yes, sir,” I finally agreed, recognizing the hopelessness of my

predicament, but thinking if I can get through this Deb… I

mean Miss Ford and I could escape. And if Mr Davies did not

remove the chastity belt I would have to go through the

humiliation of going to a locksmith. Yes, submitting to Mr

Davies would solve the problem.

“Get up on that bed” he commanded as he pushed me away with the

sole of his big black boot.

Tears were now rolling down my cheeks. I looked to Miss Ford for

help or pity but saw only the same fear in her eyes that was in

mine.

“Get off the bed, Debbie. And don’t worry – you’ll have your

chance next!” he screamed. It infuriated me further to hear him

talk to my wife as if she were a slut as well but she seemed

unfazed by the treatment.

“Oh yes, Sir,” she cooed in a tone that made it sound as if she

could hardly wait. Obviously she was playing up to his ego,

ready to spring our trap.

“Now get down on all fours; face the foot of the bed. I want you

to see yourself in the dressing mirror. See yourself for what

you really are! That’s it. Spread those legs, slut!” he barked

and I hastily compiled, silently wishing he would not call me by

that name.

“WIDER! And wiggle that cute little ass to show me how much you

want it.”

Shamelessly, I complied.

“Oh look, Debbie, see how your husband (Hhh! Hhh!) is begging me

to fuck her pussy. Look how she’s wiggling those hips!”

“Yes you really are turning her into a slut!” my wife enjoined,

I assumed she was acting so bitchy only to lure him into a false

sense of security.

“Wait a minute, we did make a deal that I would release your

chastity device, if you showed some enthusiasm. Well I think you

have certainly made good on your part of the bargain,” he

bellowed as he moved around and unlatched the lock on my

harness. I felt my manhood fill with blood as it sprung out in

full state of arousal.

He walked around and stood before me and viciously pulled my

head down onto his cock. “Kiss it slut and beg ‘Mr Ebony’ to

fuck you up that worthless ass hole! Maybe he’ll even let you

put some KY on, to make it easier.”

Greedily I licked the massive tool as, in garbled voice I

pleaded with him. “Please ‘Mr Ebony’ I want to feel you in my

pussy hole. Please take me like the sissy slut I am I need to

feel you inside of me!”

My wife was standing by the side of the bed giggling

uncontrollably.

“Oh my poor little Linzi is trying to make friends with Mr.

Ebony – how sweet.”

“But ‘Mr Ebony’ doesn’t want trashy white girls as his friends,”

Mr Davies smirked, “he makes them his bitches!”

‘Mr Ebony’ was by now smeared red with my lipstick and Mr Davies

pulled him away from my hungry lips, almost making me fall

forward off of the bed. Then he handed my a tube of KY and

ordered me to lube up the massive cock and put ‘a wee bit’ in my

pussy. Gladly I complied thinking that I could never hope to

accommodate it without a lot of lubrication.

Then I felt the pressure of his legs pushing mine even further

apart; the leather of his boots against my stockinged calves, as

I felt him kneeling between my booted limbs. I did not think it

was possible but he forced them even further apart. Then I felt

him pressuring my sphincter muscle – gently at first but with

more and more authority. My hips were now wiggling shamelessly

seeking to be filled with his thick piece of male meat.

“Your husband (Hhh! Hhh!) really wants me to fuck her pussy.

Look how she’s acting like a cheat whore wiggling her ass!”

“Oh yes,” my wife chimed in, “she does seem to be desperate for

it, but I don’t think it’s an act! Hah! She certainly knows how

to get a man excited.”

“Nooo..oh!” I wailed as the initial penetration was achieved but

then he unexpectedly pulled out. For some reason I felt

strangely disappointed. Certainly it had been painful, but in

such a pleasantly painful way.

My eyes were closed now filling up with tears of pain (and,

could it be – pleasure?) when Mr Davies smacked me on the back

of my head. “Open your eyes, slut, and watch yourself be fucked!

See what happens to naughty little sissies when a real man is

around!”

I looked in the mirror and saw what looked like a cheap, tawdry

hooker, lewdly debasing herself to entice her customer. It

seemed as if my mind had no control over my body as I watched my

hips sway back and forth slowly moving to the rhythms of his

thrusting motion. I saw the spike heels of my booties flailing

futilely as if to prevent or at least slow down his assault. But

there was no delaying my fate. His bulbous head spread my

sphincter to a size I had never before known, as it was wider by

far than the dildoes used by Miss Travers or even Ms vonStiefel.

Then, full penetration of my not-so-stubborn defenses.

“No..ohhh, plea…zzze, don’t,” my mouth shrieked but my body

continued to gyrate, lewdly accommodating his vile assault.

“Ooh my god,” my wife squealed, “look at the whites of her

eyes!” I couldn’t see but knew of course what she meant. My eyes

had rolled into the back of my head, as my body experienced the

pain and pleasure of full penetration.

Mr Davies was panting a bit but I could hear hiss smug laughter

as he sneered, “yes, my bitches all complain at first, but in

the end they all love it – it is what they all need!”

My pleas continued but their message was transformed as I felt

him pumping into me. “No..ohhh, plea…zzze, don’t, – don’t

stop!

Ohh..hh I need it so bad! HARDER DEEPER PLEA…ZZZZE!” My mind

wanted to protest, but my body was crying out for my further

defilement.

How long it continued, I don’t know. I could see my legs wrap

back around his torso as my heels flailed at his flanks, not in

protest but to urge him on. I saw his hands pawing at my fake

boobs, pinching them so roughly that I could feel the rough

pleasure of my titties even through the thick latex forms.

Finally, after what seemed an hour I felt Mr Davies massive body

twitch and then twitch again, followed by a soft moan. Then I

felt a warm sensation in my anal passageway. He rocked back and

forth and then I experience a feeling of emptiness as I felt him

pull back until I heard or at least thought I could hear a

slight pop as his head came free of my sphincter. Warm liquid

was running down my backside onto my thighs when I felt one of

his massive paws reach around my torso and grab my little

weenie. The leather of his glove felt smooth and cool against my

throbbing male clit. And I exploded almost instantly into the

leather palm.

“Lick it, bitch!” he commanded and dutifully I complied as best

I could until he finished cleaning the glove by rubbing the

excess onto my face. Looking into the mirror I watched him get

up and re-buckle his pants, as I was left kneeling on all fours,

my face smeared with my own cum and my ass still dripping from

his ejaculation. I wanted to collapse on the bed and go to sleep

but, I thought to myself, now the lazy black bastard is probably

exhausted, we’ll slip him the sleeping pill and get out of here.

“Now I want to make love to your wife, bitch, but first clean my

cock and help me off with these boots.” Getting off the bed, I

saw my wife pouring the champagne and slipping in the pill.

“Champagne for my big black he-man,” she chortled.

“Not now, dear,” he replied, “lets’ wait until after we make

love.” I could hardly believe it, as I knelt before him, washing

the now-flaccid member with warm towel. I pulled off his thick

leather boots, expecting that he would be eager to relax now, or

at least slow down, but found that not only didn’t he appear

tired but he seemed ready to go again sexually. Looking up, I

could see that I was not wrong. His massive cock was telescoping

out again at a right angle, zeroing in on its prey.

Miss Ford put the glasses down and fell to her knees to kiss the

cock. But he gently raised her up and kissed her deeply, his

tongue disappearing into her mouth, her head back, as she bent

back into his strong, loving embrace.

Lifting her off her feet, he brought her to the bed and laid her

down gently, their mouths never separating. I watched as his

hand groped beneath her panties. I wanted to stop him or at

least tell him something that would make his ears smart, but no,

why ruin our scheme now. After we escaped I would send him the

most biting letter he ever read. I would really tell off this…

this, ‘nigger-bastard’, (there… I said it!) But that would

have

to wait.

“Oh, yes, oh..hhh yes yes,” my wife was moaning in pleasure as

he manhandled her.

“Last time we made love dearest,” the arrogant brute cooed,

(wait a minute, LAST TIME?) “you said my heavy balls hurt your

tender ass when they smacked against you, remember?”

“Of yes, lover-boy,” she moaned not seeming to understand his

inaccurate remarks.

“Maybe you can ask your sissy husband to hold my balls while I

make love to you, I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” he stage-

whispered hoarsely in her ear.

“Oh, darling you ARE so considerate,” she squealed writhing

under his touch. Then turning to me she snapped, “Linzi, get up

on the bed behind Mr Davies!”

“But…” my voice trailed off as she stopped me before a second

word got off my tongue.

“Do it NOW!” she ordered eyes glaring as I meekly obeyed. “Now

gently take one ball in each hand and make sure they don’t touch

me while we’re making love!”

What was her point, I thought, how would this help our clever

plot? But now was NOT the time to question so again I complied.

His balls were huge and I knew from personal experience how

heavily they could pound into a tender backside, but why put me,

her husband, into this position? Why didn’t she just tell him

not to bother? Mr Davies raised himself over her and positioned

Mr Ebony over her waiting slit. Amazingly she was damp and moist

and he drove fully into her on the first try. I could only think

how long it took me to obtain similar results whenever we had

attempted copulation it had taken almost an hour before her

pussy could accommodate me – my cock was half of his!

They went at it for almost an hour her body seeming to know

every facet of his and his every nuance of hers. Although Mr.

Davies moans were barely audible my wife sounded like, her cries

ranging from purring vibrato to occasional piercing shrieks of

unadulterated pleasure. I could feel how wet the base of Mr

Davies’s cock was getting from her slimy slit as he pumped

harder and harder with her rising up off the bed to meet every

thrust.

“Tell the slut to lick my ass while I cum, Debbie,” he moaned.

Debbie looked over his shoulder and ordered as he instructed.

“Yes, sissy slut, kiss my Master’s black ass! AND I want to see

a big smile on your face!”

It was awkward to hold his balls and lick but somehow I was able

to comply and licked and smiled and licked and smiled until I

felt that now familiar spasming of his body. He moaned lowly as

my wife shrieked out, her heels pummeling my shoulders as she

tried to flail at his back but found me instead.

Then his body stiffened and he collapsed into the embrace of her

arms and stockinged legs. Her wails, which had reached a

crescendo, continued but the decibel level slowly ratcheted down

to whimpering sobs of pleasure.

Rolling off of her, I was finally allowed to release his balls.

His still huge but limp cock glistened with heir mixed juices.

“My cock needs a good cleaning, sweetness,” he cooed and my wife

began to lean over to clean it.

“No, I want to hold you, babe. Tell your slut hubby to do it”

“Oh of course. That’s a much better idea!” she murmured, and

then turned to me with a scowl, “Linzi, don’t you see? Mr Davies

needs a cleaning! What are you waiting for? Yes now with your

tongue!”

I allowed myself some pleasure tasting my wife’s juices but

overall it was disgusting to be ordered to perform the task. And

worst of all he still looked wide-awake. After thoroughly

lapping I figured it would be best for me to act – not wait for

her any longer.

“May I get the two of you champagne?” I asked demurely dropping

my eyes back to Mr Davies cock.

“Yes, Linzi, capital idea.” Mr Davies nodded, as I reached for

the already poured glasses, “but not those – they’re warm. Warm

champagne tastes like piss! You can drink those! Pour us fresh

glasses from the ice bucket.”

“No please they’re still fine,” I tried to assuage him and

offered the untainted glass to my wife but she refused.

“No, Linzi they’re both for you she smiled sheepishly.

I glared back at her. “But, Miss Ford, the plan you know ?” I

tried to remind her. Could she have forgotten in her state of

sexual frenzy?

“What plan, Linzi?” Mr Davies interrupted quizzically.

“Oh, er .. nothing Mr Davies, I just was acting a little ditzy,

you know me,” I babbled trying to deflect his inquiry with a big

smile.

But he would have none of it. “Tell me what plan before I beat

it out of you!”

“Noo, really there was no plan .. really there wasn’t any..,”

I was trying desperately to think up an excuse but my wife

interrupted.

“Oh Linzi, tell Mr Davies your silly little plan. She started

but then changed direction. “Oh never mind , I’ll tell. It was

so stupid anyway. As if it ever could have worked!” she was now

giggling loudly.

“Oh there was a plan then?” the awful black man interjected, one

eyebrow raised in a menacing stare.

“Oh, honey, don’t be upset it was really, I mean really stupid.

You see Linzi thought that because you fell asleep in the car

after the poor little thing sucked you off, she figured that we

could knock you out with some hot sex. Of course Linzi also

thought that maybe we could use a sleeping pill to finish the

job.”

“He thought I’d fall asleep after one or two orgasms?” he

snorted incredulously. “Didn’t you tell him how long I can go?”

How would my wife know something like that I thought but decide

to keep my thoughts to myself.

“Oh I didn’t want to spoil the fun of seeing his face after his

silly little plan fared so miserably.”

Mr Davies was near doubled over in laughter now and shaking his

head in disbelief he snickered, “Oh Linzi, I probably should

punish you for even thinking of what you did but I am so amused,

I can’t be angry.” But then raising that evil eyebrow he told me

firmly “but drink your Champagne – NOW!”

I looked at my wife pleadingly. “You really don’t want to leave

do you?” I suddenly realized. “I’m your husband how could you do

this to me?”

“Oh Linzi, I tried – oh, how I tried – to love you but how could

I. I mean you are barely a man with that tiny little, 4 and 1/2

inch cock. It would have been hard enough given that

shortcoming, but everything else. You lost your job. You didn’t

have the drive to go out and find a way to support your wife. I

had to be the breadwinner!”

“But Deb… I mean Ms Ford I tried to get a job,” and then

dropping my eyes just said “look at me…”

“Yes that’s what I mean – look at what’s happened to you now. A

man, albeit an intelligent and physically powerful one has

forced you to dress as a sissy slut. Forced you to serve him

orally and even fucked you up the ass. Then he tells you that

he’s going to Fuck your wife and all you can do is hold his

balls and lick his black ass. Have you put your foot down and

shown any modicum of manliness?”

I dropped my eyes sheepishly but could not come up with a single

word in my own defense.

“No!” she continued shaking her head in disgust at my inability

to defend myself, “you’ve acted like a sissy – because that’s

what you are.” Then her tone turned gentle. “I do love you but

not as a man, I love you as a sissy girlfriend. You know the

type of girl who’s always in trouble because she can’t say no to

the boys. The one that they all date, but only once because

she’s a tramp. Men always want to help girls like that but never

want to marry them. Yes I love you but as a sissy tramp

girlfriend, not as a man.”

I was crying now, ruining whatever was left of my makeup.

“Maybe if you had done something to show me you were still a man

or at least had a modicum of manliness ,” her voice trailed off.

There was momentary silence until Mr Davies chimed in with a

laugh, “well she did come up with that very clever plot to

escape.” The two of them began to howl with laughter at my

complete foolishness not only of thinking I could escape but

also that I had believed my wife’s relationship with Mr Davies

was strictly platonic. Oh, how blind could I be!

Calming down from their inside joke at my expense, my wife

finally composed herself and asked tenderly, “Well, Linzi, you

can still escape. Your contract expires in sixty days and then

you are free to leave, if you wish. Until then you will serve as

our sissy maid, slut girl, whore or whatever else, Mr Davies

determines. We expect you to act in a ‘professional’ manner at

all times during the sixty days. At that point the choice is

yours.”

Yes, I thought, but if I chose to leave, where would I go? I’d

decide tomorrow. I’m too tired now. The sleeping pill was having

its intended effect.

To be continued???