From jonpow@voicenet.com Mon Dec 30 02:17:55 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Story: A Year Of Slavery # 1-3 by debs BDSM M/F/F/f nc
From: jonpow@voicenet.com (Johnny P)
Date: Mon, 30 Dec 1996 07:17:55 GMT

Disclaimer: This story contains graphic descriptions of sex, violence,
rape and torture. It is definetely NOT for anyone under 21 or who is
offended by such material. This story is fictional and any resemblence
to anyone dead or alive is purely coincidental. I welcome comments and
suggestions from readers but all flames will be ignored.

                        A Year of Slavery # 1-3
                        "Caught And The Contract"
                        by; debs
                        Edited by; Johnny P

She held an instrument up for me to see that looked much like an
arrow. When I asked nervously what it was I was told it would be put
into my uterus to get a tissue sample. She went on to further torment
me
by saying it would probably hurt, but not nearly as much as it would
have if she had not given me the injection to dilate me. Again she
took
the familiar position between my legs. And again I started to plead
with
then not to hurt me this way. I tried to tell Mrs. Winston that this
was
more than I had expected and was not in our deal. She sarcastically
asked me what I had expected.
    Between my sobs and gasps I said I thought I would be tied up and
whipped, used for sex and things like that. She answered by telling me
I
was very stupid and should have paid more attention to what she and
her
husband had explained to me. Just as I was about to answer my words
were
cut off by the stabbing pain of the probe being forced into me. I
experienced all the same sensations I had when the needle was
inserted.
The pain was severe, again the screaming was uncontrollable. My throat
was getting sore and my eyes were beginning to swell from the constant
screaming and crying. The Dr. saw by my reactions that the pain was
diminishing but she decided I did not as yet have enough. She began to
move the probe which was deep inside me. This brought another round of
screams to my parched lips. Between the flashes of pain I was
surprised
to hear Mrs. Winston tell the Dr. to stop.
    She did so immediately and the pain stopped. With the probe still
buried deep in me the Dr. got up from her position as torturess. I was
glad to hear Mrs. Winston say that she thought I had enough of this
form
of pussy torture as she called it. But I was horrified when she went
on
to say she wanted to try some other things and did not want to burn me
out. The Dr. agreed and said she was not sure how far to go on my
first
session. Mrs. Winston said she wanted to try some other areas. The Dr.
said she would remove the probe but reminded Mrs. Winston she had not
done the anal exam as yet. Her words sent a shock wave through me.
They
intended to cause me more pain. The Dr. began to remove the probe, the
pain was not as bad as when it was inserted but still hurt very badly.
    The hours were dragging as I stayed in my bed. My mind was getting
the best of me. I had these same thoughts hundreds of times since
becoming a slave. I sometimes wondered if the memories of what had
been
done and the knowledge of what was to come were not just as bad as the
actual experience. The mind is a funny thing, it can cause as much
pain
as the torture itself. I thought of John, it was terrible the way I
was
treating him. Even though he was married to another, he treated me
very
well and I loved him very much. As many times as I thought of telling
him I knew I could not. My main fear was what he might do to the
Winstons. Although I had an intense hatred for them, I did not wish
them
dead. What if he was caught, then I would have no one. I had created
this problem and would have to deal with it. But at what price. I
still
had time before I had to get ready, and again found my thoughts
wandering to that first time at the Drs. office.
    I remember how I just remained tied to the table as the three
women
sipped champagne and discussed what was to be done next. The stress of
what they did to me was taking its toll. I was tired, still in pain
and
had to use the bathroom. I was afraid to speak, but the need to
relieve
myself was becoming intense. Finally I called to the threesome and
asked
if I could be allowed to go to the bathroom. Goldie came up next to me
and asked me for what. I told her and she went back to the other
women.
After some spirited conversation they came next to me.
    The Dr. seemed very pleased and instructed Goldie to get her a # 2
catheter. I had no idea what she had requested but by the looks on her
and Mrs. Winstons faces I knew I would not like it. Goldie handed the
Dr. a package which was quickly opened. A roll of plastic tubing was
held up to my face and I was asked if I knew what it was. I remember
fearfully replying that I did not. The Dr. smiled at me and told me it
could be used to let me relieve myself without getting off the table.
    The looks of the women told me there was more to this. I did not
understand how this could work and just asked if I could be released.
Mrs. Winston, with a broad smile on her face said if they did that it
would ruin their fun. I realized I would again be made to suffer. I
was
right. The Dr. again took up her position as torturess and I
immediately
felt her hands working inside me. All of a sudden I felt something
being
pushed into me. It started as more of a burning sensation than pain. I
demanded to know what she was doing to me. She replied by saying that
a
tube was being inserted up into me and would ultimately drain my
bladder. The burning was getting worse and I was beginning to moan as
much from fear as from the pain that was starting. As the Dr. kept
pushing, the pain was increasing. It was not as bad as what she had
done
already, that was a sharp blinding pain, this was different. The pain
was slowly increasing until again I was crying and screaming.
    Mrs. Winston just kept watching me with a joyous look on her face.
As I felt a stabbing pain and let out a long loud scream the Dr. stood
up and announced it was home. The need to urinate was now stronger
than
ever. The added pressure made my bladder feel as if it would burst.
Goldie was told to get a canister. The Dr. was holding the end of the
tube in the air as she told me as soon as she released the clamp I
would
feel relief. I begged her to do so and asked her why she was doing
this
to me. She just said because she enjoyed inflicting pain and loved the
screams it brought. I then asked as a woman, how can you do this to
another woman. She smiled down at me and replied that although she had
no use for men, she hated young beautiful women.
    She went on to explain how as a Dr. who specialized in women she
knew how to cause the most pain. I then knew there was nothing I could
say that would help me. She lowered the tube into the canister and
released the clamp. As promised relief was instant. I had no control
over the flow but in a minute felt I was empty. From the corner of my
eye I saw the Dr. at the cabinet again. I was getting scared. Every
time
she went to the cabinet I would feel pain. She returned and showed me
a
large plastic syringe. She explained how the tube could be used to let
fluid out, or put it back in. I realized immediately what she meant.
As
before, I started to beg. To make the procedure worse she put the end
of
the tube on my stomach and began attaching the syringe so I would be
able to watch. She then started to push the plunger. I felt what I
first
thought was hot turn to an icy chill, they were putting ice water into
me. The pressure was increasing in an unnatural way. She had put in
more
than she let out and the plunger was only half way down. As before the
moans turned into gut retching screams. Finally the syringe was empty
and the clamp was reapplied.
    The women again gathered around me. Mrs. Winston spoke first. With
a
grin on her face she told me I was doing better than she expected. She
added that if I remained quiet for 5 minutes the clamp would be
released. I didn't know it then but trying to remain quiet when in so
much pain only made the pain more intense. I learned that the ability
to
cry and scream takes your mind off the pain. As I laid on the table
trying not to make a sound my mind had nothing but the pain on
which to focus. I closed my eyes, was biting my lip and even digging
my
nails into the palms of my hands. I felt the scream welling up in my
throat but fought with all my being not to let it out. Just as my
mouth
opened to let the scream escape, the clamp was released. After several
minutes I regained my composure and was congratulated by Mrs. Winston.
    She told me I had done well and showed great endurance, somehow I
knew this would work against me in the future. They were removing the
tube as I heard Mrs. Winston say that they would have to remember this
procedure and use it more often. My thoughts were interrupted by the
feeling of the spreader clamp being closed and removed from my pussy.
I
silently prayed they were done with me. The three women again came up
near my face and the Dr. spoke. She told me they were almost done with
the exam.
    She went on to explain that my anal opening had to be checked, and
a
smear taken. The past hour taught me to fear her words, but I had no
choice other than lay there and submit. The Dr. adjusted the stirrups,
they were raised and brought towards my head. This caused my ass to
roll
up and provide easier access. The spreaders were used again. I tried
to
tighten the muscles but as before she just pushed until they were in
place. This hurt and I moaned in protest. She began to open them but
was
more gentle than she had been on my pussy. It was extremely
uncomfortable but tolerable.
    I felt her finger being inserted and feeling around, but again it
did not cause any real pain. She asked Goldie for a swab and I felt it
reach deep into me. The swab and the clamp were removed. Was it over I
thought. The Dr. made more entries in the chart and told Mrs. Winston
everything seemed in order. She went on to say in her opinion I would
have no trouble with anal penetration, and could take long, large
objects. As much as I did not want to hear what they were saying, I
was
relieved, thinking the exam was over. I did not know then that their
fun
was about to start.
    They retired to a corner of the room and sipped more champagne.
Their voices were muted, but I could tell they were in heated
conversation. Finally they returned to me. I asked if I could be
released since the examination was over. Again that familiar smirk
came
to the three faces. Mrs. Winston answered by saying that indeed the
exam
was almost finished but now was the time for them to indulge in a few
of
their perversions.
    Once again I was gripped by fear. The Dr. came up to my head and
started to undo the strap saying it was no longer necessary and would
give me the opportunity to better see what they were doing. The strap
was removed and I turned my head in time to see a truly bizarre sight.
Goldie was on her knees in front of Mrs. Winston inserting a large
double ended dildo into her gaping pussy. She then fastened straps
around Mrs. Winstons waist that held it in place. Mrs Winston turned
to
face me and at first glance it appeared as if she had grown a giant
penis. It had to be 12 inches in length. The look on her face coupled
with what the Dr. said about long, large objects gave me a feeling of
impending doom.
    I remember thinking that she was about to rape me. As she walked
up
to me I asked in a trembling voice what she was going to do. I recall
how in a lusty tone she replied that she was going to fuck me in the
ass. I began to protest that it was too big and would cause damage.
She
answered I had better get used to it and would not be injured, just
made
to scream. The Dr. came up and mercifully spread lubricant on the
dildo
and with a huge grin said to hurry because she wanted to play too.
    Mrs. Winston took a position between my widely spread legs and I
felt the dildo brush against my most intimate opening. I remember the
waves of disgust that came over me. Here I was bound to a table
totally
exposed about to be sodomized by a woman while two others looked on. I
just completed the thought as Mrs. Winston grabbed my thighs and
lunged
forward. The searing pain and the sudden thrust into my intestine took
my breath away. She pulled out and lunged into me again, this drove
the
dildo all the way into me and caused me to start screaming again. I
begged her to stop saying she was tearing me apart. She just fucked me
harder. She kept fucking, I kept screaming. The other two kept
laughing
and making lewd comments. This continued for what seemed an eternity
until to my disgust and disbelief, she reached orgasm. After several
more thrusts she slumped between my widespread thighs and pulled the
dildo out of me. I felt the need to vomit but was afraid of the
punishment it would bring.
    Mrs. Winston finally stood up and said the next time will be
better.
She would have me bent over properly and would use a bigger dildo. I
felt this had to be the ultimate degradation. I had been raped by a
woman with a rubber cock. I turned my head away, totally mortified. I
did not know then that this would be the first of a long line of
sexual
assaults on my defenseless body. I would even learn to welcome the
sexual abuse, it was better than some diabolical torture.
    I recall how no sooner was Mrs. Winston through with me, the Dr.
came forward. I was disgusted by the prospect of being used as an
object
for her perverted lust. I was not to be that fortunate. She received
her
sexual gratification by administering pain. She studied me a long
time.
Her eyes roamed my entire body as if looking for a spot to violate.
She
seemed to make up her mind and went into action.
    The table was readjusted to bring my legs down and my thighs
closer
together. The head was brought up slightly as if I were reclining. My
arms were also retied over my head and behind me. Although I had
straps
across my chest, my breasts were thrust forward. She took a step back
and focused directly at my chest. I shuddered at what I knew she was
thinking. It was obvious she was planning something for my breasts.
    She walked over to the cabinet and took out two large vials. One
was
marked saline the other glucose. I had no idea what she was preparing
to
do. She then began opening packages of disposable syringes. A wave of
panic swept over me. The wrapping on the syringes read 2 inches + 20
cc
and she was filling them from the 2 vials. What could all these
needles
have to do with my breasts. Something that was said earlier came to
mind.
    I remembered that during the examination of my breasts Mrs.
Winston
asked the Dr. if the syringes could be used. I immediately began
screaming and begging the Dr. not to use those on me. I could not even
begin to imagine these needles put into my bound and vulnerable
breasts.
This woman was a Dr. She had to know the injuries she could cause. My
mind was in a frenzy. Could what she planned to do be fatal. What had
been done so far, as bad as it had been, did not have the
ramifications
of what I feared was to come.
    As I looked back at the Dr. she was busy placing the loaded
syringes
into a glass canister. She then placed the canister on a Bunson
Burner.
Why was she sterilizing already sterile needles? My emotions were
running wild, absolute terror, fear of the unknown, self pity and also
anger for putting myself in this position.
     Even now safe in my apartment, those same emotions were consuming
me. As was the case back then in the Drs. office I was in a reclining
position fearing my coming ordeal. After some of the things that were
done to me that day, fear of the unknown had lessened. I now had some
idea of what these people were capable of but was also sure there were
many surprises in store for me. The terror was still a big factor. I
had
no idea how far they would take their need to inflict pain. A day did
not pass without my feeling sorry for myself. I knew what I had
already
endured and always feared to what extremes I would be subjected. And
last but far from least was the reflection on my own stupidity.
    I checked the time and found it was only a few minutes later than
it
had been. Time was on their side. The more time I had the more pain my
mind inflicted on me. I lit another cigarette, inhaled deeply and
tried
to rid my mind of the memories. Even this comfort would be denied me.
    As if my mind had a will of its own, the horrible memories of Dr.
Kim's office consumed me. While they were waiting for the needles to
be
sterilized the three women once again surrounded me. I looked at Mrs.
Winston and asked her what they were going to do to me. She explained
how in payment for the Drs. services she would be allowed to as, she
put
it, indulge herself. She said that although the Dr. had a very
successful practice and had many patients, she seldom had the chance
to
use her real talents.
    I was told how many years ago in North Viet Nam Dr. Kim had a very
different profession. She had been in charge of interrogating female
prisoners. She went on to tell me how several years ago she and Mr.
Winston had been fortunate enough to meet the good Dr. and bring her
into their little group. I remembered her referring to her friends as
she called them when I had signed the contract turning me into their
slave. I had now met two of these friends. The Dr. and on tape, the
Wardress. I silently wondered what other deviates she referred to as
friends.
    My thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Winstons voice. She went on
telling me how the Drs. special talents had been helpful to the group
in
the past years. She had helped the Wardress by teaching her various
methods of torture and punishment. The Dr. was also responsible for
training the slaves that belonged to members of the group. She had
also
provided countless hours of entertainment in the form of acting as
torturess at certain functions. And last but most important she was
responsible for the physical condition of the victims and they used.
She
had to make sure they were in good health and free of any contagious
diseases and also treat any injuries that might occur.
    As she spoke the knot in my stomach was growing tighter. Mrs.
Winston calmly and somewhat sarcastically went on to tell me how the
Dr.
was going to inject the contents of the syringes into my breasts. She
was confirming my fears. I remember how as I started to shake, my eyes
wandered down to the bosom they planned to assault. As I had done
before
I began to beg. Appealing to them as human beings I apologized for
what
I had done, I even found myself pleading for a different form of
punishment. I just could not bear the thought of them hurting my
breasts.
    The terror grew worse as I watched the Dr. approach with the
canister of syringes. As she set it down on a small tray next to my
table I saw the steam rising from it. One look at the dozen or so
needles caused me to start screaming and trying to pull free of the
straps. As if a command was given by the Dr., Mrs. Winston and Goldie
moved to my side. The Dr. was ready. I stopped screaming in time to
hear
her tell the two spectators that she would try to put five or six
injections in each tit. The terror I felt was so consuming I could not
even scream, all I could do was focus on the Drs. movements.
    She began by wiping my entire chest with alcohol. I recall how
through my sobs I asked her why she was doing this to me. Her answer
was
painfully simple, she wanted to hear me scream, and see me writhe in
agony. As she was pulling on a pair of heavy rubber gloves she told me
the fluid in the syringes obviously was very hot. She continued to
explain that the syringes contained saline and glucose which would
dissipate into my system after about 24 hours. Although the
temperature
and volume of the fluid to be injected would cause internal pain and
swelling I would have no permanent injury. She did not complete the
sentence as she retrieved the first syringe.
    I had never been afraid of needles but this was different. As this
instrument which was usually used for healing approached my left
breast
I felt the blood drain from my head. The room began to spin and I
sought
the welcome relief of unconsciousness. Even this luxury was to be
denied
me. The Dr. instructed Goldie to give me a few breaths of Amyl Nitrate
so I would be totally alert. Goldie jumped to the task and I was again
painfully aware of what was going to happen.
   The Dr. slowly began to insert the needle into the bottom of the
breast. Although painful it was not as terrible as I had imagined.
Through the sobbing and begging I watched as she repeated the process
in
the other breast. The Dr. continued by inserting four syringes at 90
degree angles in each. Now each one of my breasts was impaled by four
needles. As I looked down at them I felt as if I was in a trance. As I
watched the Dr. I could not believe I was taking this invasion so
calmly. My brain was in a frenzy. Even though I was in pain it was not
nearly as bad as I had imagined. Then the realization hit me and again
I
began to scream. She did not as yet inject the fluid.
    As if reading my thoughts, the Dr. grasped the first syringe and
pushed the plunger. The pain was much like the cattle prod I had
experienced earlier. The agony I felt was so intense I could not get
the
scream past my lips. I remember how I tried to rip free of my bonds.
For
the second time in a few hours I seemed to be blinded by the pain.
Every
nerve in my body was ablaze. As she continued to inject the fluids
from
all eight syringes the searing agony was so bad I began to smash my
head
against the table in an attempt to knock myself out. No matter what I
did the agony continued. To make the whole scene even worse I remember
the three faces of my tormentors staring down at me. Finally all the
fluid was in my breasts and the needles were being removed. As the Dr.
pulled them from me the screaming continued. My throat was raw, and
the
sounds were more animal than human.
    I recall how between the screams I ground my teeth until I was
sure
they would break in my mouth. I managed to look down as the last
instrument of torture was removed. The sight before my eyes caused me
to
start screaming again. My breasts appeared twice their normal size.
Seeing the swelling and the beet red color, I refused to believe these
were my once alluring breasts. I also felt as if I had been consumed
by
a high fever. My whole body was covered in sweat. The Dr. was taking
my
pulse and checking to see if I was all right. I remember her telling
me
to calm down, the worst was over.
    I continued to sob uncontrollably as the pain in my breasts was
still very intense. Again the Dr. reached under the table, put the
oxygen mask on my face and told me to breath deeply. The oxygen had
the
desired affect, I immediately  began to calm down. The mask was
removed
and the three women gathered around me and began surveying the damage
they had done. The Dr. told the others that in her opinion I had
enough
torture for my first time and wanted the treatment to take its full
effect. By the looks on the three faces the women were extremely
pleased
by what they had done. To make it all more unbearable they all began
to
feel and squeeze my burning breasts.
    All I could do was cry and demand to know what had been done and
would I return to normal. The Dr., who seemed very proud of herself
told
me that I took about 8 ounces in each tit and would be fine by
tomorrow
night. She went on to tell me how she wanted to give me two more
injections in each, but would save the full treatment for a later
date.
Her tone became very sarcastic as she told me how lucky I had been
this
time. Next time she would inject the nipples also. I was speechless.
These people were absolute maniacs.
    Even now in my own bedroom the events of that day brought a cold
sweat over my entire body. I caressed my breasts wondering if they
would
receive more of the dreaded treatment tonight. As I had done on
numerous
occasions I considered running away from this insanity but as usual
thought of my family and John. Maybe the visit to the Dr. had been the
worst. I would know more tomorrow. I tried to be optimistic and tell
myself that there was nothing more they could do. Even as I tried to
talk myself into this false sense of reality, the fear tore at my very
soul. Again I checked the time, I would have to start dressing in
about
45 minutes. I lit another cigarette and closed my eyes. In seconds my
mind went involuntarily back to Dr. Kims office.
    There I was bound to the table with the three women still
examining
my tortured and grotesque breasts. Some of the comments they made were
as bad as the needles being plunged into me. The Dr. was saying how
the
next time she would be able to use more syringes and inject more
fluid.
Mrs. Winston, apparently not satisfied with what they had already
done,
was asking what else could be done now. She was telling the other two
how in her opinion I was getting off too easily. As terrible as it was
hearing what they were saying, I felt a small sense of relief,
thinking
they were through for now. But as I had been on more than one occasion
since this nightmare started, I was wrong.
    The Dr. again with a smile on her face reminded the others that
she
still had not taken a blood sample. I remember now how I felt an
instant
knot deep in my stomach. I had seen that smile before and knew it
meant
I would be made to endure more anguish. Mrs. Winstons attitude changed
immediately. She began to question the Dr. as to where she would take
it
from. The look on my face must have told the Dr. I was again suffering
from the mental torture, so she seized the opportunity.
    She began to tell the others some of her favorite spots. After she
made two or three suggestions, I was screaming and begging. After a
short debate it was decided that my breasts would be used since they
were very prominent. As ridiculous as it sounds I was relieved. The
other areas she discussed were my clitoris or the lips of my pussy. I
recall how I begged her not to hurt me anymore as she took out another
syringe.
    She paid no attention to my pleas and just inserted the needle
directly into my nipple. I watched and cried as some blood was drawn
and
the syringe was removed. Although painful it was in no way as bad as
what she already did. Then the syringe was roughly pushed into the
other
nipple. This one was much worse than the first. Before she took blood
she pushed the needle as deep as it would go. Then as the Dr. looked
into my eyes she began to twist and probe. Suddenly everything went
black.
    Again I awoke with the oxygen mask on my face. Mercifully that was
over. I remember how totally exhausted and beaten I just laid there
sobbing in my bonds. After a few minutes of discussion by my
tormentors
Mrs. Winston told Goldie to release me. Waves of emotion swept over
me.
I had survived, they were through hurting me, I could go home.
    I was wrong again. After all the straps were removed I was made to
stand and the women took the opportunity to examine me. I remember how
I
was made to walk around the room as they made remarks about what they
had done and would do in the future. I was still in a lot of pain and
stumbled several times causing them to laugh as they grabbed the
abused
portions of my body. Finally Goldie was told to help me to the
bathroom
and clean me up.
    The large woman grabbed me and headed in the direction of a hidden
door. She must have felt that this was her opportunity to cause me
additional pain as she placed her hand on my swollen and sensitive
breast. I was openly crying as much from the pain as from the
humiliation of the session. Once in the small but well appointed
bathroom, any dignity I had gone, I just sat on the bowl and emptied
my
bladder in the normal way. I felt an acute burning sensation and told
Goldie. Her response was that I better get used to the feeling since
they would use the catheter often.
    I just sat with my face buried in my hands quietly sobbing. The
black maid spent the time by taunting me saying that I was crying
needlessly. She told me I had better resign myself to the fact that
this
was only a mild introduction, and it would get much worse. Her words
only made the whole situation worse. She then shocked me back to
reality
by grabbing a handful of hair and jerking me to my feet. I was ordered
to wash my face, fix my make up and straighten my hair. I was quick to
obey, not wanting to make this woman angry.
    I was ushered back into the examination room. Mrs. Winston and the
Dr. were both dressed and told me to put my bra back on, and follow
them
upstairs. The thought of how tight it had been before brought an
immediate protest from me. I said that it would be impossible because
of
the swelling and the pain it would cause. Mrs. Winston became very
angry
and told Goldie to put it on me, saying I had better learn how to take
orders. The maid came up behind me and roughly put the bra around my
chest and tried to fasten it. The pressure on my breasts was more than
I
could stand and I broke free and again tried to run for the door. I
remember how I pulled at it before I realized it was locked. The three
women surrounded me and dragged me screaming to the center of the
room.
With the cattle prod in her hand Mrs Winston told me to stand still
while the bra was fastened around me. Under the threat of the cattle
prod I stood motionless as Goldie and the Dr. forced my swollen
breasts
into the constricting bra. It felt as if a steel band was being
tightened around me. The pain in my breasts was reaching the same
heights as when the fluid was being injected. I felt waves of nausea
sweep over me but I was to terrified to move. The bra was finally in
place.
    The trio stood in front of me admiring the effects. As I looked
down
all I could see was two bulging mounds of angry red flesh crisscrossed
by bright blue veins and hideous black and blue marks. I remember how
my
mind refused to accept the fact that they were mine.
    The sound of Mrs. Winston screaming at me jarred me back to
attention. I was ordered to follow her and the others. We left the
room
and walked back upstairs to an ornate office. The pain of the tortures
I
had endured and the tight underwear made the short walk seem like
miles.
Each breath brought a stabbing pain to my chest and each step reminded
me of the violation of my two lower openings. As the three women made
themselves comfortable I was ordered to stand at attention.
    I recall how Mrs. Winston began to give me more details of my
enslavement. The first thing she said was assuming all the tests came
back satisfactorily we would proceed with the arrangement. If not she
would call the police and have me arrested and sent to prison. Next I
was to address her and her group as Masters and Mistresses. They would
be made known to me shortly. I was to follow any command given me and
would be severely punished for any disobedience.
    I was also informed that the first party as she called it would be
in two weeks on a Saturday night. It would begin at 7pm and last for
at
least 12 hours. I would be picked up and brought back home by limo. If
I
required any medical attention that would be handled by Dr. Kim. I
would
also receive further instructions prior to each party. They might
involve being fitted for special clothing, going to get certain
articles, receiving required treatments or submitting to periodic
medical examinations at the hands of the Dr. I recall as I stood there
trying to absorb what she was saying, that I felt as if life as I knew
it had come to an end. I was the unwilling captive to a group of
sadistic lunatics. As bad as the things I had just heard were, her
next
words put me over the edge and had me on my knees begging.
    I was told that in order to complete my first lesson I would have
to
be punished for trying to escape the examination room. It would also
serve to show my willingness to obey. As if she was telling me to
perform some simple office task, she went on. I was told to bend over
the edge of the desk and hold the opposite side. She explained how I
was to spread my legs and not move as Goldie whipped my ass and the
backs of my thighs. If I resisted or did not keep the position I would
be tied down and receive double the amount of strokes.
    I remember how I knelt at her feet crying and begging them not to
do
anymore. She just looked down at me with a look of total contempt and
said to get over the desk. I stayed on the floor looking into their
faces, searching for a sign of compassion, but found none. Instead my
eyes fell upon the dreaded cattle prod in Mrs. Winstons hand. I had no
choice but obey, anything would be better than the paralyzing pain of
that murderous instrument.
    Again beaten and resigned to my fate I got up and slowly
approached
the desk. I looked back one last time and knew there would be no
reprieve. Mrs. Winston and the Dr. were moving their chairs in order
to
get a better view of my punishment and submission. Logically I knew
there was no other alternative. I would have to learn to accept my new
role as a slave. As I bent over the desk Goldie told me to grasp the
opposite edge. That was just another lesson in how diabolical these
people really were. As soon as my breasts came in contact with the
surface I screeched and stood straight up. I remember looking at the
women and saying how I was in too much pain to lay on the desk.
    Before my sentence was complete ropes were being applied to my
wrists and ankles. Mrs. Winston was pleased to inform me that my
reaction was anticipated and now I would be bound and receive double.
Goldie tied the ropes to the legs of the desk causing most of my
weight
to fall on my tortured breasts. Next my ankles were tied to the
opposite
legs spreading me out totally. all I could do was lay there and
whimper
as much from embarrassment as from the pain.
    As I looked up I saw Goldie holding a wide leather strap about 18
inches long with a short wooden handle. I had never seen any kind of
whip before and had no way of knowing the severity of this instrument
but I would learn all to quickly. Mrs. Winston made the announcement
that I was to get six, but do to my lack of discipline I would now
receive twelve. I remember thinking how this was the worst part of a
truly terrible evening.
    Here I was a 38 year old intelligent, independent female bound to
a
desk in provocative lingerie about to be whipped like a child. To make
matters worse I would be beaten by a woman for the pleasure of two
other
women.
     Nothing could have prepared me for the first stroke of the strap.
It crashed down on me with the force of a baseball bat. The pain was
incredible. I was instantly screaming and tearing at the ropes. This
pain was new and different. The needles and the rape were an acute
pain,
this was just savage brutality. The second stroke took my breath away
as
it slammed into me. My attempts to break free only added to the
intense
pain in my chest. As the beating continued I was sure the flesh was
being ripped from my ass. At one point I looked over my shoulder to
see
this massive near naked black woman swinging the strap and again felt
the agony of the blow. I lost track of everything around me. I was
being
consumed by the brutality of the beating. As terrible as the blows to
my
ass were they paled in comparison to the last few on my spread thighs.
In a dazed state I recall the ropes being removed and thinking it was
over.
    I awoke on the floor with the Dr. holding smelling salts under my
nose. I was too exhausted to even move. My entire body was a mass of
pain and it was hard to focus my thoughts. My first instinct was to
look
around to my ass cheeks, I was sure they were a bloody mess. Instead
of
blood I saw a mass of black and blue swollen flesh from the bottom of
the cincher to the tops of the stockings. I touched the area and felt
a
series of ridges running parallel to each other. Where the strap came
in
contact with the stockings, the nylon was torn to shreds. The skin
felt
as if it was on fire and throbbed in an unmerciful way.
    I remained sprawled on the floor sobbing and trying to collect my
thoughts. I could not believe the pain of the whipping. In its own way
it was the worst thing so far. I recall Mrs. Winston looking down at
me
with that now familiar grin telling me to get up and stop carrying on.
As I struggled to my feet she threw my dress at me and told me to get
dressed, it was time to leave. She added as the ultimate insult that
she
did not want to be late for a dinner engagement. Goldie helped me put
my
dress on and the two woman said goodbye to the Dr. and walked me to
the
limo. I was barely able to walk and they almost carried me. The pain
was
so severe I did not even care about the looks I was getting from the
chauffeur.
    Once in the car I knew I could not sit and just slumped onto my
side
on the floor. It seemed as though I had lost all dignity and self
respect. The short ride to my apartment lasted for ever. Mrs. Winston
and Goldie talked about future plans for me as if I were not present.
At
that point I was beyond caring. When we arrived Goldie was told to
assist me and Mrs. Winston coldly reminded me to be on time for work
on
Monday. I recall how I struggled upstairs to the safety of my bedroom.
     And now two weeks later, here I was, back in my bedroom, looking
at
the clock knowing it was time to get dressed. I was very upset with
the
prospects of what was waiting for me. I was equally upset with the day
I
had just spent. Not seeing John always had a bad effect on me. Now the
fact that he was mad at me made everything worse. How would I be able
to
handle his call tomorrow. What condition would I be in. Would I even
be
able to talk at all. After the incident at the Drs. office I had to
tell
him I was very sick and could not see him or even talk very much. When
I
did finally see him on the following Wednesday I lied about still
feeling ill and asked him to leave early. All night I was in terrible
fear of the bruises on my body and was afraid of any intimate contact.
That was one time I was glad John is not an affectionate person. I
would
have to figure out a way to deal with our sex life, as I was not sure
what damage would be done to me. The only encouraging thing was the
fact
that I was completely healed from the beating and the injections in
about a week. I resigned myself to take it one day at a time. No use
worrying about next week or even tomorrow, I had to get through
tonight
first.
     I went into the bathroom for a quick shower as per Mrs. Winstons
instructions. All the other hygienic preparations had been completed
earlier. The note was also very explicit as to hair and make up so I
took a little extra time at the mirror. Applying the make up as
suggested in the note I almost cried with the irony of the situation.
Here I was getting made up to be tortured and used as a sex object by
a
group of perverts. I could not help feeling sorry for myself. What a
disaster I had made of my life. And not even for any good reason. I
never even wore most of the things I bought with the money I had
stolen.
All these thoughts would do me no good now I had to be strong in order
to survive the impending ordeal.
    As much as I tried not to think about it, I could not keep my mind
from wandering. What forms of punishment would be used on me? What
kind
of sex acts would I be forced to perform? The horror of being with
another woman. As the time for the first party was almost here, all
the
thoughts and fears were at a fever pitch.
     All other preparations complete, I went to the bottom of my
closet
and took out the package of clothing I was given. The note said that I
must wear only what was in the package with a coat over it. I had not
given it any advance thought, but as I opened the bag the same
feelings
as I had in the office ladies room with Goldie returned. I was staring
at several pieces of strange lingerie.
    First was a white heavily constructed 1/2 cup push up bra. Without
even putting it on I knew I would be very lewdly exposed and displayed
in this garment. Being bare breasted would be less embarrassing. Next
was an article that was unfamiliar to me. It was a old fashioned
garter
belt. It was very wide and heavily constructed with 6 garters. It
appeared to be specially made and was reinforced with steel rods. and
strong hooks. Of most concern to me were the four steel rings in the
front, back and sides. I was afraid to even contemplate their purpose.
This also was white. To finish the ensemble was a pair of black nylons
and a pair of red come fuck me shoes, as I call them.
    Just looking at the underwear had me flushed with embarrassment.
The
thought of being exhibited in front of at least 6 people dressed like
this. I fought to hold back the tears as I began to dress. The bra was
very tight and hard to get on and as expected exposed more than it
concealed. My 34-D breasts appeared as they had after the injections.
They were almost twice their normal size and stood high on my chest.
The
design of the cups left the nipples exposed but otherwise held firmly.
Looking in the mirror I had one thought only, total vulnerability. The
garter belt was a nightmare. It was so tight it took several attempts
to
even get one hook caught. Having long finger nails I often have a
tough
time with buttons and hooks. By the time this was fastened I was in a
sweat. It was so tight around my normally small waist I had the
felling
that my internal organs were being rearranged. Once it was adjusted in
its proper position normal movement became difficult. Even breathing
was
a chore. Looking down I could not help but wonder what purpose the
rings
would serve.
    As I was about to try and figure out their purpose I realized it
was
only a few minutes before 6. My instructions were very precise about
being in front of my house ready to be picked up at exactly 6 pm. I
slipped on the shoes and almost stumbled at the first step due to the
height of the heels, they were highest I had ever worn. As I went to
the
closet for my coat I could not help stopping in front of the mirror
and
taking a good look at myself. The image reflecting back could not be
me.
The woman I saw was indeed beautiful, but also very exposed and
vulnerable. The most obvious part of the picture were the eyes, they
had
a look of fear, sadness, despair, and no hope whatever. They had the
look of a slave.

                          The End of Part # 1
                          Continued in,
                          Year of Slavery # 2-1
                          "The First Party"