My day began as any normal Saturday, no work, up at 6 a.m. doing my chores. I knew John would be arriving around noon, no time for me, football first. Usually I look forward to our Saturdays at home. This one was to be quit different. I am always trying to find ways to get out, this day I would be begging to stay at home. I knew I would be entertaining at least two men and four women this night. I knew also that I must get some of the little unpleasant tasks out of the way. With heavy heart and many anxieties, I began. It was only 9 a.m., three hours to myself, I was already wishing I had stayed in bed longer since I had a good idea how bad this night could turn out for me. The first thing I knew I had to do was to go into the bathroom and start getting myself cleaned out. I was told to start the night before with a light meal and a mild laxative, but this time especially my nerves did the job for me. I had a very nervous stomach and no appetite whatever. The best I was able to get down was some broth. I awoke with the same feelings in my stomach as the previous night but knew I needed some nourishment. With what I assumed lay ahead it was not a good idea to eat very much but decided on some tea and toast. The less I had in me the better.

From previous experience I knew I would need as much strength and endurance as possible, so I doubled my normal vitamin intake. I went into the bathroom and from the vanity took out the small chest which contained my enema equipment. At times I have had many pleasurable experiences with this chest but now looked at it with much disdain. I knew what must be done. I filled the bag with about a quart of the hottest water I could stand and 3 capfuls of Dr. Bonners soap. This was a little severe but would help later. I hung it on the side of the shower let the air out of the tube and closed the clamp. I looked at the nozzle which was not all that large and realized it would be to my advantage to start stretching myself on my own and at my own pace. The chest had an assortment of tips and nozzles from which I selected one of the largest. At least I would be gentle on myself. I attached it to the dangling hose and spread a generous amount of K-Y all over it.

This was one of the biggest I had but knew it was of medium size to them. As I spread the lubricant I could only hope this procedure would be followed later. I removed my robe and reached behind myself to spread the K-Y into my rectum. In doing so I caught site of myself in the mirror. All I could do was stare and for a brief moment hate the statuesque image that reflected back at me. This was one time I wished I did not possess my 5ft. 8in., 120lb, 34-20-34 body with natural blonde hair. Maybe if I was plain and ordinary they would not want me. I slowly got myself down on the floor and turned onto my side getting as comfortable as I could. I reached over, took the nozzle and started to slip it very carefully inside myself. At first it was painful so I took a deep breath and gave a gentle push. It hurt but I knew worse was to come. After a lot of twisting, pushing and gasping the nozzle was in place. I thought how in the past I had larger objects in my ass but this was very uncomfortable. It was probably a subconscious fear of what I knew was to come.

My nerves were getting the best of me. All I needed to do was slide my hand up and release the clamp. I did not want to, but knew I must. As the hot water hit me I tried with all my will to relax. I get enemas on a regular basis and have even learned to enjoy them. This one was different. This was not for my pleasure or for Johns. This was to start to clean me out for what would be done to me. As the water continued to flow I began to think of what had caused me to be in this predicament. I had embezzled a large sum of money from the company I worked for. The theft was discovered and I was given a simple choice. Become a sex slave to Mr. and Mrs. Winston or face five years in prison. As I lie on the floor I became overwhelmed with my plight. The worst part was there was no good reason for me to steal the money. I never needed all those clothes, shoes and jewelry.

I felt the pressure in my stomach along with a severe cramp so I looked up at the bag and saw that it was empty. I removed the nozzle, turned on my back and let the solution in me do its work. This was the first of at least three enemas I would have to administer to myself before John arrived. Mrs. Winston was very explicit as to her requirements and would know if I did not follow instructions. The last thing I wanted was to give her reason to cause me any more pain, There would be enough. After about ten minutes of retaining this mixture I could not hold it any longer. As I sat on the bowl I thought of the problem with John. He could not know. I would have to make him leave as early as possible by telling him I was tired and did not feel up to par. Lately I was treating him very badly but he did not know why, he could never know.

It is not easy to take one enema after another but I had no choice. This one was to be a half gallon of hot water. I was told that the more I take now and the hotter it is, the easier for me later. As I began to refill the bag I could not help looking at myself in the mirror. My attention was brought to my breasts. I had always been very proud of their voluptuous 34-D size, but now remembered the pain they were forced to endure. As I stared at them I recalled the last session with the Winstons and the Dr. The tremendous pain, and yet almost no visible evidence.

This time the nozzle went into me a little easier. As I opened the clamp I tried to forget what was to happen tonight and what happened two weeks ago. I told myself to just relax and take this second hellish enema. The water was hotter than I had imagined and was causing me to sweat over my entire body. The pain in my lower abdomen was becoming almost unbearable but I knew it was opening me for whatever they had in store.

Mrs. Winston was very pleased as she summoned me to her office on Thursday afternoon. She handed me a note and a package which detailed my preparations for Saturday night. After a lot of verbal abuse and mental torture she very sarcastically told me how much they looked forward to my first visit. Her last words were those of warning to follow her instructions of preparation to the letter. I had never had this much water in me before and was now in severe pain, but the half gallon was now in. As I looked down at my stomach the horror became apparent. It looked as if I were at least four or five months pregnant. Blue veins were crisscrossing my lower abdomen. I had not even began to try and get up when the instructions for my next preparation enema crashed into my head. Three quarts very hot. As I sat on the bowl feeling as if my insides were being ripped from my body I knew I had no choice but to obey. As I sat and found instant relief I wondered as to some of the instructions I had been given. What were the plans they had for me. Why all these enemas. I learned during my visit to the Drs. about some of the games these people played. I remembered the anal abuse I suffered. That's why all this preparation was instilling a feeling of deep fear. I feared I was to learn things I did not want to know.

As I remained on the bowl my mind drifted to Mrs. Winstons note. The detailed instructions for the enemas. The way she described how I was to douche myself. The details for hair and make-up. Her order to wear the clothes provided in the package. What was in the package? I hadn't even looked. I kept thinking of different comments she had made during the past week. Many made no sense while other things made all to much sense. She purposely made me know about the four women. Her, Goldie, the Dr. but who else? Would it possibly be the Warden? She knew from my first experience with them how much I hated being touched and violated by a woman. The men would be terrible but I feared the women would be more vicious and sadistic. Then there was the sex. I had never in my life been with a woman and now I would be forced to perform the most degrading acts imaginable. I glanced at the clock, 10:30, I had about an hour and a half. As I filled the bag for the third and final time I wondered to myself how I would take three quarts, it seemed impossible but I knew I must try no matter how painful.

Just as I was about to insert the nozzle the phone rang. John, "hi honey, no nothing is wrong, your not coming, your back again". As much as I wanted him, maybe this was a blessing in disguise. After a brief conversation I agreed to speak with him later. As much as I hated doing so I knew I would have to put him off with some excuse. Maybe going to see my mother or sister or maybe use the old shopping routine. He would be angry and accuse me of as he put it "jerking him off". Tomorrow when he called I would pretend to be sick, bad stomach as usual. I would probably not want to talk, just stay in bed and try and recuperate from the nights ordeals. But these were things John could not know. The third enema was a nightmare. I had never taken anything nearly this large and after two quarts I considered stopping it. My stomach was so swollen I feared it would burst. It filled me so completely that it caused a tremendous pressure on all my internal organs. I was afraid to look down for fear of what I might see. As I did so, to my amazement my breasts seemed to be much larger than normal. It was then that I realized how difficult it was just to breathe. It seemed my intestines were pushing up into my lungs. I immediately reached for the clamp to stop the flow before I passed out. As I laid on the floor gasping for breath I knew I could not take any more. As I removed the nozzle and struggled to the bowl Mrs. Winstons note came to mind. How would doing this to myself help me later? After spending quite a long time in the bathroom I finally came back to myself. The best thing I could do now was try and get some rest. I felt guilty about what I was doing to John, but knew it was best. I made a cup of tea and went into the bedroom. As was my habit I put on the T.V. mainly for some sound. This is one of the small quirks that comes with living alone. Making myself as comfortable as possible I realized how strange enemas were. Just a few minutes ago I was in terrible pain and now it was almost gone. No marks, no bruises just excruciating pain when it is being forced into you. I thought of one of Mrs. Winstons comments to me. No permanent damage, no lasting bruises but the pain would make you pray for death. Why did they want to hurt me? This was all explained when I was caught and offered the deal. These people were very wealthy and had all that money could buy. But they were bored and had become very jaded in their games. From what I had known they had traveled extensively. Had a large mansion in the suburbs of Long Island. Owned expensive cars, horses a yacht and who knows what else. But they were bored.

Somehow after trying many different forms of sexual activity they found excitement in S & M. As if some disease of the wealthy some of their friends shared the same interest. When my crime had been discovered they seized the opportunity. I was summoned into Mr. Winstons office and confronted with the evidence. I was the company bookkeeper and tried to explain how he was mistaken. It was then that Mrs. Winston showed me all the checks I had forged and ledgers I had altered. My heart sank and I knew I was caught. I remember looking around for the police. It was then that they explained my plight. All they had to do was make one phone call and I would be arrested. With all the evidence they had there was no question as to my being convicted of a class A felony. It was explained in graphic detail how I would serve five years in a womans penitentiary. It was also made very clear as to how they would use their considerable influence to guarantee I would be sent to the worst. I was also told how they could make sure I would receive the harshest treatment possible. As it happened the Wardress was a personal friend of Mrs. Winston and would oversee my stay. The picture they were painting was indeed a bleak one. As long as I live I will never forget what happened next. Mrs. Winston as casually as if ordering a cup of coffee said, "but you have a choice". Her voice dripped of sarcasm and she had a devilish grin on her face. I was informed that if I agreed to become their slave and follow all orders for a period of one year all would be forgotten and I could even keep the money. I could not believe what I was hearing, slave. I was speechless. The look on my face must have told of my amazement at what she was saying. The only word I was able to get out was slave. It was at this point she pulled up a chair and with a smile began to explain. She told me how they and a close group of friends who enjoyed using females in various ways. Many of the phrases she used were foreign to me. S & M, B & D, Watersports, Beastiality, Fisting, Forced sex, Medical torture. I felt the blood drain from my head and the room begin to spin. This amused the couple and they both had a great laugh at my reaction. After my color returned and they were done with their comments Mrs. Winston continued.

She explained how I would have to present myself at their home once a month on a Saturday for one year. I was also told about being fitted for some special articles of clothing. And last but far from least the extensive medical examinations. She went on to further explain how they would have to be sure I was strong enough to take what they would be doing to me. But she stressed, for their own protection, it would have to be determined that I was disease free. I would have to continue working for them. I could go on with my life as usual except for a few minor changes.

After listening to what she was saying I jumped from the chair and ran for the door. It was locked. I demanded the door be opened and told them they were both very sick people. Their response was just to laugh at me. They calmly explained that there was no place I could run to. I was told that if I desired the police would be summoned immediately. It was then that Mr. Winston suggested that I sit back down and hear the rest of what they had to say. I was handed a large envelope and told to go home and study its contents. I was also informed that I would be under surveillance at all times and my phone calls would be monitored. If I tried to run away I would be arrested and all their threats carried out. I could not find any comfort or peace here in my bed. My mind was riding a roller coaster. The fear of what would happen tonight. The memories of what had been done already. As I stared at the ceiling my mind wandered back to that day when I was confronted by the Winstons. I remembered leaving them sitting in his office looking at me as if I were a side of beef. As I picked up the envelope I was told to study, I glanced first at Mr. Winston and then at her. The expressions on both their faces turned my knees to jelly. Their eyes, cold as ice pierced into my very soul. I recalled how I had struggled home making sure to double lock the door behind me, as if that would help. The memories of all I had heard. The stupidity of what I had done. How did I think I could get away with it? I thought of the home shopping channel and cursed the day it was invented. If it wasn't for my need to buy what I really didn't need I wouldn't be in this situation now. Also the fact that John had warned me many times made me feel even worse. The memories of the envelope came to mind. They were smart and knew exactly what they were doing. The contents were copies of all the forged checks, altered ledgers and a video cassette. A note on the cassette simply read this shows what may happen to you in prison. I remembered how my hand was shaking so violently, I couldn't get it into the VCR. After watching for only a few moments I was in a state of complete shock. It depicted woman of all shapes and sizes. All ages from young to old, and of all races. The one thing they all shared was a blank stare. As the tape continued I saw the cells and the horrible living conditions. The next scene showed about two dozen women in a shower. They had no privacy and were herded in like so many cattle. It was in looking at some of the close ups that I realized that a lot of the faces looked much older than the bodies to which they belonged. The faces all indicated a tremendous amount of suffering. My eyes were riveted to the screen. It was then that something caught my eye. As if they had read my mind the camera came to focus on a big well built red head. She seemed to be about my own age but it was impossible to tell. As she washed, I was shown her body from every angle. What I saw made me gasp out loud. She was covered with welts and bruises. Her back, ass, legs, thighs, stomach and breasts were covered with whip marks. Next I saw a young blonde girl who appeared to be a little more than a teenager. Her body was covered with the same type of marks. I was literally mesmerized by the images on the TV screen. As I was trying to digest the images before me the scene changed. It showed 2 big black female guards dragging an attractive middle aged Spanish woman down a dark corridor. The sound was of poor quality but it was easy to hear that she was screaming and begging. I was able to make out some of her words. "No please not again, I will do whatever you want". As a door came into view she screamed "please don't torture me again I can't take any more, just tell me what to do". Then a door opened revealing a dimly lit room filled with many different objects. As the lights from the camera illuminated the room I was able to make out what some of these objects were. I saw an assortment of strange tables and benches. Ropes and chains hung from the ceiling. A large wooden chair came into focus. From it dangled several broad leather straps. Hanging near the chair were what looked like electrical wires with large alligator clips on the end. Next the camera moved to a wall from which hung a huge array of whips, paddles, canes, rope, chain, handcuffs of different sizes and dozens of things I could not identify. As the camera showed the room I could hear screams in the background. The scene returned to the Spanish woman. She was hanging from a chain attached to her handcuffs. Her dress had been removed leaving her in bra and panties. At that moment one of the black guards took a small knife and cut the bra from her body. At that point I had to look away. Her breasts were a mass of angry looking bruises. A strange voice brought my attention back to the screen. It belonged to a beautiful but for some reason very evil looking woman. She appeared to be very tall and large, not fat just large. I had no idea who she was or what she was doing in this room. I guessed her age to be about fifty. Her black hair was done in the latest style and her suit was Chanel. Even on the TV screen looking at her sent a shudder through me. I know now how right I was.

The expression on the face of the Spanish woman was one of terror. As she said her next words a lot of things became clearer to me. "Please Wardress, don't let them torture me again". I immediately remembered the comment Mrs. Winston made about the Wardress being a personal friend. Could this be her. My mind was not able to digest all I had just seen and heard. I shut off the VCR. Now as I laid twisting and turning I remembered the night I sat viewing the tape. I remembered thinking that this was impossible. This is 1996. Things like this don't happen. They don't treat people like this in prison. Do they? I remember how after sitting in the dark for a few minutes, something inside me made me turn the VCR back on. The Spanish woman kept begging the Wardress to be released. She promised to do whatever anyone wanted of her. To my disbelief I heard her say, "let me eat all the guards. They can all fuck me if they want to. Tell them they can fuck me in the ass with the big dildos. I'll never say no again". I stared at the screen as if in a trance. The bound woman continued to beg the Wardress to give her another chance. The camera captured the panic on the face of the bound woman as well as the icy stare of the Wardress. I had a very hard time grasping everything the Spanish woman was saying. I was not unaware of certain sexual practices but what I heard next was hard to believe. She had a nervous look on her face as she turned her face toward the woman and said "they can all watch me fuck the dogs, they won't have to force me this time. then I'll eat them all". I was completely taken aback by what she had just said. How could she volunteer to do such a thing? What had they done to her to bring her to this point? Was this a prison or an insane asylum? I continued to watch as the Wardress talked to her guards. After a time she turned back to the hanging woman and told her "you will be given the opportunity to do everything you said, but first you must be punished for disobeying the guards orders". The woman started to scream and rip at her shackled wrists. This brought a round of laughter from the Wardress and two guards. The hanging woman was becoming more frantic. She kept yelling "no more torture, please. I'm still hurting from the last time". The Wardress was unaffected by her pleas. She just turned to the guards and said "put her on the table on her back, I want to work on those tits again". The guards were on the bound woman in an instant. Her handcuffs were released and she was being dragged across the room. Her cries and screams could not be understood. I watched as she was thrown onto a wooden table and quickly strapped into place. Her arms and legs were pulled to the ends and thick straps were attached. Another strap was brought across her chest just under her breasts. Satisfied the guards stepped back. The camera came into focus on the Wardress. As I kept watching I felt my heart pounding in my chest. Is this what could happen to me I kept asking myself? Is this for real? Maybe its some kind of act for my benefit? My attention went back to the screen. The Wardress had removed her own jacket and was now removing her blouse. There she stood in a long black bra and skirt. She was indeed more beautiful than I had first thought. She was a large woman in more ways than one. Her massive breasts swelled over the top of her bra. This image made me totally shudder. The idea of this woman having total control of me for five years. What would she make me do and what could she do to me? The camera again focused on the poor bound woman. She struggled as much as the straps allowed. There were tears now visible on her face. As I watched a tray was wheeled over to the table by one of the guards. The Spanish woman again began to speak, "Please don't do my tits again, do something else. Beat me instead, put the water in me. Use the needles on me, look what they did to my tits already". The Wardress just smiled at her and said "they did nothing compared to what I'll do bitch. You will learn to obey me and my guards". She then picked up what looked like a piece of rubber garden hose and showed it to the helpless woman. The response was one of complete panic. I watched as she thrashed around and tried to tear free of the straps which held her. The Wardress brought the hose up over her head and in a swift motion swung it downwards crashing into the victims breasts. This was repeated a number of times bringing almost inhuman cries of agony. No part of her breasts were spared, the tops, bottoms, sides and even the nipples received the whipping. Finally the wardress put the hose down. The camera showed a very clear picture of this torture. Both breasts seemed to swell before my eyes and turn an angry dark blue color. I heard the woman gasping for breath as I watched her whole chest heaving in the tight bonds. After a time the bound woman stopped screaming and said through her tears "you dyke cunt, someday I'll kill you". This only brought more laughter. Finally the Wardress looked down at her and said "I see you haven't learned your lesson yet". She turned to one of the guards and said "bring me the long needles, I'll teach her to threaten me". I could not watch anymore. The tape had served its purpose. Anything would be better than spending five years in this hellhole, or so I thought at that time. It was clear the Winstons had me just where they wanted me. They knew after seeing the contents of the envelope I would submit to their demands.

I remained in bed and remembered how I went to work the following day. After trying in vain to get on with my job the intercom on my desk rang, it was Mr. Winston. I recalled how in a perfectly normal tone of voice he summoned me to his office. I was asked if I had studied the contents of the envelope. With my eyes to the floor I replied that I had. He then asked if I had come to a decision. I recalled how I could not look up at him and the way I stood shuffling my feet. It took a long time for the words to reach my lips. All I could say was "you win". He sarcastically told me he thought I would see it their way and would now call his wife. He then instructed me to get back to work and not leave at 5 o'clock, but to come to his office to go over the arrangements of our deal as he put it.

In the days following that first meeting there were several others. I was made to sign a complete confession and even had to sign a contract stating I was willing to become their slave for a period of one year. Mrs. Winston was present at all the meetings. Many times I would catch her looking at me in very strange ways. This always sent a shiver down my spine. She would look at me as if to undress me with her eyes. Several times she would look directly at me and comment how she could not wait to get her hands on me. How she would make me beg. How she would make me scream.

The phone startled me back to the present. It was John. No one else ever called on this line. I would have to think fast. "Hi hon, how do you feel, that's good, your downstairs watching the game, no nothings wrong". He was becoming suspicious. I would have to come up with something fast. Offense is always the best defense. I calculated my next comment carefully. "Oh you can talk now, isn't your wife home". I knew from past experience this would begin an argument. "I know I said we could talk later, but I decided to go out for awhile". At this point I knew he was getting pissed off. After a few more words back and forth he hung up on me as usual. He must think I'm a real bitch, if he only knew the real reason. Time was standing still. I wished I was able to tell John the trouble I was in, but knew I could not. I prayed he never find out. It was becoming increasingly difficult to come up with valid excuses. My time was growing scarce. The Winstons were finding more tasks for me, and I needed time to recuperate from my ordeals. So far the physical healing was a little easier than the mental healing. I was able to blame a lot on job pressures. I complained of being tired and not feeling well. I used every excuse I could think of. Bad stomach, headaches, bad periods, fatigue, boredom, alone too much, executive burn out, I used them all. I was not proud of myself for what I was doing but it was better than the truth. I got a fresh cup of tea and went back into the bedroom. Again I tried to close my eyes and get some rest but the thoughts kept coming back. My thoughts drifted to the day Mrs. Winston came into the office accompanied by her maid Goldie. This was not at all unusual and at first I did not give it a second thought. I tried to keep the arrival as normal as possible for the sake of all the others in the office. As I greeted them both I immediately noticed the difference in Goldie. I had seen and spoke to her many times during the years I worked for Mr. Winston. She had always been very warm and friendly and I even thought of her as somewhat of a friend. But now she was different. She always reminded me a little of Oprah, big and jolly, warm friendly smile. Now she just gave me a cold, knowing stare. As I glanced up at her I caught that familiar look, she seemed to be undressing me with her eyes. Could she be part of this too, I would soon find out. I called Mr. Winston on the intercom and announced his wives arrival. He told me to let her in and also come in myself. Goldie followed. Once in his office and away from the rest of the staff their attitude changed. Again I was only their slave. Mrs. Winston was brief and to the point. I was told that after work I was to go with her and Goldie for my first physical. Mrs. Winston told me she had made an appointment with her gynecologist for my first exam. I went into a state of shock. Was the time for the so called parties here. I did not know what to say or do. The first thing that came to mind was to tell Mrs. Winston that I had my own Dr. and would be more comfortable with him. I said I would go to him and give her a full report on anything she wanted. I was reminded of some obscure paragraph in the contract I had signed. Submit to physical testing at a Dr. of the Winstons choice. They had me more than I realized. I had no choice but to obey. After thinking a second the only reply I had was "yes mam". My reply brought an instant smile to both Mr. and Mrs. Winston. She looked at me with that look I was becoming more familiar with and said "good bitch, your learning, now go with Goldie and she will help you get ready. "Oh, and one more thing, do whatever she tells you to, you are her slave as well as ours". Her words ripped through me like a hot knife. I was mortified. Goldies slave too. I protested loudly. "I did not agree to any such thing". As if ready for me Mr. Winston took a copy of my contract from a locked file. He quickly read a clause that stated, I could be given to anyone at their direction to be used as a slave in any way they saw fit. After he read it he handed it to me and pointed to the clause and my signature. They had me again. Here I was not only the plaything of the Winstons and whom ever else, but also Goldie, a black maid.

As I followed Goldie through the large office complex to the ladies room my plight became more bizarre. As we entered I was about to remind Goldie of our long friendship and inquire how she was involved. Before I could speak a syllable she turned and said "strip bitch". The usually soft gentle voice had turned hard and commanding. I became instantly fearful of this large black woman. She reminded me of the two black guards in the prison film I had been given. From the look on her face I knew there was nothing I could do but obey. She had the same look as the guards who had been torturing the poor Spanish girl.

As I fumbled with the buttons of my dress I noticed for the first time that Goldie was carrying a large attache case. This was put on a sink and I was told to speed it up. As I removed the dress and stood in bra, pantyhose and heels a very strange feeling came over me. A feeling of total embarrassment. I had been nude in front of women before in dressing rooms and such but this was different. I had never been ordered. I had never been owned.

Goldie studied me for a minute and loudly said "everything bitch, take it all off". Was this to be my new name. They seemed to use it very freely. I would later learn it was better than most of the names I was called.

Afraid to do anything else, I unhooked my bra, put it on the sink with my dress and took off the heels and pantyhose. Totally embarrassed I tried covering my nudity with my arms. I was quickly ordered to put my arms at my sides, stand straight and face forward. I felt the flush of humiliation cover me from head to toe. I was now on display like never before. Goldie devoured my nudity with her eyes. Her gaze covered every detail of my body. To make sure nothing was overlooked she walked around me several times.

Time stood still. Here I was, completely naked in a public bathroom with the Winstons maid surveying me. I burst into tears and tried to grab my dress. This brought an instant reaction from the black maid. Before I was able to get my hand on the dress she was behind me with her arm around my neck. I now realized how strong and agile she was for a big woman. The more I struggled the tighter her grip on me became. Again I knew I was beaten. I stopped struggling and she relaxed her hold on me. She came in front of me, put her face only inches from mine and said "you stupid white cunt, you ever do that again I'll beat you till you bleed". I stood there looking down at the floor knowing I was doomed.

She must have sensed the fact my spirit was broken and began to take full advantage. She continued her appraisal of me. I was told to turn, lift my arms over my head, bend over, even spread my legs. I did as I was told. This gave her greater confidence. She reached out and grabbed one of my breasts roughly feeling its size and weight. Her fingers moved to the nipple and I felt a stabbing pain as she squeezed me in her strong fingers. Without releasing her grip the other hand moved between my legs. As she continued to pinch and probe I began to sob. My reaction made her angry. I was told to stop crying or I would be given something to cry about. Afraid to get her even more angry I tried to stifle the sobbing.

Even now as I sipped on the tea the events of that day raced through my brain. Goldie had given me my first taste of torture, mental torture. I remember how she asked me if just what she was doing made me cry, what would I do when the real pain begins. I stared back in silence but she could see the panic in my eyes. She decided to make the most of it. I recall some of her words even now. "It don't take much to make you cry. What you gonna do when they whip those tits and that blonde cunt. What you gonna do when they stick needles in that sweet white ass. How you gonna act when they fill you up with a big hot enema. You gonna cry when I make you eat my big black pussy". She went on and on. Even now after so many things have been done to me that first day of my captivity stays fresh in my mind.

My thoughts strayed back to the ladies room. After the fondling and verbal abuse, Goldie decided it was time to get ready for the Drs. visit. She opened the case she had been carrying and took out a bottle of Massengill Douche and three Fleet Enemas. She handed them to me and told me to go into a stall and clean myself out. By now I knew better than to refuse so I just took the packages from her and proceeded into a stall. By reflex I turned to latch the door but found her standing in the way. This was the first of many indignities I was to suffer. She was going to watch as I did what is mostly done in private. As I squatted over the bowl with the douche I realized what else she had given me. Why did I need an enema to see a gynocologist. I asked the question but did not get a reply. She did although take great pleasure in telling me how this examination was going to be much different than any I had in the past.

Was that ever an understatement. Totally embarrassed I finished the task I was given. Next I was handed some make up, a brush and hair spray and told to make myself presentable. When I was done fixing myself, I automatically reached for my clothes. As before, my hand was slapped away. Goldie again reached into the case and took out a neatly folded stack of underwear. She gave it to me and told me to put it on. The first piece was a black padded push up bra. I asked why this was necessary and told that "Mrs. Winston wants you to wear it". The next article was a black waist cincher. As I picked it up I could feel how heavy it was. It was the old type with metal rods in it. Next were a pair of off black stockings and a pair of black pumps with 5 inch heels. I was puzzled, why these clothes to see a Dr. Again I asked and was given the same answer,"because Mrs. Winston wants it that way".

I remember trying to put the cincher on only to find it to small. I have a small waist but was unable to get the hooks even close. Goldie was only too happy to help and by the time it was in place my ribs felt like they were being crushed. I was forced to stand perfectly straight and take very short, small breaths. Glancing in the mirror I saw how this garment made my waist much smaller and my hips and bust seem even larger. I needed help with the bra also, again it was too small. My breasts are a 34-D but looked twice as large in this bra. They bulged over the cups and stood high on my chest. Breathing was getting more difficult. Next came the stockings and shoes. The cincher made it impossible to bend to get the garters attached so again it required Goldies assistance. She took her turn with me again. While she had helped with the bra she managed to pinch and squeeze my breasts. Now her fingers were feeling their way into me, but I was afraid to say or do anything.

Again I looked in the mirror and the image was bizarre at best. I was not dressed for a trip to the Dr. but more for a night of wild sex. Why had they made me dress in this manner? I could not help but think about what kind of Dr. this was. I found out soon enough. I was allowed to put my dress back on and we left the ladies room.

Mrs. Winston was waiting at the elevator and asked Goldie if everything was all right. The maid assured her all was as it should be. I remember the ride in the limo. No one said a word. I was having trouble sitting due to the strange lingerie I was forced to wear. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. In a short time we arrived at an upper east side brownstone. The shingle read Dr. V. Kim M.D.

I was extremely nervous and the thought of having a little oriental man do the most intimate examination of my body did little to help me relax. The events that followed make me shudder even now.

Mrs. Winston told the driver to wait and that we would be approximately 3 hours. Why so long I remember thinking. The three of us walked up to the door and Goldie rang the buzzer. I recall looking around as if hoping for rescue. A small oriental woman answered the door and my first thought was she must be the nurse. Her and Mrs. Winston exchanged greetings and we entered. The office was much the same as any other successful Manhatten Dr. The oriental woman asked Mrs. Winston if she could get her any refreshment. The reply shocked and sent waves of fear through me. Mrs. Winston said "no Dr. Kim I would prefer to get started, we have a lot to do".

This could not be the Dr. I had never been to a female Dr. of any kind in my life. The very thought of being touched and examined by another female made me turn toward the door and try to get out. As I had learned earlier Goldie was very fast and grabbed me before I took more than three steps. as I struggled and begged Mrs. Winston to please let me leave, I heard the Dr. tell Goldie to bring me to the special room in the basement. She added all was ready and we would not be disturbed. My arm was twisted behind my back and I was forced down a staircase into the basement. My protests became louder and finally I was yelling for help.

As if I was not even there I heard the Dr. tell Mrs. Winston that I could scream as much as I wanted, everything was of course sound proof.

The vivid memories did little to calm my nerves. I sipped more tea and lit another cigarette. I tried to focus on the TV. Anything not to think more of that day. But as usual the memories came crashing back. I recalled how Goldie pushed me toward a metal door. The Dr. had the key ready and pushed it open. Inside was what appeared to be a normal examination room, the sight of which calmed me momentarily. The four of us entered and I remember the door being locked behind us. Now I was totally at their mercy. Goldie released me and I began to look around. Everything seemed to be in order until I looked at the examining table. There were restraining straps all over it. Even the stirrups had straps attached to them. Again I began to scream and beg. The three other women just watched in amusement. After a time I realized my feeble attempts were in vain and I started to quiet down. It was then that Mrs. Winston began to speak.

I was told that no more outbursts would be tolerated and if I protested in any way I would be immediately punished. Mrs. Winston opened her bag and took out what looked like a flashlight. She asked me if I knew what it was and I said no. She told me it was called a cattle prod and it was used to help handle cattle, horses, and other large animals. She explained how it sent a high voltage electrical shock into whatever it touched, and if I did not follow her instructions to the letter, it would touch me. As she said the last word of the sentence she placed it against my thigh.

The room exploded. I lost all my senses. I could not hear nor see.

My breathe was pulled from my lungs. Every nerve in my body screamed in pain. I fell to the floor like a house of cards convulsing in agony. It took several minutes for me to return to normal. Goldie helped me to my feet. Mrs. Winston looked at me with her icy stare and told me that was a small sample of what I would get if I disobeyed in any way. She had me at her complete mercy. I never wanted to feel that cattle prod again. She asked me if I understood and was ready to cooperate. I remember putting my head down and saying yes mam.

I was next made to stand in the middle of the room as Mrs. Winston made herself comfortable in a large chair and told the Dr. to begin. I was reminded to follow the Drs. orders or face more punishment. I was then told by the Dr. to remove my dress. I knew better than try and argue. Quickly I undid the dress and let it fall to the floor. There I stood on display again, a spectacle for the three woman to behold. This was the first time Mrs. Winston had seen me without all of my clothes on. She leaned forward in her chair as if to get a better look. At the same time the Dr. was visibly licking her lips. Mrs. Winston was the first to speak. "I can't believe our good fortune, she is perfect".

For the second time today I was made to turn, raise my arms, bend forward, spread my legs. All of a sudden I realized I was not wearing panties. Now I understood the ingenious design of the cincher. Although the garters went down the sides of my legs the front and back of the garment were cut high to fully expose my pussy and ass. Not only could they have a perfect view but the Dr. would have access without removing the cincher. The black underwear was a contrast to my milky white skin and blonde hair. The sight of me in the provocative lingerie seemed to inflame the women. I was told to walk around the room while they did a thorough appraisal of my body. This seemed very strange coming from other women. The next orders I received brought even more shame. I was told to bend over and spread my ass cheeks. When I hesitated I was quickly shown the dreaded cattle prod. I instantly put my hands behind me and bent over. The three woman discussed that part of my anatomy. The Dr. was reminded to make sure to check well as I would be used anally very often. Before I could grasp what they were saying I was told to stand straight, face forward and spread my pussy. I could not believe my shame but obeyed the order. Mrs. Winston made me spread my legs so wide it felt as if the tendons in my thighs would tear. Next I was ordered to grasp my lower lips and spread them as wide as possible. I was then told to insert a finger inside myself. Again I obeyed. The demands increased. I was now told to force four fingers into myself. When they were satisfied with the attempt I was told to stop and stand straight. My humiliation was reaching new heights. Mrs. Winston was disappointed at the fact I was unable to insert four fingers but the Dr. quickly reassured her she would remedy the problem.

The memories were getting me more upset but I could not stop them. I had to go to the bathroom and wanted more tea anyway. I checked the time, 3 o'clock, the limo would be here at 6. I had a couple of hours to try and rest. I went back to the bedroom and laid down again. My mind went right back to the Drs. office. I was then told to remove the bra. After fumbling with the hook I told them I could not get it off because it was too tight. Goldie came up behind me and also struggled to get it off. As it opened my breasts sprang free and I was able to take a deep breath. Now they began to comment about my breasts. Mrs. Winston was pleased with their size and shape and all the possibilities they presented for tit torture. "What's that", I asked in a shaky voice. I was told I would find out very soon. I did not know then how soon.

The Dr. came up to me and took one of my nipples in her fingers, studying it closely. She seemed disappointed and explained to Mrs. Winston how the small size of the nipple might limit certain activities. Mrs. Winston got up from her chair and came for a closer look. I felt like some laboratory specimen. The two women were inspecting my nipples. The Dr. suggested waiting a few minutes until I was on the table. I was feeling the panic well in my stomach.

Next the Dr. picked up a chart and started to write. She then began a series of questions. I was asked my medical history, the history of my family, my present health, any pregnancies, any abortions. Her questions got worse. I was asked about birth control, previous sexual activities, drug use, my menstrual cycle and even the last time I had sex or masturbated. Before she put down the chart I was asked if I knew my exact measurements and as I replied she put down the information.

Next in a rough voice she ordered me onto the table. I remember how I hesitated hoping for something to happen. I knew once I was secured to the table I would be totally at their mercy. The Dr. was getting impatient and again in a voice that scared me ordered me on the table. I was petrified. What would she do once I was secured. Some of the comments I had heard were running through me. Was this to be my first torture session. Why was this room here. Why was it sound proof. Was the Dr. a healer or a sadist. Apparently she had done this before. How many women came before me, and what became of them.

No matter how hard I tried to put all these thoughts out of my head I just could not. I considered taking a valium but was afraid of the reaction later on. They might be upset if I was not completely alert. I decided not to drink any more tea for fear I might have to use the bathroom during the party as it was called. I thought parties were supposed to be fun, I knew there would be none for me this night.

I continued to sit in the dim room and lit another cigarette. No matter how hard I tried my thoughts went right back to that first meeting with the Dr. I recalled how after telling me to get on the table, and me being too afraid to do so, the Dr. just reached for the cattle prod. It made me move quickly.

I got up on the table as fast as I could. I had still not fully recovered from the first jolt. Now the Dr. seemed to take on a different attitude. Her face turned cruel and she had a strange fire in her eyes as she adjusted my body. My legs were positioned into the stirrups and secured. Goldie helped by securing my arms to straps on the side of the table near the floor. This position proved painful on my shoulders but served to make my breasts very prominent. Next straps were brought over my hips and across my rib cage and tightened. I tried to move but could not. I remember feeling totally helpless, but they were not done. The Dr. came up to the top of the table and fastened another strap across my forehead. I was now completely deprived of any movement and totally open and vulnerable. The only freedom I had was that of speech.

Through the sobs I begged them to stop this and not hurt me. My reply was laughter from the three women. Mrs. Winston came up next to me and told me one of the reasons for me being there was to feel pain. She explained how aside from it being necessary to check my physical condition, they would take this opportunity to introduce me to their world. The world of sadism directed at a helpless female. She continued by saying how the three of them and many others found the greatest pleasure in hearing the screams and watching the reactions of their victims. It was now my turn to give them what they desired.

The memory of what happened next will stay with me for the rest of my life. They all stood around me and began to undress. Although my field of vision was limited I watched as they stripped down to their underwear. The spectacle was indeed bizarre. Even what they wore was unusual. Mrs. Winston was wearing almost the same things I was. Black push up bra, black waist cincher with long garters and black stockings. I remember thinking that for an older woman she still had a very good body.

The Dr. was dressed in a black half cup corset that left most of her small breasts exposed and ended just below her waist. Attached at the bottom were long garters which framed her exposed pussy which was free of any hair as was Mrs. Winstons.

My eyes went to Goldie. This was the most shocking of all. She was wearing a flesh tone girdle which was in total contrast to her ebony skin. The girdle started just below her massive breasts and stopped at the top of a huge pubic mound. In a fast glance I was able to see how heavy and well constructed this garment was. I had never seen a black woman nude before and was shocked by her breasts. They had to be at least a 48-D and hung well over the top of the girdle. The nipples were jet black and the size of saucers. Her pussy was covered by a thick mass of long, curly black hair.

I remembered how at that point I gave up all hope. I was surrounded by three demons. I had entered hell itself. Now they were ready, my time to suffer was at hand.

Even now safe in my room the hours that followed still bring on a cold sweat. The Dr. began at my mouth. She forced my jaws apart and inserted a devise that held it open. She had a dentists pick and checked all my teeth. She was not gentle and made the examination uncomfortable but bearable. Then she opened the clamp a little wider and began to examine my throat with a tongue depressor. It was inserted deep and I gagged.

Next she inserted a vibrator into my mouth which was in the shape of a penis. It measured about 1 ½ inches in diameter and at least 8 inches in length. It was forced deep into my throat. I immediately began to choke and gag. The Dr. kept maneuvering it until I was sure I would pass out. With my head secured as it was I could do nothing to fight the thrusts of the object. It was withdrawn just as my vision turned black. From somewhere under the table the Dr. produced an oxygen mask and I was quickly revived. The clamp was removed and she made an entry on the chart. She informed Mrs. Winston that I had very large tonsils and could only accept small tubing, but would have no problem with oral sex. I remembered trying to figure out what she meant by tubing, but my thoughts were interrupted.

Next my blood pressure was taken and putting on a stethoscope she checked my heart rate, more entries. She then moved to my breasts. Her fingers kneaded the sensitive flesh checking for any lumps. This she did in such a manner as to bring tears to my eyes and a moan to my lips. Mrs. Winston came to the opposite side of the table to get a better view. As they had done earlier they began to discuss the breasts as if they were not part of a living person. The Dr. assured Mrs. Winston that although the nipples were small they could take a lot of abuse. The Dr. directed Mrs. Winston to feel the consistency of the breasts. She did, squeezing even harder than the Dr. had, causing me to moan louder. They paid no attention to my protests.

The Dr. went on to explain how the needles could be used frequently with no problems, even into the nipples themselves. Mrs. Winston them asked if the syringes could also be used. After more painful manipulation of my breasts the Dr. gave her the answer. She said I would be able to take about a pint in each tit, and they would even be able to use the oxygen on me. All I could do was lay there and wonder what the hell they were talking about. The Dr. also pointed out the effectiveness of the rubber hoses.

Because I had large breasts they could be used often with good results. Could they be referring to the treatment I had seen done to the Spanish woman on the tape. I was now crying uncontrollably. She went on to tell the others how the compression rings and the press should bring excellent results, but cautioned as to the use of the canes or suspension.

What did these things mean. I could only imagine they were some way to torture the breasts I had been so proud of. Mrs. Winston next asked the Dr. if she would be able to have a few punishment bras made, and was assured it would be taken care of.

Having had enough of my breasts for now the small group moved to the foot of the table. The stirrups were opened to their maximum width. By doing so it opened me fully, and gave them a perfect view of my most private parts. I was able to see the Dr. put on a rubber glove and apply lubricant. She disappeared from my limited field of vision but I immediately felt the insertion of her finger. Her probing was thorough and a little painful. Then I felt her trying to put several fingers into me.

It was beginning to hurt very much and I was complaining loudly. A few seconds later I felt her hand forcing its way inside me. The pain was extreme and I was sure she would rip the opening of my pussy. With one hard push she got her whole hand into me. I let out a scream and then began to cry openly. She was hurting me badly. I never had anyones hand in me before. I began to feel her fingers probing and feeling around inside me. My body automatically started to stretch and the pain began to subside.

She continued the internal exam. All of a sudden I felt a searing pain deep inside the brought out a series of loud screams. As the pain was increasing she was casually telling the others that she had forced a finger into my uterus. My screaming went on as I tried to tear free of my bonds. This time I did pass out.

I was revived and the hand was no longer inside me. Goldie stood above me with the smelling salts still in her hand. The Dr. and Mrs. Winston were next to me engaged in a conversation. The Dr. was explaining the fact that although I had a small frame, they would have no problem fisting me or forcing large objects into me. She went on explaining how she needed smears for testing and would need to dilate my uterus in order to insert a probe. She sarcastically added "wait till I give her that injection, then you'll hear her scream". She then walked over to a cabinet but I could not see what see was doing.

I remember how I begged Mrs. Winston to please make her stop. Do not let her hurt me anymore. I have been hurt enough already. I also remember her reply, we haven't even started, she said.

The Dr. returned to the table. She explained to the other woman how under normal conditions she would spray the area to be injected with nitrous oxide. That she said would freeze the area and the needle would not be felt. She looked directly into my eyes as she completed the statement by saying, but I love to do it this way, the pain it causes is excruciating. She then moved back to the end of the table and started working between my legs.

I then felt the cold steel of the spreader clamp inserted into me.

Other Drs. have used these on me before with little or no discomfort. Now the sadistic nature of this woman really became evident. She used no lubricant and just pushed until it was in place. Then she opened it as wide as possible as quickly as she could. I thought the delicate area had been torn for sure. My tears flowed freely as much from fear as from the pain. She was becoming more cruel by the minute. She came up near my face and held up the syringe she had prepared. I started screaming through the tears. It was the largest needle I had ever seen. The shaft was at least 6 inches long, but the thickness was what made me panic. It was as thick as a knitting needle. I remember how between the screams I begged her not to use that on me. She just glared down at me and said that I would get to know it well, because this was the one that would be used on me most of the time.

She went back to the end of the table were Mrs. Winston was waiting.

Looking down at me she told Goldie to check the straps because this would cause a violent reaction. As Goldie checked all the restraints I just screamed and begged but to no avail. It was by far the most excruciating pain I had felt to that point in my life. She plunged the syringe deep into my womb. The pain was so terrible I could not even scream. I thrashed about in my bonds as much as I could. It felt as if there was a red hot poker burning deep in my stomach. Every nerve in my body was on fire. The pain was so intense my eyes must have rolled in their sockets because everything turned black. Again I was revived by Goldie.

As I awoke I began screaming. I remember how it felt as if I screamed for hours until I could scream no more. I just laid there and sobbed uncontrollably. The pain in my stomach was still intense but not as bad as when the needle was being twisted around in my womb. My vision returned to normal and I was greeted by the three women studying me with their looks of amusement. Finally the Dr. announced that I had come through this first torture better than expected. She informed Mrs. Winston that she was pleasantly surprised and felt I was strong enough to endure many more sessions. After they had a few minutes of consultation the Dr. said I was ready for the next procedure.

Not even knowing what was to be done next I began to sob and beg for release. I was informed that the next procedure would be almost pain free. See stressed the word almost. I was told she had to take some smears in order to check for disease. As soon as she assumed her position between my legs I started to beg her not to hurt me again. She held up a cotton swab and told me to relax. This part of the exam was done without causing me any undo discomfort. Next she went to the cabinets and was busy there for a few seconds. She again came up next to me and said she was ready to take the next smear. She looked over at the other two women and with a smirk on her face told me that unfortunately this one might hurt as she broke into full laughter.

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