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 ½ 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.

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