Chloe's Contract Read online

  ‘There’s a good girl,’ she whispered softly in his ear, then lifted his torso away from the stool and unclipped his left nipple. He knew better than to scream this time, so with a tremendous effort of will he bit his lip and stayed silent.

  Mistress Amanda unwrapped the tape around his thighs and slid the stool away from his body. He was still held tight by his balls to the ring in the floor, but she allowed him to lay down on his front. It relieved the pressure a little, but he remained in pain as his scrotum was still stretched, his knees in the same position as he slumped forward on his front. But despite this he could feel his cock swelling once more. She noticed and slashed him again, this time across the buttocks. ‘Haven’t you had enough?’

  ‘No, Mistress.’ He could not believe what he was saying, but there was no doubt she was pleased. She told him, slut though he might be, that with training he might make a suitable slave. He felt curious warmth spread through his body; a glow of pleasure, anticipation, and he realised, love for his Mistress.

  She stepped around him, manipulating something on the wall and ceiling. Then he felt her strap his ankles together, and as she raised his feet he realised she was connecting his ankles to some sort of hook. Then straps were lashed around his thighs, stomach and chest, and around a wooded beam that he felt bite into his back. His wrists were raised behind him and his arms seemed to be dragged from their sockets. He was lifted clear of the floor on some sort of pulley mechanism, not very far, just a few inches, but suddenly he was left, literally, hanging in the air. The restraints along his body meant he remained reasonably rigid and parallel with the floor, but it was still agonisingly uncomfortable. Then the doorbell rang and she left the room.

  By moving his head slightly he could just see through the door to the hall beyond. Someone was being let in. He felt an irrational rage, an inexplicable jealousy. He had already begun to imagine that she was his Mistress. Even within an hour of meeting her he wanted to devote himself to her. There was no room for another. Then he realised this was not his decision to make, that he was not entitled to be jealous. His Mistress was free to do as she pleased.

  The man was taken into an adjacent room, and a few minutes later was brought in on a collar and chain. His ankles were strapped together so that he had to hobble, and he was naked except for black rubber knickers with two slits, one of which allowed his rigid cock to thrust out while the other provided for his balls, which had been forced through the narrow opening. His wrists were attached to the knickers so his freedom of movement was virtually nil.

  ‘This is Jack,’ she explained, ‘but here he answers to Jane. He is one of my sluts who comes for regular discipline.’

  She instructed ‘Jane’ to bend over at a point at which, by moving his head slightly to one side, he could see the man’s bottom offered up for her. She began to beat him rhythmically with a cane and he watched as thick red weals began to form parallel lines across the white flesh. He remained absolutely silent - a fifty-something man surrendering to a beating by a beautiful siren. As he watched, as agonising as his position was, he could feel his cock expanding and hardening to its maximum extent.

  Mistress Amanda instructed Jane to lie down, then manoeuvred ‘her’ by the collar and chained her to the floor. Then she adjusted his position until Jane was directly beneath him, and he felt the pulley mechanism begin to gradually lower him.

  ‘You know what to do, Jane.’

  Suddenly he felt Jane’s lips suck the tip of his cock, as Mistress gradually lowered him further, inch-by-inch, his cock sinking into the throat of the slut beneath him. He felt his cock being sucked avidly. He could not move or resist as his erection was gradually swallowed and he was taken further and further into the stranger’s mouth. His hips began to writhe but he would not let go. Jane knew what he was expected to do, and as an encouragement Mistress began to thrash him with a lash of fine leather. Jane increased the suction, and as his groin began to thrust he felt the strands of the whip snap round against him as well, biting into his hip as he neared another climax.

  But he did not want to ejaculate; he was heterosexual, after all, but as the movement of Jane’s lips up and down the shaft of his cock increased and the pain of the lash spread through his body he could not help but spurt once again, this time filling the mouth of his male masturbator... and it was the most incredible climax he had ever experienced.

  Jane continued to roll his cock around his mouth long after he had spent, the pain, excitement and the intensity of the orgasm lingering for several minutes after he’d been sucked dry.

  He wanted to relax, but it was impossible. Every muscle in his body was stretched to aching and breaking point, but she dragged Jane out from beneath him before lowering him to the floor. His cock at last deflated as he was able to stretch, and for the first time he was able to properly see the man his Mistress had forced to pleasure him orally. He was slim, almost hairless, although it was impossible to say whether this was natural or he’d shaved his whole body. He was carefully made up with bright pink lipstick, warm foundation and long lashes framed by black eyeliner. His hair was long and he was wearing hold-up stockings, and stilettos with five-inch heels. The collar was over two-inches wide, studded and with a sparkling brass chain.

  His cock was solid and his balls were tightly bound, as his had been, except that the stretched black stocking was also entwined around the base of his cock and forced downwards and outwards as the end of the stocking was pulled tightly between his legs. As Jane was rolled over by their Mistress he could see that the other end of the socking was wrapped around the base of a butt plug stuffed into his arse, between the flattened end and the narrow neck around which his sphincter tightened.

  Mistress Amanda tied Jane’s feet and wrists to floor rings, well apart so he was uncomfortably stretched, and left him lying there while she eased her newest client up onto his feet and guided him out of the darkened room and into an adjoining bedroom.

  ‘I think you have potential,’ she told him clinically. ‘You’ve responded well to your initial training. But you’ll have to learn to control your climaxes so that you only come with permission. Do you want to try?’

  ‘Oh yes, Mistress, yes please.’

  She removed the tightly stretched stocking bond from around his cock and caressed it gently. He gazed at her full breasts as he felt her sensitive fingers ease back his foreskin and expose the tip. She cupped his balls in her hand and then squeezed hard. He winced, but did not give voice to the scream that instinctively came to his throat.

  ‘Good girl,’ she said, and forgave his sudden erection that sprang unbidden as she increased the pressure. She stroked him with her other hand, squeezing and enticing at the same time. His balls began to jerk again. He could not believe he could even be hard, much less come again. She squeezed his cock and he realised it was a test. With a tremendous effort he forced himself to hold back. She increased the movement of her hand and the pressure on his balls. He froze, rigid, concentrating hard.

  ‘That’s a good girl...’

  She drew him back into the darkened room. Jane was still stretched out on the floor. She pulled him onto his knees and began to rub the cocks of her sluts, one bound and immobile, the other unbound but equally unable to move. She told him he could come, and he did - at almost precisely the same time as Jane.

  His final task was to clean up. There was spunk on Mistress Amanda’s wrists, fingers, and her basque, and on Jane’s chest and stomach and around the base of his cock. He was reluctant, which she sensed, so she grabbed his hair and forced his mouth first to one hand and then the other. Then she pushed him down so he had no choice but to lick the clinging sperm splattered across Jane’s torso. He could taste the difference between his cum and Jane’s; Jane’s was slightly sour, while his own was sweeter but with a tinge of salt.

  ‘You may go next door to the bathroom, shower and get dressed,’ she told him, and whil
st luxuriating beneath the steaming hot water he could hear the muffled, restrained screams from the darkened room as Mistress Amanda brought Jane to another shuddering climax by inflicting stroke after stroke of her cane across his thighs.

  He dried himself off and got dressed. He was not sure what to do. Should he place her tribute on the mantelpiece in the sitting room and just leave, or was he expected to wait for permission to go? He decided to wait.

  A little while later she appeared, smiling but formal as she relaxed on the large sofa. ‘Sit down.’

  He sat on the edge of one of the easy chairs, keeping his back straight and his legs neatly together. Mistress nodded her approval.

  ‘I am pleased to see that you instinctively sit like a woman in a skirt,’ she said. ‘There is no doubt that you have developed a natural female approach to life, and as a result you have a deep need to be feminised. It is not unusual; there are many men just like you. But the guilt you’ve allowed to build up in your mind over the years has given you an exceptional capacity for pain and an erotic desire for torture. Those qualities could be useful to me. Added to that you have already shown a considerable aptitude for slavery. Would you be prepared to serve me?’

  ‘Oh yes, Mistress.’

  ‘Good. Then I am prepared to take you on and train you. You have a great deal to learn, for you will need to understand both the physical requirements and the psychology of pain, feminisation and slavery, but I think you have potential.’

  He felt a warm glow of acceptance and basked in her approval. His life seemed to have taken a completely new turn in the space of a few hours. He was incredibly excited and impatient.

  ‘I have some vacancies at a house I own in the country. It is possible that you may be suitable for full-time submission. If you are, and you would be prepared to accept a very demanding position, you could be invited to join my select group of slaves in training. There is seldom a shortage of Masters or Mistresses, but suitable slaves and sluts with the tenacity, the control, the willingness and the capacity to provide the services my clients need require a great deal of training. Are you still interested?’

  ‘Very much, Mistress.’

  ‘You will need to be assessed carefully by me and some of my associates during your next few visits. And if you are considered suitable you will need to think very carefully before you take the final decision; there will be no going back.

  ‘Return here in exactly one week’s time, dressed the same, but make sure you get some proper French knickers.’

  He took out his wallet as he rose.

  ‘There is no need for a tribute,’ she said. ‘I will be amply repaid if you are suitable and accept your role.’

  He collected his things, and was allowed to kiss her lightly on both cheeks before leaving her apartment. He walked back to his car, weak at the knees and shaking slightly, when he noticed a vaguely familiar figure approaching the main door of the apartment block he’d just left.

  Chapter Two

  He thought no more about it at the time and drove home, collecting an oven-ready meal on the way. It had been a shattering afternoon and he knew that after something to eat, a few glasses of wine and a good film on one of the satellite channels followed by one of the fascinating sex documentaries from Bravo he would quickly fall asleep.

  He liked his flat. It was modern and spacious and it was his. He caught himself in the hall mirror as he closed the front door behind him. He was still slim, a little below medium height and with light brown hair and hazel eyes. The lean body belied his strength; he could not be described as a sportsman but he worked out, partly because his work required that he look good and partly because he knew that he looked better in women’s clothes if he was slender.

  He had married too early and had two children in his early twenties. His young wife, Anne, was petite, clever and conventionally pretty - a combination he found very attractive to begin with. But the feelings did not last and as her career took off, even though he had been quite successful himself, he felt excluded.

  Not that he minded coping with the children and the house - he rather enjoyed it. His own job in the women’s department of a large store had regular hours, which placed the responsibility for the boys on him rather than her. And he was a good, sensitive and thoughtful parent and, despite his increasingly powerful and totally secret fetishes that developed as his sexual relationship with Anne gradually faded, both boys had a model upbringing, except that their mother was so often absent at conferences and meetings around the country.

  Anne was not the first woman he’d had sex with, but all his attempts with girls of his own age, including those with his equally inexperienced future wife, had been very unsatisfactory. Even at that stage he was fascinated by women’s clothes and examined shopping catalogues secretly, poring over the images of bras and corsets and imagining himself in the pretty underwear and dresses he found there. As he matured and began to understand the psychology of sex, he recognised that his aunt had shaped his sexual development. While his mother worked she had looked after him when he was very young. She was a strong, strict woman and if he offended her - and he seemed to offend her regularly -she would take him by the scruff, sit him down in her favourite chair and trap him between her thighs with his head buried in her crotch, so however much he struggled he was unable to move. Leaning forward she could push down the elasticised waistband of his shorts and smack him. These beatings stopped when he went to school, but he knew spankings and the strong musky scent from between her legs had affected him deeply.

  After several early adolescent experiences with girls much younger than himself, which were exploratory rather than exciting or satisfying, he had eventually been seduced by an older married woman. Joan was a strong character and not particularly attractive, but she was used to getting her own way. It was the second physical step towards what he was to become later in life and had brought him to the point of dialling the 07 number. It directed his future relationships in a way which at the time would have been quite impossible to predict.

  He was nineteen and he had very recently met Anne, but he had been asked to decorate the room of a neighbour during one of his summer college vacations; one of the ways in which he earned some spending money in those days. It was an experience that burned itself into his mind and it carved an indelible desire deep in his psyche which demanded that he would eventually do anything, absolutely anything, to please and satisfy a woman who commanded his obedience and servility.

  She brought him some tea one afternoon while her husband was at a meeting. As all the chairs had been taken from the room, he sat on the dustsheet-covered dining table. She was wearing a light skirt and a silk top that fell forward as she handed him the mug. He could see the white bra cupping her breasts and the shape of her legs up to her crotch as a breeze came through the door and pressed the light fabric against her body. They talked about how he was getting on, about lining paper and paint-brushes and, as she moved forward to collect the empty mug she pressed her sex mound against his knee. He thought at first it was accidental, but she did not move away, and after taking the mug she leaned closer to place it on the table beside him. As her top fell forward he had a breathtaking view of her breasts hanging almost free into the cups of her bra, and he felt his cock stiffen. He blushed as he realised that his erection must be clearly evident. She smiled and lifted her right hand to his face and gently brushed his reddening cheek. The other hand moved across his jeans and rested lightly on his swollen cock.

  ‘My, my, you are a mature young man,’ she murmured appreciatively, and caressed the fabric with the palm of her hand.

  She was a small, plain woman, heavily built but not fat. He had often fantasized about his mother’s friends. Some were slim, pretty, curvaceous and clearly sexy, but Joan had not featured in those erotic dreams as he had brought himself off, spurted and sucked the spunk from his hand in case he stained the sheets. He had
always imagined that it would be difficult to be hard for a woman he was not immediately attracted to, but his cock was testing the rule. He began to shiver with suppressed excitement - this was the first time he had experienced a woman taking the lead, and it was gradually to become an obsession over the years even though it would a very long time before he understood and admitted those feelings to himself.

  She moved her hand over the bulge in his jeans and looked into his eyes. He could feel her as much as hear her whisper, ‘Let yourself go - you know you want to.’

  He slid forward, then back to ease the tightness in his trousers. She stroked his cheek and told him that he was a very pretty and attractive boy. She felt him, taking delight in the tremors that were racking his body, and lifted her hand to his cheek. The skin of her palm was surprisingly soft as she stroked the line of his jaw, but then she began to squeeze the dome of his cock and balls in a way that made his back arch and his muscles tense. She pulled him towards her and he slid off the table, and she let go of his cock as she put her hand on his head and pressed him to his knees on the floor.

  Holding her hands behind his head she drew his face forward until he was pressed against her crotch. He could smell the sex of her through the fabric of her skirt and, as she took his wrists and placed his hands on her bottom saying, ‘Hold me there,’ he realised she was not wearing any knickers. It struck him like a blow that this had all been planned. Pressing her sex into him, his head trapped between her crotch and the edge of the table, she began to pull her skirt up so the material covered his head, and he found his mouth was pressed directly against the thick hair that covered the mound between her legs.