A Slave’s Tale Concludes:

Jan 9, 2014

A slave writes:

Day two dawned with a burst of wet weather which left little for my two beautiful Mistress to do except have the laziest of days and torment me to provide a little entertainment for themselves. After I had cooked them each breakfast, made them coffee, cleaned their rooms and tidied the mansion completely, I was briefly allowed to lick Miss Sherry clean after her morning visit to the bathroom. Both Mistresses had been kind enough to start filling my own morning bath with their glorious house champagne and I was left to soak for a while in the fast-cooling liquid, partly submerged in their morning piss collection, before being permitted to shower myself clean and rejoin them downstairs. Miss Miranda, who was understandably a little tired after torturing me so thoroughly the night before, allowed me to give her a relaxing foot massage while she lay on the sofa watching an old film on the television and just relaxing after her hard-working Christmas. A short while later Miss Sherry decided that I was not suffering enough and demanded that I insert a large electric but plug as deep as possible in my rear, attach an electric box, turn it on and accompany her upstairs to one of the many double bedrooms. She led me into the room, dubbed ‘the equipment room’ where I had laid out all of our vast travelling collection of bondage and torture toys the night before. ‘First things first,’ said Miss Sherry. ‘Let’s turn the electrics up a few more notches so that I know you are suffering.’ As the current bit more painfully into my arsehole, I tried not to yelp too much and not to wriggle at all. I was desperate not to irritate Miss Sherry in any way because I know that her cruelty grows by the day and she is now a fully-fledged Mistress capable of enjoying suffering on a scale which might leave me whimpering and broken on the floor.

I had no idea of what Ms Sherry might have decided to do to me and was massively relieved when she announced that she had a little treat in store for me. ‘I need my pussy shaving very thoroughly, I haven’t had time to look after it for a couple of days and you are going to do it for me.’ Slipping out of her clothes, the delightful Miss Sherry lay back on the double bed with her legs slightly bent and spread wide open. I fumbled a little as I got the razor and shaving gel ready and slipped a towel under her bottom to protect the bed cover from the soap. ‘Too slow…’ said Mistress. ‘Let’s put the electrics up a little more and you can kneel at the end of the bed between my legs and start working VERY carefully.’

The combination of having to kneel down (which increases the electrical contact in my rear) and the increased power setting on which Miss Sherry now insisted, was enough to make me gasp with each jolt of current. But that was more than compensated for by the sight that met my eyes as I knelt between her thighs. Ms Sherry’s beautiful pussy, so neat and pretty, was laid before me and ready to be covered in shaving foam. My first trembling attempts seemed to be OK but Sherry was soon having to show me the length and firmness and direction of the strokes she needed. I almost lost it when she showed me exactly how to hold her pussy lips apart to remove those last awkward strands of pubic hair but she simply pumped the electrics up once more to keep me under her control. The subsequent session to massage the rest of her naked body and provide her with the oral sex she needs for a relaxing orgasm went by in a blue of happiness, despite the continuing electrical torture – but then a Gentleman never tells and so I will draw a veil over the exact details of what I was required to do to service her needs (for as long as she required me so to do!)

Back downstairs, with my tongue sore and my jaw aching, it was time to make Sherry and Miss Miranda’s lunch and then both women decided it would be fun to insert a number of their most intimate items into my rear. I was warned in no uncertain terms that there would be dire punishment should anything be removed until they gave their permission. It was around then that Sherry decided she wanted a pet to play with and that Arnie should become her pet doggie for the day. She soon found a suitable tight collar and rope leash with which turn me into their little doggy pet for the afternoon. Sherry jumped up and found a suitable collar and leash and both Mistresses found it hilarious to see me struggling to crawl around the living room, barking on command. Miss Miranda made it clear that any human sound emitted from my lips would bring instant retribution and so I was reduced to trying to express feelings, emotions and my overwhelming desire for a drink of water through a range of different sounding barks, pleading eyes, lolling out my tongue and licking my lips. I am not sure whether or not the women understood the message I was trying to convey about my thirst – Mistress Miranda, I suspect, may have realised my need because she instructed me to start licking the dry, furry carpet; an experience I would never recommend to any slave – especially one already desperate for a cooling drink of water.

Any dog does of course need to be taken ‘walkies’ but the weather outside was horrendous with a cold steady downpour in which no self-respecting canine would ever want go. Undaunted, Sherry dragged me to the back door of the mansion and sent me off to run naked around the patio tables in the rain for a little exercise, while she stayed in the dry and warmth to watch. My first doggie running impression failed to impress her and I was sent out to repeat the exercise. Sherry then encouraged me to do doggie things such as rooting underneath all of the wet bushes seeking out scent traces of any other dogs that might have been this way. In the end I was instructed to pick up a handful of wet twigs in my mouth and take them back into the house to show Miss Miranda. Tied up with my lead to the fireplace, I could only sit and wait as the women instructed me to chew on my sticks and await their next torments. (Note to self: choose tastier stick next time!)

The night to come might not have been so bad if Sherry has not discovered a set of ‘pet rules’ posted in the kitchen of the mansion. ‘No pets on the furniture,’ it instructed. ‘No pets upstairs or in the bedrooms…’ It sealed my fate as they sought out a tiny, dusty, spider-infested storage cupboard under the stairs as my bedroom for the night. I was granted the kindness of a small hand-towel as a blanket, a thin T-shirt to partly cover my nakedness and a couple of square feet of packing material as a somewhat inadequate mattress! A single small bottle of drink and a much-read teenage magazine of celebrity exploits was my only other comfort. What was promising to be a long and boring, uncomfortable, cold night got even worse when Miss Miranda decided to prevent any attempt at masturbation by tightly taping a heavy brass candlestick into the palm of my right hand. Roll after roll of clingfilm held the item in place, weighing my hand down and matching the single black shoe, filled with cherries and biscuit crumbs, which the giggling women decided to tape to one foot. ‘You may think you can take these off once we’ve gone to bed,’ warmed Miss Miranda. ‘If that happens then tomorrow we put needles through your lips!!’ With that terrifying warning both girls forced me under the stairs, shut the door and climbed the stairs to bed… I could hear them still laughing at my plight as I lay under the stairs, stuggling to get comfortable and thinking of them both slipping into their comfortable double beds. ‘You stay in your hole until we come to release you in the morning,’ I was told. ‘We’re both tired so it won’t be until 10 or so in the morning at the earliest.’

It would bore you, dear readers, to try and explain just how terrible and long a cold night can be with no prospect of sleep, the close confinement of the cupboard and no idea of when one’s ordeal might come to an end. After the first few hours the tape on my hand and foot started to feel tighter and tighter but I dared not try to release it. The night went on… and on… and on… and on…. It got colder and colder approaching dawn. Suffice it to say that I have never been so grateful to see anyone as I was when Miss Miranda wrenched open the cupboard door many hours later. Daylight streamed in and the torment of my final day was about to begin. An unforgettable experience, both heaven – and Hell – but which I now miss so much and am desperate to repeat anytime my Mistress decides that I require such long-term torment again.

Thank you dearest Mistress and dearest Miss Sherry. I adore you both.

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