Ch 5 The Slave Girl Next Door

[Mr. Smith]

“I am learning every day to allow the space between where I am and where I want to be to inspire me and not terrify me.”

-Tracee Ellis Ross

Camelia and I were actually doing it! Accompanied by Katja, we walked into the slave yoga class at Ananke Academy wearing nothing but slave collars and leather wrist and ankle cuffs. Well, almost nothing as we wore see through sports bras to keep our girls in place like everyone else in the room.

Earlier this morning I woke up a bundle of nerves in anticipation of my first day at the Ananke Academy becoming more excited the closer it got until I felt like I was on pins and needles when Katja finally picked me up. After getting Camelia we arrived around 8:30 a.m. and Katja signed us in to include a strict non-disclosure agreement keeping what we saw here confidential to protect everyone’s privacy, including our own. After filling out the paperwork we quickly changed in the locker room as I tried to ignore all the naked collared bodies surrounding me. By that time both of us had already soaked through our panties.

I tried to sneak off to rub one out in the bathroom only to find there were no stalls. Katja smirked with a knowing look upon seeing the frustration evident on my face when I returned and then she escorted us to our class consisting of a mixture of free women and actual slaves. Somehow it felt like I was being led to my own execution as a sudden sense of dread overwhelmed me accompanied by an equally strong throbbing in my loins. Clearly, I was conflicted about being here.

The instructor, Mistress Irene, looked like she was about to start the class when we quietly entered through the door in the back of the room. I felt like a lamb being led to slaughter as she looked us over, openly appraising her new students like pieces of fresh slave meat. Mistress Irene smirked perceptively when her eyes explored my flushed body, erect nipples and finally resting on my glistening pussy as my body betrayed me once again.

Katja led us to three vacant slave mats right near the door whispering, "Oh, Ashley and Suzy are right up-front training for their slave grading hoping to get prime grades at the Big D this summer. The sororities place way too much emphasis on slave grades these days, but they have their hearts set on joining one of the good ones."

"They're here?" I gasped, spotting them up front naked wearing slave collars like everyone else in the room. Ashley spied us just then, her pretty face breaking into a bright smile as she waved to me. I prayed that she wouldn't yell a greeting across the room calling me Professor Walker and to my relief she didn't

"The two of them will be apologizing for taking advantage of you guys," giggled Katja. "I have to admit, from their description of events I wish I had walked in on the two of you when they did."

"I'm sure we put on quite a performance," muttered Camelia, still trying to get into the swing of things here as we occupied the three vacant slave mats.

"Before or after they caught you?" chuckled Katja, the two of us blushed a deeper color of red as my pussy throbbed a little bit more if that was even possible at the recent memories of that day.

Before either of us could respond, Mistress Irene brought the class to order and quickly started putting us through our paces while calling out a reminder, "There are some new faces here. I expect each of you sluts to cum twice during this class. Those who do not achieve the minimum or don’t meet my standards will get a spanking right after class."

Holy shit, her comment spurred me on as I experienced my first public orgasm during slave yoga just a few minutes later, surprising myself with how quickly I came in front of a group of strangers. The hard part was I couldn't stop what I was doing to enjoy it, instead I had to power through keeping up with the class awkwardly moving into the next position while in the midst of my frenzy. Damn, being a pleasure slut was hard work requiring more focus and concentration than I anticipated. Who knew!

Both Camelia and I were cheerleaders in high school who maintained rather vigorous workout programs that kept us in tip top shape. Cam had CrossFit training while I ran, and we both took an advanced yoga class, often getting together on our own to practice. During this personal training time, we excelled at head and handstand moves that required strength, coordination and flexibility that helped us with our golf games and overall fitness. Put succinctly, we had no problem keeping up although we were still learning the poses and mantras while suffering through a few suddenly pesky orgasms that I found so very distracting, AND yet delightful, if I was being honest with myself.

This class was utterly surreal. The room quickly heated up, filling with the taint of aroused women and their passionate squeals as they climaxed, all while Mistress Irene wandered the room making spot corrections. It felt like I was in some sort of erotic daze where I constantly fantasized about sexually serving Chris as his skanky pleasure slut while always on the verge of exploding into yet another orgasm that did little to sate my need for my husband’s meaty cock.

Once I got into the swing of things, I started looking around the room recognizing people that I knew pushing me into a near panic. "Oh my god! Is that Martha Kent, naked wearing a collar in the corner climaxing? It is, what is SHE doing here! I saw her in the grocery store just last week. How is she wearing a collar! She’s the president of the PTA at Colten’s school. I hope she doesn’t recognize me. Oh no, she sees me. What do I do, she's waving at me? How embarrassing; did she see me climax? I think she did, she just winked at me with a knowing look. How do I explain being here?"

Then I spied the 'Busty Twins', Jasmine Hopkins and Penelope "Penny" Thompson as Camelia nicknamed them, side by side exploding in rather impressive orgasms triggering another in me, taking me with them. Both were short, about 5'1" with firm hourglass figures and disproportionately large breasts that were surprisingly firm, hence the Busty Twins nickname which was where their similarities ended. Jasmine was a sultry Latina that oozed a naughty sexuality in everything she did while Penny was a pale freckled redhead with a bubbly exuberant persona while exhibiting a naive innocence concerning anything sexual. I knew them well as their husbands were also members of the club, so Cam and I regularly socialized with them. They were our peers with children the same age as ours that played together on a regular basis.

When the class started winding down the students for the next class started arriving and waiting along the back wall when Mistress Irene stopped us to allow Ashley and Suzy to practice their Sheldon's. Some slave yoga move made famous by Dr. Nikki Sheldon as everyone watched on giving encouragement. Ashley went first doing a handstand moving her legs down into the splits exposing her glistening pink pussy for all to see. She lost the pose when she hesitated to try to get her legs back up causing her to lose her balance and tumble to the ground in frustration. Suzy followed, looking shaky as she finished the move.

To my experienced eye they lacked the confidence to pull off the move but with the proper coaching should have it down in no time which spurred me to give them an impromptu lesson. Did I mention I have a competitive streak!

"Let me show you how it's done girls," I interjected as I quickly moved into a perfect handstand holding the pose with my toes pointing to the ceiling as all my yoga training paid off.

I lowered my legs until they were perfectly perpendicular with the floor briefly holding that position as I felt my labia peeling open, putting my aroused state front and center for all to see before returning to an upright handstand with my toes once again pointing to the ceiling. Then I moved my legs into a couple of other yoga handstand poses that became quite erotic when performed naked before smoothly returning to my feet; standing there blushing profusely as my body tingled with competing feelings of excitement and shame.

Super competitive Camelia, ever the showoff, went next saying, "Let me show you a few tricks," as she repeated my routine, one upping me with a one-handed handstand at the end before effortlessly returning to her feet. Outshining me with a move that I lacked the strength to hold for long and she knew it. Then again, our competitiveness made us great workout partners, always pushing each other to excel.

Ashley and Suzy gawked at us; a newfound respect evident in their eyes. Ashley asked, "Dr. Walker, can you please teach me how to do that?"

Growling with a steely glint in her eyes Cam replied, "The two of you can train with us so long as you understand that we OWN your asses during the training.”

Cam’s tone made it clear to all what she meant by own. Those two would experience some quality time on the other end of the riding crop so to speak as we whipped them into shape.

Grinning, I added, “We regularly meet three times a week at one of our houses for an hour. You’re welcome to join us.”

"You can coordinate later, Avvy and Cam have a meeting with Mistress Helena to outline their classes and I don't want them to be late," interjected Katja, as she tried to herd us out of the room.

I glanced over at the women waiting for the next class, spying more people that I knew including two graduate students and a professor from SMU. Much to my surprise Gladys Kravits was standing there grinning smugly. She was that damn dog Max’s owner from down the street. She's the last person I would expect to see here for a naked slave yoga exercise class. Gladys was surprisingly fit, oozing sex appeal in a way that I didn't think she had in her as she always seemed so uptight with a pole up her ass whenever I encountered her in the neighborhood. Today was full of surprises.

Now Martha is walking towards me and Cam, like she wants to talk to us. So is Gladys and the Busty Twins. What should I do? How do I explain why I’m here? Suddenly it dawned on me that I had nothing to explain since they were also here. I started to relax when I realized they were likely here for many of the same reasons as I. And boy was I right.

Gladys got to me first, pulling me into a big hug, "Welcome, it's about time someone got you in here. I have to say, that was quite a show. Let me know if I can help at all with those two. It could be fun owning their asses for a few hours. Gotta run; class is starting."

Katja herded us towards the door while saying, "Mistress Helena is running late, we have thirty minutes to kill in the Juice Room where everyone here can give you more advice than you ever needed."

Next thing I know I’m toweling off sipping a healthy peach mango smoothie in a room full of naked women wearing slave collars getting schooled on what classes to sign up for. Martha and her friend Stacy described how they resurrected their sex lives with their husbands through the comprehensive training program at Ananke, complete with the Ananke brands to prove it, and their subsequent FINO slave contracts. They wouldn’t stop raving about the importance of the Anal Arts class.

I was still trying to get over the PTA president at my son's school being an anal slut FINO slave when Stacy told us her story. How she foolishly purchased a young Prime slave girl trained for a month as a pleasure slut at the prestigious Pearson’s Pussy Ranch to do the things she wouldn’t consider and almost lost her husband in the process. She immersed herself in the Ananke training regimen and eventually out slutted the slave girl she bought for her husband, becoming his FINO slave and the head slave in the household in the process.

“I love being his head slave,” purred Stacy while sporting a mischievous grin.

"You really need to attend the Overcoming the Fear of Anal seminar on Thursday. I'm one of the guest speakers who will be telling their story. Now I get my ass plowed a couple times a week and just love it," enthused Martha.

With a knowing look on her face, Stacy added, "Sister, trust me. A good anal orgasm is so much more intense than a vaginal one. It lasts longer and is more of a whole-body experience. You just overcome your fear, relax, and enjoy it. The key is getting him to treat you like a slave and not hold back. You'll love it."

"Sure, easier said than done," I thought, as I smiled at her while not committing to take the Anal Arts class. It was blowing my mind that there were so many anal sex enthusiasts out there. All these women living clandestine secret lives as FINO slaves performing all sorts of taboo sex acts and loving it. Then Penny piled on.

"It's so much naughty fun. I just love how the class makes me feel. Jasmine and I signed up the first week we were here," gushed Penny.

Rolling her eyes Jasmine interrupted Penny, "She dragged me into that class on our first day here. I didn't want to at the time but boy am I glad that I did. I just did the dirty deed with my husband last week and really enjoyed it. So much that we did it twice that night. I mean, he didn’t last long the first time."

"Last month Brad took my anal cherry. It was his birthday, and I gave him the best birthday present ever," sang Penny. I swear she was bouncing up and down, overflowing with enthusiasm in her excitement.

I got a big surprise looking over to the far corner of the room where I saw two women sitting in chairs getting orally serviced by slave girls or were they free women that were students here eating slave pussy? I couldn’t tell. Two others were engaged in an intense sixty-nine on the floor. "What the ...," I started to say, before Katja cut me off when she noticed where I was looking and the expression on my face.

"They're all students. Sometimes the classes get a little too intense and you need some relief. Trust me, someday that will be you," smirked Katja, while giving me a knowing look based on what could only be personal experience. “We’ve all been there.”

Penny giggled, "We all take care of each other here. There's a reason we call it the Juice Room.”

“There is a hierarchy here based on seniority and somehow the real slaves ended up at the top,” warned Stacy, as two attractive women led Ashley and Suzy over to the corner where they sat down spreading their legs for the two girls now kneeling before them. Ashley looked over seeing me and blushed before enthusiastically diving in. That little slut.

Katja sighed, “For some reason Ashley and Suzy have been very popular since joining Ananke. She thinks it’s great practice for when she rushes a sorority.”

“Some things haven’t changed,” I snickered, eliciting a humph from Katja when I suddenly heard a loud squeal from across the room followed by a voice, I recognized calling my name.

Looking over my shoulder I saw Lindsay rushing towards me with a big grin on her face. Next thing I know she’d enveloped me in a big hug as I’m crushed by her huge DD boobies until she released me.

Grinning, Lindsay exclaimed, “What are you doing here? This is the last place I ever expected to see you.” Catching herself when she saw my grimace, she smiled kindly while sounding a little sad, “That didn’t come out right. You’re here for the same reason all of us are, to keep our men by out slutting the pleasure sluts.”

I introduced Lindsay to Camellia and told her that Katja was my neighbor and tour guide this morning. Lindsay seemed to know Katja who explained that she and Natasha had convinced me and Camellia to sign up for six months of training at Ananke and that we had a consultation scheduled with Mistress Helena in a few minutes. Thankfully she didn’t include all the dirty details of our conversion.

Looking at Martha, Stacy and the Busty Twins with a knowing look, Lindsay asked, “Let me guess, everyone here is trying to convince you to take the Anal Arts class since all the men ever want is anal sex. What you should do instead is take Vaginal Arts and learn to master pompoir.”

“It’s a lot of work,” exclaimed Jasmine, seemingly horrified at the suggestion.

“Too much work, and I think it’s overrated,” chimed in Penny. “Anal sex is so much easier.”

Sounding more like a professor giving a lecture than the pleasure slut she appeared to be, Lindsay explained, “Pompoir, also known as the Shanghai Kiss, caused King Edward VIII to abdicate the throne of England in 1936, giving up his country, inheritance, and all family ties for an American divorcee who as legend has it learned this technique from the brothels of Shanghai. Wallis Simpson was reputed to have the ability to make a matchstick feel like a Havana cigar. Some claimed that that woman’s vaginal muscles were so toned that it felt as if she was giving a vigorous hand job to her king with her vagina.”

“That’s a fairytale,” added Stacy giggling, “although I found the classes extremely invigorating and helpful keeping my husband in line.”

Lindsay continued her lecture, “Look, if you really want to wow your husbands, pompoir is the way to do it. Glancing towards the Busty Twins Lindsay rolled her eyes, “I mean, anyone can learn to bend over and get shafted in the ass or deepthroat a cock. It takes real devotion and commitment to become proficient at pompoir.”

“Lindsay’s right, pompoir skills are what sets us apart from common pleasure sluts,” added Katja. “Jasmine and Penny are also correct; it is a lot of hard work. It took me over two years to become proficient because I didn’t consistently put in the required time and effort.”

The currently naked and collared professor of Slave Studies explained, “Most pleasure sluts are never trained in it because it is not cost effective for their owners who are trying to turn a quick profit since it takes ten to sixteen months of dedicated training to master it. Only the yearlong consort schools like Broadstone really teach it in their curriculum. Venus and Pearson’s start the training for their concubines who get four to six months of in-house training before enrolling at Ananke for continuation training to complete the curriculum.

Ananke’s pompoir training makes it stand out from the other slave training schools since most of their customers are FINO wives in it for the long haul who are trying to outperform the younger slave girls their husbands have the option of using. I’ve devoted myself to mastering it since I arrived at SMU last year because I want to wow my husband on our honeymoon and keep him wrapped around my little finger while wearing his collar.”

Lindsay was a very convincing advocate for pompoir as the pros and cons of which classes we should sign up for were debated amongst the women present. After catching up with the girls, setting a golf date with the Busty Twins and a lunch date with Lindsay, it was time to meet Mistress Helena for our counseling session. Camelia and I had already agreed that we would take the same classes as study buddies. After careful consideration Cam and I enrolled in Oral and Vaginal Arts on top of our fitness slave yoga while chickening out when it came to Anal Arts and The Art of Discipline. Those would have to wait although we did attend Overcoming the Fear of Anal seminar which was eye opening to say the least.

The Vaginal Arts class was particularly intriguing for the obvious reasons coupled with the fact that both of us had been doing regular Kegel exercises since giving birth the first time giving us a leg up. The goal of the class was to not only strengthen our Kegel muscles but learn the necessary Pompoir skills developing a vaginal velvet glove that massages the man's shaft enhancing both his pleasure and ours.

There is even a national certification process rating slaves from one to a high of five stars that is tracked for each slave in the National Slave Registry. Both Katja and Lindsay were four-star rated, and Lindsay wanted to achieve five stars in time for her honeymoon. A four-star rating meant the slave could perform the vaunted Singapore Kiss where the woman sits impaled on the man’s shaft and literally sucks the cum out of him by massaging his cock with her vaginal muscles.

Now that would blow Chris’s mind. Hopefully, one day I will master this skill where I can tie him down on his back while sitting impaled on his cock massaging him to a climax using only my vaginal muscles as I stare lovingly down into his eyes. My kitty throbbed expectantly at the prospect. My study buddy and I took to this class like fish to water, achieving three-star status in a couple of months by adding a thirty-minute practice session to every home yoga training session. Who am I kidding, that thirty minutes turned into an hour on most occasions as we managed to climax profusely while learning our craft.

In the Oral Arts class, I discovered I am a natural cocksucker according to the instructor. Yeah, who knew. We trained using life-like penises on mannequins that reacted just like the real thing, even ejaculating a realistic semen substitute right down to the taste and consistency. The mannequins even had arms with articulated hands that made it so much more realistic, especially when the program called for having your head held in place for a good old fashioned face fucking which I learned to relish. There is just something so erotic about letting go and enjoying it, relishing in the submission when Chris uses my mouth in this way now.

The instructors used this Trident device resembling a chastity belt with adjustable anal and vaginal prongs and a clitoral pad that magically adapts to fit your body and then was synchronized to the mannequin using a computer database. The program even edged the trainee, pushing them to the verge of a climax but not letting you cum until you met the standard at which time the penis unloads in your mouth with realistic semen substitute as you were pushed into a frenzy.

In no time at all I relished getting a mouthful of tasty semen and the wonderful climax that came with it. Camellia and I enthusiastically signed up for extra time on the mannequins chasing our next orgasm just like a mindless pleasure slut would. Yes, our competitive streak now extended to sucking cock.

After a month training at Ananke, I discovered the moment that I put on my collar at home I was instantly transformed from a respected physics professor, sophisticated wife, and the mother of three darling children into a horny little pleasure slut with only one thing on her mind. Loving every moment of my slut time as Camellia, and I affectionately called it.

About five weeks into our training Mistress Helena gave us our first homework assignment which was to seduce our husbands on date night by dressing in our slave collars and cuffs and then performing our slave yoga routines. Let's just say I got an "A" on that assignment.

Chris enthusiastically embraced my training at Ananke Academy after my first slave yoga demonstration when I squirted during my orgasm while chanting, "Oh master, look at me cum imagining your big hard shaft pounding this slave's overheated pussy." Next thing I knew he bent me like a pretzel on my back with my legs on his shoulders as he pounded two more climaxes out of me right there on the bedroom floor. After two more rounds of toe-curling sex that evening our weekly date night was back with a fury. I even started finding my collar and cuffs left lying on the bed at night and this girl can take a hint leading to even more toe-curling bouts of sex with my husband between our official date nights. Life was great!

It turned out that Chris was really into bondage putting my wrist and ankle cuffs to good use. I often found myself being spanked to orgasm with my hands cuffed behind my back. I never knew there were so many possible positions with my wrists attached to my ankles. My favorite had me on my knees face down and ass up leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed further igniting my slave heat. I truly felt like a helpless slave girl surrendering to her master in that position. The best part was Chris was a considerate master always ensuring that I climaxed at least once, if not more, before he had his own orgasm. My sex life had never been better, and Camelia had similar results. We were ecstatic with the way things were progressing.

Then there was the Ashley and Suzy project where we had them humming through their handstand routines after five weeks of hard work. I never saw two more focused young women as these girls, although I felt a little conflicted knowing that success for them was getting a brand burned into their cute little tushies. Cam and I helped develop distinct routines for each girl that best used their unique attributes and abilities allowing each of them to excel in their block routines.

Those two returned triumphant with the Big D badge burned into their buttocks jumping up and down squealing, "Look at us, we're Sandy Foot Girls! We're Sandy Foot Girls!"

I still didn't understand how those girls volunteered to get third degree burns on their asses but Jim and Katja were beaming with pride over this development. After this I never wanted my little angel to grow up, instead happily dealing with crises concerning her Barbie and My Little Pony dolls.

With six weeks of rigorous Oral Arts training under my belt I discovered that I had been conditioned; becoming aroused the second Chris’s penis crossed my lips, and even orgasming without direct stimulation when he filled my mouth with his semen. I’m not sure who was more surprised the first time that happened. Chris just loved it every time I climaxed this way when, as he crudely put it, "He busted a nut in my mouth." Men!

The biggest problem was that at times I became aroused just thinking about sucking on a cock at the most inopportune times. Like when I was giving a lecture at SMU during the summer session and one of the hunky football players sat in the front row with his big, delicious snake outlined in his shorts. Somehow, I maintained my composure even though I felt flushed, my nipples were hard little diamonds poking through my blouse and my pussy became a leaking sieve as I imagined wrapping my lips around that monster.

On top of everything our SMU working group regularly met all summer as we developed a proposal for students to self-indenture as FINO slaves using the Collared Coeds business model as a rough outline. It turned out this was the same concept that Dean Chamberlain came up with, but she withheld her opinion wanting to see if we came to the same result. As part of my research Merle and Lindsay took me on tours of slave markets, slave training facilities and ponygirl stables.

My pussy overflowed observing those helpless ponygirls the first time I saw them at the Parker Center as I imagined what it must feel like being restrained like that, unable to speak. Lindsay sensed my plight, pulling me in close and whispering in my ear about how I had a calling to be a helpless ponygirl. Soon I had more masturbation material after watching slave girl after slave girl climaxing while performing a wide variety of sex acts.

Merle even designed a SMU mustang branding head to designate the high quality of SMU FINO coeds that he claimed would only increase their value at sale. Dean Chamberlain had a concerned look on her face when he described it, but the economic analysis was spot on according to our resident expert Lindsay.

Oh, did I mention that Lindsay regularly worked out at Ananke, so I saw even more of her away from campus. In no time at all she was great friends with Camellia and me. Her fiancé was also a scratch golfer hitting it off instantly with Chris and Tom joining them at the club for some rounds of golf. We even introduced Lindsay to golf, helping her with club selection and setting her up with some lessons. Lindsay even invited us to her upcoming wedding in August which was sure to be a blast.

Mistress Helena's homework assignments became more intense over time. More and more these assignments had us ceding control to our husbands to include obtaining their approval to climax. That's one thing Mistress Helena pounded into our heads; orgasms are gifts from your master when you are his slave and to always thank him for his consideration. Her favorite mantra, “Orgasms are a privilege, not a right for a pleasure slut,” was drilled into our heads.

After a month at Ananke, Camellia and I discovered a file with all sorts of public play scenarios for Ananke clients with FINO contracts. Each scene contained a disclaimer that free women caught impersonating a slave in public would be convicted, enslaved, and sold at auction.

The two of us became fascinated with the idea of playing slave girls in public for our husbands and throwing caution to the wind decided to further entice our men. Thinking with their small heads as men often do, they thought our willingness to venture out into public as their slave girls was a marvelous idea. None of us heeded the many warnings from our friends with FINOs who knew better.

*****

My first public slave play took place during a date night in mid-July when Chris took me to an exclusive rooftop restaurant with a view reserving a semi-private booth back in the corner where we could sit side by side. When I was required to wear a black velvet choker with my slinky red dress, no bra, and a pair of sexy panties I knew he was up to something, just not sure what.

Once we arrived, it became clear; this establishment catered to adults out with their naked slaves kneeling on slave mats next to their masters and mistresses. Yes, there were several naked hung hunks on display. I had never seen so many attractive slaves in a restaurant before even getting caught staring at one with a massive erection as we walked to our table. That thing was huge; I’d never seen one that big!

Chris casually ordered me to remove my panties and place them on the table while he was ordering dinner for us. I’m sure my blushing face matched the color of my little red dress when I presented my panties with a very visible wet spot in the crotch on the table right in front of Chris. Damn if he didn’t pick them up and take his time smelling them right in front of our grinning waitress!

During dinner Chris whispered in my ear, “If I finger you to a climax in front of the wait staff, you are required to strip and put on my collar between the restaurant and our car. You will give me a blow job out in the open before we can leave. I have your collar and leash in this bag.”

I had wondered what he had in that bag and why he brought it into the restaurant. All he would tell me was it was a surprise and boy was it ever. We had talked about me posing as his naked slave in public but now we were actually doing it! My slave heat went into overdrive just thinking about what was to cum as I felt him slide his hand under my dress and up my thigh to my overflowing honeypot where he started diddling me.

“You will cum when I let you. Understand?” my new Master ordered, right as he circled my engorged nubbin without touching it causing me to tremble with lust.

Squirming in place, I leaned into him moaning, “Yes Master,” into his ear followed by my wet tongue as I proceeded to lick and nibble his ear. Two can play this game after all.

Chris edged me all through our first course. I couldn’t even remember what we ate as the grinning waitress cleared away our dishes sensing a large tip on the horizon. My belly was a white-hot center of nerves, of liquid fire and pressure needing release like a volcano about to erupt. My poor pussy was absolutely drenched, and I swear I could hear little squishy sounds as he explored my folds. I’m sure I was soaking through the fabric of my dress and onto the chair and would have to do the walk of shame with a big pussy juice stain visible in the back of my dress but thinking about that humiliation only fueled my passion.

The waitress returned with our entrees and Chris took that moment to ring my Devil’s doorbell. I shuddered and rolled my hips, trying to open myself even the tiniest bit wider to give him better access to the places I needed him to touch with his fingers, but my tight dress wouldn’t allow for it.

My first orgasm was blinding-fast when I heard Chris command, “Cum for me.”

Instantaneously I exploded into an intense frenzy biting my lip to stifle my squeals of pleasure, right in front of the waitress as she placed my plate on the table before me. Chris massaged my clit, somehow burrowing his finger into my molten core as he rubbed my nubbin with the heel of his hand prolonging my bliss. Lost in the depths of my climax I heard distant voices; it felt like I was under water or awakening from a dream as I rode my frenzy to its conclusion. Regaining my senses, I realized the waitress was talking to me.

“Ma’am, would you like some ground pepper for your meal? Excuse me ma’am, would you like some pepper?” she politely asked while trying not to giggle at my quandary.

“No thank you,” I gasped, while Chris chuckled at my predicament and then she was gone leaving us to enjoy our dinner.

Chris made me lick his finger clean before allowing me to eat. While sucking on his finger I noticed a stunning red-haired beauty across the room facing me kneeling on her mat next to her master. She wore an elegant gold collar, a matching gold snake chain the wound around her neck then down between her breasts and then around her lower back along with matching delicate gold nipple shields, bellybutton, and vaginal piercings in a slit glistening with her arousal. What was truly interesting were the cute fox ears sticking out of her hair, her subtle makeup that made her face appear slightly foxlike, and a foxtail that matched the hair on her head jutting from a plug lodged up her ass.

It wasn't her beauty or unusual getup that caught my eye, it was her demeanor. The kneeling girl's face was downcast like one would expect from a well-trained sex slave, but she’s not embarrassed or ashamed with her predicament. Instead, she's ...serene, content. She’s comfortable, and the way her body just leans against her Master's leg speaks of trust and affection, not just sexual submission.

She looks up making eye contact with me. Her striking blue eyes held mine momentarily until she smiled kindly at me with a knowing look that implied that I’d end up just like her someday.

My face flushes, and I realize how much a part of me wanted that. To be happy and cared for, like that slave girl was. I saw love, and trust … companionship and acceptance of her situation that is hard to find in a slave in this world of ours. There was a simplicity in their relationship that I found myself craving in my own relationship with my husband as Chris pulled his finger from my mouth.

I’m pretty sure I drained my first glass of wine and then another trying to compose myself during our meal. I was only halfway through when once again I felt Chris’s hand working its way up my thigh. In frustration I grabbed my dress, pulling it up around my waist and strategically placed my napkin over my lap as I spread my legs giving Chris better access to my charms. Now my bare ass was on the leather seat, and I was sure to leave a big wet spot behind when we left. I won’t bore anyone with the details, but I put on a repeat performance when the waitress brought us our dessert.

Catching my eye that same slave girl waggled her eyebrows in a friendly manner after observing my orgasm. Then her handsome hunk of a Master said something, grabbing her gently by the hair and guiding her between his legs under the table leaving her happily wiggling posterior sticking out from underneath the tablecloth. Her foxtail curved up onto her back putting her vagigi on lewd display. That slut’s labia were puffy, swollen with lust as her petals peeled open giving us a view into the promised land.

Upon spying the Big D badge burned into her left buttock and the Broadstone logo on the right I felt a pang of jealousy suddenly wishing I could be Chris’s prime graded consort free to suck his cock in public. In no time at all her Master’s eyes got that glassy faraway look of a man about to fill his slut’s mouth with his seed. Oh, how I wished at this moment that I could slip under our table and orally worship my husband with my lips wrapped around his thick cock until he filled my mouth with the one dessert I truly craved.

Captivated, I watched their performance as Chris caught on, slipping his hand between my thighs quickly zeroing in on my sensitive nubbin. Together we watched the show with me in my hyper aroused state on the verge of yet another climax when the man suddenly reached under the tablecloth as though to hold the slave’s head down while subtly thrusting upwards while softly groaning in appreciation. The little slut’s body tensed in her own frenzy as I noticed her fingers were a blur as she pleasured herself, joining her Master’s orgasm as he filled her mouth with his seed.

I was transfixed watching the slave girl climax when Chris whispered in my ear, “Cum for me, slave,” and I quickly followed suit with him polishing my pearl as I convulsed in my own orgasm as I imagined it was me on my knees getting a mouthful of my Master’s seed.

When the slave girl emerged from under the table, she glanced my way catching me once again with Chris’s fingers in my mouth. With an adoring look up at her Master she opened her mouth displaying her gooey prize until given the command to “swallow”. When she was back in position kneeling next to her Master, he lovingly wiped off her flushed face with his napkin and straightened the fox ear that had flopped forward.

I caught her attention teasing her by making a big production of licking my lips before blowing her a kiss while I winked at her. The poor girl blushed delightfully in response with a demure smile plastered on her pretty face as her Master lovingly stroked her head, running his fingers through her hair before feeding her a morsel from his plate.

When it was time to leave Chris, ever the consummate gentleman, walked behind me concealing the big pussy juice stain on my ruined dress as best he could as we left the restaurant. Stepping into the glass elevator with a view of the city Chris suddenly unzipped my dress pulling the straps off my shoulders, “It’s time, strip,” he commanded as the doors closed behind us. I let the dress easily fall to my feet pooling around my ankles as I removed the choker from around my neck and stepped out of my dress keeping on my heels.

“Collar,” commanded Chris.

I moved into position on my knees looking out over the city while pulling my hair out of the way as my collar clicked shut sending a shudder of heat down my spine straight to my already overheated loins. Chris attached my leash to the collar and quickly scooped up my clothing jamming it into the now empty bag. Turning around he repositioned us to face the door. I looked up at my Master with expectant lust filled eyes only to see Chris frowning down at me with a look of disappointment on his face.

“Slave kneel,” he ordered.

Blushing I quickly moved into the correct position spreading my knees wide apart, hands up on my thighs, back arched, tits pushed out as I looked at the ground. I felt like a dog being taken out for a walk by their owner that had just been told to sit. A rivulet of fluid escaped my overflowing honeypot running down onto my thigh causing my imagination to run wild picturing what I looked like right now. My heartbeat picked up as the doors opened at the ground floor as I wondered who would be on the other side when they opened hoping it wasn’t anyone we knew.

The doors pulled apart and we were alone leaving me feeling a little let down. “Up,” ordered Chris, as he led me onto the street for the two-block walk to the parking structure where we had left our car. For the whole journey I followed Chris looking at the ground afraid to make eye contact with any of the people we encountered with one exception. The homeless men laying in the sidewalk who leered up at me. We came upon a man standing over his young slave girl as she gave a grinning homeless guy that looked like he hadn’t bathed in weeks a blow job.

I overheard the master lecturing his sobbing slave girl, “I never ever want to hear you complain that my cock and balls are smelly. Now work your tongue behind his hairy balls, give them a good tongue bath. Taste him, I’ll give you something putrid to complain about.”

Chris ignored them but I couldn’t peel my eyes away from the site of that poor slave girl. The cruelty of her Master in doing this to the crying girl. Last month I read an article in the Dallas Morning News about this phenomenon they called bum licks where owners punished their slaves by forcing them to sexually service the homeless. It was the idea of that cretin advice columnist Abner Armfield and took off like wildfire. According to the article it was a disgusting but effective method of discipline for underperforming slaves greatly improving their motivation to serve. I suspected that better training like I had received at Ananke would have solved this problem.

We arrived at the parking structure and found our car without further incident. Now the moment I had been waiting for was here. I licked my lips in anticipation, waiting for my master’s next command as my smoldering slave heat suddenly ignited at the mere thought of what came next.

“Mouth.”

Moving to my knees I quickly unzipped my master’s pants discovering that he had gone commando making it so much easier for me to free his already erect shaft. I took my time kissing his big mushroom head, licking his pee hole already dripping with his tasty pre-cum that was evidence of his arousal. Then I licked down his shaft to his testicles that I had freed from his pants as he groaned in approval. I was conflicted, part of me wanted to make him pop quickly and then hop in the car and leave. The naughty me wanted to draw this out, make it last edging him until he erupted in a toe-curling orgasm. Naughty me won out.

I had my nose buried in his pubes deepthroating his shaft when I heard high heels clicking on the pavement coming towards us. Out of my peripheral vision I spied a well-dressed older couple that I didn’t recognize.

As they approached the gentleman greeted Chris, "Good evening."

Chris had his fingers in my hair controlling my head as he maneuvered my mouth on his shaft and replied, "That it is."

"My, it looks like you have a well-trained pleasure slut," commented the gentleman, as the couple stopped to watch. “Bernetta dear, may we stay for the performance art?”

With a tone that resonated with her authority she snidely answered, “Harold, you may watch but not touch. It does look like she has good technique. You will owe me when we get home.”

“Yes dear,” he answered, sounding a tad submissive for such a distinguished looking gentleman.

Oh my god! They’re just standing there watching me give Chris a blow job! I mean they were standing only a few feet away with nothing better to do than watch me suck dick. Having an audience only encouraged Chris to put on a show pulling his staff from my hungry mouth as I whined my disapproval, acting like a child having a treat taken away from her. Grinning down at me Chris slapped me in the face with his saliva coated shaft making a mess of my mascara while I hungrily tried to capture his cock in my mouth.

“Worship my balls slut,” he instructed, pushing my face down to his nut sack leaving his rigid glistening staff standing up proudly on display laying on my forehead as I gave his balls a tongue bath as the couple’s commentary continued.

“Oh my, he’s got a nice big one,” the woman sighed longingly.

“Just look at her go. I bet she can effortlessly deep throat the whole thing,” added the man.

“That slave has a passion for cock sucking. No dignified free woman would do THAT,” icily added the woman, like I was something less than human sending a fresh wave of arousal coursing through my body.

“I wish our house slave was that enthusiastic with half the talent,” commented the man, sounding vaguely familiar.

“She is at eating pussy. That’s why I bought her,” quipped the woman in a condescending tone letting everyone know who wore the pants in their household.

Grabbing my Master’s buttocks with my hands this pretend slave girl happily deepthroated her Master’s cock down to the base as sparks of sweet pleasure surged through my core, down my thighs and into my breasts, leaving a tingling in my nipples. Usually, it is the man that face fucks his slave girl grabbing her by the hair to assert control. Overcome by my slave heat I started face-fucking myself like a pleasure slut possessed lost deep in my own slave haze, with my loins overheating as the pressure built up, like a geyser about to erupt.

“Oh my, look at her go,” gasped the man. “I swear, I’ve never seen a slave relish cock sucking like this one.”

“Pathetic mindless slut,” snickered his wife.

In no time at all my onslaught had Master’s hips twitching, a telltale sign that his own eruption was imminent. He grabbed my head with both hands pinning face to his groin as he unloaded an enormous quantity of jism down my throat triggering my own colossal orgasm. When he released my head, I pulled back gasping for breath as he continued to shoot strand after strand of cum into my mouth. Somehow, during my frenzy I managed to capture a large quantity of his slimy seed and display it on my outstretched tongue like a good pleasure slut while happily looking up into his adoring eyes.

Sounding very impressed, the man exclaimed, “Look at that slave heat! This pleasure slut had a slavegasm when her master ejaculated in her mouth. She wasn’t even touching herself.”

“This slave’s just another example of a natural born slut that succumbed to slave mind, trained to respond like Pavlov’s dog. She’s clearly found her lot in life as nature intended,” responded the irritated woman, clearly not impressed. “You realize she’ll never be good for anything else now.”

Proudly showing off his slave’s skill, Chris ordered, "Let them see what you have on your tongue, slut," and I complied, turning my head towards the couple.

The man looked familiar from somewhere, but I, in my current state, I just couldn’t place him. I stared up at him proudly displaying my slimy prize on my outstretched tongue when I noticed behind him was the striking red-haired pleasure slut from the restaurant being led on a leash behind her master.

"Swallow slave," Chris directed, and I happily complied, making a show of relishing his semen, rolling it on my tongue for a while before swallowing it all and opening my mouth demonstrating that I had complied with his order just like a well-trained pleasure slut.

The sultry red-haired minx looked at me with recognition in her blue eyes, making a show of licking her lips and blowing me a kiss accompanied by a loud giggle. The slave girl’s Master looked my way, chuckled, and led her with her foxtail wagging seductively behind her while strutting happily behind him towards their car.

“You missed some,” the older woman advised, pointing at my face.

Leaning over the man scooped up a splotch of jism from under my nose and a large strand of cum that was dangling from my chin with his finger and placed it in my mouth. How did I miss that I wondered as I grabbed his wrist with my left hand inhaling his entire digit, eagerly lapping up the tasty warm goo on his finger while looking up at him seductively wondering what it would be like if Chris ordered me to service a complete stranger?

I had to admit I was momentarily intrigued by the possibility. I couldn’t believe that I even considered this, but I had as my pussy was throbbing out of control, having become lost in my slave heat as I heard the woman chuckling in the background. All I could think about was my next orgasm hoping Master would fuck me soon.

I almost choked when I suddenly realized I was sucking on the finger of one Dr. Michael Chapel, the Provost and Vice President for Academic Affairs at the university that employed me. Thankfully, he didn’t appear to recognize the slave girl lapping her Master’s cum off his finger as one of his tenured physics professors.

"Sir, would you be so kind as to loan me your slave girl? I'm feeling a need for relief myself after observing this pleasure slut’s stellar performance," he politely inquired, gently pulling his finger from my mouth, and patting me gently on the head like one would a well-behaved dog as I observed a noticeable bulge in his pants.

"Harold, you twit, that's no slave. It's his wife role playing as a slave girl. She's got a wedding ring on her finger," the woman snickered. "What a little slut, a free woman holding her mouth open proudly displaying her husband’s semen for us to see just like a common slave girl."

Sounding disappointed Harold sighed, "Oh, I guess he won't be sharing then," as they started walking away.

The woman called back, "You two better be more careful. If you get caught, she'll be wearing a collar for real for the next year for impersonating a slave."

That got our attention and in no time at all we hopped into the car, and we were off laughing hysterically. I really needed to be more careful next time. Both Lindsay and Katja had consistently warned me of the dangers of public slave play, always reminding me to remove all my jewelry before donning my collar out in public. In all the excitement I forgot. That woman probably noticed my rings when I was holding her husband’s hand while sucking on his finger.

The two of us rushed home but didn’t make it far. Chris pulled into an empty school parking lot for another round of toe-curling sex with me bent over the hood as cars drove by. I wondered what it would be like if I were Chris’s slave girl to do with as he wished while he pounded my pussy. Just the thought pushed me into a frenzy.

Convulsing around Chris’s prodigious shaft I wailed, “Oh Master, fuck me deeper, yes, harder,” until he joined me, filling my womb to overflowing in his excitement.

Oh my god, public sex was invigorating, and so dangerously addictive. I hadn’t felt this alive in a long time!

******

The weeks flew by as the public study sessions became more and more intense. By late July and early August, we started taking couples trips to other cities with Camelia, Penny, Jasmine, and our husbands. Ashely and Suzy happily babysat our children, setting up weekend camps at one of our houses filling the days with fun activities while the adults were away engaged in our own adult activities.

It was such a kinky thrill being led into a restaurant on a leash attached to my collar as a naked slave for dinner. The four of us all kneeled on our slave mats while the men sat at the table feeding us finger food. Giving Chris a blow job in the restaurant with my head bobbing under his kilt in front of all the patrons and staff felt so naughty and yet so very romantic, even more so when I climaxed as Chris filled my mouth with his seed. He teased me that night, making me display his slimy load on my tongue while the waiter took his after-dinner drink order.

Lindsay’s wedding inadvertently added to the pressure on me to accept a FINO contract and become Chris’s personal slave girl. It was a lovely ceremony with all the traditional events at the reception from toasts, cake cutting and the throwing of the bridal bouquet and garter. After all the wedding formalities were over and Lindsay had changed into something more comfortable the newlyweds took to the dance floor once again. Next thing I knew Tony loudly ordered “slave kneel” followed by “collar” bringing the room to a standstill. He then proceeded to put his collar around the new Mrs. Lindsay Delano’s neck signifying for all to see that she was his FINO slave. Yes, Lindsay got her wedding gift as the new bride looked up adoringly at her new master with lust filled eyes that left little doubt what was to come on their wedding night.

Tony even put his new bride on a leash before leading her out to a waiting limousine as we all threw rice on the happy couple. Then it got interesting as the driver held the door open while Lindsay stood waiting for something. A grinning Tony unhooked the back of her dress, unzipped it down to her ass and pulled it off her shoulders so that it fell, pooling around her feet whereupon he slapped her hard in the ass to get her moving. The next thing I knew the Slave Slut Like Me author had stepped out of her heels and jumped into the limo stark naked followed by Tony. They drove away leaving her heels and dress on the ground to the raucous cheers of their guests to start their honeymoon.

Seeing this Chris and Tom put on a full court press trying to convince us to become their FINO slaves with several good reasons to do so. The most important of which was that it made our public slave games legal. I really like playing Chris’s slave girl and found the submissive sex addictive, but there was no way I was going to voluntarily strip down in a slave market, get slave graded and processed with a permanently tattooed Slave Identification Number on the inside of my lower lip like Lindsay had. I mean, married women in my position just didn’t do that. What would my mother think when she found out? I’m sure my parents would disown me as a disgrace to our good family name.

Then mid-August Ashley went off to college curtailing our adventures to those times when our parents would watch the kids for a couple’s night out. This worked out fine for me as classes at SMU started in late August and I needed the time to review my lesson plans and prepare for the start of the academic year. It also led to more of our special committee meetings after the summer break.

Lindsay insisted that we have a re-entry program to help any student after manumission in case the enslavement didn’t go well. She was an expert in the field having branded herself by providing consultation to slave markets on increasing profitability with the humane treatment of the slaves. Partnering with nonprofits Lindsay developed re-entry programs for newly released slaves stressing the importance of reintegration back into the community through employment. These programs required funding and the slave markets were reluctant to invest their hard-earned profits into this endeavor, so Lindsay came up with an acceptable alternative.

Lindsay’s program raised funds at the checkout stand based on models used at retail stores and supermarkets for popular charities. The credit card reader at Petco asks every customer if they want to donate to the local SPCA before they can make payment for their merchandise. Well trained employees guilt the customer by asking them if they want to donate increasing the giving rate by 150%. It doesn’t cost the business anything while providing a public service.

Lindsay’s first customer was the Longhorn slave market that used the donations to fund their own re-entry program. She pitched her idea to the Southwestern Human Livestock Association which acts as a trade association composed of large and small slave markets and other businesses dedicated to the betterment of the industry located primarily in Texas and Oklahoma. The association saw the PR value getting most of their members on board. HCI quickly learned that including this funding mechanism into their business plan helped with the permitting process in states like California, Hawaii, and Washington with vocal abolitionist voices amongst their citizens.

Dean Chamberlain loved the re-entry idea as a means of protecting our students while also pushing back on those who would oppose our proposal. Then the issue of training came up. How do we prepare our students for all the sexual tasks that would be expected of them?

Gloria smirked, suggesting, “Why not train them in the sexual arts just like slaves are, creating classes in either human sexuality or slave studies? We already have slave yoga classes for students who didn’t take the mandatory classes in high school.”

We all kind of stared at her thinking of the implications when I decided to come clean, “I’ve been taking classes at the Ananke Academy all summer to spice up my marriage. I must admit, I learned way more than I ever thought possible. These students need this training to survive.”

Lindsay agreed, “I spent weeks at Pearson’s just learning the basics while on daily injections of Horny Juice. We could create different semester courses or immersion classes during holiday breaks, Spring break and over the summer. Even giving college credit towards graduation with these classes as electives.”

Looking thoughtful, Dean Chamberlain added, “If I am taking this to the Academic Senate it needs to be well thought out. I need a description that justifies each of these classes in academic terms that will withstand public scrutiny. Look at Broadstone to see how they do their training without the use of Horny Juice.”

With Natasha in mind I volunteered, “Lindsay and I will run down the Broadstone angle. I know a couple of graduates who would be willing to help.”

Dean Chamberlain sighed, “I confess, I did a one-week immersion class at the Ananke in Houston to see what it was all about and agree our students need the training. I’ll be joining you girls at the local site to continue my training with my husband’s support.”

“Like he would object,” I teased, eliciting chuckles from around the table and a deep blush from the dean.

Once we had our little laugh Dean Chamberlain turned serious, “Our proposal needs to be perfect if I’m going before the Academic Senate recommending a school sponsored program where our students’ self-indenture, are trained as pleasure sluts, branded, and even injected with Horny Juice before being sold into FINO contracts.”

And with that the meeting ended.

(To be continued.)

[Belinda]

Another marvelous chapter. Love that Horney juice injections are part of the proposal.

Yours truly,
Belinda

[Mr. Smith]

I'm still trying to figure out what the student enslavement program will ultimately look like although I can see the frequent utilization of Horny Juice.  Carl described the Harvard slave kennels where some slave students resided which is one option.  I imagine most large universities would have slave kennels that house slaves used for maintenance on campus so adding a student wing would not be a problem.  

I am leaning towards allowing the FINO student slaves to live in the dorms or in a sorority just like normal students although the slave kennels could be used for immersion classes during spring break or parts of the summer.  There could be a requirement that women participating in the immersion programs must receive daily Horny Juice injections. 

Could SMU offer slave scholarships or slave study programs modeled off of existing work study options.  What would now be in the financial aid packages sent out to prospective students?  Imagine little Suzy sitting at the kitchen table going over the financing options with her parents.

[JustBob]

Hi, Mr. Smith - I can see this going a couple of ways. One would be sorority or fraternity type whorehouse, where the students serve customers when they are not studying. The other would be a situation where someone could rent or host the student at their house with the understanding that the student slave would act as their slave doing chores and services, but guaranteed time to go to class and study. Of course, like any other corporate asset, the student slave would have their grade brand and a corporate brand denoting ownership.

In your horny juice origin story, you mentioned that horny juice caused issues that made it so they couldn't drive. How would this affect the student slave? I would think it would make it hard for them to study and participate in class. One fun thing would be that almost anybody would be able to waylay them for sex easily. Or would there be some sort of chastity belt or anal/vagilock (I should trademark those names: the Vagilock 3000 and the Asslock 3000) to prevent unpaid use? Maybe the slave could even be rented and credited on a per use basis, allowing them to pay off their loans early.

I do hope that Avvy gets graded, branded and FINOed soon. Or she could be caught impersonating a slave, enslaved, sold and then maybe anonymously bought by her husband for a truely realistic experience. Horny juice would take care of her breast size worries and boost her to a prime grade and entitling her to her brand. Enslavement would give her a great frame of reference for her group. The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of her getting caught. Maybe her friend plots with her husband to turn her in. So many possibilities....

Anyway, I am thoroughly enjoying this story and hope to see the next chapter soon.

[Mr. Smith]

Bob,

Regarding Horny Juice usage by college students the shots are time released and can cover a day, week, or a month, just like many other prescription medications. There are also different dosage levels based on body weight and the desired affect on the intensity of the woman's arousal. A woman under the influence of Horny Juice is generally incapable of performing complex tasks such as driving, flying a plane, performing surgery or most other medical procedures for example. In Civil Penalty the protagonist is able to function at work while sexually aroused although she needs to take breaks to relieve herself. She may be the exception to the rule so to speak. I do not see students being academically successful if on Horny Juice while attending class or studying. However, I could see a student getting a 24 or 48 hour injection Friday afternoon to help her with weekend slave services or daily for a week during spring break while participating in an immersion slave training program or a summer enslavement.

I would not expect to see anyone graded, branded and FINOed in the near future as any good slave story is judged by the slave's journey, not the outcome. When I started the this tale I had a clear path in my mind where I was going but since then other options have presented themselves. I will say that the next chapter became one of my favorites after writing it. I'm still tinkering with it while expecting to publish it next week sometime.

Best,

Smith

[Mr. Smith]

Somehow I managed to double tap the previous post. My apologies.

[Jim927]

Hi Mr. Smith. Hope you’re doing well. I’m wondering what happened to you with this story. You were moving right along and then everything stopped and we haven’t had any updates in quite a while. I’m hoping that nothing is wrong and is it just that everyday life has gotten in the way of your writing and that you will be back to writing soon. This has all the makings of a great story and I would hate to see it languish in the unfinished pile like so many stories do.
Still looking forward to the next chapter,
Jim

[Mr. Smith]

Jim,

I'm still plugging away at this. I need to make a couple more edits to Ch 6 before publishing it based on some feedback I received. Right now I am working on Chapters 9 and 10; trying to decide if I include an erotic pussy spanking scene or not. According to Google there are women out there that enjoy a good pussy spanking. What do you think? I bet Belinda has an opinion on this.

I have also been doing research on eStim orgasms for women and men to include in the story if I can make it work.

Best,

Smith

[Jim927]

Good morning Mr. Smith. Thanks for getting back to me. I am encouraged to hear that not only is chapter 6 close to being published but that you are actively working on chapters 9 and 10. All to often, stories get started and never finished and the readers are left hanging, wondering what happened, how the story might have finished, were they on the same path as the author, etc. I’m sure I am not the only reader who is looking forward to more installments what has started out to be a great story so I encourage you to keep up the hard but appreciated work.

In answer to your questions, I don’t have any real experience with pussy spankings. My wife is a fan of a good spanking but doing the same to her pussy is not something I have ever tried. Like you, I have read that for some women it can be very erotic but I would be afraid that the area is a little to sensitive and it could easily become a negative rather than a positive experience. EStim on the other hand I probably something that most people would find very exciting. Years ago I bought my wife a small, simple eStim vibrator equivalent and she has used and loved it. It’s amazing the results it gets with no moving parts and the only noise being her moans of pleasure. The idea of a more enhanced unit that could easily provide orgasms and excitement to both men and women could be a very interesting addition to the story, either for pleasure or as a punishment. I am sure that Belinda could provide additional thoughts on both of these ideas and more importantly, she provides a woman’s opinion which is always of value in these stories.

Again, thanks so much for putting in the work to write these stories and making them available to us.
Have a great day,
Jim

[Mr. Smith]

Jim,

One of the challenges I have as a writer is describing how certain sex acts feel if I have never experienced them. EStim is one area that I have been doing some reading on and watched a couple of videos confirming it is real. How does your wife describe how the eStim feels? How is it different than other forms of stimulation? Chapter seven will take us to Paul Sousa's BDSM club where the shorts that the submissives wear have been modified to include eStim devices. I am curious if the description I have written is even close to reality.

Thanks,

Mr. Smith

[Jim927]

Hi, I hope this answer helps at least a little bit. First, the estim unit we had was not one of the more sophisticated or high end units, but rather a simple replacement for a vibrating egg. Rather than vibrating, this just had two electrodes, one on each side. When inserted into her vagina, there was no noise like I was expecting. When I asked my wife what she felt, she said that at the lower settings, it felt kind of prickly or like pins and needles which felt good but a little disconcerting because she couldn’t make them stop and at high settings, it would actually make some of her muscles have contractions. The unit had a couple of set patterns that it followed that start off slowly and then gradually build up and then slow down and start over. One setting managed to bring her to and keep her on edge for a long period of time and the high setting would pretty quickly bring her to an orgasm, but it was more like an orgasm that wouldn’t stop.
I’m not sure how helpful her descriptions are for you and since the unit we had died, I can’t just make her try it and record for you what her reactions were.
I hope this helped,
Jim

[jeepster]

Sure hope you're taking the time to write the next chapter!