Episode 25 – Rebecca Rules – II
January 11, 2015, Diary Entry, Part 2
When Mistress Rebecca returned home, it was past three. I was just starting on the second floor. I had been at it for over six hours, with nothing to eat, drinking tap water from sinks, my cock chafing like hell, the butt plug like a grapefruit up my ass. No way she had spent all that time at the gym. Maybe she went out to lunch with friends, or paid a visit to Mistress Vanessa. She might have driven to Richmond to see her husband. None of my business, I was glad she wasn’t hovering over me.
She found me in the bathroom of the spare bedroom where Mistress Vanessa and I had slipped away during the Halloween party (I had to start somewhere). I was on my knees, cleaning the toilet when she came in. I dropped the sponge and turned to face her, “Good afternoon, Mistress Rebecca,” I said, hoping she was in a good mood.
Smack! Her rattan cane came down on my shoulders. “You have not earned the right to call me by that name, slave. I told you to address me as ‘Ma’am.’ It’s ‘Good afternoon, Ma’am,’ “
“Yes, Ma’am, good afternoon, Ma’am,” I said, trying to sound contrite.
“I bet you’re wondering where I’ve been all day, slave. Did you feel ignored?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“Well, go ahead and guess where I’ve been.”
“The gym, Ma’am?”
Whack! A slice across my shoulders. “Don’t be stupid, slave. I’ve been gone six hours.”
“I don’t know, Ma’am.”
My Mistress’s House
“I’ve been at your Mistress’s house, slave. It was nice having the place to ourselves. We spent the afternoon fucking in her bed. Your Mistress loves it when I stick my cock deep inside her and fuck her long and hard. I bet you miss that, don’t you, slave?”
“Yes, Mist—I mean, yes, Ma’am.”
Whack! The cane snapped against my side. “You’ll learn yet, Slave. And you’ll learn your place, too . . . certainly not in your Mistress’s bed, that belongs to me now.” She clipped the leash to my collar. “Drop what you’re doing and follow me, slave.”
She held the leash tight so I was forced to stay close to her leg. I noticed she was wearing brown moccasins and black tights, a change from the morning. I followed her on hands and knees through the bedroom, down the hall and into the master bedroom, which was huge, with bay windows and a sitting room, a massive bathroom with a jacuzzi, twin sinks set in marble counters, toilet, bidet, shower and separate bathtub, a deluxe version of the antique tub at Mistress Vanessa’s house. “I like my bath water hot, slave,” Mistress Rebecca said. “Start the water, then undress me.”
I cranked the hot water, ran it over my hand until it was scalding, fed in some cold water until it was hot but not burning, and plugged the drain. The tub started to fill. I turned to face Mistress Rebecca’s feet, then stood up, getting in a glimpse before casting my eyes down. She wore a different top than the sweatshirt she had on this morning, too. It was a gray knit sweater with faint gold heart in the center that I recognized was Vanessa’s Mistress’s. So, she had been over to the house.
She held her arms out from her sides and regally waited for me to do something. I felt myself growing hard. Undressing a strange woman is bizarre, erotic but disorienting; you have no right to be in the same room with her, let alone undressing her. I lifted the sweatshirt up from the bottom seam, over her head to pull the arms free. While her head was enveloped I got a good look at her breasts. Holy shit. She was wearing a lacy black bra cut diagonally that showed off the cleavage and it was like a piece of art. I like smaller breasts, but art is art. The tights were next. I peeled them down to the moccasins, helped Mistress Rebecca step out of them, and then tugged the tights off her feet,
Her panties fell around her ankles. I helped her step out of them. “You may kiss my feet, slave,” she said, Her bra dropped on the floor next to my face while I was kissing the tops of her feet. She stepped away and put one foot in the tub, testing the temperature, then the other foot. She settled in the tub with a sigh, the water still running. I collected her clothing and put it up on the countertop, trying to be discreet and keep my cast eyes down, but my brain was buzzing and my cock hard.
“Come over here and scrub me, slave,” she said, a frilly pink mesh nylon scrubber in one hand and a bottle of bath soap in the other. I’ll cut it short here and just say that giving a woman a bath is an incredibly intimate act, and I wished I was doing it with my own Mistress, but she sent me here so I had to believe that whatever I saw or did, she wanted me to experience it. Maybe it was to help me understand her attraction to Mistress Rebecca. I got it.
After the bath, I dried Mistress Rebecca off with a luxurious cotton towel. Then she ordered me to crawl to a corner of her room and face the wall, I heard her dressing. When she was done, she ordered me to turn around and look up. Oh, my god, she was in full dominatrix attire, thigh-high black boots, a black leather corset and a strap-on with a purple dildo, a different cock than the black one she had used on me in the dungeon on Christmas Eve.
“Crawl over here and suck my cock, slave.”
Suck it Slave!!
I crawled over, raised up and put her cock in my mouth. She grabbed the back of my head and shoved it as deep as it would go, then pulled it out halfway and began pumping in and out. She went at it for a minute, making me gag a few times, until drool was running down my jaw. She stopped.
Just so you know, this is the cock I fucked your Mistress with this afternoon, slave,” she taunted. “I’m going to fuck you in the ass with it, but first you need to be punished for the dust and smudges you missed downstairs.” She short-leashed me and led me down the hall to a door at the end, then up a set of unfinished wooden steps to the attic. The room was huge, a fully equipped dungeon.
She led me to a stock-like contraption made of oak, a headboard with vertical rails on the sides, married to an angled bondage sawhorse with knee pads, sturdy black leather restraints on each pad. “Get on the bench and lay your neck and wrists in the cutouts, slave,” Mistress Rebecca ordered.
I mounted the padded bench and put my knees on the side pads, a configuration which exposed my ass and cock for easy access. I laid on my chest and put my neck on the center cutout, wrists on the smaller side cutouts. She inserted a board into the vertical rails and slid it down until the cutouts for the head and wrists mated. She hooked side latches and now my head and hands were locked in place, sticking out of the stocks. On the bench side, she cinched down the restraints around my thighs and ankles. I was helpless, completely immobilized, more than anything I’ve ever experienced.
“This is going to hurt, slave, and I don’t want to hear you scream like a girl,” Mistress Rebecca said into my ear, just before she shoved a ball gag into my mouth and buckled the harness around my head. For the first time since I entered the world of BDSM, I was legitimately terrified. And for good reason. Mistress Rebecca gave me a whipping with her rattan cane that had me screaming into the gag and brought tears to my eyes. If I had could have broken free, I would have jumped up and thrown her to the ground and slapped her senseless. My body was jerking violently with every lash.
“That will teach you to be more thorough the next time you clean my house, slave,” Mistress Rebecca said when she finished. Then she pulled out the butt plug. I knew what was coming next.
Just when You though you knew…
Or thought I did. I was not prepared for her to unravel the leather cord wound around my dick and begin stroking it, as she stuck her fingers up my ass. Both her hands were lubed, and as much as my butt and back were singing out in pain, I still quickly got hard. While she was stroking me, her fingers probed inside my ass, not sliding in and out or circling the sphincter to loosen me up, but more like a doctor giving a prostrate exam. What was she doing? I soon found out, because she told me.
“You know Mistress Rebecca’s one condition for loaning you out to me, slave. You may not have an orgasm, correct? . . . Oh, poor thing, you can’t answer me, can you? Well, we both know that’s the rule. So just to make sure you don’t have an orgasm while I fuck you, I’m going to milk all the cum out of you before we start. I don’t suppose you’ve ever had this done before, have you, slave? Well, it’s painless. Just be sure to wiggle your toes when you feel like you are about to cum.”
Of course, being gagged, I couldn’t answer, and I didn’t even know what she was talking about, She stroked my cock and massaged my prostrate, and it wasn’t long before I felt a powerful orgasm building, the stored cum of an entire week. The last time I had ejaculated was the previous Sunday morning. In less than a minute, I felt close to exploding, I began furiously wiggling my toes.
“Ah, good, that’s what I wanted to see, dear,” Mistress Rebecca said in a condescending tone. She stopped stroking my shaft and held it firmly, continuing to massage my prostate through my ass, Then, without any sense of sexual release, I began to have this awful, slow-motion ejaculation that felt like a short-circuit. I felt a steady flow of fluid discharging from my cock. An un-orgasm.
“If you wondered, slave, that’s your cum pouring out. I’m milking you, and oh my, there’s such a lot of it. Good thing I have a bowl to catch it all.” The milking went on for a minute, until the flow dried up, and with it, all the stored sexual energy of a week of denial and torment, my yang, my only reply to the yin of female power. Gone. Now what was there to look forward to Sunday?
Mistress Rebecca moved around the stock board so that I could see her. She held a glass bowl in her hand, with a pool of cum on the bottom. “I suppose you think I’m going to pull out your gag and make you drink this, don’t you slave?” she said. “That’s what Mistress Vanessa makes you do every Sunday morning, doesn’t she? Look at me and nod your head, slave.”
I made eye contact and nodded, humiliated that she knew everything, even this. But if she wanted me to swallow all that cum, I wasn’t going to resist. I would do whatever she wanted.
Whatever Mistress want’s Mistress Gets!
“Well, that’s not the plan, slave. I’m going to syringe this into a storage cylinder and it will go to the sperm bank first thing Monday morning. And if you are wondering, your Mistress approves. Your sperm belongs to her, and since you’ll never fuck her again, I’ve convinced her that she needs to collect a supply of sperm so when she wants to have children, she can be artificially inseminated.”
Before I could even react, Mistress Rebecca turned and stalked out of the room. She was gone for about five minutes. I wanted to cry. I was totally defeated, But it wasn’t over yet. When she returned to the dungeon, she came up behind me, slapped my butt hard, and then stuck her fingers up my ass. This time she ignored my prostrate, making a few quick thrusts to insert some lube, then pulled her fingers out. A moment later I felt the tip of her cock against my asshole, which involuntarily squeezed down tight in fear. I knew I needed to relax and let her cock slide in, but I just couldn’t do it.
And now bitch,” she said, “I’m going to fuck you hard, like you’ve never been fucked before.” With a single thrust, she shoved her shaft in all the way, ramming it to the hilt. I screamed against the gag. It was rape. Consensual rape, I suppose, I had consented to whatever Mistress Vanessa wanted to do with my body . . . it just never occurred to me that it would be another woman doing it.
I don’t know if Mistress Rebecca came or just got tired, but eventually she stopped. I had lost track of time, going inward in my mind, a place of refuge. I suppose that’s what women being raped do, they disassociate. I felt the cock come out of my ass and then there was silence. I realized that I was alone in the dungeon. A while later, Mistress Rebecca returned, now dressed in blue jeans, boots, and a leather jacket. She released me from the restraints, ungagged me, ordered me to stand and led me by the leash, down the stairs, the hallway, a second flight of stairs to the ground floor, through the kitchen and out to the garage. She opened the trunk to her red BMW coupe.
“Get in, slave, you should just fit,” she said. I crawled in. She looked down on me thoughtfully. “I know this has been a hard afternoon for you slave, but it was necessary for your training. You are no longer a man, you are a slave, and you must learn to think of yourself that way. Your Mistress told me you are keeping a diary. Spare no detail, write it all down. Mistress Vanessa trusts me and knows I have her best interests, and yours, at heart. Before I close the trunk, you will thank me, and when you do, you may address me as Mistress.”
Not at all convinced of her good intentions, I said the words, “Thank you, Mistress Rebecca,” She rewarded me with a genuine smile and slammed down the lid.
On the drive home, curled in a fetal ball in darkness, it felt like I was in a womb, moving from one lifetime to the next. I found myself feeling strangely proud for having earned Mistress Rebecca’s acceptance, the privilege of calling her Mistress. When we arrived home, Mistress Vanessa was waiting to receive me. She took my leash and led me inside, a man surrendered, now only a slave.
Next: To Love and Honor
