At age forty-two, Miriam Canalis had a body that many teenagers would envy. She was svelte and athletic, with a slender waist, tight abs, dancer's legs and firm, and round breasts that seemed to defy gravity. When she was younger, she had made a name for herself as a model. In my opinion her body was lean, toned, and curvy enough that she could still succeed as a swimsuit or lingerie model.
She had purchased me at a slave auction and treated me like a slave. I was kept constantly naked and given drugs that kept me constantly sexually aroused. My cock was never allowed to go soft for more than a few seconds and the vast majority of the time it was throbbing and painfully erect.
Miriam Canalis had two teenage daughters and about half a dozen servants in her home who could freely ogle my naked body while I was a slave in her home. It was a tactic designed to rob me of my dignity, and it was noticeably effective. I felt objectified and humiliated, and strangely excited. Inescapable servitude, forced nudity, humiliation, sexual abuse, and harsh punishments filled me with a sort of dark, delicious desire. Miriam Canalis kept me as her slave, and I adored her for it.
Each morning, the maids groomed me, making certain that I was shaved smooth all over my body and cleaned inside and out. They spend an inordinate amount of time washing my cock and making certain that it's devoid of stubble. They claim that they're only being thorough, but I think they like watching me squirm and moan and they bring me right to the edge of orgasm, but then refuse to let me climax.
In any event, one morning after I had been groomed, Mrs. Canalis appeared in the bathroom. I was standing in the bathtub with my legs spread apart and fingers laced together at the back of my neck. I hadn't been given permission to break position and I was required to hold that pose until a free person told me otherwise.
"Are you finished with the slave?" Mrs. Canalis asked the maids, "I have an important project planned and I need him for it."
One of the maids gave me a painful swat on my bare bottom and told me to go with Mrs. Canalis.
"Down to the basement with you, young man," Mrs. Canalis ordered me as she smacked my ass with far more force than was necessary. I gasped, but obediently walked forward without looking back. Everyone in the house had permission to spank me and my ass was constantly sore. I had been conditioned to endure it.
Mrs. Canalis had me walk in front of her so she could admire my shapely buttocks and to smack them if she felt so inclined. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, it seemed to me that the basement had been converted into a dungeon.
There were multiple whips hanging from one wall and a number of bondage devices located in different parts of the room. I was naked and surrounded by things that could hurt me. My cock twitched and my heart pounded urgently in my chest.
"Get on that bench," Mrs. Canalis ordered.
Naked, I climbed up on the padded bench. It bore some resemblance to a medical exam table, but I quickly noticed the leather straps that could be used to secure a naked victim to the bench and I decided that no doctor would ever secure their patients to an exam table with straps like that.
I was naked and on my hands and knees when Mrs. Canalis snapped, "Humble pose."
I hastened to obey, lowing my head, keeping my ass raised high and spreading my legs far apart. It was a pose that left my buttocks, my anus, and my genitals all extremely vulnerable. Then my mistress fastened broad leather straps around my wrists, forearms, ankles and knees and buckled them tight enough that I could never squirm free.
"You have a very adorable butt," Mrs. Canalis informed me as her fingertips brushed smoothly across my buttocks and down to where my anal cleft was yawned apart by my widely spread thighs.
"It seduced me," she said, "Even when you're asleep, just one look at your perfectly shaped buttocks and my mind fills with deliciously, evil thoughts."
"Thank you, Mistress," I replied, not certain if that was the right response. Slaves can be punished for saying the wrong thing, but I was being deferential and polite. That was usually the way to go.
"That young, male slave seemed to enjoy fucking your ass intensely," she continued, "As a woman, I don't think I can get the same enjoyment out of it that he did, but I intend to try it anyway."
After she said that, I wasn't too terribly surprised when I felt her fingers stroking my tight, hairless asshole and then the sound of a plastic cap being popped open. I was experienced enough in anal sex to know that she was about to lube up my anus.
Because my legs were spread pornographically far apart, Mrs. Canalis had easy access to my asshole. The way I was bound, I couldn't see what she was doing, but I soon felt her fingers touch the sensitive flesh of my anus once again. This time they were cold and oily with some sort of lubricating gel.
"Relax your sphincter muscle, Scott," Mrs. Canalis said softly, yet firmly as she pressed her lubricated fingers against the pink flesh of my asshole, "I know this isn't your first time, You're not an anal virgin and you know that if I have to force my way inside, it's just going to hurt."
That got my attention. I was filled with tension, but I relaxed my sphincter muscle as much as my strained nerves would allow. And as soon as my anal cleft became less of a barrier, I felt two, firm, solid fingers begin to impale me.
Her fingers speared me, and she slowly applied pressure, working her fingers deeper and deeper into my ass. I felt her fingers probing around inside me, stimulating forbidden, magical nerve endings and I ended up moaning as her fingers wriggled and explored.
Eventually she located my prostate. I shivered and gasped and she decided to play with that part of my anatomy some more. She rubbed her fingertips across the surface of my prostate gland and delighted in my reactions. She plunged her lubricated fingers deep, finger-fucked my ass and got me to squirm, gasp and pant.
I felt helpless as Mrs. Canalis raped my ass with her fingers and that feeling of helplessness excited me. Being naked, helpless and abused by a dominant man or woman filled me with a dark sort of sexual excitement that made my cock throb and my heart pound forcefully in my chest.
"Well, you seem to be enjoying that," my mistress said as she worked her fingers deep inside my ass, "but I've got other fun activities planned."
Then she walked into my line of vision, peeled a latex glove from one hand, proceeded to strip naked and deposited most of her clothes on a metal folding chair. She looked spectacular, all lean muscle and graceful curves. I wanted to reach out and touch her, but I was bound and helpless.
"You like my body, I can tell," she said when she caught me watching, "I work hard to keep my body looking like this. Brigitte puts me through strenuous workouts six days a week to make certain I stay toned, taut and limber."
Then she ran her hands up and down the curves of her own buttocks. Her ass and thighs were sculpted works of perfection. And while my eyes were riveted on her, she ran her hands across her flat, taut abdomen and I sighed.
"You can look, but touching is a privilege reserved for masters and mistresses," Mrs. Canalis said as she picked up a double-headed dildo and held it where I could see it.
I could easily guess the purpose of the double-headed dildo. While I watched, she rubbed and fingered her own pussy. And once she was wet enough took one end of the dildo, placed it at the opening on her vagina and worked it inside of her. The shaft of the dildo was thick, but she was persistent and impaled herself deep.
"I think you can guess where the other end goes," she said as my eyes went wide, "But don't worry, I'll add some more lube before I fuck you with it."
The end that went inside of me looked bigger than any cock I'd ever taken in the past and I groaned in helpless apprehension.
Then she grabbed a collection of long, thin straps and proceeded to buckle and secure them around her hips and pelvis. I soon realized that it was a harness for strapping the dildo in place. Mrs. Canalis was slow and awkward as she put the contraction together and tightened everything into place. I assumed that it was the first time she had every used a strap-on harness, but I wisely said nothing about her obvious inexperience. Slaves who comment on the shortcomings of their owners typically get punished.
My feelings of helplessness amplified when she stood behind me once again and I felt the tip of her fake cock press against my exposed anus. I trembled in response, but she just laughed and pushed at my pink, delicate asshole even harder.
"It's one thing when a man sticks his penis inside a woman," she said, sounding smug and triumphant, "but when a woman sticks her cock inside a man, men get nervous."
I was naked, bound, my legs spread obscenely wide and helpless, there was nothing I could do as she pushed her fake cock against my delicate anal cleft and gradually forced her way deeper and deeper into my ass.
I was impaled on her phallus and I panted as I felt it invade and slide in deeper. It felt much larger than it looked as it stretched the ring of my anus wide open. With resistance to her being futile, I felt both excited and terrified. She shoved her fake cock in as deep as anyone had ever been inside of me. Then I gasped and felt utterly at her mercy.
"That's my beautiful slut," she said in a voice that sounded strangely sweet and affectionate, "Take it, take it all. I want you to feel me inside of you."
Feeling her inside of me was not a problem. Her phallus was remarkably thick and by my estimate the part that she had thrust inside of me was nine or ten inches long. My legs were spread wide and her shaft had speared me impossibly deep. I shuddered as she proceeded to rape me as forcefully as any man.