Amanda's Seventh Slave

He was chosen the moment I saw him on the street that hot summer night. Tall, dark and handsome to say the least, and a young thing, surely of age, but no more than 20, I guessed, a tender and succulent morsel for seasoned predator like me. The wet warmth and pulsing tingle I felt between my thighs told me he was the one.

I followed him at a discreet distance as he wove his way along the crowded street lined with singles clubs, young revelers jostling each other drunkenly and exchanging lewd looks and remarks. But he seemed different, gently, shyly, fending off the brazen come-ons from tipsy, scantily clad, young tarts looking for a hookup, and going on his way. But he would also ogle asses secretly, so it was clear he had normal desires.

To my disappointment, he finally entered a gentleman's club and I thought I might be wrong about him. Perhaps he was just typical after all. I followed him inside. The bouncer at the door gave me a querulous look but I'm an intimidating woman when I want to be, and my glare made him drop his eyes and take a sudden interest in his shoes.

My quarry joined a group of young yahoos at a table in the front row. After a few high fives he settled into a chair. The dancer closest by, animal naked, flaunted her lady parts at him by way of greeting but instead of leering he blushed and averted his eyes, at least at first.

Drinks were brought to the table by a nude barmaid. He sipped his slowly and glanced at the lascivious writhing of the dancer, fidgeting, obviously turned on but yet uncomfortable. His buddies whooped and hollered, jumped up and down, and urged him to join in but he shook his head and kept his seat. But I caught him giving longing glances to the sluts who paraded their flesh along the bar, but he would always blush and look away when one of them caught him at it, as if he were ashamed to admit his desires to himself. I took note of this very special bit of information.

Satisfied with my observations, I exited the place and noticed a coffee shop across the street, somewhat out of place among the dens of iniquity. I went inside and got a latte, then took a seat by the front window to await his emergence. He left about an hour and a half later and alone. I thought I saw relief on his face as he exited.

He walked back in the direction from which he had come, and I shadowed him again. He made his way to a parking ramp and I followed him in until he found his car. I was able to memorize the license number as he drove away.

I have a lot of connections. There are more than a few women like me. There is a secret sisterhood known simply as the Network. Most members are in positions of power and influence. One of my kindred spirits happened to be high up in the DMV. It was no problem to get Shawn's name and address. I set about stalking him, both to find a place and opportunity to pounce and to enjoy watching him while he had no inkling of his inevitable fate.

I love myself and I love my body as our Goddess, who ordains the exaltation of Woman over the male created it; as do all women who have actualized their dominant sexuality and taken control of their lives. The evening I discovered Shawn I went home horny and bent on being satisfied, a foregone conclusion for a woman like me.

But first I stripped naked and stood before the full-length mirror to admire myself. I carry my 45 years well and most who tried to guess my age guessed ten years low or more. I attribute this to my ongoing state of complete sexual fulfillment. My face has strong features, high cheekbones, firm chin, full sensuous lips and my steel blue eyes can pierce a man to the quick and make him follow me to his fate like a lost puppy if I so desire. My black hair is well past shoulder length, but I prefer to wear it up in a bun to accentuate my height.

My body isn't stylish in these days of the worship of thin. I'm tall, taller than most average men, raven haired and a study in curves, broad in shoulders and hips but narrowing at the waist, long and tapering in the legs. My skin is creamy white and flawless, no hint of cellulite anywhere. I work out rigorously and though a few extra pounds smooth out my figure hard muscle lies beneath and any man who won't be seduced can be woman-handled into submission.

My pride and joy and my favorite part of me lies beneath the dense thicket of coal black pubes that are framed by my comely thighs. It's the gift of our Goddess to her Daughters, a source of near limitless orgasmic pleasure and it holds the scent that enthralls. I despise the pathetic shavers who sanitize themselves to please squeamish males. Women such as I believe the pussy must intimidate, taunt and irresistibly entice. When I have a man on his knees before me with my legs parted as I "introduce myself" the message is clear. "This is me, this is my pussy, the center of your universe from this day forward. All that matters to you in the world is before your eyes!"

Rare indeed is the male who doesn't succumb at his first taste of me. Those rare resistant ones are treated to a taste of the searing leather and soon surrender. It is really a bit more pleasurable that way. I wondered which kind Shawn might turn out to be; but no matter. I looked forward with delight to his seduction and training.

My self- admiration and some fantasizing about Shawn's first taste soon had me randy and I went to my bedroom to see to my dehorning. My bed is vast, double king size in width and half again that in length. It's perfect for mad romps with any number of slaves if I choose to indulge. In the wall across from it, at its foot, are seven low doors suitable for the entrance or exit of a big dog. But, of course, entirely another kind of creature lies behind them. Each door has a number on it in order left to right.

I picked up a remote from the nightstand and pressed the button. All seven doors slid up at once but only six handsome young specimens groveled forth in eager haste. Door number three had no slave behind it. That is the problem that necessitates my pursuit of Shawn.

I am known to my friends and slaves as Mistress Amanda and I rule my harem with equal parts love and fear. It takes years for a woman to acquire the skills and wealth to own such a fine harem and mine was a source of endless delight. Never a day passes without my achieving complete orgasmic satisfaction. I fall asleep amid sweet afterglow and loving tongues are there to greet me in the morning to see that I start my day out right.

My lovely young beasts knelt at attention, each with his organs clamped in a chastity cage to prevent any unauthorized pleasure. Each had a number tattooed to his forehead corresponding to his cell number. I could see their cocks straining against the spikey confines as they knelt with heads bowed.

It was Saturday night, time for evening pleasures and time to choose which two slaves would share my bed and intimacies with my body for the coming week. I always wear the key to the chastity cages on a golden chain around my neck. I went to each slave and released him, tossed the cages aside and stood back to watch the erections rise.

"Begin!", I barked, and hands went to cocks to begin stroking. I paced back and forth, exhibiting my resplendent nudity to spur them on. The first four slaves to come would be disqualified and the two who could refrain from coming were given the honor. The failures were made to lick up each other's messes from the floor and then were put back in chastity and confined in their cells to languish and ache in longing until next Saturday when they would get another chance.

But number three had always been a bit of a problem, the weakest link. He was the newest slave, had barely passed his training and he had been coming first for weeks. This made him useless to me since he never gave me pleasure.

Then the unthinkable happened. One Saturday night when I had my slaves lined up and was releasing them his cock failed to rise along with the others and there was something sticky on his device. I looked into his cell and saw the telltale white smears on the scarlet sheets of the mattress that lay within on the floor. He had ejaculated spontaneously.

I replaced his cage and ordered him back to his cell, then made him give me the bedsheet as evidence, went to the linen closet and got out a new sheet and tossed it inside. The next morning, I took him to my punishment chamber and gave the offending organs a stern whipping that turned them black and blue. Harsh punishment was necessary because coming is a pleasure granted only with permission.

I put him back in chastity and he had to languish and yearn for a week like the other slaves. But it happened again, and he was punished again, only for it to happen a third time. I now had three sullied bedsheets to use in evidence at his trial.

I had no doubt that I had a chronic spontaneous ejaculator, a "wet dreamer" on my hands. It wasn't really his fault. He was just too weak and too much in love with me. Nevertheless, castration is the only solution for a wet dreamer. But there are Network rules governing extreme punitive measures since slaves are semi-common property. I had to notify the local Network chapter and one evening a panel of twelve women convened in my living room. The three cum-sullied bedsheets were strong evidence, but I used a simple demonstration to remove all doubt.

I led 3 naked into the room before the clothed women of the panel and made him kneel before my favorite armchair, still wearing his chastity cage. Then, I stripped naked, slipped my hand between my thighs to gather some pussy juice and smeared it on his face. Finally, I settled into the chair and postured lewd as woman can before his eyes. Within the minute creamy spurts erupted from him. The verdict was immediate and unanimous.

Then and there I performed the procedure. I have my slaves under total mind control and he obediently laid himself face up on the coffee table and allowed me to strap him down. I was quick and merciful about it. I can't say I was angry. It's quite flattering to know a slave can come without even touching himself because he's dreaming of me or seeing me. But coming without permission is intolerable so the organs at the root of the problem just had to go. The procedure is quite a routine matter for a woman of my long experience. I also implanted a ring in his glans in the Prince Albert style, so a leash could be clipped onto it to lead him by when necessary.

I put him to doing menial chores around my rather large house. He also had the duty of bringing food and toiletry items to the slaves in their cells. It's important for every slave to have a daily reminder of The Consequences. It would be Shawn's lot to replace him and I had a feeling he would be an exemplary slave.

I make my living as a psychiatrist, Dr. Amanda Blake, specializing in the counseling of women abused or raped by men. My services are often free of charge to the client. The Network pays when the client can't or pays a share on a sliding scale. We of the Network are devoted to the cause of female exaltation and find it obligatory to right wrongs inflicted on our sisters.

Many a woman has come to my office as a mewling wounded kitten and emerged as a tigress with a predatory gleam in her eyes. It takes time, but I have never failed. If the perpetrator has escaped justice under the male oriented system, he is abducted, and his victim is given some quality time with him in the torture chamber, the door to which is a swinging bookcase on the wall behind my desk. They pay their dues back to the Network a hundred-fold by ensnaring prospective slaves to be trained.

My skills would also be most helpful in my seduction of Shawn. I could tell the soft approach would be best, at least until the time was right to use shock and awe. For two weeks I intended to just stalked him, observing his habits.

Lustful thoughts of Shawn filled my mind that evening when I discovered him, and I settled into bed with my two loving slaves uncommonly aroused. Numbers 2 and 5 had the honors that night. I first lay on my side and raised my top leg high, exposing and offering my womanhood. With looks of hungry longing my slaves piled into bed, 2 pressing his face between my thighs from the front, and 5 burrowing and nuzzling his way between my cheeks. Loving tongues caressed me for and aft and I dropped my leg to relax and enjoy.

Then their long and rigorous training came to full fruition. I felt one tongue go deep into my vagina, so deep it's tip caressed my G with length to spare. The other tongue plunged into my rectum to a depth that still astounds me and began slithering in and out with a wriggling that brought tears of delight to my eyes. This is not a natural endowment.

There is an ancient practice from far off India known as Kechari Mudra yoga. It is a way of lengthening the tongue. It's quite a simple exercise, just a prolonged and repeated stretching of the tongue backward toward the uvula. We of the Network were introduced to it when I was just a novice, twenty- five years ago, by Mistress Indira who had emigrated here from India. Its origins are lost in the mists of the ages, but Indira could think of no other reason for its being than to help man serve the pleasure of Woman.

But the results are to the joy and wonder of the Network. It takes a full ninety days, but if a prospective slave is required to practice it for hours each day in his cell, when not occupied with other training activities, he will be able to reach half way up his nose with his tongue. A line is tattooed on his nose to mark the goal. That threshold signals the completion of his training and means he is ready to be deflowered (more about that later) and take his place in the harem of his Mistress. The threat of castration is used to motivate the slave, but that threat rarely has to be carried out. Though our slaves fear us, they adore us even more and they practice diligently because it is their joy to please us. But continued practice is mandatory, and tongues grow to amazing lengths.

That night, as always, those lengths took me to heights of ecstasy. I writhed in mad delight as arousal built to crescendo. 2 knew by many nights' experience when it was time to rub his nose on my clit while massaging my G to set me off. My first orgasm tore a shriek from the depths of me and they kept coming, wave after wave, until I shuddered and convulsed, and my bones seemed to melt. I lay there, a gelatinous heap of contentment and satisfaction while those tongues continued their worshipful caresses ever so gently. I was filled with tender affection for these adoring creatures who had devoted their lives to giving me such delight. Soon the would get the reward they lived for. But first I would relax a bit and have some wine. It would be a couple of hours before I would be horned up and ready for the evening's finale.

I rolled to my back and 2 went to fetch a bottle of red wine and a glass while 5 switched on the big screen TV on the wall facing the foot of the bed and tuned it to the porn video he knew was one of my favorites. Then each slave went down to lick a foot to help me relax and re-horn. I watched the video with fingers between my legs as those tongues laved my soles and slithered between my toes. The video was one recorded by another Mistress of a session with her slaves. We all record our sessions and share them to help get creative ideas for our pleasures. We also share our slaves physically and without jealousy.

The video ended, and I was wet and randy again. I barked a command: "2! Fetch my cock!"

2 stumbled and nearly fell in his haste to get to the dresser where my cock was stored in a drawer. He brought it to me and, as always, I held it up for a moment to admire it and marvel at what an amazing instrument of pleasure it is.

The device is a remarkably detailed silicone replica of the male genitalia of a size most men can only dream about. Hefty false balls dangle below. Within them are powerful lithium batteries. At right angles to the cock is a second shaft with a bulb, intended for vaginal insertion. Brilliant women have devised a way to have tactile sensations transmitted from the cock to the clit and G spot of the Mistress. There are minimally thin straps to hold it in place and a button just above the base of the cock activates the vibrator. I knelt up on the bed and handed 5 the cock. He installed it on me with hands shaking in anticipation. Each slave knew he was to receive his reward for his loving service to me. They spend their every waking moment longing for the next time they will be taken.

Deflowering marks the slave's final initiation into service and is the defining epiphany of his life. It consummates the Mistress/slave relationship and creates an unbreakable bond of love for his Mistress. When deflowered by the cock of his Mistress the slave comes in a way that gives him a pleasure he will long for every moment of his life thereafter. He will submit to any humiliation or degradation to stay in the good graces of the Mistress, so she will sometimes grant him the pleasure her cock can bestow.

The slaves' first duty would be to perform the deepthroat fellatio. I knelt with my cock jutting before me and 2 got on his hands and knees facing me, opened his mouth wide, took the big flared glans into his mouth and pressed forward. The big dick slid down his throat to full length with ease, thanks to rigorous training. I pressed the button and quivered as the pulsing vibrations began. Ruthlessly, I throat fucked him until I came. He backed away and the cock made a soft pop as it left his throat. Then it was 5's turn and he satisfied me again. I shut off the vibrator.

Slaves 2 and 5 were desperate in the longing to be taken first and I made them beg me for the privilege, pretending indecision for the sake of my amusement at seeing them humiliate themselves. I finally told 5 to go fetch a coin to be flipped. He went to a jar on my dresser and came back with a quarter. I flipped it and 2 called heads, but it came up tails. With a sigh of resignation 2 laid down on his back and 5 assumed the position on top of him with his forearms across 2's groin and his ass presenting to me.

I hated having my bedsheets sullied by cum so 2 took 5's cock in his mouth to catch and swallow his ejaculate when my cock made 5 come. I knelt behind 5, aligned my cock with his much-used hole and thrust hard. The cock slid in to its full depth and he moaned and whimpered. I hit the button and the vibrations again made me quiver. Drawing back, I plunged deep again and then went to hard rutting, ravaging him with the big dick as he begged to be fucked harder. I was happy to oblige and soon pushed him over the brink. He gave out a sound of helpless pleasure and surrender as he filled 2's mouth with his load. I set me off as well and I came with special intensity that only use of the Woman Cock will bring.

The it was 2's turn and the slaves reversed positions. I fucked 2 even harder and when he gave out his cry of emasculated delight I came harder as well.

Then it was time for sleep. My slaves pulled the covers over all of us and I settled in with a slave lying each side of me and down low, ready to serve me. I drifted off into the sweet refreshing sleep of a fully satisfied woman. In the morning the loving tongues and mouths of my slaves would be there to greet me and help me start my day right.

I awoke in the morning refreshed and randy. I assign oral duties to my slaves in numerical order, so each will know what is expected starting out his week of service. On this morning slave 2 had front duty, meaning he must see to the needs of my cunt, whatever they may be. The first need was to relieve myself and as soon as he knew I was awake I lay on my back and his warm tender mouth enfolded my pussy and I gave him a deep drink of my strong morning nectar.