When they pulled up to Mistress Evangeline's playpenβbuilt on the site of an old farmhouse on a few acres of wooded fieldsβMiss Lee ordered Paul to strip as soon as he got out of the car.
"Yes, Miss Lee." He opened the door and stepped out without question. Shielding himself from view with the car door, he removed his clothes quickly, until the only item left on his body was the one thing he couldn't remove: the light, but surprisingly secure, cock cage Miss Lee had placed on him months ago.
They'd received the invitation from Miss Lee's mentor weeks ago, announcing the date of this party, and immediately cleared their schedules for enough time to travel here and attend, and spend several days afterward for Paul to recover.
"Where shall I put my clothes, Mistress?"
"Leave them on the seat."
He did as he was told, folding them neatly and stacking them one on top of the other on his seat. He couldn't help but glance around at the trees that ringed the periphery of the land.
"Don't worry," she said. "Nobody can see you from the road." Then, with a half-smile: "Not unless they knew exactly where to look."
In the cool air of the late October afternoon, carrying Miss Lee's toy bag, Paul felt even more naked and exposed than when his cock was was free. It swelled against the insides of his cage as they walked the stone path to Mistress Evangeline's front door. His pulse quickened, and he felt the faint quivering in his stomach like he did all those times long ago: the first time he saw a picture of a woman pissing in a man's mouth; the first time he'd paid a woman to beat his ass and slap his balls while he jacked off; and his first date with a girl named Lee, when she took him up to her apartment and ordered him to kneel.
Lee, now Miss Lee, interrupted his musings. "You do everything I say tonight, and I'll let you take the cage off." A flash of hope crossed his face, but then he gave her a look of suspicion.
She smiled. "Yes, you can take the cage off and fuck, jerk it, anything you want to get yourself off, for twelve full hours." She winked at him, a gesture she made when she granted him special privileges, and with that wink, Paul knew she was serious. "I'll even blow you if you ask nicely."
He wondered how much he would have to endure this night to earn his privilege. Mistress Evangeline enjoyed torturing men. She saw males as her inferiors, and showed no hesitation when beating them, fucking their asses, or clamping their balls in a vise and tightening it until they cried "mercy".
And Miss Lee, although she was a gentler Domme, would follow her mentor's lead. She would show him no pity tonight, and would push him harder than she ever did alone. Not that she was easy with him, but the welts and bruises she left with him always did fade away after a week or two. Tonight would be something else entirely.
Still, he thought, that wink. If I hold up my end of the bargain, she'll hold up hers. So he resolved to endure anything.
The front door was an immense oak monstrosity with a small iron-crossed window in the center and brass fixtures. Mistress Evangeline had made a small fortune, some of it from her knowledge of the stock market, much of it from men who had simply donated it willingly for the chance to be used by her. "It was never what they expected," he'd heard her tell Miss Lee once before, "But they never left disappointed."
Paul raised the enormous brass ring and clapped it against the door, two short pauses between knocks, one longer, two more short, two more long. The door opened, and there stood Mistress Evangeline, flanked by two male servants. She was shorter than Paul, but in her boots and with the regal posture she assumed, she could have been nine feet tall. "Miss Lee", she said, giving her a warm hug and a warmer smile. "Yours was the first RSVP I was hoping to receive. Come in."
Miss Lee went in, and motioned for Paul to follow, but Mistress Evangeline waved one finger and her boy slaves blocked the way. "In the thirteen years I've owned this place," she said, "no male has crossed the threshold, even once, on his feet."
Miss Lee knodded. "On all fours, now," she called out over he shoulder. "Enter the household of your superior on your hands and knees."
The playhouse was a monument to Female Superiority. Mistress Evangeline was a connoisseur of Female Supremacist artwork. A dozen alcoves lined the sides of the main hall; each one contained sculptures showing women in various triumphant poses standing over defeated men. The surrounding halls were decorated with photographs on naked men kneeling, or lying, or bent over, each submissively offering his body for the onlooker's pleasure. One hall simply had photographs of men's genitalia, the balls or the shaft grasped firmly in a woman's hand, pulling or twising or digging her nails into them.
("Those are Mistress Evangeline's own hands," said Miss Lee.)
The main room was an engine of sadism, with crosses, benches, cages, and suspension blocks arranged so that, from almost any angle, a woman could look from one of the several small tables that marked the perimeter of the floor and see all the various torments being played out there. Some of the mistresses had not seen each other since last year's party, so they bonded over the spectacle of the men's suffering and humiliation.
Just for the entertainment of her sisters, a Mistress would summon a slave to their table to serve them drinks, then spit in his face with a mouthful of water or strap his backside as he crawled away. Two women took bets that they could make each other's slave cry mercy before their own, and so the males, loath to disappoint their owners, suffered harsh whippings that turned their torso and legs into a mass of purple and red welts.
Paul felt grateful that he was mostly ignored, although Miss Lee did call him to the floor to demonstrate her caning skills and his bootlicking finesse. But while he was taking the harsh strokes across his ass, he looked over to see a standing board with three targets painted on it, and, portruding through holes where the bulls-eye's would be, three sets of cock and balls. Women were taking turns firing small pins into the genitalia with toy blow-guns.
By the stroke of one, only Miss Lee, Mistress Evangeline, a young and unattached woman whom Paul learned was named Kaitlyn, and one of Mistress Evangeline's slaves were in the main room. The other slaves were busy washing up in the other room, or had been dismissed to the cages to sleep.
Miss Lee, sitting up on the dais, turned to Mistress Evangeline. "Did I tell you, Mistress, of the deal I made with my slave?"
"You didn't. Although I should point out, you shouldn't have to make a deal with your inferiors."
"Of course, Mistress," she said. "But I had a change of heart for the poor thing."
"I made a deal," she continued, "that if he obeyed me in everything tonight, I would take him out of his chastity cage and let him cum. And now that it's come to the end of the night, I have just one last order for him to fulfill."
Her voice turned commanding. "Slave. Get over here and listen to your final order."
Paul crawled in front of the dais, aware now that all eyes were on him. No other activity diluted their attention, and that realization made him feel more naked and powerless than ever before.
"Yes, Miss Lee," he said, "What would you have your slave do?"
Miss Lee looked at Kaitlyn, then at Mistress Evangeline. "I want you to lick ass, slave."
"Whose ass would you have me lick, Miss Lee?"