Golden Submission

"Repeat after me, slave," commanded my wife-Mistress, standing over me, as I lay on the cold dungeon floor, "Repeat these words: 'It is an honour to be pissed on by my Mistress.'"

She released a stream of hot piss on to my upturned face, filling my mouth with her hot urine.

My reply came out as a gurgle.

"Speak clearly, when you address your Mistress," mocked my wife, Belinda.

Momentarily the torrent ceased. I swallowed and spoke.

"It is an honour to be pissed on by my Mistress," I said.

"That's better," laughed Belinda, letting a final jet of pungent piss drench me. Smiling, she then crouched over my face, so that her wet pussy lips were only an inch in front of my mouth.

"Now, using your tongue, gently dab your Mistress dry," commanded the woman I worshipped.

I willingly obeyed, so happy to be awarded the treat of drying the piss from the beautiful labia of my wife. When my task was finished, my Mistress rose and walked to the cell door, saying over her shoulder to me, her prostrate slave.

"You will stay in that pool of my piss for an hour or so, while you consider what an honour it is to serve me and how to become a more obedient and more useful slave to your Mistress. Then you will be brought upstairs for your punishment."

Yes, Mistress," I replied with sincere humility.

I heard my wife lock the cell door behind her and then the 'clack-clack' of her stiletto heels on the stone steps, as she went back upstairs.

As I had been told, I now had time to think about my shortcomings as a slave. I knew of course why I had received my reprimand from her. It had happened about an hour earlier.

"I am very disappointed in you, slave," she had said, sitting in the armchair, as I knelt before her. "I thought you respected me."

"I do respect you, Madam. You are the most important person in my life," was my reply.

Belinda thrust the shiny toe of a black stiletto shoe under the little pink, nylon apron, which was all I was wearing. She gave my genitals a warning nudge. She enjoyed the fact that the action would give her slave-husband a tantalising glimpse of her lacy stocking-tops and her pink silk panties.

"If that is the case, slave, why have you not washed my underwear properly?"

She produced a pair of her white satin panties. I recognised them at once. I am very familiar with all her lingerie, since it is one of my slave duties to hand-wash and iron all her underwear.

"There is little rust-mark on the lace surround here," she said, indicating a minute reddish spot on the panties' frilly border, "Why, slave?"

"I cannot imagine why, Mistress," I stammered in reply, "I am sure that mark was not there, when I ironed them yesterday."

"That is irrelevant," she snapped. "It is there now. It is one of you duties to ensure that all your Mistress's clothes are in perfect condition at all times, is it not?"

"Yes, Mistress," I replied, lowering my eyes in shame at having let down the woman I served and worshipped.

"My boyfriends would not be pleased to see my underwear looking like this, would they?"

"No, Mistress."

There were two boyfriends whom my wife saw regularly. When either of them was due to visit the house, it was one of my duties to act as lady's maid to Belinda, while she prepared herself for her lover's visit. My tasks included attending to her needs as she bathed, brushing her hair and painting her nails. Sometimes I would even be told to trim her pubic hair into the heart-shape she favoured.

When Adrian visited, the slave's job was simply to be a manservant. Attired in a dark suit and black tie, I would wait on the lovers with the respect due from a servant, serving their meal and bringing wine to them in bed, if summoned.

With Grant, the other boyfriend, things were tougher. Grant took great delight in humiliating me But more of that later.

There I was, knelt before my Mistress, being scolded for poor laundry work.

"If your standards of service do not improve, you will cease to have the honour of being my slave," She informed me.

In truth I believe Belinda had no intention of dispensing with her wimp of a husband. I was much too useful to her as a business partner and as a servant. But, knowing how totally devoted I was to her, she found it good to scare me a little from time to time in order to keep me on my toes.

She raised her black satin skirt a little and pulled aside her panties, showing her slave the beautiful pink lips of her sex.

"Without complete devotion to your Mistress, slave, you would be forever denied the honour of worshipping this," she teased.

I gazed in awesome delight at the soft, moist perfection that was before my eyes.

"I promise I will improve, Mistress" I whimpered hoarsely, "Please help me to be a better slave."

"A better slave, eh?" she echoed, "Well, you incompetent wimp, I find that the only way to improve your performance is regular and severe punishment."

"In a minute I shall take you down to your cell now for a golden shower, after which you will be locked in there for an hour or so. While imprisoned, you will have time to consider your shortcomings. Then you will be brought out for a whipping in the presence of my friend, Tina, who -- as you know -- greatly enjoys witnessing your humiliation."

"Yes, Mistress," I replied respectfully.

I rose and followed her down the stairs that led to the cellar and my cell -- an old wine store with a stone floor and one small, barred window high in the outer wall. There were two raised blocks on the floor of the cell, each about the size of a brick. My Mistress used these blocks to stand on, while she pissed on her slave. It would not do for her shoes to get splashed.

It was in this neat little dungeon that she drenched me in her urine and left me to contemplate my permanent role as her willing and devoted slave.

As I lay in the darkness, all I knew was that I adored her, that -- as far as I was concerned -- she could do no wrong. What I wanted more than anything was to be her intimate slave for as long as she had any use for me.

After lying for an hour or so in the intimate aromas of my Mistress's bodily fluids I heard a car draw up on the drive.

'Probably Tina,' I decided.

Belinda and Tina had met through the Internet and discovered that they had a lot in common -- bisexuality, BDSM and voracious sexual appetites for a start. Tina had recently dismissed her live-in slave, which meant she spent quite a bit of her spare time at our house. She wanted Belinda to help her find a new slave.

A few minutes after Tina's arrival my Mistress unlocked my cell door and I was given my orders:

"Hose down your cell, take a shower and make yourself presentable. Tina and I want champagne served in ten minutes time. Wear the little green satin apron."

"Yes, Mistress".

Ten minutes later, dressed only in the pale green garment, which barely covered my genitals, I was pouring champagne for the two ladies. They were both attired in alluring silk dresses, as they lounged side by side on the leather sofa.

I replaced the champagne in its ice bucket.

"Come here, boy," commanded Tina, clicking her fingers. I returned to stand in front of her.

"Remove that silly little apron," she commanded. She was demonstrating to the slave that Belinda had allowed her total authority over me.

Reaching behind my waist, I undid the satin bow of my humiliating garment and let it fall to the floor.

Tina grabbed my limp penis and looked at it. Turning to her friend, she said:

"Well this ain't much good, is it?"

"Don't give that thing a second thought," She laughed. "I don't have any use for that excuse for a cock," replied Belinda, laughing. "Both my lovers are far better equipped in that department. My slave's most useful physical asset is his tongue."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't want that thing," replied Tina, flicking my penis with her fingers, "But I wouldn't mind finding out if his tongue is any use."

She turned to me, "Put your apron back on!" she commanded.

"If it was not for his skill with the tongue," explained Belinda, "he wouldn't be here at all. I have trained him to be very considerate and attentive to my immediate physical needs."

"May I give him a try some time?" asked Tina.

"Why not right now? Be my guest," replied Belinda, snapping her fingers and indicating that I should kneel before her friend.

"But I can't get excited, unless my nipples are massaged at the same," whined Tina, indicating that the slave should pull down her panties, "you know that."

"Yes, I do know that," replied Belinda, rising to move behind Tina, removing her friend's bra and starting to massage Tina's large nipples. I gently eased Tina's panties past her lacy stocking-tops and down her long white thighs. I leant forward and applied my tongue holding it still, as Tina gave a murmur of pleasure. Her warm, feminine aroma invaded my nostrils. Very gently I parted the lips, using a side-to-side movement with my tongue. This opened the threshold of her warm pussy to her attentive slave, as a few droplets of feminine honey spread themselves over my eager tongue.

"That's a good start," said Tina with sigh of appreciation, "Most men seem to want to dive in, as if they were applying a power-tool."

Belinda watched with proprietorial interest, proud of what she had taught her slave.

"He's been well trained," She said with a smile, gently massaging the fullness of her friend's ample breasts. "But I shall be very annoyed, if he shows signs of an erection. I'd call that infidelity!"

"Mmm, that's good," murmured Tina, responding to my oral massaging, "yes, yes. Now a little faster."

Remembering the many lessons I had received from my Mistress, I did all I could to maximise Tina's pleasure. Sometimes I used a pointed tongue, seeking her G-spot and lightly flicking it. Then I would broaden my tongue, and stimulate her with lateral licks. Then I would use only my lips, gently sucking in and out on the delicate flesh that surrounded her clitoris. My training had all been to do what pleased my own Mistress. I did not know if the same actions would be suitable for her friend, but Tina seemed to be enjoying herself. She grabbed the hair at the back of my head and pulled my face in towards herself, so that I was almost smothered by her pussy lips -- larger than Belinda's. I could taste her warm juices -- with a distinctly different tang from what I was accustomed to.

"How's he doing?" enquired Belinda, continuing to massage Tina's breasts.

"Mmm! Very well," replied her friend, pulling my hair even more tightly. After a few more minutes of my ardent attentions, she started to moan softly

"Mmmm. Ooh, I'm so near to coming. Faster, boy. Harder now! Work that tongue!!" she commanded.

I obeyed. Spasms of joy shook Tina's pussy, as her juices erupted into my mouth and down my chin.

Immediately she pushed my head away. The slave had served his purpose. There was no further use for him.

Belinda stroked Tina's head during the final aftershocks of her friend's orgasm.

"There, my darling. Was that good? She asked.

"Very pleasant," whispered her friend.

"I hope the slave wasn't getting illicit pleasure from what he was doing," said Belinda. "Stand up, boy!"

I obeyed. My throbbing erection was very evident under my tiny apron.

"Have you no manners, slave?" shouted my wife. "What you just did was for my friend's pleasure -- not yours. You have let me down in front of my friend. I lend you to Tina for her enjoyment and then your dirty little mind gets the better of you. You are MY slave. How dare you get erect because of another woman? In your grubby little mind you are being unfaithful to your Mistress. Fetch my new cane and bring it to me now."

Yes, Mistress," I replied and went to fetch this new instrument of correction, which had never yet been used on me. It was a real rattan cane, so whippy that it could be bent back on itself. Previously my Mistress had used only sex-shop toy whips on me. They could be painful enough, but this cane looked a lot scarier.

I handed it to my Mistress.

Tina watched the process with idle amusement, as I was told bend over the leather armchair, known as 'the punishment stool'.

"Now, Tina, watch while I apply I shall call some aversion therapy," she said, " Allowing himself to become erect when serving you just now, my slave showed extreme selfishness. The aroma of your juices no doubt excited him. For that he needs a severe punishment. I need to teach him to associate that aroma with an unpleasant experience. To do that, darling, I need these."

Belinda picked up Tina's panties from where they lay on the floor and attached them over my face, so that the crotch was touching my nose and mouth.

"Inhale, slave," I was instructed. The acid sweetness of Tina's scent entered my nostrils.

"Are you experiencing Tina's scent, slave?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"I think six hard strokes with this should teach you not to enjoy that aroma." She swished the cane through the air. Its whistle scared me. ''Six of the Best, as they used to say."

The cane whistled through the air and landed on my naked buttocks.

"Best" was not perhaps the word I would have chosen to describe the stroke I received. But, it was not the moment for choosing adjectives. It was the moment for escape. This pain was out of my league. I yelled, "No, Mistress!" and stood up.

"What do you mean, 'No, Mistress'? How dare you?" she snapped, "Bend over again!"

"I am sorry, Mistress," I whimpered, "I can't carry on. I regret to admit that I am a coward. I just can't take that degree of pain. It is quite terrible."

The delivery of just one stroke had clearly been a pleasure for Belinda. She wasn't going to miss out on the rest of the sentence, just because her slave was a coward. And it was important for her to establish her absolute authority over her slave.

"That pain is meant to be terrible, slave." She replied. "You will take this punishment and I will not lessen the force with which it is delivered. In fact another stroke will be added to the sentence for your impudence in standing up and saying you 'can't take it'. As if you had any choice in the matter of what you 'take' or don't take."

Tina sniggered.

I remained standing before my Mistress, head bowed.

It seemed Belinda had decided to offer me the options of leaving her service or taking the punishment. I guess she needed to win, in order to prove the nature of our relationship. If I chickened out, matters could get complicated. We shared the house; we shared our business. It was a defining moment.

"If you do not accept this punishment as I choose to deliver it, we are finished. Either I am your Mistress or I am not. Do you understand, slave?"

"I understand, Mistress,"

"Back over the chair, then," she said in a calm, measured voice, "There will be no jumping up and dictating rules about what I can or cannot do. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Do you love me, slave?

"I adore you, Mistress."

"Then prove it by obeying me. I want no more interruptions. That first stroke did not count due to your wimpish behaviour. So, here comes number one."

The pain was intense, but the words my Mistress had spoken had put me in a different frame of mind. It was a state of surrender. This was to be a way of proving my devotion to her.

My Mistress took her time, leaving at least fifteen seconds between strokes to allow for maximum effect, but varying the pause, so that I would not know when to expect the next stroke.

I cried out involuntarily when the fourth stroke landed on me, cutting across the mark left by an earlier stripe.

"No sound, slave. Show courage. Show that you love me," commanded Belinda.

I bit into the leather of the armchair to prevent myself from crying out.

The fifth stroke landed, creating another wave of searing pain. This amazing woman, for whom I worked, for whom I existed, completely filled my head. I hated her for the hurt she was giving me, but nothing, nothing, could stop me loving her at the same time. How was it possible?

The sixth and the seventh strokes were the worst, both landing across existing stripes.

My Mistress threw the cane down and examined the newly created, thin, bright red marks that she had just created.

"What do you think of the stripes I've created, Tina?" she asked her friend.

Tina rose and ran her fingers over the ridges that Belinda's handiwork had created on my sore buttocks.

"Very impressive! And you can feel the heat from them! "

I remained bent over the chair, knowing that I should not get up until instructed. I hoped that Tina's panties, which still smothered my face, might hide the fact that the caning had caused me to weep quite a few tears. Tina peeled her panties off my face and staggered slightly; as she sat down to put them back on herself.

"Wow. That champagne has gone to my head. I need a pee!"

Belinda smiled.

"Perhaps you'd like to honour my slave with your golden nectar," she suggested, "there's a lovely secluded spot in the garden, where I sometimes shower him."

Minutes later I was on my back under a laburnum tree, where my Mistress had got me to construct her 'pissing platform'. It consisted of two short wooden steps up to a small area of decking. Three planks had been removed from the decking, revealing a narrow area of concrete below, where I would have to lie for my 'reward'.

As instructed, I stripped and lay on my back on the concrete floor, which was about a foot below the level of the decking.

Tina spoke to Belinda.

"But I don't want him staring up at my genitalia," she complained.

"Then keep your panties on," replied Belinda, "it'll give him an extra bit of laundry to do.

"Good thinking," laughed Tina and stepped forward until she was straddling the gap, under which I lay. Tina raised the hem of her skirt and looked down at me on the concrete below her. She adjusted her position slightly, to ensure that she was standing directly over my face.

"Did you get to drink any of that champagne, slave?" she asked mockingly.

"No, Madam," I replied.

"Well, now's your chance," she laughed, "And second-hand is better than nothing, eh, slave?"

"Yes, Madam."

"There's a lot of it, boy," she slurred, "I think we had nearly a bottle each."

As I looked up, I saw the white satin of Tina's panties turn a light yellow colour, as they filled with her urine. Then, when the material reached saturation, the golden liquid started to splash down on to my face."

Belinda cheered. "Toast the ladies in champagne, slave!" she shouted.

To my amazement I was actually aware of the distinct taste of champagne, as the piss drenched my face and seeped into my mouth and nostrils. My eyes were temporarily blinded by the stinging urine. I closed them. Something was dropped on to my face. I realised it was Tina's drenched panties. I heard her voice.

"You will wash and iron those, slave, and bring them to my house by three p.m. tomorrow."

"As you command, Madam," I replied.

In that one afternoon I had experienced total humiliation -- my wife looking on while her girlfriend pissed on me.

And every day would bring more humiliation.

(to be continued)