Mr Taylors Tribulations Ch 04

The lovely, long-legged Jan Frobisher went and joined my wife, Tanya, and Paula Pain on the couch, as my sister-in-law, Vanya, continued to stroke her pussy leisurely while looking on with amusement at my masturbatory punishment.

The punishment, of course, was that if I failed to control myself and came without Vanya's permission, I would have to drink the bitter, strong-tasting urine that my wife had "bottled" from her first piss of the day for the past week.

There was, naturally, no punishment for my sister-in-law, who was free to come at any time she desired.

Mrs Frobisher sat between Tanya and Paula and remarked at "how hot and bothered he looks".

Tanya laughed. "That's because he knows he's only got one 'comfort stop' left," she told her golf club partner.

"Comfort stop?" inquired the leggy blonde, although I'm damn sure she knew exactly what that consisted of.

"Yes," said Tanya, as the quartet of dommes watched my problems with interest, "he's allowed three 'comfort stops', where he can stop stroking himself and he gets a strict paddling across that scrawny old arse until he's limp - or limper - and then he has to start wanking all over again."

"And he's used up two of his three stops?" laughed Mrs Frobisher.

"Exactly," said my wife, "I gave him his first paddling, Vanya's given him paddling number two and Paula here will deliver his third and last. Then he's on his own, as it were."

"Poor slave," said Mrs Frobisher, not sounding in the least bit concerned at my plight!

And then that plight worsened. Facing as I was four very attractive women clothed in erotic lingerie, with Vanya's aromatic panties covering my face, my stiffy was weeping with pre-cum and once more I had to plead for a halt to proceedings: "Please Vanya, please may I have my final comfort stop!"

"It's not my job to give you a rest, Rupert," snapped my sister-in-law, "it's Paula who's going to paddle you, so I suggest you beg her for a breather."

This, of course, extended my anguish, as under the rules of the "game" I had to continue stroking my cock while the plea was "processed".

Paula smiled up at me. "Of course, you poor old pud-puller," she said, "and while you have your rest it will be my pleasure to paddle that disgusting backside."

And the sexily-clad beast picked up the paddle from the table, stepped behind me and while I got some respite from whacking away at my cock, Paula started to whack away at my arse with the paddle.

I took as many as I could before the pain became burningly insistent - that was around 15 strokes, I seem to recall - and then I gulped: "Please, let me continue wanking now, Paula, please!"

Paula paused. "This is your last 'comfort stop', slave," she reminded me. "No more respites after this, it'll have to be complete control, you understand?"

"Yes, Paula," I babbled, "I understand."

"Oh, well," said the busty blue-eyed 36-year-old throwing the paddle onto the table, "get wanking again."

And as I resumed my stroking on my now semi-stiff cock, Paula walked in front of me and assumed a deliberately provocative pose. Bending over she displayed her arse to my gaze, the crotchless PVC panties revealing her slippery, aroused sex. She was, ostensibly, fiddling with a strap on her high heels, but everyone knew she was simply arousing me, taunting me, teasing me.

"Oh, Rupert," she said sweetly, leaving her pose for a few more seconds, "please start stroking yourself a bit faster. I think you're deliberately slowing down!"

My hand began to work along my shaft more quickly and then the inevitable happened - that old familiar feeling that announced the imminent arrival of an orgasm announced itself to me. I started to break out in even more sweat.

Vanya noticed my predicament immediately. "Oh, poor slavey-wavey," she said, "does he want to come?"

I panted a gasped "No, no, I'm fine" and still, of course, had to keep up my hand strokes. Then I began to collapse, knowing that my semen would soon be spurting.

Now it was my wife who barked out a command: "Don't come on the carpet, cunt!"

I blinked back the sweat from my eyes, knowing full well what the next instruction would be. Tanya smiled an evil smile at me and ordered: "Come in the glass, you pathetic wanker!"

And then the other three women, soon joined by my wife, began to chant: "Come in the glass! Come in the glass! Come in the glass!"

I couldn't control myself. The aromatic knickers on my face, the sight of the four erotically-clad dominas, the effect of my stroking on my cock all added up to one thing - ejaculation!

I stepped forward, pressed my erect cockhead down until it pointed directly at the glass full of dark yellow urine and exploded my cum into it. There was one strong shot, followed by another and then a third, smallish splat. The level of the yellow piss rose slightly to accommodate my spunk.

Then, Mrs Frobisher stood up and walked in front of me, her breasts pertly revealed by the quarter-cup satin bra. "Let me clean you up, your poor old slave," she smiled, then she bent over and placed her glorious mouth over my helmet and sucked deeply on it, her tongue swirling around just inside my foreskin.

Next the lovely 36-year-old domina lowered her mouth until it was directly above the glass of urine and with a hawking spit she expelled the contents of her mouth into the glass, then turned and kissed me sweetly, sexily.

Turning she looked at the trio of dommes still seated and announced: "I don't know about you ladies, but I think this is disgusting, don't you?" As she said this she was pointing to the glass and its contents, now dark yellow but streaked with blobs of creamy spunk.

"Quite right, absolutely horrid," said Vanya.

"Well," said Mrs Frobisher, turning towards me again, "I think we should get Mr Slave here to get it out of our sight, don't you?"

"Agreed!" the women chanted, almost in unison.

Then Vanya, her fingers by now flying across her bare pussy, shouted in a pant "Empty the glass, empty the glass!"

As if on cue, the other three joined in until all were chanting "Empty the glass, empty the glass, empty the glass!"

I took the glass, holding its revolting cocktail in a trembling hand and placed it to my lips. The chanting ceased, abruptly.

"Slowly," ordered Mrs Frobisher, who was still standing beside me, smiling at my humiliation, "don't suck it all down in one go, which I know you were thinking of doing. At least four swallows, and swirl it around it your mouth, slave, savour it!"

I did as she commanded, tasting the awfully salty, strong urine and feeling a glob of my spunk slide into my mouth with the first swallow. Also as instructed, I swirled the dreadful-tasting mix around in my mouth before gulping it down.

I repeated this distasteful procedure three more times, then Mrs Frobisher took the glass from me, placed it back on the stool and re-filled the glass from the pitcher of urine. "I've got a feeling he'll want to drink some more of that, judging by the eager way he chugged the first glass down," she laughed, before resuming her seat.

"Right," said Tanya, standing alongside me now, her full, firm breasts in the open-fronted black leather bustier brushing against my body, "that will be your part in his 'passing out' ceremony, Vanya. Now I'll call on Paula to do her bit. What's it to be, Paula? That flogging you told me about the other day?"

The PVC-clad woman stood and said: "Sure thing, I'm reckon the old perv will enjoy it. We need to get him in the flogging frame, I think he'll be better there, then all the wriggling and writhing won't do him any good."

That said my wife and her best friend wheeled the flogging frame into the centre of the room and I was soon strapped into it, my body stretched like an "X", my wrists and ankles spread wide by the dimensions of the frame.

"Phew, that's thirsty work," said my wife. "Vanya, come with me and help me get the refreshments in here." And the two sisters departed, leaving me alone with Mrs Frobisher and Paula were left alone with.

"This game is best started with the slave displaying an erection," said Paula. "I know you fancy him a bit, Jan, so would you like to get him hard again?"

Quick as a flash my wife's golfing partner replied "Would I ever" and was on her knees before my naked, bondaged body. Soon her sweet mouth's oral attentions had me bone-hard once more.

Just then, the door opened and in came my wife and sister-in-law, carrying trays laden with sandwiches and several bottles of wine, plus four wine glasses. As they sipped on their chardonnays and nibbled on the sandwiches, Mrs Frobisher said: "This is so unfair to poor old Rupert. Here we are, noshing back on this lovely wine. He must be thirsty too, may I feed him a drink of his preferred poison?"

A shudder ran through me as Tanya laughed "Sure thing, although I think you're spoiling that slave, Jan - and was it you who got him hard again?"

"Guilty," laughed the lissom lady, who then picked up the full glass of urine and pressed it to my lips, making me drink the disgusting stuff all down in three gulps.

Then my wife called on Paula. "Time to show us your little flogging game. I can't wait to see it, it sounds like fun," said Tanya, as her best friend, wearing her open-nippled PVC bra and crotchless PVC panties, selected a flogger for the "game". It was something I was certain I wasn't going to enjoy!

Paula chose a leather flogger which was only about 15 inches long, but its business end was about three inches wide and ended in a circular leather flap. She whistled it through the air, expertly.

"Now, ladies," she announced, "I'm going to give dear old Rupey here 100 strokes with this lovely little punisher." She must have seen me give a start, because she quickly added: "Oh, don't be such a pain in the arse, Rupert. It's not at all painful and do you know why?"

I shook my head. "No, Paula."

"That's because every blow is going to land on a different spot - and all the blows must be above the knees and below the armpits."

Quite how the fact that each blow had to land on a different spot was going to help me, I could not quite follow, but I noticed that the sight of the pretty woman, her PVC outfit and her black leather flogger assisted me to maintain my erection. I had realised by now, of course, that I was starting to enjoy this!

"Right, now I'm going to need a marker for this game," said Paula. "Tanya, you often mark my card on the golf course, care to mark this slave's lovely naked body during his 100 strokes?"

My wife stepped to the table, which had been pushed against the wall and took a black marker pen and a sheet of notepaper and resumed her place beside my strapped and suspended body.

"Now," said Paula, "after each stroke, I want you to mark the splotch it leaves on his skin, then put a mark on the paper, so you can count the strokes off in batches of 10. That way we won't give him too many." Then she chuckled. "Or too few!"

"Hold on a minute," said Jan Frobisher, "I think he's lost a little bit of his hardness. As the self-appointed erection officer, does anyone mind if I get him back up to scratch, as it were?"

"Go for it," said my wife, and once more the long-legged blonde knelt in front of my swaying penis and sucked me back to a hard-on. She parted by planting a farewell kiss on the helmet of my erection and resumed her place on the couch.

"Right," said Paula, stepping in front of me, "time to get cracking, if you'll pardon the phrase, Rupert. And what better place to start than on his magnificent eight inches of manhood."

I tensed in my bonds and then the flogger was whistling down and cracking smack across my upper foreskin, stinging onto my prick lips and ring. "Aaargh!" I cried, thrusting around with utter futility in my bonds.

Immediately, my wife bent over and circled the red splotch on my cock where the blow had fallen, before placing a mark on the paper to indicate the first blow.

Paula laughed and announced: "Don't make such a fuss, Mr Slave. Only 99 to go!"

The next blow was half-way between the top of my cock and my pubic bone. Again I let loose an involuntary "Aaargh" as the flogger hit home. Tanya again circled the mark left by the leather lash and put her mark on the paper. My brain told me "Only 98 to go!" and I tensed, awaiting Paula's next stroke.

And so my tribulations continued. Three strokes were placed on my cock, which was considerably less stiff than at the start, but Mrs Frobisher's oral adoration on my cock soon had me "back up to scratch" as she so delicately put it.

Paula then proceeded to land blows on my tensed, taut flesh as my wife marked my body with the marker pen, then ticked off each stroke on her notepaper. Blows were delivered to my inner and outer thighs, to my buttocks, my back, my shoulder blades, my upper chest, my belly, my abdomen.

One fearful crack even struck the lower curve of my scrotum, a blow which drew a screamed yell of anguish from me and laughter from my merciless audience of dommes.

Finally, Paula's leisurely progress around my aching, strung up body ended, with three more strokes to my penis - re-erected, of course, by Mrs Frobisher's sexually proficient mouth.

"Fuck, that was wonderful," said my wife, when Paula had at last finished flogging me. "Now, it's my turn to play with him. Help me get him down, darling," she asked her best friend, and soon I was freed and standing before them, my body covered in red splotches from the leather whip, each one circled by the black marker pen.

"But first," announced Tanya, "upstairs with you and get those pen marks off your body. And do it properly, with a scrubbing brush, or we'll put you back up there and you'll get another 100!"

I rushed upstairs and showered, scrubbing the pens's marks away until parts of my body was feeling even more raw than it had under Paula's lashing of me.

After a quick check in the mirror to see that I was clean again, I emerged from the bathroom to find my wife, waiting on the upstairs landing, a cruel-looking three foot, single-stranded leather whip in her hand. "Just making sure you weren't going to try making a dash for it, Rupert," she grinned.

Together we walked downstairs for whatever my dear wife had planned for me in my next "passing out" parade humiliation.

"Right," said Tanya to her trio of assistants in my punishment passing out parade, "we'll need a bit of space for this. Clear a space in the middle of the room, girls."

The trio pushed all the chairs and couches back even further and then Tanya told them what her plan was for my next "game".

"It's called whip-boxing, and I came across it in a fetish magazine I bought in Rupert's favourite Soho sex shop," she told everyone. "I've got the whip, and Rupert here will do the boxing."

"Hold on a minute," said Paula Pain, "he's not wearing boxing gloves."

"No, and neither will he," said my wife. "I'm whipping him and when he gets the opportunity he licks my pussy - 'boxing', geddit?"

The women laughed and sounded intrigued. "Right," said Tanya, "first it's far too easy for him unless his wrists are handcuffed behind his back. Vanya, get him cuffed."

My sister-in-law picked up a pair of tight rubber handcuffs from the table and strapped my wrists together behind my back.

"Right, now we need a referee," said my wife. "Jan, you'll be the ref. I'm going to start whipping him when you ring that little bell I've put on the mantelpiece. He will advance towards me and try to get his mouth on my pussy.

"As soon as he's accomplished that, and not before, you will call out a count to 10, just like a boxing referee when there's a knock-down.

"That will signal the end of the first round. Vanya, you can be my second and pass me a nice cool drink of chardonnay in between rounds. Paula, you can be Rupert's second - I don't think it's necessary for me to tell you what he's going to be drinking between rounds, is it?"

Paula laughed: "No, and I'm sure he'll lap it up - but do we have enough of your lovely amber nectar left?"

"Yes," my wife replied, "it's only going to be a six-round bout."

Then she stood about six feet away from me, while I was placed with the backs of my legs against the couch, facing Tanya. Jan then picked up the little brass bell from the mantelpiece, called out dramatically "Round one!" and rang the bell.

I had no idea what I was to do but Tanya certainly did! She advanced a couple of steps, then flicked the whip out across my upper chest. It stung, deliciously. Then she cut me across the tops of my thighs.

I moved forward, knowing that somehow I had to get my mouth on her pussy to stop the blows. She delivered another cut across my side, which curled against my left buttock and I tried to hem her in. But Tanya, even though she was wearing high-heeled leather boots, smartly sidestepped me and while I had my back to her she brought her lash down briskly across my upper back and then across my buttocks as I whirled around to face her.

This manoeuvre brought applause from the audience and once more my whip-wielding "opponent" was six feet from me. Then I charged, I had nothing to lose, and a surprised Tanya couldn't even get off a shot at me.

My upper torso pressed against her lush breasts, erotically displayed in her open-fronted black leather bustier. Using my full weight I fell on her, then dropped swiftly to my knees and found - to my surprise - that Tanya had widened her stance and then I inhaled the wonderful feminine aroma that was wafting up from her pussy.

My tongue flicked out and ran against her sopping wet sex trench and Mrs Frobisher, the "referee", called out "One", then delivered the count to 10 with lengthy pauses between her counts. I must have been on my knees for 25 seconds before she reached 10, savouring the tasty delights of my wife's box.

Then I was hauled to my feet by the "referee" and I went to where Paula Pain was standing holding a glass full of Tanya's salty, brackish early-morning urine. My wife, meanwhile, was sipping on a cool glass of chardonnay! Paula fed me the urine, allowing me three gulps to swallow it all, then I heard the bell ring and a call of "Seconds out, round two!"

The second round proceeded much as the first, Tanya getting in several early blows, feinting brilliantly to allow her to target my unprotected back and buttocks, then allowing my charge against her lovely body which brought me to my knees and my mouth to her moist quim. She delivered between six and seven cuts with the lash each round, and each round ended with panting and purring as I licked her delicious pussy for around 25 seconds.

At last, it was over, the six rounds bringing a total of some 36, maybe even up to 40 strokes of the lethal lash, my tongue delivering about 36 or more strokes to Tanya's pussy. In between my wife sipped on lovely cool wine, while I was force fed six glasses of her strong-tasting urine.

When I was freed from my rubber cuffs, Tanya turned to her audience, accepted their ovation with a little bow, then announced: "And now last, but by no means least, I present the lovely Jan Frobisher, who has a special little game she's going to play with Rupert here before he can properly be said to have 'passed out'. Jan and I will go and get her prepared for this, Vanya and Paula, feel free to play with him for a while."

As they departed, Vanya stood beside me and stroked my cock until it was fully erect. "This last game is going to be so much fun, Rupert," she purred, into my ear. "You like dancing, don't you?"

"Yes, Vanya, I do," I responded.

"And you like Mrs Frobisher, don't you - come on, I know you've got the hots for her," my sister-in-law pressed me.

"Yes, she's lovely," I confessed in a low whisper.

"Great," giggled Vanya, "then you'll just love what she's got organised for you to finish."