Six 04

Dearest Diana,

Your spoiled slave boy arrived Friday night and we're sending him back home a shaken but wiser little bitch. Honestly, how you put up with him I don't know. When he came to me, he did what he was told, but as though it were performance art. He veritably stinks of entitlement and unseriousness, but I can honestly say that in the span of some 48 hours my assistants and I have shocked and scared and beaten that out of him, both psychologically and physically.

Don't worry. I didn't scar up your precious cargo beyond contractual boundaries, though at times I surely wanted to. Just a couple welts and scratches on his back and bottom. Well, that and a couple little burn patches, but some aloe vera for a week and he'll be as good as new. Nothing that couldn't be explained by saying he tripped and fell while jogging. Tripped and fell into a thorn bush perhaps, but still.

His new hairstyle, on the other hand, is pretty radical. That might take a bit of creativity to justify at work. And his shrunken ego - well, that too might take a while to heal. Maybe a lifetime. If so, I've begun to do my job with him. Whether I can stand him for this whole month remains to be seen. I will do my best to send him back to you terrified and trembling. He thinks too much, and I want him to be a piece of obedient reactive meat if and when you let him back through your doors.

He does play the piano nicely, I'll give you that. He should've stuck with that, though. I'm not yet persuaded he's slave material, at least for the likes of you and, as you describe her, the lovely Five, whom I am eager to meet.

If I didn't dislike him instinctively anyway, I would anyway for drawing the sympathy and affections of Samantha. He's a snake in our garden. Sadly, after a strong start as an assistant domme with him, she let me down a bit and I've had to punish her in a way you might find overly severe but which I think of simply as a lesson seared into her memory. Though she understands the mechanics of domination, she remains, at heart, a submissive. The whole situation cleared my head about her. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Sam delivered him here from the station in the van, straitjacketed and hooded, complete with gag and blindfold. Emil and Josh led him to the Basement, kept him bound, and stressed him a bit more with some isolation and an uncomfortable sustained kneeling position. Then he was brought to the living room, where I was holding a little soiree. The fellas removed Six's straitjacket and, still hooded, he performed a tune for us. Bach. As I said, impressive, especially given the blindfold.

Then he was led back downstairs, where Emil made sure Six carefully cleaned off and stored his leathers, then used the toilet, brushed his teeth, and showered. Emil said Six was snotty about being watched. Emil had to explain to him, with a slap, of course, that he was doing as he was instructed, that he acted on my authority, and that Six was not to speak to Emil any more than he would to me unless asked a direct question.

Emil gave Six a bottle of water - he'd sweat a lot through the transportation and his first hours here and, while I'm a sadist, I don't want my slaves fainting from dehydration. Then he locked Six in his cage - you know the one, the old carnival bear act number we bought together at that auction. It is picturesque, isn't it! Six asked for at least a g-string, and Emil advised him that he was to remain naked, though he could use the blankets for warmth.

It was a long night for Six. Exhausted from the strangeness of the day, he'd curl up and doze a little, and then the klieg lights and a blast of music would come on - hourly. He whined about it a couple times before realizing he was utterly alone in the room and that there was no one to whine to. It made for some amusing surveillance video footage over my breakfast Saturday morning. As instructed, Sam set her alarm for 4 a.m. and went to him. (The video has lousy sound quality, but I could hear some of their conversation and Sam filled me in on the rest mid-morning when we conferenced before our session with him.) She gave him a pill and told him to swallow it with some of his water. She told him he had permission to speak.

"What is it? What's the pill?"

"It will help you relax."

"Not having lights and music blast at me every 15 minutes would help me relax."

"It's not 15 minutes, it's once an hour," she said. "It's on a timer. And don't be uppity. We've discussed that."

"I don't want to take some mystery sleep pill."

"You said you trusted me. Did you mean it?" Samantha asked. "I've helped build and design your new body. Do you think I'd let anything awful happen to it?"

"Will it make me groggy?"

"It'll make you sleep and then relax when it's of utmost importance that you stay calm. Today's going to be a big, big day for you. You'll get through it, I promise. But you need my help and you need my advice or it'll be the worst day of your life. Please believe me. Take the pill."

He did so.

"I'm scared," he said, and he shivered a little.

"I was too," Sam answered. "You'll be OK. Just remember, this is what Diana and Five want of you. This is what they want you to become. They've given it a lot of thought, and so have you. You want to be their slave, pure and simple. This is how it's done."

So all that was well and good and according to script. What wasn't according to script, what I saw on the surveillance video from two cameras Sam knows nothing about, was that she reached through the bars and took his hand, drew his face to her, and kissed his lips, tenderly and encouragingly. If she were a new slave, I'd think it presumptuous but cute. But for god's sake, she's a domme in training. She should know better. And soon she would.

The pill knocked him out within ten minutes. And when I say knocked him out, I mean it.

When he came to, he'd been dragged out of his cage and lifted onto an inclined bondage bench. Forcibly reclined at a 45-degree angle, his leather-cuffed wrists were secured at his sides, his forehead tightly held too, his legs spread wide, and his balls hanging off the end of the short seat. His penis had been encased in a clear plastic chastity device with a slight curve to it. An erection, as you've witnessed, is very uncomfortable in such circumstances. But between the heavy tranquilizer and the device he was, for once, flaccid. Hopefully, terror and discomfort would keep him that way. There's nothing more ungainly than a slave walking around in full phallic salute 24 hours a day. I remember you complaining about that, and it's an issue I'll try to resolve.

He had a wide wire jaw-separating gag in his mouth. And the large inclined mirror was wheeled in so that he could see the straits he was in.

The biggest shock of all, I imagine, was his completely shaved skull. It's amazing what people will sleep through when properly medicated. He tried to grunt or scream something about it, but he was alone in the now brightly lit room and his mouth couldn't form words, so that was a failure.

I'll confess that I admired his physique, particularly when spread the way it was. Sam has done a nice job with him and I suppose I'll grudgingly admit she had some good raw material to work with.

I let him stew in his own fear for about half an hour, glancing at him on the tablet I had with me in my room. Then I met Samantha, Emil, and Josh in the living room. They were punctual and ready as instructed, Emil wearing full-body harness with unsnapped brief exhibiting his (if you'll recall) prodigious manhood, which, unlike your fuckboy Six's, is usually at ease. If anything I think Emil has trouble getting it up. Joshua was in a PVC thong and chaps. And Sam wore a long leather skirt, boots, and a corset, with only her breasts showing. I was in preppy bitch casual, skinny jeans, hiking boots, and an Oxford shirt rolled at the sleeves and unbuttoned to show a tasteful bit of cleavage. We chatted and reviewed our session plans over coffee, then headed down to the Basement.

It was the first time Six had seen me and Josh. His eyes darted around because his head couldn't.

"Good morning," I said quietly and cheerfully. "Do you know who I am?"

He tried, pitifully, to say my name but the jaw separator made the attempt darkly comical.

"Close enough," I said with my best eat-shit smile. "By the way, where'd your hair go?"

He grunted something at me - I had no idea what and didn't care.

"What will you tell the folks at the office, Six? That you had lice? That you wanted to look like a baddie in a movie? That your razor slipped while you were shaving and zipped all around your head for an hour?" He looked at me in exhausted fear. "Well, I'm sure you'll come up with something. Anyway, that's your problem, not mine." His eyes were glued to me as I walked around his spread legs. "And something seems to have attached itself to your penis. Oh my. You've had quite a night. What a strange way to wake up, hmm?" He let out a big involuntary breathy sigh. That was cute.

"There's a little key that unlocks the chastity device. I hope we haven't misplaced it. Have we Sam?"

"No, Mistress."

"Oh good."

I turned back to Six, whose eyes now swept back and forth between me and Samantha. "Yes, Sam did this to you. Your good friend Sam. How about that. I mean, she had a little help. Emil was your barber, and Joshua shoved that lovely jaw separator into your mouth. And they helped drag you from your cage and lift you onto the bondage bench. But Sam's the one who secured your head and your wrists and your ankles. And she's the one who clamped your little pencil dick into the chastity. I'd recommend not getting hard while you wear it, because that would be quite uncomfortable. Maybe it'll teach you some self-discipline. We'll try to distract you the best we can so that you aren't thinking too much about it.

"But I'm such a rude hostess, aren't I. You haven't even had breakfast have you. Do you like worms? Josh, get the poor fellow his worms, would you?"

Josh came back with a little plastic Tupperware of earthworms and dangled one over Six's forced-open mouth. The critter squirmed as Josh swung it back and forth against Six's teeth, lips, and tongue. Six did his best to scream. The first scream of his day, but not the last. He was quite a different fellow, all the sudden, from the smug pianist of the evening before.

"Oh, maybe Six doesn't like worms. I hadn't thought of that. Josh, let's try a cricket or two then." Josh, ever dutiful and a genuinely sick puppy - I worry about him sometimes - came back with the cricket bowl. This time he opened the lid very carefully - jumpy little bastards, crickets are. He lifted one by its hind legs and swept it across Six's face, then dipped it too into Six's mouth. A second scream. Now, I thought to myself, he's beginning to understand what a slave is.

"Maybe he doesn't like crickets either, then, Josh." I let Josh improvise and play with sweeping the captive cricket down Six's chest and belly and pelvis before he finally put it away. "Well, the only other thing I can think of is a little dildo breakfast. Let's try that. Samantha, would you do the honors?"

She took the dildo from Six's suitcase, showed him reassuringly as she wiped it off carefully with rubbing alcohol, then went to him and inched it into his mouth. He started to gag and she withdrew it. She didn't look happy. She wasn't enjoying the proceedings. The gag made Six's eyes tear, making him look even more pitiful than he had.

"Try again, a little deeper," I instructed. "He'll need to be able to handle more than a couple inches, you know, in his new chosen lifestyle."

She tried again and he gagged again, harder. I thought he might vomit a little, which would have been fine with me. But it turned into a momentary hard choke and then receded.

"Sam, maybe it's your technique. Why don't you let Emil have a go at it. You go stand in the corner, Samantha." She looked at me, puzzled but maybe a little relieved too. "Do as you're told," I said.

Emil forced the dildo in farther and this brought on the biggest gag yet. Now Six was simply crying at the discomfort and humiliation of it.

"Maybe something to wash that down with?" I offered, dribbling more water into his gullet than it could quite handle under the circumstances. He coughed it up, his forehead straining against the restraint. "A little more, you say?" I splashed some water onto his face in the vague vicinity of his mouth. Some got into his nose, bringing about an ungraceful cough, sneeze and snortlike combo that probably tweaked his neck a bit since his head couldn't come up.

"Sam, be a dear and dry him off, would you?" She did and gave him a sad look that confirmed my sense that she was too soft to be an effective domme.

"Six, in case you feared Mistress Diana had forgotten about you, she sent us a little gift for this month. It's a wand that delivers a potent electric shock when applied to your flesh. Would you like to play with it?" He grunted something - assent? I assumed thusly. I turned on the little purple monster and waved it by his cheek menacingly so that he could hear its sinister buzz. "Stick out your tongue, Six." He tried to shake his head and grunted no.

"No?" I said. "No isn't really a word that I accept, Six. I suspect you know that by now. And you'll be punished for it. Let's try this again. Stick out your tongue." He did so and I made a few fake passes over it with the wand before making contact. There was a delightful little sputtering sound and a little bitchy screech from Six, who retracted his tongue.

"Again," I said. There were some good old-fashioned tears rolling down his cheeks by now. I pulled a rubber glove onto my left hand and gripped the tongue before touching the wand to it again, a little longer this time. His screech too was a little longer. Honestly, I thought he'd be tougher. I remember when I'd had a similar session with Josh a couple years ago and the wand just made him giggle. Your slave's a coward, Diana.

"Sam, take the wand. Touch it where I tell you . . . nipples . . . belly . . . thighs . . . now the bottom of his feet . . . Good. Hold it there for moment." He squirmed, appropriately - you know how feet are. I couldn't help noticing that his cock was completely shriveled now inside the chastity. "Now his balls, Sam."

She looked at me enigmatically. Was she hoping I'd assign that to someone else? "Is that a hesitation, Samantha? What's with you? Do what I asked and do it now." She did. Right testicle, left, right, left, holding the wand to them longer each time as I ordered. Six bucked and screeched a little and the tears came harder now. And much to my disgust, when I looked over at Samantha, she too was weeping.

I took the wand from her and said, "The wand is nothing. The wand is a toy, Sam, you know that. Lord knows I've used it on you enough. Get the electrodes and give them to Josh."

When she had, I ordered her to strip except for her corset. She knew this wasn't part of the session plan and that she was in trouble, possibly serious trouble. She let her skirt drop to the floor, then folded it and put it on a chair. She pulled off her boots and socks too. "Panties too," I ordered. She stepped out of those, now bare but for the corset. "Come to me," I demanded. She did. I rotated her and retied the corset very tight, painfully tight. Six did the best he could to see what was going on but with his head tied down didn't have much of a view. Josh and Emil did, though, and they enjoyed it. They thought of Samantha as a teacher's pet and liked watching her get in trouble.

I bound her ankles with some leather cuffs and had her shuffle over to get a first-rate view of her pal getting tortured. I told her to hold her arms behind her and to stand perfectly still. "You've been demoted, Samantha. I can't train you as a domme, it's quite clear, but you've always made a marvelous slave. And so you will remain. Emil, you're my new second in command. Congratulations."

"Thank you, Mistress," he said. He couldn't help a childish little glance over at Sam, who looked miserable and wept copiously. I felt a bit sorry for her, but she'd brought it on herself. I glanced over at Six and said, "See what you've done? You've caused commotion in my little kingdom. One more reason to dislike you. Josh, go ahead and apply those electrodes. I want them on his balls and either side of his pubis."

Josh launched into a 45-minute session of joyful gradually increasing voltage. Six bucked and screamed and cried. Sam, too, couldn't stop the tears. At one point, I smeared them across her face and slapped her. "I'm disgusted with you, Samantha. I had high hopes for you. You've dashed them. I thought you were strong."

**

The rest of the weekend Sam and Six became a submissive couple and took their tortures together and were sometimes enlisted to facilitate one another's pain. A session on the rack featured clamping of nipples, tongues, noses, eyebrows, testicles, and labia, followed by hot candle dripping and the mutual peeling of hardened wax. Then they were bound together, their arms tight around each other and ankles separated by spreaders, then flogged for a good increasingly intense hour or so. By the end, their backsides ripened to a nice rich red, they slumped their heads helplessly atop each other's shoulders as they counted off, thanked me, and braced for the next blows.

Sunday morning they were told to wear their leather briefs and cooked, served, and cleaned up from our champagne brunch. Looking at their skin, with its little welts, burn marks, and so on, I wondered if I'd overdone it the day before. But they'd heal and what's done is done. I'm not big on regret, you know.

I put some brunch food on plates for them too - on the floor of the deck, that is. But just then Emil brought Cupcake around on her way to her morning walk, and she got to the delicious meal before Sam and Six could lower their faces to the plates. Well, better for their diets anyway, yes?

An hour later, Emil was driving them, lightly bound and blindfolded, back to the train station. Before they left, I said a sullen goodbye.

"Can't I stay?" Samantha asked me plaintively. "Isn't there anything I can do?"

I didn't answer. I just walked away. And I think I heard her sobs echo in the garage before she was loaded into the van.

A whole month of this drama ahead of me, Diana? Mon dieu. What have you talked me into? I'm a better friend to you than you deserve.

Love,

Cecelia