The Code Pt 10

10. Balsa.

The next few days were a torrent of work except for evenings when at least one visitor used me for pleasure. One turned up at 3am, waking me from my sleep by slipping my blindfold on in the glow of the cameras before turning on the lights to use me.

3am and someone is watching me. I thought. It can't always be my owners surely.

By day three I noticed that all my visitors were now female. I was used only for oral sex by several women. One dragged me to the bathroom by my hair to empty her bladder into me but the others simply wanted to use my mouth and my tongue for pleasure. One of the women had me lay on the bed after which she cuffed me to the rail then knelt facing my feet before lowering herself onto me and another simply laid me on the bed, cuff-less. The excitement was still present thanks, in part, to knowing I was on camera and also, that someone wanted to watch me give this pleasure.

The bed still smelled of Sarah but nobody complained. I reached out to Catherine by SMS about the lack of male users.

It's her. She's only allowing females to have your key.

Came the reply.

On day four an SMS arrived.

Be ready today at 3pm. Sarah has something planned. We'll collect you.

I hastily rescheduled meetings I had for the afternoon, telling everyone I had a medical appointment then spent the day pondering what Sarah was up to and Catherine's plan to have me sleep with her and how that would end the situation. At 3pm the Mercedes pulled into my drive and I squeezed into the rear seat, next to my collar.

"We're at Sarah's for this are we?" I asked.

"You need to try to stay silent, slave." Catherine said as Christopher joined the traffic. "Don't ask any questions, just nod when you have to."

"Do you..." I stopped mid question. If they knew, they weren't going to say.

The twenty minute ride to Sarah's home was done with just music from the local smooth music radio station. A collection of 80s and 90s ballads.

"I want this." Catherine whispered to me as I climbed out of the car. "Put your collar on and try to be silent. Your pain gives me so much pleasure."

Sarah answered the door in her scrubs and stethoscope.

"Hi." She beamed at Catherine and Christopher.

I stood behind them and said nothing.

"Hello, Peter." My sister said to me eventually. "This way everyone."

She led us down the main corridor of the house to the dining table which adjoined the main lounge room with two white double doors with opaque glass. I'd always enjoyed this room and never actually seen the doors closed.

"Wait here." She instructed me. I stood by the table.

"Let me show you the house." She smiled and beckoned Christopher and Catherine out into the corridor.

The table was covered in a white linen cloth. At the end of the table, furthest from the door was small dish containing two silver, what looked like jewellery screwdrivers in a liquid. In front of the chair was a piece of wood and at each end, the wood was fastened to the table by G cramps.

Around fifteen minutes later they came back into the dining room.

"You sit there Christopher." She pointed to the chair closest to the door. "Peter, please get undressed and worship me as you should."

Taken aback. I slowly peeled my clothes off, knelt before Sarah and told her how much I would enjoy being used by her.

"Sit here, Peter." She instructed, pointing to the head of the table. She gestured to Catherine to sit next to me on my left and took the seat opposite her on my right.

She took a pair of steel cuffs from her scrubs and fastened my hands behind my back.

"Well." Sarah sighed. "Let's get started with the ceremony shall we?"

Catherine smiled at Sarah and licked her lips.

"It's a bit of a medical theme we have today, Peter. I will be operating and nurse Catherine will, oh, I'm sorry Catherine, I forgot to you you some scrubs...anyway...nurse Catherine will be assisting...ok?"

I nodded.

"I think it may need to be gagged." Catherine suggested.

"Oh, good idea." Sarah turned to a cupboard lining the dining room and fished out ball gag.

"A bit primitive but, it will help. Oh but...If it wants to use it's keyword." She winked at me. "It can't get out of it. Oh, no. We can't have that...Let's leave it ungagged; it'll be more fun watching it try to be silent."

Catherine stared into space and blushed.

"Now...In front of you Peter, is a piece of wood."

I looked down at the wood clamped to the table. It was the width of the table and about two inches wide and two inches deep.

Catherine looked at me cautiously and I nodded.

"Do you know what kind of wood that is, Peter?"

I shook my head.

Sarah and Catherine each picked up on of the tiny screwdriver like objects from the dish, up close it really did resemble a jewellery screwdriver with a cross head, the stainless steel was about a millimeter in diameter.

Look at me, Peter." Sarah said quietly. "The wood, is Balsa."

I gave a questioning frown.

Sarah and Catherine each took a nipple and, with one finger, held it against the wood and pressed onto it with the silver implement. The sting of the needle like end of the implement rang through me. Each was drenched in the smell of carbolic.

"Balsa has some wonderful properties don't you agree?" Sarah continued. "It's light and durable."

Sarah and Catherine used each screwdriver to put pressure on my skin, a small speck of blood appeared under the one being used by Catherine.

"You used to make model aeroplanes as a child, Peter." I gritted my teeth.

"So light and yet so strong...They were good times weren't they?" I nodded and gritted, sweating. The screwdrivers were sinking into me.

"The really good thing about Balsa." Sarah continued. "Look at me, Peter...Is that it's so very easy to push this screwdriver into. In fact...if I keep doing this, we can go straight through and fix you to the table like one of your models. Do you want to try it, Catherine?"

I shot a glance at Catherine who was smiling and nodding blissfully.

"On a count of three then." Sarah said.

"One." The pressure eased.

"Two." The sting from the carbolic hit the pinprick wound.

"Three."

Sarah and Catherine drove the screwdrivers deep into the Balsa and my brain exploded with pain. The balsa crackled and split as the thin screwdrivers shattered the wooden fibers. I wanted to scream but held fast, gritting my teeth, my eyes watered tears down my face.

Sarah watched me in what seemed like mild amusement. Catherine seemed to be in orgasm land having found a new skill to play with. Christopher sat at the opposite end of the table looking at me earnestly but said nothing.

"Don't worry, Peter." Sarah whispered, she fished into another pocket of her scrubs and dropped two tiny padlocks into the carbolic. Each was engraved. One with CC and one with SR. "It's much more painful when we pull them out."

I wanted to rock backwards but the screwdrivers had sunk into the balsa up the the hilt. I could only sit and absorb the pain.

"So, you see, Peter. I'm taking away your childhood memories, as well as Christopher and the other men. What else do you have that can be mine?"

I kept my gaze forward and looked at Christopher.

"We wanted you pierced." Christopher said. "Sarah was only to happy to help."

Sarah nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment.

"And look at these lovely padlocks, Peter. They'll remind you each day about your co-owners."

The excitement suddenly left Sarah as if a bolt of realisation had hit her. Nervously she started to remove the screwdrivers, wriggling and twisting them away from the wood. A small pool of blood stained the hole in the balsa where the tiny wire had penetrated.

Catherine took a padlock and threaded the tiny hasp through the hole in my left nipple and clicked it shut, handing the key to Sarah. Then took the other and threaded it through my left nipple. Sarah stared at me, seeming to search for forgiveness and approval at the same time.

"You could have stopped it." She said, continuing her gaze. "You only had to say your keyword, Peter."

"I know."

"You didn't have to see me with Christopher. You could have stopped it before then."

"I know." I said, still meeting her gaze, thinking about what Catherine in particular, had in mind for my sister and myself.

"Rebecca..." Sarah stopped and stood up. "Shall we open a bottle of wine? Oh, Peter, let me get some antiseptic spray for you. Every hour you'll need it, every three hours overnight."

The wounded Sarah vanished and was replaced by Doctor Sarah. She vanished down the hallway and a few minutes later returned with a bottle of white wine, glasses and a small spray bottle of antiseptic.

"This will sting." She said, applying the spray, then handed the bottle to me.

"May I dress, Mistress?" I address Sarah pointedly. In her home, she was the owner.

"Oh,...yes...of course." She blushed and looked away.

Where has she gone? I thought. Where is the possessive Sarah who, just a few minutes ago was capable of, not just inflicting mental and physical torture; but doing it with a smile and good humour?

Catherine poured several glasses of wine and handed me a glass and, welcoming the suggestion of relief from the first sip, I drank it quickly, hoping the alcohol would diminish the sting from my wounds.

As Christopher fussed removing the rail of balsa that was cramped to the table, I dressed, careful to pull my polo top well clear from the padlocks before sitting down again, hoping for a refill. Sarah noticed the empty bottle and headed for another.

"How do you feel, Peter.?" Catherine wasn't just looking at me, she was watching.

"Sore." I said, not daring to smile. "That hurt a lot."

"No. I mean how do you feel?" Catherine asked again. "Do we need to unpack today back at 86?"

"I have some questions." I replied, listening for Sarah's approach, reluctant to let her in the conversation.

"We'll make excuses soon and we can talk at home or, we can go to your home if you like?"

"I'd rather be home right now." I said.

"Understandable." Catherine said.

We drank another glass of wine, Catherine castigating Christopher for wanting more than he should since he was driving, then made to leave. Catherine thanked Sarah with a deep kiss before getting into the front seat of the Mercedes.

Once at home, I removed my shirt and sprayed the padlocks again, wincing at the pain. I then placed a loose T shirt over them and sat with Christopher and Catherine in front of my TV and my cameras.

"She has a lot to process." Christopher said.

"She has a lot to process? Really?" I replied, raising my voice.

"No matter what you think, Peter. This was our choice. We said you would be pierced and Sarah gave us the opportunity to do that and to pull her into my...our gravity." Catherine replied.

"Just how did that work exactly?" I said mockingly. "You could have sent me to the local tattoo place to be pierced. How does having my sister do this work? And what makes you think I'm any closer to giving you what you want?"

"You're going to do as you're told." Christopher said rising to stand. "Go and kneel in the shower!"

I sat and stared at them, then, as if something else took over me, went to kneel in my shower alcove, still clothed.

Christopher and Catherine, who had retrieved the crop from my room followed me in.

"Lower your pants, slave." Catherine ordered.

I did as I was told, knowing what was to come would add to the pain and humiliation that I'd endured.

But I want this. I thought. This is what I am. Their slave.

With eight swift blows to the existing marks I knelt to allow Christopher to enter my mouth. Slightly flacid, he was able to steer himself deep into my throat where he discharged a stream of his hot nectar.

"When we order you. You obey. Do you understand, slave?"

"Yes, Master." I said, bending to lick the mosaic where the remnants of his discharge were pooling around the floor.

"If you disobey this." Catherine said firmly. "You will no longer be our slave. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"This is what you are now, Peter. This is what you desire, isn't it? To be used, abused and humiliated." Catherine said softly.

"Yes, Mistress." I replied.

Christopher turned on the cold water and they both left the bathroom. Slowly I got to my feet and sloshed the wet clothes off my body, slowly increasing the temperature to be tolerable for my welts and my nipples. As I towelled myself dry I heard the door close and their car start.

As early as it was, I turned off all the lights and climbed into bed.

I awoke with a start about two hours later, woken by the buzz of my phone.

ETA 15.

Another woman came to use me. I had lost track of the tastes and voices of each one. At least of those that spoke to me. The woman entered the room silently as I knelt before the bed, lifted me by the hair and made me lie down on my back. She then climbed on to allow me to clean her. She tasted of other men. Both entries had been used and the taste drew me back to the taste of Christopher after he had been inside me. When she left I was still hard.

"May I release?" I said to the room, hoping the cameras were on and they were watching and listening.

"No, Peter. You don't deserve it." Catherine said quietly.

Two more came during the night and twice more Catherine denied me release. Even with everything I have endured. I thought. I'm still being trained. I'm still being held in chains.

Four days later, the pain was fading from my nipples. Work had been steady and I had been left alone, apart from the women who came to be cleaned. Each time, I had asked for release the glow of the cameras and each time, denied. I thought about going to the office to use the toilets there but something in me said no. I had to obey them. This is part of being owned. They say when and where it goes.

That evening, my third woman joined me at close to midnight. I was in a deep sleep when the buzz of the SMS jolted me awake.

ETA 10.

I was in position blindfold, still trying to wake up when my hair was again pulled and I was on my back. This time, my wrists were cuffed to the rail before the inevitable, sex lowered itself to my mouth and I licked at the semen. My hardness was instantaneous and again, I dreamed of men owning my body as well as women.

The woman shook as her orgasms took her time and time again then slowly her head lowered and I could feel her breath on my hardened cock.

For what seemed like minutes, her sex pushed hard to my mouth and then slowly, deliberately slowly the woman took me into her mouth, caressing me, making my whole body go rigid.

Oh, no. I thought. They really are messing with me now. There's no way I can contain this torment.

"Mistress." I gasped, in between licks. I was jolted by the pleasure she was giving. "Please no. Please..."

She ignored me. Swirling her tongue around the head of my cock she taunted and teased. Taking me deep and then releasing me to the cold air.

"Oh please, Mistress. Please let me release. Please." I gasped from under her sex which was now gyrating against me. "Please, Mistress."

"You may release." Catherine's voice was soft and calm, the mouth took me completely in, surrounding me with warmth, sucking and licking at me until with a huge thrust, I spasmed and sent my seed into her mouth.

I heard the sound of her swallowing me before returning to suck more from me, at the same time gyrating herself more into my mouth until she too orgasmed.

A few seconds later, the Velcro of the wrist cuffs was unfastened and she was gone and I lay panting on the bed, feeling the remnants of my seed becoming sticky on the already soiled sheets.

"Was it good?" Catherine's voice sang from the internet speaker.

"Fantastic, thank you, Mistress. I really needed release."

"We know you did." Catherine said. "You've been very tense."

"I'm sorry, Mistress. I've been letting you down."

"That's okay, Peter. That's okay." Catherine soothed. "We've pushed you a long way recently, more than any other slave we've owned."

"Thank you, Mistress. Thank you for being understanding."

"We do understand, Peter. We're not monsters." Catherine continued. "But we do want what we want. To stay a slave in the code you have to do what you don't want to do sometimes."

"I know, Mistress. It's just so..."

"We own you for our pleasure, Peter. We own your pain. Your pleasure. Your humiliation."

"I know, Mistress."

"We're going to own your sister and your relationship. Do you understand?"

"I don't think I can..."

"She already wants to."

"I don't see how I can, even if..."

"You and your sister are going to be the talk of The Code."

The Code. I thought.

She wants not only to own us, but to show us off. As a mistress Sarah would be known, quite possibly intimately by many of The Code. Changing roles to be a slave to both Becky and Catherine and Christopher, along with the main event that Catherine was planning would indeed be the talk of The Code.

Sarah wants it? I thought back to the conversation with Christopher. Possessive. Yes, she could want it. She wants to be the centre of attraction in The Code and being a mistress doesn't give her that. Catherine, Christopher and Rebecca were working on her weakness and Sarah was falling, not into a trap. Into something she didn't realise she wanted more than ever.

"Get some sleep, Peter. You look tired." Her voice now a lullaby.

"Thank you, Mistress. I will."

The red glow disappeared and the static from the internet speaker faded. I closed my eyes and slept; a long deep sleep, only disturbed by sunlight coming through the blinds at 8:30 am.

I'd missed my alarm and was due for meetings with a client at 10. Throwing myself into the shower, I carefully washed my body with antibacterial bodywash then dressed in a suit and tie, headed to my car. I was lucky enough to have a waistcoat for my suit and this was enough to hide the slight bumps of the two padlocks piercing my nipples.

The meetings all went according to plan, the client providing lunch of sandwiches and coffee which I was only too happy to consume, having eaten little in the last 24 hours. By 5pm I was on my way home, in better spirits, thinking, hoping that last night's visitor would join me again.

I stopped at the grocery store for some coffee and cereal and milk. My refrigerator was all out of beer but I decided to leave it until weekend. James seemed to be telepathic when it came to Beer and always seemed to turn up when I had some. I didn't need him around right now.

I pulled into my drive just as a thunderstorm opened up, blanketing the windscreen with huge raindrops, making visibility almost impossible. Just in time, I swerved to avoid Sarah's black BMW.

"Oh fuck." I said to the steering wheel and waited for the rain to abate.

After five minutes of roaring thunderstorm, I'd had enough. Grabbing my laptop bag for cover, I ran to the door of the house, sheltered by a tiled porch and nervously fumbling for keys, I was about to let myself in when the door opened.

"You scrub up well." Sarah smiled. "Nice suit."