"Thank you dad," said Mason and he ran upstairs to begin planning Ginny's dress with the Georgian for homecoming. Upon leaving the room Mason unknowingly dropped Ginny's essay from the inner pocket of his jacket. His father picked it up, unfolded it, and read it again, as if committing it to memory.
You took me to that room, and I knew I was in trouble. I was scared. You whipped me and I felt subpar. When I went home I spoke to my father. And I asked him the truth about my mother. Strangely, writing this I feel more comfortable than I would telling you this in person. I asked him if my mother was my real mother. I knew she was of the ejactulating sort, as I had walked in on the two early in my childhood. My mother was making a great deal of noise and I was positive my father was hurting her. I saw everything. The liquid, the convulsions, my father standing over her, simply everything.
You might ask, what my parents have to do with how I felt after the whipping with which you endowed me, however I feel they have everything to do with that circumstance. You see, my father assured me I am the child of my mother and he, making me a dominant woman. However, my mother tells a different story. When I was a child she began an affair. She wouldn't tell me if the the affair began before I was born or after. When she spoke she mentioned several women who were of various importance to her and after speaking to her I am unclear if I am indeed a dominant child of either my mother and father or my mother and uncle or the submissive child of my mother and another woman.
You must be wondering, how I could be unclear. It must be obvious, you must think. I grew up during my early childhood feeling quite dominant, arranging situations for play with my friends. My friends' parents always looked at my parents, then at me and assumed I was to be dominant, but that isn't how I was raised. You know my father doesn't believe in Master/slave relations, but he did raise me in a Victorian household, strictly, punishing me harshly. Punishments always followed by doting. I grew to take comfort in the warmth and humiliation of his strap. My only boyfriend, whom I saw in secret, spanked me a bit, and timidly, leaving me to do the job of spanking him. But no one could wield that whip like you did. You cut my flesh, it felt like a poker, until the next slice. It felt like all my childhood trash was oozing out from those cuts and I was liberated. I felt free from what they've been whispering about me behind my back. I never wanted to be anywhere more in my life, your collar around my neck, your whip on my back. I was wrong, yes.
"Yes," Mr. Tearing said to himself. "You do have a rather unique creature.
****
Part 5
****
Several weeks passed after Mr. Tearing read Ginny's letter. During that time he kept a close watch and an open ear on Ginny and Mason's interactions, knowing full well what Ginny was. Mason seemed oblivious to her circumstance, but meant to be. He treated her as submissive, and as long as that red metal was around her neck, there was no risk of loosing that submission. They trained on the weekends and Ginny studied hard to maintain a 4.0 grade point average. Her father became more comfortable with her relations with Mason and as homecoming was approaching he even threw a belated 18th birthday party for the two of them, as they were both only three days apart in age. Two days before homecoming Mason invited Ginny to his dungeon for a training session. She stood naked save for her new collar and fetters.
"Now that we have fully explored the pleasure cabinet, and I must say your pleasure was most satisfying, I want to explore what is in the punishment cabinet, one item at a time," said Mason, calculatingly as he opened the cabinet. In there sat a surprising group of items, but only four. "Where is the fifth item?" asked Mason.
"It's my nudity, Sir. I am shy. The dress you bought me was beautiful... and these clothes, and I love them. But every time I sit or bend or twist, I'm terrified of my private parts," she whispered 'private parts,' "showing." Mason was delighted at this revelation but showed no sign. In the cabinet was a pair of eight inch heels, a bra with spikes on the inside, meant to be strapped tightly, a dog's butt plug tail, no doubt as part of a public performance. The final item was most unique and Mason pulled it out. It was a toilet seat with room for someone to place their head underneath.
"This is a personal fetish of mine and we will not be using it as punishment. You will learn to play with this and you will learn to like it. It just so happens I am prepared to start this training with you now." He placed the seat on the carpet and instructed Ginny to move herself underneath as he sat upon it after removing his pants. "You ruin the carpet, you will be punished with at least one of those items." Ginny not only missed capturing many of Mason's deposits in her mouth, she quickly pulled herself out from the seat and vomited on the carpet.
"Don't worry, baby doll," he said sadistically. "I know just what to do. Drink this," he said, handing her his bottle of water. He took a sneak peak at the bondage closet and pulled some rope from it as well as the eight inch heels from the punishment closet and instructed her to put them on. He led her, naked, to the front foyer within which was constructed a grand double staircase. Mason tied one ankle to one side, the other to the other.
"You will stand here in those heels, nude, until my father's dinner party tonight. That's in four hours. Your hands are free and you must introduce yourself to the guests graciously. If you must urinate or defecate, you can do it on the floor. Our maid will have to clean up all of you messes today anyway. And one more thing, you must let everyone touch you as they wish." Ginny's feet were already beginning to pinch. Mason didn't have to tell her she wasn't allowed to sit down, but she wanted to. Everyone who came through the door would see her 'private parts' and she already had to urinate. After Mason walked away, leaving her alone to take care of some business, Anastasia walked by.
Ana was very pleased by the condition in which Ginny was displayed. Ginny hated Anastasia for her comment at the dinner table a few weeks ago. Maybe she hated her for being older, mistaking effective passive aggression for sophistication. Ana walked up to Ginny and spoke.
"I heard everything Mason said. I can touch you however I please," she said. Anastasia squeezed Ginny's breast vigorously for the shock value, but once she'd felt its firmness she began squeezing them both for her pleasure. After all, Anastasia was an ejaculating woman, a breed universally bisexual. "I also heard you were to be gracious. It would behoove you to reciprocate, or I'll tell something naughty on you." Ginny slowly and in an inexperienced way began exploring Ana's breast, first over her shirt, which was later unbuttoned. Anastasia tossed her hair back and thrust her chest out. "Squeeze my nipples hard, Ginny." Just hearing her name come out of that girl's lips induced goosebumps all over her body. Ginny did as she was told, squeezing hard and exploring the feel of another woman's breasts for the first time. As Ginny was lost in her explorations Ana's intentions became more catty and her hands wandered down to Ginny's sex, squeezing her full bladder, Ginny wincing at the fear of the inevitable accident. Ana's hand stroked the exterior of Ginny's pussy, moving back and forth, slowly making their way into the interior of Ginny's labia and finally entering her teasingly. Ginny's knees buckled slightly and Anastasia responded with an, "Ah-ah-ah! Knees straight." At that moment Jonathan Tearing walked by.
"What are you doing Ana?" he asked suspiciously, unaware of any monogamous stipulations on Ginny's sexuality.
