She checked her appearance in the mirror. It was always essential to make a strong, dominating yet erotic statement for a session with a new slave.
Her 36-inch breasts were cupped into brilliant mounds by the extremely expensive red leather, open-fronted bustiere. She carefully applied fire-engine red lipstick to her nipples, an added touch she thought complimented the lustrous red leather.
She checked that her mons and pussy lips looked sufficiently alluring, as she was wearing no panties. On her feet, calves and half-way up her thighs were her shiny red PVC boots, which added to her demeanour of hauteur.
The bare-breasted, uncovered pussy look was completed by tight-fitting red leather gloves, as tight as golf gloves, and brand new. She made a point of wearing new gloves for any session with a slave.
Jill Stanton pirouetted, looking at her lush, round buttocks in the full-length mirror. At 40 she was proud of her superbly sculpted figure – a figure she knew would have any slave gasping and panting.
With a final stroke of the brush over her short-cropped blonde hair and a quick lick of the lips with her tongue to make them glisten, she walked from her dressing room into the adjoining chamber where she knew her two young assistants, Mistress Ming, the Asian-Philippino 20-year-old, and Mistress Yvette, the 19-year-old black French beauty, would have the slave prepared.
She was not wrong. Suspended in the centre of the torture chamber was a magnificent example of manhood. "Ah," she said, in a voice expressing supreme satisfaction, "I see you have our new slave just the way we like them – hard and raring to go."
Jill Stanton walked in front of the bound man and inspected him and his position. His wrists were strapped into tight cuffs, which in turn were suspended by cords to ring bolts set about a yard apart on the ceiling. His ankles were in similar cuffs and his feet pulled wide by cords which went to ring bolts on the highly polished wooden floor.
Then she inspected her toy for the day. He was tall, raven-black hair came untrendily to his shoulders, but was, she noticed, gleaming with health and smelled of some expensive shampoo. Good, she loved a clean head of hair on a slave.
His eyes were dark pools of brown, which flashed with anger and also anticipation, as if he was aware that terrible things could – and probably would - happen to him. His eyebrows were as black as his hair. He was handsome in a rugged way.
But it was the rest of his body which started the sex juices flowing in Jill Stanton's groin. The man was obviously extremely fit, his muscles straining and proud, but not the grotesque over-enhancement favoured by body builders.
And his crotch area was his crowning glory. His scrotum was totally shaved and dark-brown, his testicles bunched tightly in their sac. His penis was similarly devoid of pubic hair – in fact the only trace of such hair was across his pubic bone, a dark little strip. And then the epitome of his crotch area was his cock.
Jill Stanton placed one cool leather glove on his shaft and stroked it. "Very impressive," she murmured. "What do you think, my darlings? Eight inches?"
The Asiatic girl, dark-haired and clad in knee-high leather boots, leather hot pants and a leather bolero jacket which exposed her small breasts when she moved, smiled: "At least, madam. Yvette and I have already nicknamed him 'Horse'."
Her partner, the French girl, who was identically garbed, added her view: "Eee iz a 'unk, madam, but zen you always enjoy new slaves when zey are 'unks, non?"
"Oui, Yvette," laughed Jill Stanton. "And tell me 'Horse', what is your real name, how old are you and – most importantly you divine new slave, you, how long is this magnificent piece of meat?"
The bound slave glared at her interrogator, then mumbled: "My name's Rod, I'm 38 and, if it's anything to do you with you, my cock is just over eight inches long when it's fully aroused."
And Jill Stanton smiled a knowing smile. She knew very well this marvellous trophy hanging before her was "fully aroused" and put some of it down to Ming and Yvette's manipulations, but also to her superb display of bare breasts.
Most slaves, she knew from years of experience, were basically big mummy's boys. What they really craved, apart from a little bit of pain, was to bury their faces – or their cocks – in mistress's big boobs!
"Rod – short for Rodney?" she inquired, still stroking his circumcised erection.
"Short for Roderick," he mumbled.
"Well, Roderick," snapped Jill Stanton, now sounding impatient now and eager to get on with her work, "for your impertinence in answering my question about the length of your cock, I'm going to torture it."
And with that, she stepped away and seated herself on a large easy chair – almost like a throne – and snapped her leather-gloved fingers to her two assistants. "Get him patched up!"
The two erotically-clad girls sprang to work. To his testicles, they attached little leather pads, by means of band aids, then – half-way up his turgid shaft – they placed another pad. Attached to the pads were lengths of cable which went to a control box sitting on a high table alongside Jill Stanton's chair.
She saw a look of fear and desperation cross the slave's face and smiled. She loved it when they looked like that!
"Fine, I see that's got your attention, Rod," she laughed. "Now I'll explain what's going to happen."
She pointed to the control box, with its central black toggle. "This toggle can be directed to five places on this box. When it is pushed into place, it opens an electrical circuit which will give you a shock."
Jill Stanton saw a look of terror flood her victim's face.
"Oh, nothing too severe," she hastened to inform him. "It's the mildest little twinge, but it will certainly get your attention."
And as she informed him of this, Jill Stanton was delighted to see that despite his impending predicament, the naked slave's cock was still rock-hard.
"Now you're curious, I suspect, about the five positions to which I can push the toggle. Position 1, is for the left testicle. Position 2, for the right. Follow me so far, Rod?" she asked.
"Yes," he muttered, sullenly, testing his bonds and no doubt, thought Jill Stanton, realising that escape was a futile hope – the lovely mistresses had done their job too well for that.
"Position 3," she Jill Santon, drawing out her slave's agony, "is for both testicles. Position 4, is for the shaft of your cock. And position 5 – ah, that's the Big Brute. That's for both balls and cock all at the same time. That'll be fun for you, won't it?"
"You're fucking insane," the slave almost screamed. "You can't fucking do this, you bitch!"
Jill Stanton laughed. "Oh, I can't, can't I?" she grinned, and pushed the toggle into position 1.
The effect was immediate. The slave's body went stiff – or those parts of his body that weren't stiff already did. His figure arched and bucked in his bonds and he let out a yelped "Aaargh" as the current flicked through his left testicle, albeit briefly.
"I can and I will," Jill Stanton informed him, "and I do it because I enjoy it. So you'd better get used to it my dear young slave."
The naked male slumped in his bonds. But Jill Stanton had not finished her verbal teasing of her soon-to-be-tormented slave.
"Now, just so that you can feel you're helping me play this lovely little game, my dear Rod, I'm going to get you to help me. That'll be fun, won't it?"
The slave glowered at her, then, seeing her finger hover over the toggle, he nodded: "Yes, it'll be fun."
"Great, you see how much more exciting it is when you play along with my little foibles, slave?" laughed Jill Stanton. "Now, this is how we work it. You get to select which position I push – and be inventive, darling. Not just 1, then 2, then 3 and so on. Move 'em around a bit, OK?"
Again a sullen nod from her victim.
"Lovely, then I'm ready to start the game. Give me a position – come on, slave, shout it out, I'm waiting!" the lush-breasted domina ordered her plaything.
"Two," cried the man, no doubt thinking he'd already suffered the first position.
Jill Stanton flicked the toggle and the little jolt drew another "Aaargh" from the lovely victim's mouth.
The dominatrix looked at him keenly, then decided it was time to move on. "Next!" she called, imperiously.
This time Rod called "Four" and as the current coursed through the nude's pulsating prick his entire body juddered and shuddered and again the by-now-familiar cry of "Aaargh" escaped his lips.
And so it went on for several minutes, as the slave obediently called out random numbers and Jill Stanton followed his calls, inflicting almost constant tweaks of pain through his cock and balls.
But, finally, it was all too much and the slave, still twitching and shuddering from a triple dose of current through both his balls and cock, shrieked: "Enough! Fucking enough! I can't stand any more, you fucking maniac. Stop it! Stop it!"
Jill Stanton smiled a wicked, ice-cold smile and stood from her chair and walked to the panting, sweat-covered slave.
"All right, you pathetic excuse for a man," she said, calmly, ominously calmly. "Now I'll hand you over to my most efficient young assistants.
