Staci in Paradise

It took a few days to work up the courage to approach Fred. In the meantime I worked hard at my job. The club site was up and running; I'd picked out several of the girls (including Myrna). The photographer had done a good job. Fred and I picked out a couple of batches of photos. I intended to rotate them every week or so, adding fresh photos to keep interest up.

The dungeon was next, so it made sense that I'd want to look it over like I'd looked the club over. Fred didn't know I'd been hanging out with Myrna, though.

Finally one afternoon I screwed up all my courage, marched into his office, and unloaded everything to him. He listened patiently, didn't even act shocked when I asked if I could work at the dungeon part time.

"You know, Staci," Fred said, "I hired you to program my computers."

I assured him I'd not let my programming duties slide. He finally agreed, but told me I'd receive no special treatment, I had to do all the things the other dungeon girls were required to do, like have a full physical and pelvic exam before starting work; a VD and AIDS test which would be repeated weekly, and sign a release. I would also need "training" as he put it. "Myrna can take care of that, you two are so close now."

So I had the tests; I was fine. I signed the release which basically said if I got arrested I was on my own.

Finally one day I reported to Myrna at the dungeon for my training.

I was nervous. It was early afternoon; we were the only ones here. "Staci," Myrna said, "Before you can use something on someone it's important that you know what it feels like. Do you understand?"

I looked down, blushing furiously and nodded.

"Good. Take off your clothes."

Shivering a bit I unzipped, unbuttoned, and unsnapped under Myrna's watchful gaze. Finally stepping out of my panties I wrapped my arms around my bare breasts, shivering a bit. It wasn't really cold, but I had goose bumps all over anyway.

Myrna led me to a device in at one side of the room (we were in the "spanking room") which looked like a big wooden "X", slanted away at the top. It had leather straps on top and bottom.

"Stand here," Myrna pointed to the bottom of the X. I put my bare feet near the center, facing the X. Myrna grabbed my left leg and pulled it over to the bottom left of the X. I felt leather; looking down I saw her buckling a leather strap around my left ankle, binding it to the X. She repeated this with my right leg and ankle; then my left wrist to the top left of the X, right wrist to the top right. I was firmly secured, helpless. I pulled a bit, instinctively, but the straps didn't yield.

Moving close, Myrna whispered in my ear, "Do you know what I'm going to do now?" I shook my head, managed to stammer, "N-no..."

"Anything I want," she said with a cruel little laugh in her voice. Then she turned and walked out the door, pulling it shut behind her.

I was scared, what had I gotten myself into? I thought frantically. My mind was racing in circles, round and round and round.

Myrna left me like that, helpless, strapped in, for nearly twenty minutes. The anticipation was more than I could bear. I dreaded what would happen next but wanted her to hurry, get it over with.

Almost out of my mind with dread and anticipation I suddenly realized I was becoming excited. I felt the familiar wetness between my helplessly spread legs, knew I was opening, readying for a male member to invade me. Damn, I thought, I am a hot pants little slut!

I jerked as I felt leather across my left shoulder. Myrna had returned; apparently I hadn't heard her enter the room. "This is a cat," Myrna explained. "In medieval times the leather tails were studded with lead beads, to further cut the flesh. As you can see this one is all leather."

She drug the cat slowly up, the leather rubbing against my breast, pulling slightly. Then across my right shoulder, the leather tails hanging over my right breast, pulling it slowly up...

Myrna continued this torture for a few minutes. All the while I wondered what it would feel like to be whipped with that thing, wondered if I could take it, wondered if I'd cry and beg her to stop.

Finally she flicked the cat across my bare ass. It made a slapping noise; I jerked more from surprise than pain. Then again she rubbed the cat across my shoulders, my back...

SLAP! Suddenly another slap, a little harder than the first. I jumped and yelped a bit this time, again surprised more than hurt.

She kept this up for what seemed like forever, rubbing and slapping, slapping and rubbing. The slaps got harder and they hurt but I didn't cry out. Across my back, both ass cheeks, she kept slapping, rubbing. I was burning, my back and ass were on fire, it hurt and at the same time it felt wonderful. I was trapped, tied down, helpless, I had to take whatever the blonde dished out...

I heard a guttural cry from far, far away, ahhh...aHHHH...AHHHHHHHHHHH. Somebody was cumming, I thought then I realized the cries were mine, I was cumming, spasming against nothing, hips jerking, head back. Cumming and cumming and cumming, on and on and on.

Myrna stopped whipping me. She gently untied my ankles and wrists. Panting, I nearly fell on rubbery legs. She held me up, cooing to me sweetly like you'd coo to a baby or a small child.

Myrna helped me to the sofa, brought me a glass of water. I drank it greedily. I was slick, covered in sweat, panting. I panted and panted and panted, unable to speak.

Finally I was able to dress. Myrna drove me home, helped me inside, into bed. I fell asleep at once, exhausted, sated.

This went on every afternoon for the next two weeks. Myrna subjected me to various whippings and paddling's. I never lost control again; I knew what to expect. When I'd feel myself going in that direction I'd pull myself back.

Finally I'd been beaten with every instrument of torture known to man. I had to recuperate for two weeks as I was now marked and bruised all over.

Myrna helped me pick out a "witches costume" as she called it. She said it would look good on me with my long black hair and light skin. A black thong and matching black bra (I insisted on Victoria's Secret). A black dress, obscenely short and low cut. Black pumps, six inch heels I could barely walk in. Black thigh high stockings.

I had the nail salon do my fingernails and toenails bright red, "hooker red" they called it. Long shapely extension that made typing all but impossible.

Finally I was ready. I met Myrna at the dungeon on a Friday evening after work, dressed like a slutty witch.

Only the two of us tonight, she told me, with John watching the monitors. She'd picked out a "real nice guy" for me.

I kept fidgeting, looking at my watch, nervous. Finally the bell rang. Myrna answered it, ushered the man in.

He was surprisingly nice looking, a little older than me, mid thirties I thought. About six feet tall, trim, athletic. Soft brown eyes, white teeth that showed when he smiled, curly dark hair. I wanted to run my fingers through it.

I wondered what this guy was doing here. I mean, I'd have rolled onto my back like a June bug if he'd said, "boo!" at me as I imagined most women would. Why was he paying for the privilege of being treated like dirt?

Anyway, I got up. I saw his eyes run up and down my small frame. He hesitated a minute at my boobs: they looked great I admit, framed by the black dress. He stopped at my feet, staring at the tops of my pumps for a long, long time.

I finally walked toward one of the doors, beckoning him to follow me. "Go in here, take off your clothes, I'll be there in a minute" I blurted out.

He didn't seem to notice, just went into the room. I glanced over at Myrna; she flashed me an "ok" sign. I discovered I actually had to go potty, so I walked off toward the bathroom.

On the way back I peeked in at John in the monitor room. My guy was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, completely naked. Like the man I'd seen with Amy he had a huge erection.

He was beautiful.

I walked back to the living room, pulled the door open, and went into the small room. There wasn't much in here - a couple of chairs, carpet on the floor. We called this the "interview room".

I sat down in one of the chairs, crossing my legs. Looking down at the man on the floor, I said, "Well, darling, what can I do for you tonight?"

He crawled toward me on the floor. I indicated the other chair with my hand but he shook his head. He kept his eyes on my feet, one on the floor, the other dangling.

"You have beautiful shoes," he said. "Are your feet beautiful too?"

Laughing, I let the shoe on my left foot, the one dangling, hang down a bit, exposing the tops of my red painted nails. I heard his breath catch. Pulling my shoe back on I said, "Well, I don't know - what do YOU think?"

"Oh, yes, I think so...I think you have the loveliest feet in the world!"

I looked down at him. This was fun; I felt empowered, powerful. Time to play with him a bit. "They sort of hurt, you know? My shoes are a little uncomfortable." I saw him lick his lips, almost drool. "And my new pumps are all scuffed, they need to be polished." This wasn't true, the shoes were brand new.

"I'd gladly give you a foot massage..."he began.

"Maybe later," I told him. "I couldn't enjoy a massage knowing the horrible condition my shoes are in." I smiled down at him. "Do you think you could clean them up a bit for me, darling?"

Drooling, his head dropped. Tongue out like a dog he began to lick my left shoe as it dangled in front of him. Long slow licks from back to front.

I let him go on for a bit then switched legs, allowing him to "polish" my right shoe.

He was breathing hard. "Ohhh, that's great, thank you, darling. How about that massage now?"

He gently slipped the shoe off my right foot, placing it on the floor reverently, and began to rub and massage my foot with both hands. He occasionally rubbed my foot against his cheek.

He was visibly panting now. I switched legs and allowed him to massage my left foot. He did a good job, I'll give him that - it felt wonderful!

Myrna had told me about men with foot and shoe fetishes. I'd only half believed her but my doubts were evaporating. Now the final test.

Reaching down I rolled my stocking down and off my foot. I extended it a bit, touching his lips with my big toe.

Sensing what I wanted he opened his mouth, took my toe into its warmth. He began to suck and lick my toes, one at a time, then putting all them in his mouth. Sucking and licking, licking and sucking...

My eyes closed as I surrendered to the pleasurable sensation. I wondered what his tongue would feel like on my pussy, teasing and licking and sucking my clit.

Automatically I uncrossed my legs. He held my foot in his hands, licking and sucking my toes. My legs spread a bit, eyes half closed, I surrendered to the feeling.

My climax surprised me. I came hard and suddenly, grunting and moaning a bit. Hearing that the man redoubled his efforts, sucking and licking eagerly.

I pulled my foot from his mouth, offered my other foot. Quick as a flash he had my stocking off and repeated his performance on my other foot.

Looking down I saw his member pulsing, throbbing. I saw the sheen of pre-cum on the head, knew he was close, sensed his need. Smiling, I raised my free foot, began to rub his cock with the bottom of my foot.

I felt him cum almost immediately; felt the hot liquid spurting onto my foot, coating my toes. He came and came and came; pouring what seemed like gallons of his creamy seed all over my red painted toenails.

Finally he was done. He made as if to move back, but I shook my head, instead raising my cum soaked toes to his lips. Obediently he sucked and licked until he'd cleaned every drop from my foot.

Rising, I retrieved my stockings and slipped my shoes back on. I patted his head as I'd pat an especially obedient dog, rose, and walked through the door and into the monitor room. I watched that wonderful, handsome man dress and leave.

For allowing my feet to be sucked and my shoes to be licked I was paid $150. Glancing at the clock I was twenty minutes had passed since I'd answered the doorbell.

Hell of a way to make money, I thought.

And so I worked at the dungeon two nights a week, Tuesday and Friday. The nice young man (his name was George) became a regular. Every week or two he'd set up an appointment with me to suck my toes, lick my shoes, and cum on my feet.

We didn't do anything more than that - not for a while anyway; but I'm getting ahead of myself.

The first six months at the dungeon could be described as my period of wonder. I never realized what perverts men were! Myrna tried to explain it to me, all about strong females in their past and events when they were children but it sounded like psycho-babble to me.

All I knew was, I was having fun.

Whenever I had some poor man bent over the whipping horse or on the X cross paddling or whipping him I'd think of Bob and the pain and humiliation would rush back and WHAP! Some poor guy would receive the result of my anger. And it felt good, I felt so powerful. I was their Mistress and they damn well knew it, and I'd make them pay for being pigs!

There were men like George who wanted to suck my toes. Men who wanted to be paddled. Men who wanted to be naughty schoolboys. Men who wanted to dress as women, makeup and wigs and all.

One man wanted me to shave him. I thought he meant his face.

Duh.

During this period I didn't date. I finished Fred's sites; he was pleased, getting online business for the adult toy store. I visited it also; I even bought a couple of toys for myself. Better than the butterfly. More effective.

Myrna and I went to happy hour and dancing a couple of times. It was nice to dance with men, feel someone hold me close, feel his hardness and sense his need as he held me close. Most of the time I went home with Myrna and went to bed alone.

A couple of times I didn't. The one night stands were not as upsetting as the earlier ones, mainly because I'd get to work my anger out on some man's willing ass in a day or two.

Weeks passed.

One day I got a call from a headhunter. He had a job in Orlando. Same money I was making working for Fred but I'd be a Director, in charge of an entire IT department, thirty people.

Leaving was tough but Fred understood. I'd set up his servers and web sites. Before I left I hired him a couple of good programmers and a network guy from my old company. In all he got a good deal; all together they didn't cost him much more than he was paying me.

And so one blustery winter day I said goodbye to Myrna, climbed in my ten year old Acura, and followed the moving van south to Orlando.