Dr Jolene Ch 12

CHAPTER 12: BDSM ORDEAL -- PART A

We had been driving for about half an hour, ending at an over-the-top mansion within an exclusive gated community to the North of the city. We made good time by avoiding the city on county and state roads. As Mr. W opened my door to assist me from the car, the cape I wore opened up to the single clasp at my neck. The cape and my high heels were the only items I wore. Mr. W looked at me as I took his hand, my body completely on display to him. This in itself would not be new to us, he is very familiar with my body and I am very comfortable giving it to him ... completely and without reservation. What is different, however, is that he is delivering me to this home, and the couple inside, for the weekend. And ... my only possessions for the weekend are what I currently am wearing.

All this started earlier in the week when Mr. W and I met with the Board of Directors to discuss the various products I had developed secretly at my lab on the estate. Normally, the Board rarely gets even marginally involved with the specifics of our products. They are concerned with profitability, reaction from the shareholders, market analysts, and future growth potential for the company. In many ways, these new products touched on several of those areas of interest. The sexual nature of the new products I've developed are well outside the company's previous scope and markets. That was what drove Mr. W's interest in gaining the Board's consent and acceptance.

I presented the various new products with detailed review of problems they solved or remedied or the physical enhancements possible. The information was very specific and graphic. Mr. W wanted nothing held back. My presentation included definition of each issue, the development process, testing, and the effectiveness of each product. I included recipient testimonials and before/after photographic evidence. The Board was not privy to who the recipients were while being established as confidential, but included were pictures of Mr. W, Robert and James' enlargements, my tits, and my nipples and clitoral changes. It was quite weird to reference these while knowing who they belonged to.

I was completely professional in my presentation and appearance, wearing a smart, conservative business suit. Mr. W has tried hard to keep separate my company/professional image and the life we are privately engaged in. That was about to be sacrificed, though it was not known to us at the time.

After my presentation, fielding numerous questions, some indicating possible individual interest, Mr. W presented his ideas for taking the products forward to market. His preference was directly to market using the strength of our company's position and recognition. Alternatively, we could partner with another company, but that would cost valuable profit potential.

He approached me the following day and I could see something wasn't right. We sat for coffee in the kitchen. I was wearing a sheer baby-doll with the mandatory heels on my feet. As I returned to the table with refills, he commented that it somehow doesn't feel right to discuss this with me dressed like that. We sat at our customary locations so I could easily reach across the corner to put my hand over his to reassure him that viewing my body didn't preclude us having a serious discussion.

He went on to explain his concern following the Board meeting. There may be some of the Board reluctant to take the company down the path he suggested for these products. Their concern was over a potential that these products could negatively affect the perception of the company across other products. He made an informal survey of the eight members and found the predictable five who would follow his lead on most anything. Of the other three, there was one member who seemed to already hold sway over the other two. Mr. W has the votes to proceed but wants a unanimous approval.

The potential problem would come from Mr. Harrison, a member of the Board for many years and has gained some strength there among a few members. He has learned, from information he has obtained confidentially, that Harrison and his wife practice BDSM within a very confidential group of couples. Their enjoyment is similar to swinging with soft BDSM practices mixing in as the primary 'slave' subjects being their wives.

He told me he didn't want this discussion to be taken by me as something I felt I had to do because of my role with him. He said their practices involve some pain by whipping, caning, wax, clamps, bondage and such, but not to the point of marking, breaking skin, or lasting bruising. He reminded me their wives are their normal subjects and they are not particularly submissive women. Some events have a swap where the wife is 'used' by another man; other events might have a single wife subjected to the use by the rest of the group with the other women using humiliation, cunt sucking, slapping, and use of dildos. Every now and then, a different woman is brought in for their play. The woman has always been a prostitute but that seems to take the fun out of it for them.

I asked how he knew so much about a private and confidential group and he confided that one of the other couples owed him for help he gave in some refinancing. It got him a lot of information.

I queried how this involved me, though I had begun to suspect. Though he hadn't wanted my role at the estate to affect my feelings, his eyes did wander over my body, some of which was seen through sheer cloth, but most naked. The baby-doll, held by a single tie below the tits, gaped at the bottom as I sat, my thighs slightly parted. My tits and nipples were visible under the material, my cunt clearly exposed. He smiled after moments of gazing.

He told me Harrison got to where he is by being wise about people and having his own information. Suffice it to say he guessed about me. He wasn't sure, but he did guess that some of those pictures were of me. It may have been reinforced by a comment from Marjorie about my appearance in the office that day. At any rate, Harrison proposed a way to get a unanimous approval from the Board. Mr. W confided to me that he misplayed the situation. He was upset that someone on his own Board would play a power struggle move and not over what was really better for the company but just for the game. And that's what Harrison was doing. He didn't even deny it. So, Mr. W had played the card ... hinted at what he knew. Harrison didn't even flinch. He almost seemed ready for it as if he expected it to come into play at some point. Maybe he even knew about the other couple's indebtedness to Mr. W. Regardless, Harrison calmly reinforced that leaking a scandal around him would be a scandal for the company.

Harrison even seemed to have planned for an eventuality his stay on the Board could come to an end. He had accomplished enough. Harrison was guessing, but questioned that I wasn't the Dr. Trent they all knew from before. There was something different about the way I looked at the men, how I stood with a new confidence that defied the business suit I wore. He insinuated about rumors about why I was never seen around the company, about being seen in revealing clothing ... he might have been guessing but he was guessing very close to reality.

I had ignored his desire to keep our physical relationship apart from the discussion and sat across his lap, one of his arms moved instinctively around my shoulders and the other inside the gaping baby-doll on my bare outside hip. He stroked up my side, back over my hip and down my thigh. He looked into my eyes and revealed Harrison's proposed for getting the votes, if I spent a weekend with him and his wife at their home. BDSM play.

I turned his face to mine and kissing him on the lips. It wasn't a deeply passionate kiss. Not that kind, at all. It was to convey understanding, comfort, and support. When I pulled my lips away from him, "Do it, sir." He started to protest, but I shook my head. "I trust you to negotiate safe parameters for the weekend to ensure I won't be harmed significantly. I have never been exposed to BDSM and I know there is some pain involved, that humiliation and the ability to inflict some pain is part of the excitement for them. I trust you, sir. As long as they agree to limitations for the weekend, we should do it." He questioned the 'we' part, but I just smiled and put my head on his shoulder. His hand went to my tit, not to influence me, but because it was a natural thing to have happen. If I am near any of them, they fondled me. It was what I gave them. I was theirs to be used and even if he didn't want this discussion to be clouded by that thinking, I no longer desired to separate myself from it.

I had reassured him by saying, "We have invested too much not to try to see it through. Besides, you promised me new experiences to challenge me." He looked at me and I nodded.

Which is how I ended up standing in front of Mr. Harrison's residence late Friday afternoon covered only by a bright red cape Harrison had sent for my use. It would be the only covering available to me and not often that. Mr. W had negotiated limits to the experience for how I would be used as their 'BDSM slave' for the weekend. In return, Harrison would swing the votes to Mr. W AND Harrison would 'resign' from the Board. As he watched me and we both hesitated, I sensed he was giving me a last opportunity to refuse. I turned to kiss and reassure him that it would be fine. I feel the cape gap open from a breeze and the evening air on my naked body. A chill goes through me. I have given my three men the ability to decide what they do with me but that wasis based on a mutual trust and bond, even if quickly developed. This was different, I don't know these people but it was still the smart move to help the company, but mostly to help Mr. W. I turned and walked to the front door, my heels clicking on the pavers leading to it.

Before I can rap on the massive front door, it opens to Mr. and Mrs. Harrison. Mr. looks past me and nods to their understanding. I hear nothing behind me and it isn't until the front door has closed that I hear Mr. W's car door slam shut and the engine start up. So, it begins.

Mr. and Mrs. stand before me ... or I before them. I can see the anxiousness in them. Mrs. indicates she will take the cape, which I unfasten at my neck and swing around my body. She then indicates my heels, which she crouches to pick up. They are both placed inside the entryway coat closet.

He then speaks, "For the weekend, you will address me as either 'sir' or 'master' and my wife as 'ma'am' or 'mistress'." I give him my choice quickly by responding with a 'yes, sir'. He smiles but if I don't address Mr. W with 'master', I definitely won't to him.

Then he continues, "I have agreed to Stanley's terms for your time with us. You do not need to concern yourself in that regard. You will be naked for the entire weekend unless one of us indicates differently, which I doubt. You will serve us and do as you are instructed without hesitation. We understand you are not familiar with the practices of BDSM, but you are an intelligent woman and should understand the basic tenant: do as you are told and please the males and females you come into contact with."

His wife stepped up to me, her hands on my tits and fingers on my nipples. She pinched a nipple causing me to gasp. "Oooooo ... how lovely. She has sensitive nipples, dear husband. I wonder about down here ..." Her fingers trailed down my front to my mound. I parted my legs in a natural response and her fingers found my cunt lips with one finger parting the lips and sinking into my hole. "As you suspected, she is a slut. Already she is wet. Even with the uncertainty of the weekend her body can't control itself."

He laughed, moved his fingers between my legs pushing his wife's away in the process. He pushed two fingers into my cunt, his thumb scraping over my clit causing me to gasp, again. He smiled, "Her clit, too. Don't you love these big tits? Slut, you don't know how long I have wanted to feel them in my hands."

His wife leaned into my ear and whispered, "How much fun we will have with those sensitive nipples and clit button."

They teased me more in this way, trying to put me on edge regarding what might be coming this weekend. As soon as the taunting started in the foyer, I resolved to be the best submissive slave they could want this weekend. My entire focus and motivation were Mr. W and at that moment whatever question or doubt might have remained within was gone. My mind, heart, and soul saw my resolve with crystal clarity: I would do ANYTHING for Mr. W. And, I would prove it this weekend even if they went outside the agreement. I would give Harrison no cause to go against his agreement with Mr. W.

It was nearly dinner time. As they got comfortable in their sitting room, I served them drinks, then was ordered to go to the kitchen to assist the caterer in the final preparations for dinner, which I would be serving. They made it clear I was not their guest who would be dining with them but someone who would serve the meal.

I walked tentatively into the kitchen to find two men dishing food onto serving dishes and bowls. When they saw me enter naked, all activity stopped. To break the awkward moment, I told them I was told to assist them in any way they needed. Although they continued to take looks at my body, they moved back into what they had been doing. I was told to take the dishes, silver, etc. and set the table in the dining room. There were settings for two. I was uncertain about where the setting should be placed for two and the men didn't know, either. I returned to the sitting room, excused the intrusion and asked my question. Harrison called me over to them. They were sitting near each other and I stood between them. He slipped a finger back into my cunt as she resumed pinching my nipple. He raised the finger to me, I bent over to take it in my mouth, as she slapped my hanging tit closest to her. I flinched but continued to suck the finger. I heard them chuckling as I returned to the dining room.

The men were ready with the food so I carried each of the serving plates and bowls into the dining room, poured the wine previously selected, and called Mr. and Mrs. Harrison to dinner. Sitting at each end of the table, I carried plates and bowls from one end to the other, each time being felt, pinched, probed, or slapped.

After they indicated they were through with the main course, I cleared their settings and the serving dishes. When I returned to them, I asked if they would like dessert now. Mr. Harrison indicated for me to come to him. He pulled something from his coat pocket that I couldn't make out until I was standing beside his chair. They were small alligator clips and ball-weights. He reached up, pulled on a nipple to make it extra-long, then squeezed the clip open. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to watch it happen. I felt the tiny, sharp teeth of the clip bite into the normally very sensitive nub and quietly gasped. He did the same thing to the other one, then flicked the small weights hanging from them and I felt what it was going to be like. Any movement, step, bend, or turn would cause the small weights to bounce or swing and the teeth to bite in more.

I winced with each step as I went to serve the desserts. The men in the kitchen were cleaning up in preparation to leaving soon now that the meal had been essentially completed. They had much of it already covered in storage containers and put away in the refrigerator. When they saw me with the clips, devilish smiles appeared on their faces. Up to this point they seemed content to just stare at my exposure but this new development seemed to embolden them. As I assembled the dessert dishes and new silverware, two sets of hands began stroking my body over my ass, back, and tits causing the clips to sting more.

Back in the dining room, Mr. Harrison slipped his hand between my legs and a finger into my cunt as I stood beside him after serving him. "Are the caterers about finished?"

I gasped at the touch and nodded. It seemed strange to me that my nipples could be in pain and the invasion of my cunt could produce such a reaction. Maybe this was little different than the pleasure I enjoy from my nipples and clit being rubbed, pinched and twisted during foreplay and fucking.

I noticed him look at his wife and heard her, "Before they leave, slut, be sure to give them an appropriate thanks for an excellent meal." I looked at her confused as her husband continued to saw his fingers, now two, into my dripping cunt with the small weights swinging from my nipples. "Don't be dense, cunt. Use that cunt to express our gratitude."

The men in the kitchen were waiting at the cleared off island in case anything else might be required by the couple. I walked up to them and dropped to my knees in front of them. "Sir and Ma'am wish to express their gratitude for a wonderful meal." With that I reached up to unfasten one belt and zipper, then the other. After lowering both pants and underwear, after meeting no resistance, I engulfed one hardening cock while taking hold of the other. I sucked each cock back and forth while they bent over to take pleasure in bouncing my tits to make the balls to bounce and the clips dig in. Once their cocks were hard, I pulled back and looked up at them, "I am being made available to you in thanks. Would you like to cum in my mouth or my body?"

They pulled me up jointly and pressed my front into the island, bent over, legs spread, and tits pressed into the hardwood surface jamming the clips harder. I was fucked unceremoniously and quickly, as if they weren't totally convinced of the appropriateness of this happening and wanting to get their release before it was stopped. It wasn't stopped, of course, though I did spot Mr. and Mrs. standing in the entry to the kitchen watching as my face was pressed in that direction. Even though they didn't seem to have any consideration of my orgasm or pleasure, I managed to assist an orgasm with each man using my sensitive clit.

In the sitting room, I was again serving them, waiting on their needs. I had just served an after-dinner drink and resumed my position in front of them, hands behind my back and legs spread shoulder width. Mr. Harrison pointed at a small item on the side table, which I hadn't noticed. It was another clip and small ball.

"You need to be punished, slut," said the Mrs. What did I do? I tried to do everything they instructed without hesitation, even giving my body to the caterers as a 'thank you' from them. I handed her the clip and her fingers went between my legs, took my clit between thumb and forefinger and pulled it harshly. While concentrating on the handling of my clit a foreboding spread through me. These people were going to find, or invent, any reason they needed to inflict some sort of punishment on my body. My easily engorged clit was now a small penis in her fingers. She looked up at me with a terrible glee in her expression, then she intently opened the clip and attached it to my very sensitive nub. This was worse than pinching during foreplay and fucking. The tiny teeth dug in and were unrelenting. As she released the ball to swing between my legs, the clip seemed to dig in more.

"You are nothing but cunt, asshole, mouth, and body parts as a plaything for others. Your pleasure is nothing. You are only for others to fuck, use, and abuse as they desire. Do you know why you are being punished?"

I struggled to make sense of this. People get off on this? They like abusing, humiliating and being abused and humiliated? I have experienced some pain and humiliation in being publicly exposed with the guys, but it has been knowing they care for me and done in a way that extended our mutual pleasure. This was different, very different. I would get past it for Mr. W, but ... Then, I knew what it was, "I am sorry, ma'am. When I stroked my clit for my pleasure, I did not know it was not allowed. It won't happen, again."