Once more am I standing in the wings of a stage, waiting to go on. But it’s different this time in so many ways. I’m already naked but covered in a hooded cape that will soon be taken from me. And this time, I’m about to become my Mistress’ slave, by my own choosing.

All week I’ve been asking myself if I really want to do this. Do I want to surrender my life, my possessions, my very ability to choose what I want in life to another? And all week I’ve been telling myself that I truly do not have a choice.

I believe that accepting her collar, becoming her slave, will be the last free choice I will ever make.

I’m doing it for love. And I have no choice.

~~~~~

I am an exhibitionist. I enjoy being exposed. I like having men, and women, look at me, at my naked body. I like getting them hot and excited when they look at me because it gets me hot and excited.

But that’s when I’m in control, when it’s my choice. It is, after all, my body and my life.

Now Mistress has used me. She made me expose something private about myself, to expose myself at my most vulnerable: when I cum. She made me cum in public. I was not in control. It was not my choice.

I feel so confused! Vulnerable, excited at being on display, relief at finally being allowed to cum, used like a performing animal, upset that I was not asked.

I feel violated.

My mind is confused, I am conflicted, and I… don’t… know… what… to… think! I don’t know how I feel!

So, as I sit in the dark, tied to a chair, following the climax of Act Two – my climax! I feel humiliated, excited, fulfilled, ashamed, betrayed!

While the lights were still off, Miriam came over to me, quickly undid the scarves binding me to the chair, dragging me up, and walking me off the stage. As we left the stage, the lights began to come up again.

The audience was still buzzing as we left and moved to the dressing room. It was only when the door closed, and Miriam turned to me that she realized my head was down and I was crying.

“My little Mouse! What’s wrong, my darling? You were wonderful! They loved you… and so do I.” She wrapped her arms around me and cradled my head to her breast. “There… there… don’t cry… you were wonderful, dear, wonderful…”

I turned my face towards her, tried to smile, and said, “I felt so alone, so ashamed, Mistress. I’ve never cum in public like that before. I’ve never done anything like that.” I dropped my head again. “It… it hurt me, it felt as if you really were corrupting me, that you really didn’t care about me, that you were using me…”

“No, no, no, no, my beautiful little girl,” she interrupted, caressing my hair. “Not at all. You are so precious to me, beloved. This is a play, an act, not the real you and me.” She sat me on a sofa, then knelt down in front of me. She kissed my tears, then tilted my head forward and kissed the top of my head.

“No one could possibly have done that any better, my sweet one. You even had me fooled. You were simply wonderful.” She held my head in both hands, turned my face up towards her, and smiled, then leaned forward and rubbed her nose against mine, affectionately. “Tonight, you will have a big treat, hein? Tonight, you will cum as much as you want, yes? And I will love you and lead you there, yes?” She kissed me.

My tears had stopped, but my heart still hurt. And yet, my body yearns for her. I smiled for her, but it felt strained.

Miriam, who was incredibly sensitive to everything I did, sat back on her heels. “We will cancel the rest of the show, my sweet Mouse, and I will take you home, feed you good food, and we can laugh and have fun and make wonderful sex together. Whatever you want, hein?”

I look up, and through my tears I say, “We can’t do that, Mistress! They are expecting the Third Act. We can’t just walk away!”

She shrugged, “But what are we to do? I don’t want to force my precious girl to do things she doesn’t want. They wouldn’t buy it, and I would not do that to you!”

I wiped my eyes with the backs of my hands, picked up a towel, and wiped my face, then said, “But Eve is broken at this point! In the Third Act she is broken, and bound, and becomes the Serpent’s slave, its playtoy. Eve is hurting, she is in despair. I can feel that. I can show that! I should feel this way, it’s how Eve would feel!”

Miriam sat back, her beautiful, regal, arrogant face solemn. “Are you sure, my Mouse? Can you do this, even through your pain, your tears?”

“It’s because of my pain and tears I can do this, Mistress! I can feel it now, like I never have before!” I was getting excited, because now I knew what we had been working for, what Mistress had been wanting from me. I could feel it, it was right!

She looked at me solemnly for a moment, “Well, if you’re sure you can do it.” She looked up at the clock, then stood and said, “But if we’re not going to cancel the Third Act, we must move quickly. We need to put your make-up on…”

Quickly, she wiped tears and my face with a damp cloth, put heavy, bright, red lipstick on my lips, plus heavy eye shadow and blush on my skin. I put on wrist restraints, ripped red stockings, and a red thong.

She stood back and looked at me. I looked in the mirror, and saw a cheap whore. “Are you sure about this, sweet?” she asks.

My heart beat heavily in my chest, but I nodded. “I’m sure.”

She waited a beat, then nodded in reply. “Let’s go…”

~~~~~

When the lights come up, the Serpent is standing stage left, holding a black leather collar with metal studs dangling from one hand, and a leather crop and leash in the other.

I am wearing only make-up, thong, wrist restaints, and stockings. I am on my hands and knees across the stage from her, with my head hanging down, swaying as if I am drugged or overwhelmed. It’s not far from being true.

“Here!” the Serpent commands, her voice harsh and unforgiving, pointing to a spot on the floor before her.

I look up, trembling, then slowly shuffle across the stage on my hands and knees until I reach her feet, then look up.

“Obeisance!” she commands me, using one of the Gor slave commands she has been teaching me.

I collapse forward onto my belly, arms at my sides, then stretch over and kiss first one foot, then the other, leaving my forehead against her boot in a signal of my submission and obedience.

She pushes my face away with her boot in disgust, then barks, “Ko-lar!” signalling for me to prepare to be collared.

Quickly, I scramble up to a kneeling position with my back towards her, facing the audience, knees spread wide, head bowed down in submission, with my arms over my head, wrists crossed. She steps forward and fastens the collar around my neck, pulling on it to make sure it’s tight, ensuring that there is no escape.

“Leasha!”

This is the command for me to prepare to be leashed, so I quickly cross my hands behind me to allow her to cuff me if she wishes, and turn my head to my left, and lift my chin. She clips the leash to my collar, then tugs on it to make sure I know that I am bound.

She leans down, and roughly yanks my thong down past my knees, revealing my shaved, naked pussy to the audience.

“Heel!”

And she leads me, shuffling on my hands and knees, around the stage. My legs are slightly impeded by my thong, which slowly works its way down to my ankles, then falls off.

When I am facing away from the audience she calls “Slaver’s Kiss!”

I immediately drop my head to the ground, put my palms on the top of my head with my elbows positioned wide on the floor beside me, spread my knees wide, and move my feet so my toes touch.

My pussy is now on full display to the audience, and I can hear a gasp as they see the honey dripping from my pussy lips. I am utterly excited by my exposure and deliberate humiliation.

The Serpent stands and lets my shame work in me for a time, then raises the crop and canes me hard across my ass. My body jerks, but I work not to move or make a sound. She walks slowly around me, then uses the flap end of the crop on my pussy, hard. I jerk again, and almost move, but stop myself in time.

“Up, slave.”

I leap to my feet, turn towards the audience, eyes cast down, hands at my sides.

“Slave lips!”

I turn my face towards the Serpent, eyes closed, and lips pursed, waiting for her kiss, motionless. She walks slowly around me, examining me like a piece of meat, using her crop to prod, lift, or explore my body. At one point, she runs the crop up between my legs, then traces it up my abdomen, and forces my chin up.

I remain motionless, as I must.

She stops before me, moves the crop between her back, side-on to the audience. After waiting a time, she pulls me slowly forward to her, and kisses me.

This is part of the act, but my reaction to it is not play-acting. I moan into her mouth, and lean forward to press my body against hers. I am forbidden to touch her, but use my tongue to welcome hers, and to let her know how massively excited she makes me.

She puts one hand behind my head, and kisses me more deeply. My legs begin to quiver, and I start panting. She places her hand on my shoulder, and pushes me back to my knees, then pulls me towards her pussy.

I inhale her familiar fragrance, and know she is as excited as I am. Yet, she has the ability to command her body, whereas I am melting. Hands clasped behind me, I lean in, and use my tongue to move her thong aside, then push my way between her labia and start to lick. The audience has a ring-side seat as I worship her cunt.

She holds her hand on the back of my head, pushing my head in harder, and urging me on. She puts her hand behind her back again, and flicks on the vibrating egg still nestled inside my vagina. I begin trembling hard, and breathing rapidly through my nose as I burrow, lick, and worship her cunt as urgently as I can without the use of my hands. This continues for some time. Then she moans, her head tips up, and she gives a shout as for an orgasm. In response, I cum for a second time in full view of the audience.

Blackout.

In the darkness, she takes a deep breath, spreads one foot wide, puts both hands on her hips, one hand holding the crop, her chin up and her expression triumphant. She turns off the vibrator, and I collapse, wrapping both arms around the calf of one leg, with my forehead on her foot, head bowed.

The lights come up again, and the audience is completely silent, as if stunned. The silence stretches, then suddenly they start to clap, and it builds to a thunderous roar as they spring to their feet.

Miriam reaches down, and strokes my hair, but I don’t move. I’m not sure I can without collapsing, so I continue to kiss her boot.

Finally, the lights dim, Miriam raises me up, then has to wrap her arms around me and almost drag me off the stage as I am almost incapable of walking on my own.

When we are back in the dressing room, where the lights are bright, she wraps me in her arms, and kisses me fiercely. “You are my wonderful Mouse! You were amazing, my sweet, and I am so proud of you!”

I hang my head, and say, “Mistress… I, I… I love you. I have no choice but to love you.”

She holds me, smooths my hair, and says, “I know, my wonderful, beautiful girl. And I am so glad, so grateful.

“Now! There will be a lot of requests for sexing for both of us. Do you think you can manage it tonight, or should we just go home?”

And no sooner has she said this than there is a knock at the door, and one of the staff brings a fist full of offers from audience members.

I look down and bite my lip. What I want is to be taken home and put into her bed, then to worship Mistress for real. But I know this is the best time for us to capitalize on this success, so I look at her and say, “Yes – but only if you promise me we can be alone later, that I can worship you properly. Please?”

She looks at me fondly, and says, “I promised you already. We will go home later, and we will laugh and have fun, and we will sex each other until we are happy and exhausted. And you can cum as much as you like tonight, hein? No restrictions.”

I smile and nod as Miriam turns to sort out the requests. I can’t wait for working hours to be over.

It turns out to be a very busy night, and it takes us almost three hours to finish and leave. In between, I have sucked five men, and fucked three others, plus sexed one woman who walked in with a knowing smile, and an arrogant manner who expected me to be submissive, just as Eve was in Act Three. This woman reminded me of Mistress, mostly by her manner.

By the time we were finished, had washed and packed up, we were both tired, but I felt used up. And by the time we got home, I was almost asleep.

Mistress almost carried me upstairs, helped me undress, then tucked me into bed. I must have fallen asleep almost immediately. I never noticed her come to bed.

The Next Morning

I woke slowly, stretching, and became aware of Mistresses fingers suddenly caressing my arm, up and down, and lingering in the hollow of my elbow.

I rolled over and leaned on my elbow, eyes downcast, and saw her magnificent body, stretched long on the bed, naked and uncovered.

I started to slide down her length to begin to worship her with my mouth and lips, but she put her hand out and stopped me.

“Come here, my lovely little Mouse. Come here.” And she patted the bed by her shoulder. “Look at me, Nika.”

Surprised at her use of my name, I looked up.

“I promised you a night of fun, food, and love, but you were exhausted and asleep when we got home, so we will have it this morning. I have already canceled our appearances at the Club tonight, so we have all day for fun and love.

“Now, kiss me my beautiful little girl.”

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I felt a surge of love for her, stronger even than last night.

She rolled towards me, took my face in her hands, pushed me down so I was on my back, and kissed me, gently at first. She so rarely kissed me on the mouth that it was like an electric shock ran through my body. That, coupled with the way her fingers were exploring my breasts and nipples, and smoothly stroking down my front to my kitty and back, was incredibly exciting to me.

I was already wet, and I was barely awake.

She made love to me, not like she was using her slave, but as if I were her lover. And I could tell she was excited too. Her skin seemed electric, her movements eager and quick, as if she didn’t wish to restrain herself. And I could smell her.

I knew her musky smell well, but it was strong this morning, and it spurred me on to use my hands, my lips, and my tongue to excite her further.

The two of us explored each other, touching and caressing with increasing speed and urgency. She was stretching and twisting my nipples, which she knew excited me. Meanwhile, I traced, kneaded, and licked her breasts, which I knew aroused her, then trailed my fingers down to and below her mound, stroking and then entering two fingers inside her.

Urgently, she pushed my hand away, then pulled me on top and split her legs, putting her hand on my ass and pushing my legs down between hers. I spread my legs wide and began to grind my smooth, wet pussy up and down against hers, our clits touching, finding her as soaked and as frantic as I was.

Of all the times we had had sex, I had never approached my climax as quickly as this, teetering on the edge. I looked up at her for permission, and she nodded.

My voice rose quickly in a joyous scream, and I burst into tears pushing forward against her sweet body, and shuddering. Shortly after that, her voice echoed mine, as we both came together, clutching and kissing and rolling from side to side in each other’s arms.

It was bliss.

She kept me in a state of roiling, bubbling excitement, and brought me to climax after climax, until finally I begged her to stop. I was not only exhausted again, but my clit and cunt were becoming incredibly sensitive.

She pulled the covers over us, snuggled me into the crook of her right arm, and we slept again.

~~~~~

When I woke again, Mistress was looking at me, smiling, and stroking my hair.

“I was right about you,” she said. “I knew when I saw you that first afternoon at the Club, when I taught you how to dance. I knew you were special. I just didn’t think you would last. I thought you would shine, and then ‘poof!’, explode and fade away.

“But you connect with the audience in a way that is very rare, my little Mouse. You are truly special.

“And last night proved it. They loved you, my sweet. They could eat you up with a spoon. You could have had twice as many, three times as many dates last night. We could have made a fortune!

“But I knew you had reached the end, that we had worn you out, and I do not want you to be wasted. You can be a star, my sweet girl, we can work anywhere we want now, and almost name our price.

“This is so good, so good! And it is because you finally feel the part. You feel the temptation. You feel Eve’s shame, her guilt. You feel used, humiliated, despised. You feel despair!

“And the audience knows it’s real! And they love you for it.

“As I love you for it. As I am proud that you have proved me right, that you have done as you promised: you learned what you had to learn. You worked and worked until you did what I wanted. You have pleased me.

“Just as you promised me you would.”

She leans back a little way from me, and smiles at me. “And what do you say, my little star?”

My mind is whirling, my emotions are all mixed up. I don’t know what I think. “Mistress…”

She waits, then says, “Yes, my sweet?”

“I don’t know what I think. I don’t know how I should feel. I am so confused! Feeling those things – I feel them. I really feel them. And it hurts.” By now I’m crying, quietly, but tears are rolling down my cheeks. I look up at her.

“I’m so glad I have fulfilled my promise to you. I am so glad you are proud of me. I want to please you, more than anything.

“But does it have to hurt so much?”

She stokes my hair. “I know, child, I know. But that is why it works, don’t you see? You are not an actress! You are real, and that is why audiences love you. That is why they have loved you right from the start! They love you for being you!

“So, yes, my sweet. It does have to hurt, because you have to feel it to show it. And that is how you will be a star. Your pain will set you apart from any others. You will be in demand because of your pain.”

She wipes my tears away gently with her thumbs, cradling my face in her hands.

“So, yes; it does have to hurt. But it is your destiny, your future. You hold it in your hands. Don’t let it go. Don’t let me down.”

I look down, still crying, then up again. “Why, Mistress?”

“Why what, my sweet?”

“Why do people want to see my humiliation, my disgrace, my… my pain?”

She looks up, pensively, thinking. “I’m not sure I know, Mouse. Perhaps it is because you are real, and they are looking for something real to hold onto. Perhaps it is because some of them are ghouls, and want to consume your pain.

“Some of them find it exciting, it makes them feel sexy. And when they can come back afterwards and have sex with you, it makes them feel… special. Exalted. Dominating.”

She looks down at me again. “You know this feeling. You see it all the time when you are dancing. You feel it in the air of the Club when you are onstage. Why do they feel that way? I don’t know. But they do… and they are willing to pay for the privilege.

“We can build your future on those feelings. We can make you secure.”

She smiles and moves her nose close to mine, “And I can make you mine. We will be together. You will live here, and we will always be like this.”

She sat up briskly. “Now, I can get another booking for us tomorrow night. Yes?” She looks down at me, quizzically arching one beautiful eyebrow.

I hesitate. “So soon? I’m not sure I can…”

She frowns and I quake inside. “Why not?” she says coldly.

I look down, away from her stare, the stare that penetrates so deep, hurts so much, scares me so. “I… I guess I can.”

“Yes, of course you can.” I can hear the smile in her voice, “You will rest today, tonight. We will have sex – but you must not cum! You must be eager when you step onstage. You must want your humiliation.

“I will make sure of it.”

And I shiver, knowing how she can toy with my body, bring me to the very edge of cumming, then take it away from me, leaving me panting and begging. And I know she means what she says.

She will play with me. She will make me eager to go onstage. To be used. To be humiliated.

To cum in front of hundreds of people.

On her command.

And I shiver.

~~~~~

Three weeks later, we had performed the three-act, more explicit version of the couples dance a few times, plus the one-act version at the Club many times.

I was sitting at breakfast, reading her newspaper, when a small article catches my eye. I'm not quite sure why at first, then focused on the person who had been killed near the red-light district two nights earlier.

His name was Luuk Vandershadt.

I looked up at Mistress, and said, “Did you see this article about the guy who was beaten to death near the red-light district?” and I held the paper out to her.

She glanced at it, and shrugged.

“Do you know if that was the same Luuk whom I sucked at my first stag?”

She looked at me. “Was that his name? I don’t remember.” She looked up at me. “Besides, wasn’t he the one who forced his cock down your throat?” She shrugged again, took a sip of her coffee, and looked back at the section she was reading.

She seemed neither surprised, nor interested. But it made me uneasy. If she didn’t remember him, how did she remember that he forced his cock down my throat?

~~~~~

During this period, Mistress kept me almost perpetually aroused. I was always naked, and she frequently had me wear various kinds of bondage gear, from leather collars, to wrist and ankle restraints, to leather straps on various parts of my body.

When I worshiped her during sex, using my fingers, tongue, and lips, she would bring me to the verge of orgasm, then climax herself, but forbid me to cum, leaving me panting, hot, and begging.

She would allow me to beg, but never allowed me to cum. Thoughts of sex haunted me, day and night. And the more she edged me, the more I adored her, even though I knew that made no sense. But she was my Mistress.

At times, she would use the crop on me, but carefully, so as not to mark me in too obvious a way. And again, she would bring to the brink with pain as well as pleasure, then stop, leaving me writhing with desire, then impress upon me how important it was for me to obey her.

And she would regularly caress me, squeeze my tits, slide her fingers along the lips of my pussy, or stroke one of my secret places even when we were not in bed, but just passing in the hall, or making a meal in the kitchen. I was instructed to always open myself to her actions when she did this, to make it easier for her to pet me, to tease me, to make me eager, fretting, and anguished.

By the time she allowed me to fall asleep each night, I was exhausted. And yet, whenever she awoke during the night, she would arouse me again, and again leave me panting and desperate while she returned to sleep.

During this period, she only allowed me to cum when I was onstage, while we were performing. It added to the realism of the dance, she said. I had no choice but to do as she bid me, and my orgasms onstage were frequently shattering, leaving me gasping, weak – and euphoric.

Every day her hold on me grew, and although I knew what was happening, I raced to embrace it, for she was so good to me in so many other ways. Other than being denied permission to cum, my life was a dream. I lived with a stunningly beautiful lover in a luxurious flat. She showered me with gifts of clothes, and jewelry, and perfume, and appreciated me and loved me in a way I had never experienced before. She became the family I had always wanted. She was my shelter, my security, and my life, and I adored her.

~~~~~

Mistress was also constantly tinkering with our dances, always trying to make them better, more gripping, sexier, so we kept trying out new things, new moves, new ideas.

That afternoon, before we were going to start our rehearsal, she sat me down on the sofa in the dance studio to talk with me.

“Do you remember the woman client on the night of our first, real success? The arrogant one who wanted you to be submissive?”

I nodded. I remembered quite well for she had reminded me strongly of Miriam.

“She is a very influential member of a BDSM club here in Amsterdam. We have been discussing bringing our dance to their next monthly gathering, which is this Saturday, and we have finally agreed to terms on it.

“Well, as part of the deal, she wants you to be on display in the main hall before our show begins.”

“What do you mean, ‘on display’?” I asked.

She looked at me for a moment, then said, “It means you will be bound to a St. Andrew’s Cross, like a giant X, naked, gagged, and blindfolded. And that Doms and Dominas passing by will be allowed to touch and caress you.”

She looked directly at me, with the frown that she knew frightened me. “The rules are very strict. They can touch you, but they may not hurt you in any way.

“She also wants you to be in bondage gear during the Third Act, not just a dog collar. She says her members will find that more appealing. And she wants me to use the crop on you onstage.”

I swallowed, then said, “Will you allow that?”

She nodded. “Of course. This is a big break for us. Her club is one of the biggest in the country, and if they like us, we will get bookings all over the country, and possibly all over the Continent.

“But there’s one more thing.”

I waited, and my heart was thumping hard in my chest.

“In the sexing afterwards, they want your clients to be able to abuse you, to flog or cane or whip you. There are limits to this; they cannot draw blood or leave any permanent marks. But it will be painful. They want it to be painful. That is what excites some of them.

“I’ve told them I cannot allow them to mark you, because as an exotic dancer, having marks on your body is not a good thing. But they have promised to make it worth our while, to make it lucrative enough that you won’t have to dance for at least a week afterwards, which should be time enough for your young body to recover.”

“Mouse, I think this is an important step for us. It can lead to even bigger things, and more money – and greater long-term security for you.

“So, what do you think?”

I dropped my eyes, and looked at the floor for a long time, listening to my heart pound in my chest. Then I looked into her eyes and said, “You are my Mistress. I will do as you wish because I know you will always care for me, and make sure I am safe.

“If you wish me to do this, you have only to command me.”

And I slid down onto the floor in Obeisance, lying on the floor on my belly, hands at my sides, kissing first one foot then the other, and leaving my forehead on her feet in token of my submission.

She stroked my hair, murmuring, “I knew that would be your answer. You are De Muis, and I am fortunate to be your Mistress.” She leaned forward and kissed me on the head, then raised me, and we began our rehearsal.

~~~~~

So that is how I came to be was bound, gagged and blindfolded, and on display to dozens of people who could walk by me. I heard them discuss me with each other. They could touch or feel or caress me as they wished. And I was helpless to stop them.

I was tied, naked, to a giant X, a St. Andrew’s cross, feet strapped wide apart, arms strapped wide apart, with my pussy and tits available for anyone who wanted to touch them. I was panting around the gag because I was anxious, eager, excited – and scared, having never had anything like this done to me before.

Perhaps because I was blindfolded, I found my other senses grew sharper. A scent of perfume or aftershave told me someone was nearby. A touch on some part of my body, often an intimate touch, might be rough or soft, and could allow me to guess whether the person touching me was male or female. A voice commenting on my body might suggest whether they were a stranger or someone I knew.

The people walking past me, discussing me, or even caressing or feeling my body thought they were anonymous. But I was able to identify some of them – and that often scared me.

And even though I felt like a piece of meat on display, I found that being treated this way also made me very, very wet, as I’m sure my Mistress knew it would. I was so wet, in fact, that I worried that people would be able to smell me, and see that my cunt was dripping. And that made me wetter still.

That evening’s performance was the best we had ever done. Miriam seemed energized in a way I had not witnessed before. She was truly enthralling as the Serpent; beguiling, stern, threatening, hypnotic. Frightening.

The Second Act was a triumph. For the first time in some time, she inserted the vibrator egg inside me again, and used it to tease me, then bring me to a massive climax at the end of the act, to the point where I had a hard time breathing, and my head hung down when I was done.

And I could almost feel the hunger of the audience as we performed.

And in the Third Act, Mistress did use the crop, both to cane me, and to spank me, especially around the pussy. And I came, not once at the end, but while she was abusing me.

The audience loved it.

And at the end, Mistress not only brought me to climax for a third time, but climaxed herself for real, and not faking it, as she usually did. Whether it was from the actual sexual stimulation, or from that combined with the importance of what we were doing I do not know. But she thrived under pressure, that one, and always rose to it.

The audience went wild, and cheered us when we finished. I lay on the floor, my head on her foot, and arms wrapped around her calf, spent. She exulted in the cheers, with a sexual glow that seemed to grow with the cheers. We were stars and she knew it. And loved it.

~~~~~

The sexing of my clients afterwards was the most difficult I had ever done. I was flogged, and whipped, and caned. I was used in almost every way it is possible to use a woman that does not leave permanent marks. And it excited me beyond anything I thought possible.

One who man who entered, pushed me against the wall, then turned me to face it, lifted my hips, unzipped himself and shoved his cock into my pussy, pumping furiously while calling me filthy names.

A woman who entered, pushed me down on the bed, pulled her dress up around her hips to show that she was naked beneath. Then she ground her cunt lips into my mouth while pulling on my tits, trapping my head between her knees.

A sultry woman who smiled, walked up to me, pulled me to her and kissed me. She was fully clothed. I was naked. She turned me to face the bed, then pushed me down so my tits hung down, and my arms were stretched over my head. She warned me to wait, just like that, then went and got a cane and put stripes on my ass, left and right, right and left, then turned me, pushing me down on my knees, then forcing my ass onto the hard floor. She lifted her skirt, walked forward and presented her shaved cunt to me. I leaned forward and began to lick and suck her lips, her clit, to roll my tongue and thrust it into her cunt. Eventually, as she was pulling my hair, she came, arching her back and mashing herself into me, forcing my head back against the bed, putting pressure on my poor, abused ass. She squirted on me, then used my hair to wipe her pussy, resettled her skirt and walked out without a backward glance.

And others, using me, dominating me, calling me names, whipping me, hurting me, making me beg, making me cum, then turning and walking away.

Finally, the arrogant woman who had me after our first triumphant show walked in and closed the door. She looked at me. By this time, I was a mess, make-up smudged, hair askew, wondering how much more I could take, how much more my Mistress would ask of me.

She ordered me to stand, then walked over beside me. She fastened the wrist restraints from the dance together, binding my hands behind me. She removed her clothes, and folded them neatly on the bed, then took an enormous strap-on from her bag, fixed it around herself. She applied lubricant to its length tip, then stood in front of me, and asked, “Would you like this stuffed into your cunt, your arse, or both?”

I dropped my eyes, and said, “Whatever you wish, mistress.”

“Good. Both, then.”

She walked around me, turned me and pushed me onto the bed, face first, then spread my legs, and pulled my arse cheeks apart.

With one, swift move, she shoved the phallus deep into my dripping cunt. I screamed because of its size, then panted as she worked it in and out, her own moans getting louder. She stopped before she climaxed, withdrew, then repositioned the dildo at my puckered arsehole, and slowly, but steadily worked it into me. I cried with both my eyes and my voice, but that only seemed to encourage her. Finally, she had the entire thing all the way inside me.

“You’re a cunt, aren’t you?” she asked, keeping it deep inside me.

“Yes.”

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Do you want me to be gentle or rough with you?”

I was panting, and it hurt, but I knew what she wanted, so I said, “Rough!”

So she fucked me raw, pulling and twisting my tits, slapping my ass, yanking my hair, and calling me whore, cunt, slut, and more.

And when she was done, when she had cum, she withdrew. Then she pulled out a vibrator from her bag, shoved it in my cunt, turned it on high, and a butt plug, which she shoved up my ass. She pushed me to the floor and watched as I writhed, cumming again, against my will.

Then she smiled a cruel smile, dressed, and left.

I lay collapsed on the floor, exhausted, and closed my eyes.

Mistress came in, then, and I heard her saying, “No, absolutely not. No more! We are done!” She closed the door hard.

She hurried over to me, unclipped my hands, removed the butt plug and dildo, and cradled me in her arms. She crooned to me, and stroked my head, and told me how wonderful I had been, and how well I had done, and how she would take me home now.

I would have a reward, she said, and tomorrow would be a holiday for me. We could do anything I wanted, she said, anything at all.

“What would you like, my little Mouse?”

Lying cradled in her arms, I looked up at her, tears in my eyes, and said, “You, my Mistress. Only you.”

Then I closed my eyes, turned my head into her breast and sobbed.