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From: edwardt@interlog.com (Mr. Ed)
Subject: Pooch's Story (Part 2) by Mr. ED (BnD, SM, Slave, MF/F)

Moderator's note ------

Blank lines between paragraphs help readibility.

------ end note

This is my first effort at fantasy literature. Constructive criticism is 
welcome all other will be disregarded. The story is bondage and discipline 
based. If this is not your cup of tea  please read no further 

POOCH'S STORY      Part2

Evening Rituals  
Ed was holding the small rubber whip which raised the nastiest welts and 
stung like a dozen bees. He also smelled of alcohol. These were very bad 
signs for Pooch. She knew Ed rarely carried around the "supervisor", as he 
called the small whip, unless he intended to use it and alcohol made him much 
freer in administering discipline. 
"Hurry up". 
She heard the whip crack and then felt the sting on her right side intensify 
to a burn.   
Pooch held her breath and ran to the kitchen. "Fuck that hurts" she thought. 
Tears started forming in her eyes but not a sound escaped her throat. 
"Marla said that she thought I had been too easy on you and I think she's 
right."
Ed left for the library  without another word while Pooch was left to 
contemplate that bitches ever increasing influence on him. She couldn't help 
it but it made her blood boil. 
Pooch quickly prepared a tossed  salad and placed a salmon steak on the 
frying pan. It was Friday and on Fridays Ed liked to have fish. It was a part 
of his Catholic upbringing. There was still some wine left from the previous 
day.  She poured a glass and set it down beside  Ed's plate on the kitchen 
table. Pooch didn't want Ed to get any more intoxicated  but he liked wine 
with his meal so that was that. Just as the fish was cooked Ed walked in and 
sat down. The "supervisor' was stuck through his belt. Pooch served the fish 
and stepped back two steppes from the table waiting to serve any of Ed's 
needs. 
"Have your heels touched the floor since you've  been home this evening"? 
"No master" Pooch answered.
"Put tape on your heels"
"Yes master", she answered.
Pooch went over to one of the kitchen drawers and removed two squares of 
double sided tape. She discarded the cover paper and applied one square to 
the bottom of each heal. If the heel touched the floor, or anything else for 
that matter, it would pick up evidence  that she had broken one of the rules. 
She must only walk on her toes while barefoot. Pooch returned to her spot.
"More wine" barked Ed.
Pooch poured a second glass.
"Is there any pie left" ?
"Yes master"
"Good. Cut me a slice and then straighten up the house. I want the house neat 
and the dishes done by 7:30. At  7:30 I want you in the playroom with your 
ankles fastened for the bar. You're going to get forty  with the "big boy" 
for being late today. One stroke for every minute. I think that will get your 
attention. Oh, and when Marla gets here we are going to have a little court 
session with her as judge. Thanks to her advise I've done some surveillance 
on you and found that you have been less than honest. That will be all."
Pooch was floored. Forty stokes with the "big boy", what could he be 
thinking? The big boy was a three inch wide urethane strap, three feet long, 
a quarter inch thick  attached to a wooden handle with a `knob and loop of 
leather at the end to go around Ed's wrist. About every three quarters of an 
inch in any direction there was a hole drilled through the strap to let air 
pass through and prevent the blows being softened by a cushion of air. This 
was insanity she thought. She had received twenty strokes once before and 
besides going delirious from the pain she couldn't straighten up for a week 
and then only with great difficulty. If she survived forty, Pooch was 
convinced, she would be crippled for life. And then Ed expected to have some 
court session after that?  "Good luck, I'll be dead", she thought. Now there 
was a clue to his foul mood. He had caught her breaking the rules and it was 
all thanks to that bitch Marla. What had he caught her doing? She felt like 
she was going to throw up. She felt her life was over.
Despite  the feelings of impending doom Pooch bore down and finished her 
chores. The bed was made, carpets vacuumed, dishes washed and items 
straightened. Shortly before 7:30 Pooch made her way down the cellar steps to 
the "playroom". 
The playroom, as Ed called it, evoked no thoughts of play for Pooch. It was a 
cold, damp, dark and unpleasant  place by design. It had been built by 
Pooches own labor. It was lower than the rest of the basement by some two 
feet and was entered through a double thick,  windowless, steel door. A heavy 
rubber gasket around  the edge created a total seal. The room was a large 
square shape with an aggregate cement floor, concrete block walls and a wood 
beam ceiling. Illumination came from a single bare light bulb  placed near 
the base of one wall creating shadows that went up instead of down for a very 
macabre effect. There was  a torch on each wall for effect, though they were 
seldom used. The air was damp and pungent. A hole had been cut into the main 
sewer pipe which ran down one corner of the room and a small bracket had been 
inserted into the pipe. waste running down the pipe would hit  the bracket 
and a small amount would splash out of the hole. This constantly renewed the 
biological materials growing on most of the surfaces. To one side was a 
medieval looking gynecologists table  made from rough hewn wood  with 
stirrups  projecting  of one end and leather straps everywhere. The largest 
item, in the room was a rack. Again it was of rough wood construction  with 
chains and manacles for the ankles at one end and similar fixtures for the 
wrists attached to a giant wood drum at the other end. Many iron rings were 
embedded in the walls and floor. On the ceiling were four pulleys  allowing 
each limb to be attached and adjusted separately. On the wall just to the 
side of the door  was a storage area for the assorted whips, binders, cuffs, 
harnesses, clamps, dildos  and other toys. One item that didn't seem to fit 
into the room was a reclining leather chair set well above the filthy floor 
on a large wooden box. It almost had a throne like quality. It was Marla's 
seat and Pooch had to make sure she cleaned it every day. The bitch didn't 
want to get her clothes soiled while she watched her suffer. In one corner, 
set into the floor was a two foot  square iron plate with a large ring  in 
the center, which acted as a handle. A couple of bolts on opposite sides of 
the plate entered the concrete so that it could not be  pushed up from below. 
This was the entry to "the pit", a seven foot deep  hole with concrete walls 
and a dirt floor. When in the pit it was like being buried alive except you 
couldn't lie down. Pooch walked down the steps and walked straight ahead 
toward the opposite wall. Five feet from the wall  and parallel to it was a 
"T" formed from a couple of two inch metal pipes. It had been embedded at 
least a foot into the concrete floor  was as wide as Pooch's hips and the top 
was hip high. On the floor , about a foot past each end of the  T, on the 
floor, were short chains with leather ankle cuffs attached. Pooch took a pair 
of leather wrist cuffs, which had been resting on the top of the T and  
tightened the Velcro straps around her wrists. She then spread her legs, 
squatted down and fastened each ankle  to a cuff on the floor. She then stood 
up straight, always careful to stay on her toes, placed her hands behind her 
head and stood facing the back wall with the top of the T just touching the 
front of her hips. She now waited for Ed and possibly a painful end to her 
life. Pooch began to actually tremble from fear.
Ed walked in shut the door behind him and walked to the back well.
"Give me your wrists".
Pooch bent at the waist, hips over the crossbar and extended her arms over 
her head stretching  toward the back wall, her back  parallel to the floor. 
Ed grabbed each wrist pulled it as tight as he could and attached each to 
separate chains on the wall. Pooch was stretched tight with the cross bar 
bruising her hips. A wave of panic began to overtake her. Ed walked to the 
storage area and picked up the big boy along with a bit gag. He walked back 
to Pooch's straining body and used it as a table to set down the strap and 
gag.
"Before I start your punishment I have something to say to you and you will 
have a decision to make."  Ed had her undivided attention. Dare she hope that 
she might get out of this? "About ten years ago you agreed to be my slave and 
accept, absolutely, everything that would come from that decision. For all 
the years since then you have lived up to that agreement and for the most 
part you have been magnificent. I never dreamed that I would find somebody 
like you and you have made the last ten years  more enjoyable, more loving 
and more exciting than any man deserves. Thank you Pooch. Thank you very 
much.  I love you with all my soul. I love you much more than you might 
think". Ed's voice was soft and a bit unsteady. 
"Today is your fortieth birthday" Ed continued, "and I feel we have come to a 
crossroads. Lately things have become a bit stagnant between us and I don't 
think that you have been very happy. I know that I've told you that when you 
stopped pleasing me that I would sell you to some white slavers and that 
would be the end of it, but Pooch I just can't do that. I don't have it in 
me. 
Pooch stared at her dangling bruised tits. She was totally confused. He loves 
me, he's tired of me, he's going to get rid of me, he's not going to get rid 
of me, what's going on? It's true that she hadn't been deliriously happy 
lately but she was still trying her best. Hadn't she walked into the position 
she was in now knowing it may mean the end of her life. She no longer had any 
other life. Tears began to well up in her eyes.
"Things are going to have to change because I don't think a long, drawn out 
decline in this relationship is what either of us want, so this is the choice 
that you must make". 
"The first choice is that we end our relationship right now. I will provide 
you with enough money to start a new life. You will agree to reside somewhere 
 distant from her and we will never see each other again. There would be no 
whipping but instead I will drive you downtown and let you go".
"The second choice is that you accept what you have coming to you and believe 
me I am not going to hold back. You will then go to trial for your past 
transgressions. Marla will be the judge and you will agree to accept any 
judgment that she may hand down. I will also warn you that Marla will be 
moving in with me permanently and you will serve two masters full time. With 
Marla here all the time things will be a lot harder on you and I think that 
that is just what it might take to make things exciting again". 
"I will give you a minute to choose. If you choose to stay then just open 
your mouth wide and I will put the bit in your mouth and start your whipping. 
If you choose to leave then say so and I will let you go. This is not a trap 
of any sort" 
One minute to make the most important decision of her life seemed highly 
unfair. "Ed's probably thought about this for weeks and I get a minute while 
stretched out waiting for a whipping", thought Pooch. She didn't want to get 
this beating and the thought of serving Marla all the time was repulsive. Ed 
was right, things had become stale, the excitement was gone, replaced by day 
to day drudgery. Yet she had no desire to go back to a vanilla lifestyle and 
she thought that at her age she didn't have much chance of finding someone to 
replace  Ed, especially someone she could trust to survive another ten years 
with. He must also have something in mind with regards to this punishment 
session that would leave her intact. After all she had been Ed's slave for a 
long time and was still healthy. Somehow things will work out. Pooch opened 
her mouth wide. 
Ed placed the bit in her mouth and strapped it in tight pulling back the 
corners of her mouth almost to her ears. "I'm glad you decided to stay Pooch, 
I hope you don't regret it. Just never forget that this was your choice. Now 
I think it's appropriate that I get Marla in here to help celebrate our new 
beginning". He walked back and opened the playroom door. Looking back between 
her spread legs Pooch could see Marla walk down the steps. She was wearing 
judges robes and carrying a bottle of Champaign in one hand and a couple of 
glasses in the other. She placed the items down on the box carrying her chair 
and walked over to nervous prisoner.
"Well well well, you decided not to leave us. I'm so glad. It's going to be 
so much fun training you to respond to my tastes. I'm sure that soon you'll 
wish you made the other choice. Ed, why don't you pour us a glass? Too bad 
that Pooch's mouth too full to have a drink. I know, pour some Champaign over 
her back, that would be even more appropriate".
He poured the Champaign first into the glasses and then onto Pooch, wetting 
her  from the nape of the neck to the crack of her but.  Marla coolly held 
her glass in one hand and smeared the spilled bubbly all over the slaves back 
and ass. "The strap will make a louder sound she said and it will sting the 
broken skin. To the three of us", Marla toasted. "To the three of us" , 
answered Ed. "Just remember how I showed you to swing that thing. Step into 
the stroke", reminded Marla. "My God!" thought Pooch, "It looks like the 
bitch is going to be calling the tune. I don't need this". Ed helped Marla up 
into her chair, had another sip of champagne, put down the glass and picked 
up the big boy.



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