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From: MarArch@ix.netcom.com (the poetic one)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage,alt.sex.stories.moderated
Subject: NEW: The Week-End, part 3 - MM/ff, D/s, cons., bond

Week-End, part 3


	She awoke exhausted, aching from a dozen different places.
Every joint, it seemed, had been stretched out of shape by the
activities of the evening before. And yet, she awoke with a smile...
the kind that can only be obtained from achieving total physical
satisfaction.
	She allowed her mind to drift back over the events of the last
twelve hours... the loss of her anal virginity... finally experiencing
the amazing sensation of having her body suspended in mid-air... the
touch of the flogger and the droplets of melted wax on her breasts,
her buttocks, her stomach.... the taste of another woman and the
incomparable sensation of another woman tasting her.
	It seemed as if in the last twelve hours, she had experienced
a years worth of sexuality. And she found herself quietly gasping as
she realized that it was far from over... the week-end.
	
	Pat lay beside her, snuggled close to her. She could feel the
slow, steady, warm breath against her shoulder, the softness of her
cheek nuzzling her arm. She turned and carefully raised her arm
pausing for a moment to brush her fingers through the other womans'
soft hair before slowly rolling and sitting up on the edge of the bed.
	It took her some moments to steady herself before she could
rise and tiptoe to the bathroom.
	
	When she emerged, she felt a little refreshed, and noticed Pat
lying on the bed, eyes open, staring at her. She smiled back.
	"Good morning" she said, her voice cheery.
	"Hiiiiiiii" Pat purred and indulged in a long, tight stretch.
	"And how are you today" she said, moving toward the bed and
settling down on its side, looking down at her first woman lover.
	"I'm fine. The thing is... how are you?"
	She smiled and sighed.
	"Oh, I'm wonderful."
	"I know" Pat cooed and casually extended an arm, laying her
hand upon her knee and letting it trail slowly over the soft, delicate
skin.
	She giggled.
	"Hey, you keep that up and I'm going to get horny."
	"That's the idea" Pat said, a touch of wickedness in her
voice.
	She sighed, then began to lean over, moving her lips toward
Pats. But before she could deliver the tender kiss, Pat suddenly
pulled back and pressed the hand against her shoulder, holding her
away.
	"No, don't."
	"Why not" she asked, now genuinely puzzled.
	"Because we don't have permission" Pat replied simply and
rolled toward the opposite edge of the bed, swinging her legs down and
rising.
	She blinked at this odd rebuff.
	"Oh" she said simply.
	Pat moved to the closet, opening the door and scanning the
garments within as she spoke, casually.
	"Master wouldn't like it if we did anything without his okay.
Otherwise, what's the point... right?"
	"Right" she replied, a touch of disappointment in her voice.
	Pat turned to her.
	"You mean you're still horny after all that?"
	She smiled up, an evil grin on the corner of her lips.
	"Hey, what can I tell you. I have a chemical imbalance" and
she giggled.
	Pat stared at her for a long moment, then arched an eyebrow,
critically.
	"Well.... good. Because you're certainly going to need it.
Especially at the party tonight" then turned to the closet once more,
beginning to slide clothes down the rod, scanning them critically.
	"What goes on at these parties, anyway?" she asked, now
genuinely interested.
	"Oh... I don't know if I should tell you. Master may want it
to be a surprise."
	"Oh. Okay."
	She rose from the bed and began looking around for her own
clothing, and suddenly realized they were nowhere to be seen.
	"So... where are my things" she asked.
	"Oh, you don't need them today" Pat replied simply, finally
turning from the closet, holding up a garment on a hanger. "You'll be
wearing this."
	She looked at the item which hung, limply, from the hanger and
felt a wave of shock roll through her. It wasn't so much an article of
clothing as a collection of leather straps intersected at various
points by buckles and metal rings.
	"What the.... what is that?"
	Pat grinned wickedly and moved slowing toward her holding the
object before her like a talisman.
	"It's what you're going to be wearing all day long, sweetie."
	
	It took the better part of a half hour to fit her into the
thing, which turned out to be a rather elaborate harness aparatus,
composed of leather bands and thongs that intersected at various
places around her body. Several wide belts wrapped around her body at
her waist, and just under and above her breasts, causing them to be
slightly squeezed between them. These bands were attached behind her
back by a long leather strap that ran from the back of her neck to her
ass. At the top of the contraption was a wide, leather collar which
encircled her neck, and at the bottom the strap dangled down, reaching
halfway to the floor. It was only when Pat gently pressed her legs
apart and folded the strap up through her crotch, pausing to insert a
plug through a conveniently located hole in the strap, then gently
worked it deep into her ass that she began to see the devilish nature
of this outfit. Just at the point above the plug, Pat attached a
small, almost disk shaped plastic object and when the strap was drawn
up tight between her legs, it's end looped through and buckled to band
surrounding her waist, she realized the disk was now pressing firmly
against the lips of her sex.
	For a moment she thought this confinement wouldn't be so bad,
if perhaps a bit constricting. But then Pat moved behind her and
gently drew her arms back, slipping her hands through another pair of
looped straps and effectively pinning them behind her back once the
loops tightened.
	Now she found that she was being forced by the contriction of
the leather bands to stand perfectly upright, her posture rigid, her
head erect. It wasn't really uncomfortable, only unfamiliar to her,
but it gave her a sense that made her wonder if a mare might not feel
as she did now, when it was placed in harness.
	But even this was not the completion of the preparation, for
Pat moved to the dresser and withdrew another garment, this one a sort
of leather bra, composed of two triangles of soft suede and connecting
thongs. It obviously wasn't intended to provide any sort of support,
and would do an inadequete job of concealing her breasts, so she
wondered about it's true purpose. She did not have to wonder for long.
As it was slipped onto her, she felt the chill of two small metal
circles nestling over her nipples. Then she watched, fascinated, as
Pat withdrew a small object about the size of a pack of cigarettes,
with long wires extending from it's end.
	She skillfully attached the wires to the very points of the
bra and slipped the device into a loop at the belt of the apparatus,
then took yet another wire and knelt, using her hands to press the
legs apart once more. She felt a pressure on the leather at a point
under where the plug filled her for a moment, then Pat rose and
surveyed her handiwork.
	"Yes" she said, smiling "that'll do nicely. Oh don't worry,
sweetie, I've worn this thing myself on a number of occasions. It's
perfectly harmless... well, let's say it won't really hurt you. Now,
let's go say good morning to Master."
	She fell into step behind Pat who opened the door to the
bedroom, herself still completely naked and followed her down the
stairs, careful to feel her way gently.
	
	As they entered the kitchen, they saw Master and the
Photographer already at work over the stove, fixing breakfast and
chatting casually. Hearing them approach, they both turned and stared
at her as Pat stepped asside to present her.
	"Here she is, Master."
	"Veeeeeery nice" he said quietly. "I'm impressed. You did an
excellent job, slave."
	"Thank you, Master" Pat replied.
	"Now, sit" he said simply and turned back to the sizzling
frying pan before him.
	Pat motioned for her to sit in one of the kitchen chairs and
as she did so, Pat slid into another.
	Without a word, and as if it was the most natural thing in the
world, the photographer stepped over and reached under the chair,
retrieving a thick coil of ropes, and began to carefully bind Pat to
her seat.
	She watched with fascination as the ropes were looped over her
torso, around her wrists at her sides, her ankles and the legs of the
chair, never seeming to reach the end of their length. By the time
Master turned to the table, two plates of breakfast in his hands, Pat
was secured tightly to the chair, and the Photographer was just
sliding a long, evil looking vibrator into her moistening sex.
	"Well, it appears we're going to have to feed you two" Master
said simply, handing a plate to the Photographer, then walking to the
seat close to where she sat balanced in her harness on the edge of her
seat. The Photographer reached down and turned on the vibrator that
nestled in Pats' sex, causing her to shiver and moan slightly, before
he too settled into a chair and scooped some of the food onto a fork
and raising it to Pats' mouth.
	It took Pat a moment to settle herself against the onslaught
of the toy inside her and open her mouth to recieve the first bite of
breakfast, and she had to concentrate to be sure she did not choke on
it as she chewed and carefully swallowed each mouthful he fed her.
	She watched this with fascination, even as Master fed her from
the plate held close under her own chin. Then, suddenly, just as she
swallowed a bite, her body was attacked with a rush of sensations. Her
nipples, already tight and hard against the small metal disks inside
the bra erupted in tingles and deep in her ass the plug sent a light
shock to the tender nerves. The plastic disk resting against her sex
burst into deep vibration and she cried out in shock and surprise at
the assault on her tenderest parts.
	Master noticed this and smiled.
	"Looks like the timer kicked in" he said simply. "I think
that's enough breakfast for her for now."
	Even as the wave of sensation rolled up through her body, it
suddenly stopped and she sighed deeply, overwhelmed with the rush.
	"That's a little timer I whipped up" Master said simply,
rising from the table and returning with the plate to the sink. "It
will go off at random times throughout the day for random lengths of
time, but never long enough for you to cum. And never more than
fifteen mintues between.... bursts?"
	"Oh my God" she said, awed by the power of the single brief
flash of low voltage electricty and vibrations that had just ripped
through her. This was going to be happening all day? She'd never be
able to stand it. She'd be a basket case by the time the party
started.
	She looked over at Pat, her expression betraying her concern,
but she saw that the Photographer was now leaning over, slowly and
rythmically brushing a single fingertip over her clit, studying her
almost clinically, her head thrown back, eyes shut, mouth open, breath
deep and rapid. Suddenly Pat cried out and her body shuddered as the
orgasm ripped through her, and at that instant a second jolt from the
monstrous contraption tore through her, causing her to stiffen in her
own seat, her gaze yanked from Pats ecstacy upwards to the blank
ceiling as her body was sexually flailed from within and without. But
even as she felt her own climax welling up, the device shut down, and
she moaned in frustration, feeling only the deep, urgent tingling of
her own arousal.
	
	It was only in the mid-afternoon that she finally realized the
kind of torture she was undergoing. Master and the Photographer had
taken them both into the den right after breakfast and laid Pat face
down on a soft bed of quilts laid out on the floor, before hog-tying
her.
	She, on the other hand, was simply placed in a chair, her legs
lifted and bound to its arms, effectively trapping her there.
	From that moment on, neither of the men seemed to pay the
slightest bit of attention to her. Instead, they concentrated all
their attention on tormenting Pat in a variety of ways... clamping her
vaginal lips and nipples, stretching and pulling them... taking turns
flogging her or rubbing ice cubes over her various sensitive places.
Using their fingers or various toys to bring her to orgasm after
orgasm, working her body methodically. It went on for hours. And all
she could do is sit, trapped in her chair and watch.
	Yet every time she seemed to grow accostumed to the continued
torment Pat was undergoing, another jolt from the device would rip
through her, driving her own arousal to the breaking point. Several
times she got just to the edge of cumming, within sensing distance of
relief, only to have the machine shut down, leaving her hanging,
unfulfilled.
	By the time the two men slipped a pillow under Pats head and
allowed her to drift off to sleep where she lay, she thought if either
of them simply looked at her too hard she would explode in cumming.
But still, they continued to ignore her, and the evil contraption that
held her most sensitive places continued to do is work on her.
	When the two men finally unbound her legs and laid her gently
on the couch, she was one firey nerve-ending, her entire body pulsing
with need, her thoughts totally distracted. They left the room and
she, like Pat, drifted off to the thankful escape of sleep.
	
	She was awakened by Masters hands, gently sitting her up on
the couch. She was amazed to discover that she was still throbbing,
still desperate and still grogging, almost not awake at all.
	He helped her to her feet and gently but firmly led her
upstairs, where Pat was already dressed for the evening. In this case,
however, dressed meant that she was attired in a skimpy teddy with
openings at the nipples and crotch.
	Pat gently helped her out of the device and as it fell away
from her tormented body she felt as if she might float up against the
ceiling.. the sensation of freedom was overpowering.
	Pat helped her to the shower and helped to dry her, pressing
the soft towel gently along the curves of her skin. She reveled in the
delicate touch of the fabric and felt her mind drifting off to a kind
of wakeful sleepiness.
	When Pat sat her on the edge of the bed and began to apply her
make-up, she merely closed her eyes and basked in the attention.
For information on recieving a FREE copy of "The Written Body", an on-line D/s magazine in Web format, e-mail: DMGPoet@aol.com

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