Michael's hard-on throbbed beneath my ass; I tried to shift, but he just pressed me
 down harder against his lap.  He had wrenched my corset strings so tight that I felt a
 little faint as he glowered down at me.

 "You know, you really didn't have to go through all this trouble" Michael said, voice
 still a little surly, his hands roaming over me, dipping here, caressing there,
 tweaking here.  I tried to be stoic but found myself involuntarily shivering from his
 callous administrations of pleasure and pain, hating myself for being so incompetent,
 for being so easily duped.  It was infuriating and humiliating to be manipulated like
 that...but worse, he terrified me, and all the savage threats he had teasingly
 whispered months ago echoed through my mind.  I was in way, way over my head.

 I didn't know Michael that well personally.  I hadn't considered the consequences, or
 even the possibility that something could go wrong.  I had fucked up.

 But gods, that hour I spent taking him while he raged against the chair...

 "I've wanted you forever," I blurted out, looking right into his eyes.  I felt sudden,
 inexplicable tears, suprising myself.  "You teased me, when...when you had nothing
 better to do.  Then you ignored me."

 Michael's eyebrows lifted slightly, considering.  "I had no idea you were even
 interested.  Why didn't you just ask me out?"  He put his hands in my hair, grasping
 thick fistfuls, and  I half-raised myself and snuggled into his strong, naked chest.
 He let me remain there as I sighed in spite of myself, loving the masculine scent of
 him.  "If you had worn these boots that night at the bar, I would have been stalking
 you for months already."

 "Really?" I sniffled, then arched back, toes pointed, to show off the full glory of my
 tall, black, lacy boots.  Michael's eyes were approving of my impromptu exhibition.
 Heart pounding, I stretched to display myself immodestly, parted my thighs slightly to
 capture his attention, lifted my arms prettily above my head,  and- godhelpme-
 covertly made two fast and thankfully accurate jabs at the call button.  One push
 meant I needed Debby, and two pushes were supposed to signal that I wanted both Debby
 and Pedro to come down and play.  My heart sank as I felt Michael's tension, his whole
 body changing beneath me...he had caught me, and I cringed as his expression changed
 instantly from appreciation to betrayal.

 Michael jumped to his feet, spilling me rudely to the floor.  He grabbed my arm, bent
 it backwards, and started jerking me across the room.

 "Why, _you_little_bitch_" he spat beneath his breath.  He scanned the room and
 beelined for the tray full of Debby's toys, plucked  a black riding crop from the
 assortment and hissed it through the air with one menacing strike, looking at me
 purposefully as it whistled just a few inches from my face.  I shuddered, feeling the
 breeze in its wake.  When the door opened at the top of the stairs, Michael tossed
 down the crop and put his hand over my mouth, twisting my arm a little harder and
 making it clear that he'd break me like a toothpick if I made a sound.

 Debby, now decked out in white stilettos, stockings, and a champagne-lace thong teddy,
 kept her eyes on the steps as she daintily picked her way down. Her blonde hair was
 styled to frame her face, her make-up was artfully done, and she was obviously lost in
 pleasant thoughts of the activities ahead.  She didn't see us right away; the room was
 well-lit but strewn with shadows, and Michael had pulled us back towards the cabinets
 that were presumably full of more equipment.  As she rounded toward us, I prayed that
 Pedro would enter before Debby came too close.

 Without warning, Michael dropped me and reached Debby in two strides, grabbing her
 arms and handcuffing her hands behind her back with the fluid expertise of someone
 who'd done this many times before. I made a dash for the stairway but never really had
 a chance...not in those boots.  Michael caught up to me in a half-second, tripped me
 with ease, and sent me sprawling gracelessly on my face.  I slowly turned my head and
 found Debby a few feet to my left; she was positively fuming with indignation.

 She looked at me pointedly and then gazed back up to the stairs, silently indicating
 that Pedro was getting ready to join us.  Hope fluttered in my chest:  any moment,
 Pedro would sneak up, suprise Michael, and rescue us.  Debby took the lead in
 distracting Michael by licking her lips and thrusting her perfect breasts forward,
 feigning a futile struggle against the handcuffs.  It was obvious to me that Debby
 never switched roles with her playthings-- her submissive act was pathetic.

 "Oh, please, let me go, let me go" she squealed, panting somewhat extravagantly.

 Michael's feet came into view beside my face, and then he helped me up-- by my hair.

 "Let's see how you like the chair, Sweetie" he said, pulling me towards it.  I gulped
 hard, nauseated with fear at the idea of being strapped into that contraption.  I
 brainstormed hastily, certain that grovelling would only make the situation worse.

 "Couldn't I play with Debby instead?" I suggested.  He stopped in his tracks.

 "You want her?  You like women?"

 I nodded yes, making a show of looking her over, feeling a little annoyed that Michael
 was so typically male that way.  I had never touched another woman before, never
 seriously contemplated it.  I had always been too busy chasing men.

 "Because I'm an idiot" I muttered to myself, ruefully.

 "What did you say?" Michael asked.  His cock was at full attention.  I knew that by
 this time, after hours of frustrated teasing, his need to cum would outweigh all his
 other senses.

 "Umm, I said she hates lesbians."  I improvised, pandering to what I hoped might be
 his favorite fantasy.  Michael and I were fundamentally alike, after all...we both got
 off on the resistance.  "We kinda talked about that once-- she wanted nothing to do
 with me."

 Debby, right on cue, started begging "No" and squirming around on the floor.  Her
 performance embarrassed me, but Michael apparently didn't notice the bad acting.  He
 wrestled me towards her, smacking me not-so-lightly on the ass when I tried to stall.
 Debby started wailing, fake tears not even messing up her mascara, but she wasn't loud
 enough to cover the sound of Pedro thumping eagerly down the stairs.

 Pedro had freshened up since I last saw him battling Michael into the bondage chair.
 He had changed into a white silk shirt that bloused above the sleeves, making his
 shoulders look broader.  It was unbuttoned down to the waist, contrasting handsomely
 with his dark skin, and his black leather pants were so tight that I could see his
 balls trapped beneath them.  I winced, knowing Michael would immediately realize that
 Pedro had dressed for sex...with *him*.

 Pedro skidded to a halt about eight feet away from us, his jaw dropping as his face
 paled.

 "Well helloooo, Pedro" Michael chanted brightly, a bone-chilling glint in his eyes.
 "I was wondering- are you really Puerto-Rican?  For some reason I always thought
 'Pedro' was more of a Mexican name."

 Pedro was quaking, probably fearing for his life, as Michael advanced toward him with
 one hand still entwined in my hair.  I could feel Michael's hostility, saw the veins
 pulsing from his neck, every cell in his body preparing for battle. Pedro's eyes met
 mine for an instant, and I mouthed one desperate word:  HELP.  I could only imagine
 what he was thinking; the bruises he acquired from "working" with Michael earlier that
 morning were still darkening in color.

 The next thing I heard was the sound of Pedro's boots turning and sliding frantically
 across the floor, like puppy toenails racing through a kitchen, and then he was taking
 the stairs up by two's.  Michael snickered, and Debby's out-of-character "FUCKING
 COWARD!!" gave us away.  Michael's face was smug.

 "I could go up and crush him, but I've got better things to do."  With his free hand,
 he picked Debby off the floor by the hair also, and dragged her into the bondage
 chair.  Shackling her in was an easy one-hand job, too-- the chair was designed for
 easy restraint and release.  He took the handcuffs from Debby and locked them on me,
 my wrists behind my back uncomfortably.  Still, not being the one in the chair, I
 didn't feel it was appropriate to complain.

 Michael noticed me watching the stairway.

 "What are you hoping for?  The police?"  Michael sneered at me, humorless.  "They
 don't typically 'rescue' ladies in distress like yourself, not from such good, clean,
 fun."

 I was manhandled to my knees in front of Debby, with Michael's cock brushing against
 my cheek.  I turned to lick him, wanting to regain control, but he roughly pushed my
 face between her legs.  The crotch of her teddy was spandex, molded to her shape and
 so narrow that it barely concealed her. I looked up at her face in dismay, waiting for
 Michael to shove me into her, but instead he commanded me not to move and strode away
 again.

 I turned my head slightly to steal a peek, considering escape, but he shouted "DON'T!"
 from across the room.  My scalp burned from the way he yanked my hair, my arms ached
 behind me, my chin hurt from my face-fall...so I froze, obeying.

 Debby's eyes travelled with him, her expression changing from anger to fear.  She was
 a full-fledged Dominatrix; I remembered how she had talked about the instruments she
 used when I first met her, how she had laughed about the ways to really inflict terror
 on a sub.  She had suprised me a bit with her apparent contempt; she despised her
 subs, used them cold-heartedly, but was convinced that breaking them was what they
 truly wanted.  I was impressed; I wanted that same  emotional freedom, but never felt
 strong enough.  I had asked her if she had ever let herself be in a submissive
 position; "Never" was her haughty reply.

 Michael returned and stood behind Debby.  The color drained from her face as I
 wondered what she had seen.  She tilted her head and looked up at him, her voice soft
 and genuine this time, saying "Please, don't..." but he threw a harness over her face
 and began working the buckles, squeezing her cheeks so heard that she opened her mouth
 as he shoved something inside.

 "This, Carol, is how you properly use an O-gag", Michael explained to me as he deftly
 tightened the last strap.  "Since you were wondering about it earlier, I thought you
 might like to see it modelled."

 His eyes fell on the scissors beside me on the floor...the scissors I had used to cut
 away his clothing earlier.

 "So, bitch," he asked Debby,  "should I use the scissors, or should I rip the crotch
 off your outfit with my teeth?"

 Debby whimpered, her eyes wild and imploring.

 "I'll do it," I volunteered, leaning sideways toward the scissors with my cuffed
 hands.  Michael kicked them away, the clattering noise making me jump, and then his
 hand gripped the back of my neck.

 "Fine.  But use your teeth.  You have one minute, or I'm strapping you onto that rack
 over there."

 The Rack.  That was what I had dreamed about shackling Michael to, before I had known
 about the chair.  Perhaps my obsession with such equipment had to do with my fear of
 it; the very idea of being restrained into something like that was unbearable to me.
 Without further hesitation, I pressed my mouth against the crotch of her teddy, trying
 carefully to grasp it with my teeth.

 The material was smooth, but stretched so tautly over her pussy that the edges bit
 into her folds, giving me no slack to work with.  And I didn't want to hurt her.
 Gingerly, I nibbled the lacy elastic edges, tasting her in the process.  My head was
 turned almost completely sideways as I painstakingly tried to lift the edge away from
 her flesh and clamp down on the spandex.

 Too fucking tight.

 "45 seconds" Michael said, clearly enjoying this.

 I nuzzled my teeth under the crotch, bit down, tugged, and tugged harder.  Debby
 helpfully spread her thighs as far apart as she could to give me a little more room.
 She was shaking hard as I kept losing the edge, trying different angles, and tugging
 again.  It stretched a few stubborn inches back, then slipped suddenly and snapped
 loudly against her, off-centered, with a force that made her cry out.  Her pussy was
 now half-covered, and the material was wet from my mouth, clinging to her.  I couldn't
 help noticing that she was freshly shaven, and I wondered if it made her more
 sensitive.

 "25 seconds" Michael croaked hoarsely.

 I pressed my face into the middle of her crotch, sucking hard, working the material
 into my mouth, and peeled it back a few inches from her flesh as delicately as I could
 manage.  Then I chewed it furiously with only my front teeth, twisting it, and was
 rewarded with a small tearing sound.  It slipped from between my teeth and whipped
 back again, making her jump.  I realized guiltily that losing the elastic like that
 was the equivalent of snapping a rubber-band right at her clit.

 "10 seconds."

 I stuck my tongue into the salty rip, brought it up against my teeth, and jerked my
 head back with all the strength I could muster.  Nothing.  I pressed my whole face
 into her pussy, bit onto the material as hard as possible, and threw my entire body
 back with all the force I could muster.  Debby screamed beneath the gag, more from
 fear than pain, and I found myself tumbling  backward against my painfully cuffed arms
 and bent legs, a tatter of torn spandex in my mouth.  I struggled up to see that Debby
 was exposed now, her pussy glistening, draped coyly with just a few ragged edges of
 material pointing to her sex.

 Michael put his hand on the nape of my neck and pushed my face back into her, trying
 to instruct me but so overcome with lust that he was completely incoherent.  I glanced
 up in time to see him grab her hair with his free hand and ram his cock into her
 helpless, open mouth.  Her whole body convulsed, and I could hear her choking as he
 assaulted her.

 "Don't stop" he warned me huskily, still pumping her face but looking down at what I
 was doing.  Reluctantly, I stuck my tongue out and started licking her, noticing that
 her pussy lips were dark pink, puffy, and very slick with more than just the wetness
 from my tongue.  Even as she gagged on his cock, I realized she was on the brink; the
 muscles rippled in her thighs, and the palms of her hands pounded down on the chair.
 I could hear the strangled screams vibrate through her body, but the hot moisture
 trickling from within her gave her away.  Intrigued, I licked upwards from her umbre
 little rosebud to her soft, quivering nub, starting to enjoy the way her restrained
 hips moved towards me against her own volition.  Just as she was about to cum, Michael
 violently yanked my head away from her and ruthlessly jammed his cock deep into her
 face, all the way up to his balls, forcing her to gurgle and sputter as he shot a load
 against the back of her throat.

 I watched, mesmerized and livid with jealousy, as Michael's massive body pounded into
 her strangled cries, his rhythm slowing to a grind as he spent himself.  I had
 imagined the power of his climax, possibly imagined it every waking hour over the past
 few months...but it was supposed to happen with his captive body beneath me as I rode
 his straining cock, listening to him beg.  Instead, I was forced to watch him waste it
 on this weak, wanton bitch.

 It was supposed to have been mine.

 "Oh...fuck...me" Michael groaned, staggering back, finally sated.  It was Debby who
 remained in the tortured state of *almost* cumming; and it would be a lie to say I
 wasn't glad to see her like that, a wad of cum dripping down her chin, her legs
 splayed open and twisting slightly in the chair, craving.

 I trembled, feeling more and more cheated and more and more angry.  Michael was
 relaxing, leaning upright against the chair, blissful and handsome.  I rose to my feet
 and pressed my face against his, nuzzling my skin against his cool sweat, trying in
 vain to calm myself, my heart screaming tantrums and shredding itself into pointy
 little shards.

 "Get me the strap-on" I said, my voice low and tremulous.  He opened his eyes without
 moving, distrusting me.  We looked at each other for a long moment, sized each other
 up, each of us coming to a slow, intrinsic understanding of the other.  I breathed
 deeply, willing myself not to cry, and Michael politely looked away, then made his way
 to the toy tray and back.  I was suprised when he bent behind me and unlocked the
 cuffs; he took my hands and rubbed my wrists softly before inviting me to step into
 the strap-on.  He did it with gusto and elegance, like a gentleman helping a lady into
 a fur coat before the opera.

 Michael adjusted it, making sure it was comfortably snug on my waist.  He turned me
 unexpectedly towards him and kissed me, consoling, my fake black cock pressed between
 us.  That he recognized my fury only made it worse.

 Debby watched this transaction, her eyes wary and accusing, her mouth still forced
 open with the O-gag.  I smelled the thick musk of her heat as I approached her, and
 taunted her with a smile, knowing she was about to become what she most despised...and
 I was about to transform into the woman that had, until now, eluded me.

 "Wait", Michael whispered.  He shakily opened all the cabinets, rummaging fast and
 clumsily, and returned with a treasure:  long, shiny, black leather gloves.  The final
 touch.  I pulled them on, thinking that Debby really did have exquisite taste.  They
 fit tightly right above my elbows, glossy  and sinister.

 Half-Japanese but exactly 5'10", I had always resented the Asian-submissive
 expectation.  But catching myself in the mirror, I stopped and took inventory...my
 dark hair cascaded beneath my shoulders, my pale skin was sheened with perspiration,
 and my eyes looked different-- fierce, perhaps, and confident.  The boots and tight
 corset outlined my body, making me look even taller, my curves more accentuated.  I
 glimpsed Michael's eyes in the mirror, the way he was looking at me, admiring, and I
 suddenly felt...powerful.  I reveled for a moment in his gaze and the strength of my
 femininity before turning on my prey.

 "You mentioned that the O-gag is good for blowing a strap-on, nosh?" I straddled her,
 still standing, drawing over her entire face with the tip of the dildo like an
 exuberant child with a magic marker.  I delighted in the thought of how her jaws must
 ache and how her tongue must be swollen from Michael's brutal assault.  Her eyes
 confirmed:  oh, how desperately she wanted to avoid gagging again.

 "Do you want to suck it now, or after I've fucked you in the ass?" I asked sweetly.
 She blanched, nostrils flaring, head shaking.  Begging.

 Begging.

 I reached down and shoved a gloved finger deep into her pussy; it slid in smoothly and
 she arched, moaning, head still twisting vehemently from side to side.

 "The lady doth protest too much, methinks," I cooed, then wiped my dripping finger
 with slow deliberation on her tongue, tickling the roof of her mouth before exiting.
 "Hypocrite."

 I could see Michael in the mirror, his cock hardening again, so I motioned for him to
 assist me.

 "Bend her over, please" I said, business-like.

 Michael and I had tremendous fun experimenting with the bondage chair.  Press a couple
 buttons on the left, and her legs started to lift above her head, spreading
 conveniently, but forcing her to double-over so severely that I couldn't apply the
 nipple clamps.  Obviously, that wouldn't do.  The blue button with the unhelpful
 squiggly icon rotated her like a pig at a pork roast; delicious, but not very
 practical. The mysterious red button dropped the seat off the chair, allowing full
 access to her vulnerable pussy.  Just what I needed.  With a few more adjustments, we
 had her feet an inch off the floor, legs spread into a wide V, her head upside down
 between her shackled ankles.  Bent at the waist over the lovely midsection bar, her
 ass and pussy dangled enticingly.  I let Michael have the honor of snipping away her
 lacy golden teddy, leaving her only in stockings and heels.

 "You look enchantingly submissive", I complimented, pinching her butt.  Michael
 brought the toy tray to me as I pushed the tip of my boot into her mouth.  Her eyes
 were huge, and wet with real tears.  Stepping back, I decided it was time to get to
 work.

 "Nipple clamps" I said, and Michael handed them to me.
 "Nipple clamps," he repeated, quite the doctor's helper.  I smiled at his efficiency
 before bending down to fasten them on.  They had clasps that screwed in; I felt it was
 best to attach them as securely as possible.  Debby's breasts were full but perky, her
 nipples like baby-pink half-dollars.
 The way she whined when I screwed the clamps on told me she was very, very sensitive;
 of course, I bungled the first few attempts, since I had to put them on upside-down.

 "Purple dildo" I ordered.  Debby whimpered in despair, horrified.
 "Purple dildo" Michael acknowledged, skillfully untangling the cords before placing
 the shaft in my hands.  It was battery operated, attached to a controller with five
 different settings.  But that's not why I chose it; I chose it for its size.

 Nine full inches, and thick as my forearm, it was carefully sculpted to resemble the
 real thing-- only bigger.  It rotated at the base, with an angled top that would roll
 against every inch of her pussy when we turned the device on.

 "Fire it up", I commanded.

 "Yes, Ma'am" Michael obliged, mocking me a little.  It buzzed to life, pulsing and
 spinning slowly.

 "Lube" I said, mouth watering.  Debby's suspended ass was quivering, her legs cramping
 from the severity of her position-- I knew that not even a 14-year-old cheerleader
 could be expected to hold that pose for long.

 Michael passed me the bottle, which was nearly empty.  He then perused through the
 cabinets and returned, empty-handed, shrugging his magnificent shoulders, his smile
 wicked.

 "Debby, darling!  I paid you fifteen hundred dollars and you're OUT of lube?"  I
 squatted down to her face; she was red from being upside-down, her carefully styled
 hair now matted with sweat.  Her dread was almost palpable.  "Such a travesty.  I'm
 going to have to punish you, you know."  Michael nudged me then, turquoise eyes
 laughing at me.

 "Fifteen hundred, huh?" he asked.  I think I actually blushed.

 Composing myself with a deep breath, I accepted the riding crop that Michael so
 considerately proffered.  It had a decorative leather tassel on the end, which I
 playfully tickled up and down her exposed and sopping crack.

 "Do I get a refund, Debby?"  She nodded vigorously, eyes wide.  I pushed the tasseled
 end of the crop into her pussy and then wiped it down the back of her leg.  She was
 drenched.

 Without further ado, I crammed the huge purple dildo into her cut, enjoying the
 resistance that I met every half-inch.  Debby was sobbing, her body writhing and
 heaving as I forced it in, sometimes withdrawing it a little before reaming forward
 again.  I told Michael to turn it up, and he increased the speed of the rotation until
 it was whirring inside of her, the buzzing muted by her cunt, only the corpulent base
 protruding from her torturously stretched opening.

 I needed to fuck her, then; I was shaking as I lubed up my strap-on, my vision
 unclear, rage and lust discoloring the scene before me.  She was beautiful, helpless,
 open, and had stolen (albeit against her will) what I had wanted most...half-blind, I
 fumbled for her asshole and heard her high-pitched shrieks as I penetrated first with
 my slick, leather-clad fingers, loving her smallness and the tightness of her
 muscles.  I bent and kissed the middle of her back, sucking her soft skin into my
 mouth, before I guided my cock in with one slippery hand, wishing it were real,
 wishing I could feel the inside of her as I plundered her ass.

 I don't remember when Michael knelt in front of me; I was rocking back and forth,
 hypnotized at the sight of my strap-on gliding in and out of her tiny, puckered hole
 when I noticed his very wet tongue lapping at my clit.  He was directly beneath me,
 his hands holding my sex apart, and as I reached down to grab his hair I came,
 explosively, raping her hard as I spasmed against Michael's face.

 He held me when I collapsed, giant arms engulfing me, and I remember shuddering as
 wave after wave of hot chills crashed over me.  He cradled to me to the floor
 tenderly, a worshipful lover, and I put my arms around his neck as I prepared to
 receive him, whispering his name, requiring him.  I put my hands on his huge, powerful
 shoulders, my eyes half-closed, then fluttering wide open.

 Pedro and his two strong compadres were standing over us, smiling.

 (to be continued)